Tuesday, October 30, 2018

CELEBRATING MY SISTER, MY BEST FRIEND

Let's face it there is no one like a sister. Same genes, same family history, same secrets, and the same-gender orientation when dealing with pesky brothers.


Me, standing, Maureen the youngest, in middle. Circa 1963



I am so grateful that you are my sister, Maureen, and that we grew up as allies and not enemies. Perhaps the five-year spread created enough age distance to eliminate competition. Or maybe the fact that one of our brothers teased you so much that I became your protector, determined to see you survive your elementary years.

Also working in our favor, was our mother's frequent brain-washing. "You'll always have each other."


Mom saying, "You'll always have each other."


And we did.

Being the older sister, I became the explainer of life. When our mom's description of the birds and bees(Bless her 1960's Catholic heart.) left you more confused than enlightened I happily filled in the missing details. After all, I had learned them myself while listening in on the collective wisdom of our brothers' friends.




We were Batman and Robin, dashing around the yard in our capes. We were secret sunbathers crawling out of our bedroom window onto the roof to lay out. We rode bikes, shot hoops, played dolls, and always thought the same things were funny.

"EEWW, I'd never swim in the kiddie pool at the swim club. All the babies pee in it. Yeah, they should just put in a flusher. Ha Ha Ha. That's a good one!"

"Remember when Heidi(our dog) pooped in the hall and you stepped in it barefoot? Ha Ha Ha. You hopped on one foot all the way down the hallway screaming EWW, EWW, EWW.!"

"Remember the night we climbed that big fence at the swim club and went skinny dipping. Then when we left we found out the gate was unlocked. Ha Ha Ha."

For many years we went skiing together and nicknamed ourselves "The Chapstick Sisters". We rode the chairlift and talked about everything. Husbands, kids, God, and cellulite.


Maureen and me. The Chapstick Sisters.


When we grew older, uncooperative ACL's wouldn't allow us to ski together anymore. But we have never stopped our semi-annual visits, even though we are separated by more than a thousand miles.

Along the way, you stopped being just my little sister and simply became my very best friend.

You were there for me during many long phone conversations when my precious little boy battled cancer. I was there for you when your precious little boy battled depression.

More adversity followed; too many stories to recount here. But each of them has served to strengthen our bond.

Now you are caring for our elderly mom. You bear most of the burden for her daily care. You juggle doctors, social workers, insurance, hospitalizations, and the emotional roller coaster of being a care-taker.

 You have put your life on hold, and I want you to know that you are appreciated.

I hope you realize that you are a hero

I can't be there as much as I would like to.

 But I will always be your best friend.

Sunday, October 7, 2018

THE IN-BETWEEN PLACE


Have you ever felt like you don't fit anywhere?




 I think most of us have felt that way at one time or another. Perhaps you identify with awkward middle school memories choosing a seat on the bus or the anxiety of finding a 'home' table in the high school cafeteria.

But it gets more complicated when we grow up. Especially when things change unexpectedly.


For many years my persona was wrapped around being a teacher and a mom. My children all attended the school where I taught, and I was part of a school family and a professional learning community.


For many years my husband was a successful businessman, and we enjoyed an upper-middle-class lifestyle with globe-trotting vacations and fancy parties. I congratulated myself for being a successful member of society, and I felt grateful to be among the lucky ones.





Over the years almost everything has changed. Our firstborn son died of cancer, our lucrative business perished in the great recession, and our second son died in an accident. Several other health and financial blows followed in quick succession.


I went from being able to critique ski resorts around the country to someone who puts groceries back, puts off dental work, and wonders how I am going to pay my hospital bills.


Now that most of the fancy props are gone, things that used to matter don't seem so important anymore.


 I am in an in-between place.


I am re-assessing my purpose in life, and I sincerely doubt that it is supposed to be to get all of the stuff back that I used to have.


I turn away more and more from what the world expects of me, and I turn my face towards God, asking Him what He wants from me.


Looking at the recent news is a reminder of the huge gaps in this world.


 Sunami and earthquake survivors in Indonesia walk among the rubble that used to be their homes, mourning their dead family members.





A businesswoman critiques which app delivers her food and make-up in a timely manner.


Homeless teens and young adults in our city hope to have a drop-in center soon.


Quarterback Jameis Winston will make $21 million in 2019.


This is not the world that I want to fit into.

But if I hadn't been humbled, I doubt that I would be looking so hard for God's will. Now I strive to be more like the apostle Paul.


Philippians 4:12 

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

I was walking my dog yesterday, and I met a woman who also lost a child to cancer. We paused on the sidewalk while our dogs sniffed and we spoke about our children. We had just met, yet we were able to converse at an intimate level about heaven and eternity. 

We were standing in the gap between this world and the next, the in-between place.

I hugged a friend yesterday who had just celebrated one year of sobriety. 

We were standing in the gap between regret and hope, the in-between place.

The in-between place is where the buzz of the world subsides and the voice of God is heard. It's where we let go.

Philippians 4:13 

13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength