Words worth....

I am, at end of the day, [or the blog,] little more than a purveyor of words. Words are my passion, some say my gift, and they have deep meaning to me. I generally choose my words carefully, so that my meaning is clear, if nuanced, by the choice of prose with which I express my thoughts. Thus, it struck me this morning as I read a brief item in the news, how much has been lost in our culture of casual twittering. We live in a world literally flooded with words, but meaning and intent have been nearly lost under the requirement of speaking to each other in 143 digits or less.

The item that set me to thinking concerned a young wife and mother, 25 years of age, who has enrolled in first grade, along with her two young sons, ages 4 and 5. She is not American, and the obstacles to her enrollment were not merely custom or age. She is from Pakistan, and like at least six out of every ten women in that country, she is illiterate. She had a yearning to learn, to open up the world even from behind the veil of her burqua, and to show her sons a better way of life for all Pakistanis.

This is all the more remarkable, because women seeking education in Pakistan is extremely controversial. Women, and girls, are literally dying for their desire to be educated. Families are torn apart, fear and tradition keeping them in ignorance as they fight not only the cultural norms but their own family traditions.

The young woman credited her husband for supporting her decision and enabling her to attend school. That sounds like faint praise to your average American woman, I suspect, but I don't doubt that in her case it was genuine and sincere. Without his approval, she would not be able to do anything in a country where a woman is considered to be the property of whatever man is in charge of her life. And by allowing her to attend school, he risks dishonor for his family, and himself, in a culture where honor drives nearly every interaction and transaction.

She is a brave woman, risking death or other backlash, in her quest for something so elemental that we, in an atmosphere of greater personal freedom, take it entirely for granted. She is, in a word, a hero to me, for standing up in the face of tremendous adversity to make a difference, not only for herself, but for other women, and ultimately men, as well. If she can successfully navigate the educational system, it will encourage others to make the attempt. And because knowledge is power, she is empowering a whole new generation as her sons see that her education makes her a richer, more productive person.

The media has, in my view, confused the word hero with the word idol. Celebrities, actors, sports figures, tech CEO's, politicians - none of them are heroes to me, although they are frequently accorded that status by a world of people who have lost the elemental meaning of what a hero is.

Most heroes are not famous. They don't perform heroic acts to become celebrities, although ever so briefly, they may be thrust into the unwanted limelight for doing what came naturally, although not necessarily easily, to them. On the contrary, from my observation, true heroes frequently shun the media, hiding from the attention, turning aside the suggestion that they are, in any way, extraordinary.

American Idol at least has the moniker right. We idolize celebrities for being famous, regardless of their accomplishments [or lack of accomplishments, as the case may be.] We idolize them for their money, their power, and their prestige. We honor them and fete them and feel like we know them personally, because we have become inundated with the minutiae of their lives. We call them heroes for spending time and bringing attention to their various pet causes. We confuse talking about poverty or illiteracy or child abuse with enduring the consequences of those issues, and we pretend that by adopting a child they are saving the world.

If any word should have a clear meaning, it should be the word hero. It should be used sparingly, and only for those who have earned it. There is no substitute for them, because they are genuine and real, and all too rare in an egocentric universe.

The world is full of unsung heroes, people who have stood up to adversity and overcome it with humility and grace and very little fanfare. We occasionally hear about the passerby that saves someone from a burning building, or jumps into the water to save a drowning child. Every now and then, a human interest story will surface that briefly reminds us a hero is an everyday person in extraordinary circumstances, and they have risen magnificently to the occasion.

I am not elevated by the big catch, or by someone who can play make believe for a living. I don't feel inspired by politicians who make rules for others to live by, nor do I find someone who is famous for being, well, famous, worthy of emulation. I may be envious of their money or their platform or their success or even their good luck, but they don't really change the world for the better with their presence.

I am, instead, called to action by those who have inspired and motivated those around them to be better than they thought they could be, elevating others through their own selfless acts.

