2016 Reflection on 2015 Intentionality

I love to write, but I just have not practiced it for a few reasons. I honestly have felt that I don't have anything unique to offer to the world through my writing right now. There are so many blogs that represent the many subgroups and issues that I identify with, and while I think each person's experience is special and of course, unique, why put in Cyberspace if not for the benefit of others? Another reason is that my time as a mommy is taxed. There is no "time off" from mommy-ing, coupled with teaching full time, investing in my marriage, community, and friends, there's not much time left over. I've had the itch though, and if for nothing more than reflection on my own thoughts and growth, I decided to break the dry spell.

The last two weeks have been interesting. Eventful. Extremely eventful. Although it's been filled with more drama than a telenovela, I've really enjoyed it. Unbelievably, the very first night of my Christmas break, I received a phone call from a desperate sounding mom who informed me that my son's birth certificate--which had disappeared exactly a year ago to the date--had been used to apply for a passport. Her son's application was placed with my son's birth certificate. So many questions. How did my son's birth certificate even wind up in a US postal office when we had never applied for a passport? Who's had it for a year? Who took it once the order was placed with the city office that provides birth certificates? I felt scared, vulnerable, and confused. I won't go into the details here (other than that stealing a birth certificate is a class 4 felony), but we did contact several offices, wrote emails, and completed a police report.  What a way to start a break.

The highlight of the trip was a train ride on a sleeper car with Bobby and the boys. They had so much fun, and though they are probably too young to retain the memory, I found tremendous joy in watching their fascination with the train's movement through the landscape, looking for the moon out the window, and pushing buttons and eating in the dining car. We also had a beautifully refreshing and inspiring time with my siblings. I adore my siblings. I'm so proud of the people they have become, and I'm very grateful to my parents for their consistency, structure, intense love in raising us. Time with Mom and Dad was mixed. As always, they went out of their way to give the prepare the best--the best of food in a beautifully clean and organized and bright house, thoughtful gifts for the boys, etc. We had some relational challenges, however, that are still very difficult for my siblings and I to process. I've been reflecting a lot on what it means to age well and to pass through the seasons of life well. It's definitely one of my goals.

I feel good with the intentionality of my choices this year. Although, my choices seemed more like reflex or instinct as opposed to thoughtfully driven by intention. I lost my father and grandmother within weeks. I lost my uncle. It was a very hard year emotionally, but I feel settled and confident in how we invested our time and money to be with family in Detroit to show respect and love. The Christmas trip to Cincinnati on Amtrak was expensive, but I feel confident in the investment that yielded beautiful family memories with Bobby and the boys, deep conversations with Bobby, and sweet, sweet memories with my siblings. I am reaffirmed in my value and commitment to invest my greatest treasures in building with people and the relationships that are most important to me. I am encouraged by the boys' growth. The Lord has really blessed them. They both have such developed language, show such tenderness to each other, and they continue to learn worship songs.

We have many paused conversations and thoughts about Chicago and what it means to live here. How will justice come? What is the future for black men here? Will there ever be victory over the violence? Where are we supposed to be connected and living? Are we living in purpose? How will my career evolve? These are the things we will carry into 2016.

The Intentional Life

It was our first trip with two babies and a teenager that pushed me over the edge. This Christmas, a 4 hour trip to Detroit turned into 6.5. My poor brother--a young bachelor jetsetter who joined us for the drive--looked like he wanted to scratch his eyes out every time we had to stop to nurse the 2 month old. It was hard on all of us. The hotel experience was even worse. We stayed at a 4.5 star hotel, but I couldn’t enjoy it between nightly feedings and my 19 month old screaming to get out of the white crib that looked like it was from the set of Rosemary’s Baby. I was horribly sleep deprived, half of us were sick, and the little energy reserves we had were spent socializing for a few hours with lots of family members.

In all honesty, I felt stuck. I questioned my life choices--and seriously. What had we done? I felt I was mourning my independence at a deeper and new level. So many things I wanted to do that got shot down by what felt like a chain and ball for each foot—one weighing 30 pounds, and the other, about 12 pounds. The plans to go on a date with my husband in my birth city. Scratched. The plans to get a spa service in our nice hotel. Deleted. The plans to hang out with cousins who I rarely see. Shot to the moon. I had been feeling this way with the aching bones, the sleepless nights, the oozing, blistery, bumpy, bloodied fingers cause by the case of dyshidrotic eczema (which started shortly after the birth of my first son), the incessant nursing and pumping of milk, lesson planning while putting a crying toddler to bed, but the trip shoved me right over the cliff.

As we drove back on the return leg of the trip, I felt dazed, confused and unhappy.

I also felt ungrateful-- and guilt for the lack of gratitude. Here I was, blessed with an emotionally generous, uncannily patient, wise, engaging husband and two healthy babies in less than 3 years. What was wrong with me?  Living in Chicago, I heard many reports of violence that left families truly shattered this holiday. I had everything to be grateful for, yet I felt so unhappy and unfulfilled. Why? My hunch after some reflection: my lack of intentionality and wonder for the “mundane”.

As I head into the New Year, I am posturing myself to have a greater awareness of the beautiful mysteries, grace, and blessings of doing life and just being. I am substituting the “I get to”s for the “I have to”s.  I am fixing my soul to be in a perpetual “Downward Dog” and my mind to be “present” in every action. I am committing myself to the Intentional Life.

When I awoke this morning, I drank 12 ounces of water slowly and with intention. I felt the slightly cooler than room temperature wetness smoothly move down my trachea. Though I wanted the sweetness of the oatmeal cookie from the batch my mom made for my brother, I chose the green juice that I pressed last night. No mindless and quick shoving of food into my mouth before the babies awakened.  When my 19 month old stirred and fussed, I fixed my heart on compassion (instead of being annoyed that he was interrupting planned devotional time) and prayed with him. I then carefully chose a book to read to him. I read the pages, animating each character’s voice differently. I chose to feel grateful for him in those moments instead of rushed, annoyed, and interrupted. I slowed down to text a friend about her pregnancy. I carefully chopped onions for an omelet and intentionally invited my husband to stop his preparations for work to eat with me for a few minutes.

I thought about the fleeting season of dependence my boys have with me as I changed their diapers, and that made Solomon’s change more bearable (we generally have to chase him down or pin him down to change him, and it is exhausting!).  I looked deeply into Elias’ eyes as he nursed, instead of thinking about the next thing I had to do. I chose to be present. I thought about the nutrients that no science can perfectly match that came out of my body to sustain my baby boy. I gave thanks for that milk instead of being frustrated that it stains my shirts and bed sheets. I gave thanks that it flows abundantly. I’m thankful now as I write about it.

This state of “present-ness” has made this day almost blissful. But I’ve done nothing new or “exciting”. I’ve been a mom, a daughter, a wife, a friend, a teacher, a writer, a housekeeper, a planner. I made no plans to travel to another continent. I have no exciting New Year’s Eve plans.  In fact, I still can’t fit any of the clothes that I might wear to a NYE celebration. We’re not buying that really cool Honda Odyssey or moving into a bigger home. Yet, I am content. Perhaps, even happy.

