It's late and I'm tired, but too many days have passed and I'm feeling I have lost my momentum here. But it's hard to keep the momentum going on all the fronts when there is so much happening in my mind, heart, and spirit.
It is said that habits are made in 21 days, so you see, I lost this habit, but I have picked up a few new ones: I am rising early to have a quiet time in my sanctuary/room. Each morning, around 5:30, I come in and light the many candles and sit and pray or read or I am just quietly sitting and listening. It is as I had hoped and it is a good thing.
I have scheduled two workshops to share my experiences with building a personal mission statement. Right now, it's for the general public and it's called "Navigating the Cereal Aisle of Life: How to Build a Personal Mission Statement." I will be using this and then adapting it for librarians as I plan to present at MLA. It is almost complete in basic content.
And, I am working on my book... at last. It is set in St. Petersburg right now and it's a good thing to be writing. I was very much affected by Ann Lamott and her book, Bird by Bird. I thank her for writing the words that stirred my heart enough to begin. She says, start small and just start... not to worry if it's the beginning or the middle. So I did and I have and I write at least 300 words a day. It's a good beginning.
In front of me, as I write, I have a new photograph that I purchased at the local arts festival. It's a water lily between several pads floating on the water. It carries deep calm inside it and for me, it is a touchstone for our Lily still waiting for us to come and get her. The book is really dedicated to her and the children like her and to our boys who escaped that life.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Sunday, September 18, 2005
I am Fire ...
I have been on a bit of a personal journey these past few weeks ... one of the authors I read has tweaked my interst in developing that personal mission and vision statement for myself (I poked around a little with this when we were working on our Strategic Plan at work). One of the exercises asked me to select which of the four basic elements: wind, water, earth & fire ... were most like me... and then, to build on the idea with descriptive words and verbs which would become a kind of story poem about me. This is what I discovered:
I am fire.
Consuming fire, full of heat, light, and power,
Sometimes dangerous, unpredictable, angry, and volatile, yet
Glowing, mezmerizing, full of light, and colors:
White, yellow, orange, red, and blue.
Persistent, indestructable, and swift.
Cleansing, refining, purifying fire,
Respected and often feared.
Misunderstood.
I, Irmgarde, am fire.
I can destroy, consume and burn
But I also transform, change and refine.
I warm others.
I heat up situations.
I am a cleansing change agent.
I illumine dark places.
I glow.
I crackle!
I flame.
I light the way.
A work in progress:
My mission is to inspire meaningful change, build faith, and connect people with resources that can make a difference in their lives.
What do you think?
I am fire.
Consuming fire, full of heat, light, and power,
Sometimes dangerous, unpredictable, angry, and volatile, yet
Glowing, mezmerizing, full of light, and colors:
White, yellow, orange, red, and blue.
Persistent, indestructable, and swift.
Cleansing, refining, purifying fire,
Respected and often feared.
Misunderstood.
I, Irmgarde, am fire.
I can destroy, consume and burn
But I also transform, change and refine.
I warm others.
I heat up situations.
I am a cleansing change agent.
I illumine dark places.
I glow.
I crackle!
I flame.
I light the way.
A work in progress:
My mission is to inspire meaningful change, build faith, and connect people with resources that can make a difference in their lives.
What do you think?
Sunday, August 28, 2005
First Day of School
I think all parents have an annual transition time when their kids head off to school. I basically still function on a school year. It's like something needs to start happening once September rolls around. It's time to get serious... new projects, new plans, new directions. :-)
Well, my oldest is off to high school tomorrow. I can remember Kindergarten and 1st grade... that look as he headed into the school building for the first time or got on the school bus. Red letter days! And now, here we are, facing high school and attitude and sloppy jeans and girls who write "Sergei is Sexy" with magic marker on his arm. Gad! I'm surprised they didn't write their phone numbers ... or maybe they did and he pocketed those, along with their IM names.
My youngest returns to the safety of Catholic school and 7th grade... he'll be seeing his friends again... he'll be back on familiar turf. That's a good thing, I think. Will he become such a stranger as Sergei is becoming? I need to let go... I know that intellectually. I'm working on it. Honest.
And my third... my poor stray daughter, still waiting in St. Petersburg for her new parents to come and pick her up. I know she feels forgotten. Oh Lord, make a way... break open the gates so we can bring her home. She should be starting school now too. She should be a freshman too. But the delays become longer and longer. The Russian government is tightening the restrictions. And the girl, my poor daughter, knows nothing of the bureaucracy... only feels yet another rejection, another abandonment. Have mercy, Lord. Have mercy on Lili. Make a way... only You can truly make a difference here. Like the widow in Luke 18:1-8.... I plead the power of persistence and justice!
Well, my oldest is off to high school tomorrow. I can remember Kindergarten and 1st grade... that look as he headed into the school building for the first time or got on the school bus. Red letter days! And now, here we are, facing high school and attitude and sloppy jeans and girls who write "Sergei is Sexy" with magic marker on his arm. Gad! I'm surprised they didn't write their phone numbers ... or maybe they did and he pocketed those, along with their IM names.
My youngest returns to the safety of Catholic school and 7th grade... he'll be seeing his friends again... he'll be back on familiar turf. That's a good thing, I think. Will he become such a stranger as Sergei is becoming? I need to let go... I know that intellectually. I'm working on it. Honest.
And my third... my poor stray daughter, still waiting in St. Petersburg for her new parents to come and pick her up. I know she feels forgotten. Oh Lord, make a way... break open the gates so we can bring her home. She should be starting school now too. She should be a freshman too. But the delays become longer and longer. The Russian government is tightening the restrictions. And the girl, my poor daughter, knows nothing of the bureaucracy... only feels yet another rejection, another abandonment. Have mercy, Lord. Have mercy on Lili. Make a way... only You can truly make a difference here. Like the widow in Luke 18:1-8.... I plead the power of persistence and justice!
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Old Friends
Many people go to reunions, but I just had something better ... not just any reunion, but a particular kind of one... a reunion with two women who have been my friends since high school ... dare I say, 40 years ago! We haven't been particularly close over all of those years and yet, there is a knot that holds us together.
One of them is a psychotherapist in California who specializes in music therapy along with other spiritual practices and the other has a PhD in Special Education and is tenured at a small southern college. They are deeply thoughtful women who challenge their worlds both within and without. They are women who have never stopped searching, believing, hoping, and growing.
We are really quite different, we three, but we respect each other and rejoice in the simple of knowing of on another.
We know about the big moments in each other's lives and often, we've even managed to share a few in person. But we also cherish the small intimacies that only longevity and perseverance can produce. I believe, in many ways, we still trust each other... maybe not as deeply as we did, those Shortridge High School girls sitting in the grass contemplating the sorrows of racial strife, assasinations, and the Vietnam War. The pulling apart already started in college even though we attended the same school. We each took such different roads once we left Indiana University ... and yet, here we are, so many years later, filling an afternoon on the Magothy River with our life stories.
Thank you Mary and Becky. I am grateful for your friendship.
One of them is a psychotherapist in California who specializes in music therapy along with other spiritual practices and the other has a PhD in Special Education and is tenured at a small southern college. They are deeply thoughtful women who challenge their worlds both within and without. They are women who have never stopped searching, believing, hoping, and growing.
We are really quite different, we three, but we respect each other and rejoice in the simple of knowing of on another.
We know about the big moments in each other's lives and often, we've even managed to share a few in person. But we also cherish the small intimacies that only longevity and perseverance can produce. I believe, in many ways, we still trust each other... maybe not as deeply as we did, those Shortridge High School girls sitting in the grass contemplating the sorrows of racial strife, assasinations, and the Vietnam War. The pulling apart already started in college even though we attended the same school. We each took such different roads once we left Indiana University ... and yet, here we are, so many years later, filling an afternoon on the Magothy River with our life stories.
Thank you Mary and Becky. I am grateful for your friendship.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Almost There...
