A Long Time Gone

For

the

better

part

of

a

year

I

found

I

was

without

words...

and in many ways, they still will not come.

I woke up on January 12, 2010 my normal self. I was still reeling from the loss of our third child, stillborn at 5 months, but I was healing as each day went by. I was living my life finding joy in all those small moments with my children that add up to a life of complete happiness, despite any negatives that might come our way. One earthquake in the only Third World country in the western hemisphere later, I was no longer sure of anything. Certain events, whether you are physically present for them or not, can mysteriously grip your heart- and the quake in Haiti, for lack of a better description- consumed me. There were approximately 50 families missing loved ones at Haiti's finest hotel, the Hotel Montana. What moved me was not that Americans were trapped in this hotel, but that nearly every one of these people had left this country on a mission to help our hemisphere's most impoverished people. Nearly every single one of them gave their very lives to do so. I waited with these families, and cried with these families. And somewhere along the wait, I came to meet a group of people who both fled to the scene to help after the disaster, and others who lived through it to tell me about life both before, and after, January 12, 2010. I had helped raise funds for Haiti nearly a decade ago. I knew how bad things were in that country, and I am so very ashamed to say, I had forgotten enough of those horrors to push it out of my mind. Our family has not escaped the economic fallout here in the United States, but as great as our personal challenges have been, I have always been the one in the crowd saying "this could be so much worse". How much worse came roaring back into my conscious on that fateful day. It has caused me to take a long hard look at everything in my world. How we live, what is important to us, and most importantly, how we treat each other. The disaster in Haiti reinforced my feeling that we consume needlessly, we waste precious time on meaningless things, and we waste ourselves on relationships that in the long run do not better the world for their existence. A total paradigm shift took place in my heart over the past 12 months. I chose not to be burdened by possessions, I chose to make each monetary expenditure purposeful, I chose to raise my children to be the kind of people I saw lay aside their own lives to rush to the aid of people they have never met. The countless events that worked on my heart this past year are so numerous, some so painful, and others so joyful- I am not sure I can get them into the written word. But I have made a decision to try. As I go through this journey, others are going through it with me. still others began theirs with the earthquake in Chile, the floods in Pakistan, the strive in the Ivory Coast, the earthquake that shook Christchurch, and now the horrifying events unfolding in Japan. I am sad that is takes an event of catastrophic proportions to wake us from our haze of existence here in the most affluent country in the world. But because of what I have witnessed among a few people who care enough to try to make a difference in a life on the verge of flickering out, I have an unwavering sense of hope. I hope the stories I share with you here in the coming months will renew your hope as well.

Day Seven

Today

is

Day

Seven.

Day

Seven.

It is the seventh day of Hell in Haiti.

