It just is.

It was a simple drive home but it ended up striking me in the heart - deeply, and now 2 days later I am compelled to share my feelings and thoughts... I didn't want to write this I tried not to, we are all weary of our world today - it's anger, pain, fear and injustice. .. but I must. 

   Wednesday afternoon:  Leaving a client's in an upscale part of my beloved city, I notice the air had significantly chilled over the last few hours. At the last minute I decide to take a different route home, (I'm the daughter of a man that loved to take a different route to "see what we'll find"...)

     As I drove down NW Everett St there were several young men on the sidewalk, laughing and shouting back and forth to each other, At first I thought they were meeting up, old friends glad to see each other, but then they stopped interacting, sat down on the sidewalk and grew silent. As I drew closer I could see their eyes were red, their beards scruffy and full, their clothes stained and torn. 
     My thoughts went to the men, women, boys and girls in my family and how much I love them all... grateful that none are on the street. 

     Then I began to wonder...
how did these young men end up on the street? 
what is their story? 
if I asked, when you were a child what did you dream about doing? can they remember? 
do they have any hope?

At a stop light, I see a young woman standing at the entrance of a makeshift, blue tarp lean-to. It's butted up to a chain link fence along the sidewalk and the tarp ripples from the cold breeze. She reaches her hand in and as she withdraws it I could see the tiny packet of drugs. Her back was to me... her hair beautiful; long and dark and curly. Her stance and movements made me think, she's just a young woman. 

     My heart paled as I thought , 
where is her family?
why has she left them?
has she left them or are they out here too?
how did she get here?                                          

I flipped on the radio, I suppose as a way to divert my wondering about the people I saw.  My mind was racing... I needed a distraction, a Thanksgiving story.

They were telling a story, but not the kind I was looking for. - 
"More than 21,000 students in Oregon public schools are homeless — nearly 4 percent of the student population."  

     Again my heart paled as I thought...
does that include the babies? (No, this is just school age kids)
do they have warm clothes and blankets? 
do they have food... is it nutritious?
just where do they sleep? they can't get a warm bath.....
     My thoughts were spiraling. I decided to do an errand I had been putting off. (I'm really good at distracting myself... aren't we all?)

Recently someone asked me why I am the way I am. It made me feel angry.

     Meaning, 
why do I have concern for others that have less then I do and 
why do I care about their plight?

     Why? 
I don't know, its just my heart, I care. 

Musing with a friend, he said... Lisa, this is you, it's just you. It's how God made you.
     So, that is what I will embrace, it is just me. 

So this is my plan.
     I'll continue to look for ways to help others and whisper a prayer for them as I drive along or help at the food pantry. I'll smile from my heart with my eyes and give people dignity, that which we all deserve.     

- Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. Wherever you live I hope you can find many things to be thankful for.











                   Norman Rockwell/Artist
Photo Credit/Oregon Public Radio/NPR station

Splinters and Planks and Planks and Splinters

This post has been awhile coming, it's been brewing and running through my mind - back and forth, back and forth for about six months.
Tonight, as I left TJ's with my groceries it HIT me.

"Write it tonight." So here goes.

Planks and splinters are EVERYWHERE.

In YOUR eye I SEE a big old plank...

and in MY eye... ha - there, what do I see?

a tiny splinter.

HA.
- The truth is this:

In MY eye is a giant, ge-normous BEAM.
And it blinds me - all the time it blinds me.

And really in your eye what I should realize and see is a teeny, tiny, ever so teensy splinter.

In other words....

What I SEE in others and think is so dirty, so bad and so disrespectful and so immature and so wrong, so evil, rude, pompous, and prideful.....

WELL
It is absolutely NOTHING compared to what my own real stumblings, mistakes, judgements, prides, attitudes, frustrations, and angsts are.

See, I see others and see all this stuff that is just well, frankly, bothersome and crap. But really, I am the one with the problem.

It shouldn't really matter what is in anyone else's heart or what they are doing, what does matter is what is in my heart and what I am doing. (No don't start protesting here, don't start quoting stuff in your head... about the heart or other people's actions and choices... read on, get the whole thought)...

