Thoughts, feelings, etc.

(it has been a few weeks since I wrote this, not sure why it's taken me so long to share, but here you go ... this was all before the shooting at the church in Charleston, before the Supreme Court decision on same-sex marriage, before that one week that I will remember for a long time. But those will all get their turn ... )

I think, I think, that these various thoughts are all somewhat connected. Hang in there, perhaps we’ll both be sure by the end.

1. Here’s a little story I frequently share with my clients:

Right after graduate school I moved to Charlotte, NC, and got a job as the social worker on an inpatient psychiatric unit at a hospital (gratuitous background info). One morning on the way in to work, I heard someone on the radio talking about a common instance of a road rage, of sorts, one that I could immediately identify with - You know when you’re on the highway and there are signs announcing that one lane is closed X miles ahead, and being a reasonable person you go ahead and get over into the other lane somewhat expeditiously? And then when you get up to the actual lane closure there’s some jackass who has been speeding along in the to-be-closed lane and waiting until the last minute? And in your self-righteousness you say to yourself, Shoulda got over sooner, dude, now I’m not going to let you merge in front of me? … I have never considered myself a stressed-out driver over the actions of others, but this definitely sounded familiar. The the deejay (I really wish I remembered what station/who it was, so I could write him a letter) said, “Just think about how much better your life would be if you just … let that go?”And right that instant, I said to myself, “You know what? I’m going to let that go.” I let it go, and have never picked it up again. 

And no, this is not necessarily a life-changer, except it was a little bit, and it’s a somewhat simple issue, but think of all the people you know who have never considered letting this particular thing go, all the folks who have one little second of mean-spirited triumph brought about by … doing what? Punishing the other person? You don’t really think that works, do you? You don’t really believe that person is going to say to themselves (and perhaps their close loved ones), “Wow, how inconsiderate that must have seemed! Thanks to that guy in the blue minivan, I have learned a life lesson and will never err in this way again” - do you? You being “right” in this instance does not do a damned thing - yes, you feel a little superior, but that’s not exactly the way I would want that feeling to be brought about. 

I just shared this with my younger sister over the weekend, and she notified me that her husband is in the “hasn’t let it go yet” camp, that he says out loud in these situations, “That guy needed to learn a lesson.” To which my wonderful sister (you can tell we had the same pragmatic mama) replied, “You know, you are teaching the lesson, but he is not learning it. You can teach the lesson all day and he is never going to learn it.” Ah, yes, grasshopper, simple yet profound. :)

Speaking of teaching, I heard this little gem from a Special Education/Exceptional Ed teacher, a loooong time ago, using the example of learning to make a bed. Just about everyone with the ability to move around can learn to make a bed, right? I mean, it takes some effort and practice to get it just so, but nearly everyone should be able to learn. This teacher’s statement was, “Just because I can’t teach you to make a bed, that doesn’t mean you can’t learn.” Adapting your strategy, basically. There’s something to be said for dogged persistence, but there’s also something to be said for “not banging your head against the wall.” 

2. So here’s a supposedly Zen little story: 

A monk told Joshu, “I have just entered the monastery. Please teach me.”

Joshu asked, “Have you eaten your rice porridge?

The monk replied, “I have eaten.”

Joshu said, “Then you had better wash your bowl.”

At that moment the monk was enlightened.

From the mnmlist blog: “I’m not going to try to explain that story, as I am far from enlightened enough to understand it. Instead, I’d like to focus the wonderful simplicity of that advice: Have you eaten your rice porridge? Then you had better wash your bowl.

This is something I think of every time I eat, and in fact whenever I’m done doing something. “Done eating? Then wash your bowl.” There is something profound and yet minimalist about this advice. It’s: don’t get your head caught up in all this thinking about the meaning of life … instead, just do. Just wash your bowl. And in the washing, you’ll find all you need. I’ve found this to be true. I literally wash my bowl after eating, slowly and with mindfulness. It’s satisfying, and takes no money and little resources.”

Now, my guy (Josh of becoming.minimalist) was referencing the other blog post, which references the story, in the midst of a blog post about how he stopped using his dishwasher and started washing everything by hand. The mnmlist guy continues his take on the Wash Your Bowl story to include not only hand-washing his dishes right after he eats, but also hand-washing out his clothing as soon as he takes it off, if it’s needed. I was already on the verge of laughing myself into a stroke about the no-dishwasher thing, but the handwashing-clothes bit put me over the edge. However the blogger is correct that there is wonderful simplicity in the advice - finish what you started, don’t leave a mess for someone else to clean up. Concentrate on one thing at a time, and finish that thing before moving to the next one. I’m not sure that it’s revolutionized my life just yet, but I do find myself doing a lot more of the little tasks (putting away shoes, taking something upstairs that’s waiting by the steps) that I would normally put off until later. 

2. In two consecutive days, I saw this as a meme on Facebook that said it’s a Zen proverb, and then on a magnet at Barnes & Noble that called it an American proverb. So whatever, it’s “Let go, or be dragged.” This was followed on one site by a David Foster Wallace quote, “Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.” It’s often difficult for me to assist my clients in striking a healthy balance between being proactive and optimistic, vs. letting go of what is (obviously?) hopeless. This is also somewhat relevant in my life at the moment, but not with anything I’m ready to share. 

3. Here are some thoughts about being kind to others online - I mean, it’s not just online, though that’s the example he starts off with, but generally being kind and the idea of “What I’m about to say - is it true, necessary, kind and helpful?” and if not, maybe don’t say it. 

http://www.becomingminimalist.com/answer-softly/

4. Shhh! I think the Crap-tacular Project is beginning to produce some results! Certain areas of the house do look less cluttered. There’s still a long way to go, but I am beginning to believe this may be possible …. hooray!

