Belonging

For some time, I had been working on a Letter to Request Membership to my Quaker Meeting. And, it just kept being shoved down to the bottom of the To Do list. At the beginning of 2010, I had vowed to write my letter before the year's end. It was part of my Happiness Project, really, serving my spiritual center. Last April, I had been moved, after completion of the Meetinghouse for Red Cedar Friends, to really do it. And I sat down and began writing. I got one paragraph done before I was interrupted and it once again got shoved down to the bottom of the list...so far down, I forgot about it most of the time in between packing lunches, swimming lessons, Cub Scout meetings, helping with homework, teaching classes, witnessing new babies coming into the world, hugging my kids, doing dishes, etc, etc, etc...and lots and lots of e-mail. And then, at the end of October, my Quaker Meeting had a Worship Sharing with attention to Request for Membership. It was in response to many people being curious about what it meant to be a member, request membership and write a letter. Another mother and I, who also works outside the home, joked that our letters might be one sentence jotted on a paper towel from the bathroom. But I really wanted to do it differently. It was clarifying for me and I renewed my determination to write my letter before the year's end. I even had a moments hesitation where I thought, I should do this in January when I have a little more time. But I hunkered down the following Sunday and wrote...and essentially finished, my letter. Brian had taken the boys to Meeting that morning and I stayed behind. Initially, it was to have some quiet, but quickly I realized now is my chance.

By the time Brian and the boys got home, I had a draft done. I asked him to look at it and he casually said, "Yah, it's a good letter." I insisted, "No, you don't understand. I want to give it to Judith today. Can you please check it for typos and grammar?" It then registered on his face what I meant and he looked at it a bit more seriously. And, this is what it said:


November 7, 2010

Dear Judith,
After many years of trying to compose this letter to request membership as a recorded member of Red Cedar Friends, I am finally feeling the urge to finish it as if it is vocal ministry that wants to be shared.

My spiritual journey had very little guidance in my youth. Growing up, my father and stepmother told me that I was too idealistic. So, I tried to change and became cynical, pessimistic and angry. It didn’t last, but instead, the idealism and the hope that things could be better prevailed. My journals were my worship since the time I could write and as I reflect on all the words I wrote since I was eight, I now know that it was part of my path in becoming a Quaker. I have been searching for a spiritual home for a long time, though for much of that time, I wasn’t even aware of it. Brian and I moved to Michigan in October 2000, and that is when we began attending Red Cedar Friends Meeting.

From the very first time we attended, I was struck by the thoughtful and loving people, the silence and the welcome we experienced. Joann Neuroth was the first to welcome Brian and I and I had never been received so warmly at any church. After being raised by an atheist father (who had lost faith in his 20’s) who forbade me to go to church, I used to sneak to services with various friends after sleepovers to see what I was missing, but it never rang true for me. The feelings I usually left with were guilt and shame. The Christian rhetoric I experienced never felt right to me.

While we began attending in 2000, it was not until 2002 that I really felt the strongest pull to Quakerism. As I grew a new life in my body and heard rumblings of war in the Middle East, I grew restless and unable to understand how this could be any resolution to conflict. As my body nourished and built new organs and limbs, I knew that, in war, organs, limbs and lives would be destroyed. And so Brian, myself and our unborn child marched in 2003 to protest the start of the war that would cost more than I could ever fathom in innumerable ways. I knew what violence could do to one family, much less many.

It was with Red Cedar Friends that I had my first understandings of what it meant to feel that I was a spiritual person without attaching (what I felt was) loaded rhetoric to it. And that this kind of practice was acceptable. It was the first place where I met people who were asking the difficult questions, living what they believed and not the hypocrisy I had seen in so many other places. It was with RCF that I first made the connection between what I had been practicing for years; communing with nature, feeling the urge to give ministry and writing it down to get it out, connecting with others in a deep and profound way and nontheism. Nontheism was introduced to me by Ann Francis and Nancy Lombardi and it was a relief to me that there was actually a term to describe what I had been doing for years. Furthermore, it was with Red Cedar Friends that I first felt the spirit move me to share vocal ministry and I waited to share it until I felt I could no longer hold it in. What a gift.

