The old man that gave me candy

This week, Alabama held its primary elections, and my town relocated some of our polling places. Two of the new polling locations shared a parking lot, so there was a good deal of confusion as to where to go vote. As I walked in to where I thought I should be, I saw several other voters that looked as unsure as I was about whether we were in the right place. One couple stood out.

They were an older couple, walking slowly down the long hall, following the signs pointing us in the direction we needed to go. I made eye contact with the wife, as she patiently waited for her husband to make his way down the long hall, using his cane. We exchanged smiles as I walked past, and then, she spoke up, “Excuse me. Do you know if they have a wheelchair around here that he could use? This is a long way for him to walk.” I didn’t, but told her that I would go find out and rushed down the hall to find a volunteer.

The volunteer came to meet them and it was determined that we were all, in fact, in the wrong place, and needed to go across the parking lot. The wife looked a little defeated, so I offered to go find someone else to try to get a wheelchair. She explained to her husband what was happening, and he just turned around and resolutely started making slow progress back towards the door.

It was time for a new plan: I offered to stay walking with him so she could get her car and pull up to the front of the building. She agreed and hustled to go get the car.

I wanted to make conversation, so I asked, “Is that your sweetheart?”

His face brightened, and he said, “She sure is. Been married for 73 years!”

I was blown away. “”73 years? That’s amazing.”

He smiled and paused his slow progress towards the door. I could tell that he was excited to talk about her. “No, she’s amazing. We are both veterans. We both served in the Navy in World War II. I was over there when they dropped the bomb and she was a nurse. When we came home, we got married right away. After what we saw, we didn’t want to waste any time. The funny thing is that when we came home, we couldn’t even vote because we were too young.”

Again, I was blown away. “Wait – you couldn’t vote, even after you had served?” (Note to self: brush up on history…)

“The law didn’t change until many years later. So, I waited until I turned 21, and I haven’t missed a vote since.” I could tell by the way he was moving that he wasn’t going to miss the chance today, either. He was making determined progress towards the door. I could see that his wife had pulled up to the front and was craning to see him.

“Well, let’s make sure you get there today.” I escorted him towards the door, and right before we passed through, he paused and reached into his pocket. He smiled, winked and handed me a Bit O’Honey candy. “Since you’ve been so sweet…”

I thanked him, put the candy in my pocket, helped him get in the car and watched as his wife drove him across the parking lot to the other polling place. As I walked to my own car, I pulled the candy out of my pocket and smiled. I love the idea that he carried around candy in his pocket, and that he decided to share it with me that day. I loved even more getting to hear about their time in the service and getting to witness a love that spanned over seven decades.

I don’t think I’ll eat that candy. Instead, I will keep it as a reminder of getting to meet that sweet couple that day, of their love story, of their service and of what happens when I take a few minutes to make connections with the people around me.

Crying in front of strangers

A few weeks ago, I was at one of my many doctors' appointments - this time, the endocrinologist, and he said that he was going to recommend some additional blood work to see what is going on my thyroid gland. (Spoiler alert: it's fine.) It had been a long week at work, a long week at home, and a long few weeks of feeling like I was getting lots of tests and no answers. So, to learn that I had to have MORE tests was not what I wanted to hear.

It was the end of the day for the lab where he sent me to have my blood drawn too. The helpful nurse in his office recommended I scurry over before they closed for the afternoon. So, I ran (literally ran) down the hallway to the lab, and sure enough, they were closed. I tucked my tail and went back to the doctor's office to report my failure, and the helpful nurse offered to escort me down the hallway to the lab to see if she would have better luck than I did.

When we got to the door, she knocked, and a very frustrated woman came to the door. "Can I help you?" The helpful nurse explained what I needed, and the lab technician told her that it was too late because she was already shut down for the night. As the helpful nurse tried to plead on my behalf, I felt the end of my nose start to tingle and my cheeks get hot, and I knew that I was going to cry.

