The Oldest

                                                                                                                                                 

Keeping my younger brothers in line was part of my job description. I’d watch them and made sure no one picked on them (except me). In return, they’d do whatever I’d tell them to do. Looking back, being the watch-dog of my brothers was a big responsibility, especially during the summer with a pool in the backyard--I could have fallen asleep by accident as I worshiped the god of suntans. I dominated by my very position in the family: “the oldest”. Once in a while it would inevitably get me into trouble. I wasn’t always wrong when I told them what to do or not to do, but I’m sure I was overbearing. I had a standard response to each situation when my parents were not around, “Knock it off or I’ll tell mom, who will tell dad, who will kill you.” My brother Rich was on to me and knew the true balance of power depended on getting to my mom before I got to her first. Rich was a mamma’s boy and he knew it. Michael was too young to know that the power I held was just empty threats.

On a typical summer afternoon you could find me in the pool floating on a raft like Cleopatra. One day, my brother Michael set out to annoy me by doing cannon-balls off the deck into the pool. I gave him the threat, “I’m gonna tell mom who’ll tell dad and you’ll be sent far away for spilling water out of the pool.” It always worked before. In a split second my sweet compliant brother did the unthinkable to his boss-sister. He swiped my brand new Panasonic Toot-u-Loop Radio off the deck, threw it into the pool and smiled. As I watched it sink to the bottom of the pool my only thought was to corner his insubordinate-butt on the deck before he got away. We screamed and yelled at each other. I told him I was going to kill him (not really intentionally murder him; the sister-kind-of-kill him). He escaped my grasp and ran dripping wet off the deck and onto the cement patio towards the house, sticking his tongue out at me. Echoing in my mind, I could hear the words my mother repeated year after year during the summer, “Don’t run on the patio!” Now I know why. Without looking down, Michael tripped over the gas line that ran across the patio to the pool-heater. I watched him fall in what seemed like slow motion. His face hit the pavement with a thud. When he lifted his head up his mouth was bloody. He couldn’t talk because he had nearly bitten his tongue in half. I panicked. It wasn’t the sight of blood that scared me; it was knowing my life was over because my mother was going to kill me for real. How could I do this to my little brother? Would she understand that it was in retaliation for ruining my now chlorinated waterlogged Toot-u-Loop radio? Not a chance. I hurried Michael up the stairs and into the house. Blood was everywhere and he was screaming.

My mom met us in the kitchen. In seconds she determined what happened and if my brother had actually bitten his tongue off. We needed to get Michael to the hospital immediately. She picked my brother up, grabbed a kitchen towel, the keys, and put us in the backseat of the stationwagon. I remember she drove fast while I held a towel over my brother’s mouth. Praying to ‘Hail Mary-who knew Grace’, (after all I assumed they were good friends) I pleaded that his tongue wouldn’t fall out. On our way to the hospital we got pulled over by the police. I learned something that afternoon that I carry with me to this day; never mess with a mother in crisis. She told the policeman (that’s what we called them back then) what happened and why she was speeding. He looked in the backseat and saw my brother's excessive bleeding, and me holding a damp blood soaked towel. I was sure he saw my guilt; knew I did it and let my mother go. In fact, he gave her a police escort to the hospital.

Once we arrived, I waited for my mother to turn me over to the authorities who would take me to jail. Luckily for me she forgot. In the emergency room I waited for my fate.  I knew what I did was wrong, but it didn’t seem fair that I might get ten years in the slammer just for threatening someone’s life for throwing my radio in the pool. Maybe I could get out earlier for good behavior? If you knew me back then, you'd know that would be hard for me to do.  I cried and asked The God of Second Chances, better grades, and ice cream, to let my brother speak and be normal. My parents told me the doctor put in gazillion dissolvable stitches in his tongue so that he would talk again (it was actually only nine stitches). He walked around with a swollen face and silent for a week. I tried to stay out of sight too in case they remembered how I maimed my brother for life. When my little brother finally healed, I had high expectations that he’d join the circus because he could now flip his tongue like a corkscrew. That was the 'first' miracle I ever experienced. I didn’t even get grounded for the remainder of the summer; that was the 'second' miracle. Maybe my parents saw the greatest trepidation and remorse in my eyes that caused them to forgive me and not put me up for adoption? Maybe it was because of Grace!

 It is a fearful thing to know that one stupid act could alter a person’s life forever. That day goes down in my memory as ‘Whew Kim, that was a close one’. As penance, I will occasionally do community service if visiting a pool. It's easy to spot 'the oldest'. They are usually self-absorbed, bossy, and central to whatever is going on around them. Whenever I see brothers and sisters running on wet cement after their siblings I'll yell, “Stop running on the patio, you’ll bite your tongue in half! And be nice to your younger brother or you’ll go to jail.”

Fight On Ye Bison

I have a confession. I’ve been keeping a secret for 30 years. It’s not like I haven’t talked about it from time to time, it’s just I don’t bring it up. I hesitate to spill the beans especially with my 30^th reunion coming up. But here goes, my deep dark secret: 

I didn’t actually graduate with the class of 81 from Buffalo Grove High School. I dropped out my senior year with 3 months left to go. I KNOW, I KNOW, it was crazy. What seemed like a wrong choice at the time, turned out to be the Grace of God. He was way ahead of me.

30 years ago, behind the outward smile, was someone who was holding it together by a thread. My life at home was more than difficult, it was impossible and nobody knew.  There were things going on that were just too hard for this average 17 year old to manage relationally on her own. I’ll spare you the gory details. On top of that, there were pressures at school that I wasn’t dealing with well. And then throw in a few ‘bitchy’  girlfriend moments that put me over the edge. I was done and depleted. One day in Doc’s graphic’s art class, I just got up, and walked out. I couldn’t believe the nerve it took to do it, but it was my first outright act of independence. My father didn’t speak to me for a month.

Within a few weeks, I had job and was working full-time for a kind dentist in Northbrook.  Not too long after I dropped out, I got a post card addressed to me in the mail for night school. The kicker was night school was held at Hersey High School. My first thought was, “I’m a Bison, I can’t go to Hersey! I’ve been to every football game and basketball game; even dressed up as Bernie, the B.G. mascot, for a few football games.” But there were a few rational reasons I had to put my Blue and Orange loyalty aside (along with my pride).

For starters, the post card for night school said that I could get my own high school diploma (not Hersey’s). Okay, they had my attention. Then they said I could work full time and go to school at night (I must have been naive enough to think I could pull that off). Lastly, they said that there was NO homework. I’m in. Where do I sign up? (By the way, they lied. There was lots of homework). But the honest reason I went back to school was this small voice in my head that imagined one day my future kid saying, “Well, you dropped out of high school, why can’t I?” That was the real reason I walked into Hersey High School. It was weird, but it was one of the best things I ever did. It began my life-long love of learning.

At night school, I was surrounded by a bunch of wonderful burnouts. I didn’t smoke or drink (then) but had such a fun time getting to know these rabble-rousers (I was more of a rebel then I let on myself). The first week of school the director of the program walked up to me in the hallway and said the first words that would change the course of my life. ‘Kimberly, when you’re not too busy, I’d like to sit down to find out what makes you tick.” I thought he said, ‘ticked’ (like what makes me ticked off). His name was Jim and he was the first adult in 18 years who wanted to get to know me; and asked what was personally going on behind the Pollyanna smile.  When we finally sat down to talk, he had my life story in 10 minutes.

