The Autumn of Life...

I have spent the morning in my flower beds.  I grabbed my garden gloves and a wagon full of hand shovels, fertilizers, pruning scissors, and out I went.  Even though it is fall in San Antonio, temperatures continue to hit the 90’s by late afternoon.  Mornings and evenings are cooler and give us a slight reprieve from the summer’s sun and heat. Flowers and bushes have a second chance for blooming and are as vibrant as they were late last spring.

I got down and grubby, digging my hands in the soil, pulling weeds, kneading all the necessary nutrients into the bases of each plant and bush.  I snipped off dead flowers from my roses and mums, hoping to get more enjoyment from their blooms before winter.

It was a perfect morning to work, because as I did, I was able to reflect on this past weekend.  I left early Friday and flew to Lubbock, Texas, home of the Texas Tech Red Raiders.  We had planned our second Pi Beta Phi Reunion and over 50 of us were coming from all parts of the country to reunite.  The weather couldn't have been better. Four of us drove to campus for a late lunch.  We were met by that unbeatable crystal blue sky, the crisp, dry, cool West Texas air, we were all 19 years old again, and we reveled in being young again, if only for a brief moment.

Two years ago, we gathered for our first sorority reunion in over 40 years.  It was so fun, we decided to increase our pledge class years and include classes initiated between 1969 to 1977.  Eight years of women, who at one time had spent four of the most formative years of our lives together.

Reunion 2012

As I worked in my flower beds this morning the thought struck me that between the ages of mid 50‘s to mid 60’s is a season of our lives much like autumn.  If spring were the first quarter of our life, fall certainly seems to be the third quarter of life.  

Spring brings planting, growth, the budding of trees, flowers and new growth.  Fall, at least in Texas, brings a welcome and much needed break in temperature, cool breezes and a few rains, allowing the flowers to again flourish after the stress of the previous hot summer months.  Flowers, that several months ago were withering in the oppressive heat are now able to take a breather, regroup and enjoy the lovely days before winter.

As I cut back dead flowers, I thought about the uniqueness of college years.  Four years out of an entire lifetime that leaves such an imprint on who we might be and who we have become.  Four years of living with more people at one time than we probably ever will again in our lifetime.  Four years of meeting new people, developing lifelong friendships, of planting seeds and flourishing, yet still so fresh, so malleable.   Still so young, still needing to grow, still needing to develop roots in order to endure the heat of the summer season of life to come.

I loved my college years.  I pledge Pi Beta Phi as a freshman and to this day some of my very dearest friends are my sisters.  When our family walked down the isle before Steve’s memorial service I will never forget the gift that will remain with me the rest of my life.  I remember looking to my left and seeing an entire row of my precious sisters who had come to support and love Ann (also a Pi Phi and my little sister) and me when we needed them the most. They had come from all over the country and did so because of those seeds that had been planted so long ago in the spring of our lives.  A definition of true friendship.

This past weekend involved much laughter over shared memories. Humorous, often bawdy college antics were retold and new priceless memories were made. There was however, an underlining tenderness and nostalgia, a binding cord, that ran so deep it is difficult for me to find the words to describe.  Perhaps it’s our age, perhaps it’s our journeys, perhaps it’s simply our season, but there was a sweetness that was visible in the eyes, in the voices, in the hearts of each of us that enabled us to be fed and nurtured and to again flourish.

I know I speak not only for myself when I say that there were so many instances during the weekend when we were able to share personal occasions that we had experienced during that summer season of our lives.  Some moments were joyous, some poignant, some tragic, but we found, in this special group of women, our root system had been grafted together to produce much of who we have become today. 

It was those college years that had established seeds that turned into young fresh blooms.  Those blooms may have faded and withered through forty plus years of life, but now that we are deep into our autumn season, we have found in each other, a new sustenance by taking the time to dig a little deeper with our life long friends. We found our spirits and souls were strengthened by the love of this remarkable group of women who all share a common bond in our love of this sisterhood.  We found because we had been able to share those precious, often fragile, formative college years together our bonds were refortified on a level much deeper than we could ever imagine.

