Words Are Easy

I’m sure we’ve all heard the advice that words are easy, it’s actions that matter.  But have you really thought about that lately?   Because, as I look around our world, I see a lot of easily uttered words but not so many actions.    Congress is a classic example but….wait, I don’t want to go there. 

You know those social ‘white’ lies?  Like saying we’ll get together to do this or that?   The person making the statement gets to bask in the immediate happiness of the recipient without actually making the effort to follow through. 

Of course, there are the classic words of caring we often share with family and friends.  But if you really think about it – it’s the actions to express that caring that mean so much more.  Actually visiting that relative in the nursing home.  Actually attending that child’s school event.  It’s the time spent together more than the words.   Is it a ten minute ‘duty’ call to mom or dad?  Or are you spending the time for a good, long chat? 

Or what about those polite or even caring words uttered to someone but then the mockery starts once the back is turned?   An action not quite in keeping with those easily spoken words.  But as a society it has become a way of life.  When did mockery and sarcasm become so popular anyway?   I miss  kindness and sincerity. 

Then there is the deeper issues- the dreams vocalized but never acted upon.   No tiny steps taken to actually make that dream come true.  Perhaps it is the hope to do more for your community but then life intervenes and there just wasn’t the time. 

How are all these examples interconnected?  I believe that uttering those easy words on the small daily things leads to us being frozen on the larger, more significant goals, hopes or dreams.  We start to believe the self-talk that we have not the time.  No time to call mom.  No time to make your small piece of the world a better place.  Dreams can wait till later. 

I believe that we should all be more aware of all those words coming our way on a daily basis.   Do they reflect genuine kindness and actual commitment for our well-being?  Are there actions backing up those words?  If not, it may be time to welcome new people into our respective personal worlds. 

We also need to be mindful of the words we put out there-  are we following them up with action?  Do we genuinely mean what we say?  In other words, would new people welcome us into their personal worlds?

At the end of any given day, those words are just too easy to say.  And perhaps are not needed after all.  It really is actions that matter.  Let us strive to be promise keepers.  Let our actions reflect our intentions.

"M'am"

Do you remember the first time someone called you ‘m’am’?  I think I was somewhere in my thirties and I recall thinking – well, that ‘miss’ phase is definitely behind me now.   It didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.  But you have to understand that back then I had one of those faces where people always thought I was much younger than I was.  Folks thought I was in junior high when in high school and in high school when in college.  One time in my late twenties I ran to the movie theatre to buy tickets for the nighttime show and the kid at the booth actually carded me because it was rated R.  Seriously. 

And now I look around me and think everyone looks so much younger than they are.  And folks don’t usually use ‘m’am’ anymore.   We’ve lost a lot of the generational respect that we used to have.  I still call ladies ‘m’am’ and men ‘sir’ when they are much older than me.  I get smiles all the way around. 

But lately I’ve been thinking that ‘m’am’ might actually just be code for this stage of life.  You know what I mean:  Middle-Aged Memory.   MAM.    You are mid-sentence and suddenly you forget where you were going with what you had just said….you pause….and pause….and then you realize with utter horror that you really can’t recall where you were headed conversationally.    You try to laugh it off and say if it’s important it will come back.  But it does not.  

You walk into a room and you can’t remember why you wanted to come into this room.  You walk back to where you were before and retrace your steps.  But this old trick does not work anymore.   You notice that your mug of tea is on the counter over there.   Gone cold.  Forgot you made it.    Then you spy the post-it note you left by the phone with questions to ask when a call came through.  Too bad you answered the phone in the other room. 

You make a bowl of cereal for breakfast.  You have the milk in your hand and open the cupboard door where the bowls are kept and as your hand approaches the shelf you realize….this is not right.   The milk is headed for the fridge, really.  And why can we suddenly remember events with utter clarity from decades ago but couldn’t remember that neighbor’s name if lives depended upon it?

Does MAM exist because we have so many decades of knowledge and experience crammed into our brains that something has to give? Is our little memory librarian surrounded with tomes of our acquired facts, thoughts, and life time events?  And in sheer desperation, and quite at random, tossing out some volumes to make room?  

If you haven’t received your first ‘m’am’ then by all means enjoy the years beforehand.  But once you do, be on the lookout for the start of MAM.  A phase of life where you might want to start carrying around a bag of breadcrumbs…just in case.

