Saturday's Saying...Food-for-Thought

IT IS NOT GIVEN US
TO LIVE LIVES
OF UNDISRUPTED CALM, BOREDOM,
AND MEDIOCRITY.

IT IS GIVEN US
TO BE EDGE-DWELLERS
                               -Jay Deacon

I love this quotation, I really do. It speaks to my heart about life being an adventure and taking risks. Yet another part of me wishes to argue with the author, and having been on the Debate Team of the University of Washington I can swing a fine argument.

I don't know Mr. Deacon, and I am sure he is a fine fellow. Yet I want to say to him something along the lines of...

"Edge-dwell, really?" "You want us to not live lives of undisrupted calm and dwell on the edge?" 

"Well see here, Mister. I HAVE been dwelling on the edge and a little undisrupted calm sounds pretty great to me right now!"

 "No, I don't want mediocrity either, yet some boredom might help me regroup."

I'm like that, you know. Chatting back in my mind to people, and even sometimes chatting back with God. I'm good for at least five, loud, in-my-head,

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" comments per week (all said in a semi-loud, whiny voice)...

Are you kidding me that the temperature is going to be 7 degrees the first week in March? 

Are you kidding me that there is so much snow in Spokane that you can hardly 
get out our back door and it feels like spring will never get here? 

Are you kidding me that no one is going to vacuum my classroom at the college
so I need to bring my own vac to school?

My "Are you kidding me?" retorts are all laced with impatience. Yes, my very own, ugly, sinful, prideful impatience. The kind of impatience that I see in a toddler who stomps their foot when they don't get what they want, when they want it.

Yet, and I may be rationalizing here, I think..

IMPATIENCE MAY COME FROM A BIT OF TOO MUCH EDGE-DWELLING. 

When I am fearful, and don't fully trust the Lord, I can turn a situation into a fear-based trauma that catapults me to edge-dwelling while holding my breath.

Edge-dwelling that is self-created, fear-based and leaves Jesus out of the equation just doesn't work for me. And the Lord knows I've tried it. It is all about trying to get things to happen in a way that works for me and a request, no a demand, that it happen in my timing. If I'm edge-dwelling and seeking to somehow control the uncontrollable, then that is pure misery and poorly extended energy.

Edge-dwelling as an adventure, with Jesus in the center, looks quite different. 
I am breathing, trusting, and knowing that this Adventure God has me on is guided by Him.
If I sit on the edge, breathe, listen to Him, read His word, and TRUST His plan for my life, the view from the edge is breath-taking, guided by Him, and full of a spirit-of-adventure.
On the "edge" means I am lovingly confronted with my growing edges. He is patient, knows who I am, and knows my heart. He is my patience and my reserve. He loves me exactly as I am and loves me too much to leave me on that edge without helping me to change.

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is food-for-thought that I can easily swallow! :)

Sending you warm, joy-filled weekend hugs, no matter what the temperature is where you are.

God Bless!
Love, Linda

Soak in the Wisdom of Women- Vicky Westra, Ann Voskamp and Others Who Inspire Me

I am AMAZED, truly amazed 
I am stunned and shocked and inspired 
I am soaking it ALL in, deep into my bones 
I am grateful overflowing 
I am brought to my knees as tears fall, absorbing the dust and residue of my old hurts 
I am refreshed and renewed
By His message filtered through their words 

I am feeling my heart, opened in new ways
Pried open by the LOVE of Jesus
Sifted through the wisdom of these sisters
These sisters of inspiration
These God reminders
These movers in the Faith
These doers, not just talkers, although they talk so well and move so many
These authentic Jesus followers who lay it all down
These courageous givers and writers and day-changers
These picture-takers whose photographs and words move my soul
These Mommas to their own and Mommas to the forgotten
You are living His story for your lives

I am changed because of you
Your generosity of spirit
Your own hurts out on a table like the last supper, an offering
To Him
To us
To me

Your courage makes my own heart beat stronger
Your fight for life makes me appreciate, even more, every minute I am gifted
Your authenticity and transparency to share and be real and be deeply honest to the core
It challenges me to be ALL He means me to be

You are writers, sweet sisters of wisdom
You are livers and givers
You move mountains and help to make Jesus real
The Jesus who loves
The Jesus who is there with every heart beat
Who never leaves us
Who sustains us in times of the deepest. heart. breaks

You, sisters, who set aside your own ego,  your own accomplishments
You point the way to God Almighty
The Ruler of the Universe
The Creator
The Sustainer
The Jesus I know and love and serve

You are preachers and lovers and doers and you give feet and heart-beat to His word 
You light the way to His sacrifice, by your very own.

