Tricia and the Terrible, Horrible, Very Good Year

January 1, 2017 I normally love the beginning of anything; early morning and a new day, Monday and a new week, September and a new school year, and January and the New Year. I love a new calendar, new pens, and new pencils.

At the end of 2015 I thought, this has been a super tough really rough year. I hope I don’t have another one of those any time soon. Now at the end of 2016, I regard 2015 as easy peasy, lemon squeezy!

At Thanksgiving 2016 we asked one another what we were thankful for the past year. Many things I am thankful for, even though Thanksgiving day itself was an anniversary reminding me of the year’s losses. This New Year’s Day I face the follow up question, “What are you looking forward to this next year?”

At the end of 2016, I dread next year. Not so much something I know and wish wouldn’t happen, but last year got harder in areas I would never have suspected; the very areas that were the subject of thankfulness the year before.

So what am I thankful for in the year 2016?

I made friends with my daughter. We have always been a close family but this year we desperately needed each other. I watched my sweet girl get battered by numerous friends. She watched the same thing happen to me. And so we became friends that understood what it was like to be betrayed, abandoned, misunderstood, judged and hated. When we gave a pat answer the other was quick to point out the pain that caused. We learned to listen to each other without trying to explain the situation, or provide insight. We learned to forgive one another because we both were stumbling around and causing one another pain. We learned to stand together and support one another, even when we were not being nice to one another. We learned that we are not responsible to fix one another. We learned to be quiet with each other.

We learned that Facebook is fake; really fake, having been criticized for being honestly sad in that venue. In fact we learned that Snapchat, What’s App, texts, writing and even phone calls usually make matters worse and that communication is impossible without defending the other person in one’s own mind and believing in their basic honesty.

We learned the healing power of praying together, crying with each other, taking walks and eating ice cream- double scoops.

I do miss the other friends I lost; I won’t deny it. But this year I am thankful for gaining a new best friend, a real friend. And I am looking forward to learning how to be an even better friend, to my daughter and hopefully to others.

(A) BIG Christmas present(s)

It was my best Christmas present ever.

Our first Christmas loomed ahead where our son would not be home. Each time I heard “I’ll Have a Blue Christmas Without You,” I burst into tears- not a fun way to do Christmas shopping. I kept telling myself I would be fine. I would take it one day at a time, one prayer at a time. Ryan would be ok; he would be with family.

I can’t even remember how we got the news. Ryan had been with family at Thanksgiving and they couldn’t imagine him not being with us at Christmas, so they were sending us money for his plane ticket. In a matter of hours what I dreaded for years was averted and Ryan was coming home. No blue Christmas that year. Of all the presents I have received, that one I remember the most, the gift of my son.

I thought of that gift as I opened the gift bag. It was a lovely treat and thank you card. Tears blurred reading the thank you note for hosting a Bible study at our house, a group that wouldn’t meet at our house again for an unknown amount of time. I wanted to be grateful for the gift and the card. But I REALLY wanted my friends to come back to my house.

And that led me to think of the sacrifices in the Old Testament. (Because if you give Tricia an idea, she will be able to immediately come up three unrelated ideas for sure, and if lucky she will have one that IS related.) Over and over God says that what He really wants is peoples’ hearts. The sacrificial system had many intricate parts and significances, but the goal was a relationship with God.

He wants me, not my stuff. As I looked in the gift bag I realized again that what is most precious to the Lord is just being with Him and enjoying Him. And this Christmas I may not enjoy the friends from the Bible study, but I am going to enjoy each person that the Lord does give me. And this Christmas I want to to give all of myself to the God who enjoys my presence as well.

I Can’t Hear You Ch. 1 pt.6

I Can’t Hear You Ch. 1 pt.6

My mom was coming.  We all look forward to her visits.  Doug appreciates mom’s wise listening ear for issues he is facing.  Ryan has someone who will stay up late listening to his current interests with enthusiasm.  Meg has a fellow playmate and craft person and I have a companion to help me get big projects done, including the ironing.  She makes tasks twice as fun and go twice as fast.  That particular fall Mom came for Meg’s birthday and the big project was a making a dress for her dance recital and school ball. 

            The ball gown for a 12 year old, made without a pattern, with requirements by the dance instructor for suitability, and Megan for beauty were the least of our worries. Mom came to the house where the dreaded lurgy was alternately visiting each resident and mom took her turn.   She even managed to pack in enough illness for the months she missed.

            Mom’s reaction to her illness should have been no surprise.  When her mom was a little girl she got the mumps.  At that time people thought those with mumps shouldn’t eat pickles.  Just to prove them wrong my grandma ate an entire jar she heisted from the pantry.  It makes me ill just to think about eating a whole jar of pickles, but it showed her spunky character.  My mom had the same pluck; her motto, “Don’t stay in bed too long.”  She managed to keep up with the ironing, freeze applesauce made from a whole bushel of apples, and get the grapes into juice ready for jelly.  But with each bit of progress in finishing projects, she made twice as much progress toward being really sick.  Eventually our doctor had to make a house call. Doug and I slept on the couch in front of her room; things weren’t going well.  I needed a way to help mom recover and sit still.

            I met with my dear friend, Andrea and shared my dilemma. Normally we would read to one another but the lurgy was having a long-term affect on my voice. In a true act of generosity Andrea volunteered to let me borrow her new DVD’s before she watched them, just to help mom stay seated and give her something to take her mind off of her illness.  Neither mom nor I are big movie watchers.  Usually I iron, sew or do something while I am watching but I knew if I didn’t sit still, mom wouldn’t either. 

