Kindred spirits

Today as I walked home past the Winter Garden I saw a lady inside, settling onto a bench to read. The book in her hands was Eat, Pray, Love. I tried to sneak a peek to see how far along she was, wondering where she was at the moment. Italy. India. Indonesia. I felt a bond with her.

Not only because of her choice of reading – I enjoyed the book, but that’s not the point. She was traveling somewhere I had been so we had a shared experience. It collapsed our degrees of separation into a common plane. What surprised me was that I’ve typically thought of reading as a solitary activity. But I realized it’s not. We readers are kindred spirits journeying into a time and place at our own pace while creating shared experiences.

That’s why reading works for me better than movies. The latter presume that everyone is in the same mood at the same time. Off we go for a shared – somewhat contrived – experience. When it works, it’s magic. Like the time we saw “Marley and Me” – five of us – and we all connected with and through the movie and traveled together through the story. But there have been times – and if you’re honest, now come on, it’s happened to you – when I sit through 90 or 120 minutes, with my mind flitting about, thinking why am I here? And maybe the other person or people come out of the movie going – “Wow, was that great or what?” You realize the distance between you was much greater than the width of the armrest.

Maybe this is why so many book clubs don’t work. The whole concept is based on forcing a group of people to read the same story at the same time and then reflect on it – regardless of their mindset. And we all know – we have to be ready to encounter a book or it just won’t work. I’ve started books, put them down, picked them up – thought no, not my thing. And then the right time comes and that particular book is just what I need at that moment. Books can’t be forced upon us, they come to us. And we must be ready to receive.

When I’m ready – what an experience. A book can change me, help me grow, see the world in ways I would never have dreamed. Then when I meet someone else who has traveled those pages, we connect via our past experience, finding common ground in the moment from what we bring to it in our memories. It’s like when you’ve had a marvelous time in say, Paris. You get back home and you’re telling your stories. Someone (could be a total stranger) says – “Oh, I know that corner. I’ve stood in that exact same spot. Ah, I can still smell the croissants fresh from the oven.” Her eyes glaze over, you sigh in unison, it’s so real your mouths begin to water.

It’s the same with books. When I meet another fan of Alexander McCall Smith’s Sunday Philosophy Club, we can get lost in Scotland, though we’ve never been.

“Isn’t Bertie the cutest little fellow? Oh, but Irene. What a mother.”

“Oh, she is something. But I do love Isabel. Wouldn’t you love to have a cup of tea with her, sitting at the kitchen table. Maybe even catch a glimpse of the fox in the garden?”

And there you are in a mind-meld, the two of you sipping tea with a fictional character in a make-believe house, and it’s as real as the street you are standing on. That’s what books can do. So while reading may be a solitary venture, stories are bridges that bring us together.

Family Creed

About 12 years ago, when our family was going through a challenging time, Charlie and I decided to do a family mission statement. We both had certainly put lots of time into crafting such statements for our companies – where are we going, what do we value. Why not one for our family?

We set to work and ended up with one word. RELISH. An acronym for Respect, Encourage, Love, Inspire, Share, and Help. We posted it on the fridge and it helped to change our lives. But that’s a story for another day.

On the evening of the day we buried Dad, no one had much of an appetite for dinner. But no one was ready for sleep either. About 9 p.m., we set off for Steak ‘n Shake in Columbus. Sitting around the table – Jess and Josh opposite Charlie and me, Kate in a chair at the end of the booth, we talked about the hole in our family. Dad had been the glue – he kept us connected, made us laugh, brought perspective to the situations we encountered in life, loved us unconditionally. What did we look like without him? And how did we honor his memory and all that he had taught us?

We started around the table – what do we value? What do we choose? One by one, we shared our thoughts. As we did, our grief began its transformation – the sense of loss morphed into the realization of how much of Dad could never be gone, the things he gave us were embedded in our DNA. The sadness became hope realizing that we must, and would, go on, showing up in the world as responsible, loving people choosing to live in awareness, taking responsibility, cherishing each moment, and laughing as much as possible.

Out of that time and that conversation came our Family Creed. It is a visual reminder of two key facts – life is finite and we are responsible for what we do with the time we have. Carl Rogers says that “to recognize that ‘I am the one who chooses’ and ‘I am the one who determines the value of an experience for me’ is both an invigorating and a frightening realization.” Our Family Creed helps to take the fear out of this realization and allows us to embrace ambiguity and possibility and hopefully to bravely continue the process of becoming all that God created us to be, unique and precious individuals privileged to share this journey together and call each other family.

Fifty years on

Fifty years ago this past Sunday, my parents welcomed me into the world and into the family. At 5 lbs 13 oz, sporting a rather odd bump on the side of my head, I was the proverbial face only a mother could love. My dad was a little wary of touching me at first, lest I break. He soon overcame that fear, although he mostly left diaper duty to Mom.

