WWJD?

*Warning: This blog is not my usual, uplifting “Wholeheart Life” missive.  Instead, it conveys my heartfelt concerns about the Boston bombings and aftermath.

The events of the past week have been both horrific and heartwarming. I continue to send healing thoughts to those who are grieving --- the loss of loved ones, the loss of limbs, the loss of feelings of safety --- and I am so thankful for the selfless ones who risked their own lives to save the lives of the Boston Marathon bombing victims.

For many, the immediate reaction toward those who perpetrated this carnage was explosive anger and a desire for vengeance. An automatic and normal response.  And yet I cringe every time I see a bloodthirsty mob demanding retribution, giving in to human beings’ baser instincts.

There is a Facebook post that has gone viral and which essentially says that the poster doesn’t want to know anything about the surviving bomber, his background, reasons, etc.  Why not?  So that he doesn’t have to reconsider his black/white, good/evil view of the world?  There is so much more to this story than just two malevolent terrorists killing and maiming innocent victims.

In fact, as a mother, I find myself just wanting to shield 19 year-old Dzhokhar Tsarnaev from the angry mob. When I look at his photo, I do not see an enraged, depraved monster; I see a mop-topped, average teenager.  Think about what you (or your child, if he/she has achieved adulthood) were like as a 19 year-old. My guess is that, as you took those first tentative steps into adulthood, you made some incredibly stupid choices.  I know that at that point in my life, I wanted my life to have meaning, and yet I had little idea what that meant. I was angry with the older generation, and rebellion was my constant companion (if not in deed, then in thought).  And, as a naïve young woman, I’m sure that I could have been persuaded by someone I greatly admired to take an action that I would otherwise not have considered (although not one which I knew would have physically harmed others).

By all accounts, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, who had lived in the U.S. since he was 9 or 10, was a friendly, typical “American” teenager. Except that he wasn’t. He had one foot in America and one foot in Chechnya, parents who lived across the ocean, and an adored, much older brother who had become radicalized. Most likely, he was also appalled at the hypocrisy of the U.S. government, which persists in inadvertently killing innocents, particularly Muslims, overseas. 

Fifteen years ago, devout Christians were wearing WWJD bracelets and citing this acronym often. Curiously, that all stopped with the advent of 9-11.  It’s very easy for us to ask, “What would Jesus do?”  when we are not faced with terrible realities.  It is much more difficult to try to walk in the path of the prophets when we are confronted with unspeakable acts.

  

Dzhokhar Tsarnaev must face the consequences of his heinous actions, whether he made them willingly or under duress. But let us not just dismiss him as an evil terrorist. Instead, let us recognize his youth and feel compassion, even as we condemn his acts.  And let us learn from his story, if he will tell it; for only by listening to and considering others’ grievances, and by showing compassion and forgiveness to those who seem least to deserve it, will we ever achieve true peace. 

We KNOW what Jesus would do.

Out of Africa

 
My husband and I live to travel.  And even though our financial situation doesn't always allow for an exotic excursion, we nevertheless often have our eye on our next big trip. Last month we were fortunate to be able to go on safari in Tanzania. Viewing numerous big cats, elephants, giraffes, zebras, rhinos and other animals in their natural habitat and at close range was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and yet...

As a vegetarian foodie (no, not a contradiction in terms), who had notified our tour company of my gustatory limitation, I had expected that I would receive a variety of vegetarian main courses. However, after several days of being offered rice and beans or lentils, I began to complain (to myself, mostly) about the limited vegetarian entree options.  Luckily, within a day or so of my quiet griping, I came to my senses.  I was appalled to realize that I had become that tourist that I had always disparaged, one who wanted specialized catering and who expected to be treated as a queen. The dinner buffets were overflowing with food, including many vegetarian dishes --- creamy vegetable soups, various salads, fruit, hot vegetables --- and still, I was disappointed in the food offered to me. 

How many Tanzanians had the opportunity to choose from such an array of foods? Here I was, in an impoverished African country, anticipating that my every wish would be fulfilled, including restaurant-worthy cuisine. And I felt very ashamed.

Letting go of that disappointment and developing a more positive perspective allowed me to focus on what I had really come for --- the sights and sounds and culture of Tanzania.  It was a phenomenal trip, and I returned home thrilled, humbled and changed by the experience.

Fantasy vs. Reality

Each New Year’s Eve my husband and I get together with a group of friends for a civilized dinner, heartfelt toasts, and predictions for the next year.  We also post our “bucket lists,” ten things we want to do before we die.  High on my list is to visit Nepal.  It’s been on my bucket list since we started making them, but I have yet to travel there.  Recently, my husband asked if I still wanted to go to Nepal, since I hadn’t been talking about it much.  We’ve traveled to other parts of the world over the past several years, and soon plan to go on safari in Africa.

I thought about his question.  Why have I not been seriously making plans to travel to my number one travel destination?  Perhaps because subconsciously I believe that it cannot possibly live up to my high expectations.  I envision an exotic, beautiful, spiritual place, AND I know that pollution is terrible in Kathmandu, and that there is extreme poverty there.  I also worry that the food will not be to my liking, and that I might have difficulty with the high altitude.

Similarly, when we were planning to live in Italy for three months three years ago, I was worried that we might not like living there.  I knew that we both loved visiting that most beautiful of countries, but living there would be an entirely different experience. Long story short, we took the leap and lived at a lovely agriturismo near Florence for 2 ½ months of that time. I can honestly say that those months were some of the best of my life.

