Chanting

I read a book a couple of years ago titled 'The Cloister Walk'. I'd be quoting from this book right now, but I lent it to one of my token Baptist friends. It is book, written by a poet who spent some time in a Monastery. In this book, she talked about chanting the Psalms. She talked about how the Monks would use their breath in certain ways, sing in such a way that their voice would meld into the others. There is a real majesty as to why the psalms are chanted certain ways and why. I know very little about all of this, but I started paying attention. I was at a retreat a few months ago, and really participated for the first time. I don't sing well, but I could try to hide my voice among retreatants and nuns. By the third day, I had even gotten a little bit comfortable with it. It became a meditation, a quieting of my mind. The words took on some meaning for me, they became alive.
Last weekend, I had an appointment at the Episcopal Convent. I timed it so that I could participate in Diurnum and chant the Psalms. My 5 year old tagged along with me for this appointment He loves going and has made several friends there. So, he sat with me in the chapel. I approached the service with great reverence, only to find my child sitting beside me grinning from ear to ear. He even tickled me at one point. I found it quite beautiful and whole. I could be solemn and reverent, while being rubbed and prodded. He could be a five year old and absorb the sounds, and sights. I can only imagine what goes through his mind as he sits in a church service. He seems to understand it so much better than most.
So, it came to me that there are several times when I get to see who I am in the context of an experience. I am someone who has mostly let my kids tag along. Because of this, I have a 5 year old who loves to go spend time at a convent! He learns something new every time he goes, and we have much to talk about. At the same time, I was able to feed myself with Spiritual Direction, chanting the psalms and lunch with great people. There are times to go alone, and there are times to share it with others.
I am very, very grateful for this place of friendship, retreat and community for me. They even let Carter ring the bell!

Scared

On some level, I think that I am always scared. At least a little bit scared. I am scared of not being able to pay my bills, so I go to work. I am scared of running out of food, so I go to the grocery store. I am scared that the animals and children will go hungry, so I make sure they are fed. I think this is almost like a tension that exists in my life, in every one's life.
So, being a bit scared can be a good thing. I think that I am starting to be able to figure some things out. I am more aware of what I am deeply scared of. I have also stopped being scared of many things. Here is an incomplete list of things I am NOT scared of:
I am not scared of loosing friends.
I am not scared of being judged.
I am not scared of being humiliated.
I am not scared of speaking up.
I am not scared of sharing love.
I am not scared of receiving love.
I am not scared of standing for Justice.
I am not scared of being excluded.

The reason I am not scared of these things is simple. I remain scared of something bigger than all of that.

I am scared of stopping short of the woman I am supposed to be.

A mission

I had the most interesting talk with a new doctor last night. We were discussing the 'state' of health care in our country. Insurance companies, lobbyists, corporations, institutions. It is enough to drive a health care provider crazy. At the end of the conversation, I said "Sometimes, I wonder why I ever became a nurse." His response surprised me, and I am not easily surprised. He said something like "When you start questioning what you are doing, it is time to do what I did. I went on a mission to the Himalayans and reminded myself why I became a doctor." He said it was hard, but it made him so thankful to be able to help others. In the mountains of India, there are no insurance companies, forms or all of the other things that get between a doctor and a patient. There are just people needing help and people willing to give it.
I have been asked to participate in a medical mission to Vietnam next year. I was initially excited about the opportunity to go to a place where my father served in the army. Then, reality set in. I can't afford the thousands of dollars for the trip. And quite frankly, I hate asking for any help. Yet, something is playing in the back of my mind. Is it possible for me to do this? Is this something that I am supposed to do? Could I find the money, earn the money or be given money? Could I possibly just simply ask for help?
I don't ask for help well, and I probably do an even worse job of accepting it. I was raised with the whole 'pull yourself up by your bootstraps' thing.
It would be an honor and privilege to go on a mission and serve the greater good in another country. I am seriously considering trying to make a go of this. If I do, I'll have to let people know that I need help, money and lots of prayers.
Was this doctor just making an off the wall comment, or was he challenging me to take on a mission? Who the heck knows? We'll see.

