Rembering and Celebrating

I was trying to figure out what to put as my status on Facebook this morning.  Many of my friends have something about the fact it's Remembrance Day.  There's no question that's important.  My Dad's brother was killed in Italy during World War II. The thing is, it's also my brother's birthday.  We may not always, or even often, see eye to eye on many things, but it's still his birthday and that's worth celebrating. 

The two things always seem to stand in stark contrast. 

My birthday is close to Christmas and, though I'm forty ... at least for another month ... people still ask me if I dislike having my birthday close to Christmas.  Our family Christmas tree still doesn't usually go up until after my birthday, so the two celebrations remain separate. 

That can't really happen for my brother's birthday.  It's the same day.  The day of somber remembrance for those who have been willing to pay the ultimate price to make peace a reality in our world, that day is also his birthday, a day to celebrate life. 

Maybe they're not really such opposite things.  Yes, we need to remember the sacrifices that have been made on our behalf, but our actions also need to show we value those sacrifices by not forgetting to celebrating the life and freedom we have.

I guess that decides it.  Remember and Celebrating, that's what I'm doing today.

A Name Is a Name Is a … Or Is It?

“What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;”

Thus wrote Shakespeare, but a silly thing at work the other day made me wonder.

One of my tasks is processing applications, and late in a very busy day, I picked up an application for a company whose name was Gardening Gnomes Landscaping.  I’ll admit, I like garden gnomes … at least the cute ones … and probably because there are still two in my parents’ yard that had previously been in my grandma’s garden almost as long as I can remember, garden gnomes make me smile.

I loved the company’s name and kind of wished that there would be something wrong with their application so that I needed to contact them.  There wasn’t, but I just wanted to tell them how awesome their name was.

I mentioned the name to a couple of colleagues.  One got it and was just as tickled as I was, but the other one looked at me perplexed and said, “Why would they do that to themselves?”

The answer seemed blatantly obvious to me.  I’d hire a landscaping company called Gardening Gnomes Landscaping in a heartbeat. If I’m being honest with myself, I’d probably be tempted to be completely irresponsible and hire them without any research or references or any of the things a responsible adult should do before paying a company money to do something.  The name gives me such a warm, fuzzy, trusting feeling, all because of the association with one of the most important people in my life, my grandma, who also happens to have been a fabulous and passionate gardener. 

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, I don’t need any landscaping done, and the company is based in a different city, but it did make me think.  How much weight do I put in how things … or people … are named?  I’d like to think that I’m not really influenced by things like that but my reaction makes me wonder. 

Would a rose called by another name, really smell just as sweet if the name made me think of something stinky?  Could I be objective enough to know? Or would my senses be misled by old memories? 

Out of the mouths of babes ...

Nothing much to write, but after a day spent taking the ferry to Vancouver, shopping at IKEA, hanging out on Granville Islands at my favourite shops, and seeing a production of Don Quixote at the Arts Club Theatre, I just overheard the best question and answer between a dad and his son as they were coming out of the video arcade on the ferry.

Son, with a perplexed look on his scrunched up little face, "Dad, how come there isn't any more money?"

Dad, quietly shaking his head, "Sometimes that's just the way it is, buddy."

They were too far away to hear if the boy made any further inquiries, but it seems likely given his age that "Why?" was the next step in that conversation.  I wonder what the dad's response was to that one.

So you think you can what?

Our local newspaper is holding a writing contest, and while I didn't make it to being one of 5 finalist chosen out of almost 350 submissions, I decided I'd add my entry here, along with the really amazing letter I received back in response to my entry.  Sometimes, the benefits of taking a risk are still pretty amazing even when you don't get the results you'd hoped for.

Here's my entry (the submission requirements were to write 250-500 words on why you should be a finalist, any form or genre) ...

So You Think You Can What?

So You Think You Can What? Be one of the four finalists? It’s a ludicrous idea, for a 40 year old, government office worker, whose only published work is one lonely essay published two years ago in a local magazine. Why would I consider myself qualified? Why would I bother to put pen to paper?

Please, don’t put words in my mouth.  I don’t want to write because I’m stuck in a dead end job that I despise.  It may not be cool to say, but I love my job.  It’s not perfect … what job is? … but for me it’s the right balance of things I enjoy, and I value working on a government program that actually makes sense, no spin required.

This is about something else.  Picture the scene from a favourite movie.  Students are gathered around a trophy case, enrapt, but confused.  Then, they hear the whispered words of their teacher, “Carpe … Carpe Diem.”

“Seize the Day.”

This is about grabbing hold of a moment in time and choosing to make the most of it.  It’s about reaching for dreams long held.  It’s about living life with both hands open to experience whatever comes.  It’s about being awake and savouring each opportunity.  It’s about risking on a long shot because, really, what’s the worst that could happen?

