Slobs and Neat Freaks--All Created in the Image of God

Current State

Following morning

About a week ago Chris and I were walking late one Sunday evening.  I mentioned I had been told the houses were selling quickly and sometimes above asking price in our neighborhood so if we wanted to move now might be the time.  Then we laughed about how the children have become such creatures of tradition that every time we even mention moving they go up in arms (and lately SK goes up in arms only to dissolve in tears because even though we assure her she would still have a room she says, "It won't be one I actually lived in!")  Chris said, "Face it; we'll be in this house forever."  "Well," I replied picturing the current state of our dining room (okay, the constant state of our dining room), "At least it's getting warmer so we can just eat outside instead of having to clear the dining room table every night."  And so as often happens, I started thinking...

Our house is so incredibly different than the one I grew up in.  It only begins with the dining room--ours covered in books typically with all four around the table studying, laughing, and stressing.  (And yes, they all do have desks--they choose to be here.)  The dining room in my childhood home was used only for eating--on fine china and with sterling silver every night.  I have fine china, several sets, (zoom in on the picture) and we do use it some...

Every morning before I left for school I had to make my bed (hospital corners nothing sticking out), throw pillows neatly placed.  (My friends from those years will want everyone to know that once the bed was made we were not allowed to sit on it--and WE OBEYED!!!)  Closet doors shut--again nothing sticking out; dresser drawers closed--again nothing sticking out; and nothing on the floor or any surface.  Blinds open and exactly equal.  Then I had to windex the bathroom mirror and use comet to clean out the sink and clean off the counter.  Honestly I didn't know this was weird--half way through my third year in college I discovered it was considered "neurotic".  "Why" I asked my three apartment mates, "didn't you tell me this was weird?"  They very graciously explained, "Why would we do that?  You were cleaning our bathroom everyday!"  Still love those three women...

Sheets balled up at the end; blinds not open

My bed

Well, the blinds are open

My children, on the other hand, do not leave their rooms in quite the same state of tidiness that I did.  Sometimes it bothers me, but most of the time I think about how hard they work in school and in their extra curricular activities; they are, most of the time, happy and pleasant, so I let it go.  But still I sometimes wonder if I'm doing it "right" or if I'm lazy or not good enough.

Notice the open drawers in addition to unmade beds.

In the early years of my married life, I panicked every time my mother was coming.  I went on a tear cleaning baseboards and ceiling fans.  She kept and keeps a beautiful home--you can eat off the kitchen floor on any given day.  I thought she did it the right way and somehow I was flawed because my house had toys on the floor and mail piled on the counters.  One day when the children were fairly young one of them commented on how I "changed" when Babah was coming and they liked me better the other way.

So often people compare themselves to others and only see the differences--these differences can be threatening and they can lead to lashing out or to self loathing.  (Get parents talking about where they're sending children to school and you are in a petri dish of this phenomena.)  People making different choices sometimes causes us to question our own--to doubt ourselves, to think our different choice may somehow be not just different but wrong.  I believe life is about choices; choices that have no intrinsic value in and of themselves but that help to define who we are as people--different people, different choices.  The choices we make can be illustrative of what we value, how we set our priorities, and they can simply be choices on how we choose to live because they feel right. Trying to make choices based solely on what other people do or think leads to a life of inauthenticity, and I believe God calls us to be authentic.

My towel--neatly hung

We are all different and yet all created in the image of God--slobs and neat freaks.

Just one of the towels on the floor collection

Wonder if  one day they'll want to pick up their towels of the floor?

The Colliding World of Facebook

It was late afternoon on the Monday after getting home from a week long cruise when the phone rang.  The week had been an amazing time with my eldest child and daughter; a time of bonding and sharing.  A time I got to be a voyeur into her life--her friends, her hopes and dreams.  It was a time I will treasure forever.  I was still basking in the glow of our mother/daughter relationship when I answered the phone.

