New Joy

It wasn’t long in to the “single again” status that I realized I had to do something to get out of myself and find new purpose in life.  I spent a good chunk of time in the beginning pondering and analyzing my life and past, decisions and choices.  It was time spent working on me.  It was healing and growing, changing and refining.  It was really hard work.  It is not a completed work, but I’m in a different place in the process. 

Lately though, I’ve been finding new joy in helping others.  I’ve known for years that serving is part of where I get re-fueled; it’s probably one of the reasons I became a counselor.  But though being a counselor does provide fuel, it is also very draining.  There have to be other sources of fueling.

I’ve mentioned my “nail place” before, but as time goes on, I’ve become more and more involved at this little business.  I’ve come to think of those girls as my Vietnamese “family”.  The longer I go there, the more I learn about the family connections between some of the girls and the stories of their lives.

This past Monday afternoon, I’d made arrangements for my nieces and sister in laws to get their nails done at my place.  They gave me a deal, partially because of our relationship but partially because it’s just a slow time of year.  When I got there, one of the girls came and sat down next to me.  I’ve seen her many times, but she is one of the only girls that I hadn’t had much contact with.  My impression was that her English wasn’t very good.

Apparently, she and a couple of the other girls had been talking, and they told her about me helping them with their English.  She wanted help too.  She was so nervous about talking to me and asking for help.  I was really excited because I had seen her struggling on several occasions, and I really wanted to help her.  So we made a plan to begin today.

We met at Starbucks and started by just having a conversation.  The biggest thing the girls need is practice with someone who won’t make them feel stupid.  She was very embarrassed and apologetic about her grammar and not having a “good voice”.  This just stuns me.  I think that, given the circumstances they are in, these girls do very well.  English is a very inconsistent and difficult language. 

After some coaxing, she began to talk.  I learned that she had come to the states when she was in junior high.  She lives with her mom, dad, and two younger sisters.  When she got here, she worked to help support the family so that her two little sisters could go to school.  She didn’t get to go to school because her family needed her help financially.    She worked in a restaurant with her family for several years then went to school to get licensed to do nails.  She now works part time at the nail place and is finally getting to go to school.  She is 29 years old. 

I think she was completely stunned that I was willing to work with her.  She doesn’t understand that it is fun for me.  Today, we talked quite a bit and then read a children’s book together.  We traded off reading pages, stopping to go over difficult vocabulary.  She got teary several times because she was overwhelmed that I was helping her.  The funny thing is, I was having a great time.  I loved helping her.  We got some funny looks in Starbucks, but I didn’t really care.

Toward the end, we were going over some grammar and she made up a sentence for me in which she spoke of going to church tonight to sing.  I poked that a bit to find out a little about her background.  She told me that, “[she ] loves God because he has helped [her] so much”.  I told her that I thought He probably sent me to her.  She readily agreed and got teary again.

But the truth is, He probably sent her to me too.  I don’t really know if it was in His grand plan for us to meet up.  But getting to help her and the other girls has given me a new joy.  It’s the joy that comes from becoming a part of a new community.  It’s the joy that comes from getting to help others.  It’s the joy that comes from doing something you enjoy anyway.  It’s the joy that comes from knowing you are making a difference to someone else.

While I think that getting outside of myself in this way is especially good for a newly single person like me, I actually think it is good for everyone.  I think it’s good for us to step outside of ourselves and see the needs around us.  Needs that we can meet doing something we enjoy anyway.

Now I’m going to go try the eggroll and other assorted treats she brought that her mom made just for me.  What an honor.

Heavenly Banana Bread

There is something oh so wrong about over ripe bananas and oh so right about delicious banana bread.  My favorite banana bread recipe came from Gwen Goodyear, my sister in law’s mom.  I’ll be honest, it’s a difficult recipe.  You’ve got to be on really good speaking terms with your oven to get this one right.  It requires time adjustments, temperature adjustments, and sometimes tinfoil.  But when you get it right, it’s pure heaven. 

I feel sure that there are other recipes out there that are easier.  But I don’t care.  This is “Dusty’s Banana Bread,” though really Gwen’s, so it’s the one I’m going to make.  Gwen is now in heaven, so I feel sure that this recipe is right on the verge of being THE heavenly choice.   

