Distinctly Different and Purposefully Created

 

A few opening comments before I dive right into this blog. I have taken a VERY long break from writing.  In fact, I thought I might be done with that season, and yet I find myself writing this today.   I am writing this as a result of a recent conversation with someone dear to me.  This conversation birthed this particular blog.  So this one is for you, dear loved one, you know who you are. Here we go....

I'm sure that I do not have to identify the animals in the above photograph taken on a trip to the Kalahari Desert in South Africa.  Giraffe are one of those animals that are immediately recognized by all.  And part of what makes them so recognizable is that they are a distinctly different looking animal.  In fact, Geraldine Jewsbury said, 

"Did you ever see a giraffe?  It is like something from between regions of truth and fiction."

Upon first look, the Giraffe does not "fit in" with the rest of animals it is surrounded by.  They stick out like sore thumbs, with their long, gangly looking legs and stretched out necks.  They have these long skinny tails that end in a strange puff of rough fur.  Their faces are long and triangular, giving them an almost comical look.   And when they open up their mouth they have this crazy looking long, dark tongue.  They have a tendency to drool.  A lot.  They eat differently, sleep differently, and, due to their height, they see things differently than most of the other animals around them.

In spite of their long neck, they actually can't reach the ground to graze or to drink water without awkwardly splaying their legs, bending their knees, and craning their neck forward.  It's as uncomfortable as it looks, not only because of the effort this takes, but also because it leaves the Giraffe completely vulnerable to attack from a predator.  To make matters worse, due to the distance between the heart and the brain, this position requires their heart to work extra hard to pump the blood where it needs to go.  

And these gangly, knobby kneed, awkward looking animals are placed in Africa and surrounded with arguably some of the most beautiful  animals in the world.  Like the dainty, sleek, pretty faced Gazelles.  Or the speedy and agile Springboks who can run 55 mph and leap over 6 feet into the air.  Don't forget the the supple grace and stunning beauty of a Leopard.  Being surrounded by that type of beauty and talent would be enough to give anyone a complex.

One might look at the Giraffe and wonder if God was thinking clearly when he got around to creating them.  One might even wonder if mistakes were made. Maybe the Giraffe was a design flaw, because it is definitely not like the others.

Which brings me to this question, have you ever felt like a Giraffe surrounded by Gazelles, Springboks, and Leopards?  Have you ever felt like you see the world from a different point of view than others? I know I have.  I know I have been in group settings where my interests, skill sets, activities, and views were vastly different than everyone else.   It can be especially awkward if everyone else seems like they are  all aligned in interests and activities and you find that you are the Giraffe, sticking out and different.  I'm going to circle back to this, but let's return to our Giraffe story, because there's more to unpack and learn about our animal friend.

Giraffes are the tallest land Mammal on earth.  Their height makes them stick out, but it also gives them a fabulous advantage, in that they can see over trees and bushes that many other animals can't.  They also have superb eyesight and can see long distances.  The combination of height and keen eyesight makes them excellent at spotting trouble, in particular, predators.  They can spot a predator before anyone else has a clue that there is anything wrong.  This makes the Giraffe a desirable companion, and you often find herds of prey animals hanging around the Giraffe, counting on them being an early warning system for predators. 

Because of their height, Giraffes tend to eat the leaves, flowers, and fruit that other herbivores are unable to reach.  This provides several advantages for the Giraffe.  The most obvious is the fact that they usually  can find food, even if the lower branches and foliage have been over-grazed.  But the less obvious advantage is that it allows them to live in harmony with other herbivores because they are not competing with each other for food. 

Are you ready for a few more incredible and unique Giraffe facts?  They are not as reliant on water as some of the other animals are.  In fact, they get a much of their water from the dew on the leaves they eat as well as the leaves themselves.  So they can go a couple of days without water, unlike the Cape Buffalo, who have to drink water every day.  And since they are at their most vulnerable when bending down to drink it is helpful to not have to put themselves into that dangerous position more than necessary.

And let's talk about that drooling problem.  News flash, it's not a problem at all.  Their sticky saliva helps them get their food all the way down that very long neck and into their stomaches.  But the coolest thing about Giraffe spit?  It's a known natural antiseptic.  You see, Giraffe have a taste for Acacia trees, and these trees have known antiseptic qualities, which is then integrated into their saliva.  And this natural antiseptic found in their saliva helps the Giraffe heal any cuts on their tongues and mouth they may get while eating from the very thorny Acacia Trees.  It also helps prevent any infection from settling in. And that crazy looking dark blue tongue?  The dark blue color keeps them from getting sunburn on their tongue.  Unlike most herbivores, their tongue is prehensile, which allows them to grip and strip the leaves off the branches.  Very useful indeed.

Recent research also discovered that Giraffes are pretty smart cookies, despite their relatively small brain size.  In fact, in recent tests Giraffe have shown the  ability to use statistical inferences to increase their likelihood of eating their favorite treat.  They use this reasoning while grazing, searching out ways to get the best food possible. 

And it turns out that Giraffes are not loners, they are just more subtle about their bonds.  In fact,  they have quite complex social structures.  Giraffes form yearslong relationships, have "lunch buddies," and maintain close bonds with their mothers and grandmothers.  Females often form Creches, a type of daycare, where they share babysitting and feeding duties of the calves.  It's also been shown that post-reproductive Giraffes engage in cooperative parenting as well.  This may be where the concept of them being "gentle" came from.