It was a friend and mentor, someone who cares deeply about me and I her and someone whose wisdom I value.  I suspect this was not an easy call for her to make; I know it was not an easy call to receive.  She prefaced the entire conversation with, "You can take this or leave it and I will never mention it again, but I really felt like because I love and respect you I had to make this call."  She continued by telling me she was so glad I'd had a good time with SK; she told me she thought I was funny and I made her laugh; and she told me she thought that perhaps I needed to be more discerning when it came to what I posted on facebook.  I sat down; I took a deep breath and while my head was defensively screaming, "I do think about it; trust me I don't post half of what I think." my reasonable voice said, "I appreciate you calling; can you give me an example."  There weren't many examples, but one stood out and has haunted me for weeks.  "The picture of you and SK in your bikinis."  My friend explained to me that because I was a priest and not everyone knew me, the wrong idea might be made--a negative image might come across and if anyone was ever searching and possibly calling me to another parish it might not be the best image to have of me.   I listened and thanked her, told her I valued her opinion, hung up the phone and removed the picture from facebook.  As I said it has haunted me....

That picture, that picture, that picture--posting that picture was very difficult for me and it meant more to post it than probably anyone knows.  I had an eating disorder as a teenager; it was severe. What some people don't know is that like addictions eating disorders are never totally gone--they are managed, controlled, and survived.  I to this day hate my body--the fact that I even had on a bikini was a victory (never in public where I might know people-only far away); the fact that I let a picture be taken of me in a bathing suit at all was a victory; and the fact that my daughter asked me to post it and I did--that's a victory.  I have spent her entire life battling my own disease in the hopes that none of my children will suffer from this same disease, and so I posted that picture as a semi-victory salute, (with fingers crossed).

Yet I still can't stop thinking about this.  I can't stop thinking about it not because I don't think my friend was right but perhaps because I know how right she was about way more than she realized.  I have thought about the times I have seen words or pictures posted on facebook and made a judgment about the person or their motives; I have thought about the times I haven't posted a picture or words on facebook because I didn't want to be judged.  And I have thought about how social media is a window into our worlds, into our lives, into our thoughts, hopes, dreams, pains, and sorrow but how it is just a window and you can't look in a window and see everything.  Sometimes when you look into a window you have to fill in the picture--that looks like a ____________even though I can't see it all, so it much be a _____________.  I have thought about how I am a wife, mother, sister, daughter, cousin, aunt, friend. and priest and that those worlds collide on facebook and in social media, but not everyone who sees them knows about who I am in my totality.  And I think daily now about all the "friends" I have and whose lives I get glimpses of because of social media.  I am grateful for the glimpses I get, and I pray that I remember they are only glimpses--glimpses chosen to be revealed for reasons I may never know.

 

One Day, One Game Does Not Define You

I woke up Wednesday morning to an unsettling email from the Collegiate lacrosse coach.  The boys had a game the previous night in Lexington.  Neither Chris nor I was there--it's Holy Week so of course Chris is traveling (he has traveled for the last four years during Holy Week--coincidence?), and I was well, again, it's Holy Week.  (Apparently the high school lacrosse association does not recognize Holy Week--all three Doyle lacrosse players have multiple games this week.)  Anyway back to the email--apparently the Collegiate players in addition to losing, did not play as a team, did not show good sportsmanship, and basically did not represent Collegiate well.  The email first apologized to all the parents who had traveled so far to watch the game and had to witness this poor sportsmanship (I had to put aside my guilt at this point, being angry helped).  Then he called the boys out--he didn't berate them.  He listed their inappropriate behavior, told them what he expected of them, and challenged them to step up.  It was a well written email--straight forward, challenging, and giving room for redemption.   When the boys woke up I asked them about it (always a risk early in the morning to a) speak to teenage boys and b) bring up something negative), but I was frankly embarrassed and disappointed that the boys had behaved in that way.  So I asked them, "Were ya'll part of this?" Both answered "yes ma'm" but wouldn't look me in the eye.  I just responded, "I'm glad I wasn't there to see it.  I hope I never have to." and then I stopped talking (read the last blog post--I'm really trying!)

