Heroes

Do you ever have one of those moments when a random childhood memory hits you? The other day I was doing nothing in particular and I suddenly wondered, do I still remember all the letters of the alphabet for sign language? I found my mind beginning to run through all of the hand shapes, and I remembered about 20 of the 26 signs. When I was in elementary school I became fascinated by Helen Keller. I checked out her life story from the school library and read it a multitude of times. I think I may have watched the movie about Helen Keller with Patty Duke at about the same time. In the back of that book there was a chart that showed all of the hands symbol for the sign language alphabet. Using this chart, I taught myself these signs. I practiced them over and over again until I could do the entire alphabet by heart. I kept taking the book back and checking it out again until I knew that I had learned them all.

Even now, I don't really understand why I wanted to learn this. I did not know anyone then, and to this day still have not met anyone that required that I know how to sign. Perhaps it was because I was so deeply moved by the ability of this young woman to overcome such great obstacles. Perhaps I was moved by her teacher and their relationship. Like all great heroes Helen Keller inspired me to want to do great things, to not be deterred by the difficulties life brings. Maybe I thought that by learning her language I could be more like her. There was no real reason for me to learn the sign language alphabet and there is no real point to this story. It was a random memory, but like truly great heroes she is still someone I admire, and I can still show you how to make most of the letters of the sign language alphabet.

"Once I knew only darkness and stillness. My life was without past or future. But a little word from the fingers of another fell into my hand that clutched at emptiness and my heart leaped to the rapture of living." Helen Keller

Dirty Dancing Memories

I am sure most of you have heard that Patrick Swayze lost his long, brave battle with pancreatic cancer.  I don't know why, but this has hit me somehow.  Perhaps it is because he is so closely tied to my generation.  My early twenty-something bar life was lived to the soundtrack of Dirty Dancing.  I still remember dancing to those songs with my now husband when we were only dating; honestly I can hardly remember ever feeling sexier than being on the dance floor with him then.  I would probably be too embarassed to dance that way now, but fueled by alchohol and young love there was a sense of freedom and joy in just letting myself move that way.  

Dirty Dancing, Ghost, the ultimate guy flick Roadhouse, and my husband's favorite Red Dawn they are markers of my generation.  The trends, the hairstyles, the music.  Losing someone from our own generation brings my own mortality closer to home.  Then the thing that really got me was watching  he and his wife on TV last night.  They were asked about not having children, and if they had considered adoption.  His wife said yes, they had and that people asked them why they had not, and she just did not have an answer for that.  Life just happened.  It was like watching myself.  These two people, married for 34 years.  A good life, probably even a great life together, no regrets for that, but I cannot help but think about her today, now that he is gone.  I cannot help but put myself in her place,  and I cry.  I cry for her, and I cry for myself because life just goes by and before you know it all the time you thought you had to do things is no longer there.  The simple  lack of deciding catches up with you.  

Rest in peace Patrick, I hope that you were able to take all the love with you.

Living In The Moment

This Saturday Lloyd and I are leaving for a vacation.  We are going on an eight day cruise to Alaska with Lloyd's family. Lloyd's Mom and Dad are treating us all to this amazing journey, and until a few days ago I was letting the blessing of it escape me.  Sometimes I do that.  I was letting the stress of preparing for the trip, and being away from work, and being away from the dogs take away the joy of what is a very big blessing.  Luckily,  I caught myself.  I realized how crappy it sounds to not be looking forward to a trip that is something many people wait a lifetime to experience.  I know, go ahead and agree you would shake your head at someone who was complaining to you about taking a vacation.

So I have decided to stop thinking about the things that stress me about being gone and to just enjoy this.  Revel in getting to see a part of the world I  probably will never experience again.  Be open to the joy.  Live it, breathe it. Blessing.

This trip truly has become a gift in so many ways.  One of my stresses about going was the expense for all the incidentals, etc. and the fact that since I won't be working and Lloyd won't be at the shop  we also won't make any money while we are gone. We also had to repair both our electricity and air conditioning system unexpectedly this past week.   A few days ago  we get a call from Lloyd's Dad, turns out there was a small inheritance from his grandmother in Holland that finally arrived this week for he and his brother.  Just enough to cover our costs for the trip, amazing.  Blessing.

Finally, the last piece of my stress puzzle is my dogs and who would take care of them.  Hogan is on five medications due to his heart condition so it is no small task.  I called my Mom who had been in Missouri the entire summer taking care of my niece and nephew, I asked if she would consider coming here.  She said yes, so my Mom is flying in from Missouri and my stepfather is driving in from Reno so that they can spend a week at our house dog-sitting for us, yes, dog-sitting.  Who does that? Blessing.  

So, I have no excuses, no reasons left for stressing as hard as I may look.  Learning to walk in the blessing.  

