After Thanksgiving, the Leftovers

Portland, OR, Nov. 25 -- There's an old wise Zen saying: After the ecstacy, the laundry. How true in much of life. After Thanksgiving, the cleanup: the dishes, the putting away of everything, the turkey sandwiches. Some would argue that's the best part, me included. I love fresh turkey on a good, chewy bread (Como from Grand Central Bakery comes to mind), with a little cream cheese (fat free, of course), whole cranberry sauce (or my cranberry salad, even better), a leaf of lettuce and a dab of mayo. However, even though I managed to get myself invited to two dinners this year, no leftovers for me. I did make my cranberry salad and share that at both meals, and my fudge and share that at both meals, as well. But no leftovers. I haven't decided for sure if getting out of doing most of the cooking is worth no leftovers. My oven isn't really big enough to accommodate a turkey, although I could probably cook a turkey breast, which is really the only part I like anyway. So I may have to do that.


I'm also thinking about buying a very small tree to decorate and put on my steering-wheel table. Probably after I get back from my visit to LaConner. All my ornaments are wrapped up and stored somewhere -- I think with my daughter in Coos Bay so I may have to get ornaments and a small string of lights, too. This tight living space is wearing thin with me, especially on cold days or rainy days. And it is, after all, late fall here; what else can you expect?


One of the big surprises of this last week was the news that I am going to have a grandchild. My son and his wife are pregnant. She already has three boys and had said she is not having any more so this was truly a pleasant surprise. However, they are always so busy with their lives I doubt I will ever have much time to spend with them and this child. I think it's a bit harder to be an included grandma when you are the paternal grandparent; daughters tend to trust their own mothers more and seem to be more willing to spend time with them, regardless of the circumstances. So it will be interesting to see how this plays out. Interestingly, I think they are due in early July which is John's birthday -- July 4. Just when you think you have life kind of figured out, you get a zinger that lets you know you'll never get it right so don't even try.


In addition to spending time with my son and his wife and her extended family, I spent some time with Jeff and his family. I know part of the family -- which is how I came to know Jeff -- and love them. But I was amazed and impressed by their youngest son, who plays piano beautifully, after only two years. Their daughter is friendly and warm and really seems sweet. Jeff's brother and his family were new to me but I fell in love with their two daughters, who are 7 and 9. Cute, charming, precocious little girls, a blonde and a brunette, with big dimples. They each made me a lovely Christmas card with their colored pens. My first of the season. The younger girl's picture is, I think, of Charlie. At least it's an animal and it's kind of Charlie's color. She really liked Charlie. He liked whoever had turkey and begged plenty from everyone.


So it was a busy day and I certainly had plenty to eat. Probably too much. Jeff left on Saturday morning as he had things to do back in Seattle, so the rest of the weekend I was alone and kind of moped around a little. One day with plenty of people in my life, then back to the laundry, the empty times when it is just me and Charlie. Even in Portland, where I know so many people. I ended up going to Mass twice on Sunday, mostly just to see people and connect.


Interestingly, I will be going to a political event this Tuesday where many of my former co-workers will probably also be. I haven't really talked to any of them since I returned to Oregon, except for two who came to talk at a meeting of a political group I belong to earlier this month. If I hadn't been at the meeting, I wonder if anyone would have thought to invite me to this gathering. So those connections I sometimes like to think I have here in Portland don't appear to be all that strong. Honestly, there are times when I think it's my imagination that I have a community here and that there is any reason on earth for me to remain in the Portland area. Except my parish community, which continues to pull at me.

As I go back and reread, this blog sounds like a whiny, complaining, poor-me entry. So maybe I am a bit down with my life. Trying to figure out where I should be and what I should be doing. Maybe it's the cold, cloudy weather today. I am now thinking I should have gone south after all. Maybe in January I will. Christmas probably isn't going to be much different. My daughter won't be coming up here, and I fly out headed to Cabo on Christmas morning so if I spend time with anyone it will probably be my son's family. And I always feel like a bit of an interloper there, like just added baggage to an already full cart. Well, I best sign off before this gets any more depressing. But I will add that things still seem to be very positive with the man in my life. We made it through our first little misunderstanding and trauma and are committed to being a couple, although possibly a long distance one, at least for awhile. And maybe that's part of the loneliness and struggle for me right now. I'll just have to take it one step at a time.

TravelinLady

A Time to be Thankful

Just as I wrote that, the sun popped out from behind the clouds that have been completely hiding it for several dark, dreary days! I have missed the sun. I always do in these fall and winter days on the West Coast. The clouds have their own beauty, the mist that shrouds the treetops has it’s own mystery. They add a softness to the landscape -- I guess that’s why they call these kinds of days “soft” days in Ireland. These pictures were actually taken on Saturday so I lied; the sun has made a few brief appearances this weekend, but they were very brief.

