I have started and deleted three or four posts on my sweet Jeffrey since New Year’s. I can’t seem to put on paper what his presence in my life means; it’s too vast. Jeffrey is a simple man; and for a very complex girl, it’s hard to understand his willingness to step back, to be the nurturer, to simply and quietly move in the world.
Read moreTuesday Tip: The Love Bag...
Since this week is the week of Love, I had planned on giving some love tips...
But, my Tuesday Tip has taken a turn. While speaking with my dear friend who is recovering from surgery and gearing up for another procedure Thursday, she shared what she had in her hospital bag...
It’s a little different from the one many of us took to the hospital when we had our beauties. The concept still holds; we need a go-to-bag for our many medical adventures. So thanks to my Colorado beauty; I've changed it’s name to the LOVE BAG and thought I would share what is in mine.
My essentials for when I head out for my medical adventures.
First off you all know what is number one in my Love Bag: ding-ding, gold stars Pilgrims. My wrap (if you missed it here is the link to my first Tuesday Tip.)
I also carry several other things to make me feel loved on my adventures, My chap-stick and hand lotions are also splurge items from Aveda (Santa always leaves a travel size Hand Relief and chap-stick in my stocking. I know so many of you will say, how on earth can you spend $8 on a chap-stick; well first off mine lasts forever, and second, we all need a few little things that make us happy... This is what works for me. I refuse to share them; because the lotion and chap smell so good you wish you could eat them. These little treasures, are a special love hug to myself on tough medical days.)
Always have a snack in the bag, if I get hungry waiting for the medical team. Of course some fancy writing pad to take good notes. Things don't seem so horrible if you take notes with a nice pen and paper.
Finally, I always carry a little treasure that makes me feel loved. Sometimes it’s one of my rosaries; not that I'm praying; it just reminds me of the friends who shared them with me. My Colorado girl and I share the need to carry stones with comforting words on them. Mine say, “peace, joy, perseverance,” all good vibes when you are journeying through the medical maze.
So that is what is essential in my Go-to-Love-Bag.
What is in yours?
Kathryn
photo credit: ny156uk via photopin cc
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Second, speak privately to me by submitting your questions in the form on the right.
Third, get all the details from the road by entering your email in the box on the top, and receive each post in your email inbox (keep on eye on your inbox or spam folder to complete the process).
I NEVER SHARE YOUR INFORMATION, EMAILS OR CORRESPONDENCE with anyone. They are for my eyes only.
Measurements of Success...
How do you measure success?
It is a question that I have been sorting through of late. I find that when my spiritual compass is working well; I can slow my “Kathryness” and see the patterns in my life. My questions currently seem to be tied to my year of “Retreat”.
I have found a new level to my reading and the depths of that discovery have brought some unusual insights. I seem to delve into ideas, conversations that have caused me to question. Questions, I haven't before taken the time to consider. These questions have pushed me into journaling; something I have never really wanted to do; but as part of this discovery, I have taken on in earnest.
I found the same question kept following me. Gnawing at me for answers. One question in particular:
What does success mean for me?
Having lost my foothold in the professional world, Sheryl Sandberg would say I “leaned out”. And while I watch so many of my close friends lean back in, I see that I have taken a different course; which leaning out doesn't completely cover. I haven't exactly leaned out; I’m off the grid and that feels far more uncomfortable.
I feel so unbelievable uncomfortable and unsettled.
As humans, we don't like uncomfortable, we don't like extremes, and lord knows we don't like messy. In our relationships, personal and professional, we want things to just nicely hum along.
But that Pilgrims, sorry to be the one to let you in on this news flash... That’s not how it works in this world. Nope, it’s messy here, no getting round it. So that is where I am today, in the messy and uncomfortable place of seeking and carving out my definition of success.
Jeffrey and I sat down this weekend to have the big picture conversation, how are things, where are we going; and I explained my discomfort about this question. I explained I was feeling a little lost. Lost only in that; I was not sure what success looked like any longer. That so many of my old ideas have been turned upside down since my health status changed. That this writing thing; this PilgrimageGal had taken on a life of its own that, to be blunt was so unexpected.
We went on to discuss what I like to call the “American Dream Model” that if you work hard-enough, financial and social success is yours. So it would make sense to call that success, because that is easy to measure and it is the scale so many of us use. And to be frank in my past life, I was really good at it, I had corporate jobs, made money, got accolades. Was the “it” girl.
Perhaps, thats exactly why I'm so uncomfortable. I look at myself and say, I need to do more, get more, publish more, have more followers, page hits, make more money... Because that is the paradigm that is familiar and comfortable.
After listening to all my rambling, hand waving, and foolishness; my sweet husband opened his mouth and said, “Maybe that is the wrong definition.”
So there I sat. Thinking. More like hearing crickets. Because I knew in my heart he was so right, so on target. When the person you love speaks a truth to you, sometimes all you can do is sit and wait for your heart to answer.
Because my definition of success isn’t the American Dream Model. My new goal may in fact be to touch more, connect more, and support others on their journey to find peace, and wellness in what ever form that means to them. To be an example that even with chronic disease, life is beautiful, meaningful and complete. That when we make room for the Divine, in our daily life; we live more fully, more completely than ever before.
What if success was measured by your ability to see your faith life grow in your choices, in your relationships, in your willingness to do good. My health will never allow me the opportunity to have the career I once had. And that is so fine, because I think the work that is guiding me in my brokenness, may in fact be far more important.
So, as I continue my year of Retreat, I will be searching for more definitions of success, how to measure the unmeasurable, perhaps...
But, having a wonderful time trying in the process.
Namaste,
Kathryn
photo credit:
via
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First, LIKE PilgrimageGal on Facebook and leave comments there (www.facebook.com/pilgrimagegal).
Second, speak privately to me by submitting your questions in the form on the right.
Third, get all the details from the road by entering your email in the box on the top, and receive each post in your email inbox (keep on eye on your inbox or spam folder to complete the process).
I NEVER SHARE YOUR INFORMATION, EMAILS OR CORRESPONDENCE with anyone. They are for my eyes only.
Sacred Space...
Tuesday Tip: Sacred Space.
I love a tip that requires no money, no running to make an impulse purchase; this tip you can do right now, in your own home and spend zero dollars. I promise you already have the ingredients in your possession.
Today you will create your own sacred space. Sometimes, as busy women we don’t have anything that is ours, everything we own is fair game for others to “borrow". The people we love most, touch everything; our phone, our lip gloss, our every possession is shared. Some days it just becomes so draining not to have one small treasure that is just ours.
That is how my sacred space was born.
Now your sacred space can be as large or as small as you would like. If you are lucky you have more than one spot in your home, depending on your mood. This is the spot where you curl up and pray, reflect, and recharge.
For some, your sacred space may just be a simple candle. Any candle will do; sometimes it’s on the back of the toilet where you shut off the lights and close the bathroom door for silence, prayer and meditation. Some of us may be lucky to have a whole room.
Maybe it’s that little spot in the park that you head to all alone for lunch. That could be your space. In the summer, mine is outside on my screen porch, I have a beautiful fountain, a gift from my in-laws that creates such peace, you can’t help but sit and find the divine.
The space may be some small treasures on a tray that you carry from place to place. Outside on a beautiful day or next to your bed on a day that has you resting. You can keep this beautiful collection on your coffee or kitchen table.
I think the basics include; a candle, an object from nature (orchid, dish of water, feather, stone, sand, sea shell) and some object that grounds you. For Catholics, we have our religious objects; a rosary, statue or icon. Other faiths have prayer beads, or book of blessings. Perhaps a journal to write your thoughts, before or after. You will also need your holy book or the reading you want to meditate on.
These are just suggestions, you will build your own space, and what works to center me may make you crazy. That is so fine, focus and find the objects that matter to you .
I find that most often my objects are gifts from the women I love most. For instance, a dear friend just sent me a rosary from the Church of the Holy Seplicur, from her recent trip to Israel. How amazing, my dear Jewish friend, sent her fav Catholic girl a rosary. Fantastic! That is on my desk right now, creating a sacred work space, with my candle and some roses. All gifts from the amazing women in my life.
That is my sacred spot right this moment, as I write to you all.
Your Tuesday Tip, make the time to create your own sacred space, fill it with a little silence, a little reflection, and you’ll be amazed how it can help you recharge.
Would love to see or hear about your sacred space, so send me your photos and suggestions and let’s continue the conversation.
Namaste.
Kathryn
P.S. Yes, that is the completed pink desk... You so knew I was going to get that desk painted!
photo credit: PilgrimageGal
We can stay in touch three ways:
First, LIKE PilgrimageGal on Facebook and leave comments there (www.facebook.com/pilgrimagegal).
Second, speak privately to me by submitting your questions in the form on the right.
