Musings on Night in a Car

 Last night I participated in Night in a Car to benefit Bridge of Hope Centre County by bringing awareness of the family homelessness issue and raising funds for the organization that has meant so much to me for almost a decade. We have struggled for several years to find a fundraiser that is lucrative and reflects our mission. 

I want to share my reflections here so I don't forget the impact of the experience but also to provide for anyone who has chosen to read this post, a description of what we experienced. And in this way, I won't intrude on anyone's social media scrolling because, admittedly I feared that doing another live video or even general post could be annoying. Because I know I get annoyed when I feel bombarded like that.

As a disclaimer I want to clarify that although I spent one night in my car, in a safe parking lot, with people who are also serving the organization, I am very aware that we only experienced a very small glimpse of what it might be like to be living in a vehicle without a home to settle into at night.

Going into the event, I was actually feeling a little bit excited - not just because we would be hopefully hitting our fund raising goal but because it would be a little like camping. We arrived and there was excitement in the air. We had been granted the lobby of a local church to set up our snack/beverage table and the use of the parking lot for sleeping. We had a food truck there, hoping to draw some community people out for food and who might become interested in our mission and want to become involved in our work in some way. The food was delicious, but we were the only ones purchasing from the truck. And still, the owner donated to us from the proceeds of our small group. He couldn't possibly have made a profit and still chose to donate. That was powerful.

We had a brief period of programming, including hearing from one of our recent graduates from the program, sharing how being a participant in the program impacted her. I had heard her story before, but she said something that would later come back to me. In her comments about how moved she was that we were doing this to help "people like me," she said, "There was a time that sleeping in a car would have been a luxury." Because even having a vehicle in which to spend the night was more than she had. 

To organize my thoughts, I have been thinking about the ways in which this experience may have been like the real life experience of homeless families and the ways in which I recognize, it was likely not like their real life experience.

What may have been similar:

• We had no control over the weather. And it was cold!
• We had some cars with several family members in the same vehicle, so space was crammed
• We were invisible - there was a large conference going on at the church into the evening. Not a single person from that conference or its staff stopped by to get information about us or our event as they had dinner in the lobby or as they left for the evening. I would imagine that homeless families also feel invisible or ignored.                                                                                                                                                                                                                              That's about all I can think of that might reflect real life.

What was likely not similar:

•  We were only doing this for one night. And we chose to do it. Those who live out of their cars usually have no choice and live it for longer than one night.
• We had the opportunity to load up with blankets, layers of clothing, and fill our gas tanks so we could heat our cars if need be.
• We had a brightly lit lobby where we could get warm, have a snack and hot beverage, and use clean bathrooms. 
• We were surrounded by other people we knew to be safe.
• We had the opportunity to socialize with each other because we had a place to do it. You could even say there was an element of fun - coming largely from our excitement over being able to do something to make a difference, but also because many of us are board members together, who, due to Covid, haven't met in person for a very long time.
• The families whose children participated were two parent families. Which allowed adults to take turns being in the cars and allow for socialization, warming up or even using the restrooms. Most homeless families (80%) are headed by a single mother, who may not feel safe to leave children sleeping in the car should she have the need to use a restroom.
• We had some breakfast foods waiting for us for the morning debriefing.
• We would be returning to homes once we dispersed. We would not have to find some other public place to spend our day. 
• Most of us would have some opportunity to catch up on the missed sleep at some point today.   
• Without a place to conduct a typical bedtime and wakeup routine, things may be displaced. Like my bite guard that I accidentally threw away because I had wrapped it in a napkin to be able to attend the breakfast meeting.                                                                                                                                                      I suspect I have missed some key differences but that's what came up for me for starters. What was MY personal experience? I'm so glad you asked!            I had signed up for the 12-2 shift of "security duty" - basically just staying awake and keeping an eye on the cars and the lobby. So when I went out to my car, it took a very long while to get settled. I thought having an air mattress would have me all set up to be comfortable. I was wrong. I didn't get the chance to heat up my car because when I started it, my headlights wouldn't shut off and they were shining onto another car so I had to settle in with the car already somewhat chilly. It was raining (very cold rain) when I went out. I was well layered with heat trapping clothing but the number of layers presented a problem when various layers of elastic dug into my skin. And my nose was cold. Tossing and turning in a nice comfy bed to get to a good position for sleeping is tough enough - attempting it on an air mattress in a cold car is another thing. I turned on my usual sleep story lady and one of her first sentences was "just as your body needs a comfortable bed, so your mind needs a place to rest...." and I thought, "How ironic. My sleeping place isn't comfortable, and my brain is also racing with all the thoughts of how tired I was, how uncomfortable I was and what would this be like on an ongoing basis, with children, where they had to go to school the next day and I would need to be able to work and function at a job? And the thought shared by our participant that even this would have been a luxury......wow. Just wow.  Without my cpap machine, I kept waking up - basically, the first hour and a half were just snippets that alternated between dozing and changing position until I think I just got so terribly tired that I actually went to sleep. Only to have to wake up 2 hours later.                                                                                                                                                                                                           I can only imagine that having to live like this for any period of time would be a significant detriment to someone's mental health and physical health. I cannot imagine the fortitude required to get up every morning and choose to persevere. Although I am certain there will continue to be emotions that surface for me over time, I am grateful for what I have, while also feeling guilty for the things I take for granted. I am proud of the work of Bridge of Hope. I am amazed, humbled and so very very thankful for each and every donation that came in, and not just for my car ( and I am completely floored by those!) but for the whole event. We are very close to our goal, which will help us to bring one new family through the 2 year program. We will still be accepting donations through the end of March, so if you didn't get to donate, or know someone who would like to, you/they can visit  https://centre.bridgeofhopeinc.org/ and find the Night in a Car fundraising event.
• If you made it this far, my sincere thanks. 
• Until next year's event, my other posts will be about other things - like the monthly Christmas countdown! :D keep those rolled eyes emojis coming!                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