I cannot get my head around it, what has happened to these people, less than 700 miles off the coast of Miami. My heart understands it completely. It is heavy, like a lead weight. My head tries to recall what Haiti was like before the Earthquake- colorful, expressive, happy- despite so much pain and suffering. Eighty percent of it's people were in poverty as of last Monday. Tuesday saw to it that the other twenty percent are not far behind. I remember their beautiful language of Creole being spoken on the streets of Naples, a place I called home for many years. The stories of their families being supported back in Haiti, where only one in three people are lucky enough to have a regular job. Naples was the promised land- a place where someone could send money home to care for so many. But you saw it in their eyes, they longed to go home. Despite the hardships, the sickness, the lack in so many areas. My heart today knows that Haiti has just fallen off the last rung of the ladder they were trying to climb out of poverty on. Poverty is horrible, and I do not know this personally. But what I do know is that things are much more bearable when you have the love of your family and friends. Haiti's family and friends lie dead in the streets. Those that miraculously survived the quake may not survive the infection of the wounds. Unless we can get it together as a World, this second round of death is coming full steam ahead. They know this. You can see it in their eyes. I went to bed Tuesday night looking at my children fall asleep peacefully. I thought about what our family has been through- what we are going through. None of it holds a candle to what the people of Haiti are going through. What the families of trapped tourists are going through. Their children, their loved ones are either alive in a living nightmare, dead or dying right before their eyes, or the worst of worst scenarios- trapped. Seven days. Trapped. Is anyone coming for me? Will I live? Where are my loved ones? I have had a very difficult time sleeping since Tuesday. I find myself at home in the comforts of my family... and then I realize the reality for so many... this very moment... in Haiti. It seems there are not enough prayers, not enough tears, not anything any one can do. I wish I could take a shovel to Haiti to help dig more people out of their horrible prisons. I would be yet another mouth to feed. The truth is I would be a wreck. I would be the young doctor I saw on the news today so torn apart he couldn't speak. I wouldn't survive it. What can I do? What I can maybe do is be there for others. Communication has been so hard for people waiting to hear news. Seven Days. Can you imagine? Your daughters, sons, husbands, wives- buried seven days in a Third World Country? I cannot. We sort out all the information we can in spare moments throughout the day. Monitor sites like Twitter, news reports, personal web pages, missing person lists, millions of posts. We try to give Hope. Hope that their loved one will be found. When I feel like I just cannot have any more hope, I walk away for a few hours. They cannot. They wait. For a picture, a phone call, anything that will tell them what they so badly need to hear. They are coming home to you. We try to give Hope, and yet we know. Day Seven. So many are not coming home. I pray for a miracle, another one just like the one we had Saturday night, just like the ones still happening in other areas of Haiti. People are surviving against all the odds. Haitians are singing hymns in the streets because they have not lost their faith that God will see them through. I pray that as these families that I am now enter twined with hear the news from all the Days ahead, that they do not lose their faith in God. The horrible irony about all of these tourists in Haiti is that they went there to help make a better life for all Haitians. They were there with pure hearts. They saw no race, no religion, no blame. They wanted to help. The words of some people behind a microphone, keyboard, or camera have stung this week. Haiti, this is my message to you... God did not fail you. We did. The World failed you because we did not do enough to help you up the ladder and out of poverty. The students of Lynn University recognized this. Compassion International recognized this. Countless others recognized this. That is why their people are trapped with yours. Life for most Americans go on unfazed. "What's got you down?" some people have asked. Apathy. Apathy is what's got me down. There is far too much of it. Before the Earthquake devastated Haiti Amy Wilentz said this in the September 2009 issue of Conde Nast Traveler,

"Haiti is not a place you just visit, as Columbus would surely have told you (he shipwrecked there in 1492) It's not a stream into which you just dip a toe. Here, you dive in headlong. It drives you crazy- with love, with anxiety, with desire. You fall into its arms as if it's been waiting forever to receive you. It hasn't. And as with any great unrequited love, Haiti's indifference only makes you crazier for the place."

Haiti, this is my wish for you. That you once again become colorful, expressive, and happy- despite all of your pain and suffering.

Note: Original painting by Roger Francois.

Irrelevant

It's

just

one

of

the

words

I'd

like

to

see

stricken

from

the

English

language.

There must be days that Susy Smith does not relish opening her mail- electronic, paper, or otherwise. I imagine that being an editor is a difficult job and one that requires complete focus and precision. After following Susy at Country Living in Britain for some years now, I would say she does very very well in her career. She mentioned in her November letter that she receives quite a few harsh comments about the fashion pages which are presented every month in some form or another. They have been tweaking these presentations for years now, trying to make them "relevant". Susy states quite matter of fact that these are the reader's words, not hers. I find this quandary the magazine is in all together fascinating. For one, that a reader would take the time to complain about some of the most beautiful shots in the pages of the magazine- but more so that the minds of many are so closed. The fashion pages have always been absent from this side of the pond's sister publication and this has always puzzled me. The Americas have some of the most incredible lines of outdoor provisions in the world. Outdoor living is so dramatically woven into the lives of the British that it's difficult to understand the reason for the disdain of the fashion pages. Susy goes on to say that the companies whose wares they put into print have nothing but high praise to say once the issue hits the news stands. This I find not surprising in the least. We humans are a strange lot. The many forms of media which we assail ourselves with each day is daunting. But the Country Living reader is truly a lifestyle personality. That same reader who scoffed at the clothing pages may find themselves in the market for new riding boots a few days later. If they just so happen to purchase the pair of $400 boots pictured in this months issue, that fact may have very well been lost on them. It wasn't, however, lost on the company that produced them. You never know where inspiration will come from. If you are an artist, writer, or designer you are aware of this, and your left brain soaks in everything you see, smell, and touch quite well. Even more amazing is that the end result of your creation may not resemble the original inspiration at all- at least to other people. None the less, something moved and stirred in you the urge to create. Taken in this context very little in the world is "irrelevant". In the words of some very talented designer friends of mine who create warmth and beauty in the form of handmade clothing, "We are all knit together". Just remember this the next time you are looking upon something that seems irrelevant.