NG- Not Good

Sometimes as my boss said to me this week life just feels like "one big shit storm" this week was one of those for me.  By the end of the week I just had to laugh; you think you cannot take one more thing, but then the one more thing comes anyway, and somehow you do.  You take it, you make it, and feeling a little battled and bruised you just keep going.  

This week contained all of the following in no particular order:  the funeral of a friend who I greatly admired that I did not get to go to; being in charge of moving my entire office(which has it's own entire set of dramas built in); trying to figure out how to pay a pile of bills for our company without enough money to pay them; having to lay off an employee and then having him turn around and threaten us; Lloyd's Dad  starting chemo for bone cancer; trying to continue to get all of the work that needed to be done for our company,  my bosses,  and our non-profit in the midst of living out of boxes; Lloyd's Dad ending up in the hospital with an infection; and locking myself out of  the new office the first day we moved in.

The last one is the one where I just had to laugh, it was Friday evening about 5:45, just finished moving, putting away a few things getting ready to head home, I go down the hall with my woman's room key (which I had finally gotten  from the building manager, I had to go pee-pee begging the entire day) grateful for my new bathroom key I get back to our office go to open the door, and it is locked.  I of course try it again.  Then I try the bathroom key, being it is the only one I have.  Then I stand there and say, "crap".  Of course, my purse, phone, car keys, are all locked inside the office.  I run down the stairs to the office manager's , the door is locked, of course it is.  I go back upstairs and stare at the door and wonder what the heck I am going to do.   I drag my dirty, exhausted self down the hall looking for an office that might be open.  I find an attorney's office and walk in.  "Hi, I am the idiot who just moved in down the hall from you, and I have managed to lock myself out of the office  on the first day, do you know who we can call to  get me back in at 6:00 on a Friday evening?"  They dial the building manager on her cell and I repeat the story of my idiocy.  She says she will try and get back over as soon as she can, maybe in half an hour r so depending on traffic.  I thank the receptionist for calling and she shares with me that she has done the same thing and shows me the secret of the door lock, we are now forever bonded as fellow dumbasses.  I go back down the hall to sit outside my door.  As I sit there,  I look at my legs and realize I am covered in bruises I have no idea how I got, my shirt is covered in dirt, and I am starving because I  have not eaten anything all day, and I have no money on me.  I start to laugh.  

About 20 minutes later, Rosa, from the janitorial service shows up to let me in and she is really nice and does not mock me at all.  I think we are going to be friends.  Finally, I get in the office and in my car and on my way home.  I call my friend to share my day and tell her about my idiocy, she says "that sounds like something Bridget Jones would do"  which makes me laugh, and somehow makes the whole episode worth it.  I may be hungry, bruised and stupid but I am a survivor, just like Bridget.  

A Big Old Kick In The Butt

This past weekend we had our women's retreat. About 300 women head up to the mountains and spend the weekend together, eating, worshipping, hearing some talks, and just hanging out. This year the speaker was Jackie Roese and she talked about the Holy Spirit. As we went through the weekend I began to realize that although I get the idea of God being in me, I really don't get the idea of God being IN ME.


Let me just confess right here, I can be pretty self-absorbed. I spend way too much time pondering what I am thinking about or how I feel or what I think about how I am feeling, or how what you are feeling impacts me or makes me feel; you get the gist. As we talked more about the Holy Spirit I began to think about how it is kind of pathetic how weak I act and feel much of the time when I have the power of God in me.

If you have read any of my prior posts you know I have been dealing with some self-hate lately, well really not lately more accurately it seems to be just part of who I am. I know this stuff in my head does nothing good, but try as I might I can't seem to kick it. Saturday, we had some free time so I decided to go for a walk. None of my cabin mates wanted to go, and I could not find anyone else I knew to go with me so I went by myself. So, the walk started with a little pity party for myself as I passed all the other groups of women walking in their twos or threes, then I realized, oh yeah I'm not alone we've been talking about this Holy Spirit all weekend maybe I should talk to God (being on a spiritual retreat and all). So I started pouring out my heart, silently so as not to look like a crazy woman, just telling God how tired I am of feeling like this but how I can't seem to stop it because I know the things I think of myself are accurate. After I went on an on for a while I stopped and just tried to listen.

I know this notion of hearing God can seem pretty bizarre and I do not claim to hear an audible voice, it is more like the sound of my own voice inside my head, only kinder, and wiser. I don't know how it works for anyone else but this is how I usually "hear" from God. So, when I stopped and listened, what I heard God saying to me was: "You know Pattie, I really wish you would just stop being so hard on yourself. I can't do this for you, you just have to decide that you're not going to do that anymore and get on with the business of being who I made you to be." I thought about it, and I realized God was right. I think that sometimes I am waiting to "feel" a certain way, and God is more interested in my "being" a certain way. I want to stop feeling the dislike of myself, and it throws me into a spiral of self-hate. While it sounds way too simple, sometimes we just have to say no, I am not going to do that anymore. I don't know why, but for some reason it permeated my brain a little this time. Maybe it was because we were talking so much about how God already accepts us and loves us. He is not the one beating me up all the time. I do that.