The Crap-tacular Project, Part 2: A New (Re-)Purpose and See, this is what I'm talking about

The craptacular project of ridding our home of 2,015 items this year continues full-force. I’m not sure that getting rid of stuff has helped overall cleanliness thus far, but it has made me hopeful that we will one day achieve that, whereas before I simply looked at all the clutter and basically gave up on ever having anything that was consistently pleasantly organized. By the end of March, we were a couple of hundred items over/above the number we needed to achieve in order to complete the whole thing by year’s end. But I’m guessing the first 1,500 - 1,800 will be relatively easy and the last couple hundred will be nearly impossible. 

One thing I’ve started giving myself credit for is not only recycling, but repurposing/up-cycling some stuff that’s been hanging around doing nothing. This also helps with the mental clutter aspect I mentioned in my last post - I have a number of projects that have beens sitting around half-finished for YEARS, and I’ve either picked them up again or have concrete plans to do so. There are a couple of dresses that combine the repurposing and the baggage-ridding: (1) my bridesmaid’s dress from my sister’s first wedding, and (2) a really nice, once-favorite dress from college.

(not a great photo; I couldn't get the light right)

(1) Bridesmaid: simply a full-ish simple ball gown skirt of this lovely scarlet-red satiny stuff and an off-the-shoulder black velvet top. This is not a bad memory - we have consistently liked the guy and thought well of him, and both parties are now re-married to others and by all accounts are quite happy. If it were a bad marriage, I would’ve tossed it a long time ago. This photo is not that great; I couldn’t get it looking that great no matter what light, and this was the best I could do. I wish now I’d just cut off the waist and left it as a large circle of fabric, because I’ve decided to make a hooded cape/cloak, in the spirit of this one featured on Urban Threads (an awesome site, BTW) but I’m hoping to get it even 50% this cool. The plan is for a black velvet outside (I have the above-mentioned black velvet top and a couple of others over the years; if needed I might pick up something at a thrift store) and the red fabric will be the lining and maybe the trim? Who knows? I have a number of other things to do before I get serious about this one.

(2) Little black dress: not that kind of little black dress, it was a sort-of hippie mid-calf affair with this lovely little floral pattern. It is well-made and fairly expensive, considering I bought it in college. It has the potential to be completely shapeless (like many hippie-chic dresses) but there were little ties in the back that gave it some curves. Why slice it up, then? The ties have fallen off; I was going to sew them back on but then I lost them. That likely could be worked around, but … every time I wear the dress, or even see the dress, it reminds me of the guy I was dating at the time I bought it. This was a very short-term … ? relationship ? … with a guy who went to a little private college somewhat near mine. I remember when I bought the dress, I was excited for him to see me wearing it, thinking he would really like how it looked. And maybe he did, I don’t remember. Our time together was disastrous and thankfully brief. In the spirit of, “that was a long time ago,” we connected for awhile on social media and that ended similarly un-well. So I don’t really want to wear the dress anymore. Why not just pass it along to someone else? Because it’s my dress, dammit. He is not going to make me get rid of this beautiful dress I bought with my own money, a long time ago. That is horribly contradictory, I know. But the idea is, make something lovely out of a life experience that was ugly, which is something I encourage my clients to do all the time. 

On the more straightforward de-cluttering front, here’s a recent project. I realize that the kitchen table is cluttered for a lot of people/families, but I am repeatedly shocked (well, maybe I used to be, now it’s more of a “dull dissatisfaction”) by the absolutely random, un-food/eating-related items that end up here and stay here, for no good reason. I give you Exhibits A-C:

This is all the stuff I cleaned off our kitchen table one day.
You will note nail clippers, paint, jewelry, glue stick and
Post-It pads ... nothing to do with preparing or
eating food. Nothing. 

Contents of the red box (in the foreground of the above photo). Goodness. 

And of the tray in the background. The pencils
and eraser are legit because this is where Simon does
his homework, but that's all. 

And the final product (isn't it lovely?):

A Crap-tacular Project ...

I have undertaken a personal challenge for this year - in 2015, I (and helpers) will divest our home of 2,015 items in an effort to beat back clutter. I know we're only 2 months down, but I'm still feeling pretty good about it.

I vacillate between a sort of cheerful, lazy acceptance of the state of our little home, and a soul-crushing level of frustration, guilt and shame. I have never been the world's most terrific housekeeper, probably, and having two little boys adds exponentially to the clutter. The result being, OMG look at this house I can't believe a person (neighbor, family) just came in here with it like this. Sometimes I'll post a candid shot on Facebook of the boys doing something super-cute, and then later I'll look at it and think, OMG look at our house I can't believe .... etc.

My younger (by 3 years) sister has been part of my inspiration on this. She does not have any kids, but even before we had the boys, her place was much neater than mine. I recall this very specific instance maybe 10 years ago when she'd moved into a small one-bedroom apartment, and she was simply puttering around the house, and I was idly watching her, and all of a sudden it hit me, this exact thought: OHHHHH! She.Puts.Sh*t.Away! I'm a little embarrassed to admit this was such a revelation, but yeah. She puts things away when she is done with them. I do this well while cooking, but that's it. Then a couple of years later, she moved into this really cute but very small house, and mentioned that she'd simply had to be intentional about living with fewer possessions, making difficult decision about parting with a lot of her belongings.

Then about six months ago I began following Joshua Becker at the blog Becoming Minimalist. He has convinced me that it's time to get rid of a major amount of stuff. One of the themes is de-cluttering, which is exactly the correct term for what I need. He is basically anti-organizing - to him organizing is just moving your stuff around, and it always has to be repeated, and for goodness' sake don't buy things to (theoretically) organize the stuff you have : Have Less Stuff. I have re-branded this as, Have Less Crap. Because that is a lot of what we have - crap. Arts and crafts crap. Kid crap. Paperwork crap. Etc. Another blog I just found is 365 Less Things; this is not an official recommendation because I'm still checking it out, but the titles of the posts seem promising. Also, unclutterer. And our family's birthday season is upon us - all four of our birthdays are within a six-week period, and I'm going to try my best to keep everyone to one toy, one book, one outfit. Making a concerted effort to keep anything new that's not really necessary (pens, stickers, birthday party favors, etc.) from coming into the house in the first place.