Soon Jim and his wife Marlene (and their two sweet daughters) were inviting me to come live with them. Good thing, because at the time I was homeless. I turned 18 and walked out the door of my house without a plan or a place to live. Jim and Marlene showed me what it was like to be a respected member in a loving family. They took me on vacation, laughed and cried with me, even bought me a car and then let me pay them back $25 dollars a month. I wasn’t the only lost student who came from a difficult family to live with this family. Jim and Marlene took in many others before me. Jim saw the value and good in teenagers. He also told us when we were full of shit. I was accountable for my actions but I was loved. Some of the most spirited conversations I’ve ever had sorting through life’s issues were with Jim. I am forever grateful that they choose me to be a part of their family for that season of my life. God knew what I needed.

On my birthday the following year, Jim handed me a present. It was my Buffalo Grove High School Diploma. They were proud of me for graduating given the circumstances that I overcame. It took me 1 year to finish up 3 months of school. I was proud of myself too. However, when I looked at the year I graduated stamped on the diploma, my heart sank. It said, 1982. I tried to look happy but deep down I felt like a failure. I’d never wear a cap n’ gown. 

Fast-forward a decade. I still had not resolved the issues I had with some former girlfriends. We had not spoken in 10 years. And of course because my diploma said 1982, I didn’t show up to my 10-year reunion because I didn’t think I belonged. I felt too much shame by then for dropping out. Shame can make us slaves to regret. It took another 10 years for me to decide to look up my former classmates and friends on classmates.com. All the old hurt and feelings of rejection melted away once we started talking again. We were different people and had grown up. We were mothers with kids.  We were more accepting of each other now. Gone was the insecurity and occasional outburst of ‘mean’ girl gossip behavior. I had no bad feelings and just enjoyed getting to know them as adults. I highly recommend letting go of anything that dates back before Farrah Fawcett-hair. Really, let it go people! Let go of the failure or shame, the disappointments, especially the ancient history misfired war of words between old friends. It’s just a waste of energy.

Reuniting with my childhood friends was so much fun. It surprised me when we reconnected that none of them had changed in 20 years (except the hair). Seriously, it was like time had stopped. And they thought the same thing about me too; I hadn’t changed one bit. That was weird because I thought I had changed a lot. What I realized is we had all changed, but our basic core personality was still the same. That was kind of freaky. Time has a way of warping things, including our own perception. We are who we are; personal quirks never change. They had the same laughter and smile I remembered. I enjoyed and appreciated them so much more as an adult. 

These reconnections via classmates.com happened six months before the 20^th reunion. I wondered if I should go to the reunion. I really wanted to be there with everyone. But according to my diploma, I’m apart of the class of 82. Working hard not to care about this technicality, I signed up to go to the class of 81 reunion; and hoped they had forgotten I had dropped out. I secretly felt like I was crashing a party. My heart was pounding when I stepped up to get my nametag. It was there on the table with that goofy senior picture of me on it (How did I pull that off?). I kept thinking someone was going to double check the class list and say, “Um, Kim Wayne, we don’t see your name on the register for graduating class of 1981. Sorry but you’ll have to leave.” I wondered if someone would say, “Hey didn’t you drop out?”  Nobody did. Maybe they did forget or were just too polite to embarrass me? I had a great time at the reunion. And for the last decade have had a blast building new memories with my old high school friends.

So why does the 30^th reunion still cause me to feel those same shadow feelings of not ‘actually’ belonging with my class--even though I spent 3.75 critical years of life with them? It’s so foolish. Deep down, I realize that I do belong (always have). My heart has always been with the class of 81. I just want to come clean and be honest, with no skeletons in the closet. Trying to live life authentically has been something that I’ve been doing in many areas of my life. There is no shame or sign that I carry around my neck because I finished my last three months of high school at Hersey. I am a Bison. I taught my son and our step-kids the Bison fight song as soon as they were old enough to know what a Bison was. I’m blue and orange to the core. And, unless Mark Lyons says I can’t go to the 30^th reunion, I’m going! (We all know Mark’s heart connecting the class of 81 together throughout the years). And since Dr. Miller isn’t around anymore to grant me Dist. 214 absolution, I’ll take Mark’s. Besides, he loves me. So unless he says, otherwise, I’ll see you in October; I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Whew, glad to finally get that off my chest!

PS. Before I posted this I sent it to Mark. I got a sweet personal phone call from Mark saying, “Of course I may go to the reunion!” And that I’m forever a part of the class of 81! :-D “We will cheer for you, knowing you’ll come through……for glory for Orange and Blue!!”

Peace On Earth

 I just saw the Dalai Lama recently. He’s so adorable. He laughs at himself and often rambles like an old man who has stories to tell you. His heart for interfaith peace touches a cord within me (not interfaith in the sense of merging all religions into one, but mutual respect and understanding among different religious traditions). The world seems to be at war with itself. Religions are sparring and making matters worse. When I think of a world figure who is out there globally promoting peace and non-violence, only the Dalai Lama comes to mind. He is our Gandhi, our Martin Luther King, and our Nelson Mandela of the 21^st century. There are no Christians that come to mind (you think there would be). There are no Hindu’s, Jews, or Muslims who’s peaceful voices rises above the hateful din of today. 

For such a time as this, this 76 year-old Buddhist monk, whose humbly draped in burgundy and orange robes, has a message worth listening to. He’s not here to force his Buddhist message. In fact, he said, “Stay with your faith tradition, it’s too confusing when you switch.” He’s not threatened by other people’s faith. Because he has enough life experience, and knows that major religions have love at their core; he says we can only have peace if we allow our sense of compassion to rise above our differences. With urgency in his voice, head forward and finger pointed he states, “Non-violence means using dialogue, using our language, the human language. Dialogue means compromise; respecting each other’s rights’ in the spirit of reconciliation there is a real solution to conflict and disagreement. This is the practical way, the only way. Wars arise from a failure to understand one another’s humanness. Instead of summit meetings, why not have families meet for a picnic and get to know each other while the children play together.” Isn’t that brilliant? Leave it to a monk to come up with a solution that has nothing to do with politics.  That is why I dig the Dalai Lama.

He shared how to go about having dialogue with those whom we disagree: First, find out what you have in common. Second, understand each other’s differences. Third, go to each other’s places of worship or homes and experience it together.

There are so many reasons to promote peace: famine, political wars, genocide, human trafficking and child prostitution, black market nuclear weapons, world economic instability—to name a few. Sheesh, how do we sleep at night? Is peace of any kind possible on a large scale? I worry because of the attachment to family, tribal, and national biases get passed on from generation to generation and become difficult to undo. When you pile on tit-for-tat behavior, the cycle never ends. 

Even Jesus warned his people of big picture changes that needed to take place and the inevitable consequences that would unfold if they did not. Jesus promoted peace. He said in Matt 26:52, “Put your sword back into its place; for those who live by the sword, die by the sword.” So what do we do about our enemies (or ‘frenemies’)? Again he said, "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same.” Easier said then done, right? Ah, but it’s a worthy pursuit to figure out how to go about being at peace with one another. However, peace is not easy. In order for there to be external peace there has to be some internal work in our hearts. Peace will cost you something.

Humility isn’t my strong suit. It has taken a herculean effort over the years by God’s Spirit to finally get my attention so I can let go of my pit-bull grip on ‘being right’. I like ‘being right’ like I like chocolate. Don’t get me wrong, even though I want peace, sometimes I just want to smack hateful people upside the head for being mean-spirited. I doubt the Dalai Lama (or Jesus) would do any smacking? True, but they’ve been meditating in gardens longer than I have. 

Peace matters to me because I didn’t grow up in a peaceful home. You knew when you were on someone’s ‘shit-list’, and you better do whatever necessary to get off it or else. I was the oldest and the most outspoken. Guess who was the lightening rod in the family? Even though those years where agonizing relationally living in our home, I have fond memories of my childhood. I think part of me was able to compartmentalize. I’d found joy and peace in simple things. Which is kind of hard to believe when I look back on those years. The music of WLS and The Loop radio saved me, along with dance, swimming or lying out by our pool, taking naps, and going over to friend’s houses. Those were sanctuary moments where I was able to live in peaceful moment without a care in the world.

