Note to Self...

Note to Self: Reflection does not always need to end up with thoughts of regret and deep seated feelings of guilt.  Yes, you know you made mistakes but those are now in the past. Take the lesson from your errors and move on.

The sad moments of loss are heavy and will not easily dissipate. The ache of loved ones who are gone will beat in time to your heart.  Nothing can remove that; it is as it should be.  Grief works its way out through tears and laughter; just let it be so that you can heal. 

But instead of only guilt and pain, wrap yourself in memories of love and happiness as much as you can and let it guide you into 2013 with a hopeful heart and strong resolve.  Life is journey for which there is no road map.  Our compass is our faith; our sustenance is in love and hope and our companions are our loved ones both here and on the other side.

Hope for the Life of You.
<3 Always & Peace Forever
- CAG

Heartbreak...

I sit here, in my home, emotionally reeling as I finally give over my thoughts to the devastation that has wreaked havoc on so many this past year; these past months, these past few days. Tears are falling so freely for so many that I do not know and sadly will never have a chance to know because their lives have been snuffed out by tragic events of natural causes or the horrific agenda of a deranged individual. There are no words to comfort the families that have lost so much. There is nothing that can be said or done that will erase the pain, the unimaginable grief that so many are suffering through. I have not one clue as to how the parents must feel, the families, the siblings, the friends…All I can do is cry and pray.  Consider, the story I found from a friend’s page about Victoria Soto.  She hid her twenty-seven students in a cabinet and closet and told the shooter that the children were somewhere else before he shot and killed her.

There are others like her, I am sure. Yesterday, I like so many, many others, raged at the senselessness. What caused this? Why did this happen? The truth of the matter is that whatever answers we find to those questions won’t bring them back. I could feel myself spiraling into a dark abyss and so I shut off my head, prayed for the dead and the families and tried to put things in my emotional safety vault.

Then I found this story about Victoria Soto. Her story broke through the barrier that I built to hold back the crushing sadness. Reading about Victoria Soto’s courageous act reminded me that it’s okay to cry, to be angry and to wail here at my desk. That to think this woman so unselfishly acted to save the lives of her students, unhinged me and even though I do not know her, it broke me, and my God how thankful I am for her bravery for children I do not even know. I know it may seem that I am rambling here…I guess I am.

I don’t know the answers of how and why. I’m not so sure that I care. I don’t know what the answer is to stop this from happening again. I’m not sure there is one. All I am sure of is that nothing is for certain. That time is short. Fill your time with love. May we all find a moment to hug someone and let them know the depth of our love. Sending up prayers.

Yeah It's Tuesday...Bring It

Tuesday is NOT a day for wimps.

Tuesday is a HARDCORE day. It's far enough from the weekend to actually make one squeamish. It's a day filled with deadlines and spreadsheets; a crippled scanner, weak coffee, hour long conference calls each with an agenda the length of your arm with at least one dysfunctional team member participating; phone calls from vendors, telemarketers and international cold callers all seeking to pluck "just five minutes of your time" to sell you the next best thing since stink eliminating air freshener and random unexpected acts of stupidity during your commute that will test the limits of your sanity.

Yeah Tuesday is NOT for wimps. Luckily, I'm one HARDCORE woman.

Are YOU hardcore? Yeah, I thought so. Go. Get. You. Some.

The Art of the Dig

Note to Self - Man sometimes you have to dig deep.  Sometimes, you have to go so far deep inside of yourself…into the dark recesses of yourself to face all that sits there…that hard, lightless, ugly place that we all have.  You have to search out the reasons for why you are who you are; take the good and the bad of it all and examine it.  It’s a difficult journey and not one that is enjoyable.  But once you uncover that moment of hurt, of deception pain and anger…you conquer it and then you can climb.

You can feel the dirt dig in under your nails but you don’t care; the rocks loosen and tumble past you but it’s no longer a concern, because you’ve faced that fear already and anything in front of your uphill climb is minor.  When you break through, when the light of day is on your face, and regardless of if it is the rain or the sun, you’ll feel OH SO FREE.

Feel that?  Take a deep breath…hold it…hold it…let it go slowly and then do what comes naturally, yes let it go. There it is…that smile.  It’s one of your many weapons in the defense of your life.