Last night after practice and dinner (I also realize bringing up difficult discussions when teenage boys blood sugar is low is not at all a smart move), the boys and I were watching the news.  "So," I tried to casually bring up, "what did Coach say at practice about the game last night?"  Christopher responded, "He was furious but didn't say much.  It was kind of scary.  It was like Coach Wabrek--that silent angry treatment."  Christopher left the room to get homework done, and William and I sat in silence for a few more minutes.  "I emailed the coach this morning," William informed me.  I immediately thought he meant his coach, so I said, "Did he respond to you or talk to you about it at practice?"  "No Mama," William patiently corrected, "I emailed the coach of the Lexington Catholic team."  "Oh," I said a bit surprised, "What did you say? And how did you find his email address?" "I went on their website, found the tab for athletics and looked it up.  I told him I was sorry and that wasn't who I was."  I was still trying to get my head around this as I asked, "Did you copy Coach Falinski?"  "No Mama, this was about my character and not winning brownie points with a coach.  I forgot who I was during the game, and I needed to fix that.  I'm going to go take a shower."

William left and I sat there not knowing how to respond, so I did what any nosey Mama would do, I hacked into his email account and this is what I found,

From: Doyle, William <17dwd@loucol.com>
Date: Tue, Apr 15, 2014 at 9:27 AM
Subject: Sportsmanship
To: matthewcampbell1122@gmail.com

Dear Mr. Campbell,

My name is William, and I am a freshman at Louisville Colligate School, and I would like to apologize for the actions of my sportsmanship last night. There is no excuse for the way I acted, cussing, throwing my lacrosse stick, and many other things. I just want you to know that that is not the person that I am. My team mates and I made terrible decisions last night, when it comes to sportsmanship. I am going to ask you to push this message to your players. As I said earlier that that is not the person who I am, I am truly sorry for the way I acted. There is no excuse for this to happen, there is no reason that this email should be sent, there is no reason why I acted like that. Again I am very sorry for the way that I acted at the game.

Sincerely,

William Doyle

9th grade Louisville Colligate

I have been reflecting on this for the last 12 hours and here's what I have learned

1.  Our character is about our entire lives--social, school, work, athletics--everything

2.  We all make mistakes.

3.  I have judged people before and made assumptions about who they are as people based on one encounter.  That is not fair--it is judgmental and just plain wrong.

4.  It's important to speak up; to admit you're wrong and to start again.  There is sin, but there is forgiveness, redemption and grace.

Our Families' Motto

5.  It does take a village--parents, coaches, teachers, mentors and friends to build up children.  It takes us all to in positive appropriate ways hold our children accountable and to push them to being the best they can be.  Thank you Coach Falinski; you are an amazing role model for my sons and for many others.  You are a gift to us all.

6.  And finally the cynic in me has been challenged--not everybody does "good" things for self serving reasons.  Sometimes they just do them because they're the right thing.

May we all remember that every encounter we have with others gives them a glimpse into who we are-- into our character; may we also remember that mistakes do happen,may we be big enough to admit them and move on; and may we also remember that when we encounter someone and it is negative that is one encounter and may not in fact be a true representation of the person--may we seek to understand, to forgive and not to judge.  May we seek to extend grace. And may we all remember as we move through life, make mistakes and are tempted to berate ourselves or to allow these mistakes to take over who we are, that one day does not define you.  There is always tomorrow; there is always grace.

