We're Not in Kansas Anymore... Twelve Observations from Abroad

 I survived my first trip out of the country! Visiting Spain, France, and Italy was a dream come true. Covering that much territory in 10 days necessitated an ambitious travel schedule that involved planes, trains, automobiles, and copious amounts of walking. And most importantly-planning! Thankfully my husband's experience with travel and his attention to detail allowed the rest of us to not worry too much about the details and just enjoy the experience. What a gift!

Nice, France

One of the best parts of traveling is exploring new cultures and lifestyles. Being outside of your comfort zone can be an intense experience. During our travels, there were several things that I found surprising, confusing, interesting, or just downright different.  Some of these differences were positive, others not as much.  Here are some of my observations:

Airports- We traveled through a few airports on this trip.  The boarding process is always an interesting experience but it was more so in other countries. I quickly realized that I could not understand any of the boarding announcements so I would have to observe the crowd to see what to do next.  The people waiting in the boarding area all seemed to stand up at the same time and press forward to the gate agent. What I didn't know was that the line up wasn't to board the plane, but to board a bus that took us to our plane! If there was order to the process I did not see it- seemed like a free for all. I did not love being crammed onto a bus before loading the plane, but somehow everyone found their seat without incident.   

Packing- We did our best to pack as lightly as we could for a 10-day trip, but we still needed a medium size bag for each of us. This caused an issue every time we took a taxi or rented a car because the cars are so very small!  European cars are not designed to hold American luggage. We felt positively gluttonous with the quantity of our luggage but cannot imagine taking any less.  I am not sure how Europeans do it, but they must pack differently or else they own some kind of magic suitcases.  I read all the packing tips- these must be the people who write the articles of how to pack for 3 weeks in a duffle bag! 

Security- While wandering around the airports and cities, I did not notice the same number of law enforcement officers that I would typically see in comparable places.  However, the ones we saw were dressed in military gear, with very intimidating automatic looking weapons held at the ready. There may not have been as many, but the ones who were there made their presence known! I was definitely inspired to be on my best behavior :-).

Florence, Italy

Sidewalks/roads- One of the most unexpected experiences I had was being frequently confused by the difference between a road and a sidewalk.  Walkways that were covered with pedestrians would suddenly turn into a road when a car randomly appeared.  It didn't seem to matter how narrow the walkway, and how many people were on it, at some point in time a car or motorcycle would use it as a road. The upside is that I really enjoyed the ability to walk everywhere.  The downside-I was convinced that one of us would unknowingly walk into the path of a vehicle. Occasionally, the obstacle would be a train or tram going down the middle of the road.  We really had to pay attention!

Driving- Narrow roads, small cars, fast drivers, and unfamiliar street signs made for some interesting drives.  A few white knuckle taxi rides reminded me how much I appreciate lane markers and the general concept of lanes.  I'm surprised anyone in Italy still has side view mirrors on their cars! And I knew to expect more roundabouts (or traffic circles if you'd rather), but wow, I never imagined so many! The interstate type roads were much better and easier to navigate, but not being able to read the signs added an interesting element of "fun" trying to decipher the meaning. I'm still not sure what the Italian sign with double humps meant, but it was everywhere!

Bathrooms/toilets- My daughter had warned me that I would see a variety of bathrooms in Europe.  She was so right! Every bathroom trip required a few moments of analysis to figure out how things worked. Many public restrooms charged a fee so the confusion often started before entering.  The next surprise was usually the toilet. I have never seen such variety! Low profile, sometimes with toilet seats and sometimes not, multiple buttons for flushing (or the occasional floor pedal), sometimes a bidet, unisex public restrooms- you just never knew. I grew to appreciate the streamlined toilet with flushing buttons on the wall, but I was happy to return to "normal" bathrooms.  

Hairdryers- We did not pack a hairdryer due to space and voltage concerns. I won't say that was a mistake, but I did encounter a lot of subpar hairdryers (even worse than in the US).  For someone who relies on a good hairdryer for styling, this was a bit of an issue.  Almost all required you to hold the button the entire time to keep them on.  One was barely warm, one would overheat and shut off every few minutes, one produced a light breeze, one would almost burn your head once it got going.  None of them produced great results, but for once I was thankful that I did not have a lot of long, curly hair to style!

