For Everything There is a Season

"In order to write about life, first you must live it." ~ Ernest Hemingway

Page 36 of 45

Second Chances

I used to hate blueberries.

Really hate them.
Now I love them.

Yes, I realize that may not sound all that profound but it is for me. There were only two fruits in the world I didn’t like until this past summer, raspberries and blueberries (still not a huge fan of the raspberry). I absolutely love fruit salad and it so happened that my boyfriend’s sister-in-law makes a fruit salad to die for. The first time I had it was at her home several months ago. I sat there and looked at this delicious creation thinking about how much effort it would be to pick out the blueberries. Then I got to thinking about why I hated blueberries. I think I tried one when I was younger either as a small child or teen. But I wasn’t sure. So I had this great dislike for anything blueberry but really was not sure if it was even related to the taste.

I did eat the blueberries in that salad because I figured the taste of the other fruit would mask it and I was right. Then I started adding them to these green smoothies I make. But I still had not eaten them alone. I have been doing a lot of research about healing through foods, nutrition for autoimmune disorders, and superfoods. Blueberries are like the jackpot of the nutrition world. I had to get more blueberries in my system!

Then it happened. I had some blueberries in the refrigerator for my smoothies and I ate one. By itself. And…it was delightful. I loved blueberries! I couldn’t believe I had missed out on this yummy, versatile, easy to maintain superfood! What the heck was I thinking?

I know exactly what I was thinking. Like so many other instances in my life, I shunned the blueberry without really giving it a chance. A chance to prove itself one more time. A chance to explore its possibilities.

How many times do we do that in life? Dismiss our blueberries, so to speak, without a real just cause, only to find out what beauty and benefit they hold for us? We get the notion in our heads that we don’t like something or someone without ever really knowing why. Or we think there is a reason, but when we stop to try and identify it, the details become quite cloudy. The person who we met one time months ago and said something that rubbed us the wrong way, well forget them! But you see, maybe that person was having a bad day or not feeling well. Maybe said person ended up regretting what they said. Maybe they just are not very comfortable socially when interacting with people they do not know.

Here’s the thing though, maybe you could approach that person from months ago and end up having a great conversation, finding out that you have a lot in common. Person from months ago could become a very good friend. Heck, they could even become the love of your life! You just never know.

Never close your mind to the possibilities of what exists out in the world. Time is transient. People are transient. How one feels or perceives a person, place, or thing now is not necessarily how it will seem in the future. So maybe this is the time to give your “blueberry” another chance. You never know what great things and people you may find if you do.

Safe Haven

What good fellowship we once enjoyed as we walked together to the house of God. ~ Psalm 55:14
 
 
 
There is a safe haven for me in this world. Besides my home. Today, September 11, 2011, I am even more aware and more appreciative of having a refuge from the world. A world that is oftentimes unjust and unkind. It is a building, simple in structure and design, yet filled with people of all types. It is not an invincible building; it is still susceptible to the evil people in this world and the weapons they may use. But the people in the building, they are filled with love. It is the love that makes it my refuge.

 
I love walking into my church and today was no exception. We have spent our summer worship services in our small chapel which is a comforting place in itself, but going back into the “big house” each September signifies people returning from summer vacations and the start of a new season for us. People come together again to celebrate a new Sunday school year. It is a  time of new beginnings and new projects. New faces and new opportunities for fellowship.

As much as I love my safe haven, it is not about the walls, ceiling, flowers, or pews. It is about what I feel when I am there. I feel God’s presence. I feel a sense of peace that is often difficult for me to put into words. I can be myself in this haven and even when I make mistakes, say the wrong things, or have a bad day, I am accepted. It is the place that has helped me reclaim my identity and my relationship with God. It is the place I have found love of all kinds.

