Thank you, thank you, thank you for a day off

Thank you, God, for this day.  I also have to thank my daughter, Megan.  And I better thank my parents. And Peggy, too. Everybody, quite literally everybody, gave me the day off.  First of all, God made it an absolutely beautiful spring day in Eastern NC.  As most of you know, I have spent the last several weeks adjusting to a new reality in my family.  My Dad broke his back and overnight, I became a caretaker, organizer, entertainer, and planner for my 80-something parents. (With wonderful support from my brothers)  My sweet oldest daughter gave me some truly sage advice last night – go sit down somewhere and drink a cup of coffee all by yourself.  Take an hour for you.  You need it. And Peggy agreed to hold the fort.

I spent the morning putting my house back in order.  (Painters and plasterers for days on end. We were absolutely not first in line following the last storm season so I am truly not complaining that it is now our turn) Then I did it. I had a cup of coffee. I wandered through Target, Ross, Big Lots, Marshall’s, Bed, Bath, and Beyond, and Lowes Hardware (a long-time favorite).  I got home around four to find that Tav had been doing honey –do chores outside.  We went to the nursery to shop for plants for the yard. (AM's wedding is less than 60 days away now. That’s a scary thought! Truly gives me the shivers!)

We got home, and while he continued in the yard, I spent a couple hours with my parents. Sat on the patio and drank wine.  Mom gifted me with the last crochet project my Dad’s mother finished.  A lovely, exquisitely complicated bedspread that means the world to me.  I am such a crybaby about family history.

Homemade vegetable soup for dinner.  Tav’s soup had the addition of ground lamb. (Thanks, Lynne)  Mine – all veggie. Cozied up on the couch together watching American Idol.  Hokey, I know.  But I’m an Idol addict.  Go Jessica Sanchez!!! And kudos to Tav for lasting almost the whole show.

May not be your idea of a good day.  After the intensity of the last several weeks – perfect for me.

Thanks to all contributors.  I will ever be grateful.  I will also try very hard to continue to say thank you for the small things that make such a big difference in everyday life.

This has been a great day.  Thank you, God.  And thank you family and friends for making it possible.  Anybody you need to thank today??

Thank God for the Support of Sister/Friends

Today in Eastern North Carolina was a balmy 55 – sunny – high white clouds running with the wind.  Sort of a perfect Spring Day. Except that my hair blowing in the wind generated enough static electricity to power lower Manhattan.  I owe so many sister/friends a thank you.  You read my last post.  You – too many to count – helped me define boundaries, helped me re-define what I’m willing to take personally, fed me buckets of empathy, and mostly just loved on me.  I’m grateful.  More than you will ever know.

I spent a great deal of last night talking to myself.  I knew the day would come when I would need to parent my parents.  Many, many of you warned me it was coming. But like most novices, I really didn’t hear you or believe what you told me that meant.   You were right.  I do need to accept that it’s time for me to parent my parents. (accept what I cannot change)  I need to re-define what my boundaries are, what my role is in our relationship (change the things you can).  And I need to minute by minute redefine how I react to the day.  (find the wisdom to know the difference)  I can do this. And what’s more I’ll own that it’s my turn.

I have never doubted that I was a good parent to my children – they have more than reaffirmed that fact at least 6000 times over the years.  They are really, truly, by anybody’s standards – good kids. What my challenge is now is to define what makes my parents good kids. That sounds a bit ridiculous, but this is a new parenting challenge for me. It probably encompasses the same things it’s always encompassed. Probably what it means is that they are doing the best they can.  That they are coping the best they can with aches and pains, with diminishing capacity – both physically and mentally.  That they practice some form of gratitude.  For a life well-lived. For children who absolutely love them. For the absolutely unquestioning love of pets. For children willing to assume the responsibility for making their last years as happy as they can be.  For children who understand that “diminished capacity” does not necessarily mean all capacities are diminished. For children who allow them to be their best – whatever that definition is.

Thank you, sister/friends, for making me realize that one bad day does not the whole week smother.  Thank you for holding me accountable.  Thank you for loving me.  Thanks for the long-distance hugs.  They all matter.  I hope I can return the favor ten-fold.

Confession Day

Confession Day, Ask for help Day, This was a Very Bad Day, Day.

I wish I was always patient, that I always read situations correctly, that I was able to cope with everything that happens to be thrown my way.  Unfortunately – I don’t think that is ever going to happen.  I just don’t seem to be able to distance myself from poor language choices, or uncalled for temper tantrums, or just plain bad behavior.  Even when I know that the offensive person is not in control of his behavior or his mouth or anything else, for that matter.  In other words, I should be able, as an adult, to brush bad behavior/language off and just consider the source and move on.  I guess I really need not only my own prayers on that one, but to ask for all of my friends’ prayers also.

No matter how old you are.  No matter how well you think you understand a senior citizen’s angst.  No matter how well-prepared you think you are to deal with aging parents, guess what?  You are not prepared to be damned to hell by people you love.  You just can’t prepare for that.  You just don’t think in your wildest dreams that those words will be spoken.  But they were.  And I have come to the conclusion that no matter what I prepared for, I would never have been prepared for that.

