all is well

"So you're a city girl?" The question was posed playfully, and my response was equally so. Yet even as I spoke, I wondered, am I? In truth I'm no more city girl than I am country girl. What I love about cities -- rather, what I always used to love about them -- is that I am an unknown, a face in the crowd, one of many. In a city, I always thought I could lose myself; fit better inside my own head. Every city I've ever visited has its own flavor, its own style. I've found the 'country' places I've visited and lived have that, too. And if I am to be completely honest, I love them, too. I can be inside my head as much in a rural setting as an urban one. The question came up when I mentioned Philly, but jumped quickly to San Francisco, and got me thinking about lots of wheres. Where I've been. Where I've not been. Where I'd like to be.

And I remembered being asked earlier in the week if I was a vegetarian. That question I've heard before, but the group was different. I'm not, but I do typically go for the vegetable-rich choice in certain situations. The best way I can explain it is that I don't trust everyone with my meat products, although that's somewhat incomplete. It's also that I know I'm not great about eating all the veggies I should at home, so when there is a ready-made option available, I'll go for it. I know a good thing when I see it! I'm not sure why vegetarian is the first thought, but the question never surprises me anymore. It amuses me sometimes, because there was a time when I strongly considered being vegetarian. I like bacon too much to give up meat entirely.

What do the two questions have to do with each other? Is there a reason I was presented with both in one week? Of course there is, and I may not figure out what the reason is in this lifetime. In the meantime, they've had me thinking about me -- what I like and don't like, especially. I like pop music, rock, classical, country, contemporary Christian, rap.... I like music, and to be surrounded by it. I like silence, and the way it envelops me, and also the way it enhances odd noises, natural noises that music and talk might block. I like to talk and to listen. I like to be listened to. (Both of this week's questions were asked by people who listened to my responses. Really listened. It's a rarer thing than it should be.) I like to drive. I like to create, to put things in order. I like to drink wine, and whiskey, and tequila in mixed drinks. I like to drink water, without ice or lemon. I like food. I like to run, to dance, and to work out. I like to explore -- both my surroundings and my own thoughts and ideas. I like to laugh, to cry, to feel. I like to be near the water -- salt water, specifically, though I like lakes and rivers, too. I like seasons. I like the feeling of a hand in mine, an arm around my shoulders or waist, and the squeeze that acknowledges some private understanding. I like knowing deep in my heart that I'll have that one day. I like sitting on my bed at the end of the day, knowing that I have lived that day.

I'm not a city girl, although I would be very happy there. Nor am I a country girl, per se. I'm not a vegetarian, though I may choose vegetables over any other choice from time to time. I am me, through and through, and more so than even a year ago. A dear friend told me this week "You're doing so well at this life thing!" The truth is, I like this life thing. In fact, I love it. That's somewhat new to me. I actually have one these days! All is well, here in suburbia, and would be equally well in a city, in the country, with vegetables, or with bacon.

It's a matter of finding the beauty in the every day, even the mundane. Thank you for asking.

on my way

Last week in small group, we started talking about those things we always wanted to do, to learn, to try, and whether 'now' is a time to consider them again. Our small group leader talked about getting his motorcycle license a few years ago, after many, many years of thinking about it. Since I've always wanted one, too, we talked a little about the process here. Someone else in the group pointed out that I'd been painting - choosing colors, prepping, enjoying the entire process. And it gave me the courage to think about old dreams; dreams I'd thought were lost, or at the very least, relegated to the darkest corners of my memory, only to be brought out in that 'someday' time when my grandchildren are thinking about what to do with their lives, and I am there to offer the advice that would make my own children crazy.

Growing up, I always knew I wanted to be a mom; that's no secret. No one, and I mean no one, considered it a career option I should dedicate myself to. After a while, I tried keeping it to myself so I could explore options, at least on paper, and I found myself truly interested in a variety of fields. I wanted to be a dancer. I wanted to study international law. I wanted to continue with my French and Spanish studies, and work at the UN as a translator. I wanted a job that had me traveling the world, but also gave me the opportunity to be available, always, to my children. I wanted an office with my name on the door and an assistant who would show people in, because I wanted to be able to say, "No, I don't know that person. Send him away." I wanted to be a photographer. I wanted to live out of a suitcase because the world was my home. I wanted to make things, paint things, envision things and see them come to life. I wanted to work for an organization like Make-A-Wish, Habitat for Humanity, Ronald McDonald House. I remember once, to my mother's horror, saying that my dream job would have me wearing a cap and carrying a clipboard. [at the time I was watching one of the first FedEx commercials] I wanted to be a helicopter pilot. I wanted to ride horses, to live near the water. I wanted to study psychology, and be a social worker.

Sitting in that small group, all of my dreams washed over me, gently, soothingly, and I admitted what was most on my heart. I was discouraged from all of my biggest dreams; not always directly, and not always logically, but I was a kid. And a kid bent on pleasing somebody - anybody. Unfortunately, no one had ever encouraged me to be me, to understand that I have worth, that my dreams matter. No one told me that I matter. I don't even know if anyone 'in authority' knew that I was terrified of auditioning - so much so that when I came to the realization about a year ago that an audition is very similar to a job interview, I nearly fainted. Instead, I was reminded that I "hated school" (a half-truth; I hated not being myself, and being a teenager, it was safe to blame school); UN appointments were relatively short-term; work travel and family don't mix; I wasn't taking a science; non-profits don't have paid employees; "none of these options are appropriate for an intelligent and attractive young woman like you." None of my dreams were appropriate for me.

Being a mom has been the most rewarding and challenging career choice. It's not been without its sacrifices, and I would not change any of the choices I've made. Are there things I wish had turned out differently? Some. However, the truth is, They are fine young men, amazing to watch in everything they do, and I'm honored to know them. They've taught me more than they will ever realize, and because of them, I will be able to finally, somehow, follow some of my dreams. Because of them, when I look at all the dreams I had (when I was right where they are now), I realize that my real ideal - what I shared with my small group - is somewhere in the family of project management for an organization like Habitat. I was afraid to share the realization with them, but suddenly the air was alive with ideas, suggestions, affirmations. I was surprised, and taken aback. I don't recall ever having been in so supportive a spot. These new people in my life, with whom I share rather tenuous connection, told me where where they saw the connections in my life to this newborn dream. And they made me feel loved. In the space of minutes, they had me working internationally, on a schedule that fit my entire family, as well as all the fun things I like to do: dance, sew, write, paint. In those moments, they gave me a clipboard, a cap, a passport full of stamps, and a couple of new languages. A sense of being, and gave my wildest dreams life. More than even encouraging me, they supported me. My heart and I are on our way.