Walking Into Peace

This labyrinth is part of the Messiah Lutheran Church in Lindsborg. I've become a devotee of walking labyrinths. The idea is that you enter and walk the path that twists and turns, using the time for prayer or meditation.

I didn't know this was in Lindsborg until a few weeks ago when I went to see Ellen Goodman speak. I happened to park in this area and saw the labyrinth, but didn't have time to walk it then. Sunday when I was coming home from Kansas Dialogue I decided to detour through there and walk it.

I find the repetitive nature of following the path in a labyrinth to clear the mind. That's a huge deal for me because quieting my mind is difficult. A doctor said to me a long time ago that he thought my difficulties with sleep could all be traced to how my brain works, and that it has to let go of thoughts when I'm trying to go to sleep.

At any given moment I have dozens of thoughts going on. Each is traveling along its own path - kind of like spokes on a wheel - but all simultaneously. When I think of something in that line of thought that requires my attention I bring it to the front of my mind and have to keep reminding myself of it. That's why I make notes. Only once it's on a note can I let that thought process continue logically, along it's path, to its natural conclusion. Keeping that thought uppermost in my mind is exhausting. Once it's written down I can just let it go.

It has been too long since I walked a labyrinth. I just walked this one into the center and back out again. It was enough time to clear a few cobwebs, but not sufficient time to really find a peaceful place in my brain.

It seems there are so many things to think about every day. And some of them are falling by the wayside every day. I need some time to quiet my mind, to find some peace. Walking into it is one way to get there.
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Fun Day Ahead

I'm looking forward to the day. I'm headed to Salina for a consulting job with The Sampler Foundation, teaching people from Rural Kansas to use social networking. Marci and WenDee are doing something innovative - not that that's anything new for them - and teaching people how to share their communities with the world through these new tools.

I've done a couple of these trainings already, and we're refining it every time. We've already had a success story of a group from India coming to Kansas as a result of a blog and Facebook. Very exciting!

If I get a chance, I'll post some twitpix from the phone today. Check the twitter or facebook feed for those. It should be a fun day. It's thrilling to see people realize what they can do with these free services at their fingertips, and then see it in action.
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I Want A Barn

I want a barn.

For the past few years I've been harboring this fantasy of having a barn. Why? Well, think of all the cool things you can do with a barn. It's a place to store things, you can stand inside with the doors open in a storm and watch the rain while you feel the breeze, and you can run your hands over the weathered wood and appreciate the years represented there.

Now, of course, in my barn fantasy there is no dirt, no leaking roof, no mice, no snakes, and no bugs. And there is certainly no livestock, and no poop. There are also no other unsavory critters like possums or skunks in this idyllic fantasy. I offer that non-exhaustive list only because my previous experience with barns has always involved one or more of those.

Barns must be wood. I simply won't accept any other material fashioned into a rectangular shape as a barn. It won't do. No. Absolutely not. It must be a wood barn. Preferably old wood. With character.

I'd also like my barn sitting out behind my Queen Anne style Victorian home - completely restored, of course, thank you - and with nary a need of upkeep on the horizon. I'm not sure where these lovely structures reside, but I know they're frequented by friends and loved ones as we live happy, content, healthy lives. Thank goodness there's a gardener to take care of all the land because I don't even like to mow my little yard now.

Truth be told, I don't need a barn. But I want a barn. I don't have a single thing I need to keep in a barn. But I would find something, no doubt. When you have a barn you probably have things they go in a barn.

Sunday afternoon I was taking a drive and ran across this barn. I don't know the owners, but that's a cool barn. Very cool.

I like to engage in these flights of fancy on occasion. It's refreshing to think about the person you would be if you lived in a restored, rambling, ornate, yellow Queen Anne house with a big old barn out behind it.
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Acceptance

Sometimes there are things you know in your being, but that you try to deny because they're unpleasant. But, there comes a time when you have to bring them into your consciousness and begin to deal with them.

Tonight I'm wrestling with one of those. It's painful. But I've got to accept it.

Earlier this year when I was diagnosed with an ovarian tumor and there was a chance it would take my life, I noticed some people began to distance themselves from me. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but there. I noticed. I'm not sure they did, but I did.

In the weeks between diagnosis and surgery, the tension grew, and so did the distance. Just a tiny bit here and a tiny bit there.

After surgery there was much rejoicing and happiness that it was benign and life - at least mine - would go on. I am so very grateful for the outcome, but once you've been down that road there's no going back. You're a person who was in real danger of dying. And people in your world know that they were close to having to grieve you. It's a thought many just aren't comfortable with, even though logically this is true for all of us all of the time.

So, they drift. They see you less. They talk to you less. They get some distance. It's a defense mechanism, and I get that. It's their way of saying, "Oh my gosh, this person could have died. What would my life be like without this person? Wow, I better change my life so this person isn't as much a part of it." I understand that. I really do.

I'm tainted goods now. The tumor made real the issue that people in our lives can suffer and die. It's scary and people don't want any part of it. So, they move away from you, finding other people and things and places to fill the space, so just in case you do die their lives aren't affected so much. I get it. I really, really, really get it, but it hurts nonetheless.