This is Not One of Those Times

 

You know how we sometimes look at a difficult situation and tell ourselves, “Someday we’ll look back on this and laugh?” Well, this isn’t one of those times.

To continue reading, I would ask that you work hard to suspend the very legitimate questions of “What the heck is wrong with you? How could you be so stupid? What were you thinking?!” 

On October 5^th, there was a voicemail left at my office stating that the Cumberland County Sheriff’s office needed to speak with me on a legal matter. I returned the call on Friday the 8^th and left a message. I know several people in Cumberland County, so there was plausible reason that they might need to speak to me – especially since I am a mental health therapist.

On Monday, October 11^th, I called back and the call was answered. From that moment on, I was caught in a scam by men impersonating law enforcement. I was told there were two warrants for my arrest for charges pertaining to not showing up for jury selection and then contempt of court for not responding to the warning about not having shown up.

I want to pause here for a word about trauma and how it affects the brain. When we respond to perceived danger, our cognitive/ rational brain goes completely offline and we function exclusively from an emotional state also called the reptilian brain, in which the limbic system is activated. You may have heard of fight or flight. Well, there are two other coping responses to traumatic situations – freeze and collapse. In those moments of fight, flight, freeze or collapse, there IS NO RATIONAL THOUGHT POSSIBLE. I was immediately plunged into a frozen state. The emotions that took over?  Terror.  Desperation.  Sadness.  Fear (of making a misstep thereby worsening the situation). Concern – for people who had been trying to reach me all day and not knowing why I wasn’t answering. Guilt and Shame for what I had apparently done to break the law. Embarrassment.

 I have now labeled this ordeal A White Collar Hostage Situation as well as Coerced Identity Theft.

So, operating in a frozen state, I began to comply with the directives I was given – to save myself from arrest, felony charges, and subsequently potentially losing my means of income and other far reaching residual effects. These men knew the legal and law enforcement vernacular, gave me citation numbers to write down, etc. The following is what I can remember and a hopefully concise series of events:

1.       Do not hang up the phone. Get in your car immediately and start driving toward the Cumberland County Courthouse and I would be given directions on the way.

2.       Do not call anyone or text anyone – in fact, when I cracked open a bottle of iced tea, they admonished me again about texting or calling – stating it was illegal to do that while driving.

3.       Go to my bank and withdraw funds for bond that would allow me to enter the property without arrest, so that I could dispute the charges and remove the warrants. The bank was closed due to the national holiday so they instructed me to go to an ATM and using as many debit cards as I had, to withdraw as much cash as I could.

4.       Go to a Sheetz or Rite Aid and put the money on Green Dot MoneyPak cards – warning me to disregard the statement on the back of the card that they cannot be used for legal purposes, and also warning me to be careful about possible citizens arrest by the Sheetz employees. I was to keep the line on speaker phone as I did these transactions.

5.       Go to Walmart and make purchases of small items, one at a time and get $100 cash back with each transaction. Repeat the process with the MoneyPak cards.

6.       Continue the trip to Carlisle and go to the Carlisle Walmart to repeat the process. At various times during the trip, they changed the amounts I supposedly needed and scolded me for changing my mind about paying the full amount and agreeing to subsequent court dates. Once in Carlisle, they sent me to 3 different places to put the cash on the MoneyPak cards. By this time, my debit cards had been shut off. They said they had everything they needed on the “state side” but there was a hold up on the federal side and they were transferring my call.

7.       I was then greeted by someone claiming to be a federal marshall who told me there was an additional amount owed and that I could do so by taking my credit card back to Walmart and purchasing Apple Pay cards. I was told to “calm down” when I broke down because he “was trying to help me.”

8.       After that transaction and because my cards were all shut off, they asked for all the information in the world that any person in their rational brain knows not to give. But I was not that person in that moment. I was now 7 hours into this hostage situation – I was tired, afraid, devastated, hungry and bracing myself for spending the night in jail. When, thanks to the security features of my bank and the national holiday, they could not get any more money from my accounts, they told me to go home, and they would email documents for me to sign and scan back THAT NIGHT. I was to keep the line open so they could ask me questions as they filled out the paperwork.

