Just Another Day

What day was the best day of your life?

Maybe it was the day you graduated, after having worked hard for an advanced degree. Or maybe it was the day you married that person with whom you want to spend the rest of your life. Perhaps it was the day you made an exciting move for a big career opportunity. Or maybe, as I often hear people say, it was the day your child was born – or the days your children were born.

These are special days, the kind we hope for, work for, plan for, and live for. We often celebrate them with the people who are the closest to us. We take pictures, or have loved ones take pictures, and frame them so that we can remember those days forever.

Some of these events are once in a lifetime events. Most, though not once in a lifetime, are rare.

The majority of our days proceed as the day before, and as the day before that, and as the day  before that.

We live the life of routines that we have created for ourselves and for our family, and of the routines that have been created for us. Jobs that require a certain schedule, school drop off and pick up, kids’ sports, community involvement, church commitments, and the myriad of other things that dictate our days fill those little blocks of time on our calendars.

Sometimes we embrace the routines; they give our days and weeks a sense of structure. Sometimes we hate the schedules; they seem to take away the sense of independence and adventure that we all have somewhere within us, just waiting to be set free.

Most of the time, we just accept the schedules, the events that fill them, and the days as they come because that’s what adults do.

Thinking back on the things that have interrupted my and my husband’s schedule, they are the things that often create some of our more memorable days as well, but they are rarely the kinds of days we remember fondly.

When a phone call comes from family members who usually only uses Snapchat or Facebook PM to communicate, or when a phone call comes at a time when polite people don’t call, it’s rarely good news.

It was a sunny but cool autumn morning around 9:30 while I was running when my Pandora station was interrupted by a phone call. I saw that the call was coming from our youngest sister. Knowing that we communicate pretty much solely by text or PM, I decided I should take the call. My sister told me that an ambulance would be taking mom to the hospital; that they were assuming it to be a heart attack; and that she and dad would follow the ambulance on the 45 minute trip to the hospital where she would receive initial treatment.

My husband was at work so I sent him a text. He called me shortly thereafter. Not having much information, we decided to talk as soon as I learned more. I finished my run. There was little else I could do at that point, with minimal information, and living almost exactly three hours from the hospital where she would initially be taken.

As the day progressed, a plan developed. I had found out that mom would be taken to a larger hospital in northern Michigan that was better equipped to address more serious issues. My husband would take me to the Mt. Pleasant area, about two hours from us, to meet up with my second youngest sister, and the two of us would head north together.

We did execute that plan. My sister and I left our husbands behind to work their assigned schedules, as long as things remained stable and didn’t change for the worse. We went to be with dad who had made the trip over to the city with the larger hospital. For the next two nights, the three of us shared a hotel room and spent our days at the hospital with mom.

She underwent a heart catheterization during which a stent was placed in her artery and was given a fairly good prognosis considering what she had been through. She was released after three days in the hospital.

My sister and I had gone back to the parents’ house to stay on that final night of mom’s hospitalization. I did some cleaning and made a meal before it was time for me to make my travel arrangements to head home. The forecast was for a snowstorm to come across the state by the weekend, so we decided sooner rather than later would be better. My husband met my dad and I on the evening my mom was released so that he didn’t have to drive the whole way after work. Then we headed home while dad made the trip back to their home, and mom rested at home with my sisters.

I sometimes think about how I felt waiting on the sixth floor of the heart hospital while mom was having the procedure; I stared out the window feeling like I didn’t belong in that scenario, like I had stepped out of my life and into a different one. Yes, those were memorable days – days during which, for seven people, the routine had been rather dramatically interrupted.

We have experienced similar days since, with mom and with other family members. Not all of those days have resulted in such dramatic schedule changes as did the days when mom had the heart attack, though some have come close, but each interrupts the routine of at least a few people in some ways.

This day is winding down. I ran this morning, vacuumed the house, did the laundry, got lunch for my husband when he came home on lunch break, and wrote a blog post. It really hasn’t been much more than just another day, and for that I’m grateful.

 

 

 

 

Choosing to be Childless

My sister Lesley seemed to know several things at an early age. She knew she wanted to be a teacher, and she knew she wanted to marry and have a family.

I was not quite so sure what I intended to do with my life at a young age, but the one thing that I have known forever it seems is that I never wanted to have children.