It is not easy to make time for reunions.  Life, even in the fall of life, can be hectic and involved.  I’m so thankful that this amazing group of women took the time and made the effort to reconnect, to share our hearts with one another and to remind us all of those young, tender years that enable us to all flourish again.

With a heart brimming with love,

Janet

Psalm 61:1  "May God be merciful to us and bless us and cause his face to shine upon us."

Philippians 4:8  "Finally whatsoever things are true and honest and just and pure and lovely and of a good report, if there be any virtue or praise we think on these things."

Perception...

“to recognize, discern, envision, or understand” (Webster’s Dictionary)

This word and it’s meaning continues to pop up in my life Whac-A-Mole style.  

NPR today, Dianne Rhem was discussing Toni Morrison’s first book, “The Bluest Eye.” As I was running errands, I listened to her panel of authors raise the question, “How do we see the world and how does the world see us?”

In Bible study, we are looking at Shelia Walsh’s The Storm Inside.  The last two weeks, we have looked more deeply at the Samaritan woman who meets Jesus at the well (John 4:4-46). This week we are discussing the nameless woman who dared to reach out and touch the hem of Christ’s robe and was, in turn healed from an issue of bleeding (Mark 5:25-34).  Both women lived their lives as complete outcasts, isolated from everyone they encountered and treated as unworthy.  They were dependent on how the world perceived them and therefore, how they perceived themselves.

Our book club has chosen, as our September read, a poignant little book, Wonder by R.J. Palacio. While this is a book meant for young readers, it is chocked full of little pearls of wisdom for living a better life.  In short, the book is about a little boy, born with a severe facial deformity.  The book covers a year of this child’s first school experience as a fifth grader and all that comes with learning to deal with how he is perceived by others and how he copes with his own perception of himself. 

I love this quote from Wonder.  Palacio actually quotes Christopher Nolan in Under the Eye of the Clock.  He writes, “It was moments such as these that Joseph recognized the face of God in human form.  It glimmered in their kindness to him, it glowed in their keenness, it hinted in their caring, indeed it caressed in their gaze.” Oh how amazing it would be to be seen by others in this way.  What an incredible thing “to be recognized by such a simple thing as kindness.”

Eating lunch with friends several weeks ago our conversation trailed off on a tangent, as often happens in conversations of women,  and for whatever reason, the subject turned to how we thought we were perceived by others.

The four of us all wondered the same question. Do people see me differently than I see myself?  Do I present myself differently in certain situations than I do in others?  Am I looked at as quiet or reserved, maybe even snobbish? Do others see me as outgoing and friendly, or maybe loud and obnoxious?  Do I seem wise and capable or flighty and undependable?  The list of characteristics covers a multitude of flaws and attributes.  We all four came to the same conclusion. We present ourselves in a different manner than who we feel we might really be, even though that is not our intention.

Lately, since all my paths seem to be colliding over this subject of perception. I decided if put some of my thoughts in writing about this concurring subject of “am I the person people perceive me to be” I might be able to make some meaning to it all.

I think the real question I am asking myself is; am I loved, am I worthy, am I deserving, am I good enough? Do other’s perceive me in this way?  Do I perceive myself in this way?

One last little incident that happened goes hand in hand with this perception issue that keeps raising it’s questioning little Whac-A-Mole head.

Several days prior to the lunch with my friends, I was googling information about an author.  I quickly shifted gears, as I often do when surfing, and found myself googling my own name. Wondering if I might possibly have something in common with someone whose name is the same as mine. I typed in Janet Boswell.  

I found my name is quite common.  I scrolled through a long list of females with my name.  Their information and backgrounds were varied.  Their occupations covered a wide spectrum.  There was a Janet Boswell who was a mail room production processor, another had her career at Home Depot, one was a Vice-president of a corporation.  I clicked on Google images and before me was a sea of faces all owning my name.  There were pictures of women older and younger than me.  Women from all ethnicities, and all walks of life.  Did I really I think I might find something in common with someone just because we shared a name?  