I hope this deeper dive into some Giraffe 'facts" made you to look at them differently. God knew what He was doing when He made the Giraffe.  And He definitely had a plan and purpose for the Giraffe to fulfill in the animal kingdom. A role that no other animal could fill.  And isn't that a perfect picture of how God works, even in the human world?

In fact, the bible is full of "Giraffes" that God used in amazing ways. These were people that stuck out, they were different than anyone else.  They looked different, thought differently, had different interests than the others around them.  People like John the Baptist-- he was certainly a Giraffe.  He wore camel's hair and ate locust and wild honey, he didn't live like or look like anybody else.  And yet he was the one God created with the purpose of preparing the way for the arrival of Jesus.

So to bring this blog to a close, I want to circle back to the question of do you ever feel like a Giraffe?  Sticking out instead of comfortably fitting in? Vastly different than anyone else in terms of interests, skills, activities, and maybe even life experiences?  If so, let me encourage you by saying that God knew exactly what He was doing when He created you. He says so in scripture.

"For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them."  Ephesians 2:10

""My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth."  Psalm 139:15

"But now, O Lord, you are our Father;  we are the clay, and you are our potter;  we are all the work of your hand."  Isaiah 64:8

And you have been created to fill your spot here on earth.  So, instead of worrying that you are not 'like" everyone else around you, rejoice in the purpose you were specifically created for.  You may not be able to run as fast as the Springboks around you. And you may not be as dainty and pretty as the Gazelles, but your value to the group lies in your differences.  Remember that the Springboks and Gazelles hang around the Giraffe, not because they are the same, but because the Giraffe brings a set of assets and skills that they do not have. The Giraffe is often the one who spots the incoming danger first.  They  hang around the Giraffe because they can live in harmony with others.  The Giraffe isn't interested in competing with the others.   And I would add that I imagine that other animals hang around Giraffes because the Giraffe is tolerant of a variety of different species.

So next time you are feeling out of place, not like the others, awkward, unsure, insecure, I want you to remember the story of the Giraffe.  And just like the Giraffe, you are purposefully created.  You have a role to play. Let your unique features be your strengths, just like the Giraffes.  Don't waste time trying to be like a Gazelle or Springbok, that's not who you were created to be. The Giraffe add value to their community by simply being themselves.  I hope this leaves you feeling encouraged.  And if nothing else, I hope you enjoy some of the photos I took while in Africa.  I'll leave you with a few more.

Ancora Imparo -- A Review of What Saying Yes has Taught Me

"Ancora Imparo" is an Italian phrase meaning "Yet, I am still learning."  It is often attributed to Michelangelo, who wrote this inscription on a sketch he was working on at the age of 87 years old.  I love this quote so much that I had it enlarged into a transfer that I placed on my office wall  where I can look at it everyday.

 Around this time, on a whim, I happened to download a book by Shanda Rhimes entitled, "Year of Yes" onto my kindle while traveling back to Denver to spend some time with my mom.  Mom was really starting to sleep a lot due to her battle with cancer, and while sitting with her I simply read while she slept.  There was really no thought put into the book purchase other than I was looking for something a little bit light and easy to read, something I could put down and pick back up with ease.  Nothing too heavy, too dark, or too sad-- I was already dealing with enough of that with mom's illness.  And I had also been a fan of several of the T.V. shows that the author produced.

The concept of the book was simply her experience with deciding to challenge herself to say yes to everything that scared her for one year.  And I'll admit it, I enjoyed the book, but I didn't feel like it was necessarily life changing. I consider myself to be fairly adventurous.  I mean, it wasn't like I was spending my time locked up in my house all by myself with my cat.  At this point I had traveled a fair amount.  I had a career for a while.  I raised a child.  I have a college degree.  I sat there thinking that I haven't spent my life in isolation, in a small little box, afraid to go out into the world. So I read the book, enjoyed it, and set it aside.

But, that word Yes kept popping up over and over, and sometimes in the strangest of places and the strangest of ways.  It came up in  conversation with a friend when we were talking about our recent moves to a new city. We had both  recently moved to Columbus and she was saying that she decided that because they were new to the city and didn't have a friend base here, they decided to say yes to every invitation to dinner, events, etc. that they could.   Then there was a sermon at church about saying Yes.  And so  on and so on... that word kept popping up.

And I had also been  thinking about turning 50 and what that meant.  I'll admit that I am not one of those people who mourned turning 50.  I have had friends who have died before they ever reached this age, so it's a gift to still be here.   I have had a mostly good 50 years of life.  And I have managed to fit a lot of life into 50 years.  But, I wanted to be mindful of where I wanted to go next. Like most people, large chunks of my younger years involved me reacting to life rather than actively participating in it.  And the control freak in me, which has gotten stronger with age, wanted to at least be more thoughtful about choices and decisions that I make from here on out.

It was in the middle of all this thinking and consideration one morning when I looked up to my office wall and read those words... Ancora Imparo-- and it hit me-  I couldn't remember the last time I really made a conscious decision to learn something new.  And the more I thought about it,  I had started to say no more and more often to new experiences.  Hmmm....

And with not a lot of deep thought or even deep conviction I decided to try a year of saying Yes to new experiences to celebrate being 50.  I mean, it wasn't like I was going to tell anyone that I was doing it, so if I decided to quit partway through the year, no one would know.  If I hated it, or didn't follow through, it wasn't going to hurt anyone.  Why not?  I thought I would just treat it like a New Years resolution-- maybe I will stick to it, maybe I won't.

