how does that help?

"You guys!  How does that help?!?"

That’s what I want to yell when someone posts something negative or judgy or blame-y or complain-y or whatever…  

Fear is a crazy thing and fearful people do crazy things.  But condemning them or calling them names probably doesn't help.  Which I why I want to yell my question.  However, I usually restrain myself.

I do think that it is actually a fair question.  So maybe I should be asking it of myself... like whenever I open my mouth to offer my expert opinion of what should have been done differently.  Yah, how does that help?  How do my words help anybody or anything?

A wise young friend astutely observed…   Regardless of how we got here, the situation is what it is and I’m just really hoping everyone stays safe and healthy!

And he's right.  This is where we are and what we have to work with.  We don't have the option to go back and change how we got here.  We have only the choice of what to do with it.

We have to start where we are and this is where we are now. We can start asking how to make the best of it.  

• I can learn new skills; in fact, I might need to learn new skills - like how to participate in online meetings.
• I might even need to brush up on some old skills.
• I can use the time to catch up on work around the house.
• I might tackle a project I've been wanting to do. 
• I could maybe even finish that old uncompleted one. 
• Maybe I can bake those monster cookies.
• I could learn how to play "Words with Friends."
• I can read more of those books I hauled home from the library.
• I could call that friend who has been on my mind.  I could even write her a letter!
• I might look for creative ways to help other people.  What could I do to make the world a better place?

I may feel powerless about what is happening out there, but maybe I can pick one little spot in my own little space and turn chaos into calm.

I hope to do several of those items on my list above

I will probably need to consult the list now and then - because I tend to forget my good intentions and my great ideas.

...

But I also hope to add a new habit...  

I really want to pay attention to myself and to notice when I'm about to spout off my opinion about what somebody should do. I want to learn to pause in those moments and ask myself "How does that help?" 

We have this moment

It is now a few days after publishing the article below and I am feeling a bit chagrined by my attitude in it. A bit of superiority. perhaps.  Once I realized that hint of condescension, I was tempted to take it down. To delete it. But then I thought maybe I should leave it up as an attempt to be honest. That’s what I had in mind in the first place - to be honest with my “struggles” with the hard stuff. So I guess it can also be a monument to honesty about my arrogance that surfaces at times.

By the way, I think that Dominicans are amazing people. I am inspired by them in so many ways.

...

We live in a tropical paradise this winter.

We don’t have to deal with ice and snow.

What an amazing privilege.

What a good job my man did in finding an affordable spot for us to live for the season.

I am grateful.

I appreciate the privilege. 

I enjoy the setting - or most of it!

It’s not hard to find things to celebrate about this time.

But…

It’s not perfect.

There are frustrations.

There are stressors.

There are some difficult things about living in a third-world country.*

Things that are not fun - and not even healthy.

Scary things. Dangerous things.

What to do about those things?

Complain about them?

Sometimes that’s tempting - and sometimes complaint and whining just pops out.

But then I feel so badly. 

It feels incongruent to complain about ANYthing while living in a place where many Michiganders would love to be. 

It seems like I dare not speak of struggle. Of hard things.

...

Then again, that’s life.

Wherever we are. Wherever we live. Whatever our season in life.

There are good things and there are difficult things.

Perhaps the disparity is more obvious in a place like this. 

A land of extremes. 

A land of contrasts.

A land where riches and luxury are juxtaposed with poverty and pain.

A land where rich people can often be sheltered and pampered, but where the general population lives with a great lack of comfort and convenience - and even a lack of sanitation.

A land where middle-class ex-pats may live with a little of both - enjoying many of the benefits that come with a beautiful tropical area but also choosing to put up with the not-so-nice aspects of life here. 

And it is a choice. For us. Which is a luxury in itself when you think about it.

For those stuck in poverty here (as is true elsewhere) there often is no choice. There is no way out. No escape. Things are just the way they are. 

And so people make the only choices they can make - to build a life for themselves here. Because this is where they are. 

…

But we have a choice. 