Note: If you care to exercise your subconscious shopper the boots above can be had at Toggi.com

The Match Stick

This

has

been

a

difficult

time,

for

us

and

for

so

many

others.

There are some things that you have control over, and others that are so overwhelmingly out of your own hands that all you can do is have faith that you will pull through. For us, the difficulty is heartbreak like that which we have never known. We lost our baby boy, five months into the pregnancy. I am working through the grief day by day, writing about him, and learning to live with a sense of loss which I now fully realize may never dim. My family have been the legs on which I have stood for the past four weeks, and for this I will forever be grateful.

For others, the recession in which we find ourselves in has been like being placed in a deep pool of water and told to tread. We have no idea how long we are going to have to tread water because no one knows when this thing will end. We just know that if we are to survive, we have to keep treading. The recession hit us personally too, but I think we have reached a point where we are used to it. I say this because I have found myself in a position where I worry about others more so than ourselves. We are struggling too, but not in the sense that I have witnessed others. So many others have already lost their jobs, their homes, and in some cases their family due to the pressure of the struggle. This last loss is the one that bothers me most.

A few months back I was reviewing a Scandinavian cookbook and the Hans Christian Anderson tale of The Little Match Stick Girl was mentioned in the book. I had not heard the tale in quite some time. Later that day, when the children were napping, I pulled the book off the shelf and read the story in its original form. It was heart wrenching. In it is the story of how a child is sent into the streets in the middle of a snowy winter with ragged clothes and no shoes to sell match sticks. She sells none and is met with a city of apathy. In vain she tries to one by one light the matches to keep herself warm. She envisions a stove, a magnificent dinner of Holiday goose, a beautiful soaring Christmas tree, and at long last her loving Grandmother- who is seen only as the little girl lights all of the remaining matches in an attempt to hold onto the vision of her loved one. The little girl dies of exposure in the streets. This is no Cinderella fairy tale with a happy ending.

I think this story struck me especially hard this year because of the plight so many families find themselves in this Holiday season. The dire situation in Wilmington, Ohio was aired for the world to see on 60 Minutes last night. This town is in our backyard here in Ohio and it has been especially hard to watch these hard working people struggle to maintain some sense of home the past year. Ten thousand lost jobs is going to take a long time to recover- if recovery is possible in Wilmington at all. I think to myself, despite all of our struggle, we have so much. I cannot help but think that this Christmas morning will be a difficult one for me to really enjoy- knowing in my heart that for so many this one will only exemplify how dire the situation is. It is awfully difficult to explain to a child why Santa did not come.

I urge you to do two things, and do them soon. Go through your home, each and every nook, and donate whatever you have that you do not need. It is best if you can put things directly into someone's hands that need them, but if you cannot, a local shelter is a good place to contact. Second, read the story of The Little Match Stick Girl. Tell it to your children and explain how difficult things are for some families even today. What this world needs most right now is a strong dose of anti- apathy. Children are the most giving of souls and if we can start with them there is always hope for our future.

Note: The illustration above is from a children's book by Debbie Lavreys and it tells the story of The Little Match Stick Girl in a way children can understand.

We are all Christopher Columbus

Imagine
you
are
Christopher
Columbus
and
it
is
the
late
1400's.
You are preparing to set sail with your three ships and all of your crew. You are the lead and the one responsible for all of their welfare. What you know is that you are setting sail from Spain and the goal is to reach India. Most of the population, contrary to today's popular belief, know with some level of certainty that the Earth is round. Aristotle, way back in the third century BC has explained this to the world after observing an eclipse. Yet the belief in some circles still persists that the sailors would at some point fall off the planet into unknown oblivion. What if Columbus himself secretly harboured doubts about the roundness of the Earth? What if he would have had a tether to the dock in Spain on some mystical level, or a self imposed limit that "I will go this far but not any further" just in case? What if he had secretly thought they might all be wrong?

