Bring Me to this Moment

Yesterday, Matt and I celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary.  Like many couples arriving at this juncture, it felt a bit surreal to us -- simultaneously recent yet also long ago.  As I looked again at the pictures, I was surprised the kids were not in them.

We had a wonderful traditional wedding, and then spent a week on a very quiet and relaxing honeymoon. Matt wrote thank you notes and I read Amy Tan's "The Hundred Secret Senses."  We split our time between a quiet cabin in Door County and a fun filled few days in Chicago where we spent time at the museums and saw a performance by Second City.  On our way home we ended up stopping off in Rochester for a visit with Matt's grandmother Alice, namesake of our now (gulp!) 11-year old Alice.

There are so many fond and wonderful memories I have of that day and of the planning, preparation and parties.  There was a lot of chaos too.  The planning became overwhelming for me at times which was difficult, but I tried to keep everything in perspective.  The weekend before the wedding, I had a quiet retreat so to give myself little grounding time before the week of festivities began.  It was an important part of the experience because it allowed me to take time to really consider everything that was happening.  People were coming from near and far, spending considerable time and resources, all to publicly support me and Matt and launch us into our life together.  They believed in the potential of our union.  (Thank you all again!)

Here's what kept coming up in my thoughts while I was on retreat:  how would I really experience this day without catapulting myself forward to the next task or activity on the list?  How could I enjoy this experience?  I knew I had to find a way to be present.  I didn't want logistics, worries and anxieties to get in the way of enjoying the day.

I found a mantra: "Bring me to this moment."

That mantra was my calming mechanism; my rudder.  The weather was horrible that day -- as I looked through the crack in the door and watched bedraggled guests come in after fighting off sleet and snow, anxiety threatened but the mantra and some deep breaths got me through.  A stream of other minor logistic issues ensued, but I just kept that phrase in front of me.  It helped me remember names of lesser known relatives in attendance, and helped me remember to thank as many people as I could.  It helped me remember to look out during the dinner to the sea of loved ones in front of us.  Most importantly, it reminded me to turn my head slightly to the right and have a look at the guy right next to me.

The mantra remains.  Weddings are not the only moments of high emotion, high tension, and high excitement.  There are plenty of times even in the course of my work life, where I need to calm myself and bring myself to the moment I am in.  As I whirled around at Thanksgiving this year, I had to say it over and over again from the Monday before the holiday until the last guest left Thursday evening.

I wish for you the enjoyment and the living of moments.  They are not always moments of glee, but they are certainly the foundation for a fully lived life.

Dan's Waiting Story

Note:  Dan and I met about five years ago through work, and have had the great pleasure of working together on many different projects over the last few years. We also found out that we went to the "same" college (St. Ben's/St. John's), and it seemed like the close connection set in quickly.  Dan kindly offered to share this story of his father's passing.  This is a waiting story that, while sad, is ultimately hopeful.  Dan was brave to write about this, and I'm humbled to share it.  Thanks, Dan for the contribution - and for being the kind, brave, funny and lovable friend that you are to so many of us. Lots of love to you and your family on this memorable day.  

I hate waiting. I am not a patient man. I never have been. I believe I got that from my father, although I would be remiss to not mention that my mom is a bit impatient as well. I just don't like to wait, if I can help it. Yes, I know that at times waiting is required; but if I have to wait, I will do what I can to make the time pass faster.

This did change for me during the one time in my life where I wanted, no needed, time to go slower. I was desperate, but it never happened. In fact, my father's death happened faster than anyone imagined, it was only four short months and he was gone...forever.

It was the 29th of November, 1999 that my family was informed that my father had cancer in the fluid surrounding the lining of his lungs and that he would have between three and five years to live. Twice that day I collapsed from a desperation I had never felt, I continually asked for a clarification no one would ever be able to provide me, and little did I know that a day I should have had to wait decades for, the day my father would die, was only four months away.

It was to be Dad's first chemotherapy treatment and I had to be in class. My level of patience was as low as it had ever been. As soon as class was over I got out of the building and turned on my cell phone...there was a message...Dad was in the I.C.U. The trip to the hospital should have taken me a half an hour, it took less than 15 minutes. He was okay, he had an allergic reaction to the chemo, but was recovering well and they would try a new form of medication the next day. We were still optimistic, we have at least five years.

Within the next few weeks, after more test were concluded, we learned his diagnosis of arthritis in his hips was actually the cancer metastasized. This immediately led to the news that he would have had to have this disease for much longer than was originally thought. This also meant that our waiting was shortened, we now had less than one year, maybe a little more.

It was time for a second opinion, so I traveled with my Mom and Dad to Rochester and the Mayo Clinic. During the tests, which provided only confirmation of what we already knew, my Dad told the doctor of headaches. I knew then what this meant, but the doctor said that there was no reason to believe the disease would have traveled to his brain. Within two weeks he was diagnosed with cancer of the brain, three spots. The waiting was again reduced, three months, six at the most.

Dad passed away on the 29th of March, 2000. Four months to the day from the original diagnosis, less than two months after his brain cancer was found. It was devastating for my entire family and I had no idea how I was going to live my life without my father; a friend, a mentor and a hero. All I wanted was more time, more moments, more minutes, more years.

