Stranded on an Escalator

Hi!  I haven't written anything new in a long time.  I hope you are well... 

I started working part-time as a hospital chaplain five months ago.  Although I have wanted to write and share with you, I haven't been sure how to go about it.  But, the time has come to try. 

For the last two months, my job has included visiting one of the nursing homes within our hospital system.  While horror to some, it is my delight.  However, it is an emotionally expensive delight.  It is an honor and tremendous privilege to serve people who live with hearts full of gratitude, but would always rather be somewhere else.  Like home.  Yet, they face each day with courage, hope, patience, and an award-winning sense of humor.  They have taught me that my God is too small.

I have never met a more heroic people.  

Included in this group are "young" people in their 50s and 60s who are stricken with ALS, MS, or other mobility thieves.  As I listen to their stories, I grieve for what they've lost and the losses that are to come.  Their burdens have become my burdens and I have been surprised by my need for a compassionate heart and a good set of ears.

As long as I can remember, I have been the "listener".  Eager with questions, interested in details, and carrying no burden of my own to squash my willingness to carry that of another.  Until now.  I have gradually transitioned from a good listener to a professional listener, and with that have become increasingly dissatisfied with how well others listen (or not).  I listen to people all day long, and I love it.  However, when I am on the talking-end, I find myself abandoned mid-story or mid-sentence.  I seem to be welcomed as a sprint, but loathed beyond the 40-yard line.

My strong preference for texting rather than talking has upgraded to my overwhelming preference.  I am more comfortable with being briefly engaged or ignored than being half-listened to.  My temptation is to withdraw or at least shut up.  Stay with pleasantries.  Forgo the deep.  But, I love the deep...That murky place where feelings hide until chased out by the light of a great question.

But, the questions don't come and I start feeling suspicious.  It slowly dawns on me that if I leave every conversation disappointed, the problem has to be one of two places.  With everyone else.  Or with me.  My discomfort grows... 

Rather than hastily condemn either party, I ask a question of myself.

"Where is God in all of this?"  

I think He was sitting on the edge of His throne waiting for me to ask because the answer(s) arrived before I tacked the question mark on.  He answered once with the Litany of Humility, a second time with St. Francis' Make Me An Instrument of Your Peace (below), and a third time with an old memory of a funny video I saw once.  An escalator broke down and two people were "stranded" halfway up, yelling for help.  Can you imagine this?!  (Hint:  Google "people stuck on escalator".  It's definitely worth two minutes!)   

It turns out God isn't in the middle of this "nobody can hear me" crisis.  I am.  Since beginning this post, I realize I've been like the people on the escalator, waiting for someone else to show up, ask a question or give a thoughtful reply, and fix it.  But, there's no repair man in sight and I'm not too handy, myself.  So, I gotta take the stairs and keep moving.  Yelling from the middle doesn't do a damn bit of good.

_________________________________________________________

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.

O, Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love; For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; it is in dying that we are born again to eternal life.

 


  

A Love Stronger Than Death

A coworker and friend of my husband's asked his help (and mine by association) to put the following letter on "social media".  I've only met him a time or two, and unfortunately never had the opportunity to meet his wife.  But, I am honored to celebrate his love and her memory with him.  I pray that at the end of my life, the love of those I have left behind will tell you everything you needed to know about me, as you see here...

I MISS MY SWEET MARY LAVON

          Six weeks before she passed away, on our 49^th anniversary, we said our vows for a second time by getting married again.   

After several years, I decided to move to a smaller home.  In this process, I came across a letter that a dear friend of ours had sent to her.  I shared a copy of the letter with each of my three children.   I have shared this letter with many people since then.  It’s been three and a half years since she has gone to be with our Lord and I would like to share this letter with everyone.

 

Mary Lavon Terzian:  Life Lessons

August 4, 2011

Dear Mary Lavon, 

As we grow older, we tend to reflect back on our lives and recognize those who impacted us the most.  My life has been so full.  I have a great family, great friends and live in a great country.  I have lived in and travelled to many parts of the world and met many people.  However, few have touched my life the way you have.  Even though I have learned many of life’s lessons, it takes a special friend like you to remind me to live by them. 

Here are some of those most important to me: 

You reminded me to be strong and true to my Faith and to be a good Christian.

You reminded me of the importance in having good friends and how to be a good friend. 

You reminded me of the value in surrounding myself with possessions that mean a lot to me and make me smile. 

You reminded me that those you love most can cause you the most pain. 

You reminded me to the importance of being honest, direct and having strong convictions. 

You reminded me to face life’s difficult and painful challenges with dignity, style and grace. 

You reminded me of the skill it takes to being both interested and interesting. 

