Resolving to resolve

It's that time of year again. You know, when you are supposed to examine your life and decide what you want to do, or change or be during the next year. I have mixed feelings about the whole process. I believe in setting goals, and self examination is necessary if we ever want to change but I am beginning to have my doubts about how accurate it really is.

Some of the kindest, best people I know can be really hard on themselves when they start looking inward. In general, I would say they are better than they see themselves and it got me to wondering how accurate are we when we self-assess? Have you ever noticed that it seems like the people who need to change the least are the ones that see all the things they need to work on while the biggest jerks see themselves as pretty darn OK?

So I started to wonder if maybe it would be better if we could have someone else make our lists for us. Someone who could be honest yet kind. If I could see myself through the eyes of a kind friend what would I see? Maybe it would be a little closer to the way God sees us, with full knowledge of our flaws yet a love so complete it surpasses understanding. I am hoping that this year I have eyes that see people that way more often, and maybe, just maybe get even a little glimpse of myself.

After writing this, I was talking with someone about resolutions, she had some funny ones. She had resolved to not work out in the winter time, and some other things like that. I am trying to keep my thinking in the positive mode these days but I decided I liked her idea of not making them about work, so here are a couple of my resolutions:

I resolve to be just plain silly more.

I am going to remember the nice stuff that happens in my life, even write it down so I can't forget.

That's a start.

Why I Love My Husband

There are lots of reasons, but one is that he is the only person I ever have conversations like this with:

Me: "So, how did they connect the pieces of the sectional together?" (In reference to our new couch which I was not home when they delivered).

Hubby: (After only the slightest of hesitations) "There is a monkey behind the couch holding the pieces together. His name is Coochallo."

Me: "So you're saying we have a couch monkey?"

Hubby: "Yes, Coochallo the couch monkey."

Me: "Man I can just see Jojo, going crazy with this, I will get you you crazy couch monkey!" (Proceed to break down in hysterical laughter at the idea of a couch monkey and how our crazy dog would react.)

Where do these things come from? I don't know. I love that about him.

Got Hope?

You know that noise that you heard in the Charlie Brown cartoons whenever an adult was talking to one of the kids? That is what I hear when it comes to politics. I have been surrounded by a lot of people who have felt very passionate about one candidate or the other, they are all wrapped up in it and I just haven't ever gotten there. Not that I don't have opinions, I do.

I am glad that our new president won in many ways. I think it was time we had a President who is not a white male, and I hope the fact he is not does something toward creating a better dialogue about race in our country. So, I am happy for those who pinned their hopes on that. I cried when I saw the tears of joy of the civil rights leaders after Obama won, I think they ahve earned this moment in history. We still have a long way to go, but I am glad for this moment. I also like the way he talks and inspires people to feel hopeful about our country, he seems to be good at that. Maybe in this time that is what we need, obviously it is what most of our country wants.

The problem for me is I could not get behind him from an intellectual perspective. I don't agree with his economic philosophy. I am hoping I am wrong about what it means for us as small business owners and for our country as a democratic society. I just don't happen to think that government is very good at solving problems like poverty and injustice. They waste way too much in the process, and too often they create a dependence that starts an unending cycle. I have seen people who are much more effective at an individual level and I think that when we start to believe that it is the government's role many people abdicate their personal responsisbility for these issues. I believe in the basic goodness of the people of this country and I think we as "the people" can do a better job than the government. I don't think the Republicans do a good job either, their philosophy just comes closer to my fundamental belief in individual rights and responsibility.

The truth is I had a really hard time working up any strong feelings for either party in this election. I started to ask myself why when everyone around me was getting all worked up do I feel so ambivalent. Then it struck me, they do not have my hope. My hope is not in Barack Obama, or John McCain, or the government, or the economy or even the world. My hope lies in the one who could topple them all with a breath if he so chose. That is where my hope is and that is where I am keeping it. So, I sympathize with all of my friends who are disappointed and stressing and I am happy for all my friends who are rejoicing and gloating, but me I am just resting right where I was before it began and right where I will be when it is over.

I have a hope.

Roxy Girl

Note: We ended up talking Roxy to the vet on October 13 to have her put to sleep. Rest in peace my good girl.

I haven't written lately because every time I sit down to write I start and then stop for lack of words. Maybe it's writer's block but I also feel like I get tired of writing about sadness. I started to post a video but it wouldn't upload so I gave up. So I expect no profundity here, just trying to write something to get over writing nothing.


It has been an interesting week full of both great and hard stuff.


On the great side, we had my in-laws 50th wedding anniversary party. It was amazing. It was interesting to be sort of a part of but outside something at the same time. Obviously they are my family, but the party was mainly this group of friends they have had for years and all of their families. When my in-laws were young this whole group of people who all shared a common Dutch Indonesian heritage shared their holidays together and the children became like cousins to one another. Not having their families here they became a family. At the party, many of them had not been together for 20 or 30 years, so it became one big celebration and reunion for both the parents and the kids who are all now adults and have children of their own. There is a sweetness to those relationships that was really touching to watch. Everyone was truly delighted to be together and they talked and danced and laughed and ate lots of food. I did not know many of the people but I liked them because of the sweetness that filled the room by their being together.



On the awful side, my dog Roxy is at the point that I am having to decide when it is time to let go of her. When she is awake she paces and walks in circles and gets stuck under or behind things as she follows the walls of our house around leaning on them for support. I know she is not going to get better, it is just incredibly difficult to make that call to say enough. It is so final. I keep saying goodbye but I just can't make the leap to actually taking her to the vet to put her to sleep. I am starting to feel cruel for hanging on to her.


