The Waaaaaiiiiiiting Is The Hardest Part

     Divine Timing: This is the idea that everything that is supposed to happen will happen only when it is supposed to happen. No sooner, no later. Divine timing sucks. Well, not really. When we experience an event that we sense was divinely timed, we are always so grateful for the experience. We say things like, "Hindsite is 20/20," or "It was just meant to be," or "You see, everything happens for a reason." But when we are on the waiting end of divine timing, it just sucks. "I don't understand!" "When is my ship going to come in?" "Why can't I catch a break?" "What did I do to deserve this?" Sometimes we get angry with God. Sometimes we question our faith all together. Divine timing comes with lessons.

     It feels like I am always learning the lesson of divine timing. I used to think it was patience, but now I realize it's actually a lesson of surrender, letting go of the illusion of control and just going with the flow of the universe. It's not easy. It comes with feelings of anger, grief, longing, fear, and sometimes that feeling like someone ripped out your heart and stabbed it with a large sword over and over and over again. Sometimes it's small things, like waiting for a check and fearing that you won't eat next week or that you might lose your car or house, only to find the check in the mail the day before everything is due. Sometimes it's big things, like waiting for love or a life changing career opportunity, or a baby. I know a lot of people waiting for big things.

     Many of you already know the long story of how I waited for my second daughter after 2 years of trying and miscarriages. Many of you lived through it, and supported me during that awful time. Some of you are experiencing similar challenges right now, and have endured so much more than I did and are still waiting. But the point is, my little monkey came on March 9, 2009. This date is significant. At some point during the ordeal, I remember just saying, "Our baby is there somewhere in heaven, waiting to come to us. He will get here when he is ready. When the stars are perfectly aligned. When one specific sperm meets one specific egg. When everything is perfect." And, she did. I never had any doubt that I would have her. I knew she was coming, and because I knew with every fiber of my being, I was trying to bring her here when I wanted her." I did a whole lot of praying during that time. At some point my prayers shifted from asking to get pregnant to asking for strength to endure the wait. I had a very close relationship with my late great-grandmother, Teresa. I always have. I look to her for guidance, I have seen her in dreams and she has greatly influenced my spiritual path. She supported me from "the other side" in so many ways, that when my daughter was finally born, I gave her the middle name Terese in her honor. I loved that she was born on 3/9/09 because I love numbers, and 3s and 9s have great significance to me. However, what I would find out 2 years later is that the date is even more special than I could then realize. My great-grandmother Teresa was an immigrant from Italy in the early 1900's. When she came through Ellis Island, like many immigrants, her records were distorted and confused. For some reason, my family always celebrated her birthday in January. One day last year, I came across some papers at my parents' house from my dad's family, and found 2 references for my great grandmother's birthdate. One just said March ?. The other said March 9. MARCH 9TH?! What?????!!!! My little monkey, who was named after her, she who spiritually held my hand through the entire journey, was born on her birthday! Coinicidence? No such thing. God's hand. Divine timing. Everything was as it should be. God's plan, not mine. 

     And here we are. Waiting. All of us are waiting for something, aren't we? That next big idea, that financial windfall, that precious baby, that true love, that moment when we finally arrive. It's not easy. It sucks. It hurts. Sometimes it downright makes you physically ill. I urge you not to lose faith, though. It will happen when it's supposed to. No sooner. No later. And all we can really do is pray for strength and help each other endure. And we will endure. Each and every one of us will get through. I promise. This too shall pass.  Until then, I pray that you are surrounded by love and light, and that you find joy in the small moments in between. Because, really, that's all we can do, be present in THIS moment.

You Can Rain On My Parade, But I'll Only Sing Louder!

I'm standing in the rain again.
              I watch the droplets fall.
                           My makeup washes down my chin,
                                     Clothes cling to my goosebumped flesh.
                                               My hair sitcks to my neck.
                                                I am exposed.
                                                           I'm standing in the rain again.
                                                               Teardrops stain my cheeks.
                                                                      The walls are crumbling.
                                                                          The roof is leaking.
                                                                               I can smell the growing mold.
                                                                                     I am lost.
                                                                 I'm standing in the rain again.
                                                    I cannot make it stop.
                                       Children are crying.
                                         The government's lying.
                              And my tea is getting cold.
                  I am helpless.
I'm standing the rain again.
                I can't see the road ahead.
                          It twists and turns.
                                   My socks are wet.
                                       All I can do is walk.
                                                    I am walking.
                                                        I'm walking in the rain again.
                                                               Not sure what's round that bend.
                                                                                One step closer to the light.
                                                                                          I hear a song of Grace.
                                                                                         It is Amazing.                                                     
                                                                                 I am singing.
                                                               I'm singing in the rain again,
                                                             As I'm often apt to do.
                                                       The harder it pours,
                                                  The louder I sing.
                                             I will not be drowned out.
                                I'm laughing at the rain again as I travel the road less taken.
                                        I will not be forsaken.
                              Do not be mistaken.
                You can not hold me down.
The twists, the turns, the aching burn of doubt and fear of the dark.
                                      These things make me pause, but I won't serve their cause.
                                              I will walk. I will laugh.
                                                      I will dance and I'll sing on this long and winding road.
                                   Sometimes it will rain.
                                               Sometimes I'll feel pain, but I'll never lay down my load.

