Relationships

Voice of wisdom

/ Sheila / Leave a comment

Quote of the day:

Love is friendship that has caught fire.
It is quiet understanding, sharing and forgiving.
It is loyalty through good times and bad times.
It settles for less than perfection
and makes allowances for human weaknesses.
Love is content with the present,
it hopes for the future,
and it does not brood over the past.
It’s the day-in and day-out chronicles
of irritations, problems, compromise,
small disappointments, big victories
and working toward common goals.
If you have love in your life, it can make up
for a great many things that are missing.
If you don’t have love in your life,
no matter what else there is,
it’s not enough.

~Ann Landers

(I knew Ann Landers was famous for her advice column. Turns out she was also a bit of a poet.)

Here comes the bride!

/ Sheila / 6 Comments

The Fairytale

It’s summer, the bridal season: the most popular time of year for weddings. I was looking through a Bride magazine a few days ago, waiting in the check-out line in the grocery, and a beautiful dress caught my eye. No, I’m not in the market for a wedding dress. I got married almost 30 years ago. My daughter got married five years ago, and she had a beautiful gown. She doesn’t need another. Hopefully the marriage she’s in will last her.

But though I’m not shopping for a dress, I couldn’t resist looking closer at the classic and elegant fairytale image on the magazine rack. And why is that? Does the dress make the event? Is it really the show-stopper? Yes. We all want the fairytale, and the dress, the big wedding, the traditions, the special touches all combine to convince us: this will last. This is true love.

I’ve had a plethora of relationship issues swirling about me in the past few months. Multiple couples in my life, at various ages and stages of relationships, are in trouble. I don’t want to oversimplify, and there’s no one fix for all. But as I was venting about one of these situations last weekend with Rob, he suddenly smiled and said that it would be more appropriate if couples got married in construction work clothes rather than fancy dress; more true to life if the bride and groom carried tools to symbolize the never-ceasing work required to build a marriage, rather than the classic bouquet and boutonniere.

I had to smile at the thought too. Imagine, instead of the fairytale scene of an outdoor wedding on a June day, or the symbolism of ancient traditions in a church, imagine you attended a wedding all dressed up in your finest Saturday paint clothes, or the outfit you choose for yard work? What if you and the others who attend the wedding to show support and love for the couple came armed with all sorts of items to help with the daily chores of life and marriage? Cleaning supplies, budget programs, self-help books, counseling resources, babysitters? What if each couple standing up to share their vows faced a sea of people visibly committed to supporting the marriage in good times and bad, with practical, emotional, spiritual and physical assistance?

Well, it would be symbolic, that’s for sure. I understand that in fact, many couples do receive support from family and friends, and many enter marriage at an older age and with more life experience under their belts. I know that wearing one costume or another doesn’t guarantee the degree of sincerity or the ability to stick with a hard situation, through difficult times. But I think that it might make a striking impression on everyone involved if there was a visual demonstration of the work a couple commits to with their exchange of vows.

I thought about the reality of that scene for a few moments…no, it would never fly. Most brides, or mothers of brides, want the photos, the memories, the big event. And I understand that. That’s what I had, what I wanted. So I came up with a compromise concept.

Here’s my proposal: Just like the work of preparing for a party comes before the actual party, so the symbolic work of getting married should come before the celebration of getting married. The wedding would be a two-part event: the couple invites guests to join them for the ceremony and the dress code is work clothes, the grubbier, the better. Each guest is invited to bring something to symbolize a part of marriage and family. The couple shares their vows, and then there is a short break for guests and the bridal party to move on to the second stage of the wedding: the fairy tale. This re-staging of the marriage vows, complete with bridal pomp and circumstance, is the celebration and the photo-op that is the wedding portrait.

Yes, a bit cumbersome to go through a double event to commemorate a marriage. But after all, if it’s really supposed to last a lifetime, surely an extra hour or two is worth it? And what better way to impress upon bride and groom, as well as family and friends, that the foundation of marriage takes work and effort, from the very beginning? The fairytale is important too, because it symbolizes the part we all hope for: the happily-ever-after, the beautiful bride, the handsome groom, the perfect scene.