My all time favorite memory of Gwen is a Christmas years ago; I don’t even remember what year it was.  What I do remember is Gwen and her three daughters all in Dusty’s kitchen preparing the meal.  They were laughing and fussing and laughing and arguing and laughing and really LOUD!  And it was awesome!  Somewhere I have a picture of it.  I should frame it with this recipe.  The very best part of the memory though is that I got to be right in there with all of them.  A perfect moment captured in my heart.

So here is the recipe.  Good luck…

Gwen’s Banana Bread

Sift:
1 ¼ c flour

1 c sugar

½ t salt

1 t baking soda

Cut in ½ c shortening.

Add and mix:

2 ripe bananas, mashed

2 eggs

Bake at 350 degrees for 35-40 minutes.

Give and Take

            Occasionally, I am presented with an opportunity to give that I cannot pass.  I’ve decided that the more I look for these opportunities, the more I am presented with them.  Or maybe it’s that the more I take the opportunity, the more I notice.  Some would say it’s a spiritual leading, and I’m comfortable with that.  Regardless of where the nudge comes from or why, I’ve found that answering is always rewarding…to me.

            This year I’ve had an opportunity to invest in my friend Allison.  She has made two trips to Africa to visit and work in orphanages.  There is an enthusiasm and passion about the way she talks about the kids she meets that is irresistible.  I think part of the draw for me is that she sponsors kids in addition to visiting.  But more, she never forgets those kids.  She has developed relationships with people who live and work there in order to serve better.  I have absolutely no desire to go to Africa.  But I’m glad she does.  And I feel blessed to be able to help her.

            Allison also works with St. Jude’s hospital.  She and a team of friends do the walk every year in support of various kids.  It’s a free hospital.  It’s a great cause.  But I can’t resist sponsoring her because of completely different reasons.  She has taught her daughter the importance of giving and helping others.  And this year, Allison’s daughter is crazy excited that she gets to walk too.  How can I not support that enthusiasm?

            Then there is school.  There are always opportunities to support causes at schools.  I’ve picked up a “Senior” (elderly person) from one of our student organization’s angel tree that I need to shop for this afternoon.  I have no idea why I couldn’t pass this one up; it’s not like I needed another person to shop for, but for some reason, I had to pick up a Senior Angel.

            About five minutes ago, I bought raffle tickets for another cause.  It’s a group that provides an after school learning program for our high school kids.  It goes straight to my kids.  For kids who need a safe place.  And they learn cooking, sewing, social skills, study skills, and lots of other things.  It’s like an extension of what the counseling program is about, how can I resist?

            One of the teachers at my school who is an only child, lost his dad this weekend.  He had to make an emergency trip across the country to make arrangements.  His wife and kids had to stay here because one of his kids has a serious illness that requires regular hospital visits and stays.  As a result, they are strapped financially.  I can’t imagine being in this situation.  I only learned about it recently when I also discovered that I’d gone to college with and knew his wife.  When someone from his department asked, how could I not help?

            Writing is processing for me, and as I’m sitting here writing this, I think I know why I have to respond to these types of opportunities.

            When I was in 8^th grade, my dad was diagnosed with leukemia.  There were four kids in my family, two in high school, one in junior high, and a toddler.  Mom was home with John running a day care.  Money was really tight.  But we were taken care of.

            A teacher from my dad’s school, Pasadena High School, was my dad’s summer school substitute and never took a dime for sub pay.

            One of the Assistant Principals there gave Dad something like $100 from every one of her pay checks. 

            During a particularly long hospital stay, an old friend from Michigan came down and helped me run the day care while Mom stayed at the hospital with Dad. 

            When he was super sick, he would teach the first part of class then lay down on a cot in the office next door while one of the other math teacher’s monitored class work during his/her conference period.

            The people I babysat for knew I wanted to go to a workshop in Abilene for Bible class teachers with a group from church, so they paid for me to go.  In fact, they made that trip happen in minutes before I went home one night from sitting with their boys, and I left the next morning.

            People would shake my mom’s hand at church and leave bills of all sorts of denomination behind. 

            After Dad passed, someone paid to fly my brother home from Arkansas.  Someone else paid the rest of his college tuition that semester.  The church paid off our van.  People brought us food.

            When I moved out a year and a half ago, one of my friends walked by my side every step of the way.  She helped me figure out my finances.  She helped me find a place to live where I would be safe.  She loved me without judgment.  She loaned me her children for hugs.

