Groundhog Day (or “Whatever Day” as I call it)…

After the prayer for Haiti in my last post, every subject I have tried to blog about seemed inappropriate… trite… or somehow took the focus away from the ongoing horror going on there. So I’ve been a little quiet. Now I’m breaking the silence with a post that is probably all of those things combined. So here goes.

I’ve been alive for four decades of Groundhog Days now. Yesterday was the 41st.  In all those years the groundhog has always, always seen his shadow.  I’m a little skeptical of traditions that don’t seem to have any true meaning  in the first place.  So I’ve always had a weird feeling about buying into the idea of grown adults gathering at an ungodly hour of the morning to stare at a groundhog to decide if winter will keep going another six weeks.  Hello?!  On the second day of February, I can just save everybody a whole lot of fuss by letting them know the night before Groundhog Day that, yes, winter is once again going to continue for at least six more weeks.

I laugh in disbelief about this whole phenomenon every year.  And I have serious doubts about the sanity of whoever thought up this whole crazy thing.  Is it a cruel experiment whereby America’s hopes are falsely built up?  We’re led to believe that maybe, by some phenomenon of natural science, we could possibly skip the hardest part of winter when are bodies and minds most long for a little sunlight,  only to learn that, “Nope!  Not this year, says a  GROUNDHOG… ohhhh well…”

This year, I saw one website where you could actually sign up to get a text message from Punxsatawney Phil.  So glad to see that he is staying up with technology down there in his groundhog hole!  Wait, he doesn’t have oppossable thumbs!

I watched the Groundhog Day movie years ago and felt that maybe someone else was with me on this.  But in the movie,  the main character (who gets trapped in time inside this one bizarre day) begins to find meaning in making the most of the day.  He begins using the monotony of it to make a difference (not to mention beginning otherwise unattainable relationship).

Then it occurs to me…while Groundhog Day will never be a deeply moving or hopeful experience for me, it’s okay for some traditions to be put into place just for the fun of it (although the “fun factor” on this one eludes me).  Maybe my life could use more “just because” experiences.  Maybe the little idea that strikes, then goes away without my follow-up could turn out to be a great memory.  Maybe my husband and I could institute our own family holiday that stands for something WE enjoy… you know, like Cupcake Day.  Or Laughter Day.  If someone could make a national celebration out of a big ugly groundhog, I’m fairly confident that there are many celebration to be had that might bring us through these inevitable winter days.

So give me YOUR ideas on celebrations that would actually be FUN?!

God Be With You, Haiti…

Dear Haiti,

I texted 90999 to donate to the Red Cross, then sat helplessly staring at my screen wondering what else to do.  Now I watch the pictures of unspeakable heartache. I hear reports of the countless thousands who are not yet accounted for or confirmed dead.  I hear about thoughtless comments – even some from those who consider themselves religious leaders – and their insensitive accusations make me cringe.

I want to wake up tomorrow and learn that it was all a horrible nightmare.  Or that maybe it wasn’t as bad as we thought.  But the pictures don’t lie.  And it’s more horrible than I could’ve ever imagined.  I’m just so sorry.

As I pull up the covers tonight and listen to my healthy husband breathing safe and sound beside me, it makes my stomach tighten inside me to even think of how I would cope if this home became a pile of sticks and his life was snuffed out in a brief moment.. then add to that the loss my church, neighbors, community and every other familiar piece of my life. I really cannot think of waving goodbye to my children as they left for the school bus and never seeing them again because their school collapsed on them. But that is exactly what happened to scores and scores of individuals just like me today.  Just because some miles separate us and I haven’t met them doesn’t in any way make their suffering less important.  I can’t help but feel a sense of guilt that my life is moving along as always while others’ came to a screeching halt.

I am reminded with every image that each face… each hand reaching out for help… each lifeless body… each bleeding wound or crying mother…every single soul shaken by this monumental catastrophe is a human being of inexpressible value.  Just because you were found beneath rubble – or perhaps haven’t yet been found at all – in NO WAY diminishes all that your life has meant to your Creator. He fashioned you… loves you… and I know He must weep for you tonight.

Only our  infinite Creator could salvage anything good from the pile of rubble that was once your capital city. But then, who would have believed He could turn the cruel crucifixion of His own Son into a beautiful redemption story that has meant life and hope to generation after generation?!  I don’t understand Him or claim to be able to see past this awful moment in time.  I just know that He promised to be “an ever-present help in trouble…” As helpless as most of us feel who can’t be there with you now, there’s just something about talking about all this with the only One who CAN, in the same moment, be there with you. May He somehow whisper peace and undeniable confirmations of His love to you in this dark hour.