While we don’t have the resources to make some of the choices that other ex-pats have made, we do have the choice to live here in a relatively humble abode for a season. And that is a luxury that few in the world have.

We have the choice to be here for a season and then to go back to the States where life is easier - albeit colder - whenever we wish. Where we can buy pretty much anything we need. Where we don’t have to worry about critters invading our private space. Where life is generally safe and secure. Where we can be healthy - or find medical care when we need it.

With so many choices available to me, it’s not too hard to realize that I also have a choice when it comes to how I handle the things that ARE difficult here. The things that are stressful and annoying and nasty.

I can choose to keep things in perspective.

I can choose to be grateful for the experience.

I can choose to celebrate the good stuff and to accept the not-so-good as a matter of fact.

I can also choose to find ways to be a blessing to this country and her people. I don’t always know what that means, but I can always be alert to possibilities. 

Maybe it’s just a matter of treating people with respect and kindness.

Maybe it is taking time to ask about what matters to them.

Certainly I can express appreciation for their hard work.

I can choose to honor them and the beauty of their culture.

Sure enough; I have lots of choices.

And for this moment I celebrate that luxury.

And in difficult moments, I may indulge myself in a different kind of luxury. 

At those moments I just might let myself long for the comfort and convenience of hame. 

The safety and security. 

Hugs from our little cuties. 

And I will let myself count down the weeks until we get there.

But then I’ll go back to enjoying the moments here.

Now.

While we have them.

Because you see; we do have this moment.

Today.

...

* In the opinion of this slightly arrogant American who was feeling a little worn down by culture stress at the time she wrote this.

...

Also after the fact - as in a few days later:
AND now I offer one of my favorite stories as a counterpart to this post.
Click here to read it.

So much for American superiority!

Don't drink the water!

Oops! I swallowed a gulp of tap water when brushing my teeth this morning. This was not just a little bit that might have snuck down my throat. This was a whole gulp. Yikes!

I thought I was smart enough to brush and even rinse without swallowing, but I must be getting forgetful. Guess I'd better change my routine up a bit.

Ooh, that reminds me of that one time…

…

Once upon a time, many years ago, we were on Sosua Beach talking with some other Americans.  The topic was tooth-brushing and other scary things.

...

It was early August 1989.

Our family had just arrived in the country to live and work in Santiago for a year. On this day we were fortunate enough to have been invited on a beach outing with a mission team who had just come from Haiti. We were chatting with the team members about life on this amazing island. 

"Don’t drink the water!"

Team members quickly added, “Don’t even brush your teeth in it” - to which one of our daughters replied that we do, but we just don’t swallow it. One of the team quickly retorted, “Well yah, YOU can - because you LIVE here!” 

How weird that felt to have it said about us - after having been here only a few days and just beginning to adjust to the conditions here.

…

And here we are.

Living here again. 

But maybe I shouldn’t brush my teeth with tap water.

Remembering Roberta: teacher and friend

Roberta Hartzman
1948-2015

My friend, Roberta, helped so many people. Her life was not easy, so she got desperate about learning how to make it better. And then she shared those lessons with the rest of us. After hitting rock bottom and surviving, she learned to "work the program" so that she could continue to survive AND to get healthy. She invested hours and days and weeks and months in relationships and meetings - to help others who needed the things she was learning.

I remember when I first heard about Roberta's groups. A close friend was meeting with Roberta and  was experiencing healing. Because of that friend's honesty, I began to wish I had a place like that. A place where it was safe to express my pain and a place to admit where I was messed up and where I could find hope for healing. Because they were both so honest and willing to admit their flaws and their failures, I had the courage and the audacity to ask Roberta "How messed up does someone have to be to come to one of your groups." She quickly assured me, "You're messed up enough, Kaye!"   So I started attending one of the groups studying "Twelve Steps for Healing Damaged Emotions."

Best thing I've ever done for my emotional health. In all my years of attending church and being in leadership positions, I've sat through lots and lots of meetings. Hundreds of meetings. I've been involved in various small groups through the years. But this place was different. Instead of trying to impress others with good stuff - like my maturity or wisdom or ability or whatever, this was a place where I was allowed (AND encouraged!) to reveal the bad and the ugly, too. Not to focus on the negative, but simply because we all have crap in our lives and we'll never get better until we face it honestly.

