Sunday, August 31, 2003
This week has found me standing still while a dust devil swirls around me. I had a full to-do list in my hand when both Jessica and Austin whipped it out of my hand and inserted one of their own. It had a single word on it - car. Yes, both of my lovely children have cars now. Soon I will have absolute freedom from chauvering and loaning my car out. I have not had this much freedom since November 5, 1982; Jessica's birth day. Jessica passed her driver's test on thursday. She was able to buy the Lumina and start her own car insurance policy. Austin bought a LeBaron through a friend. His car had not been driven for two years and needed a new altenator, tires, etc. We spent family time at the Licensing agency together for title transfers and new tags. We spent family time at DOL for Jessica's driving test and my new photo ID. I have had my ID challenged twice recently questioning whether the photo looks like me. I was not amused as I was at the bank during one of those times and needed a money transaction.We spent family time at the insurance agency. That went more like an Abbott and Costello skit as our agent figured out who was driving which car and which car was the recent addition.We spent family time repairing and cleaning the vehicles. Actually, I spent more time with my rum and coke than joining in with the rest of the family. But, hey, someone had to keep a look out for dragons in the sky.Brad was totally exhausted and covered in oil and grease after the three day affair. I was left knee deep in receipts and paperwork. The effort was worthwhile.Jessica has finally fulfilled a rite of passage, driving her own car. She can now look for work outside of the Monroe-Sultan area. She now joins the rest of us with monthly bills and a car with an open mouth for money.Austin has finally accepted dirt on his person as Brad insisted he learn how to repair vehicles and change tires. He accepted his fate bravely. He will use the LeBaron, renamed Bebop, for commuting to Everett Community College this year. On September 13, his driver's license probation ends and he will be able to drive his friends around. In Washington state, if under 18 years of age when you pass your driver's test, the first six months you are not allowed to have anyone in the car besides family. On September 13, I will have freedom from my children. Hmmm. A celebration will be in order.
Posted by: CJ / 10:12 AM
Tuesday, August 26, 2003
My mother and aunts taught me about volunteerism at an early age. They never spoke about it. They just included it in their everyday routine. When caught, they just said they were being neighborly. This was before the 1980's. Before you listed your volunteer work on a resume, before charity organizations were part of your identity, before the IRS labeled charity a tax deduction . . . before it was politically correct.The women in my family taught by example. Volunteer work was not something you bragged about, nor patted yourself on the back for. One was "neighborly" because it was natural, like laughing or visiting.The women in my family never taught me how to help people around me. They just did it. Helping was so natural to them, I doubt they even realized they could talk about it. I reflect on this gift they gave me as I feel called to a life of solitude and reflection. In Tucson and Anchorage I spent much time, energy, and talent filling in where I could. Brad, Dr. Burke, and Father Paul told me to slow down. Father Paul pointed out to me that I could not be the face of God if I was stressed or neglecting my family. Dr. Burke stated I would not be around in five years if changes were not made. Brad just wanted me.Upon arriving in Gold Bar, I have found myself praying more than volunteering. In the Catholic faith this is deemed equal to volunteering or working towards social justice. I am trying to follow my heart, but at times I feel the pull to get out there and help the runaway kids on Broadway or join the Catholic group that is fighting for changes in Olympia. At times, the women in my life appear on my shoulders, turn their heads and look at me quizzingly. I try to explain that I am being neighborly by praying for world peace and prosperity, but I don't think they are buying it. I don't think this sabbatical from being neighborly will last. I miss being humbled. For now, I concentrate on family, becoming whole for God to use me, and to practice stretching . . . reaching up to touch the toes of the great mystics.