My nephew was here this week. He has turned out well... He had a few near misses - bad choices and the like, but clearly, now, at 24, he's become a good man, delightful company, and a good influence on the boys. Thanks Stoff!
Next week, the boys go to "away" camp ... a week with no arguing. How will I use my time? There is still much on the home front. Our worker is finished, but chaos still reigns. Got to move Sergei's stuff into his new room. Got to finish Lily's room. Almost there, upstairs... almost there. The basement storage area beckons ... but should I give up my week of quiet there... I don't think so.
My sacred space beckons as well. I think, yes. I will take a day next week, maybe two, and finish here in my room. Put my art on the walls. Hang my curtains... File my papers. Embrace my altar and build it from the inside out. Feel the part of it. See the whole of it. Almost there.
I also need to think about my "new street" a little. Today, at work, they had the follow-up Strategic Planning meeting - the "action plans" step and I was not included. That hurt. Again, a sense of being out of favor... of not being valued at that level. But, the Leadership Institute gave me an edge that I must hold onto... I need to recover the feeling, the sense, the belief ... that I do have value and I can create my own favor. Almost there ....
What is it that I have to say? Can I build my own content? Can I focus and compile all that scattered "stuff" from books, seminars, and conferences. Can I work through the fear of tripping up again? Can I do more than just dream about it?
So far, unfortunately, I've reacted in my cliche way ... more information gathering!!! I think I have 12 books on hold at the library and more on order from the bookstore ... and yet, I know... I know, down in there somewhere, that I must stop gathering (Little Voice says: "oh, not yet... I'm not ready ... just need to read more, see more, hear more... not yet... don't stop yet.")... but I know, I must stop... I must stop long enough to sort through what is already there. Why don't I trust what I already have in my head... in my heart... in my soul? Why does it never seem to be enough?
Almost there... it always seems to feel like I'm only almost there... Will I reach my own "tipping point" this time?
Next week, the boys go to "away" camp ... a week with no arguing. How will I use my time? There is still much on the home front. Our worker is finished, but chaos still reigns. Got to move Sergei's stuff into his new room. Got to finish Lily's room. Almost there, upstairs... almost there. The basement storage area beckons ... but should I give up my week of quiet there... I don't think so.
My sacred space beckons as well. I think, yes. I will take a day next week, maybe two, and finish here in my room. Put my art on the walls. Hang my curtains... File my papers. Embrace my altar and build it from the inside out. Feel the part of it. See the whole of it. Almost there.
I also need to think about my "new street" a little. Today, at work, they had the follow-up Strategic Planning meeting - the "action plans" step and I was not included. That hurt. Again, a sense of being out of favor... of not being valued at that level. But, the Leadership Institute gave me an edge that I must hold onto... I need to recover the feeling, the sense, the belief ... that I do have value and I can create my own favor. Almost there ....
What is it that I have to say? Can I build my own content? Can I focus and compile all that scattered "stuff" from books, seminars, and conferences. Can I work through the fear of tripping up again? Can I do more than just dream about it?
So far, unfortunately, I've reacted in my cliche way ... more information gathering!!! I think I have 12 books on hold at the library and more on order from the bookstore ... and yet, I know... I know, down in there somewhere, that I must stop gathering (Little Voice says: "oh, not yet... I'm not ready ... just need to read more, see more, hear more... not yet... don't stop yet.")... but I know, I must stop... I must stop long enough to sort through what is already there. Why don't I trust what I already have in my head... in my heart... in my soul? Why does it never seem to be enough?
Almost there... it always seems to feel like I'm only almost there... Will I reach my own "tipping point" this time?
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Walking Down Another Street
I left the Institute Friday around 1:30 pm and arrived home by 2. I was so full of hope and invigorated with all kinds of ideas and possibilities. By 2:30, I was walloped with the reality of a chaotic house run by by 2 teenaged boys and a husband/father who doesn't do multi-tasking particularly well. Talk about deflated! I got sucked right into the chaos and disappointment.
Today, a day later, I feel a little better, but it has been difficult to rekindle that rush. But whether I rekindle it or not, the future is still before me and I can choose to change it. I can take a another street.
Here's a poem that Becky Schreiber shared with us, written by Portia Nelson:
Autobiography in Five Chapters
1)
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost…I am hopeless
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
2)
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I'm in the same place.
But it isn't my fault.
I still takes a long time to get out.
3)
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I see it is there.
I still fall…it's a habit
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately
4)
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
5)
I walk down another street.
I think it's time to sincerely consider moving on to the next chapter (and street) of my life.
Today, a day later, I feel a little better, but it has been difficult to rekindle that rush. But whether I rekindle it or not, the future is still before me and I can choose to change it. I can take a another street.
Here's a poem that Becky Schreiber shared with us, written by Portia Nelson:
Autobiography in Five Chapters
1)
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost…I am hopeless
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
2)
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I'm in the same place.
But it isn't my fault.
I still takes a long time to get out.
3)
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I see it is there.
I still fall…it's a habit
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately
4)
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
5)
I walk down another street.
I think it's time to sincerely consider moving on to the next chapter (and street) of my life.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Make an Offer
I'm at a "leadership institute" this week. And there have been some keys, but the biggest key so far was based on a quick remark that came out of last night's session.
A leader must be aware of her surroundings ... environment ... whatever, and out of that awareness and/or sensitivity, observes a need. Based on that observed need, she "makes an offer" to meet that need ... or address the situation ... or bring about an improvement or recommend a change. As a followup, if her offer is accepted, she must now deliver the goods. Being a leader is both sides - awareness enough to make the offer and the ability to follow through.
Being this kind of a leader requires self-awareness and a willingness to give of oneself. Being a leader of this kind requires self-sacrifice. It's a choice.
This Institute is specifically work-related, but the application goes beyond work. It applies to church, community, family and more. I believe it requires my removing the blinders of my typical way of seeing.
I am a leader. But I am a leader that has been sitting on the sidelines. Just considering the idea of "making an offer" has frozen me. I have grown too tired to lead ... consumed by the juggling of daily life. I think I need to review my inner truth.... to make an offer.
A leader must be aware of her surroundings ... environment ... whatever, and out of that awareness and/or sensitivity, observes a need. Based on that observed need, she "makes an offer" to meet that need ... or address the situation ... or bring about an improvement or recommend a change. As a followup, if her offer is accepted, she must now deliver the goods. Being a leader is both sides - awareness enough to make the offer and the ability to follow through.
Being this kind of a leader requires self-awareness and a willingness to give of oneself. Being a leader of this kind requires self-sacrifice. It's a choice.
This Institute is specifically work-related, but the application goes beyond work. It applies to church, community, family and more. I believe it requires my removing the blinders of my typical way of seeing.
I am a leader. But I am a leader that has been sitting on the sidelines. Just considering the idea of "making an offer" has frozen me. I have grown too tired to lead ... consumed by the juggling of daily life. I think I need to review my inner truth.... to make an offer.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Friends and an Unfolding Life
Thanks Kathy... you're the best!
What a joy. My dear friend came down from New York to help move our houseguest (been here since April something) - involving ex-husbands, many pick-ups, helpers, and more. And if that wasn't enough lugging and laughing, she helped me get my focus back on my sanctuary/study... wow! what a difference. It's now a neat, quiet and openly loving space. I am so happy as I spend time here today. We revolved my desk so I can rest my eyes on the beautiful woods behind our home. If I look to the right, I see my many bookshelves filling with my favorite books, finally getting some breathing room after long months in basement boxes. The newly purchased victorian chair goes great with the new loveseat and everything just feels enveloping. We even got my old secretary desk in a perfect corner, awaiting my candles, pictures, objet d'art for my altar. What a difference it has made ... a place to go.... hide, sleep, read, study, work... it all feels perfect. It's really my long-hoped for dream room. ...the healing has begun.
And THEN, we worked on the family room... it too, has been transformed and welcomes everyone in. No more boxes, less clutter, less furniture. Can't wait for my other friends to "come see... come see" and enjoy our home.
