Truth and Transparency

Making a Difference One at a Time

2009-11-07T19:54:00.004-05:00

Last night I went to a dinner in honor of Fred and Joan Miller, Danville residents who have long contributed to serving our community. It was hosted by the Red Cross, and honored them as recipients of a special award.

Those of you who know me, know I love stories, and there were a couple of particularly poignant stories about the Millers that were shared last night that highlighted why they were selected to receive this award.

One was about Joan and her tireless dedication to visiting and reading to a particular resident at one of the area nursing homes. Let's just say the woman was a bit on the crabby and complaining side, and didn't make it inviting for Joan, along with her youngest son Mark, a teenager at the time, whose recollection this was, to return day after day.
Yet she did, and ultimately it made a difference.
The love and care and humble concern, true concern, of one person made a difference in that other person's life, and the barriers of hurt, loneliness and bitterness were washed away by the warmth of love and caring. Genuine love and caring, motivated by loving the other person as God does.

Then today, I had the opportunity to hear yet another story of selfless service that was truly remarkable.

I went to a performance of a play, Life in a Jar, about a Polish woman, who, during the Holocaust, smuggled 2500 children to safety from the ghetto of Warsaw. This play was written ten years ago by a group of ninth grade history students and was moving beyond belief.

Another story about a caring, loving, humble individual that served others and put her own life on the line to save the lives of others. Visit www.irenasendler.org to be inspired.

Both events and stories of different individuals were powerful reminders of the to me indisputable fact that one person CAN make a difference, and forever have an impact on those they cross paths with.

This can be just as true for us also. Do you believe that? Whose life are you making a difference in today?

New Memories, Old Memories...

2009-11-02T16:15:00.002-05:00

The last time I was in Vienna was almost thirty years ago...I was in college and eurailed it around Europe for almost a month.

At the time, an old family friend, the kind who is virtually family, you know, an "Aunt" who is not a blood relative, was still alive and lived in an old stately house in Vienna, and invited me and my friend to join her as her house guests. Each morning she served us hot coffee, warm bread with butter and raspberry jam, and regaled us with tales that seemed more like fiction than fact.

Even though Tante Helene is no longer alive, once again being in this stately and regal city has brought back many memories. My biggest sadness is that I missed Die Zauberflote at the Statsopera by a mere two weeks...it would truly have made this trip complete.

But a week in the mountains with sunny, crisp days and above average temperatures and for the most part agreeable travel mates made this a great trip.

My mom had a good time, and that, after all, was the foremost goal. She misses my dad and spends too much time feeling sad, so whatever puts a smile on her face is a wonderful blessing, and I have become a fierce protector of her well being and happiness.

Today we traipsed through the city and visited a museum that I hope my dad went to the last time he was here, a glorious collection of art, including masterpieces by Egon Schiele and Gustav Klimt, then through the Hopsburg area and then winding down with a Wiener Schnitzel.

It is raining now; the first time since the night we arrived. God welcomed us with tears of joy, and I believe is now ushering us out, weeping tears of a bittersweet nature. A reminder to cherish all that is beautiful, but perhaps too fleeting in life.

I look forward to a time to come back and add yet another layer of memories to what has come before.

Joy in the Small Stuff, and May it all be Small Stuff

2009-10-30T16:42:00.002-04:00

There truly is joy in the small stuff.

My hope and prayer is that it may all be small stuff.

The morning light reflected off the fresh snow on the mountain peaks.
The foam on the capucinno looked like clouds and had just a sprinkling of cinnamon on top.
Apple Strudel that is to die for.
Trains that glide seamlessly and soundlessly through the mountains.
My mother finding trinkets she wants to buy and she has never been a shopper.
And down duvets.

All delightful, simple pleasures and treasures of life.

May you find delight in your own.

Kathy

Austrian Update

2009-10-28T15:41:00.008-04:00

I can't believe it is Wednesday already.

There have been so many times I have had thoughts that spurred an impulse to blog, but the computer and Internet haven't been immediately accessible, so it simply didn't happen. So I guess I have to make up for lost time.

So, in thinking back, I last checked in on the 25th which was Sunday. Since then we have had a variety of experiences.

I must say, the group of us do travel well together, despite a recent breakup between Chris and Erin. It is all good.

The primary objective of this trip is to bring my mother joy. God is present in every detail of our lives, every day, if we just pause long enough to recognize Him. I am learning to love my mother with a tenderness I didn't realize was within me. Perhaps it was dormant for more years than I care to admit, and it took my father's death to awaken it.

So we aim to include her in our days at her pace as if she were the Queen mother. We walk with her, wait for her, serve her, and agree with her on most things. As long as there is a smile, and there have been many, it is a good day.

So the days have developed their own rhythm. Deb and Erin sleep in, Connie and I go for morning walks, and my mom does her own thing at her own pace, and we all come together around noon...

Monday was a National Holiday here in Austria, we still aren;t sure exactly what, but my Austrian neighbor will be able to inform me...and we went to Felsum Bad, a large collection of pools and springs in the center of Bad Gastein. It was glorious. My mom deferred enterance, which didn't surprise me, and sat and read her book while we cavorted from pool to pool and even to the sauna. Like I said, glorious...

Then yesterday we went to Salzburg. It has always been one of my favorite places, because it is the birthplace of Mozart.

Mozart and I have a long history, you see. It started when I was six and went to my first opera, Die Zauberflote, in New York at the Met, and got to go backstage and visit with Ted Upman, who sang the role of Papageno, and the whole event was chronicled in Opera News, as the dad of one of my elementary school classmates was the editor.

