tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46113037930787824802024-02-19T11:13:37.680-06:00The Six HansonsLKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.comBlogger901125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-73418072895917404592023-02-22T08:40:00.001-06:002023-02-22T08:40:31.662-06:00William's Twenty First<p> Where to even begin? This year of twenty one for you, the baby of the family, seems poignant. Another threshold crossed. As with your siblings, this will be the last of the public birthday letters for you and a poetic rambling of sorts for me. Here's to you and your year of twenty one. May it be full of magic and wonder, and enough. I love you so, William Jared. Happy Born-Day to you!<span> <span> </span></span></p><p><span><span><br /></span></span></p><p><span><span>candles blown out, wish released into the universe</span></span></p><p><span><span>you are the wish I didn't know I held</span></span></p><p><span><span>a piece of my heart wandering outside</span></span></p><p><span><span>tenderness so deep</span></span></p><p><span><span>harmony and rhythm,</span></span></p><p>time expanding as is the understanding </p><p>and curiosity</p><p>a reaction, intense with passion</p><p>burgeoning wanderlust and seeking</p><p>always on the precipice, inching closer and </p><p>leaping beyond</p><p>loved and adored and held</p><p>enough, as you are</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span><span><br /></span></span></p>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-18803390042899188842022-12-06T15:40:00.000-06:002022-12-06T15:40:30.705-06:00The Last Letter for Lane<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">Delaney Lucille, twenty four years old. Yes you are. Married. Your year of 23 was a big one, indeed. All your accomplishments, professionally, a promotion a career experience and the move to a different store. Those alone would make for a full 365 days. And yet, there was more for you. A wedding. Marrying TJ and becoming a wife. I name the big, the known, the seemingly life altering transitions where thresholds were crossed. There is so much more. Moments existing within your inner landscape. The places where, perhaps, lessons were learned, care and awareness integrated, time stood still, or whirred past, those are for you alone.</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">I celebrate you. Your born day. All of you and the magic within. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue";">So here you are, the last of these public birthday letters, for you. I love you to the moon and back, dear daughter.</span></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>a rush of fury, fierceness and fire</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>your cells within me,</p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span> <span> woven into my being</span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span> <span> <span>connected as we are, I opt for tethered</span></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span> <span> </span></span>sensitive and tender, a seer</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>seer of those at the fringe</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I wonder, do you see you</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>magic and stardust</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>bold, timid too</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>jubilant, joyous, </p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>love and lover</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>seeker of knowledge</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>listener, leaning in </p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span> <span> uncertain in independence</span></span><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span><span><span> <span> needing others</span></span><br /></span></span></p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>unfolding into yourself</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>and tethered, always tethered</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>to me</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>my heart</p>
<p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></p>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-8329876778300532852022-09-13T06:56:00.000-05:002022-09-13T06:56:29.989-05:00Gillian is Twenty Two<p> Given this is the last year for these birthday posts I have been lamenting over the words I choose for each. That might be obvious as it is September and I am just now finding the space to write to Gillian, who's birthday was in May. Oof. The story is becoming less mine and more theirs. Independence and autonomy reign. And still there is a tenderness with each passing year that I find documents my becoming as much as theirs. The way of motherhood. When a human's cells are literally intwined with yours and remain in you even once the other has left. Carry on. </p><p>Twenty two years old. Gillian, the pages continue to turn and the story you are telling with your life is brutiful. Honest. And yours alone. I hope with each passing day you are able to continue to see. To see all of you. To bear witness. Knowing that you are seen and you belong. That you have enough. That you believe you are enough. Everyday and always. May you be wrapped in love and filled with peace, surrounded by gentleness and guided into your year of twenty two with expectation for all that awaits. </p><p>I love you more, Mom x</p><p><i><b>For You</b></i></p><p><i>it is hard and messy work, this living a life</i></p><p><i>sacred and holy work to be wholly yourself</i></p><p><i>with trepidation and tenderness </i></p><p><i>skepticism and curiousity</i></p><p><i>love of self, worth </i></p><p><i>acceptance and embodiment</i></p><p><i>baited breathe and baby steps</i></p><p><i>discovering the cotton candy cloud to be joy</i></p><p><i>starlight to guide</i></p><p><i>a setting sun the horizon to fall into</i></p><p><i>and the full moon to be honored</i></p><p><i>you, you are a masterpiece</i></p><p><i>live, live, live</i></p><p><i>scoop it all up and carry on</i></p><p><i>with only that of your choosing</i></p><p><br /></p>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-63612839874083814982022-02-22T11:27:00.000-06:002022-02-22T11:27:05.359-06:00The Eldest is One Quarter Century Old<p> Here we are, twenty five years old. Or rather, here you are. Standing on the precipice of your twenty fifth year. Given that you are the eldest child this milestone seems especially significant, perhaps because you are the first of my children to reach this age, or maybe because your twenty five years have been filled with firsts, and were all my firsts as well, as your Mama. A title I will never tire of. </p><p>As you venture into this year I've been contemplating when to end these letters, or at least the public version. I have come to the conclusion that this is the year, twenty five will be my full stop for public consumption. Don't fret, my words are voluminous and will continue to flow with each and every milestone and birthday and all the in-between. Entering adult years and living your life outside of our walls, independently and privately, I feel it only the next right thing to allow you to do so and to allow you autonomy and choice in who you share my words with. Given all that, this year will be a poem, if you dare categorize it as such. Thoughts on the day you entered this world, a glorious, lightening strike of a day. </p><p style="text-align: center;">A dark head of black hair on my bare chest</p><p style="text-align: center;">deep eyes, drinking me in</p><p style="text-align: center;">flaky skin touching mine and the world kept spinning,</p><p style="text-align: center;">spinning and my heart cinched and opened and bled</p><p style="text-align: center;">all the love pouring out </p><p style="text-align: center;">you trusted and knew me before I did, </p><p style="text-align: center;">still do</p><p><br /></p><p>I love you Sunshine Girl. </p><p>Mama Xx</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-63941445345049040792022-01-21T08:55:00.002-06:002022-01-22T00:31:36.648-06:00No Longer a Teenager! <p> William,</p><p>Our man child. Today you are Twenty. Two. Zero. No teens. Another decade lived and a new stage of adulthood. Whoa. Once again you celebrated this day in Vienna, without us and surrounded by your people there. I am grateful for those people. I miss you dearly and I am confident you are exactly where you are meant to be. </p><p>What a year 2021 has been. Another shoulder surgery. Yes, same arm, nearly the same incident. Only this time your procedure was done in Vienna. Thank goodness for Sarah, your caretaker and translator throughout the entire process. She sent updates and photos, both of which did wonders for my Mama's heart. You've recently signed with a new football club, ASV 13. This is exciting news! You spent the month of July stateside. Catching up with friends and spending loads of time with family. Embarking on a quick road trip with Alex and reconnecting and training with an old friend. Sarah and you spent a weekend at a therme, quite the experience. Or at least I assume so from the FaceTime call and the photos you shared. Seemed like a rather posh resort. Apparently you are back on your skateboard, which I am not all that thrilled about. The work situation remains the same and while Dad and I were in Vienna in October we were able to witness you in this element. Where the goods are packed, the shipping hub and all the behind the scenes magic. What a privilege that was. We also watched you on the pitch. Running with abandon. Dominating the ball. Creating plays and space. Mostly though we noticed the belief in yourself and the renewed passion you were playing with. It was tangible. You found yourself on the other side of the pitch for the first time since refereeing. Whoa. Coach Will. The middle school team at ICSV hired you as their head coach. What a season it was, with COVID restrictions and an unpredictable schedule. As the coach, you were managing parents, tween-age kids and everything in between. How rewarding and stretching and difficult and wonderful. For Dad and I, we were thrilled to be able to see you at the touch line. Hands behind your back. Encouraging your players. Projecting your voice to offer options and ideas. Clapping along for the choices made, or maybe in hopes of motivating a different outcome. A parent of one of your players and a dear friend of mine shared their perspective on you in this role. It was positive and filled with accolades for the connection you established with each of your players. The way in which you spurred them on and of course for your direct nature of communication. I received those words and I must say I was proud. I am proud of you. </p><p>As an aside, you and Sarah were gifted a television recently. I remember you calling us after said purchase and sharing your thoughts on this electronic wonder now hanging on the wall in your apartment. To begin with, I do think your tele might be larger than ours. Anyhow, you told us how "grown up" you felt. Having your own television. Hanging it on the wall by yourself. Being responsible for the programs you choose to watch. Etcetera, etcetera. While a seemingly insignificant milestone, I thought it was rather interesting the feelings this purchase evoked. Life surprises like that sometimes. Whether it be a television, first apartment, a doctor's appointment we drive ourselves to, the first time we travel alone or pay a utility bill. Welcome to adulting William Jared. </p><p>In your last year you have no doubt navigated countless transitions, learned more about friendship and true connection, unraveled a belief system you were born into, looked deep into your values and mined through the messiness of living a bold, unapologetic life. Bravo. And big exhale. This, I imagine, will be a recurring theme for the remainder of your years. How beautiful. Friendships were strengthened, challenged. Some faded away. Others reemerged. The self discovery continues. </p><p>In this year of twenty I am most looking forward to watching you grow. For learning and unlearning, becoming and unbecoming. Your soul is beautiful and tender and evergreen. Tend to it this year ahead. Take time to be spontaneous. To rest. To read and listen closely. Stay bold. Use your voice for those that cannot. Or those that are not heard. Advocate for yourself and those you love. Stay connected. Do not betray YOU. </p><p>For all left unsaid, unshared. The moments guarded and for you alone. I toast you and this new decade with a poem. Because, as I've said before, there are times when someone else's words say it best. This might just be one of those times. </p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Rumi's Little Book of Life</b>:</i></p><p style="text-align: center;">The senses are tools of the mind </p><p style="text-align: center;">and the mind is the tool of the Spirit.</p><p style="text-align: center;">When the mind becomes confused, it is </p><p style="text-align: center;">Spirit that brings back clarity and harmony.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Our desires and thoughts spread over the soul </p><p style="text-align: center;">as weeds spread over the surface of a pond.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The ego thrives in muddy water while </p><p style="text-align: center;">the mind needs clarity and transparency. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Let the mind become the master </p><p style="text-align: center;">and the senses its obedient servants.</p><p style="text-align: center;">A master who puts his senses to sleep is able </p><p style="text-align: center;">to perceive the unseen emerging from Spirit.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Even in his waking state he dreams, </p><p style="text-align: center;">dreams that open the gates to Divine Truth.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>And one from Nikita Gill, because the words feel like a manifestation for your upcoming year of twenty...</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><b><br /></b></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Hymn For The Future</b></i></p><p style="text-align: center;">May you always know pain </p><p style="text-align: center;">as temporary and laughter better.</p><p style="text-align: center;">May the universe bless you</p><p style="text-align: center;">with the perseverance to try harder.</p><p style="text-align: center;">May you build a kinder history</p><p style="text-align: center;">than the ruins you were given.</p><p style="text-align: center;">May the greatest gift you receive be more </p><p style="text-align: center;">than just a life, but a life where the world is safer,</p><p style="text-align: center;">a life so full of love and joy </p><p style="text-align: center;">that it is worth living. </p><p>I love you so,</p><p>Machupichu x</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-55530718285618730342021-12-03T10:50:00.003-06:002021-12-03T10:50:29.838-06:00Three months, a lost stocking and a Christmas surprise! <p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Three months in. It seems as though these “catch up” or mark the timeline posts are all I can manage. Call it a rut, writers block, overwhelm or languish. The fog is present and the words do not come easily. Yet, here we are. Three months in Austin. No, I do not know my way around without my GPS. I do have a favorite taco truck though, so there's that. We've met a few neighbors. Mostly the ones with dogs that happen to love the grass we have in our front yard. I am not enrolled in classes. I've purchased a bike. Found greenway trails. Acquainted myself with volunteer opportunities. Attended a non profit org event and heard the two women from the podcast, "Pantsuit Politics" speak. Felt totally out of place and odd. New doctors, dentists, chiropractor and the like have been found and vetted. Mostly. Our little house has been decorated for the holidays and ever present is the fact that we, meaning, the six of us Hansons, are somewhat scattered. Two in Nashville, three in Austin and one in Vienna, Austria. This is not new news. Somehow, though it feels a bit more poignant right now. As in, my heart is aching. For all of their laughter. The sibling shenanigans. Loud, chaotic dinners and competitive game nights with all the trash talking and antics. Well, that doesn't necessarily cover the purview of a relocation catch up. And it does in some way feel so relevant too. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Christmas music is playing in the background, the tree is lit and a candle is flickering, sending notes of pine into the atmosphere. Hot coffee with eggnog creamer sits next to me and paper whites stretching towards the sun are displayed upon the counter top. A tradition that I can't seem to let go. We grew them every year when our growing up adult children were littles. We'd place them in a glass dish with a few rocks so they could watch the roots of the bulbs take hold. Always planted around Thanksgiving time, they would bloom near Christmas. The delight of watching something grow and change is a feeling I don't want to lose. Ever. A theme, perhaps, for this season I find myself in? Possibly. Or maybe just an aging mother's nod to nostalgia. Either way, I am here for it. For welcoming all the feelings and memories. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Including the deep sense of loss I have over my childhood stocking being lost in our recent move. There are few material possessions that I hold dear. Truly. I have purged and tossed, recycled and shared countless belongings, including books, throughout the years. Mostly due to downsizing, our constant moves and the desire to live a more minimalist lifestyle. These Christmas stockings were hand knit by my grandmother. Everyone in our family has one. They became, over the years, a rite of passage within our family. Jared was gifted one when we were married. Each of our children had one for their first Christmas. Framma, my chosen name for my grandmother, as I was the first grandchild, developed this pattern, made it her own and her adeptness with the yarn is evident in each and every piece she's crafted. These stockings are central to our celebration. My favorite memories of Christmas morning revolve around bulging stockings lined up and the squeals that filled the air as each little treasure was unwrapped. Or, Jared and I sipping on a cocktail, watching Christmas Vacation while wrapping each and every gift to fill the stockings. Tedious, yes, unforgettable? Also yes. To this day, as a forty three year old adult, I look forward with sickening joy to my stocking being filled. The only gift I ask for every year is that; a stuffed stocking. There is the context, now the story of loss. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am by no means a newbie as it pertains to the relocation process. I am familiar with the emotional preparation necessary to sustain me on both ends; the packing and leaving as well as the receiving and unboxing in the new location. After recent consideration it has been determined that this was our twelfth move in our twenty four years of marriage. Whoa. Every time has been different. Unique circumstances and why's. Anyhow, here we were. Day one in our new home in Austin. Movers had arrived. Coffee procured and the chaos ensued. The unloading and checking boxes and furniture was simple enough. That is until our dining room chairs were brought in with Christmas stockings on them. I know for certain that those stockings were packed away in their designated Christmas decoration container at the end of the season 2020. Caught a bit off guard, I picked them up, counted them and realized there were only four. Not good. The Christmas decorations had been brought in already and so I ran to them and found one more stocking. After rummaging through each and every article in the two containers I came to the conclusion that my stocking was missing. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I will admit here that my heart began to race and a slight twinge of panic was making itself known. We asked the movers to have a look in their truck once everything was cleared. No luck. A decision was made by Jared, who obviously is way more logical than I, to wait on declaring the stocking lost until each and every box was unpacked and sorted. Fine. And not fine. The two of us went to task, taking inventory, unpacking and organizing. Still, no stocking. A call was made to our relocation contact and assurance was offered that they would search and do their due diligence, confident my stocking would turn up somewhere. Again, no luck. We realized the Christmas container was cracked and the lid wonky, thus the culprit for this misfortune. Well that, and possibly the lack of care taken by said movers, transporter, etc. The list goes on. Several follow up calls were made. An explanation attempted to convey the importance of my loss. Repeatedly Jared was asked for a monetary amount needed to replace my stocking. Umpteen times I heard him say, "I don't think you are understanding, this was like a family heirloom. Knit by my wife's grandmother, who is since deceased. It cannot be replaced. The only feasible compensation is to FIND the stocking." Given the extensive experience I have garnered with moving companies and such, my typically optimistic nature was squashed. It came as no surprise when our contact called back to inform us the stocking could not be located. Insert expletives here. All of them. I feel they are appropriate and allowed in situations such as this. And that is the story of how my Christmas stocking, the one that has made an appearance for forty-ish years of Christmases, would not be a part of our tradition this year. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The story does not end there. Of course it doesn't. Framma left this earth three years ago. There had been ongoing conversation amongst our family as to whom would assume the stocking responsibility. I had wanted to. Yet I never took the time or made the effort to learn from Framma. The pattern itself is difficult to read. Never mind that I don't even know how to knit. I grieved this loss for a while. Without her my motivation was lacking. I longed for that connection to her. With her. A tiny piece of me holding out hope that the stocking might turn up unexpectedly. Found by some kind hearted stranger in a warehouse or something like that. A Hallmark movie ending for sure. Alas, that has not been the case. I had shared this story with my Mom. Knowing that I would find comfort in my mourning by someone who understood the magnitude of this loss for me. To clarify, I was, ahem, I am grateful that Jared's and the kiddos' stockings were not lost as well. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Anyhow, my Mom shared that one of her childhood friends had interpreted the stocking pattern and actually made one recently. That sounded promising. Although for some reason I did not pursue further. I did, however, take to the internet with my fingers crossed, in hopes of finding a similar pattern. Practical thinking was not leading this charge. There was just over a month until Christmas and with no knowledge of knitting or the like, it would seem rather unlikely to have a stocking to hang. Irregardless I purchased a pattern, at the suggestion of my Mom, she sent me the link and everything. Upon opening I was immediately discouraged. If I had thought the prospect of learning German was difficult, the symbols staring at me in the shape of a sock might as well have been Latin, Russian, or any other language I am utterly unfamiliar with. A makeshift, mismatched, stocking purchased at some big box store would be the only plausible solution. Or maybe, no stocking at all. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I had resigned myself to this fact as I hung only the five stockings this year. Sadness. Again. That grief monster, so unpredictable, and usually uninvited as well. The thing of it is, as I stared at those stockings hanging, with the names of those I hold most dear, my favorites, sadness quickly morphed into gratitude. What a gift that I had been able to hold this piece of my Framma for so many years. That her memory lingered in each and every piece of thread. Her love. My children knew her and still have that piece of her with them. As do I. Stocking or no stocking. Here is where I landed for this Christmas. Until an unexpected package arrived in the mail. I recognized the handwriting immediately: my Mom's. Because I am like a child when it comes to snail mail I ripped open the envelope without hesitation and discovered, you guessed it, a new stocking. Hand knit by my Mom's friend and made just for me. Same and not the same. The colors are bit different, the lettering larger, other little details are off too. However, there are now six stockings hanging and a permanent smile on my face every time I see them all. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">While the stocking rabbit hole was not an intended piece of my three month recap, it is a window into our lives and hearts at this moment. Scattered, grateful, weary and hopeful. Transitions are always, for me, a sacred mess of emotion and opportunity. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue;">I am becoming more smitten with our community garden daily. Rows and rows of wildly delicious greens, which we picked for a salad when we had a house guest a few weeks ago. There are herbs everywhere and wild flowers and peppers and cruciferous veg and garlic and a random artichoke and I just can't help but smile whenever I find myself in that space. The free library that stands on the curb just outside the garden is a regular stop for me as well. I've shared puzzles there and checked for books and watched with pure joy as a little and her grandmother carefully chose a treasure one morning. The squirrels in our trees are still ever present. Christmas lights are being lit and houses adorned with festive cheer. Nighttime walks to bear witness to this all are a favorite. I have pinecones and a candle on our porch and reading late afternoon or early morning out there is a sweet addition to my daily rhythm here. Sometimes there is a refrain on loop in my mind, playing that old narrative, with the same worn out, useless words...should and more. Those are neither helpful or necessary. So naming the daily practices, the simple delights and the tender, complicated pieces of change and new and the whole of it all is soul good. </span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Resuming recap now. Jared's new position is going well and continuing to be both challenging and rewarding in all the ways. He is still working from home, in our tiny little office/guest bedroom/storage room. It works for us. Or rather, for him. A month ago he had knee surgery, which was successful and he is on the mend. Huzzah! He'll be resuming German lessons in the New Year and I might finally join him. Of course not in his class, we're back to the basics here. I can't speak to Gillian's transition or what that has been like for her. I am able to share that we're enjoying having a grown up kid roommate. Most of the time. There is so much togetherness. Which usually we all enjoy. There have been cribbage games after dinner and a partner for me to explore all the cafes with, a hiking buddy and adventurer and yes, another person to help with chores and such. Her presence has shifted the dynamics in our household and I really like seeing her face on the daily. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In conclusion, these past three months have flown by. And yes, I am keenly aware that time is actually not moving faster than it did the day before, the year prior or even then it did ten years ago. I am, however, cognizant that as I grow older the minutes and hours, days, months and years seem to be fleeting. Why exactly is that? These three months have sped by and also felt like an entire year was lived in that span of ninety-ish days. </span></p>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-2106434811502673932021-10-22T07:14:00.004-05:002021-10-22T07:19:52.059-05:00Another Birthday, Another Letter: Twenty Three for Delaney!<p> Dear Daughter Delaney, </p><p>A month later and I find myself sitting in a coffee shop pondering your year of twenty two. I was with you, like in person, this year for your celebration. We ate all the food. Drank all the wine. I watched you indulge in some frivolity at your favorite restaurant and we all sang loudly as you blew the candles out. I found myself recounting past birthdays for you. Your chosen thematic parties. Topping the list was the dinosaur extravaganza. Complete with a fossil dig in our sandbox, pin the tail on the T-rex and dinosaur egg party favors. It was memorable. There was the Justice party, makeovers and fashion show included, and each and every year a different treat chosen as the vehicle for your candles. You know how to celebrate. What a gift that is. And I do so love celebrating you and your life. </p><p>There was a weekend full of your favorites. Coffee. Brunch. Shopping. Movie watching and cuddles underneath cozy blankets. Exploring plant shops and planting new plant babies. Witnessing you, in your home, with your partner was sweet. Taking in all that is this new season for you and me and this mother daughter journey is overwhelming. In all the ways. Like, literally I find myself stopping to catch my breath and take it all in. Sometimes there are moments like that. Your birthday was full of those for me. </p><p>The year of twenty two was life altering for you in countless ways. Perhaps, most notably was your engagement to TJ. A job promotion with the Apple. Leaning into activism and ally-ship. Engaging in difficult conversations and using your voice in a way that only you can. Yet another knee surgery. A move into a new apartment and living arrangement. You helped plan your friend's wedding and were a bridesmaid for the first time. A new to you car was purchased. You voted in a presidential election. Protested at our state's capital, numerous times. Traveled to Puerto Rico and swam with the bioluminescence. Took in countless sunsets. Purchased a wedding dress. Saw some live music. And in between the highs and lows you lived your life. Learning to not disappoint yourself. Becoming self aware and taking care of you. What a year. </p><p>When I see you, my daughter, I am in awe of the beautiful human you are. Right in this very moment. As you are. Simply because you are you. Carrying the divine. Fierce. An extrovert. Fully embracing all that is offered to you. Kind and honest. An empath. And I do so hope these qualities remain within. For this year of twenty three a poem for you. Because there are times the words of others say it best. Mary Oliver's, <i>Wild Geese, </i>is one such collection. I return to this poem often, especially so when birthdays are near. As you read these lines, may they seep into your soul, speaking to you in a way only you understand, offering you a gift for your year ahead. Here's to twenty three Laney Lu and this next spin around the sun, may you enter it wrapped in love. </p><p>I love you to the moon and back, </p><div style="text-align: left;">Madre xo</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><table style="color: black; text-align: center; width: 450px;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span><span> </span></span></span><b style="text-align: left;">"Wild Geese"<br /></b><i style="text-align: left;">You do not have to be good. <br /></i><i>You do not have to walk on your knees<br /></i><i>For a hundred miles through the desert repenting.<br /></i><i>You only have to let the soft animal of your body<br /></i><i>love what it loves.<br /></i><i>Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.<br /></i><i>Meanwhile the world goes on.<br /></i><i>Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain<br /></i><i>are moving across the landscapes, <br /></i><i>over the prairies and the deep trees,<br /></i><i>the mountains and the rivers.<br /></i><i>Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,<br /></i><i>are heading home again.<br /></i><i>Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,<br /></i><i>the world offers itself to your imagination,<br /></i><i>calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and <br /></i><i>exciting-<br /></i><i>over and over announcing your place<br /></i><i>in the family of things. <br /></i><b>- Mary Oliver</b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-27568495245060623952021-05-13T07:15:00.000-05:002021-05-13T07:15:57.416-05:00For Gillian on her 21st Birthday<p> <span style="font-family: georgia;">Twenty one seems like a significant birthday, particularly here, stateside. While the mystery of alcohol isn't present for you, there are other reasons I deem this day, your birth-day important. To begin with, it is the day you entered this world and offered your light. Goodness, I am so grateful. The year of twenty was fairly full, as life typically is. To offer a synopsis here doesn't seem appropriate this year. I do feel as though a poem might better serve that time and the looking ahead to twenty one. Your story is yours to share. My words are for you, yet delivered in a public space. Please remember that I love you more. You carry the divine within and embody all that is good. Simply because you are you. Everywhere and always. You are beautifully you. So, happy twenty first birthday dear daughter. May this next year wrap you in love, carry your dreams delicately and bear hope and witness to all of you and your journey. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Here is a poem by Nikita Gill. Because yet again, her words are an offering of wishes and hopes and desires for your year ahead and everyday thereafter. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><i>The Ocean You</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;">Every time you think you are broken, </p><p style="text-align: center;">know this: you are never really breaking. </p><p style="text-align: center;">No one can break an ocean,</p><p style="text-align: center;">darling, all you are doing,</p><p style="text-align: center;">is breaking the glass that is holding you back,</p><p style="text-align: center;">diving deeper into your own depths, </p><p style="text-align: center;">discovering yourself in pockets </p><p style="text-align: center;">of the most somber waves,</p><p style="text-align: center;">rebuilding your heart with coral, </p><p style="text-align: center;">with seaweed, with moon coloured sand dust.</p><p style="text-align: center;">So stop trying to hold yourself back inside that glass,</p><p style="text-align: center;">it was never meant to hold you.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Instead, break it, </p><p style="text-align: center;">shatter it into a thousand pieces...</p><p style="text-align: center;">and become who you were meant to be,</p><p style="text-align: center;">an ocean, proud and whole. </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-47877904552501311812021-03-04T16:05:00.001-06:002021-03-04T16:05:41.935-06:00My Birthday <p> My forty third birthday. And an unusual one at that. I felt celebrated and seen and so deeply loved. That's a beautiful thing, you know. To be honored in such a way that your life is deemed important, worthy of a party. The gathering was intimate, my favorite people, sans William, around the table, glasses raised and dishes of Israeli food shared and passed. Our laughter filled the room. When the laughter subsided and our smiles faded, the conversation continued. I made a wish and blew out candles. A nostalgic cake was enjoyed. Presents opened, cards read, games played and the candles melted late into the night. It was one of those evenings where I gave the clock no attention. No one noticed the glasses refilled and emptied again and again, and the dishes remained in the sink until the following morning. Needless to say, the very best. </p><p>After all the goodness and life settled again I reread the card Jared wrote. Sometimes I find myself doing that. Tucking away the handwritten notes and reading them once more. Savoring the gift that words can be. In lieu of my traditional year in review, Jared wrote one for me, in my birthday card. I'll share it here. Because what your person sees in you is important to acknowledge; And is oft missed while you're in the midst of living that one, wild and precious life. So here it is, Jared's version of my year of forty two. In partnership with a few of my own additions.