Coda

Apparently, I've been shaped by academia more than I imagined. Over the past several weeks, I've been "matched" with about 40 men...and, after reviewing profiles and communicating with a few on-line, I'm in the process of meeting 3 people for coffee. I've narrowed the candidate pool to 3; after I meet them, I'll know whether to pursue any of them or whether I should reopen the search.

At this phase, it's humbling and awkward to meet someone in person simply to see if there is any "connection". At the same time, it's kind of liberating to know that you and the other party are doing the same thing. If there's no connection, you simply enjoy coffee and conversation and move on. There is no further obligation.

I'm excited about whom I'm meeting...an academic, a non-profit leader, and a musician. The more exciting thing is that I know, when I meet each, much better what I'm looking for....emotional attentiveness, deep Christian faith, self-awareness, and fun. Someone who knows who they are and will appreciate me for who I am. Someone with whom I can grow and mature alongside.

I've learned much from these "voice lessons". I'm proud of how I've grown, particularly in understanding my own gifts and authentic needs. I've grown to understand the expansive vision God has for me, and for all of us, in relationships with people..with not only a significant other but also the joy of family and friends. As such, this seems like a nice moment in which to bring this blog to a close.

This is not the end of my story of course. It is simply a coda, this movement in the larger musical composition is it at its end. I don't know what is to come...but as I reflect at this moment...I sense the reality of hope and possibility for the musical movements that will follow.

Gifts and the Single Parent

Nurturing a joy for giving is arguably a crucial component for raising a child. Kids learn their life lessons within the context of immediate family. Enter yet another delicate dilemma number for the single parent. Gift giving is yet another one of those areas that is neglected in the Single Parent handbook.

The best-case scenario is for each of the parents to take their child shopping for the other respective parent. Despite our best efforts, sometimes we have to realize that no matter how hard one tries, sometimes our circumstances simply don't rise to the level of "best-case scenario". After all, it's called best case for a reason...at some point, we realize that our scenario is placed on a different point in the bell curve. So, what do we do when we realize our child is craving the opportunity to buy us a present?

I worked with my former husband in the first few years to have Gabe buy the other presents, but that petered out over time. This year, I've had a few clues that Gabe deeply desired the opportunity to give me a gift. The biggest clue was a narrative essay that Gabe drafted in 5th Grade English in which he and his dad went from "store to store" looking for a "neklace for mom" only to be thwarted at each retail stop. When he didn't want me to read it because he was "embarrassed", my heart sunk as I realized the depth of his desire to buy something special for his mom. At the same time, I know that taking him out, giving him money, and having him buy me something special is not special at all.

Enter the greatest gifts of the single parent, those friends who come into our lives and really get it...not only the void in our lives but also the void of our children. My friend Carrie, whom Gabe calls his adopted Aunt, is one of those great gifts. She took my son out shopping for that special Christmas gift, and his great pride in being the giver was evident in his comments as I unwrapped the necklace he'd picked out with a lil' help from Auntie Carrie. He commented, "Wow, that's a shiner" and queried (while really knowing the answer) "Will you treasure it forever?".

Yes, Gabe, I will treasure this wonderful "love's embrace" necklace forever. I treasure the giver beyond all measure. I treasure the blessing I have to be your mom every day, and I wear your necklace each day as a reminder of that blessing. I see your deep joy when your gaze turns to my necklace. I am thankful for you and for who you are becoming.

And, I treasure the gift of friends who surround you and me so that you fulfill the deepest desires of your heart...to be a giver, to bring joy to those you love, to use your resources to bring joy to others.

It's Time

I swore I'd never lose myself in a relationship. And, I'm glad to say, that's largely been true. I did, however, lose this blog in the midst of a relationship.
Two blogs in the first 9 months of this year...the first a breakup in March...the second a back-together in July. I couldn't bring myself to blog when I broke things off on September 1st.

When I told Gabe, he said: "Are you going to get back together?" and I said "I don't think so, honey". He said..."You break up, you get back together, you break up, you get back together...that's how things work!". "Well, that's what I hoped too but it doesn't always work that way", I noted.

