What My People Think Of Me...

I recently saw a questionnaire circling on Facebook.  It included 14 questions to ask your children about yourself.  I thought it would be fun to do this, and honestly I wish I had done something like this every year of their lives, once they learned to talk.  The results were fascinating to me.  After asking them these questions I turned to (or maybe on) Phil and asked him, as well.  I don't know if I should suggest this, or not.  I mean, it worked out well for us, but I can see how it could be ugly...

I've thought over whether or not I want to include all of the raw data or if I'd rather share some general principles I've discovered.  I think, mostly, that I will go with general principles, although I have included a few specific answers, as well. 

1.  What is something I always say to you?

The answers to this question ranged from, "I love you," to "Clean your room," to, "Stop fighting with [redacted]!"  My favorite answer, though, came from Seth (age 15), "What's something you always say to me?  You always say, 'goodnight'".  I especially liked this answer, because it highlights a point of connection that we have every day.

2.  What makes me happy?

As soon as Ian (age 9) said, "baklava," I knew we were in trouble.  Almost every answer for the rest of the survey (for him) incorporated baklava in some way.  For example, his answer to question 11 (What is something I'm not good at?) was, "Not eating baklava".  He's right.  If it's available, I'm not good at that.  Interestingly, Miah (age 5) answered that she makes me happy (which is true), while Seth and Grace (age 14) went with "coffee", even though I have only been drinking it since September.

3. What makes me sad?

I was happy to discover that my three youngest children had no idea.  They all answered, "I don't know".  I feel good about this, because it means that they have not often seen me sad.  Seth had a pretty good runner up answer, with "cats".  But Phil really got at the heart of it when he said, "The loss of possibility and what I mean by that is just whether it's a broken or lost relationship or thing or place, it brings you great sadness".  Yes.  That's it.

4. How do I make you laugh?

Miah was so matter of fact.  I make her laugh, "by being funny".  Ian said, "I don't think you've ever made me laugh.  No offense, right?"  I laughed.  I might tickle that kid, tonight. 

5. What was I like as a little girl?

Caleb (age 11) exclaimed,  "What?  How am I supposed to know?"  As it turns out, three of his four siblings agreed with this sentiment.

6. How old am I?

None of my children know how old I am.  Ian is the clear winner, though, with, "Uh... 26?  I think." 

7. How tall am I?

Seth, Grace, and Phil all had it right at 5' 7".  Caleb was close at 5' 6".  Miah said, "18".  Clearly, we need to work on measurement...

8. What is my favorite thing to do?

This was an interesting one.  I love how loved Miah must feel.  She said that my favorite thing to do is "Snuggle with me (her)".  Then we had this range of things like reading, eating baklava, eating chocolate, and vacationing.  I guess I would have said, "vacationing," myself.  But I thought Seth was pretty spot on, as well, with, "Get in warm fuzzy sweatpants and drink coffee and check Facebook".  He knows me.

9. What do I do when you're not around?

Caleb and Ian both thought this question was ridiculous!  They both said, "How am I supposed to know?  I'm not around!"  "Your stuff on your computer" and "talk to Dad" also made the list.

10. What am I really good at?

Miah's answer had me in stitches.  She thinks I am good at making my bed.  Perhaps she was speaking philosophically?  She also thinks I am good at doing stuff.  Well...  good to know.  Cooking and taking pictures were both mentioned as well as, "Being queen of the world".  Train your children well, friends...

Between this question and the next, it is obvious that I have an amazing husband.  He sees me so much differently than I see myself, but I'm going to hang onto his words, anyway, because they are often exactly what I need.  Phil said, "What are you not good at is the better question.  I know you're going to ask me that in a minute.  You're good at everything.  You have such depth to your life and who you are, and I think that echoes through everything else, and yes, you're talented at a bajillion (how awesome is that) things.  There's nothing you can't do, but it's not the things, themselves.  It's the depth to all of that.  Gosh, I love that about you".

