When I found out I was pregnant, the search began for the perfect name. Names are so important. They create a first impression, a legacy. And so, Roy and I tossed around a million possibilities, even bought one of those baby name books that, most likely, every parent bought back in the day. (Now, of course, one can just use the Internet.) Originally, I wanted to name our first girl Michal, after David's wife in the Bible. I always thought that was such a cool name, and for several months, we considered Michal Raquel for our firstborn. We didn't know if she was a boy or girl so, we chose Chasey Lane if we were blessed with a boy.
When Roy and I were dating, we were walking through the cemetery one time with my grandma who had gone to visit my grandpa's grave. We noticed a fairly new gravesite not too far away that was decked out with a toy train, a cowboy hat, and a variety of other toys and memorabilia, placed just so. Clearly it was the grave of a child, and Roy and I immediately walked over for a closer look. A large headstone displayed the name Chasey Lane for all the world to see. Grandma proceeded to tell us that it was the grave of a little boy who, at the age of 7, was kicked in the head by a horse as he was out in the corral with his daddy. Ever since that day, I was hooked on that name.
As the due date for our firstborn got closer, I began to fret about the name Michal. This was back in 1991 when original names were just beginning to hit mainstream. Michal seemed far-fetched. What if kids teased her that she had a boy's name? What if she never wanted to tell people her name because she was ashamed?
And so, as the birth loomed, we quickly began another search for another name and hit upon Ciara. It was, in my opinion, the perfect name--angelic and elegant and original...and beautiful. Certainly not a name that had weird rhyming possibilities or negative connotations. And honestly, the name Ciara fit her perfectly. Born a tiny little cherub, it wrapped around her like a crown.
Names create a picture in one's head, give birth to a first impression. One time, when we lived in California, I taught a girl named Sagittarius. She was only 12 years old--a large girl with a big smile who sat in the back row and sucked her thumb. I've often wondered what happened to her.
We are all known, obviously, by our names. But we're also known for something.
When I was a little girl, I loved going to my Grandma Nick's because, oh my word, could she bake a pie. Banana cream pie and chocolate cream pie and pumpkin pie and cherry pie...Clearly she had a sweet tooth because bottles of Coke could always be found on the front porch and a package of Snickers in the freezer.
My grandpa on my mom's side loved horses. Every summer as a little girl we loaded up for Denver where we would stay with my grandparents for a few days and attend the races as Grandpa always had a horse that he was training. I spent many days walking in front of the barns and checking out the horses lazily chewing straw in their stalls, stopping just long enough to eye me curiously.
People are known for a variety of things. Some are known for their ability to paint landscapes, large and sweeping; others for their ability to create magic from dirt, nursing plants to grow and bloom; others for their ability to fix things that, to the naked eye, appear beyond repair; others to cook delectable sauces that have simmered for hours on the stove...
The list, of course, continues.
But then, there is this reality:
Some people are known for bitterness that oozes from every pore. Some people leave us drenched with negativity. And really, life has probably dealt them a few swift blows. Or maybe their god is exacting, wielding a rod of judgment. Or maybe they hate themselves; and truly--if we can't be kind to ourselves, we surely can't be kind to others.
But my point is this:
How do I want people to react when they hear my name? What do I want to be known for?
That Vonda? My word! She is so angry and bitter about everything!
When we choose to step out into the world, there is one thing I know to be true: people will make assumptions. They will assume things about who I am, about what I believe, about what I stand for, about how I parent. And those assumptions? I can't really control them. I can't control what people say or think about me or my family.
Sometimes that reality makes me panic a bit, holding my kids close and closing the door to a world outside where kids can be mean and adults can be meaner.
But the truth is this: It all comes down to what I can control--
I can choose whether or not the words and actions of others leave me bitter and angry. I can choose to move forward with my life and focus on the beauty, on the wide open sky, on the shimmering sunlight, on those whom I know are my true friends.
I can choose what I stand for.
As for me and my house?
We stand for open arms.
We stand for kindness.
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Sunday, May 17, 2015
Clean Lines and Clear Spaces
It's Sunday evening and Jace left about 3 hours ago for a class trip; he returns Tuesday evening. It has been a whirlwind day filled with laundry and decluttering his room and packing. But we finally managed to get it all done and pulled up at exactly 5:31 p.m.: only one minute late. Jace could barely contain his excitement and pretty much every single one of us in the family was exasperated by his boisterous enthusiasm by the time we headed out the door.
