Funeral Day

Yesterday I attended the funeral of a dear friend's mother. As we traveled the sunny roads on a dazzlingly bright, hot day, my 14-year-old and I pondered the paradox of death and life, of resurrection and funerals.  The service was lovely.  It was just the right combination of sentiment and sincerity; of sadness and joy.  An apt poem was read by my friend's husband-- "White Owl Flies" -- and there were hymns, a slide show and some very touching words by my sweet friend.  It was the perfect tribute to life and eternal life.

Yet my heart has been aching  -- a dull, burning sodden ache - for my friend in her loss.  As hard as yesterday was, I suspect there are many tough weeks and years ahead.  When the shock of the loss wears off and the busyness of decision making and funeral plans is over, the grieving begins in earnest.  The times the phone rings and your brain, on auto-pilot, expects it to be that loved one and the dreadful sinking torture when you remember that it simply cannot be. The days when you open a book and see that dear one's handwriting there, her note in the margin, or the odd scrap of paper in a stack of unfinished business on which you had jotted a something-to-do that one that no longer needs to be completed.

This is the business of grieving, the process of coming face to face with our own humanity.  In loss we realize how deeply, how greatly, how powerfully we have loved and we also must come to accept that we can never love perfectly.  It is to us to love the most we can in any moment and somehow that must always be enough. Grieving makes us hug our children tighter.

In grief we see what we could not see so clearly before: that our thinking and doing matters both tremendously and not at all and life is indeed a short journey able to end at any moment and without notice.  So much of what consumes my energy day to day -- cleaning, dressing, hair dos, email, shopping, errands -- won't matter at all.  I have never heard it said at a funeral that the deceased was a snappy dresser or stayed on top of her email. What most comes to light at funerals is how much our living affects others.  In Peggy's case we heard over and over of her bright and ready smile, her sympathetic ear, her love for her offspring,  her dedication and commitment to helping the helpless.

 In the end, it it is our relationships that outlive us.  We must give to them what we can, our utmost, and at the same time trust that it is and will be at last enough.

I am reminded of the sage lines of Thomas Bayley:

When the waves are round me breaking,
As I pace the deck alone,
And my eye in vain is seeking
Some green leaf to rest upon;
What would I not give to wander,
Where my old companions dwell...
Absence makes the heart grow fonder;
Isle of Beauty, "Fare-thee-well!"

Free Won't (an Expeditious Re-Run)

I am cleaning my house today.  Period.  Therefore, I have decided to post a re-run of this post from 2009 because I really needed the reminder.



It turns out it is all in your head!

In our culture, we hear a lot about "free will." It has all kinds of connotations: social, religious, political, parental! We are told, often, "It's your choice," or the parental opposite, "Well you chose to do that. You have free will. If little Timmy jumped off the roof, would you?"

I don't know about you, but I have - at times - basically bought into the notion that I can do anything if I only want to enough. And yet, we all know that isn't the case. Because if it were so, we'd all be worshiping at the shrine of Noman Vincent Peal (The Power of Positive Thinking) or The Secret would no longer be one because we would have all attracted money, love and power and either destroyed each other by now or engaged in a world wide group hug.

Okay, I am being extreme. So seriously, what's the deal? Why is it that I, for instance, am capable of sticking to a diet and exercise plan for sixth months of every blessed year and not at all for the other six months? And why is it that though we want to love our irksome neighbor, for some reason we can't? Well, I have both good and bad news. It's because of our brains!

That's right! Researchers have discovered that in the frontal lobe -- where free will is thought to "reside" -- there is also a veto power. And this veto power can override a "conscious" decision. So you may make a conscious decision, for example, to stop smoking. And when the impulse to light up hits you, you can say no. That's where the veto power comes in. It overrides your conscious decision. It becomes active when you inhibit an impulse. It really explains why some people have more trouble than others in breaking bad habits.

Did I promise some good news? Oh yes. We can retrain the veto control by practicing the more desirable habit over and over. [edit -- Did you get that last sentence?  We can re-train our brains by replacing that desire with new behavior! ] This is where support systems, plans and processes all come into play. Repeating that new, chosen behavior over and over retrains the brain. So get yourself a plan, a cracker-jack support partner and your odds of success will be greatly improved. Hallelujah.

The Long Story of Life Shocks and a Lesson Learned (aka How I Fell in Love in/with Louisiana Through the Kindness of Strangers)

I don't like the saying, "Be careful what you wish for."  Instead, I tend to believe that Providence brings me exactly what I need at any given moment to learn what it is I need to learn.  My adventures last Tuesday were the perfect example of same.

Shortly after lunch on a nine-hour drive from home to Covington, Louisiana, I had lots of time to think.  I was reflecting on how my "cutting edge" right now seems to be asking for and accepting help.  I keep getting reminded of this --in the nicest possible way -- by Dear Hubby who comes into the kitchen on occasion and says, "What do you need?"  I am often at a loss although if you look around, it's pretty clear I need help!


