Tuesday, December 22, 2009

birth day

Today, I am sharing a poem that my mom wrote.. It seems appropriate to reflect on birth - the birth of Christ, and the expected birth of a new niece or nephew next July. Especially since receiving good news today of a favorable ultrasound and hearing the baby's heartbeat. Oh, little one - I pray for you each day!

Birth Day by Anne Zimmerman

I am the light of the world.
John 8:12

Fifty years ago,
wondering how to emphasize
the true meaning of Christmas,
I happened to read about
a Baby Jesus Birthday Cake...
So every Christmas, beginning then,
one has been the focus of
our family's Christmas dessert.

Our cake of choice is always the same;
a small (baby size) chocolate layer cake,
chocolate frosted, simple and plain,
just as the stable was simple and plain;
round, as the world is round.

We decorate the top of the cake with
lots of small white birthday candles
to represent the starry sky
the night the Baby was born;
and with a larger white candle in the center,
to represent Christ, the Christmas Star
and the Light of the World.

Christmas Day, at dessert time,
the dinner table cleared, the lights dimmed;
the candle-lit Baby Jesus Birthday Cake
is carried to the table,
while we all join in singing
"Happy birthday to you,
happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, Baby Jesus,
happy birthday to you."

...Thank you, God
for the gift of your Son...
Baby Jesus.
Hallelujah.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

NewEveryMorning.com




I notice that life has not slowed down one bit since my last post in September. Time to evaluate and prioritize, always a good end-of-year activity.

This morning, I read Lamentations 3:22-23,

Because of the Lord's great love, we are not consumed
For His compassions never fail;
They are new every morning...

I stared at those three words for awhile.

New every morning.
New every morning.
New every morning.

Wouldn't it be amazing to live like I believe it? It's not just when I'm in crisis. It's not just when I am living up to my so-called standards. It's not just when I am living up to God's standards.

God's compassions are a gift, as fresh and new every morning as the snow that laced the trees this morning when I woke up.

Wouldn't it be refreshing to go to a website, www.neweverymorning.com, and revel in the good news of God's love and mercy crowning us? (I actually came downstairs and looked on the computer to see if the domain was available - nope, someone has snagged it already, though it is not in use. Pity.)

New. A fresh start!

Every. Without a doubt; past, present, future!

Morning. Daily!

Sunday, September 27, 2009

rain

Sometimes I'm in that dry and thirsty place where I just need. We're running a marathon at work right now, a marathon of projections and budgets and auditors and an acquisition and inventory questions and now more auditors and ~ I keep thinking that we will take a breath and slow down and think and it doesn't come and I am so thirsty and I need.

The Bible says, "Selah." Pause. Think.

Selah.

I'm so grateful for the co-workers who ask me how I am. And mean it. And I'm thankful for the one who saw that I needed and wrote a funny note of encouragement on my board. Sometimes it's hard to admit that I need. I'm supposed to be strong and experienced and a can-do person. (Actually, I am strong and experienced and a can-do person!) I can be all those things and still need. It's okay to need. I'm reading a book by Leslie Parrott titled The First Drop of Rain. I've been fascinated by part of a poem that she wrote:

...Never forget,
Your heart is a spring.
Living waters flow in you.
And just the grace of your presence
Brings life all around you.
Never feel small.
Someone has to be
The first drop of rain.


This morning, on my way to church, the fog blanketed the earth and saturated it with moisture. I read recently about how such a very small amount of water can create a large amount of fog.

So what is my point? I'm not sure!

Maybe it's this... That when I need, I will remember that God's living water is a spring of life in me. I will look for the first drop of rain that a caring co-worker offers by asking how I am. And that out of need, I am still able to give... By listening to my daughter-in-law when she is hurting. By bringing a vase of dahlias~astonishing and glorious~to a stressed co-worker to remind her that there is beauty. This is not all there is to life.

God, may the grace of my presence, of Your presence in me, bring life all around me. Make me the first drop of rain.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

lots

There's lots going on with people right now.
  • A. (young mother of two) will have another coil inserted tomorrow for her aneurysm.
  • C. and D. wait to hear test results from the oncologist.
  • J. is losing his home and business.
  • S. continues to look for work in this very discouraging economy.
And so it goes.

I've been thinking lately about Psalm 73:24-25... a good reminder for difficult times.

"You guide me with Your counsel,
leading me to a glorious destiny.
Whom have I in heaven but You?
I desire You more than anything on earth."

Do I? Do I truly believe and look forward to that glorious destiny? Because if I do, it will provide perspective and peace. Do I desire God more than anything on earth? It is a dangerous prayer, a daring prayer.

Such a desire secures my destiny.

Sunday, September 13, 2009

kitties


Candice is very talented - she belongs to a postcard club where she creates and mails original artwork to other members.

This is one that she did while she visited us... She truly captured the personality of each cat in only a few penstrokes (those Copic pens are awesome)! The drawing of Dot is truly inspired, because that is Dot's usual position (but don't dare rub that bunny-soft tummy or else)!

fall

I stopped in my tracks. Not entirely uncommon for me when I notice something on my run.

This truly caught me by surprise. As I rounded the corner, the sidewalk before me was sprinkled with autumn splendor.

I'm not ready - where did the summer go?

Asking the question raises another question - have I been present and attentive to the sights, sounds and moments of the past hours, days, weeks?

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

what?!

I'm having a season of "What?!"

It was enough to have the hard disk failure so I couldn't get caught up after a week away on business.

It was enough to have trouble with three of four items at the grocery self-checkout.

It was more than enough to find out that our finance director had "left the company" when I arrived at the Detroit airport.

It was enough to have my second hard drive failure in 48 hours while between flights en route to Utah.

It was enough not to be able to set the clock in my hotel room. (But the hotel employee couldn't either.)

It's enough to make me say "What?!" What is God trying to tell me?

Sunday, August 16, 2009

remember

"Remembering the Great Things of God" is the title of the art exhibit that moved me to tears this past Thursday evening.

http://www.lds.org/churchhistory/museum/competition

The evening began with a serendipitous event - we "happened" upon the Mormon Tabernacle Choir practice at the convention center in Salt Lake City. Our host wanted to show us Temple Square, the Tabernacle, and the convention center.

I was on the edge of my seat. Never have I seen 350 people as one voice, directed by one man. Crescendo, decrescendo - the faintest whisper, the truest pitch when the organ rejoined them after the a capella section... Words cannot describe the beauty and flow of their worship.

As we left, we noticed the art exhibit. I've included the link to it so that you can see the expression of various artists, all with the theme of remembering what God has done for us. I was stunned by the beauty of a quilt representing Orion - a blaze of reds, orange and yellow at the core; cooling toward the outer edges; with small, brilliant pieces that drew my eye further into the galaxy.

Next, the Mormon Tabernacle. Smaller than I expected, and round! A massive organ dominated the front, and I was pretty sure there was a Steinway grand piano hidden under cover. The guide demonstrated the acoustics by tearing paper, which we heard clearly at the back where we stood. She next announced that she would drop three pins, followed by a nail. The three pins sounded like large nails dropping.

Finally, dinner in a restaurant on the tenth floor of a building next to the Temple. Our window-side table allowed us to see the full beauty of the temple lit for the evening, against twilight backdrop. We were next to the piano, so I heard the simple beauty of the Jim Brickman song I recently played for a wedding.



So when I remember the great things of God, I will remember this evening - a multi-sensory experience of worship.

Monday, July 27, 2009

decision

All-consuming, that's how it's been. I find myself with a constant undercurrent moving beneath my thoughts, sometimes forming waves that crash disruptively over my listening skills. Like in a meeting last week, where twice I was caught deep in thought about The Decision.