Today has been a jam-packed day in more ways than one. This morning at 9:00 I headed over to the gymnasium to watch the Class of 2015 march down the aisle to receive their diplomas. This class was quite an interesting group that wormed their way into the hearts of the teachers despite their grandest efforts to reflect academic apathy.
After the ceremony, we all came home for a quick lunch of leftovers and then I hit Jace's bedroom. I wish I'd counted how many bags I hauled out to either give away or throw away; I'd say it was somewhere in the neighborhood of 6 or 7. Let's go with 7 as that sounds really impressive. I went through Jace's closet and his book shelves and his dresser shelves and his desk and I even made Jace crawl underneath his bed and drag out a ridiculous number of socks and uniform shirts. I even think he found a pair of pants.
Ah--my son!
He said, "So that's where they've been hiding!"
I just rolled my eyes.
Because I'm 13.
But it's all done and Roy even took it all to either the trash or Goodwill. And the good news? He only pulled out two things from the entire pile rather than his usual all things pulled from the pile. Seriously. He's a packrat. But clearly I'm making progress. No worries--I'll keep working the system.
And now when one walks into Jace's room, one is greeted with clean lines and clear spaces. The closet and drawers and shelves are all neatly organized. Everything in his room is usable and age-appropriate. You know, no more Disney puzzles or Toy Story characters.
I am making progress.
I find that it's really easy to get rid of other people's junk. My own? Not so much.
Anyway, about 3:00 this afternoon Erin showed up and off we went down Holcombe Cove Road to conquer the uphills and swing 'round the maintenance building and then 'round the retirement center and, finally, back up the hill by our house, clocking 3.1 miles in 47 minutes. Or maybe it was 48 but really, who's counting? About the time we got midway through the retirement center neighborhood (what is that called??), it started to rain. It was a light sprinkle at first...and then before we knew it, the rain was splashing; but we were undaunted. We kept walking and we kept on talking because, well, that's what we seem to do best.
And so, after Erin pulled out and headed for home, I ran upstairs to shower and made Jace a couple of burgers and then quickly threw his clothes in a bag and hustled him out the door. Well, really it was more like him hustling me out the door as he just knew we were going to be late.
And then once we pulled up at the school, the back parking lot was alive with people that I know: there were Gina and Daryl and Shane and Erin and Dily and Paula and Eileen and Julie and Laurie and many, many more. All of these adults coming together to launch our kids on a class trip where they will be "wined and dined" by some self-sacrificing people who are willing to reach out for our kids' sakes so that we can stay home and enjoy a couple of peace-filled days. (Thanks, all. Really appreciate that.)
So as I stood there watching everyone bustling around packing up ice chests and loading up suitcases, and as I listened to Jace's laughter as he bantered with his friends, and as I talked with other moms that are all doing they best they can with this life we're all living, I couldn't help but feel my heart swell with gratitude.
Sometimes I feel frustrated with the actions of others; sometimes I'm hurt by the words of others. But the truth is, sometimes my actions are painful and my words can be less than becoming.
Sometimes it's easy to pick out other people's "junk" and pretend that mine isn't quite such a cluttered mess.
Recently when Erin and I were talking, she said, "Wouldn't it be nice if we could keep everyone's actions and words in perspective so that they didn't affect us so deeply nor so personally?"
I've thought about that a lot since she said it. I want to stay out of the fray and rise above the "riff raff." I want to see the good and ignore the bad. I want to spend more time decluttering my own life rather than worrying about what I may perceive as the clutter of others.
I want clean lines and clear spaces.
Today has been a jam-packed day in more ways than one. This morning at 9:00 I headed over to the gymnasium to watch the Class of 2015 march down the aisle to receive their diplomas. This class was quite an interesting group that wormed their way into the hearts of the teachers despite their grandest efforts to reflect academic apathy.
After the ceremony, we all came home for a quick lunch of leftovers and then I hit Jace's bedroom. I wish I'd counted how many bags I hauled out to either give away or throw away; I'd say it was somewhere in the neighborhood of 6 or 7. Let's go with 7 as that sounds really impressive. I went through Jace's closet and his book shelves and his dresser shelves and his desk and I even made Jace crawl underneath his bed and drag out a ridiculous number of socks and uniform shirts. I even think he found a pair of pants.
Ah--my son!
He said, "So that's where they've been hiding!"
I just rolled my eyes.
Because I'm 13.