Dinner- No one seemed to be in a particular rush to eat.  Dinner started much later and went much longer. Food was to be savored and meals to be enjoyed which was lovely except when you were in any kind of a hurry!  Food typically came out more slowly in courses, wine was the rule not the exception, dessert and/or coffee were a leisurely event.  No check was ever presented until we asked and that was even if we had been there for hours and the restaurant was closing! It was an adjustment, but it felt good to make dinner out more of a special event. 

Food- I was expecting good food and I was not disappointed, but I was surprised by the quantity and variety of meats on the menus.  I don't eat a lot of meat, so finding something without meat was more of a challenge than I expected.  I didn't anticipate the many ways one could serve  Iberian ham, prosciutto, tripe, wild boar, pigeon, and all kinds/parts of beef! Breakfast was also a gamble. If you ordered the "American" breakfast, it would usually include familiar items in an atypical preparation like bacon that was boiled, or eggs loaded with mushrooms.  In Spain, the local breakfast was very meaty.  In France, breakfast included lots of pastries or meat sandwiches.  In Italy, we had our own kitchen so we opted for eggs, fresh fruit, baguette, and prosciutto. In general, the markets were filled with incredible fresh food so if you could shop and cook that was the best option. 

La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain

Fast Food- I have to say I was surprised by the proliferation of fast food in other countries.  I can't even tell you how many McDonalds, Burger Kings, and KFCs we saw!  Barcelona probably had the most outlets, but they were present everywhere we went.  Right outside the ancient walled village of Pisa (home of the Leaning Tower of Pisa) was a McDonalds!  Bizarre that this is a trend given that the overall quality level and appreciation of food is so high.

Language Difference- I have never been so thankful for the foreign language requirements in high school and college! Between the four of us, we had some knowledge of French, Spanish, and Latin. It didn't necessarily help us with speaking, but it was very beneficial when it came to reading signs, menus, instructions, etc... Once we got to Italy, we had run out of relevant language experience but that is when we started to appreciate the similarities between languages and our communal knowledge (including Latin) served us well.  I am also very thankful that other countries speak English as well as they do.  With the exception of one taxi driver, we never had a problem with someone not being able to speak or understand enough English to get by. 

Similarities- Perhaps the greatest observation was that people are people.  It really didn't matter where we went- people were kind and helpful when needed.  These days it is easy to believe that people from other countries would be "foreign" in some way, but it was clear that even though they did some things differently, they were still doing the same things we all do.  Earning a living, spending time with their families, celebrating the holidays, enjoying meals together, driving places, buying groceries, doing laundry, going to school. There was something comforting about knowing that people on the other side of the world basically care about the exact same things we do.  It gave me hope. It really is a small world. 

Traveling to other countries is eye-opening. Putting yourself in the middle of an unfamiliar land, where people speak a different language forces you to adjust your perspective. Perhaps we aren't the center of the universe, and maybe the way we do things isn't necessarily the only (or the best) way. Seeing another way of life prompts deep questions if you allow yourself to be humble and consider the possibilities of a different way.  I am thankful for the opportunity and hope to carry memories of my travels with me as I go through life.  

Monaco

Life After "The School Calendar"

I think I have a love/hate relationship with routine. 

For years, my life was dictated by the school day and The School Calendar.  I knew what time I had to be awake, what time everyone else had to be awake, what time breakfast needed to be ready, what time I needed to be home or at the school for pick up, what time dinner needed to be cooked, what time practices/rehearsals/lessons/meetings/performances/games would begin and end. Although my days still held many unknowns, there was comfort in knowing the predictable rhythm of the day.

My annual ritual was to get a new calendar and immediately fill in the dates from the school calendar so I would know when the half days, days off, and vacations would be.  My framework for the year was pretty much laid out and determined by what I neatly wrote on those pages.  As I carefully printed (and color-coded) the times and dates of all the individual activities, I started to get a sense of what my life would be like for the coming year.  As a busy mother to two active daughters, I knew that the schedule would present challenges but I appreciated the clarity of knowing what I was in for.  It helped us function as an active family.  In fact, we would have not been able to manage life without it. 