It's a very cool opportunity to spend a year working at another location, to meet a new team of people and live in their culture. The company is sensitive to the fact that my husband, who owns a business, will not go with me - on this sojourn, at least.

Opportunity = change. And change is not something I take lightly.

Finally I realized that this isn't about trying to figure it all out on my own, that God has a vested interest, too.

As I've been able to slow down and place it in God's hands and put it on God's timetable, it has brought peace and anticipation instead of perplexity and anxiety.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

streeeeeeeetch

Driving to Bronson Park, wondering what I was thinking. Not too late to turn around.

Had I turned around, I would have missed Triple Decker Guy (peanut butter on outside layers, jelly in the center - the "club sandwich of peanut butter"), Joseph and Darlene, Martin and Mike, and Ellen. Not to mention the two-year old on whom we bestowed bubbles.

It was a Jesus thing. Head to the park with July 4th leftovers, a giant jar of peanut butter, jelly, cold water, soda - and see who would show up.

It felt a little uncomfortable at first, but became easier as I focused on the task at hand - serving others, asking their names, asking about them. For me, it wasn't about working Jesus into the conversation to gain a convert. It was about being present with some people who are not like me, but who are like me - for as was mentioned at church today, we're all the same at the Cross.

Streeeeetch. It's good to enlarge the boundaries, to step outside the comfort zone.

I won't be going all the way back into it. The comfort zone, that is.

open. close.

I think I have decided. It's time to lay it down.

Doors open and close for a reason. I'm not quite sure why this one opened, or why I feel compelled to close it.

I wanted to become a Dale Carnegie instructor, and put it on my "blue sky" prayer drawing. And seemingly out of the blue, within a month, I got a call asking if I would be interested. Excitement! Thrill!

Stepping through the open door was exhilarating; going to preliminary training was energizing.

The reality of the first conference weekend brought me to a crashing halt. Who was in charge? The leaders were discussing alternatives in a philosophical fashion. Expectations were not clear. I'm not a quitter, damn it. So I pressed on, only to be told (after relentless follow-up) that I needed (drum roll, please) - more training.

Disappointment, sure. But I'm not a quitter.

I signed up to coach with my sponsor, and he generously gave opportunity for me to run parts of the weekly sessions. And invited me to coach with him at a training this summer.

There's a sense that all is not well, however. The coaching that I expected to receive isn't forthcoming. He is involved in building the other part of his business. The focus this past week was on praising the other coaches; and recruiting coaches for the next session. The invitation for me to participate was conspicuously absent.

I'm not a quitter, but I want to quit.

My husband says, "Wait". If this session finishes and I am not invited to go further, that is an answer. Oh, waiting is difficult.

My friend put it well yesterday. She gently said that it seems to be stressful for me, and that I'm scrapping. Scrapping in the sense of trying to prove that I can do it.

Ah, friendship. To have someone who knows and loves me; a person who calls forth what has been swirling in my thoughts for the past few weeks.

It's true. Ever since "they" told me I needed more training, I was on it, ready to prove them wrong, ready to tackle any requirement they put on me. But think about it - why? Why prove them wrong? What is wrong with them being right, with me not being ready or good enough or whatever? I'm letting an insignificant failure define me; I'm giving "them" the power. I don't measure up to their standards, and so what?

How much more energy am I willing to devote to fruitless struggle with an uncertain outcome? Why not step back into the volunteer coaching role where I excel - where I have fun - where there is zero pressure?

Why don't I close the damn door this time?

Sunday, June 21, 2009

birthday boy



The photo is of the birthday boy, my dad, Chuck Zimmerman.

The occasion is his 80th birthday party, held yesterday evening. And to think that a year ago, his greatest gift was coming home after two weeks in the Meijer Heart Center. My mom decided then and there that this party was going to be BIG. We're talking BIG, because she knows how to throw a party!

We had about eighty people there. Fraternity brothers from Beloit College, tennis buddies old and young, doctors, lawyers, new friends from the retirement community. And of course, our core family.

How many people get honored by young and old alike at such a celebration? Of course we did hear about some escapades (Polly and her parrot, for Pete's sake). But there were a couple of stories that really struck me.

There's the time that our church was bitterly divided, with a pastor that was doing wrong. My dad wasn't on the session, but one night as they met, the story was told of my dad coming into the room and sitting down at the table. When asked why he had come, he said, "I wanted to be here to pray with you during this difficult time."

Another person said that my dad is truly a man who lives his faith. He doesn't talk about it, but he sure walks it out. Whether it is his commitment to my mom (who he referred to as "the love of my life" in his opening remarks last evening), his dedication to the Salvation Army, or his willingness to arrange an intervention for an alcoholic friend, he quietly does the right thing. That doesn't mean he's perfect by any means, but I think he has a healthy sense of God's grace and doesn't let his mistakes stop him.

So when I spoke, it began with the statement that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Because my dad has invested in people - because he thinks for himself and speaks his mind - because he lives his faith, so do I.

And in a strange way it comforts me to know that although I won't have him here forever, he will be here.

Because those lessons live on in me.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

God = Chiropractor

I realized this morning that God is a chiropractor, only more so.

It's been one of those weeks where my attitude got the best of me. Emotional exhaustion from sharing Bill and Debbie's grief left me less than resilient. (Meaning I was not relying on God to help me recuperate).

Then came a somewhat incomprehensible situation, one that resurrected the emotions of a desire unfulfilled. Because I play the comparison game, I traveled to "My contributions don't count and I must be worth less (maybe even nothing)."

Wow. My self-talk is a crime.

God asked Jonah, "Do you have any right to be angry?" Jonah was struggling with thoughts of unfairness. OW. God reached in and adjusted my heart.

Psalm 84 - "What joy for those whose strength comes from the Lord, who have set their minds on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem..." OUCH! Where have I set my mind? I feel God's hands beginning to massage and adjust my thoughts.

I remember that last fall I said I want more joy in my life... Why? Joy produces energy. Anger produces exhaustion. I want energy!

My friend, Wendy, had a day (or days?) not long ago where she wrote "Count your blessings" on Facebook. Repeatedly. A great reminder to me today, because I am focused on the one thing God has withheld from me and given to someone else, instead of His generous blessings heaped all around me.

Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

be kind

Some days, you just have to be kind to yourself. Today is one of those days.

I found myself wrapped in a web of grief, the kind that makes decisions difficult, leaves you wandering the house in your pajamas, and wanting to snap at the store clerk who says, "Have a good one!"

It's risky business letting yourself into the painful experience someone else is having. I remember sitting across from the doctor yesterday as he explained "the procedure" to my brother and me. This procedure removed the "tissue" and the placenta from my sister-in-law. I woke up this morning wishing that I had said, "Please! It's a baby! Stop being so abstract about this!"

So today, being kind to myself means setting aside the agenda I had. No studying. Not even as much piano practice as I should have done. Instead, I painted the new plasterwork in the front hallway. The sweep of the roller... the soothing color of the paint... the rhythm of physical activity calmed my mind.

I wouldn't have missed a moment of yesterday, though. That's what love is - being there during the hard times.

Even when it hurts.

Friday, June 12, 2009

celeste

Today we said goodbye to Celeste.

She was 11 weeks and 1 day from conception, measured perfectly to the day on Wednesday. My sister-in-law went in for a routine pregnancy checkup.

There was no heartbeat. The routine quickly became non-routine, and the D&C was scheduled for today. With tears in her eyes, she told me, "I keep thinking that someone is going to call me and tell me this is a joke."