But it's all done and Roy even took it all to either the trash or Goodwill. And the good news? He only pulled out two things from the entire pile rather than his usual all things pulled from the pile. Seriously. He's a packrat. But clearly I'm making progress. No worries--I'll keep working the system.
And now when one walks into Jace's room, one is greeted with clean lines and clear spaces. The closet and drawers and shelves are all neatly organized. Everything in his room is usable and age-appropriate. You know, no more Disney puzzles or Toy Story characters.
I am making progress.
I find that it's really easy to get rid of other people's junk. My own? Not so much.
Anyway, about 3:00 this afternoon Erin showed up and off we went down Holcombe Cove Road to conquer the uphills and swing 'round the maintenance building and then 'round the retirement center and, finally, back up the hill by our house, clocking 3.1 miles in 47 minutes. Or maybe it was 48 but really, who's counting? About the time we got midway through the retirement center neighborhood (what is that called??), it started to rain. It was a light sprinkle at first...and then before we knew it, the rain was splashing; but we were undaunted. We kept walking and we kept on talking because, well, that's what we seem to do best.
And so, after Erin pulled out and headed for home, I ran upstairs to shower and made Jace a couple of burgers and then quickly threw his clothes in a bag and hustled him out the door. Well, really it was more like him hustling me out the door as he just knew we were going to be late.
And then once we pulled up at the school, the back parking lot was alive with people that I know: there were Gina and Daryl and Shane and Erin and Dily and Paula and Eileen and Julie and Laurie and many, many more. All of these adults coming together to launch our kids on a class trip where they will be "wined and dined" by some self-sacrificing people who are willing to reach out for our kids' sakes so that we can stay home and enjoy a couple of peace-filled days. (Thanks, all. Really appreciate that.)
So as I stood there watching everyone bustling around packing up ice chests and loading up suitcases, and as I listened to Jace's laughter as he bantered with his friends, and as I talked with other moms that are all doing they best they can with this life we're all living, I couldn't help but feel my heart swell with gratitude.
Sometimes I feel frustrated with the actions of others; sometimes I'm hurt by the words of others. But the truth is, sometimes my actions are painful and my words can be less than becoming.
Sometimes it's easy to pick out other people's "junk" and pretend that mine isn't quite such a cluttered mess.
Recently when Erin and I were talking, she said, "Wouldn't it be nice if we could keep everyone's actions and words in perspective so that they didn't affect us so deeply nor so personally?"
I've thought about that a lot since she said it. I want to stay out of the fray and rise above the "riff raff." I want to see the good and ignore the bad. I want to spend more time decluttering my own life rather than worrying about what I may perceive as the clutter of others.
I want clean lines and clear spaces.
Friday, May 15, 2015
Remembering
On Mother's Day, Roy and I planted my flower garden. We woke up early Sunday morning and trekked to Home Depot in the little red pickup that is home for the summer and loaded it up with begonias and petunias and marigolds (to name a few) and potting soil and deep red mulch. And then Sunday evening we raked and dug and pulled weeds and planted flowers and spread mulch and placed our garden decor just so...then stood back and called it good.
And now? Oh how I love going outside and walking by this little garden that makes my heart swell with happiness. At night, it is alive with blinking butterflies and a happy little frog that sits underneath a lit lily pad and flitting dragonflies that make merry on my porch railing. Before I head to bed each night I take just a few minutes to step outside, look around at the bursting beauty, look up at the never ending night sky that reminds me--
...how small and insignificant I really am...
...how something much greater than me is alive and well in this universe...
...how blessed I am to have the gift of life and it is my job to cherish it...
It has been a hard week and I have needed those reminders.
Darian endured a major surgery to repair a hernia that caused her great pain last week and this week she went back under the knife to have a mole with irregular cells excised. This reality has left her shaken as left untreated the mole could have turned to melanoma. However? She is fine now but the doctor has warned her to please be careful and stay out of the sun. This warning has reminded her that life is fragile. She is debating if staying in the States next year rather than traveling to a third world country where medical care is sketchy at best is the better choice. Darian is a worrier and she recognizes that if she leaves, she will have no peace about the moles on her back that could be changing unawares.
Other people that I dearly love are hurting this week--hurting so terribly. And all I can do is stand in the background, a silent witness to raw pain.
I have borne witness this week to the agony of a hurting mother and the gut-wrenching silence of a dad consumed with worry.
I have seen a dear friend of mine who normally bears the burdens of others struggling with his own world that has crashed down.
