Are Vacations a Thing of the Past?

Between scheduling some days off and getting all nostalgic in the last post, I began to think about the great summer vacations of yore...or yesteryear - either sounds like more idyllic times than the giant whirlwind that dominates my appointment book in the present. In fact, I can't think of the last time I even took a real summer vacation. I'm not talking a few days off here and there where I get things done around the house, or have guests - I mean the classic "get in your car, take a roadtrip and don't deal with the 'real world' for at least" a week kind. Ok, ok, I suppose the spring trip to Ireland a couple years ago could challenge that last statement, and maybe the fall cruise 6 years ago, but that was twice in the last 10 years (and technically they weren't "summer" vacations).

Any grand excursions in the past 10 years (minus Ireland & the cruise) have all revolved around my conference schedule. Going to San Francisco for a conference? Great! I'll take an extra day or two to see it. Vancouver, B.C., Orlando, Boston, New York, New Orleans, Dallas, Chicago...all the same. Now don't get me wrong - it's a great way to get to see places and I loved the opportunities, but a vacation it is not.

Have we [and by we, I really mean "I"] gotten so busy that we forget that part of the greatness of life is to actually enjoy it? Working for the Church, it sometimes gets difficult to say no to things, even if they are meetings, because it all somehow feels innately important...as though by missing an opportunity, you are somehow slacking on God's time. Yet, we are not so important that God's work would not get done if we took a little time off. I mean, even HE rested on the 7th day! A friend of mine reminds me that the Church, and Christianity for that matter, will survive without me.

Now I don't intend to extend that to the notion that we don't need to respond to what God calls us to do. As tempting as it seems at times, a vacation from life is not so grand. Knowing me, I'd get terribly bored, in fact. The fact of the matter is this though - the reason we burn out is because we let the candle burn too long...sometimes at both ends! To better shine our light, perhaps we need to give ourselves some room to breathe, and let someone else carry the torch for a while. (I know, I know...that was just a horrifying string of mixed light/fire metaphors)

Needless to say, I haven't mastered yet the balance of giving my all while still making time for the little things in life...including laudry, cleaning and all that jazz. In fact, maybe passing the torch means realizing that I can't find time to do all the household tasks and hiring a cleaning service from time to time when my schedule gets a little nutty. Either way, something's gotta give, as they say, and I'd rather it not be my sanity!

So, rather than get frustrated about not having time to take off to do the things I need or want to do, I suppose I will one day learn to plan ahead and set my limits. After all, it may seem against my nature to not be available when people need to meet, but this girl wouldn't mind the sweet smell of a good old-fashioned, weeklong, get-away-from-the-world summer vacation, either!

Home is Where the Heart Is...what happens when it leaves?

I was catching up on a friend's blog and ran across this question: "is a home really ever a home after the heart of it has broken?" I had an answer almost immediately: "No...unfortunately it is never the same again. But new places and roles evolve and eventually you find nooks and crannies, but it just isn't home again until one day you create it anew with a different heart to pick up where the other one left off."

It's funny how two people can go through similar experiences, and though it changes each one in distinct and unique ways, there are some universal truths that accompany the experience. Losing a loved one, though it transforms your life uniquely to your situation, still brings with it a certain sense of loss that is uniform throughout the experience.

In some ways, growing up itself leads to those moments of loss...moving away, losing friends, feeling lost. But I think the loss of a parent intensifies that sense of falling away that cannot be equaled...until perhaps the loss of a spouse or child, neither of which I have had. I don't think I've ever been able to put into words until now that feeling of being trapped - trapped in a world that has many corners and crevices in which you belong, and yet at the same time, has no one place where you belong. There are many places to visit, but no one place to dwell.

Even after buying a house that is my "own" "home," that feeling of being a transient has yet to fade. Perhaps, as Friend has pointed out, it is because the heart doesn't quite dwell there yet. Home isn't just about space, furniture, decorating, entertaining or even feng shui. In the end, it is about the experience of sharing one's heart, loving and growing love there. Though I remember distinctly my various bedrooms and the decor changes over the years, some of which got my seal of approval and many of which did not, I do not remember my childhood home for its aesthetics. Sure, I remember the environment, but it is the memories from that environment...many of them creating the enivronment...but the memories nonetheless that still tug at my heart and bring a tear to my eye.

It is the kitchen window aptly placed so mom could spray dad with the sink hose while he was in the garden. It is the seafoam green walls that I hated that held the sanctuary of my parent's bedroom, in which was the dresser that held the jewelry, makeup and clothing that I played with as a child. It is the staircase coming into the house where the progression of my childhood pictures were displayed that I sat by awaiting my dad's return from his business trips, and the same stairs I climbed when I returned home from college. It's the shelves in the kitchen and the bedrooms that held all varieties of knick knacks and books that were built by my dad's hands at my mom's request. It's the dining table that came apart to grow larger for guests, but held just enough space for the three of us to dine together and talk about our days...and for my dad and I to argue politics over once I knew it all.