I don’t mean to imply that anyone going through relationship difficulties hasn’t tried hard enough or worked at making things work. I know a lot of people do their very best, but that doesn’t always equal happiness or the ability to last. No relationship is fail-proof. I’ve had experience of that myself: my relationship has had it’s ups and downs, some of them severe. I know a bit about difficulties, and about overcoming.

Well, this probably won’t be the new cutting edge in weddings…too involved. But maybe the next time you’re invited to a wedding, along with the traditional gift of china or crystal, linens or kitchen appliance, you can add a practical tool or two to send the message: it’s work. It’s hard work. But don’t be afraid of it. Like most things that require hard work, making a marriage out of a wedding takes energy, creativity, passion, determination, selfless giving, and a lot of luck. But the result will be worth it. So worth it.

Photo from here

What would you do in six months?

/ Sheila / 1 Comment

My husband was reading a book recently that referenced a woman who routinely considers what she would do if she only had six months left to live. Of course, if you absolutely knew you only had six months, there would be some things that would be doable that you would never actually do, outside of a mental exercise. Unless I knew, I wouldn’t quit work. I wouldn’t use all my savings, either on travel or kids or good causes. I wouldn’t drop my health insurance, or skip making my next dental cleaning appointment.

But what would I do if I knew? I’m not sure I can define a timeline…how do you determine how much time out of a six month window is enough? Enough time with your spouse, your children, your grandchild, your family? How much time would I want for myself? I think there are a few places in the world I would want to see with Rob at my side. There are some friends I would want to connect with, in person. I would want to be deliberate and intentional in my choices, in how I spent my time.

Would it be possible to use each moment wisely? And what would I want to leave as a legacy? I want my children to know I am a woman of faith: faith in God, faith in them, faith in life. Life isn’t always fair, pretty, or happy. But it is wonderful, full of surprises. I’ve learned not to write the end of the story before its time, because the ending I think I see is probably not the end that will ultimately be. And so I’ve learned that it is worthwhile to watch and to wait.

There’s a quote I like from Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood, a movie about a dysfunctional family and a daughter coming to terms with the impact of the dysfunction in her life. In one scene she is with her dad, and she asks him, “Daddy, did you get loved enough?” And I think that’s the question I would ask the people I love. I know how I feel about each one. But I would want to be sure that each one knew, from me, in my words, how I love them.

This isn’t really a morbid thing to do. I actually found it enjoyable to think about what is most important to me; about who is most important.

I’m not experiencing end-of-life premonitions, nor do I expect to lose my house to a fire, if you read my previous post. I’m really in a good place. But I am 50, and several people have mentioned to me that this was a year in their lives of introspection, contemplation, and re-discovery. I don’t think I’m naval-gazing…I like to think I’m cleaning out and re-setting myself. It’s good to evaluate and get re-acquainted after years of “keeping milk in the house.”

So, if you’re up for some introspection, right after you finish contemplating what you would save if your house was on fire (see yesterday’s post), give some thought to what you would do in your last six months. Or play with the formula…give yourself a year, shorten the time frame…it can be your exercise to design as you choose. I think it’s worthwhile to consider. Just don’t get carried away and turn in your resignation. Chances are you’ll be around far beyond the time you allot yourself!

My Dad

/ Sheila / 6 Comments

A friend was saying yesterday that she had to get out and buy a Father’s Day gift to get in the mail. I don’t have that task; my dad died in 2008.

If I was sending a gift to him, I would choose music. He loved music and shared his love of many types of music with his family. As a small child I remember him bringing reel to reel tapes home. Many nights I would fall asleep hearing music playing in the house. We listened to folk, learning the songs of Peter, Paul, and Mary; the Seekers; The Brothers Four; The Kingston Trio. We learned the words and tunes of movie musicals: My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music, Fiddler on the Roof, Funny Girl. He loved bluegrass and country music. I grew up on Johnny Cash, Johnny Horton, Charley Pride, Marty Robbins. He introduced me to Ricky Skaggs and the music of Alison Krauss.

Car trips always included favorite music, and many songs are ingrained in my brain from listening to the same tapes over and over again. It didn’t matter if the music was cutting edge or not. It was family music, part of the personal library of favorites that were always popular, whether new or something from my dad’s youth.

Over the years, music was my most frequent gift to him, because I knew it would never be a wrong choice. Once, when he and my mom visited us in Colorado, I got tickets to an Alison Krauss concert at Red Rocks, the amazing outdoor amphitheater at the edge of the front range foothills. We enjoyed a beautiful evening under the stars, listening to wonderful performers share their art. It’s something I’m glad I did with him, for him.