Nowadays, I listen to Pandora instead of the Loop. And I’m more aware then ever the importance of working on my own internal and external peace. I’ve noticed a few things this summer while riding my bike, taking walks, or doing yoga on the patio: nature is so peaceful and orderly. The trees are not freaking out that the birds land on them. The morning doves are not yelling at the blue jays because they crossed their path. The bees are not taking something that doesn’t belong to them as they hover from flower to flower. The ants are minding their own business instead of holding grudges with the worms. No wonder we all feel a sense of calm when we spend any amount of time in nature.

Peace within, peace without—I want it for myself, and the rest of the world. Because, seriously, what's the alternative? 

John F. Kennedy in a commencement address to the American University five months before he was assassinated said this about peace, in relation to the Russian threat. “Let us examine our attitude toward peace itself. Too many of us think it’s impossible. Too many of us think it unreal. But that is a dangerous, defeatist belief. It leads to the conclusion that war is inevitable—that mankind is doomed—that we are gripped by forces we cannot control. We need to not accept that view. Our problems are manmade—therefore, they can be solved by man. And man can be as big as he wants. No problem of human destiny is beyond human beings. Man’s reason and spirit have often solved the seemingly unsolvable—and we believe they can do it again. I am not referring to the absolute, infinite concept of peace and good will which some fantasies and fanatics dream. I do not deny the value of hopes and dreams but we merely invite discouragement and incredulity by making that our only and immediate goal. Let us focus instead on a more practical, more attainable peace.”

Jesus said, “My peace I give you, my peace I leave you.” Jesus was called ‘The Prince of Peace’. Peace defines His mission, His message, His kingdom. If we are all called to be His ambassadors than shouldn’t we too be ambassadors of peace? The Apostle Peter told the church 2,000 years ago: “Seek peace, and pursue it.” So thank God for the Dalai Lama, who reminds us of a role that all of us (including Christians) should be actively engaged in—promoting peace in a world of hatred, division, and violence. A world that needs us to be engaged in pursuing peace not just waiting for it to happen once we get to heaven. 

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.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream.

"To sleep, perchance to dream-
ay, there's the rub."~Hamlet

I once was a deep sleeper and a napper for most of my adult life. Oh the days when I used to wake up ‘naturally’ without the alarm. I miss those days. Sleep became erratic a few years ago. It was the perfect storm: perimenopause started, change of job, change of relationships, change of identity. I started waking up in the middle of the night. Then it turned to waking up long before dawn in a cold sweat with chest pains. Suddenly I realized I was now a light sleeper: The dog would move and I’d feel him. Rich would snore and I’d hear him. I’ve actually kicked both (lightly). Don’t they know I NEED to sleep? I resented them both for being able to be able to fall asleep in 30 seconds.

Sleep is a commodity that I don’t take for granted now. It is both healing and essential. Without it, over time, your body may start to talk back to you with unexplained symptoms. Your body does speak your mind. For me, I didn’t recognize that a seismic shift (spiritual, emotional, hormonal) was taking place that would alter my life forever. My body and spirit wanted my attention and she was going to get it. 

In 2008, I started taking Ambien (after a few months of having murderous thoughts towards my dog and husband for waking me up night after night). I figured it was the lesser of two evils. Have you ever taken Ambien? That stuff is like crack. When you’re desperate, you’ll do anything to sleep. A few of my friends received my ‘Ambien drunk’ emails. Just before I’d fade off to sleep, I’d write senseless random thoughts to friends. I’d wake up in the morning to emails saying, “What the heck is up with you?” Rich would tell me that I was hilarious about 15 minutes before falling asleep. Ambien was like truth serum for me. I’d babble on and on about whatever was on my mind. I had no recollection of what I said or did—complete amnesia. Taking Ambien may seem harmless at first. I’d take one pill before bedtime and would be out like a light 20 minutes later. Soon that didn’t work. So I’d take two Ambien pills and be out like a light in 1 hour. Eventually, going to sleep was taking longer and longer. (I’ve always needed more drugs then a normal person. If Rich licks an Ambien, he goes into a coma.) Soon I was taking 2 ½-3 Ambien but was not falling asleep for 2 hours. You know where this is going, right? Yep, addiction to prescription drugs and self medicating with other drugs. Nobody knew. I JUST WANTED TO SLEEP!

There were other factors that year too (that I’m not ready to write about yet, maybe some other time in the future). Let’s just say that I was under A LOT of stress. What does your body produce when you’re under stress? Cortisol. We all know that Melatonin is the cozy hormone that helps you go to sleep. Cortisol is the fight, flight hormone, but it’s also the hormone that helps you wake up each morning. Who knew? So when your body is flooded with Cortisol, your sleep cycle is going to be affected—big time! Cortisol is a functioning hormone secreted by the Adrenal Cortex (that sits on top of the Kidneys). It is used for ‘in the moment’ times of survival or stress to prepare you for alertness such as: a lion is chasing you, a confrontation with someone or if you need to take a school exam, etc. The upside of Cortisol is it’s a powerful anti-inflammatory; many of us have used a form of it topically for the skin or needed a shot for pain. But the downside is, if our body produces too much Cortisol (due to stress) for too long because we can’t shut off the flight or flight switch there are risks: weight gain, connective tissue breakdown. We’re even put at risk for musculoskeletal injury, osteoporosis, and it suppresses the immune system’s response to disease and infection. And (in my case) it also messes with your sleep/wake cycle. Long term stress = pain in some form or another. 

So I had to get the stress levels down immediately. That took an epic restructuring of my life. Many things were altered permanently. Including, letting go of some toxic relationships and codependency. I needed to learn how to nurture myself, hold strong boundaries, and factor in down time, and rest when I could not sleep. I had to make sure that every day I did ‘nothing’ for 20 minutes: to just BE. Try it; it’s not that easy. I also had to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up because the ‘mom position’ that I had held for decades had recently been downsized.

As God would have it, He brought a few new tools into my life that were incredibly healing and ‘out of the box’ for me. I started doing yoga and meditation. I learned how to breathe properly. And I took a doctor recommended two-week cross-country trip by myself for to learn how to just ‘BE’. I highly recommend all of those tools.

When life gets too full for me, I stop sleeping. I only get about 4-5 hours of sleep a night. That is not good. Nobody looks good on 4-5 hours of sleep night after night. I don’t even need to be stressed out; just good ole busyness will cause me to wake up with Jesus and the birds. I’m in that busy season of life again. It’s difficult because I went two years of recovering normal circadian rhythm night after night. It’s a bummer when I ‘can’t’ sleep-in on my days off. For me, I have to be intentional about making sure I exercise, and stay off the ‘other’ crack (sugar). But the most important thing: make sure to BREATHE before I go to sleep. Deep breathing like the ocean. (Inhale……breath comes in…..like the water to the shore. Exhale…..breath goes out…..like water going back out to sea.) And I listen to the sound of the breath as it rises and falls. Our breath kinda sounds like the ocean we used to hear while holding up a seashell as kids.

