Failure is just part of the process...

Failure is just a part of the process, and it's not just okay; it's better than okay. God doesn't want failure
to shut us down. God didn't make it a three-strikes-you're-out sort of thing. It's more about how God helps us dust ourselves off so we can swing for the fences again. And all of this without keeping a meticulous record of our screw-ups.

                               Bob Goff  - Love Does

I am taking a big breath before I write this post. Not a medium-sized breath, but a huge breath. It is always a risk to be transparent and never more so than when I talk about my faith, my spiritual life. Never more so than when I talk from my heart-of-hearts. 

So I am willing to take that risk today because being authentic and real helps to keep me alive. It helps me let go of  fear. What if? What if you really knew this or that about me, would you still love me? What if? What if?

Let me start at the beginning. I am a reader. I usually have several books going at the same time. I love all kinds of books. Yet some books swallow me up, toss me around and leave me gasping for air. Some are so deep and thought-provoking that I cling to each word. 

Some, when I read them, feel like someone poked inside my soul and expressed in words everything my heart believed and never had words for.

Reading Love Does, by Bob Goff, did that to me. It was so powerful that the seismic shock waves are still being felt. With almost every chapter I uttered 
a quiet and not so quiet "Amen!" In an African-American church I attended, at least twelve wonderful women would have encouraged Bob with a "Preach it!" exclamation. And yet Bob isn't a preacher. He's a person sharing his faith and making Jesus so real, and Christianity so human, that it brought me to tears at almost every juncture.

I wanted to hug Bob as I read his words. I wanted to say what a relief it was to hear someone else say that the God I know and love and serve is not always found in a church, but may be even more real on a mountain top. What a relief it was to hear him say say that Love is an action, it is a verb. When we truly love others we take the risk to be real ourselves, the self God created us to be. And that God, as Bob describes Him, allows for us to be truly human. And being human means that we aren't perfect. 

We will experience failure. We are going to mess up, count on it!

Yet nothing, and I mean NOTHING, prepared me for Bob's quote about failure, about screwing up, about messing up big time. That quotation blew me out of the water and I cry every time I read it.

You see, my whole life I have been terrified of making mistakes.

I grew up in a family, bless their hearts, that stopped loving people when they messed up. Kept score of everything. That became extremely judgmental, and critical and condemning of  people who didn't live life according to their best guess of how everyone was supposed to live. While they didn't always voice their condemnation and contempt, you could see it in their eyes, in the way they described that person as kind of pathetic or hopeless. They may be on the family tree but I sorta wish I had gotten a different father or mother or sister or brother or friend. It was very polite and toxic, all at the same time.
Everyone knew it. It wasn't really a secret.

The message was this: There is a way to do everything and how dare you be so stupid as to mess up or do it different . There was no place for you here if you mess up, if you are truly human. I still remember my Mom telling me that if I had a fight with my dad that she would have to choose him. In other words, if we had a serious conflict, I would no longer be part of the family. 

And I knew that to be true as I looked at my family tree and the broken relationships. Folks who made a mistake or had a difference or just danced to a different drummer were estranged and never spoken to again. Like my Grandpa with my Dad. Like my Mom with her brother Bob. 

The message was loud and the message was clear.
We will sit in judgement of you and never let you forget how messed up you are and how great we are, not to mess up like you do.

That message was so powerful that to keep someone's love I learned to hide my mistakes. There I said it. I was so afraid of not being perfect enough to get someone's love that I tried to reinvent myself to be who I thought they would love more. I did that for a long time. I felt so apologetic for who I really was that I hid my real self. Pretty soon I lost touch with the real me.

And what a mess I became. Unrecognizable. I wanted to hide my failures or gloss over them or alter them a bit in an effort to try to earn someone's love. Earn is the operative word here. I never felt like I was enough, just as I was. Mistakes and all. 

Have you ever felt that way?

And then one day, thank God, I could no longer live life like that. Being less than authentic took too much out of me. I was finally ready to change. I saw failure in a new way. It was part of growing. It was nothing to be ashamed of.

It took so much courage for me to peel away who I thought others wanted me to be so I could become who God made me to be. No apologies for who He made!

That process of owning my mistakes and embracing my failures gave me new life. It was, as Bob Goff says, "part of the process." So what does that mean concretely in my relationships with others?

It is truly okay to fail; better than okay. Once I believed that, suddenly it is okay for you to know that I am a recovering person, thirty years clean and sober. Suddenly I was and am proud of having the courage to own that for several years, after the pain of a heart-breaking divorce, I drank too much to dull the pain.  Not falling down drunk, but not a comfortable amount for me
to drink. This girl that had barely had a drink in college, and never been intoxicated, lost her way. And then, after lots of personal work, and God's good grace, found it again! :) 

If in knowing that part of my history, you  no longer want to know me or read my blog or be my friend, I am okay with that. 

