Y for Yearning

When my daughter, Kate, was young, she would beg to go spend time in Hope with her grandparents. On many Friday evenings, Charlie and I would meet Mom and Dad halfway, at the “Scottsburger” exit on I-65, and off she would go for a weekend visit. 

Around bedtime, the call would come.  “I want to come home.” Then, when she would come home on Sunday evening, she would want to be back in Hope.  The proverbial wish to have your cake and eat it, too. Impossible, my little darling.

Oh, the yearnings of youth.  Some of which remain for a lifetime.  And the beginning of a new year is a time for reflection on such things.  Well, that, and the fact that I’m home alone for eight days while Charlie is away on a business trip.  Me with too much time on my hands can be an interesting thing.

I have been yearning of late.  For home.  Except I’m not sure where or what that is.  It was ten years last November that we’ve lived outside the US.  In a few months, we’ll start our ninth year of residence here in Singapore.  When we left the US, Tennessee was our point of departure and had been home for about two years.  Prior to that, we had an Arizona postal code.  Before that, we’d had brief stays in Wisconsin, Kentucky, Kansas. 

Ever since Adam and Eve were sent away from Eden it seems the human condition has been one of a deep longing to go back home.  Think of the songs.

Home, home on the range, where the deer and the antelope play

.

Take, take me home, cause I don’t remember…

Our house in the middle of our street…

Homeward bound…I wish I was homeward bound…

Please celebrate me home. Play me one more song

that I’ll always remember and I can recall

whenever I find myself all too alone

I can sing me home

I’ll be home for Christmas…if only in my dreams.

Take me home, country roads.

The yearning is palpable in these tunes. So what is home?  It’s more than geography, more than brick and mortars, a floorplan or furnishings. It’s a dream, a vision, a feeling, a hope, a yearning. Home is something internal, something we carry with us wherever we go.  It may sound a bit cheesy, but home is where the heart is.  And that’s not a spot that Google can map. 

I guess each of us decides for ourselves and makes our own home.  And we know it when we find it.  And there’s no place like it.

X for Xyst

Three letters left to go which brings us to X, perhaps the most challenging of the 26 little characters. Alas, along came xyst (rhymes with mist) to save the day.

Xystus is an architectural term from ancient Greece that refers to a covered portico outside the gymnasium where exercise could be taken during inclement weather.  The Romans adapted the term and the usage – a xyst is a garden walk planted with trees. Which made me think of the beautiful botanic gardens here in Singapore.

I’m going on my ninth year in Singapore, my 11^th year of living outside the US.  During that time, I’ve relied on my feet and public transportation.  Since the day I returned my leased baby blue BMW prior to heading off to Geneva (I adored that little vehicle - even if Kate insisted it was a station wagon, I more vehemently argued it was a sport wagon) I’ve been without personal wheels. 

Kind of weird since I practically grew up with a car.  The day I turned 16, there was a car waiting for my use.  Dad got a new company car every year, but he loved car trading so there were usually a few sets of wheels in our driveway.  I recall going to a family funeral a few hours away from our home in Indiana, a family of five in one car, and coming back a few days later in two vehicles.  Walking around the neighborhood after the funeral, Dad had spotted a deal too good to pass by – so he wrote the check, signed the papers, and a new pony was added to the corral. 

Walking, busing and cabbing changes things.  It’s a mixed bag.  Depending on where I’m going and the bus route or availability or a taxi or my stamina, it may take a lot longer.  On the other hand, given the cost and availability of parking in certain areas, walking can be the fastest way to get something done.  Case in point – it’s an eight minute walk each way to ION.  But one evening, we were meeting friends at Sky and I’d done my hair, had on nice shoes – and it was pouring down rain.  I asked if we could cab it – Charlie reluctantly agreed after trying to convince me of his prowess with an umbrella.  Forty-five minutes later, the taxi had finally completed the four block journey and delivered us at the covered drop-off spot – dry, but exasperated.  Our friends had opted to drive themselves…and they were even later as the carpark was full and at a standstill.  They had finally ditched the car in an illegal spot and bailed out. 

What on earth does this have to do with our x word?  I’m getting there.

Since we moved here, I’ve been walking regularly in the Bot Garden.  It’s spacious, it’s green, it’s peaceful.  Since then, I’ve read a few articles that espouse the health benefits and brain boosts that walking in green spaces can provide.  A few weeks ago, I was at the doctor’s office for lung function tests – I have a bit of   My lung function has actually improved!  I’m attributing most of it to walking, particularly in the garden. 

asthma and hadn’t had this test for about six years.

