Gracious

I was flipping through channels awhile back when Gone With The Wind came on television. It’s one of those movies I just can’t help but stop and watch for awhile. I love the accents, the way they dressed and carried themselves, and the outrageous way they treat each other.

I always loved watching Scarlett because she was so foreign to me… so bold and brazen and unapologetic. I couldn’t get enough of her. It was the same for me when I acted on stage and got to play a back-talking Anne Frank, or a sassy Hot Lips Houlihan. Getting to experience someone whose qualities go against your nature is just so liberating. Watching Scarlett was so entertaining and simple… while she had layers to her character, she certainly wasn’t hard to figure out.

But the character in Gone With The Wind who really intrigued me the most, the one who made me stop and think and ponder decisions, was Melanie. Kind, gentle, soft-spoken Melanie. I would often watch and admire her, and think to myself that no one could actually be that good. She looked beyond the surface to see the truth in people, even when they didn’t want their truth to be discovered. Even when they didn’t know the truth about themselves.

Melanie was more confident than Scarlett, even though she didn’t seem to be. Scarlett was louder and attracted more attention, making her seem so self-assured, but it was Melanie’s comfort in her own skin that allowed her quiet strength to dominate. She wasn’t easily insulted, she didn’t jump to conclusions, she gave without expecting in return and loved without condition.

There were times I would watch and think she should have stood up for herself more… that she allowed herself to be a doormat. But the more I watched, the more I came to understand that she didn’t feel the need to stand up for herself because she already knew who she was and knew what was important in her life. She wasn’t a doormat. A doormat is when someone steps on you against your will. Melanie saw all that happened and understood why Scarlett acted as she did. She accepted her, she loved her and she chose to be her friend.

Melanie was gracious.

I want to be like Melanie.

The last few years, rather than make resolutions, I’ve chosen a one-word theme for the year. I first heard of this idea through Ali Edwards’ blog and fell in love with the concept. I certainly had no idea how much I would learn about myself through it.

The first year, my word was “maintain.” I was always pushing too hard to try to be like my old, healthy self and would often get into such health set-backs that life turned into one big rollercoaster. That year I decided to use “maintain” as a way to remember not to push… to be content in the simple and appreciate the abilities I still had. I was seeking the status quo.

That year, there was no option for me to maintain. My health was out of my hands and my body took about 10 steps backward… not because of my activity level, but because the disease has a mind of its own. My goal was to maintain, and it was in that year I learned how to let go. I learned that it’s not up to me to make decisions about how my life will proceed… it’s up to Him. While I started out wanting to maintain my health, I learned to maintain my faith and trust.

Last year, I chose “devotion.” I wanted to be devoted to reading the Bible every day, keeping in touch with friends, doing my physical therapy, keeping up with the blog. I wanted to be intentional in these things. Then life happened. Cushing’s happened. I was immobile, in crazy amounts of pain, migraines made it impossible for me to read, I was too weak to think of things to write about and pain kept me from the computer. Everything I was going to be devoted to was out the window, because my means of keeping up that devotion were stripped from me. I learned to be devoted only to my faith and trust in God.

You can see why I’m a little nervous to pick a word this year. It’s like praying for patience, and then finding your path bombarded with happenings that require you to use that patience. But I’m going to give it a try anyway.

My word, like Melanie, is gracious.

Dictionary.com defines it as:
     1. pleasantly kind, benevolent, and courteous
     2. merciful or compassionate: our gracious king
     3. Obsolete. fortunate or happy

I want to be gracious in all I do. I want to see people’s true hearts and intentions, even when their actions prove otherwise. I want to be open to people and not jump to conclusions. I want to give people space to be themselves, to accept them for who they are and ride the journey with them as they discover themselves.

I want to give without expecting to receive. I want to help more than I am helped. I want to show mercy to people who hurt me, and not in a way where others notice and give me credit. I want to love for the sake of loving, give for the sake of giving, believe for the sake of believing. I want to love people for who they are, who they may become and who they are trying to be.

I also want to be gracious with myself. I want to give myself the space to be ok with the fact that I can’t keep up with things as well as I did before. I want to learn to love who I am as my body goes through this constant rollercoaster … even in the times when I look in the mirror and I am nowhere to be found. I want to be gracious enough to let others help me when I need it, and not tell myself that I’m being a burden. I want to make sure my hand is always open in giving to others, and also make sure it’s not closed when others want to open their hands to me.