It is more important for me to share those life lessons and be transparent then it is for me to pretend that chapter never happened. I share that in my classes at the college and I cannot tell you how many students come up and in hearing my story are so grateful to know that it is possible to change. It is okay to fail and to overcome  and to grow back, stronger than ever. They are grateful to know that God did not abandon me during that hard time. Instead, He was there with me, all along, holding my hand and offering me comfort and love and hope.

Suddenly it is also okay for you to know that I am now, as my true self, exuberant in how I live my life. I am a full-throddle type of gal who loves to hug and sing and tell you I treasure you. I live whole heartedly. I give my heart and when I do you will know you matter to me. I go out on a limb for people and show up big time for those I love. I am no longer afraid of you seeing the real me.

Suddenly it is okay for you to know that I believe that people deserve second chances and third chances and more chances to find happiness. I believe that when they do the best they can, that God smiles. And I believe that when those choices we make don't always turn out the way we wish they had, that God embraces us and doesn't chastise us.

I do believe that God didn't make His love for me, or you,  a three-strikes you're out kind of process and I am so grateful He has lovingly helped to dust me off again.

And when someone is judgmental of the hurts and mistakes someone I love makes, I will rear up like an angry Momma bear and defend the person who is hurt by those judgements. I truly believe that if God doesn't keep score of their mistakes and failures, then we should not keep score either.

In fact, truth be told, I am drawn more to human people, people who don't
pretend to have it all together. I am drawn to folks who aren't judgmental and critical of others. I feel more comfortable around people who are real and
embrace other real people. And I certainly like myself a whole lot better when I am real and not afraid. I like myself a whole lot better when I am not
keeping score of the mistakes of others. Sadly, I can be judgmental too. It's as if it passed down in my DNA. And each time it comes up, that critical inner voice that wants to tell others how to do it and do it correctly, I have a strong talk with her. I tell myself it is only my fear talking. A criticizer is not who God made me to be.

I am so, so grateful for the book Love Does. It is worth a second and third read. If you haven't read it yet, get it for yourself for Christmas. Give it to others. It's truly a life-changer and a soul-restorer!

And finally, at this Christmas time, when we celebrate the birth of Jesus, I rejoice that the God I know and Love and serve loved me enough to make His love real to me. Christmas, for me, is a time of birth and rebirth.

I am grateful beyond words that my God is a God of second and third chances. He is a God that doesn't keep score. He is a God of forgiveness and love in action. He is a God who loves me just as I am and helps me every day to become all He meant me to be.

May God Bless you and keep you and hold you in the palm of
His Almighty hand!

Love, Linda

What to do when your car blows up, shortly after your computer just did...

Some weeks you'll just utter a prayer,
"Help me stay sane, Lord. Help me look
to you for my security and well being.
For only in You is my strength revived. Only in You is my peace restored. Only in You, dear God, can I find my rest. Only in You."
                            Jerry Sittser, A Grace Revealed

It was a very busy day and I had written a list so long it 
looked like a battle plan. After all, it is finals week at the college where I teach so things are a bit hectic. Okay, really hectic. 
Everything needed to go like clockwork. The ultimate goal was for me to get my youngest adult daughter to the hospital since she was having neck surgery. 

We couldn't be late.

So hustling and bustling I left the building I teach in and headed to my car in the faculty parking lot. Since I get to the college by about 5:30 am each day, and the parking lot is virtually empty save a few cars for maintenance and custodial folks, I can park anywhere I like. My car was easy to see and access as I almost ran out the door. I threw my rolling cart carrying scads of papers to grade in the back seat, quickly turned on the engine, and put on my seat belt. Just the usual routine. 

I was not prepared for what happened next.

I shifted the car into reverse and pressed the gas pedal.
Nothing happened. The car did not go in reverse. I tried drive and the car didn't move, not even a little. I put the car back into park
and it made a horrible grinding sound of protest.

I was stunned and in disbelief. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened on my way to school. I hadn't heard an unusual sound or felt an unusual motion. 

I instinctively knew, from my not so vast knowledge of car maintenance, that the transmission must have blown up. It was gone. The car was totally useless. It was going no where. And this happened today of all days.

Poof...in a moment plans changed. What was I to do now?

Now... when there wasn't a moment to spare. I dashed back up to my classroom where my daughter,who also teaches at our college, was standing. I had just left there moments ago with promises to meet her at the hospital.

"I have some news," I said. She looked at me in wonderment. 
She knew the tight time frame we were on. What was I up to?

"It's my car," I said slowly, trying to stay calm 
and keep the hysteria out of my voice. "It blew up," I uttered, as calmly as possible given the magnitude of what this meant. 

"Blew up? Your car isn't working?"

