Come to my table

I sat with a piece of paper, trying to draw out the design of our house.  We started from scratch and tried to visualize what we wanted for our family.  The kitchen was, by far, the most important part.  It is the heart of our home.  It is where I get to feed people.
Last week, a bunch of us moms gathered in my kitchen.  We know of a family struggling with a baby with health concerns.  In all of the discussing, we decided that feeding them was the most helpful thing.  It was decided to fill their freezer with meals to use whenever they needed it.  My house has a big open kitchen, so we worked here.
When the first guest arrived, we got into a discussion of how amazing it is to gather this way.  We felt like this is really what community is.  Gathering, preparing, cooking and eating food.  We did it in a way that fed a family, but it also fed our souls.  I am sure that I received more from the experience than I gave in a couple of casseroles.
There was a time when I told a family member he couldn't come to my house for a meal.  He was battling addiction, and I felt the need to protect my children.  Last year, I apologized to him.  I told him that my church had refused me communion and I understood what it must have felt like to be refused food.  This was a hard apology for me to make, because it felt like such a good decision at the time.  He answered with compassion, stating that he had understood why I did what I did.
Food becomes such a central part of what we do.  It is how most cultures celebrate, morn and grow.  One of my Spiritual Directors is from Africa.  I, naively, asked her one day if many people went with out food.  She was a bit offended by the question stating, "In my country, if someone else doesn't have food, I don't eat.  We always share, making sure there is extra for those needing it."
This sharing of a meal can become one of the most important events for a family.  It doesn't matter who is mad at who or how busy we are, we can always come to the table.
So, in my house, we have my grandmother's kitchen table.  I many, many fond memories of that table.  Now, it is where we do homework, pay the bills, play cards and eat.  Last week, it became a place where we prepared and packaged food for another family.

Hello, my name is....

This was the beginning of a post by a Bishop on facebook.  He was talking about entering into a new church and putting on his name tag.  It is something we should all be able to do, and not just with a new group of people.
I was lamenting to my spiritual director about loosing a friend.  I said "I thought I knew her."  The director's response surprised me.  (I'm paraphrasing) "You did know her in that moment, but people are constantly changing.  In fact, you are both changing.  How you know someone depends on many things, including your own growth."
I think this is one of my most frustrating challenges in life.  I've been attached to people who think they know me.  It is as if I am a painting that never changes.  This translates into an even bigger problem when you get stuck within this system.  This is how I know you, therefore this is who you are.  This is particularly dangerous, because you can end up believing them. 
As I have traveled down this winding path, I've made a sincere effort to see people fresh.  I've tried to be secure enough to keep from insisting a person be who I need them to be.  This can be de-stabilizing in many ways, because it challenges me to change my own perspective.  It challenges me to let people introduce themselves and learn about them.  I challenges me to silence the tapes in my head and really hear the other person.
I've come to accept that there are people in this world, in my family and in my community who will only see in me what they want to.  They are not capable of challenging their own perceptions of things.  They are not willing to spend time being unstable, of embracing change.
Recently, a friend from my college days commented about being proud of the woman I am becoming.  This is, in many ways, is quite satisfying to me.  I love the fact that I am able to re-introduce myself over and over to people who care about me.
For those people who insist on maintaining their built-in beliefs about me, I just keep remembering a song.  It is, of course, by Alanis Morisette.

"One day I'll introduce myself, because you've not yet met me."

Wouldn't it be nice if we could all put on our name tags and introduce ourselves to each other?

Hello, my name is Melissa.  This is my story.

Friends

I am entering into a bit of a second stage of life.  As someone told me "When I turned 40, I felt like I had earned it."  I know, for certain, that I see things much differently.  One of those things is friendship.
I used to choose friends based on what they would do.  Would they help me when I needed it?  Will they help me with the kids?  Could they play cards?  This, among other things, seemed to set up an unequal relationship.  This 'action plan' as it were, seems to make for short lived friendships.  Eventually, one person isn't going to do or say the right thing. 
I am learning that the best friends are not perfect, and don't always *do* the right thing.  However, it ends up being about who we *are*, not what we do.
This week, I went to see a very young, inexperienced doctor and he gave me a possible diagnosis that would be life changing.  It absolutely wrecked me.  I went into isolation mode, and decided to just be mad.  I ended up on the phone with a friend.  I was a total mess.  As I started my usual coping skill of lashing out, she reminded me something.  "We're going to be friends for a long time."
My anger (actually fear) turned to gratitude pretty quickly.  I realized I had a different sort of friend here.  She was just going to *be* a friend. 
Thankfully, this doctor ended up being wrong, but is was a terrible day for me.  I was faced with my own mortality and hit some emotions I hadn't expected to hit.  And I learned a very valuable lesson in friendship.  I hope that I am learning how to *be* a good friend, too.  This reminds me of a line from an Alanis Morissette song.
"One day, I'll be a friend to my friends who know how to be friends."

One day.

Praying for me

When I arrived at school for my final nursing exam, I reached in my pocket to call my grandmother.  She would always say a prayer for me.  I always had this sense of someone else rooting for me and holding me in prayer.  As I reflexively reached for my phone, it suddenly hit me.  My grandmother had passed away the day before.  She was really, really gone.  And I felt all alone.  It was at that moment, that I felt as though I would always be praying for myself. 
Yesterday, I posted a comment on facebook about sitting for a national exam.  A friend popped up and said she would be praying for me.  This act reached down and touched a place of mine that I had forgotten about.  It is that place that reminds me that I am not all alone, that I have people rooting for me.
It really is such a simple act, a few words, a holding in the heart.  It doesn't cost anything, but it is worth more than words can say.

Get to the point

I gave my second Toastmaster's speech today.  I tried very hard to look, act and sound confident.  This does not come easy to me, so this is part of my lesson here.  I have a mentor who is very encouraging and helping me step out of my comfort zone.  My speech was entitled 'Why would anyone in their right mind want to become a nurse?'
I think the content of the speech was pretty good.  I ended up not reading it, I used some notes.  The odd part for me was that I went over time.  I started this speech writing process thinking that I would have a hard time coming up with a solid 5-7 minutes.  I was worried I would come in under time.  Last night, I started timing myself.  I had written a 15 minute speech!  I couldn't believe it.  So I started cutting out parts, dissecting things.  I decided I could talk a little bit faster.  In the end, I had only half of my speech left.  I thought, for certain, I would be fine.  Well, I wasn't.
I talked a bit with my evaluator afterwords and he helped me understand something very important.  I should have concentrated on making only one point.  You tell stories, work on tying things in, but it all ties into the one thing you are trying to convey.  He said good speakers need about 10 minutes a point.  Inexperienced speakers (ME!) try to make several points in a short amount of time.
He said that I had some really good things today, it was just too easy to get lost in them.  You have to give the audience time to absorb a point, not step on it with another one.
So, in a way, this takes the pressure off.  I need to simplify and work on just a single point.  I can be glad if I convey one idea to a group of people and move on to see what is next.