I have shared sixteen years of life with this dog, and from the start she has been mine even though I did not intend for her to be. We got her after my beloved cat Misty died. I did not have the heart to get another cat, so Lloyd picked out Roxy. I was determined that I would not get attached because my heart was still so raw, but within the first day of her being home she captured me. She was a tiny little ball of black and white fluff who waddled around and was so small she could not jump from the grass to the deck. She managed to figure it out within a couple of hours though. We would try and contain her with baaby gates while she was being potty trained but she would always get out. Finally we watched as this little puppy climbed a baby gate. To this day she exhibits that tenacity.


She has survived longer than she should have. When she was only a year old she got out of the yard during the Northridge earthquake when the fenceshook open. Neighbors described seeing a little black dog running as fast as she could every time an aftershock would hit. We spent hours walking and driving around looking for her and Lloyd finally found her several hours after the quake about two street below ours. After that we called her Roxy Escape Lamb but she never left the yard after that day even when we left the gate open.


When she was five she got doggy breast cancer. She had two surgeries and a year of chemotherapy but has been cancer free since.


She used to be a food scavenger and amongst items she stole off the table were an entire cheese platter ( I found a sea of toothpicks on the living room floor) and a bunch of shrimp tails discarded but left on a table. The shrimp tails did not digest well and ended up causing two days of treatment on IV fluids. Since then, her stomach has never been the same and I have cooked batches of chicken and rice for her to eat as her staple diet. She never stole anything off the table after that.


We have spent countless hours walking together. For most of her life Roxy has been my faithful walking companion willing to walk in any weather for as long as I wanted. She was my trooper who would go with me when no one else wanted to.

Roxy was never one of those dogs who just loved anyone, she has taste and discretion. She is not mean to people but she just never saw any reason to throw herself at people she didn't know. She would pick and choose a few people she liked and that was enough for her. Leave all the shameless face licking and leg scratching of strangers to Hogan, Roxy has always had to have her affection earned. But once earned no more loyal or faithful companion could be asked for. I remember when she was a puppy the house where we lived had its entry way up aset of steps that was probably seven feet off the ground. If we did not watch her Roxy would leap off the front porch to get to one of us when we came home in her excitement to see us.


I miss you already girl. I am trying to be as faithful to you as you ahve been to me but it is hard to think of not seeing you every day. Here's hoping that doggy heaven has a nice long stretch of hard packed beach sand filled with loads of seagulls to chase. Save a place for me on the shore.

Hard Stuff

It has been a hard week. I have found that one of the biggest challenges of trying to walk the walk of being a Christian is owning a business and employing people. Finding the balance of showing grace yet holding people accountable, and just trying to be kind in the midst of all the pressure and stress takes its toll. There are a lot of times when I do not feel like I am being a very good rep for Christ. Since most of our employees are not Christians, it nmakes me feel bad to think they could use me as an example for why they don't like Christians. I know every day that we need God to show up in the midst of trying to do this, my strength is nowhere near adequate. It does not always feel like he does show up though, and quite often I go my own way and screw it up.



When my husband and I started this business we really wanted to help people who needed jobs. The thing is, sometimes people don't want to be helped and they can leave you feeling pretty used. Aside from that people are just plain messy. Sometimes it seems like our employees are especially so. When someone works for you you have no choice but to deal with their stuff. We would love to be able to just extend continual grace and let people take their time and work through things but we have a manufacturing company. If parts don't get out the door we don't get paid. There is a lot of pressure, and it is intense and incredibly precise work, when things don't go well it can be like a pressure cooker that needs to let off steam that has no release valve.


Sometimes as hard as we try to work through things we end up having to fire someone. It is really hard, and it leaves me feeling like we have failed this person. As much as we would like it too, things rarely seem to end well. It makes me sad. Someone who has been a part of our lives and who we really hoped would succeed is now gone and gone with everyone left feeling bad.


Being a boss really sucks sometimes.

Lemon Tree Oh So Pretty

Yes, I am writing yet another post about a tree.  By this blog you might think I am a gardener, but that is not the case. In reality I  have a brown thumb.  No house plant is safe within my domain.  That is why I am so very thrilled about my little lemon tree. We planted this tree back in February.  For the longest time it had this one enormous lemon that was on it when we bought it.  I finally picked that lemon because it was becoming an odd color.  Well this week my little tree finally began to show signs of having a crop of lemons.  I am thrilled. I keep going out every day to check on them to see if they have grown. 

This tree is important to me, and not just because of my usual quality of getting over attached to odd things.    Last year my dear friend lost her wonderful dog Miller to cancer.  Because she rents her home, she asked if we would let her bury Miller's ashes in our yard and maybe plant something in his memory.  I said sure.  Our dog Pooka is already  buried in the back yard.  (Do you think I need to disclose the pet cemetary in the backyard if we ever sell our house?)  Not too long after Miller died someone broke into my friend's house and the only thing they chose to steal besides a few small unimportant items was my friend's other dog Buddy.  It was devastating.  When we finally got around to burying Miller and planting the tree we decided to make it a tribute to all of the dear animals who have been part of our lives. We hung pet tags with each of their names on the tree.  I was really afraid I would kill the tree given my underwhelming success with plants.  I have faithfully watered this little tree twice a week like the nursery suggested since we planted it, and though many other plants have fallen victim  to the brown thumb the lemon tree has thrived. 

There is something that I like about planting something living  to honor those we no longer have with us.  I think it suggests the idea of death not being the end.  After my Dad died we planted three aspen trees in memory of him at the house we had in Big Bear.  They were outside our living room window and when the wind blew the leaves would rustle like wind chimes.  It sort of felt like my dad saying hi to me.  It struck me this week that the trees we planted to replace dead tree are similar to those trees which makes me like them more. 

 I also spent weeks planting bulbs all around the house in Big Bear.  There were tulips and daffodils and crocus, probably about 200 altogether.  We sold the house before I got to see them bloom and I have always wondered what it was like for the new owners when spring came and suddenly all of these flowers burst onto the scene.  We have some bulbs in our front yard here and it always seems like one day they are not there and the next day they are.  When I see them  it reminds me of a heavenly chorus, and I have to raise my voice in a high pitched Ohhhhhhhhh.  I hope my flowers made someone sing like that.   

