I Heard the Bells

Oh, what a day.

Fear, excitement, panic, hope, dread...the list goes on and on and on.  Sitting at my computer (at work...shhh) I felt it all rise up within me.  I became suddenly overwhelmed.  How on earth will we go on after this election day?  No one can deny that this campaign process has incited and ignited passion within people.  And not just good passion.  No.  Anger...hatred...vitriol...

I wondered how our nation could move on after all this.  Surely we are more divided than ever before.

Except -

As I let my mind spiral downward a song came on my Dave Barnes (Holiday) Pandora station.  (Yes.  Holiday.  Judge not.)  As I listened I felt tears come to my eyes and peace wash over me.  The carol was a song based on a poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Christmas Day, 1863.

Folks, 1863 was the middle of the American Civil War.  A time when our nation was more divided than ever before, a time in which it seemed we could only splinter apart.  Longfellow, the widowed father of six children, had recently learned his oldest child had been severely injured in the war.  So he did what the artists and dreamers do: He put his pain and hope on paper.

I think it applies now, just as surely as then.

Here is his poem (emphasis mine):

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said:
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

On Fear

When I was young I made the Powers-That-Be turn on the lights inside the Haunted Mansion.

I know.  Cool, right?

Except it was my terror that made them do it.  Memory is faulty, and I was very, very, very young, so I don't remember much about it.  Here is what I can recall:

Sitting on someone's shoulders (my mind says my Grandpa's?  But that seems crazy....So maybe an uncle?) as we walked from the elevator to the Doom Buggies, clutching at his forehead in horror as I sobbed, "Turn on the lights!  Make them turn on the lights!" over and over and over again until suddenly the lights flickered on.  I remember my Grandpa saying, "Looks like you're in luck."  And I remember the relief.  That's it. I don't know if we all left the Haunted Mansion or if it was just a parent and me.

Just terror, searching for something to ground me to reality (in this case the feel of skin beneath my fingertips), and then relief.

A few years later I made them stop Star Tours mid-ride.  It was the same sort of thing, although this time just my mom and I left the ride, and I definitely recall that walk back to meet up with the rest of the family.

We've all been there, guys.  Don't deny it  (Love you, Mama!) 

I'm not bragging at the power I apparently hold over Disney ride operators.  (Not much, I mean.)  No, my point is this:  My fear is big, and loud, and demands to be heard.

Now, I have mixed feelings about fear.  I mean, if you look over the history of our species, fear has been a good thing.  Fear keeps you from stepping too close to the edge of a high cliff.  Fear redirects your steps when you hear a roar from out in the darkness, assuredly saving you from ending up in the belly of some great beast.

Or, if you're a small girl with a vivid imagination...

And impeccable fashion sense, clearly.

...Who has against her better judgement entered a Haunted Mansion, been herded into a secret elevator and then told - essentially - the only way out is to follow the choice of a hanging skeleton...

...Been plunged into a darkness filled by screaming people...

...And then suddenly finds herself in a dark hallway with pictures that only prove the house is, indeed, haunted...

It's waaaaay scarier with the lights out, folks.

Well...Fear steps up to the plate.  Fear reminds you there are GHOSTS INSIDE.

Fear is there to warn you when something may hurt you.

There are many who will tell you that fear is a liar.  I disagree.  I just think fear is really good at its job.  Seriously, Employee of the Month, time after time after time.  And let's be very real here - fear is good at its job because there is no way to be a human being and not be hurt.

One of my favorite quotes from Welcome to Night Vale

Fear has had a lot of practice.  Fear has been hardwired into our DNA as surely as joy, sorrow, delight, or anger have.  Fear may go even deeper, existing on the same level as thirst, hunger, the need to breathe.  Personally, I believe those who say they have no fear are either lying or foolish - or both.


Fear is not the voice to be shut up and ignored!  Fear is that friend who has your best interests at heart but just never quite hits the mark.  You know the one.  Maybe the Christmas gift is never right, but is given with a good spirit.

Maybe words are awkwardly phrased and the hug too tight/loose/long/whatever - but you can tell the intention is there.

Fear isn't out to get us, it's out to help us.  So instead of ignoring its voice, we instead need to turn and face it and say, "I hear you, fear, and you're not in charge here."

Boom.

That's it.  It is as simple and as difficult as that.

So whether I'm walking the sinister hallway toward the Doom Buggies and am feeling that familiar lick of terror along my spine (every time, guys), or I'm finally telling people that yeah, my agent has put the pitch out to a few editors and some have asked to read the complete manuscript - fear doesn't get to keep me from doing something I know is good.

Remember that time I said guilt could hand me the roadmap but didn't get to come along for the ride?  (No?  Let's change that.  Check it out here.)   It's kind of like that, except that fear has a seat in the car.  The backseat...and fear is an avid backseat driver.

Ideally fear will be passed out, though...just sleeping the drive away.

I just don't have to follow its direction.

Another winner from WTNV

This Elevator Is Making Me Dizzy - OR - Adventures in Hotel Travel

This is it.  This is the day. 

