If I Were . . .

Sometimes you have a plan, but then you are knocked off your path by something extraordinary. That happened to me tonight. I had a totally different topic in mind for my post. Then I was blindsided by this little beauty:

Intrepid librarian and all-around amazing woman, Paulette, showed me this book tonight. Let me just say that it is a jewel of a book, although you can't really tell from its unprepossessing cover. I don't want this to turn into a book review, although I could definitely rave about this book, and I will be ordering a copy for myself as soon as my little fingers can hit the "Order with 1-click" button. However, it did inspire me to change the topic of this post, so now I present "If I were . . . "

If I were a blanket, I would wrap you up in warmth and downy softness. I would be your place to relax, snuggle, recuperate, and drift into restful sleep. I would snuggle your tiny babies and keep your children warm when they wake shivering from a bad dream and wrap your grandfather in warmth when he feels a chill in his bones. I would remind you most poignantly of the tender hugs your mother gave you, even when you didn't feel like you deserved any tenderness. And I would live to remind your children of your hugs when you can no longer hug them yourself.

If I were a chair, I would be a snuggly, cozy rocker. I would beckon you to me, to sit and cuddle . . . maybe with a good book, or a sweetheart, or a luscious armful of a precious baby. I would provide just the right place for you to ease into a new morning gently and slowly, maybe with a steaming cup of coffee or a cuppa tea; to take a breather in the midst of the madness of a hectic day so you can keep on going; to rest after a long, bone-wearying week of work -- whatever comfort you need, I would provide.

If I were a tree, I would be strong, sturdy, and graceful. My roots would run deep, deep into the ground, reaching down and out, anchoring me into the soil. The rough shingles of my bark would display the initials of you and your love forever intertwined with a lopsided heart. I would stretch out my leafy branches, curving ever-so-slightly toward the sun, so I could provide quiet, restful shade for you. I would watch over you almost silently (just a soft little murmur of the wind through my leaves to lull you into peacefulness) while you drowse on the soft, green grass beneath my limbs. I would have just the right place for a treehouse that can become a pirate ship, a castle full of knights, a spaceship guarding against intergalactic invaders, whatever can be dreamed. I would be the anchor for a tire swing that flies back and forth, around and around, to the melody of the delighted squeals of your children and your children's children.

If I were a smile, I would be unguarded, clear and bright, a reflection of what I see when I look at you. I would warm your soul even on a cold-that-seeps-into-your-bones kind of day. In the broiling heat of summer, I would be the fresh breeze you yearn for, sweeping over your skin with a light, cool touch. I would awaken the sleeping beauty within you, and you would favor me with your own smile of infinite light.

If I were a house, I would stand stalwart, brave, unyielding in the face of lashing winds, torrential rains, bitter heat, and freezing temperatures. I would safeguard within my walls all you hold dear. My rooms would echo with the laughter of your children and wrap them in peaceful security as they slept. My doorsills would mark off the years as your children grew; faded pencil lines attesting to the unyielding passage of time. My kitchen would capture and hold the snapshot images of family and friends gathered around the table, the dear faces of those you love never completely fading from memory. The pores of my walls would soak in the days and nights of your life, absorbing all that you are and all that you hope to become. If I were a house, I would be your home.

-Carolyn

When the shrinking violet meets the immovable force

By:  Susan

I have determined that there are two kinds of people in this world; those who have an internal warning system that goes off about 10 feet before they have reached the limit of what is appropriate in personal interactions and those who depend on repeated and forceful external indications that they have reached that limit.  The shrinking violet will sleep on a sofa without pulling it out or taking any of the cushions off.  The immovable force rearranges the furniture in a hotel room.  The first type thinks that she can get along with anyone because she always goes along with everyone.  The second type’s philosophy is that you can and should ask for what you want because people can always say no.  The irony of life is that these two kinds of people inevitably end up together. The reason they are bound to find each other either as spouses, relatives or co-workers is that they both need each other to bring out the best in them.  One has to learn that you cannot live a life of integrity if you think you can please everyone you meet.  At some point you end up lying to yourself or to someone else.  The other has to learn that you cannot put the burden of limit setting on others, that there is virtue in being selfless and considerate.  Both suffer from diseases of the ego.