It's been a few months and we're doing fine. Gabe keeps asking me if I'm dating someone (No!) and he's on the lookout when we are out..."You Single?", he suggests I ask when I so much as greet a man.

Lest I leave my dating life to my 10 year old matchmaker (whose suggestions thus far include a grocery checker half my age), I should probably get back out there. While I have fantasies of meeting someone in some real-life context, that's just unlikely in my circles, so I am thinking about venturing back on-line. This, however, requires some humbling work....the daunting "personal profile". Here's my first draft...dear reader, would you...if you were a handsome, engaging, intelligent 40 something year old male...find reason to e-wink me?

What a gift to leave myself open to the possibility of a committed relationship in the long term. Getting there means meeting new people and making friends...gifts in and of themselves. I've learned much from past relationships, and trust that I will learn more in the future...both about myself but about the nature of relationships as well.

I have a 10 year old son, who is the joy of my life. He keeps me grounded by making me laugh and reminding me what's important.

I have a diverse group of interests, including reading, theatre, and music. I also enjoy a sports game from time to time, and keep apprised of my beloved Buckeyes.

I am lucky to have meaningful work as a college faculty member. Working with the next generation keeps me young at heart and hopeful for the future.

There is much of life that is made richer when it is shared, and I look forward to making connections that allow me to share both the joy and challenges that life offer.

I Heart A Great Leader

I am not one for "I Heart" anything as a public declaration. We have been inundated with bumper stickers, mugs, hats, license plane frame that declare a wide variety of "I Heart" messages...from "New York" to "My Husband " to "My Terrier". Call me cynical, but they all make me cringe. "Really", I think, "That's just great...any why is it important that you let me know?".

I'm one of the last people you'd find wearing an "I heart" T-shirt, and yet I did so today.....at work.....in front of colleagues and students. It was a particularly worthy cause.

The Messiah College Concert Choir coordinated a tribute/fund-raiser for our College President, Kim Phipps. And for that, I donned an "I Heart K P"...T-shirt. And I did so because I am a big fan of the Concert Choir but also because I really do love the leadership of KP.

I was lucky enough to work directly with and then for her for a number of years and I was blessed with some very real but all too rare lessons in higher education leadership.

KP Lesson One: Invite Feedback Early and Widely. I was terrified of criticism when I began to work for her, but she taught me to see that feedback early was something to be invited not feared. I've learned, as a result, that feedback not only strengthens proposals but also helps to broaden a sense of ownership. It really does take a village...some strengthen through editorial revision..details...while others identify holes in the argument that need to be filled....still others note gaps in the proposal that need to be filled. This process broke down my perfectionism and, equally important, enhanced my productivity. Leadership does not happen in a vacuum. Good leaders don't sit in their offices and craft perfect policies in isolation. They draft...they get feedback....they fix.....they get feedback. In the process, the policies themselves get instituted but the team itself strengthens its work as a team....everyone contributes and sees him or herself as part of the whole. And the proposals get reviewed and critiqued by campus committees in such a way as to make them better. That is the essence of shared leadership and its core purpose.

KP Lesson Two: Encourage Ownership. This is one of those "I don't know how she does it" items, but someone Dr. Phipps creates a broad network of people who are enthusiastic and productive supporters of her vision. In fact, she is a visionary but her vision is crafted in a shared context. Somehow you'd find yourself working on a project that you loved but also knew that it fits into her larger vision. Her vision, too, is permeable...as new and good ideas come to her attention, they get incorporated into the larger whole. There is a strong sense of "we" in serving within her organization. Leadership, if it is to be effective, must be shared in higher education. Otherwise, there is no leading at all.

There are lots of reasons to love Kim Phipps as President, but these are a couple around the theme of higher education leadership that come to mind from my own experience. She's broadened my capacity to lead and fanned the flames of my enthusiasm for Messiah College.....for proof of her influence, look no further than my T-shirt....not to mention the T-shirt of hundreds of students on campus today.

On the Other Hand

There are moments when single parenting/house caring solo makes evident its gifts.

Today's gift: I fixed the shower/bathtub handle.