And so began a car race reminiscent of the old Gene Hackman movie The French Connection. We had to dash north to her home to get another car. I would drive that car and follow her, we'd drop off a car at at the high school where her daughter is a junior (since she needed to pick up the younger children after school), drive back to the college to meet her next class, and then off to the hospital. 

And what a miracle, we pulled that all off with only moments to spare. We made it just in the nick of time to Sacred Heart and she checked in for her surgery, filling out the paperwork as she went down the hall.

As I sat in the waiting room I was still in a state of shock. And then in small increments it hit me. After all, it was only a few short weeks ago that my computer blew up. Expensive, yes, but I could afford to replace it. Replacing a vehicle is another matter all together.

And another scenario set it. I was supposed to go to the Nutcracker Ballet with my oldest daughter and her daughter that very night.
         How in the world was I going to pull that off?

I did what I always do when it feels like the bottom has just fallen through. Pray first and then call Bert.

I knew he was at work, but would probably come home for lunch and get my message. I wanted to keep the fear and trembling out of my voice when I heard his voice message on our answering machine. I told him my car had blown up, wasn't moving forward or backward, and that I was headed to Sacred Heart. News bulletin  I was now using Amy's car. I tried to be light hearted, even a tad jovial. After all when the computer blew up, Bert offered to get me a new one for Christmas. I was quite sure however that a new vehicle wasn't in his budget either.

And then it came to me. A quote. One of my favorites from a new book I'm reading by Jerry Sittser, A Grace Revealed. His prayer about "Only in you is my faith restored. Only in you."

Jerry also wrote another book called A Grace Disguised, a powerful story of human tragedy so confounding that it shakes you to the core. Computers blowing up? Cars blowing up? How about having your whole life blow up? Right there. In front of you. Jerry was in a car coming back from an event with his mom, wife and four children. He was hit head on by a drunk driver and all of his entire family lay shattered by the side of the road. Jerry was doing life-saving measures on his mom, wife, Linda, and daughter Jane all at one time. The three other children were hurt, but not critically. 

He lost all three of his dearly beloveds right in front of his eyes. Poof, they were gone. They were dead.

Jerry Sittser was my Sunday school teacher at the time and his wife Linda sang in our choir. The magnitude of this loss hit all of us so hard that we were rendered almost useless and speechless and faithless...for months and months.

And in this new book, Jerry looks back on how God was there all along. And when hard things happen, unexpected things, expensive things, unthinkable things... He will be beside me as well.

In one horrible moment, Jerry became a single parent to three small children. In one horrible moment his life changed. And he uttered this prayer many times. Minute-by-minute, day-by-day, week-by-week...

"Help me stay sane, Lord. Help me to look to you for my security."

And as Jerry's prayer came back to me in the waiting room at Sacred Heart, I started to cry. I may have lost my car. It may have blown up and need to be replaced. It may be inconvenient or expensive. But I would get through this. It was just a car.
It didn't blow up on the road where I could have been badly hurt.
None of my precious grandchildren were in the car.

Jerry's loss put my loss into perspective in a heartbeat.
His prayer brought peace to my mind and heart. "Only in you, dear God, can I find my rest. Only in you."

And I am so grateful to once again know that profound truth in my deepest heart-of-hearts!

God Bless!
Love, Linda

An Antidote to Negativity...Random Acts of Kindness

Sometimes the questions are complicated
and the answers are simple. 
                                             -Dr. Seuss

From time to time I over-think and over-analyze what goes on. Several weeks ago, negativity hit my door with a loud bang, and I stewed and fretted and ruminated and prayed. And then I prayed some more. And then, since I am an extrovert, I processed. I tried to make sense of that which just didn't make any sense at all. I'm not sure if you have ever done that, but if you have you know how it feels. More and more complicated. I was awash in the questions. Why, why why?

My beloved husband has only seen me stewing like this a very few times in our thirty plus years of marriage. When that happens, Bert knows to"let me be," as he puts it. He walked by while I was journaling about it all, paused and almost whispered, "The answer is simple, Linda." I looked up and knew he was up to something."I'll take you out to breakfast at Hogans. That always helps."And it did. 

Kindness is always a powerful antidote to wash away the impact of negativity, meanness and hurt.

So once we sat in our usual booth at Hogans and got our usual menus and ordered our usual meals with our fabulous and usual server, Katie, the fog started to clear. All at once, I knew what was required. It literally hit me like a bolt of lightening. The answer was simple.

Counteract what had happened with kindness, LOTS of kindness. Penetrate the space around me, the people around me with all of the love and care and kindness and gratitude that my heart could muster.

And what specifically hit me was that while Bert and I are generous tippers to those who so graciously help us and serve us, and we had always done so for Katie, I had never once, never ever tipped our cook at Hogans, the guy who makes our breakfasts. I knew in my deepest heart of hearts that this had to change and it had to change NOW!