You reminded me that some who think they have the most actually have the least. 

You reminded me it is ok to not like or be liked by everyone. 

You reminded me to not trust everyone.  Some people do not have your best interest at heart. 

You reminded me of the importance of being a lady, being polite and having good manners.

 

You reminded me how important it is to be dependable.  I can always count on you. 

You reminded me of the beauty of nature and to enjoy the simple things in life.  

You reminded me of the importance of family, even though they can present you with some of life’s most difficult and painful challenges. 

You reminded me that everyone is worth knowing.  You learn something from everyone you meet.  It’s up to me what to do with that knowledge. 

You reminded me of the importance of surrounding myself with people who will enhance the quality of my life and not drag me down with them.

You reminded me it is more important to be wise than it is to be smart. 

You reminded me we can all make a difference in someone’s life. 

You reminded me to be realistic and not always idealistic. 

You reminded me that money does not buy class.  Being able to acclimate to any situation and how you make people feel gives you class. 

You reminded me of how much fun shopping can be. 

You reminded me how to tease, be teased, to laugh at yourself and to keep a good sense of humor.  We have truly had many good laughs and good times. 

You reminded me that when someone important in my life passes, take time to grieve but celebrate the good times we shared. 

You reminded me to enjoy the good days. 

You reminded me of the value in being loyal, to defend those you love and respect. 

You reminded me to live life to the fullest.  Choose my battles carefully.  There will be regrets but learn from them. 

But most importantly, you reminded me that just by being a good person, staying young at heart, being open to new experiences and being true to yourself makes life worth living.

Your contributions to my life have truly enhanced what was already good.

How blessed we all are that you are in the world.
How blessed I am to call you my friend.     

Always, 

Tee

PS  “The Porch” will always be filled with your beautiful Spirit.

Christmas Beggar

Am I the only one that clings more and more tightly to my identity as a child the older I get?  And maybe (certainly) it has nothing to do with my getting older, and everything to do with my parents getting older.  Trips back home to Kansas and big meals together have always felt like they would last forever.  Until now.  It has finally dawned on me that there is far less time ahead than behind. 

We usually only make it home twice a year, so we typically exchange Christmas gifts while we're there for Thanksgiving.  Only this year, there was no exchange because I brought nothing to exchange.  I thought working was my excuse, but my sister and sister-in-law both have three kids and work full-time and had beautifully wrapped presents for all.  Excuse B?  Ugh.  Empty-handed, again.  "Hey!  Can these school pictures of the boys be everyone's Christmas gift?  I can write their age and grade on the back."  Lame.

In discussing my empty-handedness with my parents, the "burden" of time and money that Christmas often carries came up.  If everybody buys for everybody, we're up to twenty-two on one side alone!  We talked about misplaced materialism (if there's ever a good place for it), and how it overshadows the celebration of Christ's birth.  Meanwhile, our desire for simplicity remains frustrated. 

Before I had children, this effort to maintain simplicity played out as gifts for grandchildren, but nada for their parents.  They were grown, after all.  The only problem was it didn't go over very well.  I wanted to passionately condemn the selfish grown-up kid-now-parent, but I couldn't.  Honesty prevailed.

I'm a grown woman with my own children, and I'm embarrassed to say it, but "I don't want to be left out."  Not by my parents.  Siblings?  Fine.  Friends?  No problem.  Boys?  To be expected.  Husband?  Different story, but not the point here...

There are only three people who know me as a daughter (I am very blessed to have a step-mom, who has been a mother to me in every way).  Four people know me as sister and some as friend, but the rest of the world knows me as a wife and mother.  Most of the time, my identity is as a member of my family.  Most of the time, I'm okay with that.  Thrilled about it even.  But, while I have parents living on this earth, I want to be remembered as their daughter...That person who existed before she married and bore children.  That girl who sat on laps, napped in the closet, pooped by the apricot tree, and loved Smurfs. 

As a mother, I pray that I will always have the desire to recognize and remember my sons as individual gifts from God, particularly on their birthday and at Christmastime.  Whether they become priests, husbands and fathers, businessmen or bums, part of their identity will be as a child of mine.  I want to honor that.

I'm not saying I need lavish gifts or great gestures.  I don't.  But, seeing a gift tag with my name on it, in their handwriting, means everything to me.  The gift tag could be on a pack of lifesavers or a diamond necklace.  Whatever it is doesn't matter.  It symbolizes their thought of love for me - plucked from a particular moment in time and placed gently in the hands of many moments.  Exactly the number of moments that exist while I gaze upon, eat, wear, use, or remember it.