Some days, when I don’t get enough sleep (which happens more then I like), I’ll make sure to do Yoga Nidra. Yoga Nidra is similar to that wonderful time at the end of yoga class when you’re in Final Relaxation—but much longer. It’s that hammock floaty time. I will do 10 to 40 minutes depending on the need. Yoga Nidra simply put is conscious deep RELAXING sleep: Actually, it is a meditative state where you remain in the Wake State, go past the Dreaming State, and go to Deep Sleep, yet remain awake. I don’t know why they don’t call it Yoga Wake instead of Yoga Sleep? The intention isn’t to go to sleep. However, it can help you prepare for sleep or alertness. I know, it sounds far out.  Rich tried it a couple of times and feel asleep in 30 seconds (I guess his body needed it). I usually drift in an out of a semi conscious state but am able to be intentional about staying awake.  The Yoga Nidra I’ve done is usually [involves listening to] a CD of a woman talking through a body scan—very calming.  You gently focus the mind while allowing thought patterns, emotions, sensations, and images to come and go without attachment or judgment. It’s easy to do and very safe and relaxing. Some people have ‘aha’ moments or feel spiritually more connected to God because they’ve finally turned off the noise in their head. I haven’t had any real ‘aha’ moments yet. But I am thankful to God that Yoga Nidra is a relaxing option that’s so beneficial for my body/mind. Some people catch up on their sleep over the weekend. I don't. So I do Yoga Nidra when I don’t get the normal 8 hours of sleep a night I need.

The good news is for three years I’ve been off all drugs. It took 6 days to detox from Ambien (and other drugs). Rich has great stories of me acting like I was on an acid trip while trying to get off the stuff. Three days of no sleep will do that; followed by three more days of only 2-3 hours of sleep per day. Note to Self: NEVER try to go cold-turkey when getting off of any kind of drugs. I was told I was lucky I didn’t go into shock. Finally one morning I woke up naturally again 8 hours later.

Nowadays, I fall asleep in 2 minutes. Did you get that insomniacs? I’ll say that again. I fall asleep in 2 minutes. All because of knowing now how to properly breathe. If you don’t know how to breathe correctly, check out a little sleeping baby. Their belly rises when they inhale, and the belly falls when they exhale. Most of us are shallow chest breathers. One of the greatest benefits to deep belly breathing (besides all the extra oxygen your brain gets), belly breathing helps you stop obsessive thinking if you follow your breath.

A girl needs her beauty sleep! Not to mention that a full sleep cycle will burn more calories when we experience REM sleep. I’m all about loosing calories without having to do sit-ups. :-D

As for the dog and the husband still keeping me awake with snoring? They go in the other room three nights a week when I have school the next day. Nobody gets hurts and everyone sleeps like a baby. Oh and earplugs and sound machines help too.

Age: A High Price To Pay For Maturity

Some days I just feel like I’m going to hell. Not because of what I did in the 80’s, but because I’m wrapping my mind around something that everyone faces sooner or later: aging. My body feels like it’s mad at me most of the time. I always have to bend over backwards to get it to like me again. I get up twice as early so I can do some yoga before starting my day. If I don’t, I feel like the lumbar discs of my spine are collapsing. Yoga has helped. I know I’ll never do a backbend again in my life. I’m okay with that. And jumping jacks are out of the question or I will pee in my pants. However, there are a few things that I’m not okay with. I’m not okay with not being cool anymore. In my head I still think I’m 25. And I’m not okay that the wear-and-tear on this banged up model doesn’t have a warrantee. In a couple of years here, I’m going to need my 50,000-mile tune up.

I got a new iPhone recently. I have no idea how to use it. I’ve had the same little Samsung phone for four years. It served me well and I hated to see it go. This iPhone has lots of bells and whistles. But when “I” use it, I don’t look hip. I look like I’m lost in a labyrinth of technology. One of the cute youngin’ from school (as I affectionately call them), busted out laughing at me while I was pecking cautiously the smooth surface pad of the iPhone. She said, “I love it when ‘old’ people text. It's so hilarious!” Old people? Really? Am I now in the Old People category? I must look like my grandmother who could never use a VCR. Smart-ass kids! One day they will be trying to figure out how to use the chip in their head to turn on the coffee maker. I smile and laugh along with them. But if you really knew me, I’m thinking, “Oh my god, this is happening. I’ve gotten labeled old.”

Last week I was caught. For the first time in 23 years, Rich walked in on me with a facial mask on. I thought he was downstairs absorbed in some hockey game. He called up to me and I answered him, thinking that would keep him downstairs. Then he came up to tell me how excited he was that the Hawks were in the playoffs. There was no time to run into the bathroom. And I didn’t want to throw the covers over my drying, caking face. So I just sat on the bed like it was no big deal. It WAS a big deal. I wasn’t just exfoliating my skin; I was dealing with the ever-present reality that things are sagging all over my body without my permission. I’m just holding back the decline. My face was red underneath the green clay. He laughed like he just saw a clown in the circus. “I’ve never seen you like that before!” he exclaimed. Does a man really want to see his wife in a clay mask? No! That is why I’ve always slapped on my wrinkle-be-gone creams and clays when he’s out of town. Nora Ephron in 'I Feel Bad About My Neck' wasn’t kidding when she wrote, “Our faces are lies, and our necks are the truth.” Don’t get me started on my neck. 

My feet are in on the rebellion. I got Plantar Fascitiis a couple of years ago. It is so painful and inconvenient. I now have a permenate water bottle that is in the freezer at all times. If I feel the slightest twinge of ache or discomfort in my feet when I wake up, I’m rolling the frozen water bottle under my foot until it’s numb, and stretching the arches (another reason I do yoga). But here’s the kicker, I can’t buy those sexy 4-inch heels anymore. I’m pushing it if I wear 3-inch heels. I put them on and my feet look up at me and say, “Seriously, you think I’m going to let you cram those size 8s in those bad-girl-heels just so your calf’s can look sculpted?” So what do I do to appease my ‘snarky’ feet? I caved in and did the unthinkable. I bought a pair of Birkenstocks. I don’t care how comfortable they are! Let me say it again, I don’t care how comfortable they are or how much support they have for your feet. They’re the ugliest shoes on the planet. There I said it! I don’t even feel like a cool hippy in them. I feel old. Soon I’m going to be one of those people wearing tan New Balance shoes. When I used to go to the health club I’d work out and watch all the walkers go round and round the track. All the old people wore New Balance shoes. I don’t want to wear polyester or New Balance shoes. But I do want to be comfortable and THAT is where the body eventually gets 'its' way every time!

And then there is the reading glasses issue. Like I didn’t have enough to deal with already. I’ve got the super highway wrinkles going horizontal along my forehead, the creases around my eyes, and the thinning gray (colored over) hair. Because of my reading glasses, I have a permanent line across my nose. My grandmother had one too. It became a divot. I have glasses all over the house. And yet, I often don’t have them nearby. I try to fake it and hold the menu out a little further while out to lunch. I’m visually confronted with the fact that I am getting old. Most days I don’t even see that I spilled yogurt on my shirt again. Yep, just like my grandmother. If I don’t use the glasses, I’ll cut off my finger while cutting up an apple. I'm now up to 250+ readers. What's next? I can’t put my make up on without a magnifying mirror x10. I don't know if magnifying mirrors are a mercy or and insult to the vain modern woman?

Mark Twain says, “Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” Shut up Mark!! It does matter! I went to the Body World Exhibit down at the Chicago Science museum. When you first walk in there is this huge screen progression of aging through the year’s in pictures. It spans time from 7 months to 70. I stood in mild shock as this lovely woman aged right before my eyes. I kept thinking, “Holy Oil of Olay, that is gonna me!!” Someone said that old age comes at a bad time. I couldn’t agree more! I try to spiritualize this aging process and work on my attitude. I've been internally challenged lately by the proverb, “Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain. But a woman who fears the LORD shall be praised!” I agree with that too, but I don’t think I’m pulling that off convincingly enough. Maybe aging will get easier over time as I let go of my attachment to all things tight and perky and trade if for contentment and gratitude? 

Me-Day

~Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are.~ Chinese Proverb.