And one of my own loved ones is facing a crisis.
Sometimes life can be so wretched. Sometimes the very things we have dedicated our lives to turn against us and leave us forsaken.
I believe that we need to find joy in life, that we need to cherish those times that are filled with laughter and love and light. Traditions and family and friendship and bursting flowers and decadent chocolate and an ever rising moon and the comforts of home are constants in our lives that, at times, we take for granted...
But then there are times when we are slammed with the reality that life isn't easy, that life can be more painful than not. And those times? They change us. They make us realize that we are fragile, that our health is not to be reckoned with carelessly, that those we love are but a heartbeat away from a new reality that leaves us shaken. Those times leave us flat on our backs wondering if we can manage to simply take the next breath.
We've all been there...and we'll all be there again--because that is just how life rolls.
And it is those times, in my opinion, that bring depth to the joy we experience once we have survived the pain...because we realize that everything can change on a dime.
Last night I went outside and stood at my railing for just a minute.
I needed some time to breathe, to look up at the night sky and remember that, in the end, everything is going to be okay.
Life may change in shades. But together, hand in hand, we'll get through it...
We'll learn to lean because sometimes it's just too much to stand.
And we'll keep looking up, remembering.
And now? Oh how I love going outside and walking by this little garden that makes my heart swell with happiness. At night, it is alive with blinking butterflies and a happy little frog that sits underneath a lit lily pad and flitting dragonflies that make merry on my porch railing. Before I head to bed each night I take just a few minutes to step outside, look around at the bursting beauty, look up at the never ending night sky that reminds me--
...how small and insignificant I really am...
...how something much greater than me is alive and well in this universe...
...how blessed I am to have the gift of life and it is my job to cherish it...
It has been a hard week and I have needed those reminders.
Darian endured a major surgery to repair a hernia that caused her great pain last week and this week she went back under the knife to have a mole with irregular cells excised. This reality has left her shaken as left untreated the mole could have turned to melanoma. However? She is fine now but the doctor has warned her to please be careful and stay out of the sun. This warning has reminded her that life is fragile. She is debating if staying in the States next year rather than traveling to a third world country where medical care is sketchy at best is the better choice. Darian is a worrier and she recognizes that if she leaves, she will have no peace about the moles on her back that could be changing unawares.
Other people that I dearly love are hurting this week--hurting so terribly. And all I can do is stand in the background, a silent witness to raw pain.
I have borne witness this week to the agony of a hurting mother and the gut-wrenching silence of a dad consumed with worry.
I have seen a dear friend of mine who normally bears the burdens of others struggling with his own world that has crashed down.
And one of my own loved ones is facing a crisis.
Sometimes life can be so wretched. Sometimes the very things we have dedicated our lives to turn against us and leave us forsaken.
I believe that we need to find joy in life, that we need to cherish those times that are filled with laughter and love and light. Traditions and family and friendship and bursting flowers and decadent chocolate and an ever rising moon and the comforts of home are constants in our lives that, at times, we take for granted...
But then there are times when we are slammed with the reality that life isn't easy, that life can be more painful than not. And those times? They change us. They make us realize that we are fragile, that our health is not to be reckoned with carelessly, that those we love are but a heartbeat away from a new reality that leaves us shaken. Those times leave us flat on our backs wondering if we can manage to simply take the next breath.
We've all been there...and we'll all be there again--because that is just how life rolls.
And it is those times, in my opinion, that bring depth to the joy we experience once we have survived the pain...because we realize that everything can change on a dime.
Last night I went outside and stood at my railing for just a minute.
I needed some time to breathe, to look up at the night sky and remember that, in the end, everything is going to be okay.
Life may change in shades. But together, hand in hand, we'll get through it...
We'll learn to lean because sometimes it's just too much to stand.
And we'll keep looking up, remembering.
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Tribes
My mmmmm friend, Erin, invited me to join her book club. It's a club made up of a very diverse group of girls that are mostly in their 30's. Some are married; some have babies or young children; some are chasing careers and men. All are beautiful and intelligent and oh so amazing and fun. Erin and I are the matriarchs of the group. Yeah. We're the oldies. Anyway, last night we met at my house to discuss All the Light You Cannot See and eat a bounty of salads that were arranged around my table. Oh my word! Those salads! I just could not stop eating as each one was so delectable.
