loud and proud

Last night Oprah did a show about the lives of 30-year-old women around the world. I wasn't going to watch but it was actually really interesting... that's interesting, like I didn't know we were so... such... losers.

I was surprised and to find that I was a little ignorant about some of the other lifestyles and traditions featured on the show-- Kuwait, Rwanda, Kuala Lumpur (Malaysia), Australia, Mexico, Brazil, France, Iraq, etc. Except for the woman living in Rwanda, it appears we U.S. women are missing the international boat on shopping, massage, wine, body upkeep and general merry-making. What really disappointed me though was the constant refrain from all the women in these varied and culturally rich places: American women are fat, American women are culturally ignorant, American women don't take pride in their appearance, American women don't enjoy their femininity, American women are loud, big, pushy, self-absorbed. And so on.

Wow, well, OK. As a fat, loud, comfortably-dressed, ignorant American woman, I'd just like to say -- whatever. I don't want to excuse real ignorance and lack of concern for other people groups. But in my own defense, I can only say that there are are 298 million U.S. residents -- and 6.114 billion other people in the world. We're 4.6% of the world population, according to the U.S. census bureau. And we're supposed to know about every thing that happens in each and every one of those other countries? The really ironic part is that in many cases, the women from those countries don't appear to know us at all.

The average American woman I know is a tender mom, a good friend, generous to a fault, loves to laugh, longs for romance, is a loyal wife or girlfriend. She's thoughtful, funny and really, pretty open minded. She'd like to be thinner, prettier and have more massages but she responds to stress by eating and yet struggles with her self image. She works in and out of the home.

The women I know openly weep over world disasters -- like the tsunami in Asia. They don't have emotional off switches and they don't shout everything they say.

But it isn't just American women: that's what people think of all Americans, isn't it? Dare I say it? I shall! I think it's fashionable to bash Americans, while at the same time holding out a hand for cash. We give -- but not enough. We're rich -- but we're stupid. We're poorly educated -- but our universities are filled with international students. We're lazy -- but we work too hard.

Here's what we are: we're blessed, we're lucky, we're who we are by a simple twist of fate -- that we were born here and not in Bangladesh or Siberia. Now that we are here, we work hard. And we'll share with our world brothers and sisters, even as we're vilified and demonized.

I wouldn't trade it for the world, whatever they say about us.

Merry Christmas

My best gift has already come. My childhood friend came to my dad's house on Saturday. We've been friends for almost 30 years, so there isn't much we can't or don't talk about and it was so deeply joyful to see her. I can't even say how much I love spending time with old friends, I should stop being so lazy and do this more often.

That's Christmas for me -- that feeling of being deep and safe in the arms of family and friends. I'm so lucky, because I love where I work and I am so happy when I come home at night to my husband and kid(s) and critters. There have been times lately when I have felt restless and lonely but I just got a heaping helping of what I need most-- closeness, affection, laughter, trust, friendship, safety. Turkey and mashed potatoes, Scrabble with my mom, the ritual of Christmas morning (even if it's a little early). These are the real gifts -- the ones that don't come with bills and the ones that I will hide in my heart for the dry times.

Thanks to God for his gift that enables all other gifts, tangible and intangible. What we have is so precious, I hope you all stop and savor the flavors and aromas of life this Christmas season.

And if I don't talk to you again, Merry, merry Christmas.

Gloria, Gloria! they cry, for their song embraces all that the Lord has begun this day: Glory to God in the highest of heavens! And peace to the people with whom he is pleased! And who are these people? With whom does the good Lord choose to take his pleasure? The shepherds. The plain and nameless--whose every name the Lord knows well. You. And me.—

--Walter Wangerin Jr.

"Somehow he [Tim] gets thoughtful sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant for them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see."

--Charles Dickens (A Christmas Carol)

blogjam

Christmas is coming
It's obvious that Christmas plans have overtaken every part of my life. The writing has gone by the wayside and so has everything else I normally do in the evenings and on the weekends. Now there is just endless evenings of wrapping in front of ABC Family's "25 days of Christmas". Actually I'm moving away from wrapping and on to Christmas cards, now.

I don't think this is a bad thing, I'm just saying...

Getting out in front of the New Year's Resolution
I've given myself an early New Year's resolution, promising myself and God to get back to reading the word each day. I equate my spiritual journey to weight loss -- something I need to do for my own health but also something which is easy to blow off when temptation comes along. I'm ashamed to admit this but it's the reality I live in. I'm easing in to it by switching back and forth between my Bible (in a kind of wherever-it-falls-open methodology) and Nicole Johnson's book "Fresh Brewed Life". Last night I read through most of the first chapter of her book and most of Joel. I don't know what it all means yet but I know I feel better already. I was starting to get a dark angry cloud and this morning it really did feel as though the sun was coming out again. It was so good to read that there are other women who feel just like I do sometimes -- when I think I am going crazy and I must be the only one thinking this stuff...

Ms. Johnson quotes another author, Emilie Griffin:

"HE is the one who can tell us the reason for our existence, our place in the scheme of things, our real identity. It is an identity we can't discover for ourselves, that others can't discover in us -- the mystery of who we really are. How we have chased around the world for answers to that riddle, looked into the eyes of others for some hint, some clue, hunted in the multiple worlds of pleasure and experience and self-fulfillment for some glimpse, some revelation, some wisdom, some authority to tell us our right name and our true destination."

And that is how I feel. Maybe this is a mid life crisis only a little bit early, perhaps. I want to have a talk with God and ask Him, "What is my right name?" Where do I fit? Who needs me and for what?

Blessed Beyond Measure
What makes me most irritated about myself and that grey cloud I've been under is the absolute stupidity of it. I am so blessed it's practically running out my ears. My life is a little glittering diamond of a life, sparkly, hard, full of beauty and promise. I am really, really thankful. I am.

But still, I'd like to know,

what
is
my
right
name?

Food Porn

One of the biggest laughs I've gotten so far this week has to do with the introduction (or reintroduction, rather) of the Monster Burger at Hardee's. First, read this article. You should probably also know that I am a former marketing manager for Hardee's. Hence, the reason I care about this tempest in a drink cup.

After years of some really hard times, Hardee's is getting back on its feet -- using whatever means are available, even "food porn". I love the fact that they are now getting some really high profile PR by flying in the face of the healthy-low carb-diet-ourselves-miserable mentality we're beginning to adopt here in the land of plenty. Not that we shouldn't look in the mirror a little more: we are pretty fat. Believe me, as a lifelong dieter, I don't think people should eat a Monster Burger every day. But come ON --- once in a while is OK.

After all, any guesses on the average fat and calories of a sandwich at Panera? They have 8 sandwiches that are over 800 calories each. How about the Dulce de Leche Caramel Cheesecake at Cheesecake Factory? 1010 cal/71 g fat/84 g carb. There's over a 1,000 calories in the Kung Pao Shrimp at P.F. Chang's, 1,280 calories in the Sweet and Sour Pork. Schlotsky's still boasts the highest calorie single sandwich I've ever seen -- the large Original has 1917 cal/102 g fat/8 g fiber/161 g carbs. Now that's a sandwich any Survivor cast member would love to see in Jeff Probt's hands on challenge day.

Truth is, there's a lot of food out there that is bad for you in quantity. But there's also undeniable pleasure in treating yourself to something decadent and gooey once in a great while. After many years of Weight Watchers, I still eat pizza and I still brake for the s'mores and other yummy things at Silver Dollar City when we go at Christmas time. I've learned that I simply don't trust people who don't like food. The whole "food for fuel" mentality honestly gets me down. So we try to eat light and healthy every day -- and have really good treats once in a while. Shave ice on vacation. Mac & cheese and a dixie cup sized taste of homemade peach cobbler from a soul food place on a Friday night, just before we go burn off some energy decorating the church for Christmas. Italian at a nice restaurant before we go to see a play. These things are, in my estimation, part of why it's great to live in America today.

Some day Americans will be thinner and healthier and then we'll need another movement -- one to restore people's sense of humor, which is being dieted off, or liposuctioned out, maybe.

Excess on occasion is exhilarating. It prevents moderation from acquiring the deadening effect of a habit.
-W. Somerset Maugham

Yeshua

Pretty little boy, with olive skin
and fine dark eyes, soft hair,
tiny perfect fingernails and the
rosebud lips all new babies have.

Perfect flower blooming among weeds,
innocent, gentle, greatly adored,
Angels wheel in the night sky
shouting for joy at Your birth.

From humility and obscurity,
You came to bring joy and life.
Water springs in the desert--
at last our Messiah has come!

Slowly, you drift to sleep while
the world wakes up around You.
Time begins again
in this moment and miracle of Your birth.

loser

Lost all my template formatting again, I really, really hate that. I don't even know how it happens. Might help if I actually knew html, oh well.

So, have given the blog a little refresh, not sure if I like it though.

Except the bookshelf, I like that. I'm a voracious reader and those are some of my recent favorites...