11. What is something I'm not good at?

Miah says, "nothing".  I love that when you're five it is possible to think your parents are perfect.  Just sayin'.  Caleb, however, was silent for several minutes.  Several minutes, people!  After a huge sigh, he then said that I am not good at "staying calm".  He's right.  I'm not.  Grace asked, "Do I have to answer this one?"  Followed by, "You're not very good at listening to other people's opinions when you're stubborn."  Teach honesty.  If you do, you will be able to use your children as mirrors.  She, also, is right.  And then there's Seth.  He is so practical.  Seth said that I am not good at, "Looking at a tumbleweed for more than five seconds without screaming".  Truth.  Again.  I'm working on it.

My favorite answer of the day, though, was Phil's, "I think the things we're not good at are so often just a flip side of the things we are good at.  I mean, I could easily come up with a cop out, like you're not good at mowing the lawn.  Because you're not good at mowing the lawn, because you're allergic to grass.  But if you weren't allergic to grass, you'd probably be great at mowing the lawn!  You'd be out there all the time, trimmed perfectly and everything.  I'm going to say this, but I've gotta clarify it.  I'm just going to say, "patience".  But, I don't mean that in many things and every time, because there are a lot of things you've endured.  I mean, endurance... you've got more than anybody that I know, so it's not that kind of patience that I mean.  It's that moment that's like 'snap to, boom', like this...  Now I feel horrible.  It's not fun to answer to your spouse about stuff like this.  But I'll do it.  Because you asked me.  I hope you don't hate me now.  I love you.  Forgive me."

He is so cute.  Frankly, I think this should probably be our post that finally goes viral.  Who says this stuff?  But I do recognize exactly what moments about which he is talking.  I do have a tendency to reach a point at which I am done waiting, and whatever it is that is supposed to be happening had better be happening... now... with finger snapping and pointing and everything.  It's rather amazing how accurate my family was at communicating my greatest weaknesses.

12. What do I do for a job?

These answers probably stand best on their own.  Sometimes it's a sore spot.  But... yeah...  They get it...

M: Help People (Yes, yes I do.)

I: Take pictures for people, I think?  Geographer? (Apparently we are failing at vocabulary.)

C: Can you give me a further definition of job? (No.  I can't.) 

G: You're a philosopher, and a photographer, and a stay at home mom.

S: Look for a Job (ouch!)

13. What is my favorite food?

Phil said it depends on the mood I'm in.  Really?  Yeah, he's probably right.  Miah is too cute not to quote, "You've never 'telled' me that!  Um... Um... That's hard. Stouffers? Just FYI, Stouffers mac and cheese is Miah's favorite food.  We eat a lot of it.  Caleb did well with, "cheesecake", and there was mention of chocolate... and baklava... and coffee...  I'm not sure any of this is really food.  Maybe I've been lying to myself.  Maybe I don't like food...

14. What do you enjoy doing with me?

Grace's answer tops my list.  She likes, "Driving places".  Huh.  That's one of my favorite things to do with her, too.  Other children chimed in with cooking and video games, snuggling and playing.

I'm not certain anyone loved this exercise.  I laughed when we were done and Miah asked, "Did I do every one right?"  Of course she did...  well, minus the age and height, but those were objective.  Every other answer, though, they were about how she sees me.  And it was pretty good.  Now I sit here wondering how I might live life so that the answers are even better next year.

L.

What I Should Have Written All Along...

Or, "When You Just Don't Want to Lie in the Christmas Letter"...

Dear Friends and Family,

2015 was the worst year we have ever had.  Over the past twelve months, I have begun so many conversations with the words, "We're having a rough time, right now..."  To be honest, at some point I started having less conversations, because I got so sick of saying those words.

Early in the year, we dealt with multiple people who were content to take shots at our family and our children, over... and over... and over again.  I cried a lot.  I cried a lot in public.  I hate that.  Eventually, I managed to throw up the thickest walls I could build and stopped crying, altogether, but that hasn't been too healthy, either.