Embarrassed, I scurried towards the elevator and mumbled that I would just come back another day. Helpful Nurse insisted, "No, we can work this out." Lab Lady wasn't feeling it, but saw that I was crying and said I could come on in. Helpful Nurse came over to the elevator, took me by the hand, and led me back to the lab and told me to call her the next day for a follow up appointment.

Lab Lady went about getting everything set up to get what the doctor had ordered, and I just sat there and cried, silently. I was worn out, exhausted, frustrated, scared - and hitting the road block of the lab being closed (which would have meant taking more time off of work, delayed results, etc.) was the straw that broke this camel's back. I am not a huge fan of crying to begin with, much less in front of strangers, so I was mortified on top of everything else.

I apologized, trying to explain why I was so upset and thanked her for reopening the lab after she had already closed down for the day (a few minutes early, but who's counting?). She simply said, "We all have days like that. Don't worry about it." Then, she took the blood efficiently and sent me on my way.

Fast forward to my follow up appointment where the doctor says that since my thyroid has turned out to be fine that he wants to check my pituitary gland, and wants to get more lab work done. (Another spoiler alert: it's fine, too.) Imagine my dread when I was sent back to see Lab Lady for the follow up tests. I walked in to the lab, signed in and sat down to wait. No more than 20 seconds later, she called me back.

I debated whether I should acknowledge that I was "The Crier" from a few weeks earlier, but decided to let sleeping dogs lie and stay silent while she went about getting everything ready for my blood draw. I was looking out the window trying to avoid eye contact, when I heard her sniff and turned to face her.

Her eyes were brimmed with tears, and her lips were pursed tightly. She was doing everything she could not to cry. I asked, "Are you okay?" and she quickly apologized. I waved it off and asked her again, "Please don't apologize. You seem upset. Are you okay?" This time, she didn't hold back. She told me about how her mom had passed away a year prior, and that today, on the anniversary, she was missing her even more than she expected. She'd had an extremely vivid dream about her the night before and when she woke up and realized that it was only a dream, she was feeling the loss all over again.

I asked her if it was alright if I hugged her, and she nodded. So, I stood there and hugged Lab Lady as she cried for a solid five minutes. When she ran out of steam, she pulled back and apologized again. I said, "Please don't apologize. I don't know if you remember me or not, but I was in here crying just last week! Now, we are even!" Then, I asked her to tell me about her mom and what she loved most about her. She brightened and started telling me about some of the many wonderful memories of her mom while she started to take my blood again.

After she was finished and I was getting ready to head out the door, I asked her if she was going to be alright. She assured me she would and thanked me for being there when she needed some comfort. I thanked her for allowing me to fall apart the week prior and said, "I guess our paths were destined to cross for just that reason!"

We will probably never see each other again (no offense, but I hope not because I am all done with getting blood drawn, thankyouverymuch!), but I am so glad that we were able to come full circle and see each other just one more time. After feeling so embarrassed about my own crying, I didn't want to even make eye contact with her - and it turned out that I was in the perfect position to be there for her because of the very fact that I had cried in the first place. It always amazes me how God can line that up, if we are paying attention.

Me too.

About fifteen years ago, I had a #metoo experience, while working as the Assistant Program Director of a radio station in Connecticut. My station was part of a four-station cluster, and we shared a large break room/cafeteria space. That space was right across the hall from my office, which meant that I had a high volume of visitors as people from all of the stations came and went to eat their breakfast or lunch. Usually, as an extrovert, I loved all of the activity, but some days, when I was under a deadline, I longed for some quiet.

One day, after I had been working there about a year and a half, I was heating up my lunch during a rare quiet moment in the break room, planning on scurrying back to my office to eat at my desk. The morning show host from one of the other stations came in to get a cup of coffee. He was a large, stocky man, twice my age, with a big ego, and usually, a bad attitude. I never really had much reason to talk to him, but I wanted to be polite. So, we made chit chat, and he drank his coffee while my food heated up. The microwave dinged to let me know my food was ready, and I grabbed it and headed towards my office. He tossed his coffee cup in the trash and continued to make conversation as he followed closely behind me.