I'm also trying to de-clutter my mind and my to-do project list; there's an e-mail and social media component. Pretty sure I'm going to delete my twitter account, I'm deleting Pins like crazy. I've made a list of projects I've undertaken over the years that I never finished, and have established an order in which to complete them. My office, which is actually pretty good (that's likely 90% due to the fact that I share it with someone). Our spare bedroom is atrocious, but we're slowly making progress. I think I finally have my husband on board; initially he was concerned that I was going to give away everything we have. I explained it's not my goal to get rid of it all, just about 50% of it all :). (Yes, really). I got pretty discouraged over the weekend - we've done so much, and there's still so much to do. But today I'm feeling more hopeful. We are climbing out - slowly clawing our way to the top of the heap. My ultimate goal is to feel more at peace in a cleaner home, which will be easier to keep clean once there's less stuff collecting dust bunnies, and I won't be hunting/swearing/mentally collapsing every time I need ... anything :).

In case you're wondering, 2,015 items breaks down to:

168 per month

39 per week

5.5 per day.

I'm sure you're thinking, 2,015 items is a lot, especially given the above-referenced blog titled 365 fewer things. I've been unsure what a fair way is to count things - like, if I donate a box of 24 crayons to Simon's Sunday School class, is that 24 items or is it one? I have been sort of splitting the difference, doing half one way and half another. You know, approximately. A pair of shoes is 2, a set of plates and bowls is whatever number of individual things; paper and other stuff gets a lowball estimate. Hey, if you can do it better ... go do it your way :). By the end of February, we'd given up 292, which is 44 short of the goal of 336. But on March 1st, we'd boxed up 77 kid items (toys and books) for the consignment sale (see below), tossed 26 Happy Meal-ish type toys and 1 old makeup brush, and donated 7 glove/scarf/hat items to Goodwill (here, counted a pair of gloves as 1). So that's 111 items in one day!

"Divest" in our case means get out of the house, period. We are donating a lot to various places, we'll sell a ton of kids' toys and books at our church's consignment sale (and what doesn't see automatically gets donated), paper is being recycled and shredded, and various junk items are simply trashed.



Here are some projects I have completed (three Pinterest wins):

Cupcake "bouquet" for my sister's birthday

(She loved it)

Mason jars painted on the inside

I did these quite awhile back
but the photos I took were awful.

Why three shots of the same thing?
'Cause I'm like that :)

This is a melted-crayon project. I started out with the usual
vertical drippy lines, but then saw some like this. Tip that I include
for no particular reason at all - melted crayon will come out of light-colored
carpet easily, just using Resolve. Other tip: use your brains
and don't do this project on light-colored carpet. 

This is the This

(I hope this font is not too annoying. I like it)

Here I get to reference a piece I wrote a good while back, This is Not Our Table. You can read that, or just stick around here and I’ll basically re-tell it. 

The title of this entry of course reminds me of What is the What by Dave Eggers, about the Lost Boys of Sudan. I bought it for Matt as a Christmas present … oh, maybe 8 years ago? because I thought, this is so totally perfect for him, he will love it. And that was correct - he loved it so much that he already had read it and had a copy that I was unaware of. Oh well. Anyway:

There is a church in Asheville NC that does a tremendous job of outreach to people who are homeless. I mean, that’s pretty much why they exist. Matt knows the pastor and has visited there, and this is actually the story he told me (it is really.not.exciting. But it has an excellent point):

So the church serves lunch to folks who need it, I’m not sure if it’s every day or what. On at least some days of the week they have social workers and other similar people there at the church to help link people with the services they need. There is limited space, and so the link-up ends up running over into the sanctuary. In the sanctuary there is a beautiful carved table on the altar, for serving communion and … whatever else altar tables do, like hold rose buds in honor of newborns, and golden crosses and candlesticks and flowers. Anyway, the hand carving that is relevant for this story is, “Do this in remembrance of me.” For those of you who are not followers/worshippers, this is from the Last Supper before Jesus was crucified. After each instance of breaking the bread and serving the wine, Jesus tells his disciples to do this, “as often as you do it, in remembrance of me.” Matt says on the day he visited (and likely frequently), the all the stuff on the table had been taken away. A social worker from DSS had plopped down their laptop on the table, run the power cord to the nearest outlet, and was stationed there to help people get signed up for Food Stamps. One of the homeless clients’ dogs was tied to the leg of the table by its leash.

Now, some people would allege, and I might see where they are coming from, that this is inappropriate and they should’ve found another folding table or whatever. But I think if is perfect. As Matt says, when Jesus says do “this” in remembrance of me, this is the “this.” This is what we are supposed to be doing - welcoming people in, assisting them in concrete ways in addition to spiritual development. We can have nice things in church, and treat them as special or even holy, but let’s not let them become idols (thanks Juliet) - let’s not let the fear of a scratch or smudge stand between us and what we’re supposed to do. I’m not someone who commonly asserts that she knows what God or Jesus would say, but I do think Jesus would say, “Amen. By all means, this table is not doing anything else at the moment. If you can use it to help someone get food, please go ahead.” This is the this.



