Sunday, February 2, 2020

And That Has Made the Difference

     The last several years have thrown me for a loop. I have to be honest, some days feel like each moment is spiraling out of control. I was definitely one of those kids that assumed the adults had or should have it all together, whatever that means. Even though a lot of my experiences as a child never proved this theory out, I still operated fervently under that belief well into my thirties, before I realized that day may never come.
     Just when I think I may have mastered a new skill, overcome a difficulty, or adjusted to a new definition of normal, an event or moment will come along to make me rethink my approach or my view of life or the world.
     Some members of my family have struggled with health issues for years, and some have only recently had to face the struggles that many of us will face if we have the privilege of reaching certain ages. As my beloved grandma, who lived to be 99, always said, "Growing old isn't for babies, it's hard work."
     It is hard work. It is humbling. It is frustrating. It is frightening. And there can also be moments of joy and happiness. I had a friend comment to me that caring for a parent isn't any different than caring for a child. My instinct was to scream that is one of the most off base things I have ever heard. I howled in my soul.
     The person meant well. They are currently mired in the day to day of taking care of young children. They have never really had to care for a parent. To me, it is so different, when the roles are reversed. I wanted to shout at my friend, "Your child is healthy and learning and growing. You see a happy outcome coming someday. They will be fully actualized and go live their own grown-up life. That isn't always the case when caring for a parent. Sometimes the best you can hope for is that they will be able to take a few steps again. Sometimes not even that.
     Last year was the year my dad faced many difficulties with his health and I had to take on some active caring that was difficult for him and me, and also my mom. She has observed more than once in the past that she feels I love him more. That is not necessarily true, but to try to explain that might lead to more pain, more words said than need be said, more difficulty than help. She and I have never been the bonded sort that some mothers and daughters are. Any reasons why, really are not relevant any more through these changed times and circumstances.
     My way to deal with how she and I relate with each other has been to avoid conflict by minimizing contact, by being very focused in interactions. But is that really helpful?
     A dear friend of mine had a very loving relationship with her mother. The two of them always an example of what a faith filled parent/child relationship can look like over a lifetime of growing and changing circumstances. I was blessed to be loved by both this ladies. Unfortunately, my dear friend's mother became very ill. Her mother had a brief reprieve and then the illness came back worse then ever. And through their difficult circumstances I was able to watch my friend and her mother continue to care for each other, to watch what it really means in those hard times to love on someone.
     And another friend of mine when through a different type of painful experience as she was betrayed by friends and family after being abused by someone that was supposed to be called for life to love, protect, and honor her. I watched as she rose from the ashes of those experiences, and now feels a calling on her life, to share a different sort of truth with others, to love those that are hard to love. She does this on a daily basis.
     Having these women in my life, leading by their actual examples of words tied to their deeds and triumph over their circumstances each day, has called and convicted me to work on how I interact with the people in my life. I wish I could say it has changed everything dramatically, like magic all pain has gone, but I cannot.
     I can say that it has helped to work a change in me, it has started a healing in my heart and mind. I work on trying to be more present and positive in my own interactions with people, especially my mother. Is it perfect? No. She still has the ability to push just the right button and then I momentarily throw my convictions to the wind and snipe back with my words. Overall though, we have had better conversations, fonder reminisces, and more of an ease in our time spent together. Do I think she feels this? Maybe. I know I feel it. And that has made all the difference.