You minister, just as he did.

You give yourself away so He can use you.

And I am grateful beyond words.

A Teary Day, February 19th, Happy Birthday Mom!

I miss my Mom! 

I miss my Mom every day, but especially today since it is her birthday!
She would have been 96 years old today. I started to talk about her in one of the
college classes I teach, and I found myself very teary, even just saying that
it is her birthday.

Dolores Stanbury McColm was an amazing Mom who adored me every day of my life.
While I was a bit of a mystery to her, since I am an extrovert and she was an introvert,
she SHOWED up in my life, she was present physically and emotionally, she was on
my side, and she had my back! I have SO many great memories of her mothering and caring.
So many times when she "saved the day," showed up at my events, and took me to a million
activities. She was brilliant, beautiful, organized, thoughtful, unselfish and generous. She even sent anniversary cards to her friends who had lost their husbands, knowing that day would be tough for them.

It's amazing to me the HUGE hole that is left after her passing. She was ill for about three years, and the last two and a half years I went every other weekend to Seattle to coordinate her health care and help care for her. I felt honored to do that, to give back to a Momma who gave so much to me.

I feel so blessed to have had her as my Mom!
Happy Birthday, Mom! I miss you more than words can ever express!

God Bless!
Love,
Linda

Why Going to Church Matters, Especially When You Really, REALLY Want to Stay Home!

Well...
Pure and simple, I can be stubborn. No, not just a little stubborn, really stubborn.
There are times I want my way. I don't want to have to adhere  to someone else's
schedule or wants or ideas. I want to make my own structure, set my own limits,
make my own timing.

Truth be told, I think my being stubborn has gotten in the way of some of my relationships. Okay, probably more than some. If needing to be right qualifies as being stubborn, then maybe quite a few
relationships.

It has certainly gotten in the way of my relationship with God.

Let me explain.

My week is busy, more truthfully very busy, packed, full of deadlines and schedules over-brimming.
I do the scheduling.  I jam pack that baby almost every week. For years I have had two jobs.
College Professor and owner of a Communication Consulting Company. I love doing both.
I am passionate about both. I want to serve people and help them live their best life. Add to that time with my beloved husband, adult children and grandchildren, and the schedule almost looks undoable.
It's also a habit to do so much and arrive at Friday sort of gasping for air.

When Saturday morning comes, and there is no schedule, I am overjoyed!
I cannot contain my smiles,relief and exuberance for life. I am grateful for Everything. Every cup of coffee, walk outdoors, every moment when there is time to breathe. I putter around our home smiling and singing. Or I turn gospel music up loud and feel my spirit soar with each high note praising God Almighty. I tell my beloved husband, Bert, that Saturday is my favorite day. I don't just tell him once, I tell him almost every time he turns around. I look like a kid who just got their first puppy.

And then when I wake up on Sunday morning, I can feel the tension of resentment start to set in.
I feel conflicted. I want to feel like I did Saturday morning, but there is one major obstacle.

Church. Going to Church.

Now what you may know, or not know, is that we attend a small Church which is primarily African-American. In the African-American community, going to Church is a several hour process. The actual service can take 2 hours. Easily. My husband sings in the choir, so he goes early. I go to Sunday school before Church so I am there early as well.

So the whole process takes most of a morning and even into the early afternoon.

We often go with our adopted Granddaughter from Ethiopia, and she is pure JOY, so that helps get me going. And the congregation is FILLED with some of the most amazing, warm and supportive people I have ever met. They are genuine and a breath of fresh air to my soul.

Yet if I'm honest, the internal process, the grumblings and twistings of  "I'll go, I don't want to go", go on in my head and heart.