Do I miss the walls, the stairs, the table, and the window? Not really...what I miss is the life that was lived in them. When the heart is gone, and in this case it wouldn't have mattered which parent, the house no longer lives as a home. And so you leave, because it is painful to be in something that was once so alive and is no longer. And you try to create new life and new memories. But I have learned one thing - you can't ever recreate home. My home had a life I can never get back. I do hope, though, that one day I can create one anew with my heart as the center of a new home.

Homo Sapiens...the next endangered species???

So...it has been a long long time since I've sat down to write. But I'm back. What is it that brings me back, you say? The radio. No, no...not music or talk radio, but something I heard on the radio from a caller.

If you listen to the radio at all, you know that people will sometimes call in with questions or dilemmas. Sometimes, they are actually worth pondering. The caller tonight, however, just made me sad in terms of thinking about the survival of our species, at least as moral beings.

The dilemma was this: her young son went to the zoo, and brought home a frog which happens to be an endangered species. Whether he meant to or not is unclear. Her dilemma? What do I tell my son now that he's had it a few days and is attached to it? Ummmm...am I the only one who is mystified by this? HELLO!!! GIVE IT BACK! Why is this a dilemma? If I had brought home anything that did not belong to me, intentionally or not, I would have been marched straight back to return it as soon as humanly (and institutionally) possible! The boy has kept it a few days and is attached to it?

Listen, I'm not a parent, but I hope to be one someday. I can't think of a single instance in which this situation would not have been resolved that day or the next. But...let's say I had an out of body experience and I was such a big softie that I let my kid keep an animal that is from the zoo and endangered (I mean an out of this universe out of body experience). What then? Oh, yeah...when my body crashed back to reality, I'd tell the kid I was wrong and that together we'd be making a return trip to the zoo to unload what is not rightfully ours to begin with. And this time, we're not going to be taking backpacks.

And that's how I see it...at least for now.

Grace in the Smallest Moments

I never noticed until the other day, how many of the most profound revelations come to me while I am in my car. Granted, the flip side of that is how many failed moments of anger and frustration abound there too... But that's not the focus for today! :)

Perhaps it is that I spend so much time in my car, often driving the same routes, that the smaller things become clearer. After all, God is with us in our day wherever we are, and I just happen to be in my car! As I was driving the other day, after writing the last blog, mired in the mundane, a brilliant sunburst broke through the clouds, and the majesty of God was breaking through the monotony that had filled my spirit. It was as if God was saying to me, "Okay, I heard you, but you're crazy - look at this brilliance! How can life on my creation be mundane?!?" Ok, God, I hear you loud and clear. And yet...how does the song go? I get knocked down, but I get up again? Well, perhaps I got up, but got knocked down again.

For a few nights following that, I lost sleep over senseless nightmares, but ones that chilled my soul enough to make me afraid to fall back asleep. Heck, the first night I even grabbed my rosary and woke up realized I'd grasped it in my hand the rest of the night. I haven't thoroughly read enough of the saints to know if that kind of fear was kindred to their dark nights of the soul, but it was definitely in mine. It wasn't until I'd reached utter exhaustion that I was able to find peace and sleep solidly through the night.

In so many ways, that is our relationship with God. It isn't until we have completely broken ourselves down that we can listen...it is in that breaking that we surrender. And yet, in other ways, it's in the smallest details on a daily level that God breaks through. It came to me as I was driving my fairly normal morning commute and listening to the radio. I got a new phone recently, so every little sound that comes that isn't instantly recognizable as part of the song playing makes me reach for my phone. As I was doing this repeatedly, and realizing that at no time was it my phone, it hit me. I was hearing new details in songs I'd heard a thousand times - new background instruments, smaller tones.

And then the moment reached deeper - this was how God reached us too. We see the same sunrise, the same changing of the leaves, we spend time with the same people, listen to the same Scriptures over and over. In that repetition, we allow things to become mundane because we stop seeking - we hit a wall where we think we know the matter completely. But God, in his infinite wisdom and love, gently reveals Himself more intricately, uncovering the tiniest nuances that hit us when we least expect it. Be it that sunburst that shone out of the sky on that Sunday drive, or the ability to dig deeper into myself and give more when I feel empty, to see a familiar face in a new way, or whether in reading the same words I've read a hundred times I find comfort and solace in a new sense of divine kinship with Christ, the mystery of God continues to unfold.

So although the large "a-ha!" moments are magnificent in themselves, perhaps the greater brilliance lies in all the collective little moments where the glory of God speaks in tiny fragments, each of them revealing a fuller glimpse of the loving relationship between us and our awesome God - Father, Son and Spirit...

Pride goeth before a fall...

