An Alternative Me

 I believe in God's plan and I also believe in the gift of free will.  Just as Jesus was wholly human and wholly divine, both things can be true. Yes, and. Perhaps God's leading trait is also curiosity and wonders what would happen if...?  So we are put on this path (born into a family and place) and then given the power to choose a direction and then re-choose and then choose again.  It happens over and over again until finally in our later years we can look back and see where the path led, where the changes in directions moved us and those around us.  

I have two recurring thoughts as I look back and ponder on an alternative scenario.  The first is what if I had been born Catholic.  Would I have been more deeply spiritual sooner in life? Catholicism offers so much to hold on to: the bells and smells, stories of saints, its own educational system, murals, and statues.  And this always leads to the next question: if I had grown up in this world, would I have joined a religious order?  In my heart of hearts, I am doubtful, as just like most other 16 year old girls, I fell head over heels in love and if allowed to would have married that cute boy and lived happily ever after. Catholicism would have needed to do a lot of ringing and incensing to substitute that romance for the love of Jesus.  But nonetheless, I deeply enjoy going into this "what if" rabbit hole.  

The second scenario I wonder about is what if I had grown up in a family of campers and grew into a semi-resident of the forest.  I have a deep love for the woods and dive into them as often as I can.  But camping or experimenting with another way of staying there long term has always been a challenge for me. It's one of those things that sounds good but as I imagine myself cold, sleep deprived, and in desperate need of a warm shower, I turn back to embrace this civilized urban life I have adopted. Thoreau was my first hero as an adolescent and Walden was and still is a favorite read. I love following people on social media who are living some form of the Walden Pond existence.  Just as the idea of living in a religious order's time has passed so has this idea of cabin dwelling.  But it does not keep me from dreaming and finding ways to insert both of these alternative me's into my current identification.  

Missing Molly

 Sister Molly came into my life a little less than a year ago.  She had been recommended to me as a perfect spiritual guide match by two people who I deeply respected but when I did the search for her online, my first reaction was "But she is so old."  This is not me being hyperbolic.  Molly joined the Sisters of Holy Names of Jesus and Mary in 1955, the year after I was born! I later learned that she joined at the age of 17 and had just celebrated her Jubilee - 70th anniversary. I searched a bit more but kept coming back to her photo and figured, what the heck; I'll give her a shot.  We chatted on the phone and even over the phone lines all that came through was love; love for you, love of Jesus, and love just to be alive.  Our first meeting only accentuated that reaction.  The shock for me was that so much love could reside and exude but this tiny woman. We shared a love of Catholic education and midwest roots and that was all that was needed for our conversation starter. Our one hour scheduled meetings were always one and a half and we could have easily gone longer. 

 I quickly embraced all the benefits of having an older spiritual companion.  She had seen and heard a lot. There was nothing I could say that would surprise her as I breezed through my life story. She wept with me through the hard parts and laughed with joy at my triumphs.  Each meeting would end with a blessing, prayer, or assignment and I always left feeling whole and complete. I had the feeling that she was as much a therapist as a spiritual companion. She never failed to challenge me for more; she was not Jesuit but she definitely had a handle on the Magis.  She led me through the work challenges of last year and prepared me as no one else could have for the pitfalls and grandeur of the Camino Ignaciano.  

I always knew that I was loved by Molly and hence by Jesus and all the other saints with whom she was clearly in deep relationship with.   I would throw out a quote and she would immediately call out his/her name and give me a new snippet of the saint's life story. She was a goldmine of information and never seemed to be at a loss for words or ways to guide me forward. She gave me great strategies for discerning what was next for me in life and seemed almost as curious as how my story would go as I was. She was looking forward to my next steps in starting the Pierre Favre program next month and my trip to the Holy Land in May.  

The one thing that neither of us anticipated last week as we scheduled our next appointment after my first Pierre Favre class is that she wouldn't be here.  My heart shattered as I slowly absorbed the news of her impending passing.  I immediately felt untethered and could not imagine my next steps without her cheering me on from the sidelines. But in ways that only Sister Molly could, I felt again the showering of her love of me and of Jesus and of all that is waiting for me. I am eternally grateful for the time we had together.  I learned better how to use prayer in discernment, started to get a grasp of the Trinity, and openly shared with her my devotion to the Eucharist.  I will miss her terribly but there is no one better that I can carry in my heart as God leads me forward to the next right thing. Thank you, Sister Molly.  

Protecting the Stillness

 I have been home from Spain for more than a month and one of the greatest gifts that it is still giving is finding comfort in the stillness.  Quiet is never something that I backed away from but this feels different.  I have not only accepted the stillness when it occurs but made space for it in my daily life.  It is unfortunate that retirement is the only time this is even possible in on modern society.  The phrase "carving out" space or time for quiet is apropos.  It does feel like a physical cutting away of something else that would be in its place. My days are frequently filled with thoughts of "I'm just going to sit here," or "I'll stay a few minutes longer."  Those moments used to be moments for prayer and sometimes they still are but not always.  Sometimes it is just an opportunity to be, to sit, to empty my head and heart.  I sit in that void and nothing takes up the space until I rejoin thoughts of the day. It may be the reason that I am finally able to write.  There has to be a space between life and the telling of it.  The emptiness is a necessary ingredient so that when I'm ready to process thoughts and feelings nothing else is pushing up against them.  They have their own space and then the words can follow.  

In Spain, the stillness was most palpable in Montserrat and Manresa.  In the former I was encased by mountains and in the latter a cave.  I often note the feeling of being enclosed or held in my prayer chair these days.  The chair has not been changed, only my perception of it.  I go to the "cave" and feel myself enveloped by the stillness and know only that I am deeply loved.  I am exactly where I am supposed to be; alone in space and time. 

I am moving through the world now knowing that each day must have time set aside to be still and know.  I turn down offers to get together with people if it feels like it will bring too much weight to the day, I eliminate daily news that takes me into darker spaces, I say no to volunteer activities. I wait in the stillness.  I somehow know that the right time for each thing will reveal itself to me and its place in my life.  The quiet brings with it the opportunity for discernment and clearly knowing the next right thing. 