Third, get all the details from the road by entering your email in the box on the top, and receive each post in your email inbox (keep on eye on your inbox or spam folder to complete the process).
I NEVER SHARE YOUR INFORMATION, EMAILS OR CORRESPONDENCE with anyone. They are for my eyes only.
Bringing the Outside In...
Gift from my flower girl...
This is a simple and easy tip for everyone, not just our chronic disease friends.
It is a simple tip to keep the sun shining warm on your face, by bringing the outside in...
Here in the DC metro area, we have what I call the winter blues. It’s the long days of gloom, cold and rain that face Washingtonians every winter, and makes us long for sunshine and dream of our sunny humidity filled summers. I just want my flip flops, and to feel the sunshine on my toes.
So, with the help of a wise teacher; I learned the lesson of bringing the outside in. Whatever you miss when trapped for the umteeeth day inside, bring a piece of it inside...
For me, that’s easy. I need the promise of Spring.
So over the years I have cultivated an orchid collection from my visits to Trader Joe’s. Just today I had to walk away from the $2.99 potted baby daffodils. I just long for sunshine in a pot. How does that not make you smile?! For me, it’s all about the flowers and an orchid can stay in bloom for months at a time.
I have lavender sachets that I have hidden in the sofas, closets, drawers and the disaster that is my mud room. I bring my seashell collection out in the late winter, a silent tease and symbol of summer. I put sand, or in a pinch, dry white rice in a dish, small round jar, old ash tray and then display my treasures from the sea. There is something so magical about touching sea shells, setting them on top of your favorite book or just running your fingers over the edges. It’s relaxing.
Anything from the outside world, brought inside, to keep my spirits lively till the first real signs of Spring, when I can leave my windows and doors open and experience the real thing.
So today, do a little something to bring the outside in...
You won’t regret it and it will bring a smile to your face.
Kathryn
photo credit: PilgrimageGal
P.S. We can stay in touch three ways:
First, LIKE PilgrimageGal on Facebook and leave comments there (www.facebook.com/pilgrimagegal).
Second, speak privately to me by submitting your questions in the form on the right.
Third, get all the details from the road by entering your email in the box on the top, and receive each post in your email inbox (keep on eye on your inbox or spam folder to complete the process).
I NEVER SHARE YOUR INFORMATION, EMAILS OR CORRESPONDENCE with anyone. They are for my e
yes only.
I'm Fine, Really...
How often do we say, “I’m fine; really,” to friends, family and loved ones alike? I say this expression constantly and got called on it twice in one week.
Read moreTuesday Tip - Wrap Your Way to Comfort...
Since I got so many nice comments about my first Tuesday Tip on bedding and PJs, the theme will continue. But, I promise not every Tuesday Tip will require a hit to your pocketbook.
Today, I’m going to tell you about the most important clothing item in my wardrobe.
My cashmere wraps.
I know cashmere is pricy and it is definitely a luxury item. But, the little wraps are the yummiest, most beautiful things I own and worth every penny.
I wear my wraps with everything in my closet, from sweats and jeans to my fanciest of fancy.
The times they have mattered most is when I have used them as the equivalent of my childhood blanket. I always wear them when I’m all but naked on the exam table of my favorite hospital or doctor’s office. The wraps I have are soft, warm and provide a little bit of love when I’m at my most vulnerable. When you are in one those stupid paper gowns that we are all so fond of donning, a cashmere wrap provides a gentle hug.
The DC metro area is a place of extremes, cold in the winter and hot and humid in the summer. So my wraps are a staple, I wear them all year round. I use them in church and the car as a blanket and cover my summer shoulders in the air conditioning tundra at the store. I’ve wrapped my kids in them as I carried them to the pediatrician’s office.
They are lightweight and delicate, but hold up well to my rough and tumble life. All of them are still beautiful. I get compliments on them constantly.
You can find cashmere wraps a lot of places, but my go to source is Garnet Hill.
(Let’s get the disclaimer out of the way. GH has sadly paid me nothing, not even given me a wrap. Ditto on the friends and family, who work there. Not a one, but wish I did!)
I have or should I say, my beloved husband, has given me a wrap for my Birthday, Christmas, Mother’s Day and one time just because I whined a lot. That covers the four I have (pink, grey, blue and teal) and my collection will continue to grow. I hope they make a bright green one for my Irish national holiday!
GH makes cashmere wraps in a zillion colors, and I hear you, $178 is a little steep, but they do go on sale and I have never paid more than $120 sometimes right at $100. So if you keep change in a change jar, or skip your lunch out for a few weeks you will have saved for the single best purchase in your wardrobe.
http://www.garnethill.com/cashmere-wrap/334124 They just rolled out the spring colors and with the 25% sale til the 20th, I’m seeing some new friends in my closet!
So there you have it. Wraps, love, love, love.
Kathryn
photo credit: Garnet Hill
Tuesday Tip Number One...
So my first ever Tuesday Tip:
My goal for the Tuesday tip, is to give you a little nugget from my Lemonade stand of Life, where I make beautiful lemonade out of the lemons that come my way! These are soul recharging and mental health tips that make it possible to tolerating the intolerable.
Hopefully, a little gem that makes living better and keeps a smile on your face.
So here we go:
My first tip came to me when I was on bed-rest during both pregnancies, and I have continued to use it often. My Mom instilled this tip, and frankly it has been a meaningful one.
I have beautiful pajamas, slippers and bathrobes. My sheets are lovely, and my bedding pretty. They make the days you are forced to be in bed just a little easier. Just because you are in bed feeling miserable doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be surrounded by things you love. AND none of it need be expensive.
I have zillions of slippers, robes and pajamas from Target. I also have been given some expensive ones too, but my favorites all have one thing in common, they have to be soft, comfortable and beautiful. ALL of the linens on my bed came from off-price retailers, I never paid full price, and many were a steal. I also spray my sheets with lavender water, so my sheets and linens smell fresh and beautiful, another little tip to make your bed your “re-charge docking station.”
The idea of look good, feel good is true. So today is the day. White sales are abundant, winter PJ’s are on clearance, this is the time to stock-up. Buy two pairs of PJ’s, and a clearance pair of slippers. Grab a throw blanket on sale. These small purchases, make a huge difference to your mental health when you are not feeling your best.
And frankly they feel awesome on a snowy winter day when you are feeling great, reading a book!
Please keep in touch, your feedback is important to me. Please, keep your comments coming.
We can stay in touch three ways:
First, LIKE PilgrimageGal on Facebook and leave comments there (www.facebook.com/pilgrimagegal).
Second, speak privately to me by submitting your questions in the form on the right.
Third, get all the details from the road by entering your email in the box on the top, and receive each post in your email inbox (keep on eye on your inbox and spam folder to complete the process).
I NEVER SHARE YOUR INFORMATION, EMAILS OR CORRESPONDENCE with anyone. They are for my eyes only.
photo credit: tsmall via photopin cc
My Secret Weapon...
First a disclaimer to my Mom, sorry in advance for the litany of bad words. Yes, you raised me better. Yes, you encouraged higher levels of discourse. Yes, you did send me to Catholic school and the nuns are furious. But, you love me because I speak the truth, right? Ok. Love you, too.
xo,
Kathryn
Well friends, I’m in bed. And it’s NOT the pretty, all puffed up pillows, taking it easy eating bon-bons like 1950 Doris Day movie. It’s ugly, miserable and I’m taking every medical intervention that I can to stay in one piece.
So, in keeping with my theme of retreat, I’m going to share like we are sitting in the Kumbaya circle at our high school retreat. (Little homage to my ICHS girls, I’m so proud to be in your company. I love you girlies).
This is an educational and instruction based post. I will teach you how I tolerate, deal with missing out on my life, when my body shuts down.
I have had a series of horrible/serious episodes based on the balmy weather conditions. I’m stable and under the care of my amazing team. Now for normal Pilgrimage followers this story is nothing new, and sadly my hot husband and Clive Owen look a like, (Jeffrey) and I have managed three of these nasty events since Christmas. So it’s no surprise that my body, has launched me into bed for several days. I have lots of posts on what my ravaged body feels like on days like this. (start here, if you are new to my story: http://www.pilgrimagegal.com/2013/01/the-real-scoop.html)
But, that is not what we are up to today.
Today, I’m letting you in on my Secret Weapon (SW). It’s what gets me through the toughest of toughest days.
Now some of you who meet me, this will suprise you. At first glance, I’m a spunky but well mannered kinda gal. I never let my Beauties say “stupid” or “hate”. I’m a polite woman, I don’t scream at fellow drivers or give them loving hand gestures. My Mamma raised me right.
And that friends, is why my Mother hates my SW.