I remember that he changed the topic to the upcoming Christmas party, as I put my lunch down on my desk and turned around to try to politely dismiss him so I could eat and get back to work. As I turned around, he was already in my personal space, and before I knew what was happening, he had reached both arms around me, with his hands on my backside and pulled me forcefully against him, asking if I was going to dance with him at the Christmas party. His voice was hot and low in my ear, and a shiver of disgust ran through my entire body. I pushed him away with both hands, and said, as clearly as I could, "I don't think so."

He chuckled, and said, "We'll see." Then, he smirked and backed out of the room, hands up in mock innocence.

I slumped down in my desk chair to collect myself, and immediately, started wondering what I had done to make him think I would welcome an advance like that. I questioned what signals I may have been putting out unintentionally or what I may have said that would make him think I would be receptive to him. For the rest of the entire day, I was distracted, sullen and quiet.

The next day didn't feel any better. Neither did the day after that, or the one that followed. I was anxious every time I heard his voice in the hallway, and I didn't want to go into the break room for fear of running into him again. I could have sworn that he was purposely hanging outside of my doorway having conversations with our co-workers to try to make me uncomfortable.

At the end of the week, I finally decided to say something to one of my fellow female managers that worked in a different department. She listened as I laid out the details, and I asked her, after I recounted them all, "What did I do to bring this on?" She looked me straight in the eye and said, "Absolutely nothing" and encouraged me to report him to our General Manager.

I was nervous about going to our General Manager - not because of how I worried that she would respond, but because I didn't want to be perceived as a troublemaker or a tattletale. Working in the radio industry came with certain expectations of big personalities, people that pushed the envelope, actions that were meant to get a reaction or be perceived as funny. As the manager of one of our stations, I was worried that by talking to our General Manager, that I would be seen as someone that couldn't take a joke or was too uptight. We had a very fun, light-hearted environment at work, and I didn't want to do anything that changed that.

After a few days to weigh the pros and cons, I ultimately decided that I needed to speak up, if for no other reason, in case he would do something similar to one of the women that worked for me. The GM could not have been kinder when I did. She listened, took notes, and promised to get to the bottom of it.

True to her word, she conducted an investigation, but the end result was a case of "he said, she said". He claimed complete innocence, saying it never happened, that he wasn't even in my office at all that day. There were no witnesses that happened to walk by to corroborate either of our accounts of the events of that day. There were no security cameras to capture any of our movements that day either.

Our final discussion on the matter was when she told me that there was really nothing that she could do. She said she believed me, but that without any definitive proof, there was too much liability to take any action against him. She had advised him to steer clear of my office and the space outside, and advised me to keep a "buddy" around to avoid any future incidents. That was the best solution to the problem: avoid being alone.

Every day until the day his contract wasn't renewed and left the company, I walked around on edge. Thankfully, it was only a few months after our incident that his contract expired.

In the scope of workplace harassment incidents, mine is very minor. I know that. But I am telling it because I have heard a lot of backlash with questions about "Why did it take so long for them to speak up?" or "Why didn't she report it at the time?" or "What part did she play in encouraging it?" I think stories like mine are a large part of the reason that so many women didn't come forward until now. Even though I did come forward, the burden of proof was really on me to establish that it was a credible story and I wasn't able to do so. So, he was able to skate free, with no consequences.

This guy was not in a position of power over me and had no say in my employment, but I can imagine that if he were, it would be even more difficult to feel comfortable coming forward. I know, for a fact, that I did nothing to encourage this man, either. The women that I reported the incident to could not have been more supportive or responsive, and yet, I still had trepidation about coming forward. I can only imagine what it would be like to have to go report to a manager that didn't have the same reputation for being kind and open.

It's not cut and dry. This is a tricky conversation because we do want to presume someone is innocent until proven guilty, and we do have a statute of limitations on these types of activities. This is also tricky because we don't want men and women to think they can't interact at all without opening the door to being harassed or being accused of being a harasser.

