Rest in peace good and faithful servant.

Yesterday the world lost one of it's brightest lights. Not completely unexpected. When someone is 94 and has lived a full life, there is also a sense of celebration and thankfulness. Still, the news that Weston Noble passed away fills so many of us with sorrow.
Weston Noble. Director, mentor, teacher, guide, friend, guru, angel. The words to describe this great man go on and on. I've been reading the FB posts of so many friends and classmates who have been touched by his gentle soul. They have refreshed me. They have made me smile, laugh and cry. Sometimes all at the same time. The stories encompass musical moments, quiet conversations, teaching moments, and jokes. Mr. Noble was one of those special people who had the ability to make each of us feel as if we were the most important and loved person at that moment. Watching him conduct, was sometimes like looking at the face of God. You could not look away!
Many will talk of his skill as a conductor and teacher. The number of chorale conductors and music teachers, both professional and volunteer, that he has inspired and nurtured is truly mind boggling.
His faith in and love for God will also be mentioned. He spoke honestly and openly about his faith and his doubts - modeling for many of us how to do the same in an authentic way.
Many stories have recounted an individuals first interaction with Mr. Noble. A phone call as a prospective student. A personal postcard in the mail from THE Weston Noble. Singing for him as a H.S. student in a festival. The list goes on and on. No matter who you were he made you feel so special! As someone who was often mistaken for my sisters, the fact that he knew ME and cherished ME as one of his own was such powerful reinforcement of my worth as an individual.
I don't remember the first time I met him. He has always been in my life. My parents spoke of him often and we were introduced to the world of music at Luther College early on. I was not going to go to Luther. I wanted to strike out on my own rather than following in my sister's footsteps. In the end I only applied to Luther. I'm certain that my postcard from Weston and the desire to sing with him in Nordic outweighed any wish I had to find my own way.
Singing in Nordic Choir was like no other experience I had ever had or ever will have since. Every afternoon, 5 days a week, for 3 years, I would go with my peers to sing. But it wasn't just singing! Those hours were filled with prayer and meditation, laughter and joy. While we were perfecting notes, rhythms and dynamics, we were praising God and sending love into the world. I sporadically attending church through college, mostly because every afternoon I felt closer to God than I ever had. I was in "church" everyday!
We were introduced to Mountain Top experiences - those musical moments when you felt as if you were going to burst! The concerts (and even rehearsals) where so many of us cried as we sang were many. The emotion that Weston drew from us was as powerful as the music.
For many years after I graduated I was afraid to sing in another chorale - I was certain it would never be the same and it was as if those days were over. The days of Nordic were over, but the desire to sing again and create musical magic with others was strong. While the experiences of Nordic were so special and unique, singing again with others continues to bring me such joy! When we sing a piece I learned in my college years, the memories are sweet and every note is locked away in my memory ready to be shared again.
So much of what I learned about music, I learned from Weston, but more than that, I learned about love, faith, humility and kindness. I learned about quietly caring for the earth and it's people. This giant in the chorale world was also a humble servant. From picking up trash around campus, to quietly listening to and advising student after student about music, life, love, God, and on and on. The greatest lesson I learned from this man was two-fold - I was both the most important AND the least important person in the world. I was loved and cherished as an individual among a crowd of individuals who were equally loved and cherished - ALL of them regardless of color, gender, orientation, religion.
Thank you dear man and may your journey continue to be filled with joy as you lead the heavenly choirs of angels. May we do our best to take the lessons we've learned from you to bring joy, love, kindness, humility and music to the world.

Welcome to the world of crazy.

I want to write about all the High School and College Graduates we know who we are so proud of.  I want to send them out into the world with wishes for a long and amazing life.  Children, nieces, nephews, friends, a daughter from another mother.... On and on... They are AMAZING.  They are capable of great things.  They better be ready because we are launching them into a crazy world full of hate and violence, selfishness and pain.

This morning as I watched the news, the shooting in South Carolina is all over the place.  The emphasis of the story is on the vigils, and the community coming together to pray, the clear indication that this was a HATE crime.  A young man filled with so much hate that he sat with a group of people in a church for an hour and then slaughtered them.  So many prayers.  Some asking how can God let this happen.  God didn't let this happen.  I'm pretty certain SHE is weeping and despairing that we can't seem to get our act together.  We are responsible.  All of us.  We live in a world that separates us from each other by our differences.  Babies are born ready to love anyone.  We teach them who is the "other."