In March, Phil and I came clean with each other about pretty much every frustration we have had in (then) almost 18 years of marriage.  This moment was precipitated by the realization that I had almost completely checked out on him, so there didn't seem to be much to lose.  We fought harder than we ever had for a couple of months, often well into the early morning hours.  Then we fought a little less hard for awhile, because we were exhausted, but we picked it up again from time to time, all the way through November.  There were days when neither one of us thought we would see our anniversary in August (it was super appropriate that year 18 marks the "porcelain anniversary", because there were quite a few days we would have liked to just flush...), but we did see that day.  There were still other days when we didn't think we would make it to the end of the year, but we're almost there.  I realize this paragraph sucks.  Let me make it a little bit better by saying that right now, as December draws to a close, we love each other as much as ever, neither one of us is going anywhere, and it looks like we might even be able to do life together better than before.  Does that make it worth it?  I don't know yet.

Vocationally, things weren't any better.  We muddled through seven months of service in an abusive employer/employee relationship, because walking away at any given time presented a threat to Phil's ordination (which did take place in July, oh look... there's a bright spot).  In the meantime, I applied for numerous positions, but nothing panned out.  In September, I faced the worst vocational rejection, ever, and thought I might just stop trying, but that's not really who I am, so another batch of resumes went out in mid-December.  Looks like everybody is currently closed for the holidays, though. 

Another phrase I've used a lot, this year, or at least I've used some variation of it, is, "Well, at least our kids are beautiful... wonderful... smart... amazing... still alive at the end of the day... whatever..."  And they are all of these things and more.  So there's that.

I wasn't going to write this letter.  Is there any question why?  But then someone sent us a letter, and I knew I had to do this...

In the midst of Christmas craziness, we received a beautiful handwritten note that said that the Scripture we included in our letter, last year, had inspired some very dear and beautiful relatives of ours to give generously (even more so than usual) to those in need.  This was overwhelming to me, to say the least.  It hit me hard, because I feel as if I have failed at almost everything this year, but even in the midst of that, God was using something I penned (well, cited) to bring about some good in the world, all year long.  If God can do that, I really can't avoid sharing our story.  Maybe there is even something redemptive about 2015.  Maybe I can live with it if that's true.

If I had sent a Christmas letter this year (and I did write one, but this one is better), I would have included this verse:

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.  When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze" (Isaiah 43:2, NIV).

In the last few weeks of 2015, I had been gearing up for kissing it good-bye and starting over.  I'm not even ready to get into all of the details of what happened next, but the truth is, we are still right in the middle of the waters and the fire.  I am far more afraid than I would like to be that 2016 is going to be another series of, "We're having a rough time, right now..." moments.  A well timed phone call or two could put that worry to rest, but even if it doesn't work out that way, it will be OK, because God is still with us.

I was thinking, just yesterday, about how we might not be certain of much of anything, but we have a roof over our heads (even if it is a small roof, and the rent just went up... again...), we have a refrigerator and freezer full of food, and the kids are always able to find socks (even if they don't match).  We have certainly been abundantly blessed in unexpected ways (see: did we manage to take a three week vacation to Florida in the midst of this mess), and God seems to come through even when we can't see how things could possibly turn out alright.  I'm going to hold on to that. 

I'm not going to lie.  I might hold on to it while listening to loud, angry music; screaming into my pillow; taking long walks; or kicking a kitchen stool or two (although I wouldn't highly recommend that, because it hurts).  But sometimes holding on is about all we can do.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention, at this point, that there has been a pretty good group of friends who have stepped in and held up our arms, even when they haven't really known it.  Some of them have been around for most of a lifetime, and others have caught us by surprise as people we didn't expect to have this kind of presence in our lives.  As often private people, it has sometimes been a challenge to remember which friends know which part of the story, but the sharing has been good.  I hope they stick around.

Before I finish this thing, there were a couple of quotes that caught my eye, this morning:

"What can you do to promote world peace? Go home and love your family." -Mother Teresa

"If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." - Mother Teresa

If we ever needed anything, right now, it's peace.  And that's it, for now, friends.  Life is hard.  God is near.

L.

I Spent The Morning Talking To Rocks...

Before anybody completely freaks out, I know that I have caused a lot of people an awful lot of concern this past week.  I'm sorry.  I don't like to lie, and the truth is, I'm not really OK, but I will be.

