Life Together

This is one of my favorite photographs of all time.  

         I am sorry that I didn’t post last week...but only a little sorry because I had the rare and awesome privilege of spending some real quality time with my best friend celebrating our 20 years of friendship.  I would blog about that but we pinky swore we’d never tell any of each other’s secrets but I can tell you this...

         As we sat and caught up,  I was reminded of how much it can hurt to grow up and how much it means to have a friend or two by your side.  I was reminded of other friends that I have since lost touch with, and some who I see occasionally.  I wrote this for them, and for myself.  

-----

You had another life once.  A long time ago.  It’s hard to remember now.  It seems almost unreal between the diapers and the sleep schedules.  You had a life where you were only responsible for you.  You were so funny, and shy, and spontaneous.  You spent your mornings catching up on teenage romances in the offing, and your afternoon at practice, running till your lungs burned and then running some more.  And then the fun, yes there was the homework but somehow that always got squeezed in between the ice cream runs, the movie nights, the skinny dipping, the AIM chats, and the bonfires.  But above all, there was prayer.  I’m not sure where I would be if not for your prayers.  Remember that.  

We had a life together once.  We were so young, and all we wanted was to know God’s will, to lead exciting lives that brought glory to him.  We really wanted that. 

I'm pretty sure no one looks their best in this pic but I just love the people in it.

We didn’t know that we were already on the adventure.  We were so curious about what was to come.  And had we known, we may have turned back.  But we didn’t---not in the face of friends lost, not when our hearts were broken, not when we had to wait and wait and wait for what seemed a simple pleasure or even a God given right.  We didn’t turn back because neither height, nor depth, not even anxiety disorders or broken families can separate us from God’s love.  As Peter said, “Where would we go?  What would we do?” 

And so in the dark hours when our wounds would not stop oozing, we went back to prayer.  And on our knees  our hearts began to heal.  All that rejection, all that disappointment, all those we’ve lost began to wash away until we came clean again.  In older, stretched and injured bodies our hearts are still young.  Laughter and faith keeps them that way.  

I miss you my friend.  When we are together I remember what friendship is all about, the adventure.  The pursuit of holiness, not for ourselves (although, we have sworn to enjoy the ride) but for His glory, for His kingdom come, for a LOVE that heals and restores and reunites.  

I'm back...again

Coming up with the title of this post was tough because I have had so many starts and stops I kind of feel bad hating on the fifth or sixth iteration of a movie, book or device because I worry I am turning into that: KD returns, KD Part IV, KD 6S... Anyway, here is where I am at... I wrote an email, many of you hopefully received it.  If not I am extending it to you now: 

              

  Dear friends, acquaintances and casual readers of all sorts.,

                 I have been on a sort maternity leave* from writing but I think it’s time I dive back in.  I’m so grateful for the way you have all supported me. Even a single click on this page boosts my confidence as a writer so if it was an accident, it was a happy one for me:)  I could not keep this blog alive without readers and guest bloggers.  I love the variety of talent that I get to post here: photographs, lyrics, slices of life, random thoughts, short stories, essays...All of it brings me great joy. 

 So please, I’m asking for your feedback either here in the comments or on the Facebook page...

1. Would you be willing to be a guest? 
2. What would you like to see more of one this blog as we restart?  

My touchstone for Penned but Not Published has always been HOPE.  It is my hope and dream to be published but JOY is equally important to me and if the ink never stamps my name onto a “real book” this writing journey will have been fruitful nonetheless.  