The West Coast is a perfect example of the axiom: absence makes the heart grow fonder. Having so few days where we see the sun for any amount of time makes us appreciate it so much more when it does come by for a visit. But even with these dark, stormy days, the Pacific Northwest is well worth living in. The beauty the rest of the year more than makes up for the rain we have to endure and many native Northwesterners (that would be those people born and raised WEST of the Cascades) actually love this time of year and long for it during the sunny summers. I on the other hand, grew up in Central Washington where we saw the sun often, though it was frequently quite cold and snowy in the winter. In fact, most of our precipitation in Yakima fell as snow. But every February here, when we are having some of our 50-degree balmy days and the crocus are exploding everywhere, even though we know there is more rain to endure, we think of our friends in colder climates and send warm thoughts their way.

These fall and winter days, though, are good days to think, and read, and especially good days if you are lucky enough to have a good companion to share them with, and maybe a nice fire in the hearth and a cup of rich coffee or heady wine. Not particularly good days for shopping or running errands, certainly not very nice for driving in. My good companion at present is a golden retriever who would prefer to be outside running and playing and smelling everything, even on rainy days, though right now he is resting his chin on my leg as I sit and type -- oh wait, I finished eating my granola bar so he has abandoned me. Why is it that golden retrievers love puddles and rivers and lakes and oceans and don’t at all mind mucking around through wet grass and rainshowers, but dislike baths and act like they are being tortured as soon as you turn the warm water on them? Maybe they prefer water at around 45 or 50 degrees.

These days I know I have much to be thankful for. I am warm and snug. I have plenty to eat. I can pay my bills and even have enough left over to help my kids if they need it and to donate to good causes. Today I was thinking about money and the power that often comes with money. Especially in light of the political campaigns that are in full swing nationally and starting up locally, money is critical. You could be the best person in the country but if you don’t have the money to get your message out, you’re not going to get anywhere. It’s one of the sad realities of our times. Money can’t buy me love, but it can probably buy me a political position. As Charlie and I were walking this morning between rain showers, I was wondering about power and money. And I wondered if love also brings or gives power. I think it does. In fact, in some ways I think love has far more power than money. But very often these are in ways that our culture and society don’t see or recognize. Except when you think about it, love is really what we are all looking for, and money and the power it buys are just very poor substitutes.

Having plenty of love in my life is another thing for which I am extremely grateful. Being back in the Northwest with my friends and most of my family has helped fill some of those lonely places. I will spend time on Thanksgiving with my sweet son and his family and will go see my darling daughter down in Coos Bay after Thanksgiving. I have happily reconnected with friends in Portland and Seattle, and especially with my faith community here. But wait! There’s more!

If you’ve read this blog regularly you know the loneliness I have experienced from time to time, the longing for a good companion -- besides Charlie, I mean. It seems God has answered my prayers for someone special to make my already-full life even better, someone to share the amazing beauty and joy of life with. This Thanksgiving weekend I will spend some time with Jeff, the new man in my life. He is coming down to Portland for several days so I will get lots of time with him and will spend some time with his family. His sister, who is my dear friend and who introduced us -- making her even dearer -- is hosting their family gathering.

After visiting my daughter, I will return to Seattle -- this time to an area north and possibly west of the city instead of southeast. I will be spending more time with Jeff, but also exploring some possibilities up there, looking at potential places to relocate. I would like to buy a small piece of land and build a cozy little cottage. I’ve looked at some plans and found some that would work well. So now that I’ve driven myself across the country and back, my next challenge might be building my own home (maybe with a little help from my friends and family). I want to focus on my love of sailing and that seems to be a logical place to do that, especially since one of my dreams is to sail the San Juans someday. Besides, it so much closer to Jeff. I think this is a relationship that is going to be long-term.

So as these fall days grow ever shorter and we slip into the quiet of winter, I am struck once again by all that I have to be thankful for. I look forward to wonderful days and times ahead, continuing to explore the magical world our God has given us, strengthening my relationships with loved ones, and especially strengthening my relationship with a God who is so good and generous and loving.

TravelinLady

Let Them Eat Cake

Portland, OR, Nov. 13 -- Let’s say -- just for the sake of argument because it isn’t even remotely reminiscent of my own childhood home -- that your mother always served chocolate cake for dessert at your house. And you love chocolate cake. For years you’ve been looking forward to the chocolate cake at the end of the rainbow of broccoli and potatoes and liver or fish or meatloaf. You’ve eaten so much of your mother’s chocolate cake it’s become part of you, part of your identity.

