How to REALLY find your bliss....7 ways I try to do that.

Interesting that the most readers I had on any one blog was titled, How to Find Your Bliss...in a really Tough Job. In re-reading my blog, I realized that I had not addressed the issue of my topic.

Where is my bliss?

 

So much of all work is repetitive, and so much is unfulfilling, but just needs to be done. Scut work we used to call it in the hospital. Some days the clock seems to stand still, and my eyes are bleary from looking at the computer screen. Some days my left ear is hot from not only holding the phone, but maybe from the words coming through it. Some days I am running back and forth, up and down, from courtroom to prosecutor's office, meeting people in my office, in the law library, in the court room.

 

So with all the hurting victims I deal with every day, how do I find bliss in a tough job?

 

1. First and foremost, I care. I care about the people for whom I have been asked to advocate in this job of victim advocate, but I care in whatever job I do. I cared about how the motorcycle dealership looked, operated and how it took care of its customers. I cared about the 60,000 families our program fed in Zambia. I cared about my patients when I operated LifeLine Therapy Clinic. I work with someone who does not care and admits that. While he is a fun person, is always good to talk to, my work is often harder because he does not care.

In this job, if I did not care, I would not be true to my faith that asks me to take care of hurting people.
Matthew 25:34-40, Jesus is talking to his disciples about why they should help others:
"Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what’s coming to you in this kingdom. It’s been ready for you since the world’s foundation. And here’s why:

I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.’

Then those people are going to say, ‘Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?’ Then the King will say, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me."

 

If I did not care, I would not be true to who I am as a human being, looking beyond my own selfish world and give a hand up to someone who is often calling for that hand. It is too easy to ignore the cries of others.

 

2. While this might seem like an opposite to the above "first and foremost", I take mini-vacations. 5 minutes here, 5 minutes there. To either read an email, or shut my eyes and go to my "happy spot", or if no one else is in the office, get up and dance for a couple of minutes. I have a 200 song playlist of songs I really like in Spotify.com and I play my favorite tunes when not on phone or with a client. I have an energizing playlist and a relaxing playlist. Sometimes, I deliver the letters I write to victims one at a time to the main office mailbag on the third floor, get up, run up the 30 steps, just to get the blood flowing.

 

3. I talk about my work with a colleague. She, starting here after me, is bright, capable, and knows the work I do. She appreciates what I do to help her, and she knows that sometimes this work is overwhelming. We can commiserate about the progress or outcome of cases and help each other not to get overwhelmed.

 

4. I shake my work off like a cloak when I leave the office. I do not worry or fret about my clients - or very rarely after I drive away from the courthouse. There are enough other things to fret and worry about when I get home. My clients' stories do not keep me awake at night because I do not let them. I have prayed for many a client during the day on a mini-vay-cay but I have asked God to protect my mind from their hurts, angers, and anguish after I leave my office, and He has honored that request.

 

5. I have a husband who gives exceptionally good hugs. His arms know just when to envelope me and give me a safe place in this world. So when I do come home exhausted, his hugs refresh and center me.

 

6. I like to eat and that paycheck sure helps. So, when on the last day of the month, I see the number appear in my bank account that will pay the bills, the hard work feels worth it. I feel a little satisfaction in knowing that I am making a decent contribution to our household.

 

7. I take time to travel. Often to interesting and sometimes exotic places....like riding a motorcycle through Morocco, like living in a rural village in Malawi, like the Canadian prairies, as often as I can. I shop at thrift shops, have not done any much-needed remodeling on my house, and cut down on everything I can in order to travel as much as possible. Traveling gets me out of my comfort zone, out of my small thinking, so that I can expand my mind, use my inner resources and become a "bigger" person. Is this paid vacation time? Heck, no. And I don't work, I don't get paid....but that time away is so very refreshing and I come back better and stronger, having aired out the cobwebs in my mind.

 

So that's how I find my bliss...how about you?

 

 

This very minute, I am making a choice.....

CHOICES:
There are two primary choices in life: to accept conditions as they exist, or accept the responsibility for changing them.
http://t.usnews.com/bC97A

 

 

Choices every single day, life choices, food choices, activity choices. Mostly benign choices, but often life-changing choices. 

 

There is a great book out, called Make Shift Happen by Dean Dyer. Dean Dwyer is a former teacher, who quit his job to accept a more ambitious mission: Could he actually make MAKE SHIFT HAPPEN in his own life? Well, it seems he did...his website is http://kickstartyourunlivedlife.com/ and I like many of his ideas. The book was so good that I took his 20 "shifts" and made my own notebook of those shifts and made them my own.