Bleckkkkk

Can I just say, I really hate politics. More than anything I hate the way that it divides people. People on one side suddenly seem to think it is OK to name call and say hateful things about the other side, and ordinarily kind hearted people seem to turn sort of ugly when it comes to whomever they disagree with.


I have found that even some authors I ordinarily love like Anne Lammott I just cannot read when they start delving into the political realm. It feels to me like on both the liberal and the conservative side it is just too easy for people to start labelling those who do not agree with their point of view as wrong or bad. I am not sure what happened to the civilized discussion of ideas but it seems to have gotten lost somewhere along the way. One of my favorite bloggers wrote about this and I agree with her, she says it better and funnier than I do so you can read it here.


Many people start out their tirades saying they do not want to judge and then proceed to do exactly that. It all leaves me feeling nauseous. In some ways I just hope that whoever will cause the largest number of hate mongering people to be quiet will win. I am tired of walking around feeling queasy all the time.

Martha and Mary

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me." But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her" (Luke 10:38-42).

I have a confession, the story of Martha and Mary in the Bible has always bugged me. I find myself wanting to argue with Jesus on Martha's behalf. It has always seemed unfair to me that she gets called out for being a hard worker. He calls her "distracted" by her tasks. Because I am more like Martha than Mary I feel bad for her. I am a task oriented person and sometimes it drives me nuts when there are things that need to be done and people are just talking. Can't we carry on a conversation while we get something done people?

I think this story stings because I don't feel like when I am doing things that I am choosing tasks over sitting at the feet of Jesus. I feel like that is just the way I am built, even when I am in church listening to the sermon I am a note taker. It doesn't mean I am not paying attention.

So, in the spirit of trying to grow I have been asking myself if I am missing out on something by being "distracted" by all of my tasks. I certainly want to be there in my moments with people, to hear their stories and make them feel as though they are really being listened to. But at the same time there is a lot of stuff that needs doing and it's not just going to do itself . So I am wondering is it possible to be Martha and Mary? Can I do what needs doing but not miss out on the "better part." I hope so. Don't worry Martha, I'll come and help you in the kitchen.

To Stump or Not To Stump

My dead tree is now nothing but a pile of firewood.  My husband, who did not really share my affection for dead tree, tried to soften the blow for me.  When he sent the workers to cut it down he told them to leave me a tall stump for the birds and squirrels to sit on.  It was nice of him, but when I saw the stump it just looked sad, so I had them cut the whole thing down.  We bought three white birch trees to replace dead tree.  I know that they will be nice, eventually they will have that peely white bark that I love and lots of leaves that will rustle in the wind.  Just the same I'm feeling a little sad.

I think the mutant pine/aloe has to go next.  Learning to let go.

Experiments in flower arranging

My mother and father in-law are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary in October.  Quite a milestone.  In preparation for the party that will be held in their honor I had a milestone of my own yesterday, I went to the flower mart for the first time.   That is one of the things that I love about Los Angeles, I have lived here off and on for most of my life but there are still so many new things to discover here.  There are entire worlds going on that I know nothing about.

 

In the downtown area of Los Angeles alone we have the flower district, fashion district, toy district, jewelry district, Chinatown and Koreatown.  Each of these is it's own world, with its own culture and way of operating.  Discovering all of the cultures and worlds that coexist within this one place could be anyone's life work.  I am continually amazed at how much of this city I still have not seen and known after all of these years of being here.  

It is easy to get comfortable in our little part of the world and not venture beyond its borders.  We can surround ourselves with people who think and act and eat like we do, and begin to think that is what the world is supposed to look like.  As much as I like to have the comfort of the familiar I also love the challenge of the unfamiliar, of stretching my comfort zones.  This I think is the strength of having stability, it allows us the freedom to explore new worlds knowing we have our safe nest to come back to.

My new world this weekend was the LA flower mart, I took a couple of friends with me who spoke the language and we made an adventure of it.  I wanted to do an exploratory mission to familiarize myself with the area before the big event.  It was an amazing place, filled with every kind of flower and plant you can imagine.  The mart itself is surrounded by small florist shops who are all trying to get your business.  An arrangement that would cost well over a hundred near my home was half the price there.  I was able to go and pick out flowers and then have them make a sample of what I wanted.  I used that sample to come home and work out an arrangement and then  figure out what flowers we will need to buy.   The photos above are two of my attempts at making arrangements out of the flowers I bought.  We finally settled on a third version as the one we will do for the party.  I will be going back to the flower mart to purchase all of the flowers and then  have a centerpiece party to make all the arrangements the day of the party.  

All of this comes from asking some  friends  to introduce me to a world I knew nothing about.  Thanks Cindy and Angie, I had a blast!

Who knows what the next world is that I will discover right here in Los Angeles.  

Tribute to a tree

Sometimes I get overly attached to odd things. The dead tree in my back yard is one of those things. I have been told by numerous people that the tree should go, and from a logical perspective I know they are right. I was looking at our yard the other day and had to admit it would be nice to have something with leaves, leaves would provide shade, and a little better screen from the yard behind ours with the creepy guy who sometimes just pops his head over the wall without warning. The yard would look less stark, more lush, and more finished. Just the same, while I was sitting outside this morning sipping my coffee I started to cry at the thought of losing my dead tree. I know, I probably should not admit that.

I have written before about my love for this tree. For a dead tree it still has a lot of purpose. It acts as a highway between the two trees on either side of it. Birds love to perch in it and the squirrels run around and chase each other through it. The bark is gradually being peeled away by various animals who use it for their nests. I think the reason I like this tree is that without any leaves I can really see all the animals that come and sit in it. Watching them makes me smile. I know the tree is dead and if it ever had any sort of feeling that is long gone, but I still feel like I am betraying the tree to cut it down and chop it up.

