The Beauty of Ouch

I have spent the last 20 years (give or take) learning how to express my negative feelings; you know the ones -- anger, hurt, disappointment, fear, intimidation, etc. For someone who grew up in an emotionally abusive home, this has been quite a wild ride. After discovering I had a voice (dammit) I took far too many liberties with it, mostly at my husband and kids, and I did a lot of damage in the name of my healing. *sigh*

While I certainly made some big strides on this journey, the road was long with many a winding turn. About five years ago, I felt the Lord gently say to me, "Just because you CAN say something, doesn't mean you SHOULD." This was in the context of keeping my mouth shut at women's Bible studies where certainly the world would come to an end if I didn't speak up about certain things. (Ah, don't we love it when He points out spiritual pride?) But I soon realized this word applied to all areas of my life. Thus a new adventure began, of understanding I can CHOOSE not to speak and that doesn't mean someone is oppressing or squelching me. It doesn't mean I've lost my voice; it means I'm gaining some wisdom and discipline to know how to use that voice well. I don't think any of us ever gets this right 100% of the time, but since I came from such a deficit it felt a bit like learning how to walk. There have been times when I stayed silent when it became clear down the road that I should have spoken up, and vice-versa...sometimes about trivial things; sometimes about crucial issues. What a journey.

Somewhere along the way, I discovered the beauty of ouch. It's such a small word; I love how it feels in my mouth. Finding one's ouch is an important thing. What causes me to ouch might not cause you to ouch, and so it helps us understand each other more. Ouch doesn't accuse. It doesn't say, "YOU did this and YOU are bad/wrong/unacceptable." It says, "That hurt/stung/bothered ME." It helps to "keep things in the I" as therapists and communication instructors tell us over and over again.

Sometimes we don't know what to do with ouch. Defenses rise up ("I didn't do anything wrong!") or judgments are made ("You're too sensitive!"). I know I haven't always known what to do with someone else's ouch. Now I understand that one of the most beautiful phrases in the English language is, "I'm sorry that hurt you." This is such a gentle way to come alongside the person you care about and let them know you have heard and respected their ouch. (And if you're in the same room, a hug can be nice, too. At least for me.)

I recently had an exchange with a friend; "I need to say ouch," I said. I explained why. They listened and apologized, explaining what had been going on with them. I listened and forgave. It was over in about two minutes. That's a beautiful thing. Two minutes to avoid walls being built. Two minutes to create safety and freedom. It's a risk to do this, though, isn't it? It takes a leap of faith and humility; when I say ouch, I feel unguarded and vulnerable. However, I know one thing for sure (à la Oprah) -- if I *don't* have those conversations, then those two minutes of unspoken hurt/anger/disappointment will add up to days and years of suppressed feelings which damage my soul and build walls between me and others. It's taken a long time but I think I'm finally getting it through my head and heart that the more I do this, the less riskier it feels, especially in relationships where room and respect for our ouches has been established.

I am grateful for the people in my life who have also discovered the beauty of ouch....who take the risk with me, and who care for me when I do the same. You know who you are.

"Finally, all of you, be like-minded, be sympathetic, love one another, be compassionate and humble." - 1Peter 3:8

Pardon My Gushing

How do I love thee, Alameda? Let me count the ways, in no particular order:

1) The weather right now is splendiferous. Sunny with clear skies. High 60s to high 70s, depending on the day. Most of the time a lovely, cool breeze. I want to be outside all the time.

2) The water! I'm a mile from a freaking BEACH! Real sand. Small waves. Even a little pier. Sun glistening on the bay...pinch me!

3) It is so quiet here! Glenn thinks it has something to do with all the trees...they seem to absorb the traffic noise even on busier streets. Speaking of which...

4) The trees! The lush lawns! My eyes are still adjusting to all of this green. I hope I never take it for granted.

5) Soooo many beautiful and/or charming homes of various kinds -- Victorians, Dutch Farmhouses, Craftsmen, California Bungalows, even some Cape Cods and Colonials.

6) Hydrangeas!! So many of the aforementioned homes have lovely front yards/gardens; hydrangeas, which are my favorite, abound! And I'm talking big, mature bushes with lots and lots of those big, colorful flower balls.