I think it’s too bad that the third definition is listed as obsolete. Gracious should be defined as fortunate or happy, because I think both are by-products of giving grace. The less I think about my life as my own and instead think of it as means to be gracious to and for others, the more fortunate I feel. The more happiness surrounds me. The more joy is the key component in my life.

This year, my focus is on being gracious.

What’s yours?

Blog Peep Questions: Round 9

How often do you groom Riley?

Simple answer? Anytime he starts to look like this:

When his hair gets long I think he looks like a grumpy old man, which means he gets away with less because he loses that cute-innocent-puppy look. It benefits both of us when his hair is shorter because he gets away with more, and I find myself laughing at him more. 🙂

I used to have us on a schedule [which is probably sad to admit, but I think I missed having obligations so I tried to schedule the mundane in my life], so I would alternate months for our haircuts. May, I’d cut my hair… June, I’d cut Riley’s hair, and so on. That’s out the window now, though, and I get out the scissors for one of two reasons. Either it’s because I have some energy or it’s because one of us looks so shaggy it’s unavoidable!

Sometimes that unavoidable shagginess occurs when I have no energy and the result is how he’s looking right now. Because I can only stand for so long, or my hands can only work the scissors for so long, Riley ends up getting haircuts in stages. Right now, he has an almost-complete cut as I have yet to trim his front legs.

In other words, he looks silly and ridiculous. I thought about taking a picture for you, but since he asked for his dignity back after being seen in the Snuggie I thought I’d better not. 🙂

If you could have one thing for your house [decorative, not practical] what would it be?

Usually I have instant answers in my head when I read your questions, but this one I really had to think on for awhile. Logically, if I really wanted to dream about something in my house I’d have to add on a room because there’s no space left to put anything else!

One thing I’d like to do is figure out an easier set up for painting canvases, like putting in a tall center island I could stand at, or an architect table that could tilt. But either option would require me getting rid of my dining room table, and it is pretty convenient to have a place to sit when company comes for dinner. 🙂

If I’m thinking extravagant, I’d take up all the carpet and put in dark, hardwood floors. Then I would use Flor carpet tiles to create large area rugs… that way if Riley marked anywhere, I could pick up that piece of tile and clean it or replace it! But now that I’ve written that out, I realize that DEFINITELY has a practical purpose behind it, so I’m not sure it would apply to this question. I’ve often thought I’d like it if my woodwork was painted white, or if my kitchen cupboards were darker and more interesting, but in truth I’m not dissatisfied with anything in my condo, really. I just like to daydream about those kinds of things.

The ideal scenario would be to have Nate Berkus show up at my door, tell me what HE thinks I should do, and then let him go crazy!

I think I may have just come up with the perfect scenario for a reality show… Nate could re-do my condo while the Dog Whisperer whipped Riley into shape, all while Ellen DeGeneres hosted her talk show at my house and surprised me with all of her 12 Days of Giveaways prizes…

… never let it be said I don’t know how to dream big, people!

Brought to You by the Letter L

Hi. My name is Sara, and I’m directionally challenged.

In other words, I’ve spent most of my life [L]ost.

I grew up on an acreage outside of a small town of about 5000 or so, and I could drive from our home to school, friends’ homes [sadly, some friends’ houses I’d get miserably lost every time], my mom’s work, church and McDonald’s. Beyond that, I was and still would be useless. And if you asked me for directions to get to my parents’ new home today… I’d have no ability to tell you how to get there.

I wish I was exaggerating.

The first time I became embarrassingly lost, I was in high school. I was going to visit my sister Laura on the western side of the state. Dad was giving me directions and he said, “You turn at the four corner intersection in Humboldt. You know, like when we go see Steve at college.”

I totally knew exactly where he was talking about. What I didn’t realize was he meant for me to turn right at that corner, not left like we did to visit Steve… on the eastern side of the state. I drove two hours in the wrong direction before I realized what I’d done and turned the car around. I called my sister to tell her I’d be late and swore her to secrecy… but as my visit went on I quickly realized everyone knew by the way they tried to stifle their laughter. I don’t think I’ve lived it down to this day.