Last night, Jessica gave birth to little Stella June Hendricks, the newest member of the family. Charlie and I savored every moment of the miracle thanks to Kate’s laptop and Skype video. We watched Jess struggle and push and persist – she was a real trooper – and Josh cheering her on. We laughed and cried as the head appeared and then the entire little bundle. In case you’re wondering, she is perfect, a beautiful, 6 lb 14 oz blessing.

We stayed on via Skype after the birth to stretch the moment as long as we could – it’s one of those times when eternity is not enough to take it all in. As I watched Josh holding Stella, peering into her eyes, devouring every feature of her tiny little face, trying to believe it was true, she had finally arrived after all the months of dreaming and planning, I thought of my own dad holding me fifty years ago and me being that little babe in his arms. A father’s love is priceless, and Stella is blessed to have such strong Daddy arms and abundant Daddy love to guide her through her earthly journey.

A few months ago, I saw life end. Last night, I watched life begin. I am humbled, overwhelmed, and amazed at the preciousness of life and the goodness of God. Remember Lester Burnham’s final words in American Beauty?

“… there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday.”

My someday is now.

State of Grace

Years ago, we hired a part-time nanny/housekeeper. Delia, as we’ll call her, started out strong, but things went south pretty quickly. Long about week three, she asked for a small loan – her car needed a few repairs. We had a vested interest in her having reliable transportation so we wrote the check. Before the first payment was made on the loan, Delia had another request – an advance on her pay. She needed cash for a family emergency. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, we wrote another check.

And then Delia disappeared. Didn’t show up for work the next week. Or the next. No phone calls to explain. Not a word. We weren’t surprised. Just disappointed.

But we were surprised when she rang a few months later. Yes, she needed money. Just a little. She was sorry for skipping out on us like that. Things were looking up, she would repay every penny.

You know what happened. Strike three. Yet she continued to call occasionally - there was no more money exchanged after that, we’re generous, not stupid – but we were always amazed at her gumption. How dare she expect more! Not long after that, we moved out-of-state and that was the last we heard from Delia.

Yesterday, I was at the MRT, just got off the train, was walking through the station. And a passerby ran into me. Hard. She had a big clunky bracelet on and it hit me right on the edge of that little bone on the inside of my wrist and reverberated up through my shoulder. She shot an ugly glance over her shoulder as she hurried on her way.

I started to cry like a baby. I’m not talking getting misty-eyed, or shedding a few tears. I mean a full-fledged, all out bawl. I dug through my purse for a tissue and my phone – I had to call Charlie and tell him how mean she had been.

Then it hit me. I’m still grieving. And grief has left me very fragile. I thought it was behind me, heaven knows I’ve had lots of tears for my dad. But I was confident the really hard cries were a thing of the past. Now, just like Delia, here was that greedy fellow, Grief, knocking at the door, expecting even more from me. How dare he.

I talked with Charlie, wiped my eyes, and climbed aboard bus 174 to continue my journey. There was only one seat open. A school girl, absorbed in her iPod, was closer to it. Just my luck, I thought. Then she glanced at me, loaded down with packages, nodded her head, and walked on, leaving the seat for me. I plopped down, dropped my bags at my feet, and smiled. It is amazing how much a little kindness can accomplish. My entire mood shifted.

As I sat there reframing, a mom and her two children boarded a few stops down the road. The seats beside me had since opened up, and they sat down, the little boy fussing terribly. The mom apologized – he was just hot and tired, she said. I assured her there was no need for apologies – I understood. We struck up a conversation – they are an American family here for a short-term assignment this summer, learning their way around. She was talking about the challenge of grocery shopping with no car so when I told her about the home delivery service offered free by most of the big supermarkets, she was pretty happy. I gave her my name and number, asked her to give me a call if I could help in any way, and exited at my stop.

Grief will still surprise me now and then – he can ask all he wants, but it’s mine to give, not his to take. You see I’ve relocated – to the state of Grace. Much harder for him to reach me there.

And, as I set out on this new day, I choose kindness – someone out there always needs it.

Family

Charlie and I saw this ad for the first time the other night...had to share it. Well done and thought-provoking. Have a look...it's only 3 minutes.

Family

Dad

As many of you already know, my Dad died on May 7. It was not expected; for 76, he was in pretty good shape and hadn’t been sick, besides what we thought were the typical aging things. He went in for surgery in late April, came through just fine, came off the ventilator, and we had a couple of great days. Then, his lungs took a turn for the worse, he went back on the vent, and 12 long days later, his kidneys began to fail. It was at that point that we knew it was time for us to say goodbye. We knew he was ready. In fact, we’re pretty certain he had known for quite some time that his earthly days were growing short.

