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.
Friday, February 13, 2009
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...
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.
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?
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.
“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?
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!
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!
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