hijacked

“It’s as if the whole world hijacked Sammy’s special day. And believe me, as his father? That really pisses me off.” --Peggy Sarjeant

So, here I sit on the eve of 9-11, as it has come to be called, and consider what one does when their birthday has been “hijacked”. What do you do when the date of your birth is associated with pain and mourning for the country…for the whole world even? When celebrating seems like heresy? When people hear your birth date and groan? When they say, “Oh, I could never forget that birthday” and then they do.

My friend & talented writer, Peggy, wrote a very poignant story a few years ago about Sammy—a 7 year old who doesn’t understand why he can’t have cupcakes at school on his birthday of September 11. It is a story to which I can totally relate, because if you haven’t figured it out…my birthday is 9-11 ☺.

I struggle a little with what to write here. The therapist in me has lots of deep analysis of what this all means. The magical thinking of a child and my own personal ego kick into play and say the Twin Towers crashed because of me. Yikes! Do other people’s minds go off in crazy directions like that? Add to this the fact that my father died in a truck accident the day after my 19th birthday and you have a whole lot of crashing going on around my special day. So, it’s no wonder I have some pretty strong feelings surrounding these days! (Fortunately I have amazing support & years of therapy under my belt or I could really be “off to the races” on this one! ☺)

There is so much “stuff” that surrounds our birthdays anyway. People seem to either love birthdays, hate them or pretend that they do neither. If you really think about it, however, doesn’t the kid in each of us really appreciate a little celebration? A little recognition? (And, in case, you are shaking your head and saying, “Nope. Not me.” The therapist in me would challenge you to ask yourself why you feel that way ☺. What kind of “stuff” surrounds your birthday?) So, why do I write this post? It is not for a pity party, because I don’t feel pitiful. Maybe it is just my own way to say, “Happy Birthday” to myself and to even agree with Sammy’s dad that yeah, even though the Twin Towers did not crash to punish me, it “really pisses me off” that they had to crash at all, much less on MY day!

9-11 is a day of notoriety and in my own sweet selfish Lucy way, I want it to be all about me. However, the more compassionate and thoughtful Me commiserates with our country and grieves the tragedy that this day remembers. (The Painted Painted Prayerbook had a thoughtful post earlier this week which you might enjoy.)

I am very blessed to have a wonderful group of supportive friends who have chosen to celebrate 9-11 a couple of ways. They have set the goal of each home and business displaying a flag tomorrow to represent unity. In addition, they have committed to light a birthday candle for yours truly. I hope you will consider doing the same. I plan to ☺.

p.s. I hope you will come back tomorrow and wish me a real "Happy Birthday"!

Off to the Races

Fall has always been more a time of new beginning for me than January 1. Maybe it is because so much of my life has revolved around the school year—first my own, then my children’s & now my own again as I return to my work at a graduate school. Today I woke up early with my mind racing and so much to consider. I really hate that feeling. I have schedules to make. Meetings to attend. Will yoga class help or squeeze my time too much today? Should I get up or have a little more needed rest? But my mind races.

I have a new schedule. Two groups of students to meet with individually (17 in all—double what I have done in the past). My birthday is this week. What shall I do for that? I have two workshops in the next two weeks. There are two soccer teams to put on my calendar. The high school calendar arrived yesterday with more dates to fill. My husband is confirming his “away” dates. My daughter has a complicated schedule that I often need to be involved in. I still miss my dog.

Time seems to be filling up. Precious time. Precious space that I cherish. And I cherish the moments that I spend doing the things I love. Being with friends. Being with family. Being with students. All good stuff, you know? I am someone who cherishes solitude AND I am energized by my work. I consider myself a balanced person. I find myself irritated with people who say, “I don’t have time for…solitude, writing, play, you fill in the blank.” And here I sit with my heart pounding and my mind racing because my list is so full.

And then I have to smile, because God is so great. I opened up my morning devotional and today’s title was “Too Full”. Hmmm. Sounds like I’m not alone ☺. And that really irritates me, because today I don’t want to be the cliché. I don’t want to be like everybody else. I don’t want to be ‘too full’ of stuff! I want my nice little serene existence. Ha!

This definitely feels like a season. It all comes back to me now. It is the beginning of the school year with checks to write and calendars to coordinate. It is a new beginning and I love new beginnings. So, for now I think I will breathe deeply, make a list of things that must be done. Attempt to enjoy this season rather than just get through it. I am grateful. I am grateful for so much and even if I find just 10 minutes for solitude today, it will be enough. I will be enough. Amen.

This is why I love writing…I have just talked myself down from the ledge and remembered all of those little spaces of quiet and serenity I have reserved for myself (even if they only exist in my mind). I have remembered to be grateful. I have found a little place to stop the ‘racing.’ Now if I can just keep my mind from firing the starter gun again! ☺

tidbits for the road...and life

Today's thoughts from Hazelden are:

Formula for failure: trying to please everyone.

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The elevator is broken; use the steps.

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You are the problem, but you are also the solution.