The Power of Silence

Coming home from church last evening Caroline asked me, "Why was the sermon so long? And, why did he just keep repeating the same thing?"  I responded, "I think he was trying to find a way to end it and it wasn't coming together."  Caroline, "Really?  I don't think there should be a problem ending--you just say, 'the end' and stop talking."  Gotta love that she always cuts right to the chase; I, however, was rehashing the sermon in my mind and wondering how I would have ended it or whether it could have been ended earlier.  It was difficult--it was a sermon about violence; standing up to violence; being the presence of God in the midst of violence; living in a violent world and responding--it was complex, scary, uncomfortable, and necessary--and it had no absolute way to respond.  It could not be neatly wrapped up--it was messy.

Boss was driving us home and not saying a word.  I wondered what he was thinking about or was he thinking about anything?  As we walked in the door he deposited himself on the couch put on his, "I am absolutely disgusted with you" face as Chris Senior said, "he's mad about us talking to ________."  And now came the avalanche--"why would you do that? I can't trust you with anything.  I can't believe you told anyone else."  I started talking and talking and talking.  I tried to make him see that while it was uncomfortable, what we did was necessary.  I kept talking about justice and equality and holding people accountable.  I kept telling him it was because we loved him and were defending him but it was bigger than than just that.  It was about standing up for what's right.    He wasn't buying it: he felt betrayed and he's a 16 year old boy who hates any kind of conflict.  Heck, I'm a 46 year old woman who hates conflict.  I don't know if I would have gotten it at 16 either, but  I wanted to convince him and to make him see AND admit that what we did was right.  I wanted him to jump on board and be willing to step forward as well and so I kept talking saying the same things in different ways, and then Caroline's words echoed in my ears and coarsed through my body settling in my heart, "just say 'the end' and stop talking."  And so I did.

Words--they can bring healing and they can bring hurt.  We use them to comfort and soothe and we use them as weapons wielded to wound.  It occurs to me we also use them too much.  We use them and keep using them, repeating ourselves over and over when we are trying to explain things which perhaps cannot be explained, when we are trying to persuade, when we are trying to control or manage a complex situation.  We use them when we are trying to defend our beliefs, our actions, our words themselves.  Perhaps we use them when silence would be more powerful, more appropriate, more life giving.  Perhaps we use them and fill a silence that needs to be present--an uncomfortable silence that allows ourselves and others to process, to reflect, and to heal.

When Jesus stood before the chief priests and the elders he did not answer.  (Matthew 27:12; Mark 15:5).  Perhaps by sometimes standing silent we allow our lives--our actions--to be our witness;  to be our answer; to be our strength.

I remain silent, Boss remains angry--but somewhere in the silence we will find love, healing and reconciliation.  I know that because I know because of Jesus' actions love wins.

Cruising with Gangan--Life Lessons Learned

It doesn't seem like it's been 24 years since Gangan took Beth, Meredith and myself on a New Year's Eve cruise.  We still talk about that trip as though it was yesterday.  It was a wonderful trip--a great time of bonding, and a time for Gangan to teach us lessons that have lasted a life time.  Lessons that gently emerge as I'm living--lessons that remind me that it's little things in life that matter. As I boarded the ship for my cruise with SK the lessons although gentle came hurtling up from the depths of my memory and with them a remembrance of a grandmother who loved us and found great joy in being a part of our lives. A grandmother who figured out a way to both engage in our lives and gave us the space to grow. A grandmother who is never far from my mind and never away from my heart. 

The first lesson came as we were packing.  The travel agent told us we could each take a 12 pack of soft drinks and we could take one bottle of booze.  I was surprised.  I will never forget unpacking in the state room and Gangan pulling mini bottles out of the toes of her shoes.  (And she had A LOT of shoes--incase anyone's wondering where I got my shoe habit from, look no farther than Gangan; it's in the genes.)  "Girls," she said, "Remember they over charge for everything on a cruise.  We're going to have cocktails in the cabin before dinner."  Later that afternoon when we were sitting around the pool and all those fun colorful drinks with the umbrellas were going past, we obediently looked the other way.  "Aren't ya'll going to have something to drink?" Gangan asked.  The three of us looked back and forth at each other wondering whether this was a trick question--I suspect Beth and Meredith were getting ready to throw me under the bus somehow (I was always Mikey--a role I cherish to this day) when Gangan said, "I said we were going to have cocktails before dinner in our room, I didn't say not to have any fun during the day.  Just limit yourself and know we have drinks in the room."  Gangan taught us that there is a balance between being thrifty and enjoying yourself.  Neither should control you. And so Gangan I feel it is my duty to have one fun drink a day--a toast to you, and I'll have my cocktail before dinner in the room--thank you Chris for my bottle!