</p><p>* another international move</p><p>* managed change in routine with covid closeness</p><p>* took a hard stand for racial justice and the future of our girl</p><p>* flexed your protest muscle</p><p>* challenged the notion and expectation of family</p><p>* bailed our girl out of jail</p><p>* took care of our girls in need</p><p>* started the journey of taking care of yourself</p><p>* restarted your university journey </p><p>* relocated our boy back to Austria</p><p>* celebrated birthdays and holidays differently</p><p>* handled the ever changing plans to visit William</p><p>* almost forgot your Tik-Tok dance moves</p><p><i>Added by me:</i></p><p>* published my first two articles on sites other than my own blog</p><p>* went one entire year without being on an airplane</p><p>* baked my first loaf of sourdough bread</p><p>* found pieces of myself I didn't know were missing</p><p>* earned a spot on the Dean's list</p><p>* became a plant mom</p><p>* changed my mind about countless "things", again and again</p><p>Whilst I know a year lived is filled with so much more than what is represented on this page, I will say this does offer a broad covering. Edited and revised. No fluff allowed. Real and raw, transparent and dealt in silver linings. Forty two was indeed brutiful. I am ready to embrace the universe's offerings for forty three. Whatever that may be. May I find myself dealing hope and staring in awe at the expanse of love. Humbled by those around me. Prepared to encounter the new. Living in the brutiful chaos that surrounds. Staying close to my intuition. Finding ways to be uncomfortable and pressed and refined. Being me, always and everywhere. And inching closer, daily, to the very best me I can be. </p>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-67700977907633817302021-02-22T19:25:00.001-06:002021-02-22T19:25:40.700-06:00Twenty Four for Our Eldest<p> Makenzie Jean. You are twenty four years old. Translation for me, your Mama: twenty five years ago I discovered I was pregnant with you. A quarter century and here we are. But a blip on your journey. Our journey. A milestone, nonetheless. One that is deserving of documentation and celebration and more letting go. </p><p>This past year was filled with transition and monumental moments. Beautiful memories and those that brought pain and heartache. And grief. Healing and self discovery. What I witnessed in your life was brutiful. Inspired presence emanated and you offered that to the world around you. Relationships, personally, both familial and within your social circle, morphed and left and arrived. Doors were opened. Windows closed. </p><p>These words may seem cryptic and metaphorical and I suppose they are. To some extent. My agency is limited here. I spin the words and craft the narrative. You live the story. The becoming and unbecoming. Searching for your touch tree, (thank you Glennon Doyle). Reading poetry. Scanning pages of ancestral history. Holding space and listening to the voice within. Folding into and blossoming and pruning and hoping again and again. I hope. Hold the mirror still. Look closely and believe. You are magnificent. Divine. Pure love manifest. </p><p>An arrest. Protest and activism. Mutual aid and education. Community. Fighting and struggling and bringing others along. New tattoos. Road trips. Vulnerability about your mental health. Your reality. Lived experience. Sacrifices. Raja's first birthday. A new vehicle. Victories. Affirmations and deconstruction.</p><p>The total of twelve months lived. Being alive. Impossible to sum up in this venue. You carry all. So carry on. Do not give up. Another spin around the sun is a gift to be cherished. Not promised. And full of promise. May it be all you envision and more. Savor. Look to the sun. Follow the moon. Learn. Unlearn. Be wild. Be you, always and everywhere. </p><p>I love you Sunshine Girl. Happiest twenty fourth birthday to you. xo</p>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-82196911251040005542021-01-08T08:33:00.001-06:002021-01-08T08:33:59.200-06:00For William, on his 19th Birthday <p> William,</p><p><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px;">This birthday feels a bit different. It is the first one we've spent apart and I felt that distance in a significant way. You were celebrated and loved by new friends and their family and that did wonders for my spirit. Wherever you were, you turned nineteen and that means you're almost out of your teen years.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px;"> </span></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">As I always do before I type the current year's letter I glance back at previous words. I do not know if I can top last year's. Both in the big events or the big words that I had for you as you entered your first "legal" adult year. I'll give it my best, for you.</p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">I have concurrently made the decision to no longer employ the moniker of "Things" for you and sisters. So from this moment forward I shall call you by your name, William. Unless I feel it necessary to use your full name, William Jared, or some other nickname you were given as a child. Hmm, let me see what I can recall. </p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">From one December to the next there have been monumental shifts in your life. Two months after turning eighteen we boarded a plane, for your first class travel experience, and returned to the states. Oh, but first to that, in fact, exactly one week prior to our departure you dislocated your shoulder at the skate park and had quite the hospital experience. Thanks to your friend Chris, whom assisted you like a pro in navigating the medical system in Wien. Seriously. There's that. Upon our arrival COVID 19 took full force and all non-essential surgeries were postponed. You waited a few months and then your operation was scheduled, you healed and dove head first into finding employment. You reconnected with friends here and you and Alex spent countless hours camping in the tree house and driving between Franklin and Nashville. Once you received clearance to work out, you begin training again and even going to kick arounds with Dane. Living in the same city as your sisters afforded you the opportunity to become friends with TJ, (Delaney's boyfriend), hang out with them regularly and have fun! Oh, and German class continued stateside. You marched in your first BLM protest. You watched Makenzie closely. All while scanning for your sisters in the crowd periodically. I noticed. I saw your deep concern. We had a presidential election and you VOTED (for your first president)! While living abroad. Because you understood how important it is. Well, done. </p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Between the mundane and necessary of relocation, a stirring within you became quite evident. Mention of feeling like an outsider, not understanding the American culture and several other like minded statements were uttered. After tedious consideration and countless conversations you created a plan and made the decision to return to Wien, amidst a global pandemic and without a job or permanent housing. I did not harbor any doubt. I knew your tenacity would drive you. And it did just that. We are well aware that any international move has its share of speed bumps, road blocks and caution lights. Yours was no different. Here you are four months in and you have secured a job and an apartment and have begun creating a life of your own in Austria. Read those words again. At eighteen you did that. </p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">Lest I forget, which I do not know how I could, you also have a girlfriend. That seems like big news too. We've met her via FaceTime and heard stories and even met her parents at Christmas. Thank you technology! There are moments when you'll be sharing about a conversation the two of you had, or how the two of you processed the terrorist attack in Wien together, a thoughtful gesture from one another, or a silly mishap you experienced with her and I see you. I mean really see your light and genuine tenderness towards another human. Such a beautiful thing to witness. </p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">This summer I received a text from you, one that I reread quite often. You were privy to several difficult and challenging conversations between Dad, myself and other family members. During a particularly emotional interaction, you left for work and minutes later I had a message from you. The words you sent were so encouraging and heartfelt. Confirmation for my Mama's heart that you SEE people. I mean really see them. You notice and through your act of telling me, my heart overflowed. I won't share your specific words here, they were for my eyes only and I am ever grateful. The impact of that simple message was immeasurable. I wanted you to know. And to remember that you have that within. </p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">So in this year of nineteen I hope you know how incredible proud of you I am. You are living your life and making choices that are right for you. This shows me that you are an independent thinker; Considerate in decision making and thoughtful in your actions. I hope you remain true to you, who you are at your core and I hope you learn not to betray or disappoint yourself for the sake of anyone else, your Dad and myself included; Whether that be in ideology or otherwise. You hold the divine within. And when you entered this world the universe smiled, BIG. I know, because I did too. There will be failure and set backs. I hope you remember those are learning opportunities. Feel all the feelings. Acknowledge and welcome the emotion. These too, are all pieces of you. They have the potential to be teachers and guides. I hope you feel like you belong. And I hope that you know that you are loved unconditionally, because you are you.</p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><br /></p>
<p style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"> I love you so, William Jared. Grateful to be Lena, Machupichu, Mom, and any other name you choose to call me. May you walk into this year wrapped in love and gratitude for the beautiful gift that you are. </p>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-72303661358278279692020-09-27T08:09:00.000-05:002020-09-27T08:09:15.514-05:00Twenty Two...Delaney Style<p>Delaney Lucille,</p><p>You my dear daughter have now entered your twenty second year on this spinning orb. There is a significance with each birth-day reached and this one is no different. Never mind you are celebrating amidst a global pandemic, while you work from home (mostly), and are experiencing life in new ways, as we all are. Not less significant by any means. And it is worth noting, for memories sake. </p><p>I have witnessed a transformation from you in these past twelve months. An unfolding of yourself, almost as if during the sweet embrace of self acceptance you have become reacquainted with your person. Your soul. You are stepping into becoming. Searching for the tether to your heart and unlocking the divine within. Carrying all that beauty and offering it to the world in a way that only you are able to. </p><p>While your year of twenty one was not quite what you had imagined, you did share around the table recently, that it has been instructive. Slowing down and resting is not an instinct oft acted upon and a lesson has been learned during COVID times. You've poured your affection into Maggie, the pup and briefly into Moose as well. Another lesson learned. Growth opportunities abound. Being in nature has been therapeutic, you once told me. Additional ink has been added to your body. Works of art, with meaning and without. Each for you alone. You've protested and spoken out and educated and activated on beliefs and on behalf of your sister and the oppressed. I have been on the receiving end of those lessons as well, you continue to teach me so much. And you call me out, and for that I am grateful. Accountability is important. You have shown up. Time and time again, for those you love. You've used your voice and advocated for yourself too. In all the ways. I've seen a recognition and acknowledgement of gifting, your writing and ability to use words in a powerful way. Harness that and pour all you have into using it for good. For yourself and others. This is the way forward. You've navigated being immobile, as in no travel, and are practicing being still. I think that is important. To be with ourselves. To love ourselves. To be kind to ourselves. I hope you know and are learning how to do just that. </p><p>Continue to long for deep connection and more. More love. More activism. More change. More adventure. More learning and unlearning. More people to befriend. More kindness and more compassion towards yourself. More empathy. More intuitiveness. More clarity. More direction. More wandering. More wondering. More questions asked. More questions answered. More and different ways to walk in this world. More of you. And all that is now and all yet to be.</p><p>As I write all the "more" statements", I am conflicted. Conflicted because I so want for you to be content and not striving. Nor do I hope for complacency or complicity for you. It is possible to know and be so self aware that we understand the difference. That is the hope. That you would know. Deep within, without doubt or fear. Or maybe because of them. And with them. They can both be great teachers. If we allow it. </p><p>You, dear daughter, make circles into horseshoes, dance parties exponentially more fun, and when you speak of your pain there is a tenderness that is present. Pay attention to that. Your words carry power and as I've listened to you rise up in the current movement, I hear LOVE in action. </p><p> For this year of twenty two, (an aside, I only hear your voice saying "22", in that way you do, I won't ever be able to un-hear that in my mind): Keep on being present. Keep on being you. All of you. Everywhere and always. I hope that you feel deeply loved and heard and seen in the year ahead. May silver linings abound. I hope you are able to do the next right thing for you with confidence and authenticity. Remaining true to your inner self and what she needs. May you feel all the feelings without fear and if fear presents itself may curiosity ask why and then hold safe space to process. Goodness, I love you so dear daughter. May this next spin around the sun be your best. </p><p>Madre xx</p><p><br /></p>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-65248275786518690462020-09-12T16:49:00.002-05:002020-09-13T11:44:35.789-05:00Six Months Stateside<p> I have notes on my iPhone, notes upon notes of random thoughts that took the form of a text message to myself while out on a walk. Or two sentences compiled from a conversation I had with a friend. An observation made while Jared worked away. Just a room across from me. You see fleeting ideas are not new to me. Once, just before turning out our reading lights, I remembered the name of a Dutch artist I had been searching the crevices of my brain for. Seriously. Like running through all the artists I had seen in Vienna, alphabetically. And to no avail. Then, seconds before I drifted to dreamland it came to me. Bruegel. That was the artist. I shouted it and gave Jared a scare. Then as he realized my reference, he began laughing. I did too. Uncontrollably so. Such is life with me. </p><p>We've reached our six month mark stateside. Six months of global pandemic. Six months here. In America. Today as the rain falls and crashes against the window of my fifth floor apartment I realize how tired I am. How ready I am for the rain to wash it all away. The grief. The loneliness. The fear. All of it exists and surfaces every time I began writing a recap post. As if the emotions are in a cauldron, bubbling, like a rolling boil. Then the heat is turned up and, and, and. Here comes the overflow. Fair warning. I have all the thoughts and all the feelings right now. </p><p>While Jared and I have marked our six months here, Thing 4 left the country just before he reached that milestone. He is, in fact, returning to Vienna. He is our youngest child and has been the only child consistently in our home for the last two years. His presence is missed, as in my heart physically hurts. So to put off feeling that pain, as soon as we bid farewell at the airport, Jared and I drove to Memphis and picked up a shopping list full of goodies from IKEA. We then returned home and rearranged his room, changed the bedding, added a bookshelf and removed all evidence of him from the space. Not all, but most. The smell is gone. His footie scarves and flags are gone. The maps and skateboard wheels. The process was cathartic. Until it wasn't. Now I just plain miss him. Yet, I am keenly aware that this move was the next right thing for him. Such a brave and bold move to pack up and start a life in a foreign country. A move that I hope proves to be the adventure he was hoping for. Thank goodness for technology. And thank goodness for friends and community that have welcomed his return with home cooked meals, a safe space to land, people excited to spend time with him and more messages than I can count reminding me of how many people he has in that country that love him. That is good for this Mama's heart. </p><p>I have returned to university. The entire process has been strange. I am not too sure what to think about someone/something controlling my schedule and routine. We're starting week four of the semester and thus far the grades have been positive, the writing different than what I'm accustomed to and the reading overwhelming. Not to mention the videos and supplemental information that the professors have added to each module, on a weekly basis. I suppose that some of this replaces lectures since I am completely online. My hope is that by midterms I'll have found my rhythm. I recently purchased a planner because yes, I still need to write with a pen and plan and set goals with a pencil and paper. </p><p>Jared is still working from home and we are still trying to learn how to navigate sharing our space. His work day involves WebX and phone calls and talking. My day requires quiet. Or, more accurately, I need quiet. Otherwise my focus shifts and my attention drifts and it's all for not. I know. I've tried headphones and moving rooms. I cant even begin to tell you how much this makes me miss my corner booth at Paremi, in Wien. But alas, we are not there. We are here. And here is where we need to sort this out. So I am on the hunt for a small writing desk for the guest bedroom, formerly known as Will's room. I'll add a cozy chair, possibly a candle and an inspiring framed quote and Jared and I can take turns. That just