My dad also used to listen to Mozart a lot, and now those CD's are at my home. I have taken to listening to one of Mozart's symphonies of late, as the tempo and character of the music at times is haunting (especially the oboe) and at other times is inspiring. The beauty of the music propells me forward in living in a way that I hope and believe honors my family. My mother who is here, and my dad who is not physically present, but whose spirit is.

At any rate, Salzburg was beautiful. The old city was charming, its cobblestone streets meandering and crisscrossing eachother. We followed them to the fortress that provided a view that was maginificent of the city, both old and new. Even though the weather forecast called for forties and wet snow, we have been blessed with clear days in which the blue sky provides a crisp contrast to the snow capped peaks. This morning there was a frost that covered the grass of the valley and lent an even more surreal image of the place we are staying, which I am convinced is a slice of heaven.

No trip to Salzburg would be complete without a visit to Hotel Sacher, which is home to the original Sacher Torte, a wonderful Austrian concoction which is dense, with apricot preserves in between the layers and frosted in the most delicious and silken dark chocolate imagineable...I know my father would have approved of our purchase of a torte large enough to take back and keep us in chocolate heaven for two nights.

We also discovered a Loden factory outlet, and I was thrilled my mom found a jacket she wanted to buy. Rarely does she submit to treating herself, so the fact that she found a jacket she liked and wanted to buy it was a big deal.

Today Connie and I walked to town and frequented our favorite bakery for coffee and fruhstuck (breakfast) and then meandered our way back before gathering the troops (no small feat) for the afternoon excursion to Bad Hofgastein for mudbaths and massages. Another trip to heaven, if you aske me...and that is where we discovered the thrift store.

Now we are back and ready to tuck in. Deb cooked us a wonderfull meal, Connie is going for a swim, Erin is knitting, I am writing, which I love, and my mom is reading Danielle Steele, and we are all content.

Community is beautiful, and is how God intended us to live.

May you also find your community of peace.

Arrived in Austria

2009-10-25T16:01:00.002-04:00

Why do computer woes even follow me internationally? I don't have internet in our apartment, so I need to traipse up to the lobby to connect via wireless, so I figured I would be smart and wrote some thoughts in a word document to simply copy and paste, but it didn't work. Some HTML thing.

Argh...

At any rate, the same group of us who were together in May in Paris are together again in Austria. It is me, my mom, Connie and Erin and her mom Deb.

But there are some major differences than the last time. Erin broke up with Chris and my mother has slowed down even more.

Deb and Erin made the plans to join us before she broke up with Chris, which did come as a big surprise, and to make things a bit more awkward, we own half the house Chris is still living in with her mom Deb. So ground rules were no talking about houses, Chris or relationships. But it is a bit odd.

We are in the mountains and not all the ground is totally flat, although we did discover some short cuts and flat promenades today, but my mom is slow, painfully slow when she walks, so really double the time needs to be allowed to go places, but she is fairly content to just stay put.

But Connie and I like to be on the go, so we got up this morning and walked to the bakery we discovered and sat and had some coffee and plum cake. When we returned, at just past noon, Erin was still in bed, my mom in the shower and Deb in her jammies. We were glad to have each other to explore with.

It is nice to be somewhere where there isn't a pace to keep (admittedly noon and still in bed is even extreme by jetlag standards) but we are simply allowing the week to unfold, allowing a rhythm of its own to develop that allows us to appreciate the beauty of the surrounding mountains.

Take a moment to slow down your own pace and breath in the beauty that surrounds you.

Giving is the Antidote

2009-10-18T22:09:00.003-04:00

There are way too many greedy people. Unfortunately, I have intimate experience with this at the moment, but just when you think you are the only one having a pity party, you hear another story.

I took my mom and daughter, Nicole, to a benefit for the local homeless shelter this afternoon, which was absolutely delightful, and heard another horror story prompted by greed. Greed that drove human beings to become vultures, aboriginal vultures no less attacking and consuming their own. Litigation ensued and lives have been forever altered. It is sickening.

I guess I am too naive, or truthful, perhaps, to really believe and absorb to what extend people will stoop when prompted by greed that consumes them to the point of chasing after things that they have no right to, but yet somehow in their warped reality, believe they are entitled to.

May God be the judge of what belongs to whom.

So, I have come to the conclusion that the antidote to the toxic effects of greed are to give. And give freely. And give generously.

There was a Chinese raffle at the event this afternoon, and I think Nicole must surely have thought I lost my mind when I purchased a totally outrageous number of raffle tickets and then happily turned them over to her to place in whatever basket she chose. I rail against arcade games and rigged fair games, but this was fun! I had no difficulty purchasing tickets that went to support a very worthwhile cause.

And the look on Nicole's face when she DID win the basket she really was hoping for was priceless. As were the memories I created with my mom and daughter were also priceless, as was the joy I experienced in giving.

We all covet from time to time; that is just human nature, but greed and lust that drive people to demolish lives in their pursuit of power and money is just wrong. So, if you ever feel yourself affected by greed in any way, try the antidote of giving. You won't be sorry.

Peace.

Pure as Snow

2009-10-16T23:46:00.003-04:00

It snowed today. I mean, really snowed. At one point there was three inches on the railing on my deck. There was still enough left this evening for Nicole to romp with a couple of friends and make some serious snowmen.