So I quietly asked Katie if tips were split between those who worked there and her facial expression said no, they weren't. So I went to the owner of the cafe, who always works on Saturdays and Sundays, and asked if it would be okay to tip Aaron, the cook. Now Aaron is no small guy. He's actually quite huge, covered in tattoos, and usually wears a Seahawks t-shirt while he slings those hash browns from one side of the grill to another. While he breaks eggs
and makes pancakes...well it's a sight to behold. One of our rituals in Hogans, an old fashioned 1950s neighborhood hangout in Spokane, is to yell to Aaron "Thanks for the great breakfast!" each time we leave. Since the grill is out in the open in the restaurant, and Aaron makes breakfast in front of a crowd at the counter, he usually looks up and grins. Not a huge grin, but a small grin, a grinning from the inside kind of grin. 

He's used to it now, that yell of "thanks!" He even waves to us when we come in. And we are "regulars!"

So, since the owner said "yes, you can tip him but no one does and he'd never expect it," I couldn't wait to pull off this unexpected surprise. I dug deep into my purse where I carry various and sundry items you never know when you'll need, and pulled out an envelope. Then Bert and I started to unload the bills in our wallets into it. Five twenty dollar bills to be exact. We had planned to do some Christmas shopping with that money, but that could wait. 
I just knew this had to happen right his minute.

Aaron was up to his eyeballs in orders and both hands and arms were flying around with the bacon and the eggs, so I gave the envelope to the owner with one request. "Please tell him that his great breakfasts feed our stomachs and our hearts." The owner looked puzzled. I said, "He'll  know what I mean." We yelled our "Thanks for the great breakfast!" and left.

I immediately felt better. The hurt was gone, the fear was gone, and I couldn't wait to get to
the grocery store where Tom's Turkey drive was going on. That's where you buy a bag of groceries for a family, a turkey comes with it and on Turkey Tuesday the meals are given to 11,000 needy families. We do it every year.

Rosauers is not far from Hogans, so off we went. Bert, who always loves to clown around and sometimes swing dances with me in the grocery store if the music is just right, rolled down his  car window and proclaimed, loud enough for anyone in close proximity to hear, 
                                                         
                                                      "She's back!"

And I was. My heart was back. My spirit was back. My gusto was back.
I was doing kind things for others and I felt alive again! Ahhhh...I think there is a life lesson here!

We bounded into Rosauers and started taking bags off the shelf. We picked one out for every one of our grandkids, and said their names out loud. Those grand babies that range in age from 23 to 3 bring such light and love into our lives that we wanted to honor them as we got Thanksgiving dinner for 14 families. We've never felt better! Our Christmas fund was getting smaller, but our hearts were getting bigger! 

The shopping cart was full of bags and as we put them on the conveyer belt in front of the cashier, she smiled. "WOW!" was all she could muster. Bert grinned at her and said with glee in his voice, "These are in honor of our grandkids. They'd want us to do this." Then we left Rosauers and headed to our car, bundled up with our jackets and scarves to protect us from the 
freezing 30 degree Spokane weather.

What would our next kindness adventure be?

As we started to get into our car, we noticed all the freezing volunteers along the entrance to the grocery store parking lot. All of them were holding Tom's Turkey day signs as a reminder to passing motorists. They had been out on that curb as we drove by, headed to Hogans, and they were still on duty as we were leaving the Rosauer's parking lot. We just looked at each other and smiled.

We spied a drive thru espresso stand in the same complex and with a grin on or faces and joy
in our hearts, we drove up and ordered six hot chocolates. We were on a roll. We were smiling and laughing as the barrista asked, "Six? You want six?" "Yes, please,"I answered. "We need to get them to the volunteers over there." She started to grin and chat and said she couldn't wait to see their expressions when we delivered them, especially the teenage gal who had dressed in a turkey costume. The barrista's voice was now animated and full of kindness. She volunteered to donate six cookies to the sidewalk party.

Yes, doing random acts of kindness is contagious!

We delivered the hot chocolate and cookies, the teenage girl in the turkey costume cried she was so happy, everyone was stunned, including us. After some quick hugs we headed home. 

On the way home, we were both quiet, thinking about what had just taken place. Quiet is always unusual for me so Bert went first. "How do you feel now, honey?"And I started to cry. And truthfully, on and off I've been crying ever since. I managed to choke out, "I feel lots better." And he pulled over, stopped the car, reached over to hug me and I let the tears and the joy and the lessons all mix together as I sobbed and sobbed.

If it took having someone be less than kind to help me find how much you get back when you give kindness, then it was worth going through that pain. 

All of the complicated questions faded away. The answers were simple. When you feel bad and rotten and sad and scared, do something for someone else. Give your love, your heart, your pennies and it will come back tenfold to you.

And as Thanksgiving is here tomorrow, I am so grateful to be reminded of this lesson. 
I have SO MUCH to be grateful for!