Then one day a friend takes you out to dinner and after dinner you look at the dessert cart. Your first impulse is to take the chocolate cake, because it’s what you know and love. But wait, that creme brulee looks interesting. Or what about the tiramisu or cheesecake or bread pudding or pecan pie or one of the other things displayed so prettily on the tray. You know you like chocolate so maybe the chocolate mousse? Or the carrot cake? Do you stick with what you know? What if the restaurant’s chocolate cake isn’t as good as mom’s, or maybe worse, what if it’s better? You might never again be satisfied with mom’s chocolate cake because you’ll always be thinking about that restaurant cake. What if you could have a small sampling and try three of the desserts, just a bite or two of each? Wouldn’t that be good? Are you brave enough to try something like that or is it too risky?

This little analogy actually started out being about losing a husband after 33 years of marriage and how you begin looking for a man when you’re ready. What do you look for? Something familiar, something that feels the same as what you had before, or at least something close? Or something completely different, some exciting, interesting new experience? The first man I was with felt very much like my late husband. He had the same build, very similar height, almost the same coloring, same faith, pretty much same values. It was comfortable. There were also other things about their personalities that were similar. But there were differences in the way they looked at the world and in some ways I liked this new guy’s perspective better. I think it helped me look at myself and life in general through slightly different lenses.

But this man didn’t look at ME the way my late husband had; there was definitely something missing in the way he treated me. Even though we dated for more than a year, there was never a sense that he loved me or even had any long-term interest in me. My late husband had his problems but I never doubted that he loved me very much. I’ve dated a few other men since, most of whom didn’t stick because they just weren’t the right combination of ingredients. My standard is two dates: if I spend time with a man twice and it doesn’t look like it has any possibilities, I write him off. Sometimes it doesn’t even take two dates. Occasionally they get more than two. The hardest part is getting rid of some men without being unkind to them. I hate that part. That first man got a lot more than two dates and in the end it was he who ended the relationship and broke my heart. In retrospect, I know it wasn’t going anywhere and it wouldn’t have been a good long-term relationship for me but -- give me a break here -- it was the first time I’d dated anyone in 35 years. And even before that my experience with men was very limited. I was just plain naive.

Now I have actually found a man who has all the good traits I liked so much in that first man I dated, but he treats me much differently; he seems to love me as much as my late husband did. He makes me feel loved and appreciated and competent and like he totally believes I could do anything. He trusts me to do things well, to make the right decisions for me. He doesn’t think I need to lose weight or change but I think he would still like me if I did lose weight, or cut my hair, or got a tattoo or not, or changed something else about me. I feel accepted just for being me. He is sweet and cute and funny and curious and open and supportive and just about everything good I can think of. Chocolate cake with lemon custard ice cream and strawberries and a little sprinkle of cinnamon and nutmeg or chipotle or something hot to add a little spice. His history isn’t perfect. But history is yesterday’s news. History is gone. Tomorrow may never get here. Today is what we have to live in and deal with. Only today. Besides, my history isn’t so perfect either (whose is?). I know I am a far different person than I was 10 years ago. I like to think I’m better. Seeing old high school friends a couple weeks ago reminds me how very different I am now than I was 40 years ago. I trust that we all are works in progress and sometimes we take different routes getting to the right place, if we ever do get there. It is the journey, after all, that really matters. Who we meet and how we treat them and what we learn and how we apply that to make the world better in some way.

This cake analogy also brought to mind the question of our paths to God. So what happens if you are raised in one faith, let’s say a Christian community. It’s where you feel comfortable, you know the songs, you know the symbols and all the right things to do at all the right times -- the “secret handshakes” so to speak. Suppose you are in a different place and can’t find your own faith community there. Do you try something that’s somewhat familiar, something you already know something about, like the chocolate mousse or yellow cake with chocolate icing? Let’s say you’re Lutheran: do you then go to an Episcopalian or Catholic church? Or do you go wild and find a faith community that has nothing to do with your Christian background? Does tasting something a little different give you more appreciation for your favorite or give you better understanding of what other people like for dessert?

What faith would you explore if you didn’t have one already? Or somehow lost the one you had? I have always been intrigued by Celtic spirituality and recently picked up a really good book on it. It incorporates the pre-Christian and Christian Celtic spirituality as practiced by the Irish and Scottish monks. It deeply respects all of creation, all living things and those not living. Can you look at a tree and see God’s love? Can you see geese flying overhead and feel the pull of the One Who Loves You? Can you see beauty and poetry in a rock? What about a mountain capped in snow with sun glistening on it? Is your soul healthy and able to love fully? To love yourself, your fellow creatures? Love sunsets better than television? Love the wind that blew down power poles yesterday? I am currently without power but the sun is shining on my face, warming me and my home sufficiently.