At the time of my incident, the best solution was just not to be alone. I think we can do better today. If the solution to this issue is teaching women how to defend themselves or avoid being harassed, then, we are looking at the problem from the wrong perspective. The answer must lie with teaching everyone how to treat each other with respect, regardless of gender or other differences. If the solution proposed is a system that makes it simpler to report an incident, than we are acquiescing to a culture that allows for these incidents to continue to occur. If we are relying on the victims to start "feeling brave enough" to come forward, then, we aren't taking enough responsibility for our behavior in looking out for those that may be vulnerable and correcting those that show signs of the aggressive behavior. Any solution that involves getting the victims to take different actions is really just clearing away the cobwebs when what we should really be focused on is eliminating the spider that is creating them.

I don't have an answer that will solve all of this, but I do know that part of the solution has to be for anyone who has had an experience to be able to speak up and be heard. Recently, I heard a male colleague say that he wished that we could just get to a place where this wasn't an issue and we all just treated each other respectfully, as the human beings we all are.

Me too.

The night I forgot the words to the Star Spangled Banner

Facebook reminded me this morning that nine years ago today, I had one of the most embarrassing nights of my life. However, in the years since, it has turned out to be one of my favorite stories to tell. It's funny how time changes our perspective life that.


When I lived in Connecticut, Damon Scott, the afternoon personality on the radio station I worked for, also worked for the local AHL team, the Hartford Wolfpack. He was the guy that went out on the ice between periods to get the crowd to play games or ran around the stands giving away prizes. Every so often, I would join him or fill in for him if he had a conflict - the team even made me my own special jersey.

One day, while waiting to go out on the ice, it came up in conversation that one time, I had sung the National Anthem for the local WNBA team, the Connecticut Suns.



I told them if they ever ended up in a pinch without someone to sing, I would be glad to help out. They said they would call if they did, but I honestly thought it was never going to happen. 

So, on the afternoon of October 29, 2008, we got a call at the station that someone had backed out for that night, and they asked if I could cover. I was nervous, but I agreed to sing that night. I hustled down to the Civic Center, arriving just in time to go out for the anthem.


They laid out a red carpet on the ice for me to walk on, and handed me a microphone. The lights dimmed and the announcer said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise for the singing of our National Anthem. Tonight, it will be sung by 96.5 TIC's Jeannine Jersey". I walked out, took a deep breath, closed my eyes and started singing.


"Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light...."


I remember thinking, "This isn't so bad. I was nervous for nothing," and then, I opened my eyes.


"What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming..."


I looked around the arena as I sang, and saw the men with their hats in their hands, the children with their hands over their hearts, and felt proud to be asked to be part of this great tradition.


"Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight..."


Then, I looked up at the Jumbotron, and caught a glimpse of myself on the big screen - and something felt really wrong. My lips seemed out of sync for what I was singing. (I know now that the video just had a slight delay, but in real time, I didn't understand what I was seeing.)


"O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming..."


And I froze. I was so thrown off by what I saw on the Jumbotron that I completely lost my place in the song, a song that I had sung hundreds of times before. I paused, hoping it would come back to me - and there was NOTHING. My hand holding the microphone dropped to my side.


The silence was deafening. My face turned red. I felt lightheaded, like I was going to pass out from embarrassment. My eyes started to burn with tears about to fall. I had frozen in front of all of those people, and had no idea what to do.


Then, behind me, I heard one of the guys that worked for the Wolfpack, started to sing at the top of lungs. "And the rockets red glare...."


The people sitting in the section next to where he was standing joined in and started singing too: "The bombs bursting in air..."


And soon, the whole arena was singing, "Gave proof through the night, that our flag was still there...."


I laughed, looked at my friend with gratitude, picked up the mic, and joined in. "Oh, say does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave...O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave..."


The crowd cheered, laughed and clapped as I gave a small wave and scurried off the red carpet and back into the dark recesses of the arena under the stands.


I was mortified - more embarrassed than I could ever remember being in my entire life, but was already laughing at what had just happened. I remember thinking, "If I don't find a way for this to be funny, I am never going to get over it."