Imagine now you are a few miles from the New Continent but you cannot see it. You do not even know it is there. India's out there somewhere but your crew is anxious and worn out. You have secret moments of panic. What is out there? What do you do? What do you tell your crew?

We all know how the story ends. But I confess I have found myself in the shoes of Christopher Columbus for the greater portion of my life...only the stake was much higher than finding India, or a few unknown continents. My struggle was with God Himself. I was educated in religion quite thoroughly, from the time I was small straight through University and into my adult life through my own studies. And yet knowing all these things about religion still left a gaping hole. I harboured a fear somewhere deep inside that at my core I was an atheist. It was unthinkable and horrifying to finally acknowledge. It was not the thought of a non existent Afterlife that bothered me, it was much more profound than that. It was a bigger fear of losing all that was Good in the world as I had known it. These things that are Good, if you will, are our very own Markers- those things that bring you back into Belief that there is something Greater out there in the Universe. Seeing a living creature being born or going through the stages of death are two of these Markers that can serve to make you a Believer very quickly. Nature in all of its beauty is another. So are moments of Enlightenment between you and someone you love. But as much as I Knew, I could not shake the fear that I was deceiving myself. It was much easier to Believe than not Believe. Until I ran into a brick wall in the form of a four year old.

Death is hard. No two ways about it. Wren, who is now four, had to learn about death way before I was ready to have the conversation. We were faced with having to put one of our cats to sleep. I did not have the faintest idea how to explain this to such a young child. I did the unthinkable- I allowed her to be in the room as Gaston passed away. It may prove to be one of the best things I have ever done as a parent. It introduced very tough concepts into her world at an early age. Death. God. The Soul. Heaven. Permanence. Infinity. And there were very little worlds I could rely on to help me explain all of it to her. Over the past few years the topics have come up regularly. She is coming into full realization what the concept of imagination is and I knew this would be a struggle for her to reconcile with her view of what God, Heaven, and Afterlife are because she cannot "See" any of those. I kept saying to myself that if only I was not so limited by my words. And it was after thinking this a few dozen times that I had a moment of Enlightenment myself. It was not that I was a secret atheist... it was that I would not allow myself to acknowledge that a great part of my Faith I would never be able to put into words. I would never be able to rationalize it to anyone else, or myself for that matter. It was out of my Realm. It was God. It was all that was Good. A lot of it is beyond my scope- there, but I just cannot see it from where I stand.

Wren asked me tonight if God Himself comes to get you when you die. Minefield. I want to choose my words so carefully now that I realize how entangling they can be. I answered her in the only way I knew how- that it was a Surprise. A big one- perhaps the biggest one she will ever have. She is fully aware that parents sometimes die very young and leave small children behind, and this worries her. But she also knows that there is usually a natural progression where people grow old and die after raising their families. I explained it might be God, but there was also a very good chance it could be a Great Grandparent, Grandparent, or Daddy or myself. It all depended on the "when" part of the question. How do I know this I asked myself tonight? I just do. I know it enough to realize that I do not need the tether, real or imaginary, to guard me "just in case". Sometimes, like Columbus, you just have to set sail.

Note: The painting above is by Graeme Wilkinson. Acrylic on canvas.