Recently, Ina Garten, a former caterer and current Food Network celeb and cookbook author, released her reasons for which she and her husband Geoffrey chose to remain a childless couple throughout their 48 year marriage. Garten’s primary reason for the choice, that she says she made “early,” is that she believes she would not have been able to have the life that she has now – a successful career, home in the Hamptons, and a hobby of traveling the world – if she would have chosen to have children.

What is perhaps even more interesting than Garten’s recent comments is the reaction to them. While it is mixed, the reaction includes some criticism, both direct and not so thinly veiled.

Though not everyone is a devotee of the Food Network or a fan of Garten, she is still a celebrity of sorts, and that carries with it some public input on one’s private life.

My life is much, much different than is hers, but I have made the same choice, though my reasons also differ from hers.

I knew that, in the very conservative church that I had been a part of during my teens and early 20s, the expectation was that a woman would marry young and start having her husband’s children. I certainly was not surprised that my choice to neither marry young nor to have children was considered aberrant in that group.

I had left that church and was in my 30s before I realized that my choice not to become a mother was considered a rather controversial choice among women in general. I don’t recall the source, but I remember reading an article about some of the struggles that women who are childless by choice face.

Personally, I hadn’t felt that I had encountered any real “struggles,” even at the conservative church. Oh, a few of the older women told me I would change my mind one day, and some people do, though I knew I wouldn’t, I didn’t find their comments to be terribly upsetting, probably because they were expected.

What I have noticed is that life is a little different for an adult women without kids. Even in the church that I had attended for the last several years, women my age shared the common bond of being mothers. That’s not to say that, in this particular church, they didn’t have careers, hobbies, or interests, but that bond of motherhood seems to me, on the outside looking in, to be a stronger bond than any other aspect of life.

Many of the coaches for Girls on the Run, who are not college age, are parents of daughters who are in the program or were in the program. I am the only one of five coaches for our team this season who is not a mom.

While not being a mom doesn’t mean that I have ever felt purposely ostracized during my life, I have often felt a little – divergent.

Friendships form in part through common interests. Perhaps I needed to spend more time with women who were young but without children so that we would have that in common. But that puts an odd limit on friendship opportunities, and that doesn’t mean that a woman without children would remain without them throughout her life. A few of my friends who were without children well into their 30s chose to become parents.

It’s certainly not impossible to have strong friendships with women who are moms even though I’m not a mom, and I do have some wonderful friendships, with a woman whose kids are young adults and on their own, and with a woman who has been my friend since our teen years who now has two young daughters, and with others as well.

My interaction with other women who are moms is generally positive, and my working relationships with my fellow coaches have been positive and pleasant as well. However, I know these two things to be true about woman: our reproductive choices can be very personal, sensitive, and emotional; and we can be hard on each other, sometimes without completely realizing it.

As I think about Garten’s reasons for not having children, I can initially see the validity in some of the criticism that finds her to be rather selfish. Though I am not living a luxurious life in the Hamptons and traveling the world, some of my reasons for not choosing to have children may seem selfish to others as well. It may be that my not wanting to take on that full time, life time responsibility may be considered a very selfish reason to choose childlessness.

Then I have to step back as I think about Garten, from my bias against the rich and arrogant (said with a wink), and become objective again and realize that she has as much right to her choice as I do to mine, and as my sister Lesley does to have her three children; my sister Steph does to have her first one on the way; my friends do to have their children; and you do to have yours – or not to.

Clearly I’m involved with children, having a nephew, two nieces and one on the way, my husband’s granddaughters and one on the way, friends’ children, and coaching GOTR. I do like children. I also like to return them to their parents.

Though my decision has stirred surprisingly emotional results within me on a very few occasions, it is a decision that I do not regret in the least.

 

 

 

 

An Easter Experience

Though an early morning haze hung among the pine trees that lined the road, we could see a coral glow on the eastern horizon. It had begun to break through the dimness and illuminate the Easter Sunday morning as though it had been supernaturally scripted.

My husband and I had spent the night at his daughter and son-in-law’s home in northern Michigan, and we had gotten up early to make the hour-long drive to attend the Easter sunrise service at the church my parents and youngest sister regularly attend.

The somewhat somber service focused on the events of Jesus’ life just prior to his crucifixion and included the singing of a select few traditional hymns, readings from the Gospels, and the taking of communion.