 

Today, I  make the choice to DO SOMETHING SEISMIC! I am in control of my life .....or am I?

 

My job is dependent on whether or not my grant is renewed. So I can choose whether or not to work for free ......Not! I can always choose to try to find another job. I have to live with the consequences that I am a renaissance woman and have many skills, interests and experience that don't always fit into a cookie-cutter job - which makes it harder to find satisfying work.

 

My husband has made a job choice so he is commuting 100 miles! What choices does that give me? Hmmmm......sometimes we have to live with the consequences of other people's choices too. I chose to deal with his choice without uprooting our residence.

 

I chose my own car for first time in my life last month - made the deal myself too. Hubby says "good choice". It makes me feel good to drive a slight-used Jeep that runs well, instead of settling for the old Jeep that needed new gaskets and was dripping oil, just to "make-do".

 

I do choose what to put in my mouth today...and I take full responsibility for the weight I have gained over the very stressful past year...today I am deciding to stop eating everything in sight. If I do that every day, my skinny clothes that fill half my closet will fit again by September!

 

I choose what to spend my hard-earned money on, whether to buy something for me to look at in my house, or simply pay bills, or send to a struggling school in Zambia.

 

I chose to say Yes to my husband's proposal of marriage, and I choose to love my big imperfect man, who is perfect for me. I would say the most fun we have together is when we are travelling, and share new experiences together. As my son-in-law says to our daughter, "your parents are just gypsies". Could be true.

 

I chose to say Yes to God, when he asked for my heart, and in return He gave me joy. I choose today to live in joy, not despair. I chose to delight in God, the prime directive according to John Piper. More on that later....

 

Every day, millions of choices, including how I spend every minute of every day. We have free will to make those choices, and then have to accept the consequences of each of those choices.

 

I hereby take full and total responsibility for my choices. What about you?

Bucket Lists...I just love checking off things done!

Spain 2013

The movie, The Bucket List, was interesting, a little silly, and rather funny. It seems to have given the whole world the idea that they need to have a bucket list - a list of things you want to do before you kick the bucket (or die, for my non-English-idiom-user friends).

I love making lists. The iphone apps I have for lists are not nearly as satisfying as actually putting a nice pen on a new legal pad and writing out a list of things to do. And then checking them off as they are done - heaven! I have always been that way. Put me in a stationary store and I drool or spend money - it's hard to drag me out of there - ask my daughter, she knows. I was always the kid in school that loved starting a new notebook. I wrote with an ink nib and cartridge pen in high school just because I liked the way it looked when I wrote in those notebooks of mine. What a nerd I am!

Buckets lists can help us decide what is important to us. I started an on-going bucket list back in 1990. I already always have the following lists going: Things to fix in the house List, Things to do in the yard List, Groceries I need to buy List, Books I want to read List, Movies I want to watch List, People to call List, is this getting tedious or is it just me?.... So, I thought, why not add a Bucket List?

The Top 10 Items on Reno's Bucket List 1990:
Things to do Before I kick My Bucket 
1. Travel with my family for a year by motorcycle around Canada, USA, and Mexico.
Check - did that 1992-1993 - All 10 provinces, 48 states, and 8 Mexican provinces. 

2. Start a girls high school in Malawi.
Check - did that from 1994-2002. School is still thriving under local leadership. 

3. Travel with my husband by motorcycle around South Africa, Brazil and Morocco.
Check - did that 1999, 2012,  and 2013.

4. Become an International Relief Manager and feed 60,000 people in Zambia.
Check - did that 2002-2003. Challenging and wonderful year. 

5. Publish a book. Have written many many magazine articles, but have not published a book. Want to see my name as author on a book cover and someone reading it! (I actually have written the first draft of a novel, but have not read it for a year or two. I will go back and read it in a few months, and see if it is redeemable. I am thinking of starting a memoir instead.)

6. Start a blog and write regularly. 
Check  - started 2013. Now the goal is to keep writing.  

7.  Travel with my grandkids. I would love to take some of my African grandchildren back to where they were born, and see if there are any African relatives left to introduce to them. I would love to take my non-African grandchildren to someplace exotic and wonderful and meaningful. Right now I have to travel 3 days in the car to see any of my grandchildren - all 7 live in the great white north. 

