Speak to Me Sunday: Standing Tall

(A little insomnia, a Broadway quote, and I was down the rabbit hole. Too much deep thinking with too little sleep. Coffee please...)

There is a line from the hit musical, Hamilton, in which the opinionated Alexander Hamilton says to the obfuscating Aaron Burr: “If you stand for nothing, Burr, what will you fall for?”

It is a profound question, one which compels one to explore our beliefs, morals, convictions, and affiliations. It probes our intentions and incites us into action. Most importantly, it inspires one to stand strong in a tide as opposed to being swept up in one.

It is a thinking question, and it cannot be answered quickly. Or lightly. What do you stand for?

The question leaves no room for obfuscating. To answer honestly and with conviction, one must have a voice that is not simply an echo of what is being said by others; furthermore, the weight of it pins one down, and to squirm, dodge, or even deflect the question is very revealing.

Conversely, one can broaden the question’s scope to ask this: If you stand for EVERYTHING, then what will you fight for? This, too, is telling. If one believes all things, panders to all people, and tries to be something for everyone … then what does that person ACTUALLY believe?

A person who is vague about what he believes is equally as dangerous as someone who believes in everything. Both go wherever the wind takes them. It is only when you have both ends of the equation—knowing where a person stands and knowing where you stand—that one can choose courage to take a step forward, or honesty to step back and reevaluate.

Society today may not be any better than it was in Hamilton’s time, but we can glean some lessons. In the election of 1800 Hamilton had to decide whether to endorse Thomas Jefferson (a person he never once agreed with) or Aaron Burr (his political adversary). In the end, Hamilton chose Jefferson, simply because Jefferson had beliefs whereas Burr had none.

What do you stand for?

Delve deep for an answer. And then proceed with strength, conviction and, most of all, understanding of others who are grappling with this very same question.

I love ...

 I love seafaring tiles 

and green garden doors 

and peekaboo views 

and houses on trees.

The Twice-Paid Compliment

It is a fundamental truth that we are not kind to ourselves. We are self critics by nature. We perceive ourselves much, much differently than other people perceive us, and when they try to be complimentary we do not listen.

I once attended a retreat that demonstrated this very point.

Scattered around the room were chairs arranged into groups of three. We were told to find a seat but that you could not sit next to anyone you knew. As it turned out, I ended up in a group with two men. We were then given instructions to jot down complimentary things you notice about the two people in your group, after which we were to share the compliments with each other.

This was so out of my comfort zone and I was beyond embarrassed before the exercise even started. But the purpose of the assignment was to teach us to not only hear compliments, but to listen. And to believe.

After the allotted time the two gentlemen paid me their compliments, and while they were so kind and genuine about it, I still felt out of my comfort zone and I was still beyond embarrassed. BUT, if I am being honest, they also made me feel good.

Several years later, I was going through some old papers and found these hand-written compliments from those two men. Reading them made me smile, and maybe because the words were written instead of spoken, they were much easier to accept.

Which made me realize this: if most people tend to dismiss a compliment, then maybe a compliment should be given twice. A double compliment, if you will. One that is half-heard, and one that hits the bullseye.

Mark Twain once said that he could live two months on a single compliment and, truthfully, there have been times when a single compliment changed the entire course of my day. It’s an easy enough thing to do, and when a compliment comes from a place of genuine good will it can do wonders.

Especially if you make it a double.

Ode to the Storytellers

once upon a time

long, long ago

holding court around a fire

a story was told

what is this? they asked

what does it mean? they cried

but they listened

to the fantastical and improbable

ridiculous and laughable

and found magic in ordinary days

 

once upon a time

long, long ago

a told story traveled

to faraway lands

what is this? they asked

how wonderful! they cried

so they took the story

cupped it in their hands

planted it in their hearts

and made it their own

 

with music and dance

poetry and prose

the story became more

thank you! they said

for legends, poems

tall tales and fairy tales

for once upon a time

and long, long ago.

*from the files of very bad poetry by bia

Reinvention

So many kind people have reached out to me lately wanting to know how I am doing now that Timothy is away at college. The truth is, I don’t know.