We enjoyed the breakfast that followed the service with my family. My husband and I drove back to his daughter’s home to help them prepare for the Easter dinner crowd, that would eventually include both of our families, while my family stayed for the service that followed the breakfast.

Though I had been happy to help with preparations and had been quite excited to spend the afternoon our families, I felt like I was missing something in not having stayed for the second service, because it was the service in which the focus turned to the joy of the resurrection.

As we approach Easter this year, I have been receiving a myriad of emails promoting Easter products and sales. One of those emails came from the owner of a company that sells seasonings, spices, and extracts. We enjoy the company’s products and are on the emails list. The owner often writes lengthy emails that extend beyond marketing to include his political, social, and philosophical views.

In this recent email, the owner spoke about Easter, calling it “The Now Holiday,” and described churches as places that “use their pulpit to preach tax cuts for the rich funded by denying health care for the poor, it’s clear that at least in some branches, it’s the money changers who have driven out the teachings of Jesus,” and Easter as a time when “(They) all pound Cloves into hams and blame the Jewish people for Jesus.”

While the business owner is as entitled to his political and philosophical views as anyone,  he is incorrect in painting churches and the celebration of Easter with that broad, demeaning brush.

While it is correct that some churches misuse their pulpits, and some people may actually blame the Jews for Jesus’ death, his picture shows only a glimpse of what takes place in churches, and an even smaller glimpse into the significance of the celebration of Easter.

I will address his first statement only briefly by saying that I do not attend a church in which the pulpit is used to promote specific political agendas. Last fall, we changed churches in order to reduce our commute from 25 minutes to only five minutes, but neither the former church, that I had attended for nearly 15 years, nor the church we currently attend has ever used the pulpit to promote political agendas.

Regarding his second statement about pounding cloves into ham, while I sincerely respect the choices of those who do not eat pork or meat, a flavorful ham has always been part of our families’ Easter dinners.

As a kid, I looked forward to Easter for many of the same reasons that kids in families that celebrate Easter do today . Mom would hide the eggs that we had dyed the afternoon before, and we would get up early to find them. After we found all of the eggs, we would see our pretty Easter baskets sitting on the table. We each had the same basket year after year, and it would filled with that wispy, green grass, a small chocolate bunny, Cadbury eggs, and jelly beans that we looked forward to each year.

We would then attend the Easter Sunday services. Grandma and grandpa would come over for dinner after church. It was a fun, family day for us.

As a young girl attending church in a pretty new dress, I was aware that Easter was a time to remember that Jesus rose from the dead. I may not have fully appreciated the story of Jesus’ sacrificial death and miraculous resurrection, but it all sounded okay to me. Believing in the story of a resurrection might seem fairly normal for a child, however, many people have issues with that part of the story as adults.

As an adult, I can certainly understand why people would question the specifics of the story of Jesus, from his birth to a young virgin to his resurrection after a violent death. But as an adult, I continually find that the celebration of the resurrection is one of the most powerful, meaningful experiences of the year for me.

During my early 20s, I stopped attending church for a year or so. I needed time to evaluate the beliefs, or more accurately the rules, of the specific church I had been attending, several of which might fit into the business owner’s small picture that is often painted of church and of those who attend.

Still, I believed that there was significance in message of Jesus and in the reason for his life. People of Christian faiths celebrate Jesus’ birth during Advent and the Christmas holiday. That lovely story, about the baby Jesus being born to young Mary and her carpenter husband Joseph and being visited by shepherds and wealthy astronomers alike, was destined to have the brutal and seemingly tragic ending that it had on the cross.

Jesus’ mission was more than setting an example of good behavior, though he did set the ultimate example during his life on earth. His mission was to be the final sacrifice for the forgiveness and healing of the human race, for every one of us regardless of our status in this world.

Both his death and his resurrection were vital components in fulfilling his mission.

If you’re skeptical yet curious, consider visiting an Easter Sunday service this weekend.

To choose a church that is not like the ones described by the business owner I quoted earlier – a church in which the teachings of Jesus “have been driven out,” I would recommend doing what we did – choose a church with a similar mission statement: “A church where Jesus is made known, and you are always welcome.”

When Jesus is central to the mission and the message of a church everything else will fall into place, and you too could experience the power and the hope of the message of Easter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Standard to Which We Hold Others

“What a hypocrite!”

