Bucket List

Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing? ~Shakespeare, As You Like It

Michael Buble’, check! 

Long before there was a movie called Bucket List, I had a list of things I’ve wanted to do before I die. I have no plans on dying anytime soon. Yet, nobody knows what the future holds, right? I’ve worked hard on letting go of the past (it only makes me hurt or angry dwelling on things); and I try not to project the future (because that only causes me to have fear or anxiety when I worry).  However, if I do think about the future at all now, it’s fanciful and pleasant.

I’d like to make the best of this ‘one and only’ life God gave me. And if I have my grandmother’s genes, I may still be around when cars fly or transporters are finally invented. I’d love to be transported to Paris in the blink of an eye. Paris is on my Bucket List. Rich and I hope to go there for our 25^th Anniversary and walk hand in hand through the Louvre. The closest we’ve gotten is Epcot Center in FL and the Eiffel Tower in Vegas. 

We did get to England for the best 10-day vacation ever. I’m an Anglophile.  It felt like we were in a romantic movie. The line in Shakespear’s play As You Like It said it best. “I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it.” It was a thrill to check off seeing Stratford-upon-Avon and the Bard’s home. The next time I’m in England, my #1 Bucket List event is to go see Elton John. I know this is bloody cheeky, but I’d rather see Elton than the Queen. 

There are some things that seem unattainable in the future. I can’t go to the Oprah Show now (even though I promised her that I’d stop texting while driving). I didn’t win a ticket to her Farewell Show (the modern equivalent of a Willy Wonka Golden Ticket). I said back in high school that I’d run a marathon. That is a hilarious, hairy audacious goal to think about now. Only Scott Price may remember my lame claim and mock me. I’ve decided that a marathon is the last thing to check off on my Bucket List—because I’m sure it will kill me!!  I didn’t get to meet Billy Graham. Because of ailing health, he doesn’t go out in public much. But back in 2002, we were in the same building, probably on the same floor at the same time, at a writer’s conference in Asheville NC. It was the Christian version of Elvis is in the building.

I am planning on going to see the Dalai Lama July 17^th at the UIC Pavilion for his talk on ‘Bridging the Faith Divide, Compassion in Action’. This subject is dear to my heart. I don’t know what it is about the Dalai Lama, but he makes me smile to my very core whenever I hear him talk about peace and understanding.  I wish I could have a personal audience with the Dalai Lama for my Bucket List, but I’ll settle for being ‘in’ the audience.

If you know me at all, you’d know I love parades. I love setting up my chairs the night before for a good seat along the parade route here in town. I will fight the kids for candy. And I will stand with pride and a tear in my eye when the soldiers pass by. So the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and the Rose Bowl Parade are on my Bucket List. 

I’d like to travel some places with some people I love. Top of my Bucket List, is to take my Irish son, Kevin Callahan to Ireland. I’d even drink a pint or two with him. I’d like to go to Vegas with my brother Mike. He won over $3000, at quarter slots in a casino in AZ. I’d like to see what kind of luck he’d have in Vegas. One day I hope I can take all the grandkids on a trip to Disney World when they are old enough to remember it. I’d like to take another trip with my brother and sister in law, Ralph and Patti. We went to St. Johns some years ago and they are fun to travel with. So on my Bucket List, I’d like going to New Zealand, Scotland, Italy, Greece, or Hawaii with them. Actually, we could go to Mackinac Island and I’d be good with that too. I’d like to take a spa trip with the Sisterchicks. Also on my BL is to go to Mardi Gras with my Homies because they are free entertainment even when it’s not Fat Tuesday. They will need someone to take sober pictures and bring bail money.  I’d love to do a mission trip with Steve and Susie McNitt. I love their compassion for the under-resourced and those loved dearly by God. I’d like to march on Washington again for a good cause. And I’d like to dance like a crazy fool at my single girlfriends weddings when Mr. Deserving makes her Mrs. Deserving.