Roberta longed to help people get better. She knew the negative power of secrets. The bad secrets. What did she tell us? "You're only as sick as your secrets." She also knew that the more successful and "put-together" we seem to be, the harder it is to humble ourselves and be honest about that stuff. She did everything in her power to invite and welcome church leaders to go through the Twelve Step program - because she knew how much they would be transformed and how wonderfully the rest of the people would benefit from it.

Roberta learned about healthy boundaries and she helped us learn about them as well. She taught us how to figure out which things were our responsibility and which were not. She taught us how to build healthy boundaries in our lives. She helped us anticipate the boundary busters that were sure to come along and gave suggestions for how to prepare for them.

As a pleaser, I had long, deep-seated habits of cowering before the wishes of other people. Gradually, Roberta helped me to sort out whether I was in fact answerable to each of these various people or not. It has probably been fifteen years since I started meeting with Roberta and learning from her, but to this day I still hear myself quoting one of her one-liners that helped me hang in there so I could get better. Like, "It's unfortunate that you feel that way." Because I'm such a softie, my pattern was to just sort of melt if I discovered that my actions (or inaction) had made someone feel badly. Consequently, I would immediately backpedal to try to fix it and make it all better. Nowadays when I find myself doing that I can hear Roberta words reminding me that I can simply say, "It's unfortunate that you feel that way." Not, "Oh, dear; I'm so sorry you don't like my new hairstyle. Here; let me change it for you!" Nope. Roberta taught me that I don't have to bow to the wishes of someone who pressures me to do so. I could just say, "It's unfortunate that you feel that way" and move on.

Does this mean that Roberta taught us that we should never help others? Not at all!!! To the contrary, she had a huge servant-heart and taught us much along that line by her example. It's just that she helped us sort out which requests and demands were appropriate or reasonable and which were not conducive to our well-being - or which might not be helpful to the person making the demands.

So much more could be said in praise of Roberta and the ways she helped people. Even as I type, I'm realizing that her help continues. Just thinking back over these things and trying to articulate some of them has been good for me. It has reminded me of things I haven't thought about for awhile or of good habits that I've forgotten to implement recently.

Thank you, dear friend. You taught me much and continue to teach me and I appreciate you more than I can express. I'm reminded to revisit the things you'd taught me and yes, to keep working the program - which involves passing the healing on to others.

What if...?

I've shaken my head and marveled about how in the world we got here. I've marveled about the fact that sometimes blessings just come our way. That good things happen to us for which we can take no credit. I don't know how that works, but I am grateful. At the same time I realize that the things that happen to us do not always feel like good things - which can be a topic for another time.

But yes, there is another side to the story of how we got from there to here. It is all about choices. There are certainly times when we can alter our circumstances by the choices we make and the changes we implement.

Choices matter. Choices make a difference. Choices are powerful.

'Tis a topic well explored by authors and bloggers as well as preachers and teachers.

Make good choices. Make wise choices.

Break bad habits; build good ones.

I am a creature of habit. My natural tendency is to get stuck in a familiar groove and not be able to see any other options. I can be needlessly blocked by obstacles.

We are not wealthy. We don't have a huge retirement fund. We don't have financial resources piled up and available to us. How could we afford to follow our dreams? To do whatever it is that retired people do? How could we afford to travel to warmer climates? How can we travel at all?

It was easy to assume that we were stuck. That we'd never be able to do those things because we just couldn't afford it. But somewhere along the line we were challenged to get creative. To brainstorm ways that we might be able to actually do some of the things that seemed unattainable. To recognize the assets that we did have and to imagine how we could utilize them.

I remember the day we were talking with friends about one of our seemingly unattainable dreams. I made a simple statement about not being able to afford it. One friend replied, "Unless you sell this place" - meaning our house, our farm, our home. Which was unthinkable to me at the moment.

