More on Grief

I pulled this from Happy's blog, the most curious thing...

Happy, this was amazing for me. Thank you for writing this post. (And for your really nice words for me!)

There's a prayer called the Kaddish that Jewish mourners are required to say twice a day, every day, for a year after someone dies. Then, on the last day of that year's time, you light a candle and say Kaddish one final time, and then you do something to commemorate the person you were mourning - and then you "move on." And here's the thing. You aren't allowed to say it by yourself. You are required to have a minimum of ten people there with you. And you can't say it at home, nor are you allowed to crawl into a hole and stay there, no matter how badly you want to. No. You have to go to synagogue. With all those people. Twice a day. Every day. For a year. And say Kaddish.

This is Kaddish (the bit that your friends say with you is in italics):

May His great Name grow exalted and sanctified (Amen.)
in the world that He created as He willed.
May He give reign to His kingship in your lifetimes and in your days,
and in the lifetimes of the entire Family of Israel,
swiftly and soon. Now say:
(Amen. May His great Name be blessed forever and ever.)
Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled,
mighty, upraised, and lauded be the Name of the Holy One.
Blessed is He,
beyond any blessing and song,
praise and consolation that are uttered in the world. Now say:
Amen
May there be abundant peace from Heaven
and life upon us and upon all Israel. Now say:
Amen
He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace,
upon us and upon all Israel. Now say:
Amen

Skip over to read the rest...

Happy Birthday, John...

Today is John's birthday.

For some reason, twenty years ago I bought this card. The inside says, "What's about the neatest thing a kid could ever do? Have a super birthday and turn SIX YEARS OLD--like YOU! Have fun being six."

Except that I scribbled a twenty in front of each of the sixes thinking it was hilarious. In fact, just remembering it puts me into gales of giggles. Anyway, I saved it and gave it to him again at thirty-six, and today, John is forty-six.

I made up cards for different themed special days that John could choose that I gave to him Thursday night, but events conspired against the one he chose, so we wound up going to Uncle Julios with Steve and Mary Beth last night and coming back to the house to play Wii.

We decided that his present would be whatever was at Woot.com at 12:01 on his birthday, but it was a....blood pressure monitor!!! (So I totally let him off the hook.)

Happy Birthday, baby!

Thoughts on Grief

A few weeks ago, I spoke with my college roommate and learned that her mom--one of the most dynamic women I've ever met--had died of leukemia. While I was saddened by the news, what saddened me more was the pressure my friend put on herself to be "okay."

This morning, I read another friend's blog that talked about going into the holidays post-divorce. About having to give up her dog. To sort through ornaments. And again, pressure to be okay. To feel okay.

Loss is not okay. And sometimes it isn't even about death or divorce. One of my friends who had gone through all of the steps for adoption, lost the opportunity through financial crisis. Goodbye nursery. Hello grief.

It occurs to me that in our society of "okay" no one teaches us how to deal with grief. No one talks about how to navigate the emotional and physical challenges that come with loss. I'm not talking about the Kübler-Ross stages of grief--as if grief would move through a five step process in some clean and orderly manner. I'm talking about the messy stuff.

Messy grief makes you doubt the way the world works. Makes you doubt God--or at least your understanding of Him. Makes you doubt who you are and your place in the world. Makes you wonder what you could have done differently to change the end result.

And, for whatever reason, we wake in the morning and paint the shiny veneer of "okay." And maybe it is better that we do. Because if you've ever met someone who didn't do it, you know that we don't know what to do with them. The clingy people who grieve everywhere. The ones who desperately want us to grieve with them. All the time. The ones who drain the life from us.

We so don't want to be that.

And so, we don't let ourselves grieve. We bottle it. Ignore it. Evade it. Until it sneaks up on us and catches us unaware. And this dance goes on.

And somehow we find it impossible to just "be" with the "un-okay." To sit with loss and let it cut us. To let it do its work of moving us from one place to the next.

There is a passage in Ecclesiastes that is often quoted in movie-funerals. (I have yet to hear it at a real one.)

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

What does the worker gain from his toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

The real power in the passage is in the very first line. There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.

Loss hurts because we were never made to bear it. It is part of this broken Earth. It is part of what happens "under heaven." No one coaches us well on grief because no one really knows how to do it. It isn't in our human skillset.

The beauty of our faith is that this isn't all there is. It doesn't end here. There really is a heaven. A way things are supposed to be. A way everything will be one day. And every time it isn't, it violates that "eternity set in the hearts of men." We know we were meant for more than this.

Until then, we have the promise that grief doesn't last forever. That "though weeping may last for a night, joy comes in the morning."

The other promise to cling to is that we never ever grieve alone.

Thoughts from the Big Tea

My husband is often seen holding a Route 44 Sonic tea. So when he set up his blog, it was appropriate to grab bigtea.blogspot.com.

He has a post this morning that touched me deeply. It is about our dogs.

You can read it here: http://bigtea.blogspot.com/.

Big Sky

Ever feel like God painted the sky just for you?