Because of vacation and illness, I have not been at my church on a regular basis over the past few weeks. Usually I am there at least twice a week, oftentimes more depending on what missions and activities are occurring that week. I thought of that when I woke up this morning. On top of the usual autoimmune issues I had been dealing with lately, I had a trip to the emergency room two days ago which resulted in the diagnosis of two ovarian cysts, one of them ruptured. The pain has been hell and sleep has been minimal, especially since pain medications seem to cause me significant insomnia. Despite not wanting to make the effort to shower and get dressed, I just knew that if I got to my safe haven, I would feel better. Maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally and spiritually.

And right I was. When I walked through those big heavy green doors and heard the sound of people laughing and talking, I knew that I was where I was supposed to be. One familiar voice after another. One warm hug after another. Familiarity. A listening ear. Sign-up sheets for upcoming volunteer opportunities. Normalcy. Children just a little taller than the last time I saw them.

Kind words.
Music.
Laughter.
Prayer.
Love.
These are the things which truly heal… 

Photo: Courtesy of Chuck Myers

I See Healthy People

“He who has health has hope; and he who has hope has everything.” ~ Arabic Proverb

A big realization hit me hard a few days ago.

Ready?

Here it is…

I am envious of healthy people.

Not an easy thing to admit, even for someone like myself who is self-aware and pretty open about their faults. It’s honest though. And now I feel guilty for even feeling that way. Despite seventy-three blog entries over the past year and a half that I have been blogging, I have never written about envy, jealousy or anything related to the topic. There is a reason for that. Envy is a desire for some advantage or quality that another person has. I don’t typically think of myself as an envious person. I usually spend more time on making the best of what I have and that doesn’t leave much room for wanting something that another person has.

Lately though I look at people I know (always people I know because I would never want to assume that someone is without health problems unless I know for sure) and I wonder. What is it like to just do what you want every day? To have day after day without pain? To not have to plan your week around appointments, medications, and treatments? I hope I don’t sound bitter. I know the grass isn’t always greener as they say. Everyone has their problems. And let me be clear: I WANT everyone I know to be as healthy as they can possibly be. But that doesn’t change the fact that I would like to be in a healthy person’s body for a day…an hour…a minute. To have my body be free.

I also often wonder lately if healthy people appreciate what it is their bodies can do. The fact that their body takes them to work every day. The fact that their body can nourish and support a pregnancy. Do people appreciate being able to get up in the morning and know that no matter what they face during the day, their body will physically carry them through it?  I know I never gave it much thought before I got hit with an onslaught of medical issues.

 Do you appreciate it?

Do you take care of what you have and celebrate the uniqueness that is your body? Give it more fresh air and sunshine than fluorescent lights and recirculated air? More nutrients than toxic chemicals? More love than self-hate? It all seems so simple, yet many of us don’t do these things for ourselves.

Maybe the best way for my body to be free is to first free my mind and my spirit, completely. Trust more in God. Work on ways to effectively cope. Make peace with the body I have been given. Celebrate when it gets me through a day.

It may just be time to turn the envy I have towards others into gratitude for myself.









Photo: Courtesy of Chuck Myers

The Help

“Wasn’t that the point of the book? For women to realize, We are just two people. Not that much separates us. Not nearly as much as I’d thought.” ~  Kathryn Stockett (The Help)

“All my life I’d been told what to believe about politics, coloreds, being a girl. But with Constantine’s thumb pressed in my hand, I realized I actually had a choice in what I could believe.” ~  Kathryn Stockett (The Help)

One must be living under a rock these days if they have not heard about Kathyrn Stockett’s blockbuster debut novel entitled The Help. It was recently released as a movie and appears to be a hit at the box office thus far. I am not one to usually devote an entire blog entry to a book or film, but it is one of those stories that just stays with you and hence why I feel compelled to discuss it,;especially since I read the whole 451 pages in a whopping three days. Per usual, I felt that the book was better than the movie.