So, I started looking for the humor in the situation, and for the lessons I could take away from the experience. Here's what I learned:
1. You can't actually die from embarrassment. Sure, that moment was awful - but I survived it and many other embarrassing moments since.
2. Sometimes, one voice in the silence can make all the difference. My friend saw that I was in trouble and put his own pride aside to help me. I'll never forget his kindness.
3. Help is contagious. When others heard him, they joined in, and together, we got through it.
4. I have a choice - when I make a big mistake, I can let it define me and wallow or I can find the humor in it or lessons from it, and move forward, stronger.


Just last week, I was sharing this story with some co-workers and a woman that was in our office interviewing for a job. We were all laughing because, let's face it, it's kind of hilarious. I love sharing this story now, and I am glad that time has given me the perspective to see how funny it really is!

Warm crow tastes better than cold crow

Have you ever held on to something for way longer than it served any good purpose? A resentment or guilt about something you had done? Have you ever experienced what it's like when you really let it go?

Many years ago, I made a big mistake at work - and it cost the company some money. I exercised some really poor judgement, and to make it worse, I never owned up to it directly. I let my boss think someone else was to blame, and never set the record straight before I left to take another job a few months later.

Instead of looking at what I had done, it was easier to think about what I imagined the management there had done to me (paid me too little, worked me too many hours and many other minor imagined injustices). The longer I let it go without owning up to it, the more I felt justified in doing so. I spent a lot of time, effort and energy thinking about this incident and the people I used to work for - every time I did, shame, guilt and resentment boiled to the surface.

Years later, I had a valued mentor point out that I was letting this incident take up valuable real estate in my head and that I had all the power in the world to make it go away. She suggested that I write a letter to them and own up to what I had done and offer to pay them back. She told me to pray about the situation, pray for the right words, and pray for all of the people involved.

Begrudgingly, I did what she suggested.

I'll admit that I didn't feel better instantly. I kept the people involved in my prayers for weeks. I still thought about that situation from time to time in the months after sending the letter, but then, somewhere along the way, it left me. I am not sure when, but it did and here's how I realized it.

Fast forward to this past weekend, when my sister (who still lives in the same town) ran into my former boss at a concert. She texted me to tell me - and it actually took me a few minutes to even remember who she was talking about. When I finally remembered who she was talking about, I didn't have an emotional reaction or weird feeling - there was nothing. No shame. No guilt. No resentment. Nothing.

My sister followed up with a photo of the two of them together, and it made me smile. My former boss looks great, and I told my sister to share my good wishes to her. It actually made my heart happy to see her smiling face, and I spent a few minutes thinking about the good memories of my time working for her.

If you had told me when the incident happened that I would be better served to own up to my mistake than to stay quiet, I would have told you that you were dead wrong. If you had told me that I could feel that way about my former boss, I would have told you that you were crazy. If you had told me that I didn't have to carry around those negative feelings for so many years, I would have argued with you that I was justified to do so.

I was wrong. It was actually more freeing to tell the truth and to own up to my mistake. The freedom I got from saying a few prayers and sending a letter was a thousand times better than the short term effort of doing so.

I've heard it said that "warm crow tastes better than cold crow" - and I know that to be true. It is way easier to make amends when the incident is still fresh and feelings are still injured. If I let it fester, I can turn it into something bigger and worse than it really is. Worse, if I let it fester, I can make it someone else's fault and convince myself I don't have anything to make amends for at all.

There's a 100% chance that I will make (many) mistakes again - hopefully, they will be new ones and not repeats, but I will make them. This experience was a powerful reminder that the real freedom comes from owning up to them and not in getting away with them.

Grace at the grocery store

This afternoon, I made my weekly trip to the grocery store. We have friends coming over for dinner tonight, and I had a long list of things to get for Christmas dinner too. 

I was hurrying through my list and getting frustrated by the fact that I had to go from end to end of the store to get things I overlooked on my first trip through the aisles. There were lots of other people in the store this afternoon, all on similar missions to mine, so I was held up more than once while waiting for another patron to make their selection with their cart parked out in the middle of the aisle.