Come to think of it, the ego is the culprit in almost all cases of our pain and suffering.  It is what gets hurt when we don’t get our way or when we feel slighted.  But it is also what stops us from saying no and setting limits.  It seems almost paradoxical, but sometimes we go along with unreasonable expectations so that we don’t have to deal with assaults on our self by those who will push and demand. 

I really believe that we are put in each other’s path for a reason.  Each of us has to learn something different.  Even the most toxic and painful relationships end up teaching us something about ourselves.  I spent years in a challenging relationship with a person very close to me.  When she passed on, a friend wrote to give her condolences.  Her note said:  I am a better person for having known her.  My first thought was, I wish I could say the same thing.  My second thought was, I am.  If not for her, I would not have realized that the biggest lie I had ever told was that I could make everyone happy all the time.  She taught me how to say no, gently but firmly.  I learned that I am capable of forgiving.  Those are huge lessons and I would not have learned them if our worlds had not collided.

Introducing Me in ABCs -Part 1

A

A woman

A mother

A person

A me

A…which means one.  I am unique and it is ok to admit that.  It isn’t conceited or against the rules.  There is only one of me and there is only one of you.  

Books

I have my own library.  A wall full of books.  Children’s books, self-help books. Books I have read several times, and books I aspire to read.  I love books.  I’m hoping to one day see my name on the spine of a book in my library.

Cha cha

A nickname.  My nickname.  That just so happened to become my actual name for the majority of my early educational years.   The paperwork to be filled out was pretty straightforward. 

“Child’s first name-Esmeralda”

“Middle name”- left blank because I have no middle name, which always left me feeling slightly inadequate and incomplete.

“Last name-Villa”

Easy enough.  Then came the next question…

“Does your child go by another name?” 

Well, yes.  As a matter of fact I did.  
When I was born, my grandmother used to take care of my cousins and I.  My mom and dad were still in college, and luckily my grandmother made herself available to watch us.  I would go down for a nap, and my grandmother would tell my two cousins, who were slightly older to let the baby sleep.  Let the “muchachita,” little girl, sleep.  My cousins being little didn’t quite get the muchachita part all the way out, so it was shortened to chachita.  Which ended up being Cha cha, and it ended up on the little line as my mom registered me for kindergarten as the other name I happen to go by.  Quite a lot easier to say and spell than Esmeralda, so this became my name throughout elementary and all through my junior year in high school.   My friends from Colorado actually still refer to me as Cha cha.

Coffee

I drink coffee.  I love it.  It doesn’t have to be Starbucks contrary to the beliefs of many. (Although I do prefer my skinny vanilla latte)  I take my sips slow and steady.  Savoring every little drop.  When my cup is empty I am actually sad.  Like an actual feeling of sadness courses through my body.  Its more than just a little pick me up.   It’s soothing and calming.  It’s conversation around my grandmother’s table with the most exceptional women I know.  It’s stories, and history.  It’s love. 

Daniel

“So there is this boy, he kind of stole my heart.  He calls me mom.”  Kind of is an understatement.  From the moment he was born, my heart has been on my sleeve.  I am so proud of the young man he is becoming.  I love our conversations, and his hugs.  He will always be my baby, even though he is taller than me now.

Esmeralda

I become Esmeralda again when I moved to Texas.  My family and I moved the summer before my senior year in high school.  I was excited and nervous.  I knew things would be different starting high school my senior year as the new girl.  I also knew I did not want to be Cha cha in Texas.  I wanted to use my actual name.  The name I would write on my papers, and the name I would use to introduce myself would be my name, not a nickname.

Food

I like to eat.  I love food.   Not sure what else there is to say but that.

God

God is good.  All the time.

All the time.  God is good.

I could not make it through my day without Him.

Hernandez Women

I have always said that if I ever have any doubt of God’s love for me, I need only to look at the family I was blessed enough to be born into.   I have been loved by seven of the most giving and precious women.  My grandmother, mother, and five aunts.  I cannot describe how influential they have been for me, or begin to express all the gratitude and love I have for them.  I admire and respect each one.  They are by far the strongest, most God-fearing women I know.

