Joys

Sunsets

/ Sheila / 1 Comment

A shared sunset, Kauai, HI, 2010

Rob is driving down the West Coast. He’s taking his truck to Prescott, AZ, where we have an RV stored. I’ll travel down next week and join him for the last couple of days’ drive.

But tonight he’s enjoying a sunset without me. I’m on the coast of Alaska; he’s on the coast of California. He sends me a text, “Beautiful sunset.”

The front windows of the house look out on the waters of the Tongass Narrows, and we’re fortunate to enjoy sunsets any day it’s not raining. Some are more photo-worthy than others, of course. You don’t get the perfect scene every day!

But the most important component of memorable sunsets is not the view. It’s the viewers. My favorite viewing partner is a long way from me tonight. Sometimes life is like that, and you have to watch a few sunsets on your own.

I’m looking forward to next week, to seeing the sunset in Arizona. Together.

If you’re fortunate enough to be with your sunset viewing partner, enjoy! And if not, like me, you have something to anticipate. Here’s to the good stuff, and best of all, recognizing the good stuff when it happens.

In the company of women

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My friend calls to see if I want to go to dinner…”girls’ night out.” Usually we get together on a week night so we don’t impact weekend family time. We all work, so weekend time is premium, and everyone respects that. And somehow, dinner out on a week night seems like an extra special treat. Nice to know I don’t have to think about what to make for dinner, just about what to order. As much as I love puttering around the kitchen and stirring up my favorite foods, I’m always appreciative of someone else doing the cooking.

There’s no set schedule for these outings. Sometimes we’ve made it a monthly event, but it’s always casual, determined by travel demands and how hectic life is for each of us. There are times when adding anything, even something that should be fun, is just too much. Some weeks are like that. Some months are like that.

We come from diverse backgrounds, this little group. All my adult life, I’ve been fortunate to have girlfriends. For a long time, the primary bond was formed through my children. You know, you meet the moms in your kids’ circle, in the carpool group, through youth group, soccer, etc., etc., etc. In more recent years, post children, and after a couple of relocations, my friendships grow out of work relationships or other ties, but I’m no longer connected through kid activities.

Although we are of similar ages, some of us are in the empty nest phase (me) and others still have kids at home. Our conversation reflects this. I now talk about a grandchild, and celebrating her first birthday. I have a son-in-law, a daughter-in-law. The women who are a bit behind me, either in age or in life cycle, still have school events to plan for, graduations, college. But regardless, we’re close enough in experience that we speak each other’s language.

The little circle of friends I have here comes from all over: Colorado, Arizona, Utah, Mexico, Washington, the mid-West. Alaska casts a wide net, drawing people for many reasons. Most of my friends came here with husbands, but a few came alone and have made a home here, drawn by the adventure, the beauty, the uniqueness of the state.

We talk about the same things that women everywhere speak of: family concerns, work, hobbies, new finds, frustrations, the next trip out (when you live on an island, travel is always a big event and commitment, both in time and money). Husbands. Children. What broke recently and how much it cost to fix it. Sometimes we share from the heart, expose bits of ourselves to the others. Sometimes the evening is all laughter and fun. But always, there is awareness that for a few hours, we are women as well as wives, daughters, mothers, employees. Actually, we are girls, and on a good night, diners at the tables around us smile as they recognize the camaraderie that occurs in the company of women. We giggle, tell our stories, sympathize, encourage, hug, share appetizers and desserts, tell each other we’ll do it again soon. Most nights we leave the restaurant just before the staff closes up, realizing guiltily that it’s late and tomorrow is a work day.

But no matter, that’s part of the charm. When you’re with girlfriends, enjoying “girls’ night out,” you don’t watch the clock or notice the passing time. You’re just celebrating the moment. Here’s hoping you have good women in your life. (And if you happen to be a guy reading this, just change the references from female to male. It’s good for men to bond too, and I hear that sometimes happens.)

Tulips

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Tulip, 2005 Floriade, Canberra

The color of spring

I pass by the floral department in the local Safeway and see the spring flowers with all their vibrant colors. The daffodils, hyacinths, tulips are on display, and walking up to choose a bunch for my table, I catch the fragrance of springtime.