My searched continued.  Since Boswell was not my maiden name I switched my search to Janet Merrill.  There are fewer Merrill's than Boswell's but the differences were still there.  Doctors, attorneys, an author, an artist, one worked at a Goodwill store, one at Pink Poppy Studios and one looked like she may well have been a pole dancer.   No my very own name held no more special bond with any other.  The only similar thing I found was one Janet Merrill had her Face Book cover photo standing in front of the Parthenon in Athens, well what a coincidence.  I have also had my picture taken in front of the Parthenon...and so have millions of other people. Perception #1:  One cannot be perceived by their name. 

Have you ever been introduced to someone and their first response is, "You remind me so much of someone I know?" I think I get this response from about half of the people I meet. I have decided I must have one of those very common faces that reminds people of their best friend's cousin's aunt. 

When told that I remind someone of a particular person, I'm always so curious if this is a good or bad thing?  I want to say, introduce me to this person who I remind you of, let me see myself through your eyes. I'm curious how others perceive me.  Why is this?  Do other people ruminate over this same thought? 

I feel the older I get I really don't care much what others think of me, maybe I feel like at 60 years old, I am pretty much who I am, so take me or leave me.  Yet, this curiosity prevails. Perception #2: Whether it's my appearance or mannerisms, I must not be exotic, nor can I be perceived by my appearance.

I believe my heart's desire is to be perceived by the way I try to live my life.  It would be my desire for others to find in me, kindness, thoughtfulness, sincerity, and honesty.  My real fear is, I fall short of my goal.  Perception #3: The good news, I believe, is that my faith allows God to perceive me as his child, flawless and perfect through Christ.  How thankful I am for God's grace!

So while I may always be curious to see myself outside my own body, the truth is, I may never be able to live up to my own expectations.

So the next time I am introduced to someone new and I hear the words, "You remind me so much of ____  ____.  All I can really do is smile and say, “I hope that may be a good thing." Realizing inwardly, I'm thankful God is not through with me yet.

For what it's worth,

Janet

Perception #4: “Now here is my secret.  It is very simple.  It is only with one's heart that one can see clearly. What is essential is invisible to the eye."  Antoine de Saint-Exupery. The Little Prince

Galatians 5:22-23 "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law."

A lesson from Lucy...

Lucy and I try our best to walk every morning.  It’s been hotter than blue blazes these last few weeks and Lucy and I are feeling our age. Our fatigue, and the heat can get the best of us as the hot San Antonio temperatures drone on.

We start our walks rather peppy and quick paced, but after about 30 minutes we begin to wilt.  Lucy, at the end of her leash begins slowing her pace, panting heavier with each step and stopping often to sniff and smell anything that gives her cause. 

I, if given a choice, would much rather plow ahead and get this grueling routine over and done and therefore, I just may lose sight of a slice of delight that might be hiding right beneath my tennis shoes.

The past few weeks Lucy has resorted to a new little routine that she finds completely refreshing and I must admit, I find hysterically funny.  Walking along my neighborhood sidewalks, my mind floats off in a thousand directions. Suddenly I am brought back to the present when I feel a tug on the end of the leash.  Shaking my mind back into reality, I look up to find Lucy has found a neighbor’s lawn that is being watered.  

Lucy has a new definite and very exact ritual that she now performs daily.  The first hint of fatigue, the girl begins sniffing out any possibility of water. Next, she gently, cleverly, and slyly, so as not to disturb my deep in thought pace, creeps onto the lawn being sprinkled.  Her furry paws tip toe into the wet grass and bam, she’s down.  Rolling with great gusto across the sprinkler heads, face planting her head, ears and cute little black button nose, into the cool wetness beneath her, she then, dexterously snakes her body through the blades of grass to ensure that every inch of her hot tired figure is soaked to the core by the cool water.  Her last phase of this routine is to lie perfectly still, her little head burrowed down between her paws, with great dollops of water hanging from her now long drooping eyebrows, she looks up at me with her big brown eyes and I swear she smiles. She is happy and content that she has found a way to refresh her body, mind and soul.