Now understand, I would easily give three hours to a coffee date with my husband or daughters. I would have no resentment, no looking at my watch, no wishing it was over and I didn't have to go.
I would be ecstatic at the chance to spend time with them and get to know them better. I would participate with an open mind and open heart.

How ironic that I would be so stubborn about giving God time to worship Him and know Him better.
It's also ironic that once at I'm at God's house, and soaking up the hugs of fellow believers and travelers in my journey with Jesus, when I hear I hear that first Gospel song, when I hear that first prayer, "Oh Lord, you woke us up this morning and You didn't have to. We thank you. Lord."...once I set aside my stubborn will... I am all in! I love being at church.

While I love to know more about the Lord through the writings of Pastors like Rick Warren, reading my Bible and my book Jesus Calling, and praying every morning over my first cup of coffee...
nothing, and I mean NOTHING, changes my heart like worshiping, praising and learning about God in the fellowship of believers. I think God must chuckle sometimes, and I do believe that God has a sense of humor, when He hears my inner grumblings , sees my stubborness, and then sees my eventual relief.

By worshiping God, and going to church, I am right where I belong.

My inner self can act like a stubborn toddler, fighting doing what is the right thing to do, yet when I finally give in and relinquish my own "I want to do what I want" self, I am at peace.

What I know for sure is that if the Jesus I Know and Love and Serve is the center of my life, which He is, then He deserves my undivided attention. Certainly at Church on Sunday. He deserves not having to compete with the Internet, phone calls, and interruptions, even the most pleasant ones.

If I treated my family and friends with the same disrespect I often treat God, the same reluctance to give them my full attention, I wouldn't have good relationships with any of my family or friends.

It's just that simple.

I have told myself, time and time again, that I can worship God anywhere. And that is true.
But what is missing in anywhere, is getting to know God at a deeper level. At Church that deeper level often comes from listening to a sermon that rocks my soul and asks me to look at myself in new ways that challenge me. It is finding a Bible verse that seems like it was written only for me and what I am going through in that exact moment.

Human relationships only grow if they are given significant time and attention.
My relationship with God only grows if I give Him significant time and attention.

The math equation is simple, really.

More quality time with my husband + getting to know more about him at a deeper level =
a deeper and more satisfying relationship with him.

More quality time with God + getting to know more about Him at a deeper level =
a deeper and more satisfying relationship with Him.

So at church this week, during one of the hymns that had tears streaming down my cheeks, I asked God to please forgive my stubborn ways, my reluctance to come closer and know more of Him, my being stubborn about coming to His house to worship.

The words to the hymn were ...

"I give myself away, I give myself away, so You can use me."

You can't give yourself away if you are being stubborn and have your heals dug in so deeply that you don't have to change.

And a prayer was answered. I could feel that stubborn spirit melting inside my heart.

And I am grateful beyond words!

God Bless!
Love Linda

Okay...So I Am Old-Fashioned and Proud of It!

Well the day finally came. The day my Grandma used to tell me about. The day when I would use words like..."Back in the day", "I know it's old-fashioned, but..."

The day I would wonder what in heaven's name is this world coming to?

In the college classroom where I teach, I declare proudly that I have old-fashioned values. While I do not generalize about college students, because so many of them are exceptional human beings and courageous people, I do find that how I conduct my classroom seems to, at times, bring a few chuckles and shakes-of-the-head.

I actually spend a whole class hour at the beginning of the quarter, in every class, talking about my "Expectations" for how things will run in my classroom. Students also have a chance to share their expectations for me, their expectations for their fellow classmates, and their expectations for themselves.
I want all of us to be on the same page. It seems like I've talked and talked about this for years and years. Actually, I guess I have.

Amazingly, this is my 47th year of being a teacher, 37 of those years have been my beloved Spokane Community College. Yes, the culture has changed during that expanse of time. Cell phones are in. Text messaging rules the day. Formal hand-written letters are almost extinct in this college culture, yet my heart skips a beat and I almost get teary when I receive one, especially from one of my students.

Yet while many things have changed in a college setting, and I may NEVER get used to a few students coming to class in pajama bottoms,  over the years my expectations have stayed quite the same.