The night before we were to board I was lecturing the girls the same way Gangan lectured us.  Do not put your drink down and walk away.  Do not leave each other under any circumstances.  And then I remembered these words, "If one of you wantst to take a midnight stroll with a young man you have met, you other two need to follow at a safe distance. No one gets left alone."  "Gangan," we exclaimed, "We shouldn't be spying on each other.  That will make it uncomfortable."  Gangan looked us straight in the face and said, "None of you should be doing anything with a boy you've just met that you can't let your cousins see.  Kiss away but that's it.  Do I make myself clear?"  I'm not sure any of us made eye contact with her but we definitely said, "yes ma'm"  (And the answer to who had the midnight stroll and who were the followers will remain our secret.)  She taught us to respect ourselves, the importance of boundaries, and the unbreakable bond of family and friendship.  That bond lasts today.  

Being on the ship brings memories of that trip back one right after another.  There were three elderly woman on the ship with very young men.  They appeared to be incredibly wealthy and the young men were extremely attractive; somehow, (I'm not sure I want to know how) Gangan found out the men were paid escorts and the women were her age (trust me Gangan looked much younger and I'm hoping I got her genes!)  One night as we were dancing in the disco, yes with Gangan, a young man came up to Gangan and asked her to dance.  Gangan was an incredible dancer.  She was out on the floor dancing with this good looking man 50+ years her junior, she turned to us sitting in a booth watching and shouted over the music, "And he's doing it for free!"  Yes the women and their escorts were in the disco as well--I never said Gangan taught us tact.  When she came back to the booth Gangan looked at all of us and said, "Always respect yourselves; always believe you are good enough; never let anyone make you feel less than.  And never pay for something you can get for free."  The last part I've got; still working on believing I'm good enough, but that's another blog--plus I always have Gangan in my ear to remind me.

Gangan went on many cruises and she made friends on all of them.  The people who sat at our table during that cruise remained in contact with Gangan until she died.  Gangan reached across age, geographical location, gender and socio-economic background to embrace those around her.  To learn about others, and to maintain friendships.  She enjoyed being with her granddaughters on the trip, but she didn't isolate herself.  Gangan taught us that broadening circles just broadens the fun.  

I'm on this cruise with SK, her friends, and another mother.  It's their senior trip, and I want it to be about them.  It's a hard balance.  I so enjoy the girls and I'm already grieving SK leaving in 4 1/2 months.  Gangan continues to be my model.  We ate dinner together and were together on the ship some, but then Gangan would wander off and do her own thing.  She found people to play cards with or to talk to as we basked in the sun.  We all ate dinner together, went to a show or the disco together, and then she would go to bed leaving us to enjoy the nightlife of the young.  Kissing us each she reminded me to tap her when we got back to the cabin, whispered, have fun and was off.  I hope I'm balancing that with the grace Gangan did.  This morning I was lugging four beach bags and towels up 7 flights of stairs (Gangan also taught us that the way to enjoy the food on the ship withouth gaining a ton of weight was to only take the stairs) and I thought about how some people may say this was being a martyr or servitude but I just remembered that Gangan got up each morning, went up on deck and reserved chairs for us so we could sleep in.  I'm sitting here on the deck with chairs reserved secretly hoping SK will remember this week for at least 24 years.