Love

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!”

Christmas music fills the air

/ Sheila / 7 Comments

It’s that time of year again. Unlike the decorations that deck the malls, I save my Christmas music until December. Well, sometimes I sneak a few favorites after Thanksgiving. But the real celebration begins with December. I trot them all out…carols, the old traditional standbys…Bing Crosby and Mannheim Steamroller, Frank Sinatra and Christmas choirs, Celtic Woman. I love it all, from instrumentals to old folk tunes to soaring choral arrangements. For this month, my Pandora and Spotify stations are set to sentimental.

Sentimental is where my heart is…I have some old Disney Christmas CDs that take me to a time in my life when I had little kids, and the magic of making Christmas cookies and wrapping presents was a family event. Every step in the season was momentous…picking out a tree, choosing the special ornaments for the year, shopping and decorating, and the great light debate..colored or white…the favorite Christmas movies and holiday plays…each event had it’s place on the calendar. And the smells! The smell of the tree, fresh from the cold and filling the house with the fragrance of forest…it was better than baking cookies. To each his own, but if I can’t have a real tree…like this year, when we’re going to be out of town for Christmas…I don’t have anything. I can’t quite make the switch. I decorate with wreaths, and other holiday trimmings, but no fresh tree…no tree.

I listen to the soundtrack from A Charlie Brown Christmas and I’m transported. What is this time warp I’m caught in? My children have moved on, and I’m still here…here in December, loving the little trips back in time; they come in the flash of an instant, sometimes triggered by the strangest things…little, insignificant glimpses that take me, by magic, to another decade…literally to another century. The 90s were golden with the two little kids who filled my life.

Music is a touchstone to memory, and my memories are good.

I remember reading the classics to my children, books like The Polar Express, and A Christmas Carol, and  even now, years later, I’m still caught by the stories, charmed and touched by the faith of childhood. That’s the real spirit of the season that flavors everything else…faith…accented by the sounds of beloved and familiar. And for a few weeks every December, I live and re-live sweet moments from the past, and precious times of the present. This month, more than any other, blends the years and melts my heart. A little sprinkling of snow, frosty temps…all good.

December morning glory

December morning glory

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.

 

Reset

/ Sheila / 16 Comments

October, and life rolls on. Work, love, loss.

Relationships shift. Two in our family are experiencing divorce. Cross country moves, disrupted lives, sadness, renewed hope…so much change.

Through it all, we talk. We listen. We advise. We hope. We get up and do it all over again.

I feel humbled by life. The older I get, the more I think no one has it figured out. No one can fully understand or appreciate another person’s perspective, or choices. The best we can do is to be honest with ourselves, and be kind to others in the process.

Well, maybe that’s enough. Be honest, be kind. Come back to first principles. Appreciate the simple things, the sweet things. Trust that life will work out. Look for the good.

“Don’t stumble over something behind you.”

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. 

First kiss of the day

/ Sheila / 10 Comments

When my kids were little, baby and toddler stages, I kissed them frequently. One morning, picking up Alex, I said, “First kiss of the day!” as I was getting my first soft snuggle from his baby cheek. I knew it was only the first of many kisses I would give during the day, and it became a frequent phrase in my thought. Sometimes I even voiced it out loud. Mostly, it was a way of marking a brief moment, recognizing that for that day, I had the ability to scoop up my little ones and hold them close.

But things change. I rarely get to kiss them now. Distance makes that impossible. They’re all grown up, and the time of easy, daily interaction has passed.

Not long ago, I walked by the sofa where Rob was sitting and impulsively bent down and kissed him. I thought, “First kiss of the day!” Of course, I don’t have the constant interaction with him that I had with my little ones all those years ago. Most days, we are busy with work, errands, to dos. Most days we don’t have, or take, the time to just sit with each other. But I thought, in that flash of insight, why don’t I mark the moments with him? The big ones are easy to see, and we do mark those. But the little ones, the day after day ones, those slip by so easily. Mostly because we see each other as two busy adults. We know children are growing fast, and one day won’t be within easy reach for a kiss or hug throughout the day. But adults? I think even in good marriages, we just take it for granted, too often.