This is the day of the WARRIOR DASH!!!!  Let us rejoice and be glad it's finally here.  Let us also keep our thoughts from the idea of what lies ahead and remember that we signed up for this so we will do it, gosh darnit.  Because our stomachs have recently been filled with banana, bagel, and coffee, and the butterflies that take flight when we think about the Dash don't exactly sit well with all that food.

But hey, it was a continental breakfast....I had to take advantage of it!  Even if that did mean eating more sub-par food than I actually wanted to.  It's one of my weaknesses.  I have a soft spot for a good continental breakfast, and by "a good continental breakfast" I really mean, "any continental breakfast."

Is it the packaged muffins?  Maybe it's the 2 types of cereal they offer - bran flakes or corn flakes - that have probably been in those containers with the plastic scoops for at least a week.  Or maybe it's the packets of hot cocoa.  I love hot cocoa.  And coffee that tastes like it was brewed in a gas station.  I love that stuff.  (Really...ask my friends.  I really love gas station coffee.)

And how could I pass up the opportunity to sit awkwardly with other hotel guests while we all watch ZzzzzNN - I mean CNN - against our inclination?  I suggested changing to the Disney Channel, but no one jumped on that idea, which is strange since half the people eating looked to be under the age of twelve.  I couldn't have been the only person there wishing we could catch a rerun of Wizards of Waverly Place.  But, unfortunately, the little soccer team either didn't hear me, or they just didn't care, and shortly after making my suggestion my mom and I went back upstairs. 

My mom is here!  Did I tell you that??

She felt sad for me that I had to come on this trip on my own (my co-warrior, Lara, got sick, and I do hope she is feeling better!), so my mama decided pretty last minute to come with me.  It's been a long time since I've had hours of one-on-one time with my mom, and it was pretty great!  The drive up definitely passed more quickly than if I had been on my own, and it was really great to have someone to laugh with.

Which is a good thing.  Because from the warning from the clerk about the bed ("Now, you do realize there is just one bed, right?") which was the first clue that the "queen size" bed was not actually a queen, to the crazy blinking wrench on the thermostat ("Mom, I think that means the AC can't turn off!!"), to watching a fully grown woman walk around the hotel in boxers and a t-shirt ("Isn't it strange how in a hotel people do all the things they would NEVER do at home?  Like walk around a public place in their underwear?"), to the conversation with one of the soccer moms in the elevator ("Yeah, our girls are headed to a costumed soccer tournament.  They're the Zombie Grass-Fairies."), there's been no lack of laughable things. 

Side note:  I want to be on that soccer team.  They sound extremely cool.

And here's to hoping that I can laugh my way through the WARRIOR DASH!!!!  Because now, just thinking about it, those butterflies are taking flight again.  So Mom and I are going to hit the town for a bit, do some sight-seeing.  (It shouldn't take too long here...my view from the hotel window is the back of the hotel's facade.  And the freeway.  And some weeds next to the freeway.)  I promise I'll blog about the Dash.  If nothing else, you'll get to hear an awkward story of the day I decided to be a warrior.

Till then, think good thoughts and send some prayers up for me.  They will be most appreciated.

Warrior Dash Training - Day 1

Ouch.  That's how I feel right now.  I've only just started training today and it's already hard.  Very.  Hard. 

What's driving me to do this?  I can't really give you an answer, except that sometimes I get pushed in a random direction.  I've learned the best thing to do in these situations is to mentally shrug my shoulders and just go with it.  Only in this case "just go with it" doesn't seem to mean "float along and enjoy the ride."  No, in this case "just go with it" seems to mean "wake up early and kick your own butt, disregarding the fact that as of yet you have no idea how you're getting there, or who is going with you, or any of that stuff."

But I suppose I should back up a bit and explain myself.

A few weeks ago I read a book called The Buried Life.  It's a PostSecret sort of book, except that instead of sharing secrets it reveals hopes.  People were asked one question: What do you want to do before you die?  Some of the answers made me laugh.  Some made me shake my head.  Reading the stories behind how some were achieved made me cry.  See, a few years ago four guys felt, well, Blah.  They were all in different types and stages of Blah, but they were there.  And one day they asked what they would do if they weren't stuck in Blah.  They started throwing out ideas, and then they wrote them down, and between the four of them they came up with a list of one hundred items.  And here's where it gets really good:  They actually set out to do them.  They had one condition, though - for every item they crossed off their own list they would help someone else cross an item off their list.  (It is a really great story.  I would definitely recommend reading the book, or at least going to their website, www.theburiedlife.com.)  When I closed the book I felt inspired.  I don't want to be stuck in Blah. 

As soon as I got home that night I pulled out a notebook and started writing my own list.  Some of my items are silly (#36 - wear a tutu skirt, #14 - Eat a turkey leg), some are serious (#1 - Fall in love, #2 - Get out of debt, #12 - Write a novel).  Some seem outrageously far-fetched (#18 - Go on the Jimmy Fallon Show, #20 - Be the voice of a Disney character), some are a little embarrassing (#30 - Go skinny dipping, #4 - Take a food challenge - and WIN).  And some are very private, a voice to my deepest desires and insecurities, items that only I will see crossed off in the notebook.  I currently have 39 items on my list - with the expectation that more will be added.  None of them are crossed off yet, but I am actively working on it. 

