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.

Turning 40

I turn 40 years old today. It got me to thinking about other major birthdays. I spent my 18th birthday on my first day of college at Clemson. I was lost most of the day and completely overwhelmed with being away from home. It was not a pleasant day, lost in the chaos of a new life.
I spent my 20's working as a paramedic. I experienced, saw and did things that most people never dream of. It was where I cut my teeth in medicine, and it made me a better person. I was married and birthed 2 children. I fell in love with mother/baby care and this is what propelled me to go to nursing school.
Ironically, my 30th birthday was spent in an auditorium for my first day of nursing school. At the time, I thought I was too old to go back to college. One day, I had decided that I would be 32 in two years. I could be 32 and nurse, or 32 and still not a nurse. Every single day, I am grateful that I went back to school to enter into this profession. My 30's were quite turbulent at times. I opened myself up to deal with much of the baggage I carried around with me. Our family struggled a great deal during this decade. I had 2 more children. Our marriage struggled , our finances struggled through unemployment, our children struggled in school. We managed to press on and go from surviving to thriving. We built our dream house in the country, found great jobs and found our tribe of true friends.
This summer has been filled with angst about this birthday. I was going to loose 20 pounds to prepare for it. I think I gained 5. I was going to get another tattoo, I never got around to it. Yet, now, here it is. Surprisingly, I have a new sense of peace. We just took the family on a most amazing trip to Texas. It was a trip filled with many blessings and much beauty. My husband joined the ranks of the employed with a great job right here in Gilbert. I find myself on the cusp of some very interesting things professionally. I look around me and see real, authentic, loving relationships. I see, now, that the struggled of my 30's has left me looking forward to a decade with a sense of accomplishment and security in knowing that I have done so much of the work to prepare myself for whatever is to come. All of that struggle and work was worth it, every bit.
Bring on the next decade!!

Front page!!

This is the article that appeared in The State newspaper in 2005. It was a very interesting turn of events that led me to the front page of South Carolina's largest newspaper. I had become involved in the South Carolina Breastfeeding Action Committee, mainly because I was the Area Coordinator of Leaders for La Leche League of South Carolina and a post-partum nurse. I also happened to be pregnant and nursing a baby during this year long process.

I was sent an email to let me know that my name had been given to a reporter who wanted to do a story about the proposed bill. I had already spoken on a couple of expert panels and had a pretty good idea of what to say. When the reporter called me, he started asking the usual questions. I tried very hard to answer them in an articulate and interesting way. After a few minutes of talking, he laughed and said he didn't know much about children or breastfeeding. He didn't have any kids. I laughed, too. I finally said, "will you let me ramble for a little bit? I think I know what you want to try to say." After a few minutes of rambling, he got very excited. He then started asking very good questions. He called me back a little while later and asked if I knew anyone who would pose for a picture while breastfeeding. Well, I happened to be nursing my own baby. The next thing I know, I am meeting a photographer at a friend's house for a photo shoot.

This turned out to be an incredibly intense day for me. I had, up until this point, tried to be fairly private about my parenting/nursing/family beliefs. I had just joined a new church, and I knew that it was not very child friendly. I had only been out of nursing school for a little over a year. I was trying very hard to fly under the radar and just take care of my kids. I had absolutely no intention of becoming a spokesperson for anything. I started becoming a little nervous about this story that I expected to get tucked into a second or third Metro section article. I got even more nervous when I volunteered to pose for a picture. Can you imagine what I felt like when I opened up the newspaper and saw my picture on the front page?!? My dad had never even seen my nurse a baby!

It was one of those moments that I realized that I did not have much of a choice any more. People would know where I stand, and I had to be ok with that. My days of flying under any radar would be over. It would eventually make me a target. Usually, when one works towards being well differentiated, it threatens other people and they react strongly. I think this keeps many people from expressing their beliefs, it has kept me quiet for many months now.

I am having a hard time with all of the ruckus surrounding the Chic-fil-a mess. I am happy to see people giving their money to a business they support. I think this is one of those things that makes this country great. What is nagging me is my own silence. I've kept my mouth shut for fear of alienating my friends who believe differently. This is a hotly debated issue, and I really don't care what you believe either way.

That said, my brother is gay. I've known since he was 4 years old that *something* was different. I've also watched him struggle his whole life being judged by people and told he was going to hell, or depraved or whatever. I've even been guilty of judging him and wondering "Why?".

Jesus commanded us to love one another. That is all. I love my LGTB friends, and I love the ones condemning them. I love you all.