Category: Travel

Postmarked: Pure Delight

Postmarked: Pure Delight

Meg

The other day my 20 pound “guard dog” lost his mind barking at the front door – standard protocol for walkers, cars, other dogs, pretty much anything that threatens his domain (i.e. happens into his view). This time, though, there was actually a bright yellow DHL delivery van idling in the driveway – something was afoot after all! The driver was still standing on my front porch scanning the bar codes and tossing packages to the ground when I opened the door. I was stumped because I couldn’t remember having ordered anything at all recently, let alone 4 things.

“Are you sure those are for me?”

He glanced down at the packages. “Yep, your address but a different name on each package. Have a good one.” And off he went.

I gathered the packages up and brought them inside. I double checked the address labels before he pulled away. Definitely for us. The packaging was all the same gray, plastic bagging but none of the packages were exactly the same shape or size. Some were almost lumpy to the feel, others more regular square shapes inside. And DHL? I was perplexed. A real mail mystery.

I have always loved good, old-fashioned snail mail. The love affair started before email existed, of course, when writing letters by hand was the primary way to stay connected with others. Connection being my driving life force, you can maybe imagine the novels worth of letters I have written across the decades. When I lived in the north Maine woods and only went to town once per week, collecting mail from headquarters was the highlight of the trip. Besides ice cream. That was also a thrill. When my kids were away at summer camp – no tech allowed – I semi-stalked (in the nicest, most sane way) our mail carrier every day to ensure I received any incoming letters at the earliest possible moment.

Back then, the mailbox was a magical portal. You never knew what might show up – postcards, letters, junk mail, packages, absolutely nothing at all. It was all a surprise, every single day. These days, ever since I set up a stop delivery with the postal service while I was on vacation, I get daily email notifications about what’s coming my way. Needless to say, very little arrives in the mail that’s a true surprise.

Which brings me back to those packages…

Remember when I mentioned the force that is the Wrexham AFC marketing department in my prior post about the football club in North Wales featured in the show Welcome to Wrexham? Well, here’s your proof. Just in case all you international fans had forgotten us, here’s a little reminder and shot of goodwill to go with it. Totally brilliant. And a two-fer of a surprise -not only were packages arriving out of the blue, but we also had no idea what was inside. As the Brits say, it was like a lucky dip (in American, that’s a grab bag)! Hats, water bottles, coasters, pins, a stuffed animal of the dragon mascot Rex. The women all got wallets. Why? No idea. But this random gesture sparked so many good feelings. This seems like the marketing equivalent of a random act of kindness. It was this happy little thing that dropped in and brightened our day. It made us all smile and think good thoughts about the football club and the people of Wrexham, Wales. Sometimes small gestures go a very long way.

Crossroads and Goalposts…or Two Roads Converged (at the Racecourse Ground)

Crossroads and Goalposts…or Two Roads Converged (at the Racecourse Ground)

Meg

You know the Robert Frost poem The Road Not Taken, where two roads diverge in a wood and Robert Frost takes “the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference”? It’s one of my favorites. I’ve always been that person taking the road less traveled – and I am certain that those choices have indeed made the biggest differences in my life.

But, lately, I’ve been thinking less about diverging paths and more about what happens when roads converge, when parallel lines inexplicably but inevitably meet at the vanishing point, when connection happens in a place and time that seems to be almost predestined. That’s magic.

I don’t usually write about a TV show. Heck, I barely watch TV. It’s rare to find a show that everyone in the family enjoys, but sometimes a show captures your attention and your heart and doesn’t let go. For our family, that’s been the case with Welcome to Wrexham. If you haven’t watched, here’s the quick version: it’s a docuseries about the Wrexham Association Football Club (AFC) – aka soccer – in North Wales – the oldest club in Wales and third oldest in the world – that was relegated (i.e. demoted) due to poor performance season after season. They got stuck in a low level semi-professional league for almost a decade and a half. The club was bought several years ago by actors Ryan Reynolds and Rob McElhenney, who are attempting a fairytale comeback and documenting it as they go. Kind of a real life Ted Lasso.

It’s not just about football or I would have checked out long ago, I am guessing. What makes the show special is how intrinsically linked the football club is to the community and the community to the club. Wrexham is a hard scrabble community that’s a bit down on its luck, quite like their football club. But they are a people who show up and cheer for (in their own special vitriolic way, as the case may be) their hometown team even when they continue to lose and disappoint. These are fans who live and breathe their team. They are a community that has gone through tough times economically and remain proud of and committed to their town, region, and sense of place. Wrexham is a place where people help each other out and make their own luck because nothing comes easy so they brew a cuppa tea and carry on with it.