On Friday afternoon, May 7, at 4 p.m., we were close by his side, holding his hands and praying with him as he went home to heaven. It was the most painful and the most beautiful moment of my life. It is said that those who love deeply, grieve deeply. I think it is a fair trade. I would not relinquish any of the love, the laughter, the arguments, the discussions, or the memories that I shared with Dad. Do I miss him? No words can describe it. But I know where he is, and I know we will rejoice together again. Our hope is in the Lord.

A few weeks before he died, he called me out to the front porch to talk with him and a dear friend of his who had just been diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. Dad wanted me to tell this friend what I thought about death and heaven. I struggled to reply, to find some words of comfort, believing they were for his friend. My own words failing me, I turned to Paul. He wrote this in a letter to the Corinthians. If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all others. (I Cor. 15:19) I went on to say that death may seem like a terrible thing, but we hold on to God’s hand, keep walking, and soon we see that it was just part of God’s plan for us, a momentary pain to reach an everlasting joy.

Later, when Dad was so sick and we were told the end was near, these words came back to me, and I thought to myself “Oh, Dad wasn’t asking me to tell this to his friend. He was asking the question for himself.” I fretted over my answer, trying to recall what I had said. Did it bring him any comfort?

A few days after he died, these words again came to my mind and, amidst all the funeral arrangements, the tears, the grief, a peace came upon me. And I smiled. Dad hadn’t asked me for clarification for his friend or for himself. He wanted me to say it so when I needed it I would remember what I believe and REALLY BELIEVE IT. When it comes to faith, like Yoda says “Do. Or do not. There is no try.”

I do. I do believe.

Thanks Dad.

Soul Food

Another year, another feast. These are the books I consumed last year – some quite nutritious, others purely indulgent, but for the most part, all greatly enjoyed. I’ve already started on this year’s batch – more on those in the days ahead. But for now, a 2009 recap.

First, the nonfiction. All were great reads - the ones in bold are highly recommended.

90 Minutes in Heaven (Don Piper)
Musicophilia (Oliver Sacks)
Readings from the Ancient Near East (Arnold, Beyer)
The World’s Religions (Huston Smith)
Markings (Dag Hammarskjold)
The Human Brain Coloring Book (Diamond, Scheibel, Elson)
What’s So Great About Christianity? (Dinesh D’Souza)
The Path Between the Seas (David McCullough)
Why Religion Matters (Huston Smith)
Outliers (Malcolm Gladwell)
Here If You Need Me (Kate Brastrup)
The Art of Asking: Ask Better Questions, Get Better Answers (Terry J. Fadem)
What You Can Change and What You Can’t (Martin Seligman)
My God, Our God! (E. Joseph Steier)
What Jesus Meant (Gary Wills)
First, They Killed My Father (Loung Ung)
My Stroke of Insight (Jill Bolte Taylor)
On Gold Mountain (Lisa See)
I and Thou (Martin Buber)
Death: The Final Stage of Growth (Elizabeth Kubler-Ross)
The Color of Water (James McBride)

And fiction which I’ve categorized a bit further:

Favorites:
People of the Book (Geraldine Brooks)
Their Eyes were Watching God (Zora Neale Hurston)
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (Stieg Larrson)
The Girl who Played with Fire (Stieg Larrson)
The Girl who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest (Stieg Larrson)
84 Charing Cross Road (Helene Hanff)
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society (Shaffer and Barrows)
44 Scotland Street (Alexander McCall Smith)
Espresso Tales (Alexander McCall Smith)
Love over Scotland (Alexander McCall Smith)
The Unbearable Lightness of Scones (Alexander McCall Smith)
The World According to Bertie (Alexander McCall Smith)
La’s Orchestra Saves the World (Alexander McCall Smith)
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
Firefly Lane (Kristin Hannah)
To Dance with the White Dog (Terry Kay)
The Household Guide to Dying (Debra Adelaide)
The Collected Tales of Nikolai Gogol

Entertaining:
In the Kitchen (Monica Ali)
Inspector Singh: Most Peculiar Malaysian Murder (Shamini Flint)
Inspector Singh: A Bali Conspiracy Most Foul (Shamini Flint)
We Are All Made of Glue (Marina Lewycka)
Simple Genuis (David Baldacci)
The Red Thread (Dawn Farnham)

Left me feeling ? What the heck was that?:
On Beauty (Zadie Smith)
The Accidental (Ali Smith)
Never Let Me Go (Kazuo Ishigero)
My Favourite Wife (Tony Parsons)
The Angel’s Game (Carlos Ruiz Zafon)

Pleasant surprises recommended by Charlie:
A Scandalous Man (Robin Ester)
One Day (David Nicholls)

If you’re a fan of Lamb (as I am – I Know This Much is True is one of my all-time favorites) – otherwise, you may not like either one:
The Hour I First Believed (Wally Lamb)
Wishin’ and Hopin’ (Wally Lamb)

Happy reading!!