Thanksgiving 2011

I was re-reading my post from last year's Thanksgiving.  How very different my life is now.  And thankfully so.  I can sum up my gratitude in one small sentence:  I survived.  

• I survived the removal of not just a person, but an entire family from my life.  
• I survived the death of a grandmother that couldn't stand me.  But in the end, I sat with her, helped her move on, held her hand as she passed from this life.
• I survived the loss of a dear friend.  Not to death, but to a disagreement when the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one.  
• I survived surgery.  Am still surviving surgery.
• I survived a relationship that I couldn't commit to, yet still took an emotional beating over.
• I survived betrayal by two people I thought were friends.  And the betrayal of someone we took into our home. 

When I stopped focusing on all the things that were going wrong, I realized that so many more things had gone right.  Did a friend betray me?  Yes, but she brought a new, beautiful friend into my life.  Did I lose a grandparent with whom I'll never be able to make amends?  Yes, but now we are finally the family we were meant to be.  Close, loving and happy.
A year.  What a difference a year can make.  I start college in January.  I've found purpose through serving in the community.  I have true friends.  I'm still searching in my faith, but I've met other seekers who have made the journey so beautiful.
Would I want to endure this year again?  No, not really.  But am I thankful for how it's shaped me?  Yes.
One last thing....If you pray for things like wisdom or for God to mold you and shape you, be prepared.  He likes 'hands on' lessons.  


Isaiah 64:8 Yet, O LORD, You are our Father. We are the clay, You are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.clay, you are the potter; we

are all the work of your hand.

Life lessons.....If it's not one damn thing....

I've spent half a year, living half a life with half a heart.  His last words were 'wait'.
I was so foolish.  I'm going now.  A lady knows when to leave a dance.  Apparently, I'm not one.  I've stayed too long.  One last thing, though....please tell her that I didn't leave those notes under the chair.  That you lied to cover your ass.  I've lost enough.  Allow me that one last bit.  So she'll know I didn't betray her in that way.  Only in loving you.

Dear Mr. Hawking...

Dear Mr. Hawking,

First, let me say I love your writings.  I love your mind.  I follow you as closely as a young teenage boy follows Playboy.  Let me also say, I consider myself a ‘seeker’.  I am a Christian in the tightest definition of the word.  I love Christ.  But by definition, I’m also a Buddhist, Gandhi-ist and a Lennon-ist.  John Lennon, that is.  I practice pagan and Native American faiths as well.  I’m not trying to cover all the bases.  I just think there are many paths to God, the Goddess, the Is, the divine Spirits of the Universe, etc.

So, please understand it is with the greatest love and admiration that I want to respond to a statement you made: "I regard the brain as a computer which will stop working when its components fail. There is no heaven or afterlife for broken down computers; that is a fairy story for people afraid of the dark."

Oh my....I certainly believe that you are correct in stating that the brain is a computer.  And certainly, when it fails, the keyboard and monitor know as our bodies will certain fail to be of any use.  However, have you considered the soul/spirit of the body?  Surely you must concede that they exist?  Because you exist.  Your computer is par excellence.  You keyboard is a little wonky.  But what has driven you and enabled you to survive long past expectation?  Is it not your spirit?   You say you have lived with the prospect of an early death for 49 years, and yet you are still here.  Is that your brain/computer?  I would have certainly thought it was your spirit.  Something greater in you than the sum of your parts.

As for broken down computers, I take that to be our brain and our physical body.  You are correct.  Even Christians believe ‘ashes to ashes and dust to dust’.  And while one’s ‘computer’ might be breaking down, their spirit has passed to a different place.  There is a ‘fairy tale ending’....or beginning if you please.  There’s not much hope for the body after the brain ceases to function.  However, I truly believe that our spirit-our soul-passes on to another place.  Where?  I have no idea.  But, Mr. Hawking, you need to sit with someone while they die.  Hold their hand, help them through the fear and give them permission to leave.  I’ve had two such opportunities.  While the brain is shutting down, the spirit is preparing to take flight.   Souls reach out to other souls to help on the journey.  Some leave as a ball of white light.  Some leave so quietly that you wonder if they ever existed at all.  I’ve shared this with others and it seems universally the same.  The ‘computer’ passes.  But the spirit moves beyond our realm of knowledge.  Even yours.

Lastly, if we are computers, there has to be power.  A computer doesn’t just plunk itself down and start operating.  It must be plugged into a power source.  That is the universe you are trying to define.  And trying to limit.  I don’t claim to understand it.  Any of it.  But, “there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

I believe you are wrong, Mr. Hawking.  Because I’d hate to see such a spirit die with the computer.  And I would love for you to have a happily ever after.

Sincerely,
Abbie Lyons

Can I Get a Witness?

In our church youth group, there is always a spring retreat.  It's an amazing time for fellowship and the seniors of the group share with others-they share their 'testimony'...their walk with God...their 'story'.  That would be a couple of year away for me, but it did start me thinking.  What would I say?  What in the world could I offer?

"Hi, I'm Abbie.  I'm a seeker.  I question my faith daily.  I fail on a monumental level."

When I was a little girl, I had a huge crush on Jesus.  Big.  The only other person that came close was Mr. Rogers, but that's a story for another day.  In the Catholic church, when you take first communion and have first confession, you dress as a bride since you are becoming the bride of Christ.  I wrote him love letters.  I wrote our initials together in my notebook-AL + JC.  I would sit in this this big chair we had and pretend I was sitting in his lap, my head on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around me.  And I would tell him everything that was in my head and my heart.  I talked to him every single day, knowing that at some point, he would magically appear and we would finally be together.  You have no idea the disappointment I felt when I first realized that I couldn't actually marry Christ.  It was truly heart breaking. 

My heart for Christ hasn't changed.  I am a Jesus junkie.  Whether he is the son of God and the head of the Christian church, or as other faiths believe, only a prophet.  I don't care.  I love him.  I'll follow him anywhere.  I'm the Mary at his feet.  I will wash them with my tears.  

