The Mighty Oak

I was browsing FB tonight and came across a post from a friend from high school in Brazil.  Let's call her Mary....

I had been following a series of recent posts from her which all came from a hospital room.  It started with some acute pain on Day 1 and then quickly led to an urgent all of a sudden kidney removal surgery a few days later.  The surgery was successful.  She is recuperating well..... Really well.  That is what caught my eye.

Do you ever just "watch" certain people? (I am totally aware of the creeper alert I just triggered in every reader....please walk with me in a different place I plead....)

There are some you just scan for fun sakes, others you track for interest sakes and then there might be those few that you observe over time to see if they are really that "good".  These are they who seem to never have drama, suffering or adversity like the rest of us have.....They seem to be so positive, so full of cheer--they have managed to find a way to see life through a different lens than so many others.  

Mary lives in that space......I have  have paid particular attention to Mary over the years.  We were good friends in high school.  She was so friendly, really smart.  No guile.....what you saw was what she was--no airs, no ego....simple, straight, and slightly just outside the mainstream social circles.... but she wouldn't "change" or pretend in order to be somewhere else, she made her place there.... where she was.  

I liked that place....

It was refuge from the "brat pack." From the tiresome places where coolness seemed to matter a bit too much.  It was a place that invited your true self... so comfortable.  No fear, no judging, no risk, no intimidation, no comparing......just you could show up and it was very nice.... 

She helped me with homework....alot!  She was so patient...I remember the smile with braces.  I still remember sitting next to her in Science and History.

She didn't alway get picked first for softball......or dances.  If that ever mattered to her, you wouldn't have known it.  Pretty amazing for high school.  No drama, no whining, no playing hurtful games.

Mary moved on, like we all did.... some new country, new school, new culture.....new friends.

She landed in CA where her folks were from.... went to school, got married...started having kids.  She was always excellent in her work.  So dedicated, so loyal.....  

I visited her twice there in CA many years later.... got to know her family.... and her horses.  I never knew about horses in Brazil.... but they have been a central part of her life.  She LOVES animals....horses are particularly near and dear.  I remember walking out to her corral after dinner and just watched her talk and interact with her horse.... I remember smiling at the symbiotic relationship... I could tell there was a lot going on between them.... I didn't understand it.  But I could tell somethings special was there.....all I remember is that it made me happy inside.  I felt content.... for her.  I remember thinking....Wow!  She deserves all this happiness.

The days and seasons passed.... life happened.  Next thing I knew she was going to Al Anon meetings because of her aloholic father and siblings.  I learned of the truly ugly things that she had endured over the years... oh my!  I was almost embarrassed for not knowing... but of course that was dumb, because we really weren't that close and I realized I didn't deserve to know those things....I hadn't really invested that much... it made me wonder about that though....

...But, then there was the slow methodical and horrific demoralizing and physically abusing suffering she experienced from an alcoholic husband.  I will just say that 911 was called too often.

Somehow she persevered through years of this....meanwhile never missing a soccer game, a surfing lesson or a horse show.   

Finally.....the last 911 call was made... by her 10 year old son, while Dad slammed his mom's hand in the car door and wouldn't let it go.

They aren't together anymore.... when presented a choice of having him go to jail or therapy, she chose the latter... the effervescent spring of hope that somehow he hadn't killed played out in hopeful attempt to "help him" despite what he had done.  It didn't work.... he still hasn't accepted any responsibility for his actions and demonizes her as spiteful, selfish and despicable for keeping him from his kids.

Because she chose to stand for something, she alienated her entire family.  Alcoholism is an abomination..... Because she called him out, they all felt the guilt and associated that call out to each one of them... they couldn't take it.  They sided with him.

Her Dad was ill, he passed away.... they barred her from attending the funeral.  They had a memorial service as well....they finally allowed her to come to that, but only after ponying up $700 to contribute to the open bar.... the irony makes me sick to my stomach.  She couldn't sit at their table..... That was this past Spring.... in the fall she had hernia surgery.... just now she finds out her kidney needs to come out and they were wondering about cancer....

She has 30 minutes to make a decision... she goes under not knowing what she will wake up to.

She does...all goes well.  No cancer.  You read her posts and you think she was having a grand ol' time in the hospital.  It has been two weeks.  She keeps taking pictures of how beautiful it is outside and that she "only" has to stay 2 more days.  

Tonight, something hits me inside when I read her post and I immediately ask Siri to call her hospital. I need to tell her how amazing she is, right now! The phone rings.....she answers.  I hear the familiar voice.....feels so good to talk.  She goes through the details... she adds a bit more about kids and family....... I try and put myself in her shoes.... I can't.   I feel some emotion well up as she calmly talks about her job ending in a month but knowing that God will help her find something.  She talks about each of her 3 kids.  She feels horrible about missing one of their little singing things....I can tell that this is like her first miss ever.  I try and soothe her by saying this and that......

I don't want to talk long, so I find the words and I tell her what a bright light she is in this world.  I tell her that I know her adversity is God's refining fire.  I praise her for her incredible positivity and the example she is, at least to me.  That she is so strong and what an amazing mother she is. I tell her I will continue to pray and send my best thoughts her way.  She thanks me.  She says she hopes she is like a great oak tree that has been made strong by being blown by the winds of life...  yeah....no doubt.

For just a few minutes I was in that place again... that familiar place where time doesn't care how many minutes have passed.  That place that I could just be me and say me things.  

She was....after all of this..... still there, in her place.

Yes... I think I will continue to watch this oak tree go through its seasons..... Yes... I think this is a good place to watch...

                           If only I could be as mighty an Oak....

Young Love

On Children

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts, 

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, 

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, 

but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children

as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, 

and He bends you with His might 

that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies, 

so He loves also the bow that is stable.

--- Gibran

It was just yesterday when I held him.... he didn't have a name yet.....For him it was Day 1.... for me, well I was 30, but it might just as well have been Day 1 for me too.  When he came everything changed.....and hasn't stopped since.

I held him for 6 hours straight that day.... it wasn't emotional....it wasn't even bliss... it was just extremely peaceful.  A lot went through my mind.... but the only thing that did stick that day was one piercing clear message:   he wasn't mine.......and never would be.  A few moments later and he became Landon Alexander Brown.  A couple more minutes went by and he was worrying about his hair for the first time!  Cool....  

Then, a simple round ball became an important part of his life.  He may not know it yet....but, it did a lot to help him know who he was, what he could do, how others related to him and vice versa. Soccer provided space and a place to "win" and "lose".........and time to figure out each one of those impostors.....  He learned that that both of those things also happened off the field with different implications.  He preferred winning......every time.

Restlessness was a persistent and constant companion of his.... it drove him to explore many things...piano, sports, guitar, friends, studies, dance, crazy videos and then it led him to a little band called "Spare Tire" .   What an incredibly powerful experience  that was for him.  He had a place where he belonged, he could channel all his creativity, show leadership, and contribute to something bigger than himself.  To be part of something that most talk about but never really do.... to be part of a rock and roll band!  To have a stage....a bit of limelight....an audience....a unique way for him to shine in his own particular way, was very exciting and unnerving all at the same time.   It was a dream I never fulfilled....he did it in a way that I could "live through" his experience.  I will be forever grateful for those time frozen moments he had.  He created a great story to tell his kids one day.... I can see their big eyes now--"No way Dad!"  I can hear them say..... Awesome

I realized what kind of "arrow" he really was when he responded to the call of a living prophet.....to jump at the opportunity to serve a 2 year mission at the age of 18 instead of 19.  The response was immediate and pure.  It took my breath away.... and I had to quickly find out what kind of "bow" I was.....Was I ready to send him forth sooner than expected?  He was more ready than I.....This will be a constant refrain for me......  I had to quickly become that bow "From which your children as living arrows are sent forth..."   Thank God for the archer to guide the bow...  The arrow flew true north to Canada.... and came back again strong and straight as ever....