Earlier this week, I told some friends that I was struggling with grief, but it wasn't the kind of grief that accompanies death.  Then, I promptly turned around and did some cemetery hopping, so maybe I was wrong about that.  I am, indeed, dealing with some very complex grief.  It is touching more areas of my life than I thought it could, and it is a real process to work through.  I decided a good place to start might actually be with the kind of grief that accompanies death and is common to anyone who has ever experienced this kind of loss.

It is here that I have to admit that my Nana died a little over 18 years ago, and I had never been to her grave until today.  I am embarrassed by this.  18 years of denial is, at best, outrageous.  At worst, it might be a little psycho.  

I set out, this morning, to finally visit her grave as well as that of my Grandpa Ernie (who died before I was born), their infant son, my Uncle Marc, who I didn't even realize existed until last week, and my great-grandparents, whom I also never met.  So, five graves, one person who I had the opportunity to know and love deeply.

By its very nature, this post should be somber, start to finish.  Well, you can forget that, because this is my life, and nothing is ever "normal".  Because it is difficult for me to follow GPS and drive at the same time (yes, I admit it), I plugged the address my dad gave me for the cemetery into mapquest, printed out paper instructions, and went on my way.  This was going really well until I got to where the cemetery was supposed to be, and it wasn't there.  It's always awesome to be lost in Detroit, alone.  This happened to me twice today, but I digress.  So, I pulled into a church parking lot, parked under a sign that said, "Unauthorized vehicles will be towed," and attempted to use the Internet feature on my phone to pull up my email in order to figure out what had gone wrong with this address.  As it turns out, it was my dad's fault.  I can't wait to tell him all about it.  I have already publicly disgraced him on facebook, which doesn't really matter, since he has informed me that he will never, ever have a facebook account... ever.  He missed a number in the address.  Initially, it looked like I was going to have to wind through miles and miles of city streets, but it's a good thing I double checked, because actually I was only about a block away. 

So, I finally arrive at this enormous cemetery, and I drive for just a few moments as it occurs to me that I legitimately need help to find the graves, because this place is literally over 100 acres.  I park where I think the office is and approach the front door which has a sign posted directing me to the stone building.  Uh...  There were a lot of stone buildings, but I found it.  Thankfully, the man who greeted me in the office was about the nicest person I think I have ever met.  He asked for the names, chatted a little bit about my German heritage, asked if there was a grave marker, to which I was like, "Well, I think so.  I certainly hope so!", and proceeded to give me two detailed maps and step by step directions for how to arrive at the right place.  I think he called me, "Honey," like 15 times.  He was old.  That makes it endearing.  When he was finished giving directions, he asked if it made sense, and I said, "Yes," to his great relief.  I mean, he visibly sighed.  I decided not to tell him what a horrific failure I am at following directions.

Speaking of which, why do cemeteries have so many rules about flowers?  I might have broken them all, today.  Don't tell anybody.

I basically followed the directions to the general area where the graves were, and from the road I could see a large headstone indicating that I was in the right place.  Unfortunately, I could also see four riding lawnmowers and a weed whacker...  and I mean right there in front of me.  Seriously?  I wait 18 years to visit this grave and at this very moment it is lawn maintenance time?  The severity of this is only obvious if you understand how terribly allergic I am to cut grass.  At this point I have turned the van off and am sweltering as I watch the weed whacker guy take care of the family headstone.  And then, after several more minutes, most of the maintenance people disappear, and I get out of the van.

Now this is sort of funny, but as a kid it was drilled into me by my mother that you must never walk over a grave.  I mean, I was terrified that if I walked over a grave a ghost would haunt me or something.  I remember there being some antidote that required walking back over the grave, but come on, I don't have time for that.  So I sort of mumbled, "Excuse me, sorry, thanks for being my grandparents neighbors, oops, didn't mean to disturb your death," as I walked over all kinds of people today.  OK, I really only said these things in my head.  It wasn't audible or anything. 

