7/01/2003 - 7/31/2003

Wednesday, July 30, 2003
This week has seen my life return to a normal rythm. Brad, Jessica, and I visited with Brad's Mother's cousin, Kathleen, and her son, Matthew last thursday. Matthew has a new apartment, behind Dick's, on Broadway (think Haight-Ashbury). Needless to say, the street scene was never boring. I rarely have one on one time with Kathleen and we had the rare treat of a whole afternoon together.As you know, I am not one for chit chat and Kathleen indulged me. She shared with me the important parts of her life, not just her activities. We discussed our spiritual and life journeys. I have known her for over 15 years and never knew she converted to Catholicism as a young women, and a fellow Jesuit at that. She attended Seattle U (a local Jesuit college) as a young women. Presently, she is searching for a church to attend in her small community.Jesuits are known for their work in social justice and Kathleen definetely "walks the talk." She is a grade school teacher on a Pueblo reservation near Santa Fe, NM. She shared with us the trials and joys of teaching children who are taught not to trust her. They are told not to share Pueblo information with outsiders. The Pueblo has "doings" which involve everyone. Children miss school and men miss work. No lights are allowed. Kathleen stated on these days the children are not allowed to do their homework. On one occassion a student did her homework during a doing. Her grandfather covered the window so she could have a light on. Tribal members found out and came to their home and used a switch on her and her grandfather. The children report Kachinas are very much alive in the pueblos. Children are told they will come and get them if they misbehave. A monster lives in the Rio Grande and will get them if they go swimming in it.I admire Kathleen's inner strength and compassion. She is able to teach her students while respecting their culture and remaining non-judgmental. I have met few people who can actually accomplish this. She truly does not try to force change, but uses listening and caring to allow God's love to flow through.We met Matthew for dinner at the locks (the kind boats go in and out). He finished a triathlon the previous weekend, that he had been training six weeks for. Needless to say, he looked good. I did not talk with Matthew much. He and Jessica have an unusual spark between them. They are instant friends and the rest of us can't keep up. Only at dinner, when he was captured in his seat did Brad and I get a chance to visit with him. Jessica and Matthew are third cousins, once removed. I usually feel a hunger after visiting with people. I have spent much time listening but don't feel I know them, just their outside shells. I went home that evening full.
Posted by: CJ / 10:15 AM
Friday, July 25, 2003
Children collect rocks and put them in a shoebox in their room. They know the box is there, under their bed, and they can open the lid and look anytime they want. At first they reach under the bed often to lift the box up and overturn the contents onto their bed. They admire each piece; the color, the irregular shape, the unique beauty. Each rock is held, caressed, and admired. The child studies the rock and learns about minerals, the vastness of time, the power of volcanoes, the beauty of nature. As the child grows older, she looks into the box less and less. She takes the lessons for granted; calls them common knowledge. Other people talk about diamonds and emeralds, shiny objects that she should want instead of her rocks. She starts to want that which she does not need. After many years of fruitless searching for one diamond, cut and shined by man, the truth she began with is finally remembered. The rocks teach us the lessons of life, not the diamonds. What we take for common knowledge is very special indeed.My family reminded me of this hard lesson last Saturday. I have always had my family and known they love me. I also am blessed with a family that loves me unconditionally. That is, no matter how many times I stub my toe, they are at the end of the path, with open arms. My Mother comes from a family of six sisters. As a child I learned how to scoot around them as they did not distinguish you from their own children. If you were doing something wrong or they needed a chore done, they treated you as their own. At family gatherings, I felt like I had six mothers, not one. As a teenager, I wanted an identity seperate from them; one that fit into the rest of the world. What a mistake that was! I have spent many years re-learning the lessons they offered. I have been gone from them for ten years, not from choice. Brad and I have lived in Tucson and Anchorage and were unable to return home for visits. How I missed them. I had much time to reflect on what they have meant to me. As I hugged each one, I held dear the lessons they so freely gave. They are my rocks, they are my foundation, they are why I can love. You would not be able to pick them out from other women in a crowd, but I can. They each shine from within, brighter than any diamond. I held them close to me again last Saturday and admired their beauty and wisdom. Where ever Life takes me, they will be with me.