My attachment to this tree is an example of the difficulty I have letting things go. I had to say a lot of goodbyes as a child. My parents lived in two different states and I moved back and forth between them. For some people that kind of change makes them flexible, not me. I have been at the same job for 21 years, in the same house for 14 years, if an animal makes it's way to me I will keep it until it dies no matter how much of a pain it is. A certain amount of sameness makes me feel safe. Rather than letting go of one thing to embrace another I prefer to keep the old and add the new. It is not so much about material things as it is places, situations, animals and people I cling to, and of course the odd plant or two. You might have noticed there is an odd pine tree in the picture with my dead tree, it just started sprouting in the middle of the aloe plant. We don't know how it got there. I of course don't have the heart to remove it even though it looks like some sort of odd deformed pine/aloe mutant.

I am in the process of saying a long goodbye to my dog Roxy. She is 16 , has heart issues and kidney problems and has been in a gradual decline for months. I know that one day I will come home to find she has died, or worse yet that life has ceased to have joy for her and I should do the merciful thing and let her go. I am dreading that day with everything in me. I get tears in my eyes even writing that sentence. I do not know how to let go of what I love so much. I just keep loving the best I can and trying to savor every moment I have.

Maybe if I can let go of the tree it will help me to learn to say goodbye well, so here's to you my dead tree friend:

No buds, no leaves, yet filled with life

twisted branches, witches hair, smoke and fog

superhighway to trees, 

ramp to phone lines, thruway to life

perch, playground, filler of nests

dead yet alive

missed before gone

Tacky Questions

Normally I am one of those people that tries to give people the benefit of the doubt, to assume that they are not ill-intentioned. Sometimes though there are those moments when I have to bite my tongue to not say something cutting and sarcastic, in particular I am often amazed at what some people will ask without seeming to comprehend how insensitive or even hurtful they are being.

So, here is my vent against all the tacky people, my personal insensitive question hall of fame:

To anyone who has had a loved one die of lung cancer: "Did they smoke?"

Please do not ask this, it may make you feel better about their death knowing that they were responsible for their own disease, but to the person experiencing the loss it makes no difference. It does not offer any comfort, and really what is the point now? Is it siupposed to be OK that they died if they smoked and somehow not OK if they didn't? What I would like to say in response to this question: "Yes they did, thanks for asking, you know that makes me feel so much better because now I know they deserved to die."

Upon hearing that my friend had lost a baby: "Was it their first child or do they already have kids?"

Huh? So, if you already have kids this one doesn't count? I feel like people are always trying to find a way to diminish the sadness of something. You know what, whether it is child number one or ten this sucks, don't diminish it. My sarcastic response: "No they have other children, good point you have there, wait here while I go run and tell them they have no reason to feel bad about losing this one."

To anyone who has adopted a child: This comes in assorted versions but goes along the general lines of "Do you still want children of your own?" , "Couldn't you have children of your own?" or "Did you try to have children of your own?"

This is offensive for multiple reasons, it assumes that adopted kids are second choice, like giving birth is always the preferred method for creating a family but even beyond that it also assumes that the child who is adopted is not "their own" exactly whose are they then? For reasons of my own I will not delve into here this idea that families related by blood are somehow superior to those that are not just infuriates me. Did you not "choose" to create a family with your spouse? Do you love him less? Also, please don't tell someone who has adopted that they will probably get pregnant soon, I don't care how many people you know or have heard of that this has happened to. See above reasons if you want to know why. My sarcastic response: "So whose exactly is this child ?" or if I am feeling particularly snarky: "You know my husband and I have sex like bunnies but we just can't seem to pop one of our own out, we'll just have to settle for these second rate kids." I have several friends who have adopted who can elaborate on this issue much better than I can, but I get indignant on their behalf just the same.

To anyone who has been married five years or more: "So why don't you guys have kids?"

It is probably safe to assume that for most people who want to have children once they have been married for a few years they probably will have done so, so if you know a married couple who have been together for a while and they don't have children they either a) don't want children and the reason is none of your business b) have tried to have children and have been unsuccessful in which case you are raising all sorts of stuff that again is none of your business or c) they don't know why they don't have children and again you are raising issues that are none of your business. The overall tone of the question also suggests that there is something wrong with you in some way for not having children. I am afraid that this question just hits too close to home for me and I have no sarcastic response, I have gotten it so many times you would think I would but it always catches me off guard and I end up stammering something about " it just didn't happen for us "or "not God's plan".

This is where this post digresses. I cannot help but explore this last one a little more. I have been married to my husband for 17 1/2 years now. At one point, like most people, I just assumed I would have kids. It didn't just happen for us. So, I have spent a long time dealing with not being a Mom, how I feel about that, whether we should pursue adoption or fertility treatments or just be OK with not being parents. I have struggled with guilt, and if I deserve to be a Mom or if I am just meant to pursue other things in life. I have been all over the spectrum on how I feel. I wish I could say I just knew one way or the other what was best but I don't. I do not feel like there is a camp for me, I am not a part of the tried everything camp or the adoption camp or the I just know I am not meant to have kids camp. I wish someone would start a people who just have never felt absolutely certain what was right so the choice was just made for them because so much time had passed camp but if there is one I have not found it. It is inevitable that it is when I seem to have gotten to some place of peace that I get blind-sided by one of these type of questions. It is not a straightforward thing to answer for me. It is complex and emotional and the answer is not even clear to me. I am the woman who cries at the Mother's Day and Baby Dedication services not just because I wish I had that but more because I know I have missed something in life and I just don't feel like I have been able to take that step to say I am supposed to be a Mom. So your question that seems so benevolent to you is like a loaded gun that opens up that part of me that struggles with this.