So a little over halfway into that long drive, my car broke down.  Sunshine was just ahead with our friends Susan and Abby, so it was just me and the Littles.  Immediately, the questions began: "Why, you stop, Mom?  "Why it so hot?" "Why you not driving Mom?" 


I ignored their questions with a "shhh, shhh" and thought about my emergency plan:

• Assess the situation
• Garner support (the most challenging step for me)
• Decide on a course of action
• Implement
• (Repeat as needed, taking new information into account)

It appeared my battery was dead so I called Susan and asked her to continue on with the girls, then dialed AAA.  They dispatched a wrecker but I decided to open my hood and take a look while I waited.  I saw that the battery was disconnected on one post.  I needed help.  

Immediately a pick-up truck pulled up. A couple a little older than I emerged and offered assistance.  I hesitated then said I needed a wrench.  He happened to have JUST purchased one at a flea market, so it was still in his truck. He hooked up the battery but warned me that the damaged battery may have damaged my alternator.  Oops.  I had jumper cables but jumping the car turned out not to be easy.

I kept handing the kids water and trying to keep them cool in the hot car.  I dared not release them from their seatbelts on the interstate.  Finally Kind Stranger said, "You can't stay here.  It's too hot and dangerous.  Maybe we can charge you up to limp forward a ways; there's a truck stop at the next exit.  We'll keep jumping you until you get there."  4 charges later, I finally traveled through the exit and made it to the truck stop where we had a bathroom, shade and access to beverages.  Kind Strangers wouldn't take any gas money and I didn't think to get their names.

At the truck stop, I called the garage to ask them if someone could come get us since only 2 people can ride in the tow truck.  At the exact moment as the tow truck, a white Cadillac SUV showed up, driven by Weylin Daigle.  Weylin, owner of Performance Auto (and other businesses) in Crowley, Louisisana delivered us to the shop and on hearing our story, prioritized our repair.  Unfortunately, it was the battery and the alternator.  It took time to find the part.  It took time to get the part.  It would take time to make the repair.  He said we'd have to wait until tomorrow.

I went back to my emergency plan. Step One: Assess.  (We could stay but we really wanted to get back to Sunshine). Step Two:  Garner Support.  I called bus lines.  I called rental car agencies.  I called friends.  Susan offered to come get us but that seemed extreme (it was a four-hour round trip).  I called Dear Hubby. There seemed to be no way to get to my daughter and the hotel room I'd already paid for. Finally, I begged the garage to go ahead and make the repair, offering to pay the repairman for his time.  One declined and one agreed.  Weylin, God bless him, stayed to help as the work could not be done by one person.  Then, as if he had not done enough already, he drove the kids and I to McDonalds and left us there so they could eat.

We returned to the shop after dinner and the kids resumed their long and glorious game of "blow the label with the box fan."  Eventually, Weylin appeared with more news:  While removing the belt tensioner, it had broken into pieces.  A replacement part had been found . . in another town . . and could not be retrieved until tomorrow.  I'd be spending the night.

Back to the emergency plan -- Step 1:  Assess.  I really, really needed to catch up to Sunshine.  I knew she'd be worried sick plus I had all her ball equipment and uniform.  Step 2:  I asked Welyin, my new best friend, for advice.  He offered to take us to Lafayette, 30 miles away, to the airport; surely we could rent a car there.

Wrong.  They had no cars.  6 rental car companies had NO cars.  Back to the plan.  Assess.  Garner support.  Three more strangers decided to help.  

Rhea at Hertz helped me find the number for an airport shuttle.  She did not give up until she actually got the guy on the phone.  (Have I mentioned my phone was now out of battery?)


Byron, of the shuttle company, was sorry, but he could not help me.  He was short on drivers and everyone was elsewhere employed.  He could get me there tomorrow.  I declined, gratefully, and he had a change of heart.  "Call me back in 5 minutes," he said, "I'll see what I can do."   

Meanwhile, Robert Parker, of Enterprise, was listening to it all.  "So where are you going," he asked, "and will you for sure be back here by Sunday?"  Absolutely.  "Give me your driver's license and a credit card," he said, and we were on our way.

Meanwhile, dear Byron called back, offering to take me himself in his family car!  I gratefully told him I'd been able to rent, after all.

9-1/2 hours after I broke down, I was reunited with Sunshine and her team.  Parents met me in the lobby to help me handle the (now sleeping) Littles and the luggage.  Sweet Sunshine had set the room all up and made up the sofa bed for the boys.

The kids went straight back to sleep; it took me a little while.  I noted how wonderfully well-behaved and patient my little ones were when it really counted and acknowledged myself for my ability to turn some tough times into a fun -- albeit sweaty -- day of "Mama time." In the end, I met a lot of Louisianans, many of them Cajuns, and though I did not think of taking their picures until the end of that long day, each of their faces will be forever in my heart.  