Red Cedar Friends has become my spiritual home, my community, an integral part of my Michigan family. And, even when I am pulled in other directions by my life and work and not able to attend Worship, I still feel at home with Friends. I continue to be inspired to “Let My Life Speak” and try to do my best while being true to my spirit and those around me. I have come to believe that there is “that of G/god in everyone,” to understand it on new levels and I carry that belief with me as I serve mothers and babies and witness new human beings come into the world. I also find that the Quaker process is so very integral to how I live my life and often sit with a concern to wait patiently for the “Way to Open”. Peace, Stewardship, Integrity, Equality, Simplicity. I cannot say that there is a Testimony that I feel stronger about than the others, as I feel they are integral to each other. I continue to strive to improve in all of these areas in my life and my Friends are part of the reason I do so. My strong belief in nonviolence and equality were born early in my life and it was a relief to find a community of others that share that belief and are committed to it.

Service, or stewardship, is probably where my Life Speaks most. In my various life roles I always try to serve with respect. I have come to see that the way we come into the world does matter and the way we treat women at this vulnerable time is influential in how they mother. It is cyclical, like so many other things in life, and creates a ripple effect. While I have chosen the work I do, I moreso feel that my work has chosen me. While I call myself a feminist, I also call myself a humanist and nontheist. And a Quaker.

With the completion of the Meetinghouse, I was Witness more than Participant to the incredible process and energy that went into it by so many with such varied gifts. But, witnessing that process was so moving to me to see what was accomplished by people with a common goal.

I close with this quote from Suzanne Arms, which illustrates why I do the work I do. It is my way of trying to create peace in this world of ours.

“For too long, our approach to childbearing and caring for mothers and babies has been fear-based, its hallmarks isolation, intervention in natural processes, hyper-stimulation and maternal deprivation. Women's experiences and their feelings about themselves, their babies and motherhood, translate directly into thoughts and biochemistry that lay down patterns in their baby's developing nervous system and brain. These patterns shape, not only how we see ourselves as children, but the relationships we form as adults and how we care for others and our world. The mother-baby relationship is crucial. Thus, how we treat the women who bring children into this world - with honor and tenderness or neglect and abuse - profoundly influences the direction of our society. Love and fear, and peace and violence, begin in the womb. And that is where the roots of faith or alienation lie. The new paradigm, which is really based in ancient wisdom and supported by modern science, is available to us today, as is healing the birth-related trauma so prevalent in modern society.” ~Suzanne Arms, founder of Birthing The Future

Thank you for being a part of my journey and showing my family how we should care for others and our world. The heart of Red Cedar Friends is vast and I am blessed to have found it.

Your Friend in Peace,
Heather Paris

By the way, November 7 is my birthday. Brian took me out to eat that evening and Judith took care of our boys. Upon arriving at her house to drop off the kids, I handed her the letter. She said, "What's this?" and when I told her what it was, she hugged me and whooped for joy. She knew how long I had been wanting to write it and what a hard time I had had getting to it and making it a priority. It was both a joy and a relief to have it done and to be able to share it with her. It was a good birthday.

Not In A Silver Casket Cool With Pearls

I was looking for a bluebird. A bluebird of happiness. I have been looking off and on for some time and have never been able to find just the right one. And all of a sudden, while scrolling through Etsy's search results for bluebird, three words got strung together in my brain and I was reminded of my mother. Bird. Hand. Love. What's interesting is that bird actually has nothing to do with it.

"Love in the open hand, no thing but that,
Ungemmed, unhidden, wishing not to hurt,"

These are the words that are etched into my mother's headstone and now that I am a mother and fill many other roles in my life, I understand it on a whole new level. My understanding has deepened, as has my understanding of how she might have felt about her young children. As I have said before, what I have kept most from my mother is the love she left for me in my heart. Below is the full poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay. And, one of the few tangible things I have of my mother's is a poetry book of hers by Millay. I cherish it.

