Change

I recently read an article in a Yoga magazine. It says that we should see change as initiation. I found it intriguing considering the many changes I seem to be going through. Some have even called it a Transforming time for me. It made me think of the example set for my by my maternal grandmother. I call her Gaga.
My grandmother was a 'cradle Episcopalian'. Going to the same little church at the end of the road from 3 months until she was 92 years old. At age 92, she was not able to drive, nor get up the church stairs. So, she was left at home most Sunday mornings because no one offered to help her get the short distance to church, or up the stairs. Lamenting her lack of church going to a neighbor, he instantly offered to take her to church with him. So, at 92, Gaga changed churches. This little Methodist church would embrace her, building a ramp for her wheelchair.
I can still remember how excited Gaga was at being a member of a church community again. I watched her glow with love for her new church family. I was so proud of her ability to change a 92 year old way of worshiping.
When Gaga was 95 years old, we faced the reality that she needed to be in an assisted care facility. Instead of dreading the change, she (once again) embraced it. She declared it would be her ministry to help her her neighbors by 'lifting their spirits.'
Someone told me that we learn the most from our elders. They really are the ones that shape us more than our parents. I hope that I can continue to learn from the examples that were set for me. I am hoping that I can embrace change and see what initiation it brings.

What if...

What if everything I had ever done in my life were exactly what I was supposed to do?

What if every mistake, misjudgement, error and loss of temper were a part of my journey simply to teach me the next lesson?

What would our world be like if we saw ourselves through this lens of being perfect and deserving of compassion and unconditional love?

What if we learned simply to love ourselves?

Where would our children be if we learned to love them unconditionally? What if we held our judgement and punishment? What if we held our sharp words and humiliation? What would our children learn from being guided, loved and discipled? What if we parents' learned how to invoke our children to trust us instead of provoking them to anger?

Where would I be if I saw myself as being loved unconditionally? What if I felt that I deserved to be shown compassion, love, respect and dignity simply by being born? What if we discarded our need to perform in order to receive love? What if love were just simply there for the receiving?

What if I looked at myself with compassion? What if I looked at my own journey with love and respect? What if I simply accepted myself as being Beloved?

Raising kids

When I first found out I was pregnant, my husband and I set a goal. We wanted our children to grow up to be a compassionate and happy people. Nothing else really mattered. We didn't care what career they chose. We were not going to worry much about grades, sports, or other accomplishments. We were willing to accept any physical or mental deficiencies in our children. We just hoped for them to understand and give compassion. We have a great desire for them to be happy.
Four kids later, I can say that we still have this is our goal. It really is more of a mission statement. We have gone back to this goal many times when we were struggling with a decision. We will continue to try to do this as long we are lucky enough to be parents.
Someone gave me a book a few weeks ago. I hadn't paid much attention to the full title until today. This book is really hitting home with me, and helping me affirm many things. When I looked at the title, I realized why. It goes back to our mission statement: Attached at the Heart. 8 Proven Parenting Principles for Raising Connected and Compassionate Children. It was written by Barbara Nicholson and Lysa Parker.
I am grateful for haven started out my parenting with a goal like this. I am certain that it has helped me far more than my children. It helped me because I had to learn how to be a connected and compassionate person. I had to learn this so that I could model it for my kids. I had to allow myself to be broken and put back together with this mission in mind.
Parenting has been the most difficult undertaking in my life. I am sure that it will continue to break me in ways I had never thought possible. As I sat and listened to one of my childhood heroes speak last night, I knew that this work was worth it. He was a coach who won a national championship in 1981. He was an icon in my youth. He told the crowd in no uncertain terms: being a parent is the most important thing in this world. He said that his championship means very little compared watching his players become parents and grandparents. It was great to hear that message. It helps me stay focused on this goal my husband and I share of raising these kids. So, I keep muddling through this parenting journey of mine. I do it with gratitude for this kids, friends and family who have walked this walk with me.

Brothers

This is from a book I am reading by Elie Wiesel. It is dedicated to someone who watched his brother turn his back on suffering. This is a story that goes back to Cain and Abel. When will we humans ever learn?

"He did nothing to console his brother, to cheer him up or appease him. He who was responsible for Cain's sorrow did nothing to help him. He regretted nothing, said nothing. He simply was not there, he was present without being present. No doubt he was dreaming of better worlds, of holy things. Cain spoke to him and he did not listen. Or else he listened but did not hear. Therein lay his guilt. In the face of suffering, one has no right to turn away, not to see. In the face of injustice, one may not look the other way. When someone suffers, and it is not you, he comes first."
p. 57 'Messengers of God'