Now this weapon may be used ONLY, when out of earshot of any minors, If you have school age children then only use it between 8:30 and 3:00 (or after drop-off and before pickup) and never near any school grounds. You may only use it behind the door of your own room, alone in the car, shower, or on the phone with your BFF.
So what is this magic trick?
It’s my favorite word.
FUCK.
That’s right my friends, cover your ears and turn the little people away. I drop the F-bomb a lot. I have a really filthy mouth, when needed. I use bad words about my health all the time. And in running succession, in almost prayer like litany form. It’s genius.
I FUCKING HATE THIS BROKENNESS. Now notice, I did not say my body, I love my body, it is beautiful, we have had some amazing times, and she still has moments of greatness, but I don’t love the brokenness.
I have taken the control back. When I have had a bad day -- I let it rip.
I FUCKING HATE COLD URTICARIA, I HATE BROKEN GENES, FUCKING, AUTOINFLAMMATORY DISEASE, I FUCKING HATE CHRONIC DISEASE, I HATE GOING TO DOCTORS, I FUCKING HATE MISSING MY LIFE.....FUCKERS..... I FUCKING HATE 15 BELOW WHEN IT ROBS ME OF MY LIFE. I FUCKING WANT MY OLD BEAUTIFUL BODY BACK, NOT THIS FUCKING BROKENNESS!
Well, you get the idea.
Whatever your litany is, make it work for you.
I have a dear friend, who uses this SW as well. Our phone calls go like this sometimes...
me: “Hey sweetie how are you.”
her: “Got a second, are you good?”
me: “Yep, whats up”
her: “I FUCKING HATE DIABETES!”
me: “Yep, I FUCKING HATE DIABETES, too. Talk to me! I’ve got your back, I can take it.”
Then we cover the particulars.
Now sometimes we have a contest to see who can say the F-Bomb more in a five minute conversation. And then we laugh, with the seventh grade giggles, till we can’t stop laughing. Because, we are the two most un-sailor like girls you would ever meet.
O’my it is the best. It’s also our mental, emotional and spritual barometer about life. It’s a release, it forces you to breathe, to stop the madness from spinning, for a moment, and you let all of it out. And you reset, you can breathe and you can face the world again.
This release does two things: One it gives you a safe vehicle to vent. Second, and more importantly,
it acknowledges that your life is really hard, it is not fair, this is not the life you deserve or the life you planned for.
But, it is the life that you have to face, make peace with and decide how you will live it.
Will you lie down and let it own you, define you, and dictate your future or will it be the life that you face, challenge and live beautiful, honestly, authentically. You make it your truth. You get to decide how you choose to live.
We use the SW in text messages or outside of the time window by saying, ”insert code word”, because our kids have never ever heard that word, and they won’t learn it from reading our texts.
Saying FUCK or whatever word works for you; I think it is akin to breaking every dish in your house.
Who has the energy to trash all your dishes, sweep them up, go out and buy a new set. Let’s be real that would be a big job. Then of course you
wake-up the next morning shuffle in and while getting coffee you feel a jab in your toe from that one shard you missed, to look down, see blood and say “FUCKING dishes...”
Now some of you may well be skeptical of using the code word, well because at first you giggle when you say it with intention.
But, I promise with practice, it will become your mantra, your way of saying: “HELL no this disease, issue, problem, will not define me, it won’t take my soul and it will never take my spirit.”
You have the power in a body that some days may seem powerless. You OWN this life.
You may not be able to fix your body, sadly maybe no one can. But you can decide how you will live every moment you have. And this “FOOLISHNESS” as I call it, make sure it doesn’t define you, or your life.
Now here is my caveat.
To live well, I urge you not to use this SW on people, it’s about the disease. So whatever the beast is in your life. Mental health, Alcoholism, HIV, Cancer, Diabetes, Broken Genes, Autoimmune Disease. Call it out. But not at a person. That is just hurtful.
Whatever your beast is, don’t let it suck your life, your spirit, your happiness.
Don’t give it that power, don’t become that disease’s BITCH. Make it your BITCH.
Now I know this post is very different for me so please, I urge you, email, leave me a message on
. Give me feedback. Please let me know if this post resonates with you, if it works for you or it just got you to think a little differently.
I remain humbled that you read and share your stories on the Pilgrimage with me.
The DIVINE in me is honored to bow to the DIVINE in you.
xo,
Kathryn
Don't forget I have this super private way of conversing. "Contact the PilgrimageGal..." form on the right. I'm the only person reading them. So give me your thoughts.
photo credit:
via
New Year Retreat...
How can it be that we are already into 2014 and I feel a little behind. Eeek. I have so missed writing these little stories of life on the Pilgrimage; but living has been keeping me on my toes! It is a testament to my life. I’m struggling to keep my footing. The Holy Days of December and early January are beautiful and busy, busy. My family is fine, fighting stomach bugs, and colds, but well.
I pray in your world the same is true.
But, to be honest, with the holidays behind us it is time to be real--they take a toll, I don’t know about you, but I find myself exhausted and dare I say a wee bit weary. January brings the birthday of a very important Irish Princess who turns 8. So no sooner do we say, “so long farewell” to the trio of Wise Men; we say hello to the birthday girl!
So, I find it impossible this year to join the throngs of others; with their shiny new New Year’s TO-DO lists. The LIST of accomplishments that we need to do. To feel purposeful. I have them too; O’ Lord how I have that list. But tell me, how can we start the year off with a LIST, only to know that we are doomed for failure at the first missed day at the gym, first taste of chocolate or missed day of yoga? I’m exhausted. So tell me why should we start off this New Year at such a deficit?
My number one job for January, is to restore.
This year I have decided to do something a little different. This year I’m going to delay the To-Do List.
Instead, I will take the time to restore this mind, this body and this spirit. With warm soup and long days in comfy clothes, I will try out every pair of new slippers given as gifts. A huge thank you to my loves for that!
I will indulge in the candles and books that were gifts and nibble on the last treats. I will love myself into the end of the month and then begin my latest trek on the Pilgrimage.
I have decided to go on Retreat.
Retreat to me is an opportunity of rebirth. As Catholics we love a good retreat. Religious go at least once a year, you go to beautiful, quiet surroundings and you connect with yourself and God. In some ways, it is the equivalent to a professor on sabbatical. Except it is only for a month, week or day or even a few stolen moments. A time where the outside world is shut-off and you focus on your internal life.
Some may see it as narcissistic, but for me it’s survival, I need to slow down this outside world and re-boot. But, my retreat is going to be all year. No, I’m not leaving this world, I will still drive carpool and make dinner. But, with a new focus.
I will use my new favorite expression, “I would love to say yes, but I have to say no.” It will become my mantra and everyone will tire of hearing it. But, say it I will.
So my goals of my Retreat are simple:
Four steps, and if obligations arrive that don’t fit into these goals, well “I would love to say yes, but...”
1. Regain my Spiritual focus: through prayer, reading and relationships.
2. Find religious and education opportunities for my children and family.
3. Work on my physical health through gentle movement, compassionate eating and forgiveness.
4. Detail my journey through PilgrimageGal.
To be completely honest, I don’t even know what theses goals mean yet, it is what feels real; has come to me in prayer and reflection. Maybe that is what I’m mean to discover this year. After all, that is the focus of a good retreat, to not necessarily find all the answers, but to be willing to do the work, and perhaps discover what the right questions should be.
That’s what this Pilgrimage has been all along.
So lace up the walking shoes, the journey is about to begin again anew.
I feel forever blessed and humbled to be on this journey, to walk with so many loving guides, to learn from so many teachers and to be able to share this Pilgrimage with you.
The Divine in me bows to the Divine in you.
Namaste.
Kathryn
Sooooooo, some things to tell you about. I'm giddy! Perhaps it's the green tea!
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via
Thanksgiving as an Active Verb...
My beloved insisted we use this photo: Peeps from a Thanksgiving past...notice Jeff is pouring a drink in the background. And my turkey is drinking ginger-ale.
I have a joke, albeit a bad one, that from the week before Halloween till the day after Miss Norah’s birthday (mid-January), my life is a disaster. I just triage as best I can.
The last few weeks are no exception.
I shared a booth at a craft event with my dear flower girl. I made it one of the two days, my wonderful mom jumped in when I couldn't get out of bed for day two. I've been in bed more than out and I’m not even close to my 50% benchmark. But, as hard as I try to say no to commitments and lock our life down; well it just keeps moving at warp speed.
Jeffrey left last Monday for a business trip and my mom graciously steeped in to help with my four daily shots and ground transport for the kids on the cold mornings. Mind you we just celebrated her 70th birthday and she still works full time. She just told me that for the next three weeks, she is running the company that she works for while the GM is out of the country. We are talking 100’s of employees and she is doing all of that while keeping me afloat. So when Jeffrey returned, he rolled-in just in time to watch Ian go under with the stomach bug. So as I type here in my bed, thanks to my awesome flu shot, on a very cold Sunday and while Ian putters close by; my dynamic duo are attending mass, hitting the grocery and keeping up our appearances!