Here are a few life-lessons, in my book, that never go out of style:

1) Be on time. Actually, whenever possible, be a little early: That goes for walking into a college classroom, church, a family dinner your Mother makes, a job interview, a coffee date, or a meeting with your college professor. Being on time shows that you respect the other person's time as much as your own. If you leave them waiting, and there wasn't an emergency or good reason to be late, you lose credibility about being a person who is trustworthy.

2) If you have to be late, try to call or email the person so they are not left wondering what happened to you. And if you come into a room late, apologize and acknowledge politely that you notice you have kept someone waiting. If you come into a college classroom late, quietly take your seat and quietly apologize for interrupting and distracting from what is going on. It never works well to be late, make a scene, throw down a book bag with a huge "THUMP!", give a sigh of resignation, and throw yourself into your desk. Or even worse, if there is a guest speaker, walk right in front of them to get to a desk across the room. Instead, take an available seat by the door so as to cause the least disturbance possible.

3) Never, and I repeat NEVER, yell at or raise your voice to your teacher, professor, boss, parent, or friend. Never walk out the door when they are trying to talk to you or solve a problem. Never point your finger at them or blame them when you have made a mistake. Never, ever
tell them everything you are thinking. Yes, they irritated you. Yes, you might like to say those things to them. However, there are consequences for telling someone off.  A college professor is like your boss. They are grading you. It does not serve you to be rude to them. You may disagree. Do it tactfully. They may be wrong. Share your disagreement tactfully. If you are called on bad behavior after doing this, OWN what you did and take responsibility for it. Listen to what  they have to say. You might actually learn something. Do not make excuses for what you did. There is no excuse for being rude.

As one person said, "We have too much of telling it like it is. Let's start telling it like the best it can be."

4) Whenever possible show gratitude and say please, thank you, and you're welcome. 
Don't take for granted the kindness of others. The smallest "thank you!" shows you acknowledge the kindness another person has shown. It makes them want to do more. I teach 120 students a day.
Every day I bring food to my class. There is a special chair by the door that has oranges, apples, and even cookies on it. Most college students are starving. Many of my students are parents and sometimes have to choose between their children eating breakfast or having breakfast themselves. They always put their children first, so they come to class starving. Every morning at about 5:30  I am on my way to SCC and I go to my neighborhood Safeway to get snacks for my students. I even get teased by the cashiers about keeping Safeway in business. I am delighted to do this. I've felt led to do this. Yet honestly I am a bit discouraged to see how many students eat these goodies and never, ever say "thanks! " A whole day may go by, and every snack gone, and no one may have voiced a single thanks. I am not doing it for a huge thanks or a brass band. However, those who do say "Thanks, Linda" almost bring me to tears. It tells me they are grateful. It keeps me buying those oranges. The same goes for when someone writes you a letter of recommendation. Send a thank you card to them for taking the time to do this for you.

You might wonder why I am listing these "Old-Fashioned Life Lessons." I LOVE, really LOVE being a teacher. God made me to do this. I have loved doing this every day for the last 47 years. Yet last week I felt so discouraged that I was brought to tears. A student I cared about was, from my perspective, very aggressive with me.  Someone complained that the oranges I brought were too small. Yes we have bad weather, yet many students came late and forgot to apologize. I was rudely told I was old-fashioned to expect a student to put their phone away while I was lecturing.

It wasn't everyone. Most of my students were their usual wonderful selves and no matter what, I wouldn't trade what I do for anything. Yet, I did have a moment of pause. I honestly felt a bit discouraged. I was stunned at being almost yelled at. I had to laugh at being called old-fashioned.
If there had been a "Retire Button" to press, I would have pressed it. I was praying and praying for patience. I was asking God to help me not take things personally. I was wondering if it was worth it to care so much about how my students treat each other and treat me. I pray for them every day. Every morning I put my hand on the outside of my classroom door and ask God to help me be His servant and help me to give each student love, care, attention and what He would have me give them.

Who knew some of what He would have me give them would be lessons in old-fashioned values. 

My Grandma was an elementary teacher who lovingly sent back my thank you notes if they had a spelling error on them. I made the corrections and sent them back with a smile. My parents were sticklers for being on time and expressing gratitude. My Mom and Dad role-modeled being punctual
and polite. My 6th grade teacher, Miss Palace, drilled us on manners as much as she drilled us on the capitals of each state.