I've studied many faiths in the past few years.  I was searching for peace.  Peace-inner peace-is a beautiful thing to me.  I've learned discipline and the power of positive thoughts.  But as far as I travel from Christ, I keep coming back because of one thing: hope.  Jesus uses the most unlikely people to do the most amazing things.  Twelve rough, scruffy or shunned men, the woman at the well, Lazarus.  He didn't just use ordinary people, but people you would never imagine could do his work.  I mean, really?  Who uses a dead guy in their act?  Maybe one day, he can use me.  And that is hope.

And perhaps that is what I have to offer as well.  I can't offer perfection.  Or be a role model of any kind.
So here is hope.  Hope in knowing that you can struggle and fail and question and screw up and he will still love you no matter what.  And that kind of love brings great peace.

Lessons from Dying

January 3 started like most Mondays.  Wake up.  Shower.  I was still on holiday break which meant long hours of video games interspersed with junk food and Christmas candy. Dad was working and his usual routine involved stopping by the hospital to visit his mom, a quick trip home for dinner and back to the hospital.
Only this time, as he walked through the door to grab dinner, the call came.  His mom was worse.  He'd just left her, but she'd taken a swift, downward spiral.
Suddenly, we all out the door and on our way.  The hospital is just a few short blocks, so there isn't a lot of time to decide what to do.  How do I react?  How do I feel about this? This is the woman who has made my life a living hell for many years.  The woman that is so despicably mean to me.  The woman, who admits in her final days, that she did try to ruin my parents marriage.
Am I glad?  Sad?  Resigned?  Four blocks to the hospital.  Four million thoughts on the way.
You can never really prepare for moments like those.  I try to keep two thoughts with me constantly: 1) Harm none & 2) How others treat you is their karma.  How you react is yours.
Once I reached Fran's room, I could see that she was dying.  The light around her was gray and dim.  I could feel other presences in the room.  I sat next to her and held her hand.  She was weak and could barely speak.  She wanted to say she was sorry.  Her lips could only mouth the words.  My dad sat on the other side and together we went through the business of helping my grandmother die.  How odd to have such a strangely intimate experience with someone who is almost a stranger to me.  But I did.  I told her that everything was okay.  That I loved her.  That things were well between us.  I told her that her family would be waiting for her and then she pointed to something/someone(s) that I could only feel.  And I knew that there was truth in that.  Eventually, words completely failed and our only contact was that of still holding hands.  It seemed to be enough.  I told her it was okay to go.  And to go in peace.
I sat there counting the seconds between breaths after that.  Six for a while, then eight.  Fifteen and then I realized that I had just kept counting and I was on 315.  I looked for the tiny pulse at her neck, but it was gone.  So very quietly, she slipped away.  How very unlike her. 
Fran has taught me many lessons.  Mostly by example of 'what not to do'. Don't be selfish.  Don't leave your 'I'm sorry's' until the end.  Don't leave telling people what you think of them (the good stuff, that is) until it's too late.  Let your children grow up to be happy.  Let them 'leave and cleave'.  Be diplomatic about what you say.  Don't hold grudges. Don't call people names.  Don't force your faith on anyone.  Don't live your life in misery.
Fran's biggest fear was hell or purgatory.  Live so that this isn't an option or concern.
Lastly, forgive.  And be compassionate.

Hibernation

Lyons don't hibernate.  If they did, I would just go to bed now and wake up sometime after the age of eighteen.  I want to be a bear.  A big ol' black bear.  I think I could pass.  I'm an herbivore.  I've put on winter weight.  I sometimes have hairy legs.  I'm grumpy. 
This week, I'm staring at a milestone-my sixteenth birthday.  And I've never been more terrified in my life.  I don't want to be sixteen.  I want to be six.  When I was six, I remember my parents jokingly saying, "Just think...in ten years she'll be driving."  And now it's here.  Where did all the time go?  Where is my Big Comfy Couch exercise clock?  Why did we stop celebrating Winter Solstice like Little Bear?  When did loving Barney go out of style?
Sixteen.  I still can't face it.  Two years away from adulthood.  I'm not ready.  I can take my GED now.  I've got a lovely 2250 tucked away for an SAT score.  Colleges are not only sending catalogs, but calling as well.  So, do I start college in the fall?  Do I wait?  Do I take some time off to find myself?  Do I travel and visit family?  Do I move the hell away and start over?  Move away from all the heartache and hurt I've endured, am still enduring? 
Sixteen....with a 600 year old soul and a desire to be six.  No wonder I'm a mess!
Can't we just go to Story Time at Zany Brainy and then have a picnic? I'm not ready to grow up yet.

Advent Devotion

I love when I finally get really quiet and that voice starts talking to me.  You know that voice that really talks to your heart.  Knows you more personally than anyone. If I listen close enough, it takes me places I need to go.  Sometimes, kicking and screaming.  Sometimes, with a heavy heart.  Sometimes, just from curiosity.  Today, I came across a Christian devotion.  And after I read it, I thought, "How do these people know me?"  And I realize, the bible isf filled with rebellious people that God speaks to through many ways.  And I'm also reminded that He uses the imperfect, rebellious and broken.  Maybe there is hope, yet.

Do you ever get tired of following the rules? Seems like every time you turn around, there's another rule to follow. Schools are built on a foundation of strict guidelines and controlling policies govern our extra-curricular activities and places of work. I don’t know about you, but when I’m faced with too many rules, my rebellious side takes over and I end up getting in trouble. Punishment is never fun and the whole situation certainly isn’t peaceful.

The psalmist tells a different story. Instead of rebelling against God’s law, the psalmist proclaims love for the law and praises God multiple times a day for God’s ordinances. This paints a very different picture than our typical, rule-filled lives. The distinction here is that God doesn’t confine us with useless rules that complicate our lives. Instead, God’s law offers a way of living that leads to peace. What can you do today to relish the peace that comes from following God’s law?

God of peace, thank you for your law and thank you for providing me with a way to live my life. During this season of Advent, help me to follow your law as I search for peace in my life. Amen.

Benediction: 

Can you feel it?  Deep within you,

There is a quiet confidence...growing.