As I write these reflections of my day, it sounds as if I were moving in slow motion. It’s not always practical to stop and read my son a book when I have to be at work at 7am. I generally move with intensity and urgency, and I will probably continue to do so as a function of personality. Yet, I now aim to fix my heart as intentionally present and gratefully check off each chore I “get to do”.

The Flu, Vaccinations, and a 5K..In That Order

I'm eating Saltines and drinking Gatorade as I type. One of my besties, N, brought them over after we finished our community's annual 5K yesterday and when I realized that what I thought was a bad cold was actually the flu. It hit hard on Friday afternoon with a headache and coughs, but Friday was all about Solomon's 4 month vaccinations. It was a rough afternoon. Bobby and I were bickering about nothing I can remember right now, but I can say that vaccinations are rough on us. Bobby hates to see Solomon in pain from vaccinations,yet it doesn't phase me much because I've watched and discussed my share of polio and smallpox videos with my science students. Bobby looked like he was in physical pain watching his baby boy receive two shots to the hip. I was mildly annoyed by what seemed like hypersensitivity. Now, I'm grateful that I have such a compassionate and empathetic husband. Definitely one of his best qualities.

My "Tiffany blue" nails checking out Solo's injection spots

Fridays are my day. I encourage every mother of small children to pick a day for just herself and be faithful to it. I leave Bobby with bottles of pumped milk and go out alone or with friends. So though I was coughing and not feeling well, the body and head aches didn't start until my mani and pedi with S and N (I'm feeling nasty, but I must say, looking at these Tiffany blue nails makes me feel a bit more cheerful ). We enjoyed an evening out eating appetizers, dessert, a hot drink for my congestion, and talks of career and faith to reach for more.

first day of flu

Though I've been in bed all weekend, I am logging the efforts for balance and emotional health. Being a working mom is really hard. As a younger woman, I praised the sacrifices of women in my family, citing, "I've never seen her go out with friends for a cup of tea or a glass of wine." "She never took time for herself, always making sure there was dinner and time to check on our academics." While I am deeply grateful and quite frankly, in awe, of the sacrifices my mother and grandmothers made, I think that spending time AWAY from the never ending duties of being a mother and wife will ultimately make me more emotionally and spiritually healthy and honest about the gamet of feelings I experience--and make me a more present mom and wife. So leaving Solo and Bobby for a few hours for a mani, pedi, and appetizers makes me a better me! For moms who don't have a line in th
eir budgets for these kinds of outings, a walk or bike ride with the hubby or good friends or alone serves equally well. I've even gone to Target and "splurged" on a $2 cup of coffee for my "me time".

Solo in his first Lawndale 5K!

The 5K was also a "milestone" to my come back. I loved running before pregnancy, but with opposite spousal work schedules and sleepless nights (Solomon wakes 2-3 times a night STILL to nurse), and a work start time between 7 and 7:30am, working out before work hasn't been a good option. I hooked up with many friends yesterday morning; it felt like a reunion! So many beautiful faces with years of history with me made my morning. Bobby had pumped the jogger tires up for us the night before. It was the first time I used it, and I felt that I could run 10 miles with it! I did a fast paced walk with friends and then ran the last quarter miles. My joints her. Now I'm not sure if it was "pregnancy joints" or the flu. At any rate, Solomon and I finished our first 5K together!

"Don't cry over spilled milk" and All Things Milky

So, this old adage finally means something to me, a woman who has been distanced from the wisdom of this vintage saying through modern comforts like refrigeration and a seemingly never ending supply of milk at Jewel or Target or Whole Foods. I couldn't find a place to pump, so I pumped in the closet like faculty bathroom on the 2nd floor, and in the awkward coordination of taking the storage bottle off of the suction cups, my baby's milk spilled all down my leg and onto the nasty faculty bathroom floor. I started to sob, but quickly pulled it together. It was gone. "DON'T CRY OVER THAT SPILLED MILK, TIFFANY. TEARS WON'T BRING IT BACK." I had to return to a meeting, looking like I had just peed my jeanie pants, smelling like sweet, sticky breast milk,but that was the lesser concern.I started strategizing how I could pump more milk even though I was feeling maxed out.

 Solomon's sweet breakfast was on the floor. What was he going to eat the next day? I felt panic. I had to move into decisive action, not succumb to tears, which would be an unfruitful distraction at this point. I grieved silently, but was resolved to get Solomon some breakfast for the next morning. Milk is serious business. It has even surfaced vices like MILK ENVY. Yes, I have had milk envy, and the object of my envy is the sweetest, coolest colleague. I really like her and wish we had more time to develop a friendship outside of work. She's really intelligent and has helped me both personally and professionally. I don't really feel envy, but I did feel like a bit of a failure when she told me she has volumes on top of volumes of stored milk. How in the...? She told me she can pump 30 ounces a day. What the...? How is that possible and why do I work so hard to squeeze out every drop I can get for just one day's supply? I so desparately want storage so we can take advantage of babysitting, but when we can only provide one bottle at a time, we can only leave Solomon for a short amount of time.

 All of our bodies are different, and while I eat very healthfully, read every kellymom.com article I can get to, drink water, and am faithfully taking my Mother's Milk and Fenugreek supplements to increase supply, results aren't where I want them to be. It's improving though. It all takes work and effort. My goal is to have lots of joy in the midst of the work. I'm doing something really special for my son.

I'm up all night...NOT to get lucky

I'm up all night...sanitizing; and catching up on the many chores that can't be done while Solomon is awake. At 18 weeks, Solo has his first cold. He's handling it like a champ. He's pretty stuffy, but otherwise, in good spirits. My mother bought us one of those innovate Swiss "snaut suckers" to pull out the nose phlem. Shameless product plug here. It's great. My mother got ours at a Cincinnati pharmacy, but I've seen them at Whole Foods as well. Solomon takes the suction bravely. Now, he certainly resists like all babies, but without all of the drama. It takes both of us to hold him down, and he did snatch it and pull it apart while I was doing the do, but he doesn't really scream or cry, and wants it's over, it's over. I woke up around a quarter to 3 (in the morning, that is) to sanitize our vaporizer, which I've read can help with a baby's discomfort when suffering a cold. I then moved on to sanitize and store bottles. I then realized that I fell asleep without completing my evening routine, which can pretty much ruin my life the next day. I'm not sure if that statement is an exaggeration. Being a mom and a high school teacher is very, very stressful. I aim to be at school between 7am and 7:15 to set up my lab, check emails,make copies, log grades, follow up with parents, etc, so this means that my morning, which starts before 6, has to go on without a hitch. If I don't have my lunch packed and clothes set out the night before, my whole teaching day can be thrown off. There's no time to leave the building with a 25 minute lunch, and if I don't eat, I not only don't have enough energy for my responsibilities, but milk production is negatively affected. So, after the sanitizing, I finished packing food for the day and got the coffee station ready. And now, I hear stuff nosed Solomon stirring again. It's 4:15 am. I have to be up for the day in an hour and 15 minutes.