       For I know in the end, when I turn that last bend my Home will be warm and dry.

And I'll remember the love and the hurt and the pain and the lessons I was slow to learn.

And I'll have no regrets for the life that I led as I sang and I danced in the rain.             

              

Tick Tock- Click: Persistence Of Memory - Insistence Of Time

     "Where does the time go?" That's what a colleague said the other day when looking at a recent photo of my now 7 year old "Angel baby." (Funny how we watch our own kids grow, but are always surprised to that other people's kids have grown at the same time.) This comment, so cliche that it almost means nothing when we say it caused me to pause. While I jokingly said that I wouldn't mind time speeding up a bit so can get my little one out of the terrible twos and past the torturous threes (which are actually worse than two), in my head I was having a conversation with myself that I need to take more mental pictures.
    What are mental pictures? They are memories, of course, but somehow they are more. It's something I started doing when I was studying abroad in Costa Rica. In the rainforest, everything is beautiful. Breath-takingly beautiful. There's an energy that can't be described that emanates from the abundant life around you. There's an awareness of how small you are, how insignificant your life is, and how interconnected the world around us is. You want to take pictures of everything......but your pictures just pale in comparison. I remember hiking with my friends through this secret trail that led to the most magnificent waterfall and thinking, "How could I possibly capture this on film. There is no way that anyone could appreciate this from a photograph. I am just going to have to remember this moment perfectly in my mind." So I took a deep breath. I inhaled the unique smell of life and death that permeates the tropical air. I focused my attention on the cool mist that blew off the waterfall leaving tiny drops of water on my cheeks. I remember the air pressure changing abruptly and the wind getting cooler as a sudden thunderstorm muddied the trail such that I had to grip deep rooted blades of grass to pull me up the steep incline. I stopped,  focusing all my senses on that moment. I was determined to capture it in my mind forever. That's what I call a mental picture. Being totally present in the moment and savoring every sensation so that I have a perfect memory...

 Salvador Dali  "Persistence of Memory"

      Since then, I have remembered to do this at key moments in my life. For example, I can recall almost every minute of my wedding day from my morning yoga practice in my backyard, to the MTV special that happened to be on about the shortest marriages ever, to the moment I became Mrs. Jones, to Viennese hour during which I was determined to taste EVERY single dessert. And I remember exactly how it felt to give birth to each of my children....the unique sensation of my body doing everything it was designed to do. These were important milestones of my life, memories I was determined to capture. But what about all the moments in between: the bedtime stories, the walks in the park, the days at the beach or on the playground, the gymnastics practices, the games of Uno, the stolen kisses, the 100 second hugs, the ice cream sundaes. Are these moments spent with my family not equally important?
       No one was happier that I was at 11:59:59 on December 31, 2011. I don't know what it is, but 2012 seems to have so much promise. I bubble up with excitement when I think about all of the things I am determined to do in the days and months ahead. I feel like a phoenix that has risen up to reclaim life. I want to push my boundaries. I want to open my mind and heart,  and really live this life I have been given. And yet some days I find myself furious at the pile of dishes in the sink, at my wits end with my clingy kid who really just wants some attention, and positively irate that there's a pile of papers that need grading. I waste so much energy sometimes thinking about what I'd rather be doing instead of appreciating the moment I am currently in. The next big moment, that next great milestone is down the road. It's not going to get any closer or farther away whether I think about it or not. But my daughters are getting bigger by the second. Eventually my clingy toddler will be rolling her eyes when I tell her I love her. The pile of dishes will be smaller because I won't have to feed a full table and the pile of papers to grade will be a distant memory of some of the best years of my life.
     The truth is that time doesn't go anywhere. We move through time. And if we spend all of our time thinking about the next great moment in our lives, we will miss all of the precious wonderful moments in between. Living in the the moment- remembering to capture those mental pictures- is not always as easy as it seems. It's a discipline. It takes practice. We have to slow our minds down and take inventory of each of our senses and breath in the love and light around us. I may never achieve that perfect zen where I live authentically in each moment, but I can try. And in 2075, when I look back on my life, I can only hope that I have accumulated more mental pictures than vague memories.
     So now, if you will excuse me, I have some kisses to collect, some bedtime stories to read, a cup of green tea to savour and some love to soak up. Hopefully, I won't yell at my iron and when my head hits that pillow, and I'll remember to count all of the blessings in my life, for they are far more than I could possible ever deserve.  