7) It feels like I'm not in California, but in a small midwestern town. Why?

a) The 25mph speed limit on the Island = slower pace. (90+% of the drivers obey this law.)

b) There are corner markets in every neighborhood.

c) Everyone is friendly; passersby actually make eye contact and smile or say hello.

d) The entire town celebrates the 4th of July in a way I've never seen. Flags are de rigeur, even in CA, but BUNTING? Seeing Victorian homes with bunting carefully draped on porches and under windows...it's something I've only seen in movies/television shows/pictures of the midwest. And the parade here is famous. Which leads me to...

e) This year, one of the groups in the parade, the Hot Pink Feathers, caused quite a stir with their skimpy outfits. You'd think living so close to SF would make everyone jaded, but not here! As the online Alameda Patch newspaper reported, "It was a Mayberry meets Mardi Gras moment" and the town was abuzz, which delights me to no end. It seems there's really a place in CA where underwear is still considered private. (Victoria's Secret be damned!)

8) It's a very dog-loving place. Huge dog park. Dogs are allowed in some stores and on patios of restaurants (what is this, Paris?). And I see people walking their dogs everywhere. Can't wait to join them!

9) The view of the San Francisco skyline across the bay still makes me gasp; it's so beautiful on a clear day. (Today I could see the fog rolling in!) Nighttime brings the city lights and a sparkling Bay Bridge.

10) Speaking of the city...it's so close! 15 minutes by BART, 20 minutes by ferry, 30 minutes by car (or even less when there's no traffic).

11) It's foodie heaven with lots of restaurants of all ethnicities and price ranges. Of course, I want to try them all!

12) There are a couple of "downtown" areas which look like Main Street, USA; even the one that's more upscale.

13) South Shore Center -- a sprawling outdoor mall across the street from, yup, the shore! Includes Trader Joe's, a huge Safeway, Bed Bath & Beyond, Ross, Kohl's, Petco, and lots of restaurants and smaller stores. It's well-landscaped and there are benches under the shady trees for when one needs a rest from shopping.

14) Pagano's Hardware Store! I cannot say enough about this place which is just two blocks from our house. The kitchen section alone is worth a visit.

15) The movie theater..stunning! An old art deco movie palace which was renovated a few years ago at a price tag of over $15 million. Just beautiful. There are eight screens total, but the main cinema is in the big theater.

I'm sure I'll think of more.

A friend said to me today, "You're where you're supposed to be; you're home." Yeah...I really think so.

C is for...

I went to a Church this evening which absolutely delighted me. It was mostly younger-than-me people (e.g. the pastor is 32!) who are Completely passionate about Creating a Cross-Centered, Christ-following Community...with a capital C...kind of stunning for this day and age, really. Their information contained words like Covenant, Commitment and even Confrontation. Suddenly I didn't feel like such an old fogey after all. They are absolutely open to Conversation with the Curious and skeptical while being completely serious in their pursuit of truth and looking intently (and intensely) at what Scripture has to say about everything. Short of being a "house church," they want to, as much as possible, live a first-century life within the twenty-first-century culture. I was more than impressed.

I had the opportunity to Chat with the pastor at the end of the service and to pray for him. He's got a big heart and a big vision for his small-but-growing flock. And while I don't know if I will join them on their particular journey, I wanted very much to bless this shepherd and his very serious desire to live "life together" (à la Bonhoeffer).

(Check them out at www.eucharistsf.org.)

A Purpose-Driven Life

"We are not human doings, we are human beings," I have been known to say.

Now I get to walk the talk.

This is a very interesting season for me. I am in a new home in a new town where I don't know anyone. I don't have a job or a ministry or even a church to attend...yet. The dogs aren't even here...yet. My calendar is, for the most part, completely empty, and I am alone for 13+ hours each weekday.

I could say, "Be careful what you wish for," as much of my adult life has been so hectic (sometimes frenetic!) and for many years Glenn worked at home, so I rarely had the house to myself. The calendar was always filled with various church/ministry/school activities, meetings and appointments and it often took a lot of schedule finagling to find a couple of hours to spend with a friend, especially when I added a part-time job to the mix! Kids were always present in one way or another. Now, the house is silent and tidy. (Not that I'm complaining!)

Have I had some times of being down? You bet. But for the most part, I feel like I have been given an amazing gift...a Divine respite/breather/time of rest. There are things I *could* do (one look in our disorganized filing cabinets would tell you that). But for now, I am glad to finally BE, because frankly, I have been mentally/physically/emotionally EXHAUSTED for a looong time.