There was a lot of hard work (and there's more to do), and despite the fact that every computer in my house is "down" - I am more hopeful today than I have been in a long time. Everything will work out fine.
Our home is really a lovely place. It can be the nest that everyone in my family can enjoy.
I am just very grateful for my friend who understood what I needed this weekend without my even saying it. I look forward to the day I can do the same for her.
Today, in preparation for a Leadership Institute I've been invited to attend (only some 23 participants statewide - that's cool)... I started reading one of the books on their recommended list: Synchronicity: The Inner Path of Leadership by Joseph Jaworski (as in son of Leon Jaworski ... Watergate prosecutor - for those of us old enough to remember...) ... Anyway, I love the book already. Among other things, he talks a great deal about relationships as central to our being... not our doing.
Jaworski asks us to make "fundamental shifts of the mind... to think that the world can ever change without changes in our mental models is folly. ... it's about a shift from seeing a world made up of things to seeing a world that's open and primarily made up of relationships, (emphases mine) where whatever seems most real to us, is actually nonsubstantial. ... we live in a world of possibilities."
Today, tonight, I welcome this world. I commit to living it, feeling it, unfolding within it. Thanks friend. You also have been a part of this little reawakening too.
What a joy. My dear friend came down from New York to help move our houseguest (been here since April something) - involving ex-husbands, many pick-ups, helpers, and more. And if that wasn't enough lugging and laughing, she helped me get my focus back on my sanctuary/study... wow! what a difference. It's now a neat, quiet and openly loving space. I am so happy as I spend time here today. We revolved my desk so I can rest my eyes on the beautiful woods behind our home. If I look to the right, I see my many bookshelves filling with my favorite books, finally getting some breathing room after long months in basement boxes. The newly purchased victorian chair goes great with the new loveseat and everything just feels enveloping. We even got my old secretary desk in a perfect corner, awaiting my candles, pictures, objet d'art for my altar. What a difference it has made ... a place to go.... hide, sleep, read, study, work... it all feels perfect. It's really my long-hoped for dream room. ...the healing has begun.
And THEN, we worked on the family room... it too, has been transformed and welcomes everyone in. No more boxes, less clutter, less furniture. Can't wait for my other friends to "come see... come see" and enjoy our home.
There was a lot of hard work (and there's more to do), and despite the fact that every computer in my house is "down" - I am more hopeful today than I have been in a long time. Everything will work out fine.
Our home is really a lovely place. It can be the nest that everyone in my family can enjoy.
I am just very grateful for my friend who understood what I needed this weekend without my even saying it. I look forward to the day I can do the same for her.
Today, in preparation for a Leadership Institute I've been invited to attend (only some 23 participants statewide - that's cool)... I started reading one of the books on their recommended list: Synchronicity: The Inner Path of Leadership by Joseph Jaworski (as in son of Leon Jaworski ... Watergate prosecutor - for those of us old enough to remember...) ... Anyway, I love the book already. Among other things, he talks a great deal about relationships as central to our being... not our doing.
Jaworski asks us to make "fundamental shifts of the mind... to think that the world can ever change without changes in our mental models is folly. ... it's about a shift from seeing a world made up of things to seeing a world that's open and primarily made up of relationships, (emphases mine) where whatever seems most real to us, is actually nonsubstantial. ... we live in a world of possibilities."
Today, tonight, I welcome this world. I commit to living it, feeling it, unfolding within it. Thanks friend. You also have been a part of this little reawakening too.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
To Those Who Have...
Well, there's a scripture ... To Those Who Have Will More Be Given Matthew 13:12. Of course, the implication is that it's about "good things." But today, I think this is a principle that's applying to the other side.
Certainly feels like I'm experiencing a fat load of more crap.
Our adoption is delayed yet again because of the paperwork. Since our agency is still not accredited (Russia has been withholding), we must do an "independent" adoption so that many of our papers need to be redone.... that's not just filling them out, but also getting them notarized, carried to the county for their seal and then driven to the state capitol for their seal, then fed-exed to the agency. Naturally, because of the chaos of the house, I could not find the originals. Burst into tears last night.
Then, after more translation, they're saying our first trip won't be until August and probable "pick-up" in October. I feel so badly for our girl.... waiting, waiting, waiting. I'm sure she's even questioning her decision to come. It all feels so heavy today.
Chaotic house doesn't help. My sanctuary is cluttered with things waiting to be moved to the basement... almost done... almost done. Our bedroom is painted a vibrant blue-green ... feels like a water color, but we are waiting for the crown molding to be done. Bed in the middle of the room. I fell off the step stool... crunched my legs. yow. Boxes everywhere. Can't find anything.
House guest is moving out on Saturday.... but of course, I have to arrange the whole thing... trucks, people etc.
And work deadline hovering... July 11. OK. Take a breath. This too shall pass. It will all come together. Mantra: This day is a day given to me to walk and live to the fullest. I surrender to this day. Breathe. "BUT ALL WILL BE WELL, AND EVERY KIND OF THING WILL BE WELL." Julian of Norwich
Certainly feels like I'm experiencing a fat load of more crap.
Our adoption is delayed yet again because of the paperwork. Since our agency is still not accredited (Russia has been withholding), we must do an "independent" adoption so that many of our papers need to be redone.... that's not just filling them out, but also getting them notarized, carried to the county for their seal and then driven to the state capitol for their seal, then fed-exed to the agency. Naturally, because of the chaos of the house, I could not find the originals. Burst into tears last night.
Then, after more translation, they're saying our first trip won't be until August and probable "pick-up" in October. I feel so badly for our girl.... waiting, waiting, waiting. I'm sure she's even questioning her decision to come. It all feels so heavy today.
Chaotic house doesn't help. My sanctuary is cluttered with things waiting to be moved to the basement... almost done... almost done. Our bedroom is painted a vibrant blue-green ... feels like a water color, but we are waiting for the crown molding to be done. Bed in the middle of the room. I fell off the step stool... crunched my legs. yow. Boxes everywhere. Can't find anything.
House guest is moving out on Saturday.... but of course, I have to arrange the whole thing... trucks, people etc.
And work deadline hovering... July 11. OK. Take a breath. This too shall pass. It will all come together. Mantra: This day is a day given to me to walk and live to the fullest. I surrender to this day. Breathe. "BUT ALL WILL BE WELL, AND EVERY KIND OF THING WILL BE WELL." Julian of Norwich
Sunday, June 12, 2005
How Should I Count the Time?
It's all happening so fast ... and yet, it's also at a standstill.
Activity - a flurry, but nothing finished... all in process, all in a state of becoming, but nothing finalized.
My sacred space now has 4 bookshelves neatly lined up like soldiers on one wall ... no books on them, but the shelves are there. The loveseat comes on Wednesday and then I can get the other shelves to fill in on both sides. I just found a wonderful antique reading chair to compliment the sofa - but Nicky (the fattest cat in the whole wide world) is trying to claim it as his own personal sacred space. :-) I'm trying to find an antique corner cabinet for my altar. (See last part of entry called Strategic Planning.) No luck so far... but I'm holding out for the right piece on this one.
On the other hand, the tops to my new desk had to be replaced twice because of damage via shipping. Then, the cable people had to come out to get the data line working and then the router died (drives the wireless network) and a computer guy (well, it was really a gal) had to come in to troubleshoot. Finally, everything up and running but then the boys got Trojan Worms (probably from IM'ing) and now both of their computers are DOWN and out until I can "wipe" them and start over. Sigh.
And then, out of nowhere, Mike decided it was time we got new bedroom furniture (since we've never had anything but the college look - bed on frame, mismatched everything else), so, suddenly, we appear to be creating another special space... this is one that he is participating in and that is ... well, that's just downright new. He even hired the contractor who's doing the basement, Mr. George, to put in crown molding. Whoa. Go, Mike. So, we splurged on a queen size sleigh bed, 2 dressers and a night stand in luscious cherry wood. That stuff arrives in a month, so now, we gotta get the painting done in there soon. I think Mike's actually going to help paint. I'mt thinking there may be something special in this change.