Celebrating the Small Things

Bobby and I biking the Milwaukee waterfront. Phew. Sleep training is NOT FUN. Solomon: 2, Mommy:1. He's slightly ahead, but I'm gaining on him. This entry is not about sleep training and schedules, but it's kind of consuming my life right now. I've actually been trying to document what I'm considering "victories" in this new and challenging phase of my life. As a new mom, it's easy to feel like I'm doing nothing but being an Oberweis cow--just a milk supplier. Additionally, I'm a new wife;I got pregnant 3 weeks into my first year of marriage. We don't even have time to argue about dishes! Though these new developments are blessings, they've been a shock to a woman who was single and doing her own thing until age 36. In one year's time, I became a wife and a mother, and my days of backpacking alone through Mexico feel like a distant memory (though I used to dream of backpacking with a baby tied to my chest--hopefully, we'll be back on the travel scene soon). During the first two weeks of Solo's life outside of the womb, I was documenting things like "I took a shower and did my hair!" I've had to adjust my expectations a lot about what "productivity" is and looks like. I thought I'd get a lot done this summer because "newborns sleep all day". What I failed to realize is that they sleep on you! I've found myself to be really frustrated, feeling like I'm not "accomplishing" anything. What I'm coming to realize is that my greatest accomplishment since May 1st will be fully and unconditionally loving my son Solomon. However, the purpose of my writing today is to celebrate that which I've been able to do since May 1st. 1) I survived breastfeeding and my child is still exclusively breastfed (after working with 2 lactation consultant and very special lactation specialist--thanks, Shelly!) 2) We beat thrush! 3) We made it to my cousin Miranda's wedding in Detroit when Solo was only 4 weeks old 4) We did an overnight without Solomon for our one year anniversary! We did our favorite thing--riding Amtrak--to Milwaukee for the Summerfest, stayed in a vintage suite, cycled the Lake and parts of the city, had great coffee, and heavily caloric food! Apparently, an "overnighter" is quite a feat. We learned from some friends that they haven't had a night alone since the first child (years for some folks!) Admittedly, it was hard. I teared up expressing my breastmilk into the sink 5) I'm biking and running again 6) We attended Silver Room's Block Party--our meeting anniversary spot 7) I see friends weekly for exercise, talking, advice, laughter 8) I cook dinner almost every night! 9) Bobby and I still have a pretty regular date night!Sushi! (Thanks Pastor Ted and Shelly!) 10)Coaching the boys from my block in our community basketball league 11)Hosted 4th of July family gathering; "heart to heart" with my brother Doug was a highlight of my summer 12) Bobby and I building a bookcase 13) Worked on hopefully my last leg of work for National Board Certification--took a crazy Chemistry exam 3 weeks postpartum 14) Alternatives to Violence trainer training! 3 weekends! I'm celebrating evidence that though my life has a different focus, I'm working to keep my own identity as a woman with interests, as a wife, friend, daughter/sister/niece/cousin/granddaughter. Really important stuff. The advice veteran married couples give over and over is "Keep a date night!" We plan on it!

Rice or no rice? That is the question.

Chico is under the dining room bench snoring. Bobby is passed out in the bed. Solomon, wrapped like a mummy in his SwaddleMe (one of our favorite products, by the way), is catching up on all of the sleep that he lost from 10pm until 4:30 this morning. YAY, for me! Yup, I've been up since 4:30 to get all of the things done that I can't do while my very alert and precocious 12 week old is awake. I've always been an early riser and have never had a problem with sacrificing sleep to reach a goal. Goals these days have drastically changed. Brush teeth. Go to the bathroom. Put on clothes. It's that bad. Having a baby is as the cliche says: Truly life transforming and it's wonderful, but I was not prepared for how seriously challenging it is to change ALL of my priorities and expectations. Knowing her overly ambitious daughter, my mom warned me, but no words could prepare for this. Another--and more lofty goal--is to keep up with my blogging. I love writing, but it's really challenging to maintain as a teacher, and now as a new mom. Perhaps it comes down to discipline, and maybe sacrificing another 20-30 minutes of sleep to get my words on the screen. I'm particularly interested in documenting my son's amazing growth and having a way to keep memory of the dozens of thoughts and observations I have a day. More about his growth later. The purpose of this blog was to air out a debate for which the score is: Mother-in-law, 1. Tiffany, 0 (ZERO, GOOSE EGG, NADA). The debate is about rice cereal. Every time I see my mother in law--and this is no exaggeration--she says I need to give "that baby a bottle" and that "he doesn't seem to get enough from the breast" and that I "need to add rice cereal." After the last few nights, I'm starting to feel weak like SWV...like I need to give in...throw in the rice. Solomon was an awesome sleeper for a few weeks, so much so, that he work up dehydrated twice during our Chicago heat spell. He slept through night feedings, and that proved too much for his little body. The good sleep, however, came to an abrupt ending about 2 nights ago. He's been up asking for a feeding every hour and a half between 11pm and 5am. Hence, why I've washed and cut my hair, fed the dog, pumped 4 oz of milk, prepared 3 bottles, swept, and stored tupperware all since 4:30am. (and I've also been texting my FAVE 5 girlfriends, roping them into the rice cereal debate. They're pretty awesome, smart, and well read, and I like to bounce things off of them--they're great mommies, too). My mother in law, mother, grandmother, and a host of other black mommas who have raised STRAPPING, STRONG, BIG, HEALTHY men all swear by rice cereal. However, research seems to point to allergies and obesity down the line. I'm tired of not sleeping, which leads me to feelings of desperation and confusion, so I'm not sure who to listen too. Do I listen to the elders, with great anecdotal evidence that has never been subject to peer review, or to the "professionals" who have studied journals and published? I want the best for Solomon, as my mother in law, mother, grandmothers wanted for all of their children (26 amongst the four of them!). At this time, I'm just going to double up on the feedings and keep reading and try to listen more carefully to my mother's intuition.

"Baby" Doesn't Have to Mean Family Fiscal Cliff

Well, fellow US tax paying citizens, we came close to the edge, but averted the fiscal cliff. I think about money a lot, but it's been all the more on the forefront of my mind as I watched doomsday updates about the right staying right and left staying left. My thoughts about money: Am I being a good steward of it? How can I save more? Make more? Give more? Invest more? Grow it? Pay my momma's house off? Live in Mexico with Bobby for a summer? Let your friends tell it, the expanding of a family through babies is a good way to answer the preceding questions with, "You can't, you won't, barely, hardly, never." I hear babies cost a lot of money, though we always seemed to have plenty at 2465 and 2493 (my grandparents homes in Detroit). There was always food, always laughter and fun, lots of pets (Sparky, Midnight, Midnight, and Midnight--my father named all of his dogs Midnight). My maternal grandparents had 6 children. My paternal grandparents had 13. My grandfather threw the best parties. I remember big blocks of ice from the local icehouse chilling glass bottles of pop (Town and Country??).My parents raised 4 of us and we always had generous Christmases, braces for our teeth, music lessons, instruments. I guess this is precisely where the money went. The kids were the investment. While I want our child/ren to have good things, I don't want to blow our budget. My goal is to be a savvy mom who is still able to do savvy things with money. So, I'm on a quest to do this baby thing on a shoestring budget, utilizing Grannyeconomics--maybe not going as far to make all of my own soap and sewing all of our baby's clothes-- but I want to know the secret of how my foremothers did so much with so little. I started the quest seriously this morning at 2:30am. What generally happens is Bobby's artistic brain really gets cranking at 11pm, starts slowing down at 2:30, and then he wakes me up to debrief! Huh!? I couldn't go back to sleep after this morning's debrief and got to thinking of how we had to make some serious adjustments for our new addition who is due to come in less than 16 weeks. So, I made accounts with both Craigslist and FreeCycle. Within hours, I scored the co-sleeper we wanted for 1/3 of the cost. Instead of buying new storage furniture, our friend, Jen, the proprietor of Simplify (contact me if you want her services), came up with a plan to install closet systems and underbed storage drawers facilitated by bed lifts. I've started my costs analysis: cost per diaper per brand, disposable vs. cloth, etc. I'm scouring online consignment and finding that there's a lot of good gently used stuff out there...still can't bring myself to buy a used breast pump. Something seems terribly wrong with that idea. A big goal is the convenience of modernity, yet simplicity, and I'm asking as many dads and moms: What stuff was essential and what was just colorful, plastic clutter? What do you do or plan to do to save time, money, and space? What's your best money saving tip for new parents?