She had dreamed that morning that she was bleeding, perhaps an unconscious anxiety after having a miscarriage in December. Or perhaps her body's way of letting her mind know that something was wrong.

It's harder than the first one, they agree. And can they withstand another miscarriage, they wonder. But that conversation waits until they pass this "for worse" moment in their marriage.

They might hold Noah a little closer and hug him a little tighter for awhile. They are so grateful for their beautiful 18-month old son.

It seemed important to me to name this child, and as I drove home, I thought "Celeste". It seems appropriate that it means "heavenly", because today she flew home to her Heavenly Father as we opened our reluctant hands and let her go.

Ah, Celeste. We miss you. There is some comfort knowing that we will see you in heaven.

Friday, May 29, 2009

Yesu asobola

I have a current fascination with Ugandan language. Sharon and Michael left a week ago today, returning to Uganda to begin married life together.

For the wedding reception, I learned two phrases: Twabashemerera munonga! (We are very happy to see you!) and Nitubakunda munonga! (We love you so much!) And because memorization is so much easier if there's a happy tune to go along with it, I made up a little song.

With the marvels of Facebook, I learned that one of Michael's favorite singers is Judith Babirye... and because of You Tube, was able to watch her sing a song called Yesu Asobola, "Jesus can".

What a great reminder, that Jesus can. Today before I went to work, I told God I needed encouragement. (Bruce, who was praying with me, said "You go, girl!"). While Bruce's words were funny and helpful, it wasn't quite what I had in mind.

You see, for the past few weeks I've been pouring time and effort into developing ways to recognize and appreciate co-workers. I question whether it's going to mean anything, and whether people really care about that. Sometimes it feels like pushing a rope uphill. I'm tired, and I'm not getting much feedback.

But today, Susie delivered an envelope to me at my desk, and there it was: a nomination for Employee of the Month. WOW! One of my co-workers is on a mission and has been in relentless pursuit of my nomination. Cool beans.

Jesus can.


Saturday, May 23, 2009

everyday miracles

They're all around me... from the glorious peony tree...

...to the columbine nestled in the shade garden...

...to the starry clematis...

But here's the one I almost missed! I reached to grab the frame hanging on the house because it desperately needs painting. Scream! A bird flew past my head. And after I recovered my wits, I saw the nest. Look closely, and see the little mouths begging to be filled...

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

solo



It is still somewhat disorienting to realize that I can get on an airplane at 5:00 p.m. in Michigan and arrive 1,400 miles away in 3.5 hours. The speed of travel liberates us to do crazy (but necessary) things like take a 24-hour business trip to Utah.

There are, however, things that are not to be rushed. Experiences to savor, new paths to explore. Instead of running on the treadmill at the hotel fitness center, I lace up my running shoes, take the elevator down seven floors, and walk out into a warm morning just after the 6:06 a.m. sunrise.

With the State Capitol as the landmark that beckons me, I begin to run. Past the Temple Square, with black-suited men opening the locked gate to let other black-suited men in. Past the white-on-white landscape of columbine plantings along the walls sheltering the Mormon Tabernacle. Uphill. Thin air, this, at 4,400 feet. Through a neighborhood, where a flight of stairs lures me down, down, down to the street below. The Memorial Park lies before me, serene with its statuary and crypts. Another runner passes me, and climbs another set of steps. After a brief hesitation, I follow, and find myself on a switchback path heading up, up, up... Opening to the State Capitol building.




It's time to head back to the hotel. Feeling some regret at having such a brief adventure, I wind my way back. The Utah drivers seem apologetic rather than irritated as I cross the street.

As I near the hotel, I run solo upstream against the flood of construction workers heading toward the residential high-rise that offers hope of urban renewal.

There's a pride in my solo exploration, a delight in aching muscles and in seeing new landscape at 6.5 mph.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

school's out

Now that I'm done teaching for Winter term, I had a moment to lie under the dogwood tree...


...then observe my favorite daffodil...


...and check the buds on the peony tree...
Ahhhhh... Spring has sprung!

Sunday, May 3, 2009

snapshot


Tonight was a one-of-a-kind event. A snapshot, a moment in time.

I've often thought that a musical performance is a never-to-be-repeated work of art, and I participated in a masterpiece this evening.

Two artists, Sharon (soloist) and me (accompanist). Guest vocalists, Scott and Justin. A crowd of people gathered to listen. Guests included:
- My parents
- My husband and daughter-in-law, Sara
- My longstanding friend from childhood, Julie, and her mom
- Former boss, Darrell and his wife, Marilyn
- Friend Lucille
- Former BFAW, Dan Steffer, his wife Yvonne and son Brendan

Why are the guests important? It's all part of the experience! That group of people will never be gathered in that place to hear these musicians perform that program again. Even if we collected them all, we would not play with exactly the same emotion and dynamics--it would be a different work of art.

It was outstanding. No other word to describe it. Did I ever know that I could play like that, or have I simply forgotten?

God answered every prayer affirmatively for this evening.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

the flip side

Wow, how can it be that in two days the beautiful little girls turned into a bickering, uncooperative example of bad sportsmanship? Could it be because today's lesson was on being a good sport? Unfocused, crabby, mean-spirited words... It was one of those days when it became necessary to let go of the lesson and let them play a game.

It makes me admire parents and teachers and all of those who cannot walk away after two hours. Don't get me wrong--my heart is with these little girls. What you are hearing is my frustration in not knowing how to deal with them.

Shelby's birthday is tomorrow. She informed me that she just felt like she was going to burst, and not in a good way. She said, "I always chew my clothes the day before my birthday." I asked her if birthdays are a good thing, and she answered affirmatively. Yet she described an anxiety that comes before... She's turning nine! (I wanted to tell her to wait until she's thirty or forty or fifty...)

Bekah hurt her tailbone, Jasmine had a sore ankle, Kelsee had a headache. And so on. And so on.

Tuesday we will run a practice 5k, so that will keep them occupied. I'm wondering if I'm going to need some harnesses?!

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

good day

"Cute chicks! Aren't we just adorable?" And dandelion dust on our hands, tattooing approval for us to pass the girl-barricade on the track.

It was a good day with the girls yesterday. Oh, yes, there were the usual spats and pouts, but I had the chance to walk around the track with Samantha and Alexis draped around me, to learn the "Cute Chicks" song that is part of the third grade musical, and to run with Marah while she exclaimed over the new furniture that she got for her bedroom.

I'm thinking that next year I'll be an assistant, not a coach. The time with the girls just running or walking and talking is so refreshing. And I even got to join the ranks of the fairytale kingdom yesterday... as the donut taster.

Yes, it was a good day.

Monday, April 27, 2009

so that

She held her arms bent, clenched fists toward me.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I need you to give me strength for the next two hours."

"Oh, then let's pray right now," I said, and grabbed her hands and held them tightly.

We were standing in the bathroom at the church. When I had arrived, no one knew where she was, so I headed in to--well, use the facilities. And sensed that the person in the stall might be her, so I waited.

It has been quite a journey for her these past three weeks or so.

Her parents called and asked her to come--two months earlier than she had planned. Her husband said, "Go".

She arrived from Germany on a Tuesday. When I called that Saturday to wish her a happy birthday, she was in the emergency room with her 89-year old father. "I will always remember this birthday," she said. "But we've had lots of great talks since I arrived."

The next Tuesday, she woke in the wee hours and felt intense anguish for her father, so prayed, asking God to take him--he had said he was ready, and he was in such pain. She felt like she could go back to sleep, but within twenty minutes her brother called to let her know their dad had died.

