remembering

Please allow my knees that touch the ground to speak my sorrow because my voice is not enough.

Please allow my hands that touch my heart to speak my compassion. 

Please allow my lowered head to speak my heart's deepest prayer,

Let there be healing, let there be peace.

Please allow my work to be towards love.

Thick Skin and a Soft Heart

Each morning, I pray.  My prayer this morning was in part, about my children and their school day.  The words "bless them with thick skin and a soft heart" flew into my brain.  I finished the prayer and thought wow.  These four words thick skin soft heart are so succinct.  I've never consciously thought of them together.  I suppose it is possible these two characteristics can be developed at the same time.  And here I thought they were mutually exclusive.

Without over-thinking this phrase too much I will say, this is what I am trying to teach my kids everyday.  This is what I want for them while they are navigating the world, especially in the rough neighborhoods.  This, is the mantra I've been missing my whole life!

With a playful eye-roll my Mom says, "You are a sensitive one, always have been, always will be."  Sometimes I take this as a compliment and sometimes it feels like a burden.  Sometimes my family thinks this is my best quality, and sometimes they think it's my worst.  I couldn't agree more.  If you are sensitive, you know exactly what I am talking about.

So I thought about how to develop a thick skin while maintaining a soft heart. 

What I came up with is so simple it seems wrong, but I'm not sure it is.
In the best sense, a thick skin is something that comes from handling hurts well, with dignity, grace and openness over and over again.

A soft heart seems to be developed essentially the same way but it's about feeling the hurts well, with dignity, grace and openness over and over again.

I need to practice this.

I really feel like saying,
Namaste :)

Paris is a State of Mind

She's crafty...

Actually she's not crafty, but sometimes she can pull something together and even impress herself! Voila! (In the About Me section I asked for forgiveness with typos and such.  I need it now for my missing grave accent.  I spent time trying combinations of keys but couldn't figure it out so pardonnez-moi, and merci.)

My husband and I went to Paris several months ago.  While I was cleaning house I came across the map we used to get around.  Yes, we're old school like that.  I didn't want to hang on to the entire map as a keepsake but I didn't want to give it away either, so I framed an area of the map that was special to us.  Then, I added the patch I bought during a last minute I-can't-get-enough-of-Paris tourist shop visit.  

Just the other day, I overheard a jewelry commercial.  The catch phrase was "Paris is a state of mind."  So I thought about that.  

I was only in Paris for 8 days but I'm very observant, so here's my list of 10 ways to be in a Paris state of mind:

1-Don't carry a Starbucks cup around.

2-Only use your cell phone for phoning and don't even do that.

3-Less is more in the make-up department.

4-Wear nice shoes and don't worry about comfort because that's so American.

5-Fall in love with yourself everyday. NO!  EVERY HOUR!  Seriously, ADORE the heck out of yourself.  Every. Single. Inch and cell.  Let the assurance of your own self worth radiate from the inside out.

6-Contemplate the word "sensuous" and let it become synonymous with life.

7-Don't waste time and personal energy trying to prove you are the nicest, friendliest and most charming person anyone has ever met.  Be kind, assume others know you have a good nature and move on.

8-Slow it ALL down and get comfortable connecting through conversation.

9-And now, the hardest one....ready?.....stay strong.....Don't wear work-out clothes or denim.  Dress yourself as if you are participating in the artistry of life.

10-Wear scarves.  They are practical and flattering.

Au revoir! 

P.S.  Please don't hold back, add to this list.  My Mom and I are the only ones who read the blog anyway. 

Baby, It's Cold Outside

I woke up this morning with hopes of a frosty scene out my window.  At this point, I’m not so concerned about my injured plants, but rather if any random standing water has a thin layer of ice on it!  

Frost!

Ice!

Frosty weather is a big deal around here.  We get that cozy feeling but at the same time a confusion sets in.  Cozy, because we imagine we will light a fire tonight (but we won’t), and confused because we really don’t know how to act in this weather.  Will the roads be slick?  Why are the kids still wearing shorts?  Will this weather last past 10am?  Will I get frostbite if I go for a run this morning?  Is it safe for the kids to bike to school?  Where is my warm coat?  What does my warm coat look like again?

If the ground has a hint of whitish to it, we may hurry and gather our dollar section mittens and graze our fingers against the dirt and try our best to make snow pebbles.  We may even race up to the nearby mountains in jeans and a hoody because trying to find our ski jackets would take too long and we might miss it all.  Some people hike up with discs in tow hoping for one fast ride down.  Usually, by the time everyone is actually awake and dressed, the ice/frost/ “snow” has melted.  It’s so rare when the hills are whitish-ish that some parents declare a personal snow day and let their kids go to school late.  These are the awesome parents.

I remember seeing snow fall, like actual flakes falling from the sky (in my neighborhood) twice in my lifetime.  The first time was with a friend, and we hardly knew what it was.  Is this someone’s laundry lint?  Is Styrofoam falling out of a truck? Is this what acid rain looks like?  Is it okay to breathe? When we finally realized it was snowing outside we didn’t know the proper protocol.  Should we get the camera?  Should we run outside and play in it?  Since we were in our 20s, running outside and frolicking like Buddy the Elf seemed awkward.  So we decided to lean over the balcony and try to catch the snowflake(s) with our tongues.  I may be remembering with rose-colored glasses but I think it was snowing for 15-20 minutes! 

Towards the end of this snowfall I was finally awed into becoming very still.  As I watched the snow fall to the ground at its' peaceful pace, it was as if I were watching-and at the same time sensing-the effect of lullaby to a soul. 

