Front Yard People

Most of my younger years were spent living on a street with a cul-de-sac in San Diego, California. It was a street where the neighbors were always in their front yards and children played outside. By day, Big Wheels were commonplace racing up and down the street and evening time brought raucous games of "kick the can" as us kids scattered to hide from whoever was “it.”

Impromptu pot luck parties broke out where everyone would gather in the circle, kids and adults alike. There was laughter, music, friendship and genuine care and love for neighbor. Everyone watched out for everyone else.

My best girlfriends all lived there.  We went from Barbies to babysitting to boys together. Front doors were always open and our lives spilled out into the front yards and street.

It was a happy time on Carioca Court, and we were all like most other streets in most other neighborhoods across the country.  Community was important to everyone. It was our clan, our tribe, our extended family. I have such fond memories of those carefree years and remember feeling safe and looked after.

Fast forward 50 years to my life today . . . we moved to a gated community in Central Florida in 2008. Coincidentally our new home was also on a cul-de-sac and happy memories surfaced as I thought how much my own kids would enjoy growing up in this neighborhood. My husband, being from the South and from the country, was about the friendliest guy you could meet and looked forward, as I did, to new friends and a new "circle."

Three months passed and not a single neighbor stopped by to say hello or welcome us.  We spent time out front, gardening, tossing a football, hanging out.  Where was everyone? Even as a neighbor would drive by, we would toss up a hand to wave but they would never even look our way, let alone stop to say hello. {not being rude, just preoccupied}

We decided to have a big Halloween Party and sent invitations to everyone on our street (over 40 homes). We threw open our doors and allowed trick-or-treaters and neighbors alike to come in, say hello, have a bite.  We laughed and met neighbors and finally at 3am, the last person left.  We broke the ice and looked forward to years of happy memories with great people on our lovely street.

It's now 2019, and sadly I have to say that I have not seen a single neighbor socially since that Halloween party 8 years ago.  After the party, things went right back to the way they were - no one spoke, no one gathered, no one waved.

Don't get me wrong, I am sure that they are all wonderful people.  A few have friended me on Facebook and I see them there (but not on my street). Even when my husband passed, I got two cards in the mail but no one called or came by.  Again I will say, these are all good people and there are no bad intentions on their part and I am not judging.  I am just curious. Why did we never make connections?

And then it occurred to me . . . we have all become "back yard people." Absorbed in our own little busy lives, our culture today has turned inward toward electronic devices, material things, preoccupied with our sets of issues and problems.  So much so that we stopped relying on community to provide the happy moments and especially to support us in the bad.

This phenomenon is sad to me and I miss human connection. It has bothered me many times, especially now that I am alone. Not long ago, I saw Kristin Schell interviewed about her book, 

The Turquoise Table

Kristin nailed it.  She too, had the same struggles but she decided to do something about it! She took an old picnic table, painted it turquoise, and strategically placed it in her front yard, close to where people would pass by. How can a person not stop to admire a table like that and how could one not break the ice to have a conversation about it?

I am in love with this idea and have begun to follow Kirstin’s movement HERE. Not only is the idea creating community around the world, it is also bringing neighbors together to fund-raise for charity, volunteer for worthy causes and spreading friendship and love in this world that seems to be so divided lately. It all begins with us. A simple gesture can become a ground swelling movement. I choose love. I choose friendship over isolation.

I’m looking for my table now and plan to place it right under my shady live oak in my front yard. Let’s work toward becoming front yard people. I guess the next hurdle will be the homeowner’s association . . . one battle at a time!

Tidying Up

The New Year is usually a good time to jump in on all of those projects we procrastinate about, like cleaning out closets and clearing piles of crap we keep saying we are going to work on. Couldn’t we all use a little tidying up in our lives? I know I have way too much stuff and find myself being weighed down by the VOLUME of things that I have accumulated over the years. As I grow older and steam toward retirement, I find myself wanting to simplify, downsize, and relieve the heavy burden of material things. Carrying them around with me are like walking through thick, deep mud and I can’t make forward progress without shaking it all off and freeing myself from the pack I carry (literally and metaphorically.)

My situation is further complicated as I struggle with having to sort through the remnants of a 25-year marriage that ended with my husband’s sudden passing. It has been a rough road to sort through his belongings and I think when you have to let go of the things left behind by someone you love, it is even harder to face - it’s as if you are saying good-bye over and over and over again with every treasured article you let go of.

