The Thing About Facebook

O.K. so I’m one of those people . . . one of those people I never thought I’d be. The kind of person I joked about . . . yep, that kind. The kind that admittingly likes Facebook. My mom signed me up. Posted my profile picture. And all I could think was, “This is silly. Who does this? Who has time? Who looks at this regularly???”

I do. And I’ll tell you why. It’s not because I’m writing Wall-to-Wall regularly (I’m more of a voyeur, just watching and reading). It’s not because I want to be noticed. It’s not because I’m lonely. It’s because I was lost and now I want to be found.

I have returned to friends from childhood and college long after I thought those chapters had closed. Friends who were looking for me. Friends I didn’t know mattered to me as much as they do. And they do. They are my history. My memories. Part of me. A part of my life that felt very much behind me.

My life is full now. Full of the present. Full of my husband and children. Our animals. Our home. But there are parts of me my husband and kids will never know. Parts of me imprinted on my childhood memories and friendships. Parts of me that were sowed and planted long before I knew how I would grow and where those seeds would scatter. All the way from Michigan to Tennessee. And beyond.

And it’s the reminders of these parts – of finding parts of myself again amidst the names, and the comments, and the memories of the past. In the reaching out, responding, searching, and affirming connections that I had let go of or simply left behind. These connections are bridges to who I once was and who I have become.

I am wrapping myself in these connections as January draws to a close. They are truly reminders that I am never alone. No disparate pieces of me, simply parts of a whole that make me more myself than I ever could be when I was closing doors and finishing chapters. The story goes on, each friendship within me, carrying me further than I ever could have managed on my own.

Fling Me A Rainbow

Knee-deep in the January doldrums. It's cold, the holidays are over, and spring is still a ways away. A good time to organize, draw my attention inward, and count my many, many blessings. Still . . . sometimes I lose perspective as I wrap myself ever-tighter in my thickening cocoon: my roles, my family, my to-do lists.

But last night, as I was trying to get organized, I ran across a drawing my bestfriend from childhood did for me eons ago. My dad kept it initially - he always did have an eye for good stuff when he saw it - and gave it to me years later (probably when he thought I could really appreciate it). Where she got the quote I have no idea. It's depth and meaning, priceless beyond measure. It was a picture of a sky, full rainbow, and shaggy grass. And next to it, it reads: "Fling me a rainbow!" I cry to the troubled sky. And look, she flings one.


And then today, as I am busily working on my resolute to-do lists, I see the mother of one of my son's friends - someone whom I am just beginning to get to know - pull in the driveway. She comes with a pot of daffodils in hand - one tiny bloom bravely waving to me on this cold, gray day.

She knows I've been going through some stuff, just thought it might help. And, boy, does it. My day is transformed from ordinary to grace-filled. She flung me a rainbow. Just when I needed it. And my day seems to unfold exactly as it should. My heart is full. And I am happy.

I think I've made a new friend.

The Gift of Perspective

After my dad died of a sudden heart attack, I was compelled to write the following "poem". It was about the way he shaped my perspective on life. And, about how his death inevitably shaped my perspective on life.

My dad would have loved Barack Obama's inaugural speech today - the very fact that he is our nation's 44th president. How far we've come. The hope inherent in his presidency. The perspective offered by our first African-American president . . .

Barack Obama also embodies a perspective shift - a man whose integrity, fairness, vision and love for America and its citizens will keep us centered around what is important. Barack Obama's keen ability to balance amidst the many extremes in our world is a great gift - it too offers us the gift of perspective.