Brief artwork explanation: awhile back I began these little sketches; I think it started with a bunch of the sanctuary and Matt's office at our previous church in the mountains:

 

 

Then after a family member received some residential substance abuse treatment a couple of years ago, my sister and I attended a multi-family group on their behalf and I dealt with the idea of participating in such a group, rather than running it, by drawing this:

This was simply an idea I had, as far as the Lego characters go (there are also a few Playmobil thrown in). The Hostess chocolate mini-donuts on the table were really what inspired me , though I could not tell you why. Everyone I've shown it to has gotten a big kick out of it. I ask my therapy clients to draw a lot for me, and I show this to them to say, hey, I'll make myself vulnerable and show you that I draw too and obviously you don't have to be very good at it, so go ahead. And the clients have been fantastic about it, though perhaps it's simply pity :) . And recently I ran into someone who works at the residential treatment place at a conference and I shared it with her; I think "blown away" is an accurate description of her reaction. Not that the drawing is that great, but I think she was totally surprised that such a thing would exist. 

Matt and I have this really fun game, Who What Where, in which each person draws three cards (one who, one what, etc) and draws a picture including all the elements. Then the drawings get passed around and you get a point for each element that everyone else guesses. For example, Abraham Lincoln flying a kite in a bathtub. Or a soldier making pancakes at the mall. Probably the reason I love the game so much is, I rock at it. I'm still not claiming to be a great artist, but as Matt says, the reason I'm good at that game is that I'm good at conveying the important elements of each thing.  And I guess that's true, because there's a time limit so you have to get your point across quickly. So some positive reinforcement from Matt helped me to continue to do it, and now it's sort of a habit. So stay tuned ...

A New Fitness Complex

For the past few months I have been taking kickboxing classes at a local gym twice a week. This is completely a new adventure for me, totally out of my comfort zone. I have never taken any sort of exercise class of any kind, and what I knew about mixed martial arts and whatnot, you could fit into a very small container. So that was the point - something new and adventurous and a challenge. And I have loved it. I have purple and white boxing gloves and I’ve added a few pieces of … exercise wear? … to my wardrobe. 

I was a little nervous (but not as much as I would’ve thought) when I showed up for the first class. Like many women/girls I know, I have a nearly crippling level of self-consciousness about my appearance and particularly my weight/body shape. The first class was a good mix of ladies from all across the age and fitness spectrum - several women who appeared to be in their mid- to late 20s, and three that were definitely older than I. The older among us (I am 39) are variously pudgy, chubby, pick your term. Most of the younger girls are much more fit. And there’s one young woman I have described to Matt as my kickboxing hero - she’s likely 30-something, and not skinny, but holy crap she can kick the *&%$ out of that bag. She said she’s been kickboxing off and on for a long time, and in addition to being strong she’s really fast. One day we were doing this “A/B” thing where when there aren’t enough bags to go around, we divide up two to a bag and take turns, one person doing whatever punching and kicking we’re supposed to do, while the other jogs in place a couple feet back. On this day, this particular woman was on the same bag as me and just for kicks (hee hee) I counted my own kicks and then hers, just to see. And she did exactly twice as many as I did, in the same amount of time. I mean, I think I did 30 and she did 60; maybe it was 25 and 50 but whatever, she was twice as fast. 

So I’ve been much less self-conscious, keeping in mind the idea of, “everyone else is too worried about how they look to bother thinking about how you look.” This has been freeing and I’ve been able to concentrate on, you know, kickboxing. Form and strength and speed and whatnot. Even my usual ambition/perfection stuff has been quiet - though sometimes I wish I were further along than I am, I’m generally able to keep in mind, hey I’m just starting out and I’ll get there if I keep at it.

Until last week. 

:)

Last week’s Thursday morning class (I’m still working part-time, M - W) was a little discouraging. There were 3 or 4 young ladies I had never seen at “my” gym before, and maybe they were new to this gym but they were obviously not strangers to either boxing or general fitness. If I were (totally) like this, I might be inclined to characterize them as “archenemies,” as they were mostly blond and slender and cute and young. And the whole point of this post is, I did experience a degree of envy and dislike that was surprising. And I know “dislike” is not even fair because I do not know them, at all, and I’m sure they are perfectly nice people, since most people are, really. And of course it’s not them, it’s me - my lack of confidence, my sudden return of self-consciousness, my issues.  I totally 100% accept that it’s my issue. And while they may have had some genetic predisposition to thinness, obviously they do work at it. 

And, I was kind of glad when none of them showed up for yesterday’s class.  Another of my issues was that they all had good-quality, cute little fitness outfits. So after class I was inspired to go to a sporting goods store to shop for some new workout clothes. That was kind of a mistake, given my already-not-great mood and self-image. This was a huge, chain sporting goods place that supposedly meets all your needs, whatever your sport. The first item of clothing that I noticed, looked at closely, and then checked the price of? A pair of Nike women’s stretchy full-length pants that were $100.00. Not $99.99, but exactly $100. Jeez. So this awoke a whole different set of financial issues - we do okay, and know we’re fortunate to have what we have, but I could never justify spending that much on one pair of pants for myself. I suppose that raises the issue of whether anyone can justify spending $100 on one thing like that, but whatever; at this point I was really not feeling so great about many things. So I got a sports bra for $35 and got the hell out of there. 

So … this has basically been relegated back to a more appropriate percentage of my brain by this point and I can say, This is really not that important in the Grand Scheme of Things. I can focus on the strength that I’ve gained from my short time in class, and go back to my general idea/perception that I am basically “perfectly cute,” though I will admit some days are much better than others. I explained to a guy I know awhile back, if I know 100 women I would say that at least 90 - 95 of them hate their bodies to some degree or another. This is mostly related to weight, and ranges from mild dissatisfaction to pathological eating disorders. And if there were four different skinny women who were new to the class, my statistic means that about 3.9 of them or whatever have issues of their own - maybe they binge and purge or take laxatives or just feel like crap every time they look in the mirror, even when I think they look great. Many women I know are constantly on some sort of diet or another. I know guys have appearance concerns and weight issues as well, but all I can really speak to is a woman’s perspective and I will say, it’s different for women. For a lot of girls/women I know, it’s every day, multiple times per day, that they feel they are not quite measuring up. I don’t really feel like going on about advertising and society and what we learn from our moms and our friends, etc., although I could :). Today I’m just focusing on the results, not the cause, and offering some thoughts on how often this comes up for a lot of women, which I’m not sure is something a lot of guys think about or are aware of. 