Not in a silver casket cool with pearls
Or rich with red corundum or with blue,
Locked, and the key withheld, as other girls
Have given their loves, I give my love to you;
Not in a lovers'-knot, not in a ring
Worked in such fashion, and the legend plain—
Semper fidelis, where a secret spring
Kennels a drop of mischief for the brain:
Love in the open hand, no thing but that,
Ungemmed, unhidden, wishing not to hurt,
As one should bring you cowslips in a hat
Swung from the hand, or apples in her skirt,
I bring you, calling out as children do:
"Look what I have!—And these are all for you."

~Edna St. Vincent Millay

Full Circle

This week, I went to a tour of the Stone Circle Bakehouse. Well, it wasn't a tour as much as a sample tutorial and Q&A. Nevertheless, Kevin Cosgrove welcomed the local Slow Food Group into his bakehouse and shared with us how he came to be a baker and it was so much more than I had imagined.

He was so kind and generous, he offered to let us put bread into the oven. I was too nervous to do it, but one of the gals from MSU stepped up and did it. Kevin's humility was one thing that struck me. He was so amazingly nonchalant in his manner and speaking and it made me respect him even more. He told us of traveling across the country and asking other bakers what they did so that he could learn. He didn't want their secrets, he just wanted to watch what they did. He wanted to learn the craft.

I asked him why he picked baking, if he had baked previously and enjoyed it. His answer was that he had been in the hotel catering business for years. He was very familiar with food services, and yet he couldn't help but notice that the bread service, which was an integral part of the meal, was so poorly executed and under recognized. I loved this answer and when he finished, I said, "So you went for the underdog." He seemed to click with this recognition and looked at me like, "Yes, exactly." It was a great moment.

The experience of being there in his bakehouse is hard to describe. There were about about ten of us, yet it seemed intimate. I suppose part of that is because he was inviting us into his space and it almost seemed like a place to revere. Kevin was open to questions and was just so generous with his time and patience. He was funny, and made it clear that he did not want to expand his business beyond his bakehouse. He intends to stay local, wants to keep it manageable, wants to stay close to who is eating his bread.

I came away understanding breadmaking better and understanding that it is, indeed, a craft. This experience only reinstated to me the importance of getting our food locally and knowing where it comes from. And it inspired me. I understand more fully now that what goes into food isn't only ingredients, but intent, effort and craft. I always knew this, but now I understand it on a different level. And it makes the food even more delicious. In this case, fougasse, or a close relative to foccacia. Mmmmm, incredible.

Calling it in

Sometimes I Call It In. I'm not saying I'm proud, just forthright. But, how did I get here?

Over the last few weeks of summer, into the fall, I was feeling drained. But, I didn't know to what extent until I went away by myself at the end of September. When I was growing up and into my young adult years, I spent a lot of time by myself. I spent time creating; journaling, painting, drawing, writing, studying art forms. I came to know myself, to even enjoy spending time by myself, so much that I preferred it to being around others sometimes. When I lived in Maryland, I would sometimes go down to The Mall in D.C. and just sit and draw, people watch, watch the carousel, and, of course, go to the Art Museum. I spent hours doing this kind of thing and I loved it. I sometimes would get really close to paintings so I could see the brush strokes. It was amazing, even magical, to me....how such incredible visual feasts could be created with brush strokes. How, with large and small dots of paint a completely different aesthetic could be created as opposed to long brush strokes. Amazing. But, I digress.

That plethora of alone time has certainly dwindled over the years, with work and then children, and then work again, needing more of my time. And, as my children are now a little older, are potty-trained and not nursing, they don't need me in the same way. Yet they still need me and I find myself sometimes not putting forth my best effort. And I am fully aware of why I do this. What I see time and again is that people don't know how far they have sunk until they have risen again. And that's what happened to me...again.