I thought it was unusual when we had a white Halloween a few years back...What year was that? 2002? I should remember because it was an exceptionally difficult time for our family. One son was in NM, and the other son went to retrieve him, except his car broke down in IN, and then three more times on the way home. I ultimately drove that Halloween night to meet him in Western PA. The next few days were difficult. Very difficult.

Fast forward a few years and some threads in the story line are similar, and many have, thankfully, spun out successfully.

The snow that fell earlier was beautiful. There was fog and a gentle snowfall, and I listened to one of Mozart's symphonies, the oboe solo the perfect accompaniment to the stillness shrouded in nature's coverings. There was a melancholy lilt to what was both seen and heard, and I allowed myself to get lost in the thoughts carried by a surreal environment, that beckoned me to think about my dad.

The beauty of the moment; the beauty of the music. The stillness of the present, not to be rushed. And I thought of him and how he appreciated beauty and art so very much. This particular symphony is also one that motivates me to continue to pursue justice. I can't explain it, it is just what the music tells me.

And so I listened, reveled in beauty and prayed.
What more perfect way to spend a white as snow, pure morning than praying that that purity would infuse my heart and motivation.

May you also be cleansed and be pure as snow.

Moments of Weakness

2009-10-12T23:52:00.004-04:00

It is in our weakness that we become strengthened through love and faith...(and chocolate).

It is pushing midnight and desperate for a midnight snack, a tad bit early, I raided the Halloween candy. My favorite are Peanut M&M's.

A dear friend sent a beautiful story in power point a couple of days ago entitled, The Push, and depicted and told in a mere 182 words is a story, accompanied by compelling music, of how eagles give their offspring a push out of the nest, and expect that they will soar, not crash.

Oh, that we would have that instinctual sense that would propel us with what we know inside we need to do, but yet are reluctant to carry out.

I watched this story again this evening, while stroking Matt's cat...Sprinkles is old, sixteen, and one of the last images embedded in my mind before he left for the wild West was his goodbye to his cat.

It broke my heart. (Uh oh, the tears are welling up in my eyes, just recalling it).

Matt stood at the island in the kitchen stroking Sprinkles who came home for his 9th, innocent, birthday. It was early October and Howie had gone to Chicago to take his Dermatology and the first official pet joined the Pride family, and it was Matt's cat, Sprinkles who has survived several bouts of fleas, oral surgery and the invasion of three other cats and now two puppies. But he remains aloof and a bit regal.

Yet the unspoken understanding in watching Matt stroke Sprinkles was that in all likelihood he was saying goodbye. He probably will not see Sprinkles again. And while I watched him say goodbye to his cat, I wondered about my own goodbyes and the next time I would see him...

And while I watched the story, Sprinkles climbed into my lap and I stroked him, thinking of my son, who I had to push out of the nest just a couple of weeks ago and the times I held him close as a little boy soothing his hurts, stroking out the bumps of the rough spots of life.

There isn't quite enough chocolate for moments like this, especially when the M&M's are in fun size packs which I swear are smaller than they have ever been...

Love and live well, and give the person in your life the push when they need it most, have some chocolate, and call me in the morning.

Peace.

Garage Sale Mission Field

2009-10-10T21:31:00.005-04:00

It is the end of the day; another long, long one. And I am tired. But it is a good tired, as I chose the things I spent my time on.

Today was day two of the garage sale, and yeah, some of it moved outside, thanks to better weather. The yard sale was a success, in more ways than one. The financial result was outstanding, $618.25. Wow. But as an opportunity to share, dream and serve God it was even more powerful. Let me share.

First, the money, and I am so thankful it was a financial success, that was raised I am contributing to typhoon relief in the Philippines through Eastern Mennonite Missions. 80% of Manila was reportedly under water from the last surge of storms. Stop to think about the horror of that for a moment. I live in a nice home on a hill, no less, that wouldn't be flooded unless torrential rain approaching Ark proportions hit Central PA. Imagine what little food you had being washed away, the dirt floor of your home, if you had one turning into mud, and facing the mold that would inevitably coat and grow on whatever remained.

But I met some amazing people, and saw God at work, which I have been more aware of as I am immersed in reading Henry Blackaby's Experiencing God. We are to develop an awareness of where God is working around us and join in. Three interactions were particularly wonderful in this respect, in my garage while overseeing the purging power of quarter and fifty cent items leaving my home...

A pair of women who dream of starting a tea shop where women, specifically, can meet to engage in the diva philosophy of life: simplifying, decreasing stress, building relationships and adding joy, something we all need to pursue.
An interaction with others who affirmed the value in purging and provided strong support for me as I hang on the the fraying thread of my life. I know God is hanging on to the other end, so I won't drop, no matter how much I feel like I am dangling over a deep, deep abyss...
And meeting and really sharing with one woman, who I then randomly bumped into again later this afternoon at a different spot. The woman has a strong, strong faith and we share much in common. She obviously had been going through chemo, but instead, we first started conversing about her mom, who has Alzheimer's and is in Assisted Living.There were so many synchronicity in our lives they are too numerous to mention, but we know people in common, share similar beliefs, believe in like causes and look for ways to pass things forward. I was delighted that she was picking up so many of my dad's VHS tapes and some great music; she was getting them to watch with her mom...she then spoke about her chemo and her disease; Ovarian cancer, with a decision just made to cease chemo. Yet her outlook and attitude towards life are remarkable. Positive, not resigned, and thankful that she won't have to travel the road of Alzheimer's because she won't live that long. The items she purchased were mostly to give to others to fill their lives with joy. I cried, and then could participate in her give-fest when she noted her boyfriend's granddaughter was moving East to move back in with her mom who had no money for clothing. Well, a couple of people had dropped of clothes of the perfect size in my garage that I was able to give her. We selected winter items and filled five bags.
The Animal Resource Center is having their fundraising yard sale next week, so my car is packed with leftovers to give forward to the next group and get out of my house.
There was more, and it was one blessing after the next.