I know, my Bucket List is out there: I’d like to ride the Orient Express to meet exotic people. I’m a hat girl, so I was meant to go to the Kentucky Derby Horse Race. I think going to the Texas Fair where they have ‘fried everything’ is something that my arteries should also experience just once. I’d like to attend the Superbowl (preferably for the Bears). I’d like to meet a sitting President someday. And also like to visit the White House. It doesn’t have to be on the same day. I’m hoping to go to New York City this fall. I’d love to go see a Broadway Show, see Ground Zero to pay my respects, and get tickets for Jon Stewart, Saturday Night Live, Jimmy Fallon, or Greg Ferguson (but only if Sid the Cussing Rabbit is on that night). The energy of New York City would be amazing, not to mention the food. I’d like to have a Wikipedia page of my own, but not for being notorious, criminal or immoral. Hopefully it will be for the book I wrote about people who are criminal, immoral, or just epically flawed like me.

Going to see Michael Buble’ in concert was so much fun. I’m glad I got to check that off my list. He’s a true entertainer (the Frank Sinatra of this generation.) He even came into the crowd and walked right past me. What possessed me to put my hand on his shoulder, I have no idea? He doesn’t make me swoon, but his music reminds me why I love my husband and life. I know a Bucket List may be impractical and even childish. There are lots of other things and people I want to see on my Bucket List. The BL isn’t about dying as much as it’s about living. It’s the dreamer in me that believes in impossible possibilities. Ultimately, I humbly know, Proverbs 16:9 “We can make our plans, but the LORD determines our steps.

Missing Hallmark Moments

^{There is a Chinese proverb that says, In a broken nest there are few whole eggs.}

^{When I was 18 years old, I left home in my 1972 Pinto that my dad gave me when I got my driver’s license at 16 and a pillowcase full of personal belongings. (Later I was asked to return the Pinto, which didn’t surprise me. My punishment never fit my crimes.) As I was walking out the door that day, my father sarcastically said, “I hope your Christian friends take care of you.” To which I replied, “Fuck you!” I couldn’t even believe that came out of my mouth. I was terrified of my father--he resembled Tony Soprano to me, in more ways than one. My brother’s and I would duck going down the hall when we walked past him. He hated that, but would smack us upside the head and then say, “There, now you have something to duck about.” His silence as a kid (and as an adult) annihilated me. I felt sentenced to a life of wondering what I did to deserve such unkindness. It took me 45 years to realize I didn’t deserve it. But I did have to accept it. God knows (and my husband too) the Herculean effort it’s taken to live this truth.}

^{My dad lives in AZ. When he first moved out of state, he didn’t even let me know (his own daughter). Who does that? We have no real relationship. It’s always been that way. He’s my biological father in theory, but not in love. He’s not been the kind of father I wanted or needed. Oh, don’t get me wrong; even though he’s caused some epic damage in my soul, I still love my father. It is a simple and undemanding love. I’m not sure why, but I have always been able to see past my father’s faults. He is a hard, distant, proud, and unforgiving man. When I’ve been angrier over his behavior, I’ve stated that he had no backbone and was a coward. Which always surprised me because in my eyes, he was a strong and fearless person. Yet despite his inadequacies, I’ve seen kindness in my father’s eyes like Halley’s Comet; its glow was there but for a moment, then gone. If I knew that in 75 years it would return, I’d park a soccer chair out on my front lawn and wait for it to return. I lived for those radiant moments when my dad gave me a flicker of hope that we were going to be okay. I gave him every benefit of the doubt that he'd come to his senses, step up, and just be my dad; that life could be normal between us.}

^{That’s not going to happen. My dad isn’t going to show up at my door and tell me he’s sorry he missed out on the best years of my life (or my son’s life). He’s not going to ask me to hang out to have long friendly talks over ice tea (or a beer for him). I’ve given up; neither wishing nor waiting was helpful to my wellbeing-as those closest to me can attest. I had to let my dad go; and with him, all the fantasies that I was ever going to be a daddy’s girl. It’s kind of sad because I had some great father-daughter scenario that I would have loved to see happen. For whatever reasons that are beyond my comprehension and control, he’s chosen to extinguish our bond. Had my father died, I think it would have been easier than seeing him move on in life without me; without his consideration for how it would bankrupt me. He didn’t divorce my mother (although I wish he had), so I don’t have a father who bailed on our family. No, my dad stayed through the good and bad. He was a good provider and my brothers and I never wanted for anything growing up-except his unconditional love and acceptance.}