Breathe In

The summer is winding down; actually summer is just a season on the calendar for my loved ones who have already started back to school this week.  But as the retirement slogans go, I am in the midst of my "endless summer."  However, it was only this week that I felt like I could begin the implementation of my retirement weekly schedule.  I was finally back in some sort of routine after my trip to Spain followed by my birthday and all that entails.  It seems that August sets in and reality returns.  Wednesdays on my current weekly schedule call for a "field trip."  In my dream world that might mean a trip to a local museum, a trip to the beach or a local spot in the Bay Area.  But this week (and last week) it meant a walk in the woods.  Today I set off for a spot in Henry Cowell State Park that went somewhat according to plan.  After all, once you're in the redwoods, what else matters?  But I actually had started on my final route back to the car when I happened upon the sign, "Redwood Grove."  I did try to stay focused on the schedule but I just couldn't resist.  The Redwood Grove at Henry Cowell and I have a long, long history.  

As an Iowa native, the redwoods have always held a special place in my heart.  There's nothing like them in Iowa or even outside of California and Oregon.  One of our first family trips was to Redwoods National Park but that was after I had discovered that there is a miniature version of that park less than 40 miles from home.  My first visit was a stunning experience.  My head was constantly thrust back to attempt to see the tops of each and every tree.  The Redwood Grove was kind of ordinary to Ralph; I'm sure he had been hundreds of times and thought little of it until he took me there.  It's just a jog off of state highway 17 to Santa Cruz and it quickly became a regular stop for us.  "Any place you want to go?" was often answered with, "The redwoods?" From the very beginning, I knew that my desire to be there was unusual so I never expected yes for an answer but whenever the car took that turn off of the highway, there was a feeling of great joy and delight in my heart.  The Redwood Grove was the best of all possible places for us to be.  It is an .8 mile walk with 15 points of interest along the path.  So Ralph and I could walk it at his pace, I could take my kids in or out of strollers, and even my father when they came for my master's graduation in 1995.  

My desire to be in that grove has never waned.  I went for a final visit before I moved to Washington, I have fond memories of sharing it with my grandchildren, and it was one of the first places I visited upon my return last year.  So when that sign appeared on my field of vision today, there was no denying it.  Yes, that would be a lovely finish to my walk in the woods today. I made my way from the River Trail and the minute I walked onto the path I noticed a change - there was something in the smell of the air that had been altered  If you could identify a smell as that of motherhood, that's what it was. I was completely transported back to 1985 or there abouts.  I brought our kids here a LOT.  We would go to Santa Cruz several times during the summer and on most trips home, we would take a detour to the redwoods.  Often the kids had no idea that I had made the turn. I would pull up into the parking lot and they would tumble out of the car. I think they must have just amused me, knowing it was a short walk so they would endure it and then Mom would be content to drive home. So, today, once again I walked that path with my head tilted back, searching for the tops of the trees and feeling extremely small.  As the memories came flooding back with the smell of the redwoods, I missed chasing down a child or grandchild along the path, stopping for photos, or cajoling one of them out of a dark, burned out tree trunk. But my happy memories were more than enough to sustain me as I followed the trail back to the car and on to the highway back home.  I am deeply blessed to live in this amazing place of beauty and memories of love.  

 

Birthdays

 Today I celebrate my 69th birthday, that is to say the 69th anniversary of my birth. So what we really mean is that my 69th year is now complete not just beginning. What is beginning is my 70s. According to everyone I know who has passed this threshold, things start to happen in your 70s and they are usually not the things to which we look forward. They are the effects of age creeping in and slowing everything down. They are disease and death. I'm not in any way trying to be morbid, just prepared. I am on watch. I am on watch for faulty joints, for an increased slowness in my morning walks, for wayward cells that my white blood cells can no longer fight off.  So as I look toward this next trip around the sun, my goals are not about finances, they are about longevity.  I still have much to do so planet earth needs to maintain its hold on me for a bit longer. As I step into year number 70, I plan to eat right, exercise, get plenty of rest, take my pills, and greet each new day with joy and appreciation. Along with that, I plan to take the time for self care - for me that means to hold on to the stillness of morning prayer throughout the day, monitor the daily schedule and keep the pace slow. And much like I spent today, I want to take advantage of the beauty that surrounds me and go into the woods as often as I can.  

Retirement 2.0

 I have been retired (for the second time) now for 2 weeks.  Nothing is ever for sure but I have certainly entered into this version easier than the first.  Two good signs are that I haven't made plans to move and I am rearranging furniture inside and out to embrace my hobbies.  Perhaps the worst of it is enduring everyone's jokes about whether or not I will stay retired.  

The more I ponder the difference between this time and 6 years ago, the more I come to understand all the pieces of making these transitions in life more or less successful.  It definitely helped to return to my prior job even part time to realize all the reasons I left it before.  Energy is first on the list.  I was tired almost every day and sometimes I would feel tired just thinking about what I had to do.  A close second is the challenge of working with adults - definitely not my forte.  But the most profound reason is despite all my preparations, I don't think I was ready to retire last time.  I did all the right things, discernment and all, but in retrospect I think my initial move away was fear of not knowing how to create a life of leisure in a place where I had only worked.  It's easy to recreate a new life in a new place but not so easy to do in the place where you already live.  You must combat everyone's opinion of what you should be doing in retirement even though none of them has done it - volunteer, substitute, find a part time job outside of education - as well as dream up who and what you are without work.  Add on to that the fear of being able to make ends meet financially in one of the most expensive places in the country.  I just couldn't imagine I could ever do that; any of it.  It was really so much easier to move and justify to myself and others that it was a financial decision as well as familial; I would be living within a few miles of my sister.  I don't regret any of it.  Life is all about learning.  I learned lots about cold temperatures and a little snow - not a problem - and about sunlight exposure as you move north - BIG PROBLEM for someone who had been in sunny California for 40 years.  

So now it is finally time to confront the issues of being unemployed in the place where you were defined by your work.  Financially, I have all my tiny pots of money in place; Social Security, two pensions, and my savings.  Socially, I now have a few friends who are retired and have blazed the trail ahead of me. Familial, I am blessed to be living 2 blocks from my daughter and her family. Spiritually, I continue to work on the call to serve.  Professionally, yes, I will be volunteering at the school I left to fulfill part of that question.  But no thank you to the substitute or part time job options.  