Unfortunately, all I can do is accept it. So, tonight, I will begin searching for a place in my soul to tuck away these losses, too.

Brain out of sync

I love hearing what people have to say at Kansas Dialogue. Very smart people. But I'm consantly reminded that the way my brain works is very out sync with the rest of the world.

Blogging will be brief this weekend. I'm at Kansas Dialogue and my laptop seems to be dying an ugly death. I'm hoping to resurrect it when I have a chance to work on it. But I'm blogging only from the phone so there won't be much for the obvious reasoms.

Overlooking the Obvious

I had to stop for a train on South Main the other day and for the first time noticed this ghost sign on a building. It made me wonder how many things I'm missing every day. I've driven by this building hundreds, maybe thousands, of times, and I've never noticed this sign.

I will be delighted for someone to tell me it has been covered with a metal front until recently and I've not been able to see it. But, I fear that is not the case, and that it's just another multi-story reminder of how oblivious we can be to our surroundings.

Why is it so easy to overlook things so obvious? Well, the real answer is that it's an effective way for the brain to work. It processes things in our "norm" quickly and without really investigating them because if we had to carefully consider every object we ran into in a day we'd not be able to accomplish much.

But there must be a happy medium somewhere between that oblivion that registers "buildling" and nothing more, to scrutiny of every bit of flaking paint. Between those two is a way to be more in tune with the world around us, and still functioning well within it. Apparently I'm still searching for that spot.
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Question of the Day - Make that Week

Earlier this week, someone dropped off a little surprise for me at the office. It was a pretty little gift bag with a tin of teapot cookie cutters inside.

They left it downstairs with a volunteer, and it found its way up to my office. Unfortunately, they didn't sign the note, and I don't recognize the handwriting. So, it's a mystery. A pleasant mystery, but a mystery.

I was hoping I'd hear from someone, taking credit. But so far no one has.

How can a southern girl write a thank you note when she doesn't know who to address it to?
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Being Thankful

Tonight I was thinking about what to cook for dinner and it occurred to me what a fortunate person I am. When large numbers of people around the world are hungry, I'm deciding which of the things in my cupboard - refrigerator - garden to prepare. I have fresh, clean running water just steps away. I have a cooking stove right in front of me.

It's so easy to take these things for granted because they are part of our normal. But, I've been with people in various places in the world for whom these are unimaginable luxuries. They have never been faced with deciding what to eat, only figuring out how to eat. Yet they will generously share what little they have.

Most of us lead lives of astounding privilege and we don't even recognize it. I periodically try to step outside my everyday reality and see it from the perspective of someone who's daily life is very different.

By the same token, there are people who would pity me my life, because theirs is filled with luxuries beyond my imagination. But there is a difference between true luxuries, and basic necessities being out of reach.

One of the basic tenants of all the world's major religions is to take care of the poor, and yet few faiths take that really seriously. Of course, there are the Mother Teresas of the world, but part of the reason they're so noteworthy is that they're rare.

How does a person who wants to affect real change in the world do that today? One of my choices is Kiva.org, a mico-finance site. I also admire the Habitat for Humanity model.

Meanwhile, I remember to take a moment now and then to say a prayer of thanksgiving for the blessings I enjoy every day, and a prayer of entreatment that all people might be faced with a choice of bounty when considering dinner.
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Power of Action

I believe there is tremendous power in action. When I feel overwhelmed with things, I take some sort of action. It's often a very small action, but it's movement toward a goal. Over time, those small actions add up to something big being accomplished.

I was thinking about this in the context of how important "small" things are, when done with earnestness and sincerity. I was talking with a coworker the other day about a situation and I said, "I believe there is great power in handwritten thank you notes and baked goods."

It's true I believe both of things net results far exceeding the amount of energy expended. But the key, that so many people overlook, is the sincerity behind them. I write notes to people every week. But each one is considered and each one is genuine. I never write a "thank you for blah blah blah" note. When I write a note, it's sincere and heartfelt.

My mechanics joke with me whenever I go in about when I'm bringing them some more brownies or a cake. On occasion I pop in with goodies for them. It's not just that I like to cook and want to share baked goods, which is true, but it goes beyond that. When I bake for them I do it with intention of making them happy. It's different than cooking with a feeling of "I have to get through this."

Intention and sincerity are oft-overlooked, but I think that is where the true power of action lies.

The Weekend

The weekend is officially over in six minutes when midnight rolls around. I've been in pretty much constant motion, but have accomplished much this weekend. I just finished my last "have to get it out the door" task, and sent the piece to my editor, so I'm now ready to start the work week.

Unfortunately my house looks no better than it did on Friday night - maybe worse. But, I'm not sure how to find more hours in the days and nights. This was my last free weekend until late September so I'm not sure how I'll manage to get much done on it.

Looking really forward to next weekend. It will be filled with friends and acquaintances and much interesting conversation. Always a good way to spend time.

I did take time on Saturday for some Roy's barbecue. I decided to take a little video for those of you who haven't had the pleasure, or who don't get there often. Vegetarians look away!