I remember hearing or reading somewhere once (I don't remember where so I can't credit the source) that the best response to an inappropriate question is just to ask back "Why do you want to know?" I think that is perfect. It isn't rude or hurtful back which I may think I want to be but I really don't. Well intentioned people will have a response to it that will soften the previous poor question and may start a great conversation, those that are just being nosy will probably just shut up. I have yet to use it but I am keeping it in my head in hopes that the next time I hear a tacky question that is what will come out of my mouth. If I am guilty of asking you a tacky question please call me out on it, I want to know, you can ask me why I want to know and that will tell me I crossed over the line to tackiness.

I feel a little better now, need a good vent everyone once in a while.

The Way of the Cross

I have noticed something changing in how I look at the world. The problem of suffering is one of those great questions for theologians to debate, and the reason many say they do not believe in God. I confess that I am not immune to my share of railing against God when horrible, inexplicable things happen to people I care about, or when it seems like life is just too hard. Suffering sometimes made me believe in God less, and I sometimes say things like "if God really loved us wouldn't he want us to be happy, I want the people I love to be happy." But lately, I have started to see things differently. I have been noticing that some of the most beautiful, Christ-like moments between people happen in the midst of suffering; when someone willingly chooses to enter into the pain of another and sit there with them.

Don't get me wrong, I still hate suffering. I have a friend who is a Buddhist who told me that when they hear someone is going through something difficult they say "congratulations" because it means some positive change is coming or something will be learned. To that I say a big fat NO! I cannot wait for the day that the world is made right and suffering is gone, and I will always feel bad for people who are in pain even if I think they somehow are going to be better for it. I do not think I will ever get to the place where I will welcome suffering like a friend, but I have started to think that it may be in its midst that we come closest to the heart of God.

I am part of the prayer team at my church, so I hear about a lot of suffering. I also know that sometimes, even often, our prayers for the bad stuff to go away are not answered. Lately, instead of just asking God to end the suffering of others I have asked that God help me be someone who does not run away from the pain, but that I would allow myself to feel it and pray from that place. What do we do with all of this suffering as people of faith? For now my answer is, I want to be like the man that I saw last week.

I have a friend who lost a baby recently. She went for an ultrasound and they did not hear the heartbeat. She was about five months into her pregnancy. After they checked again, it was determined that the baby had died. My friend and her husband had to go to the hospital to induce labor and deliver the baby. They had to say hello and goodbye to this precious little girl all in one agonizing moment. There is no making sense of such things.

In the midst of this, one of the associate pastors from our church went to the hospital to be with them. This man, who I will just call Pastor has his own story that is not unlike my friends, he and his wife also lost a child in a similar way about two years ago. From what I was told, he was at the hospital with them throughout their stay there. He also came to the memorial service for the baby. When the service was over Pastor helped the baby's father to carry her small, pink, gingham coffin to the hearse. The sight of these two Dad's sharing the burden of that tiny coffin was excruciatingly beautiful. At the graveside, after she was lowered into the ground the baby's father began shoveling the dirt to cover her coffin. There was something in that act that just got me. I cannot pretend to know his thoughts, but all I could think was "this is the last thing this Dad can do for his little girl, and he is determined that he will be the one to do it." The father's teenage son joined in for a little while, and then Pastor asked if the Dad wanted his help. Again, these two fathers , who share the heartbreak of losing a baby shoveling dirt to cover a too tiny coffin was a moment of such pain and love woven together it felt voyeuristic to be there.

I know that I have no way of understanding the pain of this Mom and Dad, not being a Mom myself. Pastor does know. In the moment when he was told that someone else was going through what he knows to be the worst of life he chose to go back to that place in his heart and walk through it with someone else. I don't know what that was like for him, but as an outside witness to it I was humbled and I was changed.

Joy is an exquisite thing, with its leaping and laughter, a mountain top you where you wish you could stay and live forever. No one doubts the splendor of joy. Sorrow is more like the woods behind my grandparent's house where I liked to play as a child. From far away it looked scary and dark. You could only see its beauty once you were inside of it. It is a quiet beauty that grows in shadows and is covered in moss, but its roots grow deep and wide and there are trees you can climb up to get a glimpse of the sun.

Paris Postcards

You cannot really see it in that picture but I am holding my Windsor Castle umbrella above me and there is a rainbow behind me.  That photo was taken near the beginning of what was probably our favorite evening in Paris.  We started at  the Musee D'Orsay to see the Impressionists and visit Whistler's Mom.  I think that even more than the art itself, what I love about the museums in Paris are the spaces themselves.  They have such intricate details and every time I would walk into a room I would catch my breath at the volume and overall impact. Paris does the vista better than any city i have been in to this point in my life.  The views are unending, long expanses with a monument placed at a crossroads followed by another expanse.  I cannot help but contrast that with our tendency to tear down anything with some age to it and put up a mini mall.  

After the museum, we walked across the Seine on a pedestrian bridge, which is where the photo with the umbrella was taken.  It started to rain very hard again after that and we huddled with a group of people in the walkway tunnel until the rain let up.  When we crossed over the Seine  we landed in the Jardin des Tuileries, near the carousel,  and we stopped at a little cafe for a cappucino and some frittes.

Stopping off at a little cafe anytime you want to have a cappucino, or a bowl of onion soup, or a crepe is the real charm of Paris. Lloyd was on a quest for the perfect fritte, I am not sure he found it, but I know we enjoyed many moments giving our feet a rest sipping a frothy cappucino at cafes throughout the city. I did my best to order in French and the waiters all seemed to be gracious and patient about it. The cafes are one of the things about this city I love the most, the sheer number of them means there is always one nearby. I love the menus out front with the specials of the day written on a chalkboard. There is no sense of urgency about needing to eat and run, people linger and talk and drink wine and smoke cigarettes. I think Paris is the only place I have found myself somewhat craving a cigarette since I quit ten years ago. The cafes make me imagine what it would be like to live inthis city. To find a little neighborhood and have my favorite cafe  to go and sit and perhaps be like Hemingway and capture my thoughts on paper. One cafe we went to for dinner had this marvelous potato tartin that melted in my mouth. It was so delicous I tried to recreate it the other night at home. Mine was not quite the same but it was good enough to take me back to that cafe.