I still blame it on Dad and his directions, though. He should have known better than to assume I knew which way to turn. 🙂

As hard as it is to believe, that wasn’t the worst example of me getting lost. And again, it totally wasn’t my fault. I’m sure you’ll agree with me on that point by the end of the story. 🙂

When I was in college, my friends Nicole, Heidi and I were all in a GenEd Nutrition class together.

I didn’t have a photo of all three of us handy, so here is me and Nicole:

and me and Heidi:

We discovered while talking during class [not that I would ever do such a disruptive kind of thing] that we all had good friends who attended Notre Dame. Over the course of the semester we found a weekend that worked for everyone and decided to take a road trip to the Penn State/Notre Dame game. [ND won by one point at the end of the 4th quarter. The crowd rushed the field and tore down the goal posts… it was so exciting.]

Anyway, I borrowed my brother Steve’s car and, since I would be in charge of driving, we decided whoever was in the passenger’s seat would be in charge of navigation. Did you all read that? Take a mental note: I was not in charge of navigation. We had to stop and buy maps of Iowa and Indiana since the only one in Steve’s car was of Wisconsin. We made it to Notre Dame by the skin of our teeth, not because of directions, but because we hit downtown Chicago at rush hour in the middle of a freaking blizzard. Getting through a storm like that should have been our biggest obstacle. Sadly, that was yet to come.

But we made it, we saw our friends, we went to parties [at which I discovered I was by far the least intelligent person in every room… I would never have made it at Notre Dame]… we enjoyed the football game and met up again for the long car ride home.

As it turns out, it was a bit longer than we originally anticipated.

It was the weekend before a big test, so while I drove and Heidi navigated from the passenger’s seat, Nicole was quizzing us off of note cards from the back seat. Unlike the blizzard on the way there, it was a gorgeous day, the sun was shining, we were chatting and listening to music and… oh yeah, studying… when Nicole piped up from the back seat:

“Uhm, guys? Are you noticing a lot of Wisconsin license plates?”

And just then, we noticed a sign for the Wisconsin Dells. And realized that most of the truck stops had huge wedges of cheese on their signage. We were heading back to Iowa… from Indiana… via Wisconsin.

I have seriously never laughed so hard in all of my life.

We stopped at the truck stop with the huge cheese wedge and fought for the one-stall bathroom because we all were about to pee our pants laughing. It only got worse when we realized that we needed that stupid Wisconsin map after all! Making the best of it, we put Nicole in the passenger’s seat to take over navigation duties and decided to take the map’s designated scenic route home… we figured if we were going to be driving for hours, we might as well have pretty trees to look at.

I hate to even mention that I almost missed the exit for our college when we were minutes from home. Because that part of the navigation would have totally been my fault, unlike the rest of it. 🙂

That is still one of my favorite trips of all time, and it absolutely bonded Nicole, Heidi and me for life. I don’t think there’s ever been a time when the three of us have been together where laughter wasn’t the main component. We’ve celebrated their weddings and their babies, new homes and new jobs. And while I think we would have been close regardless, I’m pretty sure that moment in Wisconsin sealed the deal on our friendship. Which is why I think always knowing where you’re going can be overrated.

Sometimes life’s best moments happen when you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time with the right people. I’d get lost with them again any day.

Alrighty… don’t forget to leave a comment with an [M] topic for next week’s post.

Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas!!!

The Real Story

When I think about being little and hearing the story of Jesus’ birth, I remember being amazed at such an important baby being born in a manger. I even remember being amazed that Mary said yes to the angel without a second thought. But mostly I remember having a romanticized version of the Nativity in my mind.

I pictured Mary serene and sure of herself. I imagined her smiling and joyful because such an amazing thing was asked of her. My mind saw her as she was in all the pictures and Nativity scenes… lovely, peaceful, wearing spotless garments, draped in blue and hair perfect. The barn looked clean and lovely, and the manger seemed as though it was always meant for a baby.

If only life were truly that picture perfect.

A few years ago, when The Nativity Story came out in theaters, I wanted to see it so badly. It looked like such a real depiction of the events, but I wasn’t able to go see it and honestly forgot about it shortly thereafter. This week I noticed it running on TNT, so I sat myself down to watch it and got lost in the story.