Time magazine will probably never name Rukhsana Batool as their person of the year. She likely won't ever design a computer network that connects people on every part of the planet. She may not solve the problem of world hunger, she will probably not provide the way to world peace, she isn't going to find the cure for cancer or the common cold. She won't design a new car, and she certainly won't ever reign in Hollywood.

But Rukhsana Batool has overcome fear and oppression and enculturated ignorance in a show of bravery that uplifts and inspires. She is going to change her own little corner of the world with her fearless action. From such small beginnings revolutions evolve, and she is in the vanguard. To me, that makes her a very special person, someone to hold up and emulate and honor. She is, in a word, a hero.

I have a long list of personal heroes. They are people who have inspired me and prodded me to be better than I thought I could be, people who rose to their own occasion, and made a positive change for someone on a personal level. Corrie Ten Boom, and Miep Gies are my heroes. My mother is my hero. I have a close friend who heroically navigates the tough hand she was dealt in the game that is life.

I am inspired by the ordinary people who came to the aid of those injured in Tucson. I can only hope that if I am ever called to account, I will acquit myself as well as those on Flight 93 on September 11, 2001. I would hope that if I am ever in a position to save someone through my own selfless action I would do it without thinking, because it is the right thing to do.

Rukhsana Batool, you have inspired me, uplifted me, and given me hope that even in the darkest corners of this planet there are people with vision and courage and the inner strength to lead the way to a better world.

Now I think that is something to idolize.

Tragedy and triumph....

It has been a difficult week in the American psyche, as we collectively struggle to understand the shooting of innocent people, including several government officials and a little girl, by a mentally unstable young adult who couldn't make sense of his own reality. It is frightening and horrifying to think that something as simple as attending a meet-and-greet with your congressperson could result in the death of a little girl who hadn't even had the chance to go to middle school.

It is so easy to focus on the many crises, both natural and man-made, that plague this world. There are floods and shootings, landslides and earthquakes; disease, wars, tornadoes and fires. The news cycle focuses on the catastrophic events, running them over and over in an endless loop until it seems we are showered with bad news 24/7.

But, as with every tragedy, out of this horrific situation have come some triumphant moments. It is the triumphs that make life worth living and we must celebrate them for the uplifting moments that they give to us. The valleys are deep and long for most of us, and feel endless. When the mountaintop is reached, we have to embrace the experience with abandon, throwing our arms out in joy and acceptance, affirming the positive moments for the miracles that they are.

The big miracles are easy to see, and to appreciate. A congresswoman should be dead after being shot in the head, but she is alive because of a 20 year old intern hired just five days earlier and who both knew how to stop her bleeding, and had the presence of mind to put his knowledge into action. Another man would have bled to death but for the presence of mind of a stranger, who saw his injury was life threatening, knew what to do, and did it. The gunman was stopped while he was trying to reload by a few people, including one with military training, who decided they weren't going to let him continue his killing spree. Heroes, all of them - everyday people who stepped up to a plate they didn't even know was ready and waiting for them until the moment it happened.

We all celebrate these big miracles, and rightly so, because they show the best of human nature, and make us all a little better. But there are other miracles that happen around us all the time, if we look for them, and I think they should be celebrated, too.

A new baby is a miracle. A budding flower is a miracle, as is a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. A pet saved, a disaster averted, an unexpected hug from a loved one - all can be miracles in the right time and place. Life is full of little miracles, if we look for them. I have been contemplating that this week, in the midst of the obvious miracles that we have seen in Tucson, and I think that I need to be more cognizant of their place in my life.

To me, it is a miracle that my dog is alive today, when he could be dead. I have worked with some phenomenal people this week who made things happen for clients they didn't even know, just because they are great people. I have had uplifting words offered at just the moment I needed them most, and the person had no idea how much they buoyed my spirits by their kindness. Spell check is a miracle every time it catches my mistakes. My truck doesn't need a new transmission when we thought it did, my washing machine didn't break down and need the repair I expected, my driveway got cleared of a heavy snowfall unexpectedly - all are surprising little miracles that made that day, and my life, a little better.