Quite a few of my neighbors have witnessed me standing there, staring at my goofy saturated dog. Lucy laying in the middle of someone’s lawn with their sprinklers running at full blast, and me at the other end of the leash, laughing out loud at her genius and her delight.

The other day I was sitting by a good and very special friend who was having one of those times when life seems simply overwhelming, one of those moments that tend to drone on and on.  

We all have moments like this, when tears just begin to flow.  There is no rhyme, no reason for the tears other than they are utterly our only release from life’s hot summer sun. Our immediate response might be to plow forward, hoping to overcome the heaviness with a mindset to simply endure, to march forward, and hope the sadness, the heaviness, passes quickly, so that we can mark it off of our life's must-do list.

I think Lucy has discovered the solution to the fatigue that life brings, and I think we might all learn a lesson from her.  Unlike me, who feels the need to trudge on hot, sweaty and tired, determined to complete my walk as quickly as possible, my wise dog, finds that when it’s time to stop, rest and soak in life, then one should do it, right then and there.  

Lucy has taught me you don’t have to trudge on when life seems unbearable. Instead, take that unrivaled moment and stop, plop down and enjoy what lies beneath your paw steps and submerge yourself in that moment. Soak joy and delight into every fiber of your being, and once you feel totally satiated, be still, and take note of all that is around you. Finally, look up with a smile of thanksgiving and be grateful to the One that deserves our gratitude.

At the end of Lucy’s little routine, she will suddenly jump back on her feet, and she will give her body a might shake.  Water will fly off her coat, she will regain her stature and onward she proceeds, but not before looking back at me, as if to say, “Come on what’s the hold up?  We still have a long way to go before we are finished.”

For what it’s worth,

Janet & Lucy

Matthew 11: 28-30 "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Out of the mouths of babes...

Flying home from Carmel, after a wonderful trip with friends, Jared and the children picked me up from the airport.  Brooke was doing a run for a cause that night, so she wasn’t with us in the car.  Squeals of delight greeted me when I opened the car door. There is nothing in this world better than coming home to such enthusiasm.

Harper began telling me all about her first week of school with Harris chiming in, “Me too!  Me too!”  Next, Harper told me all about how her mommy had taken them to the San Antonio Museum of Art to show them the Matisse exhibit.  She loved seeing all the colorful art and Harris, “Me too!  Me Too!” expressed his excitement over their outing.  I admit, I was impressed that my daughter was enlightening my grand babies in art appreciation.

I took a minute to catch up with Jared about his week, but was soon interrupted by Harper.  The conversation went something like this:

Harper: “Honey, why were those men so mean to Jesus?”  It was out of the blue.

Me: “Who was mean to Jesus?”

Harper: “You know those men who stuck him on the cross, and then poked a stick in his side and made him bleed!”

What?!?  How in the world did a innocent little four year old come up with this?  Surely they were not teaching the crucifixion in her Sunday School, certainly the first week of Methodist Day School wasn’t revolving around Christ’s crucifixion. I stumbled over my words, as my thoughts ran rampant, trying to decide how best to answer her very sincere questions.

I mumbled to Jared, “Where is this coming from?”  He shrugged, clueless.

Me: “Oh Harper, that was very sad that that happened to Jesus wasn’t it?”  The old answer a question with a question diversion tactic.  It didn’t fly.

Harper: "They were so mean, why did they make his side bleed?  Why would anyone do that to Jesus?"  Jeez Louise, how was I going to answer her?

Me: “Oh Harper,  I think they were really more afraid than they were being mean. I don’t think they understood Jesus and all that he was teaching.”  Not enough, as her gaze didn’t waver from my lips and her determination for an appropriate answer remained resolute.

I continued on. “Jesus was trying to teach everyone to be kind and loving and treat each other equally, but some people just couldn’t understand and they wanted Jesus to go away.”  This was not going well at all...I decided if I got her off task maybe she would move on.