might work. </p><p>We've continued with our weekly family dinners. Pop and Nan came for a visit before Thing 4 left for Wien and life marches on, as they say. Our pre-meal rituals have changed a bit. Now we take turns choosing and reading a poem from our limited collection, and then typically we practice gratitude by sharing what we're thankful for at the moment. This has been grounding and a bit of an adjustment for us all. There has been some awkwardness following the conclusion of the reading, like do we clap? Or snap our fingers? Or nod and put our thinking face on? Not sure. Really, there is no right or wrong here, we all just keep showing up. Candles have been burned and the table has remained a sacred space in our home. For that I am grateful. Sometimes we'll all listen to the same podcast, or Jared and I will send out questions to ponder and discuss, other times we'll tackle current events, politics, or any and all taboo subjects. Or at least we're trying to. And we'll continue to make space and allow for all the in-between. </p><p>The holidays are rapidly approaching. So quickly that I am asking myself, where has 2020 gone? That thought is laid to rest as I began recalling all that 2020 has held thus far. With my reentry into the world of academia I was reminded of how September feels more like the start to a new year than January sometimes. Similar to a reset and refresh button. That has been needed and welcomed with open arms. When the opportunity to reevaluate presents itself I want to listen and heed that suggestion. So I have. Asking questions of myself. What am I saying yes to? No to? Where am I spending my time? I'll tell you where I'm not spending my time, reading what I want to read. All non fiction reading seems to have been suspended due to required reading. On occasion I'll manage to read my fiction before bed, but even that has become rare. I don't feel like I have the brain space for more words. Weird. At least for me. Back to holidays, I've started feeling the house with fall scented candles, natural accents, such as drift wood, stones and feathers found. Those bits of nature signal the change in season for me. Soon there will be gourds and pumpkins a plenty! Although not before I bid a proper adieu to summer. </p><p>I do believe that I mentioned our dog search in a previous post. That continues. No final thoughts or findings just yet. Our daughters continue to send me the cutest, yet most manipulative, photos of pups and dogs from the local shelters. I hadn't felt the need to submit an application until their most recent ploy. Within minutes of each other Things 2 and 3 sent me a link to the same dog. He's at the humane society and as soon as I saw his sweet face I knew. Application submitted and an appointment made to meet him. That isn't until the end of the month so who knows what the update will be in my next recap post. </p><p>Those notes I mentioned at the beginning of the post are still on my phone, waiting for me to develop them into completion. And I might. Or I might not. One worth considering is a detailed comparison of Apple's credo and parenting. Over the past six months I have become familiar in a new way with the Credo. Jared and I have had numerous conversations about it. I've written extensive notes. </p><p>I'd be remiss not to highlight the work of protestors, educators and grass root organizations during this time and the influence they've had on me. More than any other time in my life I am acquainting myself with our neighborhood. Educating myself on the city council and relevant issues. Communicating with my elected officials and engaging in dialogue. This has been eye opening and challenging. And necessary. I have found this to be more uncomfortable than not and I do believe that is the only way to continue in the spirit of change: uncomfortableness. As encouragement, mostly for me, carry on. I want to keep doing the next right thing, even if that's a little, unremarkable, unnoticed act of protest. My spirit says YES! </p><p>As I am writing this post, anytime I glance up, away from the screen, my plant, Fred is what I see. He is a Dracaena and is thriving in our home. For the first time ever our space is filled with living plants. Everywhere. We have succulents and house plants, and even an air plant. Now that one is low maintenance. The other plants, not so much. I talk to them. I mist them weekly. Water when needed and check their soil often. It is a labor of love and one I am appreciative of. </p><p>Suffice to say, our six months has been full. Full of new and old. Change and constant. Different and better. Different and not better. Just different. I am looking forward, full of hope and skewed optimism that the silver linings will continue to reveal themselves in all things. </p>LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-1456530409353062702020-07-13T11:54:00.001-05:002020-07-13T11:54:11.741-05:00Four Months In And A Collective Sigh...UghAnyone else feeling the general fatigue of the times we find ourselves in? Yeah, me too. I didn't want to subscribe to that phrase or sentiment, but let me tell you it is real. Or at least for me, it is. We have reached the four month mark stateside and I have so many thoughts and emotions. Seriously. <br />
<br />
To begin with, I find myself missing the little things about Wien. The way classical music would pour out of apartment windows as I was walking through our district. In Vienna, open windows signaled Spring and the concerts as I paraded through the city. Being the music capital of the world, or at least one of, I was fortunate enough to experience musician's practice. Which to my untrained ears was symphonic. Thus the concert reference. Truly, this was such a gift. I found myself stopping, mid stroll, craning my neck and pausing to drink it in. The stops and starts. Misplayed notes, off key melodies, although I wouldn't be the one to ask. I am not musically inclined, in the least.<br />
<br />
The little thing that tipped the scale for me, even prior to the window prompting, our neighbor sending me a photo of her most recent baked creation. She sent a photo with the message, "Just for a second...I thought to bring these up". Cue the tears. My goodness. A little thing but nonetheless a point of connection. A sense of belonging. Two foreign families, living in the same building, at completely different stages of life. And yet, there we were. Now, an ocean between us and the messages still poignant. I had the same thought to leave a jar of my granola on their doorstep.<br />
<br />
The European life style, not necessarily a little thing, but a mindset that tends to creep into all the little things I notice. Recycling made easy, little thing. Composting in our apartment, little thing. No plastic bags, little thing.<br />
<br />
A WhatsApp message from a friend sharing her walk in the vineyard with me, little thing. But to my heart, no such value assignment. These are what matters. <br />
<br />
Another little thing, sparkling water in 1L bottles and a six pack of said bottles that costs less than 2 Euros. <br />
<br />
A walk from our apartment to the Ubahn. Public transportation in general and train rides where time is marked by the number of pages I've read. Or the podcast I had listened to. <br />
<br />
One last little thing: water taps and spouts throughout the city. These potable water "pumps" are everywhere and so convenient for locals and tourists alike. Have a refillable water bottle? Just stop and fill it up. No charge. Not to mention, one of the top cities in the world for drinking water! <br />
<br />
Now, for life here. In America. <br />
<br />
There was the fourth of July. That event is top of mind today, so we'll begin with that. We protested. We didn't celebrate with fireworks or singing the National Anthem. It was all surreal. <br />
<br />
Then there is Thing 4's decision to return to Austria and pursue his football career and establish a life for himself there. Makes sense. And we fully support him in this endeavor. <br />
<br />
Thing 3 recently moved into her own apartment, well, with a roommate, but nonetheless her own space. So in less than seven weeks Husband Jared and I will find ourselves living as empty nesters. Something I was, or rather, am not prepared for. Just yet. <br />
<br />
What else? Husband Jared has now been working from home for sixteen weeks now, over one full fiscal quarter and there is no sign of a return to "normal business". <br />
<br />
We've marched in two protests, danced in the streets in Nashville and participated in public policy hearings and email campaigns. We are all learning so much. <br />
<br />
I've found a recycling center not too far from our apartment. It requires driving to drop off said recyclables, but I am alright with that. <br />
<br />
I recently noticed a small community garden one block over from us. There is a sign posted on the perimeter inviting one and all to take what you need, and then a number is listed to call if you'd like to assist with watering and planting. I am here for that. So sweet and intentional. It looks like there might even be a fire pit and play area. Made my heart incredibly happy. I love digging in the dirt. <br />
<br />
In other news, we're considering adopting a dog. Well, more like a small horse, actually. I have wanted a great dane for longer than I can remember. Husband Jared has acquiesced and I've been on the lookout. <br />
<br />
I will be returning to university after twenty-ish years, in just three short weeks I can call myself a student again. In the formal sense that is. I try to remain posed for learning every day, life has an incredible capacity for teaching if we're open to receiving her wisdom. <br />
<br />
During this time there have been countless walks and hikes around the city and her surrounding areas. A short road trip to Asheville for a night, including local breweries and new trails discovered. We've been discriminately entering into social situations or picking up take away for dinner, finding and supporting Black owned businesses in our community, walking to the coffee shops in our neighborhood and discovering patio seating for local restaurants, of course those that are following social distancing guidelines and practicing the upmost of cleaning procedures. <br />
<br />
The feelings are raw and real, yet through it all we're finding ourselves working hard to remain, "awkward, brave and kind" as Brene Brown instructs us to be. Same to you and yours. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-19835951952934385732020-07-08T10:51:00.001-05:002020-07-08T10:51:34.380-05:00For The Capitol, For The People?<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The fourth of July. Historically, a day of celebration for America. Our nation’s independence was awarded this day in the year 1776. Independence for white males, that is. Typically I would have been enjoying this holiday poolside, reveling in the joy and laughter of family and friends. Grilling burgers and hotdogs, lighting sparklers with my children and hoping for a spectacular firework display amidst a moonlit sky. This year was different.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This year I found myself at the legislative complex, listening to victims’ names being called out from a microphone. Reading signs held high with “BLM” written in bold, black letters and pleas to end the oppression and violence. Watching the people of my city gather and take a knee in a moment of silence to honor lives lost to police brutality. Following the march from Bicentennial Park to Dr. Martin Luther King Blvd. the crowd moved to The People’s Plaza. Jazz was being played at the foot of the steps to the Capitol and people were dancing in the streets. Flags were flying, tambourines clanging, drums pounding and chants for freedom echoed around. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It was a surreal experience for me. Being only my second protest, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I met my daughter and her friend curb side. We were right next to the musicians playing in protest and support. My body swayed to the music. My eyes welled with tears. What a beautiful display of community rallying towards a common cause. A worthy cause. And I was there; Witnessing the love, feeling the energy reverberate through my body and all at once feeling dumbfounded as to why our Governor has not addressed the people. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For twenty five days now The People have been occupying the area known as the legislative complex. For twenty five days they have been peacefully protesting. For twenty five days they have asked to speak with Governor Lee. And for twenty five days they have been ignored. Ignored by a man who was voted into office by the people. A man who pledged to serve those people. ALL the people of Tennessee. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Legislative Plaza (also referred to as the People’s Plaza) is located on my walking route. I see their faces regularly. The signs and chairs are positioned to be visible to the traffic passing by and the looming state troopers. Those state troopers with their foreboding guns and military style gear, guarding the Capital. Guarding a space and building created for the people of Tennessee. A public space, open to the people and actually paid for by the people. Those state troopers that advanced upon the peaceful protestors and began aggressive tactics without cause. I was there. I saw it happen. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I stood behind my daughter as she and other activists sat, arms linked, waiting. A ten minute warning was given, advising the people to disperse and not even sixty seconds later troopers started their campaign. I took my daughter’s phone and stepped back as people crowded in front of me. Trying their best to protect themselves and those around them. United in cause and purpose. My daughter turned and gave me a thumbs up. And then I started to shake. I typed a quick message to my husband, waiting below. Unsure of where this would go I walked down the steps to fill him in. And then I stood, on a cement block scanning the crowd for her face. No luck. I ran to the other side and pushed my way closer. No luck. Not one person saw her, or could tell me where she was or what happened. I knew then that she was arrested. My entire being shook. Now what? </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now what, was more rhetorical than anything else because I knew. Everything within me filled with fear for her life and safety. All at once I felt incredibly proud and awestruck at her commitment, her willingness to practice her rights as a citizen of this country and the length to which she would go in fighting for equality and justice for all those that look like her. You see, she is a black woman. Her being taken into custody holds a weight that is not known to me. Far outside of my scope of understanding. Yet, she went. Peacefully and in full cooperation. And me, well I stood helplessly.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Dumbfounded and uncertain as to what the next steps would be for her and the other fifty five that were arrested I searched to find a legal advisor amongst the protestors. Thankfully they were visible by the fluorescent tape on their hats. When I found one, she informed me of the protocol from the arrests on July 3rd. That was all she had to offer. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It was in that moment that I had the sinking and regrettable feeling that I should have remained on the steps with my daughter. Stood in front of her. Been a protector of those that were willing to enter the very system they were fighting against. And why didn’t I? I don’t know. I have been asking myself that question since Saturday night. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I walked, with my husband, to the Hill Detention Center, which is where the previous night’s arrestees were taken and processed. To no avail. At this point, we weren’t sure what could be done. We went home, made some phone calls and picked up our vehicle. I’d like to pause here and say, this was a new situation for us. Uncharted waters. All I knew was that my baby girl was with state troopers, not knowing what was going to happen next. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Come to find out she was confident in her decision to remain on the steps. Not deterred one iota by the impending force of uniforms glaring at her. Solidarity was the theme that night. She would not be discouraged. She is not discouraged. But the fight continues. The requests have been made and for twenty five days, ignored.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Tuesday morning and I am still in shock. In dismay. Still sorting through and processing the details. For instance, how was it that on Monday morning I sat on those same steps, unbothered and free, when just two nights prior arrests were being made? Arresting the people in which the capital was built for. Zip ties tightened around the wrists of the constituents that were standing in a public space, made temporarily off limits by the Lee administration. And for what?</span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now its Wednesday and the Capitol building has been opened. There are troopers guarding the entrance and I stopped to ask where the protestors were. Captain Fyke responded confidently that the “homeless camp” (his words) was disbanded early this morning, 1:30am to be exact. “They’ve cleaned up the place” and since the protestors are no longer present it is now acceptable to swing the doors open. When asked if the capital grounds are open he said yes, daily from 8am -11pm up to the grass and including the monuments. Really? </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I implore you, citizens of Nashville, to take notice. For all you independence loving individuals, how can you accept a militarized police force that can be dispatched at the Governor's command? For Governor Lee, is it truly better for the people of Tennessee, to deploy your army of State Troopers and arrest people for "trespassing" on public property rather than listen to the legitimate concerns of your constituents?</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span></div>
LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-5975216583140017982020-05-09T08:07:00.000-05:002020-05-09T08:07:18.060-05:00Twenty in 2020<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dearest Daughter, you are twenty years old now. The teenage years have been left behind and a new decade awaits. As does so much more. On the precipice and ready for the living. All the unbecoming and becoming. The questioning and embracing. Learning and unlearning. Failures and successes. This is your one, wild and precious life. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Go and live it well. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before you do, take pause and reflect on all that the year of nineteen gave to you. Twelve full months. Some of those were spent in California, where difficult conversations and miraculous breakthroughs occurred. A season of doing without and listening more. Learning more. Hard and beautiful, and you know what I say to that: brutiful. Such is life and humanity. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We celebrated with a graduation and a road trip down Highway 1. There were travel snafus. An expired passport. In the interim you resided at Mema and G'pas. Then, with much glee ( mine, of course), you arrived in Vienna. You spent a few months with us. We did some traveling. Hiking. Cafe hopping. Croissant consuming. You and Brother traveled to Portugal and had an adventure. Sisters arrived and we all journeyed to Spain. A friend visited from London. There was so much in-between. All the everyday life and conversations. Market trips and canal walks. Then a return stateside. A new job procured with Whole Foods. More adulting and decision making. We returned stateside and now here we are. One month away from you moving into your own apartment. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I say this with every birthday letter, but so much change. As seems typical when a full 365 days has passed and we've taken another spin around the sun. I would be remiss not to mention that your birthday came amidst a global pandemic. A time where we are dealing with shelter at home restrictions, abnormal life routines, political nonsense and a lack of collectivity here in the States that seems inhumane. COVID 19 has left its mark on so many with loss and illness, lack and hardship. Despite the current circumstances and surreal times we are living in, we were gifted a joyful celebration of your birth. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For that I am ever grateful. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You, Thing 3, navigate life with purpose and deliberateness. Intentionality and authenticity. Your voice lends itself to speak truth into situations that appear murky and unknown. I hope you acknowledge that and allow that same truth to seep into your personal discernment. You possess a quiet strength that I have long admired. It is not showy or haughty. But gentle and loving. While I know you prefer routine and the known, as opposed to the in-between, you have navigated this recent season of just that with grace and patience. You love big. Please don't ever stop. There is this gift you have of seeing right into people, through all the layers and complicated stuff. Continue to do that. People want to be seen. Your work ethic speaks volumes. The adage, "a job worth doing, is a job worth doing right", comes to mind. Something along those lines. Either way. You give your all and expect the very best not only from yourself but those around you as well.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hope this year of twenty brings happiness and joy; A search for both in the mundane and exciting. As you began your educational venture I hope that the information you seek is found, your intellect expanded and the opportunities endless. I hope that there is failure, so that opportunities may come from it. I wish for you deep and abiding friendship. Loyalty and honesty from all those you love. I hope new adventures find you and are sought. When you need courage, I hope you remember the that you have it within. For the times when vulnerability is asked of you, I hope you take that step. Whether it is a whisper offered, a hand extended, tears cried, or an embrace reached for. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My dear daughter, you are a gift. And as I say every year, I am grateful to be your Mother. Here's to your next spin around the sun. A resounding huzzah for all that nineteen gave to you, the lessons, the hardships, the joy and the sadness. You have fought hard to embody yourself and I pray that as you read those words you are reminded of all you possess within. May peace and loving kindness surround you today and always. I love you more. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Your Mother x</span></div>
LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-26158451970129625242020-04-21T07:37:00.001-05:002020-04-21T07:37:33.588-05:00One Month In And I am Wishing on Sunsets<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Greetings party people. Our little family, the ones whom lived in Austria, just celebrated our one month stateside anniversary. Four weeks ago we relocated. It all seems so surreal now, given the times we are living in. Some days I feel every bit of those twenty eight days of our return and other days not so much. Although I did kid with my guys the other night that had we been forced to remain on the plane when we reached US soil I wouldn't have been all that upset. We flew business class for the first time and I must say I felt like a queen! Other than that snippet, I have nothing much to offer. Definitely not any re-entry observations that I can make sense of. They are all muddled in with the glimpse into humanity that COVID19 has brought us. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In that way, I just don't know what to do with it all. I've found myself wishing on sunsets and dreaming of faraway places. </span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
I<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">n the midst of travel bans and social distancing, I'm remembering. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Recalling a time not too long ago when the waves were my soundtrack and seafood was on the menu.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We traveled to Athens for a birthday celebration, almost two months ago now, and lived it up in the city for three whole days.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Well, we were staying just outside Athens in Viouglimani, a quaint seaside town with views to inspire even the most destitute artist.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Truly. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></div>
</div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was then that we spent an entire day getting lost in Athens. Through the Parthenon and in and around the flea market, meandering around the artist district and weaving in and out of alleyways. Twelve miles and twenty thousand steps later it was almost sunset. I had read about an enchanting location to view the sunset over the city and off we went. Only once we had hiked up half the mountain we soon realized we were in danger of missing the show. Reluctantly, we purchased tickets for the incline train and rode up with twelve strangers all hoping to catch a glimpse of the fading ball of fire sinking behind the horizon. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was a bit disappointed that we did not choose to hike the mountain but as the sun began it’s descent I was quite grateful we were there, at the top of Mount Lycabettus. We watched. Me, standing on tip toes to see over the other people. Jared behind me, trying to catch a photo for our kids. And then we walked down a bit, away from the throngs of tourists and photographers all vying for the best view. I found a rock wall and sat. I stared. The people around me faded away and I was awestruck. Sounds cliche and romanticized, but I promise you this, it was a moment. For me. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Slowly and gracefully the yellow morphed into a brilliant orange. Cotton candy like clouds floated through the atmosphere. Disappearing and reappearing. Causing the sky to turn a periwinkle like I’ve never seen before. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Preempetively, we prepared to leave, before the sun was completely set, knowing that a pit stop was needed. Thankfully. Sounds like an odd thing to be grateful for, I am well aware. But if not for the detour, I would have missed the opportunity to climb over a table and scale a rock in order to witness the last scene of the setting. It was there I waited for Jared. Holding tightly to a nearby pole and leaning over the edge. Ever so methodically city lights would turn on, as if choreographed to music. One after the other. The fiery orange settled on the horizon, clouds lingered and so did I. My eyes could not be averted. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There was nothing so important as I watched. Alone, but not. Present but not necessarily in my own head. Not quite an out of body experience, but damn close. For real. I wasn’t concerned with anything else, other than the beauty of it all. I wanted nothing more but to drink it in. Selfishly, only for myself. </span></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Next time I am fortunate enough to be watching such a display I hope that I stop and drink it in just like I found myself doing in Athens. But for now, I'll keep wishing on sunsets. I hope you are too. </span></span></div>
LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-15848162763233983312020-03-23T11:15:00.000-05:002020-03-24T07:51:21.411-05:00Re-Entry: Part Two<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Well, this has been such an interesting time to return to the States. An unprecedented pandemic that is spreading fear and mayhem, closing borders and wiping out the toilet paper supply. Who could have guessed? New hashtags are emerging, #socialdistancing, #quarantini, and yes, I am participating in a documentation via social media of our time with #onedayCV. It’s all strange and weird and I just don’t know how else to describe it. I have felt out of sorts since our two eldest left Vienna in January after our Christmas holiday together. And now, in the midst of all this I cried upon seeing tulips in the floral department at Trader Joes. Hmm. They were lovely tulips, a wide array of colors and they were displayed to grab your attention. And that they did. So much so that I stopped and tears fell. Tulips remind me of Vienna. For 2,49€ a small bunch of tulips would make their way to my vase with every market visit. Sometimes two or three. Tulips also remind me of my dear friend Karen, whom is Dutch, but that is not the only reason for the association. I let the tears come, I chose different flowers, actually eucalyptus stems, and I continued on with my shopping. Welcome to re-entry. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">It will be three weeks on the 24th of March since our arrival. Yesterday the county we are living in was placed on lockdown. In other words, all the regulations most other people are facing now. Six feet social distancing, no unnecessary trips to stores, non essential businesses are closed, including restaurants and cafes, except for take away or delivery orders, and no traveling. Schools have been closed since early March but the other issuances were late to the party. We had a family meeting and discussed exactly what this means and I will be honest, it’s a bit tricky having two daughters living in their own apartment. Are they even allowed to come to our place to do their laundry? Sounds selfish, I know, but I could definitely justify this as “essential”. So there are questions but mostly we are all trying our best to err on the side of caution, washing our hands diligently, more than before, only purchasing what we need, sharing what we have and social distancing ourselves with the best of them. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">My heart is breaking though for those that aren’t paid for this mandatory shut down. The food industry, service workers, those in the travel business. And then there are those that don’t have access to the digital capabilities to remain connected, working from home, or engaged in community. Yes. This is devastating on so many levels. It also shifts my focus and awareness around the global community. How connected we truly are. Those that aren’t safe and warm inside. People that don’t have access to healthcare, or even the ability to make a quick run to the store for groceries. Refugees in camps that are barely sufficient to be called camps. I do not want to lose sight of how this affects humanity, everyone and everywhere. Our family is now talking about what we can do. Creative ways to help. Even something as simple as smiling at a stranger or thanking the cashier at our local market. These things matter. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Before our departure a friend of mine shared her theory on moving and adjusting. To put it succinctly, her words of wisdom were to allow yourself to experience all four seasons in the new place. Live through the seasons and then assess. So that is what I am committed to. Four seasons. We’ll be beginning with Spring considering we just celebrated the Equinox and the rain has been constant here in middle TN. Excuse the aside. Anyhow, these thoughts around the seasons have forced me to consider how seasons come and go, observing a rhythm and serving as a reminder to the world around us. This then caused me to consider the different rhythms and such surrounding me now. Curious, right? Those often obscure or unnoticeable behaviors, patterns, or things that cause the mind and heart to awaken and recognize the pricking taking place. Much like the tulips. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I have found myself to be sensitive to the noise level here. I am not speaking of city noise, traffic or the like. But actual people in public places making their business known to all. Mostly I don’t want to know. I prefer to conjure up stories in my mind, unbeknownst to anyone else. But here, where most of the time I can understand all that is being said, thank you English language, it is almost as if people are inviting you into their private conversation. No thank you. We experienced this in Vienna as well. There was a common saying, “You can hear the Americans before you can see them”. Yes, I am an American. I always will be. And yes, I am guilty of an elevated decibel while speaking, goodness our family includes six people. Our whisper is loud. I am simply stating it is loud here. In all the ways. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Maybe this doesn’t exactly qualify as a difference rather a personal experience but I’d like to share it here anyway. Our apartment hunting has been all consuming. We’re preparing for our goods to arrive mid-April and given the circumstances, insert: all the things, we feel as though it is in our best interest to move this process forward expediently. I’ve researched, <a href="http://apartments.com/"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">apartments.com</span></a>, Zillow, Hotpads, all the housing sites available to me. Then I contact the property manager, listing agent, private party and prior to our lockdown, I would schedule a tour or if we were in the area we would walk in to the complex in hopes of having our questions answered. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">One such apartment building that I had difficulty connecting with but was in a fantastic location, refused to see us. Jared and I walked in inquiring about specific units available according to our timeline. We were asked for our drivers licenses, standard procedure, and then told they needed to ask us a few questions. Assuming these would be the typical, move in date, specific amenities we wanted, etc., we obliged and sat down in preparation. Well, the conversation quickly turned and we were asked if we had traveled in the last forty five days, then we were questioned as to where we had been. Upon answering truthfully and explaining that we had recently relocated from Austria, the “manager” became involved and promptly asked us to leave, siting a recently issued corporate policy on tours. Ahem. Here is where Jared and I used every ounce of patience and reasonable discourse attempting to explain how this could be seen as discriminatory and unfair. Their replies seemed ignorant at best, and rude without a doubt. As I am sharing this story, please do not misinterpret my motive. This was our personal experience. A privileged perspective, I know. In our further discussion we requested the property manager’s information to contact her directly and then we were ignored following multiple voice mails and emails. It was, for us, one of those incidences we couldn’t allow to pass without speaking up. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">On a lighter note. Our current corporate housing is near the Parthenon and Centennial Park, a beautiful location. We have taken to walking regularly there and running to and from. During our outings multiple people, strangers, have waved, said hello or acknowledged us with a head nod. Kind. This might seem like a no brainer or expected pleasantries but I refuse to take it for granted. It felt like encouragement. Recognizing a fellow human and silently or not, cheering them on in their venture. Even if that venture was a walk around a serene pond. Another gesture of kindness occurred in our apartment building. The kids were out in the hallway and two fellow residents stopped and asked them if we needed any items from the store. While we were stocked and didn’t require anything in that moment I was reminded of just how meaningful an offering like that can mean to someone. Me, in particular. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">While this all seems overwhelming at times for me I know it will pass. Or not. Either way, like I shared in part one, I am here for it. All of it. And this beautiful moment reconnecting with a long time friend was one I am grateful I was here for. She and I had met at a park back in the days when I lived at parks with our four littles. Her exuberant personality radiated and the kindness she exuded spoke volumes to me, as I was a new transplant to the area. We shared stories, introduced our children and became friends. Over the years our paths have crossed in TN. We have found that we’re able to pick up as if no time has passed, diving deep into the good stuff without wasting time. I so appreciate that. She accompanied me to an event for Glennon Doyle’s new book, “Untamed”. Mind you, this was before the social distancing and all public gatherings were cancelled. Just wanted to clarify. Her hug welcomed me home in immeasurable ways. And it was so good. The entire night. I have found in these recent years that bypassing small talk and fluff is important to me. I don’t want to waste time acquiescing or pretending. Give it to me real and honest. That is exactly what this friend does, even when we disagree. What a gift. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">So there’s a rainbow on this grey day, for me at least. Silver linings and all that. I’ll continue to search for them amidst all the surreal, unknown and scary in these unprecedented times. Otherwise referred to as re-entry. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 14px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-14912910530523866002020-03-17T13:47:00.000-05:002020-03-17T13:51:47.272-05:00Re-entry: Part One<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">We have returned to America. Or more accurately, the land of consumption, excess and drama. Seriously people, I was not prepared. In the two years we were away I had been back for a handful of visits, mostly due to family situations and preplanned events. Never for more than a few weeks at a time. Those times I didn’t identify as a resident, mostly a tourist, someone on assignment, if you will. And now one week in it is clear, life is different here. We are different. I am changed. This place, that is at once familiar and unfamiliar has changed. Morphed and lived and strained and moved on. And so have we. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Home is a complicated word. There are unexplored depths and possibilities and tangled meanings for most of us. For me that word has always meant, or rather, has come to mean, where my people are. Regardless of place and surroundings. I know it sounds lame and sweet like syrup but it is the truth. For me. No surprise then, that upon our return to Nashville, TN, our closest friends and family have been asking the question, “So, are you home?”. I don’t fault them for their curiosity. Not in the least. Rather, I stare blankly in response. Home. Sure, our four children are here. In closer proximity, but if in that question the underlying inquiry is, are you staying, then NO. As we say, “We're here until we’re not”. And that is where we find ourselves; Here. A return from a foreign land, entering another somewhat foreign land. Does this even make sense? If not, I’ll blame the jet lag. The temporary housing situation and our transiency, still. After seven days, people. Send help. And croissants. And Viennese coffee. Stat. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">So, questions and homecomings and celebratory reunions of all manner have welcomed us with fury. All the while I have been trying to pay attention to my body. To what my mind isn’t able to articulate. Move slowly back into the fold. Cautiously, and with no expectations. Yet still, the waves are approaching. No, more like they are enveloping me. All the contrast between this place and where we were. Front and center. Impeding upon all my sensibilities. And how. Jared used that metaphor, the one of the wave. It has since served as a visual for me to explain the feelings. The constant affront of all the different. Let me offer a few examples. Pick up trucks. Everywhere. Bigger, better and more. In all the things. From groceries to restaurants. There seems to be a pervasive mindset here that I wasn’t quite as aware of prior to our experience abroad. Now, though, I see it everywhere. Invading minds and attitudes, values and lifestyles. Strange isn’t it? The rose colored lens we choose to view our environment with. Or the more realistic, critical lens we are able to choose as well. One isn’t better or worse, bad or good, no, that is far too dualistic an approach for this. It is different. And it is all right to acknowledge it as such. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I have had multiple near meltdowns in the stores here. Induced by the aisles upon aisles of choices. Twenty different scented hand soaps and just as many brands to choose from. Seriously, why does one need ten options for milk? Is it really all that different from one farm to the next? Please do not lecture me here on the value of a free market or capitalist construct. I know. I am thankful for the opportunities here in this land. I am just returning from a place where I didn’t have the space for a weeks worth of groceries in my cupboards or my refrigerator. The market I frequented was about as large as the coffee shop I’m currently sitting in. Overwhelming is the understatement of the century. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Don’t even get me started on Target. Now, I am a fan. Target is one stop shopping. Toiletries, groceries, home goods and medicine all in one place. I am here for it. Except maybe now I’m not. I don’t think I can be. Yesterday, while perusing the aisles in search of two necessary items I came undone. Of course it was due to the sheer scale of the store, the way my gut began churning when I started dwelling on the excessiveness of this all. All of the accessories, the plastic, the paper products and on and on and on, waiting to be purchased, whether necessary or not. Understand me, I am not above an impulse buy or any other consumer trend. No, not at all, I am simply trying to make sense of it all here. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Ok, the next stark contrast for me is the lack of environmentally friendly options. If I were a customer at a cafe in Vienna, even if just stopping in for a melange, I would be served in a proper cup. Read: not plastic. When eating a meal, the cutlery and serving ware would all be non disposable. There is something so civilized about that. I have come to appreciate the time and attention expected. Not for another’s pleasure, but my own personal experience. I can’t help but think that all this disposable ware is more of a metaphor for the mental state and prevailing attitude in general. Further research is needed but I am here for that. I see myself becoming one of those people that carries her own cutlery, metal straw and drinking vessels, to all the places. Maybe it will spark a movement or at least a new level of awareness. Mind you, some of this is directed toward our stewardship of the world we’ve been given and another piece is a quality of life issue. There is something to be said for sitting down, pausing and taking a moment. As I typed that word I heard it being spoken in German; “Ein Moment," with a very specific inflection on the “Ent”. Gosh, how I miss hearing that. There was a sentence I couldn’t have imagined typing. Not ever. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">There is a general buzz in the air. I realize how generic and stereotypical this may come across. I am simply sharing my observations here. Everyone seems to be multi tasking, running from place to place, one scheduled event to the next, productivity on an uber scale. And for why? That’s my question, where is the downtime? The built in rest or moments to enjoy? Not one person encountered thus far, and mind you, I am only one week in here, seems to notice or even recognize this. It is fair to say this is a way of life; An expected attitude and demeanor by one and all. And this, my friends, is where I will pause, inhale and then exhale in relief and gratitude. Gratitude for the opportunity to have experienced an alternative way of living. An exceptional quality of life that was not only encouraged culturally but widely accepted in both the workplace and one’s personal life. It was, perhaps, one of the most beautiful practices I witnessed in Vienna. A way of living that I will certainly do my best at implementing here, in this new space. The five weeks of holiday and thirteen national holidays helped in facilitating this way of life. Not to mention the standard rule that if you are ill staying home and resting is mandatory. Do not even consider entering the workplace until you are completely healed and at your best. And you will be paid, of course. Pay attention people. This is possible. Throwing the idea out there for further thought. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">My list continues to grow with observations, cultural and otherwise. Some are relative and others specific to people groups, geographic locations and subversive value systems that have been encouraged and perpetuated that I no longer subscribe to. As I continue on, here in this space of contrary and new and different, I need to pay attention. Listen. Still myself, mind and body included. It might not always feel this way, like the wave crashing over us, or maybe it will. For now though, it does and I am acknowledging it in this space I’ve created. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">A few updates, unrelated, but possibly not, to this post and reentry in general. Our family, all six Hansons, are living within a twenty minute drive, door to door. That is no small feat. Also, one I don’t expect to last for too long so I am going to maximize this time together like nobody’s business. That’s the thing dear ones, when you raise adults to be adventurous and independent and have a zeal for life it should be no surprise when they actually go out and do such things. Right? I mean, I guess not, but still, this Mama’s heart feels that tug, that beating outside the skin feeling when the letting go continues. And it does continue. That is certain. Brief tangent there. Thing 4 is scheduled for shoulder surgery at the end of this month. He tore the labrum in a skateboarding incident prior to our departure from Vienna. The doctor here concluded that surgery was a necessity and therefore his employment and football plans have been put on hold due to the four month recovery that was predicted. Yikes! We’re thankful for insurance and access to health care and all the things but this was an unexpected hiccup. </span>I guess they never are really expected, right? Other than his current predicament Thing 4 is adjusting and reconnecting with friends and trying to sort out what his life looks like here in TN. Other updates include the mundane tasks of finding a vehicle, a more permanent housing situation for when our goods arrive stateside and potentially employment for myself. I also hope not be living out of suitcases until mid April. Seems reasonable, no? </div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
<br /><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></div>
<div style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">You can count on me for continued updates of some sort. Realizations, observations, a decent level of sarcasm, humor and less harshness. Fingers crossed. Either way, here I am Nashville, what’s next? I will state here, I reserve the right to change my thoughts and perspectives, just as one would expect as the water becomes less muddled in my heart and mind. Thanks for understanding. </span></div>
LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-78155182448705529422020-02-29T11:22:00.000-06:002020-02-29T11:22:19.748-06:00Burn the Damn CandlesThis is not the post I intended to write, nor is it one I was wanting to write but here we are. Up before the sun, surrounded by bags filled to the brim for donations, suit cases covering our bedroom floor and life as we know it rearranged and scattered. At least for now. I celebrated a birthday, and it has truly been a month long of festivities and then this morning, upon waking, reality settled in nice and close. Curled up with its blanky, all comfortable and cozy, and here we sit. To be fair, we are in my velvet green reading chair, beside the window, watching as the sun extends all its efforts to rise above the imposing darkness. Metaphor much? Grey-ish rain clouds are scattered and moving ever so slowly, candles are lit, both in the kitchen and on our coffee table. Hell, all the candles are lit. In all the rooms. <i><b>There is no time like the present to burn the damn candles</b></i>. Am I right? I do believe I am.<br />
<br />
Birthdays. They're my jam. We celebrate ad nauseum around here. Once our eldest's birth-day has passed I begin my countdown. Seriously. The entire family is subjected to my ways. And I am here for it. I think they are too? Husband Jared is for sure. He whisked me away to Athens, Greece for a city weekend and it was lovely. We were steps from the sea, there was seafood and ancient ruins, friendly people, an upgraded room with Prosecco waiting, walks along the shoreline, and a day spent at a natural spring with nibble fish. It was one of those quick trips where you return feeling as though you'd been away for weeks, in the very best way. We were refreshed and rested and ready to enter in to this next season. Or so I thought. <br />
<br />
The move date is March 3rd. As in, that is the day we will depart our last flight as residents of Austria and return stateside. We'll land in Nashville, a familiar and not so familiar, city for us. There we will start again. Now, though, movers are scheduled to arrive in 1.5 hours. They will take today and all of tomorrow to sort and pack, dissemble and load our belongings. Everything, other than our clothes, will be boxed and sent, via sea cargo, to Tennessee. <br />
<br />
We have experienced moves. I've lost count, but I think we're close to eleven. This is not new. I am well aware of the expectations, the checklists and closing up a house and life. It's just that when I walked out of my room and saw afresh the apartment in disarray it struck me. There have been those moments. Like on the UBahn yesterday morning, a route I am quite familiar with, one I've been taking almost every wednesday for the last year and a half. I was prepared with my coffee and about to open my book and then I didn't. I sat. Eyes peeled, neck turning side to side. Taking in the sights. All the historic buildings, commuters and corner flower shops. Bakeries with lines out the door and kinder on their way to school. <br />
<br />
So you see, I anticipated sharing my birthday month and all it entailed and then my mind and heart were overcome with moving. It's all been one intertwined mess this month anyway, so I suppose this is exactly as it should be. This life can not be compartmentalized or categorized in tidy containers. Not for me. All the bitter and the sweet coexists together. While I've been treated to coffee dates and dinners, a farewell party for our family too, and even a surprise birthday lunch with tiny helpers to blow out my candles, the timer has been ticking away. The end date looming. <i><b>And I know I won't fully process and grieve this place that has been home for two years until we're on the other side of see you laters and boxes. </b></i> I've entered into the present, with my best effort. Offering my best attempts to remain here. Emotionally and physically. Intentional with the people and places in my space. And yet, life often looks differently than our should's and want's, especially in the bitter and sweet. So I say again<i style="font-weight: bold;">, there is no time like the present to burn the damn candles</i>. <br />
<br />
Amidst this birthday month, and the end of month necessary "activities" (insert MOVE related tasks), oh, and how could I forget, our tenuous visa renewal, I was blindsided by illness. A serious infection consumed my body and mind. For almost three weeks I was homebound. Not necessarily the farewell month I had planned. Such is life. Rest was needed. Antibiotics too. And help from my guys. So, yeah, that put quite the damper on my expectations. Also on the intentionality and time I had distributed mentally to ending well here. It has been more like a slow crawl to the finish line. Turtle speed. Not rabbit. Again, metaphor much? <br />
<br />
The reminders float in and through and all around. Usually when I least expect them. I was having coffee with a dear friend and her toddler aged daughter. As we sat at the table with our hot chocolate, pastries and coffee, she ever so tenderly reached for my hand, held it and then pressed it softly against her cheek. Just so this isn't misunderstood or, ahem, made into something it's not, I am speaking of my friend's daughter. She's the one that shared this sweetness with me. Not said grown up friend. That might be weird. Anyhow, these reminders find their way in and nudge me towards the present. Despite illness, setbacks, uncomfortable feelings, and all the unknown that is inevitable while one is in transition mode. Like when Thing 4 ran off to the skate park to meet a friend and kindly brought it to my attention that spending time with the people here was more important than ALL the packing and laundry that was waiting for him. Yes, priorities. <br />
<br />
While we're opening our door to strangers and arranging pick ups for large appliances, hugging necks and saying see you laters, directing packers as to what stays put and what goes, meeting with friends on our dust bunny covered floor, and having said friends "shop" our remaining grocery items and such, I am reminded of what I mean when I say <i><b>burn the damn candles</b></i>. Being present in the moment and accepting the reality of what is. The whole leaning in and noticing what surrounds and holding the space that is available. And then, while you're immersed in all of that, <b style="font-style: italic;">burn the damn candles. </b>Because why not? Circumstances are just that, circumstantial. They will eventually change. The tide will turn. Before you know it, alright, before I know it I will be sitting on an airplane headed to the states. And that will be that. The chapter will have closed. Our time in Vienna, will have ended and we will no longer be able to call ourselves residents. Sad days. But also, good days. Difficult days. Challenging ones. And happy ones. An entire range of emotions. So I'll choose regardless of birthdays or illness, dislocated shoulders, (ahem, Thing 4), and messiness, to <i><b>burn the damn candles</b></i>. Join me. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-73783714441599985852020-02-21T10:03:00.001-06:002020-02-21T10:03:23.681-06:00Happy 23rd Birthday to My Eldest...Sunshine Girl, you are twenty three. And today we celebrate you. The year past and all that awaits for this next spin around the sun. Can you even believe it? You made it. You fought hard and through and around and you are standing here, tall and proud and twenty three years old.<br />