In total, I spent 10 hours in this state. Often tearful, completely fearful and even at times marveling at how robotic and numb I felt. It felt surreal.

Once safely home and realizing I had been scammed, I went through the motions I needed to  - calling credit card company, calling the real Cumberland County Sheriff’s Office (who incidentally stated they knew these things were happening and really did nothing to make a report), changing usernames and passwords and shutting off my debit cards.

 This is not an easy story to tell. I still feel very stupid, embarrassed, ashamed. Every time I have to call someone to continue this process of cleaning up the mess and have to share all the info that I actually gave to the scammers and tell them the instructions that I blindly followed, it brings back all of those emotions. And I break down, all over again. I liken it to someone who has been injured by shattering glass – they tell how slivers of glass continue to come out of their skin for sometimes years to come. Every time I think of something that was said or requested, where I should have known better, there is a stabbing pain in my psyche. Another therapist with whom I shared this story said, “They deprived you of what you needed to make different choices.” And while that is some comfort, I am still prone to all of the emotions I just mentioned.

So– why am I sharing this?

First –It’s a therapeutic process. I am hoping that getting it all out on “paper” will get it out of my head so I can begin to recover.

 Second, it is a cautionary tale. Please don’t think it can’t happen to you or someone you know. I would consider myself a relatively intelligent individual who also possesses a reasonable amount of common sense, but when that moment of terror took over, I was truly robotic. Any time I had a ping of “I didn’t think this was how police matters worked,” my fear took over and I wanted to avoid any further legal implications.

Third, if you know someone who has endured a trauma, please please resist asking the questions that a rational person wants to ask. Those listed above as well as things like, “Well, why didn’t you try to stop it? What were YOU doing that contributed to the situation? Why didn’t you call someone or check the facts? Couldn’t you have just said no? Aren’t you over this by now?”

There is very real reason victims of assault, abuse and other traumas cannot recall details chronologically or completely accurately. Please don’t retraumatize them by processing the story from your cognitively engaged brain.

Remember in high school and college how you had to attend labs to see the application of the concepts? This experience has felt like a lab in neuroscience and trauma for me. I have a good bit of book learning about the impact of trauma. But this – having lived this situation drives the point home in painful and frustrating ways. Here’s what the ongoing struggle has looked like this week:

-          The sometimes overwhelming feeling of having been violated.

-          3 days lost income – 1 for the ordeal, 2 to start making reports and freezing accounts etc and 3 because I cannot complete a coherent sentence nor comprehend what is being said to me much of the time. People don’t want to talk to a therapist who can’t listen or speak.

-          Extreme exhaustion. I make one phone call or report and I feel like I can’t go on. I have periods of the collapse response noted above.

-          Episodes of nausea and weakness.

-          A headache. Probably from stress. Probably from crying. I am crying a lot. It’s starting to be fewer and further between, but I’m still crying for “no apparent reason.”

-          The reaction of family and friends reminds me that there is something much deeper and more sinister that could have happened, and I can’t even think about imagining those possibilities because I am trying to function.

-          I still can’t get a straight answer on some things from one of my banks, despite having talked to 4 different people and have gotten 2 promises for callbacks that haven’t happened. And that’s where most of my remaining money is and I cannot access it. I am waiting for a new credit card and new debit cards but can’t get them for the one bank until I open new accounts, for which I have to have an appointment and they can’t get me an appointment.

-          The scammers tried 2 more times to call me the next day- creating renewed panic.

-          I am afraid to be home alone – which is something I usually relish.

-          I am fearful every time my phone rings.

-          I am trying to keep my anger at bay because I know it doesn’t hurt anyone but me. But I know anger would be a very valid response.

-          My usual aches and pains that go with my age have been magnified the past few days. Everything hurts almost all the time.

 I do want to state for the record that the State College Police Department has been amazing. When I had to share the most painful information with the officer who met with me in person, I said, “I don’t think I could be more embarrassed and ashamed if you paraded me naked in the town square.” And he answered, “Ma’am, there would be a lot of naked people out there with you. This is happening to so many people.”

So I implore you, don’t let your loved ones or you become another victim in this evil. And please be kind to those experiencing trauma of any kind.

I truly doubt that there will be any silver linings in this. And I definitely cannot imagine looking back on this and laughing. But there are things for which I am grateful – the support of family and friends. I am thankful to have arrived home safely. And, I guess, for the first time, I am grateful that I am not a wealthy person.

Thanks for reading – please take care of yourself and those you love!

The Virus

I feel like I should write something to mark this historic event.  Not so much for anyone else's benefit, but for my own marking of the passing of time - of the major event that is changing the world this year. 

I am a frustrating and confusing mish mash of thought, emotion and spirit.  I am caught somewhere in the conundral (not a word, I know) spectrum between wanting to impact the world and wanting to fold in on myself and turtle (now used as a verb) in on myself, in pajamas, under blankets. 