The real story. The one where their lives were full of the worry of work and taxes and what neighbors think of you. The story where Mary says yes to the angel, but walks away with questions and concerns. The one where Joseph needs coaxing to believe in Mary, the one where her parents want her to stay home from the census to protect her, the one where their neighbors shun them for what is perceived as their sinful ways. The story where Mary and Joseph admit their fears to each other but continue on their journey because they answered the call to do what was right.

They didn’t just peacefully travel to Bethlehem on a donkey, as we see in the story books. They struggled. They ran out of food. They nearly lost their footing crossing a river and Mary prayed aloud that God would help them find a way to get through their journey.

She didn’t ask for a chariot. She didn’t ask for their way to be made simple. She didn’t ask for God to reveal His plan to all so she wouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation. She didn’t ask for it to be easy. Mary simply asked for help and strength. And she was given both. Sometimes it seems natural for us to think that life is supposed to be easy. Or, if we’re on the right path, that it should be made smooth for us. But if we can learn anything from Mary and Joseph, it’s that we should forge ahead doing right for right’s sake. Whether the journey seems impossible, or it seems we deserve better … we need only remember that God’s own Son didn’t have an easy way into this life. Or out of it. But He was given the same help and strength that was given to His parents. The same help and strength that is offered to us every day if we choose to look, not beyond our circumstances, but in the midst of them.

Mary and Joseph didn’t wait until they were in a cozy home to be grateful that God had pulled them through. In the midst of the rough circumstances they found at the stable, they recognized the gift that had been entrusted to them. This Christmas, as we think about what didn’t go quite right or how we may have wanted things to be easier, stop and remember that just as Mary and Joseph found all those years ago, we too are always given blessings in the hay.

It’s so easy to get distracted by the difficulties instead of the joy, but today – and every day – should be about remembering why we are here. Who gave us life. The struggle He had to go through just to be born. The faithfulness of Mary and Joseph, not to be rescued and their burdens eased, but instead to fulfill what God asked of them.

We are here because He was born.

How blessed we are.

Ha! Ha! Ha! Merry Christmas

I tend to go toward the funny/sarcastic side with my Christmas greetings. Trust me, I don’t lose sight of the reason we celebrate, and I love all the heartfelt Christmas letters people send out. They are lovely and meaningful and I so appreciate the chance to catch up on people’s lives.

But I don’t have one of those lives you want to rehash in a Christmas letter. Illness and pain don’t exactly scream, “Joy to the World!” And since I don’t have cute kids to put on a photo card, I go with next best thing:

Riley, of course.

See? He’s always good for a chuckle. 🙂

I’ve seen this video floating around Facebook lately, and I thought it was brilliant as well. If you need a little stress reliever in the middle of all your holiday planning and hubbub…  watch these Silent Monks:

I’ll be back to wish you a Merry Christmas on Friday, but for now remember to take a breather in the midst of the chaos and enjoy your moments!

Brought to You by the Letter K

[I think this is my favorite crazy-letter picture yet…]

I love that a number of you chose the word kindred for your [K] topic, because it’s something I’ve been thinking about so much lately.

Kindred spirits.

And how easy it would have been to miss them.

I never cease to be amazed how, in every stage of my life, God has opened my heart to so many friendships. I love that I have friends who make me laugh until I cry. I love that some of my friends are so shy, until they get comfortable, and then they shock the life out of me with things they say or do. I love that some friends are intellectual and planners. I love that other friends go totally on emotion and spontaneity abounds. I have friends who are so much like me I think we may be the same person, and I have friends who are so opposite of me they keep me looking at life from different angles. I love that God knew I needed all of it and placed me right where I needed to be to find each and every one of them.

I just put up new Christmas photos on my “friend door” and smiled at the diversity. Friends from high school, friends from college, friends from church, friends from blogs and twitter. My Compassion friend, Tsegaye, from another world altogether. Some of those faces I talk to everyday, some I twitter with endlessly, some I haven’t seen or spoken to in way too long… but my heart smiles at the sight of them. I am alone 99% of the time, but I walk by those faces and am amazed by how many people I have with me in my life.

Sometimes I wonder how many I have missed. How many kindred spirits were put right in my path, but I walked by and didn’t pay attention. Because they were different than me. Because I was too busy to stop and pay attention. Because they were too loud or too quiet or too needy. Because I was too tired or too nervous or too insecure. Because they might not have fit into the life I was creating or because I was afraid I did fit into theirs.