<br />
These letters I've written for more than seven years now are becoming a trickier medium now. Your story is your own, not mine to tell. And yet, this space has been the place where I share and document our family's history and stories, the experiences together and those we've had apart from one another. I will do my best for you with this letter. I'll try to choose my words and those in my hopes and wishes for you carefully.<br />
<br />
The short version is: you are a gift worthy of celebration, simply because you are you. You are good. You make me proud to be your Mama.<br />
<br />
My mind wanders frequently to the beginning of this journey we've been on, as mother and daughter, and how this mothering is one, incredibly long and arduous learning how to let go. A lesson I have clearly not understood well. And yet, despite my challenges and mistakes and all life has given us, you are here. Twenty three. I am so grateful. Here are twenty three things about you that I believe make you, you. Twenty three things to note and acknowledge. And yes, to celebrate and remember. To hold and receive. <br />
<br />
1. You are creative<br />
2. You lead with justice<br />
3. You are courageous<br />
4. Your dimples, the ones flanking your lower lips, are unique<br />
5. You are a non conformist, despite the fact that it costs you inner peace<br />
6. You are a solid 9w8 on the enneagram<br />
7. When you were little, you told everyone that your eye color was "weasel"<br />
8. You can rock a massive earring like no one else!<br />
9. Books are their own love language with you<br />
10. You are loyal and fiercely protective of your siblings<br />
11. Sunflowers are your favorite<br />
12. The sea calls to you<br />
13. You are always the last one left at the table, which translates to: you savor every meal and relish each and every bite!<br />
14. You are not easily surprised<br />
15. The mystics and poets speak to you<br />
16. Your beliefs and values are strong, and yet you are willing to learn and change and grow<br />
17. Dare I call you an activist?<br />
18. You read people and see, I mean really see, who they are<br />
19. You don't like mushy foods: avocado, banana, etc., texture is important<br />
20. Objects and trinkets are tangible reminders for you of people, places and experiences<br />
21. I call you my Sunshine Girl<br />
22. You like your alone time<br />
23. Change, of any sort, requires processing time, you are not one for last minute changes in plans<br />
<br />
So as you begin this year of twenty three I'd like to offer these words. A blessing, of sorts. Wishes and hopes and words, all from me and only the best for you. Sift through, keep what's needed. Toss the rest to the side, pick it up when you're searching. Or in need. And please know, forever and always that I love you. <br />
<br />
Own your space. Live it well and in your way. Drink in the sorrow, the joy, the pain and the healing. Let the tears fall and the anger dissipate. Love your self. Your entire, complicated and intricate self. All the innards and the outer. They make up you. Beautiful you. Be soft and gentle with you and others. Change the narrative if you don't like it. If you feel restless lean into that. Dig deep and find the root. Ask why? Often. Whenever necessary institute a course correction. Say yes to something that scares you. Stretch the comfort zone. Walk outside the preconceived boundaries. Take the risk. Smile because the sun is shining. Smile because the rain is falling. Dance: In the kitchen. In your truck. In the aisles while grocery shopping. Snuggle with Raja. Drink in the joy that is owning a pet. Be responsible with your gifts and talents. Share them. Learn something new. Steward your resources, financially and otherwise, well. Dream and create and imagine. Trust yourself. You are magnificent. Your life and presence brings immense joy to me and I am grateful for the gift that you are. I hope all these and more. I pray you are drenched in the truth of all that is. I hope that the negative, the darkness, and all that harms slides away from you. <br />
<br />
And in the brilliant words of Maya Angelou, this:<br />
<br />
<div class="o-vr o-vr_12x" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 22px; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 60px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="c-feature" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; line-height: 1.231; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="c-feature-hd" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 4px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<h1 class="c-hdgSans c-hdgSans_2 c-mix-hdgSans_inline" style="border: 0px; display: inline; font-family: canada-type-gibson; font-size: 1.75rem; font-style: inherit; line-height: 1.231; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
Still I Rise</h1>
</div>
<div class="c-feature-bd" style="border: 0px; font-family: adobe-garamond-pro; font-size: 1.25rem; font-style: inherit; line-height: 1.3; margin: 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="o-poem isActive" data-view="PoemView" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
You may write me down in history</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
With your bitter, twisted lies,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
You may trod me in the very dirt</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
But still, like dust, I'll rise.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Does my sassiness upset you?</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Why are you beset with gloom?</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Pumping in my living room.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Just like moons and like suns,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
With the certainty of tides,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Just like hopes springing high,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Still I'll rise.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Did you want to see me broken?</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Bowed head and lowered eyes?</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Weakened by my soulful cries?</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Does my haughtiness offend you?</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Don't you take it awful hard</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Diggin’ in my own backyard.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
You may shoot me with your words,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
You may cut me with your eyes,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
You may kill me with your hatefulness,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
But still, like air, I’ll rise.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Does my sexiness upset you?</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Does it come as a surprise</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
That I dance like I've got diamonds</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
At the meeting of my thighs?</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Out of the huts of history’s shame</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
I rise</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
I rise</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
I rise</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
I rise</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
I rise</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
I rise</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
I rise.</div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="o-grid" style="border: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 22px; font-style: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<div class="o-grid-col o-grid-col_10of12" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; float: left; font-family: adobe-garamond-pro; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline; width: 638.359375px;">
</div>
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-9253788671615606512020-02-07T00:38:00.000-06:002020-02-07T00:38:40.849-06:00Existing Between Two Places<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Straddling. <span style="font-size: 14pt;">That</span> is where we are at. One foot within Austrian borders and the other stateside. We’re currently in that well - known place among expats as “limbo”. There are a litany of idioms and well-meaning sentiments that are dished out like fortune cookies in attempts to assuage the situation and all the uncomfortableness that goodbyes bring. When one chooses this lifestyle, certain aspects are to be expected. One of those is the ever-present revolving door of people. There are the ones whom stay, those leaving and then you have the newbies. Wherever you find yourself abroad, I would imagine you can relate to one stage on that spectrum. I am now the one leaving. And I can’t say that I like this all that much. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
I should also confess that I am not good at leaving, or saying goodbyes, or processing all that goes with it. The best way I know how to process is through writing. Please, bear with me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
When asked the common question, “why?”, I have a standard answer. The driving force behind our move is to be in closer proximity to our adult aged daughters. These past two years have been filled with transition for them. We want to have a physical presence in their lives. And also, we have financial obligations that cannot be fulfilled while living here, in Austria. More details will not be offered. Our confidence lies in the belief that this is the next right thing for our family. Yes, it does bring transition, once again, into our lives. Especially for our eighteen-year old son. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
His journey through this recent change has been tumultuous to a degree. So many thoughts. A multitude of emotions. Clarity that can only be recognized by a parent and confusion so typical for a young adult working through future life plans. Tossed back and forth between the best for him, his dreams and the reality of action and responsibility. The story is his to tell and this brief stay in Vienna will be a chapter or two, of his journey. Placed somewhere towards the beginning, if I am allowed to be advantageous here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Let’s return to the straddling. I’d like to delve a bit deeper into that. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
There are the unavoidable details of a move. Scheduling return flights, negotiating contracts for the new assignment, surveys with movers, goods to sell and those to bring along. The list seems to be never ending and just when I’ve thought I checked all the boxes an addition is made. I say this with an air of experience and a knowing of the privilege. We have made multiple moves, stateside and abroad. Both have facets unique to the geographic location, but I will make this disclaimer: there are elements to an international move that vary. Nuances, whether cultural, or otherwise, that factor into the process. And while most of these are beyond my control I would be lying if I said their effect was not noticeable. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Straddling. The very definition of the word implies some sort of maneuvering and managing. <i>In fact, the Oxford dictionary says to straddle is “<b>to cross or exist on both sides of”</b></i><b>. </b>A resounding yes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Accompanying all the inevitable details and such of the place that is waiting for us is the act of saying farewell to the here and now. Farewell to a city that has captivated our hearts and farewell to people that made this time unforgettable. I was reminded of a motto our family has tried to abide by, “<b><i>it is our intention to leave people and places better than when we found them</i></b>”. Wien has undoubtedly left its mark on us all. And hopefully, we have done the same. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Our son, throughout our conversations regarding our potential move, found himself consistently calling to mind all the “stuff” he’d miss about Vienna. Everything from favorite foods to the conveniences we’ve grown accustomed to. Relatively small “things”, such as reliable public transportation, fresh bread around every corner and a freedom afforded by a security that he had not encountered prior. So, upon his suggestion, we have been curating a list, of sorts. One column for ALL the “things” we will miss about Vienna. Those that we want to savor and enjoy and see, including people, before our departure. And the opposing column, for all the “things” we are looking forward to in Tennessee. At the top of our TN list are our three daughters, his sisters. They are all residing in the state we will be returning to and that is definitely the best part about this move. Being able to understand, read notifications, and comprehend conversations and instructions will be a positive as well, and potentially a negative. There is a bliss I’ve experienced here in having the ability to ignore peripheral noise. I am well aware that won’t be the same stateside. On the other side, is the Prater, our community here, as mentioned before, the bread, and public transport. I could go on and on. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
In sharing this list with some dear friends recently I commented on how lopsided it was looking. Our documentation was weighing heavily on the “going to miss” side. This evoked quite an uncomfortable feeling within. Just as quickly as it appeared, my friend took notice and offered some words of wisdom. Wisdom that cannot be taught but that which is earned by personal experience. The personal knowledge of the toll taken emotionally and mentally in multiple moves. She told me I should draw a few empty boxes in the “looking forward to” column. Blank spaces to designate the unknown waiting for us there. All the opportunities and surprises that undoubtedly will make an appearance as we are further submersed in our life stateside. I went home and did exactly as she advised. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
Immediately I began to cry. The mark has been made. When it comes time to bid Auf Wiedersehen to this city I hope to be able to do so with the confidence that comes from having left it and its people better than before. I know it has given me that gift as well. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
And that is where the coexisting holds us. Looking forward to all that awaits, in Nashville, and still physically here in Wien, savoring the city and preparing for our “see you later”. <o:p></o:p></div>
LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-63021963895617788662020-01-17T02:27:00.002-06:002020-01-17T02:27:45.647-06:00The Baby is Eighteen! Here's to You Will. William Jared,<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday to you! I have now made three separate attempts to write this letter to you. The one I have been writing for years. A composition to commemorate your birth year, the year ahead and who you are in this time and place. And yet each time I open my lap top I sense this lump in my throat. My hands are somehow paralyzed and incapable of tapping the keys. This practice, letter writing, to you and your sisters for birthdays, is a treasure for me. A tangible way to reflect upon the year past. Document your growth, however, we are well beyond the height charts and percentiles. This growth, the type I write about, is not measurable in the same ways. I can't blurt out a statistic, slide my tape measure from crown to toe and be done. No, this requires focused thought. Looking back to the year past, being present in the now and then transferring all the potential and promise into words suitable for you, our now eighteen year old son. So please, bare with me. As this birthday in particular seems like quite the milestone, not only for you, but our family as well.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAeQVfiTpHEJ5-lh3Y_3_NNAQhpSsrDEoXlmEevRnhc64QNNN8f-AZTj1kpSQatj-4lwqdVX6wZ39C2m2fKxf9cyOxmr4VTM_hxNyXSE3fHZ00FnuaIc3kTTDeN8BtDViChicZgVvMEv6d/s1600/3B6DD397-A363-4333-B86C-A1A1F5167F71_1_105_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAeQVfiTpHEJ5-lh3Y_3_NNAQhpSsrDEoXlmEevRnhc64QNNN8f-AZTj1kpSQatj-4lwqdVX6wZ39C2m2fKxf9cyOxmr4VTM_hxNyXSE3fHZ00FnuaIc3kTTDeN8BtDViChicZgVvMEv6d/s400/3B6DD397-A363-4333-B86C-A1A1F5167F71_1_105_c.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Almost three years old. Be still my heart. </div>
<br />
Eighteen years old. You are now considered an adult by the legal system. The implication of those words is not lost on me. Heed them. Please.<br />
<br />
To begin with, let's take a look back at all that seventeen held for you. Last year you kicked off 2019 with a trip to the States to spend time with family and friends. Upon your return you jumped into football with a full training schedule, including a transfer to a new club, Austria 13. You were tenacious and committed and never gave up and those qualities earned you a spot on the first team. Although, when you made your debut appearance with the first team you also earned your first ever red card. Hot or cold with you, no in-between and on the pitch the emotions do run high. I understand and completely relate. Mostly. <br />
<br />
Moving on, as a family here in Wien the first half of the year was filled with house guests. Unfortunately you were unable to participate in the traveling that was involved, mostly due to football and being in your last semester of high school. There was, however, a Rapid match with the Horels, and some local exploring while Pop and Nan were here. Your super fans had the privilege of witnessing your first goal with Austria 13. Pop and I were crying tears of joy as you contorted your body and stretched your boot to tap the ball across the line. Quite the dramatic finish! The fan club grew and not only did Pop and Nan see you play, but the Horels, the Martins, whom we have video documentation of cheering, "Go Billy!", and Gpa and Mema too. There was a short sided church tournament you participated in over the summer and Kayla and Mailee were super fans for that. All that to say, you had your own fan base for football, even in Austria! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8pdIjGVB1lKuWT2mI6UH3MYzn8-xVbIHMwB_3FGFOEEF1VDIqddpXH-Al3dFNpfkTvWMjmfB-TSStFJumhIp8-FvmYQbHTi4WBl9ZG-llxLsOkI9Sol7T0M8lmd3V8C7Fwg1wz8herAch/s1600/C7A71ADF-E6DE-4411-8D59-1EB2B2E7B3E4_1_105_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8pdIjGVB1lKuWT2mI6UH3MYzn8-xVbIHMwB_3FGFOEEF1VDIqddpXH-Al3dFNpfkTvWMjmfB-TSStFJumhIp8-FvmYQbHTi4WBl9ZG-llxLsOkI9Sol7T0M8lmd3V8C7Fwg1wz8herAch/s400/C7A71ADF-E6DE-4411-8D59-1EB2B2E7B3E4_1_105_c.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