So that gives you a sense of the world as we prepare to host my favorite holiday of the year on Thursday. That’s right fellow Pilgrimage travelers, I’m a Thanksgiving girl. And it has nothing to do with the meal; it’s the ritual.
I love Thursday because we are all one on this day. It’s the most encompassing holiday for Americans. It’s what unites us in this busy unpredictable present day world. We all want that moment to sit down and look around us and know at our core we belong; we are loved and we are valued. In all our brokenness, in all our dysfunction, we have a spot, a place at the table, a place in this world. That is why Thanksgiving is meaningful to me. At whatever table you sit, it is home, if even for just one night.
I have had Thanksgiving in Seattle, where we had the peeps who couldn't fly home Shrimp Creole and margaritas non traditional Thanksgiving. That one produced some legendary stories (I always think of those very special friends on this day!). I’ve had Thanksgiving dinner at Disneyland, and at my first real job’s boss’ house, and in a seafood restaurant a month after my step-dad died. I’ve hosted Thanksgiving for the better part of the last 15+ years. My mom and Aunt Susan knew before I did I was pregnant with Ian, was on bed-rest with Norah with a midnight call to the OB for my horrible cough that woke the entire house full of family. Jeffrey and I have cooked this meal in countless kitchens and with too many people I love to count.
The only constant at all these meals, my Jeffrey. The guest lists have changed, we have added two beautiful children, we have taken in friends, family, friends of friends, friends of family.
Our table is always a mystery and always a gift.
That is why it’s my favorite holiday. It’s not that we are doing anything that is miraculous. We just open our home and hearts to whatever crazy and delicious meal we roll out to share with an assortment of friends and family.
So when my Mom and Jeff both tried to talk me out of hosting Thanksgiving, it crushed my soul, profoundly. Mom had quietly tried to
un-invite
some people, and wanted us to just have Thanksgiving be the Ferguson Four. But what got me was when we mentioned this to the kids. It was just going to be us in our pj’s with a hungry man frozen dinners... The kids would have none of it, “Are you kidding me, that’s just dinner.
I've
written the thanksgiving prayer, I have place cards to make, Mom. It’s just not Thanksgiving without the guests.“
I realized that I had turned them into Thanksgiving people too!
So this year, as we have for many previous years, we are hosting Thanksgiving. It’s very small, just seven of us.
I've
sadly farmed out dessert and agreed to less food dishes (sorry relish tray, sorry brussel sprouts with horseradish cream sauce). But, I did save my world famous
(the link is worth the read, and the
recipe
has been made by all my previous guests.) How anyone cannot make this is outrageous! How do you say no to cranberries cooked in red wine, cinnamon, cloves and oranges.... Make it, you will love me forever, trust me!
But, up until we sit down, we are always ready for more. You see, Thanksgiving is the most profound opportunity to love.
Every year, no matter where we are, I look down the table and what I see is Jeffrey holding up my world, creating a better one with me, one meal at a time.
So this year as you hustle and bustle to make the world a better place, remember Thanksgiving as a verb--the action of loving, the state of loving, the occurrence of loving.
Because to me, that is what thankfulness is all about.
Happy Thanksgiving, my fellow travelers.
Kathryn
Pilgrimage Gal
photo credit: PilgrimageGal
Halloween, Lists and Life Management...
Halloween was amazing. I’m writing this little post game story early on Saturday morning. In bed as the sun starts to come in my window. At o’dark thirty, my children are already downstairs working on Lucky Charms, candy and the remote.
Wednesday started off with a bang, with Norah telling me her costume was not good enough, that she didn’t have a helmet and that she wasn’t feeling it! Now Joan of Arc was committed to this costume for weeks, and without question she was having “homemade remorse”. So with love and affection, and more love, (please read here that I had a full on Mom temper-tantrum, where I expressed my frustration for her lack of gratitude for my maternal sacrifices) I dropped them off at school and promptly drove to the brand spanking new grocery store a few blocks from home. Now in the midst of all of this fantastic home life, I had made a shopping list of the strange things I needed at the store: Bags of candy corn, 48 cupcakes, deodorant, superfine sugar and Gluten Free Bread (which is always found in the freezer section.)
Now why would I pick the day before the busiest day of the year to try on a new store for size is beyond even me. I walk into this beautiful new Safeway (Vons for my west coast peeps) and feel my heart start pounding, it’s as if they turned the whole store upside down and shook it. Nothing was where it should be. So as I realized that it's freezing in there, I begin my quest for cupcakes, and immediately realize that I have no list. And lord help me if I forget something.... I somehow manage to get out alive with cupcakes, sausage, greek yogurt, m&ms as a substitute for the candy corn I never found, deodorant, three things of mushrooms (I thought I would make homemade soup, no words for that decision as the shrooms now rot in my fridge).
I stumble home cold, tired, frustrated and fall into a puddle of tears.
You see, perfection met my list and it kinda all fell apart.
So a tear filled phone call to Jeff at work, no less, yes he is amazing. An hour later, I’m curled up on the sofa giggling at Kathleen Sebelius getting crushed in House Hearings and two hours later I'm sound asleep, I then slept intermittently for the next 6 hrs before I slept for another 10 and Jeff is tapped to be super parent again. He has pickup under control.
We (my amazing team) are so used to these flares, I sent Harvard a text that just said, “pain is stupid bad, let’s talk, I’m a mess/grumpy” and he knows that’s code for 911, and that I need a quick coach and counsel on my current cocktail. Now the problem with the cocktail is that I have two choices: one take the meds and become a zombie (like the pun) or tough it out and rip the heads off anyone who comes within 100 feet of me. Its not an easy choice. If I need to drive, or pick up the kids, or show up for fantastic Halloween parties, I have a very short window, before the pain overtakes my will; and I'm hurting and there is only time and bed that can help me re-group. Oh and I wake up HUNG-OVER... It’s the worst feeling ever, to wake from a medically assisted sleep.
Now I should go on about the fabulousness of Halloween, how I rode out the pain, made the day spectacular for the kids, partied with both kids at school, one second grade boo bingo game, saw orange cupcake frosting on the faces of 40+ kids; gave out full sized candy for the first 75 of the over 200 kids that stopped by.... But I won’t burden you with my fabulousness and make you feel jealous. Just know that It was amazing!
Friday is All Saints Day a Holy Day of Obligation for Catholics (code for, you head to mass). I was still in my pjs at 1 and Jeff was home from work a little early and I went straight to bed where I never left. And I’m writing this in my same pjs from bed.
Today, I’m celebrating my Mom’s 70th birthday, we have big plans and I need my A game for her. My mother is so easy for birthdays, she just wants to be in the room with her beauties, have a scotch, eat a feast made by Jeff and just delight in us. Its so easy, and I hate that I’m so tired and miserable. I want nothing more than for this day to be fantastic, and she just wants me at my best, but my tank is empty.
At 7:30 last night, the stunningly beautiful, Clive Owen entered my room with toast, tea and a beautiful smile, and he said, ”Do you think, just maybe, that your to-do list may be driving this flare?” “Why can’t you just do simple and good enough, why must everything be fabulous?” I’m gob-smacked, shut the front door stunned. Me and my list are the best commitment I have, they keep me productive, accomplished, and unbelievably fabulous. I mean I only have a few things on my list:
A fancy semi formal dinner to attend next weekend.
Have a booth at the holiday bazaar that requires me to make ornaments, wreaths, lavender sachets, and holy candles.
Have a small hospital procedure three days before the bazaar.
Jeff is leaving on business for a week before Thanksgiving.
Will be hosting Thanksgiving.
I mean who isn’t busy in November.... and I love everything I’m doing sans the medical procedure and I don’t know how not to do them all at the expense of my family. It just makes me want to pull the covers over my head....
I stink at priorities, I want it all, and when I say yes, It is always do-able till the snow ball gathers steam...
I have some soul searching to do... I know it...Ugh, I know it... I really have an over-commitment issue.
But till then, I’m looking forward to the sunshine and Mom’s birthday.
Peace be with you,
Kathryn
photo credit: Courtney Dirks via photopin cc
Living in the Body...
The body is miraculous. We really don’t consider all her wonder when she is operating at optimal levels. Which is like how I think about technology, Lord help me if my wi-fi goes down; or my car
doesn't
start. I have zero and I mean zero patience for system failure. Perhaps that’s why I struggle with my health so. It’s so inconceivable that this body wouldn't work.