But, it’s not only about me. Choosing to write these words and take the risk, that’s also about honouring the memory of Jim MacLaren, a real-life hero who passed away on August 31, 2010.

I won’t try to tell his story here - the word limit is far too few to do him justice - but he showed a courage, grace and perseverance in choosing life, lived to the fullest extent possible, that goes beyond what most people can begin to imagine.  His example is a major piece of what inspired me to step out of my comfort zone and submit that essay for publication.  Late one recent evening, I decided to send an email to Jim to say thank you and, hopefully, to be even the smallest amount of encouragement by expressing the degree to which he had inspired me.  The message he sent in return thanking me for reaching out made me grateful I’d done something out of character in sending an email to someone I’d never met.  Little did I know, my missive and his response would take place barely two weeks before his death.   

Sometimes, moments slip away without anyone noticing they’re gone until it’s too late to recover them.  Sometimes, we pay attention and those same moments become precious and potentially life-changing.

It may seem clichéd but life can, and does, pass us by if we’re not looking.  Today, this moment, I’m giving it my full attention, and it causes me to ask a few pertinent questions.

What better moment?  What better opportunity?

So You Think You Can Write?

Yes, I do.  Seize the day!

Here's the response letter I got (technically, I guess you'd call it a rejection letter, but somehow that doesn't feel right) ...

Although you are not among the finalists for our first ever So You Think You Can Write contest, you were one of a very few semi-finalists chosen from among 345 entries. We were overwhelmed by the quantity and quality of the entries, and our judges had a very difficult time narrowing the semi-finalists to just five finalists.

The judges were touched by the circumstances that led you to enter, and by your tribute to Jim MacLaren. I encourage you to continue to seize the day – and to write. Thank you again for taking part in SYTYCW, Edition 1.

I hope you will contemplate entering the contest again next year.

It's not the answer I'd hoped for, but, in some respects, I think it might be even better.  I know the next couple of weeks are going to be really busy at work and it would be hard to find the time to actually dedicate to the contest.  But this response, this makes me want to write, not just for a contest, but because writing is part of what makes me the person I am and the person I want to be.  In the long run, that's more important and more satisfying.

If you don't know Jim's story, you can hear it in his own words on his website or as it was shared during the eulogy at the celebration of his life.

"Seize the day, seize whatever you can
'Cause life slips away just like hourglass sand
Seize the day, pray for grace from God's hand
Then nothing will stand in your way
Seize the day"

Carolyn Arends

Sweet and Sour Kind of Day

I suppose the normal word for today would be bittersweet, but for reasons I'll explain later, I hesistate to use the word bitter. Somehow, sweet and sour seem to aptly describe the flavour of the day.

The day started with sweetness as I awoke earlier than my usual for a holiday Monday.  I had a ferry to catch and the reason made the still dark outside start to my day sweet.  The chance to catch up with a dear friend who I'd last seen face to face almost 7 years ago was the first thought that came to mind as I reached over to quiet the buzzing alarm clock.

Into my half-asleep world, a note of sour appeared as I noticed something online during my usual morning routine.  I saw a comment on facebook that a man I considered a hero and inspiration in my life had passed away on August 31, 2010.  The world as I knew it felt different, as if a light in the darkness had gotten a little harder to see.  Part of me wanted to crawl back under my covers and pretend I hadn't woken up, pretend I'd slept through my alarm and just pretend the day wasn't happening.  The thing is, I couldn't do that.  I couldn't miss out on seeing this friend, and I couldn't respond that way to news of his death.  That response would have been contrary to everything I learned from his example of engaging life no matter what the challenges. 

So I headed off and used my time on the ferry ride to try to savour the lessons I'd learned so that when the time came to meet my friend, I could give her my full attention.  The hours I spent with her were sweet indeed, from a delicious lunch to an afternoon spent sipping lattes, catching up, sharing our hearts and discovering with much joy, that even after seven years of limited contact because of living on either different continents or opposites sides of the same one, some friendships continue to grow sweeter with age. 

This friend is one who used to be a youth in the youth ministry I worked with during my internship in Toronto.  She was an amazing individual then who taught me much, even when I was supposed to be mentoring her!  Thankfully, over the years, a youth and youth leader relationship has grown into a friendship between equals that I treasure.  I love her passion for life and her desire to pursue her dreams and share her gifts of music with those around her.  She makes me so proud to know that I had a small piece to play in the fabulous woman she is today.

