Happy Birthday Rick

2010 was a hard year for Rick. In the first third of the year, the unfortunate combination of working for a company that sold a very expensive product that might soon be made obsolete by the likes of Netflix and Comcast On-Demand and the poor economy created a perfect storm that ended in Rick losing his job. As we moved through the rest of the year, Hannah graduated from high school and got ready to embark on the next chapter of her life, Rick and his sister spent lots of time on the phone dealing with the realities of having elderly parents, and Rick started a new business venture with a colleague. All-in-all, a stressful year.

But in the midst of this, Rick took the time to tap into his creative side. He started a drawing, using the colored pencils that we had stashed around – Crayola and Rose Art pencils, mostly – none of those fancy high-end “Art” pencils. I think it started as a therapeutic endeavor. And it served its purpose. It ended up as a donation to the silent auction at church, benefitting the outreach efforts, and bringing in, I believe, the most money of any other item in the auction. Each year, everyone waits to see what Rick will create and donate. And this year, he really outdid himself. The photo below gives you an idea of how fabulous this piece is, but really doesn't do it justice. You'll have to visit the Maloney's to see the real one.



As I was considering what to write for his birthday blog, I thought of those things that I appreciate in Rick. I decided to do a “Top 5 Things I Like About Rick” list. I encourage those of you who know and love Rick to comment and let him know what you like best.

1. He’s a great father. No one loves their children more than Rick loves Hannah and Sara. He’s always been an involved. When moms of other babies my kids ages complained about their husbands not getting up with the kids, or not changing diapers, I couldn’t chime in because Rick always did those things. And I appreciated it. And it sealed a relationship with the girls that has remained close and loving ever since. They’re lucky to have him.

2. He’s a great cook. Really. Any of you who have had the opportunity to taste his cooking will agree. If you haven’t, I highly suggest that you try to weasel an invitation.

3. He’s an artist. As evidenced by the picture above, Rick has a creative streak a mile wide. I wish he had the time to indulge in this more. He builds furniture, he’s done stained glass, he takes great photographs. If you can weasel an invitation to dinner, I’ll show you all the pieces we have around the house.

4. He’s a musician. He plays the guitar and mandolin – and even when he’s noodling around, he plays well. That was one of the first things that attracted me to him, actually. I grew up in a family where, if you’re just sitting around, you’ve got a guitar or some other instrument in your lap and you’re noodling. He fit right in. After I’ve showed you the artwork, I’ll have him and Sara play you a duet.

5. He’s a really hard worker. This new business thing has great potential. After the music, you can have him tell you all about it. You’ll see how excited he is about it. And he’s been working his butt off – knowing that the monetary rewards are down the road a ways. Many, if not most of us would have given up and found something less personally rewarding that pays now. But Rick and his business partner have vision. And a great business model. And a work ethic that is hard to find these days.

So, it’s been a hard year, but Rick’s made the best of it, the best way he could. And I’m proud of him for not getting so frustrated that he gave up. And next year is going to be much better - I'm sure of it. Happy birthday, Rick. The girls and I love you.

She's Her Mother's Daughter

When I get the urge to clean, admittedly not as often as I should, I am usually completely focused on the task and won’t stop until it is completely done. When I was in college, this urge would typically happen later in the evening. My senior year, I’d call my friend Michael and he’d come over and sit in the middle of my bed and keep me company until the wee hours of the night. When I was finished, the room would be spotless. Really.

Last night, starting at around 11:00, Sara got the cleaning bug. Her room had hit critical mass, and once she started cleaning, I’m not sure a nuclear attack would have stopped her. Understanding the compulsion to get it finished, I didn’t suggest that she go to bed and pick it back up in the morning. I didn’t suggest that she try to be a little bit quieter. I knew that it was now or never. Sometime around 3:00 am, she was done (except for the vacuuming, which would not have been a good middle-of-the-night activity in a house with others trying to sleep).

For better or for worse, Sara is MY daughter. But I think she’ll be better than I ever was or will be. I took violin for eight years when I was a kid. I was pretty good, if I do say so myself. Sara has been taking for 5 years now, and she will be better than I ever hoped to be. I’ll admit that she progressed more quickly when she started because I worked with her so it was like she had two teachers. She’s got an amazing ear, and genuinely loves playing, and if she decides to continue forever, she’ll be able to do whatever she wants with the music.

After I stopped playing violin, I started singing. Well, I think I actually started singing before I could talk, but I started taking voice lessons when I was fourteen. Sara started singing before she could talk too. And while she hasn’t taken voice lessons yet, I expect that’ll be on the schedule in the next year or so. I love hearing her sing. She has such a sweet voice and a dramatic flair that allows her to make every song her own – I know she’ll be better than I ever was.
On the “poor thing” side, she got a knack for disorganization from me. And a tendency towards procrastination. She was a head-banging temper tantrum queen when she was a toddler – another trait from me. But she’s always been the sweetest, most loving child anyone could ever meet. I don’t know where that came from, but what the heck? I’ll take credit for that too!

