My grandson, Isaac, started kindergarten this year. When I asked him what his favorite part of the day was, he smiled and said, "Read and Rest!" Recalling the old adage that everything you need to know in life you learn in kindergarten, I decided that I would make it my favorite part of the day, too. Fortunately, as an "older mother," my kids enjoy it as much as I do. And, my new Kindle lets me "Read and Rest"-high tech! Life is good.
It's still about THEM,THEM, THEM!
As I look over my summer of blogs it appears as if I, I, I, am the only person I care about anymore! So, just in case you think I have become totally self-consumed, I thought I would post these cute pictures from the first day of school. I still get the “kindergarten mom” lump in my throat when I send my kids off to school, even Trevor. We still school shop, sign disclosures, search for backpacks, go to the dentist, miss the bus, head to Wal-Mart for notebooks, work, go to gymnastics, babysit, give father’s blessings, moan about curly hair, read, read, read, call Trevor for help with Algebra, work in the lunchroom, shop for textbooks, practice the piano, change class schedules, forget our lunch money, agonize over what to wear in school pictures, write countless checks, complain about teachers, pop Eggos in the toaster, moan when the alarm goes off at six, look forward to Saturday and everything else that revolves around this “most wonderful time of the year.”
Ever since Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson made the saying “the bucket list” a household word, we have all been forced to ask ourselves what is on our “list.” Each day, as I look up at the mountains behind my house, and watch the hang gliders and parasailers jump into thin air, I shake my head and remind myself, there are certain actvities that will never be on the list. (Thanks to my sister and daughter, I can live that one vicariously through them.) There are however other things on my list, because face it, whether or not we have written them down on paper, we all have secret ambitions floating around inside our heads. In a somewhat similar vein, my sisters and I have a “Birthday Swim” each summer where we share our “Birthday Wishes” for the year. Somehow speaking them out loud makes them more real. I had my own personal form of “The List” of everything I wanted to accomplish before I turned 50. My fiftieth birthday, in one sense, was like crossing the finish line of a marathon. Surprisingly, I accomplished the majority— I got my Master’s degree, went to Europe, wrote a book, raised a large family, bought a cabin in the woods. I still need to learn to throw a pot on a potter’s wheel and hike the Appalachian Trail. I have a lot of confidence in lists because they help us to get things done and like my sweet niece recently blogged—everyone loves to cross things off the list. With that said, I am now officially “throwing in the towel,” “kicking the bucket” and “banning my list!”
Since the Big 5-0 party, I have been in a funk, as I pondered what to carry over and what new to add to the “Things To Do Before 60” list. I have slept on it, showered until the hot water ran out over it, and taken a hiatus from writing anything until I figured it out. Then I went to my folder, the folder labeled GOALS, and started looking at the now yellowing pieces of notebook paper, index cards, journals and Daytimer sheets, I had tucked away over the years. I have kept every single one from the day I started college until last year. I have always taken goal setting seriously-“a goal not written is only a wish.” Divided into neat categories, my goal setting has helped me to progress in a “well rounded” manner. There are spiritual goals (pray everyday—as if having seven kids doesn’t force you to your knees anyway) physical goals (remain at 110 lbs., 120 lbs, 130 lbs. and I mean it this time. Keep wardrobe updated and stylish—I must have some Freudian fear of elastic-waisted black polyester pants) educational and homemaking goals (learn to cook with wheat—like General Mills hadn’t already perfected the process) and financial goals-organize my desk-written on every slip of paper since March of 1980. It was the last one that sent me over the edge.
As I looked at all those papers spread out on my bedroom floor, they all seemed to be screaming, “Don’t Think Red-Don’t Think Red!” Have I been subconsciously sabotaging my progress? Has all the goal setting, over things that don’t really matter, kept me back from paths that I may have taken? Was I too focused on the things I thought I “should” be doing instead of those things I “could” be doing? Then I ask myself, “What if I tried living the next year with absolutely no goals, no life plan, no list?” What if I said, “to hell with ever getting my office organized or figuring out what to do with the 300 pounds of stored wheat?” What if each day I wake up to a blank page and see where life takes me?