If you’re wondering who I am quoting, I can honestly say no one person in particular, but as I have been reading more of the “Comments” on articles and posts than I usually do, I have seen the word “hypocrite” tossed around a lot this past week.

While many of us are familiar with the term, and it’s meaning, I looked for the denotation of the word. What I found was that the term refers to “one who engages in hypocrisy.”

That naturally led me to look into “hypocrisy.” I found the following definition: “the practice of claiming to have moral standards or beliefs to which one’s own behavior does not conform; pretense.”

Though it’s not always the case, it appears to be the case more often than not that when a person is being accused of being hypocritical, the accuser points to a person who has claimed Christian faith and pronounces their judgement that the behavior is certainly not Christian.

It is true that those of us who publically claim a Christian faith have set an expectation in the minds of other as to the way we should behave.

Are those expectations that others place on people of faith fair?

In some cases, it’s fairly clear that the accusers don’t adhere to a Christian worldview, and in those cases, I wonder two things actually: 1) how does the accuser know what the expectations for Christian behavior should be, and 2) on what standard does the accuser measure his or her behavior.

Regarding my first question, many people, whether Christian or not, are at least vaguely familiar with the teachings of Jesus, though I find that familiarity is less common the younger people are. But a vague familiarity can lead to problems when trying to understand the exact message that Jesus might have been sending. Theology aside, vagueness in knowledge may prevent historical or contextual accuracy in interpretation. It may be necessary for a person who wants to accuse one of hypocritical behavior based on a belief system to first become a student of that belief system so that he is aware of whereof he is speaking.

In pondering my second question, whether or not a person claims a Christian faith, or any other faith for that matter, there are expectations as to how people should live in a civilized society. I know that those who practice a faith than Christianity have their own sets of standards to which they strive to adhere based on their beliefs. For those who claim no specific faith, I would gather that societal expectations are the only expectations for morality and behavior to which they hold themselves.

I may be wrong in my assumptions about those who are atheist or areligious. If not though, it seems they may have exempted themselves from hypocrisy based on the fact that they do not adhere to a specific set of moral and behavioral values.

As much as I do not believe that one has to be religious to live in a moral way, I do not believe that one has to be religious to behave in a hypocritical way.

I’m fairly certain that every one of us can think of a person who doesn’t “practice what he or she preaches” whatever a persons religious or sociological views. We can think of a person like that because it’s so easy to see the flaws in others isn’t it though.

While I am not advocating giving a pass to inappropriate behavior, I am hoping to promote two things through this post: 1) we should find it more difficult than easy, in most cases, to have to go to a person and talk to them about a behavior or an issue that is cause for concern; and 2) we should be introspective enough to understand that we may not want others to hold us to the standard to which we are so ready to hold them because as Jesus said in Matthew 7, “Don’t criticize, and then you won’t be criticized. For others will treat you as you treat them. And why worry about a speck in the eye of a brother when you have a board in your own? Should you say, ‘Friend, let me help you get that speck out of your eye,’ when you can’t even see because of the board in your own? Hypocrite! First get rid of the board. Then you can see to help your brother.”

I’m not going to become expository on this excerpt from scripture, but I would like to point out something that I noticed at the conclusion of this paragraph; Jesus says that once we take the time to remove the board that is in our eye – or to deal with our own faults – we can help our brothers and sisters to deal with their faults rather than haphazardly accusing them or tearing them down for our selfish benefit.

Caring enough about someone to help, to discuss a behavior of concern face to face, takes courage. Anyone can call another person a hypocrite, especially given the anonymity of the internet. When we realize that anyone could call us a hypocrite at some point in our lives, it should give us a little pause and from that pause should come insight, humility, and graciousness.

 

 

 

 

 

Coming Back Home

“Where ‘re you headed?” asked the soldier who pulled up in the drab Army issue jeep.

“Ottumwa, Iowa,” was the answer he received from the soldier, wearing his dress uniform, who climbed into the jeep.

“Never heard of it. I guess anywhere you live is home,” the driver answered.

If you’re a fan of the TV show MASH, as I am, you may recall that scene from the episode entitled “Good-Bye, Radar.” The town of Ottumwa, Iowa was the home town of the fictitious character Walter “Radar” O’Reilly and was described as a rural, farming community.

Upon doing some research, I found that the town of Ottumwa is a real place in Iowa, in fact, it’s now a fair size city of approximately 25,000, at the time of the 2010 census. It’s also one of the many, many places I have never visited.