In my current mode of cleaning and and preparing to move, I’ve given away the few potted plants I had here. I have three small flower beds outside, but of course those plants will stay with the house. No digging up and transplanting for me.

To take the place of green and growing plants, I’ve been buying cut flowers for my table. I have a different color of bulb every week. Sometimes I’ve mixed colors of tulips, or had a bouquet of a single hue. The deep purples and milky white flowers are stunning together, and make a showy centerpiece. I also like the freshness of pink tulips. Seeing a big double bunch spilling out of their vase in the morning brings a smile to my face.

I made a decision recently that I know would be scandalous to my 89-year-old grandmother. I’ve determined that I’m not going to have indoor plants again. For a person who comes from a long line of green thumbs, mine is surprisingly, disappointingly, brown. I can grow flowers outdoors. But when I bring a plant inside, it’s just a matter of time. I know it, and the plant knows it.

And here’s the thing. With my new-found freedom from potted plants, if I’m traveling for a week, I just don’t buy fresh flowers. Nothing invested, nothing lost. And since I’m at the grocery every week, any time I need to add a splash of color, it’s easy enough to do. Cut flowers liven up my dining room in a way that a potted plant never did. And they last amazingly well. I can keep a bouquet for almost a week.

I do like a fresh cutting of rosemary or basil on a regular basis, and I plan to put those outdoors in my next location. But I’m making a pact with myself right now. When I move, I’ll put effort into plants outside. But I’ll let the grocery florist do the work for the inside. Should be a pretty even trade, when I think about the number of plants I’ve bought and killed over the years. At least there’s no surprise when you buy cut flowers. You know they’re going to wilt and turn brown within a week. I guess, to be fair, I always knew that about the potted plants too…the timing was a bit more uncertain, depending on the heartiness of the plant. But the outcome was never in doubt!

So here’s another little declaration of independence: I don’t need a potted plant to make me feel at home, or to create a warm environment. I do need color and freshness. But like many things in life, there’s more than one way to fulfill the need. I’m focused on freeing myself from things that have taken my time, held me back, kept me in a maze, and not returned the investment I’ve made. Potted plants fit in several of these categories. It’s a small step, but one of several I’ve taken recently. And even better, voicing it out loud validates my decision, tells me I’m letting go.

It’s going to be a great spring. See you at the floral counter!

Choosing, not settling

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Life is complicated. Few things, indeed, are perfect. Certainly no relationships meet that standard. So what does it mean to accept imperfections, or even differences, in another person? And does acceptance mean that you settle?

We’re initially drawn to others for the positives: the things we have in common, the personality traits or the physical characteristics that we admire in someone. Humor. Kindness. Creativity. Attractiveness. Love of adventure. Intelligence. Emotional maturity. Energy. Ambition. In the beginning, it’s all good. There is excitement in each connection, in every conversation. There’s so much to be explored, to be revealed.

In the beginning of a relationship, there’s big talk. Life, death, history. It seems like you could talk forever.

But eventually, the everyday crowds in, and the business of life takes over. After 29 years of marriage, we don’t tell each other our history. We don’t have to; we’ve lived it together. And we long ago shared our opinions and beliefs of many of the big life questions. We’ve had some evolution over time. But still, for the most part, we know who we are as individuals, and who the other person is.

We have some differences in our views. Differences in what we deem important. We have this conversation: have we just settled? Are we in a rut of relationship? We shouldn’t be clones. My life coach says, “If two are the same, one is unnecessary.” Meaning, unless you’re into having a spare of everything, you don’t need two people who are exactly the same. The differences add the spice, the variety, make the relationship unique among relationships.

I believe that in the end, we choose the significant others in our lives as much for their faults as for their good traits. Yes, at first, we’re drawn to someone by what we have in common and by their positive qualities. But after we see the negatives peek through, there’s a different process that occurs. Whether we recognize it or not, whether it is done subconsciously or not, there is a second process of selection, and this one is based on the negatives. We begin to determine what we can live with. As in, yes, there are things about Rob that annoy me, that irritate me. There are ways we are different. And I know, because over the years, he’s given me a hint or two about this, that there are things about me that frustrate him. I am not perfect for him. He is not perfect for me.