Ayla's quote

This quote is from last book of the Clan of the Cave Bear series. It is my favorite one, and it rang so true for me.
"She had never asked, she had always been chosen, and for each acceptance she bore a mark, a scar that she would carry always. It was the sacrifice she'd had to make. Now she was being chosen again. She could still decline, but if she didn't refuse now, she was committed for life. It crossed her mind that the scars would always remind her that there were consequences to being chosen, responsibilities that came with acceptance."
page 610, The land of the Painted Caves, by Jean M. Auel

Writer's block

I guess one of the reasons I have not posted in awhile is simple. I don't feel like I can say what I really, really want to. Therefore, I say nothing. It sounds a bit childish, and there is a pretty long story behind all of this. Yet, right now, I am in no man's land. I have learned a very hard lesson lately. When I put some of my thoughts out to the world, people can use them. They can use them as a part of their own story, building relationships. Or, people can use my words to malign, humiliate or shame me.
This is a bit of a stumbling block for me right now, and I am trying to noodle my way through this one. I think the hardest part for me is simple, I cannot control what people will do with my words. I can simply try to remain true to my own story, and not be afraid to speak up. I don't like acting out of fear, or desperation.
One thing is certain, I love it when I hear people tell me how my writing has touched them. I learned, recently, that someone has one of my posts up on her refrigerator. That makes me so grateful for the risks that I have taken here, and lucky to be a part of another person's story.
So, forgive me while I pout for a little while. I've gotten my feelings hurt. One thing I have learned for sure: I will never, ever, ever quit telling my story. I want my kids and other people to know one thing about me. I have absolutely NO shame in who I am, or where I come from. I am simply a human being on a journey. My journey, no body else's. I may share it with you by publishing a blog, but I will not give it to you. It is not yours to take.

A hole in my heart

I went to a memorial service for a friend who lost her baby today. It was a hard thing to fathom. A loss: so close, yet so far away from delivery. I was caught off guard by my flow of emotions. I just couldn't stop crying. I looked at a friend and confessed my overwhelming emotions. She said something to me that I have struggled with for a long time. She said that something about becoming a parent leaves a hole in your heart. It makes it so easy to hurt for others, especially children. I think that sometimes, we forget about this hole in our hearts. I think that sometimes we try to hide it, or close it. I think sometimes we try to pretend it isn't there. It can just hurt too much.
I remember times in my life where I have tried to hide that hole. I also recognizes those times when I made a decision. I have made several, very conscious, decisions to open my heart. I have quit jobs, moved away and left communities in order to protect this hole. I have managed to find a way to protect it, honor it and even love it. I want to keep the ability to cry, laugh, mourn and dance. I want to be present to those things that make me a mother. Being a mom is what I do. It is (BY FAR) the hardest thing I have ever done. I work hard at it, and it leaves me tired, grumpy and sleepy most days. It leaves me wondering, wishing, pondering.
Those were words of wisdom I heard today. I have never been able to explain it, but there it is. A very simple comment by a very good friend. Yes, I walk through this world with a hole in my heart.

Why?

Seven years ago today, my grandmother died. It was, by far, one of the hardest periods of my life. I helped care for her in the last years of her life, more so in the final months as we brought in hospice care. I was also in the last semester of nursing school. Gaga died on a Sunday. I took one final exam on Monday. We had the funeral on Tuesday. On Wednesday I took my other final exam. Needless to say, I was completely overwhelmed.

I think with all of the hard parts, difficult decisions and grief, I got caught up in things. I tend to look back at all of the mistakes I made. I would of, could of, should of. I wish I had been nicer to my grandmother. I regret any words that sounded harsh.

Last week, I was cleaning out a book case and found one of Gaga's many journals. I turned a page and found this quote:
"WHY? Why are Harrietta, Steve and Melissa so good to me?"

I was able to hear a big thank you from my grandmother 7 years later. Wow. As my tears flowed, I started thinking about all of the good times. I remembered the deep love that Gaga had for me and my family. She never would have remembered, or focused on any of the bad times. She just didn't have it in her to judge people harshly for anything. Everyone deserves someone like that in their lives. I am very grateful to have a reminder that I had one play a large role in my life. Somehow, I think she still plays a role in my life and always will.