Kip is opting for our old bed while Sergei is getting a loft bed... this is all before Lily comes. (See April: Family & Holiness)
The basement space is coming together. George finished Mike's studio and next he's starting on the "craft space." It really looks great. I think it's cold as blazes down there, but Mike likes it that way. We'll also have two storage spaces... although right now, it's total chaos as we had to move "stuff" from one side to the other, from one section to another, so he could build the rooms one by one.
Yesterday, the mulch came. 4 yards of it, but not enough, so the yard's only 1/2 done. But the front & side flower beds are done and part of the back, so it looks better. It's all part of getting some order... it felt good to work in the yard again. But I was so tired after only 4 hours... I felt very old. Time... again, fooling me.
It was just a weekend ago that we went to Omaha to see our niece graduate from high school. Where has that time gone? She is so beautiful and we were all so proud... 3rd in a class of 400+ Go, girl. But the joyousness was mired by the tensions there. My brother looking for work, his wife focused on her work and her world, and the older boys (in their 20's), still finding themselves. There was such a very big elephant in every room. But our time was too short and it just didn't seem appropriate for me to cry out: Look, don't you see the elephant? Instead, we all tried to act "normal."
At our last meal at the cafe, Sunday brunch, tempers really flared and I couldn't stand the thought of getting on a plane with harsh words behind us. I finally grabbed Aleks out back and said to him what I wanted to say to them all: "I love you. I will never stop loving you, no matter what choices you make, no matter what mistakes you make. I will always love you because that's all I can do. Please don't treat me like you believe I don't even care. Because it's not true... never was, and never could be." He broke. He hugged me. He said he was sorry. I said, "I don't want to lose you." And I knew then, that it was this that I feared the most ... to lose part of my family because of a broken marriage, broken hearts ... to lose the people that I love... not just Aleks, but all of them... my brother, his wife, their kids... I don't want to lose them. Oh, God, do a work there. Please.
And last of all, our Lily news... which is no news. Here the clock has appeared to stop altogether. All papers turned in but nowhere to go. Just wait. We still hope to travel end of June... but it's middle of June already. She's at camp now. We can't even call. I try not to think about it. Our last call was not so good. She was angry and frustrated - why haven't you come? Why is it taking so long? I can't blame her. I'd be angry too. There's no way to explain to her about the many stupid problems. They would be meaningless to her. The last stupidity? When we submitted our dossier at the county clerk's office, our notary's seals turned out to be inaccurate. That was not a good day. We got the papers corrected, but not without much angst. So, now, the documents are in Russia being translated. And then, to make matters even worse, we heard that the other family "heard" that some of the judges are NOT granting the adoptions. Oh Lord. Have mercy. The other family goes June 28. We hold them up in prayer. We hold our own situation. We ask that you pray too.
Activity - a flurry, but nothing finished... all in process, all in a state of becoming, but nothing finalized.
My sacred space now has 4 bookshelves neatly lined up like soldiers on one wall ... no books on them, but the shelves are there. The loveseat comes on Wednesday and then I can get the other shelves to fill in on both sides. I just found a wonderful antique reading chair to compliment the sofa - but Nicky (the fattest cat in the whole wide world) is trying to claim it as his own personal sacred space. :-) I'm trying to find an antique corner cabinet for my altar. (See last part of entry called Strategic Planning.) No luck so far... but I'm holding out for the right piece on this one.
On the other hand, the tops to my new desk had to be replaced twice because of damage via shipping. Then, the cable people had to come out to get the data line working and then the router died (drives the wireless network) and a computer guy (well, it was really a gal) had to come in to troubleshoot. Finally, everything up and running but then the boys got Trojan Worms (probably from IM'ing) and now both of their computers are DOWN and out until I can "wipe" them and start over. Sigh.
And then, out of nowhere, Mike decided it was time we got new bedroom furniture (since we've never had anything but the college look - bed on frame, mismatched everything else), so, suddenly, we appear to be creating another special space... this is one that he is participating in and that is ... well, that's just downright new. He even hired the contractor who's doing the basement, Mr. George, to put in crown molding. Whoa. Go, Mike. So, we splurged on a queen size sleigh bed, 2 dressers and a night stand in luscious cherry wood. That stuff arrives in a month, so now, we gotta get the painting done in there soon. I think Mike's actually going to help paint. I'mt thinking there may be something special in this change.
Kip is opting for our old bed while Sergei is getting a loft bed... this is all before Lily comes. (See April: Family & Holiness)
The basement space is coming together. George finished Mike's studio and next he's starting on the "craft space." It really looks great. I think it's cold as blazes down there, but Mike likes it that way. We'll also have two storage spaces... although right now, it's total chaos as we had to move "stuff" from one side to the other, from one section to another, so he could build the rooms one by one.
Yesterday, the mulch came. 4 yards of it, but not enough, so the yard's only 1/2 done. But the front & side flower beds are done and part of the back, so it looks better. It's all part of getting some order... it felt good to work in the yard again. But I was so tired after only 4 hours... I felt very old. Time... again, fooling me.
It was just a weekend ago that we went to Omaha to see our niece graduate from high school. Where has that time gone? She is so beautiful and we were all so proud... 3rd in a class of 400+ Go, girl. But the joyousness was mired by the tensions there. My brother looking for work, his wife focused on her work and her world, and the older boys (in their 20's), still finding themselves. There was such a very big elephant in every room. But our time was too short and it just didn't seem appropriate for me to cry out: Look, don't you see the elephant? Instead, we all tried to act "normal."
At our last meal at the cafe, Sunday brunch, tempers really flared and I couldn't stand the thought of getting on a plane with harsh words behind us. I finally grabbed Aleks out back and said to him what I wanted to say to them all: "I love you. I will never stop loving you, no matter what choices you make, no matter what mistakes you make. I will always love you because that's all I can do. Please don't treat me like you believe I don't even care. Because it's not true... never was, and never could be." He broke. He hugged me. He said he was sorry. I said, "I don't want to lose you." And I knew then, that it was this that I feared the most ... to lose part of my family because of a broken marriage, broken hearts ... to lose the people that I love... not just Aleks, but all of them... my brother, his wife, their kids... I don't want to lose them. Oh, God, do a work there. Please.
And last of all, our Lily news... which is no news. Here the clock has appeared to stop altogether. All papers turned in but nowhere to go. Just wait. We still hope to travel end of June... but it's middle of June already. She's at camp now. We can't even call. I try not to think about it. Our last call was not so good. She was angry and frustrated - why haven't you come? Why is it taking so long? I can't blame her. I'd be angry too. There's no way to explain to her about the many stupid problems. They would be meaningless to her. The last stupidity? When we submitted our dossier at the county clerk's office, our notary's seals turned out to be inaccurate. That was not a good day. We got the papers corrected, but not without much angst. So, now, the documents are in Russia being translated. And then, to make matters even worse, we heard that the other family "heard" that some of the judges are NOT granting the adoptions. Oh Lord. Have mercy. The other family goes June 28. We hold them up in prayer. We hold our own situation. We ask that you pray too.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Stories for Healing
OK, so here's where I'm really headed and what this whole space thing has been driving toward.
Some months ago, I felt called to build a web site that would be a compilation of stories... my story as well as the stories of other men and women who, otherwise, might not get their stories "out there." From the process of telling, re-telling, and writing these stories, I believed there would be other people in the artistic community who would "echo" the stories through their craft - be it visual art, performance art, or whatever. All of this would be posted. That's the Lydia Mosaic and I am still committed to that project.
In the meantime, I discovered Dan Allender who was writing the book, "To Be Told" (recently released) and who was offering workshops on personal stories for healing. I was amazed at the similarities and decided to attend his workshop last August. The workshop was very insightful and although there were clear differences of vision, there was fruit there that I wanted to incorporate into the Lydia Mosaic.