But the thing is, this is only my third time with these girls but already I feel like they are my tribe. They are so welcoming and adorable and they each have so much personality and wit. We don't typically discuss the book for hours on end, but just enough to hit the main points. And then? The conversation tends to drift to other things as everyone has such interesting lives and funny stories to share. It is just simply fun and I looked forward to it all day.
When they left, Darian gushed, "Oh Mom, I love your reading group! They are so nice!"
Yes, they are.
And then, of course, I coerced Erin to stay just a bit longer so I could soak up some Erin time in my living room. But naturally, my entire family decided Erin is here!!!! which meant they wanted a piece of her too, so before I knew it, everybody was scrunched in the living room laughing and talking it up about nothing and yet everything because Erin is just fun like that.
Today, Darian is headed into surgery. I've taken off work for two days so that I can play nurse and make sure she gets over the surgery hump with relatively no problem. She's young and fit so I'm sure she'll be just fine, but, of course, surgery is always a little nerve-wracking. I've told her a few million times how it goes down so that she will know what to expect and won't fear it quite so much: First you change into the fashionable gown and lay down on one of those stark white hospital beds. Then a nurse comes in and asks you a million questions and takes your blood pressure, etc. And then they...blah blah blah.
I know that many people are thinking about her today as we head to the hospital and that she will be surrounded by the thoughts and prayers of others. We are blessed to have a tribe filled with good people with good hearts.
I've been thinking about that lately--tribes. I want to surround myself with those who support not just me, but my husband and my kids. That's important to me. That, to me, is the sign of a true friend. And of course, I want to be that friend to those who are in my tribe.
Life is all about community. And we all have our tribes: our church tribe and our family tribe and our friends tribe and our book club tribe and our heart-friends tribe...and the list continues.
Tribes?
They make the world go 'round.
They bring the joy and the spark and the feeling of belonging.
So to those who are a part of my tribe?
Thank you.
But the thing is, this is only my third time with these girls but already I feel like they are my tribe. They are so welcoming and adorable and they each have so much personality and wit. We don't typically discuss the book for hours on end, but just enough to hit the main points. And then? The conversation tends to drift to other things as everyone has such interesting lives and funny stories to share. It is just simply fun and I looked forward to it all day.
When they left, Darian gushed, "Oh Mom, I love your reading group! They are so nice!"
Yes, they are.
And then, of course, I coerced Erin to stay just a bit longer so I could soak up some Erin time in my living room. But naturally, my entire family decided Erin is here!!!! which meant they wanted a piece of her too, so before I knew it, everybody was scrunched in the living room laughing and talking it up about nothing and yet everything because Erin is just fun like that.
Today, Darian is headed into surgery. I've taken off work for two days so that I can play nurse and make sure she gets over the surgery hump with relatively no problem. She's young and fit so I'm sure she'll be just fine, but, of course, surgery is always a little nerve-wracking. I've told her a few million times how it goes down so that she will know what to expect and won't fear it quite so much: First you change into the fashionable gown and lay down on one of those stark white hospital beds. Then a nurse comes in and asks you a million questions and takes your blood pressure, etc. And then they...blah blah blah.
I know that many people are thinking about her today as we head to the hospital and that she will be surrounded by the thoughts and prayers of others. We are blessed to have a tribe filled with good people with good hearts.
I've been thinking about that lately--tribes. I want to surround myself with those who support not just me, but my husband and my kids. That's important to me. That, to me, is the sign of a true friend. And of course, I want to be that friend to those who are in my tribe.
Life is all about community. And we all have our tribes: our church tribe and our family tribe and our friends tribe and our book club tribe and our heart-friends tribe...and the list continues.
Tribes?
They make the world go 'round.
They bring the joy and the spark and the feeling of belonging.
So to those who are a part of my tribe?
Thank you.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
Conversation Starters
Darian came home Tuesday evening as she has an umbilical hernia that causes her almost constant pain. And so, yesterday we left the house at 8:15 and headed to the first doctor's appointment so that she could get the physical needed by the family physician for the sake insurance coverage and a "referral" for a surgeon. At 11:15, she had an appointment with the surgeon. And then at 3:00, she had an appointment with a dermatologist. It was a whirlwind day filled with one appointment after another and a couple of fun activities squeezed in between to bide the time.
