What I Did for Love

Those of you who are familiar with “A Chorus Line” will recognize my title as being borrowed from the song by that name from the musical. 

In the story of aspiring dancers, the song is sung to celebrate their passion for the dancers’ profession – their art. It’s a love song I understand, yet I am envious of that love.

This week’s blog post fulfills a commitment for me, one that I made to myself even before 2017 began. I determined to write a blog post each week this year. 

With this post, I have achieved my goal.

At times the words came easily, inspired by deep sadness, like the post I wrote in January about Cali’s passing; inspired by frustration with current events, like the post I wrote after watching the panel discussion “Restoring Civility in the Public Square”; or inspired by happiness, like the post I wrote in November about how adoption had changed my life for the better by giving me two more sisters.

At times, I struggled, unmotivated and uninspired. Sometimes inspiration surprised me with a post that I was pleased to share. But sometimes, I felt as though I had barely completed a homework assignment.

Whether the posts came easily, or whether they were work; whether two people read them, or 22 people read them; and whether or not anyone remembers any of them when this year comes to a close, I can say that ultimately I did what I did for love. 

Thank you to those of you who have followed my blog this year. Your reading and your feedback has meant a lot to me.  

I plan to continue to post regularly in 2018, but I’m not planning on setting a specific goal beyond that for the new year. 

Happy New Year!

The Darkness Has Not Overcome

It can feel as though the nights last forever as December wears on.

That seemingly endless darkness does provide an ideal backdrop for one of the traditions that many of us enjoy during the holidays, driving around our neighborhoods, towns, and cities looking at the Christmas lights.

Whether it’s the simple outlining of a house in colorful lights or those almost garish displays that you’re certain can be seen even from planes flying over, the brightness and the colors do provide some cheer during the long, cold December nights.

Another thing that has provided some cheer for me this December is the Advent season.

The word “Advent” means “the arrival of a notable person, thing, or event.” Many Christian denominations include Advent activities in the worship service for the four weeks leading to Christmas Eve, the night when we celebrate the birth of Jesus, the most notable person to be born into this world.

As we have moved through this Advent season at the church that my husband and I attend, I have found both comfort and hope in the words that are read during the lighting of each of the candles in the Advent wreath: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” 

At times, the darkness is more than just a period of winter when the sun is furthest from the earth in the northern hemisphere. It can seem to penetrate down to our very being. While it may be outside as the days grow shorter, it can also be within us as a sense of restlessness, pain, grief, and even hopelessness. 

Being Christian is not what is presented by many TV preachers who stand on elaborate stages in mega churches. Christianity doesn’t free us from facing the challenges of life, and it doesn’t make us perfect people who can soar past those challenges as though we’re oblivious to them.

I believe it was two weeks ago on a Saturday that both the church that we attended previously and the church that we now attend had funeral services, one for a wife and mother of two young men who are not yet in high school; she fought cancer for ten years before it took her from her family and friends. Her husband and her kids are certain to be painfully aware of her absence this Christmas.

During my 44 years on earth, I have cried as I have said goodbye to my grandparents, my only uncle, to family-in-law, and to other friends.

I have felt the uncertainty when we have gotten those phone calls that mom, dad, my sister, my niece, and other family members are in the hospital, often quite far from where I live.

I have faced my own illnesses, and I struggle with anxiety and depression and have sought professional help to address those issues.

I have been among those who were separated out during a staff meeting and taken to another room at the hotel where the meeting was being held only to be told we would no longer be working for that employer, and that we would be escorted back to our place of business to pack our things and to leave. Then I got the news from my husband that he too had lost his job, before I had even found another job.

I have faced career failure and have felt lost on the career path. I have definitely thought that many things in my life would be different.

Those of us who call ourselves Christian are not excluded from the difficulties of life. When we face those difficulties, we feel the concern, fear, and hurt just as anyone else would; we even wonder why sometimes. We ask many other questions as well.