Over time, I also started to resent the power of "the schedule".  Just once I wanted to be able to commit to an appointment or event without checking and double checking the master calendar.  I longed to plan a vacation that didn't fit into the neat little confines of the same days off that everyone else had. But alas, the cost of a misplaced dentist appointment or a carelessly agreed to social outing was too great- one little misstep could cause the wheels to come off the family bus and the chaos that ensued was not worth it.  So, for 15 years or so I lived by that darn schedule.  My kids would harass me about it. 

"Why are you always so obsessed with the calendar? Why is it so important? Why do you always have to check your schedule?"

"Because," I'd tell them with an eye roll, "without that super detailed and annoying calendar, nobody would get where they need to be on time, or at all." 

But the calendar continued to be my lifeline to structure, order, and control; and as much as I hated it the imposed rigidness, I also loved the certainty of it. 

As my girls graduated from high school and I inched closer to empty nesting, I started to get excited about the idea of schedule freedom. I began fantasizing about what I would do with all of my time and how wonderful it would be to sleep past 6 am for the first time in years, or travel in the offseason, or schedule appointments without performing the mental gymnastics of how that would impact "the schedule".  What would that be like?!?

The reality is that after years of a deeply structured life, a life free of the rigidity of a school or work calendar is wonderful... and terrifying.  There is nothing better than the morning when I can wake up at a time of my choosing without having to immediately jump into the chaos of the day!  But, without that structure, the days and weeks can look a bit intimidating at times.  There is a tremendous freedom in filling days how you choose, but also a tremendous amount of pressure.  What am I doing with this gift of time? Am I choosing to spend it well?  Or am I being careless with my days? 

 Another unanticipated consequence of this new phase is that without the commonality of a school schedule, I now zig where others zag.  The schedule that once served to bind many of us is now fractured.  I no longer travel in the same orbit as my friends with school-aged children.  Where we once knew without a doubt where we would be on a Tuesday afternoon or a Friday night, now we can no longer rely on the automatically scheduled opportunities to get together. My fellow empty nesters are also zigging. Visits to college-age students, family obligations, work, and travel pull everyone in new and different orbits. Scheduling is hard.  Friendships can be tested without the consistency of the school schedule to bring us together.  Some survive, some fall away.  

As with all of the experiences in this new stage of life, I am learning from it.  I have discovered that a little schedule and routine isn't so bad after all.  I have observed that I need some structure to my days. What I once relied on the school calendar for, I now have to do myself- plan times for vacation, organize get-togethers with friends, delineate between work and family time, and schedule outings.  "The calendar" was serving a purpose that extended beyond telling me what was happening, it was also serving to give structure to my days, my social life, my edification, and my activity level. The goal now is to develop a routine that not only has enough freedom in it to accommodate a more relaxed and spontaneous life, but also enough structure so that I don't feel like I am drifting through my days without purpose. 

The bottom line- I have learned that I need to BE INTENTIONAL! Whatever I choose to do with my hours and days, it is essential that I create a new routine with purpose and intent. And by creating my own new routine, by filling my days with activities and events that I enjoy,  I hope to turn the love/hate relationship with routine into just a love relationship!

Can You Hear Me Now???

Listening has been on my mind lately- specifically I've been wondering if we have lost the ability to truly listen to others.  Do we remember how to listen to someone carefully for understanding and without predetermination?  We all want to be, but also need to be listened to.  It is a basic human desire to be heard and understood. And when we do not feel like we are being heard, what happens? We tend to make our point louder and more forcefully, or we shut down completely.  Neither action is helpful if we are to communicate with each other effectively. This pattern seems to happen more each day and it concerns me.