(sigh) Have lost some of my favorite blog links ... so if I had you linked and now don't, jus comment below and I'll put you back up. Or if you're a regular and you'd like to be added, I'd love to!

~rose~

First Snow of Winter

Snow come in on white cat feet
come in silence, come on wings.

Come like God is throwing jewels
which His angels swoop to catch.

Come to cover, soft and still
Drift us in to bed, to sleep.

Thanksgiving

Like a lot of families, we always try to start our Thanksgiving meal by saying something we're really thankful for. Here are some of my thoughts:

• a belief in God that stirs me to do better and be better.
• my husband, T. We've been each other's lighthouse for a lot of years now. Steady on, T.
• healthy, happy, well-adjusted stepdaughters who get that people need discipline and that some things must be earned.
• My cats on either side of my ankles at night... my warm and furry bookends.
• My parents, who not only gave me life but also explained to me that I had an obligation to use it to serve others whenever possible.
• Friends who don't see what the rest of the world sees, but rather see the softer, kinder, funnier me that I can be when I know I'm safe.
• A little house that is modest, unpretentious, weatherproof and comfortable enough to welcome friends and family any time someone calls and says they're a few blocks away and can they come by?
• books, which open worlds I might never have thought of or seen.
• music, which is often company enough and can always make me feel better.
• A job that is interesting, rewarding and "safe" from destructive politics and poor management.
• the gift of travel, both personal and professional.
• living in America, where there is abundance, health, help, an incredible standard of living and the freedom to vote, worship, speak, go, create, build and love as we see fit.
• tinted moisturizer
• good genes
• Weight Watchers
• that I don't have to feel like a high school dork any more.
• Diet Coke
• a great sense of direction, literally and figuratively.
• the internet
• a good education

What are you thankful for? C'mon, I don't get many comments...

I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving. God bless you!

Heaven looks like Hawaii

Since we got back from Hawaii, I've been wanting to set down a few things in writing, here, there, or elsewhere. Here is as good a spot as any. So spread out your beach mat and allow me to talk story. Mahalo!

Day 1
So far, leaving feels a lot lot every business trip I take, except now I have Tim with me. The first leg is a short one - just to Denver. Once there, we have 2 1/2 hours to kill so we walk around with my overpacked book bag and try to decide on the lowest carb lunch. Finally we just go for what looks good and get a burrito the size of my thigh. Not bad! We walk around some more, looking at the other destinations. Tim raises his eyebrows when I tell him I would throw over Hawaii today for London. Silly me.

We get back on the plane. Looong flight. 7 more hours. Time slips backwards as we wing our way across almost 4,000 miles. By the time we land in Honolulu, we are halfway to Japan and I am as far from home as I have ever been. (But not T, who has been to South Korea and Vietnam). Of course, when we get there, we're too tired to do much more than take a walk down to greet the sea and have a mediocre coffeeshop dinner. Off to bed - 8:30p.

Day 2
Logistically, one of our smartest days. We have breakfast at the Chinese buffet in front of our hotel, the Holiday Inn Waikiki. ( I fervently pray for the food to get better.) The we hop the free shuttle to Hilo Hattie's on Nimitz and enter a Disneyland of Hawaiian souvenirs. $100 lighter --later, we take the (free) shuttle to Aloha Tower to start a walking tour of Chinatown. We delay slightly for rain, then set off. This gives us a chance to take the elevator to the top of the Aloha Tower for a panoramic view of Honolulu.

For whatever reason, we always have an affinity for Asian neighborhoods. I think it's because we like food and their communities have so many exotic offerings and presentations. We pass the lei sellers, fish vendors, fruit and vegetable stalls. I notice there's no apples, oranges or tomatoes anywhere we go. But if you want bananas, pineapple, mango, papaya, guava, breadfruit, lychee, well, this is your place.

We proceed along the walking tour outlined in Frommer's and end up in a plaza, anchored on one end by lots of Chinese men playing cards, dominoes and chess. Some scraggly haole on a bike oozes by and as he passes, he says "Hey, want some Maui Wowie?" Farm Girl turns to Nebraska Boy and says, "Did that guy just offer me drugs?" We later watched a deal go down between himself and a middle aged Chinese guy. We also cut our walking tour short after that. But we did briefly stop to watch as the crew from "Lost" set up to film a bank robbery scene.

Our evening was topped off by a Mai Tai and a Blue Hawaiian poolside at the Hilton Hawaiian Village and the show at the super pool. Then we went to take advantage of a buy one get one free coupon for the very lovely Golden Dragon restaurant --- scallops with eggplant and lemon chicken! The wind kicks up and the rain comes in, running the patio diners inside. Bed at 8:30p.

Day 3
Diamond Head is everywhere in Waikiki. It's even a direction. We wanted to hike it early. We waited 15 minutes on the wrong side of the street for the bus -- and missed it, then another hour for a bus to the park entrance and walked in to the crater. Once there, we bumped in to a family that had gotten tired of waiting for the bus and walked, just over 2.5 miles. They were already hot and tired and hadn't even started the climb!

Up we went, along the narrow, stony and moderately crowded path, through tunnels and up two staircases, through an aging military Fire Control Station and finally, out to the breezy, breathtaking view of the coastline and surrounding city. We shared the moment with 50 sweaty tourists and a half dozen small gray mice that evidently don't mind having lots of guests.

Back to Waikiki for some lunch, which we had at this little subterranean bar and grill called Snapper's. A little time to walk the beach and rest before dressing for dinner on the Navatek. A Chi-chi for me and a Lava Flow for T and dinner of Mahi-Mahi, chicken, salad, potatoes, rice, veggies and rolls, with coconut cake for dessert. The view was wonderful and the show was cute. For our anniversary, T bought us the souvenir picture, which I clung to like it was my child. Yet somehow when we got back to the hotel I realized I didn't have it. Lost it. I called the bus line but they said they couldn't find it. Grrr.

Day 4
Still not up much past 9 and waking at 4:30 a.m. works to our advantage and we get an early start, getting a rental car and heading Ewa (west) to H1 and the North Shore. I drive to allow T to gawk all he wants and I try not to stew about the lost photo. We drive past Schofield Barracks, Dole Plantation and many, many red fields filled with pineapple before cresting a small rise and seeing Haleiwa and the North Shore stretching out before us. We drive through the morning sun and stop outside of Haleiwa where we see surfers darting across the highway. We park and walk out on to a small crescent of beach and for a while I just walk up and down. We are 2 of 4 people on shore. A man in board shorts stands knee deep in the water, riveted by the motion and the waves. Man , do I know how that guy feels! I poke fingers in tidal pools, let the waves lap over my feet and just generally hang loose. We double back to Haleiwa for lunch at the Breakers and a pit stop at the Surf Museum, then shave ice at Matsumoto's, which we eat at Haleiwa Beach Park, while we watch a dark grey raincloud move in and the wind kicks up. Tropical shave ice with tiny red azuki beans and ice cream for him, just guava for me.

We stop a half dozen times at different beaches, including the very famous Sunset Beach. We drive past old sugar mills, roadside sweetcorn stands, shrimp farms and through modest, rural windward Oahu. We wrap up the afternoon with a stop at a Macadamia Nut Outlet near Kualoa Ranch and then a side trip to Nu'uanu Pali Lookout-- the rain finally caught up to us here.

We grabbed an early dinner at Brew Moon for Blackened Ahi and Chili Shrimp and a shrimp and red pepper pizza. Delicious!

Day 5
Up early for a drive across to Waianae and Wild Side Specialty Tours. "Slippers" off, contacts in, I am so ready for this trip! We join another couple and a family of 5 for a 4-hour sail and snorkel. There's nothing I can tell you about this day that can capture it-- the sapphire water, the rugged, empty valleys of the leeward side, the kindness of the crew (Denise and Russell). Then we spot spinner dolphins and, well, it's a hankie moment. We slip quickly in to the water while a larger than normal pod of dolphins speed around us like a slick grey flipper freeway. It's awesome. We watch until they are gone and then take off again. We catch up to another large pod and in we go again. If that is the best experience I ever have in my life, it was enough to justify living. Later, we head for Makaha and I spend what seems like an hour rocking in the water while I watch honu (green sea turtles) a few feet below me in the bay. T and I fight a little seasickness once the adrenaline subsides, for which they deal over candied ginger. Wonderful, sweet with bite -- and it works.

Back on dry land, we head to Eggs N' Things for a brunch of omelets and pancakes with coconut syrup. The rest of the afternoon we walk around Waikiki. It ocurred to me to try to call Navatek Cruises to see if someone might have turned the picture in. T though it was a long shot but I figured if someone did find it, they might turn it in there. 2 minutes after I got on the phone with the ticket office they said someone had found it on the bus earlier in the day and turned it in! Exhausted by dinnertime we opt for an easy meal of Round Table Pizza (Garlic Supreme, yum!) and election returns on TV.