May your Thanksgiving be full of love and joy and peace and gratitude.
May you see God's blessings at every turn.

Love, 
Linda

Ouch!...an unexpected pinch

One day she finally grasped that unexpected
things were always going to happen in life.
And with that she realized the only control 
she had was how she chose to handle them.
So she made the decision to survive using
courage, humor and grace. She was the Queen 
of her own life and the choice was hers.

I've never done well with people who are mean. And while I know
as surely as I am standing, okay sitting here, that 98% of God's world
is filled with amazing, gracious, kind, and unselfish folks, I also am realistic enough to get that the other 2% can do a lot of damage. Last week I inadvertently bumped into several of them. And it hurt and not just a little bit.

Someone once suggested to me that since I was a Christian, God would keep
me from feeling pain. After all, the person said, wasn't my God a God who could do anything? I had to take a long slow breath before trying to answer that question. Because it is a complex one.

The God I know and love and serve is the Creator of ALL, Almighty and He loves me enough to come along side me in every aspect of my life. But does He shield me from pain and hurts and tough times? No, He doesn't. Those are the times that I grow closer to Him, lean on Him more, seek His word more, and try desperately to love people the way He loves people. Unconditionally.

Last week it wasn't easy to do that.

I am a big believer that words are powerful. Words can do great good and heal and support and help. Or words can hurt and leave scars that don't go away.
Whoever said that "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."...well, they lied.

I may be oversensitive to the meaning behind words. I grew up in a home where at times words were used as weapons. My Dad, and especially when he had been drinking, threw words  around like darts heading for the bullseye on a dart board. He knew just where to land the big ones. He knew the vulnerable spots and often went for them. Now please don't misunderstand. I loved my dad dearly, but I didn't like who he became when his anger exploded.
He was suddenly mean and scary, a terrible combination.

So that brings me to last week. The names and place shall remain anonymous
as I am not going to use a computer to damage them the way two folks used emails to throw a few well paced darts at me. The words were totally unexpected. The level of contempt was very thinly disguised. And there was lots of innuendo, fill in the blanks with wondering. Are they talking to me? After all, this is being sent to more than one person. I couldn't help wondering, if they were so upset why they never said a word about it to me individually. Banging the keys of the computer and letting the vent ooze out somehow gave them courage. One word kept surfacing for me. One sentence kept floating back, over and over again. And here it is.

It's easier to throw sticks and stones when you hide behind a computer.
However, it is just pain cowardly. That's right...cowardly.

Yes, it is hard to come to someone and in a face-to-face conversation share how something they did hurt your feelings. Yes, it is hard to share disagreements in philosophy or ways of doing things in a face-to- face format. 

It is an adult skill to do that. It takes courage to do that. And it is the right thing to do that.

It allows the other person you have a conflict with to see your face and hear your voice and get the magnitude of what they did that hurt you. However, and since I teach conflict management, I have come to believe that if the goal is to solve a problem or improve a relationship, then find the courage to talk to the person...in person.

They can't fix or change or apologize or make amends when they don't even know they hurt you.

I see this a great deal on some well known women's blogs. I have stopped going there because I cannot stomach the fact that someone would start up a blog of
"haters" who judge and condemn and vilify another human being. How
could someone say such nasty things and not think they would hurt deeply.

More frightening perhaps is that they actually wanted to deeply hurt the other person.

This wasn't an easy week for me. I prayed and prayed and asked for God's guidance. What should I do or say back. I knew for sure that this attack, although thinly disguised, came from someone who must be hurting. It took awhile, but I finally got to the spot where I could pray for them and ask God's guidance about how I could respond in a loving manner. 

I made the decision to survive using humor and courage and grace. I had no control about their comments, but I did have control over my response. 
Would I be aggressive and defensive? Would I debate them on the grounds that their assumptions were inaccurate and unfair?

Or would I try to gain the seed of truth from what they were upset about?
Would I show compassion and empathy, even if they didn't. Would I find the courage to be kind and caring and loving and compassionate, in my heart, no matter what. 

I am still in process. I am focusing on how much LOVE surrounds me and there is SO much of it. I am so grateful for those who love me as I am, faults and all.
I am so grateful for family and friend and colleagues who appreciate the me God created and express that gratitude rather than thinly veiled contempt.

I made a small attempt at communication back and tried to pepper my words
with hope and care and concern and a desire to heal hurts.

My beloved hubby, upon reading what was said, had a few well chosen words to share. I won't put them here as they might make you blush a bit. But once he calmed down he said, "Plain and simple, honey. They may be a bit jealous of what a great person you are, " Of course he would say that because he loves me with his whole heart.

My daughter sent me the quotation at the start of this blog post and listened to me as I felt so sad and almost sick to my stomach. Her empathy and care and calling to see how I was doing...well she and Bert saved me this week.