The attention is on the victims. The media is trying to take the focus away from the baby-faced killer and I think that's good.  We need to know the victims so we can truly mourn them.  Maybe then we will get off our fucking asses and CHANGE THINGS.  I know my parents read this and I apologize for my language, but I am so angry right now and no other words suffice.

There will be calls for more attention to mental health and to racism and hate and all this is good.  These are discussions that need to happen and changes need to be made.  Perhaps more attention will be on how children are loved and nurtured from day one.  Maybe there will be talk of communities pulling together to create stronger villages so children who are suffering, struggling, or being raised in hateful circumstances will be identified and supported before they become hateful killers.

THESE ARE ALL CONVERSATIONS THAT NEED TO BE HAD.

What will be touched on and then swept away however, will be talk of guns. This is where I can't stand it anymore.  What the hell is wrong with this country that despite shooting after shooting, horror after horror, we STILL CAN'T ADDRESS THE OBSCENE NUMBER OF GUNS AVAILABLE IN THIS COUNTRY.  I'm not even talking about reasonable guns for hunting.  I'm talking about guns designed for the sole purpose of killing PEOPLE.  We've done this to ourselves and it will continue until those in positions of power at the local, state and federal level stop bowing down to the special interest groups and say ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.  There are weapons that simply shouldn't be available to anyone.  There are weapons that should be restricted.  IF GUNS ARE NOT AVAILABLE, THEY CAN'T BE USED TO KILL PEOPLE.

But wait, guns don't kill people, people kill people.  FUCK THAT.  In countries where guns are not available death rates are dramatically lower.  Look it up.  Any rational person looking at the rates of gun violence in the US vs any other 1st world country (and many 2nd and 3rd) can see that eliminating or even reducing access to guns significantly impacts on gun violence.  This is not rocket science.  But what about the second amendment you say??  What about it?  What part of anyone and their dog being able to have as many guns as they want, says anything about a "well-regulated militia."  Pretty sure the Founding Fathers (and Mothers) didn't have this insanity in mind.

So many of the discussions that need to be had around mental health, race, poverty etc., are so critically important, but perhaps if we could get our heads out of the sand and get the weapons out of the conversation, we would actually have time to have these conversations.  Instead we are spending more and more time, mourning, praying and cleaning up the blood of innocents.  I'm pretty sure God is saying ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.  When are we going to listen?

Perhaps the current crop of Graduates will be strong enough and smart enough to change things.  Right now I feel like we have failed them and left them with an awful mess to clean up.  If anyone can do it though, I bet they can.  I hope they can.

Christmas time is here...

Christmas time is here
Happiness and cheer
Fun for all the children call
Their favorite time of the year

Snowflakes in the air
Carols everywhere
Olden times and ancient rhymes
Of love and dreams to share

Sleigh bells in the air
Beauty everywhere
Yuletide by the fireside
And joyful memories there

Christmas time is here
We'll be drawing near
Oh, that we could always see
Such spirit through the year
Oh, that we could always see
Such spirit through the year...

This is one of my all time favorite Christmas songs.  I never get tired of it.  The meaning has changed over the years for me though and this year my soul responds more than ever to the melancholy tune of the song.  I'm sure it's been analyzed to death and I know that one of the reasons Charlie Brown and his friends endure is that they are so much more than characters in a cartoon storyline for kids.  

Christmas is changing for us this year in many ways.  It is the first year one of our children will be away from us~ Katy will be with the Luther Swim and Dive team in San Diego.  It is an awesome opportunity for her to really "dive" in to her sport and connect on a deeper level with her teammates.  We are lucky enough to have best friends who will be in Southern California with family so she will spend Christmas Eve and Day with them.

Andrew is in a house this year with people he really enjoys and will just be with us for a few short days.  

Helen and Jeff and I will head to Canada for a few days to see grandparents and cousins, but it will be quick and there will be some empty seats.

I just re-read that line and feel almost ashamed.  My empty seats are temporary.  Another holiday, another family trip or dinner, they will be full again.  What about the seats at the tables of the families in Sandy Hook?  What about the tables of the families of the police officers in Brooklyn?  There are thousands of seats that are empty forever because a vocal minority thinks that their right to own guns designed to kill people is more important than a human life.  

