Cousins of the Heart

Cousins Weekend started in 1996.  We all gathered for Gangan's birthday and a tradition was begun.  That year there were 2 great grandchildren--the second generation of cousins; now there are 12.  The cousins, both first and second generation, start talking about it months in advance.  As the date gets closer, the excitement mounts.  Pictures posted on social media always have comments of, "Just a few more weeks and I'll see you"  "I know--love ya!"  We have had 18 Cousins Weekends--it has moved around during the summer based on everyone's schedule.  When we lived in England they planned around our trip home; the year Gangan died we had her service on Cousins Weekend;.  Not everyone can always make it--camp, sports, college sometimes get in the way, but it always happens--until this year....

Gangan's service

It was such a long week--an emotional week.  Chris and I didn't get much sleep.  It seemed like every day there was something new--something else to worry about (read obsess about for me).  Wednesday night Chris said, "Maybe we need to reconsider going this weekend."  And I burst into tears.  How could we not go?  Cousins Weekend sustains me through the year--cousins weekend is the one weekend I feel completely sane, the one weekend I feel like I totally belong, like I'm totally accepted,  the one weekend I can just be me. I've tried to explain it in a blog--I've semi-succeeded.  What's so special about Cousins Weekend?

"We'll go.  We'll go." Chris jumped in.  "Absolutely we'll go.  We'll make it work."   We went to bed

and I laid awake worrying.  He was so tired--physically and emotionally.   He was going to have to do all the driving--we had to rent a car; I can't drive because of the boot; Boss can't help drive because it's a rental--10 hours each way.  There was still stuff hanging out there--emotional stuff--that we hadn't resolved...

Thursday morning I was a mess--well more of a mess than normal.  As Chris left for work I said, "Maybe we should think about not going."  "I'll leave it up to you," he said as he kissed my cheek and left.  I needed to process, so I walked to my therapist's office.  (I know not the smartest thing to do when you're in a boot, but smarter than driving or losing your mind...)  After an hour of many tears, I knew I had to pull the plug on Cousins Weekend, and it broke my heart.  And I knew it was going to break my children's hearts.

I told Caroline as we were waiting for the neurologist to check her concussion--not the best timing.  She was furious; tears streamed down her face and for the first time ever I witnessed her being rude to an adult (well an adult outside of the family).  She would barely speak to him.  As we got in the car after the appointment William said, "When should we pack for Cousins Weekend?"  Caroline glared at me as I responded, "We're not going."  Dead silence...we got home and Boss asked me what was going on.  I told him--he flew down the stairs, punched a hole in the wall and paced.  This was not going well.

I couldn't bear the thought of talking to anyone.  I didn't know what I wanted to share about our decision, so I texted the group.  Cowardly I know.  Immediately the texts came flying back--'we'll reschedule', 'let us know what we can do', ' going to miss seeing you but really hoping everything's okay', 'do you want me to drive to C'ville for SK's birthday?'  Second generation cousins started texting, checking on each other.  I felt the love, but I still couldn't engage.

 Friday morning I woke up to a text from my sister letting me know she was here if I wanted to talk.  Beth called and left a message--before I could even listen to it I knew it would start, "Hey cheeka" and it did.  Taylor sent a text, "What's up with the Doyle's?  Someone in jail?"  And for the first time I laughed.

Yesterday I wanted blueberry muffins--a Cousin Weekends staple--so I walked to Kroger.  (Again

not a smart move in a boot)  Coming home I called Beth.  I told her everything--the whole year of pain came spewing out.  As we were hanging up she said, "I totally understand why you had to cancel; I just wish you were here so I could give you a big hug.  Luv ya!"

It hit me--Cousins Weekend is important, and I'm so glad we're rescheduling.  I need to see the cousins; I need a weekend with just the cousins, but it's not the weekend that makes us; it's the heart.

Joan Chittister says,
"We all need someone, somewhere to support us when we fail, to sustain us as we grow, to beckon us beyond the present to the complete development of the self. Most of all, we each need someone who sees in us what we may not even see in ourselves — and requires us to pursue it."

So thankful I have The Cousins.

A Letter of My Hopes and Dreams for You as You Enter College

Dear Monkey Moo, Boss, Willie Wonka, and Carolina,

This is my feeble attempt to pass on what I hope for ya'll both choosing and attending college.