Almost 6 months pregnant with sister Brooke and goddaughter, Hope

No Pitocin Please

It's 4am. Bobby and Chico are snoring in tandem. I burst into a loud sob. Bobby wakes, cool as a cucumber (as usual) and asks, "Baby, what's wrong?" Sobbing more loudly, "I just saw Ricky Lake's baby born in water! AAAAAA!!! Look at him!" Bobby turns toward the t.v. (we slept on the futon again) and says, "Eww. That thing looks like a worm. Baby, be careful with what you're watching." He turns back toward me and falls asleep gently touching my arm. Yes, the sight of Ricky Lake's flopped over breasts and remaining distressed naked body in a bathtub--as she gives natural birth--has made me lose it all. Yes, I'm watching "The Business of Being Born", and yes, I'm back to blogging. I've had a few friends request that I return to what I probably love most--writing (though, it's hard to maintain since 1) I don't make a living by it and 2) I have the most inflexible career in the U.S.--K-12 public education). Why am I watching "The Business of Being Born" at 3:30 am on a school day? Welp. I'm up with pregnancy gas, and I went to bed at 7pm--my now normal prenatal bed time. Yup, I slipped it in. Bobby and I are having a baby? Who's Bobby? Oh yeah, he's new to the picture too since "30 Dates in 30 Days". I have a lot of catching up and documenting to do. I'll talk more about Bobby later. The presently needed facts: He's my husband and Baby Daddy and an awesome human being and general Renaissance man. I'll get to how I have a husband and expecting a baby--all in less than 2 years--some time later. I'll say for now: I want a natural birth. Please remind me of this later. I had dinner with my dearest friend, her father, and sister last night. Everyone needs a girlfriend like G. She has been my 2nd best caretaker after Bobby. She feeds me delicious soups and other meals 2-3 times a week and is so excited about our coming baby. Her sister--over caldo de pollo--told me about PITOCIN (evil! Okay, maybe i'm being dramatic)last night and "The Business of Being Born". So I woke up early this morning to watch it on Netflix. I'm only 15 weeks, but I am taking the time to educate myself and praying for a healthy pregnancy and the ability to give a natural birth.

Everything in its season...no, seriously, MOVE, now!

"Indeed if a seed is not allowed to germinate (sprout) within some certain length of time, the embryo inside will die. Each species of seed has a certain length of viability. Many temperate zone species that use inhibitors use abscisic acid. This chemical induces dormancy in the embryo. The chemical is produced in abundance in the late summer and early fall. The seeds in the fruits become dormant so, even if they are dispersed in autumn, they cannot sprout. During the winter enzymes in the seeds degrade the abscisic acid. By spring the abscisic acid is gone and the seed can sprout." Ross Koning (random botanist sounding guy)

I'm betting the above information is just not that interesting to a good portion of the population--plant enthusiasts, old ladies with big sun hats, green cloth gloves, and plastic knock off CROCS, and ecclectic, science types (me, smile) might be included in the small group of people who care about when a seed can turn into a scrawny green buds.

Something otherworldly happens to me in my garden. I get these spiritual and mental epiphanies while I'm working the soil and tending plants. I'll be in complete solitude and silence and clear life lessons and mini sermons will come to my mind. In the most recent experience, I was frustrated by the small yield of my jalapeno plant. I decided I would just up and plant more seeds...but then it occurred to me, "THE SEASON HAS PASSED. THE WINDOW FOR REAL GERMINATION HAS CLOSED." And then the revelation came...we have seasons for a reason. I felt so compelled to value YOUTH--the spring of life. I started to think about how so many young men are wasting their seed germination time getting high, on corners, estranged from elders who would otherwise be teaching them skills, GERMINATING AND CULTIVATING the multitude of skills that would later be demanded of them to lead their own businesses, endeavors, families, children. I thought about young women losing time chasing love, studying videos on how to become sex vixens, losing valuable time with elders who would otherwise be teaching them skills, GERMINATING AND CULTIVATING the mulitude of skills that would later be demanded of them to lead their own businesses, endeavors, families, children. Because the reality is this: ONCE YOU HIT THE SUMMER AND FALL OF LIFE, THINGS ARE BUSIER, MORE COMPLICATED, AND THERE'S JUST NOT THE SAME TIME TO GERMINATE. The summer and fall of life are the times when we should be EXPLODING WITH DELICIOUS FRUIT of our labor! We should be creating, expanding, providing, developing....but if the germination time was lost and ruined, what will we cultivate when harvest time comes?

The same is true of love. There are windows.

This is not to say that if we blow our "spring" or we are ROBBED of our "spring" (due to the negligence, abandonment, abuse of the adults who are our caretakers--biological, spiritual, political), all is lost, whoa is us! I am one who believes that TIME CAN BE REDEEMED!!! Yes, Laawwwwd...but the redemption has to be swift and very intentional and decided. No more time can be wasted.

So, if you are in the spring of your life, get all you can. Love all you can. If you are in the summer and fall, produce all you can, or go back and quickly redeem that which was lost.

Independence (from bitterness) Day! aka ODE TO THE EXES

This year, my full birth date is 111111. Yup, I was born on November 11th, which means, according to the old horoscope calendar, I'm a Scorpio. Scorpios are described as having powerful personalities, being sexually alluring, successful, and YUP, VENGEFUL AND GRUDGE HOLDING. I'm not one who governs my life by horoscopes; I think character trumps it. I mean, it would really be horrible to be internally "scripted" to be vengeful and grudge holding. Or maybe it was Mom's drilling: "Jesus said, 'If you do not forgive your brother, your Heavently Father will not forgive you' "As human beings, we are so unbelievably complicated and emotionally motivated, and as a result, SO SUSCEPTIBLE TO PAIN AND EMOTIONAL HURT. People will hurt you; it's inevitable. Even the healthiest, most loving, most selfless people in your life will hurt you at least by omission.

So, no, I don't hold grudges. I am sensitive and feel deeply, love hard, and love loyally. So, I've been hurt and disappointed. I've been thinking about bitterness a lot--there are all kinds of books coming out for women--perhaps in response to our cultural norms of dating, marriage, and divorce. One book was subtitled, "Because bitterness is not sexy". It's true. Bitterness exudes from a person's face pores. You just can't hide bitterness. It makes you age, it makes you less attractive, and it's a repellant to love. People who could potentially love you are pushed away by bitterness.

