Challenge

When my son was young, there was much talk among his teachers about the best way to challenge him ~ they meant his mind of course, for he was extremely bright, a brightness that I suspect isolated rather than illuminated him at times.   Sadly, few of them ever got it right, ever discovered the magic formula that would inspire him to reach beyond himself, to push past the self-imposed boundaries, to overcome the fears.

Gwen Bell asks a similar question on her Best of 2009 Blog Challenge.  Something that really made you grow this year ~that made you go to your edge and then some. What made it the best challenge of the year for you? 

Sometimes we challenge ourselves, and sometimes life imposes its own challenges upon us.  I’m not one to embrace challenge eagerly, and I admit to a preference for the status quo.  I like things comfortable in my life, like knowing I’m can remain in control, can maintain a familiar level of competence.   But my life in the past year has been filled with one challenge after another – major ones, like the illness and sudden death of two family members, my husband’s job loss, my move to working full time – and minor ones, like a do-it-yourself home improvement project on our rental home and mastering a new set of skills in my job. 

Working my way through all these events, these changes, I was certainly brought to “my edge and then some” rather more times than I would prefer.  Sitting beside my aunt’s hospital bed, holding her hand and listening to her final  labored breaths, something I had experienced only weeks before with her husband, life felt so unreal to me, so unbelievably devastating, I couldn’t imagine a resolution.  Watching my husband, a man who has worked so hard to be the best in his field, have his job taken from him and be faced with the necessity of starting a career over again in an uncertain world, was more heartbreaking than I could believe.

 There were moments when it seemed I would be overcome by all the challenges before me,  when I felt like I was far too close to the edge to ever find my way back down to safety.  The last thing on my mind in those horrific days was whether I was “growing,” whether I was learning or becoming a better, stronger person. 

But, I was.  You see, against all odds (or so it seemed) I’ve risen to all those challenges, at least in some form or another.   Life has evened out, and though there is sadness, there are rays of hope; though I am weary, I feel a sense of satisfaction, much like a runner must feel at the end of a race.   There is peace now and gratitude for having come through not only intact, but stronger, smarter, and more sure of my life and it’s purpose.  All those days of just putting one foot in front of the other and keeping on have paid off, at least in this moment, for I feel almost secure again, almost ready to trust in the life that has always before been quite good to me.

There have been angels in my life who  encouraged me to take up challenges  – personal and professional ones – to spread my wings artistically, to explore new horizons literally and figuratively.  This past year, the angels have come in different forms, largely unseen and sometimes quite unwelcome.  But the inspiration has been there, the need to rise up and confront hard things, and in that confronting you do grow, whether you want to or not. 

There is no magic formula for challenge, for each one of us responds in our own unique manner to the gauntlets thrown down before us.  My challenges in 2009 – each and every one of them – have taught me something new about myself and about surviving. 

It’s been quite illuminating.

Comfort and Joy

Usually at this time of year, I’m a hot mess of frantic activity, running from one rehearsal to another, slogging through slush and cold, toting music bags and work bags and shopping bags from place to place.

But there’s something different about this year.

It’s rather quiet, and calm…dare I say even peaceful?   I’ve decorated the house, and done the cards.  I toyed with the idea of actually baking something (don’t laugh, I have been known to bake things on occasion), and even pulled a few cookie recipes out of magazines.  Yes, I actually sat down in a chair long enough to look through the December issue of a magazine.   In spite of all the upheaval and sadness that have characterized the past several months, this season I feel an unusual sensation of peace.

Next Tuesday, our church is having a special service entitled “Comfort and Joy.”  It’s designed for people who are having a hard time getting into the spirit of the season - for those who have suffered losses of family members, who are in the process of divorce or family troubles, who are jobless or even homeless.  When this service was first announced some weeks back, I immediately marked the date onto my calendar, for this has been a year when loss abounded for me. 

But as Tuesday approaches, it’s almost as if I no longer feel the need to go, as if comfort and joy have already found me.  Somewhere in the midst of decorating the house, placing the angel figurines on the mantel, scattering white candles around the house, and filling this Fitz and Floyd plate with golden ornaments, the spirit of Christmas has finally found me.

Comfort and joy comes to each of us in different and sometimes unexpected ways.  Often for me it comes through music – and it’s a curious thing that the avenue which sometimes causes me the most anxiety and wear during this time of year also brings me the most satisfaction and joy.  There are others who find joy in cooking and crafting, or shopping and wrapping.  Of course the time I spend with my family and my friends is a great source of comfort and joy, for what is more evocative of the spirit of Christmas than sharing happy times and memories with the ones we love.  And though it may be tinged with sadness, for always there are thoughts of days gone by when children were small and families were whole, there is still comfort in the smiles, laughter, and even the tears that come from long years of shared experiences.

Perhaps it’s simply a matter of having  taking  time this year, for I have consciously stepped back from many of the demands usually placed on me this season.  My rather small Christmas shopping list has been further diminished by a decision to make donations to charitable organizations in honor of those friends for whom I usually buy trinkets or gift cards.  Our gift to ourselves this year is a week spent in Florida with our son and daughter in law and we’ll be driving down so we can take Magic and Molly along.  But somehow, the thought of an 18 hour car ride seems relaxing rather than daunting. 