Yes, yes, I know it has been what seems like eons since my last post. It's just not been a month where I've felt reflective at all. Rather, ever since the now infamous ailment, I've been batting away the urge to withdraw completely. Between a hectic schedule, seasonal allergies, and a house that just won't stay clean, I can't say that life has lent itself to much contemplation. Every time I sit down to reflect on things, it seems that I end up at the wrong end of a dark alley.

That's not to say that life hasn't been filled with blessings. I recently celebrated my birthday, and though the day itself was frought with the chaos of life, the event left me in awe of the generous souls in my life who share their love and care with me. Unfortunately, this has not in any way, shape or form increased my desire to add any extroverted time to my schedule and actually coordinate a gathering or party. Sorry, dear friends, but I think this year will have to go uncelebrated en mass. Other blessings abound as well, as I am still very happily employed, showered in love, and at this moment, in good health!

Even so, I discover that at times like this, where I am unable to let go and surrender to the quiet to attain a bit of divine serenity, the negative forces around me well up within like a geyser waiting to explode. Luckily, I'm at least now able to contain those explosive moments to the solitude of my own home. Nonetheless, they leave me remorseful. I wonder if my irritation with another's condescension is simply an incongruity in personality traits or my own pride unable to let go of the need to be in control. And is another's wavering commitments really the issue, or is it rather my own selfishness leading to an inability to "go with the flow"?

In the end, I find that I am perhaps just tired, mired in the mundane repetitious duties of the "adult life," waiting for those moments that take my breath away (and there truly are many), hoping I am able to notice them through the clouds that may be lurking.

But for now, I'm off to work...

Viral to the Extreme

So...I've been absent from Blogland for a long long time it seems. After all, the final installment of Harry Potter has long been read, discussed, re-read, rehashed and put to rest for now. It seems however that between my crazy schedule at home and a trip to visit a friend in Ohio, my body decided it was time to rest. A "viral syndrome" the doctor called it, even after taking 8 gallons of blood. I'm pretty sure she was actually dracula and that I was her unsuspecting, weakened victim.

Seriously, though, it reminded me of my dad - not the sickness, but the diagnosis. He was a big believer that when doctors have no idea what is going on, they test you, poke you and tell you it's a virus. I'm with you dad, I'm with you...

But, that is old news, and I am back. All that resting gives a gal a lot of time to think, though I must admit it was weakened thinking between the "I'm cold!" and "I'm hot!" Thanks to some good advice, the suffering moments were less intense when I refocused my thoughts to those who suffer far more than I and need my prayer and my sacrifice. I had recently bought a new crucifix which was hanging on my wall right across from where I lay, and I must admit, I think I had some rather lucid conversations with it as well. No worries, Jesus did not come up off the cross in a hallucination, I promise.

What this episode made me realize, though, is that if I don't take time off to rest and re-energize, my body will make time, and not in ways I'd prefer. It comes down to priorities - I cannot be all things to all people, not even at work. It's a matter of putting into practice the belief that it's not all about me (though when I'm sick, I admit I might lose that perspective), and that I am not the answer to all the world's problems. I'm here on earth to share the gifts I have, but also to identify and empower others to share their gifts. Part of that is realizing when I cannot share what I have, simply because I need to take time to regroup, be it mentally, spiritually or physically.

It's not about getting old, it's about getting smarter with my resources. I'm a steward not only of the material gifts God has given me, but of my own talents and body. If I don't take care of what I have, I won't have anything left to share, and then where does that leave me...or my quest to share Christ with the world? So, from this point forward, I know I'm going to disappoint some people by pulling back and not giving my 150% - I'm going to have to learn to live with that. In the end, though, what I give will be stronger and more focused, and I think that is far more important. Now I just have to remember all this when the schedule starts filling up again... :)

More blogs to come now that I'm back, but that's all for this installment. Keep on rockin' the world folks!

T-Minus 9:45 for the Beginning of the End

...for Harry Potter that is. Only a short wait until midnight when the book is released to what will undoubtedly be a mad rush of those who have awaited this moment with avid anticipation. Laugh all you want, but I will be among them...within reason of course. No costume, and no camping out...and really, no waiting 2 hours for the book. I can always go back tomorrow if it looks like the line will take forever.

Only a few more moments until the questions we've been asking are answered. I've steered clear of reviewers and those who couldn't wait to provide spoilers...(they're call spoilers for a reason - they SPOIL our enjoyment...so seriously, don't be such a spoilsport!)

For instance, what/where are the remaining horcruxes?

Is Snape really working for Voldemort or is he still loyal to the Order?

Are they returning to Hogwarts at all, or will Harry really not return?

Will Mr. Dursley's head (or Dudley for that matter) explode? (though I suspect that is just an amusing inquiry on my part)

Yes, yes, and will the "boy who lived" die in the end? (though I for one am more interested in the plotline than the eventual outcome right now...)

And finally, my real burning question, more important than all the rest...how long will I have to wait among underage wizards in costume to get my book? That, my friends, is the real question.