^{I’ve had to grieve my father over and over and over. I miss him and that makes no rational sense except that I was created by God to love my father. I’ve stopped apologizing for having moments of agony over this loss. Once in a while it racks me and I have to sit things out for a day or two. I’ve given myself permission now until the day I die (and when my father dies) to grieve when those emotions bubble up (like today on Father’s Day). It’s okay to attend to your heartache when someone you love dies. Our relationship has died. It is buried in a grave of regret (like telling my dad, ‘Fuck you’ at 18), buried in dreams that will never be fulfilled (like him not knowing my son or the kind family that I married into), buried in lies, buried in unspoken words of forgiveness that will never be stated out loud.  I forgive my dad. I also forgive myself. I’ve done everything in my power to speak my truth, to reconcile and make things right; it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t do it all by myself.}

^{I decided that if I was going to write about life (mine and others), in a blog or anywhere else, I was not going to give you the sanitized Christian version just so I appeared like someone I’m not (or accommodate anyone else’s sensibility about how I should believe, think, act, or behave). Life is messy, confusing, cluttered with unpleasant happenings. (It’s also glorious, mysterious, and astonishing, but that’s something I can write about on another day.) Anne Lamott encourages, “You can’t get to any of these truths by sitting in a field smiling beatifically, avoiding your anger and damage and grief. Your anger and damage and grief are the way to truth. We don’t have much truth to express unless we have gone into those rooms and closet and wood and abysses that we were told not to go in to. When we have gone in and looked around for a long while, just breathing and finally taking it in-then we will be able to speak in our own voice and to stay in the present moment.”}

^{I’m not the only daughter in the world who has emotional contusions from her father; who’s questioned her self-worth because their dad didn’t have the tools or skills to be a dad. I know there are men too who have wondered honestly if their father really loved them for who they really are. This side of Heaven, some questions will never be answered. However, no matter what our losses, we are never entirely by ourselves. Trust me, it’s often hard to wrap my mind around the thought: ‘God is always present, loving, and surprisingly, delights in me.’ Even so, I’ve known this to be true in my life in spite of things going horribly wrong in my family of origin relationships. Maybe you’ve found this to be true in your life as well? I’m thankful that God said he would never leave us or forsake us. The one verse that alleviates the sting the most, like Neosporin is Psalm 27:10, Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me. Psalm 27:10.}

^{I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said that verse to myself throughout my adult life. But if I’m honest, I want something else other than a verse to hold onto. I wanted to hold my dad’s hand. I want what (seems like) everyone else has: I want to be standing in Hallmark like 103 million other people looking for a Father’s Day Card. Life just isn’t going to give me that. So today, I will pray (for my dad), meditate (for myself), and do some breathing and more letting go to get to a still place in my soul that can accept things, as they are this Father’s Day. I like how Robert Frost put it: In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.}

^{Life’s Mindful Moment: I was in AZ in May for three weeks for additional yoga training. I knew the possibility existed that I could run into my parents who live in the same town I was staying in. (Even though the odds were one in a million I had in fact experienced a couple of close encounters on previous visits to AZ. Well, not actual encounters, but sightings. It’s like the Universe keeps trying to tip me over on my own axis.) However, since these sightings had happened before, I mindfully decided that if I ever ran into them again, I was going to be nice. Sure enough, one afternoon as I was walking into Safeway and out comes my father pushing his groceries to his car (which was parked in the handicap spot). He looked right at me coming out of the store, then gave a small shake of his head and looked away, as if to say, “Oh shit.” I started to wave like a little kid. He didn’t even look at me. We had 20 feet between us and there was no getting around not passing each other. When I came along side of him I genuinely smiled and said, “Hi Dad.” Our eyes met. I think he grunted but clearly was uncomfortable. So I kept walking in to the grocery store. Once inside, my legs felt like Jell-O. That was my dad. He just ignored me again. But I was proud of myself for two things: first, I didn’t act like him. Second, I didn’t fall apart. I just acknowledged the feeling, the moment, and allowed my heart to come back to a normal beat per minute then finished my grocery shopping. I’m so glad that I have learned after so many years to simply live in the moment, but to no longer allow myself to stay stuck there.}