Posted by: CJ / 2:22 AM
Thursday, August 21, 2003
As a child, I rode the train. I sat entranced as the train rumbled through small towns. I saw every back yard to every town on the way to Portland. The train went through industrial areas, stockyards, and junkyards. In college, I took long drives by myself through industrial and marine areas. The working part of a town has always fascinated me more than the contrived pretty areas. They have a unique beauty. Beauty that is shaped by years of use and allowed to form its own character. Much like the face of an elderly person. I was reminded of my youthful preferences today. Jessica and I took the Luminia to Monroe for club salads, motor oil, and mead. We offered Ashley a ride home from Jack in the Box. As we prepared to leave, the Lumina would not turn over to start. No whirr, no put put, just silence. Jessica's friend, Larry, tried to jump start the car. But again, total silence. I inform Jessica that she, her friend Ashley, and I will be taking the bus home. Jessica is a little bent about the unexpectedness of the car's failure. "We" should have had the car in for a diagnostic to prevent this sort of thing, and oh, my, gosh, she has to take the bus. She looks me in the eye and says, "You're not bothered by this are you?" I respond that one should always expect the unexpected, especially when it involves an older, pre-loved car. I am grateful the car is in a parking lot, we are only twelve miles from home, and the buses are still running on Highway 2.Jessica, Ashley, and I board the bus. We sit in the back. My feet do not touch the ground. Now this is not unusual as I am 4' 11". What I notice about my feet is that if you allow them to swing naturally, and not purposefully hitting the back of the seat in front of you, they swing to the relaxed rythym of the bus. I felt like a toddler again, totally relaxed, in concert with the motions of the bus: totally unaware of the passage of time - no tomorrow or yesterday - just this moment in time.Jessica and Ashley are laughing at me, stating I look like a little girl. I felt like a little girl, my legs swinging freely, the chair wide enough to fit two of me. The affect was complete by the time we reached Sultan. The bus weaved around the outskirts of town, much like the train did as a child. Jessica looks over at me at says, "You're really enjoying this, arn't you?" Yes, I am. I had the opportunity to feel free today. I got to ride in a big bus that took me around the backside of town. All this with a backdrop of a sunset just beginning. These unexpected moments are gifts.
Posted by: CJ / 2:21 AM
Monday, August 18, 2003
Old Growth Forests are rare. They stood the ravishes of time, but not man. One reason they stood for ages was due to fire. Fires would periodically flow through the forest, burning all the underbrush away. The trees were huge, solid, made hard by the passage of time. They did not burn. This process strengthened the forest, allowing the trees to grow even bigger.Monday, August 11 marked our return to Seattle. Our family experienced a "fire" in Anchorage several years ago. We thought we would suffocate from the lack of oxygen. Brad and I wanted to come home. Jessica and Austin voted to leave. Like a fox in a trap, we were willing to chew our leg off to get out. Sacrifices were made. We arrived home, Seattle, two years ago. The first year we were in shock, healing from the fire. The second year we started to come out of hibernation, surprised at our survival. The world was beautiful around us. We looked at each other and found the fire has made us stronger, deeper: grateful. 4 am. I light two candles on each of our almond toffee bars. We blow our candles out in unison. Each of us reflects on what we have found in our new forest that makes us grow, excited to be alive. What we don't miss about Anchorage. Snow and ice for seven, yes, seven months of the year.Each member of our clan is finding their path. Rigel, ever faithful, is just happy we are still standing, together.