When our little part of the world went into lockdown, quarantine, stay at home - whatever you want to call it, I welcomed it; partly because I am an introvert and I longed for some time at home, away from my busy schedule, to do what I wanted to do.  I also welcomed it because just prior to the virus heading to the United States and these orders (or guidelines) going into place, I was feeling pretty completely burned out by my life. Frustration with people, really beginning to dislike certain parts of my jobs, dealing with chronic pain for which I could get few answers and little relief which caused seriously disrupted sleep - all of these were piling up.  So for those first two weeks that schools were closed, I sat on my can, in my pjs - often until late afternoon, reading, dozing, watching TV and eating.  So much eating.  Actually, I can't even remember what exactly I did with that time.  Except cook and eat.  I'm pretty afraid to put on clothing that isn't intended for sleeping or yoga.  So yeah - I'm feeling pretty conflicted about a lot of things.

1.  I am   GRATEFUL/GUILTY      grateful that I have work I can do remotely (and hope that I can continue to get paid for all of it)  but feeling guilty that I don't have a job that's on the front lines.  Grateful  - SOOO grateful for those who are showing up to those essential jobs but feeling like a heel that I am not doing something more directly to help in this crisis.  It's kind of like survivor guilt but without knowing the somebodies who are suffering in the line of duty.

2.  I am   FEARFUL/HOPEFUL   I find my thoughts swirling into near despair at times.  I have family members who are first responders, medical professionals, and immuno-compromised.  I am personally apparently in a higher risk group because even though internally I feel like a 27 year old, my birth certificate places me in a different demographic.  I have also ended up in a walk in clinic with breathing treatments more than once in the past few years.  Like, almost every time I get a cold.  So I am taking the stay at home VERY seriously, and trying not to dissolve when I have to go to the grocery store.    I am hopeful that the members of my family who have tested positive and are presumed positive will see full recovery.  I am hopeful that because the rest of us are staying in place, we will not become ill.

3.  I am GRIEVING/CELEBRATING  The things I have lost because of all of this are painful.  And even though relative to the losses of others mine would seem insignificant, they have meaning for me.  I miss my grandkids so much it makes me cry sometimes.  To not be able to snuggle and kiss my brand new grandson is killing me.  Seeing him in person only 3 times since December is not ok with me.  And my newest granddaughter is developing so much personality that I only get to witness in videos or on Face Time.  And don't get me wrong - I am SOO thankful for those opportunities.  When I hear the 3 older girls tell me they miss me and they wish we were together, I wish I could tell them when we will get to snuggle again.  Even though I know if we were together, they would be off playing with their friends with hardly a nod toward me.  And that's ok.  I've also lost the opportunity to be in 2 shows I was REALLY looking forward to.  At least for the foreseeable future.  But you know what?  I am celebrating technology.  I remember the days when we took our kids' pictures, had to get the film developed, and IF the photos came out decent, we would snail mail them to parents and siblings. And by that time, the kids didn't even look the same anymore.  It is quite handy to actually get to video chat and watch recorded videos of squeaks and squawks of babies and hear and see my sons and their wives. 

4.  I am RELIEVED/CONCERNED   Life has become simpler.  We are eating the food in the house.  I am not traipsing home after dark every night after a 10 - 12 hour day of working with sometimes evening activities, and still having to do work or get ready for tomorrow.  There are fewer meetings to be staying out for and all of the comparative and expectant culture seems to have slowed down.  In fact, there is nothing to be staying out for.  Especially with the newly instituted 8:00 curfew.  I am enjoying the difference in pace. (Except for the guilt mentioned above for all the humans who can't say that).  But, I am concerned for what may or may not be left when some or all of this lifts.  I wonder what businesses will still be in business.  I wonder who I know who will not have a job, or enough to eat, or will lose their homes? I wonder if any of those will be me. I wonder how in the world we are going to recover from the amount of debt being undertaken to prevent those things from happening.  I am concerned for the families who will lose loved ones in all of this.

I really just want Calgon to take me away.  Or really, to take 'Rona away.  

Feeding the Hungry.......who?

I have debated back and forth a gazillion times about writing this post.  I don't want it in any way to become a pity party or a ploy for attention.  Really, I don't.  I want it to be about awareness and opening our minds to some ideas that may initially cause a knee jerk reaction.

Tonight I went shopping to have bags ready for the Scouting for Food collection taking place in my neighborhood tomorrow morning.  I didn't want to just scour my cabinets for my extras or discards.  I wanted to intentionally purchase food for someone else so that they are a first thought, not an afterthought.  And I'll mention why because I want to help you put a face on those who are struggling.  Anyone who knows me well knows that I am passionate about feeding the hungry and helping those who are in need.  For over 20 years I have gone to, and helped coordinate gleaning events with the Society of St. Andrew to pull salvageable produce from the fields to feed the food insecure homes in those areas.  I did not have the opportunity to lead an event this year and honestly a little piece of my soul is missing because of it. So this year, as the Scouts come around I want to use my voice (or fingers) to maybe effect a little change.  Why?  Because I have been there myself.  Some of my story has been told (like in my springtime video for Bridge of Hope), and some has been told to select groups of people - but always for a purpose of benefitting someone else.