God does give me a good old holy spriti kick in the butt every once in a while when I need it, and I did.

It Might Be Hope

Note: All excerpts are from the Song It Might Be Hope by Sara Groves

You do your work the best that you can

you put one foot in front of the other

life comes in waves and makes it's demands

you hold on as well as your able

I find myself drifting into the realm of cynicism lately. I have never been a person to have great expectations, but I think somewhere in the back of my head I keep hoping I am wrong. That God will come along and just surprise me one day with something amazing. But even without having a high set of expectations for what life would be, I am feeling disappointed lately. Life is harder than I thought it would be. Way too much of our time is used up in the pursuit of just making a living, doing what we have to to put a roof over our head and food on the table, and it just keeps getting harder. It is sapping me of my optimism and my joy. I keep trying to fight through by focusing on the small stuff, the things I really love, but in truth I am not always winning the battle. I don't like this cynical self.

You've been here for a long long time

It feels like things have been like this forever, it hasn't but it has been quite a few years. I thought that at some point there would be a sea change, that the struggle would get easier, that life would get easier, that there would be rest.

It's hard to recall what blew out the flame

it's been dark since you can remember

you talk it all through to find it a name

as days go on by without number

I remember the days when I believed anything was possible, when I thought that my one life could make a difference and that I could do or be anything. Somewhere along the way life has sapped that from me and left me feeling like the best I can do is just keep moving forward getting through the days as best I can. It leaves a dull ache in my heart.

Hope has a way of turning it's face to you

just when you least expect it

you walk in a room

you look out a window

and something there leaves you breathless

you say to yourself

it's been a while since I felt this

but it feels like it might be hope

I have been battling this cynicism, this idea that negative is the norm. A few days ago, I walked out in the back yard to check on my little lemon tree because it is one of the things that makes me smile, and I got a pleasant surprise. One of the the trees we planted in the fall that I thought had died had a whole bunch of new leaves at the top. Somehow, in the rains we have had the past few days the tree had revived. More than anything recently this little tree began to grow a seed of hope in my heart. If that tree that has looked so dead all these months could come back to grow and sprout new leaves maybe there is hope for me, that in this heart the seeds of optimism lay dormant just waiting to be watered by a little encouragement or love or a moment of joy. I am not there yet, but it feels like it might be hope.

Lessons from Jojo

One of the most popular movies in theaters recently has been Marley and Me, a story about a husband and wife and their very bad dog Marley. It really is a story about life, and learning to love unconditionally. I have thought for a long time that dogs are much better at that than we are, but even with dogs I am learning that the words we use have much more power than we think.

We inherited a six year old Yorkie named Jojo about six months ago. He was raised by an elderly relative, just the two of them together. She was ill for the last couple of years that she had him. When the time came that she was too ill to care for him we said that we would take him. Truthfully, no one else wanted him. I think because it was the two of them they adapted to one another but not so well to others. So when we got him you might say that Jojo had some issues. Just for an example the first moment I met him he bit me.

Since we have had Jojo, the standard issue phrase that now leaves my mouth when people enter our front door is "watch your fingers". Jojo acts friendly, he comes up and paws at your leg, and he really is cute so naturally people reach dpwn to pet him. Then he bites your fingers. Sometimes he just spazzes out for no apparent reason like the Tasmanian Devil on those old cartoons.

I have never had a dog who behaved this way so I really did not know what to do. I tried yelling no, or bad dog, I tried soothing him to let him know everything is OK, I have even given him doggy time-outs. Some of these worked with varying degrees of success, but not consistently. Finally, with a certain amount of urging from my husband who said I had to "do something" about him we decided to sign up for doggy training classes. I decided on private lessons given his unpredicatble behavior with people and their fingers.

I took him to Petsmart because they are close to us, and I read the brochure and their method does not involve choke chains, which I don't like. The very first week I learned a lesson which I thoink is worth the entire investment. The instructor told me that whenever you are training your dog, you always have to use a positive tone of voice when you are asking them to do something, and they have to be rewarded when they do it. When you call them, and they come it always needs to be a positive experience. It only takes one time of you calling them and then getting yelled at for them to remember that, then they never want to come again.

It made me realize how powerful the words we say to one another are. We can truly speak blessings or curses over the ones we love. Do we affirm the good that we see in one another or are we like the dog owner who calls their dog then beats them?

I have learned a lot from our little Jojo already. I believe that inside this little guy who growls is a good dog dying to show himself. I am seeing more and more of him each day as I learn how to reward that part of him.