 “Harper, who told you about all of this? Jesus getting his side pierced and well, everything else?” Thinking she would move on to who told her this vivid information and her forget her fixation of Christ’s suffering.

Harper: “Nobody Honey, I saw it in the PICTURE at the museum.  It was so sad, it made me sad too. Tell me why they hurt Jesus, Honey?  They made him bleed and everything!”

Well, at least now I knew where this was coming from.  Obviously, when Brooke finished the Matisse exhibit they cruised over to the Baroque section of the museum.  

Whew, I was really glad those Methodists hadn’t started 4 year old preschool with the crucifixion along with the zoo animal alphabet.  A is for Anteater, B is for Bear, C is for Crucifixion and S is for the spear that they poked in the Jesus side to make him bleed.

I think our conversation finally ended with Jared, using his defense mechanism (a Harper term for “what living things use to protect themselves” which Jared and I were desperately trying to do, defend ourselves) wisely pointing to a large airplane overhead. Thankfully we moved onto sky objects.

Later that night, Brooke called to ask me about my trip.  I had asked to keep the kids the following night, it was then Brooke shyly mentioned, “Mom, Harper may ask you some questions about ...” the words weren’t out of her mouth before I said, “Oh, too late!”  We both started laughing.  

Brooke explained how she and the children had decided to walk through more of the museum before leaving and had accidentally stumbled on the Baroque art.  She thought she had spotted the crucifixion before the kids had and tried to turn them around and head for a less tortured area, but Harper’s curious little eyes had grabbed hold of the floor to ceiling depiction of Christ’s in all his agony, and the rest is history.

Brooke went on to explain, and this is where the sheepishness in her voice came. After many endless hours had been spent pouring through their children’s Bible, Brooke had pointed out all of the kind and gentle pictures of Jesus. Brooke went on and on about the wonderful life of Jesus shared with everyone who he met.  She explained in detail all the wonderful pictures of baby Jesus, Jesus with the little children, Jesus helping the sick. Then they came upon a picture of Moses, staff in hand.  

Horrified, Harper pointed to poor old Moses and exclaimed, “There's one of those bad men, see he has that poker in his hand!”  Brooke pulled out all the stops in telling Harper all she could about Moses and his famous staff. After several days of The Harper Interrogation
Brooke, who never caves, finally caved and told Harper that she could ask Daddy and Honey all of these same questions and maybe they could help her understand a little better.

Now I will tell you that while raising Brent and Brooke I had my fair share of convoluted questions.  Brent, making me to promise I would tell him the truth, asked me if there really was a Santa Claus.  Oh how I anguished over that one.  In the end I told him the truth, but made him promise we would never talk about it again. I simply couldn’t look my child in the face and blatantly lie, maybe I should have. I will always question if my answer was correct or not.  

Then there was the time Brent asked me how babies were made.  He was only six or seven, so I did the whole mommy and daddy love each other so much that God plants a seed in the mommy’s tummy...I was so proud of my flowery explanation, but was stopped short when his following question was, “Well, then what do condoms (he might have actually used the word rubbers, ugh)  have to do with that whole story?”  It seems Brent had spent the night with a friend with older brothers and “Animal House” was their entertainment for the night.

In short, I thought I was done with the complicated, complex questions of life.  I thought, I had gotten through childhood and early adulthood without them being scarred and interviewed by Oprah about how I had totally messed them up with my inarticulate answers.  Oh no, there is now another generation of sweet innocence that I can have a go at totally confusing.

All I know is, I will never have all the answers.  I also know that we are so blessed to have these precious and curious little questioning minds.  All any of us can do is try our best to stay honest, give them answers as they can best understand them and talk and talk and talk some more as long as they will listen to us.

For what it’s worth,

Honey

Matthew 21:16 “They asked Jesus, "Do you hear what these children are saying?" "Yes," Jesus replied. "Haven't you ever read the Scriptures? For they say, 'You have taught children and infants to give you praise.'"