I saw my dad connect with others through music. Besides our immediate family, he and his youngest brother enjoyed a lot of the same artists, and I heard many conversations between them about favorite tunes. He also shared personal favorites with friends. It was a bonding tool for him, but one that he used out of pure pleasure, not for any other type of gain.

I love music too, and although I’m not always up to date, when I find something new, I want to share it. I mention a song or artist to my husband, to my kids, put something on my blog, find the song on Pandora. But there is a part of me that always wants to call up my dad, to say, I found something beautiful, you have to hear it. I find myself wishing I could share with him, my first music buddy. Sometimes, even yet, I can’t believe that it’s not possible to do that.

My dad shared many things with many people: his faith, his love of beauty, his love of flowers; his interest in history and national parks. If I had to say that any one thing defined him, I would say it was his faith. But a close second would be his life-long love of music, and that was a gift I could sometimes give back to him.

Thank you, Daddy, for giving to me. Thank you for creating the desire to give back, to share.

Happy Father’s Day, 2011.

J.C. Choate, 1932 ~ 2008

A position of strength

/ Sheila / 4 Comments

There are some people in my life who are struggling, who are hurting. This song is about someone who has survived loss and found a position of strength. This isn’t my usual style, although it is beautiful. But sometimes life makes us face gritty reality. Blessings to those who need it; may you find your way, your own position of strength.

Peace and goodwill

/ Sheila / 5 Comments

You cannot add to the peace and goodwill of the world if you fail to create an atmosphere of harmony and love right where you live and work ~ Thomas Dreier

This was my favorite quote last week. At first glance it seems simplistic and even needless to say that peace and goodwill have to begin at home. Where else could it begin? And yet you can turn on any tv news program or tune in talk radio and easily recognize that many people are not concerned with peace and goodwill anywhere, at home or world wide. And why is that?

Yes, there are times when conflict is unavoidable. And there are times that discord doesn’t rise to the level of conflict, but there is an absence of harmony and love.

Once upon a time I lived in an atmosphere of discord. I’m sorry to say that I caused a lot of it myself. I allowed my irritation and frustration to bubble up on a regular basis…never with people I worked with, or with friends. But sometimes with my kids, and most often, with my husband. Without seeking conflict, I regularly felt on edge, and was quick to adopt a defensive attitude.

At some point, I recognized that this wasn’t the person I wanted to be. I don’t recall now what specific circumstance triggered my breakthrough. But as I began to change myself, to choose to be different, it was easier and became natural to have a giving and forgiving spirit, a soft tone, and to brush off things that once raised my irritation level to red in the flash of a moment.

I learned to ask myself “how does this help?” as a filter for my words and actions. I’ve referenced that tool before, and I have to say it has been the single most useful internal check I have found.

Recently I have struggled with another facet of this behavior. I was reading about personality styles and specifically about passive personalities, and I began to question if the changes I have made in my behavior have made me a doormat, a passive person who takes refuge in agreement for the sake of agreement.

I fully acknowledge that I am not someone who seeks confrontation, so there is a piece of the passive personality that I identify with and recognize. However, the change in attitude and behavior that I am describing is actually anything but passive. Initially it took a lot of effort and self-control to change myself, and even now, years later, I practice these skills. I am active in my choice to bring harmony to my home as much as possible. The side benefit that I’ve received out of that choice, ingrained now by the habit of years, is that I rarely have to work at a loving attitude, a soft response. I have chosen that there are few things worth battle in my home and in my family relationships. I have chosen to foster harmony and joy.

It didn’t come easily at first. And there are still times when my natural instinct would be to react, to snap back at something that is irritating or frustrating. And this is not a declaration of perfection on my part. I still have moments, and if I don’t make some mistakes, I make others. But the point is: I’ve learned the secret. And the secret is choice.

If your world is not what you would like, make a choice. It has to begin with someone. Be the one. You’ll benefit, and my bet is that others in your family or circle of friends will benefit also. And the little extra, thrown in for free? You really will be adding to the peace and goodwill of the world. It begins with you, in your home, your family, your office, your circle. And the knowledge that you are choosing is very empowering, very liberating.