So my garage became a mission field. I was able to share my story some when people commented or asked where the rather diverse nature of my stuff came from.

And then more importantly how my faith is carrying me not around, but through.

Peace.

Just When You Think it Can't Get Worse...

2009-10-08T22:55:00.002-04:00

Perspective. It is such an important thing.

Don't think it can't get worse. Of course it can always get worse; and for as many challenges as we might face there are many worse off than us.

I spent a couple of hours reorganizing things for my garage sale. There is so much stuff in my garage it probably rivals the GNP of several small countries. Why do I need all this stuff? (I don't). How did I accumulate all this stuff? (I didn't do it single handedly, a generation older and younger both contributed). Does it bring happiness? No. No. No.

I look at this stuff and recall some misguided past notion that these things could bring contentment. A lie. And how much better to have put the money to an area where real need could have been met than getting the newer version, yielding to the immediate gratification of a desire, buying the newer style, or owning yet another pink necklace?

So the money I raise from this sale is being donated to typhoon relief in SE Asia where a tangible difference can be made.

So I am blessed, I have much.

I got a couple of difficult phone calls today in which my ego was bruised, but the good news is I didn't take it as an affront, but as an opportunity to evaluate if I am working as if unto the Lord. When I engage in something, whether work, personal relationships or mundane tasks, is my attitude OK? Am I trying my best or do I need a reminder to do better, am I engaging in a pity party?

So instead of being defensive, I listened and acknowledged that there is room for improvement, and thought that's enough for one day.

But then I fell in a hole. A deep one. Wearing heels, no less...Doing what? Putting up one last sign for the garage sale that will happen rain or shine. It was dark and I didn't see the ditch, the deep ditch. And I have a rather large bluish egg on the side of my foot.

OK, so why was I wearing heels, putting up signs in the dark? Because that's what life is like when you juggle a bunch of different things, and decide that for one day, just one day you want to look half decent. I ended up volunteering my forehead today for more Botox as a learning experience for the Derm residents. Apparently I have good forehead muscles for this. But let me tell you I am glad I wasn't having a baby; there were about fifteen in attendance peering at the procedure...and I had this really cute new coat I got yesterday at the Sal Val half price,new, and the brown heels were a perfect match. I haven't' gotten so many compliments on how I looked in ages...and all with used clothing. What a hoot...but I went from event to event to event, including picking up girls, making and placing yard sales signs, attending a soccer game, book fair and neighborhood gathering only to be punctuated with falling in a hole. Good Grief.

So now I am going to take two Advil, put some ice on it and check back in the morning.

Peace.

Honesty and Fear

2009-10-07T21:57:00.002-04:00

I have had a couple of interesting experiences over the past couple of days that quite frankly, have left me a bit perplexed.

The first has to do with honesty. In case you missed this feel good story, I left my wallet in a Dunkin Donuts bathroom last week with way too much inside of it for it to have been a loss to shrug off. But let me also say money's grip on me has loosened significantly as the potential financial loss of the contents didn't have me nearly as strung out as I might have been in the past.

All this to say that I am so, so grateful to the individual who found and returned without looking or questioning, or expecting, I might add, anything in return. She did it because it was the right thing to do.

So when I went shopping with Nicole on Sunday, and got home and realized I had not been charged for one of the items I purchased, when I went back to the store yesterday with Tianna, I produced the tag to the item and told the lady at the check out what had happened and that I wanted to pay for it.

Well, believe it or not, this wasn't as much of a no brainer as one would think. The sales clerk had to call the supervisor to ask her how to handle it. That surprised me a bit. Why not just ring it up and be done with it?

Then today I made some more phone calls related to a difficult situation I am involved with and am simply looking for some supporting statements that involve facts and truth. But some people are afraid to even commit to this, for fear of how it may come back on them. Litigious culture? Yes, unfortunately, but I am sorry, where is integrity, truth and being supportive of someone who has had a positive impact on your life for years and years. I was disappointed, and cried. That got to me.

So what did I do? Called my dear friend Connie, prayed, and got over it, not sidetracked by circumstances or distractions...and got back in the saddle again, thankful for those who do and WILL take a stand on the side of honesty, integrity and truth.

May you never be afraid to speak the truth.
Peace.

I Miss Writing...

2009-10-06T19:59:00.003-04:00

Life has been full; too full.

And I haven't had time to write. Which saddens me, yet I know there will once again be a season for writing in the future, and I imagine I will have deeper insights and perspectives to share because of the path my life has taken this past year.

I have been putting people and relationships first, or at least I believe I have been. But I suppose it is all in perspective. Some of those that I love the most might not agree with that statement because of their own perceptions. And after all, one's perception is one's reality.

It wasn't easy, but it was necessary to bid Matt adieu for the West Coast.

Date night last Friday with Howie was a huge flop because we watched Nights in Rodanthe, and I sniveled and cried through most of it. A chick flick would have been a much more sensible choice. And then my reactions to the movie (she was an artist, she had lost her dad, she yearned for passion and connection in her life) were misinterpreted, compounded by a long day away at a softball tournament. Sigh.