Two seconds later I see this in the snow.... Hmmm, can it be?  Marriage....? No, No. No.....Too soon?  He just got home....He can't possibly be ready?

Funny.... maybe it is me that isn't ready... I squirm like a kid... I pout, I whine....not so funny.  But then in a quiet moment while stewing with the inevitability....the memory of Day 1 floods back to my brain... reflection comes and connects me once again to that one clear truth.....  He is not mine, and never will be.  So, I find myself and realize that I am the one having to grow up again! I am not ready....again. This is too quick for me!  How ironic....This is the second time I think he is not the ready one.....but it turns out to be me....."ouch"my conscious says to me.  It takes a few minutes....slow learner.  But not too much longer I am good......(after pulling up my big boy pants.)

I find myself on a new mountain top, looking for the next peak on the horizon... I have my bow, and know I must be ready to bend it back again....I notch the living arrow one more time,  probably the last........and I take great aim and say a silent prayer to Heaven as I loose that arrow....watching it with all hope and faith that the aim is true, that this arrow may go "swift and far."   So, the time has come again, sooner than expected, to let go and send you, I watch the trajectory and path... a familiar refrain returns and lingers....

"He is not mine, and never will be."  

.....Just be the bow, let the arrow be the arrow and remember who the archer really is.  

Landon, you are the arrow that will pierce her heart in the picture in the snow.  No doubt you will be true.  The brief borrowed moments from Heaven we have had with you have pierced our heart's too, forever.....

.......All our love we send with you!

The Artist's Part

“Maybe we should think of memory itself as a work of art—and a work of art is never finished, only abandoned.”

I remember asking my brother Roland, an artist, how he knew when a drawing or painting was done.... he hated that question.  He couldn't answer it.  It was usually an obsession, but then it could become a love hate thing......For so many a work of art is never done.... I can only imagine that Roland revisited a number of his works years later and could immediately see things to tweak....oh the "could have", "should have" syndrome must have been powerful....I  do remember times he would immediately call to attention flaws, or things he didn't like, things he remembered clearly and with much emotion, sometimes despair...  It was hard for him to look at his own work......

......Funny, I been looking at my "works of art"  from the perspective of a parent,   What if kids were the canvas....Could parenting be the palette of paint we are given?....I find myself wondering if all the "brush strokes" I did were the right ones.... was the texture right, did I capture the right feeling and was the technique good enough to shape them into the best they could be?

As the two oldest leave the nest, I cannot help but stand back and look at who and what they are.... Mostly I see them, their incredible selves.  Sometimes it is hard to see if I really added anything substantive here and there, but the more I look it seems much more about revealing what was already there...  Michelangelo knew:

Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.

Someone plays tricks in my head...One keeps whispering "you are done."  Another says: "you are never done."  Honestly the first one really seems appealing.  I tend to nurse that one, but like all things false, it is slippery and can't stay still.  I hear things like: "It's ok Aaron, you did your best... they will be just fine... Your work is done." .....  As if the painting was to be turned in as an assignment only to be thrown into the pile of other art "assignments" as if completed and ready to be graded by the teacher. Yes, I play with it.....but I know it isn't true.

So, I face the second one.... forever tweaking like Roland used to do.

Certainly they are living breathing works of art... they will never be "done", so therefore neither will I ever be done with the Artist's part.  As I slowly begin to accept this part.....I find I have more empathy now for artists.... I understand better now why they seem to be tortured as they reflect back on past art.  I remember my dear mother doing the same thing... wishing she had done this or that... where she "missed", never seeming to take credit for anything positive or good.    I remember almost getting angry with her for doing that... I didn't like that she did that in the least. What a useless activity I thought, to flog oneself for things that one cannot change.

Fast forward 30 years and I think I have a bit more understanding.  It is hard to not see your kids mistakes as your own as a result of that very intense creative art process of helping them discover who they are inside life's "block of stone".  I yearn to undo a few brushstrokes... I wish I had used a brighter color, one that would have shone better on them, that would have attracted more light.