~Esmeralda

What You Put in the Center by Carolyn Pierce

I recently came across this passage while I was reading:
       
We had one of those world maps with the U.S. right in the middle -- remember those? And one of the students looked at it and said, "How come the East Indies are in the west?" And that question got me thinking about the impact of what you put in the center, and what it does to everything else.*

I can picture exactly the map referenced in the quote. The map, presumably made by an American company, featured the United States smack-dab in the middle of the map. The U.S. looked huge compared to the rest of the countries in the world. I grew up thinking that the U.S. was the largest nation in the world. Because Russia (or the U.S.S.R., or whatever its name was at the time) was cut so that part of it was on the left side of the map and part of it was on the right side of the map, it didn't look nearly as big as it is in reality. Canada, stretching to the far north, grew smaller toward the Arctic, which fooled the eye. Imagine my surprise and disillusion when I came face-to-face with the realization that not only was the U.S. not the largest country in the world, it wasn't even the second largest! That kind of map lead me to believe a falsehood about the size of the U.S., and I am reasonably certain that it also (subliminally) led me to believe that the U.S. was the most important country on earth. Okay, maybe it is to me, but probably not to people in other countries. I wonder what the maps in their schools look like . . .

Reading this passage did make me think about maps, but it also spoke to me about other parts of life. I have heard many times the adage, "You make time for what matters", so let's take a look at our daily planners or the calendars we have hanging on the refrigerator. How often is quality time with family or friends written in? How much time each week is allocated to worship? If you wrote down the time spent in front of the TV or playing on an electronic device, would it totally fill your free time? Have you blocked out time for improving your physical health? Is there time each week for learning something new? Do you have any volunteer service penciled in? If someone else took a look at your calendar, could they see at a glance what you put in the center of your life?

As if that wasn't guilt-inducing enough, let's think about our thinking. What absorbs your thoughts? If you had a thought-o-meter, where would the needle point most often? Do you constantly think about your job, your money, your looks, your possessions, your importance in life? Do you continue to think about work even when you are relaxing with family or friends? They can tell, you know. Are your thoughts most often focused on self-pity, your trials and tribulations, how others have done you wrong -- the unpleasant things in your life? That shows on your face (and it is not pretty). Likewise, if your thoughts are most often concerned with the good things in your life (counting your blessings, so to speak), that shows on your face as well. Your thoughts are a sure indicator of what you have put in the center of your life.

Ditto for your words -- they are just thoughts with a voice.  What does your conversation reveal about what is at the center of your life?

Lest you think I am feeling "holier-than-thou", rest assured that what I am writing is very convicting for me as well. I need to examine my own calendar, my own thoughts, my own words to see what I have put at the center of my life. I'm afraid I will not be pleased by the conclusions I must draw. I feel the need to make a plaque for my wall so I can see it every day:
                                       
                                            What you put in the center impacts everything else.





*The passage (in a book called A More Beautiful Question by Warren Berger) is a quote from Deborah Meier, a revolutionary educator who founded the Central Park East schools in Harlem in the 1970s. Meier was talking about the importance of what you put in the center of the curriculum in schools, but the words spoke to me about life in general.

On Mouth Washing and Other Parental Practices

Yesterday I read David Gets in Trouble by David Shannon to forty kindergarteners and not a single one of them knew why David had a bar of soap in his mouth on the page with the caption:  But Dad says it too!  Most of them thought he was in trouble for eating soap. I looked at the other two adults in the room and we realized that we were witnessing a historical moment:  Parents no longer threatened to wash their kids’ mouths with soap to stop them from using foul language.  And let me tell you, this particular public health practice is used on at least three continents that I know of.  This gives me hope that we as human parents are evolving.

Maybe the next things to go would be threatening them with being picked up by the police if they behave badly.  In fact, I wish we could just stop all threats, bribes and alternate explanations (a.k.a little lies).  All these practices are short term parenting strategies that 1) make us feel that we have addressed the situation and not allowed the child to “get away” with bad behavior, 2) get us out of an uncomfortable situation of having to reason and give explanations that are comprehensible to a little one and 3) with luck, will get immediate, albeit temporary compliance. 