So, in the spirit of still learning, I signed up to take a watercolor class at our local conservatory.  I've always had a love of art-- as my husband and son can testify too-- since I have drug them both through various art museums throughout our travels-- but I am very aware that a love for art and a talent to create art are two distinctly different things.  And although this class stated that it was clearly for beginners, and there wasn't going to be a grade involved, I began to regret my decision to sign up almost immediately.  Which took me completely by surprise. I feel like most of the time I am a pretty confident person, but here I was worrying about a class that was supposed to be for fun.  My perfectionism kicked in right away-- what if I was really bad at painting?  Can you fail a for fun art class?  And there were going to be other people there, what if I am the worst painter in the class?  When the day rolled around for my first class, I waited until the last minute to leave the house.  In fact, I almost didn't go at all.  But go I did, and showed up to the class, where I was the youngest and least experienced person there.  At first, I fretted over doing everything perfectly.  I fretted over the drawing process,  I fretted over combining the paints to get the right colors,  I fretted over how amazing the lady next to me was.... this wasn't turning out to be as fun as I had originally planned.  But then,  our teacher turned on some music, and left us to practice the concepts she had just taught us on our own.   I began to relax with the music and I finally just let all of my thoughts go.  And guess what?   I began to have fun!  And I was learning something new.  And it was challenging for me.    The teacher and the women in the class were great at  encouraging and gently teaching me.  I have discovered that I really do enjoy painting.  I am by far not the best in the class, but I'm not the worst either.  And I am still learning....

What I learned from saying yes to this art class was threefold.  One, saying yes to things that you might be uncomfortable with helps you learn to tolerate uncertainty.  Truly nothing is certain in life anyway, so you need to be ok with that.  Two,  failure isn't as big of a deal as we make it out to be.  In fact, we can learn a lot through failing-- but we often choose guaranteed success at the expense of learning just because we are afraid to fail at something.  And thirdly, learning something new is good for your brain.  In fact, studies have shown that learning new skills lowers your cortisol levels, improves your immune function, and actually helps you increase and create new synapse connections in your brain.

My next Yes was even more terrifying for me:  I committed to being a "W.I.S.H. woman for the Make-A-Wish Foundation.  What that basically means is that I committed to raising at least $10,000 for the 2019 fundraising year  to help fund one childs wish.  This "Yes" was upping the stakes a little more because if I failed, it would impact others, not just me.  Believe me, nobody wants to fail a child!  Ever!  And I was a little nervous because although I had done fundraising before for both my son's schools and for the University where I worked-- with those I always had staff or other people helping me.  Plus, I had connections with various people in the community.  Well, we had only lived in Columbus for about a year, and we were just starting to make those connections.  But I wanted to find ways to give back to my local community, and this opportunity presented itself... so I said yes.  And then spent the next month or so freaking out about my decision.  Again, insecurity loomed.  Also, I really, really, really hate to sell stuff-- I am not a salesman!  And I truly hate to ask for money!  What had I done?  And then I had an amazing encounter with an incredible couple who we met while in South Africa.  

We were staying at the same lodge and sharing a safari vehicle with a couple from New Zealand.  We so enjoyed their company and we all got on pretty well.  One night, in a conversation over dinner, the subject of me volunteering to raise funds for Make-A-Wish came up.  I simply shared with this couple (and the others at our table) what Make-A-Wish does and what my fundraising goal was.  And then we moved on in the conversation.  I didn't give it another thought.  However, when I got home from our trip to Africa, I had an email waiting for me from that couple with a donation towards my fundraising campaign. All from one dinner conversation with people that  we spent 3 days with in the bush of Africa.  Amazing!  And although they were the first to donate, they were by far not the last!  My amazing group of friends and my husbands fantastic company all came together to raise over $10,000 for Make-A-Wish.  

The lesson from this Yes?  That people are amazingly kind, generous, loving, and giving.  And that they are willing to help others that they do not know and may never meet!  It also taught me to dream bigger dreams-- because sometimes they do come true.

My next Yes lesson came from an art tour we signed up for while spending the night in Windhoek, Namibia.  It all began with a call from our travel agents stating that we had a flight schedule change and needed to extend our stay in Windhoek.  This left us with a full, free afternoon to explore the area, and she suggested that we might consider this new tour that a friend of hers was doing-- an art tour which featured local artists from Namibia.  Being an art lover I jumped at the chance to visit, meet, and converse with local artists.  Little did I know how different, and entirely incredible, this tour was going to be.  Our guides met us at the hotel and we jumped in their vehicle to begin the tour. They pointed out some of the historical buildings as we drove through town heading to our first location.  

And then the guide turned his car towards an unexpected location.  He turned down a road that lead out of the "city" area and we headed towards a local "township."  For those of you who do not know, a township in Africa is an area where people have come  in and built homes out of corrugated tin, scraps, literally whatever material they can find.  Driving past we could see some young kids "pirating" electricity from the power lines-- they literally hook wires onto these lines, run them down the poles, and bury them in shallow trenches that run towards whatever home needs electricity.  It looks entirely unsafe and it was worrisome to see these young children handling something that could kill them with one wrong move.  As we drove by, our guide explained that although to our very "western" eyes this looked a tad bit chaotic and unsafe, these neighborhoods were in fact vibrant thriving communities.  Most of the people who lived in this township were from tribes that used to be nomadic-- a lifestyle that is nearly impossible to maintain in these modern times-- which all of our fences, and borders, and rules.  And so, they have adapted, changed their lifestyles to   a more sedentary one.   They have developed and built schools and community centers.  They have these amazing open air markets.  We passed by barber shops, butcher shops, and restaurants-- all run out of these (by our standards) small tin structures with pirated electricity.  And then we arrived at our first stop, a small art school run by a local artist.  He ran this free school to provide the kids in his area a place to come to after school, while their parents were still working.   They use anything they can find to create amazing art.  Some of the children were making jewelry out of pieces of aluminum soda cans, some of the children were sewing and weaving pieces, and some in the back were sketching.    All of the artwork was stunning, and different, and extremely creative.  And all of it a reflection of their life, their complex and extraordinary culture, and their ability to see the beauty all around them.   