It’s quite a miracle really, this sense of golden peacefulness I’m feeling.  I half expect to wake up in the morning  my usual anxiety ridden December self.

Then again, maybe not. Maybe this year I have some extra angels watching over me, gently smoothing my furrowed brow and bringing tidings of comfort and joy just for me.

I hope so.  And I hope you have some too.

So, how about you?  What brings you comfort and joy in the midst of the holiday season?

Grace

 

Through many dangers toils and snares

I have already come,

‘Tis grace that brought me safe this far

And grace will lead me home.

 ~Amazing Grace, by John Newton

 

 I sat in church last Sunday and listened to our choir singing these words.  This is my favorite verse of one of my favorite hymns, and as many times as I’ve heard it and sung it, it had special meaning for me last week. 

Whether one calls it grace or faith or luck, there is something that keeps us moving forward through all kinds of adversity, something that mends broken hearts, strengthens tired spirits, gives us the courage to pick ourselves up and go on.  It is truly amazing, and I’m thankful for it.

May today bring you and yours all the grace you need, for whatever reason you need it.

Happy Thanksgiving.

 

Pretty Good Day

Today was a pretty good day. 

I can make that statement with certainty, because I’ve had some really terrible days in the past few months.  Days when I literally had to make life and death decisions for people I loved.  Days when I had to sort through the belongings of those same people and decide what they should be buried in.  Days when I sat staring at lists of bills and endlessly adding up numbers in my head, trying to make the bottom lines come out somewhere within arms reach.

But today wasn’t that kind of day at all.  Oh, there were frustrations.  At work, one of our client’s appointments got moved up from next week to tomorrow, which necessitated that I drop everything I had planned to do for the day and get all their paperwork and medical records in order.  At home, the pork tenderloin I planned to cook for dinner smelled a trifle off, and so I had to come up with something else.

Everyday dilemmas, quite delightful in their normalcy.

It’s all about perspective, isn’t it?  The things that once seemed insurmountable often pale in comparison to the real trials and traumas of life.  I suppose that’s one of the gifts of growing older, having enough experience of life’s vicissitudes to really understand what’s traumatic and what’s nothing more than an annoyance. 

I can be grateful for the small trials and tribulations like todays, because I’ve had days of such overwhelming sadness. I can wrap myself around the small moments of happiness – like watching the sun glinting on a pile of golden leaves, or seeing Magic curl up next to Molly and prop his head on her back.  I can laugh out loud at my friend’s jokes, and revel in the sound of Bon Jovi turned up full blast on my car stereo.   I can (almost) stop being afraid of what the day will bring.

Today was a pretty good day.

I hope it was for you too.

 

Refresh

It rained sporadically all morning, a fine, needle like mist that pelted my cheeks as I dashed from the house to the car.  We spent the morning at my aunt’s house, searching for paperwork (house deeds, car titles, insurance policies…)  We found instead a marriage certificate, signed with a flourish by Justice of the Peace Anthony Owen, on November 15, 1947.  We also found an (incredibly small looking!) uniform shirt, US Air Force, circa 1943, and a pair of purple silks such as a boxer might wear into the ring.  There was a box filled with patchwork quilt squares, ready for my aunt’s Wednesday morning quilting group to piece into one of the many beautiful bed coverings they made back in the 1960’s.  And a class ring, again incredibly small, threaded through a delicate chain so it could be worn as a necklace. 

When we emerged from this time warp, the sun had come out.  The maple leaves sparkled with glints of gold, and raindrops perched on their tips like diamond earrings.  There was a freshness to the air and a similar lightness in my heart, as if the rain had washed away the gloom and sadness which had permeated the past two weeks.  I could see light at the end of this tunnel at last.

My challenge emotionally  for the coming months is to pull myself out of the melancholy pit I’ve been lingering in for most of the summer, seek out opportunities for happiness and indulge in them, refuse to allow myself to get drawn any deeper into self-pity and fearfulness and worry.   It’s a bit like hitting the refresh button on the computer keyboard…the same page will come back on the screen, but with the newest, most up-to-date information.  The basic facts of my life aren’t going to change right now…there is fresh loss and grief, uncertainty about the future, more work to do…but mainly there is still life, and people who love me.  There are dogs to cuddle and take for a walk, music to play, and books to be read.  There are vistas of red and gold maple leaves, cool autumn breezes,  hot coffee and fresh baked cinnamon rolls for the morning.

A dear friend  sent me a card in the mail that reads…

There’s no doubt this is hard.  There are questions, “what ifs.”  Hurts, doubts, regrets…

But I know you.

I know you’ve come through hard times before, and you’ll come through this one, too.

And what’s more,

I know you’ll be even stronger for it –

deeper in understanding and even more certain of your good place in this world.

Today I caught a glimmer of light at the end of this long tunnel, a moment of certainty that there was still a good place in the world.

And I was refreshed.