Today I am so, so grateful for all of that old-fashioned training. I am grateful that
high expectations were set for me. I'm not perfect, no one is, yet when we practice some of these old-fashioned values, it seems that life just gets better for everyone.

God Bless!
Love Linda

Celebrating My Birthday with a little bit of MOXIE :)

Moxie-
It's a street-smart spirit that's as old as 
recorded history and as new as the rising sun.
David had it; Goliath didn't. It's that intangible
tangible. You don't learn it in school and
you can't get it from a book. It can jump
oceans and move mountains. It says,
"Make your life what it can be. Take your
life wherever it can go."
                                                                      -Kobe Yamada


Years ago I remember my Nana exclaiming about a friend of hers who had
"MOXIE." I was little at the time and while I wasn't sure exactly what "moxie"
meant, I could tell by the way my Grandma said the word that it was full of "vim and vigor," also her words. 

It was her friend's birthday and Nana had paid her a supreme compliment by telling her 
she had MOXIE. What was "MOXIE"?

Spirit! Perseverance! An over-the-top  love of life! 
Energy! Full of fun! Optimistic!  Courage! An"I Won't give up!"attitude! Being an Overcomer!

Her friend, I remember, had just turned sixty seven. I couldn't possibly
imagine how old that must be, yet if my Grandma's friend could have MOXIE at that age...
I felt there there was hope for all of us.

Tomorrow, February 5th, amazingly, I turn 67 and today, in a de-ja-vu moment, one of my dear friends at the college where I teach laughingly told me I had "MOXIE!" Colleen looked just like my Nana when she said the word; ear-splitting grin, fun spilling out of her with joyous laughter. She then shared with me a Kobe Yamada saying that "reminded her of me":

"At times it is necessary to go 
over the top
How else can we get to the
other side."
                      -Kobe Yamada

She thanked me for "spilling over in spirit", not being afraid to be over the top, and sharing that spirit with her.

How could I not?

I have always loved life. That's how God made me. I was blessed to be loved and cherished and it is a blessing for me to give back to those who matter so much to me. I feel like every day I have been given is such a gift and every hard-fought lesson a chance to grow. I feel like we are all God's one-of-a kind creation and He made us to shine.

One of my very, very favorite songs growing up was "I'm Going To Let My Little Light Shine!" What a perfect song to set the tone for my 67th year!

This little light of mine, 
I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine.
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Hide it under a bushel basket. No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Hide it under a bushel basket, No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Hide it under a bushel basket? No!
I'm gonna let it shine.
Let it shine. Let it shine. Let it shine!

So today, I find I am so grateful as I reach 67...



I am so, so grateful for my "role models" for having "Moxie." Just a few of these include: Dolores McColm, my Mom, Amy Farrell and Jessi Thompson, my daughters, my husband, Bert, my friends Linny Clark, Sharon Hartnett, Vicky Westra, Peggy Sue, Eileen Thompson, Roberta Greene, and Sarah. My grand daughters Sihin, Emma and Jenna, my grandsons Jacob and Owen. Each of these angels has been an overcomer, a light-shiner, a gratitude-seeker, a courage-maker, an optimism-seeker and they have let their "little light shine" into my life. They have battled everything from the suicide of a parent, very difficult childhoods full of trauma, prejudice, horrible car accidents, people who are alcoholics, and stage four breast cancer to stuttering, having a hard time finding words, having friends betray them, leaving Ethiopia and coming to Spokane, and brain injury. When I see them, I am overcome with their courage, stamina, and perseverance against great odds.