Most people don’t like Monday. I get it. The last six months have been hard for me to embrace Monday too.  I usually have one or two tests on Monday. Which brings a mild undercurrent of anxiety that arises within me on Sunday night. I spend a ridiculous amount of hours studying every weekend. Mostly because I have this deep fear that I’m going to forget everything once those written tests are placed in front of me. I’m not like the youngin’s in my classes who stroll in Monday morning and say, “Oh we have a test today?” then proceed to ace it. Apparently I’ve used up a lot more brain cells at my age. Spring break has given me permission to unplug my brain and recharge my spirit. Since I’ve gotten into the “I hate Monday’s rut, I decided it was time to go off and just be by myself. I declared it officially Me-Day. What’s not to love about that?

At first I was tempted to fill in my day with time with others. I thought about taking my grandson to see a movie or call a girlfriend I haven’t seen in a while, start and orphanage. J/k. I held back and tried not to feel guilty. It seems selfish to grant myself time alone after having my head in books for the last three months. Don’t I already spend a lot of time alone studying? I remind myself that Jesus set a great example for us to go off by ourselves. We always assume that He was talking to God. But maybe in addition to talking to God, he was walking through the olive grove looking for the perfect logs to carve out a table he wanted to make? The Son of God who served others non-stop for three years needed a break too. Although, unlike me, it is said that Jesus got up while it was dark to go off and pray and be alone. I didn’t get up while it was dark. I slept in then woke up naturally at 8:30a.m, but I did pray.

This morning a treasured girlfriend sent me a text: ‘Happy YOU Day. Hope u r having a great day.”  My husband (whose out of town) sent me a text message too, ‘Have a great 'Kim' day’. That was such a blessing to be reminded that those who love me understand my need to go off by myself occasionally. They know what burdens weigh heavy on my heart, they know I’m ‘all in’ when needed, they know I try to spread myself around and connect when I can. So I told myself, "Okay, Kim, go relish YOUR day!!"

Since it was too cold outside to sit under a tree and read a book, I decided to head to the mall to spoil myself a little. I turned my naked winter toes into colorful spring toes. A while back I was given a cool tan hat that says ‘BREATHE’ on it. I love this hat but I don’t wear a lot of tan. I plan on making this hat one of my everyday hats so I set out to buy some tan t-shirts. I found two that I liked on sale. I also just ‘happen’ to stroll by the jewelry accessories and got two pairs of silver hoop earrings on sale too. Score! I hung out at the perfume counter and picked out a few nice scents (but didn’t buy them. I’ve gotta give Rich some ideas for gifts, right?) It was nice to just meander—nothing to do, no place to be. I could just BE in the present and enjoy Me-Day. However the sushi at the food court I didn’t enjoy. I should have known better. Then I decided that I needed a new pair of pajamas (my favorite thing in the world to wear). I found something amazingly soft and comfy but when I went to pay for it she said, “That will be $68.00 dollars please.” I wish I could afford not to blink but I did as I pulled out my reading glasses. I told the lady that I didn’t read the tag correctly without my readers on so I wouldn’t be buying it today—or ever. Then it was off to Barnes & Noble. Some ladies buy shoes or purses, I buy books. Although in this season of my life I have less time to indulge in reading for pleasure. I grabbed two yoga magazines, one book on Myofascial Trigger Points, and two inspirational books. Then I parked myself down on one of those comfy chairs. When the kid behind me started playing with the obnoxious toy that made a clicking noise I was tempted to let him know it was ME-Day and that I was in the middle of reading thank you very much. I decided to focus on his laughter while he played with his toy instead. Folksy music overhead, the lady at the resource desk multitasking with phones and customers, people talking on their cell phones while scanning the shelves, all didn’t matter. I was doing nothing very important and that is what I really needed. Later on I took Fred for a long walk. The shadows on trees told the time. My nose and ears were going to need to thaw when I got home. It’s funny how 35 degrees in March feels different than 35 degrees in December. Sunny and cold was fine with me. I was digging just walking along in the ‘now’ with no expectation placed on Me-Day!!! 

Gone In 90 Seconds

SON OF A…B*tch!! That reaction came out of me while trying to pry open a lid on a can that caused me to chip a nail. I have this rule, no matter how long my nails are, if I break one, they all get clipped. My husband Rich was standing there when I slammed the can on the counter and stormed off to get the nail clippers. If I was by myself I may have not recognized how ridiculous I sounded. While clipping the remaining nine nails, I laughed to myself at my reaction to such a small thing in life. I'm sure God even looked down and thought, "Really Kim?" It's not the swearing so much as the reaction. What is it that causes us to react to such things? There are small reactions and big reactions. However, I’ve been known to occasionally have nuclear reactions. There are positive reactions too, but I’ll speak into the ones that create unnecessary stress to my self and even those around me. Rich has been reading a book by Robert Sutton, a Stanford professor called the 'No Asshole Rule'. The book is about not hiring jerks in your organization. Simply put, the rule is 'you can have an asshole but don't be one'. Lately, I’ve been more aware of how much I react over things.

Rich’s mom, my mother-in-law, Evelyn, never had a ticket and always went the speed limit, and stayed in the right lane. It’s safe to say that she probably never flipped anyone off either. She was a safe driver. She was also a little scared and didn’t like to drive on the toll-ways. I don’t blame her, I don’t like to either. Some of those people are crazy (you know who you are!). She was a good driving role model for me—for all of us in the family. I used to be one of those crazy drivers before I realized that it only increases my car insurance when I got a ticket. And at my age, smiling doesn’t get me out of tickets anymore.

Nowadays, I’m pretty mellow in traffic. I can’t remember when the last time I reacted and flipped anyone off. I drive no more than 9 miles over the speed limit on the highway, 5 miles around town. I’ve only had 1 ticket in the last 20 years, and that was for rolling through a stop sign because of being distracted on the phone. I’m typically always in the right hand lane (less people flipping me off). I’m just not in a hurry. I leave early and give myself plenty of space and time. I’ll get to wherever I’m going when I get there. The reason being, the older I get, the more people I know who have gotten hurt or died. Car accident statistics scared the Mario Andretti out of me. In a study by Froedtert & Medical College of Wisconsin, 90% of respondents say either they themselves or someone they know, family or friend, have experienced the effects of a car crash. However, 56% didn’t change their driving habits because of the crash. Now, I take my time in traffic. Look around for yourself, people are talking on the phone, texting, or off in their head not paying full attention. We all know what that’s like—going from point A to point B and wondering how we got there: The automatic pilot in our brains.

I was in local traffic behind a gray Jeep. The light turned green and we all started to move through the intersection. A sporty red car made a quick right turn into our lane and cut in front of the guy in the Jeep. It was a close one. Mr. Jeep was waving his arms and shouting. Fingers were flying everywhere. For the next half a mile Mr. Jeep was hammering on his horn and just about slammed into Mr. Sporty Red Car’s bumper. Just like in Kindergarten, Mr. Jeep did not think it was fair that Mr. Sporty Red Car cut in front of the traffic line. I sensed that this could get ugly and gave myself some distance behind Mr. Jeep. I’m glad I did because Mr. Jeep wasn’t going to let this go. He swerved into the left lane (still yelling) and then sped up to swerve back into the right lane now in front of Mr. Sporty Red Car.  I could have predicted this was coming, Mr. Jeep slammed on the breaks in front of Mr. Sporty Red Car and came to a complete stop. He opened the door and abandoned his car in the middle of traffic. My pulse was racing. Mr. Jeep was about 30-ish and rushed out ready for a fight. His arms were flailing and all the other cars around stopped. This is the part where things go in slow motion and I wait for him to brandish a gun.  No gun. Thank God! His rage was verbal. It appeared that Mr. Red Car would be trapped with cars on all sides, but as luck would have it, there was a lane to his right so he turned into a shopping mall. He veered into the open shopping exit lane then around Mr. Jeep’s parked car, and then sped off. It was an impressive move.  Mr. Jeep was not happy and took off after Mr. Sporty Red Car again. Even though Mr. Sporty Red Car started this, we all learned as kids the saying: Two wrongs don’t make a right.