Saturday, January 11, 2020

Mixed Messages

     I am still at that point where I am trying to process all that happened last year. Some events have left more residual damage than you might think. I know it seems like I would have more important things to worry about than old conversations, but some words still sneak up on me, forcing their way to the forefront, even as I have tried to bury them deep in the past.
     That is the power of words, to create or destroy, to lift up or haunt. I try to keep this all in mind as I work at putting words together to tell my tales. I try to remember that the words I tell my own self are every bit as important, that they will either help me grow and improve as I move forward in life, or they will cause me to slip down the bitter, black hole of self pity and self destruction.
     You would think with all the family health and medical problems we experienced in the last year that I would have a bit of left over trauma associated to some of that. But you might not suspect that one of the things that haunts me the most are the off handed remarks made by an old manager in my months late yearly review.
     Nope, it wasn't the text in the middle of the night that my brother broke his back in an accident, or the need to call the ambulance to have my father end up in the hospital/nursing home for months, or the news that my sister needed emergency surgery that has caused me the most nights of lost sleep.
     It was the casual off the cuff remarks of this manager during my review that gutted me. Was there a problem with my work? Nope. I was at the top of my game in my day job as a logistics coordinator. I had the most books of anyone in my department, at the right profit margins, all while keeping customers, shippers, and drivers happy.
     It was while we discussed some of my personal goals that the words were shared that shook me to my core. I mentioned I had set certain personal goals and was having trouble achieving them because-life. Then this manager, that I had respected because he seemed to embody how to live with faith and character in the work place, passed his judgement on me. "Have you ever thought about the fact that this is God's way of saying no?"
     Day and night. Of course I have thought about that. Who wouldn't? But yet, this same manager, if he encounters a difficulty, would never consider that God was saying no to him. He would say that it was just the devil or society trying to keep him from all the blessings that God means for this man to have. Apparently that doesn't carry over to me in this manager's eyes.
     So, why when he encounters a problem is it the world or the devil trying to stop him and when I encounter a problem it means that God has said no? People wonder why folks struggle with the seemingly mixed messages they receive from church leaders.
     I guess it has to do with perspective. He sees himself in a completely heroic light, as a leader, businessman, and faith filled servant. I suppose he views me as a mere caregiver, a subordinate, one that is meant to make easier the work of those called to do great things.
     This caused me to wonder if that is how everyone sees me, to doubt my desires, my dreams, my purpose. This caused all other problems to be just a little bit harder as it chipped away at my self confidence and faith.
     With the help of my family and friends I was able to re-group, to move forward with my dreams, and to edit and change the narrative I am telling myself.
     By changing my perspective I have been able to start to heal. It gives me a fresh outlook on myself and everyone I encounter. Sometimes it is taking a walk that leads to a new view, or reading a new book. Sometimes it is as simple as sitting in a different seat. Sometimes it is doing research on a new story line that opens up my heart and mind to new possibilities.
     Our cat Frosting has taken to sleeping in the bathroom sink. It really seems to have given him a new perspective. He seems a lot calmer now that he has found this new secure sleeping post.
     I hope you are able to find a new perspective this year, one that will open you up to positive possibilities in your life.

Wednesday, January 1, 2020

Four Year Old Me Knew

     2019 was a year of challenges. Some of the issues were not directly mine, but when those you love hurt or struggle, and there is little you can do to assist them, that is a special pain and stress. It leaves you feeling fatigued, helpless, and like you are totally failing everyone you care about.
     I started the year with so many plans, to further my hopes and dreams. I was trying to build on the momentum and trajectory I had finally achieved back in 2011.
     2011 year was also a year of setbacks, of three steps forward and two steps back. It was a year of turbulence with my day jobs, trying to find work that would be suited to my still new college degree, and the first time I ever had scary health issues.
     And yet my writing dreams seemed to come true. I had a screenplay receive semifinalist status, I made the top ten percent in another screenplay contest, and entered a picture book in a contest, and it would later win a publishing contract.
     Eventually, by 2014, I managed to get three picture books published with my original digital publisher, but then they sold their entire collection. My books were available with the new publisher through their app for a while, but I had no real rights to my stories any more. Then I received the news that they were no longer interested in most of the collection, including my books.
     Since I wrote to them and asked what would happen to mt books, they reverted the rights back to me, but refused to let me have access to the illustrations, not even an option to buy them. This seemed like a slight setback, but I was still optimistic.
     I was still friends with the illustrator of my original picture book. Happily, he was willing to work with me on creating new illustrations for my picture book. It took months of work, the setup of my own publishing imprint, and my husband's computer skills to help format the book, but just before the end of the year we were able to make Green Goo available for the first time in print and also for Kindle.
     So many devastating disappointments in 2019, health issues for friends and family, health scares of my own, treachery by people that should have been guides or offered assistance,  and so many other seeming failures.
     And yet, with help from family and friends, obstacles were overcome, new beginnings achieved, and fresh starts happened. I have known since I was four years old that I wanted to be a writer, that I wanted everyone to be able to read that stories that I created. I am glad this has been achieved. I hope that 2020 will be a year for more writing and producing, more sharing of my stories and yours.
     When you have a moment, please check out the preview of my picture book that is available online. Please see link below.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/1675272034?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860