Every item represents a warm memory or intimate ritual. His favorite flannel shirt that felt so good when he hugged me. His toothbrush and his razor. His pillow and tattered bathrobe. His 25-year old leather jacket that didn’t fit any longer but he held on to because he knew I loved it on him. His phone that was constantly glued to his ear. His hairbrush. His cologne and shampoo. Finger-nail clippers and every scrap of paper that had his handwriting on it. His boots and his bible that when cracked open, let slip to the ground a photo of me from when we met. A lifetime. A life. An end. A beginning.

Two years ago, a well-meaning friend pushed me into cleaning out some things and although the gesture was well intended, the ramifications were disastrous. I would never recommend a “rip the bandaid off” approach to this process - it did more harm than good and I blame myself for not saying no. At a vulnerable time, I gave in to a gut-wrenching day of a Rambo-style assault on a troubling room in my house. Eliminating things before I had the chance to hold, them, love them and let them go in my own way caused great distress and unfortunately I wasn’t strong enough at the time to say, “I’m not ready.” What’s done is done, but I no longer let anyone in to help me do something so deeply personal.

Fortunately, I found something that worked for me. By now maybe you have read, seen or heard about the book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo. You may also have seen the new Netflix Show featuring the KonMarie method for tidying up our lives.

Still don’t know what in the world I’m talking about? Do yourself a favor and look it up! I read the book 3 years ago and while I loved it, I never put the method into practice. I had a hard time wrapping my head around the ritual associated with the process. It wasn’t until I watched the first episode of her show that I had the “ah-ha” moment and it all clicked for me. Marie Kondo, precious and doll-like, is the most gentle, respectful and lovable host and I find myself mesmerized by her. I want to be her best friend :)

Two episodes in and I was already emptying my closets and working through the steps! While I have complete respect for Marie Kondo and her method, I will say I had to tweak her practice just a tad to fit in with my beliefs. What I absolutely love the most and my biggest take-away is that she has taught me to honor my home and my things and to recognize that everything is a part of MY history and MY story. As she guides you through the steps for eliminating or keeping things, she first encourages you to take EVERYTHING out of a closet so you can see the AMOUNT of things you have. This was mind-blowing for me as I piled my bed high with my clothes. Who needs this much stuff??? The next step is to pick up each item and hold it. Does it “spark joy?” Yes? Then lovingly fold it and keep it. If you don’t feel absolute joy, then it is a NO - thank the item and place it in a pile to give away. This is where she and I differ just a bit. I don’t thank the inanimate object, but I do thank God for the item, associated memory, and ability to have things in my life. This act of gratitude literally altered my inability to let go of things I was holding on to. It made sense to me, finally, that they have served their purpose in my life and now it is time for that object to benefit someone else. There was no pressure and no judgment. I was able to truly hold every item and feel if it was a burden to me or it brought happiness to my existence.

Once I got started, I bombed through my closet, then the next and next and next until truckloads of things were going out of my house and on to people who really needed them. And as the space opened up for me, I was able to look at my home and my life in a new way. There is now room for me to grow as I have cleared out my drawers and my life and now have the freedom to move forward without the past dragging me back. The dust is settling and I can breathe a little easier.

And the best part is that I don’t miss or yearn for a single thing that I have let go of! Here’s to 2019 and a season of Tidy and Free! Good luck on your own journey into the New Year!

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Note: After Publication, I realized that some might be concerned about “the friend” mentioned above, and perhaps feel like I had some harmful person in my life who pushed me against my will. That couldn’t be further from the truth. The clean up session was completely well-intended and my friend was only trying to help. That person knew about this blog post and approved the content as it related to them. I’m lucky to have some very good people in my life!

White Picket Fence

I listen when people talk to me. I mean I really, really listen. I choose nuggets of wisdom from their conversations and tuck them away for a time I might need them as I file them in some invisible cabinet in my brain. I am reminded today of a poem that was shared with me over 7 years ago. At the time I read it, it didn’t pertain to me. Or so I thought. Who could have know that one day, I would feel as if every word was about me and to me? Or that when my comfortable, routine, picket fence life that I loved imploded in an instant, these words would come back, both as a reminder and an a-ha moment? Or that I have not only the permission, but the ability to test my heart’s capacity to expand?

If you don’t know or read Jen Lee, please do. I won’t even try to tell you about her and her words, I will let them speak for themselves.