I have begun work on a weekly schedule to make use of the larger blocks of time I have to work with so I won't "just read" or find out what's up next on Netflix.  It definitely helps to have done this before.  Monday is laundry day, Tuesday is still a cheap day at the movie theaters and always a good day to grocery shop.  Wednesday will be my field trip day so that I can continue to enjoy everything the Bay Area has to offer but without the crowds.  Thursday will be my appointment day so I don't chop the rest of the week into pieces.  In between are blocks of time set aside to read, write, and garden.  It all looks great on paper.  And here is evidence that it can work.  It's Monday and the laundry is in the dryer and I wrote this!

The Pilgrim Returns

 A few days ago I returned from 12 days in Spain and a pilgrimage from Azpeitia to Barcelona following the journey of Ignatius of Loyola.  I went into this adventure with anticipated views of a dirt or rock path and little else.  So I was certainly unprepared for the beauty of the mountains and valleys of the northern provinces of Spain.  I also assumed that all would be revealed to me while walking the path of the Camino.  Granted, there were thoughts and images that brought many questions to a close but I certainly did not receive any answers to the big questions: What do I do next?  Which direction do I follow?  

So what was it all about?

Gifts of the pilgrimage:

• God is with me. Traversing the mountain from Arantzazu was definitely a challenge and as I struggled to breathe and walk simultaneously I called on God (something I have struggled to do in real time of challenges). As I attempted to put one foot in front of the other I repeatedly told myself, God is here, God is with me, I am not alone.
• I am human with physical limitations.  The last 3 miles down the mountain brought back to me the pain of my running years and the tightening of my IT Band.  My only consolation was that if I could keep my knee from bending, I was pain free so I knew it wasn't anything serious.  I was humbled to come to terms with the fact that I would not be walking the entire pilgrimage.  I am grateful that experiences with half marathons taught me that every body has a tipping point and you just can't push past the pain without creating much more serious problems.  "No!" rings through the air.  
• Being in the same space of a man I have respected for years, 500 years later was quite overwhelming.  I was breathing the air Iñigo breathed, I stood in his family kitchen, I stood beside his death mask and sat with him in the cave in Manresa where he too wrote his thoughts.  I felt his spirit everywhere and struggled to leave behind each of those spaces.  
• My plan of getting a simple tattoo before I left has grown into a much more complex design.  I fear that no longer will it fit on my wrist where I would see it daily.  I'm trusting that with Tessa's help, "all will be well."
• I can't explain how I know it, but I was reassured that my invitation to the Pierre Favre program in September is exactly where I need to be.  The feeling that you are at least heading in the right direction is enough to know that this is the call.  
• Being invited into the stillness.  The quiet reflection of the pilgrimage has continued as I have returned home and attempt to find my place in the world again.  I step slowly into my life once more.  Returning home as retired is extremely helpful to my prayer practice.  It is day 3 and I remain significantly outside the world.  I am reconnecting with family and friends that I know will attempt to understand this experience or at least nod their heads knowing that whatever it is I experienced was something beyond language and was all good.  

When people ask me about the pilgrimage, I just say Spain is beautiful.  There is little else I can say about a pilgrimage that is supposedly a trek up and down a mountain and through the valleys toward the docks of Barcelona but in actuality mostly takes place in your inner being.  So I slowly, ever so slowly reenter life extremely aware that God is guiding my steps if only I take the time to wait, ponder, and reflect.  

Me as Pilgrim

Within a matter of a few days, I will be retired once again and be boarding a plane bound for Spain. Upon my arrival I will be following in the footsteps of St. Ignatius as I pray my way from Loyola to Manresa.  I have no doubt that God has led me to this place in this precise time.  I am embracing the label pilgrim but it has been something I have had to define for myself.  Today I am sharing an unedited/unrevised entry from my journal.   

As I continue to prepare mentally for the Camino, I am coming to terms with my understanding of a pilgrim and a pilgrimage.  This journey is becoming a symbol of my life here on earth.  I am a traveler learning and growing as I go through the weeks, months, and years of my life moving ever closer to God and the person I was created to be.  There have already been beautiful vistas to enjoy as well as the desolate deserts.  But in all of the times of my life, God has been beside me calling me nearer to the path that was created for me.  To be a pilgrim is to enter into the unknown, trusting that all will be well.  It means being present to your surroundings and learning to see the environment as part of the call forth - "Come and see."  This, all of this is for you to experience.  It is all laid out for you to either enjoy and be awestruck by or to learn from.  Part of the journey is to be present to the place, the people, knowing it is all part of the pilgrimage.  I want to take it all in and appreciate this liminal space and time that has been set aside to move through the transition into the next phase of my life.  To be a pilgrim is to be open to the unknown of what lies ahead.  It is to be courageous as you enter into this new frontier of what God has waiting for you.  It is to trust.  

A Year Later

 A year ago, the most amazing thing happened in the most ordinary of places. I was just going through emails at the end of the day and a message appeared from Ancestry.com. Fast forward 365 days and all I can do is give thanks. I give thanks to Sarah who entered into the most tenuous of situations and asked the hard question to Mike and I, "Could my mom be your sister?" I give thanks to Amy who is the sister and friend that I didn't know I was waiting for and who in some strange and unexplainable way has completed me, completed my definition of family, and what it means to be a sibling. In the year that has passed I have been in her physical company in 2 different time periods and the only way to describe it is to say that I just can't get enough of her. We meet for breakfast and then gather again for a family dinner or meet for breakfast and then again the next day to hang out in the Gardens.   Our conversations no longer entail the childhood that we each experienced but have moved through time and space into the spiritual realms that we each have embraced and look toward our next phase of life.  We grow and learn from each other; we enter into each other's holy places and ask questions because we want to know more.  We want to know each other more deeply and we want to know the paths that have brought each of us to these places of God's love.  She is truly a gift that I never knew I was craving.  And now that she is here in my life, I keep finding ways to be in her presence.  I said it before, I can't get enough of her.  

Forgiveness

 I am currently involved in an ongoing workshop on spiritual accompaniment.  A better title would be "Learning to Listen."  Last week we were given a homework assignment; tell the story of a moment that surprised you with an unexpected flood of feeling and how it has affected you.   Here it is.