   

I was actually surprised that the large headstone I had observed was for my great-grandparents and the baby.  This, of course, left me wondering where Grandpa Ernie and Nana were buried.  A few more steps, and there were their grave markers, not at all what I expected to see.  Nana's name was almost entirely obscured by dirt and grass that had grown over the marker.  I was actually a little distraught by this, says the person who has never, ever even been there.

So, you have to understand that my Nana was the classiest lady ever.  We're talking perfect hair, nails and make-up, an international traveler until she was gone.  Two thoughts went through my mind.  First, there is no way it is acceptable for her grave marker to look like this.  Second, she would be appalled if her granddaughter used her keys... and fingernails... to clear this debris.  Well, I have no idea how my amazingly classy Nana got a granddaughter like me, but you'd better believe I walked away from that place with tons of dirt under my nails.  I didn't manage to clear nearly as much as would have liked, though, because at some point whole clumps of grass and dirt were coming up, and I really had no intention of exhuming anyone today, so I figured I'd better quit while I was ahead.  If anyone was observing, it must have been a real sight.  Let's add "digging in the cemetery" to "talks to rocks"...

Well, seeing as it was a beautiful, dry, sunny day, I did spend some time sitting on Nana's grave (I don't think she'd mind), and talking, and crying.  I told her about my kids, and especially about Miah, since Miah's middle name is her own.  I talked about life.  I needed that.  And I prayed.  I needed that, too.  As I was leaving, I said, "Good-bye, but not forever.  That's what resurrection is for."  I was going to post that thought to facebook, but since so many people have been panicked about my own well being, I decided it might be misunderstood and refrained.  But it was really good to consider that fact that death is not final.  Grief is temporary.

From there, I proceeded to drive to the cemetery where Mammaw and Paw are buried.  Now, this is a completely different kind of experience, because I have been there many times.  After Mammaw died, Paw spent almost every day for two solid years at the cemetery.  He would take a lawnchair with him and sit there from the time the cemetery opened until it closed.  I have never seen that kind of grief before, and I have never seen it again.  It was heart-breaking.  Mostly I say that, though, to indicate that it was not difficult for me to find these graves.  Finding a place to park was another story, because the ordinary parking place was reserved for a funeral.

I grabbed my camera and some more flowers and made the same kind of trek over lots of other graves that I had made at the first cemetery.  I guess it had been a little longer than I'd thought since I was last there (7 years), because it took a little while to find the right tree.

Their marker was also a real mess, so I got down on my knees to clean it off, only to realize that the ground was soaking wet.  So, this is the part where I just about burst out laughing in the middle of a cemetery, and I have to consider how terribly inappropriate that is, but really, it was funny.  I would imagine it would also have been pretty funny if anyone had seen me trying to figure out the built in vase that you actually have to pull out of the grave marker and flip upside down to leave flowers in accordance with the rules.  I figured it out... eventually...  I was able to leave more flowers there, since I wasn't discreetly breaking rules this time. 

I sang at Mammaw and Paw's graves, and believe me, it was not pretty, because crying and singing don't go too well together, and the bells from the nearby mausoleum were chiming patriotic tunes while I murmured some hymns, but whatever.  It was what I needed to do.  

At both places, I was somewhat enamored by the dates.  I physically reacted to my Grandpa Ernie's date of death, because it is Caleb's birthday.  I never knew that.  I was overcome by the faithfulness my Nana expressed in living for 27 years without him.  I was overwhelmed by Mammaw's date of death, even though, of course, I have always known it, because it helped me to process some of the ways that her death affected my life at that time.  And I was shocked to realize that Paw has been gone 7 years.  Again, I know it, but it doesn't feel like it can possibly be that long.  There was another marker that caught my eye, though, and it made me really sad.  There was a relatively new grave near Mammaw and Paw's, and it wasn't neatly lined up with all the rest.  I took a peek, and there was a name and an inscription that indicated that the marker was provided by the cemetery.  But there were no dates at all.  This was astoundingly sad to me, as if this was a life that didn't really exist in any particular time or place.  Of course, that's not true, but in 100 years, who would ever know?