So many things happened so that she could be here when he died. Her parents asked... her husband said go...she was able to get a good price on a flight... She prayed...her dad was ready...and so was God.

So many things happened today so that I could be there at the moment we prayed. I didn't leave work when I planned, then decided to stop and get gas, there were no parking spots in the church lot, I had to scrounge for change to put in the parking meter...

There are so many intersections in this story... God at work everywhere, bringing us together for today's celebration of a life well-lived.

Perhaps so that I will consider the legacy I might leave, changing course where needed so that people will say that mine was life well-lived.

Friday, April 24, 2009

looking up or down

I have this crazy desire to lie on the ground and look up through the tree branches.

It doesn't seem "appropriate" for a 51-year old to do this, but it could be the influence of those little Girls on the Run... or the caress of a warm spring breeze awakening my so-called inner child.

Whatever.

Hang what the neighbors think. I grabbed the camera and lay under the dogwood tree. By the way, I always wanted a dogwood. This house came with one, but I didn't even know it until I cut off the end of a branch and took it to a guy at work who knew a lot more about trees than I do and he pronounced it a dogwood. And it was a pink dogwood to boot. It was one of those times when I really felt like God knew this unspoken desire of my heart and decided to give me a dogwood.



I'm thinking that I miss a lot of things on my busy, forward-looking path.

For example, a passerby would miss the very cool eggplant shingles framing the white attic window of our house--unless they happened to look up.



And unless I look down occasionally, I'll miss a lot of other things. The ferns all fuzzily furled, for example. Or brightly colored quince blossoms.



And the hellebores. I'm not sure exactly why their beautiful blossoms hang down. You really have to be at ground level to appreciate them.



And my favorites, the dahlias. They're not supposed to overwinter in Michigan, but they're right next the the foundation of the house with a southern exposure. Each spring, I look among the dead stalks from the prior year's growth. And behold! Tiny green leaves poking bravely toward the light.



Look up. Look down. Maybe even lie on the ground underneath a tree and admire the fractals.

There's a lot to see in life.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

patience

I visited Julie today at her mom & dad's apartment. Her dad is still in the hospital, but is as stable as a 90-year old can be.

Julie's mom has Alzheimer's, but still recognizes me.

What are you knitting?
A baby hat.

(Fifteen minutes later.)

What's that going to be?
A baby hat.

(Half an hour later).

What are you knitting?

It was a similar experience with questions about where I live and where I work.

The most amazing thing of all is that I felt no impatience at all. I am one of the least patient people I know, and every time she asked, I answered with no sense of irritation.

It's comforting to know that God gives me patience when I need it.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

happy?birthday

So, I asked, how does it feel to be 52? A lot like 51?

Yes, it's not a whole lot different.

My best childhood friend, Julie, arrived Tuesday from her home in Germany to visit her parents, and today is her birthday. She is spending the evening in the emergency room with her dad. He has a multitude of physical issues, including congestive heart failure. Intense pain in his legs and feet resulted in the decision to take him to the hospital by ambulance.

She was planning to come in June, but after she hung up from a recent phone call with her parents (her mom moaning in the background and her dad crying), her husband simply said, "Go."

Julie said she's had good conversations with her dad. As she sits with him tonight, she places her hands on his head as he cries in pain. She is glad to be here, even though it's hard.

We're at the age where roles reverse.

We become comforters rather than comforted. It is a strange sensation for me, but because of the comfort my parents have given me, I have been strong enough for the hard times sitting in hospital waiting rooms.

I will go to be with her tomorrow, for the comfort now comes from each other.

Friday, April 17, 2009

spring in my step


Things I am happy about:
- Taking a run in my no-excuses rainwear on Tuesday, having the cold-drizzled trail to myself and seeing ten deer!
- Daffodils.
- Swinging a jump rope in the warm sunshine for my Girls on the Run yesterday.
- Hugging Wen. (That's her dancing in the photo).
- Hearing stories last night of how the Dale Carnegie students overcame stress and worry.
- Laughing with my husband.
- My brother gets to keep his job because someone else quit.
- My brother and his wife are expecting again, after a miscarriage in December.

It puts extra spring in my step!

Monday, April 13, 2009

punky funk

So, there's no real reason to feel punky and drained (aftermath of too much joy yesterday)? I had difficulty peeling myself off the pillow this morning, and having a warm cat nestled next to me didn't help. Then I was cranky with my husband for no good reason.

If I had to declare a mood right now, it would be tired.


There's good news, though.

#1 - My brother will start at his employer's corporate HQ next Monday. He doesn't know what, exactly, he'll be doing or for how long... But it beats unemployment!

#2 - We didn't unveil the hydrangeas yesterday. With sleet in the forecast, it would have been a shame to lose them after sheltering them all winter.

#3 - I had fun with my students tonight. I'm not sure if it was reciprocal, but I sure did enjoy them.

Life is good, and tomorrow is another day.

I'd like to return to something more like - joyous!
My Unkymood Punkymood (Unkymoods)

Sunday, April 12, 2009

easter.joy

I am full--spiritually, emotionally, physically.

I made from-scratch waffles this morning.

I walked to church in the glorious sunshine with my best guy friend, who happens to be my husband.

The question the pastor asked is, "Wouldn't it sometimes be easier [to believe] if Jesus just showed up?"

Yep.

Yet. Jesus does show up, all the time.

Wherever I go, Jesus is with me.

Therefore, Jesus shows up in lots of places.

What came to mind almost immediately was the so-called chance encounter downtown with Samantha yesterday, one of my sweet Girls on the Run. No mom in sight, but I met Eli, her older brother.

It was the second so-called chance encounter with her outside of school. My chiropractor's office turns out to be next door to her house. So one morning I met her and her sister as they were on their way to school.

Yeah, I'm so obvious. I don't believe in chance encounters. I'm not sure what the purpose is. Maybe as simple as being glad to see her and interested in what she has to say.

Maybe the church has it wrong. Maybe it's not about bringing people to church to meet Jesus. Maybe it's about Him showing up wherever people are.

Wow, that's a lot of maybes.

Happy Easter, y'all.

May His joy & blessings be yours!

Saturday, April 11, 2009

father/daughter

He was asleep by the time I got there yesterday, in the recliner with his fleece throw. My mom had packed a snack--a half-sandwich, a Hershey's almond treasure, and apple slices. The hiss of the dialysis machine masked my approach, though he is a sound sleeper and always has been. Not much danger of me waking him up.

Garbed in my Easter-yellow sterile gown, I pulled up a chair and watched him sleep. It took me back to the times I visited my grandma after the cancer had stripped the excess weight from her. The dialysis treatments have done the same thing for my dad, and as he slept, I noticed how much he looks like his mom, my grandma. The shape of his nose, the fine network of wrinkles, the age-spotted hands. He had a terrible, mottled bruise at the entry point for the tube that circulates his blood and cleanses it.

The nurse came by and said, "Look at that. Here you are to visit him, and he's sleeping." "That's okay," I said--"I'm in no hurry". I sat and read my Vogue Knitting magazine, and just as I finished, he opened his eyes. "You're here!" he said.

I've never made time to go sit with him during a four-hour dialysis treatment, but it was a spur-of-the-moment decision made the day before. It was motivated by wanting to spend some time alone with him (knowing that my mom doesn't go with him) and to spur him on with his memoirs. He'll be 80 in June, and told me once he didn't expect to live this long!