 At this point I decided I was done with this drama since it was now 100 yards ahead of me. Even if I wanted to keep up, I’d have to speed up. And that’s not going to happen unless someone is in my backseat bleeding.  I wasn’t to get a ticket over these two maniacs. Besides, Mr. Sporty Red Car had some decent driving skills to escape if necessary. As I turned off onto another street I thought, I wonder if Mr. Jeep knew what a complete ass he made of himself? I’m sure boiling adrenalin was coursing through him creating this chemical response to rage. The funny thing is I’m sure if his grandma was in the car, he could have controlled that nuclear reaction.  Sometimes we have a moral compass as to how we’re going to react with some choices. 

We’ve all done it at some point-reacted acted like a complete fool. Anger changes your brain chemistry. The one thing Mr. Jeep wasn’t able to do in that moment was inquire or recognize his own hypocrisy. His reptilian brain had kicked into fight mode. I’d bet my life Mr. Jeep has at some time in the last 10 or 15 years since he’s been driving, cut someone off accidently or on purpose. Yet he acted like Mr. Sporty Red Car just committed the unpardonable driving sin. True, it was a bad choice on Red’s part. But I wanted to say, “Come on buddy, dial it down, think about it. Haven’t you made a quick turn into a lane in front of someone almost creating an accident too?  My guess is his reactions are a pattern in his life. He probably thinks he’s entitled to rage when someone else moves into his lane(s) of life.

 Recently I learned something that’s literally mind-boggling from Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor, a neuroanatomist, who studies the brain. In her book, My Stroke of Insight, she says there is scientific evidence showing that the life span of any particular emotion is only one and a half minutes. After that, we keep the emotion going by reviving the emotion with our thoughts. Ponder that thought for a while! How much precious energy and time have you wasted keeping those feelings going by thinking about it over and over and over?

I know Mr. Jeep well because I’ve acted like him in my own way(s) over the years. Sometimes they are big reactions, like yelling at someone because they almost caused me harm; sometimes they are small ones like when I chip a nail and swear like it's the worst thing in the world that is happening in that moment.  Both are kind of embarrassing when I finally realize I too need to dial it down sometimes. But the only way to do this (I’m learning) is practice mindfulness. Staying in the present moment (instead of in my head) has helped me become more aware of coming to my senses sooner than later. If I take 90 seconds (or more) to sit with the emotion--without reacting--its hurricane force will subside and I can respond like a human rather than, um, an A**hole.   :-D 

Are you there God? It's me Kim.

Look, I don't know shit about shit, but I know right from wrong! ~ Erin Brockovich


(The name of my precious friend has been changed to protect her privacy.)

Are you there God? It’s me Kim! God, I don’t need money, a better place in the grocery line, for my throbbing headache to go away, or even a bigger more urgent prayer to assuage my fears like please don’t let the bridge fall or the plane crash while I’m on it. No, this passionate prayer wasn’t even for me.  It was for my friend, Joan. She needed you to be her protector and defender yesterday when she went to court to get an extended Order of Protection for her and her kids because her husband raped her. Not only had he raped her, but also he verbally, physically, and emotionally abused her and her children for decades. The rape was the final straw that sent her to the police.

I don’t understand? I had one prayer and one prayer only: Stand between Joan and her husband and protect her. I was counting on you God. No, I was more than counting on you, I was putting every ounce of faith I had in you alone. I was so convinced in my spirit that you would come through for Joan. At the end of the day, I thought justice was blind and you were deaf because nothing went Joan’s way. Between you and me, I go back and forth between shock, crying, and anger.

How could this happen? I felt like for the past few days, I have had to watch my friend be violated again. This time by corrupt police who are sworn to protect and serve instead of cover their asses because they made mistakes. Along with a justice system that doesn’t entirely protect victims of domestic crimes, who instead allow lawyers to use legal jargon to bully victims of domestic abuse with their “motions to vacate orders’ ‘objections’ and ‘hearsays’. Whoever has the best lawyer wins. But here’s the thing God, Joan didn’t have a lawyer.

Joan had to represent herself because her free legal service backed out at the last minute. We couldn’t figure out why her legal counsel backed out until Joan went to the police department and picked up her police report. It was INACCURETE! She didn’t get this police report three days later, but three weeks later. She kept calling the police department and asking for the report but they kept telling her it wasn’t ready and they’d call her when it was. My guess is they wrote up their report days, maybe a week or two, later and some of the details were incorrect because of a faulty memory.

Worse yet, when we went to the police station to ask for a more exact report, she was met by a compassionless, defensive, intimidating cop who told her "No, we won’t change it. Because women come in here all the time and change their minds.” Joan wasn’t changing her mind, they got the facts wrong. In fact, she was told, “I have a hard time believing that my officer with 24 years of experience writing up police reports could make that many mistakes in a report!” You’d think, but he did. Joan had a witness present with her the day she came in to tell the police her husband raped her. At no time did Joan sign anything or see the officer write up the report in her presence. She wasn’t even asked to give a written statement when she came in to report the rape. Then the officer intimidated us with his flak-jacketed, flared-out chest and both hands on his hip, standing over us, demanding to know if 'we were questioning his character as a veteran police officer?' Yes we were! They made mistakes! Joan knew her husband’s lawyer had his incorrect report. And this misleading report stated that Joan said he never physically abused her and that she consented to sex.

Devastated and feeling legally abandoned and unprotected, Joan pulled herself together and prepared a statement to read to the judge. She wanted the longest amount of time for the Order of Protection for herself. She wanted her husband to have court supervision while in the presence of their children for 6 months, with counseling. Then she wanted the children’s visitation to be revaluated in another 6 months by the court. Joan’s written statement to the judge was about what happened on 12/15/10 and also stated severe abuses had taken place in the past twenty years of their marriage. She wanted to establish why she feared for her life, and even why she allowed the rape to happen against her will because her husband had previously threatened to kill her.  But the previous abuses or threats would not be allowed in court.

 The first judge of the day was insensitive, impatient and didn’t think Joan’s case had enough legs to stand on and that’s why her free legal counsel was not present with her. The judge was perturbed. Why? Because the husband’s self-righteous lawyer made sure to tell him that she didn’t have a case and ask for a psych-evaluation for Joan. He came out swinging. This was not good! We all held hands and prayed and tried to send thoughts of strength and courage to Joan while she stood there alone before Judge Jerk! Joan was not granted an extension of her Order of Protection for three more weeks so she could find another lawyer. Instead, she was sent to another courtroom, on the same day, before another judge. She was forced to proceed in a ‘hearing’ and defend herself before the judge alone; all by herself with no legal counsel!!! Even Erin Brockovich had some time to prepare a case. Obviously none of the eight of us who showed up to support Joan watched enough Law & Order to give her tips on how to pull her case together in one hour. We were too focused on pulling Joan together with our glances of love and hugs. She was shaking, crying, drained, scared, and unprepared. She was in over her head.