Anger

I was at a conference last weekend. A friend of mine introduced me to a lady by telling me that she has the most beautiful labyrinth on her property. I told her that I has started building one also, but I never finished it. She asked ‘why not’. My answer came out of my mouth before I could even think about it. “I started it in anger.” At the time, I was very angry at several things in my life, and digging in the ground seemed like a good channel for that anger. Hauling the bricks around, raking, I enjoyed being able to let my body move, hurt and sweat. It was good for me. At the time, I thought my anger would be helpful in getting me to finish this small labyrinth for me to spend time in a walking prayer. This comment to a complete stranger helped me understand something.
Anger has a place in life. It helps protect us, it gives us energy to confront injustice. It is something that we should see as a normal part of our lives. As a child, I was never allowed to express my anger. Instead, I turned it inward. One person told me that most adolescents with drug addiction problems usually have a great deal of anger under that addiction. I am not sure why our culture, especially that Southern culture decided that anger was a bad thing. “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” Ugh!
Ok, back to my labyrinth. It is sitting behind me, overgrown with weeds, only 2/3 complete. It sits as a reminder to me of something. Anger, once fully expressed, usually runs out of energy. It seems to be self-limiting. I wonder what a new labyrinth will look like when I start it with peace.

Contempt

My husband and I took part in a marriage workshop last winter. The facilitator talked about the 4 dark horsemen of relationships. The worst one was contempt. She said that once contempt entered a relationship, it was in great danger of falling apart.
I, initially, spent a great deal of time in contemplation of where I saw contempt in other people. They say that familiarity breeds contempt. I see this as being a very true statement. So, as I observed some of my feelings of contempt for someone, I decided that I had a choice to make. I really don’t think that a relationship has room for both love and contempt. I think that you have to choose between the two. This helped me strengthen my resolve to stay healthy in my marriage, and several friendships. I would welcome the familiarity and resist any contempt that started to seep in, realizing that contempt would prevent me from loving that person.
Well, to every lesson learned, there is another side. I also started paying attention to how I was being treated by people in my life. I started picking up on other’s contempt of me. This was a hard thing to realize in people who I had thought to be very good friends. I can now see that some people would rather hide behind contempt for another person. This makes me very sad for them. I also decided that I had fallen prey to much undeserved contempt. I didn’t want relationships with people who thought they were better than…
So, one fateful day, I decided to defend myself. As I stood being lectured by a so called friend, I responded with a simple statement. “You have NOTHING but contempt and judgment for me.” Her response was “Yes, I have nothing but contempt and judgment for you because….”. I stopped her there. I was tired of being judged, held in contempt, forced into a label of me that simply wasn’t true. It was a freeing moment. As I exited the room, I told her that she had to choose. “Contempt or love, you can’t have both.”
So, in crazy journey of mine, I have learned a great deal about myself. In the days of being a paramedic, I was very, very judgmental. I held many of our patients with contempt. I will even confess to racist comments and all sorts of stupid things I regret. It was part of a unhealthy coping mechanism. And, unfortunately, a product of a poor self esteem. At times, I was simply ‘projecting’ parts of myself. How we treat each other ends up being a reflection of what we believe about ourselves. We have to choose, consciously, how we want to live our lives. So my journey of self discovery has led me to one beautiful conclusion. I am worthy of love and respect. I also believe that every single person is also worthy of the same thing.

Pop

I have been thinking a lot of my grandfather lately. My kids didn't get a chance to know him like I did. So, I thought I would write about him.

Pop was from Missouri. He met my grandmother at Fort Jackson. He left the states to fight in World War II. He spoke some of his days in the Army. He would tell a wonderful story of his encounter with General George Patton. One day, I'll try to write down that story. I miss hearing him tell it himself. Pop learned how to be a mechanic in the army and came back to SC to make a living. He also worked as a Sheriff's deputy for 42 years. Alzheimer's disease forced his retirement at age 72. It was a sad day for his Sheriff and department. His former Sheriff would be the one to give his eulogy.

One thing that sticks with my from my childhood with a grandfather like this was his smile. His face would light up every time he saw me. He always had a few moments to give me. He always had his ball glove ready. He always had a mountain dew waiting for me at his shop. Oh yes, his shop. He ran the local garage in small town America. He worked there from about 8am until 3pm. He then went home to take a bath and go to work at his other full time job. He then worked 4pm until midnight in a rural South Carolina county. Now, we are talking about a deputy working a rural SC county during segregation then integration. I never once heard him denigrate any person of color. In fact, I never heard him denigrate anyone. He was also the only deputy to have an African-American partner. I learned from him to treat everybody with respect and dignity.

Pop was also the fire chief at the volunteer fire department. I would hear him get up in the middle of the night to answer the phone, and head out the door. He embodied serving others. He worked all hours, all shifts. The only day he insisted on having off was his birthday. He would say that it was a national holiday as far as he was concerned. Pop worked very, very hard. And he did it without a single complaint. He was proud to be able to provide for his family, and serve his community.

I miss my grandfather greatly. The older I get, the more I recognize the impact he had on my life. He still impacts me. I tell my kids stories of a man who quit school at age 15 to support his mom. He worked his entire life so that his kids, grand kids and great grand kids could have it better than he did. He took his lot in life, and made it better for those around him. For that, I am forever grateful.