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Friendship

Character, Courage, Empathy, Family, Friendship, Grace, Hope, Lessons, Love, Uncategorized

Growing Bigger Souled

Life is made up of little moments, pieced together to create our whole journey.  Slots of time filled with joy, sadness, and all the emotions in between.  The hope is at the completion of our pilgrimage, there will be a balance of the light and dark, with more gladness than sorrow.

Years ago, we took a family trip to Cabo San Lucas with the boys, they were around seven and ten years old.  We indulged in all the ridiculously expensive, touristy experiences; massages, swimming with the dolphins, parasailing, shopping, deep sea fishing, beach days, etc.  One night we treated ourselves to a big family dinner at a fun restaurant – right on the beach in Cabo, where the tables are literally set up on the sand.  As we were laughing breezily and stuffing our faces, a few locals on the beach quietly attempted to get our attention and sell us their goods.

One young boy and his sister looked to be about the same age as our boys.  He came up holding a bundle of colorful bracelets, offering to personalize them with names woven into them.  Looking at him, I wondered how it was that my boys ended up as the ones on vacation and he was a local, peddling homemade jewelry.  It made me sad, sometimes I just don’t understand this life.  I performed the cheesy tourist role – acting as if I couldn’t decide which beauty to choose, so I mentally counted the kiddos in our neighborhood and told him that was how many bracelets I needed.  I took him up on his offer to weave Mason and McCray’s names into their bracelets.  While he and his older sister sat in the sand to craft our jewelry, McCray couldn’t keep from watching them.  At one point, he looked up at me with eyes full of sencerity and said, “Mom, even if his jewelry wasn’t as beautiful as it is, would you still buy it?”

I replied yes.  He nodded, looked back at the boy and quietly said, “I would to.”

I will never forget the look on his face that night.  His little mind recognizing that they weren’t that different and his little heart not understanding the unfairness of the situation.  They were the same age, yet a country apart in their life experiences.  McCray has always been my sensitive thinker who seems to feel things deeper than most.  The boy selling jewelry could have been as happy as a clam with his life, but that encounter was used for a gentle teaching moment in my son’s journey. That evening, with our feet in the sand and our bellies full, he learned what compassion and empathy feel like.

When empathy is present, apathy cannot exist.”  Jessica Honegger

We are not all that different.  Don’t we all have the same core needs?  What if we could just lean in to those we don’t understand, our neighbors who are experiencing life different from us?  What if we could stop filling our lives with the perfect moments, situations, etc – and leave some margin to lean in and meet some of the needs that are right in front of us?  Empathy can fill in a lot of gaps.  Sister Joan Chittister tells us that “We are either growing or collapsing at every moment.  We are becoming bigger souled or smaller souled at every moment.”  Every single minute – not one wasted.  She believes that the purpose of a human experience is to grow into God.  To go beyond religion and become a prayer, by becoming a filter that sees our Creator in everything.

B-e-a-utiful.  Oh, to live a kind of life where we see the Divine in everything. To grow bigger souled in each moment.  We will slip occasionally, as we are human.  Yet, we have an opportunity in every moment to grow, to lean in, to work at understanding and loving those who we deem different than us.  We are not as different as it sometimes feels. Jesus was the greatest teacher of this, as he was always expanding his table to accommodate more hearts.  We all have the same underground river running beneath our feet, the water of grace.  Reach down and splash some on your neighbor.

A sweet memory in Cabo with my M&M boys

 

 

 

Friendship, Laughter, Lessons

Lighten up and Laugh more

Life has been so sad lately, I need a laugh break.  If you could benefit from one as well, I invite you to read on.

One of my favorite qualities in a person is the ability to laugh at oneself.  Life is more doable when taken lightly.

I’ve had so many embarrassing moments in my life that I sometimes wonder if I accidently picked up an extra serving, meant for another.   I’m usually the first one to rat myself out, and haven’t decided if this is a good quality or not.  I’ve been in conversations before, halfway through my story, only to realize the person hearing it has a look of horror on their face.

Whoops.

Retreat and wrap it up. I apparently got lost on my way to the sharing circle. Embarrassing stories are to be saved for back porch nights with the inner circle.  When someone shares an embarrassing moment with me, it seals the deal of my love for them. I don’t mean a “Oh my, I burped out loud – clutch my pearls” story, let’s dive in deep my friend.  Dish it out in a safe place.  Shame cannot survive being spoken.

I’d love to share one with you now, it’s actually my favorite.one.ever.  Only it isn’t mine, but I tell it with FULL permission rights.  This gracious friend was brave enough to offer the use of her real name.  Probably due to the fact of threatening her for years that this story is going in a future book.  I’m sharing it here because it deserves a shrine, and I don’t feel that she tells it with as much gusto as it deserves.  She skips some important moments, and this story has earned a space of its own.