 

A few weeks ago I witnessed something that very clearly illustrated this problem. While getting gas, I noticed a woman drive up to the air compressor to put air in her tires.  As I watched her put her money in the air pump, I thought to myself how frustrating it was that gas stations charge for air.  A few moments later, she walked up to the employee who was pumping my gas (NJ perk :-)) and told him that she was having problems with the air.  She said she put money into the machine, but could not get air to come out.  She was concerned that they may be a problem.  The employee immediately responded that she should put more money in and try again. She was confused by his response and told him again that she was concerned that there was a problem with the pump.  He continued to insist that there was not a problem with the pump and that she should put more money in. After a few back and forths, it became clear that he thought she was trying to scam him and had not paid for the air.  At that point, I jumped in to let him know that I saw her pay and had watched her put the money in.  It did not matter, he continued to stick to his point and she continued to get more and more frustrated. Tempers flared and voices raised.

 "I don't understand, you aren't listening to me!  Why would I put more money in a pump that just took my money? What kind of customer service is this? I just need to get some air!"

She was right, he was not listening to her. He was not hearing what she was saying.  He was not trying to solve the problem.  He had already decided that she was trying to scam him and nothing she could say would change his mind. How frustrating! Although I had to drive away before I could hear the conclusion, I would bet that she left without resolution.  

This experience has stayed with me.  I could feel her frustration. My heart rate increased, my face felt hot.  I also saw it as indicative of a bigger problem.  It seems like we aren't doing a very good job of listening to each other anymore. Have you been in a situation like this where you felt like someone was not listening to you? Sure, they may have heard the words, but they were not acknowledging the meaning behind them.  

Why is this such a problem? A few thoughts:

We are in a hurry, so we don't take the time to really listen.  

We quickly determine what we think the person is saying. 

We just as quickly decide if we think they are right or wrong. 

We don't take time to truly consider new information or opinions.

We focus so much on our comeback that we miss the subtleties of what the person is saying. 

We want to figure out who to blame or how to fix it, but not acknowledge the feelings. 

We have a hard time being empathetic if it is not something we have personally experienced.  

We just don't want to listen :-(.

I think about how differently the exchange at the gas station would have gone if the attendant had really listened.  What if he had said, "It sounds like there is a problem. Let me take a look. Maybe I can help." She would have felt heard and respected and understood, and most importantly, helped! If he had responded with empathy, she would not have raised her voice.  She wouldn't have needed to.  

There are lessons to be learned from this exchange.

We aren't listening to each other.  

We just keep getting louder and more over the top trying to make our point and trying to be heard.

We need to do better both in person and online. 

I would be remiss if I didn't point out that listening is always easier when interacting with someone who is speaking responsibly (although that may not always be the case).  We must speak with honesty and respect.  We have to remember that words have significant power and their echoes continue long after the words leave our mouths. We must speak with gentleness, free of insults and judgment that can stop us from hearing differing thoughts or opinions.  Each of us can continue to learn and grow from each other's perspectives.  We won't always agree, but listening with understanding can bring us closer.  We can't help each other if we don't understand each other. 

More listening, less talking.  

More listening, less arguing.  

More listening, less responding.  

More listening, more understanding. 

Join me in trying to be a better listener.  Here are a few tips to get started:

https://www.lifehack.org/577203/the-purpose-listening-understand-not-reply

The Great Exhale

Seven weeks ago we drove our youngest daughter back to Ohio State for her sophomore year.  Seven weeks have passed since we combined all that she brought back with her at the end of freshman year, plus all that she accumulated over the summer, plus all the new things she thought she'd need and tried to develop a plan for finding a place for it in her new room. Seven weeks have gone by since we aggressively packed the van with ALL OF THE THINGS hoping, but not quite believing, that everything would fit.  Seven weeks since we unloaded all of her stuff in the rain, helped to get her settled, and then said a quick and slightly awkward goodbye on the street outside of her sorority. It is not the same sadness as last year, but it still doesn't feel natural.

 Once we returned home, I felt the house let out a great exhale. It seemed to be relieved to be free of the boxes, bags, and bins that had been increasingly cluttering the house and weighing it down. As I went to work cleaning up the remains of the packing and doing the kind of room cleaning that is only possible when said daughter is not around, I sighed. The house was finally clean and quiet, order restored. But in that great exhalation of the house, it breathed out more than the clutter- it also breathed out some of the life and light and laughter.  It is emptier in ways big and small.