The moments that come to me initially are the big ones:  seeing my daughter hold her first born stands out above all the rest.  When I first saw them in the hospital, I thought "there is my baby holding her baby."  But this awareness digs itself down deep somehow and I am no longer able to look at a mother and baby or watch a birth experience on TV or a movie with out tearing up and sobbing.  I ask my friends how long this will last; no one has an answer for me but I now know it goes on for years. 

Then the moments of graduations and deaths come to me.  The moments of saying goodbye to my grandfather and then my father and now my mother and of holding it for just a moment longer while I think that this may be the last time.  It reminds me that every moment matters, every moment I have the privilege to be in the presence of my elders matters.  All they want and all I have to give is my time, my touch, my understanding.  And now as I age ever closer to this stage in life, I come to understand that this too will be all I ever long for from my own children and grandchildren.

But the moment that resides in my heart, that still creates that flood of feeling, came in a room with my adult children and their partners just a few months ago.  My son's journey was a difficult one at times and our relationship took on its cracks that we filled with gold like a kinsugi bowl.  The cracks are still visible but they gleam in the light and we give thanks for the beauty that is left in their path.  Over the past few years he has frequently shared with me his apologies for the pain that his maturing into the amazing man he became had caused, and I graciously accepted them thinking that he has now received his penance and reconciliation.  But recently in a casual family conversation reliving the teen years that ended in laughter from everyone, the apology came again and so did my tears when I finally came to realize that this is something that for now he  needs to return to again and again until he understands that he has been cleansed.  He has apologized, I have forgiven him but yet his pain still rests between us.  I will continue to forgive my beloved son until he himself knows and feels the unconditional love that I have and have always had for him.  So what remains is the awareness that, as humans, we cannot imagine that our sins can be forgiven, that mercy can be so generously extended and that we can be loved so completely.  

Discernment is Ongoing

 The question remains; what is the next right thing?  I made the decision and then the decision changed.  Sometimes discernment is me looking at life and making a choice based on what has happened.  And sometimes discernment is the events changing me and I realize immediately that this reality must stop.  And that is what has happened over the last few weeks.  Work is work but at times it takes on a life of its own and I just ride along.  But every time the roller coaster hits the peak, I have a moment to look out at the horizon and what I see scares me.  In that fear comes the realization that this is not what I signed up for and I no longer have the skills necessary to do the work.  When work invades my personal life and as I count the days since I have seen my children or grandchildren, I move past my ten fingers, something must change.  I am hit in the face with the knowledge that the decision you made just a few weeks ago is no longer valid.  No, this decision is not to be placed at the feet of my principal; it is mine to make.  As much as I want to say yes, this one is a no.  I choose life beyond the school walls.  I choose the role of grandmother over administrator.  I choose time - time to pray, time to write, time to be a friend and daughter/sister/mom/grandma.  I, once again, choose retirement.   

What is the Work That is Mine to Do?

This story begins about a year ago.  As I was praying my way through the 19th Annotation of  the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, it became clear that I was being called back to work with the students of Sacred Heart Nativity Schools.  My gifts as a reading and special education teacher could definitely be put to good use.  As I was ending my career as vice principal this was the dream; retire and then come back and tutor as a volunteer.  Five years later, that’s what was on the agenda - tutor one-on-one with kids who could use an extra push to get over the finish line.  Fast forward a few months…  I offered my services to tutor and one thing led to another.  The tutoring offer led to some summer school homework club supervision and then to taking over a couple summer school art classes and finally to returning to the vice principalship on a part time basis in September.  I didn’t see any of these things coming but the Spirit kept encouraging me to say yes.  I was thrilled to be back at Nativity.  My concerns of re-defining the job under a new principal gradually faded away.  I was happy to again be supporting the person in charge.  Day by day turned into weeks and a bit of malaise began to set in.  When I sat down to reflect on it, I realized it was a challenge that had been self-created.  I only knew how to be a full time principal.  How do I fit the work that I wanted to do in half the time?  Many solutions went through my mind.  I need to change my schedule from 10-2 to 9 to 1.  That will keep me from the temptation of staying until the school day is over.  I’ll resign in July; I will have gotten them through the hard first year of a new principalship.  I’m in the wrong job - I should have been hired as the reading intervention teacher not the vice principal.  

So I changed my schedule and I somewhat decided it was a one-year gig.  But as time went on, the kids at Nativity did what they are adept at doing; they wind their way into your heart and you can’t imagine walking away from them.  Then came Thanksgiving break quickly followed by Christmas break and it all felt doable again.  But the seed of being the reading intervention teacher kept coming back to haunt my thoughts of staying on as vice principal.  So I took the discernment process to my spiritual guide and we settled on trying a little experiment called “Act As IF.”  The assignment was to act as if you were coming back as Vice Principal for a week; reflect on it.  Then act as if you are walking away from the vice principalship but are committing to being a reading tutor or reading intervention teacher.  Side note:  Within three days of our meeting, I came to the understanding that this actually was not my dilemma to work through.  This decision belonged to the principal.  He had already seen me in action for four months, this was his decision to make.  This is the true definition of Ignatian Indifference.  I bring everything I have to the work and leave it up to God where my gifts can best be put into action.  I could continue on as vice principal, knowing that I am deeply respected and appreciated in that role or take on a more personal role with the students and give everything I have to developing successful readers.  Either way was fine with me.  

I returned from Christmas break ready to follow through on the role playing assignment, Act As If.  I was interested to see what the Spirit had in store for me.  The first week back, I confronted dilemma after dilemma as vice principal and took them all in stride.  I was physically and mentally present to every event.  By Thursday, as I reflected on the day, my most prevalent thought was, “I am really important to the work of this community.”  I went home every night feeling good about the work that l was doing.  I was making a difference and not once did I entertain the notion that I was in the wrong job.  

Then phase 2 of Act As If was put into action.  I came into the week with serious concerns about the current intervention program that had been put in place in September.  I took the time to process about it and set up a meeting with one of the tutors.  My focus for the week was completely on reading but I was able to carry on with my vice principal duties without a misstep.  By Tuesday afternoon, the principal called to talk about the intervention program and by Thursday it had been put on hold and was placed ever so gently in my lap.  This did not in the least feel like a burden.  It felt more like a generous gift.  This is my great love of teaching - opening the doors to literacy for students.  