Be patient.  Prepare for it now,

The gentle presence of the Spirit.

In case you want to follow this devotion: http://www.d365.org/followingthestar/

Preventing Child Abuse

I am only one, but I am one.  I cannot do everything, but I can do something.  

And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do.  ~Edward Everett Hale

This weekend, I made the following post in my Notes on Facebook:

My friend Eden commented on the Cartoon FB profile pics: Putting up the cartoon picture isn't going to help those kids in even the least bit what-so-ever.  And, for the most part, she's right.  No more than posting your bra color or where you like to place your pocket book does for Breast cancer.

Still, it gets you to thinking....it's something at least.  And one small act could lead to others that could make a greater impact.  And thinking "What COULD I do?"  I'm only 15.  What could I offer? 

Richard Bach says "Every problem has a gift for you in it's hands."

The problem: Child abuse     The gift:  Ways to prevent it

I need you, my friends, to provide the gift.  I know many of you are adult survivors of abuse.  I can't fix what happened to you as a child.  And what I'm asking is hard, because it means you have to revisit that hell for a moment.  But I would love to know what it is that YOU do as a parent that breaks the cycle.  What do you do for your own children that makes that difference?  I know, for my mom, it's many things: deciding to never hit...not spanking, not slapping, no violent physical contact ever.  No verbal belittling.  Remembering what it was like at my age.

I would like to compile a list of positive ideas for parenting to put here.  I don't know how yet.  A website?  I'm more than willing to give up my status to post positive ways to stop the abuse.  For abuse survivors thinking of being a parent, a list, a REAL list from REAL people with REAL solutions.  One of my dearest friends is a child hood abuse survivor.  Before she became a parent, her biggest concern was her own abuse.  "What do I do?  I have no role models to emulate.  If I just had a list..."  I think wanting to be a better parent was the first step.

For those of you who had wonderful parents, you could share something positive that your parents did that made such an impact that you made certain you did it with your children as well. 

If you know someone who has something to offer, send them here.  My email is open to everyone.  My private email is indigo_al@yahoo.com. 

Eden, I've only had a little over 12 hours to think on this.  Will it do for a start?

In Peace,

Abbie Lyons

P.S.  Any suggestions would be most welcome.  All info will be kept private and any suggestions posted anonymously unless you state otherwise.

The notes, emails and calls I have received have been overwhelming.  On one hand, I'm glad that there is so much support for this issue.  On the other hand, I am saddened beyond belief.  Because with almost every suggestion for prevention comes a story.  A heart-breaking story.  The grief and sadness I feel are overwhelming.  One email had some of the most amazing suggestions, and I was so excited that I would be able to share them.  Then, I read the post script....'I wish this is what my parents would do for me.'  

God, you took me outside my own selfishness.  And showed me what a truly broken heart is.  Ever the teacher.  Ever the gift giver.  Ever the healer.  

Thanksgiving 2010

There were many things I was thankful for before Thanksgiving. Afterward, I find myself thankful for even more.

We were sold out....again. Thanksgiving was on Nanny's turf. Well, part of it. We celebrated at home that evening, but all plans for neutral territory or our own home were null and void. Dad said, "Sure, we'd love to come have lunch with you." And so we did.

There is nothing worse than being obligated to hug someone you don't like. Maybe there is, but it sure doesn't feel like it. And thus began our visit. Lunch was pleasant. Mom and I agreed to make the best of a bad situation and be on our best behavior. Apparently it worked. One of the managers came over to greet our table. Gwen, bless her heart, had no idea who we were.
"Oh, my goodness," she said placing her hands on my mom's shoulders, "You must be Mary Frances. Fran has told us so much about you and your son Ben. Did he come with you? We can hardly wait to meet him...we've heard so much about him. And she's shown us so many pictures, such a handsome young man. You must be so proud of him...Fran talks about him non-stop." Mom placed her knife and fork on her plate (a good thing, too), smiled sweetly and said, "No, I'm Melinda...the daughter-in-law. This is my daughter Abbie...Fran's granddaughter." Poor Gwen. I now understand the term 'pole-axed'. She replied, "Oh, well, yes, um...she talks about you, too....and Amy." Amy??? Suddenly, I felt like a footnote or a Post Script. It's one thing to suspect that someone thinks you are nothing-it's another for the proof to be out there in the open.
Then mom said, "Fran, how would you like to get out? Go for a drive?" I thought, Great, we will open the door and push her out.....YES!!! My dad just looked at my mom like she had lost her mind. And so we went for a drive. For about an hour. And Fran fell asleep. The drive had exhausted her...and so mom's devious plan to not engage in further conversation or visitation worked. So we took her back to the Assisted Living center, set her up for the evening and said our good-byes. As we were leaving, she called my mom back. Dad and I froze in our tracks...ready to snatch her and run if we needed. Fran asked for a hug and held onto mom's hand and said, "I really miss you." Mom just nodded and said, "Thank-you." And we left.

So I find myself thankful for two women in my life: Strangely enough, Nanny...who taught me that being a bitter, old woman comes with a heavy price. And to be good to everyone I can. How frightening to be old, alone and the only person who is still kind to you is the one you've treated the worst.
And my quirky mom, who again, teaches me that being gracious will always leave you with a clear conscience. That doing what is right, even if it aggravates the hell out of you, is better than wanting vengeance or payback.

There's a note on our fridge:
How someone treats you is their karma. How you react is yours.

Understood...lesson learned.