Just as there are many paths to follow on your own journey of self-realization, there are many paths to follow to our Creator, the God who made sun and moon and stars and rivers and oceans and rocks and trees and you and me and Jeff (thank you, God). I think God is big enough and generous enough to allow us all to follow whatever paths beckon to us, whatever leads us to God and the love that has its heart and source within God. It is that love that we can find, if we take the time to look for it, in nature, in beauty, in each other. Even in chocolate cake, if it is made and given in love.

TravelinLady

Fourth Annual Fundraiser a Success

Portland, Nov. 4 -- Last night was the fourth annual fundraising event to support the John Hovenkotter Memorial Scholarship Fund under the St. Ignatius School Foundation. I started the fund shortly after John died in October, 2003, and decided to hold a fundraising event every fall, partly to increase the amount of the endowment but partly also to just bring all John’s friends together for good company. John always loved a party and community spirit. This year “the guys” -- the men of the parish who are all good friends and were all John’s friends -- decided they were going to take it on. They held a wonderful party. I don’t know how much they made but they made enough to increase the fund some and everyone had a great time. It was a sports themed party: primarily football and golf. If there were a Superbowl of friends, these guys would easily be the champions. I had a great time visiting with all the friends who attended.

The weather continues to be unseasonably beautiful. Sunshine and clear skies. It was quite cold at night in Seattle, several times well below freezing. So far in Portland it has been milder; only into the 40s. It occurs to me as I admire the beauty of this northwest part of our country that God has given me kind of a “do-over.” Since the fall leaves were later than usual in New England, and because of very dry conditions not quite up to their normal beauty while I was there, I didn’t get the show I had expected. However, with the heavy rains in early fall here, followed by sunny days but chilly nights in late October and early November, the trees here are outstanding. Every day as I drive by the maples and oaks and sweetgums and everything else I am awed by the radiant beauty of them. It is the most beautiful fall I can remember in a long, long time. All for me! And all for you if you’re paying attention.

One of my new books, “The Mist-filled Path; Celtic Wisdom for Exiles, Wanderers and Seekers” by Frank MacEowen is pretty fascinating. It includes pre-Christian Celtic beliefs along with ways they were incorporated into the Church in Ireland and Scotland, primarily. With my Celtic roots (at least half my roots are Celtic), I find this a comfortable place. I have always had a deep affinity and appreciation for nature. I have always found that nature speaks to me of God: whether an apple blossom, a crow, the fall leaves, sun sparkling on the river . . . the natural world is a place where I easily and often find God’s presence. Perhaps that is also why I am drawn to Mary Oliver’s poems; she finds so much of her inspiration in nature. So if I have to keep waiting, I am finding interesting and informative ways to spend my time.

I was thinking today, also, about how God is so good at surprises. We can make our lists, have our own ideas about everything we think we need and want. But chances are the career you love, the person you fall in love with, the place or way you end up living may have little or no resemblance to the list you so painstakingly put together. So while it’s fine to make lists -- and sometimes very helpful -- we also have to be open to those wonderful surprises God sends us. I think that is because love dwells in some other place besides our logical brain. Perhaps love dwells in that place we often talk about but really don’t know much about: our soul.
Maybe when we talk about “soulmates” it is a person who would never make the lists we have constructed. Maybe instead it is the one who helps you find your truest and best self because of what he or she calls forth in you, someone you feel so completely at ease with, so comfortable and peaceful and right with, regardless of having met all your requirements and qualifications. It isn’t a job, after all.

Maybe that perfect career, that calling, isn’t the one that will give us the best pay, or benefits, or hours, or status, or anything else we have on our list. Maybe it is the job that most closely fills the desires in our longing hearts, sometimes these are things we haven’t really ever taken the time to articulate, to explore, to put on our lists.

Charlie now has a new pair of Muttlucks, little booties for his little footies. They will help keep his paw clean and dry while it continues to heal, but will also protect it if I take him places where he might again step on something sharp. He didn’t like them at first, but once he got used to them he pranced around proudly and seems to like them. He is so cute and funny. Dogs are delightful. I tried to shop at the REI in Clackamas Town Center but there was not a parking space to be had on a Sunday afternoon less than two months from Christmas. So instead we went to PetSmart and he got to go in and try them on and sniff other dogs and explore all the wonderful smells. AND get lots of pets and a treat. He likes PetSmart even more than the vet’s.