The Jardin  Des Tuileries end at the Place De La Concorde with its' imposing obelisque.  I stopped off at the bathroom at the entrance to the gardens, which I only share because it is the first pay restrooms I have ever been to.  There was a cashier at the door and for .40 euro you could use them.  Lloyd refused to pay to pee on principal.  The Champs Elysees begins on the other side of the PDLC, with gardens and parks on either side for a long stretch.  We strolled its' length, it would rain for a little while and then stop.  We had out trusty Windsor Castle umbrella, and the trees blocked most of the rain so it was quite pleasant.  Along the way we made up stories about our dog JoJo, deciding that he is decidedly Parisienne and we made up a whole character for him of how we would behave on this walk.  Silly, yes, but it made us laugh.

The commercial section of the Champs Elysees starts at Franklin Roosevelt drive.  We strolled along, window shopping and talking.  A few Muslim women approached us asking for money.  I don't now why, but it surprised me that this is the cultural group that we saw doing this.  After a while we stopped at a cafe and got dinner, I enjoyed just sitting and watching people go by, listening to all of the languages.  The waiters at the cafe we stopped at were some of the hardest working I have seen, they had a restaurant with an outdoor section in one area, and then a tented cafe a little way up the sidewalk.  The waiters run back and forth weaving between the pedestrians carrying food and drink.  We tipped our waiter well on top of the included gratuity.  

After dinner we continued along the Champs Elysees.  We arrived at the Arc De Triomphe as the sun was setting and stood in awe with the rest of the tourists and took pictures.  There was a real sense of fun and wonder.  You could tell people were just amazed to be standing there, that was how I felt too.   After all of that walking we decided to take a cab.  We went to the taxi stand and were lucky enough to get the nicest cab driver ever.  He pointed out landmarks and told us about places to go tourists often miss as he drove us to the Eiffel Tower.  We arrived at the Eiffel Tower just  in time to see it lit up with the light show they do every night on the hour.  Some of the French I have heard do not care for it, but it was pretty spectacular to see.  We got out of our cab and walked back to our hotel from there.  If I walked like this every day I could eat all the bread and brie I want.  

Plumbing Problems

We had to replace our water heater today. We discovered it was leaking last night.  No idea how long it has been that way.  I spent the day working out of the house while  the guy installed  the new one, and I realized I feel pretty blah.  Not sure why.  It might be that I have a friend who lost a baby last week, or the fact that I had looked forward to our trip to Europe for so long and now it is over, or that I need to make some changes in my life and I keep putting them off.  I have not really been feeling good since we got home so maybe that is it. I booked my next trip to Jamaica so I would have thought that would inspire some joy, but it didn't.  All I can think is I have a lot of things coming up and they are all going to require work and it just makes me feel tired.  I don't know the cause  hopefully it is just a transitory mood, but I feel like our water heater, I am leaking out my joy and I need to find where the hole is and fix it; or maybe I am more like our whole house and I need a copper repipe job.  Hmmm what would that look like?

Snapshots

Before I left for our trip everyone said "take lots of pictures"  they were right of course,  but I keep finding whenever I travel that I am not really good at documenting my journeys pictorially.  I want to live in the moments I experience and  somehow I feel that when I am taking pictures I am focused on documenting it not living it.

So the photos I have from my trip are of the standard things, the monuments and churches, the scenery of our trip.  I offer above a few of my favorite shots from our trip, they are either beautiful or they make me smile,  or a little of both you can decide for yourself which does what. What I hope to hold onto more than the things we saw are the sensations I felt, those thoughts and feelings I am not a gifted enough photographer to capture.  

So I offer my pictures in words:

Sitting on the plane, in our free upgrade seats,  holding my husband's hand with a sense of starting a great adventure.  My heart just welled up with love for him for wanting to make this trip happen.  We just smiled at one another every time we caught each others gaze the entire way.  Also, LOVE the video on demand feature on British Airways. Then that  sense of WE ARE REALLY HERE! as we landed in London.  That feeling of starting out on a wonderful journey with someone you really like spending time with is one of  my all time favorites.  No matter what happens you just know it is going to be great.

The sensation of clotted cream melting on my tongue, somewhere between whipped cream and butter, it is one of the richest, creamiest, yummiest things I have ever tasted.  Spread over a warm scone, a little bit of jam to top it off, with sips of tea between bites, looking out over the food court at Harrods.  Now, I just have to figure out where I can find a tea like that in Southern California. 

Feeling my face gradually turn red with embarrassment as an entire room full of people I do not know sing me happy birthday.  Happy,  but red faced receiving a glass of champagne and enjoying every sip as we swap travel stories with a group of newly made friends over dinner.  After dinner we get on a barge to cruise down the river Thames to see all of the landmarks as the sun set and the buildings and trees were lit up along the shore. Magical.   I cannot tell you what I was doing on most of my birthdays in recent years but I think I will always be able to say where I was when I turned 46.  

Sitting in a restaurant looking out over Leicester square just watching people go by.  The variety of languages and ethnicities is like watching the world go by on parade while you sit in one place.  Strolling along after dinner through Chinatown on our way to the theatre, finding the perfect motorcycle jacket for Lloyd on sale along the sidewalk and actually bargaining the price down 20 Euros (I hate bargaining, so it was a proud moment for me).  Capping the night off by seeing Spamalot, with its quintessentially British Monty Python humor, then strolling back to the underground afterward singing "always look on the bright side of life" with a whistle on the end of course. 