Big deal? you say. I think not. When things break around the house, it's overwhelming. I have to add rather than subtract from the already lengthy to do list. And I have to triage...what can I fix? what can't I? If I don't immediately know how to fix, can I learn. Outsourcing small repairs gets pricey fast. Moreover, I'm buoyed by my feminist sensibilities.


So, this week the shower handle broke. Argh. It landed in the "I can fix it" category. I removed the old handle and identified the source of the problem...the break in the plastic (this was easy). I took my handle to the hardware store to buy the right replacement. Came home to replace, and bummer...right size but wrong design. Back to hardware store to return.....they don't carry right design. Off to Lowe's. Brought in handle. Found right size and right design. Home again. Followed picture directions on back of package....installed upside down....removed...do over. Wa La. Fixed!

Yes, I felt a sense of accomplishment.

You might see a simple repair, but I see the results of being stretched. If I had a husband to fix these things (which sounds mighty good, I admit), I would not have to stretch myself. I would be able to focus on my own specialties in the house...like laundry and choosing color schemes (my feminist sensibilities are screaming). I would be able to defer to someone else's expertise. In short, I wouldn't be pushed to grow.

Taking care of a house alone is a bit like liberal education in this way. There are things I do not want to do, but they are required in the "general education curriculum" afforded by home ownership. Like the humanities undergraduate who doesn't believe they need to take math or science (that was me), I am forced to learn things beyond those that come easily. I have the opportunity to solve problems...that often at first seem unsolvable...that push me to identify and develop new methods, skills, and capacities.

I am thankful for my own liberal education....for pushing me to learn as the world learns, to enrich my capacity for problem-solving.

I am thankful too that my shower is fixed.

Life Lessons from an Unlikely Source

When I was in 8th grade, I wanted more than anything to be a 9th grade cheerleader. The coveted 6 spots on the cheerleading team were the coin of the realm for junior high, in a town that stopped everything else for football. I made the 12 finalists, and I remember the final try out. I recall most being unable to do the splits, flexibility not being my strength. The day the announcements came over the loudspeaker, I was a nervous wreck. The six names were read. The dozen red roses were delivered to each winner by the previous year's squad. I was crushed to be among the finalists whose names were not read and for whom the roses did not come.

At the end of 9th grade, I tried out for cheerleading for 10th grade...the first year of high school. I don't recall the try out, but again was disappointed in the outcome. In 10th grade, undeterred, I tried out for the Junior Varsity team. And, this time I made it. And I so wanted to be a Varsity Cheerleader my senior year that I asked a previous head cheerleader, Mary Ann, to help me.

I wrote the required original cheer and designed each move. I learned the required cheer, and practiced...and practiced. I showed up for try outs and remember feeling nervous but confident. I belted my cheer and seemed to really wow the judges. At the end of the try out, I was named Co-Captain of the Varsity Squad, which meant I'd scored second highest in the tryouts. I had set my sights on the goal and done all in my power to achieve it, including hard work and finding a coach.

I've often laughed at myself for wanting so greatly to be something which, in my older years, seemed to have little value. In fact, when a friend posted this picture to my Facebook page I commented "So embarrassing, and to think in high school being a cheerleader was my highest ambition". All these years later, I wonder why I didn't just spend my time with the theatre and music crowds...areas where I had obvious talent but were the realm of the "less cool". If only I'd have had the courage to focus on my real gifts at that precarious time in life.

There is one thing I've really undervalued though, a trait that was evident that transcends questions of coolness. I was really determined to become something and I chose not to let limitations like the 'splits" deter me from achieving my goal. Whatever happened to her! In fact, what made me a great Varsity Cheerleader was, in fact, not the splits (which I never could accomplish but in high school became the domain of the Song Leaders) but my ability to command a crowd of 5000. My theatrical ability, along with my persistence, served in my favor. I tapped into my gifts to achieve my aim.

Just last week I was notified that I did not receive entrance into our college's program for release time for ranked faculty to focus on scholarship. And while my notice affirmed my "promising scholarly agenda", the reason for denying my application was that my scholarship thus far hasn't reached the threshold for "meritorious scholarship". I was crushed. I've been a ranked faculty member for 6 months...just six months. In my 20 years as an administrator, I have done some solid writing but apparently not enough. When I uttered my disappointment to a colleague she said confidently, "you will". And I wondered why she so easily turned the corner to my reapplying in the future when I was stuck in the limitations of this particular “no”. At what point did I transition from hearing “no” to mean “not now” rather than “not ever”. When did “no” transition from a moment in which I had yet to display my potential (or others neglect to see it or the fit to be right) to one in which I internalized it to be the final word on my promise and potential.