Vicky Westra, without even knowing the details of the hurt, told me she'd
pray for me and that she loved me and was grateful for me. Also, a quote on Vicky's blog helped my thinking:

                      Focus on what matters and
                   let go of what doesn't.

My friend Sharon understood and listened and was angry that someone would vent on me in such a cruel way.

And without my asking for it, countless students and friends and family
connected with me. They didn't even know what had happened. But their kind and loving words soothed my hurting soul. God is good all the time and He knew I needed support.

And finally, in my quiet time, filled with some unrest, I've asked God to help me learn whatever lesson He has in mind for me in this situation. I know I am not perfect. I know I may have done something that hurt them so badly that they would want to hurt me back. I don't know or understand what that is exactly, but I am open to talking and finding out so I can apologize if necessary.

And my goal? Be kinder than necessary. Go out of my way to let others know they matter to me. 

And what keeps coming back in my prayer time?... a clear message 

Words are powerful. They can do great good or great harm. Always use them carefully and share them in love. And in the end, be the woman I was created to be. Instead of slinging hurt, sling joy and hope and peace and love.

Thanks God, I'm listening!

God Bless!
Love, 
Linda

What to do...when your computer blows up

Technology can be your friend, or not.
                                    -Bill Gates, Founder of Microsoft

I have a love-hate relationship with technology. There, I said it.

I am appalled and horrified to realize that recent studies show Americans spend an average of six to eight hours a day in front of some kind of screen. A television. A phone. A computer. Absorbed. Totally absorbed and oblivious. Captivated. I'd even go so far as to say addicted. That even includes children in grade school. Yikes!

Like the young lady in the Safeway parking lot. She was headed to the store, her smart phone in one hand, eyes down, gazing at the screen and she was totally unaware that she was in a parking lot with busy cars whirling everywhere. She wandered aimlessly into the lane of oncoming traffic. One car screeched to a stop, another going the opposite direction slid to a standstill and guess what... she never looked up. She never saw she was in danger. Finally, an older gentleman rolled down his window and gently shouted, "Miss, be careful!" The look on her face said it all. She looked up, dazed, almost glassy-eyed, and stared at him as if he was from another planet. She shook her head, went back to her smart phone and somehow managed to meander into the Safeway store without bumping into the automatic doors.

I'm aware that younger America is marinated in technology and not all of it is bad by any means. But to quote my Grandma, and I seem to dispense her wisdom frequently these days, "sometimes a new fad isn't all it is cracked up to be."

Yup, Nana, I read you loud and clear.

Since I am a college professor and spend my days with savvy college students 
who navigate technology as easy as breathing, I can see the benefits of easy access to information. Really I can.

Everyone has a phone and I do mean everyone. These days I'll often be found saying "Get out your phones and google the Gottman Institute and see what they say about how to handle conflict gently in gender relationships." Easy peasy. All the world at your finger tips.

I get it. Even I am computer dependent. That's how most of my students communicate with me after hours. That's how I blog. That's how I contact consulting clients. And perhaps I didn't recognize my own dependency on this magic information dispenser until my home computer blew up.

Blew up is not an exaggeration.

One minute it was working fine. Then I closed it. 

Later, when in great expectation I opened it again, the screen had lines going every which way. It looked like an etch-a-sketch drawing where a toddler had gone wild with the buttons and covered the screen with lines. Oh. my. goodness.

I made a mad dash to the Apple store, as I use a Mac Pro, and was met by a young computer geek with a huge smile A smile that lasted until he saw my screen. "Oh dear" he whispered. Then he opened up the back of the computer, which I have had for at least six years, and sighed. The kind of sigh that never comes before good news. And then he said one word, as his eyes looked at the computer and then looked at me. He wasn't so disgusted as to be obnoxious, but you could feel a tad bit of contempt. 

"VINTAGE," he said in disbelief. "How old is this?"

I imagined myself at some archeological dig site where a rare bone is discovered. Yet in archeology that discovery might bring elation. This discovery had a side-order of disbelief and criticism served with it.

"Vintage," I said, punctuating the word with an explanation point. And then I started to laugh.

I don't mean a small and lady-like laugh. 

I mean a holding your sides until they hurt kind of howl. And when I could breathe properly and get words out in a coherent fashion I whispered, "Just like me. Vintage."

I left the Apple Store with a new Mac Pro, following the exchange of data from one computer to another. It's important to add that I am filled with gratitude that I had the resources to get a new laptop. 

I came home and told every detail of my story of the blown up computer to my dear husband Bert. 

He gladly listened, with a twinkle in his eye, to the entire, saga. After all, he's a marvelous counselor and is used to listening attentively and genuinely to people's problems. However Bert sees the pros and cons of overuse of technology, uses a computer as little as possible, and only does so at work.