Many more moments to come, but there are a few postcards from London.

Working to Rest

We leave today for Europe.  For the past two weeks I have walked around with lists of things I need to get done  to get ready to be gone for eight days.  I love lists,  they make it so I do not have to keep everything in my head and I find a deep sense of satisfaction in completing them and throwing them away.  

There is a certain irony in having to work so hard for rest.  I have literally been going from early in the morning till late at night; getting things packed for us, the house ready, everything ready for the business and work and of course making arrangements for the dogs care and getting them ready too.  I know when we return I will then have "catching up" to do, with the things no one else takes care of for you that will require extra effort and energy.  So really, how restful is a vacation?  

I think what I am looking forward to is the vacate part of vacation, a chance to just be away from all of the stuff of life.  As much as I love my life I am ready to enjoy some new places and see another world with my husband.  I hope we allow ourselves to really be there and not think or talk too much about what we are leaving behind.  

Au revoir.

Contradictions

Here is an example of the dichotomy that is my life. As I wrote, this past Saturday our non-profit had an outreach for homeless individuals. By way of contrast, this Saturday my husband and I are leaving for a vacation to Europe where we will spend a week in London and Paris.

Is it just me, or does that feel weird to anyone else? This life, where both of these are things I do, and things I love to do, sometimes can feel like I am wearing two different shoes that do not match. I am more comfortable wearing my go and travel for missions and do outreach things and serve the poor shoe. I have a hard time wearing my take a trip to Europe or go on vacation or buy something nice just for me shoe. Why is it that accepting blessing just for blessings sake can feel so uncomfortable sometimes? I often find myself feeling the need to justify why I have a nice car, or we are taking a vacation. I don't have a problem with anyone else having or doing these things, but I feel like I am doing something wrong and I should try and hide it. Perhaps it is that I know too much, I have seen how far a dollar can go to provide for the poor and I cannot help but do the mental tally of how many trucks full of food, or hygiene kits, or months of schooling my car or vacation or clothes could provide for someone else.

I recognize the wastefulness and vast consumerism of our society and I think it is a good thing to keep a healthy check on that, but I cannot help but wonder, is it sort of a slap in God's face to feel bad about being blessed? I know that it is my hope that the young men that are living in the Brother's United home in Jamaica all find their way to being able to have wives, and homes and jobs and families, to have a nice  comfortable lifestyle. So why is it that when I want the same for me it leaves me squirming?  What is it that bothers me so much, is it the actual having of more than someone else has, or  how I think others will view me, or is it that I do not feel I deserve it?  Probably all three to some degree.  

One of the biggest whys I struggle with in this world is the vast disparity of wealth that exists.  No matter what pretty spin I try to put on it I just don't get it and it makes me a little angry at God sometimes.  Just the same,  I will not lie, I like the comfort I have, I do not want to go and live in poverty voluntarily as some people do.   When I serve the poor I am still glad to come home.  I have no answers, I just keep trying to learn to walk better in my pair of mismatched shoes. 

Perspective

This morning our non-profit Urban Outreach Los Angeles had an outreach in Central Park in Pasadena.  Some friends have been going there every Wednesday evening and doing  a bible study and feeding people pizza for a little over a year.  They have really gotten to know the people and  some  have really started to turn their lives around.  More than that though they have made good friends and become a part of one another's lives.

So, this morning a couple who does catering brought breakfast for everyone and  we just sat and had a meal together, and talked.  We had some socks, and hygiene kits and sleeping bags to give as gifts.  I went around and gave everyone name tags.  I love that job because I get to meet everyone and just say hi, and hopefully remember one or two of their names eventually. I am not always great at starting conversations out of nothing so I like having a task as an opener. 

It is a hard thing to process a day like this, it leaves you with all sorts of emotions and thoughts.  First, I realize that some stories are just a whole lot tougher than others.  Some of it is caused by bad choices, but some of it is just hard luck and tough times.  When you ask someone where they stay and they answer "I sleep outside the Baptist church" or "I stay over there by the self-storage place" it is hard to know what to say.  There are whole families that came, and it is heart breaking to see kids in this circumstance. I also realize how blessed I am, in so many ways, and I know I am no more or less deserving than all of those people in the park.  I struggle with what to do with that. 

One of the ladies I met was Maddie, we talked for a while and I asked if I could pray for her, she asked me to " pray for all of the homeless people, because no one should have to live like this." Well said Maddie.  May God bless and keep every one of you tonight wherever your heads come to rest.

  

Lists

In my last post I made a list let's call it "Ten Things I Hate About Me". It is easy for me to get in that mode, to focus on the things that are wrong,  in my life or especially in myself.

Today I was reading a friend of a friends blog http://susanisaacs.blogspot.com/ and she had a list there too. It was a list of things she is grateful for. It got me to thinking about how much of how we feel is based on where we choose to focus. When I am looking at what is bad about me, it is so easy to dwell in that place and see everything through those glasses. In that mode I am certain that no one likes me, and I don't blame them. Susan reminded me that if we focus on what is good in our lives everything gets a little brighter, and a little clearer.

She also reminded me of what a horrible thing comparison is. It is usually in the face of comparison to others that I can make myself feel the smallest. Someone else has all of the qualities, or the talents, or the job or the house that I think I would like to have. The thing is, if I really examine the totality of someone else's life I don't really want it. I just want a little piece of it. In my comparison world I would like for other people's lives to be a smorgasbord where I could have that one's sense of humor, and that one's body, with her job, and another's kids, and someone else's home. If I had to take all of what someone else has I always find myself saying no, I would rather have what I have.

I don't want to keep looking at the world through this patch of gloom I let myself rest in sometimes. Today, I want to choose to look for the good stuff, and I just dare the clouds to try and stick around. So here's a new list, the list of things I am grateful for today:

My husband who comes about as close to loving me unconditionally as any human ever has.