In my day-to-day life, I spend my days (and nights, sometimes) taking care of everyone else. I fix meals, clean floors, wash dishes, do laundry, organize papers, drive my kids to school, help expecting parents, help new parents, am a sounding board for my friends and a partner to my husband. And a hundred other things. I get a cup of coffee now and then, or I spend too much time on Facebook, but that doesn't really revive me from my other duties. This is no different than many other people in the world, so don't think I am belly-aching about that.

When I went away to Milwaukee at the end of September for the first-ever joint conference between ICEA and Lamaze, I took the ferry at my husband's suggestion. It was a good one. I love water, boats, and it was a gorgeous day. It was a great way to start the trip, very calming and soothing. I sat on the sun deck and soaked in the sun, the sway of the boat. I could have stayed there all day. Eventually, I went in and read my book for a little while, which is also something I don't get to do enough of.

What I realized at the conference is that I had been Calling It In. Not only with my family, but with my classes, perhaps even with my co-workers. It wasn't an indication that I didn't care, but that I needed some re energizing, some alone time, some time to reflect and say again, "Oh yeah, this is why I do this. And, yes, I can continue on this path because it is important...and it is what I am supposed to be doing." I felt revitalized towards my job, my kids, my husband. It was amazing.

So, I am grateful. I am grateful that I could go to the conference, that I was able to get revitalized, that it helped me realize how far I had sunk and how often I was Calling It In. And, while I won't have the opportunity to go away again soon, I will remember that boat ride, the sun on my face, the gentle sway of the boat, and I will have a little piece of it. A little peace.

I won't do what I don't want to do

Again, compelled by another writer and creator, I have to introduce you to the F*ck It List. This is an idea by Amy Krause Rosenthal that is intriguing. Instead of the Bucket List that so many people have been talking about for years now, let's decide what we will not tolerate. What will we refuse to do or put up with?

I think I started working on this idea years ago and love that Amy KR has put it into words. She does wonderful short videos where she takes input from people from all over and combines them to give them a voice. Her work is quite powerful and shows the power of intention.

So, here is another list. I am clearly a list person, as many have probably figured out already. It helps me organize my thoughts;putting things down on paper helps me see things more clearly and prioritize. Since I am such a visual person, if I write things and read them, I am also more likely to remember them.

Amy KR suggests to start with Top 5 things you DON'T want to do.

1. Clean the bathroom.
2. Lose a child.
3. Work in the food service industry. (again)
4. A triathlon.
5. Birth anymore babies.

And, as she did in her list, I will also add...

I will not tolerate:
1. Spending time with toxic people that effect me in overwhelmingly negative ways.
2. Racism.
3. Hate.
4. Not making time to be creative.
5. Being stagnant.

What is your Top 5?

Creature Comforts

Katherine Center is someone I have discovered in the last six months. She has written three novels, of which I have read all three, and she has a blog and a YouTube channel as well. Her work is wonderful, as she puts her writing together with fabulous photographic images by others and creates these incredible uplifting, yet simple pieces. A May 2010 post on her blog made me want to make my own comfort list.

As much as I would like to, I do not really keep up with any particular blogs. I revisit some here and there, but I don't really have the time to read the ones faithfully that I prefer. Even the ones I subscribe to. But, here is my list...I'm sure incomplete, but it is amazing how many things I thought of once I started thinking...

a warm bath
a glass of red wine
a good book
a friend that understands me
the beach
the sound of waves
collecting rocks
a cup of Aveda Comforting tea
my grandmother's chicken with dumplings
the memory of my mother letting me sleep with her after a bad dream
fresh homemade food
hugs from my kids
snuggling under blankets and reading to my boys
snuggling with my husband
finding something new that resonates in every cell of my being
writing
the beauty of hand-written words on paper
creating
a deep breath
music
dancing with Calder
creating art with Grady
a card or note from my aunt
cooking with my sister
being alone
citrus
beautiful and/or powerful images
rain
fresh produce at the farmer's market
a good pen
when Grady spontaneously says, "I love Mommy" and gives me a hug
a sunset
warm, comfy socks
my jammies
my bed
watching the birds eat from our feeder
watching the animals in our backyard
painting
envisioning our house fully decorated and furnished
my boys while they're asleep
staying home
peeper frogs singing their song

What is on your comfort list?