I know what it's like.  I have been there.  We are at a friend's house.  The kids are playing nicely.  My children are being charming.  The adults are marveling at their wit and intelligence.   Then it comes time to go.  I know that dealing with change in one's plans is a test for some of them.  I know that I will be facing a volcano when I try to get them to leave.  So I come up with an alternate explanation. I tell them that the hosts have to leave to go somewhere else and there won't be anyone to play with anyway.  I am just  trying to preempt a scene of kicking and screaming and refusal to leave.  I am trying to spare the child, myself and the hosts an ugly and uncomfortable situation.  But in the process I am withholding from my child the opportunity to learn self-control and ultimately how to manage his own will to live a happy life.

I wish all children could walk around with an “under construction” sign on their backs so that we as parents could approach our job as builders of character and not managers of behavior.  Every tantrum, every strong expression of will, every push back on what is needed and appropriate is a human child’s opportunity to shape his character; to learn to be considerate of others, to control his will or to tell the truth.

And those of us who have either passed the stage of little-child rearing or don’t yet have children, we could hold our tongues and our judgments so that mother or father in the supermarket or at the restaurant, feels comfortable doing what is right and not what is expedient.  Because we all stand to benefit from parenting that builds character in the future adults that will run our world.

Poor, Pitiful Me by Carolyn

Most of the time I am fairly content and reasonably positive about my life. There are times, however, that I find myself feeling sorry for myself for a multitude of reasons big and small. Here is how it goes (read with whiny voice) :

Why do I have to get up so early to go to work? I hate getting up early. I would like to never, ever set my alarm and get to sleep as long as I want to every day.

Why can't I just buy whatever I want to? I work hard - I should have enough money left after I pay my bills to spend it on things I want without having to pinch pennies. Other people are able to buy things they want. I have been working for more than thirty years, for goodness sake!

Everybody I know went on vacation to some wonderful, exotic place this summer. I went to Fort Worth. I would like to be able to travel to _______ like ________ did (insert specifics). I am 56 years old! When will I get to travel the world?

There is nothing to eat in this house. I am too tired to go grocery shopping. I have worked a full day and I am pooped. I wish there was something appealing in the pantry or the refrigerator for me to eat. There are never any groceries in this house.

And speaking of houses, why can't I have a fancy big house like other people? I have a dinky little cookie-cutter house. I can practically reach out and touch my neighbors' walls. I want a beautiful house with nice furniture and lots of space so I can have people over. I deserve a nice house like ____________ (insert name of friends whose houses I envy). I need new furniture, but can't afford it. My furniture is ragged. Everything in my house is old and worn out. And a pool with a Jacuzzi wouldn't be bad either. Then a maid and gardener would be great too . . . 

I don't get to see my children and grandson enough. I miss them. They live too far away. Other people get to see their children and grandchildren as much as they want. 

Get the picture?

Here is what I should be thinking instead (and occasionally, actually do think) with a heart of gratitude:

Whoohoo! I get to get up and get started on my day! I have the physical and mental capabilities to get and keep a job and be self-supporting. I have the privilege of working in a job I love and find rewarding, in a beautiful building (with air conditioning!), with people who are friendly and supportive and passionate about what they do. Even better, I get to make a difference in the lives of children and therefore, the future of humanity. 

Lucky me! I make a good salary doing what I love to do (see entry above). I make enough money to own a home, pay my utility bills, buy the necessities, and treat myself a little (shoes and books, usually). No one controls my spending except me. I make the decisions about how to spend the money I work for (except for taxes, of course). If I run out of money before the end of the month, I have no one to blame but myself.

I didn't take a vacation this summer, but I have taken some in the past. I haven't been everywhere I want to go, not by a long shot, but I have had the privilege of visiting Ireland (twice), Hawaii (twice), the Pacific Northwest, the Caribbean, Mexico, New York City, Boston, Philadelphia, Santa Fe, and several less glamorous places. Even better, I have taken those vacations with family and dear friends, which makes every trip a cause for joy.

Hmmmm. I don't see anything exciting in the pantry or in the refrigerator. I have several choices. I can eat what is here (because even when there doesn't seem to be any food in my house, there is still actually A LOT of food in my house), or I can get into the reasonably nice, dependable, paid-for car that is just outside my house to drive about half a mile and buy almost any kind of food I want, or I can order something yummy to be delivered to my door with just a few taps on my phone or computer. I do not actually have any fear of starving to death.