Yesterday on my way home from work, a fierce wind blew the clouds and light into dazzling patterns.

This was the best my iPhone could do at capturing it.

4 x 4 | Troy Hutchison

One of the blogs I track is from a working mom in South Africa. Supermom had an interesting post yesterday called 4 x 4. The challenge was to go to your picture directory and choose the fourth picture from the fourth folder, post it, then tell the story.

Oddly enough, I just reorganized our electronic filing system this weekend to move from our "My Documents/My Pictures" set up to Vista's "Pictures" folder, where I organized everything by year. In my categories, the fourth folder is 1984-1988. This photo is of Troy Hutchison (my BIL) from Dallas Baptist University. Everyone we knew was playing the game "Gotcha." (There was a movie based on this premise by the same title after the game swept college campuses in the late 80's.)

When we mentioned this to Chase, he hadn't heard of it, so here you go: Everyone in the game has their name on a slip of paper that goes into a pile. You draw a name (which you don't reveal) and that is who you have to assassinate (with a paint gun or water gun). Once they are "dead" you get the name of their "mark" and go after them.

At the point that this picture was taken, I believe John and Troy were the only two left and they had each other's names. Troy walked into the cafeteria (where I was eating with John--we were dating at that point) looking so hilarious, with all sorts of water weaponry attached to him. I was lucky to have a camera (yes, Bethany, the old kind with film that I had to pay to develop) and shot this very quickly before Troy began open firing.

Funny, I can't remember if he actually took John out.

Chasing Leads vs. Developing Pipelines

It is interesting to me how much what is measured influences how people spend their time.

For example back in college, when I had to maintain a 3.8 grade point average to keep my scholarship, a lot of time was spent studying. Not necessarily learning, mind you, but memorizing. Doing things that would help me write the paper or pass the test. Had learning been my goal, I would have taken different classes...read more....hung out with people who didn't share my worldview and put in more hours for my internship. As it turns out, I've learned substantially more post-college in the reading, classes, and interactions that were never measured. Primarily because it was driven by curiosity rather than grades.

I've observed this phenomenon with marketing and business development professionals. Those on commission track leads. It makes sense. If you are paid based on the amount of work you bring in, then it is crucial that someone knows you brought it. In a door-to-door salesman world, this works. You knock on the door. You make the sale. You mark it on your sheet. You get the commission.

However, in a corporate world, it isn't clear cut. If I take a call, I'm never sure why they call me. Is it because I met the client at a trade show? Is it based on an article I wrote? More than likely, it is because the rest of my team did a fabulous job on a project. Or supported an architect. Or worked until midnight to meet that impossible deadline.

I've always worried that we would move to a system that measured the sale. After all, I do work with engineers. Measuring is in their blood. But if we did, would it change the way I work? Would I spend as much time with the small client as the "big sale?" Would I develop a "claim jumper" mentality where I had to fight to grow my small influence into something larger than it really was?

Without a system of measurement in place, I've been free to focus on relationships. My lead-tracking is abysmal. My people-tracking is excellent.

Understanding what people need and genuinely trying to make them successful, requires an outward focus rather than an inward one. Oddly enough, this approach has produced pipelines of work that have built slowly over time.

I hope I never have to trade people for tallies on a spreadsheet or a lead retrieval system at a trade show. After all, engaging with people is far more satisfying.

Floyd-the-Sidekick

My friend, Robin-the-Artist is married to Floyd-the-Sidekick. So named, because of a role he played in a show we once saw and also because he has a sense of humor that is in top form when he has a straight man.

Floyd is also a very gifted writer. His blogpost today is quintessential Floyd and very worth the five minutes it will take to read it. Here's the link: http://floydjoy.blogspot.com.

WARNING: Floyd has music on his blog, so mute if you are at the office.

Trade Shows, Rodeos, and Random Connections

I spent this week at WFX. Like most trade shows, it was a whirlwind.

One of the best parts of being at a conference is the conversations that take place in the margins....during set up and tear down, flowing from one session to the next, grabbing a quick lunch or sitting around at a restaurant both exhausted and engergized by the ideas that are flowing.

Once we were back home, I hurried to catch up on all of the loose ends that occur when you've been gone for a week, then went to the American Airlines center for a rodeo. (I did place a call early in the day to Lynette-the-Cowgirl for advice on what to wear. As you might have guessed, the consultant didn't cover this. Don't worry, Lynette, I removed the "boot bling.")

While the rodeo was unbelievably cool, what was better was--again--a conversation that took place in the margins. Our host, J. Paul Fridenmaker, talked about Mars Hill Graduate School in Seattle. While their innovative approach to graduate studies was fascinating, what intrigued me personally was a component J.Paul described as a Leadership Crucible. It is a real-time simulation that casts people into leadership roles for different scenarios, playing out something that happens in real life--being thrown in to play with very little preparation where things are demanding.