I am a solid writer, but for a variety of reasons…some my own making but others belonging to external factor…I have yet to display that potential.

Apparently, My journey to becoming a cheerleader…and not just any cheerleader, the Varsity Co-Captain...offers some important lessons as I become a scholar. Now, that is something I honestly hadn’t imagined.

One Great Kid

Today, I was vacuuming and my son thought it'd be funny to scare me. So, he entered the room unnoticed and spit out a high pitch scream. I screamed at the top of my lungs(to his joy)and while I narrowly avoided yelling expletives I screamed some not-so-creative alternatives.."GOSH...DARN....IT". I wasn't happy. I hate when he does this, and I've told him so. It took a moment for my heart's beat to slow, and I said sternly... "Don't Do That! Do You Want your Mother to Have a Heart Attack?!!".

"That's not how heart attacks happen", he retorted, "We learned in science that heart attacks happen when cells die and blood can't get to the heart".

"It's official", I said with a growing grin,"I'm not smarter than a fifth grader".

On the better days...which really are most days...I count the many blessings of spending each of my days with my son. He's great. He's funny. He rolls with the punches of life. And helps me keep perspective.

Parenting Solo

There are days when I say and feel that single parenting is, if not great, then eminently doable. Today is not one of those days.

Today is a big fat reminder that single parenting is a misnomer. Doing it all alone is much more like it.

Gabe came home from his weekend at his dad's tired and cranky. He also came home exposed to a bug from his year old sister, which given his tired system unsurprisingly turned into full on illness. So, when on most days I find the courage and spirit to say it's ok, here's why today it just isn't.

Gabe's headache, fever, and belly ache kept him awake most of the night. My efforts to provide Tylenol, cold compresses, juice, back rubs, and the most soothing voice I could muster kept me up most of the night as well. There was no other parent with whom to team tag so we could each get some sleep, which I imagine gives each a better chance at offering the soothing voice to a sick kid. (I snapped a bit mid-morning). As I feel the bug myself, there is no one to care for Gabe while I rest. And there was no one to negotiate sharing sick-child care with as I considered my busy work day. Gabe had to come to work with me for the one meeting I could not cancel today. The other meetings had to wait.

And then the notion of single parenting doesn't begin to address the taking-care-of-a-household solo realities. As I dragged my sick kid to work, the "malfunction indicator light" came on in my car. Lovely. No one to ask to "take care of that for me". When we got home, I had to take the trash out. After I delivered the 3 bins of recycling and 4 trash cans to the curb....in the rain...I noticed a pile of dirt in the garage. My best guess is a critter had found his way into a new bag of top soil in my garage. Duck taping the whole, placing the top soil in new bag, cleaning up the mess......all mine. Coming into a house that's a mess reflecting my recent whirlwind work travel....during which I depended upon good friends and neighbors to care for my son since his father lives 90 miles away and thus can't host him on school nights. Parenting alone means that I pack not one bag but pack my kid up as well...my travel disrupts his living situation and reminds us both that our family life is not as God designed.

Yes, I know. Really, I do. I am blessed in many ways. I have a job that pays the bills, offers me sufficient flexibility to parent, and brings me meaning and joy most of the time. I have a few friends who help me out....a lot. I should focus on these things; after all, Thanksgiving is just a couple of days away. That reminds me. I have a turkey to buy and a house to clean. Maybe I'll just allow myself the gift of being sad and cranky for a day or so.

Success-ion!

It's been a long few months. To make a long story short, C and I have been up and down and deciphering and trying to work on the relationship. Hard but good work. As I've been hopeful about rerestoring our relationship status [in a non-Facebook sort of way] I've been really concerned about telling Gabe. Unnecessarily so.