The thing that matters, I think, the very most is this:

Can I, will I, ask God to show me what HE sees when he looks at the person that I THINK has a plank in their eye? OR am I just too busy staring at the perceived by me plank in their eye to do that?

Am I so sure that what is in my eye is a splinter is so teeny, tiny, ever so teensy? - I mean really... am I?

When I was about eight years old we were attending this church. A church of brick with nice people and a little class for kids my age. I liked it. I learned stuff. We had this workbook and every week we would hear a story and then look in the workbook and see a small illustration of the story and then, I am sure - fill in the blanks, cause when you were eight back then that is how you participated.

So anyway, there was one week where the picture showed these drawings... stick sort of persons that were mostly HEAD. Two of them.

Coming out of one of the head's EYES was a giant, I mean a ge-normous PLANK. BOOM! They had my attention! The plank head was just looking and staring and fixated on the teeny splinter in the other head's eye. And plank head was frowning and had his arms crossed and was all judgmental and squinty eyed.

That picture totally mesmerized me. I kept looking and looking at it. I asked the teacher if I could take the workbook home, I wanted to show it to my parents, but the answer was no. Cause back then, you left your workbooks in the room. period.

OK SO....I just
kept staring at the picture and there and then I experienced a moment of understanding and change.
I made a decision.
I went home that day and I just had a different view.

But,
I STILL sometimes (a lot of times) thought/think

ha, ha, ha I ONLY had/have a splinter in my eye...

BUT
EVERY-SINGLE-DOGGONE-TIME.....

I was/am WRONG.

I always had, have and will have here on earth a ge-normous PLANK in my eye - and I better be doggone sure that I am working on getting it out of my eye, cause it blinds me...

- I NEED A CRANE, A CHAIN SAW, A GIANT PAIR OF PLIERS, A CROWBAR, a something, some tool that will do the job and I need to use it on my own PLANK.

Not anyone else's... splinter.

I am NOT trying to sound self-righteous or perfect because I AM SO NOT ... SO NOT.

But tonight, like other times I have blogged, I just felt so very COMPELLED to write and I had to write and share this weak and sad part of me.

May I always when in my own stumblings, mistakes, judgements, frustrations, and angsts STOP myself and ask...
please show me how to change... in fact, change me.

AND, secondly,

Instead of seeing another person's stumblings, mistakes, judgements, frustrations, and angsts AND dirty, bad and disrespectful and immature and wrong, evil, rude, pompous, and prideful STUFF,

.....may I instead ask God to show me what HE sees when he looks at them. Cause he sees stuff like I don't - he sees people, every one of us with love, always.  

"if what you see by the eye doesn't please you
then close your eyes and see from the heart.
Because the heart can see beauty and love
more that the eyes can ever wonder." - Unknown

It's a New Feeling

Ok, it's no secret, I am let's just say... older. I have two grown kids, a grandson, and past careers spanning purchasing for a department store, owning a catering business, running a home daycare, teaching and directing a preschool, founding a non-profit organization, and now working in international development. But I am just the same as everyone else. I have the same fears, worries, and now another new "feeling". This sounded crazy to me in the past when an adult said to me, my parents have passed and now I am an orphan." I would be, in my mind, really it is not the same as it is for a child. And it isn't, but there is definitely a different something there.
It is just not the same kind of thing as when my grandparents or brother passed or even when mom passed 6 years ago..
I always knew no matter his thoughts or condition, if I needed or wanted to I could call my dad and he would listen and either nod his approval or look me in the eye and show his emotion, his thought... Those looks ranged from - "what are you crazy?" to "oh no, I don't want that for you" to " I want something else for you" - he really at this age (thankfully I am sure) didn't have to say much... but those looks always gave me pause and made me think it through just a little bit more. So, ah, yes, this is different.
Don't get me wrong it wasn't like I was running to him for his thoughts and go ahead all the time. It was just that he was always interested to listen and the best thing of all was when he got that "pleased as punch" look on his face. That was really good.
So I am navigating a little differently now. I am thinking more and also of course, thinking "what look would dad give me right now"....?
Listen people, no matter your age, when it comes to your parents you will always be their little boy or girl. That is just a fact. But of course, if we choose to, and I did with my dad, we can also have an amazing friendship with our parent.
That is what I want/try/hope I accomplish everyday with my kids - it is a tension, a balance, cause they have their own lives and minds and plans. And they should, they better, that is healthy. So I balance the best I can and just love them for who they are, encouraging them and not being afraid to quietly reveal a little bit on my face... or NOT. Cause that is just as important if not more so sometimes. I mean seriously, who I am to judge? And all in all that is the one HUGE thing I learned from my dad. He just didn't judge me, he just never seemed to be jealous, or hateful, he just had this amazing thing that happened in his heart and mind in the late 60's - His capacity to love was altered for the good. And that helped him to look and shrug off what he needed to.That is what I am seeking, cause though he was often misunderstood, and made many mistakes, and was even considered by some fools foolish, he wasn't. He knew how to love unconditionally.
What do you look to do, to be to share with your family or friends? Thoughts?