But I have chosen, not settled. Long ago, I saw the heart of this person that drew me. We were babies then, not even out of college. I don’t know how we beat the odds to survive this long. Somehow we did. It hasn’t been easy. We’re not perfect together. But we have created a dance between the two of us. It’s a unique dance, one that only we two know the steps to. I know when he’s having a bad day and needs quiet. I see him when he’s singing to oldies with the music cranked up so I worry the neighbors will complain. He knows when I am in sync, at peace. He sees me when I’m troubled and unhappy. He bears with me.

He’s turning 50 in a few weeks. We talk about a birthday plan. Should we go somewhere? Just the two of us? What does he want? I tell him I don’t care. It’s his special day. But I will choose to be with him, wherever he is. I chose long ago, and I’m still choosing.

It’s good now and then to revisit this in my mind. To know that I choose. To know I am not settling for what’s in front of me, just because the relationship exists.

As you think about your life, your commitments, I wish you the same peace, the same assurance. I wish for you the the certainty that comes from choosing for yourself, with full knowledge of the good, the bad, and the unique. And remember, if two are the same, one is unnecessary.

April Saturday

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Ketchikan, Alaska from the east channel of the...

Ketchikan

Here in SE Alaska, spring sometimes forgets to behave as the season it is and moves back and forth between late winter and early summer. Actually, that’s pretty typical any time of year. This is a place where the weather really can change dramatically in five minutes. We’ve had sun/rain/sun/rain/sun today. At the moment we’re back to sun, but it probably won’t last.

But it was clear enough for a lunch-time walk down to Burger Queen, a little local dive of a place that has great food, milkshakes, and a tiny dining space. I think there are a total of five tables in the whole place. For anyone who knows Ketchikan, it’s located next to the tunnel on Tongass, before you pass through and enter the “downtown” part of the community.

Burger Queen makes a “Seattle Burger” and a Polish sausage sandwich “Solidarity” that is our standard order when we eat there. We order one of each and split them. Sometimes we add onion rings for a perfect Saturday lunch. This is the kind of place that’s been open for decades and multiple generations have experienced. Nothing fancy about it, but when you eat there, you know you’re getting authentic food…no chain menu, no fancy dining area, no waiters coming to your table to introduce themselves. No, you just sort out what you want from the big menu on the wall, then give your order to the kid at the cash register; you can see into the small kitchen just beyond the counter.

We’ve taken our kids and other guests to eat here. It’s a small experience, but the kind of place that I know we’ll talk about years from now, as in, “do you remember the little burger joint in Ketchikan?”

I’ll remember it, for the burger and the atmosphere, but mostly, because it was a place we experienced together. And whether it’s a big event or a simple lunch, sharing is the charm that adds the magic, even to a little lunch dive in Alaska.

Happy Saturday!

Unconditional love or approval?

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I recently read a book that was amazing. Kitchen Table Wisdom, by Rachel Naomi Remen, MD, was first published in 1996. Somehow I missed it when it came out, all those years ago, and just stumbled across it one Saturday afternoon when I was rambling in a local bookstore. I actually bought a small gift book edition, a condensed version of the full text. I found the writing moving and insightful.

I eventually discovered, when I mentioned the little book to Rob, that he had the full text edition in his books, stored in the basement. I hadn’t even realized I had read an edited version. I dug it out and read the whole thing in a few short sittings.

The book is a combination of personal reflections based on the author’s life and stories of wisdom drawn from her experience and years as a physician and counselor. There are many pearls of insight, but the one that was most meaningful to me is this:

Children can learn early that they are loved for what they do and not simply for who they are. To a perfectionistic parent, what you do never seems as good as what you might do if you just tried a little harder. The life of such children can become a constant striving to earn love. Of course love is never earned, it is a grace we give one another. Anything we need to earn is only approval.