We can take many things away from the shooting in Tucson this week, and each of us brings our own unique perspective to the outcome. Where one person sees it as the obvious reason for gun control, another sees it as an equally obvious reason to allow concealed carry. Where one person sees a need for easier access to mental health care, others fear for unnecessary intervention. I have seen some expressions that congresspeople have no business meeting their constituents on the street corner where everyday people gather, while others abhor the idea that we would further isolate the people making the rules that the rest of us have to live with.

We have many deep and strongly held convictions in this nation today, and many of them are in opposition to each other. It is a difficult and contentious time in our nation's history, and it is easy to focus on the many obstacles to happiness in our country today.

But in the final analysis, the most important thing is what touches each of us personally, and in that, I have decided to focus on the little miracles, and leave the worries behind. My personal world is small, and I lead a small and insignificant life in comparison to a Congresswoman or a judge or a national leader. But even in my small life, I see the miracles every day, if I am willing to look for them. And in that, I think I will find a greater level of joy and peace and satisfaction in my daily living.

In each tragedy, there is a moment of triumph. I wish to everyone a week of small miracles, and the appreciation of what they bring to your life. Happy climbing, and celebrate the mountaintop!

Auld lang syne? I think not....

For most parents, one of their highest priorities is to protect their child from hurt and pain wherever possible. This natural impulse leads us to overprotect sometimes, which is not only not good for the child, it's not even good for us.

When we have made a decision that doesn't work out well, especially the big life decisions, we want to share the reasons for the poor outcome with the people we love most. We say we are trying to prevent them from repeating our mistakes. We joke about how we've already made that mistake, so they don't have to.

But in truth, we don't have all the answers, no matter how much we believe we do. In fact, I have recently realized, as my children have grown and matured, that my reality is as different from theirs as mine is from my own mom's. My past doesn't necessarily equate to their future, even if they make the same choices I did, because everything else about their decision is different.

This realization has surprised me, like everything else about being a parent, and has reminded me that we never stop learning on the job.

Fortunately, children are stubborn and willful, and quite often, they are determined to make their own mistakes. Parenting is like watching someone walk into the water over their head. We wave our arms and run after them, shouting to them that they can't swim. But quite often, they do it anyway. Over and over and over again.

But here's the thing - if you have provided them with lessons and equipped them with the tools to swim, then there is no reason that they can't do it, even if you couldn't. You may not have had lessons, you may not have enjoyed swimming, you may have been hampered by heavy clothing or burdens your children don't have.

None of that matters, because your children are unique and separate individuals, and their experience will be different than yours. It may not be pretty, there will probably be a lot of dog paddling and treading water, but they won't necessarily drown, even if they don't follow your advice.

Of course, some things are a surefire mistake, every time. For example, if you don't do your homework, you will be unprepared for class and will probably fail. Like many life lessons, this is one that children need to learn sooner rather than later, so the earlier you allow them to learn it, the better.

Ironically, you can rarely tell a child simple truths and have the lesson absorbed without personal experience. It's part of human nature, I think, to want to learn things for yourself, and most kids eventually have to fail before they understand the importance of doing what they are told.

Other things, especially the big life lessons, are not so clear cut and obvious. As a mom, I want to have the answers for my kids, but too often, I simply don't. Because my own experience is colored by the people in it, and my children will not duplicate my circumstances exactly, their outcome may be completely different, even when they are facing the same choices.

Before my children were born, I thought it would all be so much easier when they were born, because then I could see them and be reassured all was well. Then they were born, and I thought how much easier it would be when they could talk, and tell me what was wrong or where they were hurting. Then they could talk, and I realized that I can't make it all go away, no matter how much they tell me, because I'm not God, and some things have to be endured on their own.