My neighborhood is safe and pleasant; no sirens or screaming fights in the street or gunshots or drug dealers on the corner.  What a pleasure it is to come home to a sturdy, comfortable home with air conditioning (or heat).  After I turn on the lights and the ceiling fan, I want to get a cold drink out of the refrigerator and pour it over some ice which magically pops out of the freezer door.  I think I will stretch out on this comfy old couch and watch a little cable TV on the big screen. Or perhaps I will go out on my deck and lounge on the glider (or possibly on the hammock or the chair swing) and relax and enjoy the shade from my 39 trees. Wait, I might prefer a nice, relaxing bath in my garden tub where I can perfectly adjust the temperature of the hot and cold running water. Maybe a little bubble bath and a glass of wine . . .

I am so blessed to have two wonderful, healthy sons, a sweet daughter-in-law, and a beautiful, snuggly grandson. It is great that I get to be with them every now and then. We are so fortunate that we live within driving distance of each other, so we can visit sometimes. And, how wonderful that we can talk on the phone, or text, or email. We never need to be out of touch with each other, and I am so glad that they are still willing to give me their time when they can.  Even more fabulous, we usually actually like spending time together!

Bottom line: Life doesn't owe me anything. I am blessed in so many ways. I just need to remember that, especially when my alarm starts beeping early in the morning . . .

We All Look Alike

By Susan

My aunt and uncle were among the first Westerners to settle in China in the mid eighties when economic doors to foreign investment opened.  They lived in Dalian in northern China, almost on the border with North Korea.  In 1988, Ben and I got to spend a few days visiting them.  One day my aunt took us to visit an old Buddhist temple.  The care-taker remembered her from a previous visit so after greeting my aunt, he pointed to me and asked in Chinese where my baby was.  My aunt responded that we were not the same couple who had come out with her before.  Obviously, I had reminded the man of the last set of guests.  When we returned to the house, my aunt showed us some pictures of her friends who had visited them recently and among them was one of the woman who supposedly looked like me.  To my surprise, she looked nothing like me.  She had blond hair and much lighter skin.  At the time, I had dark hair and have what you would call olive skin.  During our time in China, I realized that we "foreigners" all looked the same to the Chinese.  People even thought my husband, who is of Anglo-Saxon decent, looked like me!

When I tell this story, most people are surprised.  How can anyone think that Ben and I look alike?  But aren't we all guilty of doing the same thing?  Haven't we heard remarks like that spoken about Asians or African Americans or Middle Easterners? That "they" all look alike?  It happens because we don't take the time to really see each other as individuals, as people just like ourselves.  We look at those whom we consider different from us as a lump; all bunched together, sometimes defined only by our prejudices and stereotypes.

The truth is prejudice is a disease.  And it is a contagious disease.  Whether we like it or nor, living in our fragmented world has affected all of us in how we see each other.  But just as in the flu season, when we take precautions to wash our hands and be aware of what we touch, we have to protect ourselves against this disease as well.  So when we catch ourselves thinking of "those people", we can stop and re-examine our thinking.  Ask ourselves: How much do I know about this person individually and how much do I think I know about his or her cultural background that may have influenced the behavior and beliefs that are different from mine? How would I like it if I was lumped together with every other person that belonged to my subset of humanity?  How would people who only know one thing about that subset judge me?

If prejudice is an infections disease, is it possible to inoculate ourselves against it?  I think education is the only effective vaccine for this disease.  And by that I mean an education that recognizes the need for diversity on one hand and the importance of identifying common human principals that we can all strive for, on the other; an education that teaches the minds and the hearts.  It is not easy, and it will take at least a couple of generations to see the results.  But it has taken many more generations to create this problem.  So there is no quick fix.  There are no short cuts.  We must step out of our comfort zones, take our blinders off and extend a genuine and sincere hand of friendship to ALL who cross our path and take the time to look at each other as human beings first.

We think of our tendency to stick to our own kind as human "nature".  It is really our human "weakness".  You can't fight nature but you can overcome a weakness.  We must help each other do this.  Otherwise, the consequences are grave for all of us.