            When my mom heard, she got in the car and drove 11 hours to help me move.  She didn’t know details but she knew ME.  She stayed at my apartment and unpacked and organized me while I went to work.  She bought me a mop and a tool kit and lots of other little things to make me more comfortable.  Mostly she loved me.

            Another of my friends came over with bags of groceries to stock my refrigerator, freezer, and pantry.  She also brought me a television which I’m still using.  And she let me do laundry at her house for almost a year, insisting that I not bring my own detergent.  During our laundry/study sessions, she listened for hours.  Today, she called and sang, “I Just Called To Say I Love You” on my voice mail.

            A stranger with whom I have a mutual friend gave me a washer and dryer to use the last few months in Amarillo. 

            I know what it means to be given gifts when you least expect it and never dream to even ask.  I have been given many, many gifts in my life.

            It isn’t always comfortable to take help when it is offered.  Sometimes it’s downright painful.  My mom used to say that when you don’t allow others to help you when you are in need that you are robbing them of the opportunity to serve.  I think she is right.

            She has something else to say about giving.  She once bought someone glasses and then shared this with me from Proverbs, “Do not withhold good from those who deserve it, when it is in your power to act.”

            I think we NEED to give of ourselves and help others.  I think it is essential to our personal growth.  Life is not all about “me”.  It’s good for me when Allison reminds me that there are millions of orphans who need help.  It’s good when community needs are brought to my attention at school.  It’s really good when I can pay forward to a coworker what was done for my family.  And I didn’t write all of that to toot my own horn.  It’s not about that at all.  It’s about recognizing the fact that we have as much need to give as we sometimes have to receive.

            I think it’s good for you too.  If you can’t give of your money, give of your time.  I’ve been doing some tutoring here recently that I’m convinced is far more rewarding for me than my “students”.

            I understand the need to circle the wagons and focus inward for a time.  I’ve been there before.  But sometimes, when circling is the temptation, I think we are better off looking out.  There are always so many others who have it worse.  There is always something we can give.  And sometimes the thing that is most fulfilling to us, is pouring into others.

Lost and Found

Before you get worried about my current state of mind, know that the following was inspired by multiple things over the course of a couple of years.  While I do believe the words, feel the words, the completed piece is the strained and concentrated feelings, as my poems usually are.  Besides reflecting on my own life, part of this is from reflection on a blog post a friend of mine wrote months ago, one that I've gone back and reread multiple times.  Then today at work, I had an interesting conversation with a student that inspired me further.

Lost and Found

I want to be sighted in the crosshairs of somebody’s scope

I want to be scented by a well-trained hound

I want to be tracked in the rain, foot prints washed away

I want to be hunted until I am found.

I want to be chased until breathless with aching sides

I want to be pursued to the ends of the earth

I want to be sought like a treasure, a precious gem

I want to be appraised with the highest worth

I want to be appreciated, wafted, swirled in a glass

I want to be held up, inspected in the light

I want to be savored, sipped, not gulped or sloshed

I want to be valued with highest price

I want to be noticed, acknowledged, never ignored

I want to be prioritized, top of the list

I want to be searched for if lost, away from the path

If I’m missing I want to be missed.

Reciprocal

Sometimes it fills me to listen
Sometimes it empties my tank

Sometimes cheering is energizing
Sometimes it just feels like a drain

Sometimes initiating is exciting
Sometimes invisible seems best

Sometimes silence is comfort
Sometimes it feels like a test

Sometimes the work seems worth it
Sometimes it feels like a waste

Sometimes each word choice matters
Sometimes it just tumbles in haste

Sometimes being the talker is easy
Sometimes it’s a lot of hurt

Sometimes being quiet is better
Sometimes it makes others work

The Most Sacred Gift

I believe, and have believed for some time, that the greatest gift a person can give you is a piece of himself.  When someone shares part of his story with you, you have been given the gift of trust.  That you can be trusted to hold that little piece of him with respect, and without judgment, is an amazing honor. 

Because of this belief, I am constantly amazed at the way people talk to me.  The ladies at my manicure shop talk to me.  One of them talks to me about the challenges of being a working mom.  She pours her heart out to me.  She hardly knows me!