For most of us, God hasn’t appeared in a bush that’s on fire, but isn’t being burned up, and told us why we’re hurting or what to do next. That just doesn’t happen.

In many ways, we live life as do those who espouse other religious beliefs, or as those who do not adhere to any religious belief system.

We find happiness, comfort, and support among our family members and friends. We look to trusted family members, mentors, or peers for advice. And we often make decisions on those tough issues based on the best information that is available to us.

One thing is different though. That light that shines in the darkness, that the darkness has not overcome, and will not overcome, that gives me a hope like nothing I have ever known.

I have faced some tough times, and some times that have nearly broken me. I didn’t experience a supernatural rescue, but then again, I suppose I did in a sense because Jesus came into the world to give us all a hope that, while not freeing us from the challenges and the pain of this life, shines so brightly in the darkness that we can see our way through the most difficult times. We can see our way through because he saw his way through to the cross and to the grave to give us life forever and hope when it seems like there is no hope left.

The Christian faith isn’t magic; it’s work, a lifelong commitment to searching for the truth while knowing you’ll never find all of the answers – the faith part. It’s living a life that to some seems absurd, yet even without all of the answers, even if that light shining in the darkness is a flickering flame barely able to shine on, it still makes sense somehow.

 

 

 

Be A Beginning

“Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.” It’s a beautiful song, and I enjoy hearing it at Christmas time. It’s a positive reminder for me of how I am called to live.

Though one doesn’t have to dig too deeply into the history of this country to discover that other periods in our nation’s past have been rather rancorous, this last year and a half or so certainly has had its share of meanness and divisiveness.

While I have my political views, I generally keep those things tighter to myself than some people choose to, not because I haven’t put in the effort to arrive at the conclusions at which I have arrived, and not because I don’t believe that I too have a right to express my opinions and convictions, but rather because I believe it may finally be time to move on in many ways.

Regardless of who took the oath of office in January, or of who will take it the next time, we will always see an amazing amount of need in our nation.

During the holidays, these needs are brought to the forefront a little more than they may be during the rest of the year.

We hear the bells of the Salvation Army volunteers even before we enter the stores. We receive mail from every charitable organization to which we have donated, and some that we have never heard of, during the months of November and December. We are invited to attend benefit performances on campus. And we are encouraged to make donations of clothing, food, or cash for various causes at our places of business.

Of course it’s wise to investigate charitable causes, but those of us who are involved throughout the year have our favorite worthwhile causes, and we can recommend several. If you don’t yet have favorite charitable causes, find one, or a couple.

It’s not too difficult to separate out the valid from the scammers when it comes to charities. Local groups and local churches are often helping people right in your own towns and cities of residence too.

Not only does peace begin with each of us, but making a difference, rather than focusing on our differences, in our own communities and in our own country begins with each of us as well.

It has long been the case that people of different cultures, religious faiths, and economic groups have come together to make this country and the world better. They’re doing it because they know that we absolutely cannot rely on those people who hold the highest offices, whether they’re on our team or not. It has to be us – we the people. 

In your family, on your campus, at your place of business, if it hasn’t begun yet, let it begin with you.

Below is a link to Charity Navigator, a website that tracks the performance of charities.

https://www.charitynavigator.org/?gclid=CjwKCAiApdPRBRAdEiwA84bo38bks2-wF8XTYQVI8D1nVoFnecnNuJ3jBlNsagLlZJ5Lh4r3pXofHxoC_0gQAvD_BwE

 

 

 

Rediscovering Resilience

As a runner and recreational athlete, I have been amazed at the accomplishments of several of my friends.

Last weekend one of my friends completed a 100 mile trail ultra marathon. That’s the most recent in a list of several feats that have left me both inspired and in awe.

Another of my friends has completed a ski marathon that involves an entire day on the cross-country course carrying a backpack filled with his necessities for the day, the overnight camping experience, and the entire next day’s journey to the finish line. He hasn’t just completed the event once, but seven times if I recall correctly, and those seven completions came out of over twice as many attempts.