God Left When the Old Lady Moved In

When I was a little girl, I loved church. I really, really loved church. And I wanted to marry Jesus when I grew up. No...not be a nun, but marry Jesus. I was very upset when I realized that couldn't happen.
I looked forward to mass every Sunday. I loved the smell of the church. The cool, slick feeling of the wooden pews. The clink of the kneeling bench as you lowered it to pray. And then I would stare at the altar, memorizing every nook and cranny and finally settling on looking at Christ. After telling God everything, I would grab the hymnal and start looking up the songs we would get to seen, squeaking if it were the ones I really loved. Plus, we would get to sing the Gloria, which was my favorite. If we had mass at school during the week, that was all the better. I was so completely in love with God. I talked to him constantly. We had a table in the living room that had this drawer with candles and matches. I would light candles every day and kneel there and pray. God was my dearest friend.
Things changed when my Nanny moved in about four and a half years ago. She was a Saturday evening mass person. She wanted us to attend mass as a family and so we did. I had not been to a Saturday evening mass since I was baptized when I was five months old. It was a complete and total let down. At first, I thought, "How lovely." The evening sun added a warmth to everything. But then, mass started. And it came time to sing the 'Gloria'. Only there was no music. And then the responsorial songs...only there was no music. Surely this was a mistake! I decided that perhaps the music people were sick. Or on vacation. Next week would be better. It wasn't. Week after week with little music. And just like in real life for me....NO music equals a slow decent into hell. Music has and will save me from the brink of dying.
Each week, our Saturday family time was cut short by 'having to get ready for mass'. No more day trips. No working in the yard in the cool of the evening. No more family dinner and a movie nights. Any disregard for mass now was met with temper tantrums and rantings. Mass became an obligation. A hideous obligation. It felt as though God just packed his bags and left.
And he left our home, too.
My mom was raised Baptist and prayers before meals were more free-thought and meaningful. Nanny only wanted 'Bless Us O Lord...' and prayer changed at our table. Fridays during Lent became hell. Mom was allergic to shellfish, but that seemed to be all Fran wanted as her 'no meat' dinner. For my mom to prepare food that she could not eat and should not touch. Holy Days of obligation meant that someone was going to have to leave work in order to get Nanny to mass. Because a 7pm Spanish/English mass was too long and the church was full of 'them'.
I know that no one can make you do anything without your permission. I understand that. But you can be bullied into submission to make things go smoother.
My Nanny moved to a nursing home when mom had a heart attack. Mom couldn't take care of her anymore. She's not coming back.
There will be no more disdainful discussions about overweight people, ethnic origins, southerners, protestants, the neighbors or politics. There will be no more alcoholism. There will be no more whining and temper tantrums. No more diatribes on the wonders of her daughter and her bastard (both literally and euphemistically) son. No more listening to her tell my mom what a failure she is for not giving my father more children. Or at least a son. No more listening to her tell my dad that she was doing her duty to have him and that he owes her a debt of gratitude.
However....the music has returned to our home. Friends have trickled back into our lives. We have animals again. Our house has gone from feeling like a brick hell to a real home.

I can't help but wonder....is it too late to see if God would like to move back in now?

Grounded

I'm grounded. I've never been grounded before....ever. I thought I'd look the word up just to make certain I understood the concept. Here is what I found:

grounded-adj. Sensible and down-to-earth; having one's feet on the ground.

I'm fairly certain that the complete opposite is what got me into trouble in the first place. So really, I'm grounded for being ungrounded. I'm sensing an argument coming on that could by my freedom through confusion. Hmmm.....

Mom is looking over my shoulder and says, "Don't even try it, young lady."

The funny thing is, since it is such a new concept, no one really knew how to approach it--the grounding. I mean, what do I do? Not do volunteer work for a few weeks? Not attend lectures at Berry? Not spend as much social time online? Well, maybe that one...but somehow I need the friends more than ever. Take away my music and art supplies? My parents know I would physically die.

My punishment, at first, seems as kooky as everything about us: I no longer stay at home to do my coursework. I go to Berry. I do my work in an extra office where my mom works. I do research in the library. I do phys ed at the Cage center. It's like day school in paradise. Berry is one of my most favorite places on earth.

It seems crazy, but grounding has really become something intangible. It's knowing that I was given a gift....trust...and I didn't cherish it. It's knowing that I will have to suck it up (the feminist in me doesn't want to say 'man up') and look someone in the eyes and apologize. It's searching for a way to right the wrongs. It's looking at myself in a different way and wondering what need I'm trying to fill and what the more positive course would be. Mostly, it's knowing I received an amazing gift....a person, a heart, a deep soul friend, a love....and didn't treat is as one of my most precious treasures. Perhaps being grounded will help me become more grounded after all.

Thanksgiving 2010

I'm going to start by talking about Halloween. It is by far my favorite holiday, but one of the things I love about Halloween is it's the kick-off for the holiday season. From November to January, we have Thanksgiving, two birthdays, Hanukkah, Christmas and New Year. It's like 60 days of festivities...and you gotta love that!
As I get older, the holidays take on new and different meanings. When you're a kid, Thanksgiving is the Macy's parade, hoping you don't miss the Snoopy balloon and looking forward to dessert later. Cousins come over and you have extra playmates for the day. It's like the dress rehearsal for Christmas. It's hearing your family go around the table and talk about abstract things they are thankful for. Watching them get teary-eyed and wondering what that's about. It's running through the dining room past the sideboard and never seeing the place cards, made years before, that have been laid out in memory of people who are no longer there.
This year, just weeks shy of my sixteenth birthday, I find myself moving from the ranks of child to adult...reflecting teary-eyed over the past year and everything for which I'm so very thankful.

• I spent a month in Europe. I had planned on it being a visit of sight-seeing-arriving with list in hand of all the places I wanted to see. I never expected it to be an experience on the scale that it was. I gained new friends, new life experiences, lost my faith in someways and found it anew in others. I got to know my family in ways that I never thought I could. I thought it would be like a trip to Disney-lots of fun, cute photos and great stories. It was a life changing experience.
  
• I got a bunny. If you know me, then you know I love bunnies. I have dozens of stuffed bunnies. I sleep with them, travel with them, snuggle with them. Now I have a real one. A Holland Llop named S'mores.
  
• My paternal grandmother moved from our house. I won't go further. Again...if you know me, you know it's a really, really good thing.
  
• My mom survived a heart attack. This would be the thing about which I'm most thankful. It has given her a new life, a new perspective and to me a new mom.
  
• A kindred spirit...life traveler....soul mate...best friend.
  
• I finally have a home. Two, to be honest. A brick home and a heart home.
• I'm thankful for arms, legs, hands and feet...a whole body.
  