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You Write to the Fence
by Jen Lee

You write all the way to the fence, then there’s nothing
left to do but tear it down and
expand the border.  To stretch
your life by trading in Safe and Secure.
To stare the beast, It’s Not Enough, in the
face and let it off its leash.
It runs rampant–it eats the flowers,
plows down the picket fence and
knocks an entire side out of the house.
Its appetite for destruction finally
satisfied, it gives you one last look and
disappears into the woods in the back of
your property.

You weep at the rubble of the life
you constructed so carefully–at the
petunias you had color-coded and
lined up in rows.
What have you done?
What choice did you have?
You wrote all the way to the fence.

Your friends come to sit with
you in your mourning.
They are gentle, but refuse to
join you in your black garb.
White picket wasn’t your style, they say,
and then point to the field beyond
the wreckage.
That wild meadow, though . . .
Their eyes giggle with the secret they
hold in.

Finally the grieving grows stale,
you grow weary of drowning your days
in despair.

You buy a new pair of boots, and set
off to explore the meadow with its prairie dog
holes and snakes, and butterflies you try to catch.
They surround you like the words flying around
your head and perching on your shoulder,
humming in unison with the insects. 
You could walk until the sun sets without meeting
any barrier.

Instead you return to the house.
You crouch in the ruined garden, and then toss
wildflower seeds in its place.
You look at the building, with only three of
four sides standing, and you begin to
see an extension you could build.
A sun room, perhaps, or a greenhouse,
or a kitchen made entirely of glass and sunlight,
of panes that give raindrops a place
to run.
Your heart expands to inhabit your coming life,
regretting no more that you wrote all the way to the fence.

Aquiescence

Five weeks ago, I set out on a journey unlike any I have ever taken. It was more like a pilgrimage, really. I left for Italy to spend time doing lovely, but HARD things. I made an intention to come back a different person than I was when I left. I intended to face my mourning head on, greet it, embrace it, and then softly and sweetly let it go. I intended to learn to laugh again. I intended to face things I was afraid of by confronting them and knocking them out of the way.

I made my way from Rome to Orvieto to Asissi to Florence and finally Bellagio on Lake Como. I took planes, ferries and trains, walked for miles and miles, visited museums and churches, watched sunsets and dined alone most of the time. I learned enough Italian to be slightly and awkwardly conversational. I learned to navigate the insanity of what they call train stations in Italy. I learned that it is better to travel light than to lug around a giant suitcase of things that were unimportant. I learned how very expensive it is to ship home those unnecessary items and instead to leave them behind for someone else. I learned to be brave enough to make conversation with people around me and to trust in humanity enough to realize that everyone isn’t out to hurt me. I learned many, many things on this trip.

I cried at the sight of the Pieta in the Vatican. I sat for hours in the Uffizi getting lost in the art. I ate pistachio gelato. I discovered Aperol Spritzs’. I slept with my windows wide open overlooking the valley in Asissi and woke each morning to the melody of church bells. I sat in many a piazza and sketched the scenery. I had cocktails on a rooftop terrace overlooking the Duomo in Florence. I ate lemon ravioli and enough olive oil to feed a small village. I discovered I love wild boar, especially with a side of homemade umbrichelli and zucchini blossoms! I used a chitarra and a bidet, but not at the same time!

I retreated, created, and prayed with amazing women who enriched my life, made me belly laugh, and loved on me like I haven’t been loved on in a very long time.

I could go on and my experiences could fill a book, but these are some of the high notes. My most important takeaway from this trip was that I left with no expectations and only hope. I approached this journey with open arms and heart only to find that God filled both to overflowing.

Of the over 4,000 pictures I took in the past month, the one that sums up my trip the best is posted here. It is the hands of the Repentent Mary Magdalene statue at the Villa Carlotta in Tremezzo (replica by unknown artist). Some say they saw sorrow and despair. But the statue moved me in a different way—her hands made me feel acquiescence – the sweet surrender of our lives to the Master, who in His mercy provides everything we need.

My Deepest Gratitude to Laura Hogue McCollough of Art & Faith Creative Retreats, Sheila Atchley and Michelle Logue of Adventures In Italy who were mentors, hosts, instructors and nurturers on this journey. I love you all!

My Interview on Sketchbook Revival is Live Today

Happy Saturday!  Today I am being interviewed and am doing a free painting lesson and demonstration with Sketchbook Revival!  Hop on over to their site to see how I sketched and painted this special little place!  You can watch my interview HERE

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