Buckling Her Shoes & Other Thoughts in Savannah

“Mom, can you help me with my shoes?”

Without hesitation, I bent down and guided her foot into the shoe and buckled the ankle strap. Instantaneously, I thought back to all the scrappy sandals her little fingers struggled to buckle as a small girl. Then to the more grown up shoes that set off her prom dress or the gown she wore on a hot August night at Teen Board. I never dreamed in just a few short years, my fingers would fumble with emotion when buckling her bejeweled white shoes.

Minutes later, she swept her long hair aside so that I could fasten the strand of my mother’s pearls around her neck. Something old. Something pure. Some 22 years earlier, my mother fastened those pearls around my own neck. It was my something borrowed. I caught my breath at the sight of her.

As we left the dressing room of the townhouse, she paused at the top of the stairs and turned slightly to ask, “Are you ready, mom?”

Gathering her train into my arms, I felt the weight of that moment – our last moments together before she became a wife. “NO! NO! I’m not ready!” My thoughts betrayed the smile on my face. Who knows her story like me? How we wrestled for many hours – me to bring her into the world and she, hesitant to come. Now, I am a front row witness to her coming into her own.

My mother and I never had the opportunity to discuss all the emotions she felt on my wedding day in 1999. Just two short years later, she lost her battle to cancer. Yet, I imagine that she felt much the same way I did – a mix of joy and apprehension.

Sorrow and excitement.

Two sides of the same coin – holding the tension.

The beauty of Savannah in the spring is unmatched and a perfect setting for the gathering of family and the exchange of vows. The night before, a strong cold front blew through the south leaving that Saturday in April with a deceivingly cold wind that shook the last of the blossoms from the trees and shrubs. Along with others, I watched Matt and Grace make promises to one another and my barely audible prayers were swiftly swept away by the wind. I’m sure my mom said similar prayers as she watched my father give me away.

Prayers for a better beginning….

more understanding….

forgiveness….

and love.

Prayers to warm on a cold night.

Prayers to protect when it gets hard – because it will get hard.

Prayers that she will do it better than those of us before.

Prayers that they build a soft place to land in the hard world.

Matt is a good man and when he took her hands into his, the breeze blew her hair and all the prayers from that moment and before came together. Our children – their stories begin with us; but, if they have the courage, they will pick up the pen and write something new.

It’s a funny thing to watch your daughter get married. Her story begins in my story. I handed her the pen that Saturday and she began to write her own story where someone else will be the first she calls. What a great gift it is to be a mother.

Risking It All for Love

Love.

I love you.

Ich liebe dich (German).

Je t’aime (French)

Te amo (Spanish)

Ti amo (Italian)

Ek het jou lief (Afrikaans)

Ana behibek (Arabic)

Ik hou van jou (Dutch)

S’agapo (Greek)

Ani ohev otach (Hebrew)

Phom rak khun (Thai)

Every language has a phrase for the simple words “I love you.”

Hang on. Did I say simple? Love is by far one of the most complicated emotions that humans can experience. I don’t have scientific research to back up that statement, only my own experience; but think about all the ways we love….the things we say we love (I love chocolate.)…..poems and songs written about love…. there were wars that began over nothing less than love…..

David and I were having a very emotional discussion this week on our commute to work about the love I have for my daughters, Grace and Anna. As much as I tried to quantify and put it into words, I failed. My reaction to that feeling of love for them became very physical, instead. Suddenly my throat restricted, my chest was tight and tears flooded my eyes. The mere thought of loving them was overwhelming to my body’s system.

How do you express that depth of emotion?

I can’t.

I think of  the days when they came into this world. The instant they arrived, my heart swelled to a limitless capacity. There is nothing they can ever do to diminish the love and care I have for them. Sure, they may make decisions that disappoint me, but to stop loving them? Never. The most wonderful feeling in the world comes to me in the quiet of the mornings when I creep into their bedrooms to wake them up for school. Unknowingly to them, I sit on the edge of their bed and watch them sleep, drinking in the immediate film of our story together as parent and child. I can’t remember life before they came along. I can’t imagine life without them. My love for them makes me relentless in my protection of them and their well-being.

This level of love also has a flip side – fear. My deepest, darkest fear meets me in my dreams from time to time. I fear that they will need me and I won’t be able to get to them. The dream, however their need for me manifests itself, wakes me from my sleep with a panic that grips my heart well into the wee hours of the morning. I have talked with other parents who nod with sympathy and understanding at such fears and nightmares; but, rarely do we speak with any detail about it.

