Gratitude

Happy Memorial Day!

/ Sheila / 2 Comments

To American friends and family, may your celebrations today recall the service and sacrifice of fallen heroes, present soldiers, and the veterans who have given so much for freedom. As a mom of a US veteran, I am so grateful today that I can speak to him in person rather than visit a cemetery. Blessings and heart-felt compassion for those parents who are not so fortunate.

I am visiting Williamsburg, VA, this week, and there is no more powerful reminder of the struggle to begin this country than experiencing that era in this place. May we always be free, and may we always appreciate and honor those who gave us that gift with their blood, sweat, and tears. And may we always deserve this heritage of freedom and liberty.

No defenses

/ Sheila / 19 Comments

I’m learning to live without defenses. I’ll probably still be learning this when I’m 80, or 100, or 53…doesn’t matter the age I ultimately achieve, the lesson will be ongoing, I’m sure of that. I’ve touched on this before, one of my recurring themes. It is recurring because the lessons are never-ending, and just when I think I’ve rounded a corner, there’s another opportunity to learn all over again.

And what does it mean, to live without defenses? It does NOT mean to live weak. It does NOT mean to be a door-mat, or a “yes” person, or to avoid all conflict. It DOES mean that I choose to offer grace and understanding when someone differs with me. I choose to give the benefit of doubt to intention, even to action. I choose to live strong, and to live with expectation.

Expectation is tricky. Sometimes my expectations have created disappointment: in myself, in others, in circumstances. But when the expectation is adjusted…now lowered, but adjusted…to seeing the potential that is unleashed by my actions…the real joy begins. What circumstances can I change, or impact, or better, or encourage, or simply comfort, if I act out of strength rather than defensiveness?

It’s a life-posture that’s deliberate choice, throughout my day, weaving through my interactions and thoughts.

It helps me to consider: what am I feeding myself? what am I showing those around me? how do I handle hurt, disappointment, sadness?

The only way I can make sense of life is to believe that we each have purpose, and we find the purpose and our gifts by sharing and giving with abandon. It is growth of faith. For me, the faith is in God, in the perfect grace I can only imperfectly copy, and the spark of miracle in everyday life.

The goal, the aspiration, doesn’t make me saintly, or superior…it keeps me grounded in gratitude, and challenges me to adopt an attitude of graciousness.

“Hurt people hurt people. That’s how pain patterns get passed on, generation after generation after generation. Break the chain today. Meet anger with sympathy, contempt with compassion, cruelty with kindness. Greet grimaces with smiles. Forgive and forget about finding fault. Love is the weapon of the future.” Yehuda Berg

I’ve been fortunate, and have experienced a lot more love in my life than hurt. But the lesson still applies. I can’t pretend to know how people who have suffered great injury and loss at the hands of others can adopt this stance. But I know that this is one of the secrets of the universe, and healing, paying forward, and joy, stem from this choice.

Another rabbi once said:

If you forgive other people…your Father will also forgive you  ~ The Great Physician

Forgiving, living without defenses, showing grace and patience…these words come across as passive. The behavior is anything but. I find I need much more strength to bite my tongue, to show kindness when I’m struggling, to assume the best when I suspect the worst. Am I living authentically? Absolutely not! The authentic me is not the nicest person I know. The authentic me is often grouchy, rude, intolerant, impatient, selfish…pretty, huh?

Am I living intentionally? Yes. What I choose to show the world is the person I want to be, and am trying to become. Always, always, the first thing to recognize is that this is not about perfection…I’ll never be that. I have to forgive myself as often as I forgive those around me. I don’t have life all sorted out and neatly packaged. This is about the trying, the choosing, and the goal. And that’s all it can be about. Because this is no magic formula to get what I want out of people or my circumstances. Simply put, living without defenses is the formula for changing myself.

Too blind to see

/ Sheila / 16 Comments

I was too blind to see that you were too deaf to hear me.