My dogs, Roxy, Hogan, and JoJo who almost always make me smile. To be greeted every time you walk in the door with a celebration of jumping and wiggling and little doggy squeals is just a good thing to come home to.  It does not matter if you are gone five days or five minutes, there is a party when you arrive.  It may seem silly but I use them as my model for greeting people.  I am not going to hump your leg or anything but I hope when you walk in my door you know how glad I am to see you.  I could write a whole list about these three and the joy they bring me, but that is a post for another day.

Morning mist.  I love to sit in my back yard in the morning when there is that little layer of fog.  Everything looks like it is being filmed through gauze and it is cool, and the birds and squirrels are all out playing in the trees.

The dead tree in my back yard.  Ou neighbors want  to remove it, but I love this dead tree.  It has all of these branches that look like a big head of twisted up witches hair.  The squirrels run and chase each other through the branches, and because there are no leaves you can watch them in all of their antics.  The animals come and take little pieces of bark off the tree to use for their nests , so the trunk is gradually being peeled back to its core.   I don't know, there is just something I like about something dead still having so much life in it.  

Having purpose.  My life is pretty full right now.  Between my regular job, and helping at ReSource, and Urban Outreach and Jamaica, and being a wife and a mom to four dogs and a cat, and all my other roles in life, there is always something that needs to be done.  Sometimes this overwhelms me, but  mostly it is a good thing.  If  I have too much unstructured time I get in my head too much and then I get depressed.  I might like to have more time to focus in on certain parts of my life where I find the most joy but really for me busy is a good thing.

Knowing God, and knowing he is always with me when I feel it and even more when I don't.  

Nuff said.

Starting to write

Lately, I have been sensing that I just need to start writing.  There has been this theme of story running through my life, and hitting me from all directions. I believe that every one of us has a story and that we are meant to share them with one another, that your story and mine have value.  

The title of this blog has multiple meanings to me, it reflects both what I am, and what I wish I were, how I see myself and how I believe others see me, what I show the world and what lies  beneath the surface.  

I took a couple of those random personality tests that you can find online, these particular ones were geared at telling you if you are an introvert or an extrovert, the first one said I am extremely introverted and the second that I am an extrovert, who does not examine my internal life.  The truth is I have both sides,  but as I looked at the results all I could think was: I don't know what I really am, and neither do these tests.  

So my hope is that as I begin to write and just pour out my thoughts perhaps I will get a little better picture of who I am through my own words.  I am not writing for an audience but if you happen to find this page, welcome to my story.  

Part of what I am hoping here is to discover what makes me so afraid to live my own story.  One of my greatest fears is that when I get to the end of my life I will have lived a mediocre life.  All too often though I settle for the safe.  Sometimes because I am afraid, but too often I think I am just lazy.  I hate that about myself.  Truthfully,  are a lot of things I hate about me.  Making a list of those things is way easier than making a list of things I like.  But in the spirit of truth here is what I hate about me:

I can be incredibly selfish, especially toward my husband. I often think I want my own happiness more than his, or I want to do what I want to do without regard for him.

I can fall into laziness, I have many things I want to do in my head, but when I have time I don't do them.  This is especially true of household projects like repainting or cleaning out the shed in the back.

I do not really trust God: it makes me wonder sometimes if I can really call myself a Christian when I can be so filled with so much doubt so often.even thought I say I am a Christian.  

I let fear hold me back way too often.

I judge people way more often than I would lie to admit to.  Usually it is the people I disagree with that I judge most harshly and I feel sort of justified in doing it.  But it is still wrong, and I hate that in my heart I can be so critical.  

I am afraid to really let go and allow myself to do anything wholeheartedly, like dance, or sing, or draw.

I value what other people think way too much.

I have let myself get out of shape and fat, and I hate the way I look.

I think I may be boring.  That seems like a horrible thing to be to me.

I want to be brilliant at something but I think I am middle of the road at just about everything.  I hate it.  

Sometimes, I don't feel happy for other people when good things happen to them, I pretend that I do because it is how I wished I felt.  This seems to be true especially when I don't think they deserve it, or if it is something I would like to happen to me.  I hate it when I feel like this.  I would really like to be genuinely happen for anyone something good happens to.  

Enough hate for one night. the next real challenge is to try and write that other list. Now that is going to take some God intervention.

Why I Started This

No particular reason at all.

This is a place for me to explore my own thoughts and document my journey. I don't intend to advertise it to anyone, so if you find it God bless you and welcome, I will assume you are meant to be here.

I have been reading a book recently called What I Believe, it is a collection of essays which were originally broadcast on NPR. It got me to thinking about what I believe, and I came to realize that there is very little I know for certain. I envy those who walk around in certainty, knowing what they think and what they know. I am not that. Most often I can see both sides of any issue, give me a debate topic and I could probably throw down a legitimate argument for either side. I am a doubter, a questioner, a seeker of truth who does not always know if she has found it or not.

I have found that my beliefs continue to change, sometimes over years, more often they change daily or even within a day. I used to be a dedicated Democrat, then I took a lean toward being a Republican, now I am neither. I cannot put my foot firmly in either camp, and I feel like it would get muddy anywhere I try to set it down.

At the same time, while internally I am constantly asking questions, I think on the outside people see me differently, like I know what I think and believe. I am sure I often state my opinions that way, I declare with more absoluteness in the moment of discussion than I feel in the later contemplation of it.  I was told by someone once that "I thought I knew everything"  it was the most stinging indictment I have ever felt because it was so inaccurate, but yet I knew somehow this was how I had come across to this person.   So, I am seeking to be real with myself here, to write my unvarnished truth. To not try to convey myself in the most flattering light because I want people to think well of me.  I want to find out what is really true for me as best as I can in the place that I am.  As Donald Miller says, that is a hard thing to do because we are so full of crap.  I hope to wash away the crap and see what is underneath.