After her first appointment, we headed to Starbucks. We had two hours to kill and so we both ordered a chai, found a corner table, and hung out. Okay--we ordered a cake pop too. Two hours is quite a lot of time for conversation as we had talked the night before for quite some time and covered all the regular topics--you know, friend stories, guy stories, school stories--that sort of thing. And so, after awhile, I got the brilliant idea to check out "conversation starters" online which produced a host of questions to discuss. And so, Darian and I filled the next segment of time with If you could have one superpower what would it be? Do you believe that one person can change the world? What are your passions? and many, many more. We laughed and thought and talked and laughed some more the entire time. One man who was sitting close by couldn't help himself and was clearly listening in on our conversation. And that made me laugh.
What is he thinking about us??
One time, we made eye contact--this man and me. Normally, if I am listening in on a conversation that I'm not really a part, I quickly divert my eyes if one of them looks at me. But this man was so intently listening to us that he didn't even attempt to divert his eyes. He looked straight at me for an uncomfortable amount of time.
Does he not like what I'm saying?
Because it was that particular conversation that Darian and I were having that was a wee bit controversial. I toyed with the idea of inviting him over: Come join us! But he looked engrossed in his newspaper. And, of course, this was just "us" time. So, I didn't.
But that two hours with Darian at Starbucks discussing matters of the heart? That was time well-spent. That two hour slot created a memory that I will hold dear as summer winds to a close and Darian flies off for a year in Bolivia.
Sometimes I marvel at the power of conversation. It's such an interesting thing--the ability to converse and get another's perspective; the ability to share matters of the heart; the ability to deceive, to be honest, to comfort, to harm, to create.
Words are powerful.
One of the questions that Darian and I discussed was If you could have a super power, what would it be? I said--I'd be invisible! Darian said, Yeah! I would love to be invisible! And then her face scrunched as she contemplated that idea, and we both laughed at the same time.
Probably, if we could be invisible, we wouldn't have any friends left because we would hear what everybody says about us...so we'd go around with hurt feelings all of the time.
Yeah. Better not to know.
Sometimes two-faced is a beautiful thing.
Recently my Aunt Peggy and Uncle John came to visit. We had the most amazing time together, playing games and chatting it up like no tomorrow. It was a glorious 48 hours and sped by much too quickly--as it always does. But anyway, on their last evening here, we went out to eat at Tupelo Honey, and we got into a political discussion. I recoil at political discussions. People are so passionate about their views and have little room for other views. And so, I have found that it's best to just keep silent in those moments. But within this conversation, John said that the problem with our nation is the lack of conversation. We only talk about the big issues with those who agree with us. And if we are talking with those who don't agree with us, it is no longer a conversation: it is a shouting match.
The result? We don't understand each other. We take sides and nurse our own wounds while throwing darts at theirs.
Just look around. The results of festered wounds are everywhere: Baltimore being the most recent catastrophe.
We need to bring back the art of conversation. It needs to start within our families at the dinner table and then spread to friends and then communities. We need to be talking about the bigger issues--not for the sake of solving, but for the sake of understanding. That, in my opinion, would at least be a beginning. And maybe that beginning could start with Google and a website called Conversation Starters.
Darian came home Tuesday evening as she has an umbilical hernia that causes her almost constant pain. And so, yesterday we left the house at 8:15 and headed to the first doctor's appointment so that she could get the physical needed by the family physician for the sake insurance coverage and a "referral" for a surgeon. At 11:15, she had an appointment with the surgeon. And then at 3:00, she had an appointment with a dermatologist. It was a whirlwind day filled with one appointment after another and a couple of fun activities squeezed in between to bide the time.
After her first appointment, we headed to Starbucks. We had two hours to kill and so we both ordered a chai, found a corner table, and hung out. Okay--we ordered a cake pop too. Two hours is quite a lot of time for conversation as we had talked the night before for quite some time and covered all the regular topics--you know, friend stories, guy stories, school stories--that sort of thing. And so, after awhile, I got the brilliant idea to check out "conversation starters" online which produced a host of questions to discuss. And so, Darian and I filled the next segment of time with If you could have one superpower what would it be? Do you believe that one person can change the world? What are your passions? and many, many more. We laughed and thought and talked and laughed some more the entire time. One man who was sitting close by couldn't help himself and was clearly listening in on our conversation. And that made me laugh.
What is he thinking about us??
One time, we made eye contact--this man and me. Normally, if I am listening in on a conversation that I'm not really a part, I quickly divert my eyes if one of them looks at me. But this man was so intently listening to us that he didn't even attempt to divert his eyes. He looked straight at me for an uncomfortable amount of time.
Does he not like what I'm saying?