A few weeks ago I had a long weekend with my son in Denver. It was an overdue visit, and I treasured the time to connect in person. Although we keep a steady stream of texts and calls going, nothing takes the place of face to face.

I read a quote a few weeks back…a self-professed quote-a-holic, these things catch my eye and lodge in my mind….

“If you had an essentially happy childhood, that tends to dwell with you.”     Tracy Kidder

Motherhood was a joy to me, and I’ve written about that. I took pride in that role; not that I thought I was perfect, but I thought I was good. I was passionate about it. I loved my kids. And I was good at mothering, in many ways. I did so much for them and with them. But with this quote newly echoing in my thoughts, I asked Alex, sitting across from him in the midst of a light hearted conversation if he felt his childhood had been happy. I knew how I would characterize it.

Imagine my surprise, my dismay, when he answered no. When he said he had been bullied through much of his elementary school years, and often felt lonely. He never told me that before, and I never saw, never guessed. It never came out in parent/teacher conferences or any time through the years he was a kid at home. When I asked him why he never came to me with this, he just said he didn’t think I could help. Didn’t think his teachers could help. My instinctive response was of course I could have helped, could have changed that. But maybe with the vision of childhood, he had believed that if he made a fuss, called attention to the bullying, it would only get worse when adult eyes weren’t looking. And of course that’s when bullying happens.

Imagine the shift in my perception. Imagine my heart breaking listening to his words, telling me very calmly, and just because I asked if he had been happy as a kid.

In many ways he was a highly verbal child; as I used to say, he could talk to a post. We often had long conversations, and he never seemed withdrawn. Yet he was also a self-entertainer, spending a lot of time playing video games and building with his Lego sets. He had a few friends, kids that seemed, like he often did, a little different from the crowd.

By the time he was in 7th grade, he was coming home from school angry, and I did see that. We pulled him out of public school at the semester break, and after briefly trying a private school or two, we opted for home schooling. I cut my hours at work to spend time with him and the curriculum we chose. For the next couple of years the circle was Alex, family, youth group, soccer, and a few friends he kept from elementary school.

By the time he entered high school, in a new public school setting, he seemed to have outgrown the anger, in large part, and I put it down to the difficult transition that a lot of middle-school kids face…that most awkward time of life when you’re neither child nor adult, big or little. I thought the issues he had with school stemmed from the fact that he wasn’t really a student at heart, even though he was smart.

I noticed that he often gravitated to kids that were on the fringe, that seemed left out. And I worried a little about that. Was he not fitting in? But he also seemed popular enough, seemed well liked. I thought it was just Alex.

During our heart-to-heart a few weeks ago, he told me he had chosen to befriend the kids who were left out because he had felt that way too. He decided he could be a victim or a hero, and he chose to be a hero. I know he doesn’t trumpet his own acts of kindness because the ones I know of are the ones I discover in a round-about way. He loans money he can scarcely do without; he reaches out to people who need a friend. He’s a gentleman with an old-fashioned sense of courtesy that I love to see. He helps the lost and the old.

He’s dating again, a girl that he first met in church youth group. He first connected with her in high school because she was new to the group, and he thought she could use a friend. Now he’s the one who’s new in town, returning after six years away. And she reached out to him.

I think about things I hear…kids who take their lives because of bullying. Kids who get into substance abuse or join gangs to fit in. Kids from homes without love, without supervision. And kids from homes like ours, where the parents thought they were watching for danger, doing a good job, listening, seeing. Sometimes when you read about these kids, these children of other people, you wonder…how did this happen? Where were the parents? And without meaning to, without intentionally assigning blame, I’ve done exactly that. Even knowing that parenting is perilous and not for the faint of heart, I’ve wondered. Well, now I know, at least in part. I know bullying can happen without visible signs. Or maybe I was just blind because I thought it wouldn’t happen to my child, in our little neighborhood school, in an upscale suburb. And maybe that was the biggest miss of all…I didn’t think it could happen. I never even thought to ask if Alex’s school issues could be related to bullying. I thought it was all academic.