Here It Comes

It’s been chilly and dark all day today, and I put a long sleeved denim shirt over my tee when I walked the dogs just now.   I counted three maples with scarlet tipped leaves, and noticed all the hostas were completely bloomed out and turning brown around the edges.

If feels like fall and I’m not sure I’m ready.

Ordinarily, I love fall, and would consider it my favorite season.  Mostly, it’s the fallish trappings that appeal to me…school supplies, sweaters, tangy apple cider, bonfires, new tv shows, mutlicolored foliage, crisp cool breezes…things that inspires you to nestle into your favorite chair with a thick novel, a soft blanket, and a dog or two for company.

But somehow, I’m reluctant to see it come this year.  Perhaps it’s because last winter was so brutal, and I’m just not anxious for a repeat performance.

Maybe it’s because I’m not all that excited about resuming rehearsal schedules and church activities.

Mostly, I think it’s because this summer has been so traumatic.  While you’d think that would be all the more reason to want it to end, I think I’m still hoping that some miracle will occur, time will reverse itself, and I’ll get the summer to do over without the sadness and loss that came with it.  It’s as  if with the arrival of fall, the terrible things that happened this summer will be irrevocably inmeshed in the season and therefore impossible to ignore.

But if there’s one thing I know after almost 54 years on the planet, it’s that time marches on and waits for no woman.  It’s only August 22, but within the blink of an eye it will be Halloween (in fact, the candy and costumes are already on display in Target).   Then Christmas will be here in a heartbeat, and another Long Winter will begin in earnest.

Oh, I’m not sure I’m ready.

 

Things You Learn While Doing Other Things

I’m sure you’ve seen this slogan on t-shirts, coffee mugs, and probably even big girl panties.  Essentially, it’s a pretty good philosophy for most of life’s trials and tribulations.  As a friend of mine said in an e-mail today, “I suppose you get to eat worms for a brief period, and then it’s time to channel your frustrations and anger into something constructive.”

We’ve been trying to do that, and our experience last week fixing up our rental property was certainly the most literally constructive we’ve ever had as a couple.  Neither one of us is particularly handy, nor do we enjoy DIY projects of any kind.  I’m sure our family was shaking their heads in amused disbelief at the thought of the two of us doing all the painting and cleaning necessary to get that house back in order. 

But we screwed our courage up and dove in.  Jim, like any good engineer, had done his research about painting and patching.  He had a list of supplies already made, and knew exactly how to proceed.  As for myself, in my usual bury my head in the sand fashion, I grabbed up some cleaning supplies and hoped they’d do the trick.

So every morning we’d get up, drink some coffee, pack a lunch and a couple of bottles of beer, and drive over to the townhouse we purchased in 2005 as an investment (HA!) property.  Jim spent one entire 8 hour day filling and spackling holes and cracks, while I worked my way around all the baseboards, mini-blinds, entry doors and cupboards with Murphy’s Oil Soap™ and Magic Erasers™.   The next day, we moved on to painting, me continuing along the baseboard with paintbrush this time, while Jim tackled the upper walls and ceiling trim.  By the third day, we were meeting in the middle with our rollers.  On the fourth day, Jim replaced some electrical switches while I tackled the grout with bleach and a toothbrush.  In between, we arranged for the installation of  carpet, and spent the evenings with our son who was busy re-configuring and installing software on Jim’s new business computer.

At the end of each day, hot, sticky, and aching in places we didn’t know existed, we’d sit on the stairway of the townhouse and share a bottle of icy cold beer and even a few laughs.   I think we were both a bit surprised at how well we managed to work together.  Typically, we don’t make a very good team in these sorts of situations.  We don’t have the same work styles – Jim is a total perfectionist, and I’m more about the fastest and easiest way get it done.   But I’ve been attempting to be more thoughtful about my actions these past weeks – by that I mean, to think things through more carefully, move more slowly, and work more efficiently.  It helped that the entire week was dedicated to this one event, and there were no other demands on our time, either in Florida or here at home waiting for us.  So we worked well, and had the place looking almost brand new by the time we left on Friday night.

In light of that experience, I’m finding that our current situation reflects the truth of another old adage as well, one of which my mother is particularly fond.  “What doesn’t kill you just makes you stonger,” she’ll say. 

Well, we’re not dead yet, and we do feel stronger (especially our arms after all that scrubbing and painting!)

But so is our relationship, I think -stronger, I mean.  After being together for 35 years and weathering a certain amount of storms, it’s nice to learn that we can still pull together and work as a team, can count on our genuine care, concern and affection for one another, can appreciate each others strengths and weaknesses and work within the parameters of both to get a job done.  

Last week I learned a lot about painting and I learned that Magic Erasers  are truly magic.  More importantly, I discovered some new facets in an old relationship, and I learned love is kind of a Magic ingredient of its own.

Masks

 

In the land of a thousand dances,

I have at least that many masks.

~unknown

 

 

Even within our deepest connections, I believe we use masks to play a constant game of emotional peek-a-boo.

No wonder I thrive in solitude and flourish in aloneness.

It allows me moments to sit naked, stripped of all my masks, and be only the question instead of always worrying about being the answer.