We did some work on his memoirs, but mostly we just hung out and talked. It reminded me of how it was with my teenage stepson--the conversations can't be scripted, they just happen when you spend time together. The questions in the memoir book are really poor--he had answered a number of them, but they're worded so that a person can get away with yes or no. It was the space, the pauses between the questions where the stories came out.

There are times when I let myself realize that my dad won't be around forever... Watching the recirculating blood yesterday reminds me that these treatments are keeping him alive, and that the moments we have together are precious.

Sometimes I miss him already.

letting go

It's time to let go. Oh, I'd already rid myself of the old love letters and photos--well, most of the photos. There were a couple tucked in back of one of my Bibles and stashed in the middle of a huge pile of unsorted snapshots. And then there were copies of cards I wrote--one to his sister, one to him. The first card to ask his sister to be there for him during our divorce. The second card to let him know I would always love him.

When the pastor set up the dumpsters three weeks ago in various locations, I knew the photos had to go. So this morning, I pulled them out and set them aside. Next came the journal I started writing to him when our marriage was in trouble. And the journal I kept when I had the compelling urge to become a mother, after years of saying I didn't want children.

I also went to the living room cabinet to pull out the scrapbook I kept from 1995 through 1997; through separation, re-union, and divorcing. It is a big scrapbook, filled with cards and letters from family and friends--so many! Quiet tears flowed as I soaked in the memories of those who walked with me and held me up and kept me alive--literally--when I could not stand on my own. It reminds me of the invisible cloak from the movie "Crash". Love was the invisible cloak.

Today is the last day of Project Freedom, and I will journey to the dumpster to lay these items to rest. It's not like I think about them anymore, but like dust mites, they are in my house and need to be cleaned out.

I am now living a dream that God had for me. It is so much bigger and so much better than anything I tried to hold on to when I was married to him. God has turned His dream into this reality: I am now married to a man who loves me for my imperfect, occasionally-annoying self--a man who thinks that I am good for him. I have more children than I dreamed possible--the "loaners" (my friends' children), my three stepsons and their wives, Noah, my little Girls on the Run. I am more and more the woman that God created me to be.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

remedy

Those who believe that the Christian life is easy are delusional.

This morning, I grabbed a CD that our church worship band recorded a few years ago. Listening to it on the commute took me back to point in time where this particular group of musicians, including me, was together.

Josh, our leader--a larger-than-life, red-headed giant. Guitarist and vocalist extraordinaire, competitive athlete. The first hit came when his three-month old daughter died in a home accident. He and his wife had barely recovered (?) from that when he had a swimming accident in Mexico. Josh is still larger-than-life, but is now a quadriplegic. He no longer has the breath to sing; the feel of a guitar is a memory.

Bill, our drummer. Always wafting the smell of cigarettes, occasionally bringing me a box of snack cakes from his delivery job. If it hadn't been for the AED and a store employee who knew how to use it, Bill would be dead. He had a more than massive heart attack and was resuscitated multiple times. The oxygen deprivation caused short-term memory problems; the damage left him with 20% heart function. The drumsticks are set aside.

Chuck, our lead electric guitarist and Bill's brother. The man was amazing, from Jimi Hendrix to the blues to Sixties' riffs--he could do it all. For him, the difficulties came with financial woes, loss of business, foreclosure on the duplex that he and his wife shared with Bill.

Only Mark, our bass player, and I have remained unscathed thus far. And I wouldn't say I've led an unscathed life by any means--I've had my share of sorrow, and I will have it again. Jesus says so.

So while I felt sad at the losses experienced by this group, the music and the memories reminded me how thankful I am that we are not alone in this journey.

Check out the link to The Remedy (Jason Mraz): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5mg_ZMU8RF0

Monday, April 6, 2009

joy?

So, I've been niggled lately by the thought of joy. And committing to it.

The question asked recently was, "What do you want more of in your life?" I responded, "More joy!" I became aware of how joy-less many people are, including me. It's easy to get sucked into the swirling eddy of discontent, dissatisfaction, and worry.

I don't necessarily think joy comes easily. At least not to a dysthymic person like myself. Like anything else, it is mastered only by practice, choice, and commitment. Did I learn to play the piano without hours of dedicated practice? Did I learn to speak French by waking up one morning and thinking, "I will speak fluent French from now on"? Heck no.

This morning, I decided to embrace joy. Could have been that child-like feeling of a special day because of the snow. (Am I ever going to outgrow that?)

I wasn't going to settle for less. I might have gone a little overboard, as I energetically approached the R&D team to warn them that they would be asked to cut their already slashed budget by $150,000. The commitment to joy produced energy that got me through that tough conversation, a difficult project, and yet another set of changes to our financial forecast.

The commitment to joy also created a deep sense of gratitude for the students I teach. As I came to class after work, I was happy to see them (even though some looked sleepy and bored). I courageously approached Terence, normally one of my best students, to express concern about his exam results (poor)--was there anything I can do?

Energy. Gratitude. Courage. Unexpected benefits from choosing joy.

It's the end of the day--a good day, a satisfying day.

Tomorrow I will need to practice joy again, I'm sure. Only practice makes permanent.

I want more joy. It's not too late.

spring snow

Winter's last gasp came with breathtaking beauty. Winter is never over until it snows on my freshly-bloomed daffodils. I know that, and while I don't like it, I accept it. It's impossible to control nature, after all.

The first daffodil opened on Friday.

I woke this morning to snow-laced branches on the dogwood outside the bedroom window, and a delicate mantle covering the grass. The flashers on the ditched cars along the freeway alerted me to the icy conditions, so despite my hurry to get to work, I slowed down.

It's a good reminder. Slow down. Appreciate the beauty, pay attention to the warnings.

Friday, April 3, 2009

pink tulips


As I backed out of the driveway this morning, I suddenly thought about buying flowers for my boss. She's been grinding away at a project that imprisons her at the computer for hours at a time, looking at a dreary gray screen. So although I was running behind, I stopped at the supermarket.

Tiny daffodils. Hyacinths. Hydrangeas. Roses. Tulips. Hm. I don't really like tulips... but the buckets were jammed with color--purple, red, orange, yellow. The pink ones, though--they shouted "SPRING!"

I had time to arrange them and set them next to her keyboard before she came in. Returning from a meeting, I found her making the rounds trying to solve the mystery of the pink tulips, so I 'fessed up.

It wasn't until later that she said, "I need to tell you the story of the pink tulips. I don't think I've ever told you. The day I was born..." She had to pause because the tears surfaced. "The day I was born, my dad came to the hospital. Instead of bringing fresh flowers, he arrived with a bunch of pink plastic tulips! It was always a joke between my parents."

Her parents are both dead now, her mom for just over a year.

I am always amazed what happens when I listen to the small whispers inside. God is always speaking--to us and through us.

I will never see pink tulips the same way again.

Friday, March 27, 2009

big sister

I will always be his big sister, even though I'm 51 and he's turning 40 this year. Adulthood equalizes us in so many ways, yet... There is that big sister thing.

Big sister is a state of mind, that part of me that wants life to be good to him and not to bring too much pain his way--protective, a sheltering tree of sorts. Life has been good to him in so many ways, especially in the last three years. These years have brought an amazing wife, a home, and a baby son--after several lonely years on the relationship rollercoaster and working through the aftermath of DWI/DUI arrests.

He found out that in five weeks, his employer is closing the location where he works. Big uncertainty. Maybe there will be a position for him at headquarters, 3-1/2 hours away from his wife and son. Maybe he will be unemployed.

It's a story that happens multiple times in multiple locations every day in the especially-devastated Michigan economy within the depressed U.S. economy. It's why I don't want to watch television news or listen to radio news or read the newspaper. I know it's there, despite my head-in-the-sand efforts. My employer is taking heroic and radical measures to control expenses in an effort to preserve jobs.