Our next stop was at the house of a local artist known as Uncle Paul.  Uncle Paul graciously invited us into his home and showed us his work.  A completely self taught, untrained artist, his paintings reflect all he has seen while growing up in Namibia.  We talked about the dramatic changes his country has gone through from their occupation by South Africa, to apartheid, the struggle for  Independence in 1988, rebellions, and most recently the severe drought that has hit this already very arid country. All of this is reflected in his work. What an amazing artist as well as just such a kind and humble man!

This Yes challenged me to redefine my definitions of beauty, creativity, and community.  It also reminded me of the role that art plays by not only adding beauty to life, but also in recording history and providing important and often deeply moving social commentary about what is taking place in society.

This next Yes led me to one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  I will never, ever forget this experience, and it involved these Mopane worms you see in the photo above.  While staying at a Ongava Lodge in the upper Northern part of Namibia near Etosha National Park, we were privileged to get to know a young man named Rio, who was working there.   We were telling Rio how much we were enjoying our meal when the topic of favorite foods came up and Rio mentioned that he loved  a dish called Pap and we should try it sometime.  I told him that we would love to try some traditional Namibian food.  Rio, after asking us if we really meant it, and asking if we would be really open minded, said that he talked to the chef and they would be preparing for us a traditional Namibian meal that evening for dinner.  

We arrived back at camp after our evening game drive and were greeted by several camp staff dressed in traditional tribal clothing who informed us that after we cleaned up a bit they would be hosting us for the meal.  Upon arriving at the main lodge we were then invited in and several of the camp staff joined us.  They began to instruct us in all the traditions of their tribe and how a traditional tribal meal took place.  I was given the honor of being the matriarchal female-- which meant that no one could sit for the meal until I did.  I was instructed where to sit and how to sit.  As the Mother, I sat on the floor with my legs outstretched and slightly crossed at the ankles.  I am told that no matter what happens, the head mother never moves from her spot.  The belief is that the head mother (which is who I am for the evening)  is a type of barometer for the emotional stability of the home.  As long as the head mother remains calm, everything will be ok. Then Jeff was given the honor of being the patriarchal male and was instructed to sit with his legs crossed.  Then the young women sat, legs crossed with their dresses drawn over the knees.  The young men, however do not sit.  Instead they kneel with one knee on the ground and the other leg bent with their foot flat on the ground-- always at the ready to defend the tribe or livestock.  

After everyone was seated, the meal was brought out on long wooden platter that had five partitions carved into it.  Each partition held a different traditional food.  In the center sat the Pap-- which is a  a doughy type of porridge/polenta made from ground maize.  They explain that we do not use utensils to eat the food, instead we use the pap to scoop up portions of the other foods.  The other four foods on the platter were cooked spinach,  some cooked beans, Biltong (which is basically jerky made from some type of game meat-- in this case Oryx), and cooked Mopane worms.  They then begin to explain that as the head of house woman, I must take two bites before anyone else can eat.  In their culture, since the head of household woman usually prepares the food, she gets the first two bites. While  I understand that this is a great honor,  I am also thinking, dear lord, what did I get myself into this time?    I am also determined to not offend these dear people in any way.  They have honored me by inviting me into their tradition and culture, and there is no way I am going to  disrespect them or their culture.  So I check to make sure that my drink is full and  I go straight in and grab a worm with my pap, all the while thinking that I might just be able to swallow it whole, helped along with a good amount of water.  It becomes apparent to me once it is in my mouth that this process is going to require chewing, there's no way to swallow this worm whole.  And I will stop here to say that the word worm is misleading, because these are really what we in the states would call a caterpillar-- a large one at that.  As I chew  I am thinking that once I eat the worm, I can then dive into the more familiar food and take my second bite, which will then do two things-- first, it will help erase the flavor of  the worm if it is bad, and it will allow others to eat so that I am not the sole focus of their attention.  

I can only imaging what my face looked like.  I was trying to maintain  a serene face, while I was slightly panicking inside.  But a funny thing happened once I relaxed and decided in my mind that I was going to enjoy this amazing experience, I actually chewed the worm... and it wasn't bad.  The spices they used were really good, and the Mopane worm, while still an insect, was kind of tasty. And as soon as I let go of my fear and hesitation, the evening turned into something indescribably  magic.  Sitting around this simple meal with this group, eating their local food and listening to their tales of growing up in Namibia, asking questions and laughing together, while the sounds of the bush sounded out all around us,  I gained priceless insight into this stunning country and it's beautiful people.  I fell deeply in love with this country in this moment.  

This Yes taught me the value of engaging my heart and leaning into a deeper understanding when interacting with people who are different from me.  The importance of listening to what others are saying, without judgement.  That there is value in differing thoughts, perspectives, and experiences.  It also reminded me that despite all of our differences in culture we still had a lot in common.  And  that trying new things can turn out better than you expect.