*In case you were curious where I have been the past year or so here is the short version.  I got very very ill with hyper-emesis during my pregnancy(yes, the same illness as the Princess/ Dutchess Kate Middleton but so much less glamorous)  with my third baby.  My friends and family picked me up and carried me through those 9 months.  I literally (and I hate when that is over or mis-used...so I say it with confidence and flare...) would not have made it without them, well without you all (most likely).  And then, after multiple trips to the ER, several rounds of rehydration, countless doctor’s visits (to which I had to be driven), and in the midst of yet another insane snowstorm my youngest was born.   Here she is.  She is small, very small, but worth every moment of discomfort and pain it took to bring her here. (I hope you all agree, especially those of you who cleaned my house, drove me, helped me walk, and watched my other kids) 

So cheers to Hadley Olive.  I love her and hope you will too (in a non-creepy, we love to read about all her cute milestones, sort of way).  

The season to be sick

I apologize that I haven't written in eons.  I am much much improved but still visit the doctor at least once a week to be poked and prodded.  I am grateful for this actually because I get to be extra vigilant in watching this baby that I worry so much about but cannot yet see.  Today I just wrote a stream of consciousness and then it felt a little like a post so here it is...

It’s times like this that I am totally floored that I am the adult in the situation.  When my 20 month old daughter sneaks 2 cupcakes and then throws them up in the middle of the night.  When everyone is miserable and has a fever. And I don’t even know how to clean.  Do I spray everything with Lysol?  Is that stuff hazardous how far do throw up germs sink into the fabric of a bed or pillow?  Are there such things as “throw up germs?”  If so, what are they really called?  Should I keep everyone at home?  What could we possibly do for 12 hours without hurting each other?  Don’t we need fresh air?  Am I a terrible person for bringing them into public and sharing said, “throw up germs” with the world?

So, because I feel so overwhelmed and pregnant I finish off my half gallon of milk for the day and lay on the couch to watch a mystery that can be solved in 53 minutes.  

Wow, I need God and yet I am so slow to turn to him, so weak in my passion for him.  I am truly grateful for him and all he does to take care of us, but have I yet discovered that he is beautiful? I pray that I do.  

Dancin'

First,  I apologize to each and every one of you for going MIA for over a month, no phone calls, no email, no posts, heck...besides my kids and husband I doubt I've seen many of you.   It's a long story that will have to be told in installments but the short version is...I'm on strict bed rest and the meds I'm on make my mind almost incapable of writing.  (Imagine how random I am anyway times 100.)

The good news is that I'm okay:)  I'm just having another baby!  Yikes.  It definitely doesn't feel real yet.

The other good news is that I made this video when my son found some old tap shoes to cheer myself (and hopefully everyone who watches it) up:)

http://youtu.be/5By_bAM0euo

...I wonder where he get's his unbelievable skills?.....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QSrECk5p0Bo

....oh yeah, like father like son.

Yard Sale Generosity

Our yard sale this weekend wasn’t a huge success, not by any stretch of the imagination.  My gross income totaled a grand $21 and a scarlet sunburn to boot. 

Still, there were two things that made it all worth it in my mind. 

First, was that J--- sold her Vespa.   She and D-- had bought it for $1,500 in Colorado ten years ago. It had 5,000 miles on it.  Baby blue with some wear on the leather, double seat for hot dates and a compartment beneath the main seat perfect for a six pack of beer.  

As soon as she rolled it out there was a lot of interest.  She was selling it for $500, a steal, with the lock, two helmets, oil and cover included! But everyone was trying to haggle her down.  $300 cash now, $350 cash in a little bit... and so on and so forth.  She got numbers gave out numbers and then these two brothers came up.  They were young. The first brother who turned out to be only 18 want to buy it for his older brother who was turning 21 and had recently moved to Roxbury.  The first brother was a talker, hipster glasses, a graphic tank top, smooth latino skin and perfectly coiffed hair.  The older brother was rougher, wearing his old grey sweatpants and a white T.  The looked like half brothers, same dimples but completely different style.  Although they both did have sleeves of beautiful tattoos.  The lettering was perfect and the icons indelible.  La Vida, the Boston Bruins spoke, and two newly tatted spades, fresh shiny ink.  