Thank God, we didn’t have to learn about this through tragedy. I feel sadness enough about the impact of this issue on Alex’s life. I can’t sort out what those impacts have been. But the mom in me wants to go back and relive those years…dig deeper, question the teachers…what were they seeing? why weren’t they seeing it? be more aggressive. Maybe if I had been more aware, a lot of things would be different.

When I voiced that…my gut reaction that I had failed at the most basic role of parenting, to protect the child, Alex disagreed. He’s not holding a grudge, not bemoaning his childhood. He says we taught him how to be an adult, and that was the important job we had to do. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to see it that way. That’s a part of it, but to my mom’s heart, the role of protector is still the first priority, especially in light of what I know now.

Bullying can take many forms, and obviously some kids are more affected by it than others. I know awareness has grown, and maybe there’s more help available for kids today than even a few years ago. If this post can help even one parent think about what they may be missing, ask questions, dig deeper, then some good will have come from Alex’s experience. And knowing him, he would probably think helping someone else is reward enough.

Everyone is a product of the mix of life…the good, bad, the intentional and the accidents. I know that, and I know that even if I could have protected Alex’s childhood from any scars, adulthood would bring experiences I couldn’t shield him from. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing I could have a redo. I am thankful that Alex is who he is. And I am humble. I know, all over again, that I can’t understand someone else’s situation without knowing their story. Reminds me that I need to give grace when I don’t understand. Maybe there’s a lot more going on than meets the eye. And I need to receive grace when I make mistakes. Maybe, in spite of my best efforts, I’m missing something important. In spite of my good intentions, I’m falling short.

Thank God for grace. Thank God for Alex, teaching me, forgiving my failures as a mom, and finding the good.

Healing on a beach

/ Sheila / 12 Comments

We came down to Mexico last week…an escape from late winter in SE Alaska, and a chance to see the sun and feel the warmth of a breeze instead of the buffeting of the wind. We had no plans, as usual. Most of our vacation escapes are low key…reading, resting, just being. We don’t need a lot of entertainment. We need time with no structure. IMG_0005

We vary our days between sitting by the pool, walking the beach, sleeping in and reading or catching up with on-line chores. Rob is studying for his upcoming boards test. I work on projects…designing a business card, writing a proposal. Nothing earth-shaking.

Somewhere in the resting, the recovery, we share. We talk a bit about what we’re reading, how we’re growing. We do this in our “normal” life too…of course we do. We connect on quiet Saturdays, or Sunday afternoons. But there’s something about the slow pace of a vacation week. Or maybe it’s the rhythmic presence of the ocean. Things begin to come out. We soften, open up. We become vulnerable.

We have been healing for a while now. I know the date we broke apart. It was September 12, 2010. That was the day we separated, in heart, although not quite at that moment in body. That came a little later that fall, at the end of October. What a time of awakening that was! It was a time like no other in my life, an experience that became precious to me: for the insight, for the honesty, for the truth that came out of it. IMG_0007

The funny thing is, I couldn’t tell you the exact date we came back together. It was in May of 2011. But the date isn’t branded on my heart. We just returned…to each other, to the relationship, to trying. We’re still trying.

The whys and hows aren’t important now, and anyway, wouldn’t be important to anyone but we two…I don’t need to share every detail. But I will share this: it was worth it. Every moment, every hurt, every loss. Because out of it, I grew, and he grew. We became better and stronger. As people and as a couple. It was a hard-fought battle, and to tell the truth, there are times we’re still fighting it. Maybe we always will be.