My initial thought is that I’m not too interested in visiting the town.

In the spring of 2014, my husband and I took a week long vacation. My husband had made a reservation using Home Away, which we had done with success before. Our “cabin” was in Owenton, Kentucky. I knew nothing about Owenton, but he had told me it was not more than an hour away after we had crossed into Kentucky from Cincinnati.

We had stopped in an interesting part of Cincinnati, with a market area, a collection of fun shops, and Blue Ash Chili, one of their more famous restaurants, 

We then made the hour long trip into Kentucky, driving further and further from “civilization.” Once into the town itself, we saw several churches, but not much else – well, other than lovely, green rolling hills. We stopped at the one market we had come across since it seemed like it might be the only option. Our border collie was interested in the sheep that loitered on one of the green hills near the market’s blacktop parking lot.

Our cabin was on a dirt road, that was nearly more of a two track than a road, with literally nothing around except for the very lovely home of the owners of the property, and their home was a mile from the cabin.

The cabin was unique and lovely, with a full bath that included a jetted tub on the main level, and a half bath with a washer and dryer on the second level, plus a full kitchen, and a great deck that encircled nearly the entire structure.

From our rental in Owenton, we ventured into Frankfurt at least twice, and we went into Louisville one day as well.

I’m going to be honest and say that the isolated little cabin, though truly comfortable, was not my favorite place that we’ve ever stayed. I wondered who would live in Owenton, and why.

The capital city of Frankfurt was charming, and though Louisville had its share of traffic like a city would, I found it to be very pretty in ways. Still, I couldn’t imagine living in those areas either.

In years prior to our trip to Owenton, we have been as far west as St. Louis and had a good time seeing a Cardinal’s baseball game, hanging out in the city, looking at the arch; we have been out in Canaan Valley, WV where we rode horses and did some fishing; we have been as close to home as Cheboygan, Michigan where we stayed in a more rustic but still comfortable cabin, drove up to see the Mackinaw Bridge at night, and jumped in at least one lake. 

We’ve been as far south as Orlando and as far north as Copper Harbor. 

Those of you who have read my blog posts or who know me know how much I like Indianapolis where we spent a week last May. I could actually see myself living there if it weren’t for the fact that I love my family, and my husband’s family and his little granddaughters and want to be close to them.

With that primary exception, I couldn’t picture myself living in most of the places we’ve visited. 

Just this past week, we traveled to Cleveland. We ate at a funky restaurant in an up and coming district and saw a jazz combo out of Chicago at a fun venue just on the edge of downtown Cleveland. We both found the traffic to be annoying there, but we had a good time and decided there may be more to explore in and around the city. But I couldn’t picture living there either.

The next morning, we went on from Cleveland to Pittsburgh. I had been to Pittsburgh twice, both times I had come into town on the Megabus which drops riders off right in the heart of the city at the convention center. The friends that I had gone to meet my second time in Pittsburgh and I had taken the commuter rail system called “the T” nearly exclusively once we had all arrived in Pittsburgh. 

This time, my husband had tried to drive around the city, something that we both found fairly frustrating being from the Midwest where roads can go straight in a given direction for miles and miles. That is not he case in Pittsburgh.

We stayed in a hotel outside of the city itself, in an area called Penn Hills according to my phone. I found that the population was more diverse than I thought it would be, outside of the city in a mountain type town. We come from an area where racial and ethnic diversity is very common, and another thing that is somewhat common is the defensiveness – a kind of barrier that begins with suspicion and follows the continuum to hostility in more rare cases. That was not the case in the Pittsburgh suburb. From the diner, or dive, where we stopped for subs to the pizza shop with the brick oven to a Dollar General where we stopped to grab ice cream, everyone was open and friendly.

But, I still can’t picture myself living there either.

Everywhere we have been, people live there, and even if I can’t picture myself there, it’s true that anywhere someone lives can be home.

I had thought that our reservation in Pittsburgh was nonrefundable, as our reservation in Cleveland had been. I had told my husband that if I had known we didn’t “have” to continue on to Pittsburgh, I would have suggested we just head home from Cleveland due to the rainy forecast and some other concerns. But I’m glad I didn’t know, because even if an area is a place I might not choosr to call home, I have seen new things, tried new things, crossed paths with new people, and have returned home better for the experience.