Amid all my goals, I found a sheet of paper that simply said, “I Dream”—it was the only paper that made me smile and say, “What do you know-this all came true.” So this is the year of living spontaneously and letting the petty goals go. (For heaven's sake, someone can take a box of big garbage bags into my office when I am gone and then cross it off my list.) As I put the GOALS folder back in the drawer, I noticed that towards the back was a stack of blank papers. I reached to take them out and return them to the copier, then I stopped myself. Those sheets of blank paper represent the years ahead. I look forward to filling them with all sorts of wonderful experiences, but this time I won’t be in the driver’s seat of life. Instead, I will be along for the ride, looking out the window, waiting to see where the adventure might take me.
The summer is waning, school has started and the geese flying overhead remind me that fall is around the corner. Time to wax philosophical. For several years, the Big Five-O has been out on the horizon. For me it became a goal, a completion date for all the things on “The List” –and a date to take my pulse and make sure that I was still in “proper working order.” Thanks to my husband and children, it was also a wonderful day to celebrate all those things that I hold dear-- family, friends, faith, home, food, (it was amazing) and books (looking forward to my new Kindle and diving into the stack I brought home from Barnes and Noble yesterday). I fell asleep counting my blessings for my wonderful life.
I remember turning forty and doing a thorough assessment of where I was in life and what I had learned so far. Fifty has been different. I think because it involves so many more physical changes and frankly, it takes too much energy to “thoroughly assess” things these days! What I noticed most about turning fifty is that it is a time of “softening.” The body begins to “soften,” (thank goodness for Spanx), the might begins to “soften” (that is why the youngest children always get by with more than the oldest), but most importantly the heart and soul soften. People are more important than things, little things don’t matter quite as much and you cut both yourself and others a lot more slack. Ironically, as your eyes go out of focus, life becomes clearer. I like being able to laugh at the absurdities of life, to enjoy the grandkids without feeling responsible for molding them into “responsible citizens,” and sitting with my soulmate comfortable in the knowledge that we love each other just the way we are. It has been an incredible life so far; I see today as the ‘halfway” point and look forward to beginning Act II.
P.S. To any loyal readers, I have to regulate my comments because for some reason I have become so popular in China that I simply cannot control my fans there any longer—please do not believe for one moment I will be “censoring” any of you however.
As part of my “In Search of the Early Church” class that I took last year, we did a section on Medieval Cathedrals. In a time when most parishioners were illiterate, the Cathedral became a visual experience to teach the gospel; both symbolically, through the layout of the building and also through the stories told in the stained class windows, frescos and statuary. In one discussion, I bemoaned the fact that we did not have such magnificent cathedrals in the United States. A fellow student reminded me that we have Washington Cathedral in our nation’s capital. So, when I was visiting Washington D.C., I made it a point of attend church there. It left an indelible impression that I wish I could somehow convey through words, but like so many things in life I think it could only be experienced.
The building is magnificent in size and beauty. Sitting on a hill it can be seen throughout the city. The music was heavenly. The sermon spoke to my soul and worshiping, surrounded my so many fellow Christians was empowering. Two things touched me deeply. One was a humble prayer given by an African American woman. She asked the Lord to “bless Brother Barack that he would have the wisdom to know how to deal with the crisis in the Gulf.” In our highly partisan world it was nice to hear not criticism, but a simple prayer for “Brother Barack.” My other experience was in taking communion. As the Bishop invited all who were believers to come to the feast, I understood what the word “communion” truly symbolized. I understood “one Lord, one faith, one baptism.” The congregation reverently lined up to ascend to the altar and receive the bread and wine. Represented were so many different nationalities, people from all walks of life, all sharing a common religious experience. It brought tears to my eyes. As is the custom in the Episcopal Church, all drank from the same cup. I chose to dip my wafer in the cup of wine—I regret that now. There is something symbolic about sharing a common cup—it is what families do, including the family of man. On this July Fourth, I count my blessings to live in “one nation, under God, indivisible” and I will continue to pray for freedom and justice for all—and for strength and wisdom for Brother Barack.