• Friends...new ones, old ones, ones that love you no matter what you do, but especially Cyberfriends. Who knew you could connect on such deep levels with people you have never met?
  
• Facebook. Is that crazy? In real life, I'm a dork. A geek. A nerd. I dress funny, do weird things to my hair. On Facebook...I don't really have a physical identity, except for a tiny picture. What I do have is a voice.
  
• Emily Satterfield. She absolutely rocks my world! In my worst moments: Being heartbroken. Being so lonely I think I would die from it. Being so sad and depressed I wanted to die. Being so afraid for my mom. Emily sends small notes with big impact: Are you okay? I miss you and I love you.
  
• Lastly, my family. The whole kooky bunch. For the ones that teach me valuable lessons and the ones that just serve as a warning. For the ones living and the ones who are only alive in my heart. For the family of my future. And for family that is of no blood relation to me at all-but family of the heart.
  

The down side of reflection is, of course, the acknowledgment of things I might not be so thankful for. I've lost friends, betrayed trust, made stupid, thoughtless decisions, missed opportunities to make a difference, and wonder a great deal if I've put myself beyond redemption.
My only hope is that if I learn the lessons in all of this, I can move even the worst experiences into the 'thankful' column.

So here I stand, on the cusp of being considered an adult. Although, I want fervently to believe adolescence does end at 27. I need more time to mature. But, I find my reflections, at least, to be more mature. I understand the teary-eyed memories. I miss those people on the old place cards. I don't mind pulling out the old family albums and hearing the funny stories about my family. And, for the first time ever, I think I'll be okay if I miss the Snoopy balloon.

I Missed the Boat

I miss stuff. Not in the longing sense, but more in that absent-minded professor way of getting sidetracked and missing stuff. Big stuff, little stuff, life stuff....My mom can tell me a dozen times that something is going to occur...something I want or need...and I miss it.

Today, I missed the boat. The Love Boat actually. I missed an amazing opportunity into the dynamics of relationships. What exactly did I miss? I don't know. I just know that it was BIG STUFF. And it was about love.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm an examiner. A self-examiner. I analyze myself to annoyance. My head, my heart, my soul, my spirituality, my feminism, my thighs (most annoying right now), my relationships. Just everything. So, trust me when I say I know myself.

Now back to love....and what it is....does anyone really know?

My mom has this old shawl. It's lovely...it really is. It's cashmere and warm. And the color is perfect and whenever she wears it, people always comment on it. It's about 25 years old. You don't know that at first glance, because she's taken care of it. Followed the instructions on cleaning it. Stored it safely and treasured it.

To me that is what love is like.

She will tell you about how she saved her money to buy the shawl. She didn't charge it and pay more than she needed. She saved and waited until she could afford it. There is a lot to be said for waiting. Especially in our world of immediate gratification. But you can still see joy on her face when she recalls actually buying the shawl. Then she will show you the things you don't see: the small tear from a kitten chewing on it, a couple of moth eaten holes, places that are worn thin from wear, one piece of fringe missing (most likely another kitten) and couple of places at the edge that have unraveled.

How is that like love, you ask? From the beginning, it's like buying the shawl. There is such giddiness about something new that you have wanted, had to 'save up' to obtain. You are happy to show off your love-write it in the sky or doodle it on the pages of your journals. You drag out your shawl on every cold day, regardless of how it looks or matches. YOU think it matches everything!

The next year, you get chilly and think about dragging out your beautiful shawl. Ah....now it's both functional and fashionable. You still love it-the way it looks, how people admire it, but now it keeps you warm and dry. As the years pass, though it is still lovely, it's the comfort that you long for and appreciate the most from your shawl. It's knowing that it will still be a prized possession after years of rain, cold, mud, kids drying the dog with it (sorry mom), wiping tears and runny noses with it (sorry again), wrapping up as many kids and animals as possible.
Years go by and you pull it out during inclement weather...sort of like relationships. You get so busy with life and realize you're cold or wet or need comfort and out comes the shawl. Eventually, you leave it tossed on a chair year round, because the need and desire for it is now more frequent.
To me that is an allegory for love. In the beginning, the beauty and newness is overwhelming. You want the world to know about this crazy thing you feel. As time passes, it is still so beautiful, but function takes over and the real living begins. Love is knowing that there will be stormy-days of thinking you will never sleep again when your children are born, days of hectic schedules, thinking that you haven't seen your husband for weeks except in passing. It's knowing that eventually parents will pass on and already wondering how you will get your spouse through that terrible time. It's knowing that you might outlive your children and getting through that, too. It's knowing that one day, you might be taking care of your spouse because he is no longer able. It's all that and a million unforeseen things in between.
If you ask my mom why she spent so much on her shawl, she'll tell you that it was worth every penny. Quality, she says, will last forever.

I know quality when I see it. The kind that will mature, age beautifully, be a constant source of warmth and shelter and love.

I wish whoever created the shawl knew how much joy, warmth and happiness my mom derived from it. This is where love can be a little different: I can say thank you. I don't know how the love will wear, but I know that it will wear forever. Because of the love you put into it before I ever got here.

Have you walked in my Converse?

I hate conflict. Any type of conflict. From the lady at the grocery store that can be mean to peers that can say horrible things. I don't even like movies with conflict. And when I come face to face with any sort of antagonistic behavior...I walk away. I turn the other cheek. I...am...a...doormat. But, I will, however, argue any point in a rational manner. To me that is not conflict, but an expression of ideas and sometimes an 'agree to disagree' situation. I don't mind those. They show me how to live peacefully with difference.
But as for conflict....I just can't take it. And I am surrounded by it. At home, at church activities and just everyday life.
That would be reason one that you do not find me among my peers.
Reason two? My grandmother. My dad's mom. That horrible, unhappy, miserable woman with whom I cannot do anything to please her. She has been in poor health for a few years and basically home bound since spring. There is the occasional jaunt to mass out of obligation, but even that stopped around Easter. My father works on weekends and weekdays. My mother is home on weekends. And therefore bound to take care of my grandmother. We could go no where and do nothing. Since we homeschool, the majority of course work was shifted to the weekend, a schedule we have kept. I would occasionally venture out with a friend, but I hated leaving my mom. Nanny is verbally abusive and hateful.
In July, Nanny became so ill that we could no longer care for her. And she moved to nursing home. On doctors orders. She felt like she could stay home and let my mom continue to care for her.
But mom had a heart attack a week later. And every thing changed....and I think for the better in most ways. Nanny will not be coming back to live with us. Mom will not be her primary care giver anymore. But, still the dynamics of the house changed. Dad was trying to see his mom everyday and care for his wife. My boyfriend at the time, Matt, came and spent five weeks with us. Helping out around the house, doing some of the chores mom and dad were unable to catch up on and keeping me sane during all of this. One catch.....no mass. No trying to convert Matt. His mom was raised Catholic...left the church at 18 and never looked back. And she would not tolerate her children being raised Catholic.
It isn't as though I haven't attended a church at all. I went almost everyday in Europe. And we have visited several churches in town. And traveled to St. Clement's, St. Bernadette's and St. Jude's. Just because I haven't been at Our Lady of the Country Club doesn't mean I'm not attending somewhere.
I've been very fortunate that my friends have helped me a great deal. I've noticed that none of them are under the age of 21....so not my peers. But my friends come in all ages and faiths....but it is my PSR teachers that have taken the time to make certain I am alright. Mr. Rusty, Ms. Cochran, Mrs. Schaekel, Mrs. Farmer, Mrs. Diller and Mr. Clay. Without them, I truly would be lost.
So, that is my accountability. I've been here. I volunteer with groups from Berry. I pray daily....sometimes hourly. That is what happens when you struggle with your faith. I spend time with other people at the nursing home...one because they seem lonely and two, because the genuinely seem to enjoy my company and I always leave far more blessed. And I still homeschool....more on weekends. And we are getting away more. We've been taking care of parents, friends and family for 15 years. Now, we are free. And I don't think that is so wrong to enjoy it.
I just have one thing left to say.....where have you been?

European Toilets

I know you're thinking, "Really, Abbie? Toilets?" Yes.....toilets. Using the restroom, WC (Water Closet), Toilet, Wasser or Squat and Aim is a crazy experience.
In Switzerland, there are a wide variety of toilets and facilities. At the best, you have mcClean (no, not owned by the Golden Arches). You have to pay. One Swiss Franc for men. Two for Women. But they have attendants and are extremely clean. At first glance, the toilets basically look familiar. Flushing is the obstacle here. How do you flush? There generally isn't a handle. You become accustomed to looking for the flushing mechanism as soon as you enter a bathroom. Some toilets have buttons on the top of the tank. Some have large buttons on the wall behind the tank. Some have pedals on the floor that you step on. I had a serious preoccupation with the toilet system. Second to McClean's were the self cleaning toilets. At a cheese factory in Gruyere, the toilet seat actually did a full rotation into a sanitizing/cleaning machine behind the toilet. Has Walmart heard of this?

In a public park in Bern, there is a toilet that, at first glance, resembles a torture chamber. (See picture above) The 'seat' is actually flipped up against the wall and you have to pull it down to sit upon it. It has side handles. Think movie theater seats. And how annoying it is to try and sit on one when your hands are full and it flips up before you can get seated. Yep. And for this one, flipping up starts the flushing process. I think I wasted about 20 gallons of water just trying to get on. I kept expecting someone to ask me for a ticket for the ride. It was actually an amazing work of function once I started studying it. And there was a convenient repository for syringes, razor blades and other sharp objects, or so the pictoral sign indicated. In the restroom-in the public park.
My least favorite experience is what they call 'Squat and Aim'. Think two slightly elevated runner's blocks with raised grooves to prevent slippage. (Oh, dear) and a hole in the floor. That's pretty much it. I kept thinking that if God had intended for me to aim, I wouldn't be a girl. I don't hang with people that are obsessed with writing their name in the snow or hitting targets. Add to that a backpack, a purse and a couple of shopping bags and you have EPIC FAIL for this klutzy girl.
I do have to say,though, that finding a facility in Switzerland was far easier than in Italy.
In Italy, there are hardly any public restrooms. If you find one, it is usually in the back of a shop or in the basement. And, generally, there are no toilet seats. Only the bowl. The extremely cold bowl. I think at some point, apparently Italian women griped a little too much about men not putting the seat back down, so they were banned. At first glance, you think, um....naked toilet....and something else is off, but you can't place what it is because you're also looking for how to flush. You find the button on the wall and push. And push. And push and then furiously start pumping with your palm. Then, you are rewarded with this hugh rush of water that frightens you because it is 3-4 feet over your head. Ah....that's the other thing that was odd, you realize. The tank is on the wall at the ceiling.
I can, as you see, pondered all of this a great deal. Euro-peein' isn't for the faint of heart or unadventurous soul. And, I know the answer to the age old question, "Does a bear shit in the woods?"
Why, yes, I believe he does. He tried European toilets and found the woods to be easier. Just saying.

Merry Christmas-The American Inquisition

Happy Holidays. Merry Christmas. Glad Noel. Happy Hannukah. Blessed Be. Happy Kwanzaa.

I keep getting these 'Keep Christ in Christmas' and 'Don't Be Ashamed of Merry Christmas' emails. It reminds me of the following quote:"I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." Mahatma Gandhi

It's funny-my Jewish friends and family do not feel the need to force Chanukah blessings on me.
My pagan/wiccan friends do not shower me with Merry Meet or Blessed Be anytime of the year.
My buddhist friends continually wish me happiness and enlightenment, but not on any particular season.
My atheist and agnostic friends do not bombard me with questions or accusations.
Some how, we all acknowledge each other, no matter what time of year, with open arms.

So why the American Inquisition? The message I'm getting is "You go into those department stores and wish them a Merry Christmas!! Let them know you are a Christian, by God!! Do you want Jesus to think that you are ashamed of Him?"

I don't think of it as political correctness, although I don't think that's a bad thing. But wouldn't you rather someone think of you as a follower of Christ because of how you show kindness and understanding rather than your loud shouts of 'Merry Christmas' or your manger pin on your sweater or your fish family on your car bumper? We are supposed to be a land of religious freedom. Not whoever got here first gets to dominate. Sort of defeats the reason many of our ancestors came here, doesn't it?

I want to live so that people come to me quietly and say, "Hey, what is it in you....." And I can say, "Well, there's this amazing guy...*blushes*...that I am crazy in love with...let me tell you about him. Let me tell you how much he loves me and loves you, too. Let me tell you about how not only he can heal you and all your broken pieces, but wants to use you and your broken pieces to show others how he loves them." And if people are not asking me about about Christ, then I'm not doing it right.
I know that I struggle with my faith daily. I struggle with the religion I practice. But one thing I do not struggle with is my love for Christ. I am a full-out Jesus junkie. I wanna be like Mary and just sit at his feet listening to every word he says. And, I want to tell everyone I meet this holiday season, "Peace be with you." And they will know who I am because of what's in my heart, not what comes from my mouth.

The Dating Game

Dating. It's really a game for the most part isn't it? It's like trying on clothes to see what fits. Or choosing the right plants for your home. I look horrible in skinny jeans, but pretty good in a comfortable pair of painter's pants. I'm an orchid as far as plants go. Overly sensitive, easily gets my feelings hurt. I wish I were more like a cactus. But, all in all, I can't help but think that there are some rules that should be universal. Think of this as a bucket list of dating. We always think, "Hey, if there were just a manual about guys/girls. Life would be simpler." This isn't my complete manual, but it's a good start. I think everyone should put a manual about themselves, or in some cases a warning label, right out there for people. It would make the guessing part of relationships a lot easier.

DO (we'll start with the good stuff):

1. Make me laugh
2. Listen to me
3. Talk to me-really talk to me-about anything
4. Be passionate about something-school, sports, books, music, video games, anything, just give your all to something
5. Be yourself. Completely. You don't have to put on an act with me. Ever.
6. Eat with me
7. Hold my hand
8. Trust me
9. Call, write me a letter or email or something at least more than once a week
10. Be my friend

See how easy that is? Some people require more, but it's basic. Do what you would want them to do. And if you don't want to do the basics, then you probably shouldn't be dating yet.

DON'T (now the not so good stuff, but helpful none the less)

1. Don't have a crush on someone else when we're dating. I don't care who she is.
2. Don't ask other girls for their phone numbers.
3. Don't talk about your exes. Even to say unkind things. That lets me know that one day, you'll do that about me, too.
4. Don't call me once a week and tell me you forgot to call me and that you have to cancel our plans.
5. Don't berate me for political or religious (or lack there of) ideologies. Chances are I think yours are stupid, too, but I wouldn't say that to you.
6. Don't tell me that you don't know why you haven't called, but you've certainly had time to do so.
7. If you hear some gossip about me, ask a friend or something. Ask my parents. Don't ask me. Don't assume it's true and ask me "Why would so-and-so lie?" I don't really know. Maybe they're misinformed or opening their mouths to talk about something when they don't have their facts correct. My question is, "Why would you doubt me?"
8. Don't get mad when I kick your butt at video games. I've been doing this a while and yes, I'm that good.
9. Don't hurt my feelings because you're insecure.
10. In our world "Not calling = Not caring". I know that some girls call guys and it's acceptable nowadays. Not this girl. I was raised that calling boys is trashy. There are exceptions. A few.

See, that's easy, too! It's a general list, but I think a decent, handy one.

For me, there are extras: take me to a museum; tell me about bands you like-I love music of most any kind; read to me or talk about books with me; be a gentleman-I don't think that opening doors and pulling out chairs is antiquated or chauvinistic; tell me I smell nice. Failure to do these things will result in the 'reset' button being pushed and game will be over.

Abbie Lyon's Bucket List

• Be really passionate about a cause and do something instead of thinking about it.
• Make out my will and keep it updated.
• Drive on the Autobahn.
• SCUBA dive in the Great Barrier Reef.
• Kiss the Blarney Stone
• Kiss someone on the Eiffel Tower
• Tour Italy from top to bottom
• Float in the Dead Sea
• Take a boat on the Nile
• Leave a Prayer on the Western Wall
• Step foot on every continent
• Spend a year in Japan
• Party in Rio during Carnival
• Visit the Blue Grotto
• Backpack across Europe
• Visit Loch Ness
• Attend a concert in Vienna
• Visit the Great Wall of China
• Spend three months in a Buddhist Prayer center
• Ride the Orient Express
• Hear an opera at La Scala (maybe next summer in Europe?)
• Sing for the NY Metropolitan Opera
• Teach someone illiterate to read
• Shower in a waterfall
• Hanglide
• Learn to throw a pot
• Write and Illustrate a children's book
• Learn to Ballroom dance
• Live in a commune for atleast a year or start my own
• Ride a camel
• Go on an investigation with TAPS
• Work with Adam and Jamie on Mythbusters
• Spend the night someplace haunted
• Learn to use chopsticks with my hands and feet
• Visit Transylvania
• Build a house with Habitat for Humanity
• Stand among the Redwoods
• Turtle Rescue
• Enjoy kissing
• Blindly point to a destination on a map and hop on a plane
• Learn Japanese, Mandarin Chinese, Italian, French and Navajo
• Find my faith
• Meet the Dalai Lama
• Write a novel with a friend
  
• Write a song: words and music
• Smell a kangaroo
• Learn to rollerskate
• Watch a shuttle/rocket launch
• Have my name on the list for the first tourist launch to the moon
• Brew my own beer or wine
• Spend half a day at a concentration camp and swear never to forget
• See AFI's top 100 movies
• Read at least 100 banned books
• Visit Stonehenge
• Visit Machu Pichu or the nazca lines
• Ride a ripline in the Rainforest
• Ride in a hot air balloon
• Learn to play the drums well
• Give birth (It'll be a while)
• Hike the Appalachian Trail
• Spend a fall biking through New England
• Learn to pick locks
• Learn to hotwire a car
• Wait

Please offer suggestions. I welcome any new adventures. I might be terrified of it, but I'll try most anything. Anything highlighted in Blue, I've managed since I started the list.
AML

My Geek Creds

I have been invited to join The Labrynth nee' Geek Freaks. Geek creds are requested and mine are below:
Abbie's Geek Cred (at first I thought it said creed and actually worked on one)

RPG's-my dad is currently teaching me D&D. I had the Monsters Manual memorized by five. It was bedtime reading for me, which might explain a lot. I also enjoy LARP's.