Where I used to work, random teachers would drop in and plop down and tell me all about their husbands and kids and in-laws and all of their troubles.  Occasionally, someone would lurk at the door and I could tell she needed to talk.  So I’d invite her in and before you know it, she had talked and cried and laughed all in the space of a conference period.

I occasionally play an online game with people who are total strangers.  Sometimes a conversation will begin and within an hour I’ve heard some random stranger’s life story along with his deepest, darkest secrets.  It’s nuts!

I know I’m a counselor so I’ve been trained to listen, but I don’t really think that’s why people talk to me.  I’m not really anything special as counselors go.   I think people just desperately want someone to listen.  They need to be heard.

I think people want to give this gift of sharing far more than they actually give it.  It’s so hard sometimes to find someone you feel comfortable enough with to extend that sacred trust to.  I think maybe it’s even harder to find someone who is willing to receive it. 

And that astonishes me.  Because there is no greater gift.

I was reminded of all of this today with one of my students.  I sent for her because one of her teacher’s had expressed some concerns.  I’d visited with her once before.  She has a therapist who is most likely far more qualified than I am.  I asked the young lady how she was doing and she gave me the typical, “fine.”  Her words and her eyes didn’t match, which I told her.  I asked if she was sure she was ok.  “Yeah”.  I told her I wouldn’t force her to talk to me but that I thought she was a big fat liar.  She smiled.

A few minutes later she started talking.  I listened.  She shared.  It was so good.  Lots of opportunities to praise good things and sympathize with hard things.  Really good stuff. 

Then I found out she was a writer.  I suspected as much because she had a very pretty notebook that looked suspiciously like a journal.  I have a similar one.  We had a long conversation about writing and sharing and poetry and music.  I have a quote from P!nk on my credenza that she recognized.  A line from a song, “Change the voices in your head.  Make them like you instead.”  We talked about it.  It was a counselor’s dream really.

Then she did something unbelievable.  She asked me if I wanted to read one of her poems.  I was so excited.  What an honor!  Talk about a precious gift.  Of course, I accepted.  She ended up allowing me to read several.  She has talent.  I ended up keeping her far too long.  It was just such an incredible experience.  She talked AND shared her writing!

So why am I telling you all of this?

Lately, I am constantly amazed at people’s need to be acknowledged.  One of the easiest…and hardest…ways to do that is to listen.  Stop and listen to the people who are talking to you.

Your kids.  Your friends.  Your spouses.  Your coworkers. 

They want to give you a most sacred gift.  Don’t miss it.

You Matter

I was blessed to receive tons of birthday wishes today.  From people I’m close to and people who are more acquaintance than friend.  But it mattered.

Four or five years ago, I had a 5^th grade boy in my office.  My phone rang, and I ignored it.  He wanted to know why I wasn’t answering.  I told him he was more important than that phone call.  He was stunned.  It mattered.

A friend of mine who lives far away, “pokes” me on Facebook every time she is on.  It matters to me.

One of the other counselors at my school has this goofy student who comes by several times a day just to say hello.  She always acknowledges him, even if it is just a smile or wave.  It matters.

There are countless ways that I am affirmed on a daily basis of the importance of my existence.  Today’s unusual abundance of those acknowledgments has had me thinking about it.  I am so incredibly blessed to have so many family members and friends who care about me.  And that matters.

I am frequently stunned at the number of people who go through life not knowing whether their existence even matters.  Kids.  Spouses.  Employees.  Employers.  Parents.  Neglected and wondering if their absence would even register to those they interact with on a daily basis. 

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned in life, both in counseling and in my personal life, is of people’s basic need to matter.  To be noticed.  Acknowledged.  Valued.

And providing that kind of feedback can be so incredibly simple.  A smile.  A hug.  A nod.  A pat.  A nudge.  A “hello”.  A wink.  A wave.  An ignored call or text.  A pause to listen.  All so incredibly simple.  But so very important. 

There are so many people in my life who can easily go unnoticed.  People who provide me services and luxuries.  People who just happen to cross my path.  The manicure ladies.  My hair stylist.  The guy who bags my groceries.  The oil change people.  My secretaries.  The receptionist.  The custodians.  The apartment maintenance people.  Students in the hall I don’t even know. 

Today, more than usual, I know I matter to others.  And I’m reminded of how very simple it is to return that favor.  Not everyone has the kind of friends and family I do.