So what I thought was a choice to be made was a grave error.  I didn’t need to choose between being vice principal and directing a reading program - I had just been given the opportunity to do both.  Yes, and.  I do not hold out any thoughts that this will be easy or that I can pull it off without a hitch but I am excited to get to work.  

I carry on without concern for next year.   I continue to lay the decision at the feet of the principal. I am happy to come back as part time principal knowing that we will be building on all that we have accomplished this year.  And I would be just as pleased to build a reading assistance program that would support our struggling students.  As always, I will follow the path that has been placed in front of me knowing that all I have is meant for God’s use.

Take Lord, receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and my entire will, all I have and call my own.  You have give all to me.  To you, Lord, I return it.  Everything is yours; do with it what you will.  Give me only your love and your grace, that is enough for me.

2022: What Worked and What Didn't

The highs

1.  Saying yes.  Saying yes to the silence and listening for the answer.  It was in the patience to hear the response that the path became known to me.  And day after day, I would repeat the question and the answer came again and again.  It is time to go home.  So I said yes, over and over again. 

2. Spiritual Direction.  It has taken several forms in 2022 and they have all been good.  Kelly led me through the Spiritual Exercises and in our weekly Zoom meetings I came to see and experience the compassionate love of Christ in another human being for the first time in my life.  I am growing into my meetings with Sr. Molly and am coming to understand how broad and encompassing this field can be. Spiritual direction continues to show up in casual conversations with Robert and Marc at school.  I am often struck by surprise when I find myself in these deep interchanges; I look around and realize I'm in my office having these profound experiences of God in the flesh.  Spiritual Direction has come to reveal itself as a challenge and sometimes a confrontation in my spiritual life: it makes clear what has been asked and which many times I have been afraid to confront.  But when the question comes from another human, it cannot be ignored or distracted from.  It demands an answer. 

3. Mass/Eucharist/The Mission Church.  It called to me from many miles away and beckoned me back to Eucharist.  It continues to call to me weekly, knowing that through the body of Jesus, I am strengthened and rejuvenated for what lies ahead.  It is now so much more than a call to come; it is an emotional event every single week as I take on the body of Christ and witness the faces of Jesus coming to take and receive. 

4. Connection to family and friends.  Lucia brought me home in her dreams and I have been gifted with so many happy memories because I could finally respond to the urging request of this beautiful child.  And the gifts just keep coming: dinner/movie dates with the CG's, Thanksgiving memories with the Gianninis all in one room together again, coffee/dinner dates with Lorraine, coffee/Labyrinth walks with Nancy, and a renewal of friendships with Paul Zarka and the Nativity staff.  As a result. my love for others continues to grow to a depth that could never have been predicted.

5. Praying the Examen.  This daily reflection has become life changing.  Every 24 hours I can see how God/goodness is moving in my life.  I'm learning to see the trends and trust in allowing myself just to be, be in the presence of the moment and have faith that as I let go of my ego, something much better is waiting for me. 

6. Morning prayer based on daily scripture reading reflections.  I never dreamed that I would ever be starting my day with God.  Nothing happens before prayer, before readings, before written reflections.  And the words that flow from my pencil always take me by surprise; ALWAYS.  The words can then lead me out of my prayer corner and into the world surrounded by love.

7. Stitch Fix.  I've never enjoyed shopping so it has been the perfect solution for this retired woman returning to work.  My wardrobe arrives in the mail, I revel in trying them on and hanging them in the closet with no effort whatsoever from me. 

8. Weekly calls to Mom and texts to my siblings.  Somehow we are all making it work.  We are growing into how best to meet Mom's needs and provide the support she requires or is willing to accept.  And in the meantime, our sibling relationships are growing as well.  I have never been closer to Mike and am coming to better understand Patty. And Amy! She is the gift I didn't know that I needed. As we grow closer, I see more deeply who I am, was, and am becoming. She is the light that shines, lighting the way and reflecting back the goodness and love that was always there.

9. Travel.  Plane tickets to San Jose in March, a cross country trip in April with a stop to see Dave and Tessa, air travel to meet Amy and see Paul and Arma Jo in August and on to visit Mom.  The miracle of traveling across country in car or plane is still an amazing thing.  Within days or hours I am in the arms of loved ones. No text, email, FaceTime, or phone call can compare with that.

10. Podcasts - both spiritual and the mundane.  They connect me to higher ground or keep me in the know of what it is being experienced by the younger set.  This becomes more and more of a challenge as I age.  I could easily just live my life and think my deep thoughts.  Knowledge is power. 

11. Netflix/streaming services.  Somehow through great trial and error and advice from Dave, I have come to have services that are meeting my wants and desires with very little disappointment.  I also have appreciated recommendations from my kids, my brother, and Lorraine on what to watch next. 

12. Living in a smaller space.  Everything in life seems to have prepared me for this, the smallest abode ever.  The last few years have been a constant accumulation and shedding of possessions and houses and here I sit in this rented duplex two short blocks from my dearly beloved.  I am happy in the small space.  There is room to bake and prepare my Hello Fresh meals (thank you Lorraine) but it is small enough to feel the warmth and safety of walls around me. 

And the lows

1. Scheduling time to write.  Retirement was all about having the time to create, to learn new things, to develop gifts.  And I really did think that a half time job would still leave me half the time to create and learn and grow. Just as I needed a schedule when I first retired, I again need a half time schedule.  

2. Living blue in a red state.  I’ve been out of Florida for 9 months and this feeling still resides in my memory of 2022.  Watching the news became a thing of pain and a nonstop prediction of what did Florida do or say today.  I truly believed I was an independent thinker and didn’t need like minded people near me in order to process the events of the day.  It made me keenly aware of what I said to whom.  Yes, I need my tribe and that is definitely on the west coast.  

3. Service.  Although I tried out several avenues of service in Florida, none of them seemed to stick for very long.  However my unpredictable schedule and travel plans didn’t make it any easier.  Everything I attempted was put through the lens of service in San Jose.  But when I returned, I realized these opportunities too either didn’t fit the schedule or I didn’t fit the service agency.  So my challenge has been to redefine “service.”  I am serving the poor every day and am trusting that when the right fit comes along, I will recognize it and grab on.  