Posted by: CJ / 10:45 AM
Monday, August 11, 2003
Ira Progoff, "At a Journal Workshop," asks the question, what if all the Bibles of all the religions disappear one day? What would we use for guidance? He states we would recreate them. Knowledge and truth are freely given to us. Some of us would record what we have learned. Thereby, recreating our books of knowledge. I ponder his words as I read Elaine Pagels, "Beyond Belief." She states many different Christian groups arose after Jesus died. Many picked a specific apostle to follow. Irenaeus wanted to unite these groups under one catholic (universal) church. The Gospel according to Thomas was excluded from his four pillars, the four gospels, of the new church. The gospel of St. Thomas states we all are a part of God and it is our duty to bring that spirit, or spirituality, to fulfillment. Jesus was a special human who was blessed by God. Irenaeus felt St. John declared Jesus was the son of God and our saviour. Through this belief we are blessed with the spirit.Ms. Pagels states."When I found that I no longer believed everything I thought Christians were supposed to believe, I asked myself, Why not just leave Christianity - and religion - behind, as so many others have done? Yet I sometimes encountered, in churches and elsewhere - in the presence of a venerable Buddhist monk, in the cantor's singing at a bar mitzvah, and on mountain hikes - something compelling, powerful, even terrifying that I could not ignore, and I had come to see that, besides belief, Christianity involves practice - and paths toward transformation." This is an important point to ponder. Are we a part of God because we declare Jesus our saviour, our belief; or, are we already a part of God and he speaks in many languages, or pathways, to us?I had an invigorating conversation with Joshua, a co-worker, last Saturday. We have both tried many types of prayer and meditation. We agree that some knowledge cannot be obtained in a book, one has to have it given to them. A case in point. After practice in meditation one reaches a state of non-identity. The ego disappears. One is left understanding we are a speck of God, not our individual selves. One experiences that connection, that knowledge. One cannot truly explain the feeling to another human being. Many mystics have tried. It is akin to an alien trying to explain what the end of the universe looks like. We will not be able to understand until he takes us there.I have met many Christians, Buddhists, etc. who could recite the beliefs of their faith, but were not transformed. Conversely, many reqular people have been transformed by practicing a pathway to growth. This can be in the form of reflective journaling, prayer, meditation, charity, etc. I can see the spark of God in them flicker and my life is richer for being near them.I cast my vote with Ms. Pagel; belief alone does not help me transform, only practice brings me closer to being the face of God. This is why I follow the Jesuits.
Posted by: CJ / 7:02 PM
Sunday morning found me on the front porch with a steaming cup of coffee warming my hands. I stood four feet from the leaves of a tree in the front yard. I could hear the wind rustle through them. I looked up and saw the dragon's breath winding around the mountains. The smell of wet earth from the night's rain filling my lungs. The distant rumble of thunder echoing through the pass. A perfect moment in time.Perfect moments in time are that, just a moment. A piercing sound filled the air: a wind chime in the neighborhood. The sound breaking the spell that Mother Earth had cast. I have yet to appreciate why people have them. The wind and thunder were doing a wonderful job of accompanying the sun and clouds on a morning tapestry, why ruin it with high pitched tinkles? Yes, I dislike wind chimes. I have trouble hearing the silence with their loud voices interrupting.I wonder if people have them for the same reason they seem to have stereos blasting or the TV going; to drown out their lives. Some people appear to use noise as a drug, to take them away from the feelings of their lives. I wish people would consider how far their noise travels and respect those of us who thrive in the silence.Another neighbor has parrots.
Posted by: CJ / 11:07 AM
Thursday, August 07, 2003
Mt. Index rises in front of me on an early morning as I guide the Durango through the fog shrouded Skykomish Valley, a sight that always gives me pause. One must be constantly on guard for the occasional dragon that will suddenly swoop down from Mt. Index's rocky crags. I live 30 miles north of Seattle, just out of suburb range. Three passes cut through the rugged North Cascade Mountains. White Pass to the North, Stevens Pass in the middle and Snoqualmie Pass to the south. I live just west of Steven's Pass. It has taken eons for the Snohomish River to cut a narrow valley all the way down to the Puget Sound. Small towns are scattered along the banks. Gold Bar is the last town before you start to climb towards the Pass. The town is north of the river. The Burlington Northern Railroad tracks are between the town and the Shohomish. The town is small, you can walk from the east end of town to the west in less than 20 minutes. This is the last stop for the local bus service from Everett. I take Rigel, ever faithful, for walks by cows, horses, deer and the occasional Sasquatch. Mountain vistas surround us on three sides. In the winter, I enjoy watching the snowline as it creeps down. This region is legendary for its abundance of rain and fog, and I can attest to the authenticity of these legends. Frequently the Dragon's breath obscures the valley floor and thin whisps invade the upper treeline as well. At such times it is easy to see forest elves peering silently through the mist from the safety of the huge oak trees. Gold Bar is my very own Brigadoon.
Posted by: CJ / 6:58 PM
Sunday, August 31, 2003
Thursday, July 31, 2003
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
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
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