Got the Travel Bug AGAIN......

Every few months I get extremely restless. 

My children often wonder if they are children of gypsies! The gypsy blood I have in my veins....The desire to see new places, and eat new foods, and hear new sounds, becomes stronger and stronger in me until suddenly I am preparing for a trip to Kenya, or Haiti, or Brazil, or even Canada. 

Truth be told, my parents come from Mennonite farming stock, but my ancestors for the past 500 years or so were on the move, not because they wanted to be adrift or even travel but because they believed in adult baptism and so went from Holland to Prussia, Russia, then Canada, Mexico and even Central America to avoid persecution by the Catholics and Lutherans. Maybe that is where the genetic urge to travel comes from. My maternal grandpa and I spent many afternoons reading travel books together, he reading about places he would never visit, me researching for the future travels I would make. 

When I was in Grade 12, I spent a Friday night at a friend's house and came home Saturday morning to see my mother doing laundry. My mother only did laundry on Mondays, NEVER any other day! So when I asked her why, she said, "Because we are leaving for California this afternoon." Okay....my father did not like to plan, for fear that what he desired would not happen. So the 5 of us left that afternoon for a 2 week trip to California, school left behind and new adventures around every curve. And while we were there we saw the desert, the beach and some other wonderful views. We stayed in very cheap hotels, got meals from grocery store supplies, and drove...a lot. 

We did the same thing when I was in Grade 10 and we went to New Orleans for Christmas. Drove...a lot. Saw and toured a couple of antebellum mansions, ate at places in the French Quarter where most tourists would not go. My dad struck up a conversation with anyone anywhere, never had any fear to talk to a stranger, and so we always heard interesting stories. From the horse and carriage driver, the blues singer, the nun, the prostitute, the plantation owner, anyone with a story....we were not embarrassed by Dad because we got to hear the stories too....and we learned more on those trips than in our classrooms at home.  


We traveled anywhere my dad could drive. Then I married a guy who also has that gypsy blood (his mother is Russian Mennonite and his father was Norwegian - some Viking stuff going on and they were travelers too, right? I think that is the polite word for invaders?) He does most of his traveling on a BMW motorcycle (almost a million miles so far) even when overseas. Together we have traveled to a great many countries. I have traveled to over 30 countries, some more extensively than others of course. There are so many left to visit, and some to which I want to return for more discovery. This world and its people are incredibly interesting. My husband and I always enjoy our travels together and have had some interesting adventures. Stories to come......

Reno in heated jacket liner riding
a motorcycle in the rain in Morocco
drinking hot mint tea.

If you have not experienced that little hollow feeling inside that gives you a craving for new vistas, then maybe you are fortunate. It is like an illness, and the only cure is to get on a plane, in a car, or on a motorcycle, or start walking and go.......somewhere else....I feel the fever coming on again........did I ever tell you about how we took our two teenagers out of school and traveled for a year...by motorcycle?

Maybe next time. Right now I have a map to check....

Reno greeting one of the teachers in a rural school in Malawi

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?

 

 

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.