When SK and I were looking at colleges, we were in C'ville and I woke up one morning and went for an early run.  As I was running through Grounds passing all the places I passed 25 years ago, tears kept springing to my eyes.  Happy tears--tears of joy as I remembered my years there. And it hit me--this is what I want for each of you.  I want you to choose and attend a college that 25 years after you graduate, you still love.  A place that will always have a part of your heart--a place you would choose again.  But remember as you choose, you can change your mind.  I didn't even apply to UVA in high school, transferred second year and it's like I never went anywhere else.  Admitting you were wrong in your choice the first time does not make you weak; it makes you strong--you don't have to settle for what is fine or will work--Daddy and I have worked hard so that you can have the BEST fit for you.  Ignore what "everyone" else is doing, what schools other think will be "perfect" for you--find your dream school and soar.

These will be some of the most amazing four years of your life (and yes, 4 years--that's all we've agreed to fund :) )  You will grow and change in ways you cannot even imagine; you will find things out about yourself that will be surprising, empowering, and possibly even unsettling.  Embrace it all.  While your in school, take courses that challenge you academically,the way you think, and your view of the world.  Take courses in areas you know interest you and also stretch and take some that you're not so certain about.  Take courses that challenge what you think you know, that offer another viewpoint, and that allow you to either solidify what you believe or bend and change.  Become passionate and idealistic.  Form your own theology, your own philosophy, your own political views, your own world view and then be willing to be challenged, to possibly change your mind, but to always be able to express your ideas and beliefs with compassion, courage, and confidence.

Join clubs and organizations.  Explore all the school has to offer.

Make friends--friends that are like you and friends that aren't.  Make friends who share your faith, your politics, and your world view, and make friends who don't.  Make friends that love who you are and that challenge you to be more.  Make friends that you will stay in touch with for years and years and ones that you will reconnect with years later and it will seem like no time has passed.  Make friends with people whom you may never see again but who will leave a lasting impact.

And through these exciting and life changing years, always know that Daddy and I love you, support you and believe in you.  Ya'll are the best things we have ever been a part of and we love you more every day.  We are proud of who you are and of who you are becoming.  Reach for the stars, go where the world calls you, and remember you always have a safe place to land.

These next four years, have fun; remember who you are and who you are called to be; and be true to yourself.

Love you to the moon and back and back and back and back and back,
Mama

A Glimpse into the Ballet World--a glimpse into the Kingdom of God

I’m not a dancer.  But for 15 years through SK I’ve had a window into the world. The ballet 

world—I’ve seen the movies like The Black Swan; the movies that portray the ballet world as competitive—cut throat, neurotic, bordering on and sometimes crossing into the insane.  There is some truth, some reality, more than I want to admit, frightening as that is, to that portrayal.

For the past 6 ½ years SK has danced 20-30 hours a week, sometimes more,  on top of a full academic load.  This is not uncommon with these driven young men and women.  For 6 ½ years she has danced with girls from different schools, who are different ages but share one passion—to dance.  During these 6 ½ years, there have been deaths in families, divorce, eating disorders, physical pain, emotional pain, some girls leaving—and still they dance.  During these 6 ½ years they have seen one another through breakups, academic pressure, exhaustion, and even some shattered dreams.  They have also seen each other through first loves, academic success, and dreams fulfilled.  There have been tears, fierce fights, and harsh words.  There has been laughter and joy.

 It is a complicated world—a world of individuality and a world of synchronicity.  It is a world where every “flaw” in your body and you believe in your soul, is exposed.   It is a world of vulnerability and of power, of friend and foe, of success and failure.  It is a world that both intrigues and frightens me.

The other night some of these girls had their last night together before many leave for college.  I saw a picture from that night, and I froze and tears streamed down my face because in that picture I saw pureness and vulnerability and interconnectedness and love.  In that picture I saw a glimpse of the Kingdom of God.

Keep Calm and Put Your Lily On

I have to admit when I got the email, I was flattered.  The Courier Journal wanted to highlight me in Stylemaker.  Okay I admit it; first I went straight to my middle school girl mode and wondered if someone was playing a joke on me or making fun of me--but that's another story and probably for my therapist.  Anyway, I admit it; once I knew it was real, I was flattered and a tad bit proud and definitely surprised.  I don't see myself as a style person; I never won one of those "best dressed" "most attractive" "best hair" (There is a girl in SK's UVA class that got "best hair".  She told everyone at orientation.); I just see myself as an average person who probably spends too much on clothes--no comment please Chris.  So it felt good--and at the same time it felt weird and a little bit shallow.  Nonetheless after talking to several people, I decided to do it. Sunday, August 3--there I was; here I am.  The Rev. Katherine Doyle; Stylemaker.

