Class of 1979

My 30th high school reunion is this weekend (am I really that old?)  A few classmates have contacted me on facebook, the event is being held at one of my favorite restaurants, and it sounds like fun - but there is no way I will go to this or any high school reunion! High school was not a happy time for me - in fact, it was horrible!  This is not a reflection on my school or classmates - it was a small town school (my graduating class was about 75), the kids were nice enough, and a few of them really tried to be friendly and include me. The problem was definitely and exclusively me. 

I know I am not the only person who has bad memories of high school - it's so common it's cliche, and we all have different reasons for this.  My problem was culture shock. Up until 10th grade I had lived most of my life in Liberia, West Africa, as a missionaries' kid. My schooling consisted of a mixture of homeschooling, Liberian school, boarding school with other missionaries' kids, and an American school with embassy kids, "army brats", wealthy Liberians, and a variety of kids from other cultures. None of this in any way prepared me for high school in a small New England community - I was a fish out of  water! I often wonder if it would have been easier if I had been a different color or had an accent. On the outside I looked and sounded like everyone else, but really I was clueless - I had no idea how to relate to the people around me. I didn't know how to dress and I could barely have a conversation with the other kids - not only was I painfully shy, but I had no frame of reference to draw from for conversation. I just didn't know what to say or how to say it. Everything I said sounded awkward, inappropriate, irrelevant, or just plain stupid to me, and I often felt like people were looking at me like I had two heads (in actuality they probably weren't paying much attention - we're all pretty self-involved in high school). 

I've come a long way since high school; I had a great college experience where I made good friends and met my future husband. I have spent the last 30 years raising a wonderful family and gaining confidence in my career as a reference librarian. I love my family, I love my career, I love my church, and I'm very happy with the person that I have become. So why would I have a problem with going to my high school reunion? Because for some reason whenever I encounter anyone from my high school days I immediately revert to the tongue-tied colorless person that I saw myself as back then. I haven't actually seen very many of my former classmates over the years, but the few times that I have I invariably say something idiotic - in other words, everything comes out in "moron"! What's up with that? What on earth makes me instantly regress to 30 years ago? I don't know and I can't seem to stop it from happening. It would be interesting to see everyone and hear about how their lives turned out - I would love to be a "fly on the wall" and watch and listen. But there is no way that I will be there - I'm just not strong enough to get beyond my high school hang-ups. I hope they have a great time catching up and celebrating together, and I hope they take lots of pictures and post them on their facebook pages, but as for me I will keep a safe distance!

Slipping Through My Fingers

We watch her walk away, laughing and chatting with her travel companions, and her father and I marvel at our beautiful daughter's relaxed confidence as she approaches the airport security area. She is setting off on a European adventure, spending the fall semester at the University of Maastricht in the Netherlands. We have been planning and preparing for months - dealing with all of the confusing aspects of going to a foreign country.   Tensions were high during the last week as we shopped for last minute items (a good umbrella, neck pillow, toiletries etc.),  and packed and repacked her two suitcases and two carry-ons. Does she have the right converters and adapters? How many Euros will she need to start with? How can she get minutes for her international phone? (This turned out to be much more complicated than we thought it would be.) In the end we just had to take our best educated guesses, zip up the suitcases, drive her to the airport, send her off, and leave the airport feeling very empty and helpless. It's hard to let go.

But isn't that what parenting is all about? We have to start the process of letting go as soon as our children are born. Remember how hard it was to even let someone else hold our first child? This is quickly followed by leaving them with a babysitter for the first time, the church nursery, preschool, and then the school years.  Each year they gain more and more independence, and we have to back off and let them develop their own personalities while keeping a careful watch for problems.  In middle school, suddenly they are embarrassed to be seen with us and constantly frustrated by our lack of understanding.  In high school their busy lives leave us far behind and we have less and less knowledge and control of their activities. But through it all we have to be available to them for sympathy and advice (whether or not they take it).

 As they venture out into a sometimes unsympathetic world we must be the pillar they can hold on to, the sanctuary they can return to.  They are our most important purpose in life, but they are not ours to keep.  God gave them to us for a little while to nurture and care for, but most importantly to let them go to find their place in this world. In the end they belong to God, and they have to find out what his purpose is for them, regardless of what we want.

We know that Megan will have a great experience, meeting new types of people, seeing a different way of life, and visiting wonderful places.  There will be difficulties but she is so capable and determined that we know she will figure it all out, and will be stronger because she did it herself.  And a different person will come back to us four months later - a little more mature, a little more independent, and with a different view of the world, but when we look at her we will still see our little girl.