Smile for the Life of You.
<3 Always & Peace Forever
10/9/12 CAG

The Challenge

The Challenge - C. A. Griffin August 29th 2012

We are a people hewn by challenges; physical, mental, psychological, environmental, financial, emotional, career, political and intellectual challenges.  We meet them head on, head bowed, head averted, head up and head buried in the ground…but still we meet them.  Even if we ignore the challenges, they still are met.  Are they not?  You may disagree.  That’s fine.  But you must admit that we are a people hewn by challenges.  We are shaped by them, colored and stained by them; they leave their tattoos and brands on us.  They move us backward, forward, sideways, they can even cause us to stand still.  We are met by challenges because we are always on a quest; seeking something, reaching for something, wanting…something.

I was walking down the street today in slightly detached frame of mind – part of me wondering what I should write today and the other calculating what it would cost to move; another part of me was figuring out what juice concoction to drink today…the list goes on.  I do that often; think about a hundred things at a time while walking; I’m sure a lot of you do. 

I was walking down the middle of the sidewalk, it wasn’t crowded – a few people behind me a few in front of me walking in both directions.  A subway grate on my right, stores on my left.  The sun was bright and the sky clear.  A lot of detail, I know but I want you to see in your mind the environment I was in when I describe what happened next.  So I was walking down the middle of the block and there was this woman walking towards me.  She appeared to be older than me, well dressed woman, wearing glasses.  She was walking moderately; I was walking a bit faster.  It became clear to me that we were in each other’s path. 

Normally, I would move out of the way, step aside.  But for some reason I held my ground…so did she.  We didn’t so much as look at each other in the eye, as we were aware of each other – you know that kind of passive aggressive acknowledgment that happens when you are in close proximity of another person.  We weren’t threatened by each other but I sensed this kind of “I’m not moving YOU move” way about her.  I wonder if she sensed the same about me, because it was there.  Neither of us moved out of the other’s way. We simply kept our pace, we didn’t slow down and at the very last moment, I moved ever so slightly to avoid shouldering her.   I had no more than a few seconds to wonder about that before it happened again.  This time a woman, about my age give or take a year or two and the same sense of realization about her knowing of my approach just as I knew of hers, played out yet again in my head…and we had the briefest of eye contact.  Neither of us moved, but now having just played this game of pedestrian chicken a few moments before I had an edge to me.  I watched her movements, not her face.  I wanted to see if she would move and how she would move.  She didn’t. Neither did I.  Once again, I moved ever so slightly out of the way.

I got to thinking – what would the reaction be if I didn’t move, if I didn’t acquiesce and via a slight of shoulder shift to avoid my shoulder butting into hers?  If a bystander were watching, would I have been seen as the aggressor; the transgressor, the moody person, the inattentive pedestrian, the uncaring person or would either of those two women have been seen that way?  How did they see me?  I saw each of them as a challenge.  Their refusal to move as a threat to my presence – in my head “what you think you’re better than me, that I should move and not you”.  Why did I think that way?  Why did my aggression grow to a perceived threat?  Was there some underlying sixth sense that allowed me to “feel” or see their aggressive behavior or was it my imagination?  Why did I move?  Did I feel inferior and submissive or was I simply avoiding becoming the aggressor?

It made me think of posing a test.  One where you take different individuals male or female of all ages, in all modes of dress, from different races, religious and political backgrounds and put them in the same situation.  Put them on a semi crowded street walking towards each other; with space on each side to move (as a balance test the street can be narrow and there’s very little room to pass) see who moves and how.  Did they look at each other or did they take note of each other’s presence?  How did they move?  What was the other person’s reaction to the one who made the adjustment to pass?

We are a people hewn by challenges; physical, mental, psychological, environmental, financial, emotional, career, political and intellectual challenges.  We meet them head on, head bowed, head averted, head up and yes head buried in the ground…but still we meet them.  Because even if we ignore the challenges they still are met. 

My day started with a prayer and the gym; I fought myself about getting up to go but I went and I'm glad. Six bike miles and three sets of reps with weights later and I feel that familiar surge of positive energy. The sweet ache of muscles growing and the heady experience of endorphins and serotonin filling me with a physical euphoria, makes me feel happy that I committed to working out.  I need mental, physical and spiritual strength.  I want to be strong, and given all that is going on in this world today, I’m gonna need all the strength I can get. 