I wonder if we ever stop to consider the risk of loving someone so much? If we would have known the way our heart would live outside of our bodies for the rest of our lives the moment they were born, would we still have risked it all? I want to think so because the fabric of our lives is so much more brilliant for having loved so very deeply.

Loving deeply.

Loving others is always a risky undertaking. We trust that when we love someone it will be returned. It will be respected. It will be worth it. Our hearts and lives will be safe in the hands of someone else. However, there are times when loving someone means getting our hearts broken. It is a risk you take. Worth it?

I was a skeptic for a while and such cynicism showed itself in pithy essays on this very website in recent years. In my late 20’s, I entered into the bonds of marriage with the hope that I would do it better than my parents before me- the cycle of divorce would end with me. That hope was met with problems that left me disillusioned and with no way to work through the disappointment i faced. I spent several years after my divorce, dismissing any thoughts about letting someone get that close again.

Until…..

I woke up one morning while vacationing at the Isle of Palms in October of 2013 and imagined how my life might look several years down the road. That picture included this wonderful man I had spent every bit of  my free time with over the course of many months. Startled at my own imagery,  I looked over at David and thought, ‘I want him to be sitting next to me on a beach somewhere when we are old and gray.’ I couldn’t imagine wanting anything or anyone more. Was that a scary point in time? You better believe it.

My adult relationship score card: MARRIAGE 1 – Kelli 0. Add insult to injury –  a  long-term relationship I had post-divorce that was just as destructive in its own right. The odds had not been in my favor.

Suddenly, I found myself willing to risk it all, again, after everything I had been through and every mistake I had made. I remember looking over at him while he was reading and felt like I was home. My heart had found a home.

The next spring, not long after he proposed to me, one of David’s closest friends asked, “Is it worth it?” He responded, “No doubt.”

The best we can ever do in love is give it all we have – for better, for worse.

Give it all, over and over again, living with the mad hope that it is not in vain. Believing that God made us for this.

I have to believe that God created us to love and love greatly. He created us in His image – each and every, single one of us. When I try to assign a quantifiable value to my love for my daughters or David, I get stuck with only the physical reaction that those emotions conjure up inside of me. I then marvel at God’s love for us and the sacrifice He was willing to make to demonstrate that – the giving of His one and only Son. Could I have done the same for humanity? Would I have been willing to sacrifice Grace or Anna to save a deprived world? No way.

But oh, how our Father loves us – to do the unthinkable for those who may choose to turn away from Him. Now that is a boundless love. Was it worth the risk? He seemed to think so.

He risked it all for love…….

Be blessed this week as we celebrate Valentine’s Day.

One Last Time….For Now

Well Reader…..here we go, one last time as we have known it.

Since Jan 2009, I have opined and reflected on the mysteries of life and love in an open, public blogging forum either as “Twisted Elf” or “Elfinfun”. During this time, I have enjoyed expressing myself through writing and many of you have indicated that in some way, big or small, my words have been a source of inspiration. I am humbled….

However, since my uncle’s death last July, I have failed to produce or write anything that I felt worthy of uploading for the “World Wide Web” to read. Oh, it’s not that I didn’t try; there were many times that I opened my laptop with the intent of producing an essay with some sort of pithy insight into this life we all find ourselves working through.

But, every single time I sat down and stared at the screen and blinking cursor, I couldn’t type. The reason? Well, in all honesty, I had nothing to say. It was more than writer’s block. That wasn’t it. No, I just had nothing to say. After a couple of months, I stopped trying to write a post. I stopped trying to force myself to reflect and then spew forth the wisdom I thought I had gained. Instead, I took a look at the landscape of my life and inside my heart to search for the answers as to why I had stopped posting on “Bent, Not Broken”.

After all of these months, I have found my answers.

For the past five, almost six years,I have been on a very personal journey and I invited all of you to join me. I’m not sure if that was a very wise decision, but I made it anyway. More often than not, the stories I have written over the years were done so for my benefit, even if I didn’t recognize it at the time.