In each week that passes, I feel the house exhale a little more.  In a quiet but steady hiss of breath, I can feel the passing of time, the release of more life.  I bag up the clothes my daughter left behind to donate.  In the pile, I see the Hershey's sweatshirt that was her favorite souvenir from our trip to NYC right before we moved to NJ.  I tenderly fold up the outgrown t-shirts from our many family trips to Disney World.  I flinch when I see her high school cheer clothing in the pile.  Wasn't that one of the biggest things in her life not that long ago? I know she has moved on. Hiss...

I clean out the bathroom and am struck by the number of lotions and potions left behind.  I plan to throw out many of them thinking I will encounter the usual pile of dried out sparkly nail polish, Bath and Body Works lotions and gels, and various tubes of lip gloss; but instead, I am struck by the mature nature of what's left behind.  Shampoos specific to her hair type, face creams, a small fortune in "good" makeup.  I end up organizing more than I throw away.  These are adult things.  Hiss...

My husband and I spend a hard weekend cleaning out the garage and all of the many toys and games that once occupied the time and attention of our girls.  Scooters, basketballs, yard games, old signs for lemonade stands, bats, balls, riding gear, lacrosse sticks, sleds, snowboards. Much is given away, but I hold onto the bare essentials. I put them in a bin on the top shelf unsure that they will ever be used again but not quite ready to let them go.  Our garage transformed from the messy garage of people with children to the garage of adults- clean, organized, and somewhat less full of life. Hiss...

I go through my own closet with a new eye for what I will and won't be wearing.  I say goodbye to many clothes that represent a life that I am no longer living.  I say goodbye to the spirt t-shirts that I dutifully bought each year.  I sort through the pile of green and gold t-shirts and fondly remember the fun cheer trips to Disney. I part with much of the more structured clothing that went along with my more structured life. I see the dresses that I wore to the high school graduations of my girls and wonder if I will ever wear them again.  I suspect the answer is no, but I hold onto them for now.   My priority is moving to comfortable clothes that make me feel good and fit this new life I am creating.
Hiss...

We say goodbye to a car- our much-loved Mini Cooper convertible. I remember the promise we made of one day getting a convertible and the excitement when that day arrived.  I think about the sunny days when we would climb in and go for a drive to nowhere, anywhere, but usually, somewhere that ended in ice cream.  I remember driving away from the city lights on a warm summer night and seeing the stars so vividly that we pulled over to appreciate them and were rewarded with our very own shooting star.  I remember the cool air and bright sun of fall days when we would drive to enjoy the changing leaves then fight to keep the top down as the temperatures dropped and our bodies shivered.  I remember girls who used to fit comfortably in the small backseat asking to drive the car one last time. Hiss...

We try to plan a family trip for next summer and then realize it is impossible.  Our older daughter will be graduating from college in May and moving on to unknown horizons. I silently note that my husband and I were planning our wedding at that age and feel momentarily grateful for the uncertainty in her plans! Our younger one will be looking for an internship. Neither one of them knows for sure when or if they will be home next summer.  Hiss...

More life seems to flow out of the house than back in at this point. But, it doesn't feel sad exactly, it just feels like it is what it is meant to be.  Where last year there was sadness and even a little fear, now there is acceptance.  A reckoning is taking place- after years of moving fast, my inner life needs to catch up to the ever-changing outer life.   Now is time to reconcile the life I once had with the life I currently have.  It has changed dramatically and will continue to shift and move in ways both expected and not. Adapting is not optional.

Where our children once provided the life force in our home through their various activities, their lively friends, and their mere presence; now we will be responsible for creating a new life force. What we choose to bring into our home and what we choose to let go of will be up to us.  How I fill my days will ultimately become how I live the rest of my life. The opportunity to reinvent a life is both daunting and exciting.  While I will always be a mom first, now the time has come for me to also think about my own shelved dreams and desires for the future. Who knew I'd be trying to find myself again at 51!