Competition Nation

At church this morning I heard the couple sitting behind me tell another couple it was their 29^th anniversary today.  I turned to congratulate them.  They always sit behind me and we share the sign of peace but hadn’t spoken otherwise.  This is my opportunity, I thought.   The other couple announced they had celebrated their 52^nd anniversary.  I shared that my neighbor was married 65 years.   Afterwards I got to thinking.   Should we just have let them enjoy the glow of their 29 years without sharing other stories with them?   It’s so natural to do so, but was it appropriate?   When does sharing cross that line into competition?

Of course, it is part of our culture to compete.  We compete about everything.  Mommy wars.  Daddy wars.  Grandma wars.  Couple time.  Work.  Cars. Homes.  Interest rates on our investment or savings accounts.  Mortgage rates on our homes.  Who has the smartest child/grandchild?  Whose child has the most activities and excels at them?   What school does the child go to?   Who had the most vacations? Which ones sounded the most exotic on the retell? Who has the best dog or cat?  Who saw the latest movie?  Who read the latest best selling book?  Who tried the new restaurant?  Who shops at more exclusive stores?  Who is the busiest?  Who is the most productive? Who was married the longest?  Who was widowed the longest?  Who works out the most?  Who is the sickest?  Who has the most ailments?  Who attends church more frequently?   It never ends.  And we have all been guilty of it at times to one degree or another.  When does sharing cross that line?

And there is the untold hurtfulness that this behavior can wrought.   The long-term damage to relationships and the eventual alienation it will bring.  A truly competitive person will pitch that zinger at just the right moment in a conversation.   ‘Well this works for you but for me…[fill in the blank as to topic].    ‘This car is so cute but…’  or  ‘I don’t like [blank] but other people do.”   As a relatively new widow, I have even been the recipient of a few conversational lobs of  ‘we’ve been married [blank] years.’   At random, they had to work it into the conversation although marriage or relationships wasn’t being discussed.  It seems that a competitive nature can’t contain itself.  Even when that particular competitive field has been definitively closed to my participation.   

As the comments start flying across conversational streams, I’m always left wondering – why can’t they just express happiness for you and share in your contentment?  Why say anything else at all?  I think people forget the kindergarten basic that everyone gets a turn to be the center of attention.  And for a competitive soul – the fact that you aren’t competing with them makes no difference.    They are still instinctively determined to ‘win this one.’  I tend to grow leery when I am in conversation and someone uses the word ‘but.’

At the heart of all of this stems some good intentions.  People want a good life.  They want the best for their children.  The need to prove it to others is the crux of the issue.  So, I propose that all of the good things are possible without the national game of competition.  Many people have naturally stepped back from the precipice this competitiveness brings.  It is a free fall into an empty and endless battle to still be seen as ‘the one in the know.’  And when you are sitting at the end of your life-  will any of this make a significant difference to you?  I can assure you that it will not.  Your concern will be if your loved ones will be okay after you’re gone.  Your one disappointment will be that you won’t have more time with your loved ones.  

And of course from a Christian perspective, it truly is pointless- for there is room in heaven for every one.   No competition.   No sign up sheets.  No getting ahead in line for a better view.   No early placement needed.  God has already chosen the perfect place for you.  It’s done.  You just have to accept this gift.   And does anything else really matter?   So you see, competition really is a pointless past time.  Just something to ponder.  Maybe our nation can change.   One conversation at a time.

The Mask You Wear

I ran an errand on the way home from church today.   I wanted to organize the contents of my freezer  into plastic bins of some sort.  My sister told me that you can't beat the plastic containers at Dollar Tree because so inexpensive that if it cracks you won't care.   I happily approached the register with my new little bins in hand.   They were stacked together by type of bin as I placed them on the counter.  The cashier sighed heavily.  I politely asked if she would like me to separate them and she said no.

 I asked how she was and she ignored me.  Hmmm, I thought.   I asked if she liked football at all or if she was looking forward to the game.  She said she was cheering for Denver Broncos in the Superbowl because they had beat the Patriots.  I gently teased her 'hey, them's fighting words here in New England'.   Her response was a bit hostile 'I don't care.  I hate the Patriots'.  I just nodded my head and was wondering if I would ever shop at this store again.