So here I am, trying to simplify my life. Stuff is everywhere, and it is making me ill. I am having a garage sale Friday, and donating the proceeds to typhoon relief in the Philippines. There is just way too much stuff, and I yearn for a simpler, less cluttered life. Thank God for good friends, who help me through these events. Garage sales are a huge amount of work, and I wouldn't do it if not for my friend Theresa, who has the sensibility and ability to come in and take charge and organize. She also is the same friend who came with me to NYC to clean my parent's apartment. A saint in my book.

The next hurdle will be the room Matt occupied for the two or so months he was home. I would never rent to someone like him, a bona fide slob, and I told him so. There would be no security deposit being returned, in fact, it would have taught me that in some cases two month's rent MIGHT have covered it...so that is the next frontier.

For today it was the shed, and the collection of stuff, something for everyone, so if you live in or around Danville, please stop by. Previews starting tomorrow after work.

Peace.

Walking Through the Valleys to Get to the Mountaintop

2009-10-03T22:52:00.003-04:00

It seems like there have been so many valleys lately...but that's OK. It is all part of the journey. And it makes the view from the peaks that more spectacular, when the climb has been challenging.

Remember that when faced with trials. They are to be considered pure joy, according to the Apostle Paul. And I am reaching that place where I just smile and figure that there is still some refining that needs to be done, and I am joyful no matter what the circumstance.

That sense was put to the test on Thursday. I worked in Wilkes Barre and after putting my mom on a bus back to NYC...and she looked so sad to leave; lost almost, really, as I leaned over and kissed her goodbye and tucked a loaf of fresh baked bread in her carry on from the Farmer's Market in the square...

I was tired, and stopped at a Dunkin Donuts for a pick me up cup of coffee. I had one more nursing home to visit and the traffic has been miserable due to construction, and I was just beat.

The young lady who waited on me was a real joy...she encouraged me to add an apple caramel muffing to my order, but I deferred, in my constant inability to be disciplined in my quest to drop the last ten or so pounds I would love to lose. The only losing that is going on here is that I am losing the battle...at any rate, we had a fun conversation in which she guessed my age at being almost twenty years younger than I am, which of course I loved, and I happily went to the bathroom to relieve my bladder before filling it up again with coffee.

It was almost four hours later I realized I had left my wallet in the bathroom. A wallet with way too many traveller's checks, yes, refundable, if, and that's a big if, I could find the numbers...and more cash than I ever carry as I had just cashed a check, not to mention credit cards, license, etc. etc.

As soon as I realized where I had probably left it, when I couldn't find it to pay for a purchase I needed to make...I went home to try to call. The Internet was down. When I finally did get on the number for that particular store had been disconnected, but finally by calling another store they gave me the correct number and I called, holding my breath, bracing myself for the worst, which would not have surprised me considering the onslaught of trials...Would I consider it pure joy? And my attitude check came out pretty well...only money...not a life...replaceable stuff...a nuisance, but a lesson somewhere...

And then the unbelievable news that someone had found it and turned it in. I didn't know for sure whether anything was missing until I went the next day to retrieve it, and not a penny or paper was missing.

The heroine? (It was left in the ladies bathroom, after all...) the lovely young lady who waited on me.

I got her name and number from the store manager and am going to send her a special thank you, and hope to bring this feel good story to the attention of the media. After all, most of the time it's not a happy ending or story...and especially in these tough economic times, what a windfall this could have been.

But God was smiling at me, and used her and brought us together.

I was not lucky, I was blessed.

Is there some small way you can be a blessing to someone today?How about paying for the person behind you in the drive through the next time? That is pure joy. And priceless. Peace.

Bittersweet

2009-09-26T10:00:00.003-04:00

Bittersweet is when hopes and dreams collide with reality that is shrouded in disappointment.

But, God is still God and truth is still truth, and hope and love still trump, which make the sweet the part that needs to prevail, despite much bitterness, sometimes more than we think we can swallow.

But today is a bit bittersweet. The sweet part is that it is our anniversary. Twenty Eight years. And my dear husband is as I type participating/competing in an Olympic Distance triathlon down in VA (where I am too, having settled in at our realtor's computer, having been denied wireless access at the Bojangles twenty two miles away...) where my simple request was that he not skid, since it is raining and go flying headlong into something he shouldn't be while on his bike. There is absolutely no time or energy from a(nother) trial in my life that involves emergency rooms and Howie.

Bitter is the fact that it is Matt's birthday and we are not together, and are, in fact taking a break from each other. A necessary break from both party's perspectives. He needs to go West, young man, and we need him to sink or swim far away, separated by many miles.

Tough love needed to play out in our family. And that's OK. It actually could have been much tougher than how it played out. But we finally arrived at the IT in capitol letters, as in this is truly IT in terms of how we support you financially. Period. End of story. Too many times already.

Love, dreams hope and aspirations for our son who is bright, amusing, articulate, handsome and unfortunately prone to making and repeating some bad choices will never end. But the insanity of supporting behaviors that haven't changed and hoping they will this time has.

The bitter is that I will go home to clean out a room that was left dirty beyond belief when we asked him to load up the car and be on his way. The bitter will be laying out the money for a neighbor's mailbox post that he ran over with his car. The bitter will be wondering how we arrived at this place.

But the sweet is that there is always hope.