These days I find myself sighing a lot.  It is not a sigh of frustration or sadness, but more a sigh of acceptance.  My deep exhalation is a way of releasing the old and making room for the new.   My daughter will be home soon for October break.  I will enjoy every minute with her and then I will put her on a plane back to her new life. I will wipe away a few tears and then I will return to my new life. The comings and goings.  The packing and unpacking.  The sweet hellos and the sad goodbyes. This is the new normal.

 The house will take a deep breath and exhale again and again. And so will I.

It's Life Changing!

We were sitting at our table in Colorado pondering the many choices on the menu when the young lady sitting next to us declared that we MUST try the Chicken Tinga Tacos. 

 "Are they good?" we asked. 

 "Life changing!" was her response.  

Life changing? Wow! That's a pretty high bar.  But her recommendation was intriguing enough to make us try the tacos! Now it's quite possible that the young lady who offered the suggestion was more than a little bit "altered", and this may have colored her enthusiasm but still, we heeded her advice.  Who can turn down life changing tacos? I'm not sure the tacos quite lived up to the bar of life-changing, but it did start an interesting line of thought.  If the Chicken Tinga Taco was not life-changing, what was? And what does life changing really mean?

There are a few major life events that are indisputably life-changing: getting married, having children, getting divorced,  moving, being diagnosed with a major illness, experiencing a change of job, or losing a family member or friend. There is no way to get through those events without experiencing major change. But is it possible that other smaller things can also change your life? 

I think so! We live most of our days in some form of a routine.  Many people are comforted by regular habits and they feel good knowing that there is some repetition to their days.  I am sure this is why many of us have the same morning routine, or eat the same breakfast, or go to the same restaurants, or even wear some version of the same thing each day.  It brings order to a chaotic world.  It limits decisions in an environment where the options are endless.  But sometimes these routines move beyond comforting. We can become unwitting slaves to the routine.  Our lives can become stunted. We realize we need to do something different even if we don't quite know what that is. This can be the moment to change something. One little change can definitely start to change your life.  Change can be a big event, but it can also be a series of small changes.

Traveling to new places can change your life.  You don't have to fly across the country to see new places.  Exploring your area with fresh eyes can do that.  Seeing images and scenery that you've never seen before expands your world.  Trying new foods expands your palate.  Going on new adventures takes you out of your comfort zone.  Talking to people you may not otherwise interact with broadens your outlook.  Reading a book can inspire new action. We don't always realize or believe that we need to change our lives, but the truth is we should always be looking for ways to do so.  Changing is growing, learning, improving, and becoming more knowledgeable of the world around us. We should not let the comfort of our daily lives and routines prevent us from opening new doors and exploring different viewpoints.  On a daily basis I may retain many of my personal routines but over the course of my life, I hope I find ways to keep changing. I want to continue to increase my knowledge, understanding, and experience of the world around me. 

So yes, in a way the Chicken Tinga Taco did change our lives.  Maybe not in the way we thought, but it did change us.  It caused us to try something new and expand our horizons, and take a chance on something unexpected. Anytime we choose to zig when we would ordinarily zag, we are changing our lives a little bit.  These little changes add up over time.  They make us more adventurous, open-minded, flexible, tolerant, patient, and understanding. We may not always have the ability or desire to make BIG changes, but there is great power in the small ones.  Let your life be changed one Chicken Tinga Taco at a time!

*As a footnote: If I had to pick one food item from this trip that really may have been life changing, I'd have to go with the beignets from "The Lost Cajun".  Warm, fresh, light as air, and dusted with powdered sugar that melted into every bite.  I've had them before, but never as good as these. They were worth every powdered sugar spot on my face and clothing.  From now on, I will seek out beignets wherever we go and compare them back to these delicious examples- that is indeed life-changing :-).

You Want Me to Do What?!?

Shoulder taps, nudging, prompting--all are different ways of trying to explain the feeling of being told to do something by a voice within other than your own.  Some would view this as the prompting of God or the Holy Spirit, some would call it an inner voice, or some form of intuition.  This week, I watched a short video of a man describing a beautiful encounter he had when he listened to that "shoulder tap".  I encourage you to watch it here.  I will summarize below if you are unable to watch.