The Spirit of ChristmaHanuKwanzYule?

     I'm feeling rapt today. That's right, I said rapt, as is full of divine light and love. As in my humble heart is overflowing with the pure joy of living. It started at lunch when I was contemplating my apple. I had been frustrated and complaining about trivial things that have no real importance. Thinking about money while I mindlessly picked the crust off my rye bread. Then I took a bite of my apple; debatably, nature's most perfect food. It really is a beautiful thing, the apple. The ovary of the apple blossom, swollen with sugars to nurture the seeds of the apple tree. Each and every seed has the potential to grow into a tree that will bear thousands of new apples with thousands of seeds that have the potential to produce thousands more, that can produce thousands more, and thousands more.....ad infinitum. And here I sit eating this fruit, tasting the sugar on my tongue while the sweet juice lingers on my lips, and I think of the sun. The cells of the leaves of the mother plant that created this most perfect food captured the energy of that sacred star without which we could not survive. The energy of the sun trapped in every bond attaching carbon atom to carbon atom. (I'm sorry....did you forget I teach science?....I didn't mean to be tangental...)
     As I was saying, the sun.....the giver of life, emanating pure energy. How can this not be divine? I don't know to whom you pray. It really doesn't matter to me if you love Jesus and Mary as I do, or if you just concede that there must be a higher intelligence that created us all. How do you not see divinity in such perfections of nature? The ancient cultures worshipped the sun. They saw its divine perfection, and celebrated its return at the Winter Solstice. They gave it many different names, but almost all of them acknowledged the importance of the solstice as the coming of the light. Today, we are in our orbit, the closest to this most heavenly body. Although the darkness will seem unbearable today, tomorrow will bring a tiny bit more light. Day after day, a bit more light.  It is no coincidence that we Christians celebrate the birth of our Savior during this ancient feast week. Jesus is the "Light of the World," the light of hope.
     Lots of people celebrate Christmas who don't believe in His divinity. And you hear lots and lots of people, regardless of their faith (or lack there of) talk about "The Spirit of the Season." Universally, it represents giving.....whether of time, or self or money or gifts. Some people speak of forgiveness as being the "Spirit" of the holiday. Others emphatically insist that you should only be celebrating if you are a believer. But the world is a very diverse place. And I think that God comes to each of us in His (or Her) own way. And so there is no right or wrong faith. Ultimately, most of us who believe in a God of some sort, come to the understanding that whoever your God is, GOD IS LOVE. And the way to a peaceful world is to open our hearts to give and receive that love unconditionally. On December 25, I celebrate the birth of my Savior, Jesus Christ. Yes, it is also Yule, the coming of the light, as well as (this year) part of the "Festival of Lights."And with what little I know of Kwanzaa, I do know that the principles basically acknowledge the importance of being humble and grateful for the gifts of the world in which we live. Isn't that all sort of the same thing?
    Many of you have become disillusioned with "The Holidays." You're frustrated with the materialism, lack of faith and/or hypocrisy of other people. But the way I see it, the "holiday spirit" has nothing to do with other people. The "holiday spirit"..... the Christmas Spirit..... is something I retain in MY heart. I am celebrating the life of my Lord and Savior. I am trying in my own humble way to exemplify His teachings and spread His light and love. But curiously, those other things that people who are not Christian refer to as "the holiday spirit" all fall within His teachings. And so, as far as I see it, His Light shines on everyone who shows compassion, generosity and forgiveness whether they are believers or not.
     I would never tell anyone else what they should believe. I only know what I know. And I can only do what I do. When I take nourishment from that apple, that divinely perfect food, I eventually toss away the seeds. Many of the seeds will not germinate. But if even one does, it has potential to bear fruit that will eventually come to seed, and grow and fruit, and reseed. That's the Christmas Spirit. The idea that when we act in the spirit of goodness and light we might inspire another to do the same, regardless of faith or religious persuasion. We are eating from the divine fruit of love and tossing away the seeds. Some will be inspired and the seed will germinate and bear fruit. Others may not. But all it takes is one seed of goodness and love to germinate with the potential to parent many many more fruits, all of which bear seeds that might be planted. And this is what I believe is the coming of the light. This growing movement of acceptance, compassion, respect and universal love. This is the Christmas Spirit, whether you want to call it that or not.