(I’m so proud of the title of this post. 

Fitness complex, get it? 

… Boy, I’m glad I at least amuse myself). 

Various Readings - Dead Pets

I mentioned the recent death of our cat, Chicken, in my last post. I've gotten numerous messages of support on facebook - I didn't realize quite how many people had met her over the years, but what with the leg-licking thing I mentioned in the other post, she tended to make an impression - a wet, gross impression, but still (also, she was very sweet and cute and affectionate, so ... ). I also didn't realize how many folks had taken care of her for us, when we were out of town. We will probably get another cat sometime (Simon really wants a dog, but I am simply not up for it), but I think I will enjoy a break from scooping cat litter for awhile, and maybe I'll manage to get rid of some of the Chicken fur that has accumulated on every surface, before we make any moves toward another pet.

This is the first pet death that Simon has been through. We had another cat, Cat Stevens (we usually called him Steven), who died when Simon was about 18 months old, so he doesn't remember that. We've read a number of books and whatnot about it, so I hope this is helpful for other parents:

1. City Dog, Country Frog by Mo Willems. We know Willems from his books about Trixie and Knuffle Bunny, and this is definitely a different tone. This is a wonderful book, and it is about animals but you could use it to talk about any death. It made me cry the first couple of times we read it, when Simon was younger, and I definitely cried when we read it this time around, last week. It does have a good message about death being a part of life, not something to be afraid of, and that we miss people/animals when they're gone, but we go on living. Nice.

Matt is going to loan "our" copy (it's a library book) to another family at David's preschool, because their little boy evidently has had a lot of questions lately. The preschool is the basement of the Quaker meeting house with which it is affiliated, and the cemetery is just on the other side of the small parking lot. One day this kiddo and his mom were coming down the steps behind us, and I heard the boy asking his mom about the cemetery, and who is there, and when people die. His mom replied that most people die when they are quite old, and then the boy asked how "they" (the dead people) get to the cemetery. His mom replied that someone takes them there, and of course the boy then asked who, and his mom replied, "All the people who love them," which sounded just beautiful to me.

2. Goodbye, Mog by Judith Kerr. This is the last (obviously) in a series of books about Mog the Forgetful Cat. We had the original Mog book when we were growing up, I suppose I didn't realize there were any others until (this is one of Joanna's few "la-do-da" moments in life, so listen up) Matt and I were in Blackwell's Books in Oxford (yes, England, not Mississippi) and I saw several of them lined up on display. There's Mog's Bad Thing (which is yes, peeing in places other than the litter box), and Goodbye Mog, and I don't know how many others, but those are the two I bought. I was in the middle of this world-famous bookstore, nearly weeping in the children's section.

So we read this to the boys at bedtime, on the day Chicken died (she passed away early in the morning; she had been really really sick and I kind of thought she would die sometime that night, and ... yeah, she'd been coughing and hacking and making throwing-up sounds and I was trying to comfort her and not succeeding and then she just --- stopped). It is a little confusing, especially from our theological perspective, but I still really like it. The book starts off saying that Mog was old and tired, "dead tired," and that she wanted to go to sleep, so she did. That makes me slightly nervous because when a person dies you're not supposed to say "it's like they're sleeping" and when discussing plans for Chicken the day before, I'd been careful not to say that she might have to be "put to sleep" but used the big word "euthanized" instead. And then, most of Mog (leaves) but "a little bit stayed behind to see what would happen." This was a translucent sketch of Mog, that the family couldn't see, and at first I described it as "like a ghost" but then switched to "like an angel." Mog was really worried that the family would not be able to get along without her, and then when they got a new kitten it appeared to be the "wrong sort of kitten" that would not fit in. But the kitten can see the ghost/angel Mog, and so Mog teaches her what to do, and once the kitten gets the hang of it and Mog is convinced the family will be okay, she goes "up and up and up and straight into the sun."

Which brings us to the third story:

3. Rainbow Bridge - not a book, but a story, that was included with the little carved wooden box that came with Chicken's ashes. I'd never had a pet cremated before, and the whole experience was pretty nice. Now with a name like "Rainbow Bridge" there's no way this is not going to be the cheesiest, sappiest story in the world, and it was sort of, but I liked it. According to this little story, when a pet dies, they go to this sort of place of limbo, where they and all these other pets are frolicking about and having a great time, until their owner dies, and when the owner comes along, s/he and the pet go across this Rainbow Bridge together, to Heaven.

(Isn't that nice? I think it's a sweet idea). In our family I do tend to defer (but not submit, dammit) to Matt on most theological issues, as he is more, uh, learned. But on the subject of, "do pets go to heaven?" I laid down the law to Matt that our answer, when/if that question is asked, will be, "Yes." Because (a) who the hell knows? not me (I think that'a a Holden Caufield-ism), and (b) Simon is six (practically seven) and it is not going to hurt one tiny thing on earth if he (rightly or wrongly) believes that his dead cat is in heaven. Later in life he can make up his own mind, but I'm thinking that for now, this is a totally harmless thing to believe .... look, this kiddo already knows that all the little kids who died at Sandy Hook are in Heaven, and the people who died at the Boston Marathon bombing are in Heaven, etc. If he wants to think the cat is in Heaven, and it brings him some comfort, then by all means the cat is in Heaven.

Someone at our church, after reading my last post, recommended Will I See My Dog in Heaven?, written by a Franciscan friar who appears to believe the answer to that question is a resounding "Yes." My fellow (sister) church member says he backs this up pretty solidly, he's not just saying it because it feels good. I've not had a chance to check it out yet - maybe I'll make Pastor Matt read it first?