So my new thing…I’m going to mark the little moments more often. I’m going to try to really see the person drinking coffee with me, running errands with me. I’m going to practice saying, once again, “First kiss of the day!”

Rob’s philosophy

/ Sheila / 8 Comments

From a discussion last weekend…my philosopher at large, aka my husband, Rob…

The goal of life is hope.

The pathway to the goal is love.

The gate that obstructs the path is pride.

The key to the gate is forgiveness.

Mo betta with two

/ Sheila / 8 Comments

Rob is coming home this morning. After a week apart, my heart is singing to see him again. I tell him, “It’s mo betta with two,” a silly phrase left over from a vacation a while back.

I’m astonished to recognize, after thirty years together, that I feel stronger about him now than when we were young and “in love.” You would think we would be worn out with each other. We are in love now, but without quotation marks. We have been through nitty and gritty, through thick and thin. And truly, what relationship of any depth doesn’t weather the ups and downs? We are hardly unique.

But what I see now is that we are finally in a place to appreciate each other, to be together, without all the noise. Without the daily stress of family raising, career building, without the need to protect or reserve part of self. We are free to be ourselves, and to be together. If that sounds trite, so be it. I can’t explain it better.

These moments don’t come all at once. They build over time, and recognition is slow for me. I’ve known all this for a while. But separation makes it fresh, brings it home again. My partner is coming home. And while we are not always right for each other, we are always good for each other. We are perfect together. It’s mo betta with two.

My father’s 80th birthday

/ Sheila / 23 Comments

Today my dad would have turned 80. He died four years ago on February 1, just a few days shy of his birthday.

It is hard to believe it has been four years since that day. My mom has adjusted, as much as possible. She is busy, active, energetic, continuing to pursue their life dream of mission efforts. But she doesn’t forget, of course.

How does it work that life goes on, the current carries us on? There is no choice, that’s how it works.

I think of him often, at odd moments here and there. Little things bring him to mind, and four years down the road, the sadness is mostly gone, and sweetness is in its place. The memories are good, and I smile when I’m reminded of some funny thing he said or did. Sometimes the tears still come, often when I least expect it, surprising me that emotion can bubble up, nearer the surface than I knew.

I’ve been thinking a lot about creating passion in my life. I should say, expanding passion. There are some things I am passionate about, primarily my family. I think about my dad, and how he displayed that quality in his life.

He wasn’t a flashy person, not the cool one in the crowd. But he was a man of faith, an old fashioned faith that wasn’t about fame or fortune. He was a minister, a preacher, a missionary. He had goals for sharing his faith, and he pursued them. He spent most of his life focused on sharing his faith with others, and lived many years in foreign countries to accomplish that goal. He and my mom were partners in life and in faith, and their mission was their passion.

The last couple of years of his life he was not able to travel, except to doctors’ appointments and to hospitals. His world grew smaller, at a time when mine was expanding. It was about that time that Rob and I moved to Alaska, and we traveled a lot. I always called when we traveled, checking in. I would hear his voice, “Where are you now?” A little wistful, it seemed to me. I’m sure he was thinking of past years when he was well and able to be about his life’s work. It pricked my heart to know that he would likely not make those journeys again.

This week I’m traveling again, in Anchorage for a training, and I heard a little voice in my head as I was packing. “Where are you now?” I’m right here, Daddy, thinking of you, and wishing I could sing happy birthday to you in person. But you’re where you belong, too. I know that because I also have a faith. It is a bit different from my dad’s. My faith has not prompted me to live abroad, or to choose a missionary life. But it is there, nonetheless.

Milestone birthdays are always special, celebrated with a little extra excitement. If my dad was here, we would do a big family gathering, make a special event of the day. But without him, of course that isn’t happening. Still, I like to think that he’s having his party. I like to think that he’s off on a journey, traveling like he loved to do. And because I haven’t been on that journey myself, I ask him, “Where are you now?”

Happy Birthday to my dad. Happy birthday, Daddy.

Use what you’re given

/ Sheila / 6 Comments

I saw this recently and liked the thought…

Whatever you give a woman, she will make greater.

If you give her sperm, she’ll give you a baby.
If you give her a house, she’ll give you a home.
If you give her groceries, she’ll give you a meal.
If you give her a smile, she’ll give you her heart.