So now that it’s done, now that those words (words I would never dream of speaking – ever) have been spoken directly to me by a person I am charged (by myself, my family and God) with taking care of – what do I do?? How do I fulfill the duty I have been charge with?  I really need help to clear my mind of the words spoken - of the hurtfulness of the words and the sentiment.  I need to absolutely forget.  I need to move on.  I am the person charged with this care-taking.  I can do it.  I’m willing to do it.  I really need to put this whole thing in perspective and stop feeling sorry for myself and follow my own advice. 

This is not the parent I’ve known all my life.  This is a person who is feeling so out of control that they lash out at everyone around them in an effort to control something.  This is a person who cared for me even when I was out of control at whatever age – infant, teen, young adult.  I will care lovingly for them.  But, Lord, I need help.  I really, truly need help.

Trying to Live in My Dad's Skin

Here’s the deal. I am feeling particularly vulnerable right now. My “over 80” Dad fell and broke his back.  He hurts. His attitude stinks. He is mean. He’s my Dad. I love him

How conflicted can one girl get?? I want to be angry because his attitude is bad. But then I think about me – now. If it were me:

My back is broken, I’m totally dependent. I hurt,  I’m totally dependent. I’m scared, I’m totally dependent. my mind is 45.  I’m totally dependent.  I’m frustrated, I’m totally dependent.  My body may be 80+++ but my mind is not and I’m totally dependent. Everyone has always depended on me,  I’m totally dependent.  Who will take over for me?  I’m totally dependent.  I really, really hurt.  I’m totally dependent.  Who is going to fix this?  I’m totally dependent. I am really, really frightened.  Who will take care of my family?  I’m totally dependent.  I can’t fix this.  Who will?  I’m pretty sure my life will never be the same.  Nobody will ever be able to count on me again.  Oh, God, help me.  I’m frightened and I do not know how to fix this.  I am totally dependent.  Help me.

And in that moment of absolute clarity – he is simply my Dad.  And I get his bad attitude.  And I get why he was mean today.  And I get him - totally.  And I pray that God will help him cope.  Dependence is not for sissies or the weak of heart.  And I get that he is so unbelievably brave. He is my Dad. I love him. And I hope I never make him feel totally dependent. Dear Lord, guide us all to find the right means of support for our loved ones. Help us to empower every last shred of their self-respect and dignity even in their dependence. Help us make it easy for them to be dependent.  Let them feel respected and loved. Amen.

What part of all don't you understand?

Recently, I was engaged in conversation with a group of college students.  I spoke about the day I made the conscious decision to be accountable to myself for my morals, philosophies and behaviors.  Sounds easy, doesn’t it?  But for the me I was at that time, it was a major shift.  Up to that point, the underlying goal of all my actions was to fit in wherever I was.  There was no consistent, true to the bones, authentic me.  Chalk it up to my generation, or to the way I was raised or to the simple fact that we moved around a lot. This introvert was constantly finding herself in a new place trying to make new friends.  Add to that the need all teenagers have to just fit in and you have a recipe for lots of things to go wrong.

Enter the late 60’s, early 70’s.  The times were definitely changing.  Be there or be square and all that jargon.  It was a frightening time for me to live through.  (More on that another day.)  I survived the times, but I exited that time of my life a very much different, very much stronger, very much more authentic me.  I marched.  I sat-in.  I protested.  I rejected sororities for their exclusivity.  In the process of all that angst, I found me.  I found that there is one central belief in my life.  I am a child of God.  And that in God’s eyes we are all equal in every way. I truly internalized that I am not in control of my world.

I finally owned what my friend, John Shields often says, “What part of all don’t you understand?”  I began to study anti-racism and social justice issues.  I learned the meaning of terms like internalized racism and privilege in new and totally personal ways.  A very wise friend helped me find the language to discuss that just as for generations people have struggled with the disenfranchisement of black people and women; so now are people struggling with the disenfranchisement of lesbian and gay people.

 I keep going back to those statements I’ve heard all my life:  “What part of all don’t you understand?” “We are all God’s children.”  “God made us all.”  “We are all equal in God’s eyes.” 

What if we all held ourselves and each other accountable to those truths?  Would hate go away?  Would war stop?  Would we finally begin to celebrate the differences in our appearances and cultures instead of either pretending the differences aren’t there or trying to actively eliminate the differences? Would we begin to accept all the myriad ways God made us different?  Would we understand that He made us different on purpose?  Will we ever internalize that God loves us all equally?

See what a conversation with college students will do to your mind??  They help me remember.  They help me recommit to holding myself and others accountable for our behaviors and our words.  They remind me to take time to ponder my world and my place in it. They call me to be authentic and to be engaged in change.  It feels good.

When is the last time you had a meaningful conversation with a group of young adults who are not members of your family?  You might just be surprised where that conversation takes you. I know I was, and am; every single time.