When NOT To Wait

On January 2nd at midnight, I rang in Day 2 of 2010 at the Community North emergency room with Jackson, who was having his first serious asthma attack in years. Hearing his 12-year-old lungs wheezing away brought back horrific memories of his toddler years when he nearly collapsed a lung. I knew from past experience that when we arrived at the E.R. I needed to make it clear right away that he wasn’t going to be able to sit around for 45 minutes in the waiting room. I’m normally not a pushy or demanding person but this time I walked in, looked for the first person I saw wearing scrubs, and firmly stated that we had a wheezer. The person running the check-in desk immediately began attending to him while I filled out a form, then within minutes, he was hooked up with a breathing treatment. Then another, after the first treatment didn’t stop the wheezing. BAM. Something about “not breathing” gets priority.  And I like that philosophy.

So today, I learned about a woman who sat in a walk-in clinic (in a different city) with her detached finger wrapped in a towel while she waited quietly and – get this – filled out forms!!  Forms?  While she holds her missing finger in a towel on her lap?  This, to me, would’ve been awarded a bit higher priority than, say, a person getting stitches removed or an ankle x-ray.  Granted, she was BREATHING.  But I can’t very well imagine pointing my perfectly intact finger at this fingerless, bleeding lady and saying, “Maam, if you could take this pen and fill out this form with your one good hand, we’ll call you when its your turn.”  I’d be running that woman up the list.  She was missing a limb, for the love of Pete!

I generally avoid drama at all costs. I play down things and try to grin and bear whatever discomfort I’m experiencing. (This reminds me of the morning my daughter was born – breech – minutes after my arrival at the hospital, but I won’t go there.  Aaand you’re welcome.)

Here’s the deal, though. We are quick to speak up when our kid can’t breathe or someone we love is in danger… but when its us hurting and the hurt isn’t physical – or perhaps our threshold for pain is high – we tend to sit quietly waiting for someone to notice while we conceal the broken pieces of ourselves; because heaven forbid we might disrupt someone with our need.  Do you see how ludicrous it sounds when you consider that the body is just a thin, temporary shell for the real us?  The eternal part of us is the very dimension of ourselves we’re least likely to protect.

I just want to say that when we’re falling apart or feel like we can’t breathe and we can no longer treat the symptoms of our brokeness ourselves… it’s okay to speak up. It’s okay – in fact highly recommended – to run, not walk, for help.  There’s no prize for the person who holds in the most pain, unless ulcers and immune system failure are your idea of a lovely parting gifts.  And waiting for someone else to take action for you is just a passive aggressive way to pass off a lack of healing on someone else… “Well, so-and-so knew I was struggling and they didn’t blah blah blah.”  Don’t.  Just don’t.

If you can’t get through a day without a drink, you know it… so seek treatment for yourself just as you would find medicine for your child or your mama. If you can’t get out of bed in the morning because you feel hopeless and lost… call the stress center, for goodness sake. They help people like us all the time! If you are a punching bag for someone… leave!  Then, if you’ve got the kind of pastor I do, call him and you will get support you didn’t realize was available! If food is a problem for you, believe me when I say there are countless others in your community who have the same kind of struggle… call your doctor, join support groups, see a counselor…

If you’re in acute spiritual and/or emotional pain… tell people! I know this is the opposite of what we learned growing up.  We were supposed to give the illusion that we had our crap together, right? But that’s a lie. Emergencies of the soul happen to everyone because everyone is human and flawed.  Let’s start treating the condition of our souls with the same urgency that we would treat a physical heart condition.  There are more resources, people and support systems in place than you might ever believe once you stand up and decide it is YOUR turn.

My letter to 2009.

Dear 2009,

Goodbye.  And don’t come back.  But thanks for all you taught me.  You were interesting.  I’ll give you that.

You brought upheaval and you brought to the surface every imaginable emotion.  But you also brought a tidal wave of information that has helped us help our son’s Asperger’s. You brought my daughter some beautiful moments of accomplishment that will stay with her forever.  You brought Scott and me closer together through the challenges you presented and we worked through some of the core issues that have held us back for years. You introduced us to some incredible people – friends who have encouraged us, prayed for us and enhanced our lives in a hundred different ways.  You showed us how to draw important boundaries so we can focus on our true purpose in this life.

You wore me out,  but you didn’t take me out. 2010 is here now, so I’m leaving you in the past.  I’m taking what you brought because it’s going to help me press on to whatever the future holds.  And, ironically, you showed me that the future doesn’t hold a candle to this present moment where I sit content in the Presence of the Only One who can bring true satisfaction.  So, 2009, I resisted the urge to punch you in the stomach for one reason and one alone… you made me a stronger person.

So bye.  Thanks for the memories.  Don’t let the new year hit you in the butt.

Emily