Day 6
Up early yet again, we take the Bus to Pearl Harbor and spend the morning touring the memorial and museum. It is a muted morning, reminding me not only of the losses here but the loss of life on 9/11 as well. By noon, I've had all the sadness I can take and we skip a loosely planned trip to the USS Missouri in favor of the Aloha Stadium Flea Market. Best place for cheap souvenirs! You bet! Also not a bad place for an gyro when you've been walking all morning and it's hot. I swear the stadium has 2 climates -- rainy and cool on one side, blazing hot on the other. Wierd.

We scoot back to the bus depot at HHV to pick up our missing anniversary picture. A smiling Navatek employee walks right up to us and hands over the photo, for which I am still extremely grateful. For dinner, we work some coupon magic and go to Singha Thai where we eat slowly to get the early seating required by the coupon and also get to watch the Royal Thai dancers. I am now officially in love with green curries and I thought T was going to kiss the waitress when his coconut ice cream arrived.

Day 7
A beach day, for the most part, interrupted by a sail on the Atlantis sub. We visit the artificial reefs and see an aquarium's worth of tropical fish and even a small shark. A sleepy looking sea turtle is parked on the fore deck of a sunken fishing vessel. I love the trip but am wishing desperately for more of the candied ginger by the time we board the shuttle boat back to Hilton Hawaiian Village. Once on shore, I collapse like Tom Hanks in Cast Away. I actually doze off on my little bamboo mat in the in-and-out-of-the-clouds sunshine while T hikes up and down the beach, industrious and un-seasick. About an hour later I recover enough to join him and we go on our most ambitious walk, a 3.25 mile round trip along Waikiki and down to the Natatorium. We wander through the Royal Hawaiian and Halekulani like we own the place, then as the sun goes down we have a delicious candlelit dinner at Village Steak and Seafood in HHV.

Day 8
Our last full day, we head to Hanauma Bay for snorkeling, in the rain. By the time we get our gear stowed and head to the beach, the showers are steady, the skies are dull. We head out and I quickly realize that the water is rougher than I anticipated -- I see why 2002 had 12 drownings there. I lose T and that scares me more-- I can only describe the feeling as the same one I had when I once lost the girls at the mall. I finally spot him wading on shore. He is having trouble with his mask and decides he has had enough. He stays mostly on the sidelines for the next 2 hours while I snorkel cautiously, alone. Eventually we decide to give up, since the rain and the increasing number of feet are stirring the water up and making it more difficult to see and enjoy the bounty of tropical fish. We spend a rainy afternoon watching TV and dozing and decide during a break in the weather to walk to Victoria Ward Centers for dinner. The rain reasserts itself just as we arrive and we finally settle on the Big City Diner and a walk through Dave and Buster's before heading home in the toad-choking torrents.

Day 9
We spend a beautiful, sunny morning packing all our treasures away for the ride home and then head to Eggs N'Things for a cocnut syrup fix and down to the beach for a final farewell. We shower just before late check out and have 5 hours to kill, so we walk through the Ilikai (another neighboring hotel) and then head back to HHV and waste much of the afternoon browsing the shops and sitting in the cool, comfortable lobby, watching guests come and go and, later, watching some Marines arrive with their dates for a birthday ball. We have a final dinner at Singha Thai and then back to the Holiday Inn to change to our mainland clothes.

Once at the airport, we just tried to keep each other awake until 10:50 p.m. boarding. Only one night in Hawaii did I stay up past 11 p.m. and that was the night before we headed home. On board, I dozed for an hour or two at a time. I would periodically wake up through the night/morning to see Tim, still wide awake. We arrived home at 1 p.m. KC time -- for 2 days I was so disoriented I couldn't remember what day it was.

Well, that's it. We're back to our life but with a better attitude. It was a wonderful trip, all in all. My greatest fear is that I'll never go again -- it was just that good.

reunion station

I am by nature, a curious sort. Also, the older I get, the more people I used to know. Periodically I wonder where they went, what happened and how they are now. Each old friend, boyfriend, rival and coworker is like a little station where my train has stopped. Some I could blow by, no problem-- but a few I'd like to revisit now and then.

While floating around in the Pacific, I began mulling over the idea of a virtual reunion for staff at my old college dorm. Over 2 years, there were 10 or 12 of us who worked and played together and I have lost touch with all but one or two. It's not that I have anything to brag about - I'm a plain girl with a second husband, stepkids, critters, a little house and a job I like. Some of them could brag, I'm sure. Very sure, since I know one woman is now a successful government muckity-muck working under John Ashcroft. But I kind of want them to brag. I love happy endings.

This curiosity must explain why I will probably go to my 20 year high school reunion next year, even though I was a high school nobody. I thought I was unpopular but it turns out I was invisible. I discovered this several years ago while working as a marketing manager for a fast food chain. The assistant principal at a high school near one of my restaurants called to ask for a donation. While I was on the phone I asked if he went to OGHS. He said yes (cautiously) and I enthusiastically said we'd gone to school together, graduated together. There were only 115 kids in my class and this one lived on my bus route. We were also in a 12 member swing choir together. He didn't remember me. At all. Oh, ahhhhh, "nevermind" I said, feeling stupid. Nevertheless, I hope to bump in to a few people to which I was not invisible and see how successful the "most likely to succeed" crowd is doing.

Yes, I'm that person who randomly googles your name to see what your up to. (I'm blushing now.)

Life in 360 Degrees

Normally after I come back from a vacation, I get those post vacation blues. The don't-want-to-get-up-and-go-to-work-yet funk. But today I am feeling strangely elated. I mean really, really good. Inexplicably-peaceful-battery-fully-charged-happy.

So, perhaps you are wondering about the title. It is my new motto, words that came to me while I was snorkeling around the leeward side of Oahu, chasing dolphins. While I bobbed around trying not to open my mouth in amazement (sudden intakes of fishy saltwater do not enhance the snorkel experience), this thought popped in to my head. Life is 360 degrees. If you don't turn around, look around once in a while, you might miss something amazing. In my case, as I focused on the spinner dolphins 15-20 yards away, I nearly missed the ones flanking me on the left, perhaps only 15 feet away.

Life is 360 degrees. It's all around us. Don't get me wrong, it's a great thing to be focused, to take the most efficient route from A to B. But it's ok, I think, to be tempted to meander a little. To study the flowers. To gaze in to the sea and be mesmerized. To float above a group of sea turtles and watch them rock in the currents. To count the shades of blue.

Maybe that's what vacations are best for ... reminding us that there's a bigger world than the one we're chasing. Today I will turn to the left and to the right and see what I've been too tired to notice. I will look in to the faces of the people I meet and smile at them. I will let this happiness spill over. I will keep reminding myself of what God told me in the squeaks and clicks of spinner dolphins: "Look all around you, not just at what's before you. Life is 360 degrees."

Aloha

The time has almost arrived for T and I to head to Hawaii. After having spent so many years wanting to go I now feel strangely ambivalent about it. I think this may be due to the fact that T and I haven't been each other's favorite friend lately. I'm hoping a little South Pacific moonlight might help. Actually, maybe it's just the sleep thing again. Guess there's plenty of time to sleep on the plane tomorrow.

Or maybe I feel guilty about doing something so nice? Like someone said earlier today-- if you've felt you've gotten lots of undeserved blessings it's your job to appreciate them and spread them around. So Thank You, Lord, for such a privilege.

Aloha, Rose

Through a Glass Darkly

I wish I could understand what is wrong with me. No matter what I try to do, apparently I am not a nice person. The depth of feeling I have for my family, friends and God is trapped behind a darkly tinted and soundproof piece of glass that I cannot break.

I would like to say that when I came to know Christ, the glass broke and all this love came pouring out. Maybe for a while it trickled out but then somehow the cracks fused and it dammed up again. All the love and kindness inside is a deep pool of water, flowing and swirling and only visible to those who care enough to press their faces to the glass and look deeply.

What will it take for the glass to shatter and the love to flow? How do I stop the merciless transformation to mean old lady, frozen and frightened and angry, shouting at children from the high window of a dark house?

God grant me the ability to show not only my love but your love as well. Fill me: let me finally be so full that the glass is broken.

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. -- 1 Corinthians 13:12

Vote-B-Gone(tm)

Do you vote?

It's easy to forget, as I sit here today, that in 1917, women went to jail for me. They endured beatings, squalid living conditions, vermin-infested food, force feedings and more because they wanted me to have the freedom to vote. My own grandmother was born into a world where half of the population was forbidden to cast a ballot.

Easy, too, to not think too much about the "religious persecution" that brought the pilgrims here in the first place. The fact that for centuries Catholics and protestants burned, maimed, tortured and murdered one another because one group or another was out of favor of the king or queen doesn't have real meaning for American voters -- even though it should.

Forget the American Revolution -- almost everyone else has. Do you remember anything about the Quartering Act of 1774, the Stamp Act, the Boston Massacre? I stood on a ship in Boston Harbor and tried to wrap my mind around what had been bought for me with blood and sacrifice and I finally got it, just a little bit. But that was years ago.

