Gray Hair

Whenever I would walk into my grandmother's house, I felt welcome and valued.  She would stop whatever she was doing and make me the focus of her attention.  Then, she did those little things that made me cared for.  She was retired when I was born, and had the extra time that most people don't have.  She had gray hair, and the best hugs.
I've found myself a bit worn down lately.  I had been doing a better job of taking care of myself, but that has gotten pushed aside with sick kids and responsibilities.  I left the house last night under the pretense that I needed to deposit a check and sell some used books.  I found myself dreading going home because I needed my own respite from being the one taking care of everyone else.  It then hit me:  I know a gray haired lady who is always glad to see me.
So, I left the book store and made a surprise visit to the woman my children refer to as their great-great-great grandma.  I don't see her very much since we changed churches, and I realized how much I missed her.  So I got to sit in her rocking chair and swap stories for a little while.  Her perspective on things was greatly appreciated.  Her kindness was even more appreciated.
So, the lesson for me is that there is always someone around to fill a role.  Sometimes, you have to look a little ways.  Sometimes, it will find you.  Either way, we are all here to be a part of each other's lives.  I hope I don't wait so long to go visit my gray haired friend next time.

Fully Human

A long time ago, I was sitting in church listening to the readings.  I had an Epiphany of sorts.  It is something I have based much of my 'religious' thoughts on.  Jesus is considered to be fully human, fully divine.  His teachings are geared, however, towards teaching us how to be fully human.  He tells us to love one another.  This, of course, is a divine calling.  However, it teaches us how to get along.
I heard a Priest joke one time about his role.  He said that because he stands at the altar, children sometimes ask him if he is God.  His response is "I don't correct them."
I think the flip side of this is also very true. We want others to be god. We want doctors to be completely right, all of the time. We want clergy to provide Divine guidance. I heard a story of a rector who started showing his displeasure at how the vestry was treating him. He tried to say, "Wait a minute, that isn't fair." In response, the Senior Warden replied "We don't want to know that you bleed." We set up others in some sort of twisted humanity. One that entitles people to say and do whatever they want.
I think that many people love this role of being seen as God or a god.  People want to be bullet proof and perfect.  Doctors are notorious for this.  Unfortunately, getting stuck into this sort of distorted role, you loose the ability to be human
Being human means that you make mistakes, you grow and most importantly:  you suffer.  Christ shares his suffering with us as he wept in the Garden.  He knows what it is like to suffer physically, to watch his mother suffer.  He shares with us His anguish on the cross.  I think this is what he really came to teach us.
Walking around performing miracles, teaching, telling parables are all the easy part.  Standing up before a crowd and being admired and worshipped is rewarding.  Strutting around your job, church or a hospital is forgetting your own fallible nature.  Letting others see your pain is excruciating.  Inviting others to know you in a vulnerable way can be dangerous.  Confessing your mistakes is difficult.  Although there is great suffering in being human, there is much joy.  It frees you from the confines of playing perfect and lets you join others in being human.  It gives you others to suffer with you, and to celebrate with you.
I've found myself in groups where humanity is not allowed.  I've watched people turn their back on me because of a mistake.  Worse than that, I've watch them shun me because they didn't want to admit their own mistakes.  This has happened more than I care to think about.  It has left me doing my best to be seen as perfect, not wanting to be questioned.  I don't want to be placed in the position of having to prove myself, again.
Yet, I've realized that this is not fair to my children (or even to myself).  They are getting to see that I am human.  I make mistakes.  Period.  I always try to fix them, but I'll probably make more mistakes.  At least at home, I have a real community that accepts me in all my humanity.  Everyone should be so blessed.

Unintended consequences

I attended a wonderful conference last week.  One of the main sessions was taking a look at policy.  The speaker went through a great deal of research and showed how a certain policy was taking a low risk group and turning it into a high risk group.  She even used the studies that the policy makers had used.  This caused quite a stir because we are not to question those in authority.  We are expected to trust them.
Of course, the intent of these policy makers in authority is to help people and save babies.  These, I am sure, are good people.  Unfortunately, when you place yourself in a position of authority, you can also easily abuse this authority.  You must allow people to question you.  You must share your authority with those you serve.
Much of my time as a nurse seems to be devoted to returning the patient's authority to them.  I say things like "I am giving you my opinion.  It is an educated opinion, but the final decision is yours."  I really don't think anyone is served by abdicating authority to a doctor, nurse, Priest or teacher.  I think that people should not follow policy blindly, hoping that it will keep them safe.  As this speaker proved, sometimes there are unintended consequences.