If that sounds familiar, that’s because it is.

I grew up in Philadelphia, a city that is equal parts heart, hustle, and heartbreak. It can be tough, resilient, a little rough around the edges, gritty, and always full of character (and characters). Both Philadelphia and Wrexham are towns with deep history and beauty (as well as a touch of piss and vinegar). Both have been underestimated, overlooked and written off too many times. They also both feature crazy (okay, enthusiastic) sports fans, for whom every loss is personal. A guy I went to high school with once said that losing in sport was “the Philly man’s destiny.” Ouch – and also not entirely wrong. The history of sports heartbreak pervades the local consciousness. Still, sometimes, despite ourselves, we actually DO win, and then all hell breaks loose (in Philadelphia, the all hell breaking loose part happens win or loose).

So, yea, Welcome to Wrexham is fun and also it hit a lot of familiar notes.

If this were any other underdog sports story, though, I would have moved on by now. But Wrexham is different and this one stuck. Why? Well, props to the formidable force that is their marketing team, let’s be honest. And, also, of course, the Rob McElhenney/Philadelphia hometown connection is a blast. I get a kick out of the Philadelphia Eagles cameos and the description of the green Wrexham jerseys as “Philadelphia Eagles green.” Plus, would you believe that my neighbor in Boston grew up in Wrexham? You can’t make this stuff up. That’s a lot of roads converging. What do a Philly girl and a girl from North Wales have in common? A lot, it turns out!

The story of Wrexham AFC is not one just about sticking together and overcoming adversity no matter the circumstances, though it is those things, too. It’s about finding hope where and when you least expect it and rewriting the narrative. Welcome to Wrexham is the lens through which this journey is shared. It provides a window into life in North Wales and a proximity to a local football club that Americans don’t typically have access to. It invites viewers to feel part of a storied team that is the beating heart of a historic, resilient community. Wrexham’s magic is in building bridges and forging lasting connections, both of which are bigger and more enduring than the show. And connection, like I said before, is my driving life force.

Up the town!

Diolch (thank you!), as always, for reading.

The Wonder of the Imperfect

The Wonder of the Imperfect

Meg

Can you envision a world renewed by imagination and integrity? This is the vision of the W.S. Merwin Conservancy in Maui, whose mission it is to inspire innovation in the arts and sciences by advancing the ideas of poet W.S. Merwin – his life, work, house and palm forest – as fearless and graceful examples of the power of imagination and renewal.

I am highlighting this specific Merwin poem because anytime someone embraces imperfection, my ears perk up.

Be real, be imperfect, be compassionate, and live with integrity and imagination.

THE WONDER OF THE IMPERFECT

Nothing that I do is finished
so I keep returning to it
lured by the notion that I long
to see the whole of it at last
completed and estranged from me

but no the unfinished is what
I return to as it leads me on
I am made whole by what has just
escaped me as it always does
I am made of incompleteness
the words are not there in words

oh gossamer gossamer breath
moment daylight life untouchable
by no name with no beginning

what do we think we recognize

– W.S. Merwin, from The Moon Before Morning (2014, Copper Canyon Press). Used by permission of the publishers.

Maui Beach photo

Photo from http://welltraveledkids.com/2016/03/6-great-family-beaches-maui-perfect-kids/