The point of this X entry?  Get outside. Find a xyst.  Take a walk.  Breathe deep.  Look up.  Look around.  It’s exactly what the doctor ordered.

W for Witness

W is being brought to us by Marvin Gaye.  

Can I get a witness?  When things just aren’t right, when we need affirmation, confirmation, verification – we want a witness.  Another living, breathing human being who hears our story, sees our side, shares our joy or pain or anxiety, and makes our experience real and concrete.  

Webster defines a witness as one who attests to the genuineness of something, one who provides evidence of an event.  The Bible calls for punishment on those who bear false witness (Deut 19).  It also makes it an offense to refuse to bear witness (Lev 5:1) and it requires two or three witnesses to make a case (Deut 19).  The more who see it, the more real it becomes.

Maybe this is part of why social media is so popular – our online friends bear witness to our lives, the big stuff, the small stuff and all the in-between stuff. Someone sees, hears, connects with us.  Our lives are real, genuine.  There is evidence that, like Kilroy, we were here.

One of my favorite evenings during the holidays is dinner with Charlie, Kate and Jessica – just the four of us, a precious gift of remembering and sharing and laughing and crying.  We bear witness to the strength of our love for one another through the years.  We reaffirm that, regardless of what woes or wrath or weirdness may come, that love, grounded in our faith in Christ, will not fail us.  Life may be wacky, wild, and even wicked at times, but we will not fail to bear witness for one another.  “I know you.  You are good.  You are loved. You are precious. ”  

Isn’t this what the holidays are all about?  Going home to bear witness to one another.  In some cases, it may be accusatory and damaging and debilitating.  When done right, it’s life-affirming, soul-inspiring, heart-filling. That kind of witness says that when you forget who you are, the welcome mat is out, the door is unlocked, come home and we will tell you.  

Remember when…

And the stories unfold, the memory returns, and the soul is made whole.

V for Voices

Our “V” entry begins with the Latin “venire” meaning “to come” which is the root of Advent, the wonderful season preceding Christmas.  Christians await the arrival of our Savior. Families await the arrival of far-away loved ones.  Malls await the arrival of shoppers and profits.  All of us await the arrival of Santa Claus. It’s a time of waiting. Almost. But not yet.  We’re excited and full of anticipation.  We know something good is ahead.

When my dad died, we found a note in his wallet.  “The best is yet to come.”  There seems to be something inherent in the human condition that yearns for something more.  We know that this life is good, we are blessed with food and shelter and relationship. The world is truly a beautiful, wonderful, mystical moment in this absurd cosmos.

And yet we sense…something more is possible.

People die in senseless ways.  We spend our precious time scrambling after meaningless things.  We hurt each other, intentionally and accidentally.  We make the same mistakes over and over.  We try.  We fail.  We try again.  And we wait. 

The prophet Joel tells us that mountains will drip new wine and hills will flow with milk.  The prophet Isaiah speaks of rivers in the desert and lions and lambs and cows and bears all living together in harmony.  Revelation tells us of a time when tears and pain and death are no more. 

When?  When is that coming?  How long must we wait?

That I cannot answer. But every once in awhile, we get a glimpse of what that could be. It may last a moment or an hour, but it’s enough to keep us believing.  We see what could be.

On Sunday afternoon, Charlie and I attended a concert.  The International Festival Chorus of Singapore presented a beautiful ceremony of carols and Christmas songs.  The concert coincided with World Choral Day.  Did you know there is such a day?  Neither did I.  But I really like that such a thing exists in the world – it’s described as an “event to extol the values of solidarity, peace and understanding.” We could certainly use more of all.  This is their proclamation.

Sing, choirs of the world!

May your voices take springs

there where fire burns.

May your songs put roses

there where battlefields lay.

Open furrow and sow love

to harvest fruits of hope.

Sing to liberty where despot rule,

Sing to equality where poverty nests,

Sing to love where hate prevails.

May your singing direct the world

so that peace takes over wars,

so that all will cherish the earth,

so that all race or color discrimination is banished,

so that we will be together as sisters and brothers

so that this planet rejoices with your voices.

For a moment, I glimpsed the new earth.  Joyful voices, joined in harmony, banishing the darkness, letting the light of love reign.

Then, just a few hours after this concert, reality came hurtling back at tsunami strength.  Our beautiful island paradise experienced an unusual outburst of violence. The fires burned.  The pain imploded.  The hate took center stage. It was truly a sad day.