I have some other friends who have become triathletes in their 40s and 50s. I am excited to say that I am friends with another woman who has qualified to run the Boston Marathon several times and has crossed that finish line at least twice. And I can now add another running friend to the list of those who have done the work it takes to run a BQ time.

I am also married to a man who has created his own fitness challenge – a challenge that will last 10 years. My husband decided that in order to keep his commitment to his physical health, he would walk around the world. He is nearly one-third of the way around and working every day to achieve his lofty goal.

Though all of those things are inspiring indeed, I recently saw the inspiration for this blog post on the page of the young woman who just finished her first 100 mile event. It was posted by one of her friends to provide her with some pre-race inspiration.

There is something about running that seems to so obviously be a metaphor for life. And though the longest distance I have run is the 21k, 13.1 miles – most commonly called the “half marathon,” I understand that mindset of a distance runner. It is true that we train ourselves to continue when we’re sore; when we’re tired; when we don’t want to. We continue because we know in the end we will be stronger for finishing that run, even when it’s tough, especially when it’s tough. 

I haven’t run any significant distance in quite some time. I think the last time I ran even three complete miles was in March. A back and ankle injury sidelined me.  When I finally saw the doctor, he confirmed that I was correct in ceasing running due to the nature of the back issue. He did tell me that I could start to run again in time, but to lessen my time and distance in order to continue to run healthy.

It was during that same time period that my struggle with anxiety was increasing, and it continued to escalate. If you have been following my blog posts, you may recall the post in which I shared the severity and frequency of the panic attacks I have been experiencing throughout the fall.

I am a person who always wants to know “why.” In this case, it’s likely that my forced break from running is not the totality of the reason for the relapse of the anxiety disorder, but I expect it’s certainly part of the equation that would lead to the answer.

As I read that post on my friend’s page, I thought about some of the hardest evenings I have had in a long time. I thought about one terrible night in particular when I had to wait over two hours after work for my husband to come get me, while also waiting to hear how my dad’s emergency surgery (about three hours north of where we live) was progressing. I was tired on that Monday. I was alone. I was fearful.

I had texted and called my husband several times while he was trying to finish up his workday. When he picked me up, I was a mess. I said, “I can’t do this anymore.” He snapped back with, “I guess you’ll just have to quit then.”

As bad as the panic attacks had been, and as tired as I was, and as angry as I was at that statement, I said, “I don’t want to quit! I want to get well!”

It was true that as rotten as I felt in that moment, I really didn’t want to quit. I wanted to win. I wanted to be that person who could just go to work and have a normal workday, long and boring as it might be. And even more than that, I wanted to be the person who could stand at the start line of a half marathon, accepting of the nervous energy and ready to put it to good use on my way to the finish line.

It’s unlikely that I’ll run a half marathon again, but I certainly hope to race again. I also hope to be able to take on new challenges, enjoy new successes, and experience new things in my life.

As I have worked through these last few months with the help of a professional, and as I work to build back up to running again, I see such parallels.

Most of the time during a training plan or a running routine, a run is just a run, but sometimes a run is really hard. Running is so much like a day; we find a way to get through it, whether it’s just another day, or one of the most challenging days we have to face.

As I thought about the post, that you will see in its entirely below, I realized that is part of the reason that even on that horrible Monday night I just couldn’t see quitting as a viable option. Runners are resilient. I was a runner; I was resilient, and I can be once again.

Whether you are an endurance athlete, a recreational athlete, or someone who has little or no interest in those things, you too can be – and likely have been – resilient. While resilience might not show up in the genome, I believe it’s there for all of us. It’s just that, at times, all of us need a little reminder.

The Stuff That Memories Are Made Of

It was a little before 8:00 on a recent Thursday evening, but it was not just any Thursday evening; it was the night that the Canadian Pacific holiday train was scheduled to pass through Michigan on its way to Indiana.