On the bus ride back to the ferry, I started to listen to some songs on my Zune, ones that reflected my need to remember the sweet side of life as I reflected on the sour note the was still sounding as I pondered the death of a hero. In the midst of that, my cell phone rang.  I answered it to discover another good friend on the phone with the sweet news that he and his partner had just gotten engaged. 

I don't know whether anyone who might read this will actually know the story of Jim MacLaren, and I'm not going to try to tell it here.  His story can best be heard in his own words on his website (http://www.jimmaclaren.com/).  What I do want to try and share is why I chose to describe this as a sweet and sour day rather than a bittersweet day.

At heart, Jim's story is of one man who chose to accept the adversity that life handed him and find joy and life in the midst of those challenges.  Losing his lower left leg, later becoming a quadriplegic and then living with constant pain and other medical challenges as he regained an amazing amount of sensation and movement, all of those thing might well have resulted in a man who was lost in bitterness and yet it didn't.  It's a crazy title, but a couple of years back, I purchased his DVD, "How I found happiness after being hit by a bus".  The thing that has always struck me, when I've read his story or listened to recordings of him speaking, is his sincerity.  He doesn't pretend that life isn't difficult and that sometimes he'd rather it had less challenges, but he made a conscious choice to choose living and make a difference in his world. 

I know he's made a difference in mine.  He taught me to take risks, because, really what's the worst that can happen.  He taught me that in a family heavy on the "glass half empty" mentality, that it's okay to choose to be a "glass half full" kind of girl and to live believing that no matter what happens there is something beautiful and sweet to find in the midst of it.   Not by hiding from life or pretending that the bad stuff doesn't happen, but by facing it head on, learning to accept it and moving on to choose life. 

So I can't describe today as bittersweet.  Bitter would be the least fitting tribute to a man whose life was the complete opposite.  But I do have to describe the day as also having a sour flavour, because there is a discordant feeling as I realize that a hero and source of inspiration is no longer on this earth. 

The thing is, though, it's also right to call it a sweet and sour kind of day, because the sour notes, made the sweet ones even sweeter and more precious.  Life is short and sometimes the sour is the reminder we need to savour the sweet.  While I won't have the opportunity to hear new insights from Jim MacLaren, I will savour the fact that two short weeks before his death, I chose to pay attention to a quiet nudging that said I should send him an email to say thank you and, hopefully, to offer him a little encouragement in his ongoing health challenges.  His return message to say thanks for reaching out will stay saved in my email as a reminder that it's important to not let the little moments slip by unnoticed, even if they take me outside of my comfort zone.   

The best tribute I can think of is that those of us who were touched by the life of Jim MacLaren will follow his example to be a beacon in the dark places and a light that celebrates the blessings that are found in choosing life.

"Live each moment like it's the last moment in your life."

Jim MacLaren

To Wallow or Not to Wallow ...

The other day a friend posed the question of whether it was okay to wallow a bit when things aren't going right and you're feeling a little stuck from things that have gone wrong in the past. Her world seemed to keep saying to just move on, almost as if the dark times had never happened.  It's a popular opinion, but it doesn't make sense to me.

It's not like you want to stay in that place, but sometimes, even when you're sure you've dealt with all of whatever it is, sometimes, the same crap just shows up again.  It's grieving and weird things can trigger that fragile space.  A song on the radio, randomly running into someone you haven't seen in ages, weird stress about something completely unrelated, a particular scent ... all of those things have bounced me back in time to the places in my life where everything feels broken. 

My comment to my friend was that when you hit those spots, sometimes you need to wallow ... or remember or whatever else you want to call it. Otherwise, when the moments come when it really does feel like it's working right, it's not as precious.

Moving forward and living life to the full doesn't mean forgetting the things that have damaged me.  I'm stronger when I find the beauty in the brokenness.  Sometimes it's easy to see, sometimes it's not until the softening layer of time allows a different perspective when I take another visit to those damaged places.  Then, I can see how I grew from that place.

It's a pottery class lesson.  A few weeks back, my niece was attempting to make a mug during her second class using a pottery wheel.  As she tried to bring the clay back in again to shape the lip, it collapsed in on itself and the top portion slid down inside the wider bottom.  She was pretty frustrated, but as she looked at the clay spinning on her wheel, she realized that while it was never going to be a mug, it had an interesting shape.  Turns out, it's now one of her favourite pieces because, while that piece of clay was apparently never meant to be a mug, it makes a really amazing candle holder.

I'm glad my friend had the courage to ask the question because as I was thinking about my response, it made me realize how blessed I am.  I'm not in one of those fragile places right now, but I'm at a spot where I can look back and see how I've gotten here.  I know my brokenness, and I know that, right now, I'm in one of those precious moments where I can see that something beautiful has grown out of those barren places.  That's a priceless thing.

"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

George Santayana