The second time I remember it snowing in my neighborhood has become part of our family history.  My husband took the kids to our gym to warmup in the outdoor hot tub.  While they were relaxed and soaking, it snowed all around them!  I wasn’t actually there with them but I have embedded the image into my brain so concretely, that it's as if I experienced it myself.  And it was magical, I have to say.

It’s certainly not all bikinis and tank tops in Northern California, but a thin fleece jacket works fine for most winter days.  A knit beanie goes a long way with a pair of shorts for the school kids despite their mother’s wishes and laments, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH WEARING A COAT?” “WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE, KIDS WORE COATS TO AND FROM SCHOOL!" 

I love the mild weather changes here but sometimes we and by "we" I mean my kids, long for sledding, snow treks, white landscape, and snow recreation.  It seems there is heart warmth that comes from acquaintances welcoming you inside from the cold.  Even a camaraderie. We miss out on the internal ruggedness that comes from living with real weather.

I took a trip to Chicago one summer and I noticed all of the friendly, colorful clothing people wore downtown.  It was such a contrast from the darkly clad citizens of San Francisco.  Yellows, bright blues, oranges-happy colors I thought.  I shared my observation with the lady at the store counter and she said, "We're all just so excited about summer!"  It seemed to me there was an ongoing summer celebration in the streets of downtown Chicago-a bustling, grateful parade.

So today, I woke up and layered up.  Then I went outside looking for signs of something unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous that would represent the 19degree weather!  Many of us will do this....and then we'll talk about it for days. 

A solid block of ice!

(PG-13) The Gift of Santa

The author, Martha Brockenbrough wrote a letter to her daughter a few years ago and it recently showed up on my newsfeed.  I was inspired and decided it was time to write a similar letter to my children.  I gathered them around the tree in new pjs and hot cocoa.  The scene was not so much Norman Rockwell as it was Target and Swiss Miss, but it was nice.

Dear My-Not-So-Little Children,

I know you know.  About Santa.  And I know you are tired of me going on and on, with vague answers and circular questions like, “I don’t know, what do you believe?”  And I wonder if this might even make you feel guilty for wanting to know the truth.  Perhaps you’ve worried that if you don’t believe in Santa, it might break a little piece of my heart somehow.  Maybe you worry that I won’t put effort into Christmas anymore if you don’t believe in the same way you did when you were younger.  Or maybe you’re afraid of what you’ve heard about non-believers not receiving ANY gifts.

This is all understandably confusing.  I remember being at the same crossroad when I was young.  So I am going to tell you the truth about Santa, but first, I want to thank you for believing for all those years because it made the Season seem magical, and that is a very special gift you’ve given to us.  I also want to thank you for trusting me to bring you through this magical journey of childlike faith.  Dad and I have loved every second of it.  Watching your smiles stretch wider across your faces as you ran down the stairs to a lit tree, looking all around and taking it all in.  You jumped for joy, got happy for each other, made a beautiful mess of wrapping paper and ate candy at 7am.  You always said “Thank you!” and “I love it!” and the room was full of joy, surprise and wonder.  I cherish and love you for believing in me and in Santa; even these past few years when you only pretended to believe. 

The truth is, the gift of Santa was given to Dad and me by our parents each Christmas for many years.  It's the gift of believing in magic and having childlike faith, and we kept it alive by putting it in you.  See how this works?  We aren’t fools for believing, no, quite the opposite.  We are FULL of faith in something good, something that uplifts spirits.  Isn’t that what this time of year is all about anyway, no matter what your religious belief is?

So now, the torch is being passed to you.  The magic of the Season isn’t really something that comes with Santa sliding down the chimney.  It comes with being faithful and thoughtful in a way that celebrates love, life, friends and family.  Our family celebrates by giving, serving, exchanging gifts and baked goods, eating traditional meals with loved ones, believing in the spirit of a generous being who shares treasures with the world, and thanking God for all of it.

This may be the year where Santa lovingly fades from the center of attention and a deeper belief begins to light your Season.  Others may celebrate differently, more quietly, or without gifts at all but with visits or other meaningful traditions.  The details of the Season don’t matter so much, like who celebrates what or who received what gifts.  The Season is simply about having faith, believing in something good, and giving.  Whether people celebrate Jesus, their heritage, a miraculous oil, a jolly figure, or the hope for a kinder humanity, it’s a united Season.

But you don’t need to worry, because I will forever want you to make lists and check them twice and of course I want you to be nice.  I want you to come down the stairs to a lit tree with Christmas gifts surrounding it and stockings full of new socks, chap-stick and lifesaver books.  Only now, we can be open about where the gifts come from.  I want you to share this magic that’s been passed to you like a brand new gift you have for the world.  I hope you continue to discover holiday magic in doing for others, giving to others, in the beauty of winter snow, in the joy in seeing the first holiday lights in the neighborhood against a dark sky, baking cookies, singing and playing Christmas music, and for now, find joy in receiving gifts too, because presents are just another way we say I love you at Christmas time.  Which of course is fun, but sort of silly because you are wise enough to know that presents aren’t love, love is love.

When others believe in Santa, be happy for them because they are developing their magic and faith in the Season that they will someday pass on.  So, you are ready to know the truth about Santa and Christmas magic.  But please, promise to play along with me when I want to set a plate of cookies out for Mr. and Mrs. Claus and carrots for the reindeer, because I just love Christmas!

All our love,

Mom and Dad