Now that they are young adults, the difficulties in knowing the right answer have been magnified, because now their problems have no easy solutions. Their life story has been very different from mine, and even from each other, which has colored all of our opinions and outcomes. Their answers depend on who they are, what their motivations are, who they are with, and their own basic personalities, none of which are exactly the same as mine, even as they grapple with the same life choices I did 25 years ago.

When they come to me for advice, and they often do, I give them the benefit of my experience. I can explain the choices I made and why, and what the outcome was or how I might have done things differently. But no matter how sure I am of what I'm saying, it is not the same as knowing what is right for them, because their lives are separate and different from mine.

For example, I got married at 23, an age that I believe is too young for most people to make that lifelong commitment. My reason for that strongly held belief rests mostly in the fact that I know I was too young, and most people aren't done with the dramatic transformation from child to adult until a few years later. Ultimately, I made a mistake that not only I will have to live with the rest of my life, but they have to, as well, and I wouldn't want them to have that same experience. Therefore, I tell them to wait until they are more mature and can make a more informed decision.

However, the reality is that I know a lot of people who got married younger than that, and they have happy, healthy long term marriages that clearly still work. So my advice, based on my reality, just doesn't hold true, even in the context of my close circle of friends, among whom being divorced is an anomaly rather than the rule.

Based on my experience, my instinct tells me that you should choose a college major that is practical, because my impractical English and religion majors got me nowhere when it came time to find a job. And yet, my son, the thinker, is getting a Ph.D. in philosophy in one of the top programs in the country, and will probably have a job waiting for him upon graduation. His route to success will be his own, and his story will have a different outcome, because he is a different person with different drives and motivations. Thus, my own life experience doesn't hold appropriate answers for him, any more than it does for my daughter, who is different yet again.

Parenting is the most difficult and challenging learning experience that you will ever have. Everything you think you know will get turned inside out by someone you can hold in your arms, and it never stops. I laugh when I hear young people who have not yet had children talk about what they will do as parents, and how much better they will do it than their parents did, because they simply don't know how naive that truly is. It's a universal phenomenon that people who don't have children have all the answers - it's also universal that once the children arrive, you begin to find out how little you know about everything.

There is a phrase, live and learn, which becomes more meaningful to me the older I get, because life has been nothing if not a learning process. Sometimes I think the curve is way too shallow, because I seem to need a lot more review than should be necessary. But my children have been the greatest teachers I could have had, because they are individual and entertaining and unique and separate. Each one has his or her own strengths and weaknesses, and even between them, I see the same choices working differently. The paths that they have chosen will take them in totally different directions, and it is fascinating to watch them grow into who they will ultimately be.

I am looking forward to this phase of my life, where my children will own the outcome of all their decisions, and I will merely be an observer. After 25 years as a coach and a guide, I look forward to being a cheerleader and an observer, and I am waiting with avid curiosity to see where life leads them.

Wherever their journey goes, I know it will be different than mine, no matter what choices they make. And I am content in the knowledge that my mistakes will not be theirs. That is enough for today.

Happy new year, I'm back!

I haven't posted a blog in a couple of weeks, partly because of the holidays, and partly because I've been sick. For those who have shown up here looking for my words, I apologize for letting you down. I will get back on track and this will be my first effort for the new year. Happy new year to each of my readers

The Christmas Gift

The Christmas season evokes strong memories for most people. Whether it's scents and sounds, songs, food, or toys and special gifts, Christmas is filled with good thoughts and happy times.

The makeup of those memories has changed significantly over the past hundred years, I've noticed.

Back in the days of the pioneers, the gifts were usually handmade items, often of a practical nature, from materials that were readily at hand. The children might get a pair of pajamas, or a pair of fur lined leather mittens, and for a special treat, some candy made over the fire.