For some artists, the better question to know when a work of art is done is "Is it overdone?"   Interesting... I remember keenly when Landon was about 15 that this notion came to be about getting out of his way, more than anything else.  Boy that was different "technique".  I don't remember them teaching that one to me in "Art school".  How does one apply that to the canvas?  That was a huge lesson for me...  Less is Better.  Now more empathy for the minimalists....I get it.  Thank you for your part in helping me understand.

For some artists the worst thing that can happen is that they actually really "finish" a piece.  It is very clear to me now.  I am never done... these works of art are never finished... there can be no walking away, only ever ending vigil...The work of art now needs the artist more than ever....... To think that they are done and somehow freed from your touch is true abandonment.  No, I will continue to dip the brush into paint and continue to brush the paint on.... however small or slight the mark may be....

Thank God for the artist's part.  May He gently guide and steer each stroke on every canvas.....

..... especially mine, 

who could be more undone?

A Girl Named Maria...

In 1979 I met a girl named Maria....

I was in 8th grade, she was in 7th. She was cute, popular and above all else.....nice! She was Argentine, but knew English perfectly.... Didn't know it at first, but spent many years in the U.S. (Secretly she still feels a bit "Americana"......)

She liked being called "Jose" (pronounced Hozy) That made it fun, and shorter!

I can't say we were deep friends by any means.  She was great fun to dance with and mostly I observed.....
Here is what I saw back then:

• She was high energy, full of life, 
• Passionate about things, sometimes loud (Argentine...!) 
• But always fun and always positive. 
• She was friendly, all about family, 
• Unbeknownst to most, kept things close to her heart. 
• She was thoughtful, sometimes insecure, but no one would have known that in a million years... she had us all fooled! 
• She was an athlete, and a cheerleader. I would say most wanted to know her.... ok, more guys than girls maybe! : )

As little girls do....this girl Maria (Jose) grew up too.... She studied, lived, experienced ups and downs and then found the love of her life--her husband. They settled in Cordoba and had 4 kids. Amazing kids! She stayed fiercely close to her family. She was inseparable with her sisters then, and still now to this day! 

Fast forward to 2012... July I think... maybe June... I get a call out of the blue from Jose...  She says she is in SLC..... "No way!"   In all the gin joints in all the world how does she end up here?? Nonetheless my heart leaps for joy that she called....She is in town for a week long Suzuki violin festival. Her daughter plays the violin and she has brought about 20 other kids with teachers and their parents to this event. 

We meet, reconnect, it is beautiful! Memories flood back from days of Brazil... my other home....home of so many special experiences and feelings. She is all that she was before, but much more..... We talk of kids, marriage, growing up and where our friends have scattered themselves all over the world. 

She gives me a peek into this new world of music for her. She never played any instrument with any mastery but not only has she introduced classical music to her daughter, I can tell she is the ring leader of some local chapter or chamber music group that feels much like a "Start up"....Not a lot of money, but some passion and a lot of elbow grease to get something going. She didn't state it, but I could tell she was the one in charge.  She leaves....

She comes back the next year too! So much fun. Other friends came a long with her Sister. We have a ball. I start to see more and more what she was up to... what started with a few friends and their kids has been ramping up.... I just had no idea to what extent. I have a pretty good feeling she didn't either!  She knows in her heart someone is going to have to take on a leadership role with this grass roots movement that is now growing up with big boy pants!!

Upon her invitation I visit her and family in Cordoba (April 2015).  I see first hand what the power of one idea can do in the hands of a remarkable person.  If only I had a movie camera....

Being there in person is the only way to truly understand what Jose has done......I had to witness it with my own two eyes, this incredible miracle worker that is Maria Jose Patino. There are few that I have known that have dedicated themselves to a particular cause in such a way that leaves one breathless.... She is one.   

What she has done single handedly with her family to bring the gift of music to the city of Cordoba is truly unbelievable. She has funded, orchestrated and managed to get people involved to start and maintain classical orchestra to schools.  Hundreds of kids are now involved. It is amazing to watch some of these kids practice without an instrument in their hands... they raise an invisible violin and bow, and they follow the Maestro regardless... they practice the air... while they patiently wait for the kid next to them take their turn.....Oh, and this is on Saturday btw.....