My brother's situation brings economic reality into our family.

But--good news. When the winds of trouble try to huff and puff and blow our house down, love is our shelter.

That's what matters most.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

orange

It's the sweetest orange I've had, coming from the hand of a 3rd grader on a day when I sorely needed it. "Here, Coach Susan, I brought this for you."

It was a day of creating financial plans in an effort to find millions of dollars and save jobs.

It was a day of looking forward to seeing the smiles and catching the contagious energy of the Girls on the Run team that I coach... A chance to leave behind the stress of worrisome business conditions beyond my control, and to spend time outside on a March day that felt perilously like spring.

It was to be a long day, heading to another coaching session--for Dale Carnegie--trading the kinetic frenzy of elementary school for inspiring enthusiasm in adults.

After changing clothes in my car (don't ask!), I pulled onto the road and, at the first stoplight, began to peel the orange. I hoped it wouldn't be one of those disappointing oranges that look luscious on the outside but turn out to be dry and full of seeds. Or the oranges where the bitter pith can't quite be removed.

I popped the first section in my mouth and it burst into full, flavorful sweetness. Each section tasted like love.

Orange. The highlight of my day.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

truth

Sometimes husbands say things that are painful.

And sometimes they are right.

It happened to me this week. It was a somewhat dreadful week, full of self-doubt and self-criticism. As usual, I've taken on too much and I'm flat-out tired, leaving me especially susceptible to--let's call them "unhelpful"--thought patterns. It goes something like this--my students fail an exam, therefore I am not only a bad teacher, I am the worst teacher ever. The other Girls on the Run team lines up quietly and neatly at the door, waiting to go outside. My team boomerangs off the walls. Therefore, I should not be a GOTR coach. You get the picture.

I know that these things aren't true. In my rational moments, I know that my students simply didn't study. Like me, they have busy lives, and school might not be their number one priority.

So when I came home late, began talking to my husband, and he said, "I think that you are a self-promoter", it seemed quite unfair. Drawing more out of him, I think I finally understood that he was trying to tell me that I don't need to prove myself--and I certainly don't need to use words to try to prove myself.

I really disliked what he said, and frankly, I disagreed.

Because I respect him--and because he pointed this out in a non-accusatory way, I decided to observe myself in conversations--did I feel a need to point out an accomplishment, and if so, why? I also examined my motives--why do I teach, volunteer at Dale Carnegie, coach GOTR, run half-marathons?

I had to admit there are some things I do to prove myself.

The dual whammy came this morning.

Galatians 3:3, "After starting your Christian lives in the Spirit, why are you now trying to become perfect by your own human effort?"

And the sermon text--Philippians 3:7-8. After listing his impressive credentials, the apostle Paul writes, "I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done. Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord."

Ah, credentials are fine--but not when they are the source of my worth. Accomplishments are acceptable--but mustn't be the goal.

As the words of the Song of Hope say, "Just to know You and be loved is enough."

To know Christ.

To know.

Christ.

Only Christ.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

happy



Scanning the New York Times headlines this morning, I found myself wishing for a section titled "Good News". This would be the immediate place to turn for hopeful, positive stories about people who are making a difference in their families, community, and the world at large. I know the stories are there--it's just that I have to traverse the titles of gloom and pessimism to pick them out.

Lately I've found myself avoiding newspapers, radio and television news. While that isolates me from things that are potentially critical for me to know, I figure that someone will eventually tell me. And if not, then did I really need to know?

I think I am happier--I know I am less frightened--for sheltering myself from things I cannot control. Yes, the economy is in turmoil. Not a thing I can do about that. Yes, Madoff ruined people financially. Can't help greed and stupidity. I want to focus on the circle I can influence: my family, friends, workplace, and community.

Another thing that I'm doing is following my mom's example. She takes precious memories and strings them on an imaginary necklace. What a beautiful picture for me! I know that the day I was born is one of the jewels on her necklace.

My necklace includes the pictures posted today. It's a day that stands out as Happy with a capital H. It was just before I turned 50, the day I ran my first 25k. It was my way of flipping the bird at turning 50. My husband brought my parents to the 13-mile mark, a triune cheering section. I paused to hug each one, and my dad of course told me I was wasting time by hugging. That's okay; I know he was glad I did!

The memory is of sunshine, love, exhaustion, accomplishment, and endurance. Physical endurance, certainly--25k is not for the fainthearted. Most importantly, relational endurance--the love of my parents and my husband.

Only one word for that day. Happy.

And happy gives me the endurance for this race called life.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

stretching

I was thinking the other day about friends, and how I stretch because of them...

Take my friend, Sharon, for example. Gifted cellist. A musical kindred spirit--only the second I've found in my 51 years. And she just happens to be moving to Uganda this June. We're giving a recital on May 3rd, and she found an amazing piece of music, Kol Nidrei by Max Bruch.

It is a piece that will stretch me as a pianist, but because of our friendship, I will invest the hours of practice to master the piece until it flows effortlessly--until I am one with the music and one in spirit with Sharon as we perform.

Give a listen to the following... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfSMVPJg35A

Friday, February 13, 2009

tin man

Sometimes it's just too painful to be human. As a matter of fact, I told my co-worker that I didn't want to be human for that exact reason.

"You need a costume," he said in all seriousness.

"Yeah, like a brown bag over my head!" I replied.

"No, maybe the Tin Man."

"The Tin Man? But I'll rust if I cry!" (Because that is exactly what I had just finished doing.)

"Well, then, Joe and I will have the oil cans."

I never know the exact moment when a friendship has been established, but yesterday I knew that I had a friend. Two, actually.

It has been an intensely emotional week. Fourteen people were told that they will be transferred to another division. This action certainly beats the alternative (layoffs?) It was lauded as a "talent transfer", some of our best and brightest being given the opportunity to make a difference in this one-year assignment.

As usual in our company, though, it's really not okay to talk about feeling sad, or uncertain about job security for the rest of us, or what will happen if the orders don't start coming in. It's important to keep smiling... be positive... It's all good, right? Right. Underneath the surface, past good-byes formed a swift current that finally spilled over into tears. Completely out of proportion to the trigger.

I am the Tin Man. My friends are ready with the oil can--so it's okay to be human, to feel sad, and cry.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

jiggity jog

Well, all good things must come to an end--sometime. Today we head "home again, home again, jiggity jog"! It has been an amazing five days in Cancun, with the ocean breeze keeping the temperature comfortable. The 30 sunscreen has done its trick--I have no burnage, despite hours lounging poolside. I am now what some would consider a healthy color.

It's going to be shocking to hit the Michigan deep freeze again, but I look forward to it. After all, as Bruce pointed out, it's home--where all the people and places important to us are... It's our relationships that matter most.

We'll see if the kitties will forgive us, though Sara is such a blessing--she plays with them when she comes to check in each day. I wonder if she has had any success with the challenge I threw down--whether she could teach them their names while we were gone.

Hasta la vista...

Thursday, February 5, 2009

talk

"When we look at ourselves or others, we usually begin by saying what is good, add a 'but,' and then go on to name what is not so good. For example, my friend Sally is a very caring person, but she is so disorganized... What you will remember about this friend... is what you heard last--Sally is so disorganized... We tend to end with the hard truth. But God... sees with soft eyes that end in blessing. For example, Sally isn't very organized, but she is such a caring person... When we end with blessing, it changes how we see ourselves and others." ~ Helen Cepero, Journaling as a Spiritual Discipline

This is an everyday challenge. How am I speaking to (and about) myself--and how am I speaking about others? Today, I knocked over my bottle of water in the coffee shop--instinctively I think, "I'm clumsy!" I respond to an e-mail from my boss--and then find an unread e-mail from her boss to me--and send a second reply to my boss beginning with, "I feel really dumb... just ignore my message."