Everything happened so quickly. You live with someone for 18 years and then one day you drive them somewhere, and leave them there, and your husband then spends the entire drive home patting you on the shoulder because you cannot stop crying.

So yes, I had my ugly cry, but I’m fine. Really. It’s just been strange sorting through the emotions of not having a child in the house anymore. Yes, there are empty hangers in the closet, the grocery bill has plummeted, and it is quiet when Joe has to go out of town, but mostly I feel the need to reinvent myself because there is no denying that life now is different.

The last time I reinvented myself was in 2007 when I decided to start writing about family life and all the funny, crazy, aggravating, loving, inexplicable things boys do. Set within the framework of faith and my Italian heritage, I started my blog, La Dolce Vita, the Sweet Life with Three Sons. The blog opened doorways I never imagined: Steve Crawford published several of my articles in the Columbia Country News Times, I had an op-ed published in The Augusta Chronicle, I was invited to speak at The Sacred Heart Garden Festival, and I began working as a contract writer for Catholic Stewardship Consultants. When I published my book and gave book talks, the blog was the source of material for both. Even the idea of sponsoring the Girls’ Trips to Italy was born of the blog.

But if everything I write is grounded in my little blog and my sweet life with three sons, and if now my muses—Nicholas, Jonathan, Timothy—aren’t here anymore, what then? Who will I write about now? Will my life still be sweet? Will my days be as interesting or funny? Will I be as interesting and funny? These questions sent me into a little panic the other day. I mean, I already like to wear black and now I’m going to be uninteresting and boring?

Deep down I know this is a transition period and it is okay to feel different, to change, to shift a little.  Acceptance will come, along with the peace that this is as it should be, and it is going to be okay.

And it will be okay. Even if I have to reinvent myself.

An Ocean, an Airplane, and Two Countries Full of Kisses 

(sketch, Chapter 2)

I love ...

I love silhouetted pine cones 

and tiny green seedlings 

and cows by the fairway 

and easy-to-find golf balls.

Watching the Wayward

Sometimes, children stray. The reasons may vary—it could be due to drugs, or rebelliousness, or self-destructive behavior—but to the parents longing for their child to come home again, the feelings of helplessness and despair can be consuming.

In her book, Watching the Wayward, Wendy Gorton Hill shares her journey on what it is like to be the parent of a prodigal. It is honest and raw. Beautiful and uplifting. And her heartfelt, beautifully written psalms reflect a journey which is often painful, sometimes despairing, but always steeped in faith.

Much like the Psalms in the bible, Wendy uses her poems to lament, praise, despair, and celebrate. They teach, but also serve to remind us that all things are possible with God.

In her psalm, Frequent Flyer on If Only Airlines, Wendy explores the “if only” scenarios concerning her son. If only this had happened instead of that, if only we had done this, if only we had known. Those two words—if only—bring such pain when contemplating a past that cannot be changed, but by the end of the psalm Wendy replaces her if only statements to only if, thereby putting everything in God’s hands. Only if we turn to God will we cease to stray, only if we are emptied can we be filled, only if we acknowledge our need will we seek Him as a source.

In Dancing With the Worst-case Scenario, Wendy explores how imagining the worst, or making assumptions, is like being pulled into a two-step dance, whirling and twirling to the music of fear and dread. She begs the Lord to break in on the dance, to lead her in a new kind of dance. One of safety and peace.

By the end of the book, Wendy has come full circle as a parent of a prodigal. Her psalm entitled Surrendered gives everything back to God, which segues perfectly into The Gift of Prodigal Parenting in which she expresses gratitude for the lessons this journey has taught her. But it is the last psalm, Conveying Comfort, which reminds us of the true Christian spirit of turning one’s pain into comfort and hope for others.

Along with the psalms, Wendy includes supplemental scripture and journaling questions, all of which encourage introspection. Watching the Wayward is not only a book for parents of prodigals, but for all parents as we watch our children make their way in this world.

Wendy Gorton Hill website

Watching the Wayward on Amazon