My waiting was over, but I wanted more. I never knew, until those four months were over, how very precious time was. I was 21 years old; I never thought that there would be a moments in my life I would want to wait longer to experience, but now I knew. Now I knew how very precious time was, how waiting was no longer a bad thing, and that I needed to spend the rest of my life appreciating those I love, spending time with them, and even waiting for them.

"Our internal motor runs too fast."

Note:  Jean Vanier is the founder of the L'Arche Communities, communities of severely mentally and physically disabled people across the world.  In his movement to establish these communities, he has written a lot about what community and spirituality mean.  Each day, I get an email from the L'Arche Community with a daily quote or verse from one of his books.  This is the quote I received on November 8th this year.  I thought it was a good way to begin this week of inner preparation.

In order to grow towards a deeper sense of identity and to open ourselves to others, we need times of quiet and reflection, times of inner peace and relaxation. If we are preoccupied with plans and a compulsive need to succeed and be appreciated, or if we are tired, tense and stressed, it is difficult to slow down and welcome and listen to reality and to others. Our internal motor runs too fast. It is impossible to be silent and stand back from what is happening in order to consider our motives and fears. The heart's silence is blotted out by the noise of the motor.

Growth demands that we are fit, well rested, and relaxed both in body and spirit. So it is important to find a healthy rhythm of life, and to know how much rest we need and the types of relaxation that give life.

               -Jean Vanier, Our Journey Home, pp 153-154

Let the Waiting Begin!

This year I stopped off at Starbucks on the day after Halloween (November 1st). The sign above the barrista's head said, "The wait is finally over! Holiday drinks are back!" I glanced around and saw that all of the patrons held the signature red cups used for the holiday season. There is no hiding or holding back anymore. In fact, I think the world of retail has actually deleted Thanksgiving. Halloween's completion marked the beginning of Christmas. The floodgates were opened.

But the world of retail won't win for me this year.  I have tried to light up the dark days of November with acts and gifts of gratitude.  As for holiday gifts, I am going to once again rededicate myself to "small and simple" this year; hopefully with more acts of kindness mixed in.  We'll again convert our holiday cards to valentines (this way we get to enjoy each one twice), and hopefully all of this well help ease the stress and swirl that can easily go with the holidays. 

Part of this slowing for me this year -- and I hope for your too -- will be reflecting on a faith tradition I love and want to share:  the season of Advent.  I will touch on some of the traditions and meanings of the liturgical season, but (I think) more interestingly, I want to really think about what it means to wait for things, and what we can learn from those times.  It's my hope that these stories and reflections will slow all of us down and move us away from the swirl and into the moment. 

The first Sunday of Advent was a tremendously exciting day when I was growing up.  Mom would set up the advent wreath: three purple candles and one pink one.  One candle to be lit each week until Christmas.  Presents were in sight!  The lighting of the first candle also meant the beginning of a stream of exciting events for us.  I went to a Catholic grade school, and there too we had a ritual lighting of the Advent candle and special activities just for Advent. Gift lists were beginning to be created, but the actual day was so far away that shopping wasn't quite on the radar yet.  Drafts of letters to Santa were prepared and edited, often depending on the convincing nature of the commercials seen on TV. 

The first week, one of excitement, was also the first week of preparation.  In addition to some beautiful and strong stories of waiting this week, I've also tried to include some thoughtful commentary on inward preparation.  Advent marks the beginning of the Christian church's liturgical year.  It's also close to the beginning of the secular calendar year.  It may be all you can do to just get through the end of the year holidays.  But, perhaps you can find some time to start thinking also about where you've been in the last year, and what your hopes for 2012 will be. 

I'm glad you've stopped in today and I hope you'll be back tomorrow and every day through the end of Advent.

Have a wonderful week.

Truly,

Amy

Prelude to a Blog

So what's this blog about?  As is often the case with me, I have multiple answers.

First of all, it's about stories:  mine, other friends, family, and even a few minorly famous folks.  I have a lifetime of warm stories and experiences associated with the season of Advent, and I want to share them.  I hope that these stories will help you enjoy the season, too. 

Second, it's about slowing down.  It's so easy to get swept up in a parade of buying and a swirl of "obligations."  I need help remembering to stop and enjoy -- to see each day as a day unto its own and not just a "T minus X days until I need to get everything done for Christmas (or whatever end of year holiday you celebrate).

Third, it's about being.  Just being.  This is something that I need to be helped with every day and it is especially difficult when there is a lot going on.  I could also say it's about breathing.  The more I understand about Buddhism, yoga and meditation, the more I understand how closely tied breathing is to being. 

Fourth it's about inward preparation.  For the Christian tradition, Advent heralds a time of preparation for the birth of Christ.  Advent is also the beginning of our church or liturgical year.  In this way, I am also trying to see this year's Advent season as a way to prepare for a new calendar year; to look back and look forward.

Finally, it is about what the title of this blog says:  living "inside" of waiting.  Waiting is not always easy, but there are lessons to be learned even when the result of waiting isn't joyous.  Just after college, I had the opportunity to be in a community where we truly lived the season of Advent.  This helped me see how I could use the time of reflection and learning about the season and apply it to other parts of life.  Not only did it enrich the celebration of the holiday season, it enriched the rest of my life.

I should also say, if you know me, you know I can't resist having a little bit of fun.  Sure I want to do some serious thinking and preparation, but there is always room for a good time.  So I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by some of the light and fun stories that kind folks have offered to include. 

I'm so glad you've read this far and you're interested in reading.  I look forward to sharing the journey with you.

Amy