Praying for sweetness in your day.

Shine a Light Unto My Feet

2009-09-21T22:25:00.003-04:00

Why is it we always want to know how the story ends? And even more so than that, script it perfectly according to our preferences.

Funny, I met a friend today for lunch and we joked about our lives and some of the scenarios being suitable for movies. My friend noted that she would pick Meg Ryan to play her role. And in some ways some of the stuff, injustices, she has been through are darker than what I have experienced. She just spent three months in jail. And she wasn't guilty. Goes to show you that truth doesn't always prevail. And I have to admit that is a scary thought. Yet I am trusting.

And how? By taking life one step at a time, and choosing to walk in the light, the light that shines from that lamp onto my feet from God. It really boils down to a question of trust. Do I trust that if I walk in Belief, Obedience, Love and Discipline (that spells BOLD) that if I walk in BOLD faith, God will work things out for good?

That is the question, and one I am trying to live out as best I can. One step at a time.

Peace.

Being Christlike

2009-09-19T20:32:00.003-04:00

OK, this is tough.

Being Christian is not something one says one is to generate an impression. It means following Jesus, despite the cost, and sometimes that cost is high. Very high. Look at what it cost him. Would I be willing to sacrifice that much? Would you?

So in difficult circumstances I must, as a Christian, ergo Christ follower stop and pause to contemplate what that looks like. I don't believe it means shrugging our shoulders and sighing in despair, nor do I believe it means defending our version of truth at all costs. After all, what if my interpretation of truth is incorrect?

But it does mean acting out of love. It does mean allowing God to take the lead. What?!? Give up the driver's seat? Um Hmmm. I think so, and for some of us control freak type A's that is hard.

And I once again go back to Exodus 14:14, which has been a key life verse for me now for awhile: God will fight your battles for you, you need only to be still.

So, be still. May God's peace lead you to that still and quiet place where you may seek sanctuary and hear His voice.

Celebration in Life and Death

2009-09-15T22:28:00.002-04:00

Today I was the friend who walked alongside instead of the one being carried. It is a blessing to be on the giving end. Don't get me wrong, it is also an incredible gift to be on the receiving end, it just seems like that is the end I have been on lately more often than not.

I haven't really forgotten what it is to be on the giving end, I have just been weary and distracted. So I had to chuckle when my friend Gloria reminded me of one of her favorite sayings this morning when we chatted, that busyness isn't of the devil, it IS the devil. And that can be business even with good things.

So today it was a blessing to be able to love and be a friend to my friend Hallie, who was there for me right after my dad died, and with whom I have a wonderful friendship, since we were seven, ummmm...that would be many years ago...yet through the years, whether it is six months, six years, or more, we have the ability to pick up right where we left off.

Her mother died Sunday and it was a non-decision that I would go to New York to her service. Which was beautiful. The things that were said about her mother Lillian were very similar to sentiments that were shared about my dad at his service.

They were people who were humble, who took on causes they believed in with passion, they were trusting, they were loyal and they were always more interested in others than self.

The Rabbi who led the remembrances, service and prayer read Proverbs 31, noting that Lillian reflected all the attributes of the woman described in that Proverb, which up until hearing it in today's context had always left me feeling a bit inadequate. From now on, thanks to today's reading and reflection, I will always have a better image of who that woman is.

Hallie thinks we should write a book together, since our friendship has revolved around pivotal events, significant life events, and we can muse on our childhoods, aspirations, achievements, hopes, desires, fears and faith.

Two girls who grew up in NYC exposed to art, museums, travel and more, now women, independent yet connected, each with a strong faith, one Jewish, one Christian, yet with far more in common than not. Which is a beautiful thing.

Who knows?

When I left the city my mom waved goodbye from the sidewalk as I pulled my car out of a fortuitously found parking spot earlier in the day. She looked forlorn. And that brought another wave of sadness. Yet she is still with me; Hallie's mom is not. And loss runs deep. I know.

So love and live well, without regrets and with passionate abandon.

Peace.

More Sadness

2009-09-14T21:53:00.002-04:00

Last night I received an email from my dear third grade friend Hallie. She is one of the friends who joined me in CA last year when I went to visit my other third grade friend Chara who is still valiantly fighting her battle with breast cancer.

Hallie's mother passed away on Sunday, joining my dad and also Chara's mom in the realm beyond. She was 76 and had herself fought against a malignant brain tumor.

Three friends for over forty years; three parents gone in the span of a few months. Tears shared and tears shed.

I had not been planning any return trips to NYC; but tomorrow I will return to mourn this loss with my dear friend. I imagine it will be a(nother) difficult day.

May peace be with you.

Overwhelming Sadness...

2009-09-13T21:49:00.002-04:00

Today I have been overwhelmed with sadness. It has been a difficult day. Yet I choose to raise my hands in praise to the God who knows and sees all and works everything to His purpose and glory.

There is joy and there is sadness, and today was a day of sadness.

The tears have been on the brink all day long; sometimes squelched, sometimes overflowing with sobs I tried to contain. But why? Who knows...Some of it is the grief over losing my dad, truthfully my biggest fan and feeling cheated of the opportunity to mourn.

And now this evening receiving an email from a friend whose mother just passed away this morning. My friend from third grade, Hallie, who joined me in California to visit our mutual friend who has valiantly fought breast cancer for her birthday last year. Her mom died a few weeks ago after suffering from a stroke eleven (I think) years ago...so much loss, so much heartache, and a reminder of our own mortality.