I recognize my hypocrisy and feel embarrassed needing this from my parents.  My gifts are often crappy and always late.  I don't have money, very little time, and every created object seems a mockery of the depth of my love for them.  Besides that, they don't seem to need anything from me.  I don't understand their selflessness.  Until I consider my own children, that is.  I don't need anything from them, either.  I don't need their gifts to understand their love.  Their Dad and I gave it to them in the first place.

So, how does the mother-in-me achieve simplicity, while not depriving the little-girl-in-me of her desire to be loved and remembered?

I think she starts by being honest in admitting her need, which she has done.  From here, I 'll probably bring everybody in on the conversation (if only they'd read my blog!), and see how it goes.  As for Christmas within my four walls, I got an awesome bit of advice from a co-worker today.  She said some families keep Christmas simple by ascribing to the following criteria for gifts.  Each person can ask for four things:

   1.  Something you want

   2.  Something you need

3.  Something to wear

4.  Something to read

 

(Yes, it rhymes!)  

 

"Boys, Santa is scaling back this year!" 

 

Until then, it feels good to name my desire for simplicity and love (especially from my parents at Christmastime) .  On one hand, it is humbling because life is more comfortable when you can meet all of your own needs.  But, on the other hand, it seems like God's perfect design that we are not what we wish to be - sufficient unto ourselves.  As our parents model God's love for us, we are right in knowing that we can never outgrow it.    

 

 

Dear Heavenly Father of my parents and me,

 

Thank you for days to celebrate gratitude, families to share them with, and people willing to do the lion's share of the work to make it possible!  Thank you for my parents, whose love is the closest thing to your love that I know.  Please bless them for their fidelity to You and their generosity with me.  Please forgive my selfishness, and the imperfection of my love, and grant me the grace to improve upon it.  Please comfort and guide all children whose parents have gone ahead of them, and feel orphaned or alone.  Finally, Lord, please show me how to achieve the desire for simplicity You have placed upon my heart, as I remember and await the First Coming of Baby Jesus alongside Mary and Joseph.  Thank you for all.  Amen.

Robin Williams and Us

Remember the 1991 movie, Hook, where Robin Williams starred as Peter Banning and became "The Pan"?  It's a movie one of my brothers and I have been quoting for over 20 years... "You're afraid you're going to get sucked out!"  Anyway, the family and I finished watching it again tonight.  It's the first Robin Williams movie I've seen since he died.  And, I'm sad.  I'm sad that he's gone from the world. 

As I was watching it, I noticed all of the people he acted and interacted with in the movie.  He was their husband, father, nephew, rival, and leader.  Of course, he wasn't these things to them in real life.  But, he was real and they were real, and their lives really did slam magnificently into each other, at least as long as the movie was being filmed. 

I think about how sad I am, and how I didn't even know him.  So, what about all of the kids he worked with in that movie who are probably 30 somethings now?  How do they feel, and how did they feel when they heard he took his life?  He must have seemed larger-than-life to them.  What is the personal impact of thinking someone is larger-than-life, and then having them opt out?!  I think about all of the movies he's filmed, and all of the lives he's touched during the filming, and can't imagine how many people that must be.  And those are just the people he's worked with.  It doesn't even include the people he loved, and spent time with, and supported.  

How about my life?  Your life?  Not that much different, really.  Smaller scale?  Maybe.  Cameras? Probably not.  Impact?  Definitely.  We're filming a movie a day, or writing a page a day if you prefer... 

The Holy Spirit with the pen of His power writes a living Gospel, but a Gospel that cannot be read until it has left the press of this life, and has been published on the day of eternity.  Oh! great history! grand book written by the Holy Spirit in this present time - It is still in the press.  There is never a day when the type is not arranged, when the ink is not applied, or the pages are not primed. 
~  Abandonment to Divine Providence, Jean Pierre de Caussade

Robin Williams was a comedic genius.  There will never be another one like him.  He was exceptional and unrepeatable.  And the thing is, that his unrepeatability is the thing we all have in common!  He may have been more distinctive and more well-known, but he is no less likely to be duplicated than anyone else.  It is impossible for any of us to be duplicated.  There are other funny people who make the world laugh, but they are not Robin Williams, and they never will be.  After we go, there may be some who are like us, in body, soul, or spirit.  But, they will never be us.    

As my mother once carefully printed on a bookmark for me, with my name cut out and glued at the top...

You are the

Unique,

Unrepeatable,

Irreplaceable

Presentation of the

Face of GOD

To the people

Of your time  

 

St. John Paul II

 

 

Dear God of peoples little and well-known,

 

Thank you for great movies and the talent you give to those who make them come alive.  Thank you for the gift of laughter and all who bring it.  Please comfort all who are left behind when someone they love takes their own life, and have mercy on those who do the taking.  Eternal rest grant unto Robin Williams, O Lord, and let Perpetual Light shine upon him.  May he rest in peace.  Amen.