On the pitch. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Football aside, you graduated high school! What an accomplishment. We took senior photos along the canal, celebrated with a special meal and sent out announcements that confused everyone when they didn't have your graduating class or school printed on them. Go figure! Here we are, a high school graduate and I honestly don't know who was more excited to have this chapter of your education journey finished. You did it! We did it! It's done, woo hoo! Now on to the next. Which is a commonly asked question these days. Currently, the plan is to build out a Sprinter van, or something similar, and travel the States. Possibly while working camps, depending on the weather. California in the summer, surfing, rock climbing, etc., maybe the Colorado mountains and snow boarding in the winter. The job search has begun in order to fund this expedition too. You created your first CV, filled out applications and learned how to carry yourself in an interview. An invaluable life lesson.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgobmSGIN_11N77Mo6E9sKiyABlrkHTlJeZ4hyphenhyphentC7Toy-J1siF4JRdV9AGGG166u6SedrZeaiUZMViggugM4mzAcccTVcXvPI6Ep8j-n3kbwa1bppcj5jJs0HW8IAEtcL5iCuxm8y_ZOKZ9/s1600/13A192BD-612C-4DF8-9FA9-1AB25D7B3361_1_105_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="918" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgobmSGIN_11N77Mo6E9sKiyABlrkHTlJeZ4hyphenhyphentC7Toy-J1siF4JRdV9AGGG166u6SedrZeaiUZMViggugM4mzAcccTVcXvPI6Ep8j-n3kbwa1bppcj5jJs0HW8IAEtcL5iCuxm8y_ZOKZ9/s400/13A192BD-612C-4DF8-9FA9-1AB25D7B3361_1_105_c.jpeg" width="357" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Senior photos. Gosh, I love your smile. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Another incredible opportunity presented itself this summer through Blue Sky camp. Upon your decision to possibly change career paths from full time, professional footballer, to camp counselor, or something in that field, you researched camps and possibilities. Blue Sky was the answer and within forty eight hours of making this choice, the application was filed, an interview set and you were accepted as a junior camp counselor. Whoa. In late July you departed for Nairobi and an unforgettable adventure. This adventure also proved to be a bit of a misadventure as well. Or what we refer to as character growth, life lessons, etcetera. You were sent home early from camp as a disciplinary action and with that came many discussions following your return to Wien around leadership, accountability, constructive criticism, correction and grace. The details are not necessary to explain here, for the purpose of this letter, let's agree that it was an important piece of your year. As were the friendships that were established in that place. <br />
<br />
With no school consuming your daytime hours, other than German class, you began volunteering with Oasis Refuge Center. You spend every Monday serving the community. Listening to the stories you return home with, the people you've met and how you've so willingly entered into it all floors me. I shouldn't expect anything less from you, and yet, I find myself in awe and grateful that you are you, with everyone and anywhere. Speaking of German class, you completed B1.1 and passed an exam at level A2.2 for your visa extension. To that I say, well done. Seriously, that is no small feat. The exam included a cultural integration portion that is worded and prepared in such a way to confuse the test taker. I know, I had to sit for the same exam. My results were not as positive as yours. <br />
<br />
This past year was filled with a few other firsts: A trip to Lisbon, Portugal with Gillian and a cup match at Old Trafford with your Dad. Memorable on all accounts. You attended your first Dave Matthews Band concert with your Dad and I, went to your first club here in Wien with your cousin Eliza, ran with giraffes in Africa and you were even able to convince me to jump off a bridge with you while paddle boarding! Just saying. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc48m17NabkEQgu8cTChWuftDDxGQyMUk0GyiMIQgvokTpqTT-TUYMLVf1sOO_EwEW3gTRy-EToC0qHBQcFoEk8N_duBGhRLUqYQI2ZNpjXcpqVCW306jBBkID7Hc2XBZcFYHCxjNq1u51/s1600/4B57F4D8-2AE3-416E-BE1B-33C961F8D6F5_1_105_c.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc48m17NabkEQgu8cTChWuftDDxGQyMUk0GyiMIQgvokTpqTT-TUYMLVf1sOO_EwEW3gTRy-EToC0qHBQcFoEk8N_duBGhRLUqYQI2ZNpjXcpqVCW306jBBkID7Hc2XBZcFYHCxjNq1u51/s400/4B57F4D8-2AE3-416E-BE1B-33C961F8D6F5_1_105_c.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Sharing the enthusiasm! </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Son, you make me braver than I thought possible. You believe the best about me. And everyone else too. The growth we've seen in and through you this past year has been monumental. Now, let's be honest, there are days when I still find myself reminding you to make your bed, to tame the laundry monster spilling out onto your floor and not to forget to spend some time reading. Wink, wink. And yet all of that isn't necessary because I know you are capable, responsible and can more than manage on your own. In fact, I do think you prefer to be alone. You chose to spend your actual birthday snow boarding, by yourself. The entire day on the mountain, including train and bus ride, with no one else. Just you. That requires a certain level of self confidence. Kudos. You are unafraid to tread off the well worn path. I have seen you walk into a room and alter the energy, just by your presence. What a gift. You are a truth teller and a lover and you, my son, will go beyond. You are a world changer. Whether you are meeting new friends at the skate park, rock climbing and bouldering with the locals or running through Prater, you have a way of drawing people in and including all. Cultivate that. Draw a wider circle. Stay connected to who you were created to be and find what makes your heart sing. Do that. And share the love with everyone around you. You make us proud. Simply by being you. <br />
<br />
Here's to your year of eighteen. To you and the incredible gift that your life is. Take this spin around the sun and live it fully. May it be the best yet as you step into your next, whatever that may be. And as we always say, remember who you are and who's you are. <br />
<br />
Love you more,<br />
Lena x<br />
<br />LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-11157225636441932012020-01-09T01:49:00.003-06:002020-01-11T02:01:28.399-06:00Humanity at it's Best<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Considering this site is where we share cultural reflection and conversation as well as the latest in our lives, I couldn't think of a better place to tell these stories. In my daily life here in Vienna I have experienced human beings at their best and other times when their best could use some improvement. As an Auslander, or foreigner, I don't always understand the situations at hand to their fullest. Whether positively or negatively. I'll try not to overstate the importance of these individual occurrences, since the impact was significant possibly only for me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To begin with, doctor's offices have been enlightening places for me in their own right. On the best of days, I am not a fan of health professionals and my reluctance to visit doctors did not magically disappear when we arrived here in Vienna. Only now, in addition to my hesitant nature, I must navigate the cultural differences and expectations in said offices. I've shared here about the greetings as one is leaving the offices, the odd hours that are kept and the way in which patients are managed. All different than what we experienced stateside. Needless to say, our interactions with our GP, her assistant, and most other healthcare professionals we have encountered, other than the OB/GYN incident, which shall go unrecorded, have been mostly positive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Due to a nagging ingrown toenail and infection I found myself at our doctor's office, standing in line to hand over our E-cards and be checked in with about a half dozen other people. The waiting room was filled to the brim as well with only a few chairs remaining. Ahead of me, was a mother and her young child, approximately two years old, or at least in my best estimation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Said toddler was wandering around the office, curiously exploring her surroundings. Helping herself to educational fliers, pressing buttons on the radio, filling her cup endlessly with water, and munching on snacks as she saw fit. Her mother followed her around, picking up after her, and guiding her to less intrusive activities. Which included, staring out the window, jumping over the threshold and walking in circles around the large table in the waiting room. She was well behaved and handling the angst of waiting indoors quite successfully. Or at least I thought so. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As this mother and daughter duo exited the waiting room for a change of scenery, a middle-aged woman took her seat and commented on the mess left behind and the mother's headscarf. Whoa. It was said in a hushed tone but loud enough for the mother to hear as well as her fellow waiting room companions. From what I understood, she was making her disapproval known of crumbs that were left behind. Now, what the mother's attire had to do with that I do not know. Some people feel it necessary to include those distinctions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was at this time that two other people spoke up. One, an older gentleman who had been smiling kindly at the toddler every time she passed by and the other, a woman close to my age who had been waiting just as long as I had. Both shook their heads in disagreement and commented that the child had been waiting for two hours and was only behaving as any "kinder" would. Agreed. And then, a young man whom was sitting next to me, shared his view. He gently asked the woman what being a Muslim had to do with anything and what the issue at hand was. When said complainer remarked that there were crumbs and a mess, he stood up without saying another word and cleaned up that mess. On his own accord. As he returned to his seat his mother beamed proudly and patted his knee in approval, saying, "Danke Son." Yes, indeed. Well done and thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The entire situation begs an explanation. One I certainly cannot offer, mostly due to my lack of depth within the German language. Once again. But what stood out most to me and what is due applause, was the young man's response and action. I held back tears of gratitude as he returned to his seat, so completely overwhelmed and moved by what I had just experienced, and still flabbergasted at the racially charged commentary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4611303793078782480.post-51716625730935201532019-11-12T01:17:00.002-06:002019-11-12T01:17:27.157-06:00Limitless...One Man's Run and My Feelings About ItIf you are a news watcher, sports enthusiast, an elite runner, or Sunday jogger in your own right, then you are most likely aware of Eliud Kapchoge and his recent accomplishment in my hometown of Vienna, Austria. Eliud, with the support of forty one pace runners, INEOS and Nike completed a marathon in under two hours. The official time was clocked at 1:49:40.2. Let that sink in for a moment. In less time than a typical movie at the theatre this man ran 26.2 miles, or 42.195 kilometers. Can you even? I certainly can't. I believe the world record for a marathon prior to Eliud's feat was one he himself set at the Berlin marathon in 2018: 2:01:39. Mind you, the time set on October 12th will not be recognized as an "official" world record. Because the event was specifically designed and optimal conditions were manufactured to boost results, the time will only be referred to as the day Eliud broke his own world record time, not an official record setting event. Does that even mater? I will tell you on that foggy morning in October, nothing seemed to matter less. <br />
<br />
For over a month I watched the Prater, specifically the Hauptallee, the road which Eliud ran a majority of his kilometers on, be transformed into a racer's dream. Professionals repaved sections of the street, cables were ran and "support" booths created for tracking pace, wind, etc. were strategically placed, scaffolding was constructed and the course was spray painted, all to assist in guiding Eliud to victory.<span style="background-color: white;"> </span> Us regular runners here in the city were the benefactors of that bit. INEOS hosted a few group runs leading up to race day and professionals from all parties involved, those sponsoring and tracking, could be seen on the daily in the park. <br />
<br />
As an aside, my biggest concern in learning that Eliud was planning on attempting his run on the Hauptallee were the chestnuts. The street is lined with age old chestnut trees and this time of year is harvest season. That said, the trees are shaking loose all those Marone, or chestnut in German, and throwing them every which way. Avoiding the fallen nuts would be akin to navigating an obstacle course. I had a difficult time focusing on my runs just thinking of how off putting that would be. Rest assured, the path taped off for Eliud to run between in the middle of the road and on race day there were "chestnut sweepers", or at least that's how I referred to them, on the ready. I would have most assuredly done that job well. Needless to say, the course Eliud ran was tested time and again. Both for exact measurements of distance and feasibility for the actual semantics of running. I am sure chestnuts and all were taken into account. <br />
<br />
INEOS' campaign, "no human is limited", surely proved it's validity through Eliud's race time. The partnership was inspiring, as is Eliud, the man himself. He is commonly referred to as "the boss man" at his training camp in Kenya and his calm presence exudes a wisdom that goes beyond running and has far reaching implications. His demeanor, attitude, or whatever you choose to label it was tangible in interviews leading up to the event as well as during the race and following. Eliud dripped with confidence and his presence was demanding in a non threatening way. I can't help but think that these attributes were contributing factors to his success. And possibly, a reason why this partnership with INEOS and the words, "no human is limited" will inspire success and be an encouragement to the masses. <br />
<br />
Let me offer a glimpse into the emotional journey I found myself in on that Saturday morning on the Hauptallee. I was not running. In no way was I participating in the strategy or support. I was not a member of the media or was I any other contributing part in this well oiled machine. I was a spectator. Someone who, as a runner, relates on the smallest scale to the dedication, commitment and sacrifice that an endeavor such as this entails. Physical strength is not the lone requirement, the mental capacity to endure, to push beyond the limits and persevere might just be the most difficult. Leaving aside the expectations set by oneself and taking to the pavement in the midst of an undertaking to this extreme scale would be most challenging. Or at least I imagine so. <br />
<br />
Yet, as I sauntered up to the gate with Husband and a friend, I was taken aback when Eliud and his pace setters passed us for the first time. He was relaxed. It was obvious in the way his shoulders were low, no pulsing veins in his neck, not even a clenched jaw line. Oh, wait, is it just me that runs this way? Maybe. He is a professional after all. Anyhow, tears slowly began to fall. My stomach fluttered and I was keenly aware of the enormity of the morning. Each and every time he ran past I experienced this same reaction. Then, over the PA system, interviews with his wife and children were being broad casted. His wife and children! Whom until this very day had never witnessed him crossing a finish line in person. Ever. And here they were. In Vienna, on what proved to be a most historical day. That alone was enough to send my emotions into overdrive. What an optimistic gesture from Eliud. It was then I knew that this would be the day his record would come to fruition. And of all places for it to be, but The Prater, in Vienna. <br />
<br />
Returning to the emotional journey I went on that day. I clenched my friends arm as he prepared to run past us for the last time and found myself jumping up and down enthusiastically, all while chanting, "he's going to do it". Well, not only did he do it but he did it faster than the estimations. Faster than what was thought to be humanly possible. He floated across the finish line and the crowd erupted into applause, cheering and chanting and the Prater roared with elation. And you know who the first person he ran to was? His wife. Then his children. I was undone. My heart melted into a puddle right there on the Hauptallee. Flags were raised, a victory lap was taken and we, the crowd, joined in celebrating Eliud's time, as if he carried us all across the finish line with him. <br />
<br />
He defied the odds. The statistics. The experts. He surpassed the limits, hence the mantra, "no human is limited". Being present for this momentous spectacle was beyond awe inspiring. From the mouth of Eliud himself, "With a strong heart and a good mind, you can do it". He proved that to be true for certain. And now, may we all take that to heart, and with a bit of help from each other, we can defy our own limits. Whatever they may be. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />LKHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06535392915816361959noreply@blogger.com0