4. Coaching class.  This opportunity came along and I grabbed it thinking it would lead me along the path to spiritual guiding.  It hasn’t quite panned out the way I thought it would but I am still Zooming in every Monday and picking up new learning when and where I can.

5. Housing.  Finding housing in the move back to the bay area turned out to be a series of one compromise after another.  My house buying days were clearly over but the dream is still there.  I do miss home ownership and being able to paint a wall if I so desire.  This all feels like the right thing “for now.”  I have no idea what the future holds for me or the housing market but the door will always be open; condo, duplex, tiny house…

6. The life you imagined.  This year has definitely not lived out the way I thought it would.  I suppose that is the added challenge of making these life changing decisions; they are based on what we imagine life will be compared to the life we are already living.  The dream often wins out over the reality.  But I am making it work and loving almost every bit of it.  

And so now, I prepare to enter the unknown of 2023.  I know it holds untold sorrows and joys yet to be experienced.  Loved ones will suffer and some will pass away and I will commit to memory incredible events that today I cannot even imagine.  But I will take the next right step each and every day and trust that all will be well and that love will abide.

Some Thoughts on my Return to Nativity School

The Sacred Heart Nativity staff is a community of deeply caring educators who serve and support one another in all facets of the job.  We serve, not only the students of Nativity, but one another.  We support each other by sharing a smile, a laugh, or a word of encouragement during days that can feel extremely long.  We are reassured by the knowledge that we are all in this together.  

Every one of us knows in our heart that we have been brought here as a part of God’s plan.  Coming to Nativity is always a calling.  Sometimes that plan is brief and sometimes much longer.  For a few of us, teaching at Nativity is our spiritual path for a number of years and we feel the nudge to move on.  Then, like many of our students, we come back to visit because it has become the definition of home for us.  We come back, not because we want to but because it is what our spirit demands.  We need to be nourished once again by the community that fed and sustained us.  Unbeknownst to us, Nativity has permeated our entire being.  It has defined who we are as educators and as believers.  

The calling from God is for the work as well as the personal connection to the mission.  Each day as we walk through the door, we encounter the faces at the margins and find ourselves in the exact spot that Jesus has called us.  Whether it be in the classroom or on the playground, it is in these faces that we see the embodiment of what it means to break the cycle of poverty through education.  We are making a difference.  As we share our gifts and stories with our students, we are transformed as much or more than they are.  We gain as much as we give; we are humbled as we stand in the shadow of their strength and resilience.  We become better people because we are among these learners who teach us every day what it means to work toward a goal that feels just beyond our reach.  

There is nothing easy about this job.  It is the hardest, most  important work that any of us will ever do.  We give our whole selves each day and come back the next day to do it again.  We do it because we see the impact that we are having and it is addictive.  The more that is achieved today, the more we see what can be done tomorrow.  We are lifting up each student in our class academically, emotionally, and socially.  When that student goes home to tell the story of his/her day to the family, they too are lifted.  They learn through their children that there is a way up.  There are possibilities for their children they didn’t know existed.  In those conversations, they learn a new word or phrase in English; they learn about a community event that also opens possibilities for their own lives.  They learn about an author of a book their children have read who lived the same life as they are living and who made his way to Santa Clara University through the support of teachers like those of their son or daughter.  They see what is possible.  And as each family is lifted, so is the community.  So the work each teacher does with that student to whom they give a word of praise or acknowledgement echoes back through his/her parents, grandparents, siblings, and out to local neighbors and friends.  This student will feed on success after success until he/she begins to believe and imagine what is possible; that they too can be the first generation of their family to go to college, to be a teacher, an author, an engineer.  And as their siblings then enter through the same doors on Edwards Avenue, they already know what’s possible because they have heard the story and witnessed their sibling’s success.  

The Nativity Staff is a team of workers like no other.  Every year, we say it’s the best team ever assembled.  We believe it because we have seen the results student after student, year after year.  We know the dream is within our grasp.  From our first day on campus, our hearts have quickly learned the feeling of being broken open, individually and as a group.  We laugh and cry with our students and each other.  But in the quiet moments of the evening we ponder the day and wonder what it is to be twelve and to struggle with all you have in you to learn, to achieve, and to trust that every one of these adults will come through on the promise of success; that you will follow in the footsteps of the graduate portraits on the walls of Sacred Heart Our Lady of Grace Nativity Schools.  And each June, these teachers will heave a huge sigh and proudly lead these graduates out of the doors of the church into the world, to set it on fire.  

Place Holder for the Story that Begs to be Told

 This email was sent to my children the day after I met my half-sister who came into my life less than two months ago.  From the very beginning it has been a story that is begging to be not only told but written and published.  So for now, I will leave it here so that I can hold on to the depth of feelings of this moment.  

"It is the day after my meetings with A and I’m not sure I can put it all into words yet.  In talking to Uncle M about it this morning he agreed that it was extremely difficult to explain it to anyone else.  So let me just relay some events.  Everyone keeps telling me that it is a story begging to be written.  And I'm beginning to agree.

We decided to meet for breakfast alone and then with the family for dinner.  A and I met at the First Watch restaurant in Omaha.  I parked the car and saw her driving in as I got out.  So I waited for her to join me.  We immediately fell into each other’s arms and just started crying.  We hugged each other and would step back and look at each other.  Both of us we were filled with the desire to just touch the other one and and confirm her reality.  Lots of hugging and always accompanied by tears.  As we walked in, she said, I feel like I know you but I don’t know you.  Fast forward to last night as I was leaving; I asked her if she knew me now.  She said yes and agreed that she had also known me in that morning.  You are exactly who I thought you would be.

A’s first question to me was to relay again the timeline of the Allen family moves.  This seemed to be a common topic of conversation for the entire Van Putten family and perhaps the most difficult piece for everyone to grasp - that my father was a builder and as a result we moved often.  From there the questions ping-ponged from my family life as a child to my kids, to my work, to today.  It was an extreme exercise in brain flexibility for a 68-year old.  We met for breakfast at 9:30 and finally stood up to leave a few minutes after noon. It was exhausting, and exhilarating, and an amazing gift that we freely gave to each other.  The waitress was extremely patient with us and thrilled to be in our company with Amy openly said, this is my half-sister.  Those words still ring in my ears at validation of our relationship because it was said with such love and joy.