She’s one of the funniest people I know – a trait that certainly came from Rick’s side of the family, with a nod towards the politically incorrect tendencies of the Daves and Latane sides of my blood. And the beauty – well both of my children were lucky enough to get the best of both sides rather than the worst!

I can’t wait to see where she goes with all of this. I’m astounded and delighted every day watching her grow into the amazing woman she’ll be. And I’m so proud of her and needless to say, I love her with every fiber of my being.

The 2nd Sunday in Advent

In 2002, I embarked on a 4-year journey called EFM (Education for Ministry). This course was developed by the Episcopal Semenary at The University of the South in Sewanee, TN, and is designed to help lay people explore their own call to lay ministry in their own worlds.

Each year, during the last class before Christmas, we had a priest do a service for us, and each year, one of the students was tasked with the homily for that service. In 2003, I was the happy recipient of that honor. Copied below is the homily I gave.

Enjoy!

Christmas is my favorite season. I love decorating the house, although I haven’t gotten it all done yet this year. I have a collection of those little Christmas houses that we put out every year – one year the village was invaded by toy soldiers that I gave Rick for Christmas as a joke – last year the people were knocked over by our cat, but every year we put it together again, and every year it looks beautiful.

I also love giving gifts to people. I love picking out just the right thing, and seeing joy on people’s faces if I actually got it right. But I’m not as good at receiving gifts – even the smallest extravagance that is aimed at me makes me feel uncomfortable –and a little undeserving. I’m trying very hard to teach my children to be gracious and thankful when they get gifts – even if those gifts aren’t exactly what they expected or wanted.

But as we all know, Christmas is more than decorations and gifts. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the “miracle of Christmas”, and what it is exactly. Most people believe that the miracle is in the baby Jesus. But that is only part of the story for me.

Looking at the two Gospels that have the story of Jesus’ conception and birth, I am struck especially by the stories of Mary and Joseph – two young people caught in a potentially stressful and difficult situation.

Joseph had a lot to lose – especially in those days where wives were possessions and expected to obey and honor their husbands. When he found out Mary was pregnant, Matthew tells us that Joseph had it in his mind to divorce Mary quietly, without public disgrace (he must have been a pretty nice guy to not want to embarrass her publicly) – but once the Angel came to him and told him what was to happen, he simply accepted and did what the Lord commanded him to do.

The situation for Mary was even more difficult. Mary was a young teenager when she was betrothed to Joseph – probably not too much older than my daughter Sara, actually. Now, I know lots of teenagers, and if the angel were to come down today to any of them and tell them that they were going to be impregnated by the Holy Spirit and be the mother of the Messiah, I’m sure he’d hear plenty of arguments and words of disbelief. “No way!” they’d say – “I won’t fit into my new jeans if I’m pregnant, and besides, I have to try out for cheerleading in the spring. My reputation will be ruined!” Mary, on the other hand, only asked “how will this be?” In spite of the potential for losing her fiancée, and the very real possibility of public disgrace for being pregnant out of wedlock, Mary only asked “how will this be?” She didn’t say “No way – I’m not risking my future happiness and reputation on something like this!” She didn’t complain and try to bargain with the angel. She only said “I am the Lord’s servant…May it be to me as you have said.”

Mary recognized this challenge as the most wonderful of gifts, and accepts it gracefully and gratefully. In the Magnificat, she says “my spirit rejoices in God my savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.” She rejoices! The miracle of Christmas, to me, is these two young people’s ability to simply say “yes” to God.

How many times a day are we faced with moral decisions, some more difficult than others? Should I give the homeless man on the street a couple of dollars? Should I stop on the highway to help someone who has broken down, even if I’m a little late? Should I discipline my child, even if their grounding will be harder for me than for them because I’ll have to put up with their grousing for a week?

How many times a day do we feel a little tug from God to make changes in our lives – sometimes big changes, but sometimes just small ones? And how many times do we either ignore that tug, or say – “I know I need to do that, but it’ll be too hard today – maybe tomorrow – maybe next week – maybe that’ll be one of my New Year’s Resolutions.”

Mary and Joseph were humans just like us – and being human had the God-given benefit of free will. They could have said – “No way” or “Maybe next year” or even “Why me?” But they didn’t. God asked a huge sacrifice from each of them, and they both simply said “yes” because they knew that they were getting the greatest gift of all.

Sometimes it’s hard to see things as gifts, especially if we’re hurting or disappointed. Oftentimes it’s hard for me to believe that I deserve the bounteous gifts that God gives me every day and I’m sure others often feel the same way. I pray that we all are given the wisdom to gracefully accept the things in our lives as the gifts they are. My other prayer for myself and for all of us this Christmastime is to try to say “yes” to that little voice in our heads that is telling us the right thing to do – that is telling us what God would have us do. Even if it’s difficult.