How often do these "buts" cause me to dismiss what someone is telling me? I know for sure I've done it with my husband, who has a tendency to enthuse about something new but doesn't always stick with it. I take a wait-and-see attitude when I could be affirming his interest, no matter if it's short-lived or not.

I know that the "buts" take front and center in my attitude toward a person at work. This person has tremendous strengths and complements me in areas where I fall short. The very strength, though, becomes a "but" because at times I feel that it comes at the expense of people, specifically me!

I'd like to stop each time I say "but" about myself or someone else--and replace it with blessing.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

vacation

Well, the toughest part of today was doing--absolutely nothing.

I'm not one to sit still; even when I'm watching a movie at home, I'm usually knitting or grading papers. This winter, I am:
- Working full-time
- Coaching Dale Carnegie
- Teaching Accounting 102 at Kalamazoo Valley Community College
- Playing piano with the worship band at church
- Training for a 25k (sort of!)
- Waiting to start my 2nd session as a Girls on the Run coach
- Studying for Part II of the CMA exam

Where is the time for doing nothing? Non-existent!

Today, I got up... read the Bible... called my parents to wish them a happy 56th wedding anniversary... went to breakfast with Bruce... and spent hours lying by the pool in the sun at the Cancun resort, reading The First Patient by Michael Connelly.

My big accomplishment was getting enough color to pass for a normal, healthy person and finishing the book.

The crazy thing is the realization that I have not given myself permission to STOP since having surgery four years ago. My rationale then was health and healing.

So why do I feel guilty about disconnecting from the Crackberry and my students and all that is my so-called life back home?

Is not vacation exactly for my health and healing?

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

name

“Susan… a beautiful name,” he said.

“I like it,” I replied.

Another “name” experience… One of the material handlers at work recently greeted me in the cafeteria with, “Good morning, Susan!”

“Wow, how did you know my name?” (As an accountant, I’m not out on the manufacturing floor very much.)

“I’ve been here almost 30 years, and I try to learn everyone’s name.”

Dale Carnegie says, “Remember that a person’s name is to them the sweetest sound in any language.”

As I reflect back on my name, I recognize its significance in my story.

Born Susan Elizabeth Zimmerman… That name expresses my “onliness” for the first 12 years of my life until my brother was born. It is my awkward name, my wanting-to-fit-in name, my never-quite-good-enough name. Ouch. I hadn’t really thought of it in those terms until now. It is, however, my opportunity name, as my parents gave many advantages. A good school, piano lessons travel, ballet lessons (although I never overcame my gawky elbows and dizziness when it was time to pirouette.)

I began to grow into my name in college, when it was okay to be smart and quirky. I liked my name, so much that I kept it 10 years into my first marriage. That was perhaps more a function of my husband treating his name as proprietary and not wanting to share. Hmmm. A clue to the future when he thought that our divorce settlement should be 100% him, 0% me?

Then I became, Susan Zimmerman Hauser. The professional woman, though not hyphenated. The confident business traveler who was proud to navigate airports and strange cities on her own—and discovered a previously-unknown talent for negotiation. The wife who sought to fill her husband’s leaking emotional bucket by downplaying her abilities and ignoring his addiction. No wonder she felt confused, angry and depressed—which person was she? Could she be both these things?

Four years later, divorce. After an exhausting two-year period of confrontation and counseling, the negotiation ended at 55 Joe / 45 Susan. And it was good. I had filed for divorce after an odd but powerful moment of truth—he looked at me with utter disgust as his mom pulled out of our driveway one day—it was good to be done with his long-term affair and lies, good to walk away with the cats, good to walk toward my new life. That look simultaneously broke my heart and strengthened my resolve. The truth I saw in that moment carried me into my new, sunny yellow home on the other side of town.

On a snowy, April morning, I became Susan Burton Thomas. This is my heritage name, my spiritual legacy name—my freedom name. Rather than retreat into my childhood name five weeks from my fortieth birthday, I chose a new name. Great-grandfather Burton Thomas, though I didn’t know it when I took the name, was a spiritual giant, a man of prayer. I wanted a new name that still honored my family. Susan Burton Thomas was an explorer! Without a critical spouse, she learned to garden (and how therapeutic to dig up the yard to the point of tennis elbow!), decorate her home, and swing dance. She taught piano lessons and started a Master’s in Elementary Education. She even fixed her garage door, because the guy at the store saw her drive up in her black GMC truck and said, “You look like a person who can handle this.” Yes, Susan Burton Thomas was a strong woman, a competent woman, a self-sufficient woman.

On September 8, 2000 I became Susan Thomas Fennema. I was attracted to Bruce Fennema by his love of God and love for his teenage boys. They had fun! So although we met on-line, we finally decided to get together in person a few months later. The rest is history. I am more myself than I have ever been, accepted by a man who loves me even when I annoy or anger him. I am Stepmama to three confident, amazing young men. I am keeping my advice to myself (unless asked) for the three lovely daughters-in-law that have joined our family.

It is a good name, and a good life. Each name is a chapter in it—and I hope there is much more to be written.

Monday, February 2, 2009

It's a jungle out there


I decided to run to the golf course about 5:15 p.m. It's a path with jungle separating the path from the golf course. The light began to dim... and suddenly a pack of animals came out of the jungle ahead of me. There were 12-15 of them. This city girl didn't know what to do!

I slowed to a walk. They eyed me. I tried not to appear aggressive. Or afraid. There was no altercation, and I finished my run in peace.

Turns out it was only a small herd of raccoons, or coatimundi as they are known here.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

busy

Geoffrey is busy from morning to night! So much to explore, things to climb, friends to chase after. But this morning, he climbed into my lap and languished comfortably as I stroked his fur.

It was an important message for me. I've been wound tight lately, and as we head to Cancun for vacation, I sensed God's challenge to let go of my busyness and let myself rest.

My Shepherd lets me rest in green pastures... Will I accept the invitation?

cancun

Another stunning contrast... From monochromatic grays, browns and white to brilliant fuschia, green, and azure.

It never ceases to surprise me that we can cross continents in a day, from winter to tropics. We have returned to the warmth and hospitality of the Mayan people; I'm in my flip flops and shorts after spending the past several weeks suiting up and booting up for the icy, snowy weather.

The Blackberry is locked in the room safe, with the laptop.

Time to do something I seldom do -- relax!

Sunday, January 25, 2009

in the flesh

"How are you?," our pastor asked.

"I'm beside myself!," I replied.

Today--finally--after months of prayer, I got to meet Michael--in the flesh. Michael is my friend's fiance--from Uganda. He is a handsome man with a brilliant smile. He loves God--and he loves Sharon. So this week,
  • He got on a plane--for the first time.
  • He left Africa--for the first time.
  • He changed planes in Amsterdam--for the first time.
  • He arrived in the United States--for the first time.
This morning, I was able to hug him--for the first time. Ugandans are good huggers.

So while it is hard to let go of a friend and see her move to Uganda, there is comfort in knowing that this man will love, honor, and protect her with those strong arms.

ruthless

"I chased my enemies and caught them; I did not stop until they were conquered." (Psalm 18:37, NLT)

"If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It's better to enter eternal life with only one hand than to go into the unquenchable fires of hell with two hands." (Mark 9:43)

Now, I like my hands a lot. They fit so nicely in my husband's grasp; they express my heart with the varied touch I apply to the keys of a piano; they hold tiny Mr. Noah as we dance together with joy.