During this season of Advent and Christmas we are all waiting for something.  Those of us who celebrate the birth of Christ wait and watch.  We anticipate the birth of the Christ Child come to bring light back to a dark world.  Those who celebrate a secular Christmas wait and prepare for a time of giving and celebrating ~ they celebrate the light too, just with a different focus.  With the passing of the Winter Solstice, we embrace the reality that our days will get longer and the sunlight will return to us.  We all wait.

As my children grow and go out into the world, I will always wait for them to come home.  Their seats at the table will be there waiting for them.  I will always feel some relief when my table is full.  The families who have empty chairs that will never be filled again?  I hold them in my heart and I promise that I will continue to speak on their behalf.  I will continue to argue on the side of common sense and justice and kindness.  I will stand with those who will remember the faces of ones who will never come home and I will love them.

Waiting for my children to come home is pretty passive though.  I can simply wait and welcome them when they are here.  I can make it a welcoming place to come, but in the end, as they grow, they decide when to come take their place at the table.  I watch and wait.  

Waiting for Christmas and the symbolic celebrations involved can be passive to.  We are actively involved in all the "fluff" around the celebrations, shopping, baking, wrapping, but waiting for the days to grow longer, or waiting to be reminded of the birth of the Christ Child is passive.

Watching and waiting can be good in a way, but sometimes action is better.  We need to be actively loving others and bringing light to the world.  We are the light.  We must be the light.  We are called to be the light. When do we own our power to light up our world with love and kindness?  To hold those who are suffering?  Feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, sheltering the homeless.  

Being a light in a dark world can be hard work, but it's better than watching the darkness spread.  

Oh, that we could always see
Such spirit through the year...

feeling the world's sadness...

The whirlwind that is Spring with a H.S. Senior has finally wound down.  I brought Kate to Camp Calumet to work for the summer last Thursday and the house is settling into a new routine.  My niece Julia is here through the end of July and we've named her our transitional object.  She has a lovely presence about her and makes it very hard to be mopey!
There have been plenty of reasons to be blue lately... All the goodbyes over the last 2 weeks, coupled with the tragic death of a local Ellington boy, is enough to make anyone cry.  On top of that my daughter and niece and I went to see "The Fault in our Stars".  WEEPFEST.  I got a little teary but did not cry.  I expected to weep, but I didn't.

So why have I been so dry-eyed?  The older I get and the more sadness I see, the less I cry.  Especially about other people's grief.  I got teary at graduation and when dropping Katy off at Camp. I will miss her terribly and am incredibly proud of her at the same time.  Both things that make me cry.
A graduate of our H.S. in the class of 2013 was killed last week in a tragic ATV accident.  I didn't know him, but from friends and social media, I know I would have liked him.  He was an athlete, student, all around good kid. Well loved by many.  But I didn't know him.  His Mom was one of my daughter's favorite middle school teachers, but I just know her from a local committee we are on.  My heart aches for her, her husband and their other three children.  But their grief is not mine.  I felt like I should go to the local vigil, wake or funeral, but could not bring myself to go.  I prayed for them privately and offered my support to a friend who knew the boy, but I could not grieve.  His death is tragic, but their grief is not mine.
Watching the movie, I felt so sad for the characters.  It is a tragic story.  Kids, cancer, young love.... who wouldn't weep?????  me.
With the explosion of social media, the private grief of so many has become public.  We collectively mourn every time there is a shooting or when a "famous" somebody passes away.  I remember when Princess Diana was killed and the overwhelming outpouring of grief from the world seemed both touching and exploitive at the same time.
Since then, it seems that the thing to do is to take on the grief out in the world and own it.  We take it over and weep for people we have never known.  As I re-read this I feel a little cold and hard-hearted, but I don't intend it that way.  How we all deal with grief and tragedy is by nature personal.  This is not intended as a judgment on those who would outwardly grieve with and for others.  I just find myself stepping further and further away.
My first career a million years ago was as a therapist.  Therapists are trained to listen and guide.  We we're taught to maintain a level of distance because it wasn't our job to take on our clients "stuff".  I was a sponge!  I would soak it up and then come home and squeeze it out all over my sweet young family.  I couldn't do it.  I couldn't keep myself from taking on other peoples pain.  A few years ago, seeing "The fault in our Stars" would have dissolved me into a puddle.  What has happened to my heart??
Perhaps as I get older and see and hear about more and more tragedy and grief in the world, I have to protect my heart so I don't get consumed by the sadness.  Maybe my role is once again to listen and support and pray.  To be with others when they need me.  To be an observer rather than participant.

maybe that's enough.