I'm not glib about emotional pain caused by others. I'm not casual about relationships beginning and ending, and I don't shrug at the loss of a relationship. I work REALLY hard to maintain relationships and never to lose any, but inspite of efforts, there have been a couple of people with whom I have not been able to maintain the same level of closeness that we shared before.

I bought a fashion magazine the other day (hey, I'm on vacation!), and I read something that Eva Longoria said in an article. It's hard to miss tabloid news as it's shoved down our throats; so if you remember her situation, her husband cheated, and consequently, they were divorced. This was her second divorce, and she's only 35. She said, and I'm paraphrasing, "You learn not to be bitter. You learn to celebrate what you learned and the love you had."

I still think our society is not as honest as we should be about the damage of divorce or rampant dating and "breaking up", but I did appreciate the heart of her comment. Instead of focusing on how a person hurt you, failed you, disappointed you, why not cherish what you learned and shared in the relationship. Now, I'm not saying we absolve where there should be no absolution, or that we should not have boundaries for people who disrespect us or damage us emotionally, nor that we should just "forgive and forget" (which is physiologically impossible by the way). In some cases, we do have to really just cut people out of our lives because they are toxic. But even with those people, there is something to celebrate. Some way we've grown. Some way we see differently. Some way the experience prepared us for the wonderful man we meet and marry. The woman who makes you want to forget all of the others...

So, let this entry be the public ODE TO THE EXES (ex friends, ex boyfriends/girlfrieds, ex spouses)--a PUBLIC JOURNAL TO CELEBRATE HOW WE'VE GROWN FROM "EXES". How did you grow or learn from your lost relationship? What skills did you gain? What new things did you discover?

"Little" things keeping us from love (of self and others)

I'm laying in Granny's bed with a half dozen posts in my head. This one in particular is cause of my 2.5 month blogging hiatus. The idea seems complicated to translate to others. This idea--more of a HUGE UNIVERSAL TRUTH (at least in my head)--has taken about two decades to take shape,and honestly it's more like a theory that I want to subject to a scientific peer review. That's how much conviction I have about it.

It's the idea that choices and exposures, whether passive or aggressive, that we shrug off as "insignificant" or as "not a big deals", actually have the power to change our character and quality of life and potential to fully and freely love--to love platonically, romantically, and in every other way. I intitially have examined choices or exposures that could be seen as negative (premature, inappropriate, harmful, etc), and their impact upon our dispositions. I think about a number of my own students who I met as freshmen. That group of students who had started their rookie year as bright eyed, curious, respectful, happy, engaged, were suddenly, and for the time being, permanently, sullen, rude (or nasty), "bored with school", incorrigible with parents and other adults. This was not the normal hormonal temporary episodes of teenage melodrama or a shift in personality due to TITANIC losses such as death of a family member or homelessness or victimization of violence. When I would inquire about these subtle and gradual changes, other students or family members would say things like, "Oh, he started hanging with 'so and so'" or "She's sleeping with 'so and so' who's also sleeping with her ex best friend". This high school gossip took me clearly back to my junior or senior year in high school. I remember a boy telling me, "You smile too much. You need to have sex."

WHOA. Smiling = happiness and innocence to him. So, he was telling me to have sex to "numb" that innocence out of me? Scary.

This entry is not about sex. It does, however, make me think of choices, when in the wrong context, and wrong time, and when just the "WRONG CHOICE", can really rob our souls of authentic happiness, innocence, and goodness--can numb us. In the example above, sex is often seen as a "little" thing to teens that is not a big deal as long as condoms are involved. But in actuality, it's often a decision, when made through pressure or coersion and without counsel and discussion with elders, that numbs and hardens young people (and adults too--let's keep it real).

Sex at the wrong time and with the wrong person/people is not the only soul spotter. Insatiable desires for power, money, envy, bigotry, jealousy--in forms that can be easily shrugged off as "little" or "insignificant" also damage us and our ability to love others. You ever know someone who just couldn't stand you? Hated you? But if asked why, they couldn't articulate why, or created some bogus reason that made you want to just stick a pacifier in his mouth? He/she allowed a little bigotry or jealousy or envy or unforgiveness in--an "inocuous" amount--that tainted their treatment of you. But what we don't realize is that when we allow for those negative things to be in us, we begin to radiate negative energy (as hardness, callousness, mean spiritedness) even when we don't intention to!

Any time we are used or use others for power, sex, recreation, money, control, influence, etc, our souls become more spotted, and sometimes, we become less human.

Old cantankerous people don't get that way overnight. As my sister was reminding my niece today, children start as innocent and radiating love and faith, but the grime of the world begins to stick on our hearts. Some things happen to us, and we have no control over those things. We, do, however, have control over how we respond. The "little" things that we tolerate have huge dividends in our souls--when those "little" compromises or poor choices are not addressed, they take a toll on our ability to love ourselves, others, and God.

Eat, Pray, Love for the less privileged

I have this title and entry in mind. It's something about how things, though they may seem ugly and crippling, work through to a glorious end--just like for Julia Roberts in the movie. You know? The one in which she plays the successful journalist who escapes to another continent and rides her pain away on the backs of elephants?

Hmm. I think about my friends. Ha! We aint riding no elephants any time soon! I know a couple of them who are in foreclosure. A few who are trying to figure out how to pay school loans and rent or a mortgage while not making enough or having too many furlough days. Yeah, I'm still driving my 97 Subaru, so yeah, we're not privileged in the same way...but doesn't mean the principles can't work.

I want to write, but I am blocked. I am blocked by complication, blocked by pain, blocked by anger. I am laying on my chaise (Fanny's favorite) at 3:30 in the morning. It's pouring rain, which is soothing to me--distant sirens remind me of city life I've always known. I'm curled up under a furry blanket, listening to Chico (my pug) snore--at least one of us is sleeping well tonight. I've been up for hours now. Good girlfriends were over, and we watched a "chick flick", which ended well for the love story. But though the protagonists had a beautiful ending, we all felt a little sick and sad.

We all wonder if someone will really love us like that--love us through the ugly days, love us through pain, keep our secrets, even be there through illness. I think we were all accutely aware of how much we HAVEN'T been loved by some of the men who have been in our lives.

Is a beautiful ending really in store for us? Will things really work out for us? Fear is crushing my heart right now, and my eyes are welling with tears...just welling though, not sobbing. This is good. I hide my tears from my dog like my mom tried to hide her tears from me--like this dog is a child. But dogs are so intuitive and sensitive to us. He'd wake up and come put his paw on me and breathe his smelly breath on me and sneeze in my face. Just don't need that right now.

Life is complicated, and to be a good one, it certainly does not have to be characterized by the presence of romantic love or a husband, wife, partner...whatever they're calling it these days (though MOST people would define a happy life as one with a partner). A full life is something like that which was portrayed in the book and movie (you know the Eat, Pray one). A full life is openness to belly laughs, learning from all kinds of people, being free of the emotional pain and drama of broken relationships (reconciling and making your "wrongs, rights"--this takes a lot of courage and a lot of humility), feeling loved and accepted, enjoying a cup of coffee or glass of wine with your mom and grandmother, loving your career, being connected to your community--the young and old, purposeful living.