Thursday, July 4, 2019

In My Own Way

     I always find any holiday a good time to pause and reflect, on my life, the state of the country, the happenings in the world, or on news from out in the universe. I love to hear about the Mars Rovers and am especially happy about the reflections devoted to the 50th anniversary this month of the Apollo 11 moon landing.
     I have always felt a special connection-as the landing happened shortly after I was born. The family folklore is that my dad took me outside on the night of the moon landings and lifted me high in the air and pointed it out to me-that history was being made right then and he wanted us to share that-even though I was only 4 months old.
     And that is how our lives have been, even during the solar eclipse of a few years ago, my father watching the eclipse from his house a few blocks away, and me watching from my house while home on my lunch break.
     My start of the holiday today-where we celebrate the freedoms that many of us enjoy here in our home country-founded some 243 years ago-has been spent reflecting on how grateful I am that I am able to gather with family later today for a picnic lunch-even as my father has been in hospital rehabilitative care for the past 2 months. We will be visiting him at the little place he is staying at in a small town near where we live. 
     Then I will be able to go see the fireworks display at a park on the lake near the north end of our town. That is a special privilege as well. I will be with my youngest brother-who broke his back just over 4 months ago. Happily, he is recovered enough to do this traditional event.
     At the start of the year, I had many grand ideas and schemes, especially in regards to my hopes for my writing projects. I got off to a great start, meeting with coaches, laying out plans, working with editors and illustrators, and hoping to surpass the successes I had achieved when I made a similar push for goals back in 2011.
     It seemed the perfect time again, with 50 looming on the horizon. And then life. The fearful walk I took for myself with the issues with a potential oral health issue, having to go through the hoops of finding an oral surgeon in network that MIGHT be covered by my insurance, the weeks of waiting until the scheduled biopsies could be done. And then the wait for results-which came back benign-inflammations of unknown origin. And that was when I learned how much I get in my own way.
     If I couldn't fully focus, if I felt like I needed to work on real life issues, I just walked away from all the projects I held dear, I could have written just a page, or just a paragraph, or maybe even a sentence. But I did nothing instead. 
     The time passed anyway, but I made no progress on any of my goals. A lot of good progress has been made in some of our life challenges, but there will be more to come in the following months. And now I realize that I need to make a choice about how I merge my day to day life with my dreams and hopes for my writing. I need to learn to not be my own stumbling block. 
     I need to let go of my desire to take big leaps and make a large showy success of what I am working on, and realize that every small step I take, as long as I keep going, will still bring about the completion of my projects. The path may not be what I envisioned or hoped for, but the destination could be the same or even better.





Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Real Life Incredibles

     In my day to day life I know so many incredible people that are doing amazing things. They are real life super heroes. They make me want to be a better person, to make better choices, to slow down and really listen to the people that surround me in life.
     I have a dear friend I have known since I was 5 years old. That in itself has been such a gift to me, 4 plus decades of friendship. She was always a leader, even when we were little kids, always a great student, and an all around good kid. And she has become this incredible adult that is doing amazing things in so many communities as a social worker-for children, for those with severe illnesses, and so many more.
     Her latest, most important work of service and of her heart was as she cared for her terminally ill mother. My friend was careful, kind, loving, gentle, and managed to keep her families characteristic humor intact as she posted about their struggles, hopes, fears, and happy moments, even in this.
     She leads by her example. It makes me want to be a better daughter to my mother while I still have the opportunity to do so. My mother and I don't always see eye to eye. She has had issues with severe health problems, depression, and other things  since I was a small child. Somewhere along the way, it ended up contributing to me being a bit head strong, which can be difficult when both parties in a relationship share the same traits. 
     But my friend's example causes me to pause, to really listen, and to remember. My mother's mother is gone, a grandma that I loved dearly. One way I can still actively love my grandma, is to love her daughter and help when I can. This can mean a box of doughnuts from her favorite bakery, a driver to a surgical procedure, or a pan of homemade lasagna-from my dad's recipe.
     I live in the Midwest. We are currently experiencing the thrills of a polar vortex. As exciting as that sounds, it's really not. There are whole populations of people in grave danger because of the extreme cold, my elderly parents being part of one of the vulnerable groups.
     So, the other day started off rather poorly in a series of unfortunate occurrences-a million inches of lake effect snow, and the street plow and sidewalk plow coming through at about the same time. This led to my husband's car being stuck at the end of our driveway. 
     My husband and I were feverishly trying to shovel and shove his car free-when out of the darkness emerged a real life super hero-a gentleman with a truck with a plow-said his work was closed and he was driving around helping people. He helped us free my husband's car and plowed our driveway. 
     I was hoping to ask him to check on my very elderly parents when I was going to pay him. He didn't want any money. I was speechless and started to sob. I hated to ask if he would check on my parents-but he asked what was wrong-and then he wrote their address down and said he would drive right over. 
     He said-"Oh, that's right by my school." It turns out he is the principal of the middle school by my parents house. And he did just that-drove right over and plowed out their whole driveway-so my almost 80 year old father will be able to take my mother to her doctor appointment later this week. 
     I have always been a huge fan of Holland Public Schools for what they do for the students--and I also want to say how grateful I am for what they do for our whole community! 

Monday, December 31, 2018

Fare Thee Well

     It is hard to believe that another year has gone screaming by. At this point in my life I had always imagined I would have things more figured out than I actually do. I always pictured that with age comes wisdom, understanding, and financial security. It turns out that is not really so.
     Most days. I feel like I know less than I did decades ago, when I cheerily walked across the stage to collect my diploma, tangible proof that I had learned what was needed for a successful life, right?
     Try as I might, I think most days I fail to truly understand those around me. I work at adhering to the tenets of faith I was raised with, to treat others with compassion and grace, and to try to serve and give more than I take. At best, I might succeed at this fifty per cent of the time.
     My husband and I found ourselves embroiled in many trying circumstances this year. I am still trying to process all that has happened. One incident started way back in June when a sort of friend/acquaintance that we knew from years back, from volunteering at a yearly festival event, reached out to us, saying she was about to become homeless, could she stay with us.
     What to do? Yes, we have a guest room, but that is for when our family comes to stay with us at holidays, as we have many family members that live out of town.
     I did the easy thing first, posted about the need on social media, searched Craig's List for available rentals, and tried to find alternate housing. There were some polite inquiries, but no good fits. One issue being our friend's lack of steady employment and complete loss of savings and any other type of funds. This person had been a victim of an online employment ad and was scammed of her life's savings.
     We wrestled back and forth. In our house we were raised with Biblical ideals-"defend the poor and fatherless, do justice for the afflicted and needy." We were also taught the New Testament ideals-"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36 I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me..."
     In the end, we invited this person in to our home with an initial deadline of one month, to give her time to find a job and save first and last months rent. We provided meals, she could do laundry, and she had her own room. At first she seemed to be trying, she got a job right away. but lasted only through the orientation. Another job followed, that lasted for a day or two. And another job, and another.
     Finally, the deadline came, we needed the space for our own family, and the woman left. Only to come begging weeks later, knowing our guest were gone for now, begging to come back with us.
     By the time she returned, it was evident that she had deteriorated considerable in the few weeks she had been gone. She had already lost a lot of weight, but had lost several more pounds, fifty or more since the beginning of the summer. The things she would say and do, made no sense. She was in a car accident because she had been on her phone, allegedly submitting resumes online while driving busy downtown city streets.
     We realized we were in over our heads. I kept track of tidbits of information she gave us, jumbled as it was, and tried to write up a cohesive narrative. I was hoping to find some clue on how to locate her family, as it seemed they all lived in other states.  I spent weeks researching online, looking for employers names, cities, matches on social media and business platforms.
     Finally, when we were getting rather frantic about the situation, I found a nephew. He was able to put us in  touch with a sister. The sister was so grateful that we had kept her "baby" sister safe, even when it was not clear what was happening. She came up within a week of first contact and was able to take her "baby" sister home with her.
     It turned out that this poor woman had developed a rapid onset dementia, something that appears to have some sort of genetic influence as a 2 older sisters and their mother had all passed away from it.
     I am still not sure what lessons we were supposed to learn in all this. For one thing, it is easier to say you believe something than it is to live out that belief. This was truly a test of our personal credos. It also turns out that I enjoy reading mysteries FAR more than I enjoy trying to piece them together in real life.
     It is hard to understand this whole series of events. It consumed so much of our 2018. We are glad that we were able to get this person safely to her family in her moment of crisis.
     The challenges of 2018 were great, but so were the pleasures. I suppose that is how life unfolds, lots of ups and downs, and plenty of plodding along on level ground.
     Here's is hoping for the best for all of us in 2019!