We Are the Solution

We Are the Solution

Meg
In November, I traveled to Guatemala to attend the MAIA Impact School graduation. It was a whirlwind three days of travel, meetings, and connecting (or reconnecting) with Girl Pioneers (GPs), MAIA staff, and fellow Board members. It’s been difficult to put into words all of my thoughts and feelings from this particularly poignant event in the history of MAIA, the Girl Pioneers, and their families on top of a return to Guatemala after a four year hiatus. Here are a few highlights: – 41 Girl Pioneers, escorted by their families, graduated from high school in November 2022. Many of these young women are the first in their families to graduate from elementary and middle school, let alone high school. Despite astonishing adversity that increased during the pandemic, when provided opportunity, these bright, courageous pioneers have seized it. They will go on to attend university, participate in paid internships, and enter the formal economy.
– MAIA has chosen new leadership, turning the Co-Executive Director role over to Andrea Coche and Martha Lidia Oxi. This transition makes MAIA the first organization of its size in Guatemala with an executive leadership team that is 100% indigenous. Travis Ning, the out-going co-ED, writes, “We have long said our goal was to structure MAIA so that Girl Pioneers could one day hold any position in the organization. This leadership transition signifies that we have completed this task.” -The Volcan del Fuego near Antigua provided a little fireworks display and Lake Atitlan and the surrounding volcanoes delighted with their spectacular beauty.
– The reunion with colleagues and friends and the reprisal of human connection and some post-COVID-years normalcy was incredibly invigorating. If ever my passion for the work MAIA is doing and all it has achieved as an organization flagged because of the many distractions and issues that come up over four years in one’s own life, returning to the school and connecting again with the staff, GPs, and fellow Board members refueled me completely. Even though it was school break, there were some programs running. Being able to see the school filled with students and the vibrancy of what happens there during the school year was rewarding. The school has grown into the building since I was last there.
While all of the challenges Guatemala and the school and its students face had been laid out to me in one way or another through news articles or program notes or discussions during Board meetings, to physically be present in the place, to connect with the students and staff who have lived through these challenging times, and to hear it from them and see it firsthand was powerful. The school’s work has become ever more critical in the face of more families slipping into extreme poverty, more issues with malnourishment, more clarity in terms of the entrenched barriers the GPs face as they pursue advanced degrees and formal employment. If you have ever wished for the world to be more fair and equal, the MAIA Impact School model creates the change so many of us dream of seeing in the world. In the face of great obstacles, there is so much to celebrate and to be inspired by happening in this little school in Guatemala. I invite you to invest with me in this incredible organization. Together we can break cycles of poverty, discrimination, and inequity and, like the Girl Pioneers, be part of the solution. https://www.maiaimpact.org/be-part-of-the-solution https://youtu.be/NubKmhfvpww
OMM – Your Soul and Money

OMM – Your Soul and Money

Meg

I mentioned the book The Soul of Money by Lynne Twist in my last post, Sometimes Asking is Giving. As Ms. Twist explains, “What’s poor is [people’s] circumstances, not them, and the unlocking of a vehicle to change circumstances is a gift; the radical truth about money and life is sufficiency. If you clear away the mindset of scarcity, you will find the surprising truth of enough. When we recognize enough, when we have more than enough, that excess, that’s for others.”

I shared a quote about one’s attitude two weeks ago, and this is related. It’s a mindset shift, from scarcity to abundance. It changes everything in how we approach life, ourselves, and others. When you realize you have enough, that you are enough, you can give of yourself more. Does anyone else remember Sark? This particular quote about Enough is from her book Inspiration Sandwich, which was also the genesis of much hilarity about the complete and utter dump in the deep woods of Maine that my friend Jen and I lived in one summer, which we affectionately called the Magic Cottage thanks to Sark. It was magical all right, hornets and mice living in the walls and all. But that’s a story for another time.

“There is a distinction between sufficiency and true abundance; if you let go of trying to get more of what you don’t need, it frees up oceans of energy that’s all tied up in that chase to pay attention to what you already have. When you nourish and share it, you make a difference with what you have and it expands. What you appreciate, appreciates.”

Lynne Twist

Deep breath.

You will be alright.

This has been another Oxygen Mask Moment.

Sometimes Asking is Giving

Sometimes Asking is Giving

Meg

The other day I was paddle boarding with a friend on a particularly hot and blustery day, stuck on my knees because the wind and chop were so strong that I risked tumbling into the lake if I stood up. After 20 minutes paddling into the wind, I looked up only to realize that I was a few feet further out from shore but still parallel with the dock. So much effort, so little progress, and, honestly, that relentless wind made me feel vulnerable and exposed even though I could have just let it blow me back to shore and call it a day.

As I dug my paddle deeper into the water to renew my effort to gain some forward momentum, it made me think about the extraordinary headwinds indigenous Guatemalan women deal with every day, and what it would be like to be stuck right where you are from the moment you are born, conscripted to a life of poverty, limited agency, and lack of opportunity. Young women in rural Guatemala face quadruple discrimination from the day they arrive on this Earth: they are poor, they are Mayan, they live in a rural area, and they are female. The MAIA Impact School works to change that by connecting the latent talent that exists in rural Guatemala but has been overlooked for generations with opportunity, starting with access to robust education through high school and aiming for university studies and access to formal work opportunities (as opposed to remaining in the informal economy, which is much more common, precarious, and poorly paid).