So that was that. Selling our place was not an option so we tucked that dream aside in the impossible category and settled back into the familiar. The thought of selling popped up again a time or two but was never really considered.

Until one night... Years later. One of us dared to utter the thought, "maybe we should sell this place" - and the other one dared to agree. Maybe we should. Maybe we could. Maybe we would then be able to afford a fifth-wheel camper and to travel.... Maybe. Or maybe we could go overseas again. Or maybe... Maybe we could consider things we had never imagined.

The unthinkable had become thinkable. Could the impossible become possible? Who knew? But simply choosing to talk about it changed the game for us that night. Now we could begin to think creatively. Why? Because that obstacle might not have to continue being an obstacle.

The wise among us know that we can't have it all, but that late night discussion helped us begin to realize that we could maybe trade one thing for another.

...

Was it really possible? Who knew? But something had changed. Something had been awakened. Something had moved from the realm of impossibility to at least maybe.

And so discussion could begin. Did we really want to do this? Did we even want to think about it? What would it mean? How could it work? Was it even possible? We had no idea. All we could do was to decide whether to take the next step in even discussing the idea.

And so it began. One tiny step at a time. Unlocking that door had been a huge step. Deciding to step through it was another.

...

Why had it been previously impossible to consider? I guess because we were comfortable. We were living the American dream. Well, part of it anyway. We had a wonderful house on a lovely piece of land. We had built it and we loved it. It provided safety and security. It was home - the only home our kids had ever known. I never would have imagined that we would ever give it up so I never considered it as an option.

But once we dared to talk about it, then I guess we began to imagine what it would be like - with all its pros and cons. It did NOT happen overnight. It did not happen in a week or a month and it did not happen quickly, but it did begin to happen. We began the process of letting go - first by deciding to let go. Only then could we begin to see the possibilities.

...

That was only the beginning.

The process would be monumental.

But we began.

We began to talk and dream and strategize.

We began to downsize.

We began to make tough choices.

We had no clue about how long it would take or even if we were up to the task, but we began.

We are not experts. We are not financial wizards, neither are we downsizing gurus. We didn't know what we were doing. We didn't know what steps to take. But we began.

We just tried to figure out the next step and work on that. And then another.

We began.

     Continue with the next post...

            ... or see the entire series here.

The campsite with the leaning tower

This place. Nice place. The campground, the campsite.
The campground seems like a good place. Relatively quiet and peaceful, but with friendly activity and nice people - lots of them from Michigan but also from a wide variety of states - as well as Ontario, Canada - many of whom have been coming here for 20 years or more.

The campsite itself is interesting - small and constricted. It is nearly impossible to park a rig on it - what with the ground being all uneven and filled with huge tree roots - not to mention the cement slab right in the middle of the site. Talk about an obstacle course - without any good place to go. One of those obstacles is the greatly leaning utility pole complete with square canopy-type roof extending on all sides. Our immediate interest in that pole was to keep an appropriate distance between it and the upper corners of the RV and to calculate the space needed to extend the slider. A more subtle concern involved wondering if that leaning pole was in fact safe or if it would keep leaning farther and land somewhere on top of our abode. I was assured that this is not hurricane season and it seems solid so it should be safe. These calculations and wonderings and decisions were all negotiated in the dark, by the way.

We quickly realized the campsite is unique in another way - besides being the teeniest site in the whole place. It also is on the main corner of the campground just inside the entrance and nearest to the office. Basically all roads lead through this corner and past this site - from every possible direction in the campground - probably a mixed blessing.

I like the site okay, but it is fun to wonder if we might want to try a different site on any subsequent return visits. It could be nice to be back in the woods with more space and privacy and closer to the path to the beach. On the other hand, it also could be fun to be out front right along the road with an even better view of the boat traffic across the street. From our little site we can see some of the marine activity, but also have a bit of wind protection from that front row of campers.

