Diligent Joy Blog

Don't It Always Seem to Go.....

....that you don't know what you've got till it's gone--sing it with me!  They paved paradise--put up a parking lot-ooooh la la la la oooooh la la la la!

I was driving along this week, realizing that I was deeply content.  I marveled at how that could be so when the economy is in turmoil, and we, like many others, have disappearing/reappearing college funds, retirement accounts, etc.  But somehow, that day, I was deeply in touch with being and having enough.  Knowing me, I believe part of my contentment stemmed from my sense of gratitude--I am aware that I am grateful to have a car, to be able to fill it up with ever cheaper gas, to have a home that is not in danger of foreclosure, to have children who are healthy and progressing merrily (and grumpily) along through their adolescence and young adulthood, a spouse who's stuck with me through thick and thin, wonderful friends, a twin niece and nephew who've just turned 1, a supportive faith community, a growing business, fulfilling volunteer work, and of course, the puppy.....

A couple of days later, I was in the dumps.  I felt like answering the phone with a phrase my friend and I joke about when we're in our funks:  "House of self-pity, this is Amy.  May I help you?"  Instead, I thought about what I could and couldn't change in my life--what was mine to look at and what was out of my control--and then, as God would have it, I had a spiritual direction appointment.

I was bemoaning how I still seem to struggle with making time for God in my life when a puppy can just barge right in and demand time one way or the other.  The beautiful insight from this session came in the form of a question:  What if God's love for you is like the puppy's love?  Warm, fuzzy, soft, unconditional, playful, unbounding joy.  And the analogy is really helpful to me, because truly, I have to make time for the puppy either in a positive, proactive way, or in a not so fun, reactive way.  Isn't it the same with God?  I can either take time for God in a positive, proactive, grateful, introspective, insightful way, or I can go running to God all stressed and messed and deep in the dumps and say "Help! Get me outta here!"

It was just the analogy I needed to get to another level.  I had been in my head wondering what I could DO to feel I was enough that day.  I realized that what I needed was to experience God's love for who I AM and to BE around some people who like me and love me for who I am.  I felt that the message for me was: Be still, and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10)).

So I loved on my puppy, did my work, hung out with some friends and saw a movie.  I felt so much better.  I was in touch with my better self.  The one who knows everything will be ok, one way or the other.  The parent who knows it's all good.  The spouse who deeply loves her husband.  The Amy who knows she's ok. 

I know there are always going to be ups and downs in life.  The point is to decide how to handle them, because it really is all about the journey.  God is always there--I'm just not always aware.  Don't it always seem to go....... 

Zeke

We got a new puppy.    
       

On our way to the adopt-a-pet event, I clearly stated to my family that we were looking for a small, furry lap dog, not a puppy, and preferably a girl, but that wasn't a deal-breaker. 

So we got Zeke (nee Timmy, but adamantly renamed on the car ride home), who is 7 months old, and fits all the criteria except he's a boy and a puppy.  But that's ok, because he makes up for it by being the most adorable, cuddly, life-giving force to enter our home in quite a while, which was the whole point.

My friend said, "I think this is a reaction to your son going to college."  I said, "Of course.  I planned it.  I said when he went that I wanted to get a furry lap dog to hold and cuddle and baby.  So now I have one."  "You're not going to carry him around in a purse, are you?"  "Probably not," I replied.  "But we did get him a Halloween costume." 

While we were adjusting quite well to the changes in our family, having a soft cuddly being who is so happy all the time sure lightens up the energy in our home.  Aside from some minor adjustments (he's mostly housebroken and teething like crazy....), Zeke seems to have settled in quite well to our crew, and is enjoying oodles of attention from the teenage boys who frequent our abode ("Oh my gosh!  He's so cute!" can, in fact, be uttered sincerely by male adolescents under certain circumstances). Not to mention he likes to sleep in my lap. 

This was a total self-care move for me.  I was aware that in the grieving process of launching a child and entering a different phase of parenting, I was craving something to baby.  Even regular contact with my twin niece and nephew, fantastic as it is, was not quite enough of a nurture fix for me.  Besides, my niece adores dogs.  And I am able to temper the mental alertness and toughness it takes to parent teenagers with cuddles and kisses from a soft, furry being who actually likes that kind of attention.  It's all about figuring out healthy ways to get one's needs met, and this is a win win win--Zeke wins (he was surrendered when a family moved), I win (furry cuddle time), and my family wins (they can roll their eyes at me and cuddle and play with the dog at the same time).  All around, a great scenario.

He's going to be a pirate, in case you were wondering.

Homecoming

When I was in high school back in the '70s (or the dark ages, as my children like to refer to that era), homecoming was a huge deal in my small town.  The homecoming court wore hoop dresses, and their escorts wore tuxes.  The rest of us wore formal attire.  My sister was homecoming queen her senior year, decked out in a hooped wedding gown sans veil, for goodness sake, and my brother, homecoming king a few years later, resplendent in a white tux.  I had other talents, like playing offensive line in the powderpuff football game that preceded the varsity game.  I remember there was some contact involved, because I had to tape my arms so I wouldn't have bruises showing with my short-sleeved homecoming dress my senior year.  No, I wasn't queen.  I wasn't even on the court.....

Fast forward to parenting high school students.  One of my sons, rather quiet and independent of nature, did not attend formal dances with dates.  He did go stag to his senior prom--joined up with a bunch of friends and had a great time.  My other son, the male equivalent of a social butterfly, provides us with completely different parenting adventures.  Last year, he had planned to go to homecoming with friends, and let us know the day before that he needed a gray tie.  "For the dance?" I asked.  "Why do you need a gray tie?"  "Because," he said turning a lovely shade of red, "her dress is gray."  "Oh," I responded, light bulb going on, "you have a date."