But this is my pearl of great price: I have wisdom now that came from that time of suffering. It isn’t wisdom of pride, it is wisdom of humility. I don’t have it all sorted out, neatly packaged, nicely arranged. I do my best, I make mistakes, and I forgive. And that’s all. That has been enormously freeing….just that, to know that I’m doing the best I can, and to let go of everything else. I’ve taken down my defenses. I’m standing with my hands open, my heart bare. It feels good to give, and to be open, regardless of what comes. To just do the right thing.

Just when I think I’ve come to the end of the reconciling experience…that we’re neatly put back together, that I’ve gotten my growth out of this…something else appears. It isn’t necessarily about the relationship itself, but it is as if, once I faced myself and those issues honestly, whole new worlds began to open up. Sometimes I’m inspired, and sometimes I’m so humbled.

I began this blog in the midst of heartache, at a time when I needed to stake a claim to the good of life, and to the positive. I needed to say “I will not be poisoned by bitterness.” The joy of reaching out, finding others, discovering – it has been a significant part of the healing process for me. As is my style, the next post may be some light-hearted thing…a funny cartoon, or a recipe. I’m not someone given to the depths. But now and then, just now and then, I have to acknowledge: I’ve been down, and I’ve been out. And I’m so grateful to have come through, to have found grace and peace and joy. And even now, I know, there are no guarantees. But there is hope. If there is one message I have to share, it is this: don’t give up on anyone or anything. Don’t write the end of the story before it writes itself. It may surprise you. I would never have believed, on September 12, 2010, that I would write these words today. Life is good, not perfect. Love is wonderful, not perfect. Nothing is perfect. But it’s all good.

“Yes, I decided, a man can truly change. The events of the past year have taught me much about myself, and a few universal truths. I learned, for instance, that while wounds can be inflicted easily upon those we love, it’s often much more difficult to heal them. Yet the process of healing those wounds provided the richest experience of my life, leading me to believe that while I’ve often overestimated what I could accomplish in a day, I had underestimated what I could do in a year. But most of all, I learned that it’s possible for two people to fall in love all over again, even when there’s been a lifetime of disappointment between them.” Nicholas Sparks, The Wedding

“I am not what I ought to be. I am not what I want to be. I am not what I hope to be. But still, I am not what I used to be. And by the grace of God, I am what I am.” John Newton

OOT Christmas

/ Sheila / 8 Comments

This year, like last year, we will be out-of-town (OOT – love that acronym!) for Christmas. Last year we were in Seattle, and we were with our kids. This year promises to be a little less fun…or maybe it will be more fun, you never know. But I know I’ll miss our family.

Rob is covering call for the small island clinic where he sometimes works. They are short-staffed, so we’re going over on the Sunday ferry, and we’ll set up camp in the little apartment we use when we’re working there. I’ve collected a stash of Christmasy things to cozy us up…some favorite movies, special Christmas foods, a few gifts, all wrapped and ready for the big day. But the best part is: Rob and I will be together. We’ve spent enough time apart, and although we still have to do that sometimes…I think we should never again spend a holiday apart.

Being OOT for Christmas means we’ve minimized some things at the house…simple decorations, no tree, and some of our traditions are getting a rest this year. It’s a busy weekend…we have three social events on Saturday, and then we leave Sunday morning. But somehow this streamlined holiday seems festive even without all the usual trimmings. Maybe it’s because we have a precious new grandson, born this week. Or maybe it’s the joy and hope I hear in our son’s voice…after a difficult year and hard decisions in his life, he’s finding his way, and his spirit, again. Maybe it’s because I’m thankful that our family, by and large, is well. Not perfectly healthy, and not without struggles; there are challenges. But overall, well. My mom misses my dad, but she finds happiness in her mission and her loved ones. My husband is weary, but he continues to find a way to give to the people in his life who need him, as a physician and as a person. I see updates from family on Facebook, and although social media gets its fair share of criticism, I’m thankful to be a little better connected to dear ones who are far away. I’m thankful for faithful friends and uplifting words that I read every day.