So I mourn and grieve, yet I celebrate also in the knowledge that God holds me close and tight in His arms of love.

Peace. And love with reckless abandon.

Lessons from my Dad: Humility and Selfish Ambition

2009-09-09T08:44:00.002-04:00

Humility. Thinking more of others than you do of yourself.

A value worth chasing, yet so elusive it generally can't be caught, because it must come from the innermost nooks and crannies of one's soul, from deep within.

My dad was a humble guy. And I grew up seeing this characteristic demonstrated over and over. Why didn't I focus more on that then the perceived flaws and hurts? In particular a couple of sentences he shared with me as an impressionable teen shaped actions and decisions that are not consistent with the beliefs I embrace today, yet humility was steadfast in his life and views of himself as an artist.

My dad took time for relationships and putting others first. He had a fly off the handle way about him as well, often speaking off the top of his head (I have also inherited this tendency) but humility and viewing his talent as a God given gift were steadfastly evident throughout his life and even after death. Letters I have received from friends consistently mention his humility and regard for others, other artists in particular.

So where does selfish ambition enter? It wheedles its way in insidiously luring one to believe better of oneself, and I have to admit at times I have been guilty of this. Not always viewing my talents as God given, but rather inextricably linked to some effort of my own, and admittedly enjoying the attention.

But humility seeks to erase that. But it has been challenging for me to separate working hard, or perseverance, both good qualities, I think, from allowing the limelight to settle on me, rather than shine on others for just a bit too long.

And humility is something Jesus yearns for from us; He was humble, and sought to be a servant.
I have come to recognize more and more the humility with which my dad lived his life, trusting and serving others, wanting the best for them, at times to a fault.

Let that, rather than selfish ambition be something we are guilty of.

Peace for the journey.

Connecting the Dots: Diva and Mennonite

2009-09-08T22:11:00.002-04:00

I live in Central PA. There are Amish and Mennonites who live in our surrounding community. Until I was invited to worship at Community Mennonite Fellowship Church just over eight years ago, I have to admit I hadn't a clue as to the difference (was there even one?) between the Amish and Mennonite communities.

Today I know differently and chuckle when people look at me (I tend to favor bright clothing) and then ask me if I drive a car. If I didn't, I don't know how my girls would get to their activities...

I belong to a Mennonite Church that is part of Mennonite Church USA, a different branch from the more conservative Mennonites more traditionally recognized for their head coverings, more conservative clothing and incredible whoopee pies.

To read the story of how I met Christ, you may read my testimony on my website, so peruse the web site and you will find it.

I did not grow up in a Christian home, but I did grow up where love and a recognition of the Divine was present, although not communicated in what would be described as traditional Christian values, but rather through creative expressions of art and music.

I grew up in NYC, an only child who went to operas (my great uncle was the Russian diction coach at the Metropolitan Opera House in NY for years, and my great aunt a Diva in the purest sense, a mezzo soprano who sang at all the great houses) and museums and was as comfortable in those settings as I was playing with my Barbies.

Yet I was yearning for that relationship that can only be satisfied with a friendship with God and Jesus, and that is what I was introduced to in my home church the very first day I showed up, confused because they, too, didn't look like Mennonites, the ones I pictured in my imagination based on those I knew who had bulk food stores.

While the outward appearance may be different, the heart and love for the church and serving others, taking up justice issues and dealing with conflict in conciliatory ways and upholding and speaking truth at all times wooed me.

I had my feet firmly planted in the world for many years, which may be the Diva part of me to a certain extent having an understanding of being "outside" the fold and wanting to belong, yet also knowing that any other Christians I had met prior to my first date with CMF did more to make me feel I didn't belong, that somehow I was too worldly or messed up to be a part of their church.

Yet church isn't a building, it is a body; a community, and that is something we all yearn for, to be a part of a caring community, and that is where the transparent persona who grew up in NYC exposed to so many different ideas and lifestyles comes to embrace the theology of service, humility, love and caring.

DIVA: Divinely chosen, Inspirational, Valued and Amazing. We are all God's children; let us learn from each other.

Peace.

The Mennonite Diva...

2009-09-07T22:18:00.003-04:00

So, whatcha think? Does the title of this post spark your curiosity? Conjure up images? Describe me?

When Matthew Paul Turner and I had time in the car and were chatting on our way back to the airport, he asked if I had thought about writing a memoir. My immediate response was, that while I seem to have lots of stories, heck, my life is an adventure packed fiction novel at the moment, the only problem is, it isn't fiction...but since I am basically a no-one and don't have a platform (think Jon and Kate plus Eight, that was a huge platform for Zondervan, and I wouldn't mind being published by them) while I do have strong opinions on just about everything, that doesn't automatically get one a book deal these days...

But when I stopped to think about it, I had to admit, the juxtaposition of my upbringing and my strong faith do make for interesting perspectives and opinions.

What happens when a liberal only child of an extrovert artist and recovering depression era introvert who grew up in New York City and attended opera and art galleries while other kids played hopscotch becomes a Mennonite woman of faith in small town PA?

Lots of things...and lots of stories, which aren't fiction because I couldn't possibly make them up.
So, what do you think? Is this the next chapter?

And what's the title?

I know that when I tell people I worship at a Mennonite church, most of them are taken aback. They just don't picture me (especially when I am wearing my bright colors, my favorite being pink) going to a Mennonite Church...somehow there is a huge disconnect.

So what do you think? Are the dots worth connecting?