One of the keys to Allender's point of view on personal stories is that each one of us is really God's story... we are an expressions of who God is... our stories, full of pain and joy, are all about God in this world. And, we are actually co-authors with God in the telling (and walking out) of our stories (whether we are conscious of this truth or not).
Tonight, as I was driving home from choir rehearsal, I realized that I have been telling my story for many years (in the form of 'testimony') and thinking I was being too self-absorbed. But, I believe I see now that I was already moving in this arena of story as an expression of God. The next step is to discover the patterns of my story... for these are the clues to the story that hasn't been written yet.
This space... this sacred space that I am trying to grow inside my chaotic home environment is the place I have wanted to truly birth the Lydia Mosaic and to continue my unraveling of personal truth ... to continue my heart's journey.
But the physical space is moving more slowly than the driving in my heart to begin, to work. So, I understand, I think, that I must build my inner space with more determination. For, in the end, the work is going to happen there first anyway. The physical space is the cocoon, yes, but I think I am being forced to work from inside out.
Like my thumb, which, on the outside, is healed after the surgery, and yet the nerves are still firing and giving me much pain. The interior structure is operating on a different schedule... a different plane. I cannot rush it. I must acknowledge it.... walk it. Live it. It's all going to happen.
It's and/both... I must nurture my inner space and build my outer space... whether they appear to be "together" or not. They will converge along the way.
Some months ago, I felt called to build a web site that would be a compilation of stories... my story as well as the stories of other men and women who, otherwise, might not get their stories "out there." From the process of telling, re-telling, and writing these stories, I believed there would be other people in the artistic community who would "echo" the stories through their craft - be it visual art, performance art, or whatever. All of this would be posted. That's the Lydia Mosaic and I am still committed to that project.
In the meantime, I discovered Dan Allender who was writing the book, "To Be Told" (recently released) and who was offering workshops on personal stories for healing. I was amazed at the similarities and decided to attend his workshop last August. The workshop was very insightful and although there were clear differences of vision, there was fruit there that I wanted to incorporate into the Lydia Mosaic.
One of the keys to Allender's point of view on personal stories is that each one of us is really God's story... we are an expressions of who God is... our stories, full of pain and joy, are all about God in this world. And, we are actually co-authors with God in the telling (and walking out) of our stories (whether we are conscious of this truth or not).
Tonight, as I was driving home from choir rehearsal, I realized that I have been telling my story for many years (in the form of 'testimony') and thinking I was being too self-absorbed. But, I believe I see now that I was already moving in this arena of story as an expression of God. The next step is to discover the patterns of my story... for these are the clues to the story that hasn't been written yet.
This space... this sacred space that I am trying to grow inside my chaotic home environment is the place I have wanted to truly birth the Lydia Mosaic and to continue my unraveling of personal truth ... to continue my heart's journey.
But the physical space is moving more slowly than the driving in my heart to begin, to work. So, I understand, I think, that I must build my inner space with more determination. For, in the end, the work is going to happen there first anyway. The physical space is the cocoon, yes, but I think I am being forced to work from inside out.
Like my thumb, which, on the outside, is healed after the surgery, and yet the nerves are still firing and giving me much pain. The interior structure is operating on a different schedule... a different plane. I cannot rush it. I must acknowledge it.... walk it. Live it. It's all going to happen.
It's and/both... I must nurture my inner space and build my outer space... whether they appear to be "together" or not. They will converge along the way.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Space only Works if your IN It
Grrrrr! Just want to be in my space.... just want to collect all the pieces and put them together. Just want ... just want....
Wireless network not working right. Kids in my face... want IM back... yada yada. House guest needs to rant and talk talk talk. Husband sick ... not that sick, but there's much moaning and groaning. Basement contractor good... but needs this... needs that. Move the boxes, make a path. New microwave arrived today... needs to be installed. What's for dinner, mom? Chicken Again??? yeah, what? You wanna cook? And my hand still hurts after surgery. Numb on one side, nerves firing on the other, all confused.
I AM COMPLAINING!
But here's the real truth, don't ya know? Space is not physical. Space is inside. So, come on, step inside. Space is always there. Just got a choose it. So, I choose it now. For this small moment. I am there. And so, peace is still possible despite the chaos.
Wireless network not working right. Kids in my face... want IM back... yada yada. House guest needs to rant and talk talk talk. Husband sick ... not that sick, but there's much moaning and groaning. Basement contractor good... but needs this... needs that. Move the boxes, make a path. New microwave arrived today... needs to be installed. What's for dinner, mom? Chicken Again??? yeah, what? You wanna cook? And my hand still hurts after surgery. Numb on one side, nerves firing on the other, all confused.
I AM COMPLAINING!
But here's the real truth, don't ya know? Space is not physical. Space is inside. So, come on, step inside. Space is always there. Just got a choose it. So, I choose it now. For this small moment. I am there. And so, peace is still possible despite the chaos.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Strategic Planning
We're working on our Strategic Plan at work and at one point, the facilitator said, "Our family does Strategic Planning each year" and I thought, "Gad! What would that look like?"
He introduced us to the term: BHAG (Big, Hairy, Audacious Goal). Funny. What would a BHAG be for a family since it's supposed to be for many years out... 10-15. Ten years from now, all of our kids would pretty much be out of the nest (at least, we hope so!). I guess each person in the family would have their own BHAG. I might try this for myself... just to see how it feels for me.
A BHAG is something you are deeply passionatle about... it drives the engine. In some ways, I almost feel like I am operating on a BHAG but it's just not written down on paper... it's why we're adopting and renovating and why I'm creating a personal space.
The other thing we did at work was create "core purpose." That's the reason for being. It's the thing that should have been true 50 years ago (well, that's babyhood, so that's no good)... so how about, 30 years ago ... and would still be a core purpose 30 years hence. I think I'd have to draw from scripture for that one... Something one continually pursues but may never fully achieve .... a worthy pursuit, but broad enough in wording to encompass a wide range of methods for walking it out.
A Core Purpose: Love the Lord our God with all my heart, soul, and strength.... and my neighbor as myself.
And after core purpose, comes core values... the essential and enduring and guiding principles. Gonna think about that one at bit.
A Core Value:
Forgiveness.... forgive others who fail me; forgive myself for mistakes.
Help ... use my abilities, talents, and gifts to help others
Oh, on a different note, but related to my space... I got a book yesterday on "Building Women's Altars." It's definitely a little New Age, but I love the concept of building an altar in my room. It would, of course, have Christ as a focus, but there would be other items there that would, not only draw me closer to Him, but also center my spirit and focus my thoughts. I could place items of significance there - photographs and tokens and memories. And, even more intriguing... the idea of the altar changing ... like seasonally or whatever. I have a place picked out in my room. Since my desk is in the middle of the room ... opposite my computer monitor rhere is a corner where the closet juts into the room. Yes, there. My eyes would rest there often.
He introduced us to the term: BHAG (Big, Hairy, Audacious Goal). Funny. What would a BHAG be for a family since it's supposed to be for many years out... 10-15. Ten years from now, all of our kids would pretty much be out of the nest (at least, we hope so!). I guess each person in the family would have their own BHAG. I might try this for myself... just to see how it feels for me.
A BHAG is something you are deeply passionatle about... it drives the engine. In some ways, I almost feel like I am operating on a BHAG but it's just not written down on paper... it's why we're adopting and renovating and why I'm creating a personal space.
The other thing we did at work was create "core purpose." That's the reason for being. It's the thing that should have been true 50 years ago (well, that's babyhood, so that's no good)... so how about, 30 years ago ... and would still be a core purpose 30 years hence. I think I'd have to draw from scripture for that one... Something one continually pursues but may never fully achieve .... a worthy pursuit, but broad enough in wording to encompass a wide range of methods for walking it out.
A Core Purpose: Love the Lord our God with all my heart, soul, and strength.... and my neighbor as myself.