If they were especially lucky, their mother would make them a sawdust or corn cob doll to play with, or perhaps a whittled gun. For an extra special girl, she might get a new dress for the holiday, while a boy might have a new pair of pants that weren't handed down from an older brother (or two.)

When my mother was little, the holidays had gotten slightly more commercial, and some city people were giving and getting more, both in quantity, as well as expense. My mother's family, however, were rural farm folk struggling to survive in the midst of the Great Depression, with no extras available for holiday cheer. My mother tells stories of the wonder of Christmas, but she is referring to the Christmas tree alight with candles burning on each branch, not the multitude of packages under it.

My mother still lives in the farmhouse where she was born, and it is easy for me to envision the scene that she has described. The living room doors, pocket doors that have never been closed in my life, were closed in the winter when she was small to help conserve the heat which was provided by a large wood burning stove in the dining room. The tree would be hidden behind those doors, and on Christmas Eve, the candles would all be lit, and the children would sit around the tree in wonder and watch it sparkle and shimmer and glow.

I'm sure my grandparents couldn't have begun to imagine the lighting displays that we see now; fiber optics and LED lights and the chasing, flashing ornaments that adorn even the most humble of trees. My mother tells me it was a once a year treat to see the tree alight, and to sit and stare in wonder at the glory of it all. I am not so sure that with our fancy displays we have captured the wonder of the season any more effectively than that once a year tree lighting in a humble farmhouse set in the middle of a harsh Minnesota winter.

One of my most cherished tree decorations is a small candle holder from her childhood tree, a tangible reminder of all the people who have been there before me. I clip it onto my tree each year in a prominent place as a way to bring the past to the present, a reminder that we are a part of them, and they are a part of us, and we are all together in celebrating this holy holiday.

My mom, when pressed, will talk about the small tokens she received and we chuckle, because they are hardly worth a mention in the current acquisitive climate. My favorite stories are about the doll and the pair of skates she shared with her younger sister, obviously from different holidays. I giggle every time I think about the two of them, each wearing a skate, holding hands and holding each other up in the middle!

But the doll and skates were important presents to them, because they are the only presents she remembers getting. Their stockings were filled with an apple and some nuts, a tradition she carried through to when my brother and I were little. They were simple gifts, it's true. But they were also meaningful, because of all the things that have filled my stocking over the years, the nuts and fruit are the ones I remember.

When I was little, Christmas had gotten more consumer oriented. I recall the commercials that would start shortly after Thanksgiving, hawking the trinkets they wanted you to believe you couldn't live without. I remember all the gadgets that would be sold, the original infomercials, shilling hot doggers and snow cone makers and other electronic toys that they hoped the children would find irresistible.

I'm sure everyone has their own commercial that sticks in their mind, but for me, the harbinger of Christmas each year was the Norelco razor, swooshing down the snowy hill like a sled, coming to brighten your holiday with a closer shave. That commercial was on television for many years, and it always signaled the start of the holiday season for me.

I got many wonderful gifts for Christmas while growing up, although they may not seem all that exciting to today's child. Mostly, I got clothes and practical gifts, because we didn't have much money, and my mother is a practical person by nature. (She is a Minnesota Lutheran. I shouldn't need to say more.)

I got a doll nearly every year, and by the time I was ten or twelve, I had a pretty sizable collection of them, some of which I still have today. There is a certain scent of plastic that will bring me straight back to Christmas Eve and the simple thrill of opening a new baby doll even now. (Often with some now treasured handmade clothes to go with her. The clothes were my mother's works of heart, and they are all beautiful.)

Usually we had a jigsaw puzzle to work on during the 12 days of Christmas, because my mom is the world's most dedicated puzzler. There would be another toy or two, as well; perhaps a board game to play, or something for a pet.

One year, I got the hottest item being advertised, a Baby First Step, which was an exciting moment indeed. She was battery operated, and when you turned her on, she would actually walk across the floor. It was thrilling to see her move all by herself, and I was the envy of everyone around the tree. (Well, okay, maybe not everyone. But I was the envy of my younger cousin, Ahna, who wanted her, too. She got one the following year.)