My Collection

When I was under ten, I used to collect little ceramic/porcelain animals. I loved them. They were so delicate and miniature. I had a special shelf that I kept them on and dusted them lovingly. Great joy was in the finding, admiring and keeping of these little animals. Eventually I grew tired of this collection and got rid of them. One big factor in this move was moving itself.

Over the years, I have had several collections. In The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin writes about collections and that she has never had one. This, I doubt. I think she is not looking close enough. She may be thinking very narrowly, as in picturing a glass curio cabinet with breakable china or a room overflowing with teapots. If she looked closer, she would find that she does, in fact, have collections. For this book she wrote, for instance, she collected other writings on happiness, though she didn't call it a collection. She certainly has a collection of books in her house. Most people do. And, most people have a collection of friends, family photos and clothes. She actually decided to collect bluebirds in the course of her book and found several select bluebirds (of happiness) for her office while she worked. Perhaps she is defining a collection as something whose sole purpose is to be collected and then sit idly on a shelf collecting dust itself. To me, this is exactly the wrong kind of collection to have. Or rather, the scope of this definition is wrong, as it is far too narrow.

I, too, have a collection of books. I go through mine periodically and only keep the ones that I would read again, or that are extremely special to me. Probably the subject I have the most books on is childbirth and related subjects. But, rivaling that is my poetry section. One of my former chapters in my life, I spent writing poetry and I still find it an art form that brings me great joy and comfort. It is no mistake that it was a poem that inspired this blog title and content. It was instead, serendipity.

My collections have dwindled over the years, as I had children and came to believe that the more stuff I have, the more I have to dust. And I just don't want to spend any more time dusting than I have to. In scaling down my likes and my possessions, and to some degree separating my wants from my needs, I refined what I really love to be surrounded by and it has turned into a feeling of warmth and authenticity I am surrounded by now.

My most treasured collection that I have is my collection of mothers. I didn't realize for many, many years that is exactly what I have, but it is. And perhaps it seems like it is cheapening their presence in my life to call them that, but I certainly mean no disrespect. Instead, only the greatest Respect. This is a side effect, or rather, a side asset to losing my mother at six, I suppose. And, the first mother I collected after my own mother, was my Aunt Diane. Then came my best friend Erika's mother, Mary. She welcomed me into her arms and her home like I was her own daughter. After that, wherever I moved, I seemed to find at least one older woman who was my friend, first and foremost, but also became like a mother figure to me, in one way or another. This is because women are amazing. Centered women who have found their truth accept you as you are, and that is a true gift. I cherish these women in my life, all of my Mothers. And while I still miss my mother with every cell of my being, I know that she is in my heart, and perhaps she has even sent these other Mothers my way. Regardless of whether that is true or not, I still welcome them and treasure their wisdom, love and acceptance. I am rich.

Do you collect anything? What, if so, and what led you to collect?

Absence makes the heart ache

This week, my dear aunt has been visiting. It has been a short visit and I feel sad about that. On top of that, I also am grieving losing her. She is right in front of me, yet she is not there. And it makes my heart ache.

After losing my mother at six, my aunt was my confidante. In my years growing up, she was the only one I could talk to about my mother and not be told to stop. She would listen and she understood that I needed to know things. She held me while I cried. And cried, and cried. She told me about my mother. She showed me pictures of my mother. Of my mother and me. She took care of me. She loved me like a mother.

My aunt has always been an incredibly loving yet morose person and my visit with her this time has been eye-opening in that she is beginning to face her own mortality head-on. She has early-onset Alzheimer's and she is in the stage where she knows her symptoms. It is so hard to watch, when she can't find her water glass, her (eye)glasses, she frantically searches for something because she thinks she has misplaced it, when the truth is that it is sitting exactly where she knew it was just five minutes ago. She is disabled in a way that does not really get recognized. It's hard to put a finger on. She cannot remember how old my kids are. She can't remember what we did yesterday. She does still remember me, thank goodness. That is a huge blessing. And, when I talk of something that happened long ago, a huge smile appears on her face, partly because she can remember it.