I drove through Philadelphia Mississippi and I thought about the horrors endured by Civil Rights protesters of the 1960s. I stood in front of the Civil Rights Memorial in Montgomery, Alabama and contemplated each name and date on the black marble. And I wonder now if we have distilled the essence and the message of Martin Luther King Jr. into just another bank holiday.

The thousands of men and women who died in war are just another historical footnote while we sit, fat, dumb and happy, flipping channels and opting out of our sacred duty to choose a representative government. Certain young people in my life inform me in an offhand way that they don't plan to vote because "they're just not interested". The 2000 election expected 19 million evangelical Christians to vote - but four million of them sat out the third closest presidential election in history.

We bat the word freedom around a lot these days and hopefully it isn't losing its context. Freedom to me means that as I cast my ballot this year, it has a significance that people in Iraq, Afghanistan, most of Africa, the Middle East and Asia can only dream of. It's not just my right to go and physically cast my ballot without coming to harm. It's the power of the paper -- that my vote does dictate to an elected official what I want my country to be, how I want to live and what legacy I'd like to leave. It's the sole reason why immigrants flood our borders, why people love us, hate us, envy us and sometimes wish they were us.

November 2 is my President's Day, Martin Luther King Day, Veteran's Day, Fourth of July, Patriot's Day and Women's Equality Day all rolled into one. As the ballot passes from my hands and on to the electoral college, I will not forget how it got there.

A few roses, a few random thoughts

I'm happy because it's the end of a very long week and tomorrow I get to sleep.

I also got to sit down for a short period of time and watch TV last night, a past time which has long ago passed in to luxury status from everyday habit status.

K actually cooked her first full meal last night - I showed her how to grill pork chops and she nuked potatoes and made salad. She isn't ready for the CIA (Culinary version, not undercover spy version) yet but at least I know she won't starve when she grows up. T and I ran around getting all our camping chores and house chores done while she cooked so we could all bug out for the weekend.

Hawaii is just 2 weeks away!

Whatever happened to equal representation? My absentee ballot is loaded with candidates of a certain party -- all running unopposed. If I knew how to go about it the right way, I might actually consider running myself. I'm sick of not having a voice in state government!
Whew, I feel better now!

Oh, here's a few roses...
The "Not Your Typical Top 40" Award: For Chris Thile, who has just released another CD, "Deceiver". I just love variety: country, roots, newgrass, bluegrass, alternative, Christian contemporary, blues... Chris is part of one of my favorite bands, Nickel Creek. New material from any member of the band is always welcome in my CD player!

The "Cool Remerchandising" Award: To the Hampton Inn, which has remerchandised every part of their hotel from the signage ("Smile") in the elevator to the soap wrapper. Not to mention, they finally made shower that are spacious enough that the shower curtain doesn't stick to your leg while you bathe.

The "Instantly Much Better, thanks" Award: I have never shelled out for expensive makeup for myself but I had to try something drastic when I developed a dry, itchy rash from my nose to the outside of my mouth. I ran in to Aveda and they sent me out with 3 products that have instantly improved my skin. My makeup is lighter, the rash is almost gone and my skin looks and feels healthier. I learned a long time ago that cheap shampoo is a mistake and for some people, I guess cheap makeup is too.

There and Back Again

I'm back from the road. I love being out and I love coming back. Like Bilbo, I love a little adventure but it's comforting to come home to my little hobbit hole for a nice cup of tea.

I really enjoy people watching and people watching in airports is like the Olympic level of human observation. I had a lot of fun watching a stylish and zealous guy who was working at a burrito stand in O'Hare. He was one of those guys who works fast, friendly and with a patented patter. You couldn't help but smile at him, even when the cashiers were three times as slow and not nearly so nice.

Also at ORD, some lady actually called me honey and put her hand on my shoulder. I don't even remember why she did it but after a week of very little physical contact (other than the grip-n-grin sessions at business meetings) it was sort of nice. Comforting.

While at one of my meetings I was intrigued by the fringe people (of which I am one) -- those people who don't know how to gracefully insinuate themselves in to a conversations with customers and so instead choose to hang out at the fringes of the party, nursing a drink and passing the time. Some people do this with great grace. Some even begin chatting with other fringe people, thereby becoming un-fringe-y. (But we're all always relieved when our coworkers finally show up).

Also, I found out that if you laugh a lot and blush a little while you're getting the post 9-11 security patdown, security workers really appreciate your good humor. I am now best friends with some security workers in the Nashville airport and told them so. Heck, with that degree of intimacy we're probably engaged in some countries. I like that I was able to make them laugh a little -- I'm sure they get ragged on for most of the day and don't expect someone to have a sense of humor about getting felt up in a public place.

In a time where people are so accustomed to and prepared for people to be unkind or at the very most, aloof, I see there's still a lot of warmth and generosity out there. Cheerful bus drivers, polite passers-by, friendly customer service agents, genuinely nice fellow travelers. Makes the trip there and back again just a little bit better.

Poem from the Road

I slide away from your sleep foggy shore
banked in blankets, slipping back to sleep
as I ease into the navy dawn and drive away.

At the airport, steam and smoke is
wisping upward toward the peachy dawn and
sleepy faces are lining up for morning coffee and bread.

I'm traveling onward to another city but I'm
drifting in and out of orchid-scented dreams
where the trip is taken hand in hand with you, out to the sea.

I lose all sense of time out here, and sense of self
is lost as well -- I tuck neatly into a ticket folder or
hang upon a borrowed hanger, until it's time to come back home.

Most Boring Blog on Earth?

In the last 24 hours I have:
1) eaten Mongolian BBQ with my coworkers
2) had an argument with my teenager
3) received tolerance and (almost) sympathy from my husband
4) watched the Presidential debate
5) watched and accordingly, yelled at/cheered, Survivor
6) eaten 2 filled donuts
7) found out my eldest stepdaughter is registering to vote for Bush
8) scammed free tickets to the Renaissance Festival
9) folded a load of laundry
10) turned my calendar over to October

In my world, any of these topics are ripe for the blogging. In the big, scary, outside world, they probably wouldn't be very inspiring to anyone else, to write about or to read. Some guy whose blog I recently skimmed commented that the most boring blogs on earth are those written by generally happy married women -- this sin of boredom is further enhanced by any mention of children and overt references to Jesus or God.

Guess that makes me guilty on all counts.

Well, I don't care! It's my blog and I'll be dull as dirt if I want to. I have decided that in my life, excitement always seems to equate with bad luck anyway. As in, "Yeah, Jim Bob and I were over at the tavern and there was a little excitement (full on brawl that ended in stitches and multiple arrests)." Or, "I don't know what you're getting so excited (really, royally, pi$$ed) about." I don't want any more excitement in my life. Maybe ever. I would like an "I'm-pleasantly-bored-out-of-my-skull-but-I-have-plenty-of-time-for-crafts" life. A "I'll-be-shopping-all-the-grocery-stores-for-the-best-deals-just-because-I-can" life. Some of my friends have been having some excitement in their lives lately... a co-worker/good friend lost a truck, boat and probably his home in Hurricane Ivan. He and his wife found a 4 day dead jellyfish in a bedroom closet. They've had to throw out every carefully-selected-to-match-the wallpaper-accent-pillow and every save-up-for-something-really-nice appliance they had. Beds, bows, tupperware, shoes, TVs, deep freeze full of food, you name it-- all ruined by 3 feet of sewage and seawater. See? Who needs excitement?

Maybe some people read blogs because they're a cheap soap-opera substitute. I personally like to read blogs with pretty pictures (something I haven't quite mastered myself) and really good writing. Not just clever writing -- there are a lot of people in the blogosphere that fancy themselves smarter and funnier than they are-- but real writing, thoughtful, perceptive and intelligent.

I personally think the most boring blog in the world is one that, like the person it's hiding, tries to be something it's not. I'll do my best to blog the real me -- in all my confused, self-centered, whiny, frank and silly glory. From my counter, it looks like I won't be boring too many people anyway.

In Dreams

"To sleep, perchance to dream
-ay, there's the rub."
--From Hamlet (III, i, 65-68)

The dreams have started.

Anxiety has a lot of different ways of expressing itself and mine comes at night. Yesterday morning I caught some footage of an air show crash on GMA and thought, naturally, of my stepdad. Last night I dreamed that he survived his 1989 single-plane crash only to become old, broken and bedridden by his heart problems. I saw him dying in a hospital somewhere -- I stood next to the bed and watched him suffer the death he might have had if he hadn't wrecked that Piper Cub. Even in waking, I can see his ravaged face in a sickly orange light.

After another late night with K and her overdue history project, I also dreamed I was back in college, doing my RA thing (my alma mater now calls them now CAs and PAs) and still trying to take care of my chronically ill cat. When I decided to go home for the weekend, I called to her and she tried to walk to me but she as she came toward me she was wobbling and falling over, meowing pitifully with each shaking step. In my dream I started screaming "Yasha Na!" "Yasha Na!" (see yesterday's entry).