Although I got many wonderful presents over the years, one of the best presents I ever received was a black and white kitten with the biggest paws you've ever seen, given to me by my older brother. Unfortunately, he didn't think to check with my mom before handing over the box with the live animal in it. I screamed, she groaned, and the cat won, because he got a new, loving home with a girl who adored him.

He was the gift that kept on giving, because he brought joy and aggravation in equal measure for all the years of his life, which were too few, because he was a tomcat, and he had a wandering nature. Living on a farm, there were lots of opportunities for him to find trouble, and despite his enormous size, he always seemed to come out on the worst end of the battle. But I loved him, and he remains one of the best presents I ever received.

I have been thinking a lot about the past this Christmas season, and how Christmas has become one of the main drivers for our entire economy. Retailers live and die by the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and a slow spending season is the death knell for many of them. While we argue over whether or not a nativity scene can be placed on the courthouse lawn, the reality of the financial importance of the season is all but ignored. It seems ridiculous to me that it is called the "winter holidays" by many, as though it were some kind of generic event, rather than acknowledging that without Christmas, our entire retail system would likely fail.

At the same time, I feel that the real meaning of the season has been overshadowed by the need to give and get the most expensive, newest items available, regardless if they are affordable or not. I doubt that there are many homes in which a simple tree with lights on it will be enough this year. And I wonder whether our joy in the season is any greater than it was back when a stick of candy and a rag doll was considered a bountiful holiday.

I am as guilty as anyone, of course, and I'm not putting anyone down for either giving or getting. I enjoy the giving at least as much as anyone, and I enjoy receiving what my loved ones think will bring me happiness, as well. I believe that Jesus was The Gift from our heavenly Father, and it is a good tradition to give to the people we love in response to the gifts we have received.

But this year, I have spent more time than money on my gifts, creating handmade items that I hope will bring joy to the recipient for a long time to come, not just because of what it is, but because of the love that went into the creation of it. I have spent a great deal of time, which is as scarce as money in my life, to dream up something that will be meaningful to each person, and have put together presents which I think will be appreciated as much for the love they contain as the gift itself.

Although a lack of financial wherewithal is a part of the impetus for this crafty expression of my love, it is also a frustration with the loss of the meaning for the season that is increasingly about what we can get, instead of what we've been given. Although holiday "creep" is an increasing problem, I was genuinely shocked to see Christmas aisles going up in the stores immediately after the school supplies were relegated to the clearance aisles this year.

It makes me sad that entire holidays are being overlooked because they aren't lucrative in order to push the shopping orgy which Christmas has become. I recently saw Christmas referred to as Giftmas, and I thought that was a fair analysis of the holiday in our time. I don't think we are better off for it.

I don't propose to do away with the gift giving. The pile under my own tree gives the evidence to that. But I do wish that we could spend more time focused on what Christmas means, instead of worrying about having the means to pay for it all.

I wish that we could watch the old Christmas movies and eat popcorn and play board games together, and find the joy in each other this Christmas season, instead of losing ourselves in the latest electronic toy that brings the world to us, but takes us out of our world and away from the people who mean the most to us. I wish that instead of spending time texting people outside our homes, we could talk to the people who are right in front of us. I wish that instead of wishing we were somewhere else, with other people, we could be happy for where we are, and who we are with. I wish that instead of wishing for more money, we could have more time to enjoy what we do have.

My real wish for each person this Christmas is to find the Gift that God has given to us, and to spread that Gift to everyone we know. Live well, laugh often, give much of yourself, and the world will be a better place for all of us.

Merry Christmas to each and every one of you in 2010. I do hope your wishes come true, and that each present you give and receive will be a reminder of the love that is abundant in our lives, if only we care to see it. I wish you grace, and peace and comfort, and a holiday filled with all good things.