The story (without giving too much away!) is set in the early 1960’s in Jackson, Mississippi. It is told from the perspective of three women. Two of the women (Aibileen and Minny) are black and work as maids and the third (Skeeter) is a white woman from a prominent white family who employs maids. After coming home from graduating college, Skeeter wakes up to the fact that the black maids are treated very differently than white people. This is initially brought to her attention by her fellow white girlfriends who have started an initiative for all homes in Jackson to have separate bathrooms for the “colored” help based on beliefs that they carry different germs and disease than white people, therefore putting the white people at risk. Skeeter also finds out that her own maid, Constantine, has mysteriously and abruptly left the household. Skeeter, an aspiring writer, disagrees with how the maids are being treated and decides to interview the maids in Jackson about their perspective on working for these white families. The daily lives of these maids as well as the Southern homemakers is explored. The result is a story which delves into the issues of overcoming racial barriers of an extremely racist part of the country during a very volatile time in the history of the United States.

There has been an outpouring of criticism over the book/movie since each of their releases. The reasons are numerous but the some of the most common criticisms have been that the story is racist because it depicts a white woman as the savior of sorts to black women. It has also been said in numerous commentaries that the story is not an accurate reflection of the racial horrors that were occurring in the deep South at that time. From some of the reviews that I have read, it would appear that there are some seriously angry people out there; angry that Kathryn Stockett had the nerve to write a book using dialect of just the black women and not also the southern drawl that we oftentimes hear from Southern white women.

As a background, I am a white woman about the same age as Kathryn Stockett and unlike her, I did not grow up in the Deep South. I never had a maid, unless you want to count my mother. I grew up in a very white neighborhood for most of my childhood and in 1970’s New England, the fact that I had a friend who happened to also be black, was highly unusual. It wasn’t until I went to the University of Massachusetts that I truly understood the racial diversity that exists in this country. I mention all this because I think it makes a big difference in regards to my perspective on the effectiveness of the story.

That being said, here is my perspective on The Help. To begin with, the Help is a work of fiction. Yes, the author grew up in the Deep South, she is a writer, and she grew up with a black maid. I am sure that she drew from some of her childhood experiences when she was writing the book but it is not a memoir. Again, it is a work of fiction.
In regards to the dialect issues, the author is not Toni Morrison or Alice Walker and doesn’t claim to be. But that does not mean that she does not have a right to write a book from the perspective of another race. I cannot sit here and say whether she did it well or not because it is not a dialect I am familiar with or educated about. I do feel that it would have been helpful to have had the dialect of the Southern homemakers dialect consistent with that part of the country. It would have added to the effectiveness of her character.

I do not believe that when Kathryn Stockett was writing this work of fiction, that she meant it to be a social commentary on the civil-rights era. I have to say, when I was reading the book and watching the movie, I was profoundly affected by the story. It opened by eyes even more to some of the atrocities that took place in our country’s history. The history classes I had in high school and the sheltered world I lived in during 1970’s New England time, did not paint a lot of images for me in regards to the civil-rights movement. Despite that the source is Hollywood, I think that this movie did that for me. Being more aware is never a bad thing…ever.

I don’t necessarily see Skeeter as the savior as the black women as the critics have mentioned. Yes, she was the catalyst for the idea of the book but it was Abileen and Minny who were the heroes and saviors in this story. It was they who risked their jobs and their lives to stand up to oppression to tell their story. I find it insulting to their characters that anyone would say otherwise. In addition, one of the issues that I think the critics missed out on was that the heart of this story is the coming together of women from different races and very different backgrounds in an attempt to understand each other and to also make a difference in our world. The male characters were not in the forefront of the story. Skeeter did not run off with the love of her life to have a happy romantic ending. To me, this story is representative of what happens when women cross their social barriers and come together to implement change. Change that can open minds. Change that can alter history.
I am curious to hear what reader’s reactions were to The Help, either the book or the movie. Please feel free to leave your comments below.

Mindful Journey

“The most precious gift we can offer others is our presence. When mindfulness embraces those we love, they will bloom like flowers.”  ~ Thich Nhat Hahn

Journeys…
Trips…
Vacations…
Different words for the same event which are basically opportunities to get away from it all. You figure out where to go, pack your bags, find a dog sitter (well I do anyways) and off you go. You have a specific amount of time ahead of you to explore, relax, or if you are really lucky, a combination of both.