At first, they couldn’t do $500.  But J--- and I wanted them to have it.  They were young, unattached; basically the perfect age for Vespa adventures.  I wanted them to experience all the laughter and sights and madness that I’d shared with David.  It really was a deal, ours sold for much more and since this one was 50ccs you didn’t need a motorcycle liscence to buy it.  

In the end, they came up with the money.  I’m not sure how.  No 18 year old should be carrying over $500 on their person but this guy was.

And now for the second and more amazing part of the story.  At the end of the day when my shoulders were burnt and we were all hot and worn out from haggling, we packed up our stuff and lugged it back into our respective houses/apartments.  And just as I was dragging up the unsold antique high chair, C--- walked up with an envelope.  She and S-- had pooled the money to give to me and David for the move or whatever else we might need. It meant so much, so much more than I could put into words then or now.  That is God’s blessing, not even just the money but good friends who care and will spend all day frying in the sun, not for themselves even but for you, even if you don’t know it! 

Marathon Monday

Before I start my ramblings I just wanted to say that if you are not from Suffolk county MA you may not have known that yesterday was Patriot’s Day aka Marathon Monday.  I was SO amazed and moved by the Boston Marathon yesterday.  It was truly awesome.  It made me think that if any readers out there are running races/raising money for charities please let me know (here or via facebook)  and I’d love to give you a guest post to let everyone know about it!

Tomorrow, my youngest sister and I are making an audition video to be on The Amazing Race, my all time favorite show of life.  The upcoming season will be the 25th and I am dying to be on it.  I have to confess I’ve stayed up later than is wise watching youtube videos of other people who have applied and comparing them to myself and my sister.  At first I was sure we were a shoe in.  I mean please, if you know either one of us you know the season would be chalk full of my sister’s daring feats of courage interwoven with scenes of me fighting my OCD tendencies but likely succumbing and requesting total strangers rearrange themselves to suit my organizational preferences.

But then, I realized that 20,000 other people are applying.  20,000 other people who are quirky and fun and want desperately to run this race.  And I can’t find a way to make myself stand out from the crowd.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not giving up, we are still shooting the video tomorrow and hoping to get on.  It’s just that, this in tandem with witnessing the runner’s willpower and endurance at the marathon made me consider anew the feelings of inadequacy that haunt me.  

Picture me, at the laundromat with 6 washers full of dirty clothes soiled with my kid’s spit up, “accidents”, and straight up dirt; hazardous construction material stains thanks to my husband and, worst of all, yellow armpit stains on ALL of my white shirts.  And these stains aren’t coming from intense physical training or rigorous daily activity.  Nope, these stains are all just part of regular everyday.  And I started to be what  Rachel Jankovic calls a “crankster” instead of a “thankster.”  

In other words as I stood there (wearing some stretched out yoga capris and a bleach stained blue tie dyed t-shirt because everything else has to be washed.)  I started to despair about everything :

-There is no way some random judges are going to find me “good enough” to be on National TV.

-There is no way I’ll ever have a story worth publishing.

-There is no way I’ll ever have the time or energy to train for distance running again now that I have kids.

-There is no way we will ever get out from under our college/ grad school debts and be able to do anything exciting.

And what is hard is that I’m right.  

There is very little statistical chance that I will ever publish a book, run the Boston Marathon, be on the Amazing Race or have the financial security I crave.  BUT, that is good for me.  Because if I was guaranteed those things I would, “boast against [God], ‘My own strength has saved me.’” (Judges 7:2)   

So, I’ve fallen a bit behind in my resolution to read through the Bible chronologically but today I came to the story of Gideon in Judges 7.  

Gideon is a lot like me.  He is a coward.  He asks God for like 200 signs to be sure that he is really supposed to fight against the Midianites who are murdering and oppressing his people.  You really should read the story (see reference above) but to sum it up God uses Gideon and 300 men to route thousands of violent enemies. 

Now, I am not in mortal danger, and I do not have thousands of enemies.  But there are thousands of people and obstacles out there who stand between me and my goals.  My tendency is to gather up all my resources and willpower to blast through to what I want.  This is not a very healthy way to live life.  