When I was finally finished and ready to head to the checkout, each register had about 3 people waiting. I sighed and started to push my cart towards the front.

I heard this really loud jingling - like there were about a dozen Salvation Army bell ringers somewhere nearby - and looked up to see a dancing, stuffed elf hat on one of the shelves between me and the register. To my right, I heard giggling and saw a 10 year old boy dart towards the dancing hat - while leaving his cart directly in front of mine with no room to get around.

An exasperated voice said, "Tony, you can't leave your cart in the middle of the aisle! Come back here!"   When I looked to see the person attached to the voice, I saw a dad with three other kids in tow. The poor guy looked like he had been through quite the afternoon. 

In that moment, I knew I had a choice: I could either silently push past the abandoned cart with a grimace on my face, or I could offer a word of encouragement to a guy that was clearly having "one of those days". 

I put on my biggest smile, and said, "How could he not stop? It's a singing, jingling elf hat! No big deal - I can go around." The dad smiled a very relieved smile, and I saw his shoulders drop about 6 inches. The little boy came back to his dad with a grin on his face and started dancing along to the music eminating from the hat. We all just laughed!

It was a small moment, a tiny gesture, and honestly, not that big a deal in the grand scheme of things - but it gave me pause. In EVERY moment, we have choices like that: we can grimace our way through or offer a smile and kind word, we can sulk in silence or pick up the phone, or we can walk away mad or turn and try to have a civil conversation. I think it all adds up. After that brief encounter, I was in a better mood and carried that home with me. I was excited to share that moment with my husband and with you, and I know that the dad with four kids was grateful to have a positive interaction rather than a negative one. 

The best non-advice I ever got about parenting

The dang Huffington Post always sucks me in with their headlines: "The 4 Things You Must Never Say To Your Daughter" or "The 7 Ways To Make Sure You Have The Perfect Child", or something along those lines. Whoever they have working for them to write those headlines deserves every penny. I always find myself clicking through to read the wisdom promised to be shared in the article they've posted.

The funny thing is that I have never finished reading one of those articles or blogs and really felt like I have just unlocked some secret about parenting that is going to alter the course of my life forever. They are entertaining. I relate to a good deal of them, a least a little. Earth shattering? Life changing? Not hardly.

Actually, some of the best parenting advice I ever got was from someone that was basically telling me to ignore parenting advice, in general. Here's what happened:

Right after S and I found out that we were pregnant, we went to S's friend's child's birthday party. Soon, all of the attendees found out that we were expecting, and the advice starting FLOWING. Now, I didn't want to be rude, so I politely listened, smiled and nodded. I even thanked most of the people that offered the unsolicited advice - most of which directly contradicted anything said by the person before or after.

I was beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed, and then, the sister of my husband's friend pulled me aside. I fully expected to get another dose of parenting wisdom, since she had just had a child of her own a couple of years prior. Instead, she said something that I locked on to and haven't let go since.

She leaned in, looked me in the eye and asked, "Jeannine, do you have a couple of really good girlfriends?"

Confused, I said, "Of course, I do. I have some of the best friends in the world."

Smiling, she sat back and said, "Good! Have they have kids?"

Still confused, I replied, "Yes, some of them have."

Smiling even bigger, she asked, "Do you like those kids? Did they turn out pretty well?"

Now, totally confused, I simply answered, "Well, yeah. Most of them are great!"

She slapped her hands on her legs and stood up, satisfied with my answer. "Perfect. Then, ignore these people. Listen to your gut and your girlfriends. Call them when you want advice, and don't get bogged down in what anyone else thinks, especially perfect strangers at a kid's birthday party. Keep your circle small, and you'll be fine."

I laughed and let her help me up out of the chair. I understood. We started to walk back towards everyone else at the party, and then, she suddenly turned with an extremely grave look on her face. She had one final thing to share.

"Oh, but they are dead right about Kegels. Those things are SERIOUS!"

What I learned from my 20 month old

When I started thinking about becoming a mom, I was more focused on what I could teach Diana than on what she would teach me. Little did I know that she would be one of the greatest teachers I could have hoped to have.