________________

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Respect

I've been thinking a lot lately about respect, and how we dole it out. Do we respect the homeless man, the mentally ill woman? Do we respect the secretary, the maintenance man, the day trader, the day laborer? Do we respect the skateboarding kid, the nursing home resident, the single mother in the broken down car?

We place a huge amount of emphasis in our society on what people do for a living, as if somehow that relates to their worth as human beings. How did that develop? It seems like a system we would have nipped in the bud before it ever took root.

On the news in the US there's a phrase you hear repeatedly when talking about an accident somewhere: "No Americans were harmed." What is implied is that American life is more valuable than other life. Do we respect Americans more than other nationalities? Do we respect people from England? Australia? France? Mexico? Germany?

We respect people who drive certain kinds of cars more than others. Does a BMW really make the driver more worthy of respect than a Ford Focus?

Respect is tricky business. We all want it. It's a universal human desire it seems. But, we can be stingy when giving it to others. Why is that? Do we view it as a commodity that we can run out of if we give?
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Feeling More Myself

Tonight was the celebration for the Hutchinson Art Association's 60th anniversary. I decided to just run by after work for a few minutes. Well, two and a half hours later I was still there. In fact, I think I was there for a while after it was officially over.

I ran into Teresa (on the right) and we were chatting. Then Adelagun (in the middle) and Linda came over and we got to visit with them. I "know" Adelagun from Facebook, but we tonight was the first time we've had a chance to visit face to face. Thank goodness she came over and said something to me. It makes me a little bonkers when people go home and send me a note saying, "was that you at the fill-in-the-blank event tonight..." Yes! It was. Come over and say hello so I get to meet you. While you might rightfully say why don't I say hello. Well, here it is - and I'm not proud of it - I can be totally oblivious to the world around me when I'm engaged in conversation with someone.

Years ago, when Greg and I lived together I went out to get something - before we all had cell phones in our pockets - and when I got home he asked, "Didn't you see me?"
"No, what are you talking about?"
"I remembered I needed something and ran out to tell you as you were pulling away. I swear you were watching me in the rear view mirror. I was waving my arms and running after the car. You just kept on driving... looking right at me in the mirror... and ignoring me... while I flailed my arms... yelling your name... "

Well, we had a good laugh about it. And realized we had probably amused the neighbors as I was driving away while he was running after the car. I'm guessing they thought a huge fight had ensued just prior.

The point of the story is - I don't notice. I'm focused on whatever the task at hand it. Maybe because I know I'm not good with details so it's my compensation for that. So, if you see me out and about, please say hello so I don't miss getting to see you.

It was a great evening. I visited with a ton of people, including Debbie who was exhibiting the felt piece she showed on her blog a while ago.



I'm very happy it is Friday. I have a list of things I hope to get through this weekend. I realized today as I was looking at my calendar that this is my last free weekend until the last week of September.

Of course, I'm thinking about Christmas and getting started soon. Greg has offered to help haul things up from the basement. I'm hoping other friends will help, too, so i can have a "Patsy Christmas."

Yesterday I went to Wichita to hit Hobby Lobby and get more ornaments for an event at work. For reasons I don't understand, Hobby Lobby get in their ornaments, and that's it - they don't reorder anything. So, heads up, if you're looking for the cool silver stars like I used on my packages last year you're out of luck in this area. I have bought them all, from all three stores in Hutch and Wichita, and I'm headed to Salina soon.

I also bought some other kinds of stars. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to find enough of the silver ones. So, now it's a quandry - do I take those back or keep them for another project yet to be determined. I love stars.



I'm starting to feel a bit more myself. I hope that continues. A friend mentioned the other night, "you've had a really rough year... you need a vacation." And he's absolutely right. But, unfortunately, I also need to pay medical bills. So, that means doing as much work on the side as I can to increase my income, and not spending money on travel. It's not the way I would design my life. But, for the moment, it's a necessity. So, there you go. And, hopefully, the year is turning into something wonderful. There have been some great parts of it - benign - and a great new job. I'm expecting a continual upswing as the year progresses.

Regardless, as of this afternoon I realized I'm just feeling more normal, more myself. And I think that's good.
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Quote, Ritual and Nature

"Authentic spirituality awakens the soul, reconnects us with the sacred, and fills us with the passion of life. Spiritual development is not about religious rituals and practices; it is about waking up to the wonder of life." -- David N. Elkins

I'm a devotee of the "wonder of life," but I think there's something to be gained from rituals of all sorts.

I was reading "World of Pies" today and Karen Stolz paints a wonderful picture in that book of the rituals the family goes through. She uses that concept masterfully to carry us from one part of their lives to another.

It's like that in real life, too. Rituals keep us grounded so we can move forward without losing our history.

Few things make me feel more spiritual than nature. All the great religious leaders go to the woods at some point, so I think they needed that connection too. It's universal.
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Sometimes The Light Dawns Slowly

Tonight was Creative Sisterhood and it was a great evening of conversation. These women are interesting and insightful, and always generous with their thoughts, which I so appreciate.

Topics varied, as they often do, and covered a wide variety of subjects. We have a rule that we don't share outside the circle, so I can only talk about myself.

