Serving An Entire Country

My brother-in-law recently celebrated  his retirement from the U.S. Navy after 26 years of military service and we went to honor this milestone with him.  There were bigwigs and decorated folk all around.  There were commendations and certificates and special gifts (see picture) and rituals.  It was a very nice ceremony, pretty much what I expected except more personal.  What I didn't expect was how emotional I would become during the ceremony.  I figured my biggest job that day was going to be handing my sister packs of tissues.  In fact, it was me who half way through, had to lean over two seats and beg a pack off of my niece.  The sleeve of my sweater set was becoming unseemly.

Part of the emotionality came when my brother-in-law and his superior both spoke about the life and career that was coming to a close.  I was reminded of the skinny kid from Indiana who went to basic training and traveled across the globe to Japan and Spain.  I was reminded of the homes in California, Virginia, Georgia, Texas, Washington and Illinois and the months and years spent on a ship while his children grew up at home with their mom, my sister.  I was reminded of orders that made sense to me like his unit being called to help after Hurricane Andrew and ones that didn't, like going to Iraq.  It was intensely moving for me to hear him summarize his life and what all the choices had meant and what all the people in his life meant.

I've never really understood the military life that my brother-in-law chose.  I was terrified when their oldest son enlisted during wartime and was called to serve in Afghanistan. I assume that most of our leaders aren't really thinking of the tremendous sacrifice of our military personnel and  I get angry when money and power seem to matter more than people. I've had the painful moments where my "loving the soldier but not the war" stance left me feeling uncomfortable with my family. The bottom line though, is that I am proud of my brother-in-law.  I'm really glad that I was able to share in the special ceremony.  I think he was happy to have us be a part of the day as well, especially my son playing "Taps" for the closing.

The following morning the two of us, from two very different walks of life - military and human services, had the most amazing conversation.  We talked politics for about an hour.  Usually that is taboo and we did it during an election year!  Both of us are pretty calm people and we were clearly trying to use language that wasn't too intense or accusatory but there was something else.  We discussed health care, education, taxes, the role of government and the future of the U.S.  We talked about budget cuts, gun laws and which Presidents had shown genuine concern for the military (his opinion was based on how they had treated the military personnel stationed at the White House and Camp David).  We didn't reference which candidates we would be voting for (although he can see my bumper sticker for Obama) and we didn't lash out or put anyone down.  We just talked about what was important to us.

It was a great dialogue because we both had the other's respect.  No matter our differences, he knew that we had traveled to come and honor his 26 years of service. I knew that those 26 years were spent serving an entire country, not just the citizens who think like him or vote like him or pray like him.  I don't understand a lot of things about the military but I understand that serving an entire country is what good leaders do.  Our elected leaders need to practice more of that type of service.  

If This Is Wrong, I Don't Want to be Right

Christ Church Lutheran (Minneapolis), designed by Eliel Saarinen. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I had the most fabulous weekend!  We had a family road trip to Minneapolis and attended the wedding of my husband's college roommate.  The rehearsal dinner was in the couple's backyard with amazing food, prepared by friends and fellow farmer's market organizers.  There were funny and touching toasts from the families and friends who had traveled from out of town to celebrate the wedding.  A slide show played, following the couple from their own separate childhoods to their present shared life. Nieces and nephews and the children of dear friends climbed trees, juggled, chased the chickens in the backyard coop, and got piggy back rides from the teenagers.

It was a full blown celebration of a life filled with genuine caring and passion.  This couple is loved because they have loved so deeply.  They have been loyal and tenacious in difficult times.  They have encouraged and organized to bring out the best in the people in their lives.  One is an environmental lawyer and the other a social worker.  They've joined causes and campaigns. They've looked up and out, instead of allowing others to define what is possible.  The twinkling lights in the trees and in the little votives on the tables, the laughter, and hugs, and even the apple cake with rum sauce (a recipe from great grandma) were all evidence of their life well lived.  We were all anxious for the next day and the real celebration of their marriage. 

The service at the Lutheran church where they attend was filled with meaning and intention like no other.  Their individual pastors from childhood were present (!) and shared prayers with the congregation during the service.  My husband and one of the nieces played music.  Other friends from school sang Ode to Joy in German in honor of the role that German Language Village played in their college years.  Impossibly cute and squirmy 5 and 7 year old nephews were the ring bearers and the church was awash in sunflowers from the farmer's market.  Their minister's sermon during the service spoke to all of the important pieces of their life and it was clear that she knew them well.  Her sermon was no generic wedding template.