At least I was spared the "finals-week-and-I-never-went-to-class-and-now-there's-a-test" dream. Or the "I'm-at-work-and-oops-I-have-no-clothes-on" dream.

But in case I thought I was the only one, K had a pretty rough night too. To spare her pride, I won't go in to detail. Suffice to say she didn't exactly wake rested and refreshed, either. Would that we both had the blessing that T has -- the sleep of the undisturbed. Nothing more aggrevating than lying awake next to a racked-out man who doesn't even have the decency to break his snoring pattern while I'm flopping around like a trout out of water.

TROILUS
To bed, to bed: sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses
As infants' empty of all thought!

CRESSIDA
Good morrow, then.

TROILUS
I prithee now, to bed.

-- Troilus and Cressida, Act IV, Scene II

If this makes no sense, consider it a product of sleep deprivation.

Quote, Endquote

Travel is ninety percent anticipation and ten percent recollection.
- Edward Streeter

I'm finally letting myself think about our vacation. We head to Hawaii on October 29, the day of our 10th anniversary. I can't imagine much past boarding the plane and my first toes-digging-in-sand moment on Waikiki -- but I'm trying. I imagine myself flying with a small tote that contains some snacks, my book and a magazine or two. It is not a briefcase and does not weigh 15 pounds. I know we'll be going on a dolphin encounter, too. Beyond that, this trip is a blank slate.

Let Go and Let God

I can't attribute that quote but I sure need to yield to it. Between K's procrastination, T's ongoing health issues and my lack of enthusiasm for cleaning toilets, I didn't have a very relaxing Sunday. I know I am bringing it upon myself - no one designated me head cattle dog. But still I find myself nipping at heels a hundred times a day. And I am becoming a little tired and a little resentful. I need to learn to leave them to the head Cowboy.

She's a girl with the weight of the world on her big brown eyes
She's a girl who's been talking to herself to apologize
She'll never do it again she promised
But then she hasn't been all that honest
Can she trust herself to be herself
Or is she talking to herself again
Hey Friday what you gonna do now
When Monday comes around...
-Switchfoot

I hate Mondays. And I am ashamed that I am not the person I so want to be. Kind, understanding, patient. I get up, I fall down. I get up...


If toast always lands butter-side down, and cats always land on their feet, what happens if you strap toast on the back of a cat and drop it?
- Steven Wright

OK, this made me laugh. I have 2 cats and a loaf of bread. Wonder what could be accomplished here? And for whatever reason, now I'm thinking of cinnamon toast, minus the cat hair.

Yasha Na

Victory Now. Not next month, next week, tomorrow or even in two hours. Pastor Jeff preached on this subject yesterday. How long before we stand up and take back that which belongs to us? As frustrated as I was this morning, I decided to try it. I said it quietly, then a bit louder, just trying it out. Finally I yelled it (I love entertaining my fellow traffic jam-ees at 8 a.m.). You know, I did feel better. I'm going to keep saying it. Yasha Na! Victory NOW!

The best time for planning a book is while you're doing the dishes.
-Agatha Christie

There's still hope. I might be the Grandma Moses of fiction writers.

Rose Awards, Volume 3

I feel like handing out a few roses today...

"Kid in a Candy Store" Award: I don't like Vegas for the amazing amount of porn and the speedy, scroungy, up-for-three-days vibe you get there. But I do like Vegas for the excitement, over-the-top architecture and it one of the coolest stores any girl could ever want to enter... Sephora. I know there are Sephoras elsewhere -- but Vegas' is the only one I've ever visited. Any conceivable beauty bonbon you might ever want or need is arrayed behind the big glass doors. Think of it as a plastic ball pit for grown up women.

"Service with a Smile" Award: To the nice guy at Minsky's take out counter who smiled lots and looked me in the eyes today when I ordered a coupla slices to go. When he said, "Have a good afternoon," I believe he meant it.

"Not the Soup Nazi" Award: Clinton's Deli, also known in these parts as "Up the Hill". Every day, he works alone in his clean and thrifty little shop on the corner of 10th & Jefferson in KC making sandwiches and dishing up the special of the day, mostly for the engineers at HNTB. He has a long line, a friendly smile, reasonable prices and killer chicken salad on marble rye.

"Pay It Forward" Award: Paydata does my company's payroll. This week they took up a collection for the employees in our division in Pensacola, FL. They donated, out of their own pockets, $1,000 to help out with the aftermath of hurricane Ivan. 'Nough said.

"Maybe I was Wrong" Award: Kudos to the organizers of the downtown arena project in KC. Kay Barnes is doing her mightiest to leave a Carol Marinovich style legacy for KCMO. She might just pull it off. Today I saw major ground work being done in 3 locations downtown... Maybe, just maybe downtown KC might end up being fun, safe and functional at long last.

Prayer update

See "Prayer Request" from my entry September 15...

And today from my friend, I received this update:

"This is the latest entry in their online journal. Prayers answered...it sounds like it will be a long haul but she is going in the right direction. Keep em' coming." - SD


Thursday, September 23, 2004 10:16 PM CDT
Wed. Sept. 22: This week of chemo is winding down. She had a bone marrow biopsy and spinal tap in the morning. They are going to biopsy the bone and marrow, plus give the chemo into the spinal fluid. This makes her 7th spinal tap since Sept. 9 and she's hanging in there. The bone marrow procedure was tough, but she made it and doesn't have as many of them on her schedule. She is starting to show signs of the mouth and throat sores (early signs), so eating and swallowing are getting harder. Not good when all of her meds are now oral. They are talking about going home tomorrow. We are working through our anxiety (sort of). It's hard to explain how you can be so eager to leave someplace, but reluctant at the same time. The security of having a nurse in your room at the touch of a button is what's gotten us through so far. Can we do it alone? I practiced flushing her hickman line (IV) at 4:00 AM and Hannah gave me an A! It's amazing how awake you are at 4:00 in the morning when you're in the hospital. And we're reluctant to leave?

Thurs. Sept. 23: Dismissal Day! Hannah is feeling the full side effects of her chemotherapy. She can barely swallow, nauseaus, and her hair is starting to fall out. The nurses kept saying that one morning you'd wake up with hair on your pillow and sure enough there it was this morning. She says her head is tender and everytime I unconsiously go to run my fingers through those brown curls when she's feeling sick, she flinches. I'm really going to miss her hair. We finally got the room packed up and Bob took several wagon loads out to the Tahoe. Hannah is still too weak to walk too far so she rode in a wheelchair to go down to the car. When she left the oncology floor she had to put on her mask because her ANC (white blood count plus some other stuff) is 0. Her goal is 3,000. She got a shot before we left that should help her bone marrow recover and start producing more white blood cells. We were going to have to give her a shot at home every day, but they approved her for this big, one time every 28 days shot instead. Celebrate!We got home to a decorated house at 3:00! The outside, inside and her room were decorated! Good welcome home. We unloaded and dumped the contents of the hospital room in the eating area and I'm not sure how long it's going to take before we get to it. Bob went to the pharmacy and got the 12 prescriptions filled while I tried to make out a schedule for dispensing them. This is why I liked the hospital. It does feel great to home though. Hannah went straight for the couch. After a rest she literally had to crawl up the stairs to get to her room. All she's been saying that she wanted to do was to sleep in her own bed. We've already made our after hours call to the nurse. She has vomitted all of the medicines since she got home. We know this will pass, but the fact that it is happening and she has to wait still stinks. We're working on a liquid med right now (1/2 tsp at a time). It's 11:00 PM and we still have an oral steroid that she has to keep down tonight. We're suppossed to stay calm and play it down, give her stomach a break and casually get her to nibble a cracker and take 2 more pills. Okay, this is getting me down! I'm trying to stay positive, but I'm tired, Bob's tired, Hannah's sick AND tired (Jacob is in bed, but he was exhausted: school, football practice until 5:00 and weightlifting until 8:00, then homework) I can't wait until tomorrow night because that will mean today is the past. Every hour that passes is another hour away from chemo and an hour closer to feeling better.

He does not ignore those who cry to him for help. Psalm 9:12

Keep those prayers coming and we'll see a miracle soon!

Thinking of Anne Frank

"Despite all that has happened, I still believe people are good at heart." Anne Frank

Do you ever wonder if it's true? With all the ways we've found to torment and take the dignity and lives of others, what's left that's truly good? I find myself wondering every time I look at the news. I'm probably one of those victims of information fatigue syndrome. I can only take about 5 minutes of the dead-body-killer-storm-fire-car-wreck onslaught before I have to turn it off. I'm getting so cynical that I'm now surprised when I see someone doing something kind and selfless. What's more, I might start to cry.

Last night I looked over before church to see our pastor bending all the way over to listen to his small grandson. He nodded intently for a few minutes, then hugged him. "but he's a pastor and a grandpa". Perhaps.