Each of MAIA’s Girl Pioneers (or GP’s, so called because they are pioneering a completely new path for themselves, their families, and their communities) trajectories has been astonishing. Though the wind remains incessant, there’s a flotilla of support, guidance, and information available to each of them about how to improve one’s technique, navigate challenges, find balance, and move forward.

Photo by Mat Brown on Pexels.com
Photo by Zadok P. on Pexels.com

In MAIA’s first class of high school graduates, a GP won a 4-year scholarship to college in the United States through She Can, an organization that builds female leadership in post-conflict countries. There are still so many hurdles for her to leap over and hoops to jump through before this opportunity becomes a reality, including the SATs, the bane of most high schoolers’ existences. Imagine being the first person in your family to go to high school, let alone college, and trying to take the SAT not in your first language, nor your second language, but your third language. More headwinds.

Because the US college process is so unique and challenging, with the SATs in one’s third language adding an extra twist, MAIA’s US Executive Director asked the Board if anyone knew someone who provides one-on-one SAT tutoring. I texted my neighbor, who is a college counselor, and he recommended Summit Educational Group. I googled them and cold called them, stumbling over my words as I tried to explain what MAIA is and does succinctly and clearly, who the GPs are, what the need was, all the while dreading the eventual question of cost. I asked not knowing what to expect and feeling like I was asking a lot. I was glad to be on the phone when I said the words “pro bono” because my face burned bright red and my armpits got sweaty. The gall of calling a complete stranger and asking for a favor – and then asking for it for free! Completely brazen.

But then, incredibly, they said YES. Yes, we will offer 22 hours of our time free of charge to provide the tools and resources this extraordinary young woman needs to continue along her path. That yes made my heart sing, astonished that this might actually happen and truly touched to experience the goodness, kindness, and generosity of other humans.

Several weeks ago, two MAIA staff visited the US for a conference. While they were here, we thought it would be good to meet and thank the Summit Education team in person. At our meeting we were able to give them a little more context about MAIA, rural Guatemala, and the GPs. It was the appropriate, polite thing to do in thanks to an organization that gave so selflessly on our student’s behalf.

But the part that struck and surprised me most that has stuck with me was how powerfully resonant and moving this connection to Guatemala was for them. Though they had no prior connection to MAIA or to Guatemala, while I was busy sweating through my shirt feeling awkward and queasy about my bold ask, they weren’t asking themselves if at all, only how. In fact, the response was more like:

“We don’t often get the chance to help a student like this.”

“This whole experience has been the highlight of my time here at Summit.”

It turns out that my ask was a give. Your read that right. By asking, I gave the gift of meaning, joy, and connection. By connecting, we build bridges and forge deeper understanding, expanding our own world and worldview. The wind may not die down, but if we work together we all make more forward progress.

Asking for help is hard. It’s challenging to separate a need from feeling needy. I find it easier to ask on behalf of someone else, certainly on behalf of a cause that’s bigger than me, but it’s still hard. It strikes me now that while it is so hard to ask for assistance in so many aspects of life, sometimes – often? – the asking creates an opportunity to give that is meaningful to the giver. As Lynne Twist writes in her book The Soul of Money, “this unlocking of a vehicle to change circumstances is a gift.” It’s a remarkable, empowering twist and the ultimate oxygen mask moment.

OMM – Find Your Sanctuary

OMM – Find Your Sanctuary

Meg

I discovered in my late teens what it means to find sanctuary. Though the word is often associated with a church, human constructs never stirred my soul or provided room for quiet contemplation in the same way that a peaceful wood, a calm lake, or a mountaintop (as long as there are not a lot of other people there) do. The combination of the effort (and endorphins) that hiking engenders plus beautiful surroundings and time for quiet contemplation has always been my favorite refuge, affording me the best opportunity to reflect and re-center.

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

Henry David thoreau

I read that Thoreau quote for the first time in the early 1990s while sitting on the side of a mountain somewhere in Oregon’s Three Sisters Wilderness and it has stuck with me ever since.

After years of practice I have learned (okay, am learning) to quiet the noise and find my sanctuary amidst the hustle and bustle of suburban family life. Putting your own oxygen mask on is about finding refuge and peace within. It’s been a nearly lifelong practice for me. Get outside today, breathe some fresh air, and find your way toward your own calm and sanctuary.