This man was out to dinner when he felt an internal nudge to tell the elderly woman sitting near him that she looked beautiful.  He felt rather strange going up to a stranger, but decided to listen to the inner voice. On the way out he stopped at her table and told her, "In case no one else tells you today,  I just wanted you to know that you look lovely." In the emotional exchange that followed, the woman revealed to him that it had been one year since her husband had died and that was the exact thing he would have said to her.   Tears fell.  Hugs were shared.  He followed the prompting even though it would have been easy to dismiss it. As a result, both were blessed by the exchange. Thankfully, he chose to respond to the shoulder tap. Sweet, but powerful story.

Have you ever had this happen to you? Have you been on the receiving end of a perfectly timed phone call or conversation that was out of the blue but EXACTLY what you needed to hear? Have you felt the unexplained nudge and acted on it? Have you made the call or responded to the internal request even though it seemed strange, or inconvenient, or even a little embarrassing? It really is like lightning in the bottle when it happens. There is no way to explain the randomness of the thought or the specificity of the act.  While I can think of several times that I have experienced it either on the giving or receiving end, there is one time that will stick with me forever.

Back in the summer of 2005, my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer.  It was bad, but he was fighting a good fight and doing pretty well all things considered.  By January 2006, he made the difficult decision to stop treatment.  The prognosis was not good, but no one could put an expiration date on my dad.  In February, he decided to make a solo trip from Florida to Pennslyvania to see his extended family for several days. I was living in St. Louis at the time and considered meeting him in PA, but it was logistically difficult to make the trip and we had already made plans to see him in Florida in just a few weeks.  My sister decided to go, so I once again considered joining them but still didn't feel like the timing was right.  Uncharacteristically, my dad called me a few times during the trip to let me know how much fun he was having.  Tempting, but still I was comfortable with my decision to wait until March to visit.  In a moment that I recall with great clarity, I woke up on Saturday morning with a very clear voice in my head saying "go".  I briefly tried to dismiss it with all of the difficulties that this trip would cause, but the voice was so strong- "GO"- that I decided there was no option but to go.  Obstacles fell away as we packed up the family and drove to Pennsylvania to surprise my dad. We had a great visit--lots of stories and laughter, much love from the extended family around him, and all of his favorite foods. It was truly a blessing to have that time together.

What I couldn't have known then was that he would take a sudden turn for the worse right after returning home and pass away days later. Despite all of the physical evidence to the contrary, he did not live until our scheduled visit just a few weeks later.  Had I not listened to that nudge, had I not listened to the voice that said "go", I would have never seen my dad again.  

That was a pretty significant shoulder tap.

I am so thankful that I listened.

I would agree with the man in the video- my dad and I were both blessed by my obedience.  I wonder how many times I have ignored the shoulder tap, or tried to explain it away using logic and excuses.  How many people have missed out on a special moment because I didn't pay attention to the prompting? And how many moments have I missed out on because others did the same?

Regardless of what you call it or where you think it comes from; it is important to listen for those moments.  Know that by making the choice to respond you may share the perfect words that someone needs to hear at the exact moment they need to hear them, or you may compliment a person in a specific way that will make his/her day (or year), or you may hug someone who hasn't had a hug in a very long time, or you may even hear direction that could change your own life.

We are all busy and distracted, but listening to that inner voice may be the one thing that we should always make time to do.  It may feel awkward and uncomfortable. The direction may even be confusing.  But, the shoulder tap really has the power to change someone's day or even their life.

And the really beautiful part is that you will both be changed in the process.

Listen. Respond. Be a blessing.

The Magical Summer Nights of Walking and Waiting

This quote has been rolling around in my mind since I first saw it.  How could one sentence so specifically capture the essence of my youth! There is something in those words that speak to a very specific time in my life- a time when I was no longer a child, but not yet old enough to have the freedoms of a teen.  A time when the possibilities seemed endless, but the reality was much smaller and less glamorous.

