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Reflections on Visiting Dachau

It’s been just over a week since I wrapped up my wanderings of the streets and mountains of central Europe. The vacation, which I booked months ago when I’d been planning to move forward in a career providing housing to terminally ill homeless people, wound … Continue reading Reflections on Visiting Dachau

Looking at Life’s Work

I was interviewing for a new job yesterday and was asked a question that while not totally unheard of was one I’d not heard often in job interviews that I’ve done either as the interviewer or the interviewee. I was asked how I identify myself or what I enjoy outside of my work life. What a wonderful question! Thank you for letting me know that you, as an employer, want to know me as a person that you value my work/life balance.

I grew up on a farm. My parents both grew up on farms as did their parents and their parents before them. For years I used that as a reason or maybe an excuse to devote my life to my work, putting in far more hours and more brain power than I was paid for. I would talk about how I grew up learning that farming wasn’t a job it was life’s work, and that’s what my work was as well.

Looking back now, I’m questioning what that “life’s work” means. Sure there is a lot about the work that simply needs to get done when it needs to get done no matter what. When the cows get out, you need to get them back in. There are no choices there. I think I misrepresented the 24/7 nature of “life’s work” types of jobs though. My Mom and Dad worked a lot, us kids spent our time helping out too. But, we also went swimming, watched tv together, took vacations, did all the things that others around us did that didn’t have “life’s work” kinds of jobs. The big difference between a job and life’s work isn’t the level of commitment, but the level of connection. For some farming is a job, a really hard job, for others it is life’s work. For me social justice is my life’s work.

I am thankful for this look at life’s work. It gives me a greater permission to take good care of myself as I move forward, continuing to do what can be very difficult and emotionally draining work. Today, I’m encouraging each of us whose had that great gift of being able to do the work that we feel called to, that we are connected to, that “life’s work” to celebrate that calling by caring for ourselves so that we might continue.

The Power of Paper and Pen

The key piece of becoming an author is writing, or so I am told. So, here I am writing. There are ideas that seem to be stuck somewhere deep in the muck of my brain and maybe even deeper in the mush of my heart and soul, but they are there- stuck. Meanwhile, I am digging through the layers and laying out what comes out in hopes that some of it finds value in the light of the page.

It’s a good tool to understand and care for myself. I stepped away from my blog for a few months this year as I started a new job. The role that I took on in my workplace was a tough one, a young non-profit organization in a period of rapid growth, I was the first staff person. The job was really one for at least two people, but I took it on in my spirit of adventure with a bit of hero thrown in. I set down my blog and my drawing pencils and pretty quickly found my number of seizures increasing, my anxiety rising, and my self-esteem dropping in a really difficult position with an organization that has a good dream, but doesn’t have a structure to support that dream yet.

Thankfully, over the years I’ve learned enough about myself to also recognize when I needed to take the risk to step away. I made the big decision to leave that job that had me struggling away for 50-60 hours a week trying to build an organization without team support. I’m transitioning out now and in the process of finding my next role. That process of finding the next role, not knowing what is coming up is in some way stressful, but it feels so much better. I’ve picked up my blog again. I’ve picked up my pencils. Last night I spent several hours working on a drawing from a dream the night before. I found myself fully focused, thinking about nothing, but shading and how the design was forming without being pushed by me. It’s not a question of me creating the picture, but of me asking the picture where the shading belongs, where I ought to put the pencil to fill in what needs to be there. It is simply working with the paper rather than trying to tell the paper what to do.

These things are a beautiful meditative practice for me, whether writing or drawing or even painting. They are important to my well-being to allow these things to just process through me. I never cease to be amazed at what comes out. I hope that you can find your meditation today, allow your art to process through and learn a bit more of who you are. Wishing you a joyful day.

No One Wants An Abortion

No one wants to have an abortion. Let’s just start there. It’s not something a woman does because she wants to have a surgery that will leave her with memories and questions for the rest of her life. She doesn’t want to always be able to look back and ask herself would it have been a boy or girl? Who would it have been? What would she have been like as a mother to that being?

The right to have an abortion is perhaps one of the greatest signs of motherhood. Afterall, the mother’s role is to do the best possible for the being in her womb. Sometimes the best and the hardest is to protect that being from a life of pain and want. Sometimes the best and the hardest is to protect them from abuse or from severe health conditions that would make living impossible. Sometimes the best and the hardest is to protect them from entering a world in which they will be treated with hatred by the people who are supposed to love them. There are so many reasons that a woman may choose to have an abortion. None are so simple as she wants one. All are about doing the best that she can for the being that grows inside her and for herself as well. The mother’s relationship with herself, with the world, and with her understanding of God will all change, but she will have done what she needed to do to care for herself and for the being she carried.

How can the court be so cruel to these women and unborn beings? Without legal abortions these women will not be able to save the beings in their wombs from lives of ongoing pain. If they try they will risk their own lives. What will we have won to lose both the mother and the fetus? Maybe it is these women who would risk their lives for the well-being of someone who they will never know who should be in charge instead of these judges who are willing to force them to put their lives at risk.

Back from the Break- More Thoughts Today

I was visiting my family last weekend and stopped at the Farmers Market in West Bend, a town in Wisconsin not far from where I grew up. It’s changed a lot since my youth. It’s good to see. First of all, there’s a farmers market. Secondly, there were people there who didn’t look like me, not a lot, but some. That was good to see. Our small towns are so much more when they aren’t those white bread places, soft and squishy without much to them.

I stopped at a little gift shop in hopes of finding a new journal for myself. It’s been a while since I’ve written my blog or my daily journal for myself. A nice journal that welcomes me helps. I found one with flowers and a bicycle on the cover, nice shades of blue and green. I haven’t been writing every day, but I am starting to open it and free write again.

It always amazes me what thoughts start to percolate when I write. This morning I was out at Indian Lake with my dog, Buddy. I was sitting with my journal while he explored the field and did a little wading in the water. I found myself thinking about where we’re at today. Here we are in this time of pandemic, drought, racial/social/economic unrest, huge wildfires, and all the rest. I can’t help but wonder if we are coming to the time of the seventh fire. Are we coming to the end of this chapter of life or is this simply just another round of challenges the same as faced by generations before us that only seem larger than life because we’re the generation facing them?

What power do we have, if any, to determine our direction? I have to believe that there is some power, that we can make choices that will mold the society for the time to come. I was thinking today too of the world I grew up in and the stories that I was told. I grew up in a home where the bible was much more than a table decoration. I remember sitting in bible studies that my mom hosted in our living room. I recall when Sr. Patricia used to bring communion to our house when Mom was too sick to go to church. I’ll admit much of my beliefs have evolved and I haven’t attended mass for years, but I still like that Jesus guy that we talked about back then.

No, I’m not going to encourage anyone to follow Jesus. Follow whoever you want or just go your own way. What I’m wondering about, what my writing and thinking is drawing out of me as I think about this time of so many challenges that we’ve been going through is the disparity between that man of love and caring and who the stories said gave all of himself that we might live and the followers who’ve chosen themselves over all the gifts he shared and have refused to care enough to do such simple small things like masks and vaccination or a list of other little things of showing care and love for their fellow beings. I simply don’t understand. It seems to me like what I once knew as sin and now might just call sadness.