For the last two weeks, the weather in the Nation’s Capitol has turned crazy, from darn hot to freeze warnings. And that is not the weather that this girl can take. It has caused me to have cold attacks when a rain storm caught me unprepared and to have my body shutter this week at the huge drop in temps. This huge change makes it difficult for my body to keep up. So my chest pain is excruciating, like a weight fell on me, it’s hard to breathe deeply, to catch my breath and I’m forced to sleep elevated to just breath. That coupled with the arthritis type joint and muscle pain, makes me cranky. I delayed my flu shot this week just because I’m too run down to go for it. I have increased the wonder shot to support this weakened body, but what it needs is to rest, to stay in bed and re-boot.
How many mothers can do that? Not this one.
While I have scaled back life, you just can’t roll up shop. Your family needs the stability. They can’t have a Mom in bed at 3:30 in the afternoon. I picked-up my future doctor after school this week and she looked at me and her first question was, ”Mom are you mad? Because you don’t look good.”
Well I’m glad I put on my expensive lip gloss, what would she have said if I had put on the cheap stuff?
They see it, I see it, my loves see it all, they see the pain on my face. The labored breath, the greyness of my skin at the end of the day. The kids hear my voice get raspy and not in a hot Kathleen Turner kind of way. In a breathing through a wet straw, kind of way.
In a former life, I was the ultimate go-getter, working at the top of my game, being a decision maker and a doer. I was the one you called when it HAD to get done. But, I’m not that girl anymore. I’m the head of the I’m sorry, can’t do that today, maybe tomorrow club. It makes me crazy. I can’t make peace with it. The part of myself I loved most is gone. The get it done, high-heels, ponytail flapping behind me, as I light the world on fire. I love her, I long for her like a former lover, I long for the body that worked, performed at that level.
I think that the hardest part of brokenness, is when you can see it, touch it, taste it, feel it. And you are forced to make peace with it.
And making peace is what we are all called to do. Make peace with our demons. The truest test is to be able to quietly sit in a room with ourselves and be at peace. To tolerate the intolerable, the excruciating, the anger we feel within ourselves. We are called to live this, NEVER accept, but to tolerate.
That is what I’m trying to teach my beauties, tolerate the intolerable. Live through the discomfort, live through the disappointment, live through the brokenness of your dreams and learn what the gift is. It is there if you are willing to be present. Few of us learn in the victories, they are short-lived; it is in the failures that we met our true self.
The real me is not the high heeled pony-tail girl, oh she is a part of me, she is me, but she is the unsustainable me, she is not the essence of what makes me fearless, she was too busy off running, she wasn’t stopping to see the world around her, she wasn’t in awe of the life that she has, the love she has, the people who love her so unselfishly, so perfectly. No, pony-tail girl is too busy trying to be first, the best, shockingly beautiful. She is the selfish version of me, no wonder I ascribe so much attention to her... She is all that and a bag of chips.
But, what she lacks is compassion... And that is what I lack most. Not compassion for others, compassion for myself, for my shortcomings. I just get angry and curl up, and woe is me through it.
That is why struggle is the ultimate key to personal success and growth.
It reminds me of the decadence of a long run, when you get to the sweet spot where the pain lessens and you are in the present, you are the run, your lungs no longer burn you just feel your heart, your breath, in the run, the warm sun on your face, the perfection in the moment, that makes the pain insignificant and the achievement meaningful.
I’m not in the sweet part of the run this week. I’m running up that beast of a hill, and it’s really, really hard, but the crest is coming, I can sense it and soon, oh Lord soon, I will be in-it, the perfection of the run. And things will get just a little easier.
My prayer is that the run gets easier before Halloween.
I have lots of candy to hand out, lots of parties to attend and lots of little goblins, witches; a warrior and a mad-scientist to delight in. So dig deep, my fellow travelers; like I am, find the kick in your legs and get it done. It will be worth it soon...
We are far too strong not to make this better.
And even though I’m broken and you are too, we are still vessels of the Divine, the Divine dwells in me and she dwells in you.
My prayer for you is that you don’t for a minute forget that she is residing, breathing, moving in you.
Namaste (The Divine in me is honored to bow to the Divine in you.)
Kathryn
photo credit:
via
The Power of Touch...
Jeffrey and I were blessed to celebrate our 21st Anniversary this week. As a special treat, Jeffrey and my Mom worked out a plan for her to take the Beauties for the weekend. We dropped them off Friday night and she returned them back to us Sunday morning. Let’s be honest, it was fantastic, decadent and very relaxing. Not that we did anything special, we stayed in all weekend did a neglected honey-do-list, slept-in and watched R-rated movies before 9 pm. While it would have been nice to go away, it was so wonderful to sleep in my own bed, and relax in my silent home!
I don’t have to do a mea-culpa, I adore my Beauties, delight in them, but we all need to re-charge and it was nice to take care of my Beloved and myself.
Added to that, with the government foolishness, Jeffrey and I have had more time together than we have had in years. It has been wonderful, we have gone out for errands and to the grocery and held hands. Holding hands is something we forget to do with kids. You are always holding theirs and I love it. But, there is something so profound about slipping your hand into the one which has held yours for years. They are rougher than they were when we met, and my hands are more inflamed, puffy and arthritic than they were at 21. But our hands still fit, beautifully.
I forgot how much I need them, to hold mine, support mine and trust in mine.
The power of touch.
The power of Touch got me thinking about how we share touches in this germ filled, technology ladened world. I’m a world renowned hugger, I will hug everyone, all the time. I’m also a kisser. Love to give a smooch as well. I’m desperate to feel connected to the world. When you touch another person in a loving, supportive and compassionate way, you are meeting God. You are witness to the true light in all of us.
As parents our children can’t escape our touch, the hugs, the kisses, the brushing of hair, the fixing of clothes... It’s profound. I felt it when the children got out of my mom’s car. They squealed and tore out of the car for a hello Mom hug. I needed it as much as they did. To feel those growing arms around me, to feel the little heart beating against mine. To just breathe in their little smell, that Momma bear feeling...
That is my task for the week.
To touch.
To really get in there and give that gift of the Divine to another, to give of myself. To prove that I walk the walk. The power of touch.
The Divine in me bows to the Divine in you.
Namaste,
Kathryn
Free Falling into Fall...
I love Fall, the break in the DC humidity, the abundance of golds, browns and that warm orange sun; the warm soups, afternoons of green tea with my girls and the settling down with this beautiful family. I love my beauties as they enjoy All Hallows Eve, and the huge table of loved ones at Thanksgiving. Fall seems to allow me to nurture; I get more creative, it is the most fulfilling time of the year for me. I delight in the season change.
But all change comes at a cost for my family.
Fall brings on a manicness that sometimes scares Jeff. He never knows who he will come home to, and what hair-brained project I will have taken on. We have an agreement in our marriage that I will not use a pick-ax or power saws. It’s just to keep him happy. I have no doubt that I can manage them just fine, but we all sacrifice. Some girls have to promise not to hit the high end department stores. I have to promise not to hit the thrift store with a credit card. I always can find a great project that will make me so happy. Jeffie not so much. I can upholster, sand, paint and pretty up just about anything. I love the broken and a little battered.
Last Friday was no exception, he came home to find me unable to move on the couch with six sanded desk draws ready for primer. I had adopted a beauty, a little writing desk, destined to sit in our living room and be the home of all my future writing.
I have serious issues, Jeffrey would say too many to count. But, I have a tiny, tiny little issue with thinking that my body is still in decent shape. My projects are where my brokenness shines. I can feel the adrenaline pump, my happiness grow as I’m in the process of transformation. Unfortunately, while my work may be transformative for the desk, it is not for my body.
And that’s why Jeff found me, gasping for breath, covered in non-pulmonary approved dust, sweaty and in rough shape. Jeff walks in and takes one look at me and doesn’t get mad, just smiles, that are you flipping kidding me smile and he says, “you done?”
Fall brings a drop in temperature that brings on my panic mode. Knowing that soon I will be trapped inside for weeks at a time, with a list of projects that never get finished. When I’m in the cold months mode, I don’t get depressed which is a gift. I’m beautifully resigned to this part of my life. But as with most of my anxieties; it’s the lead up that’s painful for anyone that loves me.
I don’t get up in the night to do projects, I don’t get up early, I just focus my days on things that are imperative. Like a farmer who only has a short time for planting. I can only paint in certain conditions, I always paint furniture outside, with my mostly VOC paints, mask and alike. I find painting furniture a most relaxing and happy pursuit. It frees my mind and spirit. I also am proud to say I’m good at it. The painting may be my therapy, but my dogged determination that this time I won’t succumb, never changes. My friend M and I joke that on my headstone it will say, “wife, mother, friend and lover of all spray paint.” My friends are always happier when they see me outside with my spray paint working on a project.
