second three things

On day two, my thankfulness is different. But each day's gratitude must be related to my particular story, and my particular blessings.

#1 My brokenness. It hurts more some days than others (like today), but without it I would not have a chance at seeing my growth or progress. It's slow (to me) but steady, and occasionally I can see glimpses of the mosaic in the works. This one is also interesting to me because of the readings and the homily at Mass this morning. Everything is related, and without pain or sorrow or other unpleasantness, the true joy, the miracles, the wholeness are not as clear or obvious. Not as full. 

#2 Pray-ers. Mosaics require a considerable amount of sticky, messy, goopy stuff to make them hold together. When I can't mix it all in myself, I have friends I can ask to help me out. That's new to me, and I don't always remember to, but they are there for me -- and I for them.

#3 Pinterest. Yeah, I know; it doesn't exactly fit with the others, but today it was particularly helpful! I had a whole bunch of zucchini to do fun things with, but not so many ideas for what fun yumminess to do. (The reason is related to #1 above. Everything is related!) I made really delicious muffins, thanks to Pinterest, and found another I will use tomorrow, as well as a cucumber recipe to try. A win!

Even on a bad day, I remembered to look for the positives. That's a bit of growth in itself! In fact, in the middle of an internal stuggle that had me crying out to God while standing in the middle of my kitchen, I realized that I was, indeed, thankful for the struggle, as it gave me a chance to find in myself the tools I've learned I have and give them a try. It's a little crazy, but in the best way.

first three things

Normally, I don't "do" challenge things that are on social media. For whatever reason, they make me feel kind of like I'm getting chain mail, which I was warned about hundreds of times in elementary school. (Not only is it illegal, it's unsavory; the work of evil minds.) This, however, is different. This is actually an exercise I've been working on--and often putting off or "forgetting"--and is worth the thinking time. The same friend who 'suggested' me for it also recently tagged me in a photo posting exercise which I have not yet done, but have been mulling over. So, here goes. Day One of Three Things For Which I Am Thankful.

#1 My faith. God loves me. I love God. Those simple truths make all the difference. God lets me be me, flaws and all, and brings me back in for a hug when I mess things up--even if I meant to. I talk to Him every day, and do my best to listen. Even when I don't understand what or why or how, I have faith that His plan is for the long-term--and is in His time. Today I have some hurt I'm helping friends bear. Faith makes that both easier and harder.

#2 My husband. It's been a crazy ride, some of which I would rather not repeat, but none of which I would trade or give up. He makes me laugh, he lets me cry, he disagrees with me, and he supports me. He is real, and he allows and encourages me to be real, too. Since the day we married, we have been family, and I cannot imagine--or remember!--any other way.

#3 Words. There is such delight in finding the words to express oneself. Today I read words that brought me joy, and words that cut me to the quick. In between, words raced and bounced through my mind, across my heart. around my being, and found themselves in songs I heard, conversations I took part in, and prayers that rose from my heart to the heavens.

These three are intertwined, as are all the 'parts' of my life. I cannot fathom the strength of any without the others today.

question: part two

The third thing that raced through my mind was another related question: If I were to meet me today, would I pursue a friendship? That's more complicated. First, just who would I likely be meeting? The public me that I know so well and guard in order to be liked? Or the private, internal me that I know so well and guard in order to be safe?
I just finished a CrossCurrent series - and spent the time breaking through another thin layer of that guardedness. But the layers are often very thin, indeed, and I find sometimes even more barriers than I thought I started with. Trouble is, that public me I mentioned is way more false than I like to admit. (Because I'm human - admit it, you don't like to face the false either.)
The real me, the true me is there to the observant. There are people who see it (her?) right away and can be as real with me as I long to be. Others manage somehow to draw me out, and I find joy with them as our friendship grows and blossoms. When I consider whether I would befriend myself, these are the people I think of. Do I have something inside that they have? Would I put in the time and energy they seem to have in abundance?
Or would I bother? I'm not the easiest person to get close to. Not only do I realize that, but I kind of make it that way on purpose. I'm working on learning just why that is. But at the same time, I look to the people closest to my heart and wonder how they arrived there. Each is there for a reason, I know, and each means more to me than I can ever explain. Some of them know the real, true me better than I do, and are patient and loving enough to not tell me so. I admire and thank them for that. And I look to them all for my own response.
If you met yourself today, would you take steps to be your friend?

a question asked

Not long ago, a question was posed to me that caused me to stop and rethink where I was headed.
"If you were to meet [this person] today, say at work or at a social event, would you want him or her to be your friend? Would you spend any more time or energy than you had to in getting to know him or her?"
So many thoughts sped through my mind in a split second, most of which included those people with whom I had forged relationships - sometimes having to work hard at it, and other times with more ease than I understood. The immediate response was a very relieved no. The next series of thoughts had to do with my own use of the same concept in, actually, a similar context. I, however, had placed it in a different direction: "If I didn't have to have a relationship with this person, I might otherwise have never met him or her. I'd have no reason to have them in my circle." This new question took the pressure off.
Bonds of blood are important, but equally important are bonds of love, bonds of the heart. Call it what you will - framily, family of the heart, besties, communion of saints - regardless, though blood may be thicker than water, water is pretty darn essential. My husband and I share no bond of blood, and yet our relationship is more important than any other on earth. And I would still want to get to know him if I met him today for the first time.
There is a mutual aspect. Just because I find someone interesting does not guarantee the same curiosity will be reciprocated, and vice versa. On occasion,  that has been a hard pill to swallow. Tolerating another's attempts can be as uncomfortable as the realization that I am being tolerated.
For now I'll say that the question is open-ended, and at times the answer varies based on numerous factors. There's freedom in the asking. In knowing there is even a question. An option - one among many.