An odd word came to mind connecting these verses--ruthless.

What are the enemies that I must pursue and conquer, the sins that I must cut out of my life? Anger, fear, hatred for starters. Chase 'em down and conquer them.

Strange word, ruthless. It simply means "having no pity". So rather than justifying a bad attitude or blaming others--stop the pity party with sin.

Imagine my surprise when I turned to the study note in my Bible--"We must be ruthless in removing sin from our lives now in order to avoid suffering for eternity. Make your choices from an eternal perspective."

God speaks. Will I have the courage to be ruthless?

Saturday, January 17, 2009

frozen north






You know it's cold when... you go to Wal-Mart on Saturday morning and the aisles are empty.

You know it's cold when... your husband, who grew up in Montana and is a fearless winter driver, comes home and suggests maybe you should reconsider the planned excursion to Detroit for your nephew's first birthday party.

You know it's cold when... your body is so dry you are tempted to slather it with petroleum jelly to shield it from the dry air.

You know it's cold when... the Coke Zero stored in the semi-heated back hallway is slush when you open the can.

We wisely canceled the trip after looking at the map of lower Michigan with the brilliant blue storm patches covering every possible route from here to my brother's place. It does feel like I have officially crossed some boundary in my life--the imaginary line from young person to old person. However, it is best not to spend the day in the ditch or the emergency room.

Instead, we will spend the day snugly at home listening to the hum of the washer and dryer... perhaps bundling ourselves for the 1/4-mile trek to the nearby pub for some Guinness beef and sticky toffee pudding later in the afternoon.

It has the feel of a childhood snow day, wide open with possibility.

Friday, January 16, 2009

mist

The arctic cold generates a fine, frozen mist that hovers above the earth and glitters like stardust fallen to earth. As I drive to work in the morning, it swirls in my headlights. It dims the half-moon above, and the city lights shoot heavenward in glowing columns against the frozen air. It is a beautiful sight, distracting me from yet another commute on the perils of a highway slick with black ice.

I think about parallels in my spiritual life... how sometimes the mist blurs my view of God, and an icy glaze forms over my heart. Like black ice, it can come without warning, stealthily, invisibly--until suddenly I'm headed for the ditch.

That happened recently--figuratively--as disappointment over a delayed desire and frustration about a relationship caused my spiritual temperature to drop, sending me into a skid. I stuck it out, though, reading the Bible and praying.

It took a midnight wakening with jaw clenched and muscles taut with tension to bring me face down in child pose before God.

Surrender. Peace. Joy.

Like the first warm breath of spring.

Monday, January 12, 2009

(in)gratitude

I've noticed lately how ingratitude there is. People who don't say thank you, or those who can find the cloud around every silver lining. Even our "praise reports" after a recent Bible study sounded perilously half-empty.

Even I fall prey to this. Instead of being grateful that I was selected to be a Dale Carnegie instructor candidate, I instead focused on the failure. Instead of thankfulness for the many redeeming qualities in one of my co-workers, I focus on personality traits that fray my last nerve.

I am thankful for...
- a job when so many are unemployed
- the cup of coffee that my husband brings me each morning
- the gentle ppppht of snowflakes and the quiet hum of tires on a snowy road
- waking to find a soft kitty paw wrapped around my neck
- God, the Creator of all good things, and the things that are for my good even when I don't see them that way.

Monday, January 5, 2009

comfort


So, I decided to go play the piano, since it was freshly tuned TODAY! (Oh, joy). And received comfort from an old hymn, "Day By Day"...

"Day by day and with each passing moment,
Strength I find to meet my trials here.
Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment,
I've no cause for worry or for fear.
He whose heart is kind beyond all measure
Gives unto each day what He deems best--
Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest."

The next verse contains the phrase,
"The protection of His child and treasure
is a charge that on Himself He laid."

So while I do not understand this failure or frustration, I will surrender to God's kind heart and trust that He is protecting me from something that I do not yet see.

failure

I knew the answer before they even gave it to me.

It was like the boss that fired me. He began by telling me how wonderful I was, what a good worker, etc. (I pretty much told him to stop with the compliments and get to the point.) These guys told me how knowledgeable I am, how physically in shape I am--both qualities necessary for the rigorous training delivery.I could hear the "but" coming...

What's up with people who deliver disappointing news by leading with a bunch of compliments, anyway? Like I'm supposed to believe that they care about me as a person, that they truly think I'm wonderful?! You have got to be kidding me! Next thing they'll be trying to sell me property west of Holland, Michigan.

I'm not sure what makes me more angry--the fact that after I called, e-mailed, and called them again, waiting for weeks--that I didn't get the answer I hoped for? Or that I had to call them, instead of them having the courage and courtesy to call me? Was it the preliminary b-s about how my holidays were, and how wonderful I am? Don't waste any more of my precious time!

It all boils down to failure. Being judged and found wanting. There's nothing that takes away that pain--even though I wrote in my journal this morning that if I had 30 days to live, I would not choose to spend my time with these particular people. And I meant it. I do not have time for arrogance.

How to process the sense of failure and move on? Being angry with them doesn't hurt them at all. They're pressing on with their steamroller of self-satisfaction. Being angry with myself is not the solution, either.

Well. I think I'll go knit or something. Maybe the answer will come to me there.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

show off


























I finally had to get something done. Not that I've been slacking or anything (a commissioned scarf, a baby sweater, a sweater for myself), but this little? project has been sitting in the knitting basket since late 2007.

The afghan pattern is simple garter stitch; the exceptional beauty is created by the three dyed-to-match Fleece Artist yarns (one thick & thin, two boucle)...

The effect is the outrageous beauty of an autumn day that I can enjoy throughout the frozen Michigan winter.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

happy.new.year


I'm taking my own advice. About replacement dates, that is.

January 1st is not my favorite day. Too many childhood memories of the annual potluck dinner at Baguleys, filled with food that I didn't like and the TV blaring football, football, football.

Then there's the whole "Happy New Year" thing--resolutions, goals, this huge 365-day blank slate to fill with more and greater accomplishments. I'm tired before I even start.

This year, I'm taking it one step at a time.

Happy. Yes--I am. Lots of reasons to be happy, but here are a couple. Bruce and I ran in the One One Run. Together. It was his first official "run". And in Bruce's words, he exceeded his goal. Which was to run 2.2 miles in the time it took Big Daddy Wilkinson to run the Chicago Marathon. Here's another reason to be happy. I spent time with my friend, Sharon, playing piano (me) and cello (her). We made it through our first run of Kol Nidrei. Yes, we've got a lot of work before it appears effortless--but the potential is definitely there. So here's resolution #1: find one thing to be happy about each day.

New. I'll have a lot of new experiences this year. Some will be great and others will be painful. The great thing about it is that new = learning. And I hope I never get too old for that! Resolution #2: open myself more to new things instead of clinging to the familiar.

Year. A year consists of 365 days. Rather than taking them all at once and feeling overwhelmed, I'm going to enjoy the journey this year. Resolution #3: live more in the moment. Not in the past, not in the future. But here and now, with the people I love. Of which (or is it of whom?) there are many.

Oh. So how does the replacement date come in? If there's a day that isn't your favorite, for whatever reason (mine being the dreaded annual New Year's Day potluck), take charge. Create new memories to push the old ones back in the card catalog of your memory.

Bundle up and run a One One Run. Schedule a date with a friend. You'll be glad you did!