So I'm still thinking about Chicken the Cat just about every day, I'm still being reminded of her frequently, and when I do I'm sad and I miss her. She and I were together for a long time, and for a couple of years it was just the two of us. Simon is ready to get a new pet ... a parrot. I have actually always wanted a parrot, but I always had one or more cats, so ... but I am really hesitant to get anything that has a cage, because it stinks. I realize getting another cat means a stinky litter box (believe me, I know), but ... I don't know. We'll just have to see.

One more photo of Chicken. The white curve at the bottom of the photo is my pregnant-with-David belly; she's sitting on my lap and this are my blue pajama pant legs under her. All the Sesame Street figurines are from the Greatest Toy Ever, a Christmas present for Simon

when he was 1, maybe, from Aunt Tara, and either  Simon or David played with it Every.Single.Day for about four years straight.Unbelievable. And we still have just about all the "characters,"

as we have called them, which is even more unbelievable. 

:)

Surprising Joy, and Chicken

Part 1

I've meant to write this post for quite awhile, just haven't gotten around to much since I started my new job in January. I'm loving the job (part-time outpatient mental health therapist), but ever since I began working there has seemed to be one mini-crisis after another - mainly, lots of missed school days for the boys due to the weather. Pastor Matt has been wonderful in accommodating me being the "new kid" at work and making sure I could work if at all possible, which means he took care of the boys A LOT. Now that Spring finally seems to have really arrived, perhaps our family life will be a little calmer and I can get back to doing some writing - I have missed it, and it occurred to me last week that I've barely touched the "book" idea since we moved last summer.

We recently celebrated David's fourth birthday; I turn 39 (!) this weekend, then Simon will be 7 and Matt, 38, all in the next month. David continues to do quite well in his preschool; we're thinking we'll need to make a change for the summer and/or fall to something that offers a more full-day program, because we love his preschool but the fact that it lets out at 3:15 is a complicating factor for us. Simon will finish up the first grade soon; he has loved attending the after-school program since I started work, and he's signed up for the summer program that is basically 9 - 6 the entire summer, with lots of activities and field trips. I feel a little (   ) bad about having him in camp/school pretty much every day of summer break, but I recall that when we moved last summer and we didn't really have anything lined up for either boy ... it.was.a.nightmare.  I joked that once I found work, we were going to establish the Simon Dean Summer Camp 2014 Savings Fund and that he was going to go to camp Every Single Day, so I suppose I have gotten that wish. It's pricey, but to have it all worked out/arranged is worth it, I think. David will likely attend the summer program at his preschool, and we'll continue to work out picking him up every afternoon, but then maybe for the Fall we'll find a full-day daycare or preschool.

The title of this post comes from something that happened ... awhile back? A couple of months ago, probably? Is that how long I've been meaning to write this? ... There was some sort of mix-up with the child care provider for our Thursday night contemporary service at church, and so I ended up playing with David the whole time in the church nursery. He simply cannot be maintained in a church service, especially one when his Daddy is preaching, so I didn't even try. Normally this would be a stress-inducing experience, but we had so much fun - much more fun than I would've had sitting in the service without him. Here's some of what we did:

And here are some more (semi-) recent photos:

Part 2

One sad note - the cat I've had for about 15 years, Chicken, died a couple of weeks ago. She was old, obviously, and had been slowing down for awhile, slowing down more the past month and much

more so the last week. She seemed to have trouble walking and we were going to take her

to the vet, though I knew what the recommendation would be. But she died at home the 

morning before the appointment and we had her cremated. I've never done that before; growing up 

in the middle of the woods we always buried pets out in the woods, but it was a nice

experience. We got the ashes back in a nice little carved wooden box, and a card with a quote

and a little story professing that pets DO go to heaven, that dead pets exist in some sort of 

really nice pet limbo until their owners die and then you and the pet go to heaven together. 

I know Matt thinks this is total hooey, but it's a nice story.

This is Miss Chicken, as she was also known ("Pretty Girl" was another nickname)

at Christmas at our house in Cashiers. She was a very pretty cat, very soft fur, and her little face

was just always very clean and pretty and white. I got her when I lived alone in graduate

school, and for a couple of years it was she and I against the world, sort of. I've had her longer

than I've had Matt - when Matt & I met he was actually allergic to cats (I had two of them then, Cat 

Stevens died a few years ago) but I apparently made it clear they weren't going anywhere, and 

eventually the dander didn't bother him any more.

This is Chicken and Simon - how old was he, goodness? Maybe 18 months? If you are wondering

what Chicken is doing, she's not doing a routine bath. She was abandoned as a kitten and does

(did, frown) this wool-sucking thing that the vet called "wooling," that is common in kittens who

weren't weaned appropriately. A lot of cats do it to wool sweaters or broom straws, but as this girl

was abandoned near some train tracks there were neither of those things around, so she 

just sort of nursed on her thigh. Or, when she was younger it was her thigh, as you can see in this photo she has gotten on a bit in years, is less flexible, and is sort of doing it to her side. Most

cats outgrow it, but this one did not. She did it pretty much every single day of her life. You could predict that whenever she sat down in your lap and started to purr, she would do it, and

even I have to admit it was kind of ... gross. She'd do it for an hour if you let her

(and no, I never really tried to do much about it), and that's a lot of wet cat thigh

to then brush up against you. Ah, Miss Chicken. You were a wonderful

companion, and I miss you a lot.

Darkness and Light: Bittersweet and Incomplete, a Year Later

Note: This was supposed to be published around Christmastime, 

so when I say "now" or "last week" or whatever, that's the time frame. 