And I am so, so grateful to God that He made me with "moxie" too. I am so grateful to be 
surrounded by those who love me. I am so grateful for my beloved husband and my precious children and grandchildren. I cannot imagine my life without them. They bring absolute JOY into every day! I am so grateful for dear friends who love me, just as I am. I am so grateful for every mistake I have made and every hard season that has challenged my soul. They have taught be to be courageous, lean on Jesus, and not to give up. I am so grateful that I was born with one large hand and one small hand. I have learned empathy for those who are different. I am so grateful for all of my wonderful and courageous students and consulting clients. Working with them nourishes my soul. I am so grateful for my Church and all who worship there. I am so grateful for every song we sing on Sundays that reminds me that Jesus is my Savior. I am so grateful that I cry easily and that people know my true heart. I am so grateful that I have a spirit that loves to celebrate EVERYTHING...holidays and people's victories, even the smallest ones. I am so grateful that I had parents who taught me that if I worked hard and never gave up, I could achieve my dreams. I am so grateful for every day I have spent in a classroom doing the thing God gave me a gift to do, be a teacher. I believe it is a sacred profession, and I have loved everyday of the last 47 years of going to work. I am so grateful that I love bright colors, flowers, and balloons and have the nickname of being "the balloon queen."  
I am so grateful to be 67 and to know I am God's child and that I am dearly loved and adored!

I am so grateful for this blog and having the opportunity to record my life-lessons.
Perhaps one day one of my children or grandchildren, or even the folks who read this from time-to time, will find something here that enriches their lives or know they mattered to me. I am so grateful for every comment that is left here as it feels like a connection to another human being.

So...at 67...I will let my little light shine!

May God bless you and keep you and hold you in the palm of His Almighty hand!
Love, Linda

Friday's Favorite Quote!

First it begins inside your heart.
Something moves.
Then opens.
Then frees itself.
And now you feel
 a rhythm
breaking its long silence.
This is going to be good.

Someone once said that optimism is like seeing the donut instead of the hole.
That makes perfect sense to me. It's a choice to look at gratitude and be optimistic.
There's great freedom and relief, both physical and emotional, when I move toward gratitude.
It almost feels like there is a shift in my heart and body. Something moves when I
look, with new eyes, at all I have to be grateful for. 

Back in the day, when we had records and vinyl, at times the needle would get stuck and not get into the proper groove of the record. The needle skipped over and on top of the grooves. It was not where it belonged.

You could hear the dissonance as the needle skipped again and again, and again...scratching, until someone walked over, picked up the arm of the record player and set the needle straight into the right groove of the record. 

Ah....that's better. 
The relief was almost immediate.

I feel like that's what God does for me when things are scratchy and in the wrong groove in my life.

He picks up the arm of the record player, and gently sets the needle where it needs to be on the recording.

Then something moves in my heart. 
Something frees itself.
I can feel a new rhythm that has been waiting to be born.
I can say with confidence...
This is going to be good!

God is doing a new work in me and it is beginning inside my heart.

Because of His grace, because of His love...
Today I am filled with gratitude.

May you have a blessed weekend!
And as almost everyone in Washington state says...

Go Seahawks!

God Bless!
Love,
Linda 

A PRAYER...

"May your prayer and your living be so closely connected
that you cannot separate your day plan from your Amen. 
May you not despise your weakness, your anxiety, or
your exhaustion, rather may you bring these into the
presence of Jesus. Your smallness is a gift and an offering.
May He be your kind companion today."

It has not been an easy weekend for me. That's just the honest truth.
I am trying to focus on gratitude and that my tears are a gift to Jesus.
My weaknesses are a gift to Jesus. My smallness is a gift to Jesus.

While it is hard to cry off all of your makeup in church, perhaps
that kind of gut-wrenching honesty is exactly what the Lord would want.
Bearing my true heart to Him. He knows it anyway.

I am a mix of great JOY and also sadness and pain. While I've
had several weeks of feeling so happy and relaxed and free, that's
only a small part of what real life offers. I want to be open to it
ALL, learn from it ALL, and give ALL of it to Him. I want my life
to reflect His love, His grace, His will for me.

I want to love Jesus and live for Jesus wholeheartedly!

I know I am growing, Sometimes it just isn't easy.
I would ask for your prayers that I may turn ALL of my life over to Jesus,
every single day! And to that I say...Amen! :)

God Bless!
Much love,
Linda   

Memories, light the corners of my mind....

Memories...
light the corners of my mind.
Misty watercolor memories,
Of the way we were.
                                            - The Way We Were, Barbra Streisand

Nostalgia...