My main topic was the new job and how it's structured. After the "official" part of the evening was over I took the opportunity to ask Martha about something she mentioned a few weeks ago.

To explain, I have this "thing" about feeling like people don't listen to what I say - ignoring my thoughts about things. This developed over time through a number of circumstances. A few weeks ago Martha mentioned in passing that she thought people paid a great deal of attention to me and I needed to rethink that.

I hadn't had a chance to ask her more about that until tonight. It resulted in a conversation with her, Teresa and Julie about the topic. (Virginia had already left.) It's always interesting to see yourself through others' eyes. They gave me much to think about.

To sum up, I guess their message was that my "tone" has changed - that I approach people differently than I used to. I think that's the best way to describe it. As people have always pointed out to me I'm very definitive. That quality is a stumbling block, I've learned.

I've made a conscious decision in the last couple of years or so to be more approachable. Part of that has been to listen more. Maybe this change of tone is partly the result of that.

Internally, I would say I don't feel any differently about things than I ever did, but I've come to realize it's not important that I express my feelings to others in direct ways. I've always wanted people to know who I am, so they can make an informed decision about if I'm the sort of person the want in their lives. And I've always wanted that sort of "bare bones," just tell me who you are, in return. Perhaps the finesse of a relationship is to spend more time in discovery. 

It's exceedingly rare that anyone really wants to know how you feel at your core level about anything. I've always thought to be in relationship with anyone on any significant level you have to be totally honest and part of that was to express yourself with the passion you felt for anything. Is it honest to explain yourself with a level of intensity less than what you really feel?

I guess it boils down to if the message is heard at all. And that brings us back full circle to listening.

The light dawns slowly for me sometimes. I'm so thankful for people helping me see it.
________________

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A Work Day Break

I keep a teacup at my office to have a little break in the afternoon. For some reason, tea tastes better out of a pretty cup. I'll admit it's not the most practical, but if we always went for practical, high heels and sports cars wouldn't exist. So, I drink my tea from a pretty cup - I just drink it faster so it is still hot.

The job is going well. At least I think it is. Maybe they would tell me otherwise. The days are full. As I told a friend, "a lot happens in my work day." There are lots of projects going on and at different stages and so there's always something to work on.
Much of what I'm doing is very "rote" work and doesn't require any creativity or much thought  I'm very capable of completing all of it. And happy to do so. Unfortunately, when you're busy with that sort of thing you never get to do anything beyond that.

I'm very much of the mindset in the work place of:
1. There's more than one right way to do something.
2. My number one job is to make my boss look good.
3. If my opinion is asked for, I give it. If it's not, I keep it to myself.
4. I don't need to "buy into" whatever the project is. I will just do it as best I can because it's what is wanted. (see rule #1)
5. Complete it by the deadline.

Of course, you can expand on those in all different directions. But I think number one is the most important.

It's a really interesting place to work. Nothing like walking in in the morning under an SR-71 Blackbird. One of these days I'll take some photos of the museum, my office, etc. Maybe I'll do a little video. But maybe I'll wait until I learn my way around. I'm starting to get it - a little at a time - but there are still doors that I have no idea where they go.

Well, it's time for me to go to bed - probably past time, actually.

I know I've not been blogging the usual amount lately. I've not lost interest. I've just been a bit overwhelmed with various things - from learning a new job to accepting Matthew's death. Things will become more regular after a bit.
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Quote of the Day

"If the sight of the blue skies fills you with joy, if a blade of grass springing up in the fields has power to move you, if the simple things of nature have a message that you understand, rejoice, for your soul is alive..."

Eleonora Duse
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A Brick of Business Cards

I had to share this with you because for some reason it strikes me as funny.

My new business cards came in a week or so ago. They came in this heavily reinforced box - a brick of cards. Although, I can't help but notice, this is more the size of 2-3 bricks, not one. Well, at least the bricks you use to build things with.

I'm not even sure how many cards are here, but it is definitely thousands. How many years it will take me to use this many cards? If x is number of days... and y is number of cards... then solve for... well, lets just say I'm on the hunt for people to give cards to. For any reason.

Consider yourself forewarned.
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Summer Concert in the Park by Rudy Love and the Love Family Band

Doesn't that just look like summer? Only because it was. Greg took this photo last night as Greg, Sharon, Ann and I were watching a concert in the park



The free concert was the kick off to the Emancipation Day activities and featured Rudy Love and the Love Family Band. They're always doing something cool and interesting. Last year the big news was that Jay-Z had used some of their music in "American Gangta." This year Rudy Jr. had news that he has been working with the Wu-Tang Clan.



The Love family has a long history with big names in the music business and we're fortunate they live just down the road in Wichita and can be here to kick off the Emancipation Day Celebration.



I missed all of today's activities. I really needed a change of scenery and hit the road today. Maybe next year.
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I snapped this photo of Greg in his garden late yesterday. You can see he has some ripe tomatoes.

We decided to go to Arlington for dinner last night, to Carolyn's Essenhaus. It was really tasty - there was pie - what more needs be said?