The vision of living together as brothers and sisters receded. 

And yet…we wait. 

For the vision is yet for the appointed time; it hastens toward the goal and it will not fail. Though it tarries, wait for it; it will certainly come, it will not delay. Habakkuk 2:3

U for Universal

Universal.  That’s our U word. I was thinking about this yesterday while spending time with a young friend.  After several hours of fun, we were walking from the bus stop and her little steps were stumbling.  I mentioned the “t” word – “are you tired?”  She immediately perked up and assured me she was not, even as her eyes drooped with the next step.  “Would you like for me to carry you?”  “Yes.”

A universal truth – ask a kid if she’s tired and she’ll most likely protest.  None of us wants to get tired.  We might miss something.  Can’t blame her…I often protest, too, especially late at night when there’s just one more thing catching my attention.  Which reminds me of another universal – when it’s impossible to find sleep at 2 a.m. with the help of GPS, at 6 a.m. when the alarm goes off, sleep is camping out at the back of both eyeballs, pouring a concrete foundation to boot and has to be eradicated with major explosives – preferably weapons of mass caffeine. 

And then the other universal – you never need a bathroom when there’s a clean facility nearby.  But get ten minutes away from running water with the next rest stop two hours ahead and your bowels will open faster and more furiously than Wal-Mart on Black Friday.

I noticed my universals are rather basic (and bio-oriented) so decided to see what other more enlightened souls had to say.

I want to disagree with Dr. King, but I’ve experienced it – heck, I am that at times. 

In a time of universal deceit – telling the truth is a revolutionary act.  George Orwell

Ouch.  Not many Paul Reveres around these days.

A warm smile is the universal language of kindness.  William Arthur Ward

Music is the universal language of mankind.  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

So which is it?   Someone clarify, please.

There is no faculty of the human soul so persistent and universal as that of hatred.  Henry Ward Beecher

Unless maybe it’s hope?

Live your life as though your every act were to become a universal law.  Immanuel Kant

Wow – this is a real challenge.  All that potential fairness and equity gets in the way of my wants.

There’s this great Andy Griffith episode when Barney volunteers to fill a vacancy in the choir, assuring the director of his singing abilities.  Of course, it doesn’t take along until they realize Barney’s claims are exaggerated.  And the comedy ensues as the choir tries to replace him without hurting his feelings.  Inspecting Barney’s throat, Andy tries to convince Barney that something looks wrong in there, his throat is too red and swollen and needs to be rested.  Barney protests that he feels fine, and then hustles off to the doctor, returning with a smile.

Barney:  That’s a uvula.  Everybody’s got one. You’ve got a uvula.  They’ve got a uvula.  I’ve got a uvula. All God’s children got a uvula.

Andy replies with a sigh and a “Hallelujah.”

Maybe, at the end of the day, the uvula is the greatest universal truth there is.  We’ve all got one.  We’re all human.  Hallelujah.

T for Transition

Transition.  Webster’s defines it as a movement, passage or change from one position, state or stage to   There’s such energy, excitement, anxiety and possibility in transition. It’s a beautiful thing.

another.

I remember my first big transition.  After 18 years at home in the same town, same school, same church, same friends, I set off for college.  Granted it was only 90 minutes down the road, but it might as well have been the far side of the moon.  I was lost. Homesickness almost overwhelmed me, but my tenacity saved the day.  I had signed up for this, I would complete it.  At least the first semester.  That’s what I wrote home to my grandparents the second week of freshman year – that I would stay until Christmas, but then it was back home for me. 

Of course, by Christmas break, I was settled, connected and happy as a lark.  They couldn’t have drug me away from college life.

Fast forward about a dozen years.  Charlie and I are about to make our first corporate relocation from Kentucky to Wisconsin.  Doesn’t seem that drastic, hey?  Again, it could have been the far side of the moon.  I was in a tizzy.  Tossed and turned at night asking what we had done.  How could we fix it.  Finally, after a long talk with Charlie, I picked up the phone, called my old boss in Louisville and asked for my job back. 

I was flying through Louisville in a few weeks so he suggested we meet then.  We talked and agreed to my return. And, immediately, upon getting back to Wisconsin, I thought – what am I doing?  I’ve moved on.  I can’t go back now. 

So we didn’t.  My boss was a pretty smart guy.  I’m guessing he knew that all along, but he had placated me, let me know I had a home if I needed it.  I respect him for that to this day.