I can't go into every Yes story or it would turn into a very long blog (or a book), but I will leave you with a few more thoughts on what I gained by just saying one simple word more often.  I learned that I can do more things than I thought I could.  I learned that I can still learn new things.  I am more confident in situations where I might feel a little unsure or apprehensive.  I have had more fun and amazingly enriching life experiences all from saying yes to things.   I have met some of the most incredible people on planet earth!  I look at the world differently and more positively. I am more curious and willing to learn new things.  I find myself stopping more, and just enjoying the moment-- big or small-- whether it's looking at brilliant sunset or just enjoying the smell of a pine tree forest.  It has brought back my sense of wonder... wonder at this amazing world we live on, wonder at the incredible people I get to share this planet with, and wonder that God has created it all.

I am looking forward to continuing this practice of Yes into the next year!  I can't wait to see the crazy, remarkable, surprising, and awe-inspiring experiences saying Yes brings me to and through!  Letting my Yes experiences help me in my quest for Ancora Impara-- to keep learning.  Maybe you can try it with me?

This is not the blog I sat down to write, but it is the one I ended up with...just by saying another Yes.. I hope you were at least entertained, if not encouraged to try and say Yes more.  I'll leave you with a few more of the Yes moments from the past 18 months, some of them with photos.  Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.  I hope they are full of extraordinary and ordinary moments of wonder!

Yes Experiences:

1.  The very first photo on this blog is of Jeff and I exploring the caves of Walker Bay in South Africa.

2.  Did a night snorkel with feeding Manta Rays off the coast of the Big Island in Hawaii.  These amazing creatures are over 15 feet wide and weigh in at over 6,000 pounds.  Incredible, eery, stunning moment!

 

3.  Hung out with African Porcupines one evening in Namibia.  I even brought back some of their shed quills.

 

4.  Hiked into the DeadVlei in the Namibian Desert.

 

5.  Took a very spur of the moment trip to lake Michigan.  Seriously last minute (which for a planner like me is sacrilege).  We talked about going out of town that morning around 8 am.  By 1 pm Jeff had left work early, I had booked a cabin,  and we were packed on on our way.  Very fun weekend with my handsome husband!

6. Visited one of the famed Cape Vineyards in South Africa.

7.  Had diner with a White Rhino in attendance in South Africa.

 8.  Had diner out in the middle of the bush in Sabi Sands, South Africa by lantern light.

 

9.  Had several close encounters with  elephants in South Africa.

10.  Went snowshoeing for the first time on Lake Louise in Canada.  I  know... I was born and raised in Colorado and this was my first snowshoeing experience....go figure

 

11.  Touched a Fennec Fox.  They are so incredibly soft!!!!

12.  Hung out with this handsome African Penguin at a charity dinner.  I got to touch him too.

 

13.  Got to meet one my heroes in person,  Dr. Laurie Marker who started the Cheetah Conservation Fund.

 

14.  Saw a Honey Badger in the wild at Etosha National Park, Namibia.

15.  Sat in a Photo blind and photographed animals as they came to the watering hole in Ongava, Namibia

16.  Laid outside in this bed atop our room in the Namib Desert and stargazed under some of the clearest skies on planet earth  with my handsome husband.

17.  Sat next to a lion in the wild while he roared.  Still gives me goose bumps!

18.  Hung out on our deck with a troop of Vervet Monkeys while they played and swam in our pool.

 

19.  Walked in the footsteps of a legend... this is Londolozi in South Africa, the place where Nelson Mandela wrote most of his book "Long Walk to Freedom."

20.  Went dog sledding in Banff, Canada.  Jeff ran the sled and I enjoyed the ride.

21.  Went on my first honest-to-goodness sleigh ride at Lake Louise in Canada

22.  Enjoyed New Year's Day game of Bocce Ball on the beach with dear friends.

23.  Saw a Chameleon in the wild... South Africa

24.  Joined a book club.

The Hardest Love Language-- Grief Love

I know, I haven't blogged in awhile.... life's been life.. and I haven't felt the need to say anything.  And if I am being totally honest, I really, really, REALLY didn't want to write this blog.  But sometimes, at least with me, an idea and thought just won't let me go, and I have to put it into words, even if no one else reads it.  This is the case today.   So here it goes...a really honest blog... that I didn't want to write...

The photo above is one the last good photos I have of my mom.  It's at my sons wedding and there she is, standing so very proudly right next to him.  It was a day that she never thought she would witness.    While the story of this photo shows my son with his very proud grandparents, it doesn't show the backstory.

The backstory is that my mom is deathly ill.  She flew out to attend Keagan's wedding, even though she was in unimaginable pain.  She's losing large amounts of weight by this time, struggling to eat, and on crazy amounts of medication just to function.  She is losing her long battle with cancer.

I remember watching her that morning as she tried to eat a little something with trembling hands.  I remember her doubling up on pain meds so that she could go and sit through the wedding and reception.  I remember that her prosthesis (the one in her stoma that helped her talk) was leaking again, causing her to choke on everything she tried to swallow.  I remember her painstakingly, slowly, getting ready-- making herself pretty ( and even in the depths of cancer, she was still beautiful) for Keagan's big day.

At my Mom's memorial service a couple of weeks ago, Dr. Beacham  said, "Grief is a love language."  And I haven't been able to get these words out of my head ever since.  He's right, it is a love language, for if you didn't have love for the person you would feel no grief.

But I have to be honest and admit that I am loathing this particular love language.  And it's not that I am unfamiliar with the language of grief.  I have grieved family and friends that I have lost,  several of them just this year.  I have even grieved lost opportunities throughout my life, I have grieved the loss of pets, I have  grieved with our nation when acts of violence or natural disasters have struck.