My father helped me intimately know the difference between many extremes. And sometimes, I found my way to the middle space. Today, I try to live in that space. What he taught me and what I know to be true is that life is a balancing act. It's also a matter of perspective. And, the ability to balance and maintain perspective amidst the many extremes makes all the difference.

the gift of perspective

frustration vs. patience
head vs. heart
safety vs. risk
wealth vs. riches
knowledge vs. wisdom
losing vs. winning
beliefs vs. values
endings vs. beginnings
bridges vs. connections
crisis vs. opportunity
change vs. growth
control vs. boundaries
practice vs. perfection
hearing vs. listening
talking vs. conversation
seeing vs. vision
hard work vs. dedication
talent vs. passion
past vs. present
strength vs. weakness
give vs. take
change vs. growth
living vs. dying

I Have A Dream

With tomorrow's celebration of Martin Luther King, Jr., thoughts of his famous "I Have A Dream" speech were running through my mind today. And as I thought of his dreams and the echoing dreams of thousands with the inauguration of Barack Obama, I was compelled to think about my children, their futures, and what dreams I have for them.

I have a dream that my kids will . . .
know peace
grow up healthy
be kind and generous
be comfortable in their own skins
be motivated by love
choose consciously and well
experience deep love
be thankful
share their gifts with the world
know prosperity
. . . always believe in their unlimited potential

Yes, I have a dream.

The Promise of Spring

Ever-so-patiently waiting for spring . . . in single digit temperatures what else can we do? We know the promise of spring - the daffodils peeking up through the damp fall leaves, the green tree buds tentatively pushing their way out, the short days of winter beginning to lengthen . . . Spring will come. But now, today, we'll bundle up, light the fire, and count our blessings: we are warm, we are safe, we have each other. And that is enough. In fact, that is everything we need.

Waiting on a Friend

One of my closest friends from high school is dying of breast cancer. She was sent home on Monday to be in the care of hospice for the final weeks of her life. What do you say? What can be said that will make this O.K.? To her or her boys or her family? What do I tell myself?

I sent her a card - I struggled with the wording for three days. I still don't know if I got it right. If I could give her hope or peace or grace or a smile. If, in the moment, she could forget about what is beckoning her and remember who she has been - who she IS - to so many.

I told her so. I told her: "You mean so much to so many - and all the love flowing from and between each of us is weaving a web for you. To catch you, to hold you, to keep you safe. No matter how much time or distance separates us, the tapestry of love created by our prayers, feelings, hopes and beliefs, keeps us all vitally connected. A tapestry of love, I send to you, today and always . . ."

God, please be the weaver I know you to be. Please catch Kris. Please let her ease into you, a simple white feather billowing gently down. Let her know your peace. Another bright star in your wondrous sky.

A star in my sky she'll always be.

A Centering Space

Centering, simple, inspiring, and beautiful. A place that brings you back to who you are and where you came from . . . and might just remind you of where you need to go: within, without, forward, back, home, away, near, far. A good place, a centering place, a place to simply "be".

The thing today - that makes my heart sing, that brings me back to center . . . knowing when to be and when to do. And then, just doing it (or, being it). (Reminds me of a friend talking about his recent New Year's "to do" list; but he'd decided it was going to be a different year and made a "to be" list instead. What would your "to be" list look like?)

Lost & Found

In Arizona for my great-Uncle Dick's memorial service. A beautiful celebration of a well-lived life with many wonderful stories, family connections and re-connections, and time to think, reminisce and find balance amidst the chaos of life and death.

From any loss I am always deeply touched by the things we "find" in the rubble and the grief: sweet memories, an extended hand, a warm hug, a deepened relationship, a stronger faith, a generosity of spirit, gratitude for life, hope for the future . . . moments of grace that bring us back to who we are and, hopefully, who we can be as our respective journeys unfold, forge ahead, and take us where we need to go.

Lost and Found:
Lessons in Loss

Take nothing for granted
Give thanks everyday.
Appreciate simple pleasures.
Live in the moment.

Laugh with a child.
Love an animal.
find solace in beauty.
Accept goodwill.

Know what love is.
Be that love.
Nurture your spirit.
Feed your soul.

Say I love you.
Practice forgiveness.
Resolve conflicts.
Let others in.

Breathe deeply.
Spend time in nature.
Let solitude speak.
Be still.

Release judgement.
Let go of control.
Seek out symbols.
Watch for signs.

Trust in miracles.
Explorer your spirituality.
Find your faith.
Find something to believe in.