end of the year

This is my last post of 2103.  This year is winding down and I'm ready.  I just watched a brief story on some of the families from Sandy Hook.  Tomorrow is the anniversary of that terrible day one year ago when we witnessed unspeakable horror as a sick young man mowed down 20 babies and 6 brave teachers with weapons he shouldn't have ever had access to.
As that was all unfolding we were in our own personal hell as our sweet 16 year old was struggling with her own demons that threatened to take her away from us.  I sat in my car listening to the news as the death toll rose in Sandy Hook and at the same time waited in fear that my phone would ring with terrible news.
This year has been filled with grief and loss and fear.  Rather than help my children launch I have wanted to bring them back in and shelter them from an increasingly frightening world.
At the same time we struggled to hold it all together, our dear friend Ellen was fighting a much too short and terrible battle with cancer, passing away February 26th.  We grieved again.
With the help of friends and family and doctors we began to pull it together.  For Mother's Day we brought a silly little puppy who we named Thor into our life.  He has brought laughter, love and much joy to our life.  His penchant for eating rugs, baskets, and anything else has reminded us that it's just "stuff" and while we look forward to the day when he outgrows the puppy "chewing" stage, for now it's just "stuff."
I began to release my hold on my children and they made it through the summer dealing with their own mistakes in ways that we could be proud of.
August 16th as we celebrated the end of another awesome summer at Camp Calumet, we received the unbelievable and terrible news that Jeff's Dad had suffered a massive heart attack at 72 and died.  Never in a million years could we imagine that he wouldn't live into his 90's like his mother, Grandma Eleanor, who is still with us at 96.  We were thrown back into grief and sadness just when we were getting our footing back.
The year since then has been more or less normal ~ Our children are finding their way and I am so very proud of the people they are becoming.  Jeff and I are a little worse for wear and with 2014 will work towards taking better care of ourselves.
I'm tired.  I forget that I don't have to do this alone.  My family is surrounded by people who love us and care for us.  I forget that I believe in a God who is loving and kind.  I'm not always sure he (or she) is there, but when I find my faith, I feel calmer and more able to cope.
I'm angry with those who are in power but who do nothing to create a system of care for those who most need it, while filling their pockets with whatever they want.
I am grateful that the children I am sending into the world are more focused on social justice and peace than on accumulating stuff.
I'm hopeful that as this terrible year ends, the days will begin to get longer, the sun will shine and love will win.
I am thankful for the many blessings in my life ~ a partner who is always there for me, children who I love more and more everyday, family and friends who will never let me sink into despair, work that brings me joy.
I know 2014 will be a good year.  I will choose hope and joy and will spread it around liberally.
Like the families of Sandy Hook, I will choose LOVE.

I CHOOSE PEACE

2013 has been a suckish year.  I just looked over my last few posts and am tired of hearing myself complain!  I really have a pretty amazing life, but this year has been filled with grief, loss, illness and stress.  I've spent the year comforting, crying with, caring for and yelling at the people I love the most.  Each "beginning" I say "fresh start!" Beginning of Spring, beginning of summer, beginning of school... Each one has been tainted by grief.  As someone who generally dreads the shortening days, I look forward to the end of this year and a fresh beginning in 2014.

Our own personal grief and loss is one thing.  We can talk about it, process it, explain it.  People get sick, people die.  It's what happens.  All we can do is share memories and care for those left behind. It is a sad, but normal part of life.

What is difficult to wrap my brain around is the seemingly increasing grief and loss in the world.  Every time I turn on the radio, tv or computer, there's been another shooting or bombing.  Another mother is mourning.  Another father is weeping.  Mass shootings continue.  After each one, attention ramps up, but those with the guns and money are louder and more persistent and we go back to our lives while those directly affected try to pick up the pieces.  The amount of money spent on protecting the "rights" of gun owners, while we fight for every dollar for education, healthcare and even food, is outrageous.  We don't even realize how many gun deaths since Sandy Hook have happened.

We say that the bombings and massacres in the Middle East aren't OUR problem.  It's those "others."  We ignore them until it directly affects us and then we blame them, pushing us all further into "us" and "them."  Encouraging "them" to hate us.  They are DIFFERENT.  When a beautiful, smart young woman who happens to be an American of Indian descent, much like I'm an American of Norwegian descent, garners an obscene flurry of racist, hateful comments simply by being crowned Miss America, it's easy to see why the world might hate us.  WE ARE HATEFUL TO OUR OWN CITIZENS.  I'm ashamed.