And after core purpose, comes core values... the essential and enduring and guiding principles. Gonna think about that one at bit.
A Core Value:
Forgiveness.... forgive others who fail me; forgive myself for mistakes.
Help ... use my abilities, talents, and gifts to help others
Oh, on a different note, but related to my space... I got a book yesterday on "Building Women's Altars." It's definitely a little New Age, but I love the concept of building an altar in my room. It would, of course, have Christ as a focus, but there would be other items there that would, not only draw me closer to Him, but also center my spirit and focus my thoughts. I could place items of significance there - photographs and tokens and memories. And, even more intriguing... the idea of the altar changing ... like seasonally or whatever. I have a place picked out in my room. Since my desk is in the middle of the room ... opposite my computer monitor rhere is a corner where the closet juts into the room. Yes, there. My eyes would rest there often.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Steps
Well, I'm back. This is one of the lines from The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. Little Lucy has just discovered Narnia on the other side of the wardrobe and spent a pleasant afternoon there, only to return to her "real world" to discover that no time has passed at all. She wasn't really missed. That's how this feels tonight. I've been on a wild and wooly journey, but here, no time has passed at all. Well, for the record...
First impression: I need to recover a balance between the visionary and the day-to-day. But, perhaps there is more balance than I realize. Perhaps it has been the vision, after all, that is holding together my day-to-day. Yes, there is a sense of stepping on stones... but no swift stream here... just a vast, seemingly, never-ending sea. And yet, I see a way. There is strength in that.
- I have finally fed-exed our dossier and now it's a waiting game as we wait for the call from the agency for our first scheduled visit to St. Petersburg and a visit with our new daughter, Lily. We talk each week, but she's getting discouraged.
- I had surgery on my hand for a "trigger-finger" on the thumb: the opening of the tendon that allows the finger to bend became inflamed and too small for the tendon causing pain and difficulty in moving the thumb. Now, I just have a big bandage and a sore hand and tenderness at the incision point and numbness. They say the numbness will go away. I sure hope so.
- I am sitting at my new desk in my new room. (See Unfinished Floor below) The shelves are still in in boxes and there's no artwork or rug, but I'm in and slowly organzing and preparing the space for occupation. Hurrah.
- My eldest graduates in 10 school days from 8th grade. Wow.
- Our house guest is still struggling with lots of issues. She treads heavily sometimes into lives, giving parenting advice and decor advice etc. It's frustrating sometimes, but I know it is part of getting better. I'm trying to help her find a place to live before our new daughter arrives this summer. The situation is not good... from bad credit to not being old enough (must be 62 for senior housing) to long waiting lists, yada, yada, yada. The bureaucratic maze is endless. I pray I never have to face it myself.
First impression: I need to recover a balance between the visionary and the day-to-day. But, perhaps there is more balance than I realize. Perhaps it has been the vision, after all, that is holding together my day-to-day. Yes, there is a sense of stepping on stones... but no swift stream here... just a vast, seemingly, never-ending sea. And yet, I see a way. There is strength in that.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Next up!
Well, one show is over and next up this week, I'll be learning how to navigate social services, HUD, and the local public housing authority for my wounded bird of a friend.
The other show... the play... went fairly well actually and most of the kids stepped up and did an admirable job. But now, in addition to careening through the social services learning curve, I must also return all the borrowed black curtains, and props, and costumes, and make-up. We did strike everything from the school cafeteria, so I won't have to drag that out. Little do they know... how done I really am. I mean, I think I'm cooked on doing shows for the school.
It's always been my policy to stay away from backstage during performances. I think the kids need to go it alone without the Director hovering, etc. But, when it's pre-teens performing en masse, I always ask the school administrator ... the PTA... the teachers... pleeeze, I need at least 3 adult volunteers backstage each performance and each dress rehearsal. I only got one. So, there were some incidents: a broken memento; stolen drinks from a teacher's desk; dry ice being snorted from a coke bottle filled with water; broken props; stolen money; consumed food props; allergic reactions, and more. It all just made me very tired.
I wonder what the students' memories will be of all this someday? Ah well, time to move on to government bureaucracy... not much different from school politics and parent apathy.
On a happier note, I found a retired guy who loves to do renovations on the cheap. He's even going to re-do the floor! My room... my wonderful sacred space may actually happen. My sanctuary... I am so ready for THAT to be next up.
The other show... the play... went fairly well actually and most of the kids stepped up and did an admirable job. But now, in addition to careening through the social services learning curve, I must also return all the borrowed black curtains, and props, and costumes, and make-up. We did strike everything from the school cafeteria, so I won't have to drag that out. Little do they know... how done I really am. I mean, I think I'm cooked on doing shows for the school.
It's always been my policy to stay away from backstage during performances. I think the kids need to go it alone without the Director hovering, etc. But, when it's pre-teens performing en masse, I always ask the school administrator ... the PTA... the teachers... pleeeze, I need at least 3 adult volunteers backstage each performance and each dress rehearsal. I only got one. So, there were some incidents: a broken memento; stolen drinks from a teacher's desk; dry ice being snorted from a coke bottle filled with water; broken props; stolen money; consumed food props; allergic reactions, and more. It all just made me very tired.
I wonder what the students' memories will be of all this someday? Ah well, time to move on to government bureaucracy... not much different from school politics and parent apathy.
On a happier note, I found a retired guy who loves to do renovations on the cheap. He's even going to re-do the floor! My room... my wonderful sacred space may actually happen. My sanctuary... I am so ready for THAT to be next up.
Friday, April 22, 2005
The Play's the Thing
It's hell week, supposedly starting tomorrow, because it's our all day tech rehearsal... but I think it's starting today. I am totally and unequivocally overwhelmed. There's no heart searching. There's no tender, sweet times of personal respite or recovery. There is no sacred space. That girl has to take a back seat this week. This time is just list after list after list: props, costumes, lights, sound. This is frantic phone calls for fog machines and lamp posts. This is begging parents for help. This is kids who still don't know their lines. This is mom the director. This is insane. This is my other world.
A few days ago, one of the kids (an 8th grader, no less) quit the play. Why? "It's not fun anymore," he said. So, what is fun? Is this fun? I don't know anymore. I'm thinking it stopped being fun for me awhile ago. Did I count the cost? The "fun" at at my "real job" has piled up because I'm getting to work two hours late every other day. Next week, I leave 3 hours early every day because I have to rehearse after school. I'll owe the time back. I'm out of leave. I'm in negative leave. Now, that's a concept.
But, like birthing a child... well, ok, not quite like birthing a real baby, but the idea is the same, once the labor is finished and the play is up... and the kids realize that they really "could" do it and the applause and the joy and the pride in a thing well done... maybe that's where the fun will really be. Fun... work... accomplishment... process.
I think there is a key here... something to consider... the process. Well, can't think about that right now... need to find that fuzzy, white material... will it look like snow?
A few days ago, one of the kids (an 8th grader, no less) quit the play. Why? "It's not fun anymore," he said. So, what is fun? Is this fun? I don't know anymore. I'm thinking it stopped being fun for me awhile ago. Did I count the cost? The "fun" at at my "real job" has piled up because I'm getting to work two hours late every other day. Next week, I leave 3 hours early every day because I have to rehearse after school. I'll owe the time back. I'm out of leave. I'm in negative leave. Now, that's a concept.
But, like birthing a child... well, ok, not quite like birthing a real baby, but the idea is the same, once the labor is finished and the play is up... and the kids realize that they really "could" do it and the applause and the joy and the pride in a thing well done... maybe that's where the fun will really be. Fun... work... accomplishment... process.
I think there is a key here... something to consider... the process. Well, can't think about that right now... need to find that fuzzy, white material... will it look like snow?
