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.
Friday, March 27, 2009
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.
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.
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
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
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