I thought I was blocked, but writing in these wee hours, with wet eyes, is giving me some liberty and consolation. Sometimes, we look up and we don't have the life we wanted. My friends were over today are all in our 30s and CHILDLESS. Maybe you don't have the children you thought you would. Hell, maybe you have the children you thought you didn't want (woops!!! and maybe with the "wrong" person! woops!!), but in the end, what if we were all grateful for each day--whether we don't have babies or a parnter, or,have "baby mommas", "baby daddies". What if we didn't dwell on our broken promises, broken hearts, broken relationships, but INTENTIONALLY LEARNED FROM THEM, instead of running and avoiding, make ammends and move forward with new conviction to live life every day as if Jesus himself was depending upon you to make that Kingdom come--of love and justice--in our personal lives, communal lives, with our sons, daughters, those who have graciously and generously given and accepted our love.

What if we just started anew today...to eat, pray, and love. What if we savored, thought, pondered more? What if we stopped numbing ourselves with entertainment and other ways to "escape" reality? What if we started hoping and believing for the impossible in all areas of life? I know. I know. This is so hard because at the end of the day (haha..sound like my guy K), we still have responsibilities that keep us up at night and suck our energy. What if we found "Eat, Pray, Love" accountability partners? People who encouraged us to live for liberation and laughter and full, courageous, intentional lives...

Move on like a UHaul--the most painful thing.

Today, I am re-picturing a beautiful late summer afternoon at 31st street beach. N and I were talking about heartache and brokenness as we speed walked on the pavement just passed the Field House and toward the monument for fallen firemen.

I told her that part of me was afraid to STOP HURTING. I have only loved one person, and that person damaged my heart. Well, I've only loved one person who had the courage to tell me he loved me back and actually made a move on it. I loved someone else who played an interesting "c'mon, guess that I like you" game with me (Nothing came of that). I told her that the pain I felt almost suspended his memory and kept part of him with me. When I asked if something about that was weird and dysfunctional, she told me that she was actually reading a book in which the psychologist described the phenomenon of "nursing and guarding the pain" as a mechanism to still hold onto the person who has left your life or betrayed you or abused you, etc.

I understand why a person wants to cling to that last bit of pain now. When it vanishes, that person is gone. You think about them less. You don't wonder what he or she is doing. You don't care who they spend their time with. YOu don't wonder who they hug or see movies with or share dinners with. They seep out of your frontal lobe and amygdala very slowly and gradually, and then suddenly, "Poof! They're gone".

I never thought I'd see that day of fully "moving on". Partially, because I don't believe in "moving on". I will NEVER embrace our culture of "loving and leaving", rampant and careless coupling and uncoupling, divorcing because...well, just because. This doesn't mean that these things won't ever happen to me. Two of my favorite people have been divorced within the last few years--two of the most loyal and beautiful people you'd ever meet. They also rebel against this culture of casual coupling. They are commitmentphiles, but things happen to people that are beyond their control.

Back to my main point, "moving on". It's so sad. It leaves you wondering, "Then, what was that? What did I really feel? What did we really have?" Or maybe "moving on" is just amazing DIVINE GRACE to be open and ready for someone who wants to mutually and reciprically love.

To my sistergirls who are in that process of "moving on"--hold on, be ready, it'll come, you'll heal, and then you'll wonder how that person who didn't value your heart ever had your heart.

It ain't just hard out here for pimps

This is a picture of two bueyes connected by a yoke. I didn't fully understand the verse, "Don't be unevenly yoked" until I saw this image in Costa Rica. The idea, hard for us modern, removed-from-nature Americans, is that when two animals are connected by the large iron or wood PLANK, they have to be going in the SAME DIRECTION. My friend A has been talking about being "evenly yoked" a lot lately.

I love talking to my girls A and N; I have really smart, cool friends. I actually think this is why they are still single. My best girls are atheletic, can talk sports, but still be the prettiest and most feminine creatures in a room. Honestly, I think about my friends often, "If I were a guy, I'd be all over that". My friends not only have successful and interesting careers, but they do work that significantly impacts the quality of life in Chicago (and for some of us, our work is spreading across the country). They are grounded, spiritually strong and disciplined, loving, kind, honest, don't sit around gossiping about and hating on other women. It's a solid crew...did I mention, beautiful?

It's hard out here for smart, independent, accomplished women. It's hard to be what A has been referring to as "EVENLY YOKED".

My youth pastors and parents would warn us as teenagers that we should not wind up "unevenly yoked"; their warnings helped me to conjure up extreme images of a woman hosting solemn prayer circles while her drunken husband stammered in, interrupting fighting and swearing.

"Unevenly yoked" doesn't have to be this extreme, even though spiritual and/or religious convictions (or lack of) are included. It can be as simple as career goals, intellect, academic goals, travel personality (this may be a stretch), "phil" or "phob" of kids.

My friends and I have a hard time finding men who share values and life defining experiences. Caveat: OCCASIONALLY, WE MAY MEET A MAN WHO SHARES VALUES AND CONVICTIONS, BUT that chemistry or spark or "thing" just may not be there.

The other day, I made a mental note of the men I've met over the last couple of years. This is what I've come across:

1. The 23 year old ( I took his number while out with co-workers having wings--I was pressured to be 'open' )who asked me, on our first and ONLY date, if I had ever had a one night stand. In his unsophisticated manner, he explained the methods he used to keep from impregnating a woman. I was disgusted...for many reasons...amongst them, how much he complained about his job at Footlocker.

2. The 30 something who sent me a text asking, "What's the contraction for 'is not'"?

3. The "I hate women" 40 something year old...burned by lots of failed relationships

4. The MANY late 30 somethings player activists artists who just have major commitment issues or who only share my values and convictions about education, politics, and community empowerment (the way they've treated a number of women in the city scares me--word gets out.)CAVEAT: ALL LATE 30 SOMETHING ACTIVISTS/ARTISTS AREN'T ALL COMMITMENTPHOBES AND IMMATURE PLAYERS. This shoe should only be worn if it fits.
4b. The late 30 something "nice guy" who can barely have a conversation or formulate a question on a date (too self conscious?)

5. The 25 year old who actually tried to "sweet talk" me and massage my foot on our first and ONLY date to the movies. Apparently, this pschobabble worked on other women. He was quite confident. Gorgeous, confident, awesome body, but tried to play the "Cassanova" role (turn off; just be naturally interesting), and not too much substance. He turned into a mild stalker and would call at late hours.

6. The 50 year old+ men at church with kids my age. Enough said.

7. The 15 year old- boys who think...I don't know what they think, honestly.

You may think, "Well maybe the guy who asked about the contraction for 'is not' is not that bad". I have considered a PhD. For me, that question is a problem...it's not a judgment of him, but in MY CASE, he's not a good fit for me. We'd be "unevenly yoked".

I've heard black and brown fathers, uncles, family friends warn women like me, "You're going to educate yourself out of a husband." Seems they may have been right. Would I trade it all, though? It's hard out here.