Few perfectionists can tell the difference between love and approval. Perfectionism is so widespread in this culture that we actually have had to invent another word for love. “Unconditional love,” we say. Yet all love is unconditional. Anything else is just approval.

“Anything else is just approval.” That’s a challenging filter to pour my emotions through. Digesting this made me consider all the people in my life that I love. It can be a bit complicated to sort out all the reasons we love, and what feeds that emotion. This is not just an issue for parents and children. The principle applies to spouse, extended family, friends.

Of course the people in our lives may do things that may please us, or not. But the question is really less about what others do and more about how we respond. As a parent of young children, I always encouraged my kids to do their best. But I admit, what I often meant was “I know you can do better than that.” And the reality is that I was probably right when I had those feelings. They probably could have done better. But bottom line, the challenge was to take whatever they did and see the positive in it. Sometimes I got that, sometimes not. I believe, overall, I was able to escape being a perfectionist parent, but not because I completely understood the difference between love and approval. Maybe that was a grace that I was given, and in turn was able to extend.

It’s a fine line we walk….navigating between approval and love. Of course, I believe these two things can exist together, and should. I can choose to love, even when someone in my life is behaving in a way I don’t approve. Maybe the resolution comes when I recognize that although I may be the center of my own little universe, the people in my life are not obligated to behave in a way that I approve. No. They will make their own decisions and choices. As someone who is part of their universe, I may have an opinion about their actions. But it is my choice whether I love, or don’t love. I don’t get a choice when it comes to behavior. That’s their choice.

What about you? Are you loving the people in your life? Or just approving of them? Is there behavior that crosses the line? Spouses divorce. Rifts occur. Family members let go of others, quit speaking. I’m not saying there should be no boundaries, or that loving someone means you become a door mat. But it’s worth thinking about.  I want to be honest with myself. And I want my standard to be love, not just approval. And I hope that I’ll be given the same grace.

Crossover

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It’s an interesting thing to watch people grow up, especially if the people happen to be your own children. You see them through all the early stages, through the cute baby and childhood years. Then comes the teen era, and while I admit that my two were easy teens, it was still a challenging period in our lives. And now they are in their 20s, 23 and 27.

This summer, we will have our five-year anniversary of being empty-nesters. Hard to believe it could already be that long since we had kids at home every day. Stephanie and Matt will have their 5th anniversary in June, and Alex will end his five-year contract with the Army in August.

Through these years, I’ve seen a lot of changes in them. They were good kids…but they were kids. Now, they have not only taken on adult responsibilities, they have crossed into the adult world in maturity. Not that they’re all done. Oh no, none of us is ever a completely finished human being. That’s part of the magic of humanity. We get to continue the process of re-inventing, of self-discovery, maturing, throughout life. Circumstances change around us and cause us to respond. Or maybe the change is self-generated. But the point is, we have an almost infinite capacity to grow. And that’s a good thing.

I sometimes hear them complain about work issues, someone not doing their job or doing it poorly. Alex has experienced the loss of a number of friends, casualties of war and life. That’s a growth experience a lot of people don’t have at his age. He spent a year deployed to a combat zone in Iraq, and that shaped him too.

Stephanie, 7th grade math teacher, brave soul that she is, is frequently saddened by the turmoil she witnesses in the lives of her students. And she’s caught between expectations of her as a teacher and the burden of having 30+ kids in class several times a day. And she’s taken on the joy and journey of being mom to Riley, in itself guaranteed to furnish a lifetime of growth opportunities.

I’ve seen them mature in their marriages too. That’s another area no one is ever done with. If you’re married, you’re challenged. Not because of the specific person you’re married to…because you are with another human being. No two are alike, no two are always in sync, and no two are perfect. And young marriages are by definition a work in progress. Actually any marriage is a work in progress.

But what I hear is not the complaints or frustration. I hear two people who understand if you take on a job, you need to step up, do it right (or as best you can). They understand that actions have consequences, that adults do the responsible thing. That applies to relationships and to work. They get that life isn’t always fun, although it often is. They’ve learned to value the income they earn, and understand they are paid because of the effort they put in. We’re not subsidizing their lives or their choices. And that’s a good thing.