I watched her completely open her home to dozens of kids and teachers several times a week to for music lessons, only to then hold late night meetings with volunteers in her kitchen to wrestle with administrative issues... I watched the Minister of Education visit a local school where MJ and a handful of volunteers pulled off an amazing orchestral performance that opened the door to much needed government visibility... I watched her give up her Saturdays to ensure that under privileged kids and teachers had a place to practice in little plain rented rooms in small neighborhoods, often rough ones--but that is where there is space. She was there engaged in talking with parents and volunteers providing the foundational support that this community needs so desperately. She took calls at any hour to help make decisions, to console, to empathize, to influence, to make whatever needed to happen, happen....I was there when she and her husband stopped at a local music shop late at night and paid for 3 more violins to add the hundreds already acquired...She does't think twice, she just 'acts'. When you ask her how she does it, she has no answer...she downplays it completely and takes almost no credit. 

When the kids actually start playing, she glows, she is lost in the performance....the tears well up and in that moment she knows...that this is her heart's work. These kids, have nothing. Their parents have so little to offer them... Jose treats every single person with dignity and as a peer no matter what standing they have in the community.... most are so modest in means.  She is transforming music in schools, she is bringing cultural dignity to her city and country. 

To me, this isn't really about music... it is about hope, a doorway to freedom and transformation of lives.... these kids will open doors that never would have been available to them without Jose.   She has set a true example of how to live an honorable life with no regret. And everyday she worries about the next, can she keep it up?  Will there be enough left in the tank? Will she get the help she needs?  How can she take it to the next level?  What if she can't?  Her humility carves the path for all things to work out in their own way.... 

I honor you MJ, and your family regardless of how many votes you get. I will never forget how I was marked by your work, and your heart.

Mr Holland did get to hear his Opus finally... Jose, you are hearing yours everyday.

When One Word Says It All

Have you ever looked for a word to describe something so special but it just doesn't seem to exist? I have been searching for this word my entire life......It was quite by accident, but won't forget how my heart leapt when I stumbled upon it.

I will always remember how excited I was, having just attended my senior class graduation with 33 of my class in Brasilia, Brazil.  4 years of amazing experiences in a foreign country.....The closeness we felt, all different nationalities, experiencing a new culture all together, bonding in ways that most never would given our circumstances...

I brought that excitement home... feeling accomplished, feeling good about being a good American in an international assignment... not that kind the movies make fun of....no, the one where I wasn't sure I even wanted to go "home"....

But I did... I couldn't wait to share the amazing set of experiences I had had living abroad... I had so much to offer, such unique perspectives, so many different cultures, so many lessons learned that I felt I could share....

"So, did you live in a hut on stilts in the jungle?"

That was the first question I got from a friend back in Utah.....  I almost thought he was joking....he was not!  I said, have you ever heard of Sao Paulo?   He shook his head.... I said it was a city bigger than NYC!!  Rio de Janeiro was just behind it....  

That was the first inkling of many to follow over the years of how these conversations were going to go....

Next was.....

 "Did you have running water or a car?"

"Did they have McDonald's there?"

"You must have hated it there"

Next was...

"You had a black girlfriend??"

Really???  This couldn't be happening....

I remember being truly confused first.... then angry....then sad... they had no idea.  My understanding of how this was going to be slowly drooled into my brain like thick molasses...  Yes, Exulansis.   I lived in shock for a long while.  I realized I was all alone with these incredible memories and experiences... noone really cared, noone understood and noone was going to do a dang thing about it either.... I was truly alone in my own country that seemed so foreign,  among 'my' people that had no empathy or no understanding of the world in the least.  Where and how on earth was I going to reconcile this debilitating disconnect?    ....The answer is a longer story.....I have written about it in previous posts.  

It is amazing how finding this word after so many years still immediately hits me dead center... Those things did happen, I was there...  it was amazing.  I am less lost today.  But, now I have a most beautiful new vocabulary word that sings to my soul when I see it.  