But this grief is deeper, longer, and harder... and I hate every minute of it.  I have grieved  mom's initial diagnosis and prognosis of 5 years (that was 14 years ago BTW).  I have grieved with mom over the loss of her voice box due to cancer.  I have grieved over the pain my mom endured through 3 separate rounds of radiation.  I have grieved over the countless surgeries she endured to "cut out" tumors,  enlarge her esophagus, put in new prosthesis, etc....  I grieved when after each round of radiation mom endured thrush infections that made an already very sore mouth and throat worse. I have grieved when people mistakenly thought that my Mom's cancer was somehow caused by a life choice-- many assumed she was a smoker, which she was not.  And as a side note, even if she had been, compassion for her circumstance should overrule your sense of "justice" or "consequence caused by action."  I grieved over her loss of self esteem due to her permanent stoma, something she didn't speak about out loud to many people, but I know she felt deeply.  I have grieved over every new MRI-- which always showed more bad news.  And I grieved at her bedside, when the last few days she struggled so hard to breath, and she weighed less than 80 pounds, and she couldn't even muster the strength to talk.  I grieved.....

I am still grieving, and as much as I want to rush this process because I personally tend to be impatient with  this sort of thing, this high emotion-- it is not a natural state for me and therefore highly uncomfortable-- I can't.  And the worst part for me is that it hits me at the most unappealing, inopportune times.  Like when I'm checking out at the grocery store and the innocent  young clerk says something that reminds me of mom-- and I can't get checked out quick enough before the tears well up... or when a waitress (who was so lovely and kind and caring) asked me why I had been in Colorado and I chocked out the reason between tears.... I hate crying in public... and this stupid grief-love has me doing it.

Even more unexpected and uncomfortable is the re-rising of the anger and outrage over the whole cancer thing.  This is stuff I thought I had come to grips with years ago.  Truly, I felt like I had made my peace with it and had let it go.  And yet, those initial questions are sneaking into my brain once again.  I find myself having some of those same serious, angry, and hard discussions with God  again...

And then there are the new worries... worries for my Dad and how he is doing.  And I am trying not to "Mother Him,"  his words.. but I really want to.  Just saying....  And worries for my brother, who was truly a Momma's boy and who is dealing with great sorrow... and worries for my son and nephews, who are all admittedly "Memaw's boys"... and the list goes on...

If you have made it to this point in the blog...BLESS YOU! That's a lot of mess to throw out there.  And I wanted  to throw it out there, so that you know that the struggle is real and raw... But... and it's the but that is the important part of this whole monologue, there is more.

BUT GOD..... The hope in this hard love language of grief is God.  Through all of this... this big emotion... these real and hard circumstances.... God shows up.  And He keeps showing up, in spite of my anger, in spite of my disappointment, in spite of my pain, and  in spite of my desire for this whole process to just be over already. He always shows up.

Sometimes it's in the form of friends.  Throughout this process, my family and I have been deeply supported by amazing friends.  I know I have had friends that have taken it upon themselves to pray for my mom every Monday-- for the past 9-10 years a group of us have agreed to pray every Monday for each other and our families-- that's dedicated friendship.  Not showy, not flashy, but the deep and abiding love of God making itself known.  I have had friends who have dropped everything to simply show up at the hospital to sit with us.  We even had friends who were in the room with us as mom died-- which is a hard thing to see and be present at.  My friends have called, sent messages, texts and cards, brought food, sent flowers, watched my house and cat while we were gone. You name it, they have done it. God showed up in our friends, reminding us that we are not on the journey alone.

Sometimes God shows up in the form of strangers.  The day after mom died, we needed to eat, but none of us were up for sitting around mom and dad's house eating.. so we went out to my mom and Dad's favorite Mexican food restaurant.  And God showed up in the form of an amazing waiter named Jason.  Jason knew my parents were regulars at the restaurant.  And he later knew that Dad would often come alone once mom was too sick to come and eat.  Upon seeing my dad enter, he loudly called out, "Hello, Paublo D. Clark!"  It's his nickname for my dad whose name is Paul.  While dad told him quietly about mom's passing, we arranged for a table for all of us.  Jason, knowing the circumstances asked to be relocated to cover our table.  Now I have to tell you, if you have never been heckled by a waiter in an authentic Mexican food restaurant, you are missing out.  And Jason is a master of fun and laughter.  Just what we needed after some serious and hard days.  But in the middle of heckling my Italian husband for ordering Italian dressing for his "salad" at a Mexican restaurant, and my nephew for ordering hot wings, Jason paused and gathered our family around him for the sweetest, most sincere prayer I have ever witnessed.  God showed up in the form of Jason and reminded us that He was there, and that we could still laugh in spite of our grief.

Sometimes God shows up in those closest to you.  My dear husband Jeff, who is also grieving, has shown me the love that God intended in a marriage.  Jeff handled getting last minute plane tickets to Denver, all while cancelling our travel plans for our anniversary celebration, without me having to worry about  getting it done.   Jeff has patiently endured some weepy dinners when I have been overwhelmed at the end of a stressful and heartbreaking day.  He has shared with me his own earned grief wisdom.  For those who do not know, Jeff had an older brother who was killed in a car wreck when he was a teenager-- so Jeff knows deep grief-- and what the process is like.  God gave me the perfect grief partner in the form of an amazing spouse.