Posted by: CJ / 10:27 PM
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
Talented people appear to perform magic effortlessly. They don't seem to be exerting much effort. It all looks so easy. Watch any good athlete, musician, or artist. Then I try it and, bang, I fall flat on my face. Today I am thinking about jugglers. They juggle many balls in the air without even looking at them. Me, I have trouble juggling two. I actually catch the balls as they are coming down. Don't even talk to me about attempting three balls. Lamps would pay the price. Last week Life asked me to juggle more than three balls. I did better than I thought I could. I ended up only dropping two of them. Well, one kinda just wobbled; I did a nice recovery. The week started off with two balls. No problem, normal life. Noel's memorial service was on Tuesday afternoon and Austin was to leave Tuesday evening for Maryland. Brad, Jessica, and I were scheduled to leave for Portland Thursday morning to spend time with my mother. Then attend a family reunion on Saturday. As it turns out, I booked Austin's flight for what I thought was Tuesday evening, but airlines label July 15, 1 am as Tuesday. Which I would have called Monday evening. I did not realize the miscommunication (so much easier to swallow than the words, my blunder) until Monday morning when Austin and I were on the way to my two hours of birthday. He tells me he is leaving that evening (morning according to the airlines). We meet Brad for Coffee and poor Brad is left picking up my ball. I work the evening shift and can't take Austin. Brad has to go without sleep, again, to take Austin to the airport. I owe that Man, he never even batted an eye nor gave me the look. You know, the "You just screwed up" look.Okay, I continue juggling and Brad tries to recover from picking up my ball. Jessica and I are leaving for Noel's service on Tuesday when Brad's sister calls to report Beth, Brad's mother, was taken to the hospital Monday morning for chest pains. She was undergoing tests. Upon returning from the service I send flowers and a note. I didn't drop that ball. Brad decides not to go to Portland to be close to the phone regarding his mother.Next, the ball I wobbled. I get chewed out by my mother because I was not taking my little brother to the reunion. I erroneously assumed he would call if he needed a ride. I called said brother who states he cannot go Thursday or Friday, but can attend the reunion on Saturday. My Mother states she would rather not have us come down on Thursday and Friday if it means Keith, my brother, can attend the reunion. Fine with me, I wanted to be in town for Brad if bad news was on the way.Thursday and Friday were calm. Beth had a mild heart attack due to a blocked artery. A stent was installed. She is home and doing fine.Saturday we did the reunion thing. It was the last ball in the air. Another entry will be reserved for that day.Sunday found me back at work reflecting on the concept of mindfullnes, or for me a lifestyle. I try to do only one thing at a time in order to truly experience it. This past week did not allow me to do that. It reminded me of my life in Tucson where my planner was coded in five colors to keep everything straight. Now I have a little calendar that I just write my work schedule on. I don't miss multi-tasking. I hope I get the next 51 weeks at a mindfullness pace. I am too old to do the "everything is happening at once" thing.
Posted by: CJ / 10:16 AM
Saturday, July 19, 2003
Death brings many gifts. In our sorrow we are given seeds. We can hold them in our hands, close to our heart and let them grow. Or, we can drop them to the ground and trample over them. Jessica has chosen to hold her seeds of truth and strength close to her heart, her tears providing nourishment. I see the change in her eyes. Something deep dwells there that was not present before.Monday, July 7, Noel was driving Jessica and Scott home from an evening of D & D. Noel's eyes rolled back into his head, his hands shook at the wheel, and his foot stepped on the brake. Jessica and Scott finished stopping the car. Scott called 911 on a cell phone. Scott then turned the phone over to Jessica as he ran up the road 500 yards to enlist the help of his mother. Scott lives way out on Cedar Pond Road. If you don't know the road system, you will get lost. Scott's mother was posted to direct the aid car at the triangle in the road system. While Scott was gone, the 911 operator directed Jessica in CPR. Scott took over upon his return and they worked together. The aid car transported Noel to the hospital where he was pronounced dead at 12:45 am. Noel's parents, Scott, and Jessica were allowed to view the body and say goodbye. I picked Jessica up at the hospital at 1:50 am. The next few days were rough, but Jessica was surrounded by friends and family. The outpouring from the community of Sultan was tremendous. We received calls from people I had not known before. I was deeply touched by their kindness. The memorial service was last Wednesday and again I experienced a small community come together in grief. Jessica has found a home here in Sultan that she has never really had anywhere else. I may have found a home also. Jessica has gained a quiet spirit through this and a gratefulness for life. She is thankful to have known Noel and to share his last moments with him. A part of him will live on in her. Jessica eyes tell me she has learned one of life's hard lessons - only in trial and grief do we learn and gain spirit. Thank you Noel for leaving your best with us.