I grew up in a traditional suburb in Indiana on the southern tip of Lake Michigan.  It was too big to have the charm and accessibility of a small town, but not quite big enough to offer the excitement we thought we needed as precocious teens. My home from 4th grade on was in a neighborhood of two streets- two cul de sacs to be exact.  I can't say exactly how many homes there were in my subdivision- I'd guess 20-30, but I can tell you that I knew everyone's names.

 One of the great things about my neighborhood was that there were a lot of kids, many around my age.  I was lucky to have a girl one year older who moved in across the street from me. We were fast friends and found ourselves hanging out a lot.  Carol (forever to be known as "Carol, who lived across the street from me") and I were always looking for something to do during the summer.  Because this was the 80's, we did our fair share of "laying out", watching "All My Children" and "General Hospital", and thinking about important hair questions like to perm or not to perm, Sun-In or lemon juice. (For the record, I unwisely said yes to both.)  We made cookies (chocolate oatmeal no bake and chocolate chip with twice the dough, half the chips), we made popcorn (with cheese on top). But in the evening, our favorite thing to do was walk the streets of the neighborhood.

We walked the streets each night in a cloud of bug spray filled with anticipation that maybe, possibly something exciting would happen in our little suburban enclave.  It rarely did, but that didn't stop us from hoping! On a good night, if we were lucky, some of the neighborhood boys would also be outside and we would entertain ourselves by watching them play frisbee or throw shoes at the bats flying around the street light.  Sometimes we would join forces and hang out together. We would spend our summers falling in and out of crushes with the boys and their friends. These crushes were usually not reciprocated, but we were optimistic that this would be the night they finally saw us in a new light.  We walked and talked about life, we mused about our typical teenage problems that always seemed bigger than they were, and we poured over other things that were actually pretty darn big even by adult standards.  We tried to solve world problems when we failed at solving our own. We took in the beauty of the summer nights- ample stars, full moons, meteor showers, lunar eclipses.  We ate snacks outside, we sat on the curb under the maple trees and talked to our neighborhood friends life and our thoughts on the future.  And still, we waited for that magical something that was going to transport us from our boring lives in the cul de sac to a new world of excitement.

What we didn't know then and I suppose we couldn't possibly have known with our limited perspective, was that THIS -all of those boring nights walking the streets- would be what we would remember many years later.  The great excitement that we were waiting for never really came around. Eventually, there were boyfriends and cars, jobs and school, colleges and moves.  And while I certainly remember those bigger moments, it is the nights of walking and "waiting for something better" that stand out most in my memories.  Those were the nights that we wished away but also thought would last forever, with friends we knew we would always have. In that magical time, before real life kicked in, we were making memories that were leaving deep imprints on our lives. Those are the moments I wish I could relive.

One night our group watched the great movie "The Big Chill". When it was over, in a rare show of sentimentality we all agreed that would be us in 20 years getting together (minus the dead friend) and hanging out like old times.  If only... We scattered as we went off to different colleges, still getting together here and there but not in the same way.  Then, my family moved to another state- severing the physical connection to my old neighborhood, but not the emotional one.  Our post-college lives led us to different life choices- marriage, grad school, jobs- and various geographical locations. With our physical separation came the inevitable emotional separation.

I miss the old neighborhood.  I miss knowing the names and stories of all who lived there. I long to hang out and walk the streets with my old friends.  I imagine that Carol's dad would still offer to spray us with bug spray before we hit the streets. I think we could still find a frisbee to toss around and a curb to sit on. I know that we would still find big things to discuss and world problems that needed our attention. Under the soft glow of the street light, we would still see our carefree teenage selves and not the middle-aged people we are now burdened with the reality of careers and marriage, children and aging parents, money and disease.  As Carol's parents- one of the last to remain in the neighborhood- prepare to move, even the idea of this reunion becomes more distant.  Our final connection to that time and place will be lost and that makes me feel a little sad.  But, I am also thankful that my special memories allow me to take those little field trips in my mind. In my daydreams, I am happy to be 14 again and this time I know to stop waiting for something more exciting to happen, to pay more attention, this is it- savor it!