After dinner we stopped on a country road to take some photos. Greg was looking for cicadas... I was just seeing what there was to see, which included this neat old fence post.



After stopping by Greg's garden, I went into my own to check on things. I have many tomatoes. And pumpkins. Lots of pumpkins. I don't know if they're still growing or if they're done or what. I guess I'll just see what happens with them.



It has been incredibly beautiful weather here for days - sunny, with moderate temperatures. Tonight it's getting down to 58 here. It's just unheard of, but I've decided it should be enjoyed as long as it lasts.
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Defining Moments

"At various points throughout life, we arrive at a crossroads, where our self-understanding and our understanding of the world around us are thrown into scrutiny.                               
Dr. Kevin Leman

I've always referred to these as "defining moments," when our idea of who we are and our place in the world is thrown into question.

They can come at the oddest of times, in seemingly innocuous circumstances. Yet, there it is - a moment that gives you reason to pause, to think, to consider, to rethink. On the other side of that, sometimes you come out a different person.

One of the things I've had on my "gonna do it at some point for my own good mental health" list for quite awhile is to list ten defining moments in life. I'm guessing there may be a pattern that emerges there. But, for reasons I can't explain I've never actually gotten around to making that list. I think it might start out with more than 10 and have to pared down. Not that there's any magic in 10. It could be 20 or three or seven.

What's reasonable? One per year of life? One for every five years of life? It's all arbitrary. But 10 seems like a good amount to see a pattern emerge.

I'll have to think about it some more, but I know at least a couple of things on my list would be:
1. Going to the University of Kentucky
2. Meeting Greg and being friends all these years
3. Traveling to Egypt alone

I'll think about it some more. Seems like an interesting exercise.
________________

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Crabby Patty

If you want to do a good deed without even leaving your house I've got a deal for you. A project of the Kansas Sampler Foundation is to encourage businesses in small towns that are hanging on, sometimes by a thread, to help provide services in their areas.

One such place is the a convenience store in Dexter, Kan. The proprietor is "Crabby Patty," who's less crabby now that folks from all over and sending her encouragement.

Here's the deal. If you can, stop by and spend $5 in the store. That's the perfect solution. But, if you can't just happen by Dexter, there's another plan. Drop a $5 bill in an envelope, along with a post it note, card or other encouragement and send it off in the mail.

The address is:
Crabby Patty
501 K-15 Hwy
Dexter KS 67038

Obviously, I've already done it. Now it's your turn. It's just one way you can do a good deed with little investment, time or trouble.
________________

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How I almost accidentally went to Dusseldorf

Matthew's wife has asked for stories about Matthew... I'm still working on mine, but here's a rough draft. Please be aware there is some language that might not be work appropriate.

A few years ago, Matthew and I went to Europe. The plan was to go to Paris, then from there to Belgium, Amsterdam and Luxemborg. Along the way we almost ended up in Dusseldorf, although we didn't make it to Luxemborg.

We had spent a few days in Paris and were headed to Amsterdam to connect with Jacob, who we had met in Honduras a few years earlier. Along the way we intended to spend a little time in Brussels. It's not that we had any business there, but it was on the way and somewhere we hadn't been - no better reason to go somewhere as far as we were concerned. We weren't sure when any of these things would happen - we were just traveling and finding the places where we would lay our heads as we went. 

So, we arrive at the train station in Paris, Eurail passes in hand, and procure our tickets for Brussels. The attendant tells us Platform 16. When she asks if we understand, Matthew pipes up and says, "Oh yes, my friend Patsy speaks perfect French." I shoot him a withering look and beg him to please stop lying to people. He has been perpetuating this lie for days, and no one believes him when they look at me, and with my eyes wide in fear I'm muttering, "un peu, un peu" and holding my fingers a millimeter apart to illustrate only a little French, a tiny bit.

We head to track 16, which I had understood, not to mention it was written on the tickets. We settle ourselves into a very nicely appointed train car. We toss our backpacks in the overhead racks and sink into the cushy seats, ready for what promises to be a luxurious ride into Belgium. We can't help but notice that everyone around us is dressed far better than we are. Not only are our backpacks unusual in the sea of leather briefcases, but all around us are men in suits and women in high heels. Not that that last one means anything in France because for reasons I don't understand French women's feet are made differently than ours and they can wear high heels 'round the clock, walking on cobblestone streets - nay, running, on uneven cobblestone streets - with no discomfort at all. Anyway, we're not feeling any embarrassment over our jeans and sneakers. We're on vacation, after all.

We're sitting there, playing with the trays like you see on airplanes, wondering if food is going to be served, when we become aware of someone beside us. I look up and there is this older French woman, perfectly coifed, in an elegant red skirt suit, designer handbag over her delicate wrist, speaking to us and holding her ticket. I look at her with what I'm sure was a deer-in-headlights look because I do not speak perfect French, despite what Matthew kept saying. Recognizing the look of yet another American who is incapable of learning a second language, she switches to flawless English and says, "I believe you're in my seat."

We fumble for our tickets - they're somewhere - maybe in the backpacks.

While we hunt, she says, "Are you going to Dusseldorf?"