My aunt is very smart. She was a nurse in a cardiac office before she had kids. She used to be a fantastic photographer. She introduced me to the Pink Panther movies and has been one of the few constants in my life. She was published in medical journals in regards to Pacemakers. She exuded love. She is funny, creative and so incredibly loving. Yet all that is being undermined by this deterioration of her memory and this horrible disease that is taking hold of her. She has told me many times in the past two days that you are born with Alzheimer's and that it just gets increasingly worse. I probably have it, and this will too be my path. My maternal grandfather had it, but he had a much later onset than my Aunt Diane. This early onset (she is in her 60's) is so disturbing to me and it leaves the person and all his/her loved ones completely powerless.

I have known and still know people who are oblivious to life, to so many things. It seems to me that the oblivious ones should be the ones targeted with this disease. But that is not how things work. This disease knows no boundaries and it is so painful to see someone who was so in tune to others' pain, so empathetic, so alive despite all the struggles she has had, to be diminished so immensely.

She is right in front of me. I can reach out and hug her. But there is a part of her that I can't reach anymore. And the absence of her makes my heart ache.

Inspiration Blooms

For years, I have missed writing. Maybe even mourned it. The urge to write has been there, but by the time I had the time, I was too exhausted either emotionally, psychologically, mentally or physically. Or all of the above. Kids do that, whether it is a good day or a bad day. Parenthood is all-consuming. At the end of a day, I feel too wiped out to do much but zone out either by reading or by watching mindless television. I used to write every day...for hours sometimes. But, no more. For a long time now, writing has been a bird that flits in and out of my peripheral vision. As my kids have gotten older, their needs have changed. In turn, mine are beginning to be revived. It's about time.

While on our trip to Iowa this summer, I read a poem. I had been toying with the idea of doing a blog for some time, but was stumped at what the right name would be or what the focus would be. I could never find the right name...until I read this poem. And, being who I am, I couldn't possibly begin something without a title. (Insert writing professor cringing here. It's been a while since my last writing workshop.) So, here is the inspiration for this blog. The multiple meaning of the name really appeals to me and that spring is part of it only makes it that much more fitting. Spring is my absolute favorite time of year, when everything begins to grow in order to bloom, when the white and gray of winter is replaced by vibrant greens, purples, pinks and yellows. In that regard, it reflects an attitude; spring being perpetual is fiction, but wouldn't it be grand. I also like the name because it describes what happens in my head. There is something always ready to overflow and the number of ideas I have could be dangerous. In college in Advertising class, my Professor even told me, "You are a great idea person, but execution is not your strong point." Um, thanks?

In Quakerism, there is a saying that, The Way Will Open. This has been proven to be true to me so many times I cannot even begin to put a number on it. When I don't know the answer, the right solution does not come to me. I sit and I wait, I move onto other things, with this conundrum idle in the back of my mind, whatever it is. When it all falls into place, a book with a certain title, a moment of quiet...long enough to read without interruption, a poem that is a little piece of beauty and tranquility, a small snapshot of what I am seeking...it brings me a little bit of peace. And it feels right. The Way Has Opened.

In Perpetual Spring
by Amy Gerstler

Gardens are also good places
to sulk. You pass beds of
spiky voodoo lilies
and trip over the roots
of a sweet gum tree,
in search of medieval
plants whose leaves,
when they drop off
turn into birds
if they fall on land,
and colored carp if they
plop into water.

Suddenly the archetypal
human desire for peace
with every other species
wells up in you. The lion
and the lamb cuddling up.
The snake and the snail, kissing.
Even the prick of the thistle,
queen of the weeds, revives
your secret belief
in perpetual spring,
your faith that for every hurt
there is a leaf to cure it.

Amy Gerstler, “In Perpetual Spring” from Bitter Angel (New York: North Point Press, 1990). Copyright © 1990 by Amy Gerstler.