I feel like this blog has given me a second chance at meeting kindred spirits I might not have otherwise. There are so many people I never would have been in touch with if it wasn’t for technology. Facebook has brought old friends back into my life I’m sure I wouldn’t have spoken to again. Twitter has opened a door to friendships I never could have created in my imagination… people who keep me laughing, people whose stories make me cry, people who ask how I am if I’ve been quiet too long and people who feel like next door neighbors even though we’ll never meet.

And then there are all of you. Real friends. Real kindred spirits. You are all as diverse as the people in my world that came before you… funny, sarcastic, kind, searching, timid, loving, generous, hopeful, discouraged, compassionate. I want you to know that I treasure each and every aspect of each and every one of you. Christmas is as good a time as any to make sure you know you are valued and appreciated. And trust me, you are.

I’m getting quite excited, because a week from today… as long as the weather permits and they stay healthy… I’m going to get to hug a few kindred spirits in person. Jessica, Matthew and Elias have become like family to me, and even though we’ve never met in person, I feel like I’ve spent hours hanging out on their couch and experiencing life with them.

But now I’m going to get to do that for real! They are taking a detour on their way back to Nashville from Wisconsin to see me. Little ol’ me. And here’s the thing: even if the weather turns nasty or they all come down with colds or some other act of fate keeps them away next Monday [which would suck, just to clarify], I have had so much fun just feeling the anticipation of seeing them. Enjoying the thought of welcoming new friends into my home who feel like old friends I just haven’t seen in awhile. I’ve been overwhelmed that they are making such a huge effort and am giddy that I get to kiss Elias’ cheeks until he can’t take it anymore.

Mostly, I’m just very blessed. Blessed with old friends and new friends and friends yet to enter my life.

Kindred spirits. The beautiful gift that keeps on giving.

Ok, you all know what to do… leave me a comment with the [L] topic of your choice and we’ll see what it inspires for next week’s post. 🙂

Flashback Friday: Breath of Heaven

In an effort to get back into our Flashback Friday routine, I thought this post was a great one to revisit during the Christmas season. Hope it helps put you in the frame of mind for what Christmas is all about. This song does it for me every time.

Breath of Heaven
[originally posted 12.8.08]

Since my first day at college, I was involved at St. Stephen the Witness Catholic Student Center. I loved that place and the ever-evolving community. As a freshman I had upperclassmen who took me under their wing. I had friends my age who were going through the same ups and downs of college life. And as I made my way through the years, I eventually mentored others and took them under my wing. While the community changed, the environment didn’t. It was a place of love and support and acceptance and learning.

All of those things are still in that building for me. I haven’t been able to be there to celebrate Mass or join in activities for a long time, but I can close my eyes and see the details, smell the essence, hear the trickle of the baptismal font and feel the closeness of the air that hugs you into a sense of serenity. I loved worshipping there.

Mostly, I loved singing there.

I’m not the best singer in the world, but it is, hands down, the thing I loved to do the most. I don’t read music so I would meet the pianist for our practice session carrying a mini-recorder to tape the songs. Then I would take it home and play it over and over to have the music ingrained in me until I could sing without thinking.

I would stand up to the microphone on Sunday morning and see a sea of faces who were there for something so much bigger than us. And I would do the same thing each time… silently pray the Memorare and ask for Mary to send one of the angels in the choir to sing for me that day. I would ask that whatever message was supposed to be given would be heard, and then I would concentrate on the words and the meaning and trust that the notes would come out right. Sometimes they did and sometimes they didn’t, but regardless I always felt a connection with the community.

One year around Christmas time I had recorded a radio jingle for our local airport… it was the corniest jingle ever, but the studio I was at gave me a deal on some recording time. I had enough money from the jingle to be in the studio for one hour, and I recorded eight songs back-to-back. Each song had one take… no going back to fix it if I hit a wrong note or ran out of breath. I took the opportunity to record the songs I had done most often at St. Stephen’s to share with the people it meant something to.

The song I still have people tell me they miss at this time of year was a song I would have sang today on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception… Breath of Heaven. So, for all of you from St. Stephen’s that read the blog, and for all of you new friends of mine, I’m going to share my recording of it today. I know others have sang it better, but I hope you get as much out of hearing it as I got out of singing it for so many years. Just click the play button on the player below and wait a second for it to start. And remember I’m not a professional… just a person who loved the experience of sharing the moment.