IT MAKES ME NAUSEOUS.

I'm 45 years old and I struggle with trying to understand the hate and ugliness in the world.  My youngest is 14 and experiences waves of sadness that sometimes threaten to carry her away.  I can only assume that her personal sadness about losing Auntie Ellen and her Grandpa this year are made more intense by the sadness, grief and pain she sees in the world.  She is too old to shelter, but too young to understand. I can't explain it and I can't hide it or ignore it.

IT MAKES ME ANGRY.

I can only choose to move forward.  We must TEACH our children to choose love and compassion.  We must TEACH them that caring for others is how they will save the world.  We must SHOW them that bullies don't win.  There is so much going on in schools around bullying, but where do we think it starts?  When do we pay as much attention to the grown-up bullies in our communities and governments?  The NRA?  BULLIES.  Tyrants and Dictators around the world?  BULLIES.
Children learn what they see and live and when they see the bullies getting the power and control, they learn that to be in charge you must be a bully too.

I CHOOSE PEACE.

This Saturday, Sept. 21st is the International Day of Peace.  I will spend it with colleagues, friends, family and strangers, at Elizabeth Park in Hartford, CT.  From 10 am -1 pm we will be together.

WE WILL PREPARE PEACE ~ RALLY PEACE ~ SPEAK PEACE ~ CELEBRATE PEACE

We will TEACH our children that PEACE AND LOVE WIN.

We will TEACH our children that to change the world for the better we must COME TOGETHER.

We will TEACH our children that there is HOPE, but they must be STRONG and VOCAL.

We can STEP UP and be louder and more persistent about PEACE and LOVE or we can go on about our lives, shaking our heads, wringing our hangs and participating in memorials, while those with the guns and money and power allow our world to be destroyed by hate and violence.

What will you choose?

"It is not enough to teach children how to read, write and count. Education has to cultivate mutual respect for others and the world in which we live, and help people forge more just, inclusive and peaceful societies."

UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon 

goodbyes

As life moves along, we begin to say "goodbye" more and more.  Our children engage more in the world without us, friends move away, others say goodbye in a more permanent way, or they don't.  They leave us to say goodbye.  We say goodbye to dreams and ideas, people and places.
Some goodbyes are good ~ goodbye to a hated job or class.  Goodbye to 10 lbs!  Others are harder.  Goodbye to the things you thought you would do by now.  Goodbye to the fantasy life, child, job, whatever.
Others are really hard.
Yesterday I got a phone call I was expecting, but hoped to never get.  My dear friend Ellen had passed away Tuesday night.  "Auntie Ellen", as my children called her, was a sweet presence in our lives.  She did not have children of her own, but LOVED and CHERISHED her own nieces and nephews and so many other children.  Too many to count.  I really saw how she loved my children.
When we were 24 and new to our church, Ellen welcomed us with the open arms of family and celebrated with us when we told her we were expecting our first child.  She stood with us when Andrew's baptism was remembered here in Connecticut and became his "Connecticut Godmother".  We both lived far from our families, both with two sisters and a brother, and we understood what it was like to be far away from that network of love and support.
Over the 20 years she was a part of our lives, we took her love for granted.  While she was always there for us, I don't know if we were always there for her.  Absorbed in the chaos of raising children, we didn't always reach out.  We included her in our lives when we NEEDED her and when we would think of it; sometimes last minute.  She however, was always there.  Sitting through concerts and recitals, taking our children to see Santa year after year as a special Christmas outing ~ celebrating Christmas with us, sometimes in late January!
Over the years her bond with my daughters became especially strong as they shared sleepovers and shopping trips.  Going to the Dollar Store with Auntie Ellen was much more fun than going with Mom!
I expected to have more time with her - I needed her to help me get my girls through adolescence.  Those significant adults that play a role in your child's life are SO IMPORTANT, and she was one that cannot be replaced.
A week before she died, she left Connecticut on short notice to join her family in Ohio to be cared for in Hospice.  This is where she needed to be and I'm grateful that she got there.  Jeff, Andrew and I were able to see her the weekend before she left.  When I called about bringing the girls to see her, she couldn't do it.  I understand.  Her grief and shock were so strong, she just couldn't bear to say goodbye to the people she loved.  I understand it, and know that my role now is to help my girls say goodbye.  Sadly this will be one of many goodbyes to come over the years.

As life moves along, we say goodbye more and more.