We look at each other and then it dawns on us that Dusseldorf is in Germany, which was not on our original travel itinerary.

Trying desperately to maintain her composure, and brushing away a piece of lint with a perfectly manicured hand, she says politely, "This train is going to Germany."

Matthew and I begin to apologize to her profusely, although we're a bit unsure where we're supposed to go. Even I think my French is good enough to have heard "16," and it is written on the ticket. Isn't it?

"Where do you want to go," she asks.

"Brussels," I reply.

"The OTHER train is going to Belgium," she says.

"The other train? What other train? There's another train? Is this platform 16?"

"There are two trains on this track. You want the other train," she says as she motions behind us.

So, we get up, grab our backpacks and head out, thanking her all the while.

Her parting words were, "You must hurry."

And, let me tell you, she was right about that. We walked on down and sure enough there was another train. We were the last people on it. It started moving before we found seats.

One of the things I loved about traveling with Matthew is that if we had ended up in Dusseldorf, it would have been fine. We would have gone to see whatever there is to see in Dusseldorf, had some dinner, stayed for the night, maybe for a day or two, took in the sights, met some folks, and then proceeded with the rest of our trip.

I'm very choosy about travel partners and Matthew was a perfect one. He never got upset - even when his wallet was stolen in Paris on another trip. We just dealt with whatever crossed our paths - from lost luggage to machine gun toting "officials." We lived by the travel rule of always keep on your person three things - your passport, a credit card and some cash. Everything else you can leave behind if you need to get out fast.

But, alas, that was not the day for us to visit Dusseldorf. We arrived in Brussels that evening, and met a nice lady named Catherine at the visitor's center in the train station, who found us a nice second floor walk up room to stay in. When she mentioned the proprietor spoke no English, Matthew again piped up, "Oh, that's no problem, my friend, Patsy, speaks perfect French."

Other than his propensity to tell bald-faced lies like that, Matthew was a great travel partner. He told me once that he loved traveling with me because he always came home with some stories that start out, 'No shit... there we were...'" I thought it was HIM that was causing those stories to happen.

"No shit, there we were, on the edge of a volcano..."
"No shit, there we were, and this guy was telling us about how the 'lion et the lion tamer' in his circus... during the show..."
"No shit, there we were, and we saw the boat leaving shore..."
"No shit, there we were, and she says, 'oh, we don't have the 3 p.m. flight anymore - that plane crashed'..."
"No shit, there we were, and the guys says, 'oh, doesn't your friend live here? Her French is so good'..." (I still think Matthew put him up to that.)
"No shit, there we were, and I swear the guy says, 'be sure you get the hostage insurance before you leave'..."
"No shit, there we were, and we figure out the guy is a monk..."
"No shit, there we were, in El Salvador..."
"No shit, there we were, and there was this banging on the door. It's 4:35 a.m..."
"No shit, there we were, about to go to Dusseldorf by accident..."

I think it was the combination of the two of us that resulted in those stories. We always found people to talk to, wherever we were, even if we didn't speak the language. We met people in airports, busses, restaurants, piano bars and cathedrals. We had Italian food in almost every country we went to, but oddly enough never made it to Italy together. On our last flight together, coming home from Paris, we were talking about the next trip.

"I need something a bit more exotic," I said.

"How about Peru," Matthew asked.

"Maybe so," I said. "I just want something less 'antiseptic' next time."

"I know what you mean," he said. "This was great, but I want to get closer to the people."

"I want my next trip to involve negotiating with a goat herder for transportation at some point," I said.

Matthew leaned back, gazed off into the distance, smiled wistfully and said, "Yes, exactly... A goat herder, a chicken bus... something interesting..."

Unfortunately, we never got to take that trip. But if I ever do get to Dusseldorf, I'm going to drink a toast to Matthew and the trip that almost was.
________________

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Hair Donation for Pantene Beautiful Lengths

I did it again - cut about 10 inches off my hair to donate to Pantene Beautiful Lengths. They only require 8 inches, which is why I chose them.



I first did this on Valentine's Day of 2008, so this is my second go 'round.

I still have plenty or hair left, or so people tell me. For me it seems short - I keep brushing after I've run out of hair. But it looks healthier after the serious trim, and someone will benefit from it. You can judge for yourself if it's short - below is the "after" photo.

Thanks to Greg for documenting the process again.
________________

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Surrounded by Love

I attended Matthew's memorial service today and it was good to be surrounded by other people who loved him. It was held in First Presbyterian Church in Wichita, which is a stunning place and a fitting for a tribute to a man who loved beauty in all its forms.

Afterwards I spoke to his mother and her husband briefly, but didn't get a chance to talk with his dad. I also got to meet some family members I had heard Matthew talk about, but never met, which was nice. I also talked with Kim, who I'd only "met" on facebook during the past few days. Even in death, Matthew is connecting people.

I saw Lora, Matthew's wife, as soon as we walked in the door today. Even though she was no doubt overwhelmed, she came over to give me a hug. It felt good to connect with her in person. I was incredibly touched that after the service, at the reception, she asked if I'd like to go to Honduras with her to spread some of Matthew's ashes. Of course, I would be honored to do that.