 Like a friend that I never knew..... 

Being Seen

“The Reality of The Other Person Lies Not In What He Reveals To You, But What He Cannot Reveal To You.
Therefore, If You Would Understand Him, Listen Not To What He Says, But Rather To What He Does Not Say.”

― Khalil Gibran

I am not sure if this has ever happened to you.  My guess is that you will know if it does.  It is a powerful experience.  I have been thinking about this idea of "being seen."  A friend was talking to me about this....  Some of us are desperate to be seen, while others would rather die than be seen.  To be seen as we truly are....  why would that carry such enormous risk and peril?  Maybe it is because we are not able to handle the idea that maybe we could be accepted and loved for who we are....  Maybe others will see "through" us instead...

Listening to what someone doesn't say takes a particular gift I believe.  I have been on the receiving end of that and have appreciated it so much.  When someone "gets" you, without you having to spell it out....  magic.  It is like a gift you didn't even know you needed, and so when received it is so special and precious. 

Somehow, some way God sees us completely and trusts us in our struggles to see ourselves and to be seen by others.  Somehow He is there, part of that process....  giving us glimpses of what can be so that we can aim our arrows to a good place.  All we seem to need are those glimpses, those little flashes that come unexpectedly and then are suddenly gone... but the image lingers.... even though fleeting, it is there just beyond reach.  We know what to shoot for, we just don't always know if we are ready or if we want to....  What happens if we actually become that person?  Someone told me :  It is as if finally boarding that elusive ship, but now wondering what to do next...  

......To be seen or not....  

I wonder if it is more about being understood than anything else.... that is why I feel Gibran's invitation to listen for understanding in order to really "see" beckons so strongly.  I thank those who have listened that way to me... it has made all the difference.  The gratitude is so deep.  Maybe I am ok to be me after all....

Healing and Time

"Time heals all wounds"    Really..?  Does it?

I have been re-thinking the whole "Time heals all wounds" thing we hear during difficult times.  I don't thing time has anything to do with it.  I think it ultimately has a lot more to do with what we actually "do" during the space we call time.  Time is passive.   If we just decided to do things sooner, rather than wait and wallow in our own hot mess we wouldn't rely on the circular incessant passing of two hands of time to somehow miraculously solve our problems.

Because if you believe that feeling better is simply a matter of time, and not within your own ability to control, you will eventually give up hope of happiness because it has failed to ‘arrive’.

Is it time's fault we carry resentment for years?  No, that is on us.....I believe that time doesn't heal us at all... Growth does.

"The light at the end of the tunnel isn't the illusion.  The tunnel is."   --Unknown

When you take an active part in your healing, rather than simply wait, the sooner the proverbial tunnel shrinks and the quicker you reach the light at the end.

So...what to do?  Wait..... maybe something will change on its own... maybe we should continue nursing dissatisfaction in our souls because we are justified and it feels good....

or we can grow up and become that person that beckons to us inside.... the one that we see when we close our eyes... the one that is just a bit better than we are today, the one that fills us with emotion and inspiration...   Yes... let's do it.  Let's grow up together and reach for that light today!  Don't let time haunt you any more.... it is a thief if you let it be.

The Unbearable Burn of Hurting Good

It finally came.... the day of pure dread.  The day I used to think would be so exciting and cool.... the day we would drop McKenna off at college.  Exciting and cool it was.... but where was the manual that would prepare me for the absolute angst of my heart strings being pulled like stretch armstrong.  Talk about the 'Agony and the Ectasy'....Sheesh!

There are no words to describe the different emotions that swirled like a twister inside me that day.  It would have not have been so hard if we hadn't had the type of previous year that we had with her...  Of all the years of my life, this would rank in the top 3. Spending time with McKenna was truly an exquisite experience and memory that I will cherish with all of my heart forever.