Norah also loves it! “Mom you are always so happy when you are being crafty!”
I’m Sisyphus rolling that damn rock up the hill. It never changes, I never learn, I never just accept the challenges. I just plow through. It’s no surprise that the paint color I picked for my desk with Norah is named Pollyanna. The gods they are funny, no? I mean that is the honest truth.
Now this determination is vintage my Mom, I have on more than one occasion found her with a scotch in one hand and a heating pad in the other from a similar brilliant albeit simple minded decision. We just get a hair-brained, flat out stupid idea, and we go for it. Most of the time we don’t get caught, but when we do it’s the stuff of legends. Mom just doesn't get caught much anymore, she
doesn't
have a husband and young kids to answer to. There is a great family story about her on the first day home from the hospital after, and I’m not joking, BRAIN SURGERY, and a cab ride without my step-father’s consent about her hair. But because I love you, I will keep that one quiet. Just know at anytime, I can out you! By the way Mom your hair looks great, just saying.
Friday’s activity led to both Saturday and Sunday on the couch. And my irritation grows as my desk sits in two separate rooms unfinished. Staring, mocking me. “You will never finish, you are weak, you are sick.”
And while my inanimate desk continues to speak to me...
Norah gets sick, for the first time this year and she went down, 103-104 degrees; for three days, hard. And that isn’t good. I see it, her brokenness. She hates to be told, NO SCHOOL, NO TENNIS, NO GIRL SCOUTS, and it terrifies me. She was so angry at one point; she was taking her temp and when it beeped and turned red, she rocket launched it across the room. She has a good tennis serve for a reason. Thank goodness we ditched mercury thermometers, that would have been a toxic mess!
I know as a parent I should have
disciplined
her for losing her “stuff”. But, that is not how I run my rodeo, you see, it is crystal clear: I thought good for you, honey. You know that flipping beeping device is your enemy. I get it, it is telling you that you are going to miss your life for a week. A week that your life is on hold, from the things that matter. I get her at the core on every level. Will the female Taylor line of broken genes continue its run?
Will
this be the time that she gets really, really sick? Like 104 isn’t!?!?!
And I ask myself, when I do wake at 3:30am to hear her calling out, fever raging. How am I going to ease this, how do I support this? How do I teach her balance, when I clearly have none. How do I counsel my sweet girl, who is flipping smart and looks at me and says, “I don’t want to be sick like you.” And I hold her in my arms and say; I don’t want this for you either.
My God, I don’t want this for my worst enemy. But, here we sit.
I know this is where faith comes in, that NIH already has more info for me than I have ever had. That they will know more about my disease in the next few years than they have in the last 1500 years. That Norah my future doctor may be the girl who fixes all our brokenness.
But, that is the future, that does nothing to ease the pains of a beautiful 7 year old or of her mother who is holding her.
It’s late and the fever has finally broken, she will return to school.
Tomorrow, I will drop off the kids and head to the grocery store for some much needed food in the morning.
I will also pick-up more sandpaper...
Because, that desk will not get the best of me.
Kathryn
May the divine in me, bow to the divine in you.
photo credit:
via
The Road to Emmaus...
PilgrimageGal Note:
I realize for many of my non-Catholic friends this post and some of my others are very “religiousy” and for some of you it’s hard to relate... If you would indulge me, I encourage you to substitute Christ for your interpretation of a greater power, however that speaks to you. I also use the word “HE” as the pronoun for God. That is really a misnomer, I see God as neither male or female, but
succumb
to years of Catholic education in which we referred to God as “HIM”. To be honest it's just easier to use one consistent choice when I write... My true goal of this post is to remind ourselves that God is with us in ways big and small and to be open to that path.
xo,
Kathryn
Do you ever have th
at moment when can’t find your keys... You go looking all over... Searching... Turning over your couch cushions, dumping your purse, only to go back to the place you started and there they are... In our blindness, we just can’t see what is right in front of us...
I have a wise teacher and special friend who aids me with my blindness... I love when we gather and sit on her back deck, it’s a stillness my spirit knows only with her... We have a short hand together, she sees me and sees through me... Her wisdom, her brilliance, is in fact Christ working in her and I see that as her Gift of the Spirit. While standing in the kitchen today, she showed me a tile, an image from Emmaus. When we parted, always with a hug and a kiss, I recognize that I’m leaving part of me, and taking part of her with me... She always tells me to “go gently.” As I drove-off, I realized that I have been walking toward Emmaus... Emmaus was the lesson I have been searching for....
Luke 24:24-30:
When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks,
broke it
and began to give it to them.
Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him,
and he disappeared from their sight.
For those of you who need a little Emmaus refresher... It’s the road that Christ appeared to two of his disciples after the Resurrection. Some say it’s the afternoon after the girls recognized the tomb was empty. The boys were walking with Christ for some time and only after they stopped, broke bread and chillaxed, did they realize that it was in fact the risen Christ. They walked with him for years, talked with him for years and broke bread with him for years... But, this time they missed it... They never really saw Him... They had a spiritual blindness...
I think as people of the Spirit, we all want to be Paul and have this super-star conversion experience... (Paul, formerly known as Saul, was widely known to have persecuted Jews and followers of Christ as a Roman soldier. It was only while traveling on horseback that he was blinded by a bright light and heard a voice from the light telling him to stop slaughtering God’s people. And from then on, he was known as Paul and one of our most beloved writers and evangelists.)
We are all screaming for the bright light, the drama of falling off our horse, being blinded by God.
But in fact, most of us are on the road to Emmaus... We are all walking with Christ all the time, but it’s only when we sit down, take a break from the journey, have a bite to eat, do we realize we were walking with HIM the whole time.
For some reason, we think that we are not special, precious, beloved. That scores of others are more special, more talented, richer and more successful... That we
aren't
enough... But, that is where we all fall short. Because we fail to see that each and everyone of us has a unique gift, a special purpose and no two are the same. While it may seem insignificant to us, without it, none of us would succeed... We are all interdependent.
That is why faith is so hard for so many... They can’t see it’s simplicity...
Faith is actually very, very quiet... You have to slow down to see, to be present in it. Faith is quiet and simple. We try so hard to complicate it, to make it more than it is...
It’s not sitting in a Church being told that we are sinners. For most of us, beating ourselves up is as easy as pouring a cup of coffee in the morning. No, finding Christ is looking in the mirror and seeing Him in you.
You are the gift. You are HIS beloved, with whom HE is well pleased.
We are all so busy we fail to see that our Gifts are the smile on the elevator, the thanks for making my appointment easier, in my case the skilled phlebotomist who doesn’t tear my arm off drawing blood. That is where I meet Christ. Sadly, I don’t always meet him in my Church lately, with a bureaucracy that is too large and constantly on the defensive... I think Jesus would be turning over more than a few tables if he walked in...
I see the goodness of God all around me... It’s not hard, but it does require you to open yourself up to vulnerability.
If you open yourself up to whatever you call God, you will find that HE is at work... In your coffee shop, at the store, or wherever you are... See who Christ has put in your life... Each person is designed to be a partner in some aspect of your journey... Every lesson, every person fills a part; each interaction is a piece of your mosaic, a tile of your life, like the one in my friends kitchen...
When I look back on the people and places that have left and still leave the most lasting impression on me... It’s what they saw in me, what they taught me... about myself, that has shaped and guided me to today. My Spirit, is on all the time, it’s what propels me even in the darkest of times. Without the journey, with out the steps, this life would have taken me somewhere else...
I understand now, that different road would not have been for the better... I’m learning, more in this brokenness, in the despair that my health has caused me, in the darkness I have learned, that I have grown into the woman, I’m called to be... I have learned that none of us are ever full... We are always searching for the need to feel satisfied. To be full, less hungry, and only when this happens will we be content, happy and fulfilled....
Of course, that will never be, we are in a broken world that can never fill us up... We are here to learn and survive. It is a type of boot camp of the Spirit... Many of the saints were hungry sinful folks. They are the first to admit it, St. Teresa of Avila was sick most of her life, in bed or writing, she was never filled... The list is long... Sick, hungry, searching...
The reason so many of us struggle and yearn to be filled, is that we have moments of the Divine... We can see it, touch it, feel it, but it is fleeting...
When we feel the light on our face, get the good nights rest, enjoy that one great picnic, feel the complete love of our partner, the moment of delight with our kids...
For me, one of those moments is sitting down on Thanksgiving, when we all look beautiful, Jeff has made this amazing feast and I see who has voyaged to our home to break bread with us... I feel the Divine, my Jeffrey looks at me and he gives me his smile that says, I did this for you, he would rather have had a pizza in his pjs with a bourbon and football... But, he did it for me...