It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air.”
~ W. T. Ellis

Maybe I am finding more of the spirit of the holiday this year because there is less of the bustle. I think I’ve written three cards…and that will probably be my final tally. I used to send out lots of cards…boxes and boxes. Lights were everywhere some years…garland…some years we’ve done neighborhood parties, or hosted family. I love all that…every bit of it! But in a season without quite so much to-do, I can admit that sometimes at the end of it, I was exhausted, and just ready for a long winter’s nap.

I’m sure those times will come again. We’ll have years that it’s our turn to have our kids visit, and years that every light I can find is on display. I’ll have a fresh tree and put up all my favorite ornaments, and use my Christmas china, and make all the favorite foods. But not this year. This year it will be the two of us, and a few candles, and simple food. This year we’ll be quiet, and contented to just be.

In case you’re still looking for gifts, here is a short list of suggestions:

Christmas gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect.”
~ Oren Arnold

Merry Christmas to all. Whatever your season has brought…simple, or a year with bells on, may it be rich with the real joys of life, and may you say to those you love: “This is the good stuff!”

December wisdom

/ Sheila / 8 Comments

There’s a lot of wisdom floating around this time of year…I can find advice on how to create a magical Christmas, or how to experience a calm and serene holiday. There are tips for frugal giving and creative giving. There are recipes everywhere. I read how to make peace with your family, or how to find peace in spite of your family. We can all get along, or agree to disagree and not stress…whatever your point of view, there’s an article, or a blog post, or even a book, to support it.

I confess, there are times when almost all of these opinions fit my mood. I have my moments. Who wouldn’t want to create the perfect Christmas scene? Or the memorable family moment? And yet, I also want the quiet, the calm, the focus, of saying “Enough!” I don’t want to be all about the externals and neglect the important. I want to be generous, and yet not foolish…I want to do for others, but I don’t want to be undone by my efforts to do it all, have it all, be all.

So, in the spirit of seeking balance and vision during this month of magic, which is also a month of stress, consider these pearls:

Stop the glorification of busy.

Think the best of each other, especially of those you say you love. Assume the good, and doubt the bad. ~ Jeffrey R. Holland

words-heal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Practice the pause. When in doubt, pause. When angry, pause. When tired, pause. When stressed, pause. And whenever you pause, pray!

“Talking about our problems is our greatest addiction. Break the habit. Talk about your joys.” ~ Rita Schiano

 

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“Grace isn’t a little prayer you say before receiving a meal. It’s a way to live.”

“I will hold myself to a standard of grace, not perfection.”

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I am learning

/ Sheila / 11 Comments

I am learning to accept the feeling of unease that frequently settles in the pit of my stomach. I am learning to live with uncertainty, with fears, with doubt. I am learning this because in the last few years I’ve experienced:

~ living far, far from family

~ my son’s deployment to Iraq

~ my daughter’s miscarriage of her first pregnancy

~ my father’s battle, and loss, to cancer

~ the death of my grandmother

~ family torn by divorce

~ stress, stress, more stress

~ distress in my marriage

~ uncertainty about work and income

~ a house for sell that didn’t sell

~ the struggles of my adult children with jobs and life decisions

and life continues. This is my list since 2006. I’ve counted other losses and difficulties before. These are the major markers since we moved to Alaska.

And what do I say? What do I do? What can I do? I pray. I feed myself the sustaining, nurturing words of wisdom that encourage me when I need the spark of hope. I believe in belief. I believe that above all, there is goodness in the world, there is joy in the morning, there is comfort for the downcast. I count the ways I’m fortunate, and the joys that fill my life even when I’m anxious.

I tell myself that life works out. It will be all right, whatever “it” may be. Have faith. But sometimes, I falter a bit. What if it doesn’t work out? I see others whose stories don’t end well, whose lives have not worked out according to plan. What if I, or those I love, have the same experience? What if?