Posted by: CJ / 4:58 AM
Monday, July 14, 2003
I woke up this morning to Dawn's voice wishing me a happy birthday. Every day should start with a phone call from her. She always makes me giggle inside. Brad called next, from work. I am impressed they both remembered my birthday as I didn't until I read Justin's blog and saw the date. Whoa. Where did the year go. I am not even going to think about that today. I need to call my mother and give her my yearly condolences for the pain and agony she went through 48 years ago. Brad stated I have to celebrate my day (me and the French). I will have two hours between when Brad arrives home and I depart for work. What mischief can I demand in two hours time?
Posted by: CJ / 11:06 AM
Sunday, July 13, 2003
Today is my quiet time before the whirlwind. Next week is booked solid, but today I reflect, write, and breath. I found myself circling around a conversation I had with Austin two days ago. We were discussing the changing definition of family. Many americans are picking their families, choosing to concentrate on a close circle of friends, instead of family members that are far away or difficult beings. Austin stated he liked the idea of choosing a family of friends. After all, we have moved four times in his life, leaving no place feeling like home. Some family members require an herculean effort to be near. Some grizzlies are easier to wake from hibernation than some family members are to talk with. He has found himself holding on to his Anchorage and Sultan friends as his confidantes, his anchors, and his joy. I, too, have found myself holding on to my friends from Anchorage and missing my friends from Tucson. I have even found myself missing some co-workers who have moved on. In the past I have always made a clean break when moving to a new town. No contact with the past. This time is different, I made friends that are too dear to part with and have found I do not need to be near them to feel their presence in my life. This blog marks a change in attitude with me, I am not an island unto myself. Don't think I am isolating myself from family, though. Family reminds one of their roots; generations of struggle and growth. Most of all, family teaches us how we can love someone even if we do not like them and they are God's gift to learning how to get along. Without family, we would just ignore anyone that we did not agree with. Family keeps us humble. These thoughts pass through my mind as I look forward to my family reunion this Saturday. I have known these people my whole life, my relationship with them has passed through many stages. Some I am close to, some I am not. Ironically, some I didn't like as a child, I adore and admire them now that I am grown. I have missed them and wish I took the time and effort to visit more. For today, I am going to reach out and grab hold of one person I don't want to lose contact with.
Posted by: CJ / 5:41 PM
The Briar Patch is a frame of heart, not just mind. An attitude about living that is not the norm. The calm beneath the storm. So many of us are the fox, always hunting, always looking for the brass ring, the comfortable life. I want to be the hare. The hare knows the answer is in the briar patch. The briar patch looks awful, full of thorns, more work than what it is worth. The hare knows the true value inside and it is well worth the effort, the tears, the journey. That briar patch for me is my walk with God. Walking with God is a tough path, full of stones, and at times boulders; lots of stubbed toes. But this is my home, my way of life, my sanctuary. My dear friends ask how I am, really am. This is my attempt to share my journey, not just a listing of events in my life, but how events help me reach the briar patch. I follow the Black Robes, the Jesuits. They have been called the Spiritual Marines of the Catholics. They earn their reputation. Their way requires one to examine each thought, each action, each feeling as bringing you closer in your relationship with God or further away. You can see why I have so many stubbed toes. God has given me many catalysts for growth; my family, my job, my distance from Church, my distance from friends, and most of all - me.
Posted by: CJ / 5:40 PM