“All of our problems stem from our inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”

Blaise pascal

This has been another edition of Oxygen Mask Moments by Meg

For more musings, check out Finding Sanctuary.

Breathe.

You will be alright.

It’s a Wonderful Thing, A Mother

It’s a Wonderful Thing, A Mother

Meg

A print of James McNeil Whistler’s Mother hung on the wall of my childhood home for as long as I can remember. I always found her kind of creepy, to be honest, and the poem by Baroness Von Hutton affixed below it within the frame always felt so dark. 

It's a wonderful thing, a mother;
other folks can love you, 
but only your mother understands.
She works for you,
looks after you,
loves you,
forgives you anything you may do,
understands you, and then the
only thing bad she ever does to you
is to die and leave you.

- Baroness Von Hutton

Of course since those days as a little girl staring up at this portrait and trying to understand it (and still trying to understand why it hung in the bathroom of all places), I have become an adult, and a mother, and my mother’s caregiver.

It’s been one helluva year for me and my mom. We have walked the line so many times between life and death. And she just keeps coming back dancing and laughing. Just this week she was hospitalized again. I found myself racing to her side, grateful to be freshly vaccinated but afraid I had missed my chance to be with her while she was still alive after over a year of distanced visits and screens between us. And, you know what? Even though there is only one way for this story to end, even though I have already lost so much of her to Alzheimer’s, the grief that overcomes me at intervals when I face the prospect of losing her remains immense. The words of Baroness Von Hutton resonate more clearly by the day.

Distanced Visits
Reunited!

My mom (and her sisters) are my guiding lights. I have noticed especially over the past year of isolation and quiet that my most profound and impassioned writing tends to be reflections on my relationship with these women. A Tribute to My Biggest Fan, Nancy Waddell, Practically Perfect in Every Way, Clips

I think about my mom and her two sisters (“Sisters, sisters, there were never more devoted sisters” is the Irving Berlin song that accompanies my memory of the three sisters together, they dancing to the beat and laughing) as I make my way through this world. And I try to channel Nancy and Ellen’s wisdom as I care for my mom.

Nancy and Beth
The Sisters and Their Mom
Ellen, Beth, and Nancy

I have begun to recognize more fully how these women were my champions throughout my entire life; how they showed me by their example what it is to be a strong, courageous, compassionate and caring person; how they showed up over and over again at ballet performances and soccer games, at Thanksgiving dinners and music recitals, at the hospital the day my kids were born. As I wrestle with the phone calls and texts and times together that I miss, though they are gone (or gone in most ways, in my mom’s case), they are always with me. They are a part of me.

I’ve got all of this on my mind, swirling in these emotional crescendos and troughs, when the MAIA Impact School (which, if you don’t remember, is what inspired me to find my voice and share it by starting this blog) announced it’s Nim Mama (“Great Mother” in the Katchiquel language of Guatemala) scholarship. The concept is centered on honoring our mothers and the collective strength, beauty, and transformative power of mothers the world over by investing in the education of an indigenous Guatemalan girl. The images of these pioneering, brave girls with their mothers at their side brought me to bellyaching tears. In these images I could see my mom and my aunts standing beside me, or pushing from behind me, saying, “Go. Be brave. Do great things.”

https://www.maiaimpact.org/nim-mama-event

This campaign renewed the call of these female pillars of my life to channel their strength and rise up to be the courageous, bold, passionate, brave woman they showed me how to be. I am living their values and honoring their legacy by returning the devotion my mom showed to me in my caregiving for her and passing the gift of their strength and love onto my children, both my daughter and my son.

This Mother’s Day, I will ACT for change in their names. I am investing $3,000 in MAIA’s Nim Mama Scholarship Fund, $1,000 each in honor of Ellen, Nancy, and Beth, the fiery, loving, devoted, caring, amazing women who paved the way for me. I can’t think of a better way to honor them than to live their values by working to create a more equitable and just world and launching the next generation of Girl Pioneers to pursue their dreams.

Join me April 29 for the launch event to learn more. Find your voice! Empower another to find hers!

Life is short. We don’t know when our time will come. Make – and be – the change you want to see in the world. Now.

Go out there and get after it!