And in the meantime, I hope we all take the time this Christmas to enjoy our families and friends, and to give thanks for the great gifts we have received this year. And to look forward to a year where we can simply say “yes” more frequently.

Amen

The First Sunday in Advent

Yesterday I took some Turkey Tetrazzini and a salad to a dear friend from church who lost his wife this past fall. If you were to meet this gentleman, within the first twenty minutes of conversation you would know two important things about him. First is his incredible faith in God. Second, and as apparent as the first is his love for his wife. My friend and his wife had been married for over 40 years, and he still cherishes her as much today as he did the day they got married.

We visited for a while, and talked about all sorts of things, including, of course, his wife. She died suddenly, just like her mother did. She had told my friend many times that when it was time for her go too, that she prayed it would be quick and painless, just like her mother. My friend is relieved that her prayer was answered.

As I was getting ready to leave, he took me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye, and told me he was doing well. He said that he was at peace with his wife's death, and that he was at peace with his life without her. I believe that he believes this is true.

But I am also anxious for him as we move into the holidays and beyond. The holidays can be difficult for any of us. We struggle with expectations, our own and those that others have of us. We struggle with how busy things are this time of year. As a Christian, I struggle with how to make sure the reason for the Christmas season shines through in the midst of the commercialization and greediness that is a poor substitute for worship and contemplation, and spending time with those people you love. This Christmas will be more difficult for him, his first one without his dear wife. But my friend has many people who love him, and who will take some extra time to make sure he's got company and attention (and food!).

There are many others who aren't that lucky. So, this Christmas season, pay attention to the people around you, and take some time to help those in need. People in need of money, but also people in need of conversation. People in need of a coat, but also people who just need a smile. Be aware of how your words and actions can affect people - those you love and those you happen upon in your day to day life. This holiday, give the gift of yourself and your time. The gift you get back will be better than any box under the tree.

Happy Birthday Carole!

Today is my sister Carole’s birthday. Carole is way, way older than I am (well, 18 months older than I am so she’ll hit 50 before I do). She’s beautiful and smart and funny and just basically a great person.

Carole and I were fairly typical siblings as we were growing up. Because I was a little bit younger and more than a little bit annoying, I drove her crazy. My older brother Phillip and I did the real fighting, and Carole would sort of cower in the middle, trying to stay out of the fray. But we had fun too. Carole’s bed was two twins stuck together to make a king sized bed, and many nights she’d let me sleep with her. We’d pretend the bed was a boat, and that we were either stranded somewhere, or on a great adventure. The greatest adventure that happened in that bed was the night that Phillip hid under the covers at the end of the bed and waited quietly until we had settled down and turned off the light. Then he pounced out with a great growl and scared the you-know-what out of us. The other great adventure of our childhood was at St. George Island when I was about 5 and she was about 7 (I think this picture of her is from that particular trip). The grownups had a pot of boiling water in which to put a bunch of freshly caught crabs. The crabs didn't like the hot water, of course, and they frantically moved around enough to overturn the pot of water. Crabs were crawling all around the house, and Carole and I climbed on the dining room table and screamed.

As we got older, we got closer. From the time she left for college until now, she’s been my best friend, my confidant and great supporter. When Rick and I moved to Atlanta we moved into her neighborhood and Carole and I spent many hours together – walking in the morning, playing cards on the weekend, hanging out at the pool, camping with our families. What a gift for me, to be that close in proximity and in relationship to her. Now she and her family live in Cumming, and that’s still pretty close, but we don’t get to see nearly as much of each other and I miss her.
Carole is a fantastic mother. Just take one look at Kelsey and you’ll know that. Kelsey is brilliant, delightful and beautiful, and you can tell, just by looking at her and talking to her that she has great parents. Carole is a fantastic wife. Just look at how she interacts with Derek, and watch how he interacts with her, and you can see that they have a marriage that works. They’re friends, and they talk, and they have fun together. Carole is also a fantastic daughter. She’s thoughtful, caring and present. But for me, Carole is a fantastic sister. She’s been there for me when I needed anything – a sympathetic ear, a good talking to, a good laugh or even money (fortunately a long, long time ago). I cherish the times we get to spend together and wish it could be more frequent.

And so, on the anniversary of her birth, I say HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAROLE! I love you!

Doubt

Readers of this blog who don’t know me well may think, based on my posts, that I’m always positive, happy and spiritual. While I am a “glass half-full” kind of gal, I am also plagued, like most people, by self-doubt, fears and anxiety. My experience in middle school and early high school did serious damage to my self-confidence for years, something that still afflicts me from time to time. I know now that my experience probably wasn’t much different than many other girls – it’s a hard age, and girls are especially tough on each other! But common or not, it made an impact on my psyche for years.

