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.

Freedom Fighting

Shortly after the inauguration of our new president I was watching a story on the news about the Obamas. It was about Michele Obama's Mom moving into the White House with them to help with the kids, and they were talking about their relationship and how close they are. Her brother told a story about how they were raised by their Mom to"feel good about themselves". I found myself standing in my bedroom watching the story with tears streaming down my face.

 It reminded me of a friend at my Bible study. We were talking about the negative self-talk that goes on in our heads and she said "I don't do that. My parents taught me that it is not OK to say negative things about yourself, so I never learned to do that." It was the first time in my 46 years of life that I realized that it is possible to be that way. I had assumed that everyone had negative stuff floating around in their head about themselves like I do. To be honest, at first I didn't believe her, but after a while I noticed that she always spoke in a positive way about everyone in her family, somehow she really had been raised to be immune to the infiltration of the negative voices in my head commitee. I was stunned and amazed. I wanted that. The only problem is my commitee took up residence long ago so my challenge is how to evict them after the fact? I have tried but at best I have gotten them to take the occassional mini-break.

Flash forward to this session of Bible study where we are doing a series called beliveing the story. We are studying what God says is true of us.  I began to realize that if I could begin to get this stuff,and really believe it, maybe that would be the way to get rid of my committee.  So, I have made a commitment to contend for my freedom in this season of my life.  

I have to tell you it is not easy, I have found that the more determined I become the louder the negative voices scream at me.  I have had some really dark days recently, the kind where I wished I just didn't have to do this anymore, where I want to give up the fight.  I am trying to learn to tell someone, anyone, now when I get in that place, my instinct is to get quiet in myself and hide away.  I can barely stand to be in my own skin when I am like that and I don't want to subject anyone else to it.  It gets worse then.  When the darkest parts get exposed they lose some of their power.  The storm clouds cannot gather as strongly.  

I wish I could say that I had a sudden epiphany or that God reached down and it all became clear and I am leaping in this freedom.  Right now, I am doing all I can to stand firm to not lose ground.  Everything feels fragile and lie it could fall apart with too strong of a breath.  We may lose our business, we probably have to lay off most of our employees this week.  What we have poured our lives into and worked so hard for could fail.  We may be back to ground zero staring over, yet again.  I am so very tired and it becomes easy to see where I have failed all my flaws, fears and issues.  I can only look so far ahead and I do not see freedom on the part of the trail that is visible to me now.  My faith resides in the creator, not the one who is near, he is too ethereal at the moment.  

Sometimes freedom fighters just have to use everything they have not to lose ground.

Makes me want to scream

I have to get this off my chest somewhere.

I am not one of those grammar police people who feels it is necessary to point out every mistake I see, heaven knows I make plenty of mistakes myself, but some things drive me crazy.

Today has been a momentous occassion, watching the inauguration events has been moving and brought tears to my eyes. One thing has ruined it though. I cannot tell you the number of poeple who have said this is is an "historical" occassion. NO - IT - IS NOT. It is an historic occassion, that will be marked in the history books.

Just to clear it up for everyone:

Historic or Historical?
Historical normally means "having taken place in history" or "from the past" or "having to do with history."
Historic means "having significance in history." It usually refers to an event or person.
Historically is the adverb form of both words.

Thanks for listening you can go on to your dance now, just please do not say it is historical.

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