And the best part? Rob says we’re just consultants now. That’s our role. Of course we’ll always be their parents. But most of the time we get to be friends with these two great young adults.  Making the transition from parent to friend has been a gradual process; not consciously sought, but so rewarding. This is the part you can’t foresee when children are little: how sweet it is to see them on their on path to becoming, in spite of the parenting mistakes and mis-steps. This is not bragging, you understand. In fact, it’s astonishing to me that two small beings, put into the hands of naive twenty-somethings, are stable young adults. And that’s the real payoff for all the years of work, lost sleep, taxi service, school events, youth group, soccer practice, etc., etc., etc. It’s a good place to be, and I’m honored to have a front row seat from which to witness, cheer, and encourage them on their way.

Yum, doughnuts!

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Krispy Kreme 10

Krispy Kreme Hot Light

I caught a few minutes of a Food Network program that was profiling snacks, one of which was Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. Gave me a flashback to when we lived in Colorado and a Krispy Kreme store opened near our favorite mall. We lived in the foothills above Denver, one of the most beautiful places I know. Genesee, a little community in unincorporated Jefferson County (JeffCo) was home for many years. It was a perfect place to live, high above the city, and the lights at night were beautiful. We had an amazing view of the mountains and could see a range of snow covered peaks by looking out our windows.

Ok, got sidetracked there…this post is about doughnuts. The important point of where we lived is that it was just far enough from our favorite mall, Park Meadows, that we needed a doughnut snack to make the drive home complete. When the Krispy Kreme store opened, any time we stopped by, there was a long line of cars waiting at the drive through window. Of course you could go in and buy at the counter. You could also watch the doughnuts being made, going through the process of rising, frying, then riding through the waterfall of glaze, before coming out on the other end, ready to be eaten in a few bites of warm gooey deliciousness.

The important thing to know about Krispy Kremes…if you ever see the hot light on, you must stop, whether you need to, mean to, want to, even if you just started a diet…this is an imperative! The hot light indicates that doughnuts are in production at that moment. If you haven’t experienced a freshly cooked doughnut, then you haven’t had a doughnut. I won’t claim that Krispy Kremes are the best doughnut in the world. I haven’t sampled all the options. But it is the only brand I’ve ever had warm, right out of the fryer; and that you can regularly have them fresh and hot is enough to make them a favorite with me.

So this is my suggestion for a great afternoon of retail therapy: take two fun kids along, shop your heart out, have dinner at your favorite burger place, then end the day with a box of warm Krispy Kremes. You have to have at least one on the ride home, and then one or two for breakfast the next morning (they reheat nicely with a quick microwave zap). Not sure what is more delicious: the doughnuts, or the memories. Here’s to you, Stephanie and Alex! Thanks for being part of those afternoon trips, those rides back home. And next time we’re together, let’s get some doughnuts.

Pain of parting

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Shoes in a shop

 

I’m going through a painful process as I sort and thin possessions. Yes. I am parting with some of my shoes. Imagine mournful music playing at this point.

A love of shoes is a common weakness for women. Maybe for some men, but I’ll confine myself to generalizations and stereotypes of my own gender here. I am definitely not alone in this. Visit any shoe store and the selection for women is much larger than for men. I feel very proud of myself if I only choose three or four pairs of shoes when I pack for a weekend. I’ve known some women to need a whole suitcase for shoes for a week. I quickly say to myself, “I’m not that bad!” But of course these things are all relative. My husband can’t understand why I might need multiple pairs of black shoes for a trip. But while the color may be the same, the style is different. Who would put black heels with an outfit that needs black flats?! But he never really gets these subtleties.

What I really struggle with is giving up favorite pairs of shoes. I used to love Pappagallo shoes, and had a quite a collection in my closet. Then I lost my source for buying that brand. But although I bought the last pair in the early 90s (can’t believe my son was in 1st grade at the time, that really puts this in perspective for me) I’ve never been able to give up any of them. Not that I still wear them. No, they’re dated enough that I would feel strange about that. But they’re Pappagallos! And because I have kept my shoes in their original boxes and I’m careful to wipe down and polish, even shoes from that era still look almost new. But really, I’m not stocking items for a museum. And if I’m not going to dress in vintage clothing, why am I still hauling them around?