8. Have my bathrooms and studio re-done. This might sound silly for a bucket list, but it is really up there. I would love to have someone come in, listen to my ideas, and design a new studio and bathrooms for my 50+ year old house. I want new windows, ceramic tiles, a rain shower, glue removed from hardwood floor in studio and of course, this would have to be done for free. Dream on.....but still something I want to see before I kick the old bucket. 

9. Have time to create more paintings...I love to paint with oil, and have procrastinated, due to studio not being completed - see #8.  I have 4 of my own paintings in my home.....have sold the rest, but often feel an overwhelming desire to create. There is really is no excuse for this except procrastination. 

10. Have a vacation with my husband on a warm sunny beach......where we walk out the front door of a cottage onto the beach, with comfortable lounge chairs, good books, cool drinks waiting for us, and we hold hands as we look at the horizon, smell the salty air and feel the sun caress us. 

#10 will probably be the hardest. Because: 1. My man would rather be on his motorcycle than almost anywhere. 2. His idea of a vacation is so much different than mine, and 3. Living so far from family we feel guilty going anywhere else if we do have the time for a vacation.  Don't get me wrong....we do want to spend time with family, and in my imaginary beach if the children and their spouses were on lounges beside us, or if they were playing beach volleyball or building sandcastles with the grandchildren, that would be perfect. Then we could all go back to the house for an evening BBQ where I have made my great potato salad, and my daughter her seven-layer salad, etc. etc. Dream on....

Still, continually revising my bucket list gets me thinking of the top ten things that I want to do. Notice how so many of mine involve travel? Tell me your top three. Maybe I will be inspired to put them on my list. My legal pad and pen are ready.

How to find your bliss.....in really tough work.

There have been better days......

I thought I was going to hire two interns. Well, I actually did hire them on Friday. Two delightful intelligent young college students came to my office last week. I was impressed with them. By Monday noon of this week, one left in tears, the other said after reading a brochure on domestic violence that she was not the right person for this work, and she left too.

The truth of it is that my work deals with hurting people every single day. It is not easy work, rarely joyful work and sometimes I want to leave in tears too. My work as a Victim Advocate means that I speak for and work with victims of crime....crimes as simple as a theft or as complex as domestic assault, child abuse or even murder. 

I read an interesting quote by a poet recently: "You think an artist's job is to speak the truth. I think an artist's job is to captivate you for however long we've asked for your attention. If we stumble on the truth, we got lucky. I don't get to decide what truth is. I write poetry and that's how I enter the world."

I don't get to force people to make the right decisions for their lives. But if they give me the attention I ask for through my work, we might stumble on the truth for their future together. They have to acknowledge the truth of their lives....that they are perhaps staying with a man that is abusing them and they are staying for many different reasons: they need his paycheck, they think they will be lonely, they have children together, they do not know any other way of life. If I can look in their eyes, and if I can convey to them the love of God through that connection, sometimes they stumble on the truth: that there are options....they can leave the abuse for something better...scary, different, but maybe better. 

I don't blame the interns for leaving. For not starting. 

I wonder what truth they stumbled on?

39 years is a long time....to be married.

Waiting for Spring?

Yes, I know it is June. In fact I was reminded of that Saturday as my husband and I celebrated 39 years of marriage on the first day of June. 

 

Our day together was not fireworks and big presents; in fact it was a calm day with lunch at the new Casino's buffet and time at the library, also at the bookstore where we bought each other a new journal with a gift certificate that had been given to us at Christmas. We watched Atlas Shrugged Part One again, and Part Two for the first time. We are both fans of Ayn Rand's books, and often read the same books and discuss them. The day had a zen-like quality and except for the DVD player breaking down, it was very peaceful. 

 

Thirty-nine years is a long time to be married to the same person, especially in this day and age as I understand statistics. Herb and I met in our senior year of high school, both 17, already set in our faith and in our political leanings. He had (and still has) a confident walk and sexy eyes, a straight forward way of talking and I knew immediately I could trust him. We met at a church youth group event and I kicked him for teasing me before the evening was over. Two years later we were married, he had just turned 20 two weeks before, and I was still 19. We have lasted through very humble beginnings to still humble present day, two children, seven grandchildren (four of them adopted - from Africa, but that is a whole 'nother story), 17 different homes, 3 countries, and 3 states and 3 provinces. 