When I told Gabe that I'd decided to date Craig again, Gabe said "Cool", with enthusiasm, and added "If you're happy, I'm happy". I replied with "Thanks Hun", and he continued...."I don't want you to be lonely. When I go off to college, although you'll see me everyday during college[at this point he plans to attend where I work], but after that".

I get it. He's 10. He's good with this because it fits his needs. Still, I think it's also safe to reaffirm that taking care of ourselves is one way of caring for our kids. In this case, Gabe intuits that mommy having someone (in addition to him) in her life will alleviate my loneliness when he leaves the nest. And he is right. At the same time, it alleviates his need to be my caretaker. No kid should feel responsible for his parents' wellbeing. I am committed to not placing that weight of the world on his shoulders. I am glad to have his unbridled support as I take responsibility for my own well-being, and to be reminded that, in doing so, I succeed in my commitment to be responsible for his.

The Wisdom of Youth

"When you start dating again, tell me this time.", Gabe declared as we got in our car at the grocery store lot. "I will", I responded."You are older now and can understand better". He is 3 years older, in fact, than when I started dating following my divorce from his dad. It's between two years since he met C. It's been two days since I told Gabe C and I were no longer dating.

Gabe's moving much faster on the idea of mommy dating again than mommy.

Gabe went on. "And this time date someone tall....that'd be awesome....and fun. yeah, I can tell my friends this is my dad and they'll be like whoah.". I asked him what fun was....and he said "he'll take me to the movies when I get an A+ and energetic". Gabe's come a long way in 2 years. There's something in this mommy dating thing for him too, and that's a good thing. C is a good man, but aside from the heighth requirement, Gabe's list betrays C's weaknesses. He didn't have a lot of energy at times and didn't believe in external rewards for grades.

While I recognize that Gabe's list betrays his own perspective and needs, he reminds me that I even though the end of this relationship is a big disaapointment it isn't the end of the story on my finding someone with whom to grow old. Even though I'm not yet ready, perhaps I can begin to hope and even to begin my list. Knowing that Gabe believes now that mommy will date someone means that he is less afraid of losing me, more confident in my deep and undisplacable love for him is comforting. I count that a wonderful sign that he's weathered my first post-marriage relationship rather well. His reminder that there will be someone else for me...someone that fulfills mine and his deep needs...is pure gift.

Another lesson on being attentive

My son stops cold each time we pass a face of a missing child. He has for some time. I don't recall the first photo he asked about, but I recall the panic I experienced the first time he asked about a missing child. How could I explain to him that other children have just gone missing? Even trying to explain required that I consider the traumatic reality that he could be the one missing. Explaining at any level sparked his realization that he lives in a world where kids like him go missing. The walls we build to block out potential trauma in our lives are torn down answering questions like these.

Gabe finds these photos everywhere. The pizza place has a missing child's face on a candy bin where you can drop in a quarter and get a tootsie roll. A similar notice and candy bin is at my hairdressers. The milk cartons. The signs in the grocery store. Everywhere. Too many lost children.

I walk past these pictures most often without even noticing. I've built strong walls; it's easier to be numb than to ponder the depth of such deep losses. Gabe asks few questions when he sees these notices now. I could learn something from his ability to just live with the questions. He simply stops and looks with a deep compassion at each photo. He notices the age when the child has gone missing. He calculates how old the child is today. When we go to our regular places...he heads toward the notices he has seen many times before.

One time Gabe looked at a notice and said, "Mom, this one is still missing". I was struck by my own lack of hope that a missing child would ever be found and yet it was his sincere expectation. Another time he said "look mom....she was found!" and sure enough, there was a notice that a formerly missing child had been found. That's why these notices are around...because in some cases they work. They work because people notice and believe in hope against hope.

Gabe gives these deep losses and amazing occasions for celebration the attention they are due. He pays attention to loss, to joy, to reality, to miracles. And to his lead, I intend to pay attention.

Being Attentive

Today I drove a 1988 BMW convertible. Its historical place obvious in its design. I noticed immediately the bright red line at 55 on the speedometer and the absence of cup holders. The German engineers, I was told, held out a long time before including cup holders in their designs. They firmly believed driving to be its own work....the automobile deserves its rightful attention. I try to imagine a time when driving was about the journey not the destination.