Because it was that particular conversation that Darian and I were having that was a wee bit controversial. I toyed with the idea of inviting him over: Come join us! But he looked engrossed in his newspaper. And, of course, this was just "us" time. So, I didn't.
But that two hours with Darian at Starbucks discussing matters of the heart? That was time well-spent. That two hour slot created a memory that I will hold dear as summer winds to a close and Darian flies off for a year in Bolivia.
Sometimes I marvel at the power of conversation. It's such an interesting thing--the ability to converse and get another's perspective; the ability to share matters of the heart; the ability to deceive, to be honest, to comfort, to harm, to create.
Words are powerful.
One of the questions that Darian and I discussed was If you could have a super power, what would it be? I said--I'd be invisible! Darian said, Yeah! I would love to be invisible! And then her face scrunched as she contemplated that idea, and we both laughed at the same time.
Probably, if we could be invisible, we wouldn't have any friends left because we would hear what everybody says about us...so we'd go around with hurt feelings all of the time.
Yeah. Better not to know.
Sometimes two-faced is a beautiful thing.
Recently my Aunt Peggy and Uncle John came to visit. We had the most amazing time together, playing games and chatting it up like no tomorrow. It was a glorious 48 hours and sped by much too quickly--as it always does. But anyway, on their last evening here, we went out to eat at Tupelo Honey, and we got into a political discussion. I recoil at political discussions. People are so passionate about their views and have little room for other views. And so, I have found that it's best to just keep silent in those moments. But within this conversation, John said that the problem with our nation is the lack of conversation. We only talk about the big issues with those who agree with us. And if we are talking with those who don't agree with us, it is no longer a conversation: it is a shouting match.
The result? We don't understand each other. We take sides and nurse our own wounds while throwing darts at theirs.
Just look around. The results of festered wounds are everywhere: Baltimore being the most recent catastrophe.
We need to bring back the art of conversation. It needs to start within our families at the dinner table and then spread to friends and then communities. We need to be talking about the bigger issues--not for the sake of solving, but for the sake of understanding. That, in my opinion, would at least be a beginning. And maybe that beginning could start with Google and a website called Conversation Starters.
After her first appointment, we headed to Starbucks. We had two hours to kill and so we both ordered a chai, found a corner table, and hung out. Okay--we ordered a cake pop too. Two hours is quite a lot of time for conversation as we had talked the night before for quite some time and covered all the regular topics--you know, friend stories, guy stories, school stories--that sort of thing. And so, after awhile, I got the brilliant idea to check out "conversation starters" online which produced a host of questions to discuss. And so, Darian and I filled the next segment of time with If you could have one superpower what would it be? Do you believe that one person can change the world? What are your passions? and many, many more. We laughed and thought and talked and laughed some more the entire time. One man who was sitting close by couldn't help himself and was clearly listening in on our conversation. And that made me laugh.
What is he thinking about us??
One time, we made eye contact--this man and me. Normally, if I am listening in on a conversation that I'm not really a part, I quickly divert my eyes if one of them looks at me. But this man was so intently listening to us that he didn't even attempt to divert his eyes. He looked straight at me for an uncomfortable amount of time.
Does he not like what I'm saying?
Because it was that particular conversation that Darian and I were having that was a wee bit controversial. I toyed with the idea of inviting him over: Come join us! But he looked engrossed in his newspaper. And, of course, this was just "us" time. So, I didn't.
But that two hours with Darian at Starbucks discussing matters of the heart? That was time well-spent. That two hour slot created a memory that I will hold dear as summer winds to a close and Darian flies off for a year in Bolivia.
Sometimes I marvel at the power of conversation. It's such an interesting thing--the ability to converse and get another's perspective; the ability to share matters of the heart; the ability to deceive, to be honest, to comfort, to harm, to create.
Words are powerful.
One of the questions that Darian and I discussed was If you could have a super power, what would it be? I said--I'd be invisible! Darian said, Yeah! I would love to be invisible! And then her face scrunched as she contemplated that idea, and we both laughed at the same time.
Probably, if we could be invisible, we wouldn't have any friends left because we would hear what everybody says about us...so we'd go around with hurt feelings all of the time.
Yeah. Better not to know.
Sometimes two-faced is a beautiful thing.