Monday, July 30, 2018

Orange Pop Explosion

     A few weeks ago I saw another story about an amazing child that managed to save someone's life. This time a little girl, practically a toddler, managed to use her daddy's phone to call her mommy. Somehow the child was able to select the correct app, swipe at it, and put a video call through. All this was done even though no one had explicitly shown the child how to do this. Ever.
     The mommy was at work and suddenly receives sobbing call from little girl that daddy has fallen down. The father, a man in his late twenties to maybe early thirties, was actually having a stroke. He had no known health history issues prior to that moment.
     Due to the child's call and the intervention of some close neighbors, the father has survived this health crisis and is now in recovery and rehabilitation. The heroic young child saves the day and her daddy.
     I was never one of those types of children. Early on, I had the chance to display the same type of heroics, the same opportunity to put myself on a successful trajectory. According to family lore, I did nothing of the sort. What follows rather explains the sum of my existence.
     I was about two and a half at the time. I don't really have any clear memories from that age. My paternal grandmother died that year. I have no real recollection of her, just the images and remembrances provided by others. That is also what this story is, a re-telling of other people's old memories.
     My father was at work. He tended to work long days, double shifts, on the days he was not also in school working on finishing his bachelor's degree with his GI Bill Funding. It was just me and my mom in a tiny ranch style house with avocado green aluminum siding. It was the seventies after all. We lived on a corner lot in a developing subdivision, so there were really no close neighbors at the time.
     If I had cried about my predicament, there would have been no one to hear my tears. I am sure I would have at sobbed first as I tended to be a bit of a cry-baby.
     Apparently my mother had a bit of a health issue one day. She fainted and then must have hit her head on the edge of the dresser in their bedroom. She was out cold until my dad got home from work that night.
     I discovered the issue when I must have gotten hungry and went looking for her, abandoning my toys in my playroom and toddling off in search of her. It appeared that I found her, pulled at her, and tried to wake her, but nothing worked.
     Clues of my movements that day are how the story was pieced together. One of my toys was found by her side and I had apparently put one of my blankies over her, maybe thinking she was suddenly taking a nap.
     Did I then try to drag a chair to the old wall mounted avocado green phone that matched the avocado green kitchen walls? Did I try to run for a neighbor or summon a neighborhood collie to collect the sheriff for help? Nope, not this kid.
     I did manage to pull open the door of the, yes, you guessed it, avocado green fridge. I managed to get out the single wrapped slices of cheese, buttered some bread, and made a sandwich. I also apparently was very thirsty and pulled out a bottle of orange pop that had a stopper in it.
     When I pulled that stopper, boom, sprayed all over the ceiling. It was the pop still dripping from the ceiling and the trail of scrunched up cheese wrappers that helped show how I occupied my time until my dad got home from work that day.
     I have no idea what was done to help my mom, how I was comforted, or what happened after he got home that day. The telling of the story always ends there, with the moral being that at least I didn't starve. I knew enough to feed myself, if not to go for help.
     And that is sometimes how I still roll to this day. At least I generally know enough to get food. Also, now days it would be seen as, you have to help yourself first, then you will be in better shape to help someone else. Get on your own oxygen mask, then help the next person. At least that is what I tell myself when I hear this story re-told at some family gathering.