And so, even though this is a raw and hard blog, I do want you have hope in this promise,  that God will never leave you nor forsake you!  It's a truth that I have lived, and am still living.  I should also add that this grief isn't all consuming.  Most of my day is not spent in overwhelming grief.  I experience more joy during the day than I do grief-- which is also God showing up  in moments of happiness or contentment, or even wonder at the world.  And not all memories of mom are sad. I am blessed to have countless good and happy memories of her.

So if you are experiencing grief in your life, I challenge you to invite God to show up.  And then look for Him--in big and small ways-- for I believe that if you truly seek Him you will find Him all around you.

I'll leave you with just a few photos of my mom.  She truly was a beautiful person!

Inhale/Exhale: Soul Sore Part Two

"I dwell with a strangely aching heart."  Robert Frost

About a year ago, I wrote a blog about being "Soul-Sore."  It seemed at the time that quite a few people could relate to the subject-- this feeling of rawness, soreness of the soul.  And, as I have been inundated (along with the rest of the world) with todays newsreels, I thought it might be a good time to look back and reflect on this Soul Sore feeling to examine what has changed (if anything).

In a lot of ways, things still feel somewhat topsy turvy in the world.  My hope was (and to be honest it still is)  that given some time, people would find a way to at least live with their differences of opinion in a way in which they can treat each other with some measure of respect, some measure of grace, and more than a full measure of love.  If I only used social media, the news on T.V., or the written news, I might despair that this is not happening, that it will never happen.  I might wonder if all sense of reason was forever lost in a deep love of turmoil and self-righteousness.  And I will admit, on the days when I let those things be my only input-- I sometimes feel that way.

I have witnessed friends turn against each other over a difference of beliefs.  I  watch in horror  people taking every opportunity to de-humanize each other-- not thinking about, nor caring, that they are destroying another human being emotionally and physically.  I watch as the loss of life has become so common, so normal, that it goes unreported-- and even worse-- is viewed as not important.  It even seems that we have now turned our wrath on those who might speak up about treating all people, regardless of belief, with dignity, love, and respect.

And it's not just in the U.S. where this is happening.  If you pay attention at all to the world news, you will see that there are several countries in Europe that are dealing with this as well.  In Germany there have been many violent protests around immigration and the refugee crisis that has hit European countries hard.  This has long been a problem in the Middle East where differing religious sects have been waging battle for years.  Africa, Indonesia, Asia, India-- there seems to be no end to this anger, this darkness of spirit.

And I have been hearing another theme weaving it's way through private and public conversations-- weariness.  Deep, soul-soreness that is coming from hearts and souls that are feeling battered and beaten down by this seemingly never- ending battle.  There seems to be no soft spot on which to land.   The things that we used to use as a means to escape -- sports, movies, TV, social media, books, religion, etc... have become strangely embroiled in the battle as well.  People are at once yearning for these safety zones and at the same time always staying geared up for battle because they never know when an attack might come.

We walk around soul-sore, suited up in our armor, with our sword hand ready to defend any perceived incoming attack on our being and we are finding ourselves exhausted, weary, disillusioned, and ready to give up.

And in the midst of this somewhat disheartening reflection... I have been repeatedly coming across these words...

"The best way out is always through." Robert Frost

"So let's not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good.  At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don't give up, or quit.  Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith."  Galatians 6:9-10 (the message)

As you may or may not have guessed, I have been revisiting some of my favorite poems by Robert Frost, and so therefore you get to revisit some of his words with me.  Lucky you (written with a sarcastic smile).  And I am fully aware that Mr. Frost had his own shortcomings  (hello, he was a human-- we all fall short), but I do not believe it takes away from the wisdom you can find in written words.  And I feel like most of you are aware of the scripture from Galatians.

So the big question becomes, what do we do?

Everyone will say that the first step is to acknowledge that there is a problem.  Duh.  I think most of us are aware that there is a problem, even the news media has turned this "great divide" into a reportable story.  But stating that the problem exists does nothing to solve it.  In fact, focusing only on the problem  allows the problem to continue to exist-- and it often makes the problem worse. Ever hear of the statement we are what we repeatedly do?

In order to properly address the situation, action is needed.  So back to the question of what do we do?  It's easy to throw our hands up.  To throw in the towel.  To say things like 'I can't control other people and their actions."  But that only makes the problem grow-- and it adds to your feeling of soul-soreness, of helplessness.  I don't know about you, but I always feel better when I can take some kind of action. Some movement forward.

Which leads me to the first word I put in Bold type-- the word through.  The definition for the word through is this:  moving in one side and out the other side,  continuing in time toward the completion of a process or period.  Sounds pretty straightforward right?  But what is missing in that definition is that often  way through is hard.  The way through involves work, like slogging through deep mud.  The way through requires action, forward movement.  Through takes time, through takes perseverance.  And I believe the the most important concept missing in this definition:  The way through takes vision.  You have to be able  to envision the end, the way out... otherwise you are just randomly roaming around with no end in sight-- you won't be going through if you have no vision of the other side.

So my first challenge to myself, and to you is to get a picture in your mind of the other side.  What does the other side look and feel like?  What is the goal?  Let's put this thought on pause for a moment, because I feel like in order for you to get a true vision of the other side, you need to understand the "how" part of the equation.