 

Crossroads

“Standing calmly at the crossroads, no desire to run. There’s no hurry anymore when all is said and done.”  I’m an ABBA geek, I can’t help it.  I loved them in the 1970‘s when they were moderately popular in the U.S. and phenomenally popular in Europe. I bought  as many of their albums as I could get my hands on and knew all of their songs; when our turntable died I bought a greatest hits CD and for many years had to be satisfied with the few songs (20?) on this one disc.  Imagine how thrilled I was when Mamma Mia became a musical - finally this wonderful music was getting the appreciation that it deserved!  I loved both the broadway show and the movie (although I did question some of the casting decisions for the movie - Pierce Brosnan singing?) I was reintroduced to ABBA songs that I hadn’t heard for years, but the one that resonated the most with me came near the end of the movie - “When All Is Said and Done”.  

Our family is at a crossroads in our lives.  Ed has a new and challenging church with different needs and expectations, I am searching for a way to continue in my career after having left what I thought was the perfect job, and the kids all have adjustments to make as well.  But after 25 years of marriage Ed and I can find the strength to meet these new challenges together.  When we started dating our friends were incredulous - it didn’t make sense to them, we just didn’t fit together! I was quiet and studious with a little bit of feminist spunk thrown in, and Ed was a country boy (and proud of it) and a reluctant student marking time until he could get into an art school.  We met through Christian organizations that we both participated in, and I was initially attracted to his laid back nature and his sense of fun, but as I got to know him better it was his strong integrity that impressed me the most. We dated though most of college and married as soon as Ed graduated.  

Together we have weathered graduate school for me, seminary then a doctoral program for him, three children (I was pregnant on our first anniversary), a miscarriage, illnesses, estrangement, and death within our extended family, and serious health issues within our immediate family, career changes, and always strained finances. We haven’t always been very patient with each other through all of this, but when one of us really needs the other the strength of our love for each other kicks in.  I will never forget how well Ed took care of me when I was so sick with an endlessly long and terrifying bout with vertigo. He shouldered all of my responsibilities as well as his own, and tirelessly took me to every doctor’s appointment while confidently reassuring me that I would get better. He was my rock then, and when I struggle with the residual effects of this illness I can still draw strength from him.

"Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls" Jeremiah 6:16  We are standing at a crossroads together, but we have the God-given strength of more than 28 love-filled years together to stand on, and holding tightly to each other and to our God, we can go into an unknown future unafraid. 

Ode to Libraries

I dreamed about the library again last night.  I was at the reference desk trying to answer questions, but everything was different and I couldn't find what I needed.  My former colleagues were there but they didn't pay much attention to me, didn't really care if I was there or not. I woke up and went through most of the day with a cloud of sadness over me.  It's been two months since I left my job and I am surprised at how much I still miss it. The dream made me stop and think about why I loved my job so much and can't seem to let it go and move on.  

To start with, I love the atmosphere of libraries - there is a feeling of quiet efficiency in the air that enables staff and patrons alike to work diligently and creatively.  And all around us is an abundance of entertaining and informational books and other media - old favorites and new interests mixed together - a true democratic institution. There is something for everyone and in the current economic climate this is especially important.  The last few months that I worked at the library we were busier than I remember us ever being in the previous 11 years.  Consumer health information, career guidance, financial advice, self-help materials, computers with internet, and, of course, free entertainment is available to anyone who comes through the doors.  And if someone needs help finding materials or information there is always a reference librarian to assist.  I loved working the reference desk, which is strange since I am an introvert and not always comfortable meeting new people.  But when I am behind the reference desk I have no problem dealing with the public. Maybe it is the "know it all" coming out in me, but I love helping people to find what they need or solve a problem, and I always made sure that my answer was never "no we don't have that" or "I can't help you."  If we didn't have something I either tried to get it from another source or looked for something else that might help the situation.  Too many times we encounter people in doctor's offices, government agencies, or businesses who seem to take satisfaction in informing us that they can't help us, and I always wanted to appear friendly and helpful, never obstructive. Fortunately I worked with a group of people that felt the same way, which made all of our jobs so much easier. Where else can you go where the primary purpose of the staff is to help you and serve you, asking nothing in return (except a very small percentage of your taxes)?  

Which brings me to the real reason that I miss the library so much: the people I worked with.  The library had (still has, minus me) a kind and friendly staff who worked hard to meet the needs of the community and were a source of support and fun for each other. The library became the place in my life (besides home) where I was the most comfortable and confident - it became an important part of my identity, who I was and who I was striving to be.  So I guess that is really why I miss it so much - I left part of myself there and I feel a little lost without it.  I am job hunting and hopefully there is great job out there waiting for me that will replace some of what I lost. I know I will be better equipped to handle it because of the people I worked with and the experiences I had at the Upper St. Clair Township Library.

Fast-forward

"Is it over yet?

Can I open my eyes?

Is this as hard as it gets...?"

These lines from Kelly Clarkson's new song "Cry" keep running through my mind.  We've been in the new house for over a month, the boxes are mostly unpacked and even the pictures are up.  So the hard part is over, right? Wrong! We painfully pulled up our roots from our old home and are trying to transplant ourselves into our new surroundings.  This can be an exciting time, discovering new places and friends, tackling new challenges - but mostly it is just exhausting to create new routines and find all of the necessary services, especially for those of us who have no sense of direction! 