I went on a journey recently. I am calling it a journey rather than a trip or vacation, because I learned something from the six days I got to leave my home. Our journey consisted of spending a few days in Portland, Maine and then exploring back roads through New Hampshire and Vermont on our way to upstate New York to visit Chuck’s two sisters. We didn’t initially plan it this way but we knew we wanted to be in both Maine and New York during his one week off from work and due to health reasons, the eight hour trip was too much for me to do in one day. So that is why we ended up making an adventure out of it. The only definitive plans we had before we got on the road was to participate in a tugboat event for the MS Society and visit his sisters towards the latter part of the trip. That was it. Everything else was based on what we felt like doing when we woke up that day. No expectations, no schedule.  It worked out perfectly because not only did this plan allow for a lot of flexibility in the managing of my autoimmune disorder, but also because it gave me the opportunity to experience the concept of mindfulness.

According to Sylvia Boorstein, mindfulness is the aware, balanced acceptance of the present experience. It isn’t more complicated than that. It is opening to or receiving the present moment, pleasant or unpleasant, just as it is, without either clinging to it or rejecting it. I think that is a great definition but I also like to think of it simply as being present or aware. I don’t think I am alone in the fact that I have wasted a lot of time worrying about the future and over planning things. Being present or aware in the moment you are experiencing doesn’t allow for worry or planning. For years and years, I thought it was the only way to manage my anxiety. But the reality was, the worrying was creating more anxiety.

It is not an easy thing to do, to be mindful of your present and fully absorb your surroundings as well as your thoughts and feelings in that moment. That is why taking a journey is such a great opportunity to do so. In our normal day to day lives, there are so many distractions. For us, the first distraction that was eliminated was Chuck not having to work for nine days. Add to that the elimination of distractions such as maintaining a home, taking care of a dog, managing my multiple medical issues/appointments, church and social commitments and what I found was that I got to be present in moments with him and oftentimes with just myself every day that week. When we came across one of the most beautiful lighthouses I ever could have imagined seeing in Maine, I was fully aware of everything about it from the smell of the ocean water hitting the rocks to the sound of the seagulls flying overhead. Instead of just touring the lighthouse and its stunning surroundings, I was fully experiencing it. I was aware and in the moment.

As Ms. Boorstein states above, sometimes accepting and receiving an experience is not always pleasant. I ran into a situation like that during our journey when I experienced an asthma/allergy flare up one night that was probably the most significant I have had in over a year. One that almost landed me in an emergency room that night. The fact that it was happening so far from home and at such a late hour had the potential to throw me into a tailspin and exacerbate the situation. But I was mindful. I accepted what was happening to me and made changes to accommodate the circumstances. Being mindful enabled me to think clearly enough to make decisions about how to manage the breathing issues without panicking. Yes, between that night and half of the next day, the event did have an impact on what I could and could not do, but I accepted it and moved on. The end result was that not only was I able to finish our journey, but I enjoyed it as well.

I think that mindfulness is essential for not only ourselves, but for our relationships as well. During our time away, it started to become more apparent to me how often I am distracted from being in the moment with my boyfriend when we are home. Sometimes this is unavoidable. A friend calls asking for help or the dog is not feeling well and needs a closer eye. Life gets busy, but it is important that when we are engaged in something together whether it be a conversation or a project, that I am present with him in that moment. I have to be because I will never get that exact moment back. That is not to say that there is not a place for those mindfulness thieves such as television, Facebook, and my Droid phone, but each activity deserves its own mindfulness and a limited amount of it at that. My boyfriend, family, friends, and dog are all much too important to not have me fully present in the moment with them rather than being distracted by all of our modern technology.

When we learn to be more mindful, the moments in our lives become richer. Our relationships take on a different perspective. Whether you call it being mindful, present, or aware, acknowledging our experiences in the present moment essentially helps guide us towards the path of living our lives to the absolute fullest. And well, you can’t really go wrong with that now can you?

Photo: Courtesy of Chuck Myers

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