A Barrel of Monkeys

Real Life sometimes hits you in the oddest of moments.
This has been a busy morning. We have yet another rainy day and I have a list of things to accomplish a mile long. There is no school for my oldest pumpkin today and she is bouncing off the walls. During breakfast I was able to do my writing for one of my favorite "foodies", and the subject matter made me HUNGRY! Once the kitchen clean up was finished after breakfast, it was immediately time to make lunch. I wondered if I could fit in a batch of homemade cookies in the process? Sure, why not? When you have this much to do in one day a batch of cookies does not make or break you. An added benefit is that it grabs the attention of two children for a full forty five minutes. Once lunch was over and the promise of cookies after a nap is lulling around in their heads, nap time is coming along pretty nicely. One down one to go... I am sitting on the couch fumbling with a Barrel of Monkeys and my three year old is showing me how "Daddy does a double monkey". I am intrigued I realize, not because of the feat of the double monkey, but because I realize that my house at times is just like this game. A Barrel of Monkeys, and I am trying to string everything together nicely. Let's face it, one mom, two children under four, a big lumbering dog, and two cats spells chaos in any sense of the imagination. House clean and perfect- no. Children clean and perfect- no. Mom- most certainly no. One of the cats has just chased the lumbering dog in a round about that has ended with the papers from my morning's writings everywhere. My phone conversation with my little sister in Florida earlier had me thinking the tiredness in her new mom's voice echoed mine. I jokingly said, "it takes a village". A large part of me wasn't joking. It is no wonder we are all so tired all of the time. I think we now live in an age where demands on each family unit are so great that the "village" no longer exists. I used to think, too, that the reason of people living apart was the main foible. Now I know this is not the case. Even people who live right next door do not always have the ability or time to pitch in- and this goes both ways. I cannot tell how many times I have been phoned for a favor that I just could not do at that moment. You feel terribly about it but also realize that one more thing under your nose at that moment and all things might just go haywire. Just like that chain of monkeys, the likelihood is that it will all fall apart if I try to do one more thing. The economy demands that we use every spare moment right now just trying to survive, but none of the other "work" lets up either. It is the busy time for growing food, maintaining the house outside, and most families have children at home now that school has let out. So how do we cope? I find that we have to begin to get a "village" mentality back in our lives. I find this a topic of conversation more and more amongst my friends. A very close friend said recently, and I am paraphrasing, that we have to find a way to keep what is good in our circle. I have taken this to heart. What changes will occur in my life as I get back to the business of survival in this tough economy will be taken with this advice in mind. Who knew a little children's game could open up so much space for reflection?

Politically Correct or Spiritually Dying?

First let

me say

that I have

been lapse

in my blogs

the past months as I have been in a whirlwind of activity with family and friends celebrating this great Holiday Season.

For those of you who know me, the time of Thanksgiving to just after New Years holds a very special place in my heart. Family and friend tradition is always important to me, but even more so at this time of year. It's a time I reflect inward on those things that matter most in my life and it is a time I try to be most available to everyone around me. So while I did not blog often during this time, a lot was going on in my mind. Commercialism and the Holidays have always bothered me, but as of the past few years one thing is bothering me quite a bit more than the assault of advertising that is notorious this time of year. What I am noticing more and more is the lack of Christ in Christmas. Inside our home and hearts, Christ is our Christmas. I love decking the halls and giving gifts but this is all done in a manner of festivity that is still very much centered on the miracle of Jesus and his life story. I am not what you would call a right wing Christian- I'm probably not even considered middle of the road by other Christians. What I am, however, is completely in love with the story of the birth of Christ, His rise to Messenger, and the history of what civilization did and continues to do to His message. The notion of His Resurrection is profound, yes, but I find His message to humanity much more profound. What I cannot fathom is this: the absolute fear, or general apathy if it is not fear, of commercial entities to recognize Christ in Christmas. The last time I checked, the United States was well over eighty percent Christian. Dice that up any way you like, but it means that less than twenty percent of Americans do not Believe. I find this heartening, and yet somewhat bewildering too. Bewildering because who are these people in charge at these companies trying to get their message across to the general public? While yes, it is nice to sell some things during the Holiday Season, it is also nice to remember the Man we are celebrating. I have said this time and time again and I will say it here now once more. The British have something on us- at least in one aspect. While I wax poetic about the virtues of British Country Living versus our American version of the magazine here most every month, the December issue always gets to me. And it gets me in a good way. The editors in England have the guts to put Christ in Christmas in their December edition without fail- and in multiple features. They give the people of England, their Christian majority, what they most wish to see and learn about. This year was no exception, from the hand carved nativities of David Plagerson (Noahsarktoys.eu) to the illuminating nuns of Saint Cecilia's Abbey, to the blessing of pets at Saint Nicola's 13th century church. Our American version of this magazine leaves me sadly disappointed every December. I joke that if I had my last seven dollars and the choice was food or the issue of British Country Living, I'd probably starve to death. Something in that publication feeds my soul and there is some kind of kinship that I always find within its pages. The December issue just happens to feed my spiritual soul as well.