No place is perfect, but virtually all countries lend themselves to extraordinary experiences via landscape, history and people, when we open ourselves to them. In that way, Nepal is no different from any other place.  Perhaps Nepal will not be all that I fantasize about, but if I allow the reality of the place to wash over me, I know I will be forever changed.

Time to start planning.  My dream awaits. 

The Sun is in The Sky

My husband's cousin died in his sleep last night at the age of 59.  Frank was a one-of-a-kind character, creative and funny.  Like all of us, he had his share of challenges, most recently some serious medical ones. But he had recovered well and had moved to Cuenca, Ecuador in September of last year. He treated us to a blog about his exploits there, and we were lucky enough to experience Cuenca, if only vicariously, through his photos and words.

Whenever we spoke to Frank by phone, whoever made the call would announce themselves by singing the intro to M.C. Hammer's "Can't Touch This." (Don't ask.)  And invariably, one of us would also quote the Little Rascals ("The sun is in the sky.")  Through these in-jokes, as well as our shared memories, particularly of our swimming adventure at Brush Creek Falls in 1990, we formed an unlikely friendship.  After all, I was just a cousin-in-law, and we saw each other rarely, mostly at Crandell Family reunions. Still, Frank would call periodically to give us the low down on what he was up to and to ask about our family's doings. I always enjoyed hearing from him; his life was never dull, or if it was, he embellished.  I think his craziness complemented my craziness; we just "got"each other.

Anyway, Frank's sudden, early passing confirms for me just how much each of us, in our inimitable uniqueness, touches those with whom we come in contact. We can only guess at the impact we have on others.

Frank, your light will always shine in my memory... The sun is in the sky.

Wonder-ful

Remember when, as teenagers, we vowed that we would NEVER be like our parents? If you're anything like me, the older you get, the more you realize that the apple rarely falls too far from the tree.  Our parents leave an indelible mark and our behaviors often begin to echo theirs.

Of course, as an adult, I appreciate many of the gifts my parents have bequeathed to me --- my dad's writing ability and intensity, my mother's loony sense of humor and deep love of family. But the recognition and appreciation of these gifts came slowly. 

I had to chuckle when I realized, several years ago, that I had adopted one of my mother's favorite pastimes, birdwatching. During my (much) younger days, I used to inwardly roll my eyes when my mother would point out various birds at her feeders --- nuthatches, downy woodpeckers, tufted titmice.  Birds??!!!??  Who had time to watch birds?  And who wanted to?  How boring!  But now I love to watch the variety of small birds swoop down to the feeder, and I delight in the few months each year when the American goldfinches and the hummingbirds take up residence.

What changed?  For me, I think it was a gradual understanding of the interconnectedness of all life, the fact that we are not separate from each other after all.  As I aged, my focus expanded, and I began to appreciate all the natural wonders around me, and to feel profound gratitude for the miracle of all life.  Every living thing has an important part to play in this organism we call the Universe; it's pretty magical, and oh so beautiful, when you think about it. 

I'm not sure if my mother considered all this when she happily announced a particular bird's arrival.  But I'm pretty sure that the joy she expressed could have been translated as, "Isn't the world just AMAZING, Christine?"  Yes, it is, Mommy.  Yes, it is.

Blessings of Friendship

Friendship.  That word evokes many emotions and memories, from childhood friendships that were open and easy, to teenage friendships that were fraught with drama, to adult friendships that seemed more like acquaintances in their shallowness.  Looking back, I can see that this progression was normal, but definitely not satisfying.  In my twenties and thirties, despite having a wonderful family, I mourned the lack of a female confidante, someone who would accept me totally and with whom I could share my silliness and innermost thoughts with ease.

My prayers were answered when my family and I moved to Columbia in 1989 and became members of a local congregation.  My husband and I discovered several couples there with whom we connected, and we began socializing regularly with them.  Crazy parties, potlucks, and shared vacations ensued, and to my surprise, the close friendships that I had so yearned for became reality.  We women would walk around the lake, talking about our husbands and children, laughing and crying, commiserating and celebrating with each other.  When, as a result of work and other commitments, we found that we were not seeing each other as regularly, we instituted a weekly tea, which continues to this day.  The more time we spent together, the closer we became. For more than 20 years, we have maintained our friendship, celebrating the marriages of our children and the births of grandchildren.  We have  supported each other through the loss of parents and the sudden deaths of close friends.  We have woven our lives together with durable thread.

The close friendships I have with these wonderful, unique women have sustained me, encouraged me, and freed me. Thank you, dear friends, for enriching my life in so many ways.

Welcome!

Welcome to A Whole Heart Life, musings on what a fulfilling life looks like to me.  For the most part, this blog will focus on family, friends, life purpose, food and travel.  But at times, you may find me expressing my thoughts on art, music, spirituality and culture, as well.

Like many people, I lived much of my life on automatic pilot.  I was driven by my unconscious thoughts and negative voices that told me that much of what happened to me was my fault, that I was never good enough, and that I had much to fear.  I tried to do everything right, and to the world at large, I'm sure it appeared that I had a perfect life.  And, for the most part, I did. I had a good marriage, two children whose shenanigans were minor, and a lovely home.  But still, unhappiness dogged me. 

Why? For many years, an answer eluded me. But over time, I discovered what I needed to embrace and what I needed to let go of, in order to live a whole heart life, one that fills me with joy and peace on a regular basis.  I needed a new perspective, and I was able to develop one through  relationships, calculated risk taking, classroom learning, and meditative practices.  Essentially, I knew the kind of life I wanted, and was fortunate enough to find guides for the journey.

So this will be a blog about happiness --- stories of joyful events, everyday miracles, and all the little things that make life worthwhile.  I invite you to join me on the adventure.