This journey of mine has been filled with public disgrace, failure, redemption, forgiveness, loss, discovery, struggle, success, and glimpses of love. I have grown professionally and personally along the way, but in some respects, it has come at a great cost.
My actions have hurt others and I have been hurt by the action of others. I regret those hurts I have caused, more than anyone could possibly understand. As painful as it was to be hurt by the words/actions of others in my life, I can’t say I ever regret having those experiences. The brokenness I experienced, allowed the light to get in.

In these years, I have learned…

….the power of forgiveness from both ends of the spectrum – as one who needed forgiveness and as one who needed to forgive in order to move forward.
….life is short and we need to get busy living.
….there are two sides to every story.
….I have not been given permission by God to judge anyone, neither have you.
….people are fickle and you can’t be offended by that. Some friends can live with you through your mistakes; some cannot. It is best to sort those individuals out early on, and then get busy moving on.
….divorce is not necessarily an indication of failure; sometimes it is the way in which two people can learn to become better people – alone.
….when someone shows you who they are the first time – believe them. A leopard never changes his spots.
….change is sometimes necessary for growth. It is scary, though.
….setting clear, defined boundaries in your life is a healthy way to live. You owe no one an apology or explanation for those boundaries. You do it because they are right for you. Period.
…..real, true, gritty friendships are the best gifts in the whole wide world – Kate, Karen, Ruthie, Amanda, Ashley
…..when you least expect it, you will meet someone who knows your history and will love you anyway.
….you must be careful who you tell your story to. If you tell it to the wrong people, it becomes part of your debris field.
….there is no shame in having a personal therapist. I love having a third party person to bounce things off of and help me to see things with greater clarity.
….being vulnerable is indicative of being real.
….prejudice/bigotry is a learned behavior. There are people all over the world who don’t live like me, believe like me, or look like me and yet have taught me more about living life and what it means to be human.
….kindness never goes out of style.
….I don’t have to know God’s plan. I just have to trust that He is in charge. That is enough for me.

There have been so many “A-HA” moments over the years and so much of who I am has changed – for the better. There are still things I am working on and probably will for quite some time.

These days, my life is so full and complete and some of that has kept me away from writing on my blog. My girls keep me busy….being a school administrator and professor rounds me out professionally…I am writing my first fictional novel…I am formulating a new relationship that is loving, respectful, kind, normal and healthy. I have travel destinations to explore and moments to capture with words and photos. I am making plans today that will lead me to a beachside cottage in the future.
Most importantly, I think the reason I stopped writing is because I have come to a place of peace. I have made peace with my past, who I am, and the possibilities for what my life can be in the future.

My blog as “Elfinfun” cannot exist as it has in the past.
“Bent, Not Broken” is who I am today. I don’t know what my blog will look like after writing this piece. I am still trying to find my “new” voice. I promise that when I do, I will invite you to come along on whatever fantastic journey I decide to embark upon. I hope you will join me.

Live well, Reader.

A Season For All Things

Unfortunately for me, I know a little too much about the sting of death. It touched me early and has taken from me many of my family members and friends.

I have one friend who has yet to lose a parent, grandparent, or any extended family member. Yet. I am a tad envious of the naivety this person has about the subject. On the other hand, I know that when death comes to their family….well, the pain is not something to be described in mere words.

My father recently told me, “No one gets out of this world alive.” What a great statement and one that holds a great deal of truth.

My own father’s family has only recently been touched with deep grief in their immediate family. In early January of this year, my father and his five siblings lost their mother at 93. I know that terrible grief of losing a mother. My father was now able to fully understand all I went through so many years ago. I watched, helpless, as he and the others reconciled with their mother’s passing. While quite elderly and having lived such a long and full life, their whole world was wrapped up in this woman who gave them life, cared for them, and loved them. It’s your mom. Moms are just special that way.

The shock came just a few hours after we buried my grandmother when a beloved uncle collapsed and died. Suddenly, in the wee hours of the morning, all of us had gathered at the hospital and tried to comprehend what had just happened. Surely this was a mistake, right? God wouldn’t take another one from us. I watched my father again as he held my stepmother tightly to his left side and me to his right side. His head shaking side to side, the pain of grief now fresh again in eyes, and the questions forming on his lips. His low voice breaking the silence of that crowded little room, “In three days time – our mother and now our brother-in-law….what is God thinking?”

There were no answers that night just as there will be no answers these next couple of days as we celebrate the life and story of my father’s youngest brother, Mike. Just 63 when he collapsed and died a few nights ago. Listening to my father’s voice on the phone squeezed my heart with grief.