(This is lengthy. And sad. Probably not for the casual reader)

Part One: Some Backstory

The faithful readers among you (God bless you, even I get tired of reading my stuff after awhile) will recall that this time of year was not very good for me last year - the general joy of the season was overshadowed by the fact that I had miscarried a twin pregnancy in June (2012), and the due date had been Christmas Eve. I wrote about the miscarriage here and here; I talked about last Christmas Eve here, so I won't do that again, but feel free to read them if you'd like. In the Christmas Eve post, I wrote I expected that last year would be the worst, this one would be a little better and next year better than this, etc. I didn't anticipate that this year would be … what, exactly? … not as bad as last year, but worse than I thought it would be:

I don't know how common it is to talk about the contrast of light and dark during the season of Advent, and though I suppose there's a lot about Jesus being "the light of the world," I don't remember it being discussed as specifically as it has been this year, at our church - one Sunday it was back-to-back, Sunday School and then the sermon (not Matt's, our senior pastor's) on the same Bible verses without our SS class purposely following a curriculum that aligns with the pastor's. 

In Sunday School, we read some passages from Isaiah 60, John 1 and 2 Corinthians 11. The study materials asked if any of us had ever experienced complete and total darkness, like when you are deep in a cave and turn out your headlamp, or an interior room in a building with no windows or lights. I've never been in a cave at all, I don't believe, but the times I've been in the most (literal) darkness, my main feeling was one of disorientation - how in the world do you know where you are, when you have no idea where anything else is? When you can't even see your hand in front of your face, how do you find your way out? If you move, how do you know you won't fall off a cliff or something and be in even worse shape? Ah, metaphor. The phrase, "I was in a dark place" is somewhat overused in my circle of people, but I think it's accurate here - the miscarriage was about the darkest place I have ever been in, the worst I have ever felt, as if I was in that cave all by myself. I didn't know how to get out, I was so sad and scared out of my mind and really didn't understand anything or know what was going on. 

In the Belasara song mentioned in last Xmas Eve's post, there's a line in the chorus that says, "and honestly, there's a part of me, that just wants to go to sleep" … when I saw my therapist about a month after the miscarriage, she asked if I had experienced any suicidal thoughts. I hadn't; I've been through a few bouts of major depression in the past 10 years but even at its worst, I cried a lot and felt hopeless a lot, but never considered anything like that. And that was still true even after the most physically and emotionally painful experience of my life - I told her I'd had some vague thoughts of, I want to be with the babies, but from what I'd read that's really typical so I wasn't worried about it, and she agreed … I believe there is a Heaven (not too big on the concept of Hell, though) and I suppose I basically believe we all go there when we die, but please don't press me for details on the "whether too-tiny-to-see miscarried fetuses go to heaven" issue - I still have no real, definite thoughts on that.

As far as moving from darkness to light, goodness knows there are tons of examples, but for whatever reason the first thing I thought about was the story Bedtime for Frances by Russell Hoban. We love all the Frances books, and so do the boys. Matt didn't read them growing up - I guess they are sort of more for girls, but now that he's met the little badger family he loves the parenting lessons they incidentally provide. Anyway, in Bedtime for Frances, as you can likely guess little Frances is coming up with every possible tactic to delay going to bed - forgot to brush her teeth, wants a drink of water, etc. At some point Frances sees what she believes to be a giant lurking in her room, and runs to tell her parents. After her parents send her back to her room, Frances confronts the giant and realizes it is only the silhouette of her bathrobe, tossed over a chair. So the light shows us that what we thought we were justified in being afraid of, isn't so bad after all. 

Part Two: The Scriptural References:

Isaiah chapter 60: (a vision of Israel's future): (1) Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you … (4) Life up your eyes and look around; they all gather together, they come to you; your sons shall come from far away, and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses' arms. (5) Then you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice … (8) Who are these that fly like a cloud, and like doves to their windows? (9) For the coastlands shall wait for me, the ships of Tarshish first, to bring your children from far away … (19) The sun shall no longer be your light by day, nor for brightness shall the moon give light to you by night; but the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your God will be your glory. (20) Your sun shall no more go down, or your moon withdraw itself; for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of mourning shall be ended. 

(Gospel of) John chapter 1: (1) In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God (2) He was in the beginning with God (3) All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being (4) in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. (5) The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it … (9) The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world … (14) And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth. 

2nd Corinthians chapter 4: (1) Therefore, since it is by God's mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. (2) We have renounced the shameful things that one hides/ we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God's word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God. (3) And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. (4) In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God … (8) We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; (9) persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed … (16) So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. (17) For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen in temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal. 

So (refer to the page, "Selfish Scriptural Interpretation" for more instances of me applying Bible verses that are really about Egypt or Israel or whatever and turning it into a personal message to me) … this makes me feel a little better. And it might help me refine my answer to the Heaven question. 

Part Three: Pretty Bird

So here's something - for all three pregnancies, Matt and I have used birds as a symbol. I think this started during my pregnancy with Simon, when Matt found some stickers in this really nice stationery store in DC, of birds and eggs and nests - no, Matt is just reminding me it started when he suggested referring to our as-yet-unborn awesome son as "Tweet" (this was before Twitter was, you know, everything). I did not care for Tweet (we went with my original idea, Little Person or LP, which I came up with about 2 minutes after I finished my positive pregnancy test - oh, there's a little person in there), but I did stick with the Mama Bird idea. Then we chose birth announcements with two parent birds and one baby bird, and a similar one for David's, as well as bird decals for Simon's nursery.

And when we found out about this pregnancy Matt got me this for my birthday:

When I put it up originally there was just one little birdie in the cage; we didn't know about the twin part until after the miscarriage had already started. The image shifted for me, from one birdie who was waiting to get out, to two that would never be getting out. I moved the decals upstairs to my desk and took them down when we moved - i haven't put them back up yet, partly because our spare room/office is in such disarray we don't know where everything will go yet. Matt got me some new ones for Christmas with the idea that I might not want to put the old ones back up; I get that but I haven't decided yet one way or another. I have a little memory box I made; there's not a whole lot in it except the little pajamas … I have resisted really doing much with it, like I was going to take the DVD of the ultrasound and print out a photo, but I haven't had the courage to actually look at the images yet. It's not …. it's not what you are likely thinking; the pregnancy technically lasted 12 weeks but all that was visible was the egg sacs (yolk sacs?) - one egg had been fertilized but then didn't grow or develop at all, and the other only developed a tiny bit and then stopped. So "nothing resembling a fetus" was what the ultrasound tech said; just tissue and blood (God, there was so much blood). 