My Agreements

As I said in my first post, in her book, Gretchen Rubin concocts Resolutions, Commandments and also includes a list she calls Secrets of Adulthood. Today I thought it was time that I wrote mine down, so here goes. I have started with the Commandments, as that was easier for me than the Resolutions, and have kept a couple of hers that really resonated with me. I have italicized those. And, I have renamed them, as Commandments brings to mind Charlton Heston for me, and he just isn't the image I strive to have in my head that often. Instead, I am calling them Agreements, taken from The Four Agreements by don Miguel Ruiz, which is one of my most treasured spiritual books.

Twelve, er...Fifteen Agreements
1. Be Heather
2. It is what it is.
3. Be fair.
4. Moderation is key.
5. No assumptions.
6. There is only love.
7. Do what feels right.
8. Do my best.
9. Let it go.
10. Peace begins with me.
11. Pay it forward.
12. Work through it.
13. Lighten up.
14. Good is good enough.
15. Let My Life Speak

Some of these are simply the way I try to live my life now. And some really need to be applied more often and with a bit more conviction. The fact that I couldn't even hold myself to twelve is probably a good indication that I need to "Lighten Up", most specifically in regards to myself. The expectations that I have for myself far outweigh those that anyone else has of me, which brings me to my few Secrets of Adulthood, which I have also renamed. For some reason, Secrets of Adulthood sounds like it should be an entry in my journal from my tween years.

My Truths
-The only way out is through.
-By doing a little bit each day, you can accomplish a lot.
-If you can't find something, clean up.
-Lower your expectations and you will be pleasantly surprised.
-My shoes don't fit anyone else, but some have the same style.
-People don't notice your mistakes as much as you think.
-Even at the depths of despair, there is still ample strength in reserve.
-Hope is like water.
-Give to give, not to receive.
-Show love before you can't.
-Be grateful for what you have.

These are the few that I can think of right now, but I may add more at a later date. Perhaps as I learn more, or as I am reminded of some.

Lately, I have been feeling immensely grateful for all that I have. I have many things in my life that I have dreamt of over the years and hope to fulfill more dreams and help others fulfill theirs. But I am so very grateful that I have a husband who I love and who loves me, two children that are precious to me, a home to keep us warm and to make memories in, and I also get to do work that is very rewarding. And now, I am so relieved to be writing. It is like finally getting to stratch an itch that has been out of reach. Ahhh...that's the spot.

Heart of Faith

Recently, I was talking with someone about Quakerism. He was asking questions about our worship time and what happens during that time. It was clear to me that he wasn't getting it...it wasn't connecting. This, I think, is largely in part because he and his religious affiliation hold beliefs that are strikingly different than my dearly-held Quaker beliefs. When I fully realized he was not going to understand what I was trying to explain, I quickly redirected the conversation and asked him questions about his congregation.

A week or so later, we got a phone call from this person. He is a pastor at his church and he informed my husband that he had decided to base a sermon on me, a "strong-willed woman", in his words. The passages from the Bible that he chose were Mark 7:24-30. He added that he had tried to call earlier in the week, but got no answer. He had wanted us to read the sermon before he shared it with his congregation.

After Brian got off the phone and told me all this, I was incredulous. First, because he called me a strong-willed woman. Was that a compliment or an insult? Depends on who you ask and/or who is saying it. Second, what were these passages...and where is my bible?! Next, my mind was swirling with questions: "What does he mean by this? Why didn't he just e-mail the sermon to us?" And..."Why did he have to use me as an example for his sermon?"

After reading the passage, things were not much clearer. It doesn't help that the bible I was using is a Bible that was my Great Aunt's and the language is far from modern. It was no clearer to me, except that dogs were also in the passage and what I understood was that the woman was being compared to a dog and the woman apparently had a child that was "possessed by an evil spirit". This certainly did not improve my disposition about the matter by any means. So, I then asked a Friend for advice who is much more Bible-literate than I am. We resolved I would get back to her about which passages were involved. She had the same questions about it being an insult or compliment, but she also suggested that I not talk to him anymore.