Lately, she's taught me a great deal about patience by being absolutely uninterested in doing anything quickly or that doesn't suit her agenda. She's taught me to enjoy the little things by showing me her fascination with picking up rocks out of the backyard to see what's underneath. She's taught me the fun that can be had just by making noise.

However, the biggest lesson that she's imparted on me in the past few months is to take the time to celebrate each individual step in a process.

How?? 

This kid LOVES to play with blocks. She likes to stack them up high and knock them down. She loves trying new designs and configurations. She even loves the act of dumping them out of their bag. But what she loves most is taking a moment to pause and celebrate each piece as it goes into place.

What an awesome way to go through life, and definitely a good lesson for this mom to learn.

I don't know about you, but I am usually so focused on the destination that I forget to celebrate the little achievements along the way. I tend to get so focused on what I think the end result should look like that I forget to get excited about watching the pieces come together.

Diana is not at all worried about what the final product will be. Instead, she's PUMPED about getting that one piece in place, and stops to cheer herself on before moving on to the next piece. What would it be like if we did that, as adults? 

I don't know yet - but I am going to find out!

Meditation Fail

A few weeks ago, I got a personal email from Oprah (we are totally BFF's) inviting me to be a part of her 21 Day Meditation Challenge.  It's a 3 week course with Deepak Chopra, where Oprah and I are going to better learn how to make meditation a part of our daily lives and how to deepen our ability to clear the mind.

I failed on Day 1.

On Monday, I noticed an opportune moment to go meditate - Diana was quietly playing on the floor with some blocks, she had been fed and changed and seemed content.  S was finished with his work day and was watching TV.   So, I told him that I was going into our room for about 15 minutes to meditate. 

He smirked, "Meditate? Really?"

My response:  "Shut up!  I need to get some serenity."  (Probably not the best way to begin...)

I carried my laptop into the bedroom, settled into a comfortable chair, and settled in to listen to my good friend Oprah teach me how to meditate.  After a brief introduction, Oprah turned things over to Deepak, who instructed me to close my eyes and focus on his words and a certain mantra.  He said to come back to that mantra whenever my mind wandered....

Which was basically the ENTIRE time I was attempting to meditate.  My little brain went into OVERDRIVE the minute he said to clear my mind and start focusing on my breath. 

"Do I need to get more granola bars at the grocery store?"
"Did I remember to start the dryer?"
"Is it time to book our summer vacation?"
"I wonder how K's doctor's appointment went."
"Do the dogs need a bath?"
"Remember that time in high school...."

Like a ping pong ball being batted around by Forrest Gump, my brain jumped from topic to topic, all the while Deepak was trying to get me to center my thoughts on the mantra. 

After several minutes of trying to focus and breath, my thoughts did eventually start to slow down, and I actually did start to feel more serene. By the end of the 15 minute segment, I actually felt pretty relaxed.

About 30 seconds later, my husband walked into the bedroom, with a smile on his face, "How did it go?"  I reported my progress, and asked him why he had come in.  He said, "Diana is taking a nap now, so I think I am going to 'meditate' too", and then, went to lay down to take a short nap.  (Silly husband, napping and meditating are NOT the same thing...)

He invited me to lay down with him for a minute and snuggle (so sweet, right??), but when I went to try to get under the covers with him, they were all tangled.  Immediately, I started wrestling with them, kicking wildly, muttering swear words, and S burst out laughing.  "How's that meditating working out for you?"

Apparently, not so well.

Maybe I should try it for more than one day in a row - what do you think?  

Her eyes are still haunting me....

I can't shake this bad feeling I have this morning.  Last night, S and I went to go see his cousin Meghan play in the Alabama State High School Basketball Tournament at the BJCC in Birmingham.  We had a great time watching her play and hanging out with his family.

But something happened in the bathroom that disturbed me so much that I could barely sleep last night.

When I took Diana to the bathroom to change her, I witnessed something that made my stomach turn.  I was just finishing up and packing everything back up in her diaper bag when I head three loud smacks and then, a small child beginning to wail.