Here is the sort of life I want to live, the sort of person I want to be... 

I don’t want to envy others their victories or allow comparisons to sully my self-esteem, 

I don’t want to be an arrogant braggart because things go my way.

I don’t want strength, endurance, money or fame to be more important to me than my family and friends.  

I want to appreciate the moments I am given.

I want to enjoy the peaceful whir of the laundromat

I want to trust God in all things...even the Amazing Race

Strong by Anonymous

This is a piece by one of my students.  I was so struck by it that I asked permission to share it on the blog.  
So here it is...

"Around this time last year, I was beyond upset. I wasn't quite depressed but I was very close to it. I felt nothing was right for me and I just wasn't who I wanted to be. I wanted to be happier, skinnier, smarter, and just have everything perfect. I was mentally ill and I couldn't do anything about it. I felt like it was just time to go for me. What was the point of me being here? I was like an emotional punching bag for my friends and family. Everything I did seemed wrong and I just couldn't stand it. I went from loving food to skipping meals. I went from happy movies on Friday nights with my friends to upset Friday nights alone. It seemed like I was fighting a battle and losing... Hard! Everyday seemed harder and harder to finish no matter how hard I tried to make the best out of a situation. The world that used to be filled with colors became darker and darker to the point where it became black. I've been lied to, everything and everyone just seemed fake to me. There was no reason for me be here because it was obvious from my eyes that i wasn't wanted or needed.

No one really knew how I was feeling. I wore a big smile to school that made it seem like I was happy but it was all just a fake. I didn't want to tell anyone because I thought I would be looked at differently and that was the last thing I needed. I would drop hints to my friends but no one really picked up on it. When you've been looked at as a strong person, no one really offers a hand. What was strong about me though? What looked like strong to others was my loudest cry for help. "Help me. Just make me want to stay another day."

I remember one day, I woke up in the morning and asked my best friend what she would do if I died. She told me that she would cry her eyes out, that I was her best friend and that she loved me more than words could ever explain, that I was the reason she is holding on. I cried that day for a good hour. I was done being sad. I just couldn't stand being the person I was yet I let myself become it. I woke up day after day knowing that I was just getting more and more depressed but didn't do anything about it.

I learned that I am a strong person and that even though I wanted to quit, I didn't. No matter how much I hated my life, there was always that one reason to love it. I always had my family and friends. I was loved beyond words could explain yet I was to blind to see. I learned that you are always someone's anchor and if you go, you are just giving another person a reason to go.


I was hit by the reality bus  and it opened my eyes to the wonderful life I live and I'm glad I stayed. If I didn't, I wouldn't be here typing this and I wouldn't be the happy person I am today. I love myself and I love everyone. Well sometimes... I get told I'm crazy a lot but I just like making people laugh. At the end of the day, I just want to make as many people smile and laugh as much as possible because I know I'm not the only person fighting a battle. Some people aren't as open as me to be able to talk about these things because it's a hard subject. Send a smile, it goes way further than you think!"

1000 Gifts

I was on partial bed rest when I was pregnant with my daughter.  During that time a friend gave me her kindle.  (Straight up she just gave it to me...too nice)  One of the books I read during that time was 1,000 gifts by Ann Voskamp.  To be honest, her style is a little poetic and ethereal for me.  I know that is strange coming from an English Teacher, but when I am reading non-fiction I want it straight up, no flowery wording.  In fact if the book could be boiled down into a checklist, even better. If I were to do so for 1,000 gifts it would be incredibly simple:

Item #1- Make a list of 1,000 things that you are grateful for.

That's it.  Try it, I dare you.

It took me TWO years but after lots of stops and starts I finished last week.  It was hard not to repeat anything.  When I reread the list before writing this post I realized that I did repeat a few things. (For example, "The show Amazing Race" and "sleep"....I really LOVE those two things. )
Here are a few more things that I am so grateful for:

The Amazing Race...oh wait, I already said that...