I give to food collections and food banks because I have been on the receiving end of those donations by others.  It was one of the most humbling experiences of my life when, after two years of leading a youth ministry that every year donated a ton or more of food to the local food bank, I found myself standing on the outside of the counter having two bags of groceries handed to me. I was told I could visit the food bank two more times IN A CALENDAR YEAR.   I went to my car and cried. Not only did I wonder how I was supposed to feed my boys for the rest of the time (the bags I got contained food for approximately 3 days), but also because I couldn't get past the thought:   THIS wasn't supposed to happen to ME.  I was the one leading the way for a time to stock those shelves, I shouldn't be taking from them.  But so it was.  At church one morning, one of the ladies whispered to me that I could get some food from the food pantry our church had.  Embarrassed, I accepted.  I took the food home and some days later, when I opened a can of applesauce my kids had asked for, I found both mold and rust.  And I cried.  This was not something that came from open-handed giving - it was a leftover, a discard, likely scavenged from the back of a cupboard somewhere.  And I cried again.

I am not unique.  There are many people in our country who struggle with food insecurity.
The U.S.Department of Agriculture (USDA) defines food insecurity as a lack of consistent access to enough food for an active, healthy life.  This equates to about 37 million Americans, 11 million of whom are children.  About 1 in 9 Americans.  Think of the number of people you know  -I don't have to tell you how to break that down further.  At one of our events, it was shared that 50% of children in America will at some point in their lives, be the recipients of nutrition assistance.  That's pretty staggering when you think about it.  And yes, the numbers are thankfully coming down over the past few years, but 37 million people - that's still a lot of people!  
This means that you and I are interacting every day with people who may not know where their next meal is coming from.  They could be in the cubicle next to you, at the next pew in church or your own neighbor.  Somebody you know has had to make the choice to fill their gas tank or feed their children; keep the lights and heat on or pay a medical bill.  You get the idea.  And they/we need the compassion of friends and family and even strangers.  What they/we DON'T need is assumptions:

• If they had just made better choices, they wouldn't be in this situation.
• They should be happy for anything they get - why is this woman complaining about creamed spinach in her food bank bag?
• They need to get a job!  (Fact:  a few years ago, one of the statistics we learned was that nationwide, of the people getting help from food banks, 57% percent came from homes where at least one person was employed).
•  Well, if they didn't drive such a nice car.......Fact:  when my food stamps were discontinued, I was told my car was too new and that I should sell it (couldn't do - didn't have the title and I still owed more than it was worth) and buy an older car (so it wouldn't be reliable for getting to work?!?).

There are probably a bunch more - maybe you've said them or thought them. All I'm asking is for people to stop and think before they make comments that serve no real purpose but do a lot of harm.  

And let's talk a bit about what we put in those boxes and bins, shall we?  One common misconception is that poor people are stupid and that unhealthy, processed foods (which research has found contribute to chronic illness and autoimmune disorders) are what they want or use on a regular basis.  Guess what?  I was a single mom with master's degree, undergraduate degree in nutrition and was taught to cook like a boss by my mom.  So some of the folks carrying those bags to their cars really DO know what to do with quinoa, or lentils.  Some of them PREFER peanut butter for their kids without all the sugar, or whole grain cereals.  And don't forget that needing to be gluten free happens not just to those who are financially comfortable.  All I'm asking is that when you donate (because I know you do), that you give some thought to making your choices as though you are buying groceries for your guests, for your family, for yourself.  And yes, we all love snacks and a sweet treat or two - so go for those as well!  Also- did you know that people who use SNAP (supplemental nutrition assistance program  AKA food stamps) cannot use those funds for things like toilet paper, shampoo, pet food, feminine hygiene products, etc?  Check your own grocery receipts - those things add up to a LOT of moolah!)

And one last thing, whether or not you believe in the particular stance or politics of the group or individuals asking you to help our hungry neighbors, please give anyway.  You are not promoting their agenda.  You are feeding someone you possibly already know. In this season of giving, show your gratitude by paying it forward.  Thanks for reading my rant.  

Editing disclaimer - I have no idea why the spacing suddenly changed mid-post, but I couldn't change it back, much to my chagrin and techno-challenged brain.  Perhaps it was meant to be......

Pilgrimage

If you look up the definition of the word "pilgrimage", you will get a variety of results.  The common threads among them are the concepts of travel and importance.  In the past few weeks, I have embarked on a few pilgrimages that were important for different reasons. And I would add that something beyond the tangible, something that is a draw from the heart or soul are what call me to these pilgrimages. 