Grief is not something that ends for me. I still grieve for Mama, for Pat, for my Aunt LaVerne who died more than 25 years ago, and for others who are gone. Grief just settles into my being, finding a place in my heart as one way of remembering, of celebrating, of appreciating the life shared with that person. So, I've made a place in my heart for Matthew, where he'll live on in happy memories, bittersweet only because we can't make new ones together.
________________

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Where a Dream became Real

I'm sitting in a booth at McPherson's Main Street Deli. It's the exact spot where Matthew and I sat some years ago and plotted out the Global Development Foundation on a napkin.

GDF was his brainchild, to do relief work in Honduras. He wanted to talk with me about it and on the spur of the moment we drove up to McPherson to get a sandwich. We talked and got excited by the possibilities.

I took a napkin and started writing down the names as we brainstormed. By the end of the night we had the name, a rough logo and the tag line of "We Change the World." The logo would say that in French and Spanish as well as English. And we had a mission - to do sustainable work. I would be the chair of the board and he would be the Executive Director. Somehow, over sandwiches and soup, it became real instead of just a thought. It took shape. And it "became," because Matthew made it happen. The next week I designed the logo and Matthew made business cards, and never looked back.

I don't remember when that was. But I remember the night. And I remember the conversation.

Like we all are at that stage of life, he was questioning what he should do, and what he could do. Only fools are overly confident in themselves at that stage of life, and Matthew was no fool.

At one point he asked me, "What if I fail?" I responded, "What if you do? If you really live life you're going to fail at things. You learn. You go on. You do better."  It was not wisdom talking, just experience. I was older than Matthew and had screwed up more than a few things by that point. (And more since.)

Matthew said he thought it was the right time for him to do something like move to Honduras to do relief work. He was young, about to graduate, and had nothing to prevent him from going.

He was worried that his mom would be disappointed by him not going on to graduate school. I assured him no mother would be upset by a son who wanted to truly do good works in the world. And not that I'm authorized to speak for his mother, but I'm confident she was proud of Matthew and his accomplishments, and he knew that.

And, of course, Matthew did go on to graduate school, after he lived in Honduras for awhile. He was there after Hurricane Mitch. He connected people and resources and accomplished much. When he and I went down there in 1999 it was easy to see that Matthew had made many friends in Honduras.

When we went to the clinic in El Ocotillo that the Global Development Foundation had helped establish, I was in awe. To say it was inspiring would be an understatment. I was honored to have had a tiny role in the whole thing, and it was tiny. It was Matthew and his force of personality that made it all happen.

What can you say about such an experience? Well, people are alive who would not be if Matthew Thompson hadn't touched their lives. You can say that with absolute certainty. Even in death, he was still helping people as his organs were donated.

It's funny how life works out sometimes. Who would have thought that a girl from rural Kentucky would be sitting in a deli in McPherson, Kansas having a conversation that would lead her to witness miracles in El Ocotillo, Honduras?

So, now, the night before Matthew's funeral, I've come to have a sandwich as my way to commemorate the work of the Global Development Foundation, which was an extention of Matthew. Yes, it was short lived. Yes, we didn't know what we were doing. Yes, we made some mistakes. But, Matthew did some good. Some serious good. Despite all that. And that clinic is still going strong - sustainable -  because of Lisa, who got there because of Matthew. I guess it's all the circle of life in many different ways.

A couple of years ago, Matthew told me he still had that napkin. I know it was because it was a turning point in his life - when something became more than a dream, because he had the courage to let it be.

So tonight, the evening before his funeral, I celebrate Matthew's life in a way maybe only I can. I feel priveledged to have been present at the birth of something so important. I'm thankful Matthew allowed me to bear witness.

Rest in Peace Matthew Thompson

If you're a lucky person, at some point you develop a relationship with someone who burns brightly in your life. You share a passion for life that may not be understood by others. For me, one of those people was my dear friend, Matthew.

Together we sought the labyrinth at Chartes and we walked the red light district of Amsterdam.We baked in the Honduran sun and we hunched against the cold wind at the Eiffel Tower. We hiked the Guatemalan jungle and marveled at the ancient footprints in Managua, Nicaragua. We laughed at the airport in El Salvador and at the train station in Brussels. We took trains, planes, automobiles, subways, taxis, trams and busses.

Inbetween we lay awake deep into the night and talked about things never spoken aloud except by travelers in hotel rooms in foreign lands. It was Matthew who looked into my being and stated the obvious that had been overlooked by everyone else. We bought matching jewelry to commemorate coming through difficult times and picked up rocks to remember happy times. We shared each other's joys and kept each other's secrets. I was never sure if either of us was traveling to find something or to forget something, or if it mattered.

Then a few years ago, life's journey brought Matthew to a place where he found something he wanted to stay still for - seminary and the boat he loved, and we didn't travel together anymore although we stayed in contact. Then about a year ago he married long time friend, Lora, and they have been on a journey together that seemed a happy one.

