Bleeding Hearts

I stood outside the county courthouse in the parking lot surround by trees of yellow, red, and orange. The fall wind blew a chilly breeze that lingered in the air. It was Friday just after 5 pm and everyone was leaving work to rush home for the weekend.

"It will be okay," I said to one of my foster children. Really saying that for myself because I needed to believe that. The four foster children I had were moving to a new home.

I hugged myself, brushing my hands up and down my arms seeking more solace than warmth.

B stood there stone faced and lost in her other world where she was safe. R sobbed and sobbed wiping snot from his nose across his sleeve. M tried to mother the two younger ones and assure them that this next house would be better than mine. N looked me straight in the eyes, casting her hurt to the depth of my heart while single tears rolled out of the corners of her eyes.

It was a moment I wanted to never end and a moment I wanted to end so quickly.

I hugged them all goodbye and told them I loved them always. I watched them get into other vehicles and drive away. N the only one to look back with pure agony in her face.

I fell into the driver's seat of my car and wept.

Until I was able to bottle up all the emotions and bury them deep in my heart.

I returned home and was embraced by my three girls who had tons of questions where I had no answers. Of course I responded perfectly to them and they were pleased.

My heart still aches.

Not a single day goes by that I do not think of these four children. There are songs, moments, or sayings that keep them alive. Their picture hangs on our fridge.

I can remember every detail about the night I picked up these kids and met them for the first time. And I remember the moment I realized I loved each of them for who they were.

It is easy to love others in general terms and there is a place for that kind of love, but I think what we all desire is to be loved specifically. I do not just want to be another acknowledgement in someones life. I want to be something more, different, special because of me.

The pain I felt when the foster children moved created a barrier around my heart. If I didn't let anyone else get close, I would not feel the pain. It was an easy maneuver.

But, I cannot desire to be loved specifically without giving that back in return.

So this carefree, loving girl created a heart barrier that resides inside a woman.

There are several people who have managed to poke holes in that barrier and I have learned to love them specifically, but I still try to protect myself.

Truthfully, I have no problem being expressively passionate about things that frustrate me or I see as injustices, but I struggle being expressively passionate about the joys.

It is so much easier to live life in our safe places. Isn't it?

Where we think we control the outcome. Where things are consistent, predictable.Where we can love others because there are so few we love. Where we can get up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, watch TV and go to bed. Where tomorrow is a repeat of today. Where we are neat and tidy and everything really does fit into a place we have created.

I have lived it too. Honestly, there are days I am tempted to retreat back there.

Yet, deep down I believe life is meant to be lived, tasted, savored, devoured, explored, and messily wonderful.

I contradict myself.

I don't want to hurt. But I think that really living life is intertwined with loving specifically.

So, I confess that albeit scary, I push myself daily to try to love this way and to break my heart barrier away piece-by-piece.

Unwritten Obituaries

His deep bass voice was easily recognizable and his laugh echoed the same beautiful tone. His snow white hair and beard adorned his large frame and gave off the aura of importance.

He would snap his fingers and his son would come running on command. I often felt compelled to do the same. That is how big of a presence he made.

I learned quickly that his domineering presence was not a reflection of his gentle loving heart. This big booming jolly man fought through kidney disease while never losing the twinkle in his eyes.

He became a welcomed "parent" in my world quickly.

When I graduated college, his alma mater, he made the 5 hour trip to see my commencement. By this time he was walking with a cane and limp and I know this trip was rough, but he was there.

I received news this week that Bill's body finally gave up it's fight of 17 years with kidney disease. What an amazing addition he is to the choirs of Heaven!

Bill was gifted 66 years and I honestly believe he wasted none! He gave, he loved, he shared, he encouraged, he supported. Pieces of him are reflecting in the lives of others because of the way he lived.

Naturally, when I hear of a death it causes me to pause.

When my life train gets involuntarily derailed and my inner demons taunt my worth, I often find myself reflecting on what will be said when I die.

In reality we are every day writing our own obituary. Not that our decisions should be based on what we want others to say when we die, but that our choices should reflect who we truly are and the legacy we want to leave.

Back in March 2008 I wrote the following in my journal: "Lately I have thought a lot about my life and I try to think what I want my obit to say. I feel it is insignificant to list my professional accomplishments, but I hope it says: on my tombstone- Now Dancing with Jesus, not resting in peace!; in my obit- full of love, life and compassion, shared a glimpse of Jesus with others through actions, mom that made us all feel like we were her favorite, wife who stood by me and loved me unconditionally, a true friend who enlarged others, Jesus lover and prayer warrior. Thinking of these things make me TRY to evaluate how I act each day. Oh I fail a lot- but I'm trying."

I am not sure what caused me to write this years ago, but much of it still rings true today.

It is all too easy to get bogged down in a job we don't want to do, or stuck in a place we don't want to live, or a trapped in a life we are not living. Because...well, we all think we have time.

In the future, I will..... we all say. We place core components of who we are on the back burner playing a twisted game of Russian roulette with time.

Why? Do you know your expiration date?

There are no guarantees in this life but this one...we are all going to leave this earth some day.

I don't know about you, but the sad solemn typical farewell service is not what I want. I want my leopard colored coffin (although I am debating being cremated and put in a bottle and thrown in the ocean to travel the world with a note to call when you find me to let others know where I am partying) to be surrounded with my friends who are dancing and alive. Who have tucked a part of me in the corner of their hearts to spur them on to keep living.

