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.

I've been thinking

I keep thinking of things I want to write about. Some might actually be worth reading, some won't. Yet, there is a common theme through all of these thoughts. I've changed. Yep, believe it or not, I have changed. I think most of this change has been good. Maybe even all of it.

So, why do I keep on thinking? I think that one of the reasons is that I want to try to find a way to express myself, my changes, my thoughts to anyone who cares to listen. This seems a bit crazy, I know. But, I am so excited about life right now! I am also worn out from a long week at work. So, perhaps I won't write my manifesto tonight. It is getting pretty late. I just felt the need to write, to publish, to speak out loud.

There are some very special things that have happened in my world over the past months. I suspect there is even more to come. The work I have done has been worth it. It really has.

My birthday Present

My youngest son has been inviting people to his birthday party since last September. He invites everyone he sees, including the greeter at Walmart. He has been bugging some of his adoptive aunts for many months now, and many of them agreed to come. Yesterday, I realized that 2 of my college roommates had not been together since my wedding. Yet, here they were in my house!! I was so excited I didn't know what to do. Other friends of mine arrived and I realized that I was surrounded by some of the most amazing women in my life. My sisters were sitting around my Table!!
Somehow, in his now six year old heart, Carter weaved a magical night. I'll never forget how he smiled and lovingly invited people to come to his house and celebrate his birth. He asked for their presence, not presents. He wanted to share food, love and his time with others. He managed to help show his mom how much she is loved and respected. This comes at a wonderful time for me. My birthday is in 2 days, but I couldn't ask for any more. My thanks to Carter and all who came to our house last night. My friend Sue said it best: It was like Carter was gathering us all here as his birthday present to his mother.

Club membership

I can think back over my life and realize I have never really been a member of a club. I am not exactly sure why, but it is the truth. The only school club I joined was Students Against Drunk Driving. I only joined that because I wanted to fight drunk driving. I tried girl scouts for awhile, but I never felt like I fit in. I even tried a sorority in college. That lasted for one meeting.
As an adult, I have joined things that were billed as leagues, orders and churches. After I was there for awhile, I started to see the cognitive dissonance within the structure. It was then that I usually moved on.
I really spent much of my life thinking that *I* was the problem. I have been told that I am always a little bit out of step with things. I have told I march to a different drummer. I have been told many things, always left with thinking that I was somehow broken. If I could just learn to get along, follow the rules. I was becoming hopeless.
Then, gradually over the past months, I realized that I might not be as hopeless as I thought. I have awakened to realize that I am blessed with some real, authentic relationships. I am in communion with quite a few people. There is a group of nuns who understand me better than I realize. Last weekend, one of them smiled at me and said "We believed in you all along." This week, at supper with good friends, I spoke of my new job. There was real excitement and encouragement. This is the sort of stuff I have been searching for all along. I wasn't looking for a club, I was aching for community.
So what is the difference? There have been books written on community building. I keep meaning to order Scott Peck's book about 'A Different Drum.' For me the big difference has been simple: when I speak my truth, how am I treated? You can easily be kicked out of a club for disagreeing. In a club, your voice doesn't matter. In a club, people protect their territory instead of protecting the vulnerable. In a community, everyone matters. People can speak their truth. People care.
I think most people in our culture don't really understand the difference. They settle for clubs, because we don't have much in the way of real community. They settle for pseudo community, because they don't want to risk building authentic community. The difference is immense, and I wish people would be willing to work towards what is real, instead of settling for what is not. I, for one, am immensely blessed with the community I have found.

Just take it and move on

I called a good friend to check in with things. I started listing off all of the good things happening in my life right now, happy and perplexed. I said I just feel more blessed than I deserve. He responded with "Just take it and move on." I know it sounds a big backward, but it is helping me understand this Transition in my life.
I was raised to prepare for any thing bad that could happen. I was trained as a paramedic/ER nurse to treat worse case diseases or injuries. Our culture inundates us with fear based marketing. So, basically, I had come to expect the worst. I was comfortable with that.
So what do I do when the worst doesn't happen? What do I do when the good things happen? What do I do when I am being set up for SUCCESS? Wow!
Well, I've decided to take this advice. I don't need to sit and figure everything out. I don't even need to continue to prepare for everything that could go bad. We've done our work with that, and we need to relax.
I am intentionally working on expecting the best in life right now. I expect to be treated with respect and compassion. I expect to be successful at my new job. I expect good things to befall my family. I also trust that when (not if) bad things do happen, we will manage them.
Life is too short and too precious not to embrace all that is good in my life. So, I promise to 'just take it and move on.'

Whispers

Yesterday, I stood at the edge, looking at the angry sea. I was set to negotiate my future. I am tired, so tired. I want to be done. I want to rest and quit doing the hard work of wrestling with myself, my past and most importantly: my path. I sat there saying all of these things and I heard that whisper. The words of a shaman: "I will continue to heal for the rest of my life."

My work is not done, it never will be. I accept that, although not very happily. More to learn, always growing, always healing. Ever grateful for those whispers.

Repair

I recently had a wonderful conversation with a new friend. She made a very simple comment to me. She said "If I do something wrong, please tell me so that I can repair it." We went on to discuss this for several minutes, because I was intrigued by her courage. She said that she felt relationships were built on repairing wrongs. We both know that everyone makes mistakes.

I place high value on relationships in my life. In my experience, the most valuable and secure relationships have had repairs made. Some are bigger repairs than others. I just think one of the most important things we have to be able to do is to tell the other person honestly: "That hurt." Then, the other person can repair it. When we keep our hurt to ourselves, not sharing it, it festers. Pure and simple, it festers. We then end up expressing our hurt in other ways like 'forgetting' a birthday, ignoring the other person, not returning calls.

I have one thing I simply cannot understand. Perhaps by asking the question out loud, I will find an answer. Why do people insist on pretending that they are not hurt? It seems as if they think they are just too tough, to good, to important not to bleed. Everyone bleeds, everyone gets hurt. That is simply part of being human. I guess some people don't want to see the humanity in each of us. I just feel like there are people out there bleeding, not wanting to admit they are hurt. Then, of course, something always happens and the person acts out. I really think that some people don't understand that they are acting out of hurt. They can always find something to justify their actions. Perhaps it is a sense of being perfect. Maybe it is a lack of ability to see their own hurtful actions towards others.

This post seems a bit cryptic, I have a bunch of ideas going through my head, and I guess I like getting them out of my head and out to the universe. I am a thinker, a ponderer and a pilgrim. I also like to think that deep down inside, I repair things. Perhaps, even heal things. Of course the only real thing I can repair is myself......uhm. That might be the next post.