The church was packed with about 300 guests and a reception followed in the courtyard.  Individual food trucks catered the outdoor party.  Our friends wanted to support the farmers and food trucks that also regularly served the farmer's market.  Locally grown food from small farms were well represented the whole weekend.  At every turn, their friends were supporting the wedding, serving as waiters, dish washers, bartenders, and janitors.  At 10pm the happy couple had left the church and friends and family lingered with the church staff to prepare the space for worship the next day.  We were exhausted and overjoyed.  More than anything I just felt so damn lucky.  I left Minneapolis thinking of all the ways I wanted to infuse my own marriage and family with some of their intentionality, commitment and passion.

As you might guess, this long description is not without a punchline.  During this most idyllic weekend, there was one single cloud that hung over the otherwise picture perfect postcard.  Their wedding will not be legally recognized in Minnesota.  It was two grooms who stood at the altar and as a result all of their religious faith, family loyalty, civic engagement, and love for one another is currently deemed "radical", "not the same as" or for some, quite unbelievably to me, "perverse".  My friend had an editorial in the Star Tribune the morning of his wedding day that spoke to the issues and served as the inspiration for my thoughts here.

For anyone who knows our friends, they know that their marriage as a same sex couple will not ruin the state of marriage for heterosexuals.  The only danger that their marriage poses is to raise the bar higher for the state of matrimony. 

Time is Flying

When I first started writing here, I began by reflecting on this early memory of my son helping his dad.  I talked about how we have to create ways to engage our kids and let them act big and important.  It was such a super cute moment, little boy with his little brush, and one super ugly, blank canvass to attack.  Whatever strokes he laid down on that garage door were going to help and the only thing that could really go wrong could be fixed with soap and water.  I miss those days.

Lately, I realize that I am more and more hesitant to encourage that former two year old's independence.  I'm spending more time thinking about all the messes that might happen if my sons "pick up the brush".  Bullying, random violence, troubled or stressed out friends, and just garden variety school pressure occupy my thoughts.  And more and more, I feel like all I can really do is worry.  I've checked, and I'm not allowed to lock them up until it's safe outside.  More and more, I feel emotionally torn between keeping them from the world and losing them to the world.  Choosing to either stunt their self-confidence and autonomy or release them to the possibility of real dangers.  Have I mentioned that I miss the toddler years?

I want to protect them from the friends that are cutting, desperately wishing that the depths of human pain won't be witnessed quite so soon.  I want to shelter them from the gangbangers looking to fulfill their twisted initiation rite - physical violence to another person, any person, as they wait at the bus stop.  I want to teleport them to a time past high school where their own ideas for themselves can be realized instead of the forced constructs of standardized tests telling them what is possible.  I could shelter them from the world, drive them everywhere, allow visits with friends only in our own home, and provide private tutors instead of public schooling.  They'd be safe(r).  The only problem with that scenario is that with that level of life experience, I envision them still living in our home, with me doing everything for them, well into their thirties.

So, instead I have this reality.  My son is still helping fix the garage except higher up and using power tools.  Just like here, I'm out of the picture but waiting down below, out of sight, picking up pieces of debris. Loving other people is gut wrenching.  Loving children is heartbreak, in all the good and bad ways you can imagine.

It' A New Day

ReBoot (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It's the last day of August.  At the close of this weekend, the school year will start and we will be in our more structured routine.  The fall almost feels like the new year. It's my time to make a list of intentions, the things that I know will help me live a happier and more productive life.  September is my reboot month.

New school supplies and clothes means we need to go through the closets and donate all those things that my monster men have grown out of.  We'll sit down and organize our schedules, making sure that homework, dinner and chores all have a slot.  We'll become more mindful about planning for fun stuff to happen.  We'll get the doctor's appointments taken care of and of course the haircuts.  September is our fresh start. 

For me, my fresh start is going to include a renewed focus on some self-care.  With a little more exercise in my life, I'm sure the endorphins will kick in and my writing will come more easily.  If I'm having more structure and intention maybe I'll even pack a lunch and water bottle for work. With all of the focused choices I might even start sending birthday cards and thank you notes again. It's a new day, everything is possible.

To Plan or Not to Plan

The only real, formal plan I had this summer was a one week reunion with my siblings.  Camping trips, a water park or two, barbecues, and house projects were just normal summer things that I assumed we would plug in before school started again.  We all know what happens when we assume. School starts in one week and none of our normal summer highlights have occurred.  I feel like an ass.

I have good excuses for how my summer derailed.  First off and most importantly, it felt cruel to go camping or to a water park when my youngest son would have to sit out with his broken leg.  Then, I had the super hot, killer temps that forced me into a fetal position, whining in front of the air conditioner, instead of painting, for big chunks of June and July. And of course there was the Olympics, that seemingly made it impossible to do anything except watch...and watch...and watch.