I face the fear, feel the physical sensation in my stomach. We’re old friends now, this sensation and me. I recognize it for what it is. It feels good to be stronger than this feeling. This isn’t a sign of bravery. It is a victory of strength, strength I didn’t know I had, strength I am growing day by day. It comes from recognition. I can only do so much, I can only do what I can do. I, who avoid conflict, am learning to confront.

Back to first principles. Do your best. Do your part. Don’t give up. Appreciate what you have. Share when you can. Believe.

Last weekend I found a site that expresses this eloquently. If you are looking for encouragement and a call to be thankful, grateful, joyful, this may speak to you.

A Holy Experience

I am learning to rest, to have peace, to keep my joy…I didn’t have to acquire it, I came here with joy ingrained in my being. But I’ve struggled to hold it, through some of life’s question marks. And even as I write this, I know that I’ll have to do this again tomorrow, and the next day, and next.

Saturday night, hearing the tsunami warning sirens, racing to throw a few things in the car before evacuating, some of these thoughts were flashing through my mind. I thought of family, plans, dreams, impacted by unseen force of earthquake. How do you plan for earthquake? For tsunami? The answer is, you really don’t. You can do so little. But you do what you can. You evacuate when you’re told to. You follow instructions. You hope, you pray. You thank God for the people, the good things, filling your life. And when the rush of the moment is over and you realize there’s no life threatening emergency after all, you promise yourself you’ll remember that flash of insight. I have so much.

I am blessed. I am grateful. And I am learning.

 

Sister by heart

/ Sheila / 12 Comments

This is a double duty post. Today I’m wishing my sister-in-law…well, I should just drop the “in-law” part…a wonderful happy birthday. JeannaLynn is my sister, a sister by the gift of marriage, and a sister of my heart.

And that brings me to the second thing I want to share with her: gratitude. Not for the first time, but for the first time in a public way, I have to thank her for saving my marriage last year. That sounds dramatic, and I am not a drama queen. But that is the truth. A few others who knew we were in distress were helpful, loving, concerned. But it was JeannaLynn who stepped in and did the thing I could not do for myself. She rescued me, and us. And I am forever grateful.

How do you thank someone who does that for you?

You thank them from a depth of gratitude you didn’t know you possessed. You thank them privately. You thank them publicly. You thank them with a humble heart.

All of these things I feel, and all of them I want to share.

The details are not important, and in any case, they are a private matter. The rescue, and the outcome, are the important points of my story. But it isn’t even my story, in particular, that is important. The important thing is acknowledging that this woman is making a difference. She, along with her husband, is counseling, ministering, saving, and bringing relief to couples who have found themselves on the brink: the brink of despair, the brink of divorce.

She speaks as one who knows. JeannaLynn had her own struggles with her marriage. She has known the depths. She’s done the hard work to change her own story, and she understands what it takes to maintain the victory. It is hard-won, and all the clichés that you regularly hear apply: you can’t take it for granted; you have to work at it every day; no relationship is immune from the toll of stress and life challenges.

JeannaLynn is a nurse, and for many years has focused on the area of obstetrics. For several years now she has taught childbirth classes at a local hospital, combining the roles of caregiver, mentor, teacher, and surrogate parent to the women who attend her sessions.

A few years ago, she decided to become a Life Coach, and she’s completed the coursework and testing to become a certified provider of coaching services. That dovetailed nicely with the work that has become her passion. Married to a minister, over the years JeannaLynn and Richard, her husband, had developed a marriage counseling ministry, working with church members who were in crisis in their relationships. A couple of years ago, they decided to do counseling full-time, and the rest, as they say, is history.

JeannaLynn and Richard work as a team, and they have been so effective in their ministry that they have a growing list of clients whose lives have been forever changed, and changed for the better, by their efforts. They step into lives and listen, teach coping skills, teach respect and value and honor. They are friends to marriages, not taking sides, but supporting both spouses in moments of turmoil. They share their story, acknowledging that relationships take tremendous energy, commitment, and focus. They also encourage couples to find the fun again, to prioritize each other, to understand that it is not easy to stay together. But it can be so rewarding, beyond belief.