I am currently going through old, tattered, mostly black and white
photographs stored carefully in an old leather suitcase with well-loved straps and slightly tarnished buckles. Picture after picture brings a wash of memories. Just as the suitcase was buckled tightly so nothing would fall out, the memories and stories were safely secured in that valise so they wouldn't be forgotten.

It's a new year, yet the past is not far behind. When you gaze around our home almost everything in it carries a story. 
Yet these often grainy, thank heavens not HD quality photographs, capture a time when things seemed more simple. 

Nostalgia, it seems, is a part of our daily conversation these days. So often something jogs our story. It all starts with... 
"Remember when?..."

Stories of dear ones here and dear ones gone. Stories of those not- so-dear. Yet even with time the memories of the not-so-dear ones fade into how sad we are that they lost their way. How we wish they had been loved as a child and not neglected. How things might have been different if they had felt wanted.

Hurt often recreates itself when people don't feel seen, valued or wanted. You can see the pain etched in faces of those old school photos.

Yet most of the memories bring a smile, a warmth, a soft remembering. A hand held. A glance. Deep gratitude for all they meant to us.

Almost always, when we sit in "our" chairs in the family room
sipping on freshly brewed coffee, my beloved Bert starts the 
travelogue of life. One memory begets another.

Last night we had a precious granddaughter staying overnight and she had access to Face book. Sihin, her finger twirling and circling each message, was suddenly animated. She exclaimed with glee, "Look Nana, it's Owen!"

My oldest daughter, Jessi, had posted a video of Owen, her amazing 2 1/2 year old son. He was snow skiing down a gentle ski slope,  no poles and with perfect balance. You could see the shadows of his family cheering him on. We watched the clip again and again and exclaimed at how amazing and athletic O truly is. We could imagine the wind on his face and the crunch of the snow underneath him as he courageously sailed toward his Daddy, ready to swoop him up if necessary. That here-and-now moment had us all grinning with pure JOY.

And then the stories of skiing days-of-old began, and we reminisced about when Chris and Eric, at about that same age, flew by Bert on a ski hill near Seattle. Memories of Bert skiing in Switzerland.

The memories seemed linked like the paper chains we made in grade school. One carefully-cut circle glued so as to fit inside the other. And before long, one circle fits within one circle and another and another. 

Then my own snow skiing memories gently blew in like snow falling from trees after a slight breeze. Skiing when I was seven. Lessons with the Buzz Fiorini Ski School. A left ski pole carefully designed so I could plant my pole with the best of them. Hot chocolate on the ski bus. The misty watercolor memories cascaded like a waterfall.

O's story brought Bert's story, brought my story. And Sihin watched in awe and listened intently as nostalgia lovingly hijacked our conversation. She loves the old pictures and stories since, having been adopted from Ethiopia only two years ago, this is all new and fresh to her. And truth be told, we love having a willing and eager audience as the stories wander across our minds.

The old stories bring comfort. They bring a sense of knowing and belonging. They are small patches in the quilt of our lives.
I hope to record some of them in this new year so they will live on.
One day Owen and Sihin might be sitting at a fireplace and reminisce about Nana and Boppa. It will all start again with...

"Remember when?..."

May God bless you and keep you and hold you in the palm of His Almighty hand.

Love you to the moon and back!
Linda

In 2014...Wholeheartedly Kicking Shame and Blame to the Curb!

"Treat everyone as if they have a broken heart
because they probably do."

I remember the exact moment when I knew I wasn't enough, a moment when I felt apologetic for my very being. It certainly wasn't a moment most folks would have picked out or understood. After all, I was just a seven year old girl in a grocery store, standing with my mommy next to our cart.  Suddenly, the urge to meet everyone in our line just overtook me. Now granted, I had been an extrovert from the time I took my first breath, and I knew instinctively that my talkative and "glad to know ya!" nature was just too much for my Mom. But at that moment, in that grocery store, I threw caution to the wind and my extroverted nature, won out over my fear of upsetting my Mom.