 

I recognize that not everyone has the same experience that I have had. I understand that some people chose wrong in the past, and are now single for a variety of different reasons. However, I also recognize that I do not need to apologize for having a good relationship with a man who is slightly chauvinistic (I told him in 1992 that he was a man of the '90s but that it was the 1890's), who knows that I can cook better than his mother ever did, and who is organized with his date book but horrible with any other paperwork.  He is a whole lot better about being on the road alone than being home alone when I am gone. He thinks that hair on a woman can never be long enough (the one thing we often disagree on) and he rides motorcycle better than almost anyone else. He is a good man, who wants to do the right thing. 

 

It seems only yesterday that I came home from the hairdresser on a Saturday late morning  in June 1974. Two hours later I was walking up the aisle on my father's arm and joining my life to the man of my choice. My dress was sweet and simple. The food was good at the reception, mostly the work of my mother, aunts, and women of the church. The band was terrible and we asked them to stop before they were done their first set - the lead singer was an old boyfriend, and I knew there was a reason I dumped him. At the end of the event I was tired of pictures and ready to ride off into the sunset.

Now almost four decades later, we love each other more than we did two decades ago. We understand each other better, and we are willing to stick together through thick and thin, rich and poor, health and sickness, because we know that we are better together than we are apart.  If I am in a room of sixty people, and my husband catches my eye across the room and winks at me, my heart still skips a beat. This is the man who held my head over the porcelain throne last year when I had the flu so bad that I wanted to die, and was afraid I wouldn't. This is the man who hugs me like there is no tomorrow and my throat lumps up with his energy. We have produced two children who amaze me with their strength, their smarts and their sweetness. 

The older I get, the more I see that life is seasonal, but that the seasons can be in "shuffle mode". I am not heading into the "fall" of my life.....I think I already had that season. I think it is Spring, and I know there is still lots of hard work ahead, but that summer is around the corner in my life, and some lazy days on the deck with a glass of sweet tea sounds really good. 

Sitting Under a Mango Tree....

Talking to you, baby...

My love affair with Africa started many moons ago. I have often sat under a mango tree in Africa, and in limited Bantu language/English combo have "communicated" with an Africa woman while we cut up tomatoes or sorted through beans, whether it has been Kenya, Malawi or Zambia. Just sitting there in the quiet rural setting, without the usual "noise" of our western life, I feel a peace and contentment that I rarely find in North America. And a sense of sisterhood with this quiet dark-skinned woman who has let me into her space to perform a job that gives her a chance to sit down for a few minutes. Sometimes we laugh ourselves silly as we communicate or try to, but the laughter is healing, and joyful.  

Why is it that you can go completely out of your comfort zone in a country that is totally foreign to your own, and have such a joyful experience? Once, when I was staying in a village in Malawi, I woke up at 2 am, and needed to use the pit latrine, which meant a walk at night from my hut through the maize field across the yard and behind the volunteer teacher house. I went and did my business, and as I was walking back I woke up enough to take a look at my surroundings. Not a sound except for some night bugs chirping softly. It was bright enough to see where I was walking, so I looked up and instead of the moon, I gazed up into the milky way. I held my breath, I was mesmerized. Above my head a ribbon of stars seemed so very close that I felt I had only to lift my hand and I would touch it. It was a sight I had only ever seen in glossy coffee table books, where scientists take photos of the sky with special telescopic cameras. I stood there for over 20 minutes, just soaking in the sight above me. The lack of light pollution gave me a mind-blowing experience that I still remember 15 years later.

Another time, I came back to the girls high school that I had started in Chamama, Malawi, and was greeted by women dancing and singing in Chichewa. They drew me in to dance with them, and although I knew not the words or the steps, I gave in to the pure delight of being included in this cultural event. I found myself instinctually knowing not only the movement as I was caught up in the dance, but understanding that this was to celebrate a harvest.

When arriving at a friend's house in a rural area of Malawi, I went to bed early because of jet lag. Before settling on my pillow, I looked out the window to see the village children gathering to join together in the early evening, singing in perfect harmony, clapping in perfect rhythm, and dancing by joining together their feet in a perfect circle and hopping round and round and round. I went to sleep with the surreal joyful sound in my ear.

Some day I will tell you the story of how I came to have 4 African-born grandchildren. But for now, maybe I will plant a mango tree in my backyard. Will anyone join me if I sit under it to sort beans for supper?

Life is not fair...Surprise!

Fairness: marked by impartiality and honesty : free from self-interest, prejudice or favoritism 

My parents raised me to believe the world is a fair place. I only realized this when I was an adult. That was one of the worst things they could have done to me. Cruel and unusual punishment. They did this in many ways, but let me give you three of the more humorous examples:

1. After I was married, I and my sister and my brother would get Christmas gifts - let's say worth $100 each. However my gift only cost $92. 57, my sister's cost $100.10 and my brother's cost $108.83. My sister and I would each get an envelope to make up the difference - my envelope contained $16.26 and my sister's envelope contained $8.73. It all had to be fair. This probably happened when we were younger in a different way, as we usually got similar gifts or gifts made by my mother. 