I stopped to appreciate how many times that day I had said, "I need help," and how each and every time, help was available.  I also noted how when the reply to my request was not always what I wanted or expected it to be, there was still always a "Yes" in there --- I simply had to open my mind to it.  It wasn't hard to ask for help and in fact, it was pretty essential.  I didn't diminish me in any way, in fact, each person who tried to help blessed me in some way.


Lesson learned.  And, well, "be careful what you wish for" because you might just get it!

Marriage and Fulfillment

I was born at the dawn of the era of "free love" and grew to adulthood in the "me" generation.  While I was raised in a conservative home, like most young people I thought the purpose of relationship and marriage was to be "happy" and "fulfilled."  In fact, I think we thought it our right. The shocking divorce rate of my lifetime is testament to this belief.   But what if there are other reasons for marriage?

At one time, relationships were preludes to marriage and marriage was an economic as well as a social arrangement. For most of our human history, the majority of marriages were arranged and love had little (if anything) to do with it.  Fulfillment was not part of the arrangement.  It was an institution based on cooperation and commitment.

One of the main purposes of marriage was to produce progeny.  Staying in marriage ensured the future of those children.  If marriage was a challenge, or a struggle or an outright trial, that wasn't really surprising.  Fulfillment was not expected but cooperation was.

Before people get up in arms, let me clarify that I'm not suggesting a return to this system which was an easy set-up for abuse.  I believe every person has the right to choose his or her spouse; I believe no person should be expected to endure ongoing abuse (of any kind) from another.  I believe children have to right to be raised in a home without fear.

That said, I do think we can "take a page" from history.  The guiding belief that marriages should be mutually fulfilling -- that the other person is responsible in some measure for our happiness --is not working.  If we are going to stick to that principal we are going to see the final destruction of the family.  Relationships do not move in a steady straight line; rather, relationships have seasons.  We have fair weather and foul.  We must learn to weather the storm and not abandon ship at the first sign of rough seas. (Sorry for the nautical tangent there.  Aye, matey!)


In any long term relationship, there will be seasons of discontent -- yours or theirs -- you can count on it.  These seasons may seem longer and tougher than the seasons of joy but perhaps that is because we think we deserve the joy and we don't deserve the other.  Thoughts can morph quickly into expectations which morph just as quickly into rights.  We don't have a right to happiness, we have the right to pursue it.

How will our children learn to weather the storms of their life if not from our example?  Our examples of grace and forgiveness (or the opposite!) will be the brick and mortar they carry to their own marriage.  If I am honest about my my process, if I talk openly about love and marriage and all that is required, perhaps they will be well prepared.  They have their own way to make but I can equip them for that task.

I think it is time for re-framing both relationship and marriage.  There are a million books on the subject but in the end, there is no quick fix.  The change must come from within.  What if we just let go our expectations and dealt with what is, right here, right now?  What if, instead of trying to get the other person to meet my needs, I take that responsibility as solely my own?

What if there is something to be learned from occasional suffering?  I am not suggesting martyrdom here, in fact, quite the opposite. I am suggesting that in time of trial, we see what is being required of us, and rise to the challenge.  Perhaps there is something to be learned from the old timers.  It is rare these days that someone marries from a sense of duty or responsibility, but that does not keep us from taking up that mantle.  I am free at any time to recreate my purpose for the relationship.

Fulfillment starts with me.  It ends here too.

Right Here, Right Now

Recently I read these lines by the witty and wise blogger Simcha Fisher: 

. . . I'm not looking at the road ahead of me.
All I can see is the road I've left behind,
and while I'm processing this information,
I'm still hurtling ahead,
driving faster than normal
because I'm anxious and tense.

Isn't this how it goes?  It's just the case that at times we are speeding though our lives, totally consumed with the mess and wreckage behind us-- with an occasional focus on not crashing into our future-- and utterly unaware of the beauty of right here, right now.

Right here.  

Right now.

Right here with my two-year-old and three-year-old just out of sight but playing a sweet game in which one is now called "Michael" and the other is now "Sophia."  

Right now with my younger teen asleep, literally, at my feet; looking so sweet and childlike because she is, in fact, still a child, something I fail to remember at times.

Right here with the house smelling of eggs and corn tortilla and the breakfast dishes piled in the sink.

Right now with 3 loads of laundry waiting to be completed and a birthday cake yet to be baked.

Right here there is a bird waxing poetic just outside the window where I write; and a cat on this side watching intently and wishing she were out there.

 

Right now there is room in my heart for my large, loving family and miraculously I am able to hold space for other things too.

 

Right here on a bright and bloomy spring day that smells of breeze and lilac and sun-warmed dirt.

Right now when I have every single thing I ever dared to dream, and lack for absolutely nothing.

So all that craziness that is behind me is, after all, the pavement on the road that brought me  . . .

right  . . . here . . . right . . .now.

Ah.