In our situation, it was our unique relationship with JeannaLynn that made our progress possible. She knew us, knew our story, and was able, without taking sides or expressing judgment, to encourage, instruct, and be with us through the refining fire. She physically came to our house and spent several days, patiently listening, passionately lobbying us to see the big picture, to see each other with different eyes, to be true to ourselves, and to recognize that we could do that and hold on to the good that was between us.

We allowed her in. But she was willing to come in, and she did it with grace and honesty, with courage and respect.

Last year we were lost, and she helped us to find each other.

On the surface, we don’t look very different. But when you’ve been lost, and now you’re found, you sing in your heart. You appreciate differently. The smallest things are joys again. Old is new, and what was hard is soft.

Once I took a lot for granted. Now I take nothing for granted. I am humbled to think that I have another chance at happiness, and another chance to get it right. And for all the work that I have put into this renewal, and for all that Rob has done, I know who is at the heart of this opportunity. Thank you, JeannaLynn, from the bottom of my heart. And may this birthday be the beginning of another year of blessings, impact, and excitement as you witness the daily miracles of lives changed and hearts rescued.

JeannaLynn and Richard can be contacted at WGHJ. 

Riley is two

/ Sheila / 11 Comments

Riley turns two today. We’ve already had this little joy in our lives for two years!

She’s been in the toddler stage for a while. She runs, she climbs, she’s a big girl. Tall for her age, she looks more like a three year old. But there are still some traces of babyhood, when she’s sleepy, or tired. She says a lot of words and phrases, but doesn’t quite pronounce all the consonants yet, so you have to do a little interpretive work to follow her conversation. Still, it’s obvious that she has the family gift of gab.

She’s a bit of a foodie, fascinated at her young age with life in the kitchen. She loves to explore in the pantry, and she knows where her favorite foods live in the fridge. And she likes to stir things.

She’s a modern child, she knows how to push buttons to get things…at least some things…that she wants. She watches babies and cartoon characters on You Tube. She likes to play little games on her parents’ Kindle Fire.

She knows the word “no.” She sometimes says, “No, Riley,” as if practicing on herself. She drops the “l” in Riley (one of those consonant things), but she gets the tone jussst right.

She rides a little trike, a “Dora the Explorer” trike that has lights, turn signals, and plays music. She has a few books. Just a few! The child has her own mini library, but I like that. Always a reader myself, I love to see that potential for children.

She has a bit of a temper. She’s explored the terrible twos, wandered in and out a bit already. But she’s a happy child most of the time, and is a cheerful little companion, singing in her car seat while out and about, chattering in her Riley-speak about whatever is on her mind at the moment.

She has nicknames…”Little,” or sometimes, “the Little,” and “Poo.” She knows them too. She hears them often enough, at least from me and Stephanie. I’m not sure if anyone else uses these. But they are names of affection and play. I am “Gram” to her, although I haven’t heard her say that yet. But she knows Rob’s name, “PB,” and she says it frequently, putting the emphasis on the “P,” “PeeeBe,” she says, calling him to come and see something, or identifying him in a photo.

This little girl has made a place in my heart, effortlessly climbing in and making herself at home. The child of my child is reminding me of the joys of discovery, the value of intangibles, and the strength of ties that bind. Happy birthday, Riley girl! Happy birthday, Little!

This is a problem money can solve

/ Sheila / 10 Comments

Tonight we came home from work, and I discovered an unpleasant surprise: the load of laundry I had left going this morning had been washed with a tube of lipstick, and several things were ruined…or at best will only be salvaged with a lot of effort on my part. I think there are a few things that will be total losses. Since we’re in an apartment (for this work stint) that is somewhat sparsely supplied, there were no stain treatments with the laundry supplies. I drove back to the small grocery to see what options were available. I bought four different products, hoping that something would help.