In the days since Uncle Mike’s passing, my father and I have shared many long phone conversations. It is more that dad talks and I listen. I have no words of wisdom to offer. I have only rhetorical questions to throw back, things for him to think about. Mostly, I’m just listening as he tells of fearing to let his wife of over thirty years out of his sight. I listen as he recounts all the things he and his little brother talked of doing when Mike retired and dad moved back to his hometown. Dad talks of regrets for things he failed to do for me or other family members. He speaks of the unnatural order in which Mike was taken; he was the youngest brother, my father the oldest. His words of love and pride for me and my daughters spill forth like a geyser. While I know all of these things deep in my heart, my father must empty himself. I fill my heart to the brim with all he shares.

Like many of us during a season of hardship/heartbreak, Dad is struggling with God’s order or what looks to be the lack of one. Yet, there is…God’s order and plan rarely resembles anything we make for ourselves. His ways are greater, higher, and fill an expanse of time and space which our minds cannot possibly conceive. For ALL things, there is a season. Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 reminds us of just this thing.

Last night, I received the most precious email from someone. Her heart was particularly burdened and heavy for my family’s multiple losses in such a short amount of time. She sent me comfort in the form of a Bible verse written in The Message translation from Lamentations 3:22-33. There is one particular part I would like to share.

“The ‘worst’ is never the worst. Why? Because the Master won’t ever walk out and fail to return. If He works severely, He also works tenderly. His stockpiles of love are immense. He takes no pleasure in making life hard, in throwing roadblocks along the way.”

What a beautiful description of God’s love and care for His children. “If He works severely, He also works tenderly.” Marvelous….

I know that the next couple of days will be a challenge for my father and his sisters as they struggle to reconcile the rest of life without their youngest sibling. I myself cannot comprehend that grief as an only child. I do understand what my cousins will be going through as they say their good-byes to a parent. I remember the hours of questions, hurt, anger, regrets, the should haves-could haves-would haves…

None of it makes sense at times. Perhaps none of it should. Sometimes the answers fail to comfort us. The comfort comes from the fact that the Master’s love for those left behind is immense. He is tender, even in the most severe of circumstances. Life will never be the same for my cousins Mike, Matt and DeMarta. Life will never be the same for my father or his sisters. Life is never the same for any of us in any given moment. We move through seasons.

Live well Reader and remember: No one makes it out of this world alive.

I Am No Dear Abby

It was recently suggested to me that my blog reads like that of an advice column; or perhaps they were inferring that I write my blog with the intent of doling out advice to the masses – a.k.a. my readers.

Uh……(silence, except for chirping cricket noises)

To this person I say: Really? Do you truly read my posts?

If there exists any reader to my blog who has this same sentiment, then I say this: I am so terribly sorry.

Consider, if you will, this quote: “We hate to have some people give us advice because we know how badly they need it themselves.” ~ Author Unknown

I have very little advice to give anyone. I feel very unqualified to do so. However, I have a host of opinions about most every topic you can imagine. My life has read much like a book about a character who made every wrong turn possible and did not heed the wisdom handed down by any sage. Therefore, I stay far away from dishing out advice.

Even if friends ask me, “What do I do about…”, I rarely offer advice. Instead, I give them my personal analysis of the situation and if there are outcomes to a decision, I hypothesize about What those might be and the possible consequences. The bare bones reason I choose this particular approach is because in most cases, people are going to do what they want to do regardless. Nine times out of ten, most people already have the correct answer to their dilemma, or they have already decided the course of action they will take. So, why offer advice? If anything, my analysis might serve to give them things they may not have originally considered before. Sometimes it is hard to see the forests for the trees. I highlight the forest.

One of my reasons for writing a blog is to share my life (the good, the bad, the ugly) in the hopes of encouraging people to live every single day to the fullest. I hope people will understand the fragility of our physical lives as well as the fragility of our relationships with others. I believe that life has the potential to be lived with a great deal of depth. I deliberately search for ways to dive down and reach those depths, and when I resurface, I want to share what I have learned with others.

If my stories entertain people or cause my readers to push the “pause” button and consider the world around them, then my goal has been reached. Any other motive or agenda that people feel I am trying to accomplish is just wrong.

Think about this: our lives are a story. Each day we have the power to write pages into that story ourselves or have them written for us. It isn’t productive to delete the pages that we don’t like or the pages that are filled with errors; those particular pages add great depth to the plot and overall character development. Most people write their story behind closed doors, in the dark, where few can read it and relate to it. I choose to share part of my story with you, with the door open and the light on. My only hope that in doing so, you will find the courage to live.

Oh wait! I do have some advice. Here it is: Live fully, be yourself in a world that would like for you to be otherwise, and do so with integrity and authenticity. Don’t hold back….we never know when we have written our last page.

Live well, Reader…..and my name is not Abby.

The Stories We Tell Through the Life We Live

I tend to view life as a book.
The front cover is the day we are born.
The back cover will be the day we leave this world.
The inside liner is a brief synopsis of who we are and is often written for the world to see through social media sites or a chance meeting with someone. The liner gives others a general idea of the things that are important to others, or the job they do, or the interests that they have, but you don’t really know who the person truly is. The meat of everyone’s life is in the middle.

Our life’s story is most often told by ourselves in the first person through our daily actions and interactions with others. Other people tell our story from their second person perspective and interpretation of those actions and interactions; whether they are witness to our story or a participant in it. As we daily live out the telling of our story, I think it becomes clear that all humans have very specific needs that we desire to have met in order to feel fulfilled.

The first of those needs is love – the giving and receiving.
Another need we have is to feel as though we have somehow made a difference in the lives of those around us – the feeling of significance, as if our existence on this earth was Divinely inspired for a greater good and not merely a chance formation of random matter.
A third need that I feel we inherently have is the need for connection with others. We tweet to reach out; we update our status to let the whole world into our private universe; we pin our interests and ideas. It seems as though our validation or “worthiness”, too often comes in the number of “repins” we receive, the “likes” and comments from our status updates, or the “followers” we have amassed for our tweets.

I began thinking of my own life’s story the other day as it relates to my children.

My oldest daughter has reached the glorious age of 11. It is now that I am beginning to see how her viewpoint of me as a central figure in her life has begun to shift. My ideas or suggestions are now met with eye-rolls instead of thoughtful consideration that my life’s experiences may warrant some degree of wisdom. My requests for compliance over simple household chores is now met with foot stomping, which clearly indicates to me that the “demands” of her life are of greater significance than that of an orderly room. My time with her one-on-one is being replaced with time alone in her room to read, play, or communicate with friends (via text, FaceTime, or on the phone). My reminders of proper conduct are met with the criticism that such lady-like behavior will somehow make her life miserable.

Don’t get me wrong – I remember a time in my life when I viewed my own mother with such disregard. It’s a natural part of the “growing up and growing away” process that all offspring must go through. But in the midst of this, I can’t help but wonder what stories she will tell to her own children about this difficult time of transition in her life. More generally speaking, what story (legacy) will I leave behind for my children to pass along to the generation that they will usher into this world? Will my life’s story leave behind a rare treasure trove of wisdom and guidance that will grant them a bit of safe passage through this thing called “life”?

As we live out the story of our own lives, we must remember one certain thing: none of us are told beforehand how many chapters we will be allowed to write into our book. For some, the story will end suddenly and for others, it will slowly and concisely come to a neat, clean conclusion. Regardless of the length of our life’s book or the chapters therein, if you will, I believe we must live with such purpose, depth, and authenticity that length will not truly matter. Instead, when the book on our life is closed, the readers who witnessed our story will somehow be transformed and will write a piece of our story into their life’s book as well. My own life’s book is not exclusively “me” in nature, but a conglomerate of threads from all the wonderful stories of others’ influence that I have woven into my
story as well. I hope my children will do the same of me as well.

Live well Reader…and write a fabulous, thrilling, page-turning life’s story.

The “Other” Valentine’s Day

This morning while I was surfing through Facebook, I was struck by a certain post that wasn’t the typical “lovie-dovie” sentiment. This person (married with two beautiful kids), focused her post on those people who might find themselves hurting and grieving on this day when others are celebrating love.

When I think of great love, I am often reminded of my mother and stepfather. They made a huge production of Valentine’s Day. Every year that they were together, “Mac” would buy my mother an enormous spray of pink roses. What was always funny about this was the fact that while pink was my mother’s favoite color, roses were her least favorite flower. “Mac” didn’t care. He always gave my mother pink roses.