The first trip I made was on Saturday of Memorial Day weekend.  I had a deep need to travel to suburban Pittsburgh to plant flowers on my parents' grave.  I realize that this seems to be a custom that is losing relevance in today's culture. There seems to be more of a trend toward cremation when somebody dies.  And for those whose loved ones are interred in a cemetery, I don't often hear of people going to "decorate the grave."  I wonder if anyone besides me remembers that Memorial Day used to also be called "Decoration Day."  Or maybe that was just what my parents called it.....Anyway, it was a huge deal to my parents when I was a child to go to the cemeteries to plant flowers - my dad always chose red gernaniums and purple and white varigated petunias.  Hardy flowers, with a color scheme that was as patriotic as standard flowers would provide.  I treasured going with him to do the graves, sometimes my mother came along, sometimes not.  I remember feeling simultaneously reverent (because I could sense the importance to my dad), honored (at getting to be there with him) and just plain sad (all those dead people!) not to mention anxious - fear of my own death, fear of my parents' deaths.  I remember going down to the (what seemed to me) huge goldfish pond while he was up on the hill digging in the dirt.  Some would say (and have said) "what's the point of going to their grave?  They are not there.  They don't know if you showed up to put flowers there.  It's crazy to drive
 2 1/2 hours just to plant flowers..."  These things may all be true.  But there is a silent promise I feel compelled to carry out each year.  I may have never said "Yes - I will tend your grave when you are goine" while my parents were living, but I believe that going each year, and taking my mother after my father died, was an unspoken commitment to carry on this tradition.  I do it to honor what was important to them.And despite dodging severe thunderstorm warnings with "possibility of tornadoes" thrown in, I am deeply glad that I went.  I only hope that when I revisit sometime later this summer, the flowers have survived.  Because in true form, I bought the wrong kind of flowers for the amount of sun.  A discussion that has taken place in my house the past few years......and I don't want to brag (TOO much), but apparently.....I was right.  (again.)  

The second pilgrimage took place last Sunday. A very dear friend of many years has retired from full time pastoral ministry. I had been wanting to hear him preach again. Like, for years.  Somehow the years have flown by and when calculating, I realized it's been about 18 of them since I had heard him preach. When we attended a show his son was in last December, we marveled at the fact that it had been 15 years since we had actually seen each other. How did I let this happen?  How did life fly by so quickly that I only managed to catch his very last sermon (in this role.  I have confidence he will continue to preach by special invitations and such)? Sitting in this church service it was a flood of familiarity and comfort, precious memories, a few chuckles, a few tears and the inspiring conviction within the sermon itself.  Paired with all the good feels was  the devastating realization that a significant chapter of life is closing.  For him and his family, and for a particular identity of a decades long friendship.  I was transported back to the first night we ever crossed paths - when I was invited by a co-worker to sing at her church's revival services.  We were all relatively young, my firstborn was merely months old, he and his wife had not yet had a child.  Now, in the blink of an eye, he has 2 grandchildren, I have 4 1/2.  An entire generation has passed before my eyes and I'll be honest - I struggle with that. And the friendship has suffered - but endured - significant gaps in contact and in-person presence, for a number of reasons.  This was a pilgrimage I was uncertain about embarking on (my social anxiety was pretty high - especially when the good folk of the church invited us to the picnic after church honoring them and their pastoral years).  I didn't want to be a distraction, I didn't want to intrude on the church's celebration of this incredible influence in their lives.......I wasn't part of "his flock" anymore. But we stayed even though they had to add a table for us. #AWKWARD.  And we had a few minutes to visit (could it be he was just hiding from the hoopla?)  Even had a few photos snapped, only to find out that I was given rabbit ears in a couple of them.  Some things never change.  So I guess I figured out that though years and careers and miles and life events have created distance,  I'm still part of his "tribe."  And it was heartwarming to see what God has done in so many lives because of him.  It was good to reconnect if even briefly.  There were, indeed, important things that happened in this journey.