αγάπη/AGAPE/Disinterested Love

Disinterested love. The adjective "disinterested" sounds a little like "apathetic", "lathargic", "passive". The adjective, as it is used, however, is anything but these things. Disinterested love is defined as follow, by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in his Strength to Love:

For Dr. King, the heart of the gospel of Jesus Christ was agape αγάπη, disinterested love, and it was infused with a necessary love for one's fellow man. Agape, "unconditional love" is identified by King as "understanding and creative, redemptive goodwill for all men. An overwhelming love which seeks nothing in return, agape is the love of God operating in the human breast. When Jesus bids us to love our enemies, he is speaking of agape. Only by following this way, and responding with this type of love, are we able to be the children of our Father who is in heaven." [from Strength to Love]

Disinterested love is a love that is not extended to another because he/she merits that love. In fact, the person to whom love is extended may not "DESERVE" the love at all--the one to whom love is extended may be incredibly selfish, hateful, vengeful, jealous, mean spirited, etc. Disinterested love is not extended in order to receive anything back. I have often heard of romantic love described as transactions: "If you give me this, I'll give you that. If you rub my feet, I'll rub your back. If you stop brining home a paycheck, I'm outta here" Perhaps romantic love is like this because it requries RELATIONSHIP. LOVE AND RELATIONSHIP are two very, very different things.

AGAGE, or Disinterested love, can happen even when there is no relationship. I have chosen to love a couple of people with whom I just cannot have a relationship. The level of mutual and reciprocal respect, care, concern, and investment is not there. Agape is the highest, purest form of love because one can truly care for the greatest spiritual, emotional, personal development of another without having a relationship. It is the love of God. It is pure. It is rare. It would spare us many of the wars and violence we see across the globe. It would make our communities more peaceful. It would help us to forgive those who hurt us.

Restorative Justice in personal relationships

This is the Spirit of Detroit. I grew up seeing it whenever my grandparents would take me downtown. I love this statue; it's the most glorious and meaninful of those I've ever seen--perhaps because my loyalty to Detroit is deep; perhaps because it stirs nostalgia.

The Spirit of Detroit represents Justice. We all want justice unless we are the violators of it. If someone steals something from us, "We want justice!" If a public official abuses his/her position, "We want justice!" We see the pursuit of justice on every level in our social organization--from the courthouse to the schoolhouse (in Chicago, we even have a school called SOCIAL JUSTICE). Some schools, in response to the School to Prison Pipeline, have adopted "restorative justice" practices to respond to students who violate others and/or relationships within a school community.

The principle behind restorative justice is as follows: The only way to pay back the "debt" (physical, emotional, mental violation of another) and "re-balance the scales of justice" is to "right the wrong" through retribution. The idea is not necessarily "eye for eye", but rather the admission of guilt and an act of humility that will restore the one who was hurt by the violation. The only way to re-balance the scales is to attempt to restore that which was taken from another.

In our school, and others that practice this type of restorative justice, perhaps the fitting act of penance for a student who steals another student's ipod would be to 1) admit to the crime, 2) return it, and 3) extend a public apology to the entire community, which was disrupted by the act of stealing. I would think that most of us would agree this is an appropriate (minimally) response to a student stealing,right? In fact, would it be possible for these students to be friends without resolving the violation? I think not.

In the same way, when there is violation in personal relationship, whether friendship or a romantic relationship, we must "right the wrong" if we ever think that any level of friendship is within reach.

I was talking with two different women this weekend about CRAZY things their exes did. One's ex BLEW HER CAR UP (LITERALLY!). Another's ex took things from her--things upon which she relied upon for livelihood. The latter friend and I have talked often about how FRIENSHIP with an ex who does insulting, disrespectful, cruel, and selfish things is not attainable UNTIL and UNLESS that person fesses up to the wrong, is real about what he/she did, and then makes it right. Lots of people try to just gloss and skim over things they do wrong to another. They avoid. They run from conversation. They are emotionally violent through IGNORING that the other person still exists. WHy would we expect anything less than "restorative justice" in a romantic relationship, family relationship, or close friendship?

Some expect that "time will heal all" with respect to violations they commit against others to whom they were once close. Time does not heal; confession, restoration, and forgiveness heals. Time just allows us to bury things and temporarily forget or construct compartments in our minds to help us ignore nawing feelings.

I was once told by someone who hurt me: "Just be a grown up. You gotta deal with that on your own". The person didn't want to "hear me out" for whatever reason. I have extended forgivness to that person, but a restored relationship is not possible until there is transparent and hard conversation. The friend whose ex stold very valuable possessions won't be able to just pop back into her life after a little time. NO! He has to admit wrong, even restore what was taken financially, and ask forgiveness. Sure, she's gone through her own stages of healing, but not until the other party extends retribution, that relationship cannot be restored. Forgivess doesn't require both parties. Relationship does.

"Casual" Gets Old--Literally

The conversation started with my brilliant, anthropologically bent buddy and ended with A over another whole red snapper on Love Day. My friend and I were talking about love and commitment and the lackluster lure of "casual". He told me about an article he found in the Onion: "Casual Sex Only Rewarding for First Few Decades". For you readers who don't know what the Onion is, it's news satire at its wittiest.

Casual Sex and/or dating. Gets old after awhile?

What is the fate of serial daters who resist commitment into middle age (or close to it)? It depends. Disclaimer: This is all anecdotal. No experimental design or research conducted here. Some wind up with a "baby momma" (or "baby daddy") or two or three and then just have such complicated lives from balancing so many angry women (or deadbeat dads or good men who are trying to start other families) that he's too exhausted to have a relationship that goes into committed love. (Please note: There is a difference between "baby momma/daddy" and "mother/father of my child". There are some highly evolved individuals who are able to be cooperative and cordial--I just happen to see a lot more of the other variety).Others somehow have a change of desire or orientation, want a serious relationship, but then find that they're "optioned" to frustration, cynnical, or that lots of people who they find intellectuallly and socially compatible are already taken (young co-eds are frustrating--I know from experience. I've been approached by men 10 years my junior and could barely stomach ONE DATE). Another group finds themselves in the abyss of the middle agers who look middle aged and who are no longer sexually attractive enough to be as successful in casual dating and sex. Protruding bellies, receding hairlines, atrophying muscles, yellowing toenails just make it hard to be a winner at a nightclub.

Yesterday, I woke up from a groggy nap to watch a few minutes of one of those Prime time adult cartoons--maybe Family Guy? The episode's comedy was rooted in the tragic life of one of those single "forty somethings" who let good women get away from him and then spent his days in dingy "wife beaters" stained with wing sauce, watching tv, drinking beer, and occasionally lamenting lost loves.

Though the character's bachelor misery was exaggerated for comedy's sake, I can see how that can be a bachelor's fate. What is casual dating based on? Hot, fun, detached sex or socializing. People who casually date aren't looking to shower another with support, time, a listening ear, investment. So if casual dating and sex is all about physical beauty or short term interesting exchanges, it makes sense that when a person no longer offers a young face and body or enegy to party late and long, he/she falls off the market.