I still didn't get it, evidently, because the Spirit had to show me more. About halfway through service, I looked over to see a couple we know listening intently to the sermon. He sat behind her and had his hand on her forehead, as if he were feeling her head for a fever. He was actually supporting her head as they sat. Over the last year or two she has been struck with an illness that has severely impaired her motor control and she tires easily so, as they sat there, he must have known she was getting worn out. Throughout the rest of the service, he continued to listen, peering over his bifocals to see the Bible passages on the overhead and taking notes -- as he gently held her head.

If you can look past the ugly onslaught of blood-red news we get every day, there is still a world out there where people are kind. Witness this article from Jeanne Sahadi at CNNMoney. The Toronto Star just published an article on random acts of kindness, too. Actually, if I think about it, I can add a story of my own. A few months ago I arrived late and alone in Chicago and wanted to take the train from O'Hare to downtown. I had been traveling all week and was low on cash. I didn't know I had to have exact change to get on the train and because it was so late, there was no attendant. A young woman saw me fumbling around and looking pretty frustrated and swiped her transit card and motioned me through. It made my whole night.

Maybe Anne Frank was right. I'd sure like to believe she was.

Fall hues, autumnal blues

I've always loved fall. For one thing, T and I got married in our backyard under a beautiful red maple on October 29, ten years ago. Each year I look forward to fall leaves, Halloween, Thanksgiving, the colors, the smells and the traditions that go with them. I love how the sky shifts one day from robin's egg to azure. How the mornings are cooler and the evenings fall a little sooner. I look forward to climbing in bed under a pile of covers or pulling a warm wool sweater over my head on a frosty morning.

But lately, fall makes me sad. I can't put my finger on exactly why. I think it's a sense of sand spilling through the hourglass, the way that Dorothy watched her life slipping away in the Wicked Witch's tower. Time is moving relentlessly forward and for so long I've only wished that it would slow. Now, while my family is healthy and intact, while T and I are employed, while we're looking forward to a vacation. While I'm wondering if the apples are ready at Vaughn's and how to make the perfect pie crust.

I guess I just need to shake it off and remember there are blessings in every season...

Every Season
Nichole Nordeman

Every evening sky, an invitation
To trace the patterned stars
And early in July, a celebration
For freedom that is ours
And I notice You
In children's games
In those who watch them from the shade
Every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder
You are summer

And even when the trees have just surrendered
To the harvest time
Forfeiting their leaves in late September
And sending us inside
Still I notice You when change begins
And I am braced for colder winds
I will offer thanks for what has been and what's to come
You are autumn

And everything in time and under heaven
Finally falls asleep
Wrapped in blankets white, all creation
Shivers underneath
And still I notice you
When branches crack
And in my breath on frosted glass
Even now in death, You open doors for life to enter
You are winter

And everything that’s new has bravely surfaced
Teaching us to breathe
What was frozen through is newly purposed
Turning all things green
So it is with You
And how You make me new
With every season's change
And so it will be
As You are re-creating me
Summer, autumn, winter, spring

Prayer Request from a friend

"Won't cost you a dime. No matter your religion or belief status, this girl can use your prayers/thoughts, whatever...

When we moved in to our house in G__, some neighbors came with brownies about an hour after we arrived. It was so thoughtful, and they continued to be that way until they moved out (and up to their dream house). They are the M family, and they lived 2 doors down. We watched their daughter Hannah start kindergarten. She is 13 now, and needs prayers.

In late August she went in to have her appendix removed and they did a liver biopsy. After many tests, they dx'd Burkett's Lymphoma. It has spread to several areas in this short time, including near her spinal cord. She also has a tumor in her right quadrant. Hannah is already at stage 3. Please pray for her and her family. This has happened so fast, and even in the best, most miraculous case she will be at (the hospital) for another 6 weeks. "

Let's not forget the important things in life. Not traffic, or work or cat vomit or that my washing machine is vibrating itself across the floor. This stuff is real.

Lord God, Mighty Healer, please see this family through whatever is to come and let whatever happens be YOUR WILL. Don't let the enemy steal one single minute from this child. I pray for her complete and miraculous healing and that she stands as a testament to Your love. Amen.

Welcome to random thoughts, by the Rose

I haven't been very good about writing... a whole week and nothing but silence. I'd like to say I'm working on something brilliant but I'm not, I just can't seem to focus on any one topic.

"I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread." Bilbo told Frodo. Only he had a ring to blame it on. And dark powers. I just have my own distractable mind. Follow along, or try, as we skim over the odd inner workings of my brain for the last few days...

1) I've been musing over what to say to someone who has purposely turned her back on God and is a willing participant in a weekend pagan gathering. Part of me thinks "It's none of your business, butt out." But then the other part, the faithful part, knows that we're to proclaim the Word. And, anyway, how does one believe -- and then not? This is a concept I just can't get. To me, there is irrefutable historical evidence of Jesus and written proof of his miracles and the resurrection. So how does one come to ignore everything they once believed? And what do you say to someone who's been "churched" and left it? How do we reach the people who've been victims of "hit and run Christianity"?

2) T still isn't feeling good and that's been a distraction but not enough of one. I forget sometimes that he doesn't feel good. He is going through another battery of tests, I really hope they figure it out soon so he can stop worrying and feeling worse.

3) Here's a random one: have Renaissance Festivals been co-opted by pagans? No, I'm not obsessed, I promise. But there has always been an "alternative spiritual belief" element in the background. Now I wonder how many people are active pursuers of the occult. And does that make me a bad Christian for still wanting to go?

4) K says she wants to do more "family stuff". But no one can figure out what that is. I think she has this need, this deep craving for protection and closeness and security. Boy, don't we all. I hope that we can do more things together. We still seem to be settling in as a family, grasping for the balance we all need. The blowups are exhausting and the energy is different. But I'm still so happy she's here.

5) Among all my random thoughts, this just popped in to my head:
Psalm 46:10 "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." I actually have a yearning to be still. Not to read, not to sleep (although both are heavenly!) but just to be still. There is just one explanation. God must be trying to talk to me.

Herein lies a major dilemma for me: I'm often so busy talking and talking for others, that I am incapable or unwilling to listen. T busted me 1/2 a dozen times the night before last, doing just that. He's ask K a question, I'd answer. At the ER last week, the doctor asked T a question, I'd answer. He says I do it all the time. When did I become that girl?

Be still.

Be still.

Be still.

Where the Heart Is

First, let me say, he's OK.

T called me yesterday afternoon. He was using a scary, small voice usually reserved for those who have either just thrown up or seen a 4-foot spider. He asked me to pick up the kid and then said he didn't feel good. Like really not good. Like "maybe I should go to the ER" not good.

I did two things very fast. Pray and drive. I prayed a lot. I picked him up and he looked OK, which was reassuring but he kept complaining his chest hurt. T never gets sick. Like me, he hasn't seen the inside of a hospital since elementary school tonsil removal. I was not enjoying the sudden change.

We swung by for the kid, who was volunteering at church, headed straight for the hospital. There they ran tests, took x-rays, took blood, gave nitro. Good news and bad news about nitro. If you're having a heart attack, it helps. If you're not --- well... He went from a nice healthy shade of Anglo-Irish pink to a shade only described as pea soup mixed with sour milk. His BP dropped a bunch. That wasn't funny.

While we were there, our pastor showed up. He prayed, yes, but he also just hung out and talked, like I'm sure he's done a million times for others in our church. He didn't give me the "you're not being appropriate face" when I teased T to make him laugh, or when I offered to heart punch him to get everything straightened out. He gave me a gentle hug, nothing too dramatic. He joked with us. He left only when it was time to get back for Wednesday night service, promising to return after. I sent K with him, feeling confident that there would be no serious report from the doctors.

After a little over 2 hours they cleared T to go home -- heart looks fine, take some Motrin, get in to a regular doc to track down the cause of the pain. I took him home and then doubled back for K. She told me then that she loved our church. By the way, she hadn't even told anyone in youth group that her dad was in the ER -- she was surprisingly calm. Like me, she felt in her spirit that there was nothing to worry about.

I, too, love our church. In fact, I'm not sure love is a big enough word for what I feel. After so many years, people, buildings and denominations, I feel that I've come home at last. It isn't just the pastoral staff, who are also friends, it's the warmth of the people who attend. There is a depth of trust there that I've never found anywhere else. The whole service prayed for us last night and no less than a dozen people asked me how he was when I picked K up. And what do you know? They weren't just being nosy.

T's heart is safe and healthy and mine is with him always. And together, the heart of my family is safe in the care of God's good people and a little church in western Wyandotte County. Today that's more than enough blessing for me.

New arrival

I decided over the weekend that it would be fun to set up a blog that gives reviews for the different campgrounds and parks T and I visit... so I'm announcing the birth of a 2nd blog - No Reservations. You can see the link on here.

She's small but, you know, they grow up so fast!!!!

What is this "Emotional Maturity"???

Sometimes I forget I'm all grown up.