Neighbors who lean out the window to say hello

When James pretends that Macaroni is a tiny phone

Nutella and Animal Crackers (try it, if you are looking for a new addiction)

A strong heart beat when I didn't know if our little girl would make it last year.

A husband I respect

When people give me quarters for laundry!

When my kids talk/sing each other to sleep

 If you are reading this right now I am grateful for you too!  You have no idea how much joy this blog and each and every reader has given me.

Ann Voskamp's Blog is one of my very favorite blogs.  Here is the link to learn more about gratitude and a whole world of amazing joyful things.

http://www.aholyexperience.com

Hard Times

I wrote this a while back when I was feeling down.  This morning when I woke up with a sore throat and a throbbing headache I thought it'd be an appropriate post for the day...

"All I can smell are diapers.  And it makes me want to cry but I don’t.  It is 5:30am and I am alone, for once.  There is quiet and peace.  Well, there should be peace but my heart is in such turmoil it burns my ears.  Every beep of the microwave, every truck passing by grates on my nerve.  And my heart swells with sobs that just can’t seem to make it to my eyes and I am lost.  The weight is so heavy on my heart, holding down my tears, trapping my breath.  

And I’m not sure what the issue is, if it’s the money I feel like I need or the life I live.  Is it my failures or the way others keep seeming to fail me?  There is an ache and an exhaustion to this burden.  

“Oh Lord, be my help,”  My son spoke these words over breakfast yesterday and shocked me into silence.  “It’s my memory verse,” he informed me. 

“Oh Lord, be my help” because I cannot seem to help anyone else, least of all myself, and yet my days are consumed with trying, with trying to be some use to those in need yet feeling so needy I can barely contain it.  I feel alone.  

And what do I do about the dreams?

About the test I keep on failing and don’t have money to gamble on a pass?

About the dream job that opens up and then snaps shut right in my face?

About the disappointment of not being able to go to weddings and to see family?

About the frustration of not having money to join a gym or replace things that are broken?

About constantly knowing I might have to pack up everything and move back home, away from my friends and family, away from my job and joys.  Leaving the city that I love, the trails I have trod, the memories I have made.  

I want to remember this for when we have money.  I want to remember this for when these dreams deferred come true.  

I will send cash anonymously to those who are secretly scraping by and are much to proud to ask.  

I will buy coffee and fruit snacks for them when they can’t afford it.

I will give presents to their children when they can’t afford any presents themselves.

I will give them gas for their cars so they can get to work.  

Because you have all done this for me. And because the Lord is my help and my salvation.  I will tell them not to fear.  Courage comes from God.  

For now 

I find ways to help others because that makes my pain not feel so strong. A double batch of chili to share, free babysitting when I can.  Counting the gifts like Ann Voskamp told me.  Loving even when it hurts.  Praying for forgiveness and battling any bitterness that tries to take root."

5 years blogging

The 100th post. 

I need to thank you because half of these posts come from all of you.  Each intrepid guest bloggers and reader have kept me writing, have spurred me on and I thank God for you every week.  So, congratulations to you and to me for making it to 100!

5 years ago I watched Julie and Julia and said to my husband, “I’m gonna do that!”  “Learn to cook?”  he asked hopefully.  “No,” I replied. “I am going to chronicle a year of my life, maybe even longer. I need some sort of theme though.  Some sort of focus to this journey.”  

We thought about it for weeks.  I decided I wanted to get serious about writing.  So, my goal was to blog until I got published.  That first year, I met so many wonderful people around the blogosphere.  I wrote about all sorts of things.  It got hard to think up things I felt were blog worthy.

4 years ago  a couple of things happened.  First, I got freaked out that readers might think I was unstable and totally crazy. Second, I got terribly sick during my first pregnancy.  And so, after only 40 mediocre posts I shut it down.   