Seniors aren't supposed to have time for family, much less parents... Everything about them is about not being home.... in fact it is very much about leaving home as soon as possible.  It is all about not being seen or embarrassed by parents, complaining about them, hating the curfews, resenting being asked "how was your night?"   Not for McKenna... she loved being home, at least she made us feel that way, and she seemed to genuinely be interested in spending time with us.... there were so many special times when she was engaged in finding out about me personally, about my work, about parenting, about me and my hopes and dreams.  Spending so much time with Mom really helping her think about and solving problems.  Letting us both in.....what a blessing.  All I really know is that I do not know how, in all the big wide world we were so blessed and fortunate to have her come to us, be part of our family, to inspire us every single day.

Yes, it would have been easier if she had been the normal high schooler -- into herself, boy crazy, can't-wait-to-get-out-of-here girl, because then maybe I would have even had a slight urge to see her "move on" if you know what I mean.... She took an entirely different but beautiful route.

Let me put it this way.... when she said,

 "Dad.... do you just want to come to college with me?"

I really didn't need to hear anything else.......ever!  She immediately leaped into my personal Hall of Fame.   Game over, strike me down now, take me I am ready.....Seriously??  Who is she?

The week before I was already feeling the loss.... it was very deep and it hurt like all get out.  The day before I was doing all kinds of things to keep me distracted... then the day came.  At first I decided I wouldn't go all the way down, rather just catch her half way at work, give her a hug and then let it be that.... they stopped by, I JUMPED into the car and said  "I am not missing this for anything."   Best decision I have made in a while.

We got her all fixed up, went and got groceries, set up her printer and laptop, put everything away, then we walked out to the car to say good bye.  She pulled out letters for Mom and me.  I knew I would not be able to even read it for at least a day.

                                                                   We hugged....yep... you know the kind... the one where spirit hugs spirit... way beyond body.

The ache started amidst the happy parting words.... it lingered until I found the courage to read her letter.... So powerful. So rich, so beautiful, so grateful....

                                                                                    .........for the unbearable burn of hurting good.

Where Angels Land

Last weekend I found myself in this place shown to the left....  a place called Angel's Landing.  A most spectacular and unique place.  There is a reason for the name.... It is like those movie scenes where you see someone on top of a particular peak that they couldn't possibly have gotten to without the aid of a helicopter..... or by the wing's of an Angel.  6 people have died since 2005 exactly where this picture shows.. this last .5 mile spine with chains to help guide each footstep to the final peak.

I didn't really want to climb it.  I was at a family reunion and that morning when roll call went out for those going on this hike, my hand did not raise as part of the "counted" as going.  But something inside said "go".... So, I went.....

My head was telling me that I should go with my two sons.... my heart had something else in mind but I didn't know what that was until later.....later when I was winded, exhausted and taking more and more little breaks on the way up.  It was very hot, I was exerting a lot of energy.  It felt pretty good, although I was out of shape.

During the hike my mind shifted from paying attention to the trail and surroundings to an internal thought that was brewing inside and trying to bubble up....It finally surfaced as I was about 3/4 of the way up.  the thought was pretty clear once if formed in my mouth and I actually said it out loud to myself:

"Aaron, you need to leave something up here that you will not return with...."

I listened to myself as I said it.  I pretended to question myself but I knew exactly what it meant.  I just didn't know where that question came from....or rather, I wasn't sure that was going to be the question.  I have been working on a theory of mine over the past couple of years... which is, maybe if I spend enough time on figuring out the right questions in my life, and then offering them up to Heaven, maybe that is the best way for me to ensure I am on the right path and doing the right things in the moment of that particular question..... (It wouldn't be me if I didn't make this complex)  I knew instantly that the reason I came was  not actually just to be with my kids.....(btw they took off way ahead and didn't see them that much anyway)... rather it was to have this question accompany me on the way up and then extend the invitation to leave something by giving something up.  

The good news is that I have a rolodex of hundreds of things that I could do without that I have collected along the way that are pretty much unnecessary in my life. The bad news was this was not going to be one of those "low hanging fruit" things...  This was going to be something more significant, something that I would not want to give up, something that would make me a bit afraid to not have in my life anymore....something very familiar, something that seemingly would feel safe, but ultimately would keep me from spiritually growing up.....something that would hurt.
  