We get tastes of it and we are all greedy for more... Just like Saul... If we are truly honest, we realize that the type of fulfillment we want is only with Faith.... The only thing that is sustaining and everlasting.
That is truly why so few of us see that the story of the road to Emmaus, is really about all of us...
All of us are blinded to a Christ, that is simply, quietly, profoundly working in our life...
May your eyes be open on your journey to Emmaus...
Kathryn
PilgrimageGal
photo credit:
via
Week One...
I was always under the impression that Summer is all ice cream, sunscreen, and lazy days...The promise of relaxation, the opportunity to travel, the fun in the sun with the kids...
That never really happened for us and I’m not sure why...
But anywho, without much fanfare, we are back at it... All at once, the school grind, the up early, not in bed early enough, the please eat some protein for breakfast and the chorus of, “yes you do in fact need both deodorant and a shower”, to my 10 year old. Seriously?... Tell me we won’t be discussing this at 20?!
That coupled with some grade A meltdowns, by all of us, had me longing for the old 1970’s, “Calgon, Take me Away!”, commercials.
So here we are the first week back, a new school and new everything. I wish I could say that the transition has been an easy one... But, as I held my sweet daughter in my arms sobbing last night, I knew this was going to be a process... My sweet girl is a disaster, it is all too much.
Too many changes, too much hard stuff...
When you have the gift of raising an old soul, parenting is a little unusual. She challenges me in ways that are staggering. Norah makes me on a regular basis wonder, if in fact we are reincarnated, because she has insights that seven year olds should not understand.
You see she struggles at times, because her beautiful body is seven and so is her heart... So when this beauty understands things beyond her years....it’s her heart that pays the price of youth; and that body, well it crumbles under the weight of years of inexperience. And it usually includes some rolling around on the floor, in a spectacular Oscar worthy meltdown. As a mother it is agonizing to watch...
The cross of raising an old soul.
My seven year old Irish Princess is as much a warrior as she is a Princess... God love her, everyday she is back at it, working on her tough challenges, finding her way.
Last night we talked about the changes and challenges with the new school. She really loves the school, her teacher, the opportunity to get lunch from a cafeteria... She made a sweet friend in the first minute of the first day... All great things for my little extrovert. But she misses the familiar. She misses her peeps, wants both worlds and explains it all so effortlessly...
She wants all of it not to hurt, to feel confusing or conflicting...
She is tired of being uncomfortable. Aren't we all? She loves and hates the change all at the same time.
As we snuggled, her long legs draped across me, her chipped hot pink and glittered toe nails and the tears making my shirt damp, she began to explain to me all of her worries...
She correctly senses, without being told, that her best buddy in the neighborhood, daughter of a Coast Guard officer, will eventually be transferred to a new assignment and city. My Princess just instinctively knows that her BFF can’t stay here forever, and she said, “A and I will never live this close together ever again!” “We just need lots more time and being in different schools takes up my time.” On top of all that, she is tired of answering questions about why she left her beloved school... Her answer, “It’s complicated”.
It’s complicated, who thinks to say that at 7!
And she is missing her “Em”. The worlds best college sophomore, who has from Norah’s birth; held her, rocked her, biked with her, pushed her on a swing, watched her and put her to bed more than any other person besides Jeff and I. She lives for ‘her’ Em, and when Em leaves, its just a hole in her heart where Em should be. The funny thing is, this summer, they didn’t get that much time together, but just seeing her everyday, for a smile and hug was enough...
When Em was leaving for school Norah made her a card, put Smarties candies all over, and gave her the biggest hug... We then sat on the curb and watched her Dad drive her back to College... More change...
Now as a woman of faith, it’s a learning opportunity to teach about living in the present, to bathe ourselves in the moments we share, and not focus on what will be. To live in today. But, how do we teach authenticity when it’s the thing as adults we struggle with too? I’m reminded, that this is why faith is so important to me.... I don’t have half the answers for her, but I’m so grateful that I believe that there is something bigger than this.
We are all called to be present in this life... We teach others, in our ability to love, to be open to possibilities. To our willingness to share ourselves with the world, to give a piece of ourselves to everyone we meet. To live it... To love.
And what I have tried to teach the beauties, is that loving is sometimes painful, truly loving can hurt, but; it is in this ability to love that we meet God, or the Divine. We don’t learn about ourselves in our successes, our fancy dress. We learn and are drawn closer to who we are called to be, in the messy, in the miserable, in the uncomfortable. It’s in the darkest of night that we meet daybreak, it is in the moments when we “give in” and tolerate the intolerable, that we find ourselves. It is the hardest lesson that we face daily... That learning in the messy is what makes us our best selves.
When we look around and see who is standing next to us, who is holding out the hand to pull us up... That is the chance to meet the Divine here on Earth... As Christians it is about seeing Christ in others. All Creeds have a similar concept.
So the question to ask yourself today: is who does that for you? Can you do it for yourself? Or even better... Who are you willing to sacrifice for? Who are you willing to stand in the fire for, who are you willing to get messy for?
For that answer is the truest test, of friendship, fidelity, of honesty.
So, as I walk with my Norah, and teach her that the journey is difficult at times, I squeeze her hand a little tighter, hold her a little closer, and remind her that she never walks alone... I can still see her ponytail bounce as she walks through the school doors and gasp, that she never, ever looks back to see me watch her...because she knows, I'm with her every step.
As you walk on this portion of the journey with me....I pray that your journey is just a little easier...
The Divine in Me bows to the Divine in You....
xo
Kathryn
PilgrimageGal
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Birthday Bliss...
Everyone has different feelings about turning older....
For men it is easy and don’t say its not.
You all look amazing, grey looks good on every guy, it actually makes you more attractive... I can only picture Cary Grant after 40, not at 29.
Which is just annoying. Seriously. My husband is way better looking at 48, (he turns 49 in 48 hours) than at 26.
For women, we struggle... Because in this world, full of the next young thing, where we spend billions on nips, tucks and anti-aging products, we sometimes lose sight of what birthdays really are... Gifts.
That’s right a gift.
Unlike our taxes where we are forced to pay... Our birthdays pay us; and I don’t mean in gifts and cake. They are the hallmark of a life well lived. For those of us fortunate enough to have children; we see how our beauties change as we age. They are smarter, more independent... Some are even lucky enough to see them grow, love and have families of their own. What magic it must be to see your baby hold their baby... To realize that they have followed a similar path...
I mark this August 20th with special fondness, it is the first time in years, where I’m remarkably better this year than last. My health is more stable, I have access to medical knowledge about my illness that my team has lacked for so long. So in many ways, it is the culmination of many hard fought victories.
Last night, on the eve of this birthday, I was frustrated. The path to wellness means, letting go of more medications. This requires tapering down the dosage, and frankly, it doesn’t feel good...
Withdrawal from caffeine, sugar, or electronic devices can be hard. But meds that have been your mainstay for a looooong time, well that is hard too...
The body likes what it likes, and letting go for some is harder than others. I’m very grateful, I have a relatively easy time stepping down on meds, I don’t seem to have the serious withdrawals that others have from my cocktails and sliding my meds thing-up and down has usually been easier than many of my medical warrior friends have with their side-effects.
So when I got cranky with my goto doc Harvard, well it was just out of frustration. I wanted the pain to be gone and the meds too, and its not going to work that way for me. I understand that without a miraculous miracle, I will struggle with significant chest pain for the rest of my life.
Which to be honest makes me angry, hurt, frustrated, confused, and plain old grumpy!
And so, I was grumpy and irritated with the doctor... who walks with me through every mile post of this journey and has never given up or asked for a break. Because he knows as I do that deep down, I wanted to wake up this morning feeling 100%; to wake-up and throw on my running shoes and go; come back, drink a cup of coffee and take the kids for a bike ride, then to the pool...
He took the hit for the team. Because he knows that this is the beautiful reality of my dearest girlfriends... That is the life they can live. But, it is not mine.
And truthfully it really, really hurts at times... I know in my heart, I will improve even more for my next birthday... I also know that things will always be a struggle.
I can make peace with that... This is my normal now.
If wisdom comes with age, what did I really learn this year? How has it made me better?
Well this year I learned to listen to myself: to emphatically trust my value, my ideals, my insights, my passions and my truths. It is a big work in progress. But all in all, I used my voice to call out the foolishness in my own life. I chose to protect and honor what is at my core. I learned to listen to what moves me, what delights me and to move all the rest out for the Goodwill truck that comes often to pick up the things, the people, the choices that don’t sustain my core. That is the wisdom I lacked in my youth.
And the best part... I don’t feel sad or guilty or diminished. I’m just too busy!
I also am learning to make peace with the parts of myself that I struggle with, my anxiety has less of a hold now than ever. I have worked to be honest. When I tell my team that I’m worried about whatever the medical foolishness de jour that pops up, I don’t even consider for a second what they think... It is my reality and I want help to lessen that burden. I have made peace, that my medical friends will always be with me. We won’t break-up; I’ve learned to embrace collaboration, what I can achieve with my treatments, what makes me uncomfortable, what I can’t tolerate.
Like technicians that don’t know how to draw blood... Small commercial; I have the two and out rule. You can stick me twice, and that’s it, you don’t get to dig or fish around looking for the vein. Let me be the first to tell you all, there are some world class stickers out there, they can find my vein when I’m dehydrated, when I’m sick and when I’m well and there are some... Well they need to do something else. You should never leave a doctor’s office with track marks and bruises like a wolverine gnawed on your arm... You can stick me twice, then you need to call for reinforcements.
But, I digress as I’m known to do... But its my Birthday, so I’m entitled. The one day a year when we actually are entitled to something!
I often say I don’t suffer fools gladly and I don’t, I love too deeply. So if you are an asshole, your time with me will be short. All I really expect from folks is to be kind, and if you're not, well we don’t have much to discuss. And by the way, I don’t judge or make fun of anyone's faith or choice to worship or not... So don’t make fun of mine... Just saying, you don’t have to worship with me, you don’t have to pray with me, but don’t diminish my beliefs.
I also am getting better about my sphere of influence and my areas of concern. I’ve got a lot going on in my life... I have a son with special needs, a daughter that needs to be reminded that she is in fact 7 and not 37, a husband who I really just want more perfect ordinary moments with.... So my free time is precious. And my good energy is gold.
I would rather go to the farmer’s market and watch the 7 year old give puppy-eyes to our favorite farmer for not having beets than anything. My girl loves her beets with arugula and goat cheese, seriously, she is 7! She is killing this farmer, cause two weeks running no beets. I’m thinking she is going to have her own beet garden next year. I love making the world’s best peach crisp for my family... That is my free time. And HBO, I love me some HBO... I give thanks for cable everyday.
So as I embark on my 43rd year, all in all I’m grateful.
Grateful for faith, hope and love.
And a life filled with more champagne on Tuesdays, because we can always find room for that!
So if you need a toast tonight, toast for me...
Because, I’m toasting for me, too!
Cheers!,
Kathryn
PilgrimageGal
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Madonna and Child...
I have this beautiful old Madonna and Child on my window sill... A gift from a dear family friend. The figurine is tiny, but perfect. With her chipped paint-giving way to the resin from underneath, you see glimpses of perfection and imperfection all at once...
It is why I love this little statue so completely... She is broken just like me...
We are all broken, some in body like me; others in spirit, or soul, whatever speaks to you, some in other ways that are far more noticeable. But, what makes me love this statue, is that you can be imperfect and perfect at the same time...
It is what makes you whole.
I have had to face my imperfections again and come to peace with who I am. My NIH team found Pulmonary Hypertension in a routine ECHO; this news just stinks. At first, I swallowed hard and was reminded that this diagnosis in its worst case is very serious, but in my heart I know it will be just another annoying facet of Kathryn-ness that is just irritating. Something that requires management and time, and requires some medical folks to breath deeply, before speaking...
I think that is why, I trust and love the doctors who care for me so much... They all just get me or I educate them on the Kathryn-ness of the world till they do. They understand that while medically, I may be a hot mess, inside I’m feisty as ever. Just irritated daily by the limitations my body has placed on me. I love that in the core of who I am; I still fight the good fight and live for the day that I have a great one...
But, still delight in the mediocre...
The world is a very hard place and it pulls many under...
The one gift this brokenness has provided me is that we all live on the razor's edge. When you see that life is really a breath away from ending, you make the breaths count... When you are reminded of this, you don’t worry about what may be the medical thing that ends it... You are also keenly aware of the fact people die driving to get milk...
Time is short, and it makes me have an urgency that frankly others don’t have.
I try my best, I am very human, and I screw up all the time, but I see the world very clearly...That even on the bad days, I find the way to make the day special.
We have been lucky enough to have Jeffrey’s parents here for the week. Jeff’s dad is able to fix or build anything and so projects that have needed attention are finally getting fixed... Our home needed the love. But after dinner, I was very tired and really losing my patience over things that shouldn't have irritated me. A sign that pain and fatigue had moved in for the duration... I explained to Jeff’s mom that one of her son’s gifts is he sees my grumpy, before I really notice... And he lovingly sends me to bed. He just says so beautifully, “your done”. Sometimes it is a joke or a hand gesture that makes me laugh or he just lovingly says to the kids, “time for mommy to head to bed.”
Its our own shorthand on life...
No one is nice all the time, no one has nearly enough patience, we all need a partner... Jeff does that for me... I’m still wondering what I do for him, but its something or he would have kicked me to the curb years ago!
Which gets me back to my little statue...
I look at her everyday, when I wake, when I go to sleep. How did Mary do it? Every time, I’m on this bed, she is with me, maybe that is the purpose. To remind myself that I’m a great Mom, and a wonderful wife... I’m broken, but its in the broken that my perfection shines like the sun...
Mary is what as Mom’s we strive to be... Perfect... But, none of us are...
I will stick to looking at my little statue with hopes of more Divine interventions...
May you see your perfection, your gifts, your love, your true beauty all around...
Kathryn
PilgrimageGal
Photo Credit: Kathryn Ferguson
Ice Tea With A Hero...
I have had a good week.
My meds have all worked together for the greater good. I was able to be a normal Mom for a change and really live up to that billing. I got my growing by the minute Irish prince to his activities in the early morning and was able to pick-him up. While accomplishing all my errands, grocery store runs and making a couple of dinners.
All in all a great week.
And while the DC weather has been dreary, hot and humid, I have visited with close friends and had a visit from our family’s greatest hero. My Uncle Douglas and his bride, my fantastic Aunt Pat.
I feel very blessed to have them both in my life. I can’t recall a moment when I didn’t feel loved by this dynamic duo. They have always been more than generous, thoughtful and so invested in my life. No matter where I lived they have visited, fed me and given me some unbelievably generous gifts. My wedding gift from them, a stunning Waterford decanter, has always been on display in my home. When I opened it, Uncle Doug told me tongue firmly in cheek, always keep it filled... A request that Jeff has been happy to oblige.... The bottomless bourbon decanter.
All of that aside, it is them, their generosity of love, that I have always treasured. Two people who have spent their entire adult life in service dedicated to our country. And what is astonishing about my Uncle, is he is the most humble man I know. He never shares his accomplishments, he is only interested in yours. I can only imagine what kind of leader he was in his Military career, his selflessness for the people who looked up to him. The fantastic men and women who learned under his guidance about leadership, integrity and bravery. We all should be so lucky.
What always has been key is that family has always been first to both of them. They are the best dinner companions and Thanksgiving is always better when they are at the table. My fondest memories have them joining us and they always rave about my man’s cooking. I pray that this year we can make it all come together and that I feel well enough to host. It is my favorite holiday, to sit with my loved ones and delight in my family.
What Uncle Doug has taught me more than anything is how to manage a chronic disease. Our family genetics clearly runs through his mother, sister and now niece. We all have benefited from some of his Mother Ellen’s gifts, but we have suffered as she did with unusual health complications. Uncle Doug has had Myasthenia Gravis for years. As a kid I always thought his eye patch made him seem like a pirate, or a spy... It was cool, I never thought it was scary. But, MG can be very scary and serious. Uncle Doug would not let this disease slow him down, he continued to serve our country, and lead a very active life, including a stellar golf game. And while I wish I could acknowledge all of his military honors and talk at length of his volunteer work, I can’t because he is just too modest.
What I can talk about is that he has managed a serious health issue for more years than he can count. With cocktails of meds, medical teams and alike without ever losing his humor or grace. We laughed when he came to visit, I was sweating so profusely even with the the a/c, so when they arrived, I apologized as they both hugged me and without skipping a beat he said to me, ”darlin, I've been sweating for years...” And there we stood in my kitchen laughing, because it was the gift of our overlapping DNA... We were both sweating! Everything else was fine! And as we both laughed about another shared gift from his mother, we sat down for a lovely visit. We compared excel spread sheets of drug treatments, side-effects, and laughed about our doctors.
Not the classic family conversation, but a shorthand that we both understood all too well.
I think that is why he is my hero... Not for his military service (which is amazing), but for the life lessons Uncle Doug has taught me....
That you can manage health, and still be the person you are; still trust in the future without being foolish...
By loving your family, you can grow.
In serving others you can find grace, peace and strength.
I always feel so blessed when I have company on the Pilgrimage...
Thank you Uncle Doug for holding my hand and walking along...
I love you... KT
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