But something made me look at her necklace.  And then I was prompted to look again.  She had a cross on a chain hanging in front of a ring.   So,  I told her that I really liked her cross.  She looked up startled and said 'WHAT?'   I gently repeated myself.  She got all teary eyed and told me it was her mother's and so was the ring.  She had recently lost her mom.  I told her that was such a wonderful thing to do keeping them close to her heart.  She thanked me for noticing them and for telling her.  I told her I'd lost my husband last year.  She lost her mom's brother just two weeks ago.  She questioned why all the folks carrying guns into schools and malls are allowed to live but good people are taken early.  I just nodded my head.  We exchanged a glance of understanding.  She smiled at me and wished me a good day.  I saw a different woman when she did.  I saw her true self.  I realized that all that anger was her mask.  A mask over the pain still so close to the surface.

On the drive home I felt gratitude that I'd been persistent.  This interaction probably took all of two minutes.   The homily today had been on the presentation of Jesus at the temple for a blessing and how each of us has the ability to bless others every day.  Perhaps I did that today.  I know that those few moments with that woman blessed me.  It led me to question what masks we all wear.

I recalled a book group meeting a couple months back.  The book we discussed was "The Art of Hearing Heartbeats."  One of the characters had chosen a difficult life path by marrying a man who admittedly did not love her.   She spent decades trying to change his feelings and ended up an angry and bitter person.  One woman in the book group expressed the view that that character had a right to be bitter.  I expressed the view that the character choose to be bitter.  If she had been more accepting and forgiving perhaps she could have been happier.  I said that I thought you could choose to be joyful even when enduring sorrowful events.  In subsequent discussion the woman in the book group shared that she was in the midst of caring for a very ill husband.  I came to suspect that she was projecting her own feelings onto the character.  She was developing a mask of anger.

And so I challenge you:  what mask will you wear?  As life unfolds and the decades begin to accumulate:  will it be a mask of anger?  or a mask of contentment?

Widow to Widow

This month I began my second year of widowhood.  As I look forward to the years ahead, I can’t imagine anything being more difficult than this past year of living after my husband was gone.  Yet I have had several widows tell me that they found the second year to be harder than the first.  I suspect that is because you have all these milestones to get through the ‘FIRST YEAR’.   And then as you stare down the second year you realize you have to do it all again and this is your life.   It will not suddenly improve but will be a continuing process.

I grieved deeply this past year and so I’m looking forward with some hope to enter a new phase of mourning.  It’s time to get out a bit more with family and friends and find more moments of joy.   I have something planned for the next three weekends in a row.    The challenge will be to keep those commitments even if they fall upon a more difficult day.   These days a difficult day means more feeling sad than having bouts of sobbing.   I confess that is a relief because until this loss I did not know it was physically possible for a person to shed so many tears nor for such a lengthy period of time.

I was given a lot of advice this past year and many books on grieving.  I found some of the books to be mildly helpful and some actually made me feel worse.   I learned to be very selective as to which books on the topic I allowed myself to read.  For me the current trend to place all types of losses into one group and say that all grief is the same is a huge disservice to everyone.  Especially widows.   It’s a very unique loss and not at all the same as other losses a person will encounter in a lifetime.  Even among widows there are differences depending on whether there were children and if they are grown.    Because I still work I find weekends to be more difficult but some women would be facing the same state of solitude everyday.  From all these conversations and books I gleaned a few gems that could prove helpful for another widow facing solitary days.    Here they are in no particular order:

• Get dressed and eat breakfast everyday.   And it’s okay to stay in your jammies on an early difficult day.
• As time goes on begin planning some meals.  Don’t eat everything from a prepackaged frozen meal for too many months.
• Be kind and gentle with yourself.  Your ability to think clearly and make decisions gradually returns.  There is usually nothing so urgent it can’t wait those first months. 
• Plan some lunches out with family and friends.  At first that may be all you can handle.  It is important to get out occasionally. 
• Walking outdoors is therapeutic. 
• Keep lists of things you want to do.  When you feel up to it begin planning when you will do them.  If you change your mind on a difficult day that is okay too.  Most things will happen again next year.
• Try to have something planned for the next day.  It matters not if it is work, errands, reading a book, a craft project, going for a walk, calling someone to chat.  But have something in mind to do the next day before going to sleep each night. 
• Find someone else to help or be kind to.  A family member or neighbor who needs your assistance can be a welcome diversion.
• Thank people for their advice and then make your own decisions.  Follow your heart.  Trust your instincts.  You will know when it is time for you to clean out the closet or bookcase.  You alone will know when or if you want to stop wearing the wedding ring.  By all means ask loved ones for help but don’t be pushed into something you simply cannot yet handle.
• My favorite book was ‘Widow to Widow’ by Genevieve Davis Ginsburg.  It is an older book I found it to be helpful and easily found at Amazon.