Peace.

My Crazy Life...

2009-09-07T17:01:00.004-04:00

Yes, my life is still crazy, and I miss writing...a few other things have been occupying my time since I last checked in. It has been eventful, fun, funny and annoying in varying degrees.

First to fun and funny.

I had the pleasure of inviting humorist, author and blogger Matthew Paul Turner to speak at our church last weekend, and I did the pick up and drop off duties at the airport, which gave me the opportunity to spend more time in candid conversation. I am relieved to find out there are others out there who think and believe the way I do. I brought him up to date and we chatted about writing ideas and he asked if I had given any thought to writing a memoir. (Personally, I have thought my life to be better suited to reality TV) but a memoir would work.

How many artist daughter city girls grow up to become Mennonite Divas?

But there has been NO time to write. Heck, I can't even think...

MPT did a wonderful job of story telling at our church. There was a lot of laughter (and I'm sure some frowns, since you can't be everything to everyone) but I think he hit on some major issues in the church, such as fear driving faith. Fear that promises an eternity burning in hell if...but since perfect love casts out fear, in my mind it really isn't a sound rationale.

But unfortunately there are many who don't have the freedom of perfect love, and we got a glimpse of one person's struggle with that told with wit and candor.

Then the beginning of last week I went into the city with a friend and we took elbow grease and lots of cleaning products to strip my parent's apartment of several years worth of grime. The place looks great. I bet my dad is smiling...

Theresa, my friend who came with me had never been to NYC, so we spend the second afternoon seeing a few sights. Talk about excited. I forget what a big deal a trip to the city can be since it is where I grew up. We had fun. But we also worked very, very hard. Mess doesn't really describe what we cleaned up.

Then the rest of the week flew by and included a trip to walk in clinic with Nicole whose "bone" hurt in her foot; a problem for a young lady doing cheering and playing soccer. That was followed by breaking down in merging traffic coming home from Scranton on Thursday afternoon, driving Matt to have Lasik surgery done, and returning for two follow up visits since he was having fairly significant inflammation.

Oh, and did I mention emotional lability from my older son whose girlfriend broke up with him?
Hmmmm...all that followed by just about every bump imaginable in just getting through a "normal" day.

And my response? A grin. A big one. I think I am to that "consider it pure joy" place when hitting trials of every kind. And believe me, I am having trials of every kind.

But God is trustworthy.

I have stumbled upon several sayings that I intend to post, and then get distracted, and don't. But I do like one thing my friend Karen said. I can't remember her words exactly, but it was to the effect of,

"God will always give you the ticket to get on to the bus, it just won't be till you're ready to board."

Personally, I prefer early bird booking specials and advance reservations, but then there isn't any trust in that, so this works for me.

Peace. I have found mine.

A Letter From My Dad

2009-08-28T11:00:00.002-04:00

Two days ago I discovered a note my dad had written over a year ago, last May, that was unopened.

It really caught me off guard.

He sent me stuff in the mail all the time; often it was a clipping from an article of interest from the New York Times, or New Yorker Magazine or a post card he found that he knew I would enjoy.

I miss his mail terribly, seeing his distinctive and unique scrawl of my name on an envelope with the back flaps securely taped down, an idiosyncrasy of his to guarantee that nothing would vanish in the mail that I must admit annoyed me, because it made the envelopes so darn hard to get open.

Well, on Wednesday I got to open one of those envelopes and was laughing and crying at the same time. Laughing because it seemed ironic that I could now chuckle at the opportunity to do something so related to my dad that used to get under my skin and crying because I was grateful for the opportunity to hear from him from "the other side" so to speak.

It was just one of his quick notes, actually with some information that I was just looking for, so very timely in that regard, but the most poignant words were, "Enjoy every day! We are in God's Hands!"

What better place to be; in God's hands. And how wise to enjoy every day. We really don't know what tomorrow brings. I never would have imagined that day last February when my dad fell the turn of events that have transpired.

Each day is an opportunity. Make the most of them. And remember that you are in God's hands and that there is no safer place to be.

Bittersweet Back to School

2009-08-24T21:56:00.002-04:00

Today the girls went back to school. They were excited; especially Tianna, who is completely and totally social. School has much more to do with friends...

Nicole is at a new school this year. Space challenges in our area necessitated the rearrangement of students to create an intermediate school where the district's four elementary schools combine their third, fourth and fifth grades. Of course this school is a much longer drive than the jaunt down the hill (that I frequently made in my jammies...) I made last year. So we will compromise on driving and taking the bus.

This morning Nicole wanted to take the bus and had planned to meet her friend at the bus stop down the hill at the next development. Three tenths of a mile netted us a forty five minute gain between stops and routes. Which was fine until that later bus left fifteen minutes early and from a totally different spot than what we had been told. So much for a smooth first day.

Dismissal wasn't much better. A 2:50 dismissal turned into 3:07, the exact time my older daughter was dismissed from the Middle School. I have to say, I was grateful to have a cell phone to be in touch. Yes, she does actually speak to me on it too, it isn't just for her friends...

So we hit the school year ground running...the week promises to be full. Taking my mom back to New York, spending a bit more time with Matt before he leaves for two weeks of training, more like on the job interviewing for a job in Utah, and then taking out the puppies, soccer practice, cheering, etc. etc. Plus I am actually trying to serve hot home made meals...Remember, I am not a domestic diva.

I am hopeful that this next season will bring peace, joy and a clear sense of rest.