I never used to pray in the morning; when I reached my teens, I used to do a quick night time prayer while lying prone under the covers.  I had grown old enough to determine that the age old children's prayer should be abandoned for a more age appropriate homage to God.  You know the one I'm speaking of..."Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  If I should die before I wake I pray the Lord my soul to take..." it was then followed by a litany of names of family, friends and pets, often mumbled and segueing into soft slumber and colorful dreams (or frightening nightmares but I’ll leave that for another blog).

I have to admit that when I got married I skipped praying altogether, except for the occasional blessing of the meal, which I would conveniently remember if my mother was around or if someone else mentioned it.  I’d act all surprised and say something like I was starving and forgot all about saying the blessing, laugh and bow my head, partly in shame.  It wasn’t that I’d lost my faith but my focus on God and all that comes with being a Christian took a back seat to being married, having fun and raising kids…not necessarily in that order.

Before I was married, I went to church for twenty years, almost every single Sunday with my mom, sister and brother. Sometimes my dad would go but if it was Sunday and the games were on there was a sure bet that he would be home relaxing.  Meanwhile, we were listening to the fired up, bible thumping, soul saving sermon of the pastor at church, or singing in the choir and making mommy proud because we could sit still and not move during the two and half hour service.  So when I took my marriage vows, I felt that God would understand my short break from attending church; after all I did my tour of duty and then some.

But as fate and the Mother Overseers LLC (my biological mother and my mother in-law) would have it, it came time to put my children through their Christian paces a-la Sunday school.  That meant I had to go to church (insert dry face here).   I found the rush to get them dressed and all of us out the door a chore that I didn’t need on top of everything else I was doing, but I did it (my husband followed in the tradition of Fathers Inc. and remained home). Before long it became less hectic and, just as my mother did, I took pride in their attendance and good behavior.  Years later, I was volunteered to become a Sunday school teacher by my mother-in-law (still not sure I’ve forgiven her for that J and I think she was in cahoots with my mom). 

I figured I’d give it a few months before the church would realize I didn’t know jack about the bible, and relegate me back to the pews to attend regular service.  I thought that it wouldn’t take them long to want to find someone else that was far more biblically knowledgeable and Christian education capable to teach the kids. Well, it’s been ten plus years and I’m still teaching (go figure).  I’ve gone through three confirmation classes and have come to know at least fifteen kids during the years.  During that time I’ve learned that as much as I hoped to have left a positive influence on those children, they have left a positive influence on me.  Every Sunday they recharged my spiritual battery, leaving me energized and hopeful, full of ideas and joy. 

However, truth be told, every May, I’m lacking zest and just looking forward to a summer break; even going so far as to consider quitting (I’ve even said as much to the Pastors I’ve served under) but by some unforeseen divine grace, I’ve been back every year.   During the summer break, I use the time to recharge by going on vacation occasionally sleeping in and among other things, attending adult worship.  It’s not long before I find myself starting to formulate ideas on what to do for the coming semester. 

I do occasionally dream about someone else coming along and taking over the class so I can be free to do other stuff; after all I am a writer and a singer and I would love the extra time to dedicate to honing skills as well as hawking my wares.  The new teacher on the block would have to come up with holiday pageants and performances, search for fun lessons and activities and be cornered with questions like, “Was Adam and Eve really naked?  Why didn’t Jesus use magic? What color is God’s eyes? Did they have bathrooms?”  

But then the time comes around for me to see them and I have to admit I get excited because I realized that I’m starting to see things they way they do; I get to act silly and play memory games and laugh and run and color.  It’s become clear to me that these children are my energy source.

Much like I commit to getting out of bed to go to the gym and spend time burning calories and building muscle in order to stay healthy, I commit to meeting with these kids and their parents as we channel the spiritual energy we all need to survive.  We thrive on each other.  Positive human energy is needed to survive.  Working out, writing, reading, praying and being with these kids on Sundays are my energy sources.  Energy sources vary by the individual and together we find balance and can move forward towards bright futures both in that classroom and most importantly outside of it in our daily living.  

The children inspire us just as we inspire them; we just have to find out how to plug in.  I found out how, so can you.  It could be via mentoring children or an adult; it could be donating your time (not just your money) to helping others in need, it could be strategizing and implementing programs in your community to battle against drugs, crime or illness and homelessness. It can be all those things and more.  You just have to be willing to commit to it.

Find your energy source, locate your positive energy battery, plug in and move forward.

C. A. Griffin