Yesterday morning I flew to Nashville to meet with my company's second largest customer. The VP of Sales was supposed to go, too, only someone accidentally picked up her briefcase at the security check and left with it. Her boarding pass, phone, our presentation, etc. were all inside. As I waited for her to board (not knowing what was going on) I started to panic. When the door closed, my stomach tightened into this hard little ball. No matter what happened - I knew I had to go solo. I was panicked.

When I landed in Nashville I reached her assistant and got the story. The MIA VP called me from a pay phone at the airport in KC and told me with which company the car reservation was made. I got directions from the rental car counter and she went back to the office to fax the presentation and hang out in case I needed her. I took a minute or two to collect myself. All the time, I kept reminding myself... I am not 17 anymore. I'm a grown up. I can do this. I won't get lost. I am not alone. God was right there in that Budget rent-a-car with me. I asked Him not to let me say anything stupid.

Other people sometimes have more faith in me than I do. That's a little sad.

The meeting was great. Fabulous. There were a few things I couldn't answer but the buyer was patient and he carved 2 hours out of a very busy day to have lunch with me. Driving away from the offices, I realized I crossed the border in to adulthood a long time ago. I can do whatever is required and people might not even notice that I am scared.

Maybe in some small way, I am finally reaching emotional maturity.

The Criteria of Emotional Maturity
(sent to me in a Valentine's Day card from Barnett Helzberg)

• The ability to deal constructively with reality.
• The capacity to adapt to change.
• A relative freedom from symptoms that are produced by tensions and anxieties.
• The capacity to find more satisfaction in giving than receiving.
• The capacity to relate to other people in a consistent manner with mutual satisfaction and helpfulness.
• The capacity to sublimate, to direct ones' instinctive hostile energy into creative and constructive outlets.
• The capacity to love.

- William Menninger, MD (Co-founder, The Menninger Foundation)

Fun Friday and a 3 Day Weekend!

Rose Awards, Volume 2

Hurray! 3 day weekend!

Best Festival in Kansas City: The Renaissance Festival I have attended most years since it opened. The day T proposed to me, we spent the day there. So much to do and see and a great festival to eat your way through.

Best Use of Late Summer Tomatoes: Tomato, Mozzerella and Basil Salad. Cupini's makes a great one but so do I. Nothing like a homegrown tomato.

Best Chocolate Bar: Godiva's Chocolate Raspberry Bar. So good I wanted to cry. Crying while eating chocolate is nothing to be ashamed of, is it?

Best Satire Featuring a Muppet: Cookie Monster's Analysis of Shakespeare.

Best "Good News" Item of the Week: Astronomers find 4 New Planets. An interesting news item that was buried under much bigger news.

Finally, good news wins the google war - 5.2 million hits for good news, vs. 3.08 million hits for bad news. Heading in to a 3 day weekend after a hectic week (and another on the way), it's nice to know.

Learning to love in a safe place

When I was about 10, I went through some "stuff" at home. My dad remarried and my stepmom and I had a rough and rocky ride for a few years. My mom was out of the picture for a while, which didn't help matters. It wasn't a great American tragedy but it was a defining time for me and it didn't define me well.

I had a friend whose parents were those kind of parents that seemed to collect kids. With three kids of their own, they hosted the band, the overnights, the birthday parties. They were the rural carpool, the most firm voices in the PTA and the parents who always offered to give kids a lift to church. In fact, they took me to church with their family for a few years. They were my hookup for Sunday School, Vacation Bible School and summer camp. They were willing to love me when I was unloveable. They gave me a home. And I don't mean a Saturday night every week or two. I mean whole summers. Full weekends. I ran away at 13 - to their house. No one even wondered where I was: I guess they knew.

That unconditional love saved me. Maybe it didn't make me better, smarter, more religious or more popular. But it gave me such hope and my best memories of childhood. When I think about doing that for someone's else's kid -- especially an annoying one like I was -- I can't imagine what it would take. They included me in holidays, took me everywhere, treated me like I was their own. At the time I didn't think much of it because I was too young to understand what I was receiving. Now I can only reflect with wonder. Why ever would they have done that for me?

You would think as much as I loved them -- still love them-- that I speak to them with regularity. I confess, I don't. I have created this separation between who I was then and who I am now and it's very hard for this woman to reach across to the people I knew when I was that little girl.

There was a very powerful skit that Nicole Johnson performed at Women of Faith -- about how we need to have faith enough to stretch out that thing in us that's withered and weak so that Jesus can heal it. It just flashed in to my mind. Maybe that's God telling me to call these people and say "I love you" just once more. Or to write and say how much I appreciated the evenings we spent singing together, the gift of my first job, the loan of a car to get me there and the patience and sweetness they had with me that made me want to be good for them. For chocolate milk and responsibility and space to be a little wild. For being my safe harbor.

One day, soon, I will.

Your guardian angel has had his coffee -- have you?

Ever since I saw this wallpaper earlier this week, I've been thinking a lot about it.

This world is a very scary place but I am lucky enough to be able to insulate myself from so much of it. I don't know if that's really a good thing but for the most part, I spend my days hearing about the news, not becoming the news. In my safe little cocoon, I am left to worry about K's orthodontist appointment, not the fact that she's starving to death or being held at gunpoint by terrorists.

If you google "guardian angel" you get, for the most part, these nice soft pictures of beautiful blonde female angels -- all well and fine. But personally, I want a guardian angel that is powerful, armed and ready for battle. Psalm 34:7 says: "The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them. " This is one of my favorite Bible images -- I imagine myself surrounded by a Holy circle of well-armed angels. Big muscles, shiny armour, Very sharp swords.

I thought about this all week and I couldn't figure out why I couldn't get away from the image on the wallpaper. Last night at church, my pastor talked again about the fact that we, too, are in a battle -- for our lives, our souls, our children, our neighborhoods. It finally clicked. Not only do I need a well-armed angel, I have to be ready to defend myself.

Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armour of God so that you can take your stand against the devil's schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armour of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled round your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Eph 6:10-17

I'm not armed and I'm definitely not dangerous. Someday that cocoon might collapse. Someone might need me -- and I won't be ready.

Now that's scary.

Unfair

My friend recently suggested I visit the annual fair in the town where we grew up. For her, this must have seemed a natural thing because I think she was happy in our little town. But after all these years I don't think she knows how much I hated that place.

I do have some happy memories... of digging down in giant tubs of cornmeal for bubble gum and dimes, of egg tosses, whirly rides, homemade pie, Saturday night street dances. I remember my mother gently loading a beautiful gingerbread house into the back of our car to enter in the cake decorating contest. A pencil sketch of one of our half-wild kittens for which she won a ribbon. For that weekend, anyway, the kids in town were princes and princesses in cut-off shorts. We carried the massive fortune of $10 and whatever money we won for ribbons in our frayed pockets.

But this is also the town that I ran helplessly through -- only to be caught and beaten by an older, bigger girl. A town where I was spit on, assaulted and humiliated. A place where my heart was broken more than one time. This is the town that threatened to take me from my father. Where kids hated me and grown people looked right through me. Where I was humiliated in to putting back groceries because I didn't have enough money.

The thought of those times has nearly obliterated my memories of childhood delight.

This is the place that only remembers me as I was: a mouthy kid, a helpless, out-of-control daughter of a broken home. I was the girl who lived in a trailer on a gravel road on the edge of town. I was the hacked off corner of a painful lover's triangle. When I am there, I am no longer the "me" I made, instead I shrink to the "her" they made.

I need this distance to reclaim what happy memories I can. I won't rule out ever going back but for now there's no peace in a place that was so unfair.

Rose Awards

In celebration of Friday, here's my first weekly White Rose Awards.

Easiest Service Project Ever: Project Linus
I am a craft idiot but even I can crochet-- while on my rear watching Survivor, no less. I'll be sharing this one with my mom, who is a serial knitter and my MIL, who is a world-class quilter.

Best Magazine for Lazy Martha Stewart Wannabes: Real Simple
Most of this stuff is pretty original and not! very! complicated! I'm buying a subscription and sharing with my oldest stepdaughter. Now she can get great decorating and organization advise from people who actually know what they're talking about -- instead of me.

Funniest e-mail I received this week: I very tactlessly teased my friend C about his greying hair (we're the same age) and he, being the droll, sweet person he is responded with this. Unexpected wit is always so fun.

<< "Gray hair is a crown of splendor, it is attained by a righteous life." Proverbs 16:31

Maybe you should start living better so you can have gray hair and a righteous life too? Something to think about. >>

Coolest Free Family Activity in KC this week: 75 Years of Mickey Mouse
Maybe Sunday after church? I mean, who doesn't love Mickey?

Easiest Airline To Deal With: Southwest Airlines
I love that they give you an inexpensive option to buy fully refundable tickets on line. Makes my working life SO much easier, especially when meetings get cancelled at 5 a.m. And the CS rep I talked to this week was a real sweetheart.

Most Delicious Smoked Meats found in the Middle of Nowhere: Swiss Meats
Simply. Heaven. Their onion and green pepper brat is the bomb.