So I move slowly. Breathe deeply. Soak in the green foliage around me. Talk to God and read the Word. Listen to music. Play online Scrabble. Chat with friends on Facebook. Watch TV shows on hulu.com that I've missed. Read magazines and books. Nibble on dark chocolate. I'm finally getting enough energy back that I'm ready to start slowly exploring my new town and go walking on the beach. (I hope to be able to walk to the beach and back every day, but I need to work up to that!)

And there is finally time and emotional space to process the past couple of years.

(True confessions -- There are days I feel like I "should" be playing the piano/guitar and singing, but that's how I know it's not time yet...it will come.)

A couple of days ago I was feeling a lack of purpose, which I think would be normal under these circumstances. Since then, I have felt the nudge of the Father, reminding me that I was created for relationship with Him first; my purpose has always been, and will always be, to be His child. And it is this purpose that drives me, whether I'm doing or being.

That's my "purpose-driven" life for now, and it is enough.

The First of Many Lasts

As Glenn was saying goodbye to our sons and me this morning -- to head off on the two-day drive to our new place in Alameda -- it hit me hard that it was the last time we'd all be together in this house...the home in which we've lived for nearly ten years. What a decade it's been.

I'm sitting here in our family room, on a couch that doesn't belong to me, listening to the movers tape padding around our furniture. Our dogs, Max and Dweezil, are curled up on the floor, resigned to whatever fate is theirs. They know something's up, but they haven't a clue what it might be. Dweezil is staying close to me, but he always did. Max isn't eating, and he seems pretty depressed. I wish they could understand my words when I assure them that we will soon all be together in our new place.

But then I realize that's only a partial truth. "All" means Glenn, me, Max and Dweezil. Jake will probably stay with us for awhile, most likely after he drives the dogs from Tucson to Alameda (after we build a couple of fences with gates to secure the backyard). But then he will return to Australia...Caleb will be in Nebraska for at least a year...and most likely our nuclear family-of-four will never live in the same house again.

Now I know that kids moving away and having their own lives is normal; we've already experienced that in a few different seasons -- Caleb going to college, then YWAM in Canada, then living on his own; Jake going to YWAM in Australia -- but too many changes are happening at once, and that's hard for me. I like my changes to come one at a time, thank you very much...much like I'd rather have a 10-course tasting menu than have all the plates in front of me...too overwhelming. I want to taste each one, process each bite and savor the flavor before the next plate comes along. OK, so I also love a good buffet, but at least then I get to choose how much to pile on my plate. :)

Apparently God has decided I can handle a plateful of changes. Or maybe not. Maybe He knows I *can't* handle it, so I have to press into Him for His strength to endure this season.

And that's the whole point, isn't it?

"I can do all things through Him who gives me strength." -- Phil 4:13

I Am the Problem

Quoting Donald Miller, from his book "Blue Like Jazz":

[A friend of Don's once asked him if he was capable of murder, rape and all the horrific stuff that was going on the Congo. He said "No."]

His friend then said, "I just want to know what makes those guys over there any different from you and me. They are human. We are human. Why are we any better than them, you know?"

Don writes, "If I answered his question by saying yes, I could commit those atrocities, that would make me evil, but if I answered no, it would suggest I believed I am better evolved than some of the men in the Congo. And then I would have some explaining to do."

Later in the book, after much thought and prayer about all of this, he writes:

"...I don't have to watch the evening news to see that the world is bad. I only have to look at myself. I am not browbeating myself here; I am only saying that true change, true life-giving, God-honoring change would have to start with the individual. I was the very problem I had been protesting. I wanted to make a sign that read, 'I AM THE PROBLEM.'"

Did I Ever Leave?

I'm experiencing the weird thing that happens when returning to a place where I lived for a long time...the feeling that I never really left. It's so crazy...obviously I have been gone from this area for more than 9 years, and A LOT has happened to and changed in me during that time. But driving around, everything feels so familiar. (Not to mention GREEN!!!) I am feeling incredibly nostalgic and wistful, ready to cry at the drop of a hat.

I drove by the places we lived from 1989-2001...so many memories. I went to the Little League field where Jake hit his first home run and remembered all the hours of baseball enjoyed there. And the sign with Jake's name on it is still hanging on the fence...he was part of the team that won the Division Championships in 2001. :)

I still don't know where we're going to land...it looks like we'll be subletting a place in The City for the month of May; that will be fun. I'll be looking for our "real" home during that time...the sooner I find it, the better! Because then I can relax and enjoy city life.

More to come as life unfolds.