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Reason to be grateful #863: you learn to wake up instead of coming to.

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Improve your memory -- tell the truth.

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Numb is dumb; feel to heal.

You are reading from the book:

Keep Coming Back Gift Book by Meiji Stewart

worth the risk?

“Explore and expand your capacity for love and forgiveness. Love people who are unlovable. As G.K. Chesterton said, “love means to love that which is unlovable, or it is no virtue at all.” Who in your life is unlovable? What would loving them look like? How would it change you?” --Patti Digh

I just finished reading David Sheff’s remarkable book, “beautiful boy.” I hesitated for many months before reading this book, because I did not know if I could stomach it. If I could survive it. If I could relive it. But alas it kept popping into my consciousness and finally someone handed me the book and said, “it’s o.k. to read.” (I was also inspired by Sunrise Sister’s thoughtful book review here.)

You see the book is my story. It is my son’s story although the names have been changed as well as the drugs…well some of them anyway. It is a remarkable book. At times I felt like I was inside the pages. In fact, I had been inside the pages. Again, the places had been changed but the memories and emotions were the same. And as I read the quote above from Patti Digh’s 37 Days, I thought of my son and how many people deemed him along the way “unlovable.” I think of the judgment that has come our way. Of the many people that said “I would have given up on him long before now. How do you do it?”

And, today I think of the amazing gift that my son has given me. Because, yes, he is my flesh and blood and that alone (at least for a mother, I think) makes him lovable, but for many years and many moments he presented himself to the world as unlovable. And so I return to Patti’s questions: “What would loving them (the unlovable) look like?” “How would it change you?” and I return to my response: It is an amazing gift. It is worth the risk to love.

I am in no way the same person I was that gave birth to my own beautiful boy just over 19 years ago. I am not even the same person who bought him a puppy on his first day of grade school or the one who home-schooled him when he was 12. I am not even the same person who woke up this morning. Because, you see, my son, “the unlovable”, shook me out of my complacency. He taught me about pain and anger, about hatred and forgiveness, about fear and love.

He sent me on a path (unknowingly) toward wholeness. Loving him looks like a miracle. It looks like new breath…new life. It has changed me profoundly and taught me how to love the unlovable, beginning with myself.

I returned to school at nearly 50 years of age to pursue a career totally opposed to my ‘prior life’. (This kind of change was something I never dreamed I would do while I was “sleeping.”) I latched onto a verse. “Love God and love your neighbor as yourself.” I learned that I had to start with myself and that God would be alongside me in ways I never could have conceived. Before I could love my neighbor or my son or the unlovable, I had to learn to love myself. And so for me, “loving the unlovable” began a circular journey back towards myself and toward the 'unlovable.' And, the circle grows larger and larger every day.

And so, today I thank my own beautiful boy. I honor him and love him and am so grateful that I never gave up on either one of us.

So, I pose to you Patti’s questions: "What would it look like to love the unlovable? How would it change you?" Would you be willing to find out?

Not today...

"It's very helpful to realize that the emotions we have, the negativity and the positivity, are exactly what we need to be fully human, fully awake, fully alive." Pema Chodron

Oh man, the river of emotions that has been running through me over the last few days! I had hoped today to write more generically about “the river” as it is something so universal and intriguing to me. I see this river everywhere in people I meet and pass on the streets. It is a great topic and one I will return to...But not today.

Arising in the morning I look out the door to see if Curry slept outside. I walk into the house at the end of the day expecting to be greeted. I look in the backyard over the fence and hope to see that slobbery smile. I miss my old yellow dog. It is too much AND it is not.

I know it was time, I tell myself. The house will stay cleaner now ☺. I have slowly started to put away his things: bowls and medicine moved downstairs, but not totally disposed. I will remove a rug today that we used to keep him from slipping on the hard wood floors. My husband cannot bring himself to scoop the last bits of poop in the yard. A bag sits stuffed in the Adirondack chair—waiting. “I don’t want to do it,” he says. It is not the complaining, “I don’t wanna,” but one filled with sadness that this will be the last time.

So, no more poop scooping, no more balls of fur throughout the house, no more slobber on the walls. When will I clean the kitchen door? The brown smudge where Curry used his nose to push it open and let himself in? Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe after I have looked for him on the rug or after I have noticed he is not on the back porch and my heart has stopped a little because I know he won’t be there. It all happens in less than a second, I think, maybe a couple of seconds, but the memory, the routine, the pattern of our life is still there.

Oh, it is too much AND of course, it is not. I will go on living. Maybe some day I will allow another furry creature to enter my heart, but not today. Today I will allow myself to feel all of the feelings. I will go about my routine. I will send my daughter off to her first day of 10th grade. I will enjoy the sunshine that is here. I will take my walk and go to my dance class. I will dance for Curry and for me.

I know he will slowly start to take up less space in my thoughts. Less space on this blog. But not today.

p.s. The “river of feelings” started flowing today as I read sweet Riley’s post and the subsequent comment by Geezer Dude. So, check it out if you so desire ☺.