Letting go - it's hard.

I have been letting go of a lot of emotion these last few days. I am not known as one to cry. So when I woke up yesterday and truly, before my eyes were really open burst into loud wracking sobs - I can only say... I was shocked.

But I have also had some soft and silent, peaceful and dripping with joy, moments. I know that sounds pretty dramatic, but that is the only way I can describe them. I mean I still cry more then I have those moments I just described - but that is because I am icky, fleshly and human and self-centered. (And doggone it I miss my Dad. - woman stomps foot)

As I think about grief I think that is a lot of what grief is... I think it is icky, fleshly and human and self-centered, and for heaven's sake so out of control.. I mean it just takes over when it feels like it and then suddenly it is gone... for a while.

I know, I know, it is that we miss our loved ones. Are you thinking right now, "Really woman, you should stop beating yourself up and just roll with it." Wait though... you have to admit that it is kind of all about ME missing someone - and I hate the part of me that thinks about myself more than others - it so prevalent. ICK.

Think about this...

In eternity; there are no tears shed (except maybe tears of joy), there is no pain, there is no emptiness, no thought of one's need, no wondering, no anguish, no worrying, no anything I don't like.

I believe that when someone is "there" they can still see me - so I am sure they aren't missing me the same way I am missing them... at least I don't think they are. I believe yes, that they are waiting for us, but they just know it all so they can wait in joy - I even wonder if they know when we will be there. - Or are they just hanging out watching and waiting and looking at the calendar wondering? Ha! That's a funny picture in my brain now.

Today we had a little tribute to dad and just as we finished saying goodbye to a few people and clearing everything to inside, there was a huge clap of thunder and it began to pour. BUT the sun was so brightly setting, the clouds white with just a hint of grey - it was lovely, I mean seriously it was.

We stood under the eaves and someone said, "Look, look straight up, the drops are huge and they are sparkling!" And you know what? They were. Sparkling and glittery and falling straight down, very straight - We were all exclaiming that we had never, ever seen that before.

Suddenly, and it was suddenly, I took a deep breath and I realized... the air was completely fresh and clean - like even more than usual.

I remembered having a thought drift across my consciousness yesterday, "It's going to rain tomorrow and it will be significant." And it did and it was.

My sister said, "What do you think this means?"

This is what I told her; "I think it is just dad saying he is washed clean of everything, including his ties to this earth, he is free and just full of joy and so happy."

When I said that out loud, right then is when I had this incredible burst of dripping joy and I could see, in my mind's eye, my dad, smiling at me with those blue eyes twinkling.

It was very cool.

I remember as a kid, living up on the top of a hill in Ohio - My dad taught me how to look out the picture window and way across the vast valley and watch the rain come across to the hilltop. "Watch, watch," he'd say, "Do you see it moving our way?" Then almost every time it rained it seemed like he would say, "The air is fresh and clean after the rain."

And one day, I could see it the rain was coming - I remember looking up at him and thinking, "Wow, I see it." Then I remember him opening the door to the back yard and breathing deeply... "Can you smell it, can you Lisa? It is so lovely after the rain." Just one statement. One true statement.

What do you believe? What do you think about grief? Please leave your comments ~ I would love to hear from you.