Next came the family meeting - the family reunion that I didn’t even know that I was a part of until 2 months ago.  I drove out to their house and met her husband, Jeff, 3 of her 5 daughters, Erin, Lena, and Sarah, 2 son-in-laws, and 6 grandchildren.  It was a lot.  But the house is big so it wasn’t as chaotic as it sounds.  Everyone had questions and again they ranged from my youth, to motherhood, to professions, to this moment.  It was almost indescribable.  It was funny and light, thoughtful and caring, We laughed at the situation, at our families, and at each other.  But in the end all that resided was love for one another and joy in each other's company.  

There are several topics or ideas that stand out in my mind and that will always be remembered.  First, you can tell a child that Grandma has a new sister and you have a new aunt and they simply take it in stride, say "Cool.  It's nice to meet you," and carry on with their card game or whatever they were doing.  There are no questions or need for clarification.  They don't wonder how you could have a sister and not know it; did you lose her?  It just is.  Second, it is not possible to "know" my mom without also including many stories of my dad.  Her thoughts and actions cannot be understood without first knowing who she was in relation to her husband.  This of course, is partially a product of the time in which she has lived.  In the 1950s a woman simply didn't have the safety net for personal dreams or aspirations.  

Another piece of the story that I will always hold in my heart is the fact that simple acts can and do make monumental differences in other people's lives.  And we cannot anticipate what they will be.  I told Amy the "Baby May" story not long after we met.  I told it with only love and affection and the hope to communicate that she was dearly loved by her 4 siblings even before she was born.  While she enjoyed and appreciated the story what she took from it demonstrates the caring loving person she is.  She had long envisioned the painful decision of a mother carrying and delivering a baby and then releasing her into the world.  She knew this would be a decision that would have long lasting effects on the mother.  But she had never dreamed that the siblings would also have been old enough to feel the pain of this loss.  In her words, "I never dreamed that others would have been hurt too."  

And one final vignette, shortly after M and I started communicating with A he added her to his Family Tree on Ancestry.com.  He thought little of the act and openly states that he added A at the same time that he added Aunt P.  But this simple act had lasting implications.   As A and I talked about it yesterday she said she didn't realize how the feeling of connection had evaded her for her entire life.  This simple website action brought home to her that after all these years she was wanted, loved, and at long last connected to another person.  She talked about a lifetime of feeling untethered.  Even though she was adopted and loved by her parents as an adopted child, she realized that she never got over the act of being given up.  And because she was one of three adopted children in her family, the connection was still missing.  They simply became three children in a home with a mom and dad. So with this one keystroke by her half-brother, her entire view of family was changed.  The simplest things that we do just because we are being honest to who we are has the power to entirely shift another's experience of love, connection, and family. 

Now finally, in closing I will share that after leaving breakfast, A called her best friend to tell her the next chapter of her siblings saga and simply said, "I have the best big sister in the world!""

Embracing my 68th Year

 On this eve of my 68th year, I have nothing but anticipation in my heart and mind.  Five years ago I joined the ranks of retired educators, which now in retrospect looks more like a hiatus.  I have made my prodigal return to the school I left in exactly the same position I held.  But this time it feels manageable with a balance of time with my children and grandchildren.  I am back in the city of my home of more than 40 years.  Everything about this homecoming looks bright.  My family and friends are here, my spiritual life is in balance, and there is a renewed purpose to who I am and the gifts and talents I have to offer.  

What if?

 On this day when the unimaginable has happened, when the Supreme Court has struct down Roe v Wade, when the highest court in the land has seen as its duty the need to restrict rights rather than broaden them, I think back. I think back to a 17 year old girl living in rural Iowa. I feel that sinking feeling she experienced in her gut when she knew she was pregnant and had not an inkling of an idea of what to do next. She told her father because she knew he would somehow magically know what to do and wouldn't waste his time on the shame of it or the "you should have" lecture. There would be no loud voices and no punishment for this error in judgement. There wasn't a moment to lose. It was July and college and her future was on the horizon. There wasn't time for thoughts of keeping the baby or adopting out the baby; there was only the thought that this father would not sacrifice the future of his youngest daughter for a teenage love that had dissolved just weeks earlier. But what if? What if he and her mother hadn't already experienced the challenge of raising a baby as teenagers. What if he didn't have a Presbyterian minister who could access a safe abortion in New York City the year before Roe v Wade legalized abortion? What if he hadn't been willing to make the sacrifice of financing airfare and medical services in 1972 on a contractor's salary? What if? This girl would have become a legal adult in three weeks time. And within another several months, the baby would be born into a drafty farm house to an unemployed single mother. The anticipated empty nest of her parents would have been replenished with a second generation to raise. Her horizon would now hold only the option of a secretarial or a service industry job. The prospects for marriage would be far from the destined PhD educated man who would soon become a small business owner. And it would be ages before she could ever envision living comfortably in a 3 bedroom/2 bathroom house with 2 beautiful children. That dream of her college degree and teaching credential would be decades away from fruition, if ever. So when we speak of women's rights being cut off through the act of banning abortion, this is the life choice we are setting before our young female adults: single motherhood, minimum wage jobs and few prospects for a life partner that would help to lift them out of poverty and into home ownership. And yet, today in America, that is exactly what we have done.

Your Dad

I never knew a man who wanted to become a father as much as yours did.  It was all part of the scenario when we met.  "I want to get married and have kids."  I will always be grateful that you came along as soon as you did.  He would have quickly grown impatient waiting for his family dream.  The days of your birth were without measure for him.  He could not have been happier.  He never cared about having a boy or girl, only that you were healthy babies.  The hardest thing he did in the early days was go to work and leave you at home.  A daily walk or two to the store was always on our agenda.  The minute you showed up, he would stop everything and pick you up and hold you.  He would proudly present you to a waiting customer or salesperson with that big smile of his and eyes ablaze.  "This is my baby." Oftentimes I would take over the cash register so he could enjoy his time with both of you.  Diapers were changed on top of the freezer filled with bags of ice and we stayed until someone needed a nap or to be fed.  Your dad was always sad to see us go; he would stand at the door and wave and wave like he might not see you again for days.  When 5:30 rolled around he'd bound in the door and look for his kids to give them both a hug and kiss.  