Finally, I've been blogging in secret and I'm thinking of letting some people know. It seems like an awkward thing to do, kind of a "hey looky at me" thing. But I think if I knew my friends were blogging and I couldn't read it, I would feel I was missing out. In these days of faster and faster, blogs are sometimes a nice way to slow down and really understand one another.

Decision 2004

A little while ago after reading yet more viciousness directed against certain candidates in the presidential election, I googled up "best candidate for president" and got a (surprise!) useful quiz that walks you through various political issues to determine your best match.

I'm still leaning right. Yep. But not very, since I am a former Democrat with a child in public school. My beliefs don't have a thing to do with military service or elected office experience, either. In fact, those two items are total non-issues for me. Now what we plan to do about education, oil prices, taxes, various constitutional amendments and the war in Iraq are issues.

I won't bore you with my specific beliefs, I will only say that I hope everyone votes their conscience and when this election is over I hope we can abandon the rhetoric and meanness and get back to being nice people. This election seems to be exceedingly ugly. As for me, I plan to vote by absentee ballot and be safely and blissfully digging my toes into the island sand on election day, where my only decision will be what to pick for lunch.

A hui hou kakou,
Yorkist Rose

Runner's High

OK, I admit I was jealous of K this morning. She decided last night to start running on our treadmill to stay in some semblance of shape should she decide to resume playing soccer. So at 5:30 this morning, she rolled out and trotted off. At 6:00 I dragged myself out of bed and hailed her grouchy good morning as we passed in the hallway. She was pumped, happy, hyper and ready to go. I still had bed hair and one eye closed. Harrumph.

After 30 quality minutes with "Real Simple" and the offending treadmill, I have but one question. Where's my runner's high? I didn't feel refreshed, I felt itchy from the sweat. Actually I felt an immense sense of relief that I won't have time to walk tomorrow (I have a good reason). So are "they" saying "runner's high"? Or just that runners are high? 'Cause there is a difference.

Let's face it. I still fight my weight because I'm a slug. The treadmill is incompatible with my sluglike state. I secretly wish for one of those fitness makeovers... but then again I more frequently fantasize about an evening alone on the couch with the remote and a stack of Blockbuster videos.

However -- in the fantasy, I am drinking Diet Coke and eating Smart Pop Kettle Corn. That should count for something. And I had a vegetarian black bean burger for lunch yesterday. So no one can say I'm not making an effort here ...

Women of Faith

I should have mentioned earlier that the conference I attended this weekend was as super as I'd hoped it would be. Not only did I get to see my partners in crime have a wonderful time, I also received blessings of my very own.

When I had to pick between Omaha and St. Louis, I went with the Omaha location so that I would be able to see Nichole Nordeman. I have a passing familiarity with some of her music and thought I might enjoy it. Uh, yeah. As I sat in the dark watching her perform, tears just streamed down my face. I don't know why -- I wasn't sad. But I was touched in some very, very deep place. I related this to my husband later and he shrugged philosophically. We both agreed that sometimes it's good to sit in the dark and cry.

This conference is always so joyful. These speakers are so down-to-earth, vulnerable, available. Though it was hard to pick a favorite from so many terrific speakers, I have to say I was most moved by Patsy Clairmont. I was also so impressed by her kindness out on the concourse -- with a show organizer tugging at her elbow and a crowd of fans pressing in around her she patiently signed every last item, including my friend D's book. Sandi Patty was a surprise performer (replacing CeCe Winans at the last minute) and "oh, wow". You've heard the expression "raise the roof"? Well, she tore it off. What a voice.

I also took some silly satisfaction in the fact that nearly every men's room was changed to a ladies'. Porcelain gender reassignment, I guess. Bravo, Qwest Center!

As we arrived back home on Saturday night, T said he could feel the "estrogen wave" from the driveway to the house. We are women, hear us roar. Hear us worship. Hear us rejoice!

Snap

Hold your hand out in front of you and snap your fingers. No, really, do it.

That's how long it took for a motorcyclist to inadvertently end his life yesterday - out for a ride on a sunny Sunday afternoon. That's how long it took for a friend's brother to become a quadriplegic last year. How long it took a dog to maul a girl across the street from my SIL and BIL and cause her to receive 90 stitches. That's how long it takes to say a vow, step on a plane, open a door, pull a trigger.

Very often I find it isn't the years that define or instruct our lives -- it's the briefest of moments. A wrong turn, a right turn, a smile, a slip, a ringing phone.

Are we ready? Are the people we love ready?

Reunion, Renewal, Rest

I'm off this afternoon to attend the Women of Faith Conference in Omaha. I'm taking 2 friends I've known for 18 years, plus one of their SILs and my own SIL. We are all doing something that doesn't involve kids or a husband. Very radical.

In all honesty, my two friends deserve this more than I do. D is the mother of three sons, one with profound special needs. S has two young daughters, one of whom was diagnosed with autism. I often crab about various things in my life but compared to the fire-breathing dragons these two battle every day, my problems are the equivalent of a little morning fog. So I organized this trip. Well, I think I was Spirit-led to organize it. God made it happen because there's no way without Him that we could ever have pulled it off.

It is my joy to see it unfold. And my blessing to be around some of the most awesome women I know -- to have the privilege of watching them receive the reunion, renewal and rest they so desire. My heart is very full. My weekend is already made.

Waiting for the Fates

Sun stabbing down in yellow shards
the dust still in my nose and mouth
no relief has come to us
the geese are not yet heading south.

I love the spring, all blues and pinks
the bursting buds and misty rains
and early summer smells like rose
and frosting when I watch the trains.

But now I'm tired and how it drags
the rains have stopped, the grass is burning
seeds and fruit are crushed and rot
and still the trees are not yet turning.

Summer, I don't want you now
I've pulled the welcome mat inside
to wait for fall, for candles, apples
while Lachesis and Atropos decide.

Hmmm, in a weird mood and tired of summer I guess.

The Saudis want to be our Friends

While picking my way along in the land of never-ending road construction this morning, I heard a radio commercial that made me feel as if I'd left Kansas and entered Oz. Or a Jasper Fforde novel.

You can find a copy of the ad I heard here.

The upshot is that, well, the Saudis aren't terrorists, we said so ourselves. They didn't do anything, really. And they want to be friends.

I thought it was a joke. Like if France ran an ad saying "We promise we'll stop talking bad about you so please buy some more wine and cheese."

I wasn't aware it had been done before. Apparently they've been running ads in the US for the last couple of years. Now I'm really, really glad for those annoying tags at the beginning of political commercials. You know the ones ...

I'm the Yorkist Rose and I approve this message.

oooh, fun toy

Rather than try to put this on my own site, I'll just link this guy's blog to mine. I found this while randomly hitting "next blog" after publishing my own. It fits my poetry theme.

Blogging is such a fascinating phenomenon. So many people with so much to say, crying into the internet wilderness and then sitting, patiently waiting to be heard.

My Psalm

The strength I needed to get through today
was the gift you gave before I woke.
While still in dreams you saw my needs
and bound the fragments before they broke.

At just the moment I felt cleaned out
emptied, fragile and beyond repair
you knit my life and scattered pearls
bright blessings from the empty air.

Some days I thought "Not one more step"
but in the darkest times you led me through
and as I held your hand I watched the skies
as smoke and black gave way to blue.


and the Psalm that inspired it ...
Psalm 121

I lift up my eyes to the hills- where does my help come from?

My help comes from the LORD , the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip- he who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD watches over you- the LORD is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD will keep you from all harm- he will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.

First Day of School

There are thoughts which are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the posture of the body, the soul is on its knees. - Victor Hugo

We sent K off to school today. A new experience for me -- and one I didn't imagine I'd ever have at this late date. Nonetheless, there we all were - 2 cars worth of well-wishers, seeing the kid off on her first day of high school in a strange new city. We were like her own personal parade.

K and I spent most of our time in the car praying. We prayed for confidence, peace, joy, blessings in unexpected places, the right kind of friends, for less homework and more fun. We prayed for her friend in another state who is also going to a new school today.

What a privileged people we are: to be able to have a free education, to be able to freely go to God in prayer. And how privileged I am to be able to spend my Monday morning praying with K and seeing her off on the first day of school.

As my day goes on, I'll be spending a large portion of it in meetings. But in the quiet moments I intend to keep praying. Even if it's just a thought, a delicate little soap bubble of prayer that I send her way. I'll keep praying that even now she's being met with kindness, that she's feeling strong and confident. That even if we can't be there, God will be.

released?

My boss has released me from being nice to a person here who hates me. I'm ashamed to say so, but often our conversations deteriorate into 4th grade bickering matches, loudest person wins. I can not make her like or respect me and I've honestly just been waiting for permission not to have to like her.

Oh...but my Father says I have to love her.

Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect. Matthew 5:45-48

No, I guess I am not released.
So, Father God, bless her in her work, in her family and in her faith. Draw her closer to you and wrap her in Your perfect love. And the next time she gossips about me or gives me a hard time, love her even more and help me to do the same.