People have asked me God, why Joan didn’t have her husband arrested? She had grounds. Victims of domestic abuse (any kind of abuse) are in shock and they are terrified. In the beginning, I trusted you God to help navigate those first days and weeks. You helped her wrap her mind around that she had finally found the courage—left this man who has bullied, controlled, and abused her for years. We all held our breath and prayed. You came through during those first few weeks. You sheltered and protected Joan. She said remarkable things that only a person who has fled danger could say, “I have 30 more years of happiness ahead of me!” We all watched Joan’s husband treat her with verbal disrespect and unkindness. So all of us we’re so happy for that possibility of a new future for Joan. Yet our hearts were so sad for the kids because they were so confused. I saw amazing provision when you sent her parents up from AZ to give Joan their car, and help with some expenses because she was left penniless. People left and right were giving her support financially.  She needs it because she had nothing. I thank you for that. I mean, I REALLY thank you for that. Joan was buoyed by your divine presence during those initial days through the love and support of others. You helped Joan get as strong as she could be under the circumstances. We, her closest friends, praised you for all that you were doing. So I thought you were on Joan’s side. And our biggest concern was not realized: we really thought Joan’s husband was gonna go off the deep end and hurt Joan. It was Joan’s greatest fear. She told me, “I don’t want to become one of those statistics.” That was haunting to hear Joan say that to me. So all I could do was pray. I couldn’t give her a gun or a Rottweiler. I could only pray. However, you kept her safe at night and during the day the last three weeks and always had people with her. You helped the fog lift from her brain so she could take steps to move forward, think about a new job and a new place to live, and sleep. She’s still not out of the woods yet. All of us know that she has a mountain yet to climb and get over. We all see a transformation-taking place in Joan. I believe in her.

For hours we sat on a hard bench in the courtroom, crying, holding in gasps of shock, praying, sending our love. We watched as Joan laid all her papers out before her at the lawyers’ table. I could see her hands shaking. I watched as she nervously kept bringing her hands to her face then run them through her hair. She tried to talk and usually was cut off by the judge or the lawyer because she didn’t know procedure. The rules in court were not going to be different because she wasn’t a lawyer herself. I watched her husband’s aggressive lawyer delight in every legal opportunity to rattle Joan, mock her, and shut her down. The incorrect police report would be used against Joan over and over in court. That lawyer battered her with it, implying she was a liar and her statements were inconsistent. I wanted to smack him up side the head with his yellow legal pad. I have no idea how some lawyers’ sleep at night?

But bless-Joan’s-heart, she hung in there. Joan couldn’t establish a pattern of abuse, she could only tell of the night of the rape. No opportunity to tell of the times he chased her, put her up against a wall by the throat, or when a machete knife was held to her throat, or when he grabbed her off the couch and threw her across the room. No chance to tell how he’s frightened his children and verbally attacked each of them with his 285 pounds of intimidation, and at times physically abused them too. No, this scumbag lawyer persuaded the judge that legally Joan could only talk about the night in question. The night she told her husband, "No, I don't want to have sex tonight. No! It's not is gonna happen. I told you what my boundaries were, I'm not having anymore sex that I don't want to have. You can't make me. It's a healthy boundary." The night she had to lay there as her husband said, “I will take it (sex) if I want it. This is your wifely duty!” In our mind, we always thought, NO means NO!!! Even if you have to lie there, while someone climbs on top of you, and you allow it to happen to protect yourself because your are afraid, it's rape.  I could relate to Joan only on a small level because this happened to me as a date rape. If you say no and they persist, it is rape. I don’t believe many man are able to fully understand the fear-factor that men have over women when it comes to sex. Joan didn’t resist her husband because the children were in the next room, because of his increasing and escalating aggression. She feared for herself and her children so she just let him ‘do it’. You saw what happened, you were there too. You are El Roi, the God who sees. She didn’t fight back because she was protecting herself and her children. But she took the first step to fight back the next day and went to the police. That wasn’t taken into consideration in court.

I watched Joan’s husband shake his head in disagreement and shock as if to say, "No, I could never do those things. I’m not like that." He had brought people from their church to sit in court on his behalf—men who have NO clue of the fear that Joan has had to endure. These churchmen never called Joan to hear her side of the story. They sat in support of this abuser—this man that has fooled everyone with manipulation and control. The most shocking part of the day was Joan, who had to be her own legal counsel, had to cross-examine her husband on the witness stand. He conveniently said, “I don’t remember” when Joan asked questions on cross-examination like, “Why was I upset the next morning and tell you to leave?” He told the court how they made love and Joan received his embraces and kisses ‘willingly’, and how Joan spooned him before and afterwards their feet touched as they fell asleep. She was in a fetal position shaking and crying afterwards, but he said nothing about that. We watched him boldface lie—again and again. But he’s been doing it for years so it didn’t surprise us. I wanted to throw-up listening his distorted and twisted lies spill out so easily.

Joan’s witness, her sister Katie, took the stand on Joan’s behalf to shed truth about what was said to the police the day after she was raped. She was there. She heard everything Joan said to the police. This was hard to watch Katie be cross-examined by the lawyer. Katie supported Joan’s truth and tried to right a wrong by the police. Yet it wasn’t good enough in the end. We all saw Katie be brave on the witness stand. She was (as we’ve always known her to be) truthful and direct.

After the cross-examining process, Joan presented her closing argument. I watched my friend beg the judge to please protect her and her children by granting her request. She begged. She didn’t ask like a lawyer. She begged like a woman who was afraid: afraid this man will break into her home some night and kill her, afraid that he was going to be around her children unsupervised. Yet the law wouldn’t protect her or her children. The Order of Protection was dismissed. He was free to go to their house, free to see the children. And God, I don’t get it? You didn’t move the heart of the judge to rule in Joan’s favor. Joan’s husband got away with rape (and other abuses). There was no protection, no mercy. Who will be her shield, her defender? The law? NO!!! I watched Joan crumble as her father took her in his arms, as each relative and each friend took on some of her sadness as we held her and cried.

God, I really thought you were going to come through for Joan in court. I thought the hands of justice and the hands of prayer would serve Joan. This seemed like a no-brainer to me. I figured the judge has seen men like Joan’s husband over and over again and would see right through his lies. My faith is kind of rocked right in this moment. Not because you’ve stopped being good, or stopped being in control, but because I don’t feel like I could spiritually encourage Joan again with the same confidence. For days I was saying, “Trust me Joan, God is gonna come through for you. He’s gonna protect you. He’s gonna make your case shine like the noonday sun. He’s gonna stand between you and this man whose abused you for years. He will protect you!” Lord, now I don’t know what you’re gonna do?

I know that many prayers don’t get answered. People pray for healing and don’t get healed. People pray for jobs and don’t get jobs. I’m sure millions of holocaust victims prayed for deliverance but it came too late. And I’m sure Joan’s children may have even been praying that Mommy and Daddy get back together and that prayer won’t get answered. Why do I think that I had some special link to the heart of God to convince you on this matter? I felt sure in my heart of heart that you were going to do this for Joan. Not so much because I was asking, but because it was obvious she needed your help. You help the helpless, right?  Maybe Joan wasn’t so helpless? She did the impossible yesterday and it will make her stronger. If necessary, Joan was surrounded by a posse of people that could move mountains on her behalf. We will be her justice.  We will validate what was invalidated. We will be the hands and feet of Jesus. Is that what you want?   

I know you heard every plea for Joan. I know because you are good, you have a bigger picture of why things unfolded like they did. Your ways are not my ways. I’m not going to stop praying. However, I have one more prayer request for Joan: PLEASE don’t let that man bring any harm to her again. If she has difficulty trying to deal with his asinine manipulative behavior until the day those children turn 18, fine. She won’t be fooled by it any more. If she has to struggle and eat macaroni and cheese for years to come, fine. She is pretty resourceful and we won’t let her starve. But I’m begging you God, PLEASE don’t let anything happen to Joan. The court may not have been able to legally protect Joan. We may not be able to protect her and stand guard. But what little faith I have in this moment (a mustard seed), I know that you still can supernaturally protect Joan.