We first discovered the holiday train last year when I happened upon a Facebook post saying that it would pass through our area that Wednesday night.

I told my husband about it while he was on his lunch break. That afternoon I looked into the train a little more, and I discovered later that evening that my husband had done the same.

That evening we went out looking for a place to see the train. Several people were at a little coffee shop and bakery by the tracks. We joined the group around an outdoor fire pit and talked about whether or not we would stay. We went in; I got hot chocolate, and my husband got coffee. We stayed for a little while and then left to find a place where we could wait in the car.

My husband found a place on a dirt road, that as it turns out wasn’t as isolated as one would think given that the tracks pass through that area. Still, we parked and waited, and waited, and waited.

I then found a Facebook thread on which people were posting pictures as the train passed through their area. Those posts gave us an idea of how long we would be waiting if we wanted to see the train.

We did wait that night, and we did see the train, both on that dark country road, and back in town.

As soon as the train was out of sight, my husband said, “Get in the car.” My generally patient and calm husband rarely makes such direct and insistent statements, so I shoved my cell phone and camera into my jacket pockets and got in the car.

He told me he wanted to see if we could catch the train again in town. So we made the short drive back into town – and made it even shorter as he did exceed the speed limit a bit, and we saw the train again.

Having learned from our experience last year, I started to check the Facebook threads just after 8:00 this past Thursday. We knew that we could track the progress of the train at home and then go out to see it if we wanted since the tracks run not much more than a mile away from our house.

The train comes into Detroit from Windsor, Ontario, and it had not yet cleared customs when I started checking. That being the case, we weren’t sure that we were going to stay up to see it pass through since we figured it would be at least 10:00 or later.

As we watched TV, I continued to check the threads for the train’s progress. Once it had cleared customs, it began the slow trip through Detroit, but we knew that it sometimes gets delayed in Oakwood Yard, or even along the tracks, because the right of way is given to freight trains.

Sometime after 9:30, I saw that the train had passed through Romulus and had been given a clear signal nearly to the state line. We looked more carefully at the thread and indeed we saw pictures of the train passing by Metro Airport and other locations in Romulus. Though we were both ready to head to bed, we decided to go out and see it given the information on the Facebook thread.

We didn’t have to wait too long at all before we heard the whistle. We got out of the car and watched the brightly colored train pass through on a temperate, moonlit night.

I hadn’t slept well all week, so when I initially remembered that it was holiday train night, I was a little sad. I just didn’t feel like investing the energy into it. But as I watched the Facebook posts just out of curiosity, I couldn’t resist. The anticipation and excitement of those waiting to enjoy this unique experience was contagious, and I found myself hoping that the train would come early enough so we could go see it.

I’m so glad we did. It has become something of a tradition for my husband and I. It’s fun to jump in the car in PJs, and Nike running shoes, and head out into the night to make a memory.

Life is so busy for most of us, and sometimes we just don’t feel like we have enough energy to deal with the things that require our attention, let alone to add extra things to our lives. It’s often at the end of the day that these extra things await making it that much more difficult. Getting home then getting dressed to go out to a holiday party, going to church to see a living nativity presentation – or even taking part in one, or taking the kids to see the Christmas lights, all of these things can be tough to do.

Though I definitely feel the wear and tear of life at the end of a day, I have often looked for that last little bit of energy and have gone out with the intention of sort of trying to enjoy an event rather than just enduring it, and more often than not I find that I am glad I did.

On holiday train night, our city has plenty of opportunities to party. The little coffee shop by the tracks was open again this year, The brew pub down by the tracks with their patio was open too.

With so much going on every day and with so much noise all around us already, I’m glad we chose the quieter way to enjoy the experience. Sometimes the quiet memories are the best.

Whether you prefer that “hustle and bustle” some songs of the season speak of, or whether you like a quieter moment with a warm peppermint drink, save some energy to enjoy making some new memories this season.