So, I have a multi-step plan. First I pull out anything that is even remotely questionable. I can part with two pairs using this filter. Then I look again and try to determine if there are classic styles that I haven’t been wearing that I really would put back into use. You know, sometimes you just transition to newer items because they are new, not because the older things are out of style or too worn. So I determine that another two or three pairs of low heeled pumps really are wearable, and looking at online shoes stores, could have been purchased yesterday. So I was right all along about classic styles…they really do last, or come back into fashion!

So that leaves me with a dozen or so pairs of shoes that I am struggling to give up. I know, realistically, they won’t be coming back to my clothing rotation. I did get a lot of use from them at the time. Now I just have to steel myself and let go. I look at the colors and the lines of the shoes, I remember times I wore them or outfits I paired them with. Something that seemed like a routine chore is surprisingly poignant, because suddenly this is not about getting rid of old shoes at all. I’m walking through an era of my life when I was in my early 30s and I had young children. I had a different life. Rob and I were the young parents. We had a lot before us.

Now I am a grandmother of an almost-one-year-old, and I have a lot of old shoes. I have new ones too. My life hasn’t stood still. And if I have a few moments of nostalgia for the past, I can shake it off and remind myself that today is good too. But it’s funny to me how out of the blue, in a stab of realization, these gains and losses are defined all over again, and by unexpected catalysts. Who would have thought cleaning out my shoes would take me to 1st grade, or soccer games, or the office I worked in at the time? Or the trip Rob and I made to New York? Or a house I once loved?

One of my favorite quotes says, “You’re never safe from surprise till you’re dead!” Well, sitting in the middle of my closet floor, surrounded by the past, cleverly disguised as shoes, I experience surprise at how sharp and sweet the memories are. But I look again and realize that I am keeping the memories, the really sweet stuff. It’s the shoes I’m cleaning out. My heart will still be able to go back and visit those times, at moments that I choose, or need to. The scenes in my mind are still there, tucked away. But I can let go of the shoes. That’s not where I live; they’ve outstayed their welcome, and it’s time to send them on their way.

Child of morning

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As a child of night people, I grew up believing I was also a night person, and for the first many years of my life, I tended to sleep in (whenever possible) and stay up late (every night). I remember my dad saying once, somewhat wistfully, that he hated to give up the day. He and my mom were able to be productive until midnight,  or even later, and were quite happy with that routine.

But for some years now, I have known that my natural rhythm is rooted in the calm of early morning. The stillness of the house at 5:00 am is a gentle usher into activity, the routine beginning of getting out the door. There is no better start to a hectic schedule than drinking my coffee and watching the sun come up. I know those moments are a precursor to the day’s pace, and in 2011, the pace is brisk. But the morning is a time of gathering myself, centering, preparing. I’m not going out to do battle! Let me hasten to say my life is not filled with conflict. It is filled with commitment….commitment to people, work, errands, to dos, information. The barrage of tasks, meetings, technology, obligations, desires…these things take their piece of time and energy.

Early morning is a great time to contemplate the workings of life. I don’t often find answers; mostly I think of new questions as I sit staring at the water and outline of the mountains appearing in the dawn. But even with questions and without answers, the peace of the moment reassures me. And that is the gift of early morning. I recognize that life begins anew each day. Circumstances don’t change overnight. But I can be new, face life with refreshed energy, renewed hope, a desire to try again.

There is a line by L. M. Montgomery in Anne of Green Gables that says, “Tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it.” Yes, I have to live with mistakes that follow me from the day before, or the year before. Some mistakes take a while to leave behind. But the morning presents another opportunity. And when I watch the sun come up, feel the hope of the day, I see the colors of potential.

Find your sweet spot regardless of the time of day. I think recognizing your rhythm is a big step toward sanity. If you’ve been living with less of that than you’d like, try getting up early, if that’s not a part of your routine. And if you’re already an early riser, try being still at the beginning of the day. With or without coffee in hand, it’s a great way to launch.