Pilgrimage #3 happened this week.  I ran away from home.  Only for 2 days. The important task for this journey?  To grab some time of relaxation and rest.  My school year ended on Monday so I took off to meet a friend the next day at a resort in Maryland.  Our plan (well, my plan) was to not have a plan.  I wanted to spend time without my nose in technology or my planner.  And although I did have clients texting to schedule or cancel sessions. for the most part I only used my phone to know what time it was and to check bank balances.  Mainly to make sure I could get home.  LOL  We talked a lot, ate a lot, took in some history, ate some more, talked some more. Oh - and we each got a pretty amazing massage.  Apparently hers was better than mine but that always seems to happen.  Or maybe the knots in my shoulders were beyond the strength of my massage therapist. Or maybe I'm just a whiner.   And I practiced a bit of mindfulness.  Looking at the mountains.  Really tasting the food. Noticing how many people actually greeted us on the street.  A few times I thought I must have been transported to Pittsburgh!  Because where I circulate on a daily basis, it is not typical for someone to make eye contact much less say hello.  I wouldn't go so far as to say it made me perky (an adjective that I dont think has ever been used to describe me!), but I did sense a bit of lilt in my demeanor and a spring in my step (that is, when my plantar fasciitis didn't flare up).  I can't honestly say my brain was able to process anything particularly academic (I'm still confused about what George Washington did in Cumberland or where and how the C & O canal functioned in the area and how the railroad played in) but I do feel like my whole being powered down a bit over the time. I'm pretty sure my therapist would be proud of me - I know I would be proud of my clients who reported such a getaway.  That's not to say there weren't a few things that raised the hairs on the backs of our necks - like finding out there had been a thwarted terrorist attack two nights before in the casino/resort where we were staying.  Or the 5 police cars that flew by the outdoor restaurant where we were having dinner.  Suffice it to say we relaxed a bit when we saw a firetruck go by as well.  Because the last time that many emergency vehicles flew by when I was in a city, a shooting had just taken place 2 blocks away.  And then there was the news story that came across the feed that not too far from the historic site we had just visited, a young man had taken his own life the night before jumping from an interstate overpass. Of course the pile of guys in the one corner of the historic site in the middle of the day caused a tad bit of discomfort.  We found out from talking to the National Park Ranger that staying away from them had been wise because although generally amicable, they do tend to congregate there and have had the police called on them numerous times.  She also hesitantly shared that the city does have a pretty big drug problem.  Hmmmm, shall we just head back to the hotel?  Both husband and furry brown girl were elated to see me when I got home (again driving home under the weather warning of severe thunderstorms - what's with me and travel?).  Apparently my running away for my mental health is not so good for theirs.

There is a pilgrimage that I have typically made each summer for the past several years- to glean food from farm fields to feed the hungry, and to educate others on the problem of hunger and poverty and how easy it is to use our own hands and time to make a difference.  I won't be making that trip this year and honestly, I'm pretty bummed about it.  And not just because I won't get a tan in the 98 degree Virginia sun.

But there are others that I hope to make at some point in both the near and far futures - 

**I want to get to spend time with each of my sisters before this year is out.
**I want to go back to Estonia - I would dearly love to see the friends I made there - it's been               7 years next month.  Way too long!
** I want to visit Tangier Island and see the place and life I learned a bit about on my                           gleaning trips the last 2 years - and to spend time with the dear women who invited               me into their lives.
** I want to go gleaning again
There are probably a ton more - but they may just be bucket list things rather than journeys of the heart and soul - tropical island, most of Europe, Broadway shows, tour all the Civil War battlefields....

And it all causes me to wonder what pilgrimages others may take or consider taking......

Toes in the Sand and Tears in My Eyes

Recently I spent the afternoon on the beach of Assateague Island.  And despite being as much of a beach person as I am (in an intense tie with Christmas), my heart was breaking. I was so uncomfortable even being there, I couldn't wait to leave and I didn't even don a swimsuit and hardly put my feet in the water at all.  And most telling, I didn't build a sandcastle! (gasp, what?!?!)

So what was happening?

I was there a part of a week with an organization I have volunteered with for over 20 years.  A week that I look forward to.  The work for which, I am so pumped and so passionate about, that I preach to everyone for weeks after my return. My husband has said that the pictures of me doing that work are the happiest he's ever seen me.  And now......right now, I feel like burning all of my manual pages on the campfire we're going to have tonight.  I am seriously considering packing away all of the t-shirts I have acquired over the years and maybe even getting rid of all of them.  Usually the sight of them brings back sweet memories and smiles.  Now they only bring me pain. And only one memory.

It seemed like middle school girl drama - the scenes that made this love in my life crumble around me. One of the women on the trip made an assumption about me and accused me of things I did not do.  Not being very good at conflict and confrontation, I believe I went into freeze mode - my brain shutting down and unable to carry out my duties.  So basically I looked pretty incompetent and spent each hour of each day waiting to hear that I had screwed up again.  It was like being fired and then having to work out a predetermined notice. So Wednesday, just before beach time, I was informed that someone was coming to take over in the role I was there for.  All I could think of was, "I just got fired from volunteering!  And in 21 years, I have never been this unappreciated, accused, .....this much of a failure.  I felt like a complete failure.  Initially when the first accusatory finger was pointed, I apologized, I groveled, I cried.  And I mean, CRIED.  I honestly don't think I even cried that hard when my mom died and I know I did a lot of heart and gut wrenching crying during that time.  As I look back on my tears and sobs and dry heaves, it all seems pretty dysregulated. The range of emotions I felt are even hard to identify- shock, sadness, shame, betrayal, anger.

Thanks to the truly amazing grace of one person, I made it through to the end of the week. I tried hard to keep my head down, heal what I could of what I had hoped was going to be a good relationship and got the heck out of Dodge as soon as I could. I never regained the sense that I had a right to be there, I figured that others would wonder why I had been allowed to stay much less still participate. It's been 3 weeks since the final day.......And I feel bruised.  My heart feels battered.  I am angry at the injustice and heartbroken about the image the organization may now have of me.  I wasn't ready to close the door to this chapter in my life and I fear that someone else, someone who doesn't know me and didn't give me the benefit of the doubt, may have slammed it shut in my face forever.  Because she has influence with those in leadership. And she is well loved by those in her circle.