So Merry Christmas, my friends.  Happy Hanukkah. A Blessed Yule. And Happy Kwanzaa.

Whatever you are celebrating, do just that. Celebrate! Celebrate life and love and goodness and be rapt as you wrap!      

For The Grace of God

By the grace of God, i opened my eyes to the light of new day's dawn.
By the grace of God, i heard His sigh in the breath of my little one's yawn.

When i stepped in the warmth of liquid joy as i washed the sleep from my skin,
i felt His embrace as He cleansed my body and my heart and soul from within.

With each bite that i take, with each sip to my lips, i taste His abundant life.
And i know when i walk, with each step that i make he will carry me through any strife.

Sometimes when i look to my left and my right, i know that there's no one there.
But i'm never alone as i feel His peace fills me up with each breath of blessed air.

At night i kneel down before Him:
Please give me protection, show me direction, take my hand and lead the way.
Help me to serve You, for i do not deserve Your infinite love every day.

i look into darkness no longer with fear that i carried in younger years.
With each move that i make, with each breath that i take, i'm so humbled it brings me to tears.

So i thank You for Your love and light.  Forgive me for i'm so flawed.
Open my heart and show me the way, i promise You won't be ignored.

Behold Your handmaid.
                                i surrender my will.
                                                   For i'm Yours today and until....

The Princessification of America: STOP THE MADNESS

     A couple of years ago, when my angel was 4, we took a family trip to Disney World. BEST VACATION EVER! I'm a Disney girl. I would go to Disney every year if I could afford to. So let me preface this by saying that I love everything Disney! And when we met the Disney Princesses, I was very impressed. They were kind and gentile and made each little girl feel like she had a personal relationship with her. It was beautiful. My favorite Disney Princess, however, is not a princess by any stretch of the imagination, but they group her in with them anyway. My favorite "princess" is Mulan. In case you don't have any Disney kids in your life, Mulan is the Chinese girl who's elderly father is called to war. She cuts her hair off and goes in his place risking death by both the Huns and her own people because the penalty for impersonating a man is execution. Mulan is the Disney heroine I want my girls to emulate. What did Cinderella do? Cry into a pumpkin because she couldn't go to a party? Wait for a fairy godmother to put some more diamonds in her tiara? Sorry Cindy, you're cute and sweet, but the last thing I want my kids to expect is that their godmother (or their daddy) is going to come along and dry every tear and fix every misfortune.

     And this is the problem with America. (Okay, so maybe it doesn't trump the budget deficit, but it makes me just as crazy.) I am so sick of listening to young girls whine about their lives. "FML" That phrase turns my stomach. Really? Is your life SO hard? You didn't get those designer boots you asked for. Or you only got to wear 1 gown at your Super Sweet 16. Or your daddy won't send you anymore money to spend on pot and beer at college. Get a friggin' job like I did!  How did American girls get like this? Surely we can't  just blame Disney's singing mice, but a girl doesn't just start acting like this.  It starts at a very young age. "Mommy, I want that!"  "It's not fair, she got presents and I didn't."

     Whatever happened to the word, "NO!"? Now I have 2 adorable little girls. They are both so cute that at some point in their short little lives, they have already realized that if they are sweet and cute and charming that they can get just about anything they want from most adults. This is dangerous! Mr. Jones will tell you I am the softy parent. I don't like to say, no. Sometimes it's really hard, but I do. I've gotten really good at ignoring the crying, stepping over the bodies wailing on my kitchen floor while I make dinner, and carrying a screaming child out of a toy store empty-handed. I just look at them and say, "I have an idea,  maybe you should cry about it." I am so afraid that my girls will grow up to think they are princesses, sometimes I just say no for the sake of saying no.
     I am NOT a princess! At first glance at work or in public, you might be fooled by my professional camouflage and think that I care who sewed the label into your pocketbook. I don't. You won't see a flash of red under my shoes. (I'm only wearing shoes because the health codes say I have to.)  As I told you before, my father raised me to "cowboy up." My mother let me scream in the toy store too. And somehow, in my group of girlfriends I was always "the muscle" (which is why I always get the job of carrying the heavy stuff at baby showers.) I've hiked up riverbeds in rainstorms with blisters covering my feet inside mud caked hiking boots. I've ridden mountain goat trails in hail storms and literally had get back on the horse after I've fallen off. I've mucked horse stalls, been thrown up on more times that I can remember, slept on the ground, showered for 5 weeks straight in cold water at dawn, not showered for days at a time because there wasn't any running water, and eaten whatever I was served because it was my only option. I don't really need much to be happy.  I chalk it all up to experience. You won't ever see a tiara on MY head. (Maybe a crown of flowers or a wreath of leaves....but NEVER a tiara.)
     When Will and Kate got married this year, the whole world watched. A real Princess! And I think the Duchess of Cambridge is a good example of a princess for the most part. She has grace and class and so far has been a positive role model for young girls in the way she conducts herself in public. The problem is that she is not the kind of princess American girls are aspiring to be. They want to a princess like Paris, or Lindsay,  or Kim. They want to be famous and rich and tell everyone what to do and have no consequence for their actions. I am so done with that. Women in popular culture have become rancid. They disgust me with their never ending materialism and vanity. All they are teaching our children is that it's what's on the surface that's important, Money = Happiness and that acquiring things and getting attention is more important than giving of oneself, sacrificing for love, and being grateful for whatever we do have.