He loved you with a love that was deep and true.  There was nothing you could ever have done that could have broken that bond.  He firmly believed from day one that you were the smartest, cutest, funniest children that had ever been born.  No matter what you were doing, he thought it was perfect and you became the focus of all of his stories.  Guess what Maria did.  Watch what Dave can do.  With each of your achievements he wanted it to be recorded and remembered for all time.  He was constantly telling me to take a picture of whatever you were doing.  So there are pictures of Dave holding a kitten, Maria eating a peach, and the two of you displaying your first savings account booklets.  He rarely wanted his picture taken so this one is special; it was taken outside of the Lawrence Hall of Science in 1985 after you had once again proven that you were Daddy's little geniuses.  

As the holder of these memories, I share them with you so that on this Father's Day, you will once more feel the love that was endlessly given to you and intended to last for all of eternity.  Let this love of your childhood hold you while you feel the embrace of your Dad as he once again swings you up and you see the world from the perch on top of his shoulders.  

Setting Your Sights

 The metaphor of setting a sight comes from the action of looking through a gun's sight and focusing on the target before taking the shot.  In life, we gradually learn to set our sights on a number of targets.  As a child mine was usually set on what my siblings had or getting the last of the cake crumbs.  As we age, we learn to set our sights on much longer term goals; a good grade on the history test, training for the race, or learning a new skill.  Eventually we look towards a college education, getting that first job and suddenly we lose track of the target.  Life takes over.  It just becomes one goal that follows another - marriage, kids, managing school and work and kids and now we can no longer see the sight or the target.  We have gone from looking intently at the target to spinning mildly out of control.  And one day we stop the merry-go-round.  We can't get off but we can definitely downshift and slow the pace.  We once again look through the sight and remember the target. Each decision now is aimed at making that target come into view.  Nothing is taken for granted.  

A line is drawn in the sand; I wake in the morning and focus on the goal.  I choose to be happy that I am awake, not irritated that I woke up and am no longer asleep.   I greet the day with a feeling of awe in the beauty of the sun rising and I am witness to its glory.  On my morning walk everything is new and fresh; the birds are singing, lizards scurry to safety, the glistening sunlight on trees blowing in the breeze reminds me that everything is changing all the time.  This sight you see right here right now won't be visible in the blink of an eye.  So take it in, relish it, and be grateful you were the spectator.  

Since my move back home, I have become extremely aware of this setting of sights and perspective.  For the first time in more than 20 years I became a renter and no longer in charge of the home I live in.  On my first day here, I questioned everything.  Had I noticed the chips and cracks in the kitchen tile or that there are three different kinds of linoleum in three adjoining rooms, or the fact that there was no dishwasher?  What was I thinking?  I was only thinking of my "sight."  My sights were set on being home, being walking distance to my family, and finally being able to once again grow in faith and love.  On day two, my sights completely changed.  Everything was unpacked and placed where it could be appreciated.  The framed photos, the art, the mementos that had been gifted to me seemed to surround and envelop me in the safety of home.  I could no longer see the tile cracks or mismatched flooring and didn't care one bit about a dishwasher.  I was home and I had all the things around me that bring joy. I began the work of arranging and rearranging furniture to get in my sights exactly the things on which I wanted to see and focus.  The living room was set toward the backyard, the computer found its own niche in the corner, and the prayer chair eventually came to face the altar with a small table beside it to house the books and journal.  

Now that the move is complete my sights gradually are focusing in on the call to service.  I have been brought back to this place in this time to continue the work that was underway before I left.  I am here to grandmother, to find my professional place in education, and to continue my faith journey.  So with every question that presents itself, I grant it the time and perspective it deserves.  I sit with it in silence. I pray about it and listen.  My yes is ready only if it moves me closer to the path that has been set before me.  My perspective is a positive one and focused on the future.  I choose not to dwell on lost time in the past or mistakes that may have been made, but only on what is coming and how I can serve.  Yes, life is complicated at times, but we can easily unravel the knots by taking the time to look through the sight and focus on the target.  I set my sights on love, on spending my time well, and on sharing my gifts.    

With Whom Do You Share Your Family Secrets?

 Less than two weeks ago a family secret was released into the world.  No matter how you prepare for the thought that there may be more to your family than previously thought, it still comes as a bit of a shock.  And being human, when things throw you off kilter, the first thing you want to do is tell someone.  You yearn for that shared looked of shock and surprise so you no longer feel alone in your dizzying stupor.  This is human connection at its strongest.  Listen to my story and tell me what you think.  

A few years ago I learned about the ring theory in grief work.  You, as the primary grievers: spouse, children, parents receive comfort from those just outside your circle, your close friends.  So comfort flows inward and grief flows out.  This all came into my mind this week as the secret began to find its way into a wider circle.  The question now became who do you tell once that inner circle has been informed and supported. It only takes one person who responds with anger in place of surprise to make you question who I am telling and why.   Is it gossip, am I sharing this just for the effect?  Is that who I am?  But the secret is not just a secret; it is a person, a human being that we, as kind and loving humans want to welcome into our inner circle.  We want to know this person, share our stories, have coffee or lunch together.  We want to meld this new person into our family and give witness to the new us that has been created.  In the spirit of openness, honesty, and transparency, people who know me need to know that we have grown and been changed.  I cannot become one who has to guard my topics of conversation depending on who I am with, trying to remember who knows and who doesn't.  I was never any good at lying so I'm not going to get caught in an "Oh, I forgot to tell you that we are one more now."  In the business of secrets, just as with grief, the telling moves outward and the support moves in.  I tell you my story, you look surprised, I nod and begin the arduous task of fielding the unanswerable questions of who is the other parent, how did this happen, were they in relationship, how did they stay married?  With time, the questions fade to black and the look of puzzlement has been replaced with joy.  Immediately the joy I have felt for the last two weeks in having found a new member of my family is transferred to my confidant.  The questions are no longer about the event but about the person.  What is s/he like?  Where does s/he live?  Are you going to meet him/her? And finally, we are able to move on, with you knowing that I have put my trust in you to have and hold this new information about me and about my family.  But the thing that is left in my heart after each of these encounters is gratitude; gratitude that this person is in the world and I get to share my life and world with he/r and gratitude that I have this circle of friends with whom I can share my story.