This works out since I don't see this person but once every two years, but I am still trying to get to the bottom of this mystery and have read several sermons online now that suggest the meaning of the verses. One believes the passages are about humility, another concludes that it is about seeing a woman's heart of faith and that even such a woman is worth saving. And that brings up a whole new issue; each one of the sermons interpret the verses differently, since each one is written by a different person. And, in my opinion, that is what makes religion and following the Bible literally so dangerous. This great work of literature means something different to each person, because each one of us has a unique perspective and experiences that make up that perspective.

The ironic part is that this is exactly one of the things that I love so much about my Quaker Meeting, that each person is respected for their perspective, regardless of whether anyone else agrees with it. People are loved for who they are in that moment, at that time, and people even agree to disagree.

The real test for me, here, is to embrace this as a learning experience. To perhaps even, be humbled by the fact that I played a small part in someone's sermon. But the larger part of me is leaning towards agreeing to disagree. For now, anyway.

Cutting back

One of my goals for 2010 was to live more simply. (Hmm, could I make that any broader?) There are about a thousand ways to interpret this, and implement it, so where to start? I really began to put this into action when Brian went to get our yard composter in April. Stewardship is not only important to me as an individual, but it is also important to me as a community member, and as a mother. Stewardship is included in the Quaker testimonies and I have done what I could while mothering my babies. Now that they are a little older and can understand and help more, I feel even stronger about striving to generate less waste.

Our first step was to get the composter. This of course included an inside compost container which we would empty into the larger one outside. Then I felt compelled to improve our recycling system, which basically had been an assortment of paper bags, a random extra trash can and the bin provided by the trash company. Well, I spent a little money, but now have more organized sorting bins in the garage that can easily be taken to the recycling station.

A couple of years back, I stopped using plastic grocery bags. Or should I say I tried to stop using them. It was a haphazard effort. Again, small babies were my priority then. But, in this last year, I always take my own bags. And, if I forget for some reason, I always get paper, since I can recycle that. I have gotten to the point where I will delay a trip somewhere a day or so if I have forgotten my bags. I have affectionately appropriated the title Bag Lady.

I am proud to say that just recently, Brian told me that he thinks we might be able to request a smaller trash bin due to the reduction of trash we put out now. So, we have not only cut back the amount of trash we are sending to the landfill, we also have potentially cut back on one of our bills. Now that's what I call progress. And it feels good.

In the Beginning...

For my book club, the book we are reading is The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. This book was on the NYT bestseller list for a while, but that isn't why I suggested it for my book club. The prospect of a project concerning happiness intrigued me. And, as a person who has always seemed to have a need to grow and learn more, it appealed to that side of me as well.

So, here we are at my new blog and I intend it to be an account of my own Happiness Project. As she notes in her book, Gretchen Rubin is fortunate. She is a full-time writer, well-educated, lives on the Upper East Side of NYC, she is white. Like her, I am white and have a college degree. And, it is not lost on me that I am fortunate in my life. But, then, that is part of what this project is about. To focus on what makes me happy more often, to examine what could make me happier. And perhaps to see if I can help others achieve that as well. We'll see...but everything has to start somewhere. And my somewhere is here.

Gretchen has written out three lists to clarify her objectives. The first one is her Twelve Commandments. This list encompasses principles meant to help her achieve the resolutions she has set for herself for each month. Secondly, she set twelve different resolutions she planned to work on over the course of the year. She began her project in the month of January, so this makes sense. The third list is her Secrets of Adulthood. These are lessons she learned during adulthood, perhaps the hard way. I prescribe to some of them, and perhaps I will address that at a later date.

So, this is my beginning. I hope to write at least once a week. One quote from the book that I like is, "When life was taking its ordinary course, it was hard to remember what really mattered; if I wanted a happiness project, I'd have to make the time." This is true, and not just for a happiness project. Many worthwhile things require making the time for them. And my journey will most certainly be rediscovering that. Perhaps repeatedly...and practicing it is a whole different story.