I got to work early and was truly surprised by the number of people who had already seen it.  What are all these people doing getting up early enough on a Sunday morning to read the paper and get to church?  Seriously, ya'll sleep in!!!  People were bringing me copies, posting them on the bulletin board, ribbing me a little, talking about the publicity for Calvary, and saying how much they enjoyed it.   (I even had one parishioner ask me if she could now be my adopted grandmother--that has to be the best thing that has come from this.  I love you Grandma Lois!)  So overall it seemed to be accepted positively and in good fun as I had intended it to be.  I left work that day breathing a sigh of relief that I hadn't greatly offended anyone.  I knew there were probably some people who didn't think it was such a great idea, but no one who was angry enough to tell me or my boss.

Later that evening I was talking to one of my best friends who is also a female priest in this Diocese.  (I can already hear some of ya'll's brains trying to figure out who she is--let's put it this way Anne was out of town, so it wasn't her.  Does that help?)  As best friends who also know how neurotic you are do, she started with, "Please don't take this as criticism, but I wanted to tell you some of the comments I heard today.  Well, from the two people who made semi-negative comments."  I took a deep breath; I really did want to hear--I am learning that listening to people with different perspectives doesn't make my choices wrong but it helps me understand people, so I said, "Please tell me."  The two comments that have stayed with me from these two gentlemen are, "I wish she'd talked more about her ministry." and "What kind of priest wears Lily?"  (To which thankfully my friend could say, "Well I do.")   The first has been easier to think about; in fact, I kind of agree.  When I was answering the questions I even wanted to figure out a way to do it, but the questions were very specific and this was the style section.  I hoped my style philosophy could be read that way, as part of who I am as a priest, but honestly looking back perhaps I could have said something else, made it more clear--water under the bridge--(which is why I keep a hammer in my glove compartment--just another neurosis of mine.)  The second comment has been hard to let go.  What does that even mean?  Should a priest not wear Lily because it's too colorful or too pricey?  Does that mean a doctor or lawyer shouldn't wear clothes from Target or Walmart (which I also do AND I know doctors and lawyers who do as well!)?  I keep returning to this comment not because I think I am wrong but because I wonder what it means and because I strongly disagree with it--and that's been a journey.

The week before ordination I was in tears in the Bishop's office.  I was questioning whether I should be ordained.  I had repeatedly read the questions I was too answer and I was terrified particularly with this one.
Will you do your best to pattern your life [and that
of your family, or household, or community] in 
accordance with the teachings of Christ, so that you 
may be a wholesome example to your people?  (BCP, 532)

I had four children--three already teenagers.  I had long ago realized that while Chris and I were doing our best and it was actually pretty good, I had no control over some of the choices they might make  I was worried that we wouldn't be a wholesome example and I was worried about putting my children in the position that they had to be.  Bishop White wisely and calmly reminded me that it said, "will you do your best".  He also told me that being able to say you're sorry and admit when you or your family makes mistakes is a witness and a good example of living in accordance with the teachings of Christ.  (In these past two years we've been able to be THAT kind of model repeatedly!)  I then told him that I was struggling with some of how we lived.  What did it look like that we had three children in private school?  (I have to totally fight the urge to explain and describe all the sacrifices we have had to and still make in order to do this--oh wait I didn't fight that urge very well....)  Again Bishop White calmly told me that it was good that I considered these things but the choices Chris and I made for our family were just that our choices.  Would some people have something to say about it?  Probably, but he also reminded me that people would have something to say about many things I did--sermons I preached; decisions I made.  He told me that I needed to be okay with my choices  made through prayer and discernment and discussion with Chris, and then take the black eyes that may come.  He also reminded me that God had called me to this vocation; I heard the call, the community heard and supported me in the call.  God knew who I was (he didn't add neurosis and all, but I bet he thought it) and God called.  It was my job to answer.

As I continue to think about the question, "What kind of priest wears Lily?" I have had to return to that conversation with the Bishop.  We never discussed my choice of dress (although I am told there was conversation around the Diocese about what heels I would wear), but the conversation still helps me.  How one dresses does seem to define people far more than I wish it did.  I'm as guilty as anyone else--I often say to my children, "How you present yourself matters.", but what I don't agree with is that brand should matter.  I am a mother, a wife, an athlete (or ex-athlete), a southerner, a prep, and a priest.  All of these make up who I am, and all of these were part of me when God called and I answered.

Saturday while at the needlepoint shop I saw a canvas that says, "Keep calm and put your lily on" I laughed, but I think I'm going back to get it.  I'm going to stitch it and then put it in my office, next to the pictures of my family, my Bibles, and my prayer beads.  I'm going to do it to remind myself that God loves all the parts of me just like God loves everyone else--no exceptions.  I am grateful for the question--it helped me to own that.