After an hour of rubbing, scrubbing, soaking and working, I had made some progress. Enough to let the things soak while we ate dinner. While we were eating, we talked about our day, Rob in the back of the clinic seeing patients, me in the front, dealing with forms, schedules…the admin side. As I’ve said, I don’t do blood.

The other staff members are great; some of them have worked here a long time. They know everyone, and everyone’s story. I hear bits and pieces, put a few names and faces together. The last time we were here, I got a little taste of clinic life, the up close and personal view you get of patients when you sit at the front desk. But when I was here before, I was primarily training staff. I had limited exposure to the patients coming and going. Not so this trip. I’m working at the front desk, filling in until the new hire starts. It was a convenient opportunity. Rob was already scheduled to work, and it was nice that I could come along, and be paid to be here.

The view is different from the front. For the past five years, I’ve worked in healthcare administrative offices, hospital settings that put me in the healthcare arena every day. But in my role, I’ve primarily been involved with the business of healthcare. I’ve had almost no patient connection. The past few months, working with document management, and now sitting in the front office seat, I am seeing the patient population for the first time.

Of course I’ve known they were out there, real people with real illnesses. I’ve witnessed the healthcare system in a limited way for myself and my family. But we’ve been fortunate, and healthy, by and large.

Now I’m seeing, from a perspective I haven’t had before. Patients come in for everything from colds to cancer, broken bones to pregnancy. They come in all ages, shapes, sizes. This is a primary care clinic. Some patients’ stories are poignant reminders that life is fragile. Some are working the system…what can they get for pain? What diagnosis will get them a trip to a specialist in Seattle, conveniently paid by Medicaid? It is unbelievable, the parade that passes on a daily basis.

There are happy patients, women in for prenatal visits, or young parents with little ones for routine checks. There are older folks who come to be monitored for some condition, but who are generally well.

And there are the others…the ones with serious issues that usually can’t be fixed, or cured, or healed. They have too many complications, too many barriers, and many people are their own worst enemies. I often see references to behaviors that are creating the reasons patients come to be seen. But regardless of cause, self-inflicted or just an act of nature, it is a sad thing to look at people who are broken.

This afternoon I saw a man who is obese, can only walk with a walker, who looked hopeless, almost lifeless. He has a heart condition, but I don’t know what brought him in today. Regardless, he’s in bad shape. Then I saw his wife, who had come to pick him up. She is a cancer patient who had part of her jaw removed. It is unsettling to look at her. I found myself looking away, uncomfortable to see someone who has been literally defaced by her disease.

I sat tonight, eating dinner, frustrated at my own innatention to detail that allowed me to wash a tube of lipstick with the laundry. If I had only checked my pockets! And of course, several things I had recently bought were in that load.

But as we ate and talked, perspective grew. My thoughts cleared, and I realized, in the words of a friend, “this is a problem money can solve.” Worst case, I spend a little money to replace what I can’t salvage. The truth is, I’m as irritated at myself for causing the mishap as I am over the ruined clothes. I get impatient when I do foolish things.

Well, there are enough bumps in life to keep me appreciative of days that run smoothly. But no ruined laundry, fender bender, burned dinner…name your pet peeve…can compete with the sadness of serious illness, life-threatning disease, chronic pain. And so far, I’m blessed to be free of any of those conditions. So with that perspective, a little ruined laundry doesn’t seem too bad. Hey, it’s all replaceable or fixable, and non-essential. I mean no disrespect toward the value of money…I know money, or the lack of it, creates hardship too. But that’s another post. And still, in the big picture, things are just things.

I wish I could say I won’t need to be reminded of this again. But that isn’t true. I’ll be frustrated at some other slice of life in a few days, or a week or a month from now. And I’ll have to remind myself what’s important. Who’s important. And that if money can solve the problem, it isn’t really a problem after all.