            The DVD’s were based on books I love.  Generally I prefer my own imagination.  Mom needed me to sit down, so even if the film was a documentary on bugs I would sit through it just to help her get well.  (I hate bugs; give me snake movies any day.)

            Happily the movies were much better than a bug documentary; making it much more pleasant to sit through an enjoyable series.  With several episodes in each show we spread out the satisfaction.  Mom hadn’t read the books so we had something else to discuss.  We talked about the dramatization, the author and the acting.  The film script was well written, for the most part following the book.  The main actor was an excellent choice with a golden voice and an ability to take the author’s characterization and make it come alive.

            While we sat I caught up on e-mail.  I don’t usually search the web unless we have some illness or symptom about which I need advice.  We must have been healthy for the moment because I decided to look up the leading actor on the web.  I recognized the main actress, amazing given my lack of movie knowledge, but the actor was so perfect for the part that I wanted to see if he had been in anything else and if he was still alive since the movies were older. Plus, I was not reading any books at this time.

            The lead was still acting and had been in quite a few things. He was English; one reason I didn’t recognize him and he did quite a bit of theater work. I looked up his website. It was biographical and I took a quick read through. He had a good turn of phrase and I love words.  It had a current amusing film clip and I love to laugh.  

His website presented him as someone totally different from the character in the movie, meaning he was a good actor. There was a variety of different art and different bits about his life.  When I finished reading, some of the things he said made me wonder if God was working in his life.  Perhaps the lesson from my Bible study was on my mind and I was asking about hearing God’s voice.  I prayed simply if God was working in his life, God would continue to draw him to Himself.

            By the time we finished the series my mom was getting better. Mom got well enough to celebrate Thanksgiving with our friends and us.  We finished our project, including Meg’s ball gown, just in time for Mom to get back on the plane and head home to Christmas with my brother.  The delightful rush toward Christmas, which stops for no man, not even a tired missionary soul, began.

 

I Can’t Hear You Ch1-pt5

Once a week our family tries to have a day to rest. In the winter we play family games, talk, eat, and go to church. Part of the time Doug and I enjoy reading to each other, a habit I learned from my parents and we continued.  When we finished the book we were reading I mentioned my idea to Doug.   Not reading anything but the Bible would be almost as hard as not eating.  I love to eat.  I love to read.  I wasn’t sure how long I would only read the Bible, I figured if I heard God’s voice I could ask Him.

I wish I could say it was a huge success.  I could write a book about how to hear God’s voice by giving up reading, which would be a bit of a paradox. Publishers may not be excited about a book encouraging people not to read.  Instead, reading the Bible alone was just hard.  My soul stayed tired.  Bible reading was daily but nothing especially relaxing and rest days became boring. Worst of all, my head still seemed filled with all the same stuff and no clear voice of God.

I wish I could say it was even a mild success but after about two months, I hadn’t had any grand revelation. I hadn’t heard God’s voice in any new way.  If the saying was true, “If you don’t know what to do, do what you know.” then I knew it was time to try something else.

When I finish a time of not eating I have learned the hard way not to immediately plow through a pizza.  The memory of a certain pizza changed the way I ended a fast forever.   To get back into reading I tried to pick out a book equivalent of healthy eating, a sort of salad for my soul.  I began reading a book Doug recommended, “The Pleasures of God.”

Ah, what a relief to read again.  I was disappointed my idea hadn’t produced an overwhelming feeling of God’s presence and the clear sound of His voice.  Nevertheless, life went on. I was tired to the bone from illness and nursing, and tired to the soul, for some still undiagnosed reason.  When I am exhausted and think I am at the end, things are going to get worse, (the optimist in me) but first they began to look up.

 

American Through and Through

I am an American living in Slovakia. I have lived here most of my adult life. I finally found out that there is nothing I can do to make me not look like an American. I have asked my Slovak friends to give me tips. Through all the cultural anthropology classes, gaining insights on the actions and mindsets of other cultures, through all the lessons on how to love your host culture, and even through countless haircuts and shopping trips, no matter how hard I try to blend, ultimately I cannot. 

I can prove it.  I was at the swimming pool for my regular swim.  I knew the routine. Pay at the small window downstairs for both your locker and your entrance.  Give the attendant upstairs in the ladies’ dressing room your receipt and your deposit for the locker and DON’T try to use a locker other than the one on the key, no matter how close it is the bank of windows that look out on the busy intersection.  Also don’t go beyond her bench with your shoes on.  Fair enough.

I had finished my swim and was back for a shower. I am pretty sure I have been modest since before I was born.  My mom loves to tell the story of our trip to the playground when I was three years old.  Being a particularly hot day, my friend removed his t-shirt.  Appalled I ran to my mother and told her what had happened.  I can almost see a sweet three year old with all the indignation of a 70-year-old spinster.  My mom, completely clueless as to my duress asked, “Would you like me to help you take your t-shirt off too?”

Needless to say, gang showers anywhere still make me nervous (and fast). But as I said, Cultural anthropology classes made their mark and although I didn’t want to blend enough to swim in a two-piece, I did go ahead and shower in the regular way.

As my Slovak haircut was being shampooed by my Slovak shampoo, I heard a voice behind me.  “Oh, your an American?”  (No, I have no tattoos, yet.) I turned my head to see two ladies addressing me in English.  They introduced themselves. (My first naked handshake-hopefully my last.) We talked a bit about living in Slovakia then I made my get away to the locker room. 

Deep in my heart though I was relieved. As much I as I try to blend and fail it is no one’s fault. There is something about me that is as culturally bound to being an American as my birthday suit, and I can’t get out of that.