write, read, feel

On my shelf, on my floor, in my bag for work, I have an abundance of notebooks (including this electronic version). I'd love to say a "plethora," simply because it's a fun word, but abundance suffices. Each notebook has its own purpose, so I haven't filled one before starting another. In fact, I don't think any of them are full, per se. I would say that in the mix are notebooks I am finished with.
One bittersweet pile is filled with barre exercises, center floor combinations, tap rhythms and music selections. I happen upon them now and then, stashed in odd spots and bags around the house. They bring back memories of days spent near the CD player in the kitchen, testing, repeating and experimenting with how to move and create, imagining the spacial aspect. I flip through them when they turn up and see a side of myself that I really liked, that I miss sometimes, but that I'm also happy to be free of. Free from. But....
Others are the books that I read. I never marked a single book that wasn't a college text book until fairly recently. And now I'm a bit addicted. Ever since Thomas Merton found his way onto my reading list, I've had to avoid the library like the plague. I use highlighters, flags and pens in my books, marking passages, writing references to other books I've read, and even to movies, music, current events. I love the interaction with the words on the page, and the imagined conversations I'm having with the authors and with my friends reading the same books. Some I feel comfortable sharing, and others I keep to myself, but they, too, tell a story of who I am in a moment in time. This moment.
I have notebooks that are journals. When I was in junior high and high school, Dad used to give me diaries as gifts. With or without little locks, his intention was that I would write down my feelings, my perceptions, my highs and lows. I never really did. These days, journaling as I do, I realize that the thing is, I had very few feelings to write down. Very few highs and lows. I felt a lot of nothing that felt like something. Which is pretty much what I journal about now. Today, in the past couple of years, I've begun to feel, to identify my feelings, to grasp their relevance in my life, and in the lives of those around me. These journals also have specific purposes; trains of thought and threads of me that trace my journey. The lines between them get fuzzier the more I write in them; the deeper I go.
I also write in my devotional book, but not every day. Sometimes I need to write to make the prayer "work," but other days I just talk or listen. These notes range from short messages - just a word or two - to sections where I have completely obliterated the printed passage. I wonder on occasion what my spiritual advisor would see if he were to read it. Then I realize how silly that thought is. They are my prayers, my thoughts, my conversations with God. They can ramble as much as they need to.
There are times when, as I write, I chuckle at the thought of someone trying to put it all in order. I currently have - counting this blog and my daily devotional - 6 active journals. I date each entry and sometimes wonder what on earth is wrong with me. In all honesty, I'm working on breaking down the walls in my mind and heart. It's slow going, and will take many more notebooks, I think.
But I'm on my way.

fare thee well

He hugged me, saying "thank you for letting me go. Even though I know you don't want me to." I do, though. I want him to go and see where this dreams lead him. I will miss him -- I do already -- but that doesn't mean I want him to stay. To be tied to me, to this edition of home, to my life and dreams (and, let's face it: issues). 

Our goal has always been for our boys to grow into fine young men. (A refrain that has at times made them crazy when it meant that the answer was no, that they were grounded, their wings clipped in any way.) as I've watched him this summer, anticipating this morning's departure, I've been so inspired by the man he is becoming. Having always felt blessed by his presence in my life, I can honestly say that he has enabled helped me to grow, in many ways. I've learned from him just about every day since he was born. 

Almost a year ago, I was speaking with some parents at church and mentioned that in working with the high school kids, we would be teaching them, yes, but we'd also be learning with and from them. One of the fathers found that to be wholly unsatisfactory. He told me there was nothing we should be learning from them; they are just kids. I politely and quietly disagreed with him, and we've never seen his kids on Sunday nights. I'm saddened every time I think of that interaction. Am I not just a child myself, with so much to learn? 

My son, my child, my baby boy, please go with my love and blessing! Continue to grow, to learn, to teach, and to be. Be yourself -- the you that God intends you to be. Remember what we've taught you. Remember you have a home with us always. Remember that with The Lord beside you, you are never, ever alone. Follow your dream. Give glory. Learn much -- especially about yourself. You are always in my heart. 

off the fence

Today was an especially nice one. Not particularly extraordinary, but special. Likely because it was somewhat ordinary. And yet....

I slept poorly last night, and forced myself out of bed after the snooze wondering if I'd be able to function. Before Mass, I asked for company today: guidance, support, friendship in my work, in my words, in my interactions. "Lord, be with me."

Leaving the parking lot after my evening meeting, reviewing in my mind what we had covered, I started to say "Thank you," and began to cry. The entire day unrolled, a highlight reel of beautiful moments. Each one related in some way to the next, and also to my morning prayer. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I turned off the radio and offered thanks.

Not long ago, I had a really terrible, horrible, no good day (as the story goes), and could not find the blessing in the day. Not a single thing for which to be thankful. I also knew I would not get to sleep that night until I found something - anything! - to thank God for. Eventually I did, though right now I can't remember the good or the bad of that day. But tonight I found myself thanking God, too, for that day, because since then I've been more aware, more attuned to the blessings, big or small, that color my days.

So in the car, I cried, grateful for a Friend to walk with me each and every day.

reverie

As I watched the bride dance with her father, and the groom with his mother, I was transported. In my heart, I felt my own father's arms around me, while in my imagination I saw my sons dancing with me.

My own wedding was nearly half my life ago. At times I cannot remember not being married to the man with whom I've shared so much. Other times I wonder how it could be so short a time. So much has happened; so much has changed. Never again will I dance in my father's arms. It strikes me at odd times, but tonight the feeling of melancholy was tempered by the imagination.

In a blink, a breath, and two heartbeats, any of our sons could be getting married. At least it will seem like that short a time, if and when.

It was a beautiful combination of feelings to have at a beautiful wedding reception. Blessings and love to the bride and groom!