Full Circle

Full Circle

Meg

A year ago today, I had a regularly scheduled quarterly appointment with my Rheumatologist. I knew enough about the “novel coronavirus” to know that being near other people was potentially a risk. We knew by then, also, that the virus was already lurking nearby because our local middle school had been shut for cleaning over the weekend due to a confirmed case. But I was still holding out hope that our family could sneak in a long-planned vacation to San Diego on March 18.

My doctor’s office is located within a large hospital, which was not exactly where I wanted to be at that moment in time. When I arrived, I mentally plotted the best course from my car to the doctor’s office that would ensure I minimized contact with others. I parked on the street instead of in the hospital garage and MacGyver’ed my way through back stairwells and infrequently used hallways, using only my elbows to open doors and letting them slam shut. I was very proud of my stealth, my well-honed survival skills (also known as being an anxious person who perpetually prepares for any eventuality) finally coming in handy.

When I opened the doctor’s office door, a woman was standing at the check-in counter speaking with the receptionist. Two others sat in the waiting room. My evasive maneuvers appeared to be for naught. Then I heard the words “just back from Italy” and nearly exploded. Was this virus really something I needed to worry about or was the news making an exaggeration of things? I paced, refusing to sit on potentially contaminated seats or to touch anything, and waited impatiently for my turn.

It’s still hard to believe that I walked into that office telling myself that I was probably overreacting and that, sure, caution was prudent but let’s not be hysterical. I had a hunch that getting on a plane and going on a cruise were becoming more unlikely by the minute, but it goes to show the power of – what? Denial? Incredulity? The sheer impossibility of what was about to happen? that I doubted the information in front of me – in front of all of us – to that point.

My doctor told me explicitly: no commercial airlines, definitely no cruises, and stay away from crowds. Because of my immuno-suppressed state I did, in fact, fall into a higher risk group. I left dazed – usually reality doesn’t match my over-active imagination. This time I underestimated reality. I felt suddenly quite mortal and very vulnerable. And no one really seemed to know what to do. We had information, but the idea of quarantine and social distance seemed drastic and irrational. People in authority – from the government and the CDC to school departments, business leaders, and medical facilities – kept referencing other people in authority in this bizarre hamster wheel of deer-in-headlights inaction.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com
Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

On my way home from the doctor, I stopped to see my mom for what I knew would officially be the last time for a while (you know, a couple of weeks – ha!). It felt like a risk – was I bringing something in or taking something home unknowingly? – and I regretted going almost immediately. That afternoon I stood apart from everyone when I picked my daughter up from school, waving to my friends from a safe distance, a little quiver to my lip. My neighbors dropped of N95 masks on my front porch. We debated whether or not our son should perform in his band concert. It seemed insane to cave into irrational fear. But when you can’t see what you fear, what is rational anymore?

March 11, 2020, my husband started working from home. He used to take the train to work every day. On his last commute home another passenger coughed the whole way. We couldn’t figure how me standing away from a crowd at school dismissal was going to help much if he was being coughed on to and from work every day. So he stayed home. And that was just the beginning…

THIS YEAR on March 11 I will get my first dose of COVID vaccine. I am excited that this moment is here – I can taste freedom and some semblance of sure footing again. The mask mandates made a huge difference, as has everything we have learned about the coronavirus and how to treat it and who it affects.

But I am also nervous for all the regular reasons an anxious person would be nervous – unknowns and straying from the norm always provoke anxiety. The norm has become staying home and staying apart, keeping this virus as far away as I possibly can. It’s odd to go out and actively seek it (I do know it’s not a live virus and the vaccines are thoroughly vetted – and I WILL get it, absolutely. I’m just being honest – life is full of both/and situations and this is one. I am excited and I am nervous).

Photo by Ju00c9SHOOTS on Pexels.com

The past year has required serious mental gymnastics. Back-bending our way back to the old normal will be an adjustment too. For me, anyway. To mentally survive this period of extreme isolation required adjusting my threshold for patience and accepting a version of life that was smaller and more insular than I would choose. I took a big step back from my regularly scheduled programming. A friend observed when the lockdowns first started that I was a social butterfly who got her wings clipped. I tried not to dwell on it too much, and to adjust. I just kept going the best I could. And I did. We did.

As the switch flips and we head in the other direction, this March 11 may be the beginning of something new – something normal. I am tempering my expectations and won’t celebrate too soon, but I do have this hopeful sensation bubbling up inside me. Dare I dream of being close to other people again? Hugging my mom? Sending my kids to school full-time and to camp this summer?