As it turns out, after a high-energy week, today turned out to be a really, REALLY, good day for a nap. I look forward to my notes and beginning to piece together the things I learned and the people I met finding the random connections. People to people, people to ideas and ideas to ideas. My favorite!

Sharing a moment...

And so here I am in Houston at a conference and should have been in bed an hour ago. I called down to the front desk to set my wakeup call.

The front desk clerk--a young woman--was so excited. "Did you hear? We have a new president! A landslide. History has been made today." After all of the angst-filled e-mails I've received from my McCain friends, it was a shift in perspective.

No matter where you stand politically, there is something powerful about moving from a world where my mom remembers getting in trouble for drinking from a "colored" fountain (she, of course, wanted colored water instead of plain water) to a world where an African-American wins the presidency.

Do a good job Barack Obama. "We hold these truths to be self-evident" is now in your care.

Moving from Undecided...

Well, after much angst and frustration, I finally came to a voting decision I feel good about. Libertarian.

I read through the party's site and they match much more closely to my personal political views than the limited red state / blue state options. (Have they even assigned a color for libertarians yet???) Especially on the issues I feel the most passionate about: immigration, war in Iraq, healthcare, taxes, and small government.

So, a straight party vote that I could actually feel good casting.

It feels good to be "decided."

A big day for Bethany...

It's official. Bethany is a licensed driver.

No.

We can't believe it either.

The war over the fence sign....

On my drive to work each day, I've been watching a drama played out.

There is a residential fence that backs up to a very busy intersection. One day when driving by, there was a sign on it that said "Abortion is Genocide." About a week later, the sign was gone. The next week, the sign was bigger and located up in the tree over the fence. A few weeks later, it too went missing.

For some people, the election hinges on a single issue...abortion.

Most of my friends believe this should be a clear cut. It's wrong. Stop it. Vote in a way that supports that.

However, I think the issue is more complex than that. Keep in mind that I've actually lived the whole young unmarried girl with an unplanned pregnancy thing, and there were people in my world who suggested abortion as an option. Believing in life, I didn't take that path. (Chase is amazing.)

I think it is easier to look at the issue by viewing the dynamics of a less emotionally-charged one. Look at domestic violence. There are laws in place against it, but that doesn't stop it. In fact, often abused wives who go through the legal system have a bigger problem on their hands as pressing charges just exacerbates the situation.

What does change the game is education and economic opportunities for women. Teaching them that they are worth something. Giving them tools to support themselves. Providing shelter and escape; meeting practical needs like rent and childcare to help them get those tools. In this case, the law is neither here nor there, because it has no effect.

I believe the same applies to abortion. Picket signs don't seem like an effective place to pour energy. And in fact, it communicates something to the world we live in. Pragmatically, it is easy to take a stand when you aren't the one who has to live under it.

I'd love to see this same type of energy poured into making adoption cheaper and easier. Cultural changes that celebrate children and motherhood. (Right now, size 12 moms aren't nearly as in demand as size 6 fashion models.) Support for single moms and company funded child-care. As to the legal issues, I don't think they change the game.

With regard to the election, no matter who is chosen, praying for them as leaders is key. And while politically, I'm disappointed in the current administration, I also didn't do anything to change that. I'm not talking about petitions or voting or any of the other legal avenues. I'm talking about prayer. I never spent the time.

And it would seem that would have been more valuable than tempra paint on posterboard.

Zombie Prom

Every year, the Spiral Diner has an event called the "Zombie Prom." Simply the name makes me want to go. (And sparked a whole train of thought wondering if the reason high school and the prom are featured in so many horror flicks is because it is cathartic!)

Anyway, I was so enamoured of the idea, that I decided to go to the party all of my friends were going to dressed for a "Zombie Prom." John wore his "monkey mask" which with his beard and hair color is freakishly realistic.

David-the-Artist-Pastor and Magical David were there. I LOVED the Indiana Jones ensemble. (DTAP also greased his hair which made his highlights look like gray streaks. Very "Kingdom of the Crystal Skull." And oddly enough, Magical David came dressed as my prom date--though we all thought with the makeup he looked dangerously like Rod Stewart.)

My camera ran out of batteries, so I didn't get to capture all of the fun costumes. Most of my friends came in pajamas as "a slumber party." Nancy C. came with name tags all over her as an "identity crisis." Kimberly was rocking the Marilyn Monroe look and her date came as an escaped Muppet. (He had no mouth, googly eyes, and the strings were cut.) Courtney--appropriately--came to the winery as grapes winning the women's costume contest, and John won the costume contest for the men. (We scored a fabulous bottle of wine.)

Before the party, John and I grabbed dinner at Japango. Our waitress asked me if I was in costume. Then I heard her talking to her mom in Japanese later with the word "costume." Later, the mom came over to me and said (in English) she was relieved. She thought John beat me. (I DID have black eyeshadow painting my arms.) Too funny!

In the end, I really did get to have a "Zombie Prom." The "Weekend Project" band was amazing and we danced, laughed with friends, and were impressed with how everybody looked. They even had punch. (Well, technically sangria, but it counts.)