Being a minister's wife adds a whole new dimension to this experience.  We have left behind a whole church family and are expected to keep our distance to give the new minister a chance to build relationships, which leaves us feeling cut off from our friends and guilty about abandoning them. Our new church family is wonderfully warm and welcoming, but we don't know them - many of them will be our friends and I know that we will eventually feel like part of the "family", but right now we are outsiders.   This is especially hard for me since I am an extreme introvert - when we walk into church on Sunday morning I know that all eyes are on us as the new minister's family, and I cringe. I awkwardly try to talk to people after church and strive to remember as many names and faces as possible so I don't offend someone by forgetting them next week! And in my darkest and most depressed moments I think "which of these outwardly friendly faces will turn against us first?" We have served two other churches and I know that this happens in every church - each minister has strengths and weaknesses, each church member has certain expectations, and these do not always match. Inevitably someone gets upset or critical, starts complaining or leaves the church, and to me this is always ugly and I take it personally. But I do understand that the church is full of imperfect people (that's why we are there) and we all have to work together to support each other in spite of behavior that is not always Christ-like. 

If only I could find a wormhole (I'm married to a Trekkie) and get to six months from now immediately! The hard work of adjusting would be over, and we would be in a comfortable routine.  But life doesn't work that way.  I never saw the movie "Click" but I understand that fast-forwarding through time didn't work very well for Adam Sandler's character, and I guess it wouldn't work for me either.  So I need to take it one day at a time, one person at a time and create relationships, and although it is hard I know it will be worthwhile.

Brave Heart

As I walk towards the door of the nursing home I feel a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. How will my father be today? Will he be able to greet me and participate in the conversation? Will he be in bed, so still and stiff that only his eyes move and he can barely form words? Will he be bent over in his wheelchair, drooling and shaking, unable to move and temporarily forgotten by the busy staff? Twenty-three years of Parkinson's disease has taken its toll, leaving him with very little dignity or quality of life, and I foolishly continue to ask "why?" 

Nobody deserves this fate, and I'm biased enough to think that my father deserves it least of all.  A United Methodist minister's son, who lost his mother when he was 12, he  chose to go to medical school with the goal of becoming a medical missionary, and as soon as his training was complete he and my mother packed up the family and moved to Liberia for 11 years. He devoted his time to learning the local language, working at the small, rustic hospital, and traveling days into the rain forest by foot to reach those who couldn't come to him. His passion became public health and he strove to prevent diseases and conditions that were avoidable with proper care and education. Upon returning to the United States he worked in state public health and eventually became Director of Public Health of New Hampshire, then Commissioner of Public Health of West Virginia. And through it all he was focused on making the lives of others better by making health care available and sharing his faith.

He was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease at age 50, and he and my mother have fought this terrible disease ever since. The disease will not kill you but it will slowly, cruelly, take all function away, leaving a shell of a person, sometimes with complete awareness, sometimes with dementia, sometimes with hallucinations and psychosis. And yet I still see joy and strong faith in him - when he is functioning well he can still laugh and crack jokes, share poems he wrote in his healthier days, serve the nursing home residence council, and share Bible study with other residents. He considers his time in the nursing home as a ministry and his faith has never wavered. He is still the strong pillar of our family that he was when I was a child, and although his body is fragile and wasting away he bravely continues to model his faith and show us how to meet adversity through faith. His name is William Wallace and he truly has and is a "Brave Heart".

Waiting

I've never been very good at waiting.  Amusement park lines seem pointless to me - the ride is never worth the wait (or course I ride very few rides, but that is another story).  Waiting for a table at a restaurant, getting caught in a traffic jam, and waiting for a slow internet link all drive me crazy.  I can't sit still or stand still, I fidget and pace.  Maybe that's why this move has been so difficult - it has been an exercise in patience.  Since we have moved in there has been a long list of things we are waiting for including but not limited to: a water conditioner (we have rust and sulphur in our well water), long distance, internet, cable, and the second bathroom to be finished.  All of these things seem trivial when you look at the big picture but, like raindrops, they add up to a flood of frustration. Who needs a second bathroom, right?  True, but when you have come from three it is a major adjustment.  We should all be able to live without TV for a short time, if not for good.  But when everything in your life is new and different it is nice to be able to escape into familiar shows, even if it is just House Hunters or a rerun of The Big Bang Theory. And how can we be missing the tragic drama of Jon and Kate Plus Eight? As for the internet, yes, I admit it, I am addicted. Between Facebook, email, several favorite sites, and now my blog, I hate to be without it for more than a few days. As for the other issues, there's always bottled water and cell phones (oh yeah, no cell phone reception at the new house!) So we're in a holding pattern and, you know what, it's not so bad. We spend more time together as a family, and being temporarily cut off from the world has been kind of peaceful, restful for the nervous system. Slowly things are getting done and soon we will be back in the world with schedules and busy days. Maybe waiting isn't so bad. In fact, I have it on the greatest authority that "those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint."