Category Archives: love

Quiet Knowing

Until 5 days ago, I thought my children and a select few friends were the only people I knew with the quality I call “quiet knowing.” It’s the rare and beautiful way of showing up in the world for the people you love simply, modestly and matter-of-factly that says “I see you. I support you. I love you.” It stands out to me because there are so many people in the world with needy and inflated egos these days – desperately searching for affirmation and approval for displaying basic human decency. Or “friends” who are ready with empty words and promises that are really lazy traps to just keep giving the relationship a mild pulse for social appearances or some unforeseen future need. I will admit to failing to recognize “fake friends,” even at my ripe age of 59. They rob you of energy and time you will never recover. They confuse you with words that never quite match their actions. And most importantly, they are always unavailable when you need them the most.

My niece’s quiet and simple gesture while visiting family in Chicago that was so like things my own children have done sent my heart soaring. “This is Quiet Knowing!” my intuition screamed. I love quiet knowing because it comes from someone who is sincere, self-assured and gently well intended. I walked into my nephew’s home for an annual family gathering, greeted warmly by children, dogs, laughter and the anticipation of a fun reunion. As I entered the kitchen, my niece, Rhetta, welcomed me and said, “I have this non-alcoholic rose if you’d like,” as she casually nodded toward a lovely tray with beverages and pretty glasses assembled for the gathering. It wasn’t cheap grape-juice based nonalcoholic wine, either, which tells me she respects my taste and maturity. It was also more than just a regular “warm welcome.” It was love, kindness, support and quiet knowing all wrapped in one genteel effort. That’s not just classy it is downright soul-shatteringly beautiful. It says: “Here you are and here I am meeting you where you are.” My niece told me she loved and respected me all in one brief exchange that I have not stopped thinking about since I returned home. So I decided I had to write about it. We must support the Quiet Knowers in our lives because they deserve to be in our innermost circle of cherished people. Rhetta did not mean to be gushed over in this way, for sure. That’s another reason why this act of quiet knowing must be celebrated, honored and remembered. She has now joined the sacred group of quiet knowers in my family – Isa and Mario.

Isa has always been a quiet everything: observer, friend, helper. When Mario’s dear friend Zech passed away in high school, Quiet Knower Isa got in her car and drove from college to surprise her hurting brother and be by his side to support and love him. There was no bravado, no fancy words were exchanged. Isa just solemnly entered the house and hugged her brother – letting him know she wanted to help ease and absorb his sorrow. Quiet Knowing is extraordinary love and strength. We all felt it but Isa did not need praise or recognition. She gave her brother the gift of her presence and that was that. In her wake of quiet knowing, we all felt a little bit less heavy and sad.

Mario showed me his Quiet Knowing earlier this year when we tragically lost our dear friend Caryl. When he learned that Caryl’s friend Kris, both Moms of great friends of his, was struggling to find the strength to speak at the celebration of life, Mario volunteered to speak on her behalf. Quiet Knowing at a time of deep sorrow and helplessness – the child showed us he was now a man. He actually stood at the podium in front of a couple hundred people on a freezing January day with me and opened with, “Hey everybody, I’m Mario” and in that moment of quiet knowing, Mario’s beautiful display of strength and tenderness made us all feel a little bit better.

I know I am extremely lucky to only look as far as my immediate family for this strength and love. Quiet Knowing cannot be taught and somehow these family members with amazing hearts simply share them without being asked or needing praise. Look for the Quiet Knowers in your midst and try to appreciate the enormous strength they have shared with you today. I know I will be spiritually weightless for quite some time.

Making a Life

My son is about to graduate from college and he just texted me to say he has his first official job offer that happens to be 18 hours away from home. He has the most enormous heart and my Momma heart aches when I think about sending him out into the world. This is fiction, of course, since he will be turning 25 later this year and has long been tending to his gentle heart in the cold world. He will be fine and he will always lead with love.

Our dear Caryl is missing from the picture right now and I want to howl over the unfairness and anger I feel for the immense hole her absence has left for so many of us. She loved Mario and celebrated all of our wins as though we were her family. She and her family became our chosen family, as well as the extended tribe of friends she always included in her circle of care. She would be so genuinely happy and proud right now to see Mario pursue his passion and fly on his own. I miss her so much it is painful. Instead of looking for “the bigger lesson” as to why she had to leave so cruelly young, I will try to take a cue from her playbook of love and be happy, loving and supportive of those in my life who are here now.

At her celebration of life, a woman I have never met approached me after I read my thoughts (see previous post, “Caryl with a Y”) and said, “How wonderful for you to have been lucky enough to belong to her tribe. It makes me wish I had been part of her tribe!” Right before I read my tribute to Caryl, Mario read her dear friend Kris’s words about experiencing early motherhood together and walking one another through the parenthood journey with humor. Mario volunteered to read Kris’s words when she shared she just did not think she could get through it with such a heavy heart. I don’t know many young men who would offer to step in at such a tender time, but that was the moment I realized my son had become a wonderful man. It hurts very much to have gotten to this moment and not have Caryl to hug and celebrate with.

Many years ago, we gave Mario a health club membership before he could drive to give him someplace to go shoot hoops and hang out during the summer months. One day I came to pick him up and saw him walking alongside a very elderly woman and deep in conversation with her. When he got in the car I asked how shooting hoops had gone and he replied, “I never got around to it. I was in the hot tub with that old lady talking the whole time.” Listening to this, I had a hard time not losing it over the sweetness of his big heart. I just said it was as important to invest time and energy into people as it was to get exercise and I was proud of him for using his time that day in a way that his heart had led him. When I shared this story with Caryl, her eyes brimmed with tears and she let me know that Mario would always be okay because of his character. The same is true for her sweet boys, and in her memory, I plan to keep the door open with them so they will know they have a special place to go where they are loved.

These past few months have taught me you can arrive at milestones in your life and not have the people you thought would be traveling all roads with you at your side. I’m sad my son’s happy story is tainted with grief but immeasurably grateful that Caryl was a true witness to our family for many years. We hurt, we grow, we move on. Our hearts have little stitches that bear witness to the love we continue to hold. Soon, we will celebrate Mario’s graduation from the University of Kansas and feel grateful he knows not only how to make a living but also how to make a beautiful, soulful, big-hearted life.

My Friend Caryl with a “Y”

You know that experience of meeting someone for the first time and they are so extraordinarily “something” you are sure your life has just changed for the better?  This is what happened to me almost 15 years ago when beautiful Caryl showed up on my doorstep with 8-year-old Conley.  The sweetness of her smile and gentleness of her demeanor were so comforting to me, a Mom who had been struggling for months to help her son adjust to a new city and school with no friends.  They showed up one early Fall Saturday to take Mario on an adventure – a Fall festival at the nearby Indian Mission.  Mario and I were both thrilled.

A couple of weeks earlier, Mario came home from school a little less grumpy than usual.  He told me he had met someone he was pretty sure was going to be a good friend.  Mario was excited to get to know him better because they both enjoyed cussing and, better yet, Mario shared that the new friend’s kindergarten brother was “very cool” and cussed also!  Perfection – Universe, I think we have found a match.  And thus, Conley Niedens entered our world (and it has never been the same).  After that day at the fall festival, Mario and Conley were pretty much inseparable – for better or for worse!

When I noticed that Caryl’s name was spelled with a “y” and she had a career in the design world, I started to really love and appreciate her artistic flair.  Her ability to create a beautiful and warm atmosphere – both physically and interpersonally – was unparalleled.  Warmth was something our household needed desperately after uprooting our kids from their dream home in the country 200 miles away and suddenly planting them in suburban Kansas City.  I learned that Caryl and Lyle were from Great Bend, Kansas, which really increased their likeability with our family after having just lived in Winfield, Kansas for 8 years.  Very quickly, the Niedens family just felt comfortable and familiar to us.  It wasn’t long at all until the Tamburinis were included in many weekend KU basketball or Chiefs football watch events.  We looked forward to being at Caryl and Lyle’s house because we knew it would be warm and filled with laughter (maybe a little yelling at the tv or the boys!).  She was always trying new recipes and buying me cookbooks. One time I took a centerpiece to her house instead of a dish- when I told her the florist had named it “low and lush” she quipped, “Like ME!”


I mentioned Mario and Conley were a “for better or worse” duo – and this could have gone either way in my friendship with Caryl.  When your kid is known for getting a little rambunctious with someone else’s kid – sometimes that doesn’t lead to warm and fuzzy vibes between the parents.  I so loved and appreciated Caryl’s realistic and consistently calm approach to raising boys!  I never felt judged by her or obligated to make excuses for “boy behavior.”  Caryl’s friendship was genuine and the more time we spent together, I understood our family had been adopted into her “tribe.” How lucky we have been.  

Caryl was not easily shocked, which really worked for me because sometimes shocking things came out of my mouth or my kid’s mouth and sometimes borderline shocking things happened.  She proved to be an “all weather” type of friend over and over.

Mario and Conley were roommates at a 3-day basketball camp at KU after 4th grade.  It turned out to be too much togetherness and talking for Mario.  When I arrived at KU to pick the boys up, Conley was still very wired and excited and Mario looked like he had not slept the entire time.  He was ready for major down time but that did not happen in the car ride back to Kansas City with Conley.  At one point, Mario threw a blanket over his head, telling Conley “the air does not need to be filled with your voice every second”!  Conley thought that was very funny but I could tell Mario was getting close to losing it.  We ended up solving the problem with a quick side trip to McDonald’s (my number one parenting go-to).  Caryl was very entertained by the story when I dropped Conley off and often brought it up when we were meeting new people together.  

Caryl had an amazing sense of humor.  Our friendship may not have survived our boys without laughter! Once when he was going through our cupboards for something good to eat, Conley declared, “Tell your Mom she needs to go to the store!”  Not long after that, Conley and Mario were sent to the hallway for being disruptive during the “Just Around the Corner” puberty video at school.  Never horrified, Caryl just took it all in stride as another day in the life of being a parent.  I so appreciated that and found comfort in her friendship and support. 

Caryl supported me through my various job changes (at least 6) – and was always the first to congratulate me and stop by the house with a little special gift to recognize the new beginning.  I was even a DREADED SILPADA REP for about 10 minutes and Sweet Caryl was the first (and only!) person to step up and offer to host a jewelry party!  She was also a huge supporter of my sobriety.  In early sobriety, you learn that not all friendships are necessarily “good” for you and that change is to be expected.  Caryl showed up at my house not long after I stopped drinking with a hand picked mocktail bar.  It was one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me yet she walked in with this beautiful gift and quietly got to work mixing me a mocktail as though it was something ordinary.  But in fact it was extraordinary and so was she.

I had not known Caryl very long when my Dad passed away.  She was the first friend to stop by the house with a pork tenderloin for our family.  Just “Good People” through and through. When my Mom passed away last year, Caryl was already not feeling well but not really sure what was going on.  She took the time to look up a recipe for a braided apple bread and brought it to me warm on a Sunday evening wrapped in a lovely fall ribbon.  Completely Caryl with a “Y”! The things she did for the people she loved were always works of art made with the utmost care.  She was really proud of the spaces she worked on for Pierce and Conley as they entered young adulthood.  

Our pets always loved Caryl, another sign she was a very special person.  On the day I went behind my husband’s back and adopted a cocker spaniel, the first place I went to was Caryl’s house with little Pudgey in the back seat!  She was delighted with the little creature and sure he would be the perfect addition to our household.  Caryl was also the first to express condolences at the loss of a pet.  

Caryl made the most of every situation, including the last year of her life.  She accepted that life isn’t fair and had many conversations with her loved ones about it.  She told me last summer she was very proud of her boys and the life she had lived.  In every conversation I have had with her over the past 12 months, she mentioned Pierce and Conley and things they were doing that made her very proud.  Conley’s graduation from KU made her enormously happy.

Recently, I visited Caryl just before lunchtime at the nursing home.  She invited me to join her in the dining room and told me a little something special about each of the women with whom she shared a table.  Little did these women know, they had become part of a very special tribe led by Caryl with a “Y” – the one and only.

Caryl told our friend Kris she wanted all her friends to have a packet of wildflowers to remember her by.  She so enjoyed her back garden and basking in the sun.  One of my most cherished memories of Caryl will be this memory of her in her garden, peaceful.  An endearing goodbye of hers with me was always, “See ya later, darlin”.  So for now, precious friend, I will see ya later, Darlin’.

“We show up, burn brightly in the moment,

live passionately, and when the moment is over,

when our work is done, we step back and let go.”

Rolf Gates

I’m Grateful for Check-Ins

It’s that time of year again where I struggle with the accurate spelling of “mantel.”  Or is it “mantle”?  Like “Capitol” and “capital,” this distinction in spelling gnaws at me (in a good way, I suppose).  In any case, as you can see, my mantel is doing just fine.  And so am I .  Thanks to check-ins from many unexpected friends and caring neighbors.  And of course, my constant therapy buddies, Pudgey and Vanilla.

IMG_2693

There is something about the month of December that always leaves me feeling warm, loved and grateful.  It’s not just the ordinary pre-Holiday buzzing around that sustains me.  In fact, it is the opposite.  I like the quiet, reflective times of December and I defiantly make them a priority.  I started reading about “minimalism” a few years ago (check out Joshua Becker’s becomingminimalist.com and the excellent writings and Netflix documentary based on the thinking of Joshua Fields Millburn & Ryan Nicodemus, theminimalists.com).

More than anything, studying the principles of minimalism has offered space and support in my thoughts and lifestyle these past few years to begin a transformation that has led to the greatest clarity and personal satisfaction of my life.  I don’t need more “stuff,” I need less clutter.  I don’t need more “fake friends,” I need a small circle of amazing friends who check-in with me.

Quite unexpectedly, I left a great job this month and immediately became completely helpless  to a very painful sciatic joint “situation.”  I’ve been knocked off my horse and there’s very little I can do about it.  Yet I feel joyful.  I have abundance.  I see goodness.  I am hopeful.  And my small circle of amazing “check-in” friends and family are exactly where I want and need them to be.  Lovingly offering kindness and ready to ease the pain of loneliness or regret or whatever my ailment of the moment happens to be.

For whatever totally undeserved reason, I have received the gift of loyal friendship and support of friends I was close to twenty and thirty years ago back in my life recently.  Old friends are the most comforting treasure in the world.  One glance or utterance can unfold memories, laughter and complete understanding between old friends that gives meaning and purpose to my humanity in the here and now.  Just yesterday, I reconnected with Shelley, a pal from my twenty-something, unmarried, professional days over lunch.  We are both married, in our fifties now and navigating raising teenagers, nurturing marriages of twenty-plus years, and learning to laugh at our common mid-life physical and emotional challenges.  She texted me first thing this morning:

“I’m so very proud and impressed with all your personal accomplishments!  You don’t give yourself enough GRACE!”

My dears, when a friend who knows you inside and out says these beautiful words to you, I don’t care how or when or in what format, you are LUCKY.  You are enough.  You make a difference.  And you are certainly loved and appreciated.

Like the beautiful fresh greenery another dear friend recently draped across my mantle (or is it mantel? More amazingly, she did it without duct tape!), life is full of simple joys that can be overlooked if you don’t intentionally slow down.  Check-in with your soul on a regular basis and feed it with acceptance, inspiration, a cup of tea, a conversation with an old friend, or a friendly chat with the neighbor walking their dog down the street.  These are the gifts I am grateful for this December, regardless of what packages happen to end up under my tree.

I hope that 2019 brings you lots of positive “check-ins” from loving sources you have encountered and nurtured throughout your life.  A check-in doesn’t have to be lavish – just a few simple words to express what you’re feeling in the moment are all that another person needs to feel supported and ready for a new day.

I dedicate this to all my check-in friends of 2018 and look forward to growing that number in the coming year: Shelley, Pam, Mary, Melissa, Vicki, Vickie, Victoria, Jennifer, Jeanne, Sherry, Stevie, Johanna, Christine, Susanna, Malin, Kit, Laurie, Kelly, Carol, Lincoln, Rob, Mark, Alex, Julie, Susan, Erin, Jenny, Carmen, Alejandre, Ann, Linda, JoEllen, Sarah, Mike, Gwyneth, Bill, Caryl, Sheila, Isa and Mario.

Merry Christmas, friends.

The Path that Found Me

My husband and son are out of town on a big adventure for several days and my daughter and I are relaxing, enjoying some down time.  As is my habit when I have a little extra mental space and time, I go digging through old boxes in search of old letters, pictures, tokens from my past.  Though I have seen this photo so many times this morning it startled me:  she’s so young and fresh, like the strawberry she’s posing with next to her friend.  At 52, it is wonderful to have arrived at an age where I can recall a story for nearly every little scrap I have saved in my “special box” over the years.  Here’s what I remember about this picture.

The friend I am with was a special one for a short time.  We were both recently out of Graduate School and beginning our career paths, though mine was in the nonprofit world and her’s was health care administration.  Her career-obsessed, interrupting, impatient colleague drove us to the dinner we are enjoying in the photo.  I was half-heartedly pursuing what I thought would be a good “career path” for myself, though 50 percent of the people I met who were serious “career-oriented” people were way too intense for me.

Silly then, sillier now.  That’s me.  But I was ashamed of it then.  Looking at this sweet girl in the picture, I want to love her and reassure her that the right Path will find her. That it ultimately does not matter in life who you impress at meetings or how high you are willing to climb to earn a career.  The rude colleague of my friend ultimately achieved the highest honors in her career and she received accolades, awards and respect.  Good for her.  My “non-path path” has been glorious, sometimes painful but always given me the right kind of experience and space I needed to grow.

My son brilliantly summed up for me the most valuable part of any journey when he exclaimed his woes about his second day of kindergarten on the car ride home:  “My day was horrible!  The teacher only gave us 7 minutes to daydream!”  This kid is so my kid.  To resist externally imposed structure so resolutely at age 5 was both a blessing and curse for him and I have personally witnessed the toll an absurdly rigid school routine can take on his soul.  My advice to him and all you other free spirits out there:  trust yourself enough to know that the choices you make in life will yield abundance in many beautiful ways.  You may not choose a path that is laden with financial rewards and career milestones worthy of publishing in a business journal.  But this much I know:  THE WORLD NEEDS DAYDREAMERS!

So the path that found me was the one that was inside my heart as a youngster.  I loved getting on my bicycle and playing “carpool” with my imaginary children.  Unfortunately, as a woman in the eighties and nineties, it wasn’t very cool to admit that all you really wanted to do was “just be a Mom.”  But that’s what I have done and it has been my greatest joy in life.  I have a daughter, too, and she’s a creative genius and force of nature.  And I married a guy who does my favorite thing in the world:  he writes great love notes.  This one popped up when I was treasure hunting in my special box today.  We had been married exactly 5 weeks, I was undergoing testing for terrible allergies, and my guapo half Argentinean new groom wrote me these words:Love Note

My life has been rich and the journey becomes sweeter with age, as anybody over 50 understands, because we know each day is so precious.  I am so happy I decided to go through that box today and even happier that the Path I always dreamed of found me.

 

Love Between Sisters

As the youngest of 5 sisters, “sisterly love” has been a major theme of my life.  One thing I absolutely know to be true:  if you have a sister, you have an ally, best friend, confidante and personal coach for life!  As a youngster, it was fun for me to write letters to my three oldest sisters who left for boarding high school (each one following the next, one year apart) starting when I was 4.  My goal was to entertain, make them laugh, and convince them to let me “tag along” behind every teenage adventure they had.  I remember hiding behind a curtained window hoping to catch one of them kissing a boy in our driveway – everyday was a new adventure (or violation, from their perspective)!  My relationship with my sister just 3 years older than me was much more like the traditional sibling rivalry yet unique because we have always had completely opposite personalities.  As anyone from a large family can attest, my identity and purpose throughout life has largely been framed in the context of being an “annoying little sister”!

A sister can enrich your life more than any other connection.  Between sisters, there is a shared lens on the world and life formed so strongly and early that it is nearly impenetrable.  What one can see, the other feels, maybe another interprets for the rest.

Sisterhood is a flowing exchange of perceiving reality and washing it in the bonds of caring, safety and love created when we were young – and giving it back so the world feels softer, more tolerable.

As I get older, washing the pain I feel in my sisters’ lives is the greatest act of love I can conceive.  These champions of my spirit move through the world and experience human pain, suffering, joy and the like but to me they seem larger than life, as if immortal.  I want us all to stay little and innocent forever.  For my psyche to process actual pain and suffering is an excruciating emotional task.  I do feel “one” with them.

DSC_0396
Embracing my sister on her wedding day after some huge life difficulties!

The past decade my sisters and I have all moved into middle age and experienced the natural illness and loss of a parent and the challenge of creating a loving environment for our Mom, who is very ill.  Throughout these days, life has brought us each some pretty difficult health, financial and emotional challenges.  The laughter we shared feels distant many days.

It’s hard to accept that the people you love most in the world can be cut at the knees by life yet the purpose of life is to flow freely through the pain and darkness and share joy and light with one another.

This much I know for sure, I may disagree with my sisters philosophically, politically or any number of ways, but THEY ARE ME.  We belong to each other, and that is the most important thing in the world.

Some people believe we make “spiritual contracts” before entering the physical world, and part of that is choosing the souls with whom we travel through life.  It makes sense to me when I consider the love I have for my sisters and the joy that comes from witnessing their high points in life.  This year, I want to be a better sister, I hope to be able to do more than just entertain and make them laugh.  I want to fill the vessel of sisterly love until it overflows.

When I feel wounded and scorned by an intolerant world that does not understand me, my sisters are there protecting my heart.  My sisters are Grace personified.