I will most likely stay here for much of November, probably taking some time to go down to the So. Oregon Coast to see my daughter and son-in-law. With diesel prices so outrageously high, I don’t feel like I should be doing alot of driving in this big rig. But I have plenty to keep me busy. And still lots of waiting to do, apparently.

TravelinLady

For the Hundredth Time . . .

Portland, OR, Nov. 2 -- I just realized this is the 100th post to this blog. I am amazed at myself!!! But, sadly, still confused. This morning fairly early Charlie and I left our home for the last nine days in Black Diamond, which is about half-way to Spokane -- well okay, Mt. Rainier -- from Seattle. Just about everything I did and everyone I saw required me to drive for half-an-hour or more (and that doesn’t count the time trying to find myself after getting lost). There was one big exception and that was my sister-in-law, Mary, and her family who were maybe a mile or so away. I visited them twice since they were so close and got to see both of my very sweet and lovely nieces. I also found an interesting, funky bookstore within a mile of me and managed to spend probably $60 on books. Oh well, at least I recognize my weakness. I bought two novels but the rest were all spirituality, including two on Celtic spirituality and one on the teachings of Rumi. Very interesting.

Reuniting with my old friends from high school was great. I attended our 20th reunion but missed the 30th (I think no one knew how/where to find me). I have subsequently been with some of them at a few smaller gatherings in the Seattle area over the past several years. At least now I recognize who is who. I have missed out on a lot of fun over the years and am glad to be reconnected with them. I also connected with a friend who moved up to Seattle earlier this spring and spent some time getting to know a more recent friend much better.

Today after we arrived back in Portland shortly after noon, Charlie went to visit the vet. She took his bandages off but decided to leave the sutures in for another week. I’ll be surprised if he hasn’t pulled them out by the end of today. I still need to keep his paw dry so may try to find him some doggie booties. They might be good to have for him anyway, especially if he is going to go cutting his pads. What a hassle this has been, having to keep him quiet, feed him pills, several trips to the vet, and every time he goes outside I have to put a plastic bag on his paw.

Then Charlie camped out in the car while I had a visit with my pastor, Fr. Peter, to talk about visions, plans, questions. Mostly he listened and asked a few questions. He continues to remind me that what God wants me to do is most likely what my heart longs for. My heart continues to pull at me to be close to my parish -- it’s been such an important part of my life since John and I joined when Kristin was four. I’ve invested so much of myself: time, energy, talent, treasure -- that I have a strong sense of ownership.

Although we weren’t members when either Kristin or Karl were baptized, they received all their other sacraments there (except the weddings, of course, dang it) and that is where we said goodbye to John. It has been my support, my stronghold, my safety for many years. I have learned so much and my faith has been nurtured and has grown there. It’s so much more for me than just the place to go on Sunday morning. It’s so much more than the pastor, though Peter is wonderful; so much more than the Jesuits or the Holy Names Sisters who work and teach and worship there; it’s the people: a community of faith that sometimes stumbles or missteps, that is fluid -- members come and go for various reasons. But I can’t escape that -- regardless of who the pastor is, or who the music minister is, or whether or not I like the color they painted the building or how A&E decorated for Easter -- it is like my family, my home. Yes, you can leave your family and home, even for extended periods of time, but you miss them and always hope to return when the time is right. So I need to figure out if the time is right to stay or if there is more for me to find out on the road.

Peter had me read the Annunciation from Luke’s Gospel and spend some quiet time reflecting and listening. Mary was “deeply troubled” when the Angel told her the Lord had greatly blessed her. Isn’t that the way with God’s blessings sometimes. We hope to stay “under God’s radar” so maybe he’ll forget about us and not give us a job we don’t want: like students try to avoid being called on by the teacher when they don’t know the answer. I pray to figure out what my “work” is, what I am called to. I worry about it, fuss about it, like Charlie fussing with his sutures. I need to just “leave it” and give it time “to heal.” It’s back to that waiting again, I guess. So maybe there is more waiting. But maybe I can do that anywhere: Portland, Seattle, the Coast, whereever. From the Mo or from a condo or an apartment or whatever works. Because just a few verses later the Angel Gabriel reminds us that nothing is impossible for God. God can take me where I am, with all my confusion and all my failures and mistakes but good intents, and make something useful from me. Then Peter read Psalm 27: One thing I ask of the Lord; to live in the Lord’s house all my life . . . and to ask for his guidance. . . . Teach me, Lord, what you want me to do and lead me along a safe path. . . . Trust in the Lord; have faith, do not despair.” See why I like my parish and my pastor? No answers, just more questions. But questions are good -- they keep the conversation flowing and bring clarity out of misty, muddled confusion.

TravelinLady