2. When my sister and I (who both live far away from our parents) call our mother, she can talk for an hour or more, full of news and opinions and chatty, usually cheerful talk. However, when she calls us, we are certain that she has a little black book wherein she records the number of minutes she has talked to the other child. We both have noticed after a few minutes of catch up news, she gets very antsy, and is full of "well, I am sure you are busy, I should let you go." "No, Mom, I am fine, not busy at all." "Well, I am sure you are about to make supper." "No, Mom, we already ate, dishes are done. I am just relaxing." "Well, I better let you go..." and we finally let her go, and compare notes later to see how many minutes we each got that week, and it is usually always the same. 

3. I once got a birthday card that said, "you are the best child...blah, blah, blah." However, my mother crossed that out and put in a little arrow and the words, "one of the best children". She wanted the card to be fair to all of her children and not favor one over the other. 

My father's life was not fair - due to his parents' inaction against an abusive teacher, my father did not get past the fifth grade, even though he was considered the brightest boy in the class. He was the oldest boy in a family of 13 children during the depression. Food and shelter was limited, and my father still eats very fast out of habit. He worked 13 years for a horrible construction company before getting the courage to change to a company that appreciated his loyalty. He complains often that life was not fair to him. 

My mother's life was not fair. She was also a very bright student, but her parents would not let her go to high school, even though the principal of her school begged with her parents. As the youngest of 11 children, she was loved and protected from how cruel the world could be. They, loving grandparents though they were to me, did not see any need for my mother to have any higher learning - she was after all only going to get married and have children. Even though she could have obtained her GED later, she said it would not be fair to our dad if she had high school education and he did not. 

I was their oldest child, 5 years older than my sister and 12 years older than my brother. We were the foster family for numerous babies, toddlers and small boys as well, and with 81 first cousins on both sides, and many neighbor children, our yard was always busy. My mother was an excellent cook, and was able to make delicious meals out of almost nothing. I did not know that we were working poor until I was 12 years old. My father knew that I needed shoes for school as I had outgrown my last pair. He took me to Lipsetts Family Footware in August 1967. I saw a pair of black shoes for $12 - remember this was 1967 - which I knew would be stylish for eighth grade. My father asked me if those were really the shoes that I wanted. He asked me in such a way that I had a twelve year old epiphany: Those $12 would really be a stretch for my father's limited budget. I told him I would look around a little. In the backroom of the store was a sale table. On that table was a pair of white nurses' shoes for $4. They fit me perfectly, and I persuaded my dad that those were really the shoes I wanted. I wore them for the whole eighth grade with pride if with no style at all. Not fair? To whom?

I was born with a congenital heart defect. I had an aunt (my mother's sister) who died at age 19 with very similar symptoms. The doctor who did my open heart surgery when I was 18 told me that I would have been dead in 6 months, just about the time of my 19th birthday. Now I have a plastic piece in my aorta that allowed me at 21 to be more athletic than I was at age 16 - as a child I was always picked last for baseball, my favorite, as I could not run fast at all. I grew up not knowing why life was not fair and why I could not compete properly in track and field which I loved. As I grew up and began to have a larger world view, I often wondered why life was not as fair as my parents thought it should be.

This sense of instilled fairness is both a blessing and a curse. It means that I am constantly disappointed when other people treat me in a way that is good only for their own agenda and I often take it personally. It means that I work my butt off to try to make things fair for others, whether its the victims of crime I work with everyday, or my children who struggle with life at times, or my grandchildren, some of whom started life with a strike already against them. or the at-risk children in Malawi and Zambia. Sometimes I get too involved with trying to make things fair. It means that I fight for what is right, and say it out loud, often to the embarrassment of my family. It means that I often don't get "political" office nuances because I take everything at face value. I say what I mean, mean what I say and expect the same realness from others. 

So, at 58, my balloon has finally burst and I am trying to listen to a friend who has told me to write on my hand, my computer, on post-it notes all over "Life is not fair." I think it is supposed to help me to relax when things do not go the way I think they should. I think I will always have a sense of fairness stronger than most, but hopefully I am consciously aware of this fault of mine, and give myself and others a little more slack. 

What do you think?