A few days ago, I got together with “the ladies” for a lovely lunch. I have been thinking all week about how unique and different each one of us are but how together we are each striving for the same things—to be good and do good. Just like a prism that separates light into the different colors of a rainbow, life has separated us into our own unique colors on the spectrum but when combined together we still work together in harmony and peace and light. So often, what one can’t do, the other can and this has helped us over the years to decorate Christmas trees, plan reunions, take care of the “parental units,”plan weddings, funerals and reunions, bake cakes, bread and casseroles, raise children, hike mountains and ski down slopes, birth babies, decorate homes, open businesses, write papers and edit manuscripts. I think I have finally arrived at that glorious place in life where I don’t “envy” others but instead can appreciate that we each have something to bring to the buffet and can now just enjoy the feast. Together our talents cover the whole “spectrum” of the rainbow—dancing, art, cooking, teaching, healing, decorating, listening, writing, gardening, scrapbooking, humor, photography, reading, music, organizing, and letting things go— some of us can even make our own soap! Together ladies we are one “rainbow connection” and my life is so blessed because of it. Thanks for lunch!!
I remember what a big deal watching The Wizard of Oz was as a child. The year we got our first color television was the biggest of all. I still remember the fear that the witch and the flying monkeys evoked and the relief I felt when Dorothy was safe in her own bed. As I have grown older, I have come to realize that The Wizard of Oz is really more of a story for grown-ups. From those days watching television in our little blue house on Morrison, holding a bowl of popcorn, while my Dad waited expectantly for the “color scene” to appear on our new Magnavox; until yesterday, when I walked up my own “yellow brick” or rather, “red brick” road, Dorothy and her traveling companions have continued to inspire me. For me, the story of The Wizard of Oz has always been about confronting our fears. When Dorothy throws the water on the witch and when she pulls the curtain back on the “Great Oz,” and finds an ordinary man, she reminds each of us that when we finally look those things in the face, that truly frighten us, they almost always just melt away.
Yesterday, I saw Dorothy’s Ruby Red Slippers at the Smithsonian. “There’s no place like home,” she learned. However, my fears are not of getting back home but of leaving home and the longer I have been there, the scarier the thought of leaving became. My friend Lisa once commented that she liked the fact that I was “always home” and she always knew where to find me—(we have spent a lot of time texting the past few days—she can still find me!) A few months ago I decided to send my paper to Georgetown, not really expecting that anything would come of it; that was my first step on the road to bravery. When I received the reply asking me to come present my paper, I had to face my fears straight in the face, not the fear of public speaking, not the fear of debating a controversial subject with colleagues who I knew were much more knowledgeable; I had to face my overwhelming, almost crippling, fear of-- hailing a taxi in a strange city! Like Dorothy, when we are overcome with fear, it is easiest to just lay down in a field of poppies and go to sleep; fortunately life always causes it to snow and somehow we get up and keep moving.
So I am posting this blog-for my family, friends and my large contingent of Chinese readers--to let you know that I found my bucket of water. Like the cowardly lion, maybe I don’t feel quite so cowardly anymore. As I walked up the brick paths of Mount Vernon this morning, I thought of arriving by plane, catching the Metro to my hotel, checking in all by myself, hailing a taxi, getting to Georgetown, meeting a group of strangers, speaking, hailing another taxi to go to church, finding my way downtown and even eating in a restaurant all by myself—something I have never done. We all have our “witches” and “flying monkeys”—I sort of doubt that any of mine are yours. But it nice to know that when I click my heels together to return home, I am doing it feeling a little older, a little wiser, (a little more sunburn), and a little braver.