My Aunt Kate actually put a name to one of the things I struggle with – she calls it “The Imposter Syndrome.” Andrew Peterson, my favorite singer/songwriter, Christian or otherwise, wrote a song called “I’ve Got The News,” that has a line that describes it perfectly: “So you think…that you’re the only one who’s scared they’ll all forget you when you leave.” I’ve spent years re-introducing myself to people because I was sure there was no reason anyone would remember me from one meeting to the next.

I doubt. I doubt all the time. I doubt my abilities at work. I doubt my decisions. I doubt my choices in clothing. I doubt my cooking skills. I wonder if I really mean it when I say the prayers at Church and I sometimes wonder if they work anyway - if anyone’s really listening and cares about my little life. Why would they – I’m an imposter, right? I doubt, I doubt, I doubt.

I have anxiety and I’m lonely sometimes. I struggle with things that are too personal to post here in a public forum.

I’m not any different from anyone else.

That’s the thing - I’m just like just about everyone else. We all have fears and anxieties. We all wonder if we’re doing the right thing. I’d bet that most people who consider themselves at least spiritual, if not outright religious, struggle with doubt all the time. It’s easy to get bogged down with all this doubt. And what it can do to a person’s outlook can be isolating.

And so call me Pollyanna, but I try to see the silver lining and find joy wherever I can. Friday afternoon, in the midst of the grey clouds and cold I looked up into the sky and saw a small patch of blue sky. This reminded me of a grey summer day when I was a child, standing with a neighbor and looking up at the sky. “Look” she said delightedly, “there’s a patch of blue big enough to patch a Dutchman’s trousers.” Not a prophetic outburst, to be sure, but one that apparently made enough of an impact on me to allow me a smile on a grey day 40 years later. That was my silver lining – a childhood memory that gave me joy.

I get joy from a text, out of the blue, from one of my girls telling me that they love me. I get joy from my cat rubbing his face against mine as he tells me in his own way how happy he is to see me.

I try to balance out the doubt and disappointments of normal life by finding positives wherever and whenever I can. One of those positives is writing. The intense feeling of success when I hit “post” to this blog can keep me going for a good day or more. And Sara coming into my room last night to tell me what a great mom she thinks I am – well that’ll last a good long time!

So if I sound like one of those people who are always happy, please know that isn’t completely true, but also know that given time, I’ll find something good around me. And maybe my positive outlook can help someone else see good too.

Home

The Gospel reading at church this weekend was from Luke (19:1-10), and it was the story about the height-challenged tax collector Zaccheaus who had to climb a tree to see Jesus. Jesus sees Zaccheaus and says “Hey – get on down out of that tree. I’m coming to your house tonight.” (Of course I’m paraphrasing – he probably didn’t actually say “Hey.”) Imagine it, will you, as I did on Sunday morning You’re walking down the street, or wandering the halls of your office or the grocery store, and God comes up to you and says “Hey – let’s go to your house for a while.” How would you react? And in this day and age, would you actually believe that it really was God? I, for one, would love to be able to say “Yes – I’d recognize Him immediately. And, yes – my house is ready to have such a visitor.” But the reality is that I worry whether or not I WOULD recognize Him, and goodness knows we’d like to upgrade the kitchen or at least run the vacuum before He showed up!

Later on in the day, I went back to church to serve at the 5:30 service. As a Lay Eucharistic Minister, my duties for the later services include opening up the church and getting the altar ready. As I was walking through these things, alone in the church, I considered that I was getting another home ready for God and His followers. In the quiet, I carried out the silver tray that was prepared with the bread, wine and water, placed the chalice on the altar, bowed and lit the candles. I looked carefully over the readings that I’d be doing, aware that my “presentation” might be the only time the people in the congregation experienced the scripture that week. Just prior to the service, Father Burtenshaw and I shared a prayer and opened the door. For me, St. Martin’s is an extension of my home, and each time I serve, whether it’s as a Lay Eucharistic Minister or as a member of the Bell Choir, I’m coming down from my tree and inviting God in.

But it’s easier to do that in the Church than it is in the balcony where I live. Preparing my home or my heart for God’s visit needs to be an intentional thing. It takes work, just like preparing the church for a service takes work. And up here in the balcony, it’s hard to be intentional sometimes, isn’t it? I’ve got to take the dog out, get the kids to school, do my work, get some sleep… And in the midst of all of this noise, I neglect to make sure my home (heart) is ready for God, whenever He shows up – or more accurately, whenever I remember to look and see that He’s already there. This week, I’m going to try to get down out of the tree and work on my house, so that whenever I hear the call, I can say “here I am” and not “hold on a minute, I’ve got to mop the kitchen floor!”