In the weeks that have passed (and in the 9 1/2 hour trip it took me to get home), I have been able to take a step back and realize that this was a spiritual attack.  I am even more sure of it when I think about the days and weeks beforehand when I should have been doing all of my session planning and organizing, I was unable to put together a decent thought.  My brain physically felt shut down, avoidant, truly incapable of designing a program for the week.  I told myself it would all come together as it had in the past. I wasn't trying to be complacent.  I felt like I was physically being blocked from accomplishing what I needed to do.  And even with the knowledge that I wasn't really in conflict with a person but something in the spiritual realm, I am still deeply hurt.  And I struggle to not hate or be bitter.  I miss loving that purpose and that work. And I'm angry that the unseen enemy got the upper hand that week.  So. Very. Angry about that.  And I don't know what it will take to not feel so beat up. Or ashamed.  Or to feel useful for that purpose again.  But I do hope that the next time I have opportunity to have my toes in some sand, there will be something other than tears in my heart.

Going Tech-no

Technology - ugh - I have such a love/hate relationship with it. I can't stand walking into restaurants and seeing couples and families, all with their faces in their separate devices. I hate seeing kids propped up with videos and video games as their babysitters (especially when the recommended amount of screen time for kids under the age of 2 is.....ZERO!!  That's right - none.  Zip.  Nada.  Including television) We are losing the art of conversation and more importantly, listening to each other. I am amazed at kids not knowing how to identify a board game or active game they like. They only know video games.

I have had to be careful about what I read online - especially late at night.  The news stories are disturbing and anxiety inducing.  Pay a visit to just about any site and you can find stories of human and animal atrocities, bizarre medical incidents, reports of doom and gloom and on and on. I found it was keeping me up at night. Horrible situations that I could do nothing about. Hurting for people I didn't know.

Then there's the maddening click bait articles. I get so angry with myself when I get sucked in.  They read like a poorly written 5th grade book report, which just makes my blood boil all the more. And then I realize how much of my time I have wasted on garbage.

When we have date nights or days, we usually have an agreement to go tech-no....in other words, leaving our phones in the car or put away from whatever we are doing. We focus on what we are doing, on what is going on around us and on actually connecting.  I wish we had more tech-no time.  I wish more of my time everywhere could be tech-no time.

And I came to a rather unsettling realization recently.  I have had many client (mainly students) talk about FOMO. (Fear of missing out). And I find myself rolling my eyes inside my head when they describe how much it affects them.  Part of me is thinking, "Who cares?"  Who cares if you don't go to that meeting or don't join this club, or don't go out to the bars one Friday night out of a hundred?  And I had a rude awakening that I too am caught up in wanting to make sure I don't miss out - or more accurately - don't show up and thus create the illusion of not caring about whatever....or worse, fear of not being missed.  I guess you could call mine FONBM.  Doesn't quite roll of the tongue like FOMO though, does it?  ;)  I became convicted that I spend too much time on devices when I should be reading a professional book, a recreational book, or the Bible.....or should be investing myself in making a difference for someone. Or connecting with family and friends.  Or.....gasp.....exercising the same self-care that I preach to my clients!

I remember my first trip to Estonia - it was going to be pointless for me to take my phone because I didn't have an international plan so it would be of no use to me.  Before leaving, as I handed it off to my friend for safe-keeping, I felt like I was cutting my arm off.  It didn't take long for me to not miss it. And I was even a little afraid to get it back when I returned.  

And although I have managed to go tech-no for a day or even a brief period of time, I have envied those who delete their social media accounts.  Envied and also wondered how they could possibly survive without them. I always seem to have a bunch of reasons why I couldn't do that. It's sort of like how people tell me they could never do the Whole 30 because they couldn't survive without this or that food.  Yes, they can.  What they're saying is, they won't. So as I have in the past said I couldn't go off of Facebook - which is incidentally the only social media I engage in (see?  I do have some self-restraint), what I was really saying is I won't.  I wont' be separated from that method of being in touch with my sisters, or knowing what is going on in the life of my nieces and nephews, or a theatre group....or my volunteer organizations, or....or.....or......because ......FOMO.  or FONBM.  So I was pondering all of this recently and I felt convicted to get off of Facebook for this upcoming season of Lent.  If checking likes, or events. or commenting on people's posts so that they wouldn't forget me was such a strong focus that I couldn't do without it, then I NEEDED to do without it. Because that's not what my focus should be.

So, that's what I'm going to do.  I will be deleting Facebook from my phone before I go to bed on this Shrove Fat Tuesday. And it is my hope that I will see the world from a fresh perspective.  Or maybe a past perspective.  And hopefully if I am not missed, it won't matter to me because I will have found more useful ways to spend my time, energy and focus.  Cheerio!