It’s a dream right now, but it’s a dream fueled by real, actionable progress not just wishful thinking. I am starting to think that, yes, in fact, we will be alright.

Stay the course. Stay well. We got this.

Hope employs positive action. It is actively moving toward a positive outcome.

Wishing is passive – a wait and see approach. That’s the stuff of fairytales!

– Nicole Seawell @SailorsSweetLife (dot com)

Finding Sanctuary

Finding Sanctuary

Meg

For years after having kids and while taking care of my mom, I had to modify what I thought my life was supposed to be to accommodate what it actually was. I spent far too long trying to shove the round peg that is me into the square hole that was my expectations of myself. Life intervened. Lessons were learned (painfully).

Eventually I let go of some things and I adapted. I left the working world and focused more on my family and my health. It was disorienting and I was consumed by guilt and grief because I wasn’t living the identity I had constructed for myself of being a “working mom.” A paycheck validated my worth and provided confirmation that I was contributing substantively to the world, as sad as that is to acknowledge. Without it, and without a title, I felt diminished and like my tether to and meaning in the broader world had shrunk. My life was fully in the service of others, consumed with sports schedules and camp sign ups, meal planning and doctors appointments. I craved purpose and passion. I got dirty diapers and dishes.

All moms are working moms.

a dear friend pulling me out of the abyss

I couldn’t accept for a while that this was a point in time, a temporary passage and where I needed to be for then, but not forever. I felt like I couldn’t hack it (and of course I assumed as I looked around that everyone else could and was doing “it” better than I was). What was “it,” you might ask? I am not even sure. Life? Work? Or, better, that most elusive work/life balance? My go-to mentality when I am up against a wall is that I must not be trying hard enough. But I couldn’t get out of my own way, and as most people eventually realize walls are pretty solid things. I remember reading When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron and wanting to chuck it against the wall after the 13th page because what she prescribed was to sit with my discontent, essentially, and what I wanted was a to-do list to fix it.

When the pace of life and the noise in your head gets to be too much, where do you find sanctuary? For me, there’s nothing like the smell of warm pine needles on a forest floor, the lapping of lake water against an evergreen shoreline, a boulder-strewn mountain rising in the distance, the stillness of sitting quietly by a pond. No cellphones, no crowds, no distractions. With headspace I can reorient and find my center again.

But for the longest time when my kids were young, I couldn’t travel. The place I dreamed of, Mount Katahdin in Northern Maine, was simply too far away and my life was too busy and too consumed by caring for others for me to disappear into the wilderness. Eventually I would institute an annual pilgrimage to Katahdin, but what about all the time in between? I learned to seek elements of Maine closer to home, and to find stability and happiness within. This is what Pema Chodron teaches, but it took me a while to accept it. It’s still a work in progress. I still get wound up like a top and overwhelmed by life. I still am my own harshest critic. But I find my center by carving out time for exercise; laughing with good friends (always reliable for grounding); being curious and just saying yes! to something new sometimes; taking a walk in my suburban wilderness (often now with my dog); and delighting in the little things like a crisp blue sky, flowers, or a box of cookies arriving in the mail. These are highly recommended life hacks for moms and for everyone else who might feel like life is directing them versus the other way around.

Yesterday I was reminded, spectacularly, about the power of finding sanctuary, be that a mountain vista or a more traditional place of worship. At the end of a tour of historic properties in a small, central Massachusetts mill town, our tour guide invited us to see the interior of one of the local churches. As you might guess, I am more of a nature-than-built-environment-as-sanctuary kind of person, but I am also curious. We walked through a dark entry foyer, nothing of note. But as the door to the sanctuary opened, it was a like a curtain that had veiled and protected my heart through this long, challenging year of isolation, lowering expectations, and gracefully accepting our lot was swept aside. This sanctuary of towering ceilings, stained glass windows, and ornate carvings forced a long, deep inhale. This church, modest in presentation from the outside and unexpectedly, stunningly beautiful on the inside, restored part of me that I didn’t even know was missing. It jolted awake a part of my brain that I hadn’t quite even realized was dormant. It reminded me of all the beauty there is in the world, and that you often don’t have to go very far to find it. There are unexpected treasures everywhere, if we are willing to stretch ourselves, be open-minded, and pull open the door to see it.