They wear tiaras, but they are no princesses.

So, if you've ever wanted to smash the tiara off a 14 year old girl's head, join me in my princess revolution. Say no to your child. Turn off MTV, any show with "Housewives" in it, and stay away from stores that put their logo across your tween's backside. Put down the credit cards.  Teach your children to pray and be grateful for the many blessings in their lives. Be an example of humility and selflessness,  and if you feel so inclined, pass this on to anyone who will listen....or just click "like" or "share." That'll do.

Say What You Need to Say

     So for the past week or so, I've had  David Cassidy singing over and over again in my head, "Hey, I think I love you. So what am I so afraid of? I'm afraid that I'm not sure of, a love there is no cure for...." (Hoping this blog post will stifle him....not that I have anything against The Partridge Family.....but, come on, it's been like a week already!) There's a certain tragedy to this song. Aside from it's happy upbeat tempo, think about what he's saying. I really love you, but I can't tell you because I'm afraid of getting hurt. How often does this happen? That we have something we really want to say to someone, but we are so afraid of the consequences of our words that we suffer in silence by saying nothing. Unfortunately, this usually just makes the situation worse. I'm not just talking about proclaiming your love for someone, I'm talking about everything in life. We are so good at talking, but terrible at communicating.

     There's a difference, you know. Between talking and communicating. I'll spare you the Webster's definitions (that's so 11th grade English class).  I think you know what I mean when I say that someone can talk for hours, and never actually SAY anything.  And likewise, someone else can communicate so much without ever saying a word. These are two extremes. Most of the time we are somewhere between the two. We want to say something important, but only get some of it out because some things are just too hard to say out loud. And so we say nothing. Or we just try to hint at something. And we get nowhere.

     Most of the time we are too worried about the consequences of our words. I know I've put my foot in my mouth too many times to mention. If I had a dime for every time my sister has said to me, "I can't believe you said.... to..." Or how many times Mr. Jones gave me that look while listening to my conversation with someone else. The look that silently communicates, "Stop talking now.... do you even you hear the words coming out of your mouth?"  Then there's the looks of shock I gotten from certain other people in my life. The ones that say, "I can't believe you just said that out loud." I'm used to it now. I know how my feet taste. And I have spent more times apologizing for speaking the truth, or exposing the elephant in the room, or for just saying out loud what everyone else is afraid to, than you can possibly imagine. And while my intent is never to be hurtful. I have to say, after the immediate embarrassment, and subsequent apologies, I usually don't regret saying it in the end. I hate secrets. I hate euphemisms. I hate pretending that everything is fine when it isn't. I'm not good at pretending when it comes to feelings. An old friend once said to me, (when I was insisting that I was happy while involved in an emotionally abusive relationship) "Your eyes betray you. You can say one thing, but your eyes always tell the truth." So since I can't pretend, I don't.  I'd rather be familiar with the taste of my toes than waste time and energy lying to myself or anyone else.

   Life is short. We only have so much time to spend with the ones we love. Why spend that time in awkward silence or resentment? That's the consequence of NOT saying what you feel. The resentment builds inside. It wears on you and eventually bleeds into other areas of your life. Sometimes it even causes physical pain.  Just say it. Whatever it is. Tell her you love her and can't live without her. Tell he needs help. Explain to them why their actions (or non actions) hurt you so deeply. Why spend another minute of what's left of this life suffering? Once the words are spoken, then you can move on. Then you can heal. Then you can be happy. Don't let fear stand in the way of your happiness. You deserve more than that.

Hoping you will spread the love, as always. Be well, be happy and be honest.....with yourself and with everyone else.