There is no red line on my Accord speedometer, and the days of 55 as the limit for speed are largely gone. We not only have cup holders in our vehicles but also but thermal coffee mugs designed to fit them. The BMW engineers finally capitulated to the market....putting holders in the cars against their will. (The good guys don’t often win when the driving force is consumerism).

Driving is now something that “happens” while we consume a value meal on the way to soccer practice. For longer drives, our vehicles are equipped with DVD players so children can pass the time on the road rather than giving the journey its due.

The reality is we spend most of our lives journeying...far more than we do arriving. We even, sadly, construct our lives in a manner that ignores the significance of the journey. We celebrate the new job but not the multitude of opportunities to grow in our current work. We dance at the wedding but neglect to celebrate the daily milestones that make up a marriage.

Those German engineers were on to something. Life is its own work and deserving of our full attention.

Agent of Rescue

Mary Karr, in the third memoir of her personal narrative trilogy titled Lit, credits her son with saving her life. She was on the path to personal destruction...depression, alcoholism...and the image of her son's life in light of her choices caused her to change. She's apologetic for the pain she caused him on her path to healing, saying, "because of you, I couldn't die and couldn't monster myself, either. So you were the agent of my rescue--not a good job for somebody three feet tall." (p. 5). Her son, dev, was "barely four" when Karr's marriage and mental health simultaneously unraveled. Yes, being the agent of a parent's rescue is no job for a pre-schooler...or anyone.

And yet, I know exactly what that means....for "agent of rescue" fits perfectly the situation with my own son. My young hero, also about 4 at the time at the time of my divorce, was the source of my survival, my motivation for choosing grace over bitterness. Even now I understand why bitterness is the more prevalent route. Motherhood reminded me why the tougher road mattered; without him, I imagine grace may not have won the day.

And it is Gabe, now 9 1/2, who continues to be the agent of my rescue. Divorce is not a clean equation when it comes to forgiveness. There is no once and done; the wrongs just keep comin. Even wrongs contained in the past take on new significance in light of the present. I choose grace because that's what's good for Gabe, and that goodness reflects back on my own healing and renewal.

Maybe it's not so bad for a child to be the agent of a parent's rescue. I'm not suggesting that parents place the weight of the world on their children's shoulders. I am suggesting that we give credit where credit is due...even to pint-size packages. In this life, the fullness of God's truth comes to us in unexpected ways...the upside-down kingdom is at work, and sometimes a little child shall lead them.

Dating and Children

"You have too much make-up on your eyes", he says as she descends the stairs to greet her boyfriend.

The couple sits alone on the porch: NO KISSING!!!!, speaks his body language as he leaps through the front door yelling "Surprise!!".

The couple sits in a private space in the home hoping to converse: DON'T FORGET I'M YOUR GUARDIAN, he seems to say as he sits close, hovering, thereby preventing intimate-speak.

Yes, guardians can be ever so obvious in overprotecting their loved ones, hoping perhaps to keep them closer in the midst of their reaching out to love of a different sort.

It's particularly obvious when the guardian is an 8 year old watching ever so closely over his mom's interactions with her significant other. Seriously, my son watches me and Craig like a hawk. Surprise leaps...intentionally hovering. He seriously critiqued my eye makeup on Saturday.

Gabe knows what he is doing; I know what he is doing; I don't know that he knows that I know what he is doing.

Good news for Gabe. I'm keeping detailed notes for when he starts dating.

Warning Labels

I opened up a package of Chilean Sea Bass this morning. On the package was a sticker: Allergen Warning: Contains Fish. I wondered what this world has come to that Wegman's feels compelled to warn the consumer that a package of fish contains fish. Imagine.

And then I wished for a world, at least momentarily, where warning signs state what at least on the surface is obvious.

Relationship: Warning, this package contains conflict.
Profession: Warning, this package contains uncertainty.
Parenthood: Warning, this package has challenges.

It's not a direct parallel. Allergens to conflict, uncertainty, and challenge are not life-threatening. Naming their inclusion rarely offers an anti-dote to lawsuits.

Still, sometimes I just wish life came with warning stickers. You?