Bert still relishes the old fashioned tradition of getting a newspaper at our door, holding it in his time-worn hands,  sipping and savoring his coffee,  and examining each page of the paper at his leisure. He comments on the photography in the Spokesman Review and the story titles, little things that most of us miss. After all he comes from a family of book publishers who specialized in historical, Native American and "coffee table" books. As a child he was in on every aspect of what it takes to do the research for a book, write a book, edit a book, and do the photography for a book. He appreciates the "art" of publishing and holding and feeling the final product.

I am so, so blessed to share my life with this man of tradition, even though years later he wouldn't know a kindle from a spindle. He's old-fashioned and that's only one of the countless things I adore about him.

Bert nodded wisely as I gave him the details of the computer mishap. Then he gave me a big hug and kiss, and he solemnly, with a small side of humor, told me he loved me. He assured me that he'd love to get that new computer for me for Christmas. And then we both started to chuckle when I recalled the proclamation that the old computer was declared "vintage." After all my "vintage" life-partner rarely even uses a cell phone.

God Bless!
Love, Linda

Finding Light in the Darkness

There's a crack in everything.
That's how the light gets in.
                                                            - Leonard Cohen

The landscape in Spokane is almost unrecognizable. One day it was warm and sunny and 63 degrees and the next day it was stunningly freezing. Fall was in its
glory and then winter came along and BAM!

That's really how life is sometimes. It seems that all is as it should be
and then suddenly things are off kilter. Uncomfortable. Shifting and changing.

Nope, I didn't vote for that!

It gets dark very early now, It's dark when I leave for work and starting to get dark when I come home. And I find I have candles everywhere. No, everywhere. I have candles out in lanterns in the back yard, sharing shreds of light beams with the crisp frost. I have candles in almost every room. Just in case. Just in case someone needs comfort and needs to know there is Light in the darkness.

For me that light has always been Jesus.

He's the one I call out to when tears are streaming down my face. He's the one
who has been my light on the darkest pathways. He's the one who has guided me along rugged roads, when I stumbled at almost every turn.

He's the One.

Several of my very dear friends and beloved family members are going though very tough and challenging times right now. Some days it feels like the darkness is overtaking their lives and they are on a very slippery path. It feels scary and unreal and out of control. In those times of darkness, and believe me I have been there, I have called out to Jesus in pain and despair. I felt like there was no crack of truth for light to even find its way through.

But there is a crack in everything. That's how the healing light gets in.

This last weekend Bert and I got an Emergency Car Kit for our beloved Granddaughter Glory Sihin, now 17 and adopted three years ago from Ethiopia.
She has had her drivers license for only a few months and this is her first winter driving in the snow. So we purchased a AAA card and an all-weather bag that has everything from a small shovel to a flashlight and flares. Glory was amazed at all that she might need, in case she was stuck in an emergency. 

After rattling off all all the snow storm and emergency protocols , I looked at her dear face and saw her smiling at me. I could read her mind and she could read mine. 

"Okay," I said. "Pray first and then use the Emergency Kit." 

He is there for every emergency!

And when I wonder what the next sentence or paragraph or chapter is in my life...I remember that I am not alone in the darkness. He is there. Right
with me. Holding out a hand. Bringing a candle to help light my way.

Yes, the weather has changed and I find I am missing the warmth of the sun,
the chatter of friends outdoors, and the feel of dirt underneath my fingers as I
nurture small plants. Yet I know this season will bring me a new sense of His presence. A new renewal of how much I need His guidance.

And I will pray, and pray and pray some more...for my dear soul sisters
who are struggling and choosing and growing and trusting in Him.
You know who you are and you know how much I love you!

He will not leave us. He will light the way!

Of that I am sure!

God Bless!
Love Linda

Veterans Day...Through the Eyes of Children

How important it is for us to recognize and celebrate our heroes and she-roes.
                                        -Maya Angelou

Whenever Veterans Day nears, I have a pit in my stomach.
During that day, and for several days afterwards, I feel the
enormity of what has been sacrificed to keep me free. I feel a gratitude that is overwhelming and linked with tears. I say to my students who are veterans, to my husband and other friends who have served, "Thank you for your service." However, it rings a little hollow. That phrase is heartfelt, yet it doesn't begin to cover the cost.

My Dad was a veteran in WWII, stationed in Italy for more
than three years. He was newly married. He left a business, a wife, his country and lived in a tent. He loaded bombs into airplanes, day after day, in an effort to keep Hitler from taking over Europe and the rest of the world. On Veterans Day I always pull out the pictures of my Dad in his uniform. My younger Dad. The one who still smiled easily. There was no question that he would serve. He wanted to give the gift. 

In later life he wondered aloud, and with much sadness, if perhaps some of those bombs had also hurt innocent people. That wondering hurt his heart. According to my Mom, a new bride when he left, Mark was "a changed man." How could he not be.