Additionally, I still hold firm that healthy humans want to be known fully, yet loved. We are generally afraid of letting another see the fullness of our humanity--how broken, imperfect, "stank" we are. Yet, we still want to find "SOMEBODY" (see Depeche Mode's link below...my friend reminded me of this song yesterday). A casual date is not going to hold you and just love on you when you lose a friend or family member. A casual date won't let you cry to him/her. A casual date might judge you if your house or car's a mess or if your outfit just doesn't quite work. Most of us generally won't even ask a casual date for a ride to O'Hare. We get tired of casual dating by our middle years. It's just too exhausting, and we want the security that is characterized by sitting in holey socks and sweats on the couch on a lazy Saturday morning. But the comfort of sitting in holey socks with bed head takes effort to reach.

Am I saying that single people older than 30 will wind up with big bellies with food stained t-shirts, become lonely animal hoarders, or miserable? Absolutley not. In fact, if I don't marry, I think I will be a ridiculously cool single person--running half marathons, maybe cool locs, ageless, strong, rock musician, a good aunt,sister, daughter, friend (but definitely not spreading myself thin in casual dating). It seems, though, that those who do single well at middle aged don't trifle in casual flings but rather invest themselves in family, career, and good friends to keep growing personally.

Seems that the older we get, the more "casual" gets "old".

Thin Line Between Love and Hate, Part II

Do you ever wonder, as I do (but I do, GENERALLY, think too much), how people can be be "IN LOVE"enough to agree to vows and marriage on some bright, happy day, and then, somehow, end up in bitter divorce, name calling, and tragically, in some cases, homicide?

How is it that a man can murder the woman who he once loved? How is it that a man can spit on a man whom she once kissed with those same lips? How does this happen? These are not rhetorical questions. I really think about this a lot. How does love end up in hate?

I don't have a lot of experience in this. I TRIED to have a boyfriend my senior year in high school; but Mom and Dad shut that down quick. I once snuck out to be with him, and of course, Jr. Holy Spirit (aka, "Mom") somehow found out. I was terrified the whole drive home. She tried to be slick and asked if I needed a "morning after pill"--she just wanted to know if I had done "it" and was trying to use some mind bending momma manipulation on me. Everything calmed down when I, in my terror, quickly blurted out that we were only up talking all night. While we didn't have curfews and weren't on tight leashes at all (my parents rarely asked where I was going because they trusted me so much), dating was frowned upon. Mom would say we had too much to do as adults (AND AS AN ADULT NOW, WITH LOTS OF RESPONSIBILITIES AND LIFE TO LIVE, I FULLY AGREE. WHY DO TEENS DATE!?!?!?) and that "dating" for 17 and 18 year olds was pointless since we couldn't really do anything but EXPERIMENT.

So, we had lots of male friends and we were encouraged to spend time with them in the presence of our parents, other teens, or those boys' families. I didn't date at all in college. I know weird. Well, no, I take that back...I TRIED to date a couple of guys, but apparently, I was "too nice" (both tried to come back when they were ready to marry, but I was "done" by then). I dated one friend in my adult years--it didn't work for reasons I do not wish to discuss in this venue. Sure, I've had countless dinners, business meetings, coffee dates, an evening out, etc with men, but multiple "I'm so in love but now I'm not" encounters to understand how this goes...not so much. So, how does it work? What happens that turns intense fiery red hot love into fiery red passionate HATRED? I do know a couple of people who don't hate exes--but there also didn't seem to be mutual love. In the cases that I've seen where there isn't hatred, one or both parties were just being casual. I do know people who have been mutually in love and are friends, or at least cordial (like Uncle B says, holding onto unforgiveness is just too much negative energy).

So what is it that turns love into hate (sometimes murderous)? Disappointment? A feeling of being abandoned? Used? What is it? Resentment because of a feeling of being trapped?

Thin Line Between Love and Hate, Part I

Why is it that most people don't talk to their exes? Some people can't even bring themselves to pucker their lips to utter an ex's name. A couple of girlfriends and I joke about how we might just physically jump one of their exes (he hurt all of us when he walked away from their relationship--and we're all just kinda not getting over it as maybe as quickly as Jesus would want us to) :)

"A" opened my eyes to WHY there is such painful separation and distance between "exes". We were sharing a whole, head n' tail n' all red snapper at Havana Libre, fixed in a very intense and deep conversation about LOSS.

You see, loss generally hurts, or at least, disappoints(unless it's unnecessary weight). There are, however, distinctly different losses. There are losses that are natural, and therefore, by nature, easier to accept. Then there are losses that are V I O L A T I N G. Straight up nasty...raw, oozing, bloody, just plain ole' nasty.

The loss of my grandfather was one of those natural losses. My grandfather helped raise me. I have such vivid memories of him being up at 5am drinking his caramel colored coffee while preparing his Sunday sermon. I remember him force feeding me pig ears. I remember his happy songs. I remember him sitting on the porch, whistling nonsensical songs on our Westside Detroit block. When he passed, I was filled with grief, but I was also able to stand proudly at his funeral and talk about him with great strength. THe loss of our wonderful patriarch was painful to all of us, yet is was a natural loss--he lived into his 80s and lived a full life. Understanding that we all must pass that way, his death was a loss did not feel like a defrauding thing.

The loss, however, of a dear friend, husband, wife, lover, boyfriend, girlfriend, confidant--not through death but due to his/her lack of desire to stay in your life--is a life shattering loss. I have plenty of friends who are in counseling, been in counseling, and need to go to counseling as the result of this kind of loss. Some people don't ever recover from broken heartedness and think that physical death is the only way to find relief from the shattering loss of unrequited love. As the character Mayah Hayes from Defintely, Maybe asks, "Did you know that 35 people try to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge each year, most because of broken hearts?"

When you invest all of your resources--time, money, education, skills, talent, friendships, career,etc--for the strengthening of another because you are committed in every way to that person, and they don't show appreciation, reciprocity, or even accept that investment, and eventually pull away emotionally, and then physically, the loss of that relationship feels violating (wow. that was a serious run on). Of course, the most evolved of you readers--those who have reached Nirvana (or maybe just in denial) may argue that true love has no expectation. That's another entry. We're talking about those relationships that do require reciprocity. Most of us would not stay in friendships or dating relationships in which we gave extraordinarily and the other person just took, took, and took. Just not reality. Why is this kind of loss violating? Perhaps because there is no death or other uncontrollable force that separates the two? A person willfully walks away, and in doing so, MAY communicate, "I just don't want to be part of your life to see what happens to you. I just don't want to walk alongside you. I just don't want the responsibility of supporting and encouraging you." The loss feels like abandonment, not the natural course of loss that happens through death.

Loss of a relationship through death (unless that death is suicide), is involuntary on the part of the departed. However, when a person who, for a season, claimed they loved you (and maybe even married you because of that love, makes a baby with you, used to bring you Theraflu when you were sick, used to enjoy meals with you, used to dance with you, used to talk to you about your career and life plans, just "ups" and does't care about any of the aforementioned any more, that's VOLUNTARY. And that mess HURTS. VOLUNTARY AND VIOLATING. Some would argue emotionally violent. How did you used to care and now you don't? What does that communicate?

I'm not saying that relationships should not end voluntarily. I'm not saying that at all. I just think that we should dig deeper to explore why certain losses cut us to the core...and maybe try to do it less to people?? maybe?