Too often we wake up too late. Too often we let fear hold us back. Too often we lose our enthusiasm for life.

"If you had permission to do what you really want to do, what would you do? Don't ask how, that will cut your desire off at the knees. How is never the right question, how is a faithless question. It means unless I can see my way clearly, I won't believe it; I won't venture forth."

Our world has advance so much that we are crippled. When prairie people hitched up their wagon to venture to a new land, they didn't check their GPS to make sure there were no accidents to avoid or bad weather to hinder their journey.

They saddled up and rode forward.

There are several people I am thinking of right now who have shared that they wish certain things for their life. I believe that these are true desires of who they are and the life they were meant to live.

And I pray everyday that their obituary doesn't stay unwritten.

Change Has Found Me

Ten years ago when we moved back to Houghton, NY I thought we would be here forever. I would have never guessed in college that I would return to Houghton. I always wanted to live near the beach. It took me awhile to come to terms with the fact that I would live in the country, 45 minutes from major restaurants, an hour and a half from a mall, no stoplights, one grocery store, no (besides Subway in recent years) chain restaurants. I never imagined that I would have goats as pets or raise chickens. I never imagined living in a place where you could leave your keys in the car and house unlocked. Where Dan the UPS man and Matt the mailman actually come inside your house to leave your mail/packages on your table.
In the last several years I began to accept that we would be in Houghton for the long haul. I felt that if Ben was content in his job, we would stay here. When my grant funded program ran out, I would simply find another job. I began to limit my faith in my abilities and settle. I also began to limit my Faith. In doing this, I lost part of me.
Then one day Ben came home and told me that when I look for my next job to look at what I want, where I want. He was willing to move for my job. This was something I never imagined him saying and (I am not sure why) I never suggested. (All of that is another story for some other time.)
Fast forward to the now. We are headed back to Savannah, GA in a few weeks where I will be vice president of Union Mission's Employment and Training Center. Union Mission provides shelter for homeless men, women, and families, short and long term housing assistance, health and dental care, behavioral counseling, substance abuse programs, lifeskills training, job training; and employment assistance. I worked at UMI in 99-00 and have always yearned to return.
I have worked with some great people in the last 10 years, but none compare to my boss at Union Mission- and I don't just say this now, I have said it throughout the years. I have never worked with someone as passionate, bold, fair, honest, visionary, and unique as Mike. I cannot think of any other president/CEO I would say this to outright or about, but I love the man. He inspires others simply by being himself.
This move is more than just a change in geographic location for me. I have regained my zest for life. I feel more alive, bold, confident, and exhilarated than I have in a long time. I have trusted more in God and explored my Faith on much deeper levels than before. I have dared to dream and have found a greater reality than in my dreams.
I cannot discredit the 10 years we spent in Houghton. I believe that for that time we were suppose to be here. I am just glad that we both knew when it was time to explore what's next. I think fear often hinders us in even thinking "what if?"
But when we let go of fear and embrace the possibilities, we may find something even greater-- I was able to find me again. And it feels great, really great, to be so alive.

Thoughts on Grandma

My grandmother passed away today. Sadly the last time I saw her was at Pop's funeral in 1995. Soon after he passed away she moved to Hawaii to be closer to two of her children and her youngest grandchildren. I have thought about her often in the past, but somehow never connected with her personally again. No excuse makes the lost connection right.

So when this news came today, I felt. For our lives are filled with relationships and regardless of the length of time or if they are current or past, they all leave us feeling something. The complexity of feelings is often hard to explain, but we know we feel something, which is where I am today.

There are many interesting stories surrounding my Grandma’s life that I do not dare try to figure out what is fact or fiction. Instead I’ll focus on what I knew.

When I think of Grandma, I smell coffee. I can remember walking into their farmhouse and it smelled like coffee.

I can also remember writing something while at her house and her telling me to write it again… slower and neater…… sadly I still have sloppy handwriting.

I remember the red and white lottery cards she would give us to fill out each time we visited. We would get to choose our favorite numbers and fill in the little circles on the card so Pop could take them to the store.

I remember her huge ornate antique beds that I would get to sleep in when we spent the night. You had to have a running start to jump up into the bed and you were engulfed in fluffy softness when you landed. I remember pretending I was a princess.

I remember her house filled with antique couches, chairs, desks, tables and a player piano. Treasures that I never really saw as unique, but now wish I had. I remember her visiting once and saying how my cousin made her listen to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard on the way to our house. And I remember her telling me…”You know that song is really not talking about sugar, right?”

I remember she completed her GED in her 60s.

I remember visiting her while Pop was in his last stages of cancer and painting her toenails for her.

I remember hugging her at Pop’s funeral without realizing that would be our last goodbye.

As 2010 approached I vowed to really live this year without regrets, letting fear not hold me back from asking, moving forward, or trying. I promised myself that I would intentionally show others I loved them whether through words, actions, or deeds. With Grandma’s passing today I am even more aware that I need to not be afraid to let someone know I care--whether this is through listening, crying with someone because they are hurting, embracing someone because they need to be touched, saying what needs to be said, laughing, dancing, singing, smiling, shouting, calling or writing.

I will love abundantly, seek to bring joy to others, and offer grace where I can.