My thoughts crystallized with each step.  The remaining difficult .5 miles was slow and technical, giving me time to ready myself.  It wasn't easy... I fought and wrestled inside trying to replace the "thing" with another thing, but it wouldn't go away.  It won the day and I was tired inside now, not just my body.  I slowly gave in.  I started to go through the mental motions of giving that up.... offering it to God.  Letting loose the tight grip I had on it.  I tried to "feel" ahead what that would feel like afterwards..... days from now, what would I think and feel... would I recover, would I stick to it... could I sustain and maintain?  I wasn't sure.  But I knew I had to try.

So there on the very top of Angel's Landing I found a quiet little spot, I closed my eyes and offered a very simple prayer.....  "Lord, please send Angels to help me let go of what I need to"  I thought it would be ok to ask that way, given the location.   "And grant me the strength to see it through, to fight through the pain it would bring, to grow up so maybe I could help others do the same."

Some tears came.... partly due the physical exhaustion, mostly due to the parting....like letting go of a friend.... but it was time.  Little boys must grow up.  I have a new perspective on the whole Peter Pan philosophy and empathy for Pan himself. 

"When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight"                -- GIbran

  I came down from that mountain a bit different.  I thought about if I had not chosen to come.  I remembered the wrestle I had internally earlier that morning.  I felt the victory of making the choice I did.  It was a very interesting experience that I was not planning on.  It happened.... I felt it was important, I felt I needed it.  What was particularly special was what I learned that day.  I learned that listening to that still small voice is important.  I learned that acting on promptings can make a difference... I was reminded that a man named Jesus was willing to give up something too.... for me and for you.  He too wrestled inside and with God, in a way I will never understand. He asked too "if possible, let this cup pass away from me", He was tired and exhausted and yet and he gave up his life of his own free volition.  I was grateful for the experience, yes....even the test, to see what I would do, on such an infinitesimal scale.   

Should chance and you meet on this mount someday.... I openly invite you to consider what question you could ask yourself as you reach that place where Angel's land and Heaven feels a bit closer.

Pray for me....that I can "stick this landing" like I need to, and I will pray for you....

Coming Home

The last time a picture had such a powerful emotional effect on me was when I saw my mother as a young woman dancing  for the very first time.  (*See "Finishing Touches" post)

When I saw this one today, two days before Landon comes home from his 2 year mission, I was struck by 100 things all at the same time and I didn't even know what they all were, yet at the same time they all made sense in my heart and I knew that I would slowly dissect each segment -- like peeling apart an orange a section at a time.  Mostly I just had a "knowing" feeling.  Immediate knowing.  A new friend of mine would call it "Suchness."  It was much more about feeling this photo than it was about seeing or looking at it.  I fell instantly in love with it... with what it captured, conveyed and spoke to my heart.

I love first that it is in black and white.  It almost has a a late "50's or early 60's" feel to it.  A bit of a throw back.  The fact that he is completely alone, headed across this bridge... Oh, what a bridge it is!  A major bridge in his life, a metaphor of the transition back, a crossing.... a rite of passage..... a moment of maturity, a resoluteness in his posture and step.  He isn't wavering is he...No, his gaze is fixed, his air of assuredness noted and his sight is set and it isn't downward, it is set on the prize...

Once someone I respected a great deal offered me some counsel after a particular trying assignment I had on my mission.  I had been in one area for 9 months and confined to an office.  He said, when you leave this area for the next one, don't look back.  Do a 180 degree direction change and just move forward and don't spend anytime looking over your shoulder wondering, or fretting about what will come behind you.  It was exactly what I needed.  I needed to give myself "permission" to move forward, no regrets, no doubts.  I feel this is exactly what this picture conveys to me.  Landon isn't wondering or fussing about what he is leaving.  He has done it, completed the requirements, given his all....now ready for the next experience...the wind at his back.

Noone is watching, he doesn't need that... he has his own terms.  Seems right.

I said two years ago I would catch you on the "flipside"  Just pretend Landon that we are on the other side of that bridge.......

"Well done thou good and faithful servant"