Monday, April 18, 2005
Unfinished Floor
Nothing but a complaint today. Mike started putting in the new floor in my special space and he decided half way through the project that the pattern was too much trouble so he changed it. I tried to go along with it, but in my heart, I knew it would always bother me. Even though most of it will be covered by a rug, I need it to be right. Order. Beauty. Comfort. Safety. So, one way or another, I guess it will have to come up and be even more unfinished than it is now. I know it won't be easy... in fact, downright difficult. And I'll probably have to do it myself. Even more difficult.
Sounds a little like my life. Start... stop... shortcut... go back... start over... become overwhelmed... stop... wait... start over.
So many unfinished floors in my life. So many.
Sounds a little like my life. Start... stop... shortcut... go back... start over... become overwhelmed... stop... wait... start over.
So many unfinished floors in my life. So many.
Friday, April 15, 2005
Old Names and Old Flames
Got a message from a very old flame today. I'm trying to remember how many years ago it was that our heart strings twanged: 1979. That's a long time. Isn't it odd? In less than 3 days, two people from my long ago past have dropped back into my radar. I don't get that. I mean, in the really big picture, in the cosmic picture that only God can truly see... what do these whispers mean?
I only know this: old names and old flames bring up lots of memories and with those memories come shadow feelings. I think the girl-woman of those years is asking to be integrated into the woman of today. Hm. What would that look like? (see 4/12 entry)
I only know this: old names and old flames bring up lots of memories and with those memories come shadow feelings. I think the girl-woman of those years is asking to be integrated into the woman of today. Hm. What would that look like? (see 4/12 entry)
Thursday, April 14, 2005
What Do I Say When Someone Cries "Help!"
What do I say? After all, I'm a dyed in the wool, born again, hand-raisin' Christian. So, why is it so hard when the voice on the phone... an old voice, a woman who shared bread with us 15 years ago... an old acquaintance/friend.... What do I say, when she calls and says, "I'm dying here. My daughter beat me up last night. I'm so afraid." How can this be?
It turns out she's been living barely 15 minutes away from me for the last two years but didn't have the nerve to call. She's in some kind of messy divorce. Her estranged husband was abusing her ... but no one back in her New Jersey church believed her. So she ran back to Maryland, to her daughter. It's all so much drama.
Her daughther & son-in-law are both drug addicts. And yet, their place was full of rules. Everything had to align with their topsy turvy schedule. She was getting sucked into their lifestyle... self-medicating the pain. I'm not sure why, but she's also on disability. She's only 61. She's waiting for special housing for the elderly.
What do I say?
"Help me," she cries. "Can you help me? Can I stay in your home for awhile? I'm so afraid." What do I say? How long, I think. Now? But I just got my life back from three years of caring for my elderly, mentally unstable mother. Go Away! Don't ask me to help you. Don't ask me to carry another dying soul. No. I won't. I can't. I don't want to. I just want...
What did I really say? I said, "Come." Just, come. We'll work it out. For a season, for a time. After all, we've got the house. We've got the guest room and it even has a full bath. I said, "Come." Somehow, we'll all learn ... for there's bound to be a lesson here... a growing. So, come, old sister in Christ and let's see what God has for us.
That was yesterday.
Today, she came. In a van-taxi full of stuff. Just like that. She's here now. She's asleep in our guest room in the basement. She's got two broken ribs and arthritis ... but she still has that lovely smile. She talks all the time and yet, her eyes shine. Her hair, once dyed and perfectly coifed, is now white as snow and pulled back in a pony tail. I can remember when she wouldn't go anywhere without full make-up. Now, she barely wears any. And did I mention, she talks all the time? She brought her own toilet paper. What does that mean? She ate two full plates of food. My God. She was hungry.
So, heart. Here's a path you never expected. It's time to slow down. It's time to go back to being the tortoise (and not the hare). Oh, yes, I'm still in the race. It's just not the same race I started in.
It turns out she's been living barely 15 minutes away from me for the last two years but didn't have the nerve to call. She's in some kind of messy divorce. Her estranged husband was abusing her ... but no one back in her New Jersey church believed her. So she ran back to Maryland, to her daughter. It's all so much drama.
Her daughther & son-in-law are both drug addicts. And yet, their place was full of rules. Everything had to align with their topsy turvy schedule. She was getting sucked into their lifestyle... self-medicating the pain. I'm not sure why, but she's also on disability. She's only 61. She's waiting for special housing for the elderly.
What do I say?
"Help me," she cries. "Can you help me? Can I stay in your home for awhile? I'm so afraid." What do I say? How long, I think. Now? But I just got my life back from three years of caring for my elderly, mentally unstable mother. Go Away! Don't ask me to help you. Don't ask me to carry another dying soul. No. I won't. I can't. I don't want to. I just want...
What did I really say? I said, "Come." Just, come. We'll work it out. For a season, for a time. After all, we've got the house. We've got the guest room and it even has a full bath. I said, "Come." Somehow, we'll all learn ... for there's bound to be a lesson here... a growing. So, come, old sister in Christ and let's see what God has for us.
That was yesterday.
Today, she came. In a van-taxi full of stuff. Just like that. She's here now. She's asleep in our guest room in the basement. She's got two broken ribs and arthritis ... but she still has that lovely smile. She talks all the time and yet, her eyes shine. Her hair, once dyed and perfectly coifed, is now white as snow and pulled back in a pony tail. I can remember when she wouldn't go anywhere without full make-up. Now, she barely wears any. And did I mention, she talks all the time? She brought her own toilet paper. What does that mean? She ate two full plates of food. My God. She was hungry.
So, heart. Here's a path you never expected. It's time to slow down. It's time to go back to being the tortoise (and not the hare). Oh, yes, I'm still in the race. It's just not the same race I started in.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
What Will It Look Like?
This is a question I have posed a number of times while seeking peace in the midst of a storm. What will peace look like? Or seeking change in a situation of endless sameness. What will change look like? Seeking renewal in a state of redundancy. What will renewal look like? Seeking love in a marriage of 23 years. What will love look like? Seeking healing in a time of pain. What will healing look like? Or feel like? Or taste like? Or sound like?
I don't really know. No one does. And that's the point. Over the years, I've pretty much been up there with the rest of the control freaks ... always looking ahead. I called it "planned spontaneity." But for something to be wholly new, it must be exactly that - new. Only after letting go of what I think "it" should look like, will "it" really manifest. A struggling marriage is not free to become something new if we (or I) keep trying to mold the change.
When I was still in acting school, one of my instructors used to encourage us to "remain in a state of confusion" as long as we could tolerate it... because it was from there that a truly "creative" solution would find life... be born... People are generally too quick to grab on to the first good-sounding answer. God promises that waiting and praying are much more productive... that is, if what you really want is something new. I do.
I don't really know. No one does. And that's the point. Over the years, I've pretty much been up there with the rest of the control freaks ... always looking ahead. I called it "planned spontaneity." But for something to be wholly new, it must be exactly that - new. Only after letting go of what I think "it" should look like, will "it" really manifest. A struggling marriage is not free to become something new if we (or I) keep trying to mold the change.
When I was still in acting school, one of my instructors used to encourage us to "remain in a state of confusion" as long as we could tolerate it... because it was from there that a truly "creative" solution would find life... be born... People are generally too quick to grab on to the first good-sounding answer. God promises that waiting and praying are much more productive... that is, if what you really want is something new. I do.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Family & Holiness
I'm very tired, but I had to share two separate thoughts this day.
1) For our Russian dossier (paperwork, paperwork), we also have to send in pictures of our family (very conservative, it says, no shorts, no tank tops - gadzooks!) and pictures of our home (inside & out) with no dogs (we have two) and no cats (we have three) in evidence. But searching for pictures on the computer took me through so many memories. Pictures of last Christmas and Oma still with us ... then back to Christmas 2003, our first Christmas with Oma in Maryland ... then the day we adopted Winston the Pug ... oops, no dogs. Then, the day the wind annihilated our deck furniture and there was glass everywhere and on and on and more and more. Since I take most of the shots, the "family" pictures are usually some combination of the boys and Oma and Mike. Family. What a powerful word. Hard to find family today without Oma. I just miss her.