When she passed away, there was no question about the casket spray – it would obviously consist of pink roses. I’m sure mom didn’t mind. In fact, I’m positive that she expected it. For the five Valentine’s Days that followed her death, “Mac” always had his hometown florist make a small arrangement of pink roses to place in the mausoleum in celebration of his love for her. When “Mac” died five years after my mom…well, I made sure there was an arrangement of pink roses in honor of them.

I guess when you are used to celebrating Valentine’s Day, you don’t often stop to think of those who are missing a loved one. Now, many of you have heard my rants about being a cynic of this day. I have written several times over the years about my dislike for the over-commercialization of love. It’s easy to be critical when you know that you will be one of the tens of millions who have a significant other who will defy your cynicism and lavish you with commercialized sentiments of love. This year I have had a very different experience. This is the first time in 15 years that I was not participating in the traditional Valentine’s Day celebration. There would be no sweet card, flowers, or my favorite chocolate treats. I would be participating in the “other” Valentine’s Day.

Like my Facebook friend, I was more aware of how this holiday would be affecting those who were grieving the loss of a loved one, a marriage/relationship, or had no one to share their love with. I celebrated as the faculty and staff in my school began to receive their bouquets – for how can you not celebrate love? I was one of them for many years. And while I may not have a significant other this year, I decided that I would focus on the many other “significant others” that I had been blessed with instead – my two beautiful daughters, my father/stepmother, my many aunts/uncles/cousins, and my friends. When you expand your view, it is easier to see how far-reaching love really is.

Today, I was determined to bring love to me and others all day long. Love is the thing, you know….

Love well, Reader.

Reflecting on Love’s Heartbeat

For Christmas, I received the book The Art of Hearing Heartbeats by German author Jan-Philipp Sendker. This was the first novel for the former war correspondent and can be considered a modern day fairy tale.

The book is primarily set in modern day Burma where we find a woman named Julia on a quest to determine the whereabouts of her missing father Tin Win. Four years earlier, Tin Win mysteriously left his grown family in New York and the only clue to his possible whereabouts is a love letter that was found by his daughter, Julia. The letter was written post WWII to a woman named Mi Mi. Upon discovery of this letter, Julia sets off for Burma to try and piece together the mystery of Tin Win’s disappearance.

I took this book on my trip to Colorado for all of the long hours I would spend in airports waiting for my flights. It captivated and held me from the beginning. I became frustrated along with Julia as she tried to rationalize how a father could leave his family with no warning or apparent reason. What drew him back to Burma and who was this Mi Mi?

Julia meets a gentleman in Burma by the name of U Ba who weaves a long tale about Tin Win’s little known life before coming to America in the 1950’s. In the end, Julia finds the answers to the questions that she has traveled around the world in search of; but, more importantly, Julia learns an extremely important lesson about the many faces of love. A lesson that all of us would be wiser for knowing.

There is a poignant quote by U Ba in the book as he attempts to help Julia reconcile the essence of her father’s love for the family he left behind in New York as compared to the love that ultimately led Tin Win back to Burma in search of the woman (Mi Mi) he left some forty years before. Read U Ba’s explanation of love’s many faces:

“Love has so many different faces that our imagination is not prepared to see them all…..because we only see what we already know. We project our own capacities for – good as well as evil – onto the other person. Then we acknowledge as love those things that correspond to our own image thereof. We wish to be loved as we ourselves would love. Any other ways make us uncomfortable.” (p. 243)

As I came to the aforementioned passage, I stopped and reflected on it’s real-life application. Was U Ba on to something? Does love have multiple faces? Do we love others in the way we wished to be loved? If that is so, does such expectations then lead to disappointment in our relationships with others?

Recently I was told that I have a big, generous heart and love others accordingly. I refuted that claim at first saying that my act of love is what anyone would do for another. However, as I read and re-read that passage, I began to wonder if perhaps my viewpoint was a tad off. My acts of generosity are often reflective of the love I have for another; so, do I expect others to show their love towards me in a similar fashion?

In the book, Julia also reflected on U Ba’s words and then reflected on her childhood with her father. She was able to recall many happy memories and felt assured beyond any doubt that he had, indeed, loved her and their family very much. His actions reflected as such. Is it then possible that he could love another in a completely different way? A way that only they understood?
U Ba’s interpretation of love pointed to that fact.