A life changed forever.

War is awful and horrible and hurtful and many tough
lessons have been learned in the wars we have fought. And the life of every soldier, on both sides, is changed forever.

Yet no matter where we stand politically on a war, in my view we need to love and care for those we ask to go and make the ultimate sacrifice. Vietnam Veterans often came home to cat-calls and horrible signs. Not only had they made a huge sacrifice, it seemed like so many of them were vilified at home.

Hopefully we learned a lesson from the pain they 
endured. We may not agree with a war, but we will care for and love those who went to serve in it.

My beloved Bert was/is an Army paratrooper. I say "is" 
because it is so a part of who he is today and the values he holds. Now, as a counselor, he often works with Veterans who are struggling, who have PTSD. Serving changed them, grew them up, brought them square in line with a side of life that stretches and pains them, and pains those they love.

And women serve and leave home and children and lives that will never be the same. They give their all to keep freedom alive. They serve with honor and love and dignity and pay the cost.

Lives changed forever.

Saying thank you doesn't seem adequate, but it's what I have to offer. Saying thank you, not just on Veterans Day, seems to be even more important. 

A friend at the college where I teach sent me this video link on Tuesday. And the tears flowed. Somehow the voices of these sweet third grade elementary children captured what was and is in my heart.

Don't miss this.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5pfBUUZNbFM

God bless!
Love, 
Linda

The Best Weekend EVER...

When he worked, he really worked.
But when he played, he really PLAYED!
                                    -Dr. Seuss

I am all about making memories. Memories that paint pictures of an experience for my grandchildren. Memories that will last far beyond my years. Memories that start with the sentence..."You will NEVER believe what we did!"

When our Grandson Jacob was about to have his 13th birthday, my husband Bert and I set out to make a memory-filled time for the "young lad," as my Grandma used to say. We wanted to go all out, to fulfill a dream of his and in the process one of our own.

We didn't have to think long and hard. After all, Jacob is a die-hard Seattle Seahawks football fan. The kind that loved the Seahawks before they became famous. He knows all the players, all the statistics, who has been traded for whom. He knows it all and watches every game on tv with such zest and vigor and raucous yelling and jumping up and down that it makes us all laugh until we cry.

And since this Nana LOVES to put surprises together, we decided to get Jacob some Seahawks gear for his birthday. The bag was decorated with huge Seahawks balloons and there was a puzzle inside, incapsulated in different envelopes. Jacob loved the Seahawks hat and the book about the players. And then I directed him to a series of envelopes. I informed him he had a puzzle to solve. Since Jacob has always been quick to do puzzles, we knew the grand finale would be seen in short order and would be jaw-dropping.

Jacob opened the envelopes, read the clues, put the puzzle together and then in wide-eyed disbelief...looked at us. He read the puzzle again and his mouth fell open. He whispered, "I can't believe it." Jacob looked up and said in almost disbelief, "We are going to a Seahawks game, a real, in-person Seahawks game!!!"

And so we did.

We flew on an airplane to Seattle, where both Bert and I were born, stayed at an amazing hotel, went swimming, had room service, had a town car take us to the stadium, and had Seahawks rain gear ready to roll. Now please understand, this is not our usual way to travel. But since we are a tad older, and I was not about to drive to Century Link stadium with the 67,4000 other people attending the game, we opted to have someone take us.

It was such a thrill. the noise. the screaming. the touchdowns. the sad loss to Dallas. the trip to get our bags. the flight home. All of it... AMAZING.

But most of all, the talks and sharing, the glimpse into the life and heart of our dearly beloved grandson...that's what Bert and I will remember. We will never forget the look on his face when we finally got to our seats. Seats way, way, WAY up in that huge stadium. That joy-filled moment will stay with me forever.

And beyond the trip, Jacob's thank you note, delivered as we dropped him at his home Sunday night. That thank you letter that made us cry...lots and lots of tears. In it Jacob expressed with such love what we mean to him, that we had inspired him, that he dearly loves us and loved spending time with us.

It's the kind of letter that gets framed, that we'll read on days when we might be a little down. It's the kind of letter most parents and grandparents wait for their whole lives.

Yes, it was the best weekend EVER. A memory maker for sure.
We love Jacob with all our heart and were there at his birth 13 years ago. We were there when he took his first steps. We were there for his first day of school and every Christmas and birthday he has celebrated. And now, we are here as we watch him become such a fine young man. We could not be more proud of him for the excellent student, son, grandson, brother, friend, and young man of faith he is. Jacob has character and we see it in how he lives his life every day.

And  while we all work hard, this weekend we played hard too.
Boppa, Nana and Jacob. We had a blast. No papers to grade, no homework to do. Just fun and lots of it. Memories made to last a life time.

It just doesn't get any better than that!

God Bless!
Love Linda