I looked up just in time to see an older, heavy set woman dragging a little girl, who couldn't have been more than 2 years old, by her arm into the restroom.  The woman then forcefully guided the little girl into one of the stalls and said loudly, "You get in there and go!"  The poor little child was terrified and complied, crying all the while.

I hadn't realized I was staring until the woman turned and made eye contact with me.  We stared at each other for at least 15 seconds.  It was almost as if she were daring me to say something to her.

I am ashamed to say that I didn't.  I broke eye contact first and quickly packed up the rest of Diana's belongings and scurried out of the bathroom, all the while thinking, "I should say something.  I should say something.  That poor little girl.  I should say something." 

Instead, I scurried off to go back to our seats, clutching Diana to my chest, and silently praying for that small girl's well being.  Ultimately, I chose not to say anything for two reasons:  I didn't want her to come after me and my daughter, and I didn't want to make her more angry and make things worse for that small child once I wasn't around.

The little girl's face is still haunting me.  Last night, as I was trying to go to sleep, I couldn't stop hearing those smacks or seeing the anguish in those big brown eyes.  After laying there sleepless for an hour, I finally drifted off.

This morning, I am saying a prayer for that child, and all the children in similar circumstances:  "God, please look kindly on those children who have been denied the gift of a safe and happy childhood. Protect them from abuse and neglect and let them find comfort in Your love and protection. Help all of us to show sympathy and compassion to troubled children whose words and actions test patience and understanding. Let these children see the world as the beautiful place You created. Help them find the courage to overcome their fears so they may learn to trust and love. Grant those who have young lives entrusted in their care Your wisdom and kindness so they may provide the kind of love all children need to grow and mature. Amen.”  (From http://davestuff.wordpress.com/2009/10/26/prayer-for-abused-and-neglected-children/) 

Will you send up a prayer today, as well?  I am sure she can use it. 

The valuable lesson an iPhone taught me

When we were engaged, S had a work phone that he HATED, but it was free, since it was through work.  He really, really wanted an iPhone...I had one, he was jealous, and he wanted one.  When we were together, S would scroll through the apps and talk about how much he wanted one, one day.

One night, S got more serious.  He started sounding like he was really ready to make a move and go buy one.  We talked it out, and I thought I had convinced him that it would be silly to spend money on a phone when he has a free one through work.  After a few minutes, he said, "OK, we can be done talking about this...", and I felt satisfied that I had convinced him of my argument. 

Flash forward to the following day when I went to go visit him at work.  I asked him a question, and he said, "I don't know the answer to that, let me look it up on my fancy new iPhone", and whipped it off of his belt clip (another issue for another day!) to look it up.  I was shocked!  What happened?  I started arguing with him, and said, "I thought we decided you weren't going to get an iPhone, and here it is less than 12 hours later, and you got one!"  To which he responded, "No, what I SAID was that we were done TALKING about it.  I already knew I was going to get one and didn't see the point in continuing to talk about it when my mind was already made up!"   

I was furious because it was long commitment, lots of money, etc...but I learned a valuable lesson about listening more carefully and picking my fights.  Did I really care about the extra money, or was I more worried about the larger issue of us learning how to make decisions together...or was I even more worried that he was a man with his own ability to make decisions and might not always listen to what I thought was clear logic?? 

As it turns out, it was the latter - and part of what I had to learn (am still learning) is that just because he doesn't "listen" to me, doesn't make it the wrong decision and also doesn't mean that he doesn't value my opinion or love me. It also doesn't mean that we are going to go broke, that he's irresponsible with money, or that we will be always fighting about money.  I am not in charge of him, just like he's not in charge of me.  We are both adults with incomes, and up until we got together, we were both able to make completely autonomous decisions about how to spend our money - now, we were going to have to learn how to compromise, how to give and take, and how to let one another have some latitude to do the things they wanted to do with the money they earned and not let it impact our relationship negatively. 

It meant that we were two adults with different opinions, and that sometimes, it's alright to disagree. 

Sometimes.