Note to Self

Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man.  ~Benjamin Franklin

Dear Future Kim,

I just wanted to give you a heads up in 2011 so you can move forward and not go backwards. Note to Self: You did pretty well in 2010, but I’d like to point out some things so you don’t fall on your ass and break your coccyx again. That’s right, I said, coccyx. You know what that is now that you’ve passed your first semester of Anatomy (with flying colors I might add). Keep up the good work.  I know you like the subject matter, but what concerns me is you’ve gotten locked into ‘striving’ again. You’ve gotten away from mindful-living since school started. Remember where ambition got you before? Exhausted, with your waking prayer being, “Help me Jesus!” Getting A’s, means you won’t have a life.  However, if you stay organized, you can get B’s (which is acceptable to your ego). That way you can continue to enjoy BEING without losing your self while going back to school in 2011.  Teaching yoga classes for others and hitting the books will make you crazy if you don’t carve out time to do your own yoga practice, meditate, pray, and surround yourself with people who really ‘get you’. Don’t give away all your precious energy. So in between doing downward dog and remembering the bony landmark of the tibia tuberosity and the occipital protuberance, make sure to dial down some of your expectations of yourself and others so you can take pleasure in life

Honor your body’s natural rhythms this winter. Bears hibernate for a reason. Slow down and stay warm. Take naps when you can (don’t feel guilty). Sip warm drinks, watch funny movies, and make sure to do creative things that use the right side of your brain. That will keep you in the present moment and from worrying about next week’s tests. If you hang out in the left side of your brain too much, you’ll be drained in no time at all.

How about in 2011, you cut back on the red meat Ms. Carnivore? In fact, cut out about 500 calories each day. Turing to baloney sandwiches on Wonder Bread when other people ignore, misjudge, or disappoint is really stupid. I mean Freakin Stupid!! In 2011, it’s time to DEAL with your dependence to all things processed.  Last year your goal was to get in shape for the spring. This year’s goal for 2011 is to get in shape so the TSA don’t talk about you after you go through the scanner. As your internal self, I personally think you sabotage your weight because you don’t believe you can keep it off permanently. Look into that. Don’t worry, the answers and help will come. You intuitively KNOW what’s best for you and want to do it. Just make space for honoring all your experiences and emotions then let them go! You only have this present moment, be good to yourself!

Don’t let 2011 pass without enjoying all of those friendships that bless you in your spare time. There are also people you don’t really enjoy being around anymore because of how little they care about you. If I made a pie chart, I’d say that you spend about 15% or your mental energy trying to win these people’s approval. I know you think you are a nice person and everyone should like you-they don’t! And just because you do A, doesn’t mean it’s going to get you B. Stop waiting for relationships that are complicated to magically change into a Disney Movie. Have you ever had a cartoon blue bird land on your shoulder and start singing? NO! Get over it Pollyanna! Accept those parts of your life that may always be complex. If it changes, great! If it doesn’t, move on! Remember when you were a kid after a storm? You’d hop on your bike and try to chase after the rainbow? Some things can never be reached, so let go of false hope. In your heart of hearts you know where you tried. Accept things as they are, not what you want them to be.

 Also, remember, nothing is ENTIERLY your fault. You’ve been doing better with that, but you have a ways to go. Stop taking on all the responsibility for other people’s behavior or attitudes. Take a deep breath, smile, and walk away. Oh and Kim, it’s okay to walk away, not call, not text, not show up, etc. Those who want to do life with you will invite you to sit at the table. Those who don’t really want to do life with you are not losing sleep over making things better with you. So don’t lose sleep over them. You’re a big girl; you can handle it more than you think. Remember that everyone has their ‘own issues’ that they’re dealing with just like you. There are always two sides of every coin. Let go of what can’t be fixed by one person alone.  Own your own stuff, not others. This need for people’s approval, doesn’t serve you. Actually, it bugs the crap out of me when you do this. Relationships should never be one-sided. Give your heart and soul to those who dig having you around and appreciate what you bring to their world.

In the meantime, expand your world more so your heart doesn’t get small. You have a passion for the under resourced, social justice, diversity (even religious diversity), and peace. Yeah, you’re probably the most idealistic person I know, so find a pocket of life where you can find more ways to express this passion. You’re not the only one who wants more peace and sanity. You get into these enthusiastic conversations with others where you’re practically levitating. It’s because you have all this zeal and energy that you need to let out. God has placed it in your heart for a reason, so go discover where you can make a difference this year. Take some risks. Let’s see if by May of 2011 you can plug in somewhere.

You and Rich are on a different path then many of your Evangelical Christian friends. I think God has done that for a purpose that’s yet to unfold before your eyes. Don’t panic. You’re outside the Christian bubble you once lived in. You fret that it makes others question your faith in Christ, loyalty to the church, or whether you are a spiritual heathen. It’s okay that you don’t agree with all of Wayne Grudem Systematic Theology and find yourself more in alignment with Brian McLaren. Trust me, you are rock solid when it comes to Christ, but everything else has been questioned. You are glad for the shift within. Don’t doubt the deeper good of why this has happened. And for the love of Peter, stop worrying about how to defend these changes. Continue forward with Act 10: 34-35  “I see very clearly that God doesn’t show partiality. In every nation he accepts those who fear him and do what is right.”  Continue to have an open mind and an open heart. All God is asking you to do is “recklessly Love” others who are seekers and those who are not seeking. They are all the same to Him.

Something else you may need to know: Home is where the heart is. You’ve seen friends lose their homes.  They have been devastated and broken by it. I don’t blame them. How does one give up their home? It happens for so many reasons. This is not an easy economy and things that you thought were an investment (like real estate) are worthless now. It is NOT the end of the world. Keep a loose grip on ‘stuff’ and an even looser grip on all those American Dreams. Instead, keep a firm grip on things that are Eternal--things that really last. You have an awesome husband and a Fred the wonder dog. What else do you need? Remind yourself of that; in case the time comes when, like millions of other Americans, you have to let go of a place that you ‘think’ is your real home. Don’t be attached to anything. If you have the answer already settled in your mind, it won’t shake your foundation should the day come when you have to move. Continue to be grateful for all you have, because you have SOOOOOOO much!

Have fun in 2011! Meet your friends for lunch, and meet your husband for lunch. I guess that proves lunch is your favorite meal of the day. Enjoy! Start getting a business plan in place too. Create a vision. Things are ramping up with your massage and yoga therapy.  Also, face it, you’re getting older: peri-menopause is full on and is starting to mess with your head. Start reading up on it. You were pretty tripped up on all your stops and starts from month to month. Don’t become one of the irrational women whose husbands need to cut a wide path around them because they are going through the ‘change’. Oh and don’t freak out in the spring if you lose all your hair. You’ll probably blow-your-coat again so go buy some cute hats. Problem solved! Continue to be a kid at heart. Go to the parades (I dare you to go to a gay one); discover new things—you have a Prius so you can go anywhere for pennies, make those mindful moments happen: sitting under trees and marvel at stillness, watch the squirrels carry their nuts. Make friends with every new puppy you can meet. Dance like a fool, sing like you’ve been gifted a voice (ignore that everyone knows you we not), laugh until you pee in your pants, and love from a pure place that is your true self. Keep writing even though it makes others wonder what planet you’re from, or fear you’ll write something that paints them in a bad light. Just write your own truth. Be real and be vulnerable. Sometimes you’ll write something that matters and other times it will be pitiful dribble from the heart of a fool. And remember what Kevin says, “Do what makes you happy, Mom.” Okay, Kev, I’m on it! And lastly, if you do nothing else, BREATHE and stay present!

All the best in 2011 as things unfold moment by moment,

Past Kim