Video and Computer Games-I got hooked on Diablo by seven. I love it! I do the usual online Runescape, Gaia, anything with a quest really. I use Age of Empires with my homeschooling. I remember being the only third grader in Mrs. Ortwein's that wanted a bardiche for Christmas. I really like weapons.

Comic Books-I really do not have very many. My allowance waster is Manga. I have a huge collection of different series. I know most of them by heart. I used Prince of Tennis to learn percentages.

Music-Cannot live without it. My iPod ranges from the 1920's to current plus classical music.
I especially love 70's rock, 80's college bands and anything quirky. I like early rap, but not what is out there now. In my opinion, it's trash and is degrading to women. When I have reached a point of brokeness that surpasses everything, music can keep me sane and alive.
Movies-British humor is a favorite, though I like mindless humor as well. I love musicals, Shakespeare, 80's horror flicks, Hitchcock, Disney, Action/Adventure, comedy, indy flicks with subtitles. I love Monty Python, LOTR, Star Wars, Harry Potter, The Mummy, The Godfather
Critters-I have one Sheltie and 5 cats. We have had as many as 20 cats. We used to be a drop off house for strays and unwanteds. That has come to include people as well, but that's another topic. We take in EVERYTHING. We've had a frog, several fish, a hamster. In our yard, there are squirrels, chipmunks, 2 raccoons, 1 large snapping turtle, three hummingbirds and other assorted creatures. We feed them all.
Philosophy-I think WAY too much. It comes from being an insomniac. I'm Catholic, though there are several things about the church with which I disagree. I'm rather pagan/native american in that I do celebrate and revere the earth and I think there is life/spirit all around us. I have Buddhist leanings as well. My over all phisophy is this: I like to spend half my time minding my own business and the other half leaving other people alone. I try very hard not to judge, because I don't want to be judged.

Television-Anime, Saturday night Britcoms-esp. Red Dwarf, The Vicar of Dibley or My Hero; Big Bang Theory; Ace of Cakes (I love to bake); Doctor Who and Torchwood; anything on PBS, The Discovery Channel, NASA, SYFY or National Geographic or BBC America. The only reality show that I watch is Family Jewels with Gene Simmons.

I don't spell very well, so I use spell check religiously, because misspelling drives me insane. I can't write it, but I know it when I see it.
I love books. I like fiction and non-fiction. Somedays it's manga. Somedays is Jane Austen or other historical fiction. Somedays, it mysteries. You never know. Top favs: Inkheart series, Illusions: The Adventures of a Relectant Messiah, anything by Anne George, Laurie King or Diana Gabaldon.

• I am currently an honorary member of BCAR-Berry College Alternate Realities. It is a group with a vast appreciation of Science Fiction, role playing, fantasy, anime/manga. Basically, it's Berry's geek club. Some of the best people on earth. They hold a Con every other year. I have been to three Anime Cons in the past year. I like making my own costumes.
• All of my passwords are anime related and extremely obscure.
• I know all the words to every song from Rocky Horror and have since I was 7. You won't have to PG-14 me too much.
• I quote a lot.
• I can memorize most anything from lyrics to plays to sheet music very quickly. I do play the piano, guitar and the harmonica.
• I love to give and receive unusual gifts. One of my favorites to date is a mummification kit with canopic jars that my mom found at the High Museum for my 7th birthday.

I think that pretty much covers it. Just ask if you need more. I think for 14, I am already hopelessly and happily geeky. I'm 1000+ year old soul currently inhabiting a 14 year old body.

Oh....my creed: I promise to remain open-minded and open-hearted for we must accept and embrace not only our own geekiness, but others as well. I promise to never sleep more than 4 hours at a time. I promise to continue dressing in my own unique, thrift-store way. I promise to strive toward better worlds always. AML

Tough Decisions

I, for the most part, am a peaceful person. I'm a huge advocate of peace, kindness, acceptance...blah, blah, blah..... I do believe for fighting for what I believe in and for underdogs, but still, I am peaceful in nature. Or atleast I thought I was. God has been telling me otherwise. You know how he just sort of sneaks messages to you. Usually through other people. He has all sorts of creative ways of really getting to you. His message to me for the past couple of weeks has been forgivness.
I turn on the radio and it's the Ramones telling me to "Swallow My Pride" or Simon & Garfunkel singing about "Old Friends". You read a post by a dear friend on Facebook and it's all about letting go of petty arguments. Another person posts that you just have to love people anyway. Regardless of what they have done to you.
OK God!!!! I get it.
Francesco Petrarch said, "Five great enemies to peace inhabit with us: avarice, ambition, envy, anger, and pride. If those enemies were to be banished, we should infallibly enjoy perpetual peace.". Forgiveness is about letting go of your anger and sometimes swallowing your pride. It's about loving another human, faults and all.
I'm going rafting tomorrow. I have already started visualizing that every time I put the oar into the water, I'm going to let anger flow from me, through the oar and into the water. My anger will wash downstream where nature can take care of it as nature always can. I'm going to push resentment to the surface where the air can sweep it away. I will cry for things that weren't. For dreams lost and no one will know because my face will be red from the sun and the tears will look like spray from the river. I will finish the run exhausted, exhilerated, but at peace. And at the end, I will wrap myself in the laughter of my friends so that the anger cannot creep back to me. That's my goal. That is how I will get my peace back.
But if all else fails, Oscar Wilde said: "Always forgive your enemies-nothing annoys them so much." Yeah....I can annoy the hell out of people. I'm good at that.
AML