When the next move came, no big deal.  By this time, I knew to expect the initial shock.  And I knew that it would pass.  I knew that going back wasn’t a good idea.  Once we made the decision, we moved forward.  This lesson was pretty easy to remember. 

Until it wasn’t.  Our first international move almost led to complete brain freeze.  At more than one point, we were tempted to throw in the towel, call it a day and go home to the USA.  We persisted.  And it was great.  Our second international move was smoother.  We reclaimed our star pupil status.

And then we stopped moving.  After 24 years of marriage and more than a dozen moves, we landed in Singapore in 2006 and have been firmly rooted here since.  At this point, that’s about eight out of our almost 32 married years – a full 25% of our lives in one place. But that doesn’t mean life hasn’t had its transitions.  I’ve moved from my 40s to 50s.  I’ve moved from being the mother of two amazing young women to being a mother-in-law of two outstanding young men and Oma to two beautiful little people.  In 2008, Charlie’s mom died. In 2010, we said goodbye to my dad.  There have been promotions and new jobs and graduations and celebrations, illnesses, heartaches, challenges and triumphs.  A few weeks ago, Mom sat at the closing table and turned over the keys to the family home.  In a few more weeks, for the first time in 40 years, a new family will celebrate their first Thanksgiving dinner in the old red brick house in a kitchen that overflows with good memories and great times. 

I used to think the geographical relocations were tough transitions.  I’ve learned that isn’t always the case.  But I’ve also learned that life is transition.  And we must carry on. Tenacity, today and thanks – more great T words.

Through all life’s transitions, let us give thanks and rejoice for today is the day the Lord has made.

S for Satisfaction

I am on day five of a Specific Food Plan as defined in The Inside Tract: Your Good Gut Guide to Great Digestive Health (authors Gerard E. Mullin and Kathie Madonna Swift). After several weeks of discomfort, and many more months before that of just not feeling right, I decided to take matters into my own hands and search out solutions.  This book came into my line of sight so I ordered it from Amazon and read with care and delight.  The digestive system is truly amazing.

Dr. Mullin warned that many physicians will recommend more meds for digestive problems such as heartburn, GERD, IBS, – and this is exactly what happened to me.  When the doctor had nothing else to offer but another prescription, I politely declined, quickly exited the office, went straight to the market and embarked on the Specific Foods Plan suggested in the book.  The timing was excellent as Charlie was to be away on a business trip and would not have to suffer through the dietary limitations with me.

Exercising such specificity in what I consume has led me to the S word “satisfaction.” I’m on Day 5 and having great success.  I really thought I’d be starving, but to my great satisfaction, I am satiated.  Satisfaction comes from the Latin satis meaning enough and facere meaning to make or do.  Do enough, make enough.  Such a nice place to be.  And food is a great place to start to understand and appreciate satisfaction. 

That hasn’t been the case with my eating in the past – I would ignore my stomach’s signals about its satisfaction and keep stuffing.  And then suffer later.  I’ve learned a few key things that have really helped me rethink how I use my spoon and fork – and how to listen more carefully to my gut.

Here are some of my favorite bits from the book:

There are more nerve cells in your bowel than in your spine.

Your gut has as many neurotransmitters as your brain (it’s called your second brain)

Chewing is essential to good digestion.

The stomach is about 12 inches long and 6 inches across at its widest point – it can hold about 1 quart of food, but more if pushed. 

Eat until you are about 80% full – this gives the tummy room to work on that food. 

The average adult gut contains approximately 5 pounds of bacteria.

Food preferences are shaped by repeated experiences with food over time – so if something is really good for you, start working it in slowly.  You’ll acquire a taste for it.  Unfortunately, many of us have preferences that have been shaped by over-salted and over-sugared processed foods so there’s some re-training to be done.

Implementing this diet plan has brought me great satisfaction.  My gut feels better, my joints don’t ache, my tummy isn’t bloated, my sleep has improved, and I feel satisfied. It has taken a bit of adjustment and creativity, but the rewards so far are well worth the effort.  Most importantly, it has made me mindful of satisfaction – of realizing when I’ve had enough and stopping there.  It started with food, but it’s manifested into other areas.  And it’s quite refreshing.  In a world that says – don’t ever stop – it’s good to learn that sometimes it is right to stop.  Stop eating when you’re full.  Stop talking when you’ve lost your thread.  Stop worrying about everything.  Stop trying to control everything and everyone.  Stop being busy all the time and just rest.  Stop obsessing.  Stop craving more and more.

Satisfaction – knowing when enough is enough.