Missed weekend trips and lingering house projects are not the end of the world. I know this well. Some of the things that filled our summer could never have been known about even if we had sat around the dining room table intentionally plotting out a vacation adventure.  Since we had no plans (other than the fabulous week with my sibs) we were able to respond in the moment and travel to be with family when there was an unexpected death.  We spent other weekends helping my brother-in-law with a big out of state move.  Not planning -it's not a bad thing necessarily. 

Last weekend though, I had no plans except for a brief work commitment and an evening barbecue.  We got an invitation to join our friends at a lake house and I was so excited.  I'd have to move some things around but it could work.  Then a last minute update came through Facebook that my son's youth group was going to have an overnight lock-in.  I got frustrated, feeling the tug-of-war between my wants and my kids.  Just as I had my son agreeing that a lake house sounded better than staying up all night with other teenagers, I got a message from a friend who currently lives in England.  She was in town with her family and wanted to get together, you guessed it of course, during the lake house weekend. It's a great unexpected and rare opportunity to see a good friend AND it's backing out on my dearest friend who lives just miles away but who I see only occasionally. Yay! and Ugh! all in the same moment.

Do other people go through this?  Tell me it's not just me.  If I planned better would some type of firm clarity take hold?  Am I jerked around so much because I haven't pinned things down?  Or is my fluid planning allowing me to take advantage of  unexpected opportunities and the needs of people I love?  This weekend I know exactly what I'm doing and it's big.  We'll be hosting my brother-in-law as he helps us put a new roof on our garage, grilling most of our meals, and going school shopping for the boys.  Unless of course it rains...

A Lesson in Independence

My youngest son broke his leg this summer.  I quickly dove into a low level panic.  What would he do for three weeks, unable to unicycle, run, do gymnastics or enter his tennis camp?  What would/could I do to keep this very active, wonder boy couch bound?  I flashed on his extreme and sometimes upsetting behavior before I figured out that he just desperately needed physical activity in his life to find emotional balance. It turned out that I worried too much.  The cast came off yesterday and he weathered the sedentary lifestyle for three weeks just fine.  All of us, even his brother, walk away from these past weeks unscathed.  He in fact, did not completely lose it and start hurling verbal and physical bombs nor did he start going negative on himself.

What he did do was insist that he do everything for himself the entire time he was on crutches.  Thirsty? He grabs a glass of water, sucks it up to his face and "carries" it hands free while he maneuvers the crutches around the dog and floor rug obstacles.  Hungry? He decides to slide his bum across the house and make a sandwich, doing pull ups to the counter and then balancing on one leg, practicing a complex yoga move. He carries it back to the couch in one hand while he hops on one foot to his spot in the living room.  I got so frustrated with him.  "Let me help you!!! Are you trying to break the other leg?"  He of course would just smile and reassure me, "I can do this."

He figured out that what he likes just as much as being physical is a challenge.  He likes to try new things and test himself.  He also likes to be self-reliant.  A unicycle is fun and unique.  But balancing a plate in your mouth while hopping and dodging a darting dog - that's a really noteworthy effort!  His cast is off and he still has to use the crutches for a while longer.  The past three weeks have been a great lesson for me.  My son wants to be strong and independent.  I'll still try to take care of him and help him (especially when he's carrying plates in his mouth) but I never want to be the one crippling him in any way.  He wouldn't let me even if I tried.

Dropping Out

Olympics (Photo credit: ClaraDon)

In a sad and ironic turn of events, the Olympics have me in a serious couch potato slump.  I'm blaming Michael Phelps and Gabby Douglas for my lethargic, zombie-like state.  Their super powers apparently include mass hypnosis.  Part of the problem is that I stay up way too late watching and then hit the snooze button way too long the next morning, routinely blowing through the "go to the gym" window. The other issue is more psychological and not very fun to admit.

I watch the events slack jawed, staring in disbelief half of the time.  These people are incredible, how inspiring!  There is another part of me that watches the elite athletes and thinks, "who have I been kidding?"  My little attempts at gym membership and activity, even on my best weeks, pales in comparison to these machines.  I am better suited for score keeping than scoring.  It is this voice of self deprecation that keeps me staring at the tv late into the night and boycotting my local YMCA during these games.  Terrible irony but true (at least partially).

In less than a week the real truth will emerge.  The Olympics will end and not come around for another four years, in part because super human acts of strength, agility, balance, and speed can not be sustained endlessly without rest and training.  The rest of us mortals will return to our routines.  I'll leave the viewing stands of my couch and hop on the spinning bike, imagining Michael and Gabby cheering me on.