So, do we get tripped up in our own relationships with others because we expect them to display their love toward us in the same manner we display it toward them? Yes, I believe for me that has been a stumbling block. When I love – I love big, and there is never any doubt in your mind. I am loquacious with my words and generous in my deeds. In looking back, I can ascertain that some of my insecurities in relationships have come because I was expecting my partner to speak the same love language as me. That is an uncomfortable burden for another to carry and will almost always lead to disappointment.

I believe this revelation should bring to light the fact that we must know ourselves and our partners. We should honor and respect one another’s love languages and acknowledge that it takes effort to replenish one another’s “accounts”. I also believe that the love we show others is often reflective of the love we have for ourselves. In fact, I don’t believe it is possible to love others unless we have love for ourselves. Finally, this line of thought can also illuminate the point that sometimes the love we have for another is not enough.

As much as Julia and her family loved Tin Win, it was not enough to hold him there. Somethimes the love we have for another isn’t enough to make them stay, love you back, or shed light in their present darkness. People stay because they recognize that to leave would mean their lives would be “less colorful” (if you will). We can’t make others love us and we shouldn’t try – love has to happen on its own, or it really isn’t love at all. The darkness in another’s life – well, we can’t be the savior for someone. We can only show them the way toward illumination; they must take that first step. In essence, love is a verb.

The heartbeat of love sounds different in each of us. It may be slow and steady; it might flutter; it could be as soft as a butterfly’s wings; or as passionate as a raging river after the rains. Regardless, love has a heartbeat.

Live and love well….

2013 – Your Best Year Yet

People approach the ending of one year and the beginning of another in many different ways. One thing that most of us do is reflect and then make adjustments (resolutions, if you will) for the coming year.

Over the last couple of years, I have rejected the notion of a resolution list or even the idea of making a “blanket” life goal for a new year. Instead, I have employed just one line of thinking that I will carry from last year over into this new year.

Live your best life.

I have written about this many, many times; but, this is the only shot you get. I have long since given up on perfection as the world views it. I have long since stopped living as my friends and family see fit. Instead, I’m living my life.
This means there will be days when I “get it right”. I will make mistakes on other days. Some days I will be the model of strength and grace. There may be other times when I’m vulnerable, insecure, and weak. Sometimes I will think of others before myself. Then I will turn around and do something selfishly just for me. I will handle particular circumstances with the patience of Job. The very next day, I may want things done NOW! I will walk through some days with a heart full of gratitude for what God has blessed me with. Then there will be other days when I will sprint from morning til night and fall into my bed without one grateful thought.

The point is this: I think resolutions are great, if you can maintain that way of living. I, for one, embrace the fact that I am human. I embrace all that comes with it, as well. For me, each turn of the calendar year is a time of reflection. I like to do a “Year in Review” where I can see what I have accomplished and areas that I failed to live my best life. I like to take the time to thank individuals in my life who have chosen to walk this journey with me. I like to also thank those who have left my life (by their choosing or my own), for they have brought their own value to my journey – both good and bad.

Overall, 2012 was an incredible year of change, risks, and adventures for me. I am in awe of all that I have experienced.
I don’t know what 2013 holds for me. In the deepest recesses of my heart, I have tucked away a few hopes and desires. I have set a few professional and financial goals for myself. Mostly, my hands and arms are open to all the possibilities that will be brought my way.

But for those things I can control, I say this:
My best life yet will include active, authentic participation by me in the lives of my little elves, my family, my friends, and my profession. It will include more awareness of this present moment. My life will always be dictated by my love for myself and those around me. My best life will be one of gratitude to God for all that my senses allow me to experience and share with others. My best life will always continue to be MINE!!

May you embrace 2013 as YOUR year yet.

Live well…and live your best life.

Revisiting Forgiveness in 2012

In February 2011, I wrote the following blog entry on forgiveness. It is  as relevant today as it was almost two years ago. As I reread my words from that night, I am reminded at how much has changed in my world since then – how much I have changed. I am reposting this as a reminder to myself and as a tool for those who are struggling with the offense of another; whether that offense is recent or old, but still holding you in chains.

Rev. Karyl Huntley is credited with saying,” You know you have forgiven someone, when he or she has harmless passage through your mind.”

Uh-huh. Let that sink in for a moment. That is a formidable challenge to say the least. I write this blog, not for myself necessarily, but for several people in my life who are struggling with forgiving someone of a wrong they have suffered at the hands of another human. I get it; been there. It is the most difficult choice to make at times. You wake up one morning and make the conscience decision to  let another person’s wrongdoing go. Let it go.