Awed by the Museum

I called my son while he was with his dad on Saturday. His dad answered the phone in a hushed voice telling me they were in a museum and handed the phone to Gabe. I said to Gabe..."Hi Sweetie. What kind of a museum are you in?".

He replied in a hushed and reverent tone..."a long, long time ago museum".

He continued in his 8 year old reverence..."you know about how we learn about Jesus?" and I said "yes". He said..."before that!" And then he said, responding to some exhibit with again a tone of deep reverence, "oooooh..2nd century". I think the "WOW" was implied.

I decided reverence trumped the details of history at this point; it doesn't matter that he knows that the 2nd century is actually post-Jesus. The theology lesson, for that matter, that Jesus is not only "long, long time ago" but also "present for today" also took back seat. In this moment, reverence was enough.

A momentary and second-hand experience of the museum through his eyes proved better than a visit on my own, in which surely I would've toured quickly and without much appreciation for the massive narrative of history that precedes my experience or for the curators who recreate this history on my behalf.

Being Gabe's mom teaches me reverence and joy and mindfulness. I think I realize one of the things that Gretchen Rubin misses in her "Happiness Project"; the gift of seeing the world through the eyes of children, particularly through the eyes of our own children, is a sure route to happiness and its higher spiritual virtue, joy.

Ruminations on the Happiness Project

I finished The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin, yesterday, and I admit it made me happy.....happy to be done.

I picked up some interesting tidbits about happiness research, and appreciated the opportunity to ruminate on my own life. However, by the time I reached her October chapter on Paying Attention, I was mindful that this quick and dirty, one year on the road to happiness narrative was getting on my nerves. My favorite moments were her honesty and self-deprecating humor, such as when she engaged in a "Pollyanna Week" of being 100% positive and snapped at her husband before she got out of bed the first morning. That's real. I can connect with that.

My least favorite was the first of her Twelve Commandments, to "Be Gretchen", which she over-articulated. I love the Socratic principle to "Know Thyself", and appreciate its lesson, but I was really glad it wasn't my own Pollyanna week the umpteenth time she said she needed to "Be Gretchen". It distracted me from her point to be myself...doggone it I'm not Gretchen so how many times did I need to read her reminder to "Be Gretchen". I know she was referencing herself, but "being herself" would have been a better way to say it if her memoir was to ultimately reverberate with both author and reader.

Generally, I appreciated the principles of living a better life but found her continuous cycling back to her Twelve Commandments and 21 Secrets of Adulthood and her Four Splendid Truths rather tiring. Of course, this means I should probably re-read November: Keep a Contented Heart. If I were to engage her recommendation to try my own Happiness Project, maybe I should ask if there is a remedial version.

Still, I think my biggest critique isn't the manner in which the project is undertaken. She admits to having a pretty contented life, but recognizes the value in preparing for adversity which surely comes to us all. I actually take objection to Aristotle's assertion that undergirds her project: "Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence".

The meaning and purpose of life, rather, is growth,learning to love, and being a more authentic agent of God's grace. And when my propensity toward discontent rears its ugly head, it is not its detractor to happiness that is my barometer. Instead, it is the extent to which discontent blocks me and those I am called to love from experiencing God's grace that beckons me to change. And that higher aim, with its two (2...mind you...just 2) great commandments to "Love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength" and "Love Neighbor as Oneself" is probably the only aim of a happiness project that makes me fully mindful.

I guess I reverberate most with Rubin's Twelfth Commandment: "There is only love". Ah, now there is one splendid truth!

Who's Who

When I was in college, I was named to "Who's Who among American College Students". I'm sure I thought I was a big deal.

Who's Who, however, seems to have gotten out of control. Almost weekly I get notified of my "nomination" to be part of "Who's Who among Executives, Who's Who among women leaders? Who's Who among Intellectuals, Who's Who among middle-aged divorcees?"...well, you get the picture. Thankfully, I no longer think "Who's Who" is such a big deal.

Today I received an invite to "Cambridge Who's Who" which went on to describe itself as a "Registry of Distinguished Invividuals". Even if I thought Who's Who was a big deal, an even bigger deal is the ability to spell.

Anyone want to nominate me to Who's Who among Excellent Spellers?