Matthew embarked on a new journey today as he passed from this world. I am so thankful for the time I shared in his bright light.
________________

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It's Pumpkins

Today I went to the backyard and noticed the mass of pumpkin vines was not as big as it was when I was out there a few days ago. It was about 2/3 the size, and some leaves had turned brown. As I approached, I saw what these leaves had now revealed - pumpkins!

I'm not sure what I expected underneath the pumpkin vines, but there are pumpkins. I expected those eventually, but not yet. I have some that are orange, some green and some inbetween. I do not, however, have any watermelons or cantalopes, which I had planted in the same area. I guess this is survival of the fittest in action.

I'm not sure they will last until Halloween, which is why I planted pumpkins. I guess I'll just leave them be and see what happens. That's sort of my approach to gardening in a nutshell - put it in, give it some water and hope for the best.

Today was pretty nice here so I got the lawn mowed and took care of some other outside things. Unfortunately, those things never seem to get done either - just like housework. It's hard to get motivated to do them over and over again.

I could use one more weekend day to get things done. But, tomorrow will be a fun day at work. It's the 40th anniversary of the moon landing and we have a full day's worth of activities planned to commemorate the occasion. So, it will be interesting.
________________

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Feeling Anti-social

I am feeling a bit anti-social these days. I'm not sure why, but I am. It has been going on for a little while now, and has reached its zenith the last few days.

I'm delighted to respond positively to people who seek me out, but I just can't be the one doing the arranging right now. I think part of it is that I just don't have the extra energy to put into relationships. It will return, I'm sure, but for the moment I just can't create opportunities.

I haven't had a day since I had surgery that I haven't been in pain to some degree and it's exhausting. It has been almost six months and it's getting really old. It's not intense pain, just minor, but it hasn't gone away completely. Most days it's very low-level, some days it's much more intense. There's a direct correlation between how active I am and how intense it is. It seems almost muscular, only in my pelvis. I had a CT scan Friday so hopefully I'll know more next week. I don't think it's anything serious at all, and it may just be healing time, but it is wearing me out.

I don't discuss such things much - it's not very interesting conversation, and there's nothing anyone can do for it anyway. But it becomes an issue when people pressure me to do things that I know will cause me pain. Maybe that's another reason I'm just doing more avoiding. I don't want to have to explain that I can't go do something that's going to involve me getting in and out of the car three dozen times or I'll really be hurting. I can't drive for long distances because being bent over like that causes pain. I'm missing my high school reunion this weekend because I just couldn't drive that far. I can't stand for long periods on concrete - like for shopping - without being in pain. So, I am judicious when doing those things.

I've also learned to compensate. When I'm having people over I stretch the preparations out. I pick up the house one night, or maybe two, because bending hurts; I wash the dishes and set them out another night; I bake another night; I pick flowers that morning so all I have to do that night after work is get the drinks made and the food put on plates. I've been doing it this way for months. I keep thinking it will get easier, and I'm sure it will, but I need to call a halt to such things until it is better, instead of believing by the next thing I have scheduled it will be normal.

Of course, it's always worth the effort to sit and enjoy time with friends when they're gathered around. But I think I'm going to have to put plans on hold for other events  I've been thinking about until I feel more normal. I'm limiting my social activities other than going out to dinner or something like that, to things I can easily accomplish.

I'm starting to be concerned I'm not going to be able to do Christmas the way I love to do it. It will break my heart a little bit if I can't celebrate that way this year when I have so much to be thankful for, but whatever will be, will be. At this point doing Christmas decorating the way I love it would require a lot of help from other people to get it set up and broken down, and I just can't ask that. I had to have help breaking it down this year - I don't know what I would have done without Greg, Barbara and Cleta.

This year - at least the first half of it - has required much of me and my mental state. Some of that is very positive - learning the new job for example. And some was much more taxing, but required me to move past it quickly to keep a positive attitude. I remember one January day turning onto A Street from Poplar, watching the snow fall, and thinking it might be the last time I would ever see snow. It was one of only two times I broke down between diagnosis and surgery. The other was one night in my office, when I could see Greg in the living room. I knew he was reading all he could about ovarian cancer, and I knew how much of a toll my situation was taking on him.

I haven't even had a chance to grieve the losses of this year yet. I'm afraid to even think about it too much, lest I get stuck in a downward spiral. I've just tried to focus on the positives, which are numerous.

Maybe the most important thing for me to remember going into the last half of the year is to not borrow sorrow from tomorrow.
________________

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Rest in Peace Walter Cronkite

I grew up with Walter Cronkite. From the time I can remember he was there every night. He retired when I was studying journalism in college. We all watched his last broadcast. It was a milestone.

A couple of years later, some friends were in Florida on spring break and bumped into him. They came back to school with stories of how wonderful he was - charming, pleasant and encouraging to those budding journalists. It's always great to learn one of your icons is worthy of your hero-worship.

Cronkite's defining moments as an anchor were when JFK died, when we landed on the moon, and when he was one of the reasons we left Vietnam. I was too young to remember JFK's death but have seen that footage many times. I was still young enough at the moon landing that I don't remember that specific moment with Cronkite, but have seen it replayed many times. I was too young to understand Vietnam and all that it meant.

But, I remember Walter Cronkite. And I always will.
________________

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