Recently my Aunt Peggy and Uncle John came to visit. We had the most amazing time together, playing games and chatting it up like no tomorrow. It was a glorious 48 hours and sped by much too quickly--as it always does. But anyway, on their last evening here, we went out to eat at Tupelo Honey, and we got into a political discussion. I recoil at political discussions. People are so passionate about their views and have little room for other views. And so, I have found that it's best to just keep silent in those moments. But within this conversation, John said that the problem with our nation is the lack of conversation. We only talk about the big issues with those who agree with us. And if we are talking with those who don't agree with us, it is no longer a conversation: it is a shouting match.
The result? We don't understand each other. We take sides and nurse our own wounds while throwing darts at theirs.
Just look around. The results of festered wounds are everywhere: Baltimore being the most recent catastrophe.
We need to bring back the art of conversation. It needs to start within our families at the dinner table and then spread to friends and then communities. We need to be talking about the bigger issues--not for the sake of solving, but for the sake of understanding. That, in my opinion, would at least be a beginning. And maybe that beginning could start with Google and a website called Conversation Starters.
Darian came home Tuesday evening as she has an umbilical hernia that causes her almost constant pain. And so, yesterday we left the house at 8:15 and headed to the first doctor's appointment so that she could get the physical needed by the family physician for the sake insurance coverage and a "referral" for a surgeon. At 11:15, she had an appointment with the surgeon. And then at 3:00, she had an appointment with a dermatologist. It was a whirlwind day filled with one appointment after another and a couple of fun activities squeezed in between to bide the time.
After her first appointment, we headed to Starbucks. We had two hours to kill and so we both ordered a chai, found a corner table, and hung out. Okay--we ordered a cake pop too. Two hours is quite a lot of time for conversation as we had talked the night before for quite some time and covered all the regular topics--you know, friend stories, guy stories, school stories--that sort of thing. And so, after awhile, I got the brilliant idea to check out "conversation starters" online which produced a host of questions to discuss. And so, Darian and I filled the next segment of time with If you could have one superpower what would it be? Do you believe that one person can change the world? What are your passions? and many, many more. We laughed and thought and talked and laughed some more the entire time. One man who was sitting close by couldn't help himself and was clearly listening in on our conversation. And that made me laugh.
What is he thinking about us??
One time, we made eye contact--this man and me. Normally, if I am listening in on a conversation that I'm not really a part, I quickly divert my eyes if one of them looks at me. But this man was so intently listening to us that he didn't even attempt to divert his eyes. He looked straight at me for an uncomfortable amount of time.
Does he not like what I'm saying?
Because it was that particular conversation that Darian and I were having that was a wee bit controversial. I toyed with the idea of inviting him over: Come join us! But he looked engrossed in his newspaper. And, of course, this was just "us" time. So, I didn't.
But that two hours with Darian at Starbucks discussing matters of the heart? That was time well-spent. That two hour slot created a memory that I will hold dear as summer winds to a close and Darian flies off for a year in Bolivia.
Sometimes I marvel at the power of conversation. It's such an interesting thing--the ability to converse and get another's perspective; the ability to share matters of the heart; the ability to deceive, to be honest, to comfort, to harm, to create.
Words are powerful.
One of the questions that Darian and I discussed was If you could have a super power, what would it be? I said--I'd be invisible! Darian said, Yeah! I would love to be invisible! And then her face scrunched as she contemplated that idea, and we both laughed at the same time.
Probably, if we could be invisible, we wouldn't have any friends left because we would hear what everybody says about us...so we'd go around with hurt feelings all of the time.
Yeah. Better not to know.
Sometimes two-faced is a beautiful thing.
Recently my Aunt Peggy and Uncle John came to visit. We had the most amazing time together, playing games and chatting it up like no tomorrow. It was a glorious 48 hours and sped by much too quickly--as it always does. But anyway, on their last evening here, we went out to eat at Tupelo Honey, and we got into a political discussion. I recoil at political discussions. People are so passionate about their views and have little room for other views. And so, I have found that it's best to just keep silent in those moments. But within this conversation, John said that the problem with our nation is the lack of conversation. We only talk about the big issues with those who agree with us. And if we are talking with those who don't agree with us, it is no longer a conversation: it is a shouting match.
The result? We don't understand each other. We take sides and nurse our own wounds while throwing darts at theirs.
Just look around. The results of festered wounds are everywhere: Baltimore being the most recent catastrophe.
We need to bring back the art of conversation. It needs to start within our families at the dinner table and then spread to friends and then communities. We need to be talking about the bigger issues--not for the sake of solving, but for the sake of understanding. That, in my opinion, would at least be a beginning. And maybe that beginning could start with Google and a website called Conversation Starters.
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