Picturing God's Rescue Plan

I am a big fan of the Jesus Storybook Bible: Every Story Whispers Your Name. The premise of this children's Bible is simple; the entire biblical narrative is explicitly told as promises for God's big rescue plan in Jesus.

Gabe and I read it nightly, well almost nightly, and we have for a few years now. He knows which story is coming. He will pipe in when I read the refrain of God's "Never stopping, never giving up, unbreaking, always and forever love". I enjoy how these timeless narratives are retold to give voice to Jesus' mission on earth as God's mouthpiece to a broken world, or "everything God wanted to say to the whole world - in a person"

A few nights ago, Gabe and I read "He's here!", the Lukan nativity story. The angel Gabriel appeared to Mary, and as I read this story for the umpteenth time Gabe put his arm up to the illustration of the angel and said "he is the same color as me....cool!". Sure enough, Jago the illustrator portrayed an angel with a lovely brown skin tone. Not only does every story whisper Jesus' name, but the illustrator ensured that the biblical narrative included the story of each reader. God's never giving up always and forever love in ethnically inclusive! Cool!

Last night we read "A little girl and a poor frail lady", the story of Jairus' daughter. As Jairus ran past Jesus' helpers, Gabe queried "where are the sisters? It's all brothers". I was stumped. And rather than subject my 8 year old to the gendered context of the early church, I kept on reading reminding myself of the promise of God's rescue plan...a plan that is unfolding but not yet fulfilled: The Jairus story in this storybook concludes: "Jesus was making the sad things come untrue. He was mending God's broken world".

May our brokenness around ethnicity and gender continue to mend...may one day these sad realities indeed be untrue.

Generation Gap Fail

I admit it. I re-entered the world of dating via the internet. I was 41, a single mom, and a full-time employee. It's not as if I had time to attempt to meet other singles in real time. I'm way not a bar person. My church doesn't have a "singles" ministry. And, I mean I was 41 and terrified to date again anyhow. Dating from a distance felt less threatening.

It's not that I didn't think it was weird. I did. And I do. A male friend suggested that I should do it, that I'd get a lot of "hits" on Match.com. I so wasn't into having my picture viewed by perfect strangers, nor did I really want how I looked to be the primary driver for starting a relationship. I tried the 3 month eharmony trial. Actually, I did the trial twice about six months apart. Who knew that a simple change of e-address could give me two free trials? Creative frugality has its perks.

Was eharmony an adventure? You bet. I was matched with the same man in each trial. I guess he hadn't found his 23 dimensions of compatibility match. Hm. He was a skiier and asked me a lot of questions about fitness....and I mean a lot. He abruptly "closed the match" with me in "open communication" when I said I exercised but wasn't obsessed about it. I think he got defensive when I said "obsessed". I didn't get past the multiple choice and 'must have/can't stand' lists with many "matches". Three actually. Two of those I never met. One I did.

I've been dating that one for a year and a half. After a year, we introduced our children. I've met his parents. He's met my mom. We've done holidays together. And, you know what? The fact that we met on eharmony still feels weird to both of us.

I thought perhaps the weirdness of internet dating was pronounced for us mid-lifers. After all, the young adult generation has grown up with the internet. It's probably just part of their world.

I was mistaken.

I was teaching a class of first year college students recently. We were discussed "social capital" in America. One of Putnam's questions is how technology has impacted the state of community in America. I don't know how, but the class dialogue went to internet dating. Simply said, they thought it was totally weird. As I listened to their rants about how bizarre it is to meet people on-line (to which I am sympathetic mind you), I started to smirk. It's not good when a college teacher smirks. Finally, I had to come clean.

I used it as a teachable moment. I admitted that I'd been dating a wonderful man for some time that I'd met on-line. Quickly, the dialogue started to back track. "My aunt met her husband on line; her marriage is great!", etc. And I stopped them. I said, no you have asserted a thesis: "People who date on-line are weird". Now, you have to make a decision. If your thesis is correct, then I am weird. If I am not weird, then your thesis should be modified. And, of course, I affirmed that my being weird is a very real possibility.

The jury on the class thesis is still out. But even if I am weird, I am enjoying the fruits of my odd foray into on-line dating.