My dear Momma, God Bless her, was brilliant, detail and perfection oriented...and a serious introvert. She loathed being the center of attention or having the focus be on her. Although Dolores loved me completely, and was a great Mom in so many ways, my very nature made her skin crawl. That day in the grocery store I remember going from cart-to-cart and conversing with the adults about what they bought and why they bought it. "Oh," I'd say. "Your apples are so beautiful. Are you going to make a yummy pie with them?" "Wow!", I'd exclaim. "That chocolate chip ice cream is my very favorite!"

Slowly, but surely, after the last lively and animated conversation, I inched my way back to our cart and with a skip, a hop and an ear-splitting grin...I looked up at my Mom.

And then I knew...just as if someone took a pin and popped a gorgeous, red birthday balloon.

I had caused her displeasure. She was mad at me for being...me.

My personality and extroverted way of life had disappointed her. As much as she loved me, and believe me she loved me more than anyone in the world,
she couldn't appreciate who I really was, who God made me to be.

And politely she whispered, loud enough so everyone in the grocery line could hear, "Linda Marie, would you please modulate yourself!" And then she looked away. And I felt shame and blame in every part of my body.

When the people who are supposed to love us unconditionally, just as we are, turn their eyes and love away from us, that silent retreat of disapproval and contempt stays with us our whole lives. That shame and blame coats our souls.

Almost 60 years later, I can still feel the shame, criticism and contempt of that moment. 

That moment is life-changing. We know we have displeased them, that we don't measure up, that we are a disappointment. That condemning look, or silent look away, sends a strong message, "You are less than. You should know better. I would never, ever make the stupid mistakes you are making." Or the contempt and criticism leveled at us can take another back road around to our heart.

That same person can give us  "advice" or "feedback" that has such a sting to it that we feel like a failure. "Modulate yourself, Linda" All would be better if you just turned yourself down and were more quiet, and more like I am.

Oh, they were just sharing their "truth", but their "truth" can cut us to the bone.
Truthfully, even though it may have had a positive intention initially, the feedback is laced with blame and shame and is perceived as more of a vent of arrogance and frustration.

Words are powerful. Words can hurt. Words can be etched into our hearts forever.

I believe the shaming messages we get from our parents, other family members, 
and those nearest and dearest to us, go straight into our DNA. Later in our own lives some of us then turn around and become like the very perfectionist condemners and heart-breakers who hurt us so much. Sadly, I am not exempt from this. I have given my fair share of disapproving looks, pointed feedback that hurt and even if unspoken, felt condemnation in my heart toward someone else. I have wanted to take certain people and put them in a mold that was more comfortable for me. I'm not sure why I have been so arrogant as to assume that people should live their lives to my specification and then their lives would go better. Judgemental, critical, condemning...cuts to the quick and breaks the spirits and hearts of others, even when that's not our intention.

I recently heard someone I dearly love, who has been shamed and shamed again, say, "I know I have always been a disappointment." She looked defeated as she shared what shame had done to her spirit. I left that conversation asking myself an important question, 

"Who have I shamed that might feel I disapprove of them so greatly that I have hurt their spirit?"

As my dear friend, Sharon, a retired teacher says, "Keep your eyes on your own paper." In other words, we all need to work on ourselves and what we need to change about ourselves, instead of focusing on the work others need to do in their lives.

What I know for sure... is that the good Lord made each of us absolutely UNIQUE! Some of us were designed to do it "just so" with great perfection and precision. Others of us are creative rebels who make mistakes and live life on the edge. Yet ALL of us, and I do mean ALL of us, need God's grace and the grace and unconditional love of those closest to us.

While it took some time, and lots of soul-searching and soul-work, with God's help I came back to being that extroverted, "glad to know ya!" gal.  I completely forgave my Mom, and I am trying to learn from the mistake she made. I make those same mistakes too.

In 2014, I am prayerfully asking God to remove all condemnation, criticism,
shame and blame from my own heart  so I can wholeheartedly love others, just as they are. I want to follow the lead of Dr. Seus in celebrating everyone's individuality.

Dr. Seus says:

Today you are you!
that is truer than true!
There is no one alive
who is youer than you!

May all of us celebrate who God made us to be and even when it's a challenge, love the differences in others wholeheartedly! Let's kick shame and blame to the curb!

May God bless you and keep you in the palm of His mighty hand!
Love always! 
Linda