Someone... Please Send Four More Hours!

These days,

no matter

who you are

or where

you live,

I can bet

you could

use an extra

four hours

in your day.

I ponder this need often, because try as I might, it's hard to imagine that society has always lived within in a twenty four hour day. Because I live in the country, my life is more than likely much slower than the lives of most people. Within the last few years I have even given up having a vehicle at my disposal during the day to concentrate on being a mom to my two kids. The vehicle always meant running to the store and trying to get in errands that ate away at most of our day. And most of our day was already taken up with the business of living. My children are 3 1/2 and 11 months. I think age is relevant, because as a friend and I were recently discussing, it is difficult to compare life schedules when you have children who are of different ages. Different ages bring different tasks, and different levels of day to day involvement. I am at the stage now where my eldest is sleeping through the night, but my youngest is still getting up for at least one feeding between 1 am and 6 am. Couple that with the almost certainty that he will stir and wake up somewhere in those hours too, and you have a night of sleep that is far from satisfactory. Therefore, what should be my most productive time of day, nap time, sometimes finds me passed out right along with the children. But this doesn't happen enough times in a week to make up for lost sleep. In trying to be more productive I made a mental list of the goings on that happen in our household on a daily basis, only to be a bit discouraged when I found that I wasn't going to make up time by cutting in that arena. By the time breakfast is served, kitchen and play areas are cleaned from yesterday's doings, baths are given, lunch is served, naps are accomplished, and plans for dinner are made, evening is rolling around before I even knew the day had gone. If you work out of the home, your day is much the same only you are juggling work tasks plus taking the children to and from wherever they go during the day. Add to this list a mom's array of household chores such as laundry, cleaning bathrooms, floors, dusting, and the million other tasks that must be done, it's no wonder we feel a bit overwhelmed. If you are in charge of getting bills paid, the stress alone of that task probably makes it last on your list. In today's world of financial crisis, bill paying probably ought to be first on all of our lists. It is no surprise that tasks like yard work, washing cars and pets, and the necessary odd job like weatherproofing only happen when said task is about to create a huge problem if it doesn't get done that day. Somewhere in there, though, there has to be a few moments to do those things that keep us from losing our grip. Things like reading and writing, which I often do in the middle of the night during one of those wake-ups with my infant. Or cooking something special, which may happen during nap time. I hope gardening and yard work will come back into my life as the children get older. Right now I have to be content with stealing five minutes here and there for that sort of pleasure. If you are a man and work outside the home, your schedule problems are probably very similar only with very different components. I find humor in the fact that sometimes my husband will walk through the door with the look of "You have no idea what I have been through today" only to see the same look on my face. I can relate to his day because I worked outside the home for years and dealt with those stresses, but I am not entirely sure he can relate to mine. The single dad most certainly can. I think those men are extremely under-rated and even less appreciated. We all need more time to get just the necessary things accomplished in our lives. If we could figure out how to get more time, then we might just be able to get down to the real business of life which is spending quality time with our families. I don't know about you, but I spend an awful lot of time disciplining my toddler, especially since the birth of our second child. This experience has given me a glimpse into how difficult it must be for today's teachers to just teach. I keep coming back to this thought and it's taking on new importance. Could it be that in prior generations, children were expected to do more alongside their parents, even from an early age? This could be why so many people in prior generations remember having so much more family time than we do today. And were prior generations less concerned with teaching their infants everything possible prior to school? I am not sure that my three year old's ability to decipher colors, letters, and count will really give her a head start in class. What if she shows up at the first day of Kindergarten and feels no challenge whatsoever? Have we mixed up our roles as parents in some ways? Time is the ultimate deceiver and I realize that parents of yesteryear probably felt like they needed a 28 hour day too. I just can't help but think that through progress we have tripped ourselves up a bit.