Which brings us back to my "ouch."  Well, almost.  I was recently hired as a youth director and as I was searching for ways to get the students involved AND have fun I came across a link that said, "Become a St. Jude's Warrior!"  I clicked, and was taken to the website for the Warrior Dash.

Excuse me.  I mean, The WARRIOR DASH!!!!

That's what it looks like in my head, at least.  I looked through the site and learned that the WARRIOR DASH!!!! is about 3.2 miles of running with 12 obstacles to get through.  Obstacles such as crawling under barbed wire, climbing over walls, jumping over fire.  Yes.  Jumping over fire.  (Strangely, this has become my favorite of the bunch.)

I (very) quickly realized there would be no way I could take a bunch of high schoolers to do this.  (I briefly imagined myself telling parents, "And then we will swim through dirty water.  And then jump over fire."  Yeah, right.)  But my next thought honestly shocked me.  "Steph.  You can do this."

"Nope." I answered myself.

"Yeah.  Totally."

"I'm sorry...Did you miss the part where they JUMP OVER FIRE??"

"You've done it before -"

"Truesies."

"-And it would be for a good cause."

Sigh... "True."

"Consider it."

"Fine.  I'll consider it."

When I got home that night I added to my list: #39 - Complete the Warrior Dash.

(It occurs to me now that #40 on my list should be "Stop these weird, little conversations you have with yourself," but they add so much fascination to my life that I just can't bring myself to do that.)

And #39 has a little something tacked onto it, at least in my mind.  Raise money for St. Jude's.  I have an amount I would like to strive for, but I'm still figuring out whether or not it's realistic.  Because the WARRIOR DASH!!!! that I am going to complete is October 27.  3.5 months. 

And so the training began today.  I'm embarrassed to admit that all things considered it wasn't that tough, but still I'm left thinking one thing: Ouch.

Although, let's be honest.  My "ouch" is a far cry from what would be considered "ouch" to those kids at St. Jude's. 

So I guess I kind of do know what's driving me to do this.  The Buried Life.  And these guys:

Lioness

It has been a long while - yet again - since I have opened this page and written a new blog post.  I have had so many things to blog about, so many experiences I've wanted to share, but somehow there hasn't been enough time to sit and write about them. 

And that's okay.  Really. 

I wanted to share about the amazing experience of Candlelight Caroling at Disneyland (sometimes referred to as "My Hometown").  Not long after I wanted to share about reuniting with my LOGgers at the LOG Christmas party (LOG stands for Love of God, by the way) and how uplifted my spirit was after seeing them.  Then I wanted to reflect on the sadness I felt recently about witnessing a family reach their breaking point.  And then I became - somehow - embroiled in a huge, disgusting drama about what is deemed to be appropriate and inappropriate for today's Orthodox Christian. 

Done.  I shared them all.  Boom.  In one, fell swoop I clued you all in on the delights and struggles of my life as of late.  Well, sure - there's always more to a story, but I don't really feel like going into any of them right now. 

Instead I want to share an experience I had while I was (finally) falling asleep last night.  I felt unsettled and frustrated, angry and hurt.  A million words were flying through my head.  Words people said in anger or in defense, to hurt or to soothe.  Words I wanted to say.  Words I knew I shouldn't say.  Words danced around, in and out of my grasp, until I became frustrated not only at the situation I found myself in, but at the words that usually came so easily.

I love words.  I think words are - truly - awesome.  I love that words can communicate, distract, enlighten, darken, heal, hurt... There is power in words.  There is play in words.  There is joy in words.  There is a certain melody and dance to the rhythm of words, and I love to play with it. 

That being said, I get very clear mental images sometimes.  They frighten me sometimes because they come from nowhere and can be so clear and vivid that I find myself distracted from reality, if only for a moment.  Usually I find words to accompany the picture - that tends to come easily enough.  A descriptor, a mood to the image comes to my mind and I find myself back in my comfort zone, the land of words. 

Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep I had a vivid picture appear in my mind.  It was a picture of me.  I picked up a piece of broken glass, the piece of a mirror, and I saw my reflection.  This reflection shocked me.  It was not me, or anything that I thought resembled me. 

My reflection was a lioness.  A lioness that gave me a smile of sorts, a homecoming, a "so glad you finally figured this out," kind of a look.

I drifted off to sleep with a smile on my lips.  I would never have assumed to be a lioness.  A bird, sure.  I can definitely be flighty at times.  Mayhap even a horse.  I enjoy a certain amount of freedom, but am a homebody and a hard worker.  But a lioness?  No.  She is fierce.  She is strong.  She is a fighter.  She may not be as delicate as some animals, nor as exotic as others, but she is a force with which to be reckoned. 

When I woke up today I could actually feel her - my - power.  As I pushed out of bed I saw in my mind's eye her shoulders as she pushed to standing.  As I went throughout my day I felt in myself a new kind of power - new but not foreign, as if it had been waiting for me to claim it, to own it.  I became glad of a new facet to my identity. 

I am a lioness. 

Look out, world.



Painting credit: craftworks.wordpress.com