Regret is one of my biggest fears.  I’m not sure about the 3 silent years.  In some ways I do regret my silence.  I would be so curious now to look back over the things that have happened, the ways I have changed:

-We had to move within a month because our old apartment was not de-leaded.

-We were given the opportunity to live in the most incredible 3 story house with friends and a saintly landlady.

-David and I went to 12 hours of natural child birthing classes

-I had my first child in a birth center and was home less than 12 hours later.

-I struggled with severe postpartum depression.

-Friends, family, coworkers and even strangers helped me look to God and find hope.

-I went back to work full time while my incredible sister-in-law came to live with us and watch my baby boy each and     every day.

-I found out I was pregnant with my second baby.  

-I almost lost her 2 times, I was in the emergency room, bleeding, grieving and yet somehow each time they found a heartbeat.

-She was born 5 weeks early, in a hospital with several doctors to catch her and see if she needed to go straight to the NICU.  But I got to hold her.  She was 6 pounds, beautiful and perfect.

-I went back to work, job sharing with a dear friend.

-We decided I was going to try and stay home full time with the kids for a year.

And somewhere amidst all that life the blog started back up.  I don’t worry about being blog worthy anymore.  I just write...and giveaway stuff when I can.... and invite all of you to share your talent and thoughts here...and I love it!  

I’m hoping for at least 100 more posts.  

Over overtired

My daughter hasn’t been sleeping well lately.  Lately meaning the past 9-10 months, and I am tired.... so very tired.  When I am tired I have a habit of being a smidge overdramatic. Such as the following exchange with my husband, “I need to do something I’m excited about to get rid of these winter blues."

His response: “Good idea, What are you excited about?”  

My response “Well...umm...nothing...” and I burst into tears.

In those moments it’s very hard for me to delineate between what is true and what feels true.  When attempting to shift through this truth conundrum I often remember the words of a friend I highly respect, “Where is the evidence?”  

This is tricky because I often bring false evidence into play. For example, it feels true to say that I my life is totally devoid of excitement.  I can’t seem to stop fixating on the prospect of another day snowed in, or my dearth of creative crafts and games for my kids.  I point to my TV show obsessions and my internet addiction. 

 But somewhere deep down, below all of that, I know that life is a gift.  And not just “life” as a whole or as an existential concept but every single moment throughout the day.   

As for the evidence.  Well, it was an adventure to change my kids’ diapers today...I learned that if you are quick you can catch falling #2 before it splatters all over the rug.  It was a joy to go grocery shopping...my son’s enthusiasm over mac n’ cheese is truly incredible.  

Before I know it I’m laughing and I don’t feel the hopeless gloom that surrounded me before.   

It wasn’t a waste to brush my teeth or take a nap because...and this is the great BECAUSE...because “God works all things for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose.”  ALL THINGS, the mundane and the mistakes.  All of it.  He takes it and somehow uses it for good.  He makes beauty out of burned things (ashes). The truth is that God is good, even when it doesn’t feel like it.  He is.  Believe it or not.  God. Is. Good.    

"Lord Have Mercy on My Next 30 Years"

I worry about my birthday... every year... 

I worry about it getting lost in the hustle and bustle of the holidays since it is the day after Christmas.  I’m not just worried about not getting presents, or getting “joint presents” that cover both days, because I understand that.  Money is tight for everyone.  

I worry that the day will just float by without any celebration or notable difference from every other  day.  I worry about this because I see it as a reflection of my life.  Am I just floating through this existence?  Is my highest goal simply to stay out of people’s way so  I’m not an inconvenience?  Am I adding any cause for celebration to the lives of those whom I love?  Do I matter?  Sometimes I’m afraid to even ask.  Ann Voskamp wrote a beautiful post on her birthday that really inspired me.  (http://www.aholyexperience.com/2013/08/how-to-have-the-best-birthday-the-best-today-the-best-any-day/)  

Here are the two things that have stuck with me since reading that post in August:

1. Fight anxiety with love for others.  “Perfect love casts out all fear.”  
2. Don’t be afraid to do something that will make people stop, and think, and smile.  