For Christians, this issue of forgiveness gets a tad sticky. Jesus repeatedly reminds us through His own words and through the writings of His disciples, that we are to forgive. Let me clarify this point. It was not a helpful suggestion, a commentary on how to have a more fulfilled life; it was a command. We are to forgive – period. If you dig deep, you can understand why this command is so important.

The foundational precept of our salvation is based on God‘s forgiveness of our sins through a worthy sacrifice – Jesus. If you stop and get “real” for a moment, I’m sure the sheer absurdity of God’s willingness to see us through a perfect Savior blows your mind. And yet, He does just that. The absurdity of God’s love for me is almost more than my mind can comprehend. I can pan through the “pages” in my life’s story and see countless ways in which my words or deeds have dishonored the name of God, has damaged my nature, or brought profound hurt to another human being. Yet, because of my acceptance of what Christ did on the cross, God looks at me and sees His perfect Son. Amazing. Absurd.

Based on that, it makes sense to me that God commands nothing less from us. That is a tall order and one cocktail that I have bitterly swallowed over the years. As I grow older, I see where my unforgiveness towards another only cheapens what Christ was willing to do for me. The hardest thing for people to realize  is that forgiveness does not mark the offense as “condoned”. When we choose to forgive, we are not telling the offending party that their actions were ok; instead, we are releasing them from having control over us through the hurt action they have inflicted on us. Forgiveness doesn’t minimize the hurt or justify the wrong; it acts as a pathway to freedom. Without such, we will bring anger and resentment into every other relationship we have with another person. Medical scientists have confirmed through years of study, that anger and bitterness are a major cause of depression and anxiety. The pharmaceutical industry is making billions of dollars on Americans for drugs we take to eliminate or diminish our anger and anxiety.

Another misconception about forgiveness is reconciliation. Forgiving someone does not mean that reconciliation must occur. It means you walk away. See, the other person is sleeping just fine by all accounts. You are losing your sense of peace. Life is so short- like a mist. If only we could grasp that God intends for our lives to be so rich and fulfilling. I refuse to infuse my life with negative energy. I want my living of life to exhaust me; not the pain of what someone else did. A  dear friend of  mine commented to me about forgiveness upon hearing about my children’s recent salvation. This person hoped that my children would grasp the wonder at my ability to forgive and live in non-judgment of others. I was humbled by their observation. It is hard and I am not always good at it. But I am so aware of my own sinful nature and tendency to wander away from my Father’s side, that I can’t condemn or hold someone else hostage for something that I am not a master over.

The rest of this entry is for your reference as the reader. Following is a host of Bible references dealing with forgiveness from the New Testament. Following that are famous quotes about this topic. Just drink in the words. Pray for the ability to forgive. Pray for compassion – for yourself as well as your offender.

Matthew 5:7, 6:12, 26:28, 6:14-15, 18:21-22, 5:39-42

Romans 12:14, 12:19-21

Ephesians 4:32

Luke 17:14, 23:34, 11:4, 6:27-37

I John 1:9

Colossians 3:13

I Peter 3:9

James 5:16

Acts 2:38

Mark 11:25-26

“Love is an act of endless forgiveness.” Peter Ustinav

“The capacity to make peace with another person and with the world depends very much on our capacity to make peace with ourselves.” Thich Nhat Hanh

“One pardons to the degree that one loves ” Francois De La Rochefoucauld

“The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” Gandhi

“To err is human; to forgive Divine” Alexander Pope

“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.” Lewis B Smeades

“If we really want to love, we must learn how to forgive. ” Mother Theresa

2012 Postscript: I have learned a lot about this topic over the last few years of my life. I believe the most difficult and humbling work I have done in this arena of my life has been to accept my responsibility as the one who has committed the offense against another human being. No amount of apologies can heal the hurt. Laying down one’s own life falls short as well. The act of forgiveness must come from the one who has been wronged. It is a painful and difficult process that they must work through and nothing I say or do can make it easier or faster; although, I’d willingly take the pain as my own, if I could. Instead, I must let go and let God’s time and love bring them the peace they so need to move on, knowing that by moving on, they may choose to do so without me. It is the consequence of our actions and a bitter pill to learn to swallow.

Live well, Reader.