Now, there is something rather karmic about looking back and forward at the same time when parenting.  As I tried to remain calm while asking requisite questions such as, "Who all is going?"  "Where does the girl live to whose home we are taking you for pictures before dinner?" "Who is driving all 15 of you to dinner?  To the dance after dinner?" "Who pays for what these days?", my son valiantly worked on finding out the answers with minimal eye-rolling, eventually sighing, "I think next time I'll plan ahead a little more."  "Great idea!" I enthused, withholding as much sarcasm as possible.  I visualized the group of freshman girls, a veritable force to be reckoned with, who had orchestrated this entire event, and my son caught up in the vortex just as it was taking off the ground--sort of akin to being scooped up by a tornado as it jumps to its next destination.

Later that school year, upon returning to school after being home ill for a few days, this same son announced he had been asked to Tolo, a dance still a good 3 weeks away.  I gathered my male offspring for a moment of instruction about gender differences that still appear to be in tact decades after the dark ages.  "Guys," I said, "this is important information for you.  Girls are thinking about the dance 3-4 weeks ahead of time."  "Yeah," said my older son, "not us."  Some things never change.....

I had a bittersweet moment of enlightenment.  How many hours, days, weeks, nay YEARS of my adolescence and young adulthood did I waste wondering about the nuances of what a guy was thinking?  All that time spent pondering what a look or comment or tone might have meant when they didn't even have the dance on their radar and were probably thinking something along the lines of, "Hmmm.  She's kind of cute.  Wonder what's for lunch?"  (I have verified this with my spouse, whom I adore, and who likes to remind me that I have never been an adolescent boy).

Apparently, we have made progress in this generation.  To date, it is 10 days before homecoming, and my son not only has a date, but also has a gig going to another school's homecoming with friends.  Though I am wondering what color ties we'll need to shop for, I am more relaxed, and my son is more proactive--proving the existence of both evolution and faith.  Life is a journey, and after all, as the song says, if you have the chance to sit it out or dance, I hope you'll dance.

Sun Rises in West!

As is often the case on an autumn morning in the Pacific Northwest, there was a thick layer of gray rain-filled clouds in the sky this morning.  No zero hour jazz band today, so we were driving a little later than usual, and were witness to an unusually beautiful display of nature--not obvious, but evident if you were able to look beyond the foreground.

The foreground, I need to explain, was the tide flats, filled with industrial buildings, dry docked boats, scrap yards, smoke from factories, large machinery used to empty cargo ships of their containers and place them on railway carriers to deliver their goods across the country. Not that anyone's buying right now, but that's another story. 

What was unusual was that, to the West, near the mountains, the gray layer of clouds ended, and there was, on the horizon, a strip of sun.  This sunny slit in the darkness illuminated the snow covered Olympic mountains.  It was absolutely breathtaking--but not obvious, unless you were able to look beyond the oppressive cloud cover and the myriad of industrial paraphernalia littering the skyline.  It looked for all the world as if the sun were rising in the West today--and given the current lack of predictability in many of our lives lately, one could almost believe that was able to be true.

I was struck by the analogy of this to life in general, and parenting in particular.  In the Bible, the sacred text of my faith tradition, Psalm 121 talks about looking to the hills or mountains for help and realizing that help comes from God, and that God will always be there, never sleeping, never leaving us.  I take comfort in those words now, not only because they were some of the favorites of my dearly departed grandfather, but also because I need to believe that help is available to me if I look in the right place.  I have to look not only beyond the tide flats, in all their industrial glory, but also even beyond the mountains, inward to my spirit and what I know is true in order to be grounded while the sky appears to be falling.

As a parent, I want my children to look in the right place for help.  I can't tell you how many children are lost in this area.  We live in a culture that looks to media and superficiality in order to decide what to do.  We are literally acting like a bunch of middle schoolers--the most energetic and volatile  developmental group I know.  Don't get me wrong, I respect young people in the middle school grades much in the way I respect anyone who has to walk through fire to get to the other side of anything in life, adolescence included--however, it's important to know who you are dealing with.  Research has been done that shows that what has the most influence over middle schoolers' behavior is not what they think, nor what their friends think, but what they think their friends think.  And that, my friends, is how a bunch of us are acting in America today--what do I think my friends think?  And then taking action accordingly.  That is not looking for help in the right place.

Now is a great time to take stock.  Where are you looking for help?  Where are you teaching your children to look?  How will you and they know when it is the right place, and not just a "looks-like-real" imitation?  Bill Grace calls it the sniff test.  When you are facing a moral decision, you are having to decide between right and wrong--and one just doesn't smell right.  Sniff.  If you don't want to live with the headline ("Youth Leader Gets Speeding Ticket" or "Middle School Student Caught Stealing" or "ASB President Betrays Best Friend to Gain Popularity" or "Parent Espouses Frugality While Spending $500 on Shoes" or whatever it is...), don't do it.  Easier said than done sometimes, especially when prominent leaders and institutions in our country seem to have redefined American values, and especially if we don't take time to clarify our own values and teach those values to our children.

For some ideas about activities you can do with your children or your scout troop or your church school class, check out Tom Jackson's books: Activities that Teach,  Activities that Teach Family Values, and More Activities that Teach.  Each book has  bunches of activities and he tells you what type of group they are appropriate for, lists materials, and give suggestions for how to do the activity.  But back to this morning.....

I remarked to the youth in my car that perhaps we had actually found the silver lining everyone has been looking for--notify the campaigns and the media to rally in Western Washington where the Silver Lining has been found and the sun is rising in the West!  They quietly chuckled--really that was all that could be expected from a group of tired adolescents on a Friday morning at daybreak.  I took it as a good sign.  One can't look too carefully these days.