The Saturday Morning Monster

I've been married twelve years today.  I'm so blessed and thrilled to be celebrating a happy marriage with the man who chased the long-lived question, "How will you know when you find the one?" away forever.  I'm so happy about so many things.  I'm so happy I'm not still living that question.  I'm so happy that I'm not the ball of insecurity I was in our early marriage.  I'm so happy that our boys who are eleven and a half months apart are 8 and 9, not 1 and 2 (as cute as they were). 

I'm especially happy to have something to celebrate today, when otherwise I might still be sulking over my monsterhood yesterday morning...I started working at my Church when school started.  So, now the housecleaning that was done incrementally throughout the week, is saved up for one special day.  Saturday.  First thoughts of Saturday bring warm fuzzies with thoughts of sleeping in, breakfast together, and lazing about.  Sleeping in and breakfast together are still going great.  But, after breakfast, things go south.  After the first couple of times it happened, I realized that I had omitted my morning prayer.  Ohhhhhh, that must be the problem.  Attempting to clean the house before prayer is certain disaster. 

So yesterday, I took all the time I needed to pray well before heading down the bumpy-old-stinky-road of cleaning the house.  When I left my prayer spot, I was filled with great resolve to maintain my peace and patience throughout, and promptly made my first error.  I entered my son's room.  The hot zone.  Ground zero.  Utter chaos of dirty clothes, legos, papers, markers, army guys, tanks, cups, shoes, and the like. 

I cleared a spot, called the troops in, and began to give orders, "pick this up", "put those in there", "throw that away".  And then it happens.  Explanations start rolling in of who didn't put what where, things get shoved under the bed, little people start laying in the middle of the floor, and all manner of things happen that cannot defined as the only acceptable response - prompt obedience. 

This now-working mother suddenly values her Saturday mornings a great deal, and when she realizes that she's the only one, she loses it.  Her humanity finds a quiet corner to hide in while her anger and frustration take over, leaving her shaking on the inside and turning to stone on the outside.  I am either barking or silent, but "pissed off" in every form.  My language morphs into that which would befit a mild-tongued sailor.  Apparently, I used the word "crap" quite profusely, a little bit of "damn", and a "pissed off" when I was discussing my frustration with my husband.  Sadly, I got generous feedback on my language later in the day from my son. 

It took hours to recover, and another Saturday morning needs to be redeemed by yours truly.  Happy marriage aside, my husband said he'd rather live in a dirty house than with me on these Saturday mornings.  I don't blame him.  If I could live in a perpetually dirty house, I would too!  But, I can't.  I have a threshold.  A threshold which turns out to be the amount of dirt/clutter/dog hair that accrues in a week's time.  Since prayer wasn't enough to rid me of myself (although, many times it is), we made a new plan.  Until I can handle it in a more sane and ladylike manner, I will tackle everything else, but that room.  He can go in there.

It is humbling that something so simple as a messy room can still reduce me to tears and a potty mouth.  As I continue to tackle the spiritual life and pursue helping others in theirs, I am reminded that I will never be above living an earthly life.  I am a human, and this is where I live.  On earth.  With others.  And their stuff. 

...We are not angels but have bodies, and it is madness for us to want to become angels while we are still on earth...Come what may, the great thing is to embrace the Cross.  The Lord was deprived of all consolation and forsaken in His trials.  Let us not forsake Him; His hand will help us to rise better than our own efforts...                           St. Teresa of Avila     

Dear Heavenly Father of Parents and Children with Messy Rooms,

Thank you for another day to know, love, and serve You.  Thank you for my husband, and every wedding anniversary including today's.  Please forgive me for my selfishness, impatience, and ingratitude.  Thank you for the phone call while writing this post, thanking me for sharing my children, from someone who misses theirs.  Thank you for opportunities to see what I can still be without your grace.  Humbling, though they are. Thank you that Your Hand will help us to rise better than our own efforts.  Please give me, and all parents, the grace to see the gift of our children, including the messes that often surround them.  Finally, thank you for opportunities to redeem lost time.  Please give me the grace to recognize and make the most of them.  Amen.

Sneaking On and Off the Stage

"Humility is not thinking less of yourself than you ought.  It's not thinking of yourself at all."

-C.S. Lewis

I'm back in my hotel room after attending an Audrey Assad concert with a dear friend. Before tonight, I think 1993 was the last time tears streamed down my face without understanding why.