Pull me!!

Here I am at the bottom, pushing on this lady's left foot.  This wall is impossible to get over by yourself.  In fact, even our team of 4 needed help.  I am much more comfortable giving support, helping, pushing, pulling.  I am not a big fan of being the one needing help.
I started to walk around the wall and not try for myself, but I decided to give it a try.  It was very vulnerable standing on some one's shoulders.  All of my strength went to keep from falling backwards, which I almost did.  I finally put up both of my hands and yelled "Pull me!"  I even lifted up a foot and offered it to someone else to grab.  In total, I think that it took about 5 or 6 people to get me up on the lip of the top.  I got stuck, again, as I tried to work my boobs and belly over.  Then, it was my turn to help again as I grunted really loud and helped worked my weight onto the top of the wall.  Then came a bigger yell.  "Oh, Yeah!!".  It was exhilarating to get over a wall so high.
The mudrun was a really good thing for me to do.  I learned a lot about myself and it brought up many emotions for me.  I haven't pushed my body this hard in decades, and it shows it.
It also brought something very, very important home to me.  I am never alone.  Never.
I was new to the ER and worked my first code as a nurse.  I became very upset with another co-worker, I felt out of place and the all the stress got to me.  Later, as we were preparing the body, the charge nurse came in to speak with me and another new nurse.  She said "You two need to understand one thing.  I don't care where you are in this hospital, there is always help.  You are never alone."  I let her words soak in as I tried to figure out what kind of nurse I wanted to be.  I let those words soak in when I realize how much I fear being left behind.  I let her words work on my fears of feeling all alone.
When I act as if I am all alone, I am left behind the wall.  When I remember there are many, many people in this world who are working right along side me, I can accomplish most anything.  Oh Yeah!!

Playing small

One upon a time, I was an in-shape, skilled basketball player.  I was even offered a position on a major college basketball team.  If my grades had been better, I'd probably have played on the team.  Instead, I ended up out at the cement courts playing with mostly men.  In fact, I've played against several NFL stars.  The football team always headed out to the courts when spring practice was over.  It was probably the first time I played with pure athletes, much better than me.  I raised my game significantly, and was in the best playing shape of my life.
One day, I was waiting for enough people to come to play a game.  I ended up in a one-on-one game with a guy about my size.  As we were playing, it became pretty clear I was the better player.  In fact, I was much better and was winning handily.  This was truly distressing to my opponent.  He was getting beat by A GIRL, and all of the other guys were arriving at the court.  The more upset he got, the less effort I put into my game.  I started playing small.  He ended up strutting off the court, not even realizing that I had let him win.  I regretted letting him win.
To this day, I still struggle with this dynamic with other people.  For the most part, people put their efforts into making people small.  This is what makes them feel big.  I find it hard to find people who will work towards raising their own game when challenged.
Someone I used to know confessed that I intimidated him.  I was naive in thinking that he would work on himself.  Instead, I would learn that this was my cue to play small.  When I didn't play small, he used whatever tactic he could to get me out of the game.
I am sad for this person, and many others who need to make others small in order to feel big.  I am even more sad for the people they shrink.
I've been one of this people who get shrunk.  I've struggled with this most of my life.  My fear of being kicked out of the game overcomes my desire to live to my full potential.  I am trying to still this fear, and work on becoming the woman I am supposed to be.
Right now, I am prayerful to be surrounded with people who help me raise my game, in life.  I want to avoid those people who insist on my playing small.  I want to avoid this trap I easily fall into.  I hope that I won't be the one intimidated, nervous or scared.  I hope I won't expect others to play small to help me.  I hope that I find a way to play just the right size.

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.