I've heard people say that it's not the dates that really matter but the line drawn between them.  Maybe it's because we're not so far removed from Easter, but as I was getting ready to leave the second cemetery, wet pants and all, I considered Scripture, "Why do you look for the living among the dead?" (Luke 24:5b).  And I had to stop and ask myself, Why do I?  It was very good for me to make this trip.  I may make it more often in the future.  But the thing that really struck me was the heritage that these wonderful grandparents have left and the significance of what I do with it now.  Life is short, shorter than any of us really wants to consider.  Make it count.  And, also, don't lose sight of the hope that we have for eternity.

I am still processing things.  This was a good first step.  In recent days, these past few months, and particularly the past week, my life has been a huge series of highs and lows.  It feels like a really bad roller coaster ride, without the seatbelts, some days.  You could keep praying for me.  I am currently out of town for some soul care days (I know, again, I have catching up to do), and waiting for my amazing husband to finish up the responsibilities he has, today, so he can come pick me up for a date.  The man has seriously had to chase me around the state this past week in order to see me, so you could pray for him, too.  I am blessed.  

I'm still a mess, but God is doing good things.  That doesn't mean that I'm not going to say things that make everybody uncomfortable.  It's OK.  I'm working through it.  Did I mention I'm really blessed?

L.               

This Might Be the Most Important Post I Have Ever Written...

The past month has taken me places I thought I would never go.  And I mean never.

I'm not even going to try to make excuses for it.  It was just me.  Pretty much being an idiot.  But I would like to explain, apologize, maybe share something I've learned.  

I have struggled, deeply, with... everything.  And in the midst of this struggle I did some research that led me to the following quote, which has been haunting me since I first read it:

"A cloud of missed possibilities envelops every beginning: it is always this beginning, this universe, and not some other. Decision lacks innocence. Around its narrations gather histories of grievance: what possibilities were excluded?" (Keller, 2003, 160).  

I know, I know, who cites stuff on a personal blog?  Bear with me...

There is a part of me that wishes this book was never suggested.  Heck, there is a part of me that wishes this quote was never penned.  Sometimes I think it was easier when I didn't know as much.  I've been quoting Ecclesiastes 1:18 for a long time now, "For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief" (NIV).  It is still true.  The more I know, the truer it gets.  Even though I love learning, sometimes I just want to stop.  I can see myself with my hands over my ears, but I can never quite say, "Enough is enough!"  I don't really know if I should share this.  Maybe your life would be better if you didn't know it.  Quite seriously, if you think that might possibly be the case, don't read on.  It's OK.  I don't need you to know this.

But, here's the thing.  We all make choices.  I grew up thinking that there was always one right choice, one good choice, one best choice, just one.  I think I was wrong.  In fact, looking back on it I think there are a lot of good choices I could have made, that I didn't, even when the choices I did make were good ones.  This is much more painful than looking at the good choices in my life and thinking, "Well, I dodged a bullet there... and there... and there..."  If there are multiple good choices, that means we miss out on something good, even when we choose the very best thing we're capable of choosing in the moment.  Histories of grievance are not easy to deal with.

I would like to suggest that you don't even try.  It might cause your heart to break over excluded possibilities, and believe me, you don't want to go there.  Not really.      
   
For days... and days... and days...  in a corporate worship experience, I have been directed back to Psalm 51:17, "My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise" (NIV).  I don't really like being broken as much as I used to.  But it's OK.

I want to fix this.  In fact, I had a really amazing time with God last night, driving home in the dark with a couple of sleeping kids, just listening.  I need to embrace my life, and it's not even that hard to do, because my life really is amazing.  As a variation on a common phrase in the business world, whatever you're doing is perfectly designed for the results you're getting.  I have made good choices.  If the six other people who live at my house are any indication, the results are near perfect.  

But I have to be honest.  I don't have it all together.  Humility is hard, and I think I'm headed for a season of healing that is going to take more time than I want it to.  I'm committed to however long it takes.  You could definitely pray for me.

L. 

Works Cited:

Holy Bible. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2011. Print.

Keller, Catherine. Face of the Deep: A Theology of Becoming. London: Routledge, 2003. Print.