Matt and I both love Jenny Lewis, and these are the lyrics to her song "Pretty Bird", on the album Acid Tongue. Take a listen here:

Pretty bird, pretty bird
why you so still?
pretty bird, pretty bird
we've been waiting on you

(chorus)

you go west for the black setting sun
you go south to the white spirit of earth
you go east for those real green eyes
you go for north, walk the good red road

pretty bird
there's a mirror in heaven
pretty bird, pretty bird
there's a window on earth

(chorus) 

some pity me
ooh pity me yeah
stars pity me for
the blood of the pretty
the blood of the pretty
the blood of the pretty
bird

pretty bird, pretty bird
we're starving you still

(chorus)

Disclaimer: I do not know what this song is actually supposed to be about. When I tried to find out, a commenter on the song lyrics page said she'd heard Jenny Lewis say that it was about a story she heart on public radio about a woman being raped on an Indian reservation … if that's the case I apologize for co-opting it for my own purposes, but if you know me I don't hesitate to use Bible verses to suit my own purposes (see above), so pretty much everything else is fair game too.

Part Four: Finishing Up

I started this blog about our family to possibly help anyone out there who has a child (or has received a prenatal diagnosis) with Down syndrome or some other "special need" - when we initially learned this was a possibility for David, we sought as much information as we could, and hearing from parents who had faced similar issues was helpful for the most part. It also helped me to write everything - to try to order it in some logical way so that others might understand it, and so I might understand it better myself. The same has held true for my pregnancy loss - visiting sites like cafemom.com was mostly helpful; I didn't identify with everyone but generally it was good to know that many women had the same emotional struggle, some of them multiple times. So I hope that if you or someone you know has had a miscarriage and is looking for support, that at least some of what I'm saying makes sense and is perhaps of some comfort. 

I didn't share the feelings related to the light/dark issue with Matt immediately; I didn't bring it up until (some time? I don't remember how long) later. After I told him that I was feeling sad again ("sad" is really the best word, sometimes the simplest is the best), I asked him if he ever thinks about the miscarriage any more. His reply was to the effect of, "from time to time," and he seemed genuinely surprised when I said, "I think about it, to one degree or another, every day." I don't mean to make my dear husband sound insensitive; I think this is the individual/private nature or pregnancy loss, that no one can really understand how the woman feels, and there is a sex/gender gap that is likely impossible to bridge - guys don't know what it feels like to be pregnant in the first place, and though they can see you are going through physical agony and emotional hell, they simply can't grasp the helplessness you feel as you realize something is slipping away from you and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. 

I do still think about it every day, but as I said to Matt, some days it is truly a passing thought and it's usually only if there is a specific pregnancy/baby/miscarriage-related reminder on TV, in a magazine, or online I don't usually think about it in any great depth, and I rarely cry about it, though I am a little right now. 

I don't know if the due date of Christmas Eve means I am any more sad than I would be otherwise - any time late in the year would be the holiday season, and I'm sure I would feel about as bad if the due date were October 14th or November 8th or whatever. But at Christmas there sure is a lot of talk about the baby Jesus, and that Advent is a time of "Joyful Expectation." Last week we had a guest pastor at our midweek contemporary service, and she talked a lot (A LOT) about the baby the baby the baby that is coming. I happen to like this pastor a lot- she is young and smart and lovely and a great person, but I was REALLY READY FOR HER TO STOP TALKING ABOUT "THE BABY." I was ready for her to move to a more theological standpoint, that Christmas is not so much about The Baby, it is about the Incarnation of our Savior, about God coming to earth to live among us as a human being. But I suppose I'm not going to get very far with that wish - folks will talk about it, but Christmas is about the birth and Joseph/Mary/shepherds/Wise Men/star/etc., and there's no getting away from that. 

(General grumpiness Joanna really can't explain - I really don't like talking to 

kids about Christmas in terms of "Jesus' birthday." 

Yes, it is celebrating the day he was born and yes, 

that is your birthday, but I think singing Happy Birthday to Jesus 

and having birthday cake and all is a little too much. I know this is generally harmless

 and I get it - this is something kids can relate to. 

But kids can also apparently relate to SpongeBob, and that's not anything

 I want to spend a lot of time talking about, either).

As always I will try to end on a somewhat lighter note: Simon was talking about Jesus' birthday and what we could give him as presents. I was trying to bring us around to, hey why not behave as Jesus would want us to behave (unselfish, kind, yadda yadda) and say prayers for other people and not just ourselves and that's probably what Jesus would like best. Simon was still stuck on the idea of a physical present (see, this is what happens … ) and I said to Matt yeah, it always sucks when your birthday is on Christmas 'cause you get all the lousy presents that are "for both days." So, thinking about Jesus as the first victim of a Christmas birthday made me smile. Please note, this is Joanna's thought, not Pastor Matt's. 

I have, I think, seen only one episode of the HBO series Oz. It premiered when I was in college and I remember catching it when I was home on break or a weekend. One episode of a show, 16 years ago, and every time I hear Genesis chapter 1, this is what I think of: 

• Augustus Hill: "And God said, let there be light, and there was light. But, that's easy for God to say, he was God. But for the rest of us, finding the light takes time. A lifetime."

And looking it up to get it right, I came across tons of other Oz quotes that are relevant to the matter at hand (light/dark/seeing God) but this entry is already way too long so I'll just send you to the website: tv.com:  http://www.tv.com/shows/oz/gods-chillin-61317/

And I'm really okay, just sad right now. :)