Pull up a chair my friend, join me on this back porch.  Chances are, if you have spent any time with me at ALL, you know what story I’m about to tell.   I can’t image any men who would read my blog, but if you are lost and ended up here, feel free to sit this one out.

I was a fresh eighteen years old, and walked into my first day on the job at Bourland Dry Cleaners in Willow Park, Texas.  It was a drop off/pick up location, so the only other employee was the gal training me.  She was a year older and less than thrilled to welcome me.  With her 5-inch-long, dark brown nails, she taught me how to tag and bag clothes. In future days, she taught me how to smoke skinny cigarettes and drink.  We saved our money and chipped in for a mini fridge for the store, to ensure that her beer and my wine coolers stayed cold.  In the distant, more settled days, she taught me how to cook, take care of a baby, and be a homemaker.  You can see where I simply had to have her in my friend barn.

Our job didn’t require matching attire. We just felt the need to go above and beyond. Bless.

Vanessa was in cosmetology school in the mornings, and worked at the cleaners in the afternoons.  Due to many-a-late nights, she missed a lot of school.  Like most of it.  Luckily for the majority of population, she didn’t make a career out of doing hair.  The person in charge of the school finally cracked down and told her that she wouldn’t complete the course if she missed one more day.

With two weeks of school left, Vanessa told me that afternoon that she couldn’t go out after work until the semester was over.  Secretly, I was thankful.  I had gone from living on the shoulder of the life’s highway – straight to the fast lane, and welcomed a rest.  The very next morning, Vanessa woke up rested with full nights sleep, only sick as a dog.  A virus had hit her full force.  Fully recommitted to the trade of making ladies beautiful, she got dressed and headed to class.

The accident occurred on the backroads.  Please don’t be alarmed, this was no car accident, more of a virus-natured one.  I should mention that this was 1997, so clearly, she was dressed in a plaid mini skirt, tights, and loafers.  Who wasn’t after Clueless hit the big screen?   Vanessa had a decision to make – go home and change, or press on. The decision was simple, she was no beauty school dropout.

Always a survivor, she remembered that Koryn, a friend from high school, lived just up ahead.  Koryn had a large family and a welcoming house, everyone was always coming and going.  Desperate, Vanessa pulled in the driveway and ran into the house at 7:30 am. She made a beeline for the restroom to use the facilities and clean herself up.  She went to the extreme of washing her unmentionables in the sink and even blow-drying them, cutting no corners on a quick sanitation job.

When the twenty minute clean-up mission was complete, she walked to Koryn’s room to explain that she needed to avoid using the wash cloth on the side of the tub.  Upon entering her friend’s room, she found a strange man lying in Koryn’s bed.  Realizing she didn’t have time to find a family member, Vanessa figured it best to contact them after school.  She had some hair to color and cut, perhaps even perm.

A few months passed and poor Koryn never received that warning call.  One night, while out in Fort Worth, we ran into Vanessa’s high school friend.  Nessa immediately and apologetically started relaying the story to her.  Koryn listened in horror, her face scrunching up in disgust and disbelief.  I felt so sorry for the poor girl, and replied by making faces of sympathy back at her.  I was silently hoping she hadn’t used that washcloth to cleanse her face.  When my dear friend got done with her story of admission, Koryn replied with, “Vanessa, we haven’t lived there in like a year.”

Howling would be the best description of my laughter.  For once, Vanessa was stunned into silence.

Here is where I could be cheesy, and insert a classic lesson in this story.  One like, “Always know what road you are on” or “Be present on your journey”, or an obvious one, “Know whose bathroom you are in”, or for the homeowner, “Know who is in your bathroom”.   But, wouldn’t you agree, this story needs nothing.

There isn’t a lesson to be learned, other than be sure to find laughter on this journey of life.

Give yourself permission to lighten up and laugh.  Life will take care of handing us the heavy stuff from time to time.  Most importantly, surround yourself with the funniest of friends.

My dear Vanessa, who Hubs has nicknamed Trouble #1

*To wrap this story up in a nice little bow, years later Vanessa found out who the new homeowners were.  Three single, handsome guys in their twenties.  As luck would have it, we ran into one of them a decade later, and I got to witness Vanessa telling him the story.  The best part was watching his brain scan his past calendars to see if he was the one home from work that day. Greatness.

**Disclaimer – By request, no names were changed for protection in this story. We could all learn from her transparency. For all you other friends, your stories are still safe with me.  In the vault, unless you give me written permission to take them out.

Laughing…even in Vermont