But, this time it wasn't the holiness of Saint John Paul II or even the exquisite beauty of Audrey's voice that moved me beyond this capacity to understand my own feelings.  Her vulnerability and humility swept through the door of my soul.  At the beginning of her concert, she made no introduction, but unassumingly took her place after the music started.  Like she wasn't THE reason we were there.

She led us seamlessly from song to song except for the one time she stopped to speak about herself, and then only shared those things which united us in our humanity - personal struggles with anxiety, and hope for restoration and redemption.

It felt like we'd been there minutes at best, when her musicians quietly laid their instruments down and left the stage.  It was down to Audrey and her piano, and us.  We followed most eagerly wherever she cared to lead, and would still be there if she had been willing.

Instead, to close for the evening, she led us in a familiar hymn...

Lord, I need you, oh how I need You

Every hour I need You

My one defense, my righteousness

Oh God, how I need you

And there we were, singing from the depths of our hearts with Audrey's voice arching over all.  Until it wasn't.

During the final refrain, she walked silently down the stairs, off the stage, and out the door.  My friend had her eyes closed, and was stunned to find an empty stage at the song's end.  A prayer scrolled silently down the screen and we finished it with a collective Amen.  The lights came on and we did our best to hang on to her, to call her back.  

But, she did not return.  She did something better.  She left us with our profound need for God, and nothing of herself to distract us from it.  

 

Two Irreconcilable Worlds

I have an embarrassing history of being totally ignorant about what is going on in the world.  Not being a TV person and spending very little time in the car, it has been very easy to be ignorant.  I never felt compelled to check the news, because I never understood how simply knowing about bad things, without the ability to impact the situation for good, was helpful to anyone. 

Well, time has passed, and I have slowly decided to stay more informed; probably a combination of the guilt of being a bad citizen, the inability to participate in conversation, and the embarrassment that comes with it.  I  downloaded an app for a local news station, and started checking it once a day.  However, I just found out about the recent Ebola outbreak from my niece (because I hadn't seen anything on the local news), so I downloaded the CNN app.

Today (and probably the whole of my life), people are fleeing everywhere. Staying in their homeland would involve conversion to Islam, extreme taxation, or death by the sword.  Children are dying from thirst in the mountains after fleeing religious persecution with their families.  People are dying by the hundreds from ebola virus.  And I'm sitting on my futon, thinking about part-time jobs and getting in one more beach trip before school starts.

I don't know how to reconcile my life with their lives.  I don't want to be un-impacted by such horrific suffering.  As a Christian, I know I can and should pray.  Is that it?  Pause for a moment, feel bad for a moment, intercede to the Father for them, and then business as usual?  It's a little gut-wrenching to think the answer is "Probably".  Other ways to help in a practical manner seem non-existent. 

It brings me back to the point where I seem to find myself more and more frequently...to appreciate what I have, and to give where I can.  Just yesterday, I registered my boys for the upcoming school year.  In the health section, I checked the "No" box 54 times (18 for each boy) where it asks about specific problems or medications.  Nope.  Nothing.  Healthy as horses.  Do you mean that for every "No" I checked, some parent checked "Yes"?  Yes. 

Have we moved in the last three years to find work in farming or fishing?  Hell, no!  I can't even imagine that.  But, someone has.  Lots of people.  Every person who has a child in this school district has to answer this question, and it's not because it's irrelevant. 

I'm grateful when I check the box that I am, in fact, my child's parent and we reside in the same place.  Again, I could not imagine it any other way.  But, a lot of people can't imagine it my way, either. 

So, this morning, after taking a peek at the news and getting ready for the next thing in my day, it looks like the world is "going to hell in a hand basket" and my world is as rosy as ever.  What to do with that?  I will live more gratefully and intentionally this day.  I will not complain about anything that is short of the pain of death -at least for today.  I will try to encounter Christ, as I attend my women's group this morning.  I will donate to an old classmate's campaign for safe driving, call a friend who's having a hard time, and bring "Happy hour" to a friend recovering from surgery. 

This doesn't mean anything in the face of religious persecution or ebola virus, but it means everything in my world, and that is the best I can do.

Dear God of Worlds - Large and Small,

Thank you for my life and all of the healthy people in it.  Thank you for freedom of religion.  Thank you for the tremendous wealth, comfort, and safety we have in this country.  I pray we use it for good, and that it may not be an obstacle to anyone's salvation, as you have said.  Lord, please free, comfort, and protect those who need it.  You have said that we need not fear that which can kill the body, but only that which can kill the soul.  Please convict us of this, Lord.  Help us to live in such a way, that is small, but important.  You see and know all.  Jesus, we trust in You.  Amen.