I feel like these scriptures in Galatians address the how part, the motions we need to take to get through to the other side. The first step in getting through involves gaining control of our emotions. It says to "not allow ourselves to  get fatigued."  What does this mean?  Well, I can't answer that for you, because I think the answer may be different for everyone.  I'll just simply tell you what I do for myself.  I absolutely limit the amount of time I spend watching or reading  the news.  This doesn't mean that I totally block everything out-- because I am a firm believer that knowledge is power and in being informed. It just means that for me, I give it an appropriate level of importance in my day.  I recognize that too much news or bad/hard information influences me in a negative way.  For me, it effects how I view things-- it's like wearing a very dark pair of sunglasses and moaning about how dark everything is on the brightest, most sunny of days. All I would have to do to change my view is to take off my sunglasses.  I have to make a deliberate choice, every day, to balance what I am allowing to influence me.  This is absolutely within my realm of control.  The other part of this is that I try to start my day focused on things that make me feel grateful, things that bring back good memories, things that make we look at this world with wonder.  I am visual, and so part of my morning routine is revisiting and posting some of my favorite memories on social media in the form of photographs. It is a small, insignificant little way of (hopefully) sparking some of those feelings of wonder and gratitude about this world that God has given us in others.  It's also my own little somewhat rebellious way of rebutting all the negative, soul-depressing stuff that goes out and takes place on social media daily.

The next step involves perseverance.  It says "if we don't give up or quit" things will get better.  And there is the tie in with vision-- This sentence describes perfectly the hardness of slogging through with the victory of the vision of the other side.  I would encourage you to meditate on this sentence alone. Don't speed read it.  Let it settle into your bones.  Let it remind you that the hard work is worth it.  Let your soul rise in the hope that the other side is possible.  Let it remind you that we (you and I) play an important role-- that our struggle, that our strength, is needed and valuable and necessary in order for the other side to become a possibility.  And find rest in the acknowledgement that this is hard work.  No where in this sentence does it state that this is easy, that there should not be struggle.  It doesn't deny nor minimize the pain and effort.  It only states that it is worth it in the end.  Be encouraged by this seemingly small, insignificant piece of scripture that is so rich and deep that it will take me another 50 years and beyond to appreciate all it's nuances.  Be encouraged today.  Don't loose sight of the other side!

The last step looks simple, but I believe it is the hardest one of all, "every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all."  You see, what we lose sight of in this battle, in the great war of who is right and who is wrong, is that it doesn't matter.   It's not about me.  It's not about you.   Sometimes I think we get way to focused on ourselves and forget God's true intention for us.  You see, we get really wrapped up in the thought that Jesus died for me.  Which is all true, and has it's place of importance.  But the real scripture says "For God so loved the world..."  Let me ask you this, what happens when you win the argument.. that your point or belief or view or ______ is proven to be right,  and yet you leave behind soul-sore people?  Is that really your purpose?  Is it our purpose to control the thoughts and beliefs of  others or is it to love them?  Let's go back to the benefit of all piece...when all is said and done, do your actions benefit all?  Or do they benefit only those who agree with you? Do your actions help people see Gods great love for them or do they leave them soul-sore?

Let's go even deeper, what does it mean when it says "every time we get the chance?"   Are there limits to this?  Does it really mean every time, or only during certain circumstances?  And if I am going to poke the bear (which I am probably doing right about now with some of these questions) I might as well poke it with the sharp end of the stick... so here it goes.  What if we don't feel "led" by our spirit, or by God, or by instinct or ____, to  take the chance before us to work towards the benefit of all-- does that give us a free pass to bow out?  Ouch.  What if they deserve what is happening to them, am I required to work for their benefit?  What if they hate me?  Do I still need to work for their benefit?  What if they are a criminal, an adulterer, a liar, a politician, an immigrant, a woman, a man, a muslim, a ______?  Still, do I work for their good?  What is the definition of the "all?"  Who is included in the "all?"  Does "all"  really mean ALL? This is the heart of what we are all wrestling with.

We are wrestling with where to draw the lines, should there even be any lines, what is right, what is wrong etc...  And we are losing sight of the goal, the other side, so to speak.  Maybe, just maybe, the goal isn't to solve all the differences of opinion (which I personally think is an unattainable goal at best). Instead, what if our goal involves us being willing to slog through the mess with perseverance and hope,  showing all those we come in contact with the all-encompassing love of God, and with caring and loving hands show them the vision of the other side.

I can't speak for you.  I don't speak for anyone but myself.  But what this past year has shown me and taught me about my own soul-soreness is that that it is most unbearable during the times that I allow myself to lose sight of the other side.  When I allow myself to let go of hope and grip fear tightly in my hands.  When I forget that the person that I deeply disagree with God gave his son to die for.  When thoughts and ideas, and yes, even beliefs become more important than God's love for the people of this world.  That is what really lies at the heart of my soul-soreness.  And I would dare to venture a guess that I am not alone in this.  I am still struggling in this, this figuring out the soul-soreness thing and what I am supposed to do with it.  It's easy to get so caught up in the fray and become angry.  It's also easy to throw my hands up in defeat and say I give up-- you all sort it out yourselves.  It's hard to to stay in the "through."  It's hard to not give up, to not allow myself to become weary, to slog through with determination, keeping my eyes focused on the other side.  Some days I do really well, and some days I fail miserably.

I will leave you with these final words from a  Robert Frost poem and a few nature photos.  The poem brings to my mind the mornings when I wake up and it looks like it's going to be a drizzly, moist, miserable day.  The fog is thick and I can see my breath.  But then the sun begins to work behind the clouds, clearing away the mist and by the afternoon, it's warmth can be felt.

"The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected."  Robert Frost

Sunrise, Outer Banks

Sunrise, Outer Banks

An Afternoon view of Tuscany

The end of a rainstorm in Tuscany

The changing of the leaves in Idaho

Sunset in the Outer Banks