For this year, for this month, this teeny little lot serves our purpose quite nicely. I can see enough of the boat traffic to be fascinated by it all. I love being able to see and hear the car ferry, the Marissa Mae Nicole, as she comes and goes across the mouth of Mobile Bay every ninety minutes. Then there are the tenders, Ms. Joy and Gulf Glory, that service the dozens of drilling platforms out there in the Gulf. These powerful boats come and go at all hours of the day and night to the Exxon-Mobil supply depot right there beyond the fence. Crew members load and unload supplies as well as duffel bags to and from their vehicles parked out front.

'Tis a good spot to live and write and to explore walking lanes in all directions - whether to the aquarium or the fort or the beach. It's not hard to be content in such a fascinating place.

...

And then came the scary night. The forecast called for a hard freeze and the wind became ferocious. RVers compared notes and did everything we knew to do to protect our plumbing and our rigs from damage. At our little lot we were grateful for the almost unbroken line of rigs out there along the fence offering a bit of protection from the mighty winds sweeping down the bay and raging ashore. Still our little abode shook violently in the gale - until we chose to retract the slider which seemed to help considerably.

But what about that leaning tower? That utility pole that was already leaning toward our rig? Would this violent wind bring it crashing down on us? Further inspection was done and I was once again assured that it looked stable.

Sure enough, our leaning tower withstood the gale and the electricity kept working. AND the trickle of water kept flowing through the freezing night. All is well at this little campsite and we are grateful.

Easy as A, B, C - a writing assignment

What's wrong with the world? What makes me angry?

Injustice makes me angry - whether on the macro level or in "normal" life. Abuse makes me angry - whether verbal, emotional, sexual or spiritual. When you boil down the various forms of abuse and injustice, I guess you could say that it is a lack of respect for our fellow man. And along with that is a lack of civility everywhere you look - at least in our country - that seems to make it impossible to carry on a conversation that might help to improve the quality of life for us all.

So how do we fight injustice if we can't even agree to be civil with each other enough to discuss problems and solutions.

Whether the topic is about human rights or the economy or government or values and beliefs or how to measure success, it can be difficult to find a safe place to dialog. So many things people say are flat-out conversation-stoppers.

So when I hear someone spout some hateful bigoted declaration, it sets me off. It makes me angry, but it also makes me cry. It makes me feel helpless - which is not a good feeling for a fixer!

Yep, that's what makes me mad. I get so upset that I want to post my own strong statements about it. I want to speak out the perfect zinger that will make the offenders pause and realize their brutality - or at least their gross insensitivity. But then I realize I might also be guilty of not respecting those on the other side of the issue. Or someone whose perspective I do not understand. ACK!!!

So then I think maybe I should just shut up - because maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. Well, and because I really don't like confrontation.

But then I feel like a coward.

What's a wimp like me supposed to do about injustice in the world anyway? How can I stand up to bullies and how can I be a peacemaker when I am quaking in my boots?

There is much that I cannot do, but I am learning that there are things that I can do.

I can stretch myself by learning what life is like for people different than me.

I can celebrate diversity.

I can speak with a calm tone when others are raving mad.

I can describe what it feels like to be oppressed and scared.

I can speak worth to those who are degraded.

I can respect those with whom I disagree.

I can choose to let civility be my guide.

I can create safe places in my sphere of influence. In my conversations. In my social relationships. On my Facebook page. On my blog.

I can challenge those around me to let themselves be stretched by knowledge and understanding.

...

Because I tend to be fearful when I'm in a place that is obviously unsafe, I understand how important safety is for growth and healing. So this might be my mission: to create safe places.

But it is hard. Hard to push myself to be civil and respectful. Hard to go the extra mile and invest the extra effort to get the facts and understand the feellings.

I do not have all the answers - and haven't even thought of all the questions. BUT I do know some steps that I can take. One. At. A. Time...

Civil conversation

Diversity

Empathy

Freedom

Grace

...

Well, look at that. I seem to have slipped into an old habit of alphabetizing my list. What do you know?

Sure enough, maybe it's not so hard after all. In fact, maybe it's as easy as A, B, C...

D, E, F...

...
Sure; why not?

Respect

Safety

Tolerance

Understanding

Value

Worth...

Yep, I guess there are things that I can do - and that I can encourage others to do.
Simple, basic things.
Important things.