Skydiving

/ Sheila / 4 Comments

Yes, we really did it. Rob and I did a tandem sky dive jump on his 50th birthday. I wasn’t nervous until about five seconds before we jumped. We were both hooked to a professional jumper who was in charge of the hard part…pulling the chute, making sure we survived the adventure, and most important, keeping us (alright, me) from panic and any resulting hysteria.

The whole thing was surprisingly simple. Signing the release forms took a lot longer than the very brief instruction for a successful tandem jump. There were three main directives: first, you arch your back when you are in free fall; second, remember to breathe; and third, once the chute is opened, you can open your arms and stretch into the wind. That’s it. That’s all you need to know to jump out of a plane.

The short flight up to 13,000 feet was fun, sitting on a crowded bench with fellow jumpers. Most of the group was jumping without benefit of a professional attachment, which I didn’t really appreciate until I was standing looking out of the open door, staring into the air, faaarrr above the ground. I was just starting to say out loud, “I don’t think I can do this,” when I suddenly realized that I was HOOKED to this person I had paid to jump with me, and HE WAS GOING OUT THE DOOR. Obviously, that is a critical part of the experience. I would have been too paralyzed to jump if I had not been attached to another person who made it impossible for me to stay inside the plane.

As soon as we were out the door (didn’t see the first several seconds, my eyes were too tightly shut) I focused on breathing and holding the arched position that was required for the free fall. About the time I was opening my eyes I felt the chute open and the whole experience went into a sort of slow motion. It was beautiful and smooth, and I left the fear way above me, in the space just outside the door of the plane. The instructor gave me a little flight-seeing tour, pointing out different landmarks above San Diego and taking us through a series of gentle turns as we floated toward the landing area.

Would I do it again? I doubt it…not that I couldn’t, but I think it will be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for me. Once was enough.

And what did I learn? It was an amazing illustration of the power of connection, of having someone to push me beyond my comfort zone, and then to create a soft landing from a beginning that was frightening.

I thought of how often life is like that: two people connect themselves to each other, and at any given moment may switch out the roles of the professional leading the way and the novice along for the ride. Each person brings their expertise and their courage to the experience, and together, if the jump is successful, they navigate to solid ground and land right side up, feet first, in spite of having times of being upside down on the trip down.

Maybe I’m reaching in my analogy…but it seemed perfect to me. Life sometimes seems upside down, like I’ve jumped out of the plane and am looking for the landing zone. Sometimes I’m in the free fall zone, and sometimes I’m in the peaceful and inspiring space of floating, taking it all in. The key is the jump buddy I’m attached to. Well, it’s an interesting ride, and sometimes unpredictable. But I’m with the same buddy I’ve had for almost 30 years, and I haven’t crashed yet. Must be doing something right.

Here’s to jumping out, taking the plunge, and careful selection of your jumping partner. It makes all the difference when you’re standing at the door, looking out. Be sure you’re strapped on tight, and that you’re connected to someone who will be good for the ride! It’s an amazing experience, but the most important choice is the one you make before you leave the ground. It’s the choice of the jump buddy.

20110608-121852.jpg

Training for transition

/ Sheila / 1 Comment

20110607-111518.jpg

I’m training my replacement at work. By mutual agreement, I am transitioning to another position in the hospital, one that I will hold until the house sells and we leave Ketchikan. I feel good that this will be a smooth way to move from my current role and still maintain income and benefits. But it’s bringing home the reality of the disconnection process. I’ll be stepping away from some fun (and funny) co-workers who have been good to me, helped me grow, and have been unfailingly kind as Rob and I have been on a merry-go-round of sorting out our lives and next steps.

I didn’t begin my work life in a hospital environment, and in fact, only transitioned to that about five years ago, using a variety of administrative and general office skills to fill an office role in the hospital in Kotzebue, AK. Then, because of that work experience, I was hired for an administrative role here in the Ketchikan hospital. The work is diverse, and although there are some tasks that come around on a regular basis, it never gets boring.

I’m fortunate to have an inside track to understand the complex world of healthcare and medicine in 2011. And of course, I understand almost nothing at a clinical level, since I’m averse to things like blood and needles. And how is it that I work in a hospital at all, you may ask. Well, there is a surprising amount of work that goes on in healthcare environments that has little to do with medicine, and everything to do with the business of medicine. And that’s the side of healthcare that I sit on.