In her post she challenges readers to give forward the love they have received by doing one or more of the 40 “GIFTS” listed on her page.  I LOVE that idea.  I love it because it is a way to create memories and stories, a way to stop and celebrate life!  

Still, I felt I couldn’t just rip off her 40 ideas (even though they are all excellent).  I wanted to put my own spin on it, make it kind of a truth or dare game played across the whole country.  

I have been watching the show Impractical Jokers lately, and the things they challenge each other to do simply blow my mind. (http://www.trutv.com/shows/impractical-jokers/index.html)  The show is hilarious to me because the guys are fearless (and/or shameless).  I envy that sort of hilarity,.  I think for 90 % of the population that sort of gut wrenching belly laugh at life’s awkward situations and absurdities dies out somewhere between middle school and the end of college.  So, I tried to weave it into my birthday celebration.  

I made a list of 30 things. 15 humorous requests and 15 thoughtful ones.  If you are game, look over the list below, chose a gift/ challenge to complete and then write me an email or birthday card telling me which GIFT you chose and how it went:)   (Extra bonus points if you get a picture or even better a video of the funny ones.)  I also attached the websites where I got the ideas from, check them out so you can see what I have in mind.  I really really hope you’ll celebrate with me this year....I mean seriously 30 only rolls around once.

Impractical Jokers’https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xmiIqAYrKmw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zOBDayQu0N0

A list of my loves

I love to read.

I love to read books that transport me to another time and place, that captivate me with daring plots and dashing characters.

I know I have found such a book when I am sorry to see end. I tend to drag out the last few chapters of my favorite books- willing them to last longer. There is a fierce tension between my need to see what happens and my desire for the story to never end. Last night, I stayed up past midnight reading, “City of Thieves” by David Benioff. Yes, it was vulgar and crude at parts but it was historically fascinating and it made me laugh out loud. The marriage of funny and fascinating is a unique phenomenon that makes for addictive reading.

I also love to read blogs and letters.

I was just over at Deborah’s blog the Temptation of Words and I read her post, "On Happiness”- fabulous. I loved it. It reminded me of a letter I received at college from my sister. Inside the envelope was simply a list (and a long list at that) of things that she loved. She asked that I write her back with my own list.

What an exercise in gratitude. It is all too easy to focus on the things we dislike about our lives but when we sit down to make a list of the good, it grows quite long. The key is to be specific, to notice the details. Here is a sampling ( in no particular order) of my own list:

-The creases next to my husband’s eyes when he smiles.
-The light coming through the newly emerging leaves on a sapling.
-Hot tea with cream and sugar in a fine china teacup.
-Cupcakes (of course).
-The hilarious comments my students unwittingly utter on any given day.

What do you love? What do you love to read?

Ocean Thoughts

As I sat on a stone wall overlooking the ocean, I contemplated the majesty of the waves. The sound of their crashing brought me a strange thought- the waves have their effect because they break up, they fall apart.

The end of the wave is what has the power to change the face of the shore, to erase footprints and rearrange rocks. After the crest of the wave closes out, the whitewater comes bounding in like small shaggy dogs, tearing up the sand beneath them. Then the frenzy suddenly smoothes out into a taunt brow.

I knew there was a lesson in this (as my dad would say) but I could not figure the meaning out. And then, I talked to a dear friend who had just faced a bitter disappointment. Through my conversation with her I realized that we are not powerful people because we hold it all together. It’s in our most broken and thrashed moments that we show our true strength. I found such freedom in this thought.

One minute we think we have it all figured it out. Then, in the next moment, we come down from the crest of expectation into the crushing whitewater of disappointment. It’s in that swirling confusion that we change. Usually when we least expect it, peace comes and begins to smooth out all that remains. It is a process, a terrifying, awesome and transformative process.