2) Sermon was particularly meaningful today. "Hallowed be thy name" was the topic. I did not know that phrase is really a request of God... let your holiness come into this situation and this day and be reflected. Why, I've said that phrase for almost half a century and never knew it was an invitation, even a plea. But I say it with new understanding now. Oh yes, Oh Lord, hallowed be thy name in my heart... today and always. Hallowed be your name in our family.
1) For our Russian dossier (paperwork, paperwork), we also have to send in pictures of our family (very conservative, it says, no shorts, no tank tops - gadzooks!) and pictures of our home (inside & out) with no dogs (we have two) and no cats (we have three) in evidence. But searching for pictures on the computer took me through so many memories. Pictures of last Christmas and Oma still with us ... then back to Christmas 2003, our first Christmas with Oma in Maryland ... then the day we adopted Winston the Pug ... oops, no dogs. Then, the day the wind annihilated our deck furniture and there was glass everywhere and on and on and more and more. Since I take most of the shots, the "family" pictures are usually some combination of the boys and Oma and Mike. Family. What a powerful word. Hard to find family today without Oma. I just miss her.
2) Sermon was particularly meaningful today. "Hallowed be thy name" was the topic. I did not know that phrase is really a request of God... let your holiness come into this situation and this day and be reflected. Why, I've said that phrase for almost half a century and never knew it was an invitation, even a plea. But I say it with new understanding now. Oh yes, Oh Lord, hallowed be thy name in my heart... today and always. Hallowed be your name in our family.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Personal Story for Healing
Personal Story: it's one of the reasons I'm taking this journey in this way. While finding my voice here at "Refiner's Fire - Emerging Heart" and while I'm creating my healing space (painted all day today), I am also remembering and contemplating where I have been and where this is all going.
Last year I attended a workshop designed by Dr. Dan Allender (Seattle, Washington) on using personal story as a tool in healing the wounded heart. It was a fabulous jump start for me and I know God is directing me to follow along this road for a season. This is part of my healing, my becoming, my emerging self.
And so, I promise, soon, there will be stories here as well as on my new web site (also, in process, like everything else) ... personal stories, yes. But not just my stories, there will be others as well. Stories that capture an essence. Stories that bring a moment back to life. Stories that give voice to pain. Stories that transcend time and give perspective in a new way. Stories that just remember.
Last year I attended a workshop designed by Dr. Dan Allender (Seattle, Washington) on using personal story as a tool in healing the wounded heart. It was a fabulous jump start for me and I know God is directing me to follow along this road for a season. This is part of my healing, my becoming, my emerging self.
And so, I promise, soon, there will be stories here as well as on my new web site (also, in process, like everything else) ... personal stories, yes. But not just my stories, there will be others as well. Stories that capture an essence. Stories that bring a moment back to life. Stories that give voice to pain. Stories that transcend time and give perspective in a new way. Stories that just remember.
Friday, April 08, 2005
Ship Wrecks and Snake Bites
Ship Wrecks and Snake Bites
Friends are joining the journey. I share them with you.
Friends are joining the journey. I share them with you.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Making a Space for Healing
I'm making a space. My mother's old room... used to be our family room and we renovated it for her. Around the family, I call it the Study. But really, it's a healing space. When my mother moved in, we had to store most of our books. I hope to bring back that library. There has always been something healing in books for me. When I was a child, my home was not a safe place and so I visited the library as often as I could. I remember, one day, pressing my entire body against a shelf of plays. I wanted all the words to pour into my body all at once. It was taking too long to read them one by one.
There will be a desk and a computer, of course, in my healing space. And there will be a place to read... and nap. And talk. There has to be place for sharing with friends, because there is healing in friendships. But even more, sharing with God. There will be an altar space, for that is where there will be discovery.
There will be a desk and a computer, of course, in my healing space. And there will be a place to read... and nap. And talk. There has to be place for sharing with friends, because there is healing in friendships. But even more, sharing with God. There will be an altar space, for that is where there will be discovery.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
A Mother's Mantle
My mother died this past January. She was 91. It's a long story and one I'll be working with over the weeks and months to come. But here's what I believe today: when a mother dies, her mantle is passed to one of her children (usually a daughter). Although some might fear this mantle would also carry all those negative, painful things... but that's not what I'm talking about here. Nope. This mantle, more like the multi-colored robe that was given to Joseph, carries the hopes and dreams of the giver and the generations of mothers before her. It's an inheritance. And that is what I feel is upon me, embracing me. Not unlike a treasured ring or other beloved object, but this is more in the supernatural: along with the heart of the mother, it carries the plans that God had for her. The call (see Keeping True...)on her life and perhaps even the call on my grandmother who died when my mother was only a teen or my great grandmother who worked in servitude on an German estate in Lithuania. I sense a walking out of some of these dreams in my generation... in me. It's a time of fulfilling. And I am in awe of the power of it. And what's even more important... I accept this mantle today.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Keeping True to the Gifts of a Calling
A calling. We all have at least one. I know it. Sometimes great, sometimes small, but a call... to do something. To be there. To act.
How is it revealed, this call. Sometimes, we see it through reading of a Word or sometimes it manifests through a desperately difficult circumstance. But it's right there. And God is equipping us to meet the call every day ... every minute ... every life moment. This life, my life, is God's life. This story, my story, is God's story too.
So what is the gift this day? Sometimes the gift is part of the visionary (long-term) and sometimes, it's just part of the day to day.
Today, I was given a revelation/recognition of the demonic. That's a gift. Can you believe it? Why? Because taunts have no power... they are just taunts. They aim to wound, to weaken and to move me from a path. To see the truth is a gift... without that sight, I might cave in. Not today though. I will not turn aside.
We found out today that there is a marriage license after all, but Fulton County, Georgia offices for such things are running 8-10 weeks in backlog. Taunt. Taunt. Buzzing gnats.
My husband & I are called to adopt a girl from Russia. We are called to stand in the gap between the pain of her past and the hope of her future. I will not back away. Father, make a path through this flurry of antagonists.
How is it revealed, this call. Sometimes, we see it through reading of a Word or sometimes it manifests through a desperately difficult circumstance. But it's right there. And God is equipping us to meet the call every day ... every minute ... every life moment. This life, my life, is God's life. This story, my story, is God's story too.
So what is the gift this day? Sometimes the gift is part of the visionary (long-term) and sometimes, it's just part of the day to day.
Today, I was given a revelation/recognition of the demonic. That's a gift. Can you believe it? Why? Because taunts have no power... they are just taunts. They aim to wound, to weaken and to move me from a path. To see the truth is a gift... without that sight, I might cave in. Not today though. I will not turn aside.
We found out today that there is a marriage license after all, but Fulton County, Georgia offices for such things are running 8-10 weeks in backlog. Taunt. Taunt. Buzzing gnats.
My husband & I are called to adopt a girl from Russia. We are called to stand in the gap between the pain of her past and the hope of her future. I will not back away. Father, make a path through this flurry of antagonists.
Grinding by the Little Things
Yesterday, couldn't get into the blog. Well, that's a way to get delayed. Working our paperwork to adopt internationally and the Notary used the wrong dates on all the papers and we have to start over. Requested our marriage license and the county has no record of our marriage. Well, that's interesting after 23 years. Boys had a field trip today and lost their permission slips and the money. Looked up their grades before going back to school after break and one of them has failing grade in every class but gym. Put on a suit today that was so uncomfortable after one hour that I had to rush home to change clothes. That's a start. Praise God from whom all blessings flow. So, who's responsible for all this other stuff?
Monday, April 04, 2005
Heart on Fire
Time is now. Things are changing. I am becoming. I am somehow different than I have ever been before. My world is coming into focus. This is a my heart and it's ready to burn... spirit fire. The fire of God that cleanses, purifies and transforms. This is my time. And so, this blog begins. Life, loves, family, hopes, dreams, and more. I am making that leap. Welcome to my heart.
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