I work for PeaceHealth, a Catholic hospital system that has a core mission of service. I see regular instances of selfless giving. It’s not all about money. I also see the burden that modern medicine, societal expectations, long hours, thin staffing, and a challenging and isolated environment imposes on providers and staff. I hear the comments that physicians make in meetings, see the lifestyle of long clinic days, nights and weekends impacted by call, and recognize anew: it’s a difficult profession.

And what is the point of this to me? It’s given me a view of Rob’s world that I never had before, and helped me to grasp, in a very real way, the issues that he faces on a regular basis. One of my tasks in my current job is managing the primary care call calendar, and I understand the impact of call in a small clinic practice. I hear the talk, I understand the issues, in a way that I could not have understood in the past.

And has it made a difference? I think maybe it has.

I understand a lot more than I did when I moved to Alaska, almost five years ago. It’s been a long road, and I’m not sure what my work life will be like in the future. But I hope I’ll be able to hold on to the realizations I’ve come to, and the insight into my husband and my marriage as both have been shaped by the profession of medicine. It is consuming, almost all-consuming, and I don’t think it is an exaggeration to say that we would be very different people if Rob had chosen a different profession.

I know that it isn’t possible for most people to enter into the work life of a spouse, boyfriend or girlfriend. But if you can, even if it’s just for a short while, or in a limited way, it may change your perceptions. And isn’t that what we all need? We want to be understood, to know that the person we share a life with can understand, can empathize. If you could see what I see, know what I know…

Life lists

/ Sheila / Leave a comment

When I was young, in my 20s, I thought I had my whole life before me. I did, of course. I find that is still true, even at the age of 50. (I must seem endlessly fixated on this number. I’m really not; it just makes a nice reference point for life evaluation.) I hope to have a healthy number of years left. And I recognize that I have immense flexibility now that I didn’t have in the past.

Some of this freedom comes from the stage I’ve reached. Kids are grown and self-supporting (Yay!); there is enough money for discretionary choices; I am able to pursue freedom without concern that a move will impact career. Work, although a good and rewarding part of my life, is just that: a part.

I’m busy, as I fill my days with relationships, employed work, de-cluttering, blogging, daily to-do list, etc., etc., etc., constructing a path for “next.” As in, “what’s next?” One of the epiphanies I had a few years ago (been working on some of this for a while!) is that it seems great to open up the map, to think you can choose to live anywhere you want. But without job or family informing the choice, it is actually overwhelming and intimidating. So with this next step, as we prepare to move from Ketchikan, there is a different strategy. Rather than look for a next place to anchor right away, I hope to explore a variety of settings, to try on some dreams before making a long-term choice.

We attempted to do this once before. We looked at some small towns in the northwest that were charming and had location appeal. But we were sidetracked with a decision before we made a selection…we allowed ourselves to be chosen, without making an intentional choice ourselves.

So, learn from past mistakes. This time, I think the filter should be less about place, more about experience. I want us to define what we are looking for now, and hope we can put location, opportunity, and resources together to explore dreams. There are a lot of beautiful places in the world, but beauty isn’t the only thing to consider. I’m looking for a package deal: possibilities for fulfillment, adventure, serendipity. And if the view is amazing, that will be a bonus. A phrase sometimes used to describe this type of search is “bucket list:” a list of things to do or see before you die. That’s the wrong motivation for me. Here’s the thing: I don’t have a bucket list. I have a life list. This isn’t about checking off things to do, it is about finding life, as it is ever-changing and evolving.

A line from one of my favorite movies of all time, The Sound of Music, expresses this thought. There’s a scene in the movie when the Reverend Mother tells Maria, “You have to live the life you were born to live.” You have to look for your life. And first, you have to know what you are looking for. Sounds easy, but unless you are one of the rare people who knew at a single-digit age what you wanted to do with your life, not as simple as it sounds. And I find that what I look for has changed over the years. I don’t need a great school system these days. I don’t need a big house. I still need love. I still want joy. But the sources are less the concrete things in my life, more the intangibles. If I seem slow to realize this, I’m not. I’ve known this for a long time. But I am reaching a point of re-creating, with intention, with purpose, with direction. I wasn’t able to do it at once, but I am able to at last.