oh dear

I remember when I was little and experienced deja vu. I thought I was blessed with some sort of spiritual gift. I thought that for a while actually until my Mom mentioned one day that she had just had a deja vu. She burst my bubble of spiritual blessedness. I also remember that I realized on different occasions that certain smells brought back memories of people or places or events. I, again, thought I was so special until, you guessed it, someone mentioned a smell that reminded him of that time...Another bubble burst. However, I have now confirmed my 'specialness' based on two recent events. One: this past summer I drove my brother's jeep wrangler. It was my first experience driving a stick shift. And I loved it. Absolutely. Not to mention that my brother's jeep is awesome. Huge tires, all kinds of devices for towing, four-wheeling. I felt like a woman studmuffin in that thing. Well, the first day or so that I'm driving the jeep, I'm heading up a steep hill and pop that bad boy into 5th gear. I proceed to climb the hill at about 20 miles an hour and can't figure out why I'm going so slow. But, always optimistic, I just wave at the other cars flying by me at normal speeds while cursing the fact that I'm ruining my cool-car-driver image. Ah yes, as my brother instructs me later, downshift to go up steep hills. Ah, yes. Just like a bicycle. Two: Today I had a doctor's appt in downtown Birmingham. I, of course, needed money for the meter. But, every coin except 4 small pennies, were located in my back jean's pocket on the floor of my bedroom. You see, last night I collected every coin around in order to play games at the Hallelujah party. So, I'm searching under the car seats, in the glove box, in the CD cases. There are no coins. Should I risk getting a ticket? No, there goes the little ticket lady. Hmmm, maybe I can ask someone. Ah yes, here comes someone. Sir, can I have a dime? I think I have one. Yes, here you go. Great, thank you!! Did I mention that the man appeared to be a homeless man?! Alison, you took a dime from a homeless person?!
There. I have verified the fact that I am 'special.' As if we needed proof...

hehe

Another funny incident. This morning I had to go to the dermatologist to get a little itty bitty wart frozen off my pinky finger. So, I'm waiting and then enters my doctor (who is pregnant), a medical student, and two residents. So, including myself and the baby, that's six people crammed into a tiny room watching a doctor freeze off a tiny wart off of a tiny finger for about 10 seconds. I know my life was enhanced. I'm sure those residents and med student can now perform any surgery or save the world after getting to observe that inspiring procedure.

Praise the Name!

Okay, I just got home from a 'hallelujah party.' Yes, you read that correctly. Hallelujah party. Raise your hands in the air. Basically, that's a fancy name for the ever-popular church fall festival/trunk or treat. I went with Brigid. I was wholly unprepared to walk into mass chaos of hundreds of children tripping over their costumes (aren't little kids' costumes more for the adults than the children anyway?) and rollercoasting up and down on sugar highs and lows. The amount of noise in that room was unbelievable. Furthermore, I wasn't exactly in the majority. In other words, I was the only 25 year-old woman there in the midst of hundreds of married couples and their flocks of children. I thought I enjoyed children. I think I still do actually. Just in very small doses. Like one or two kiddos at a time. It was a rare situation where I thought I just might slip out the side door, hike up my levis, and head for the hills. But, Brigid had a delightful time and I won a tootsie roll pop and a spider ring, so I guess all's well that ends well. Hallelujah.

Ribbit

I think we've probably all gotten lots of gifts in our lives. There are Christmas presents, Easter baskets, birthday gifts. But, then there are those gifts that are perfect, the "I-know-you-and-when-I-saw-this-I-just-had-to-give-it-to-you-gifts." Last night, my dear friend, Natalie, gave me a sky blue blanket from Honduras. We spent two fun-filled weeks together in Honduras this past summer and on her way out, she saw the blanket and thought of me. I wrapped myself up in it for a nap this afternoon. And this afternoon as I was hiking through Oak Mountain, I would stop every now and then to pick up a beautiful orange or yellow or red leaf. I do this every fall as the leaves change color and release from the trees. I was reminded of a gift I received during college from a dear friend. I had been studying all afternoon and took a little break. When I came back to my room, there were two of the most beautiful leaves I had ever seen sitting on my computer. Such joy to have someone notice my habit and join in my game! And one last gift. As I sit here tonight I'm wearing obnoxious green frog king socks. (You'll just have to see them.) I love these socks and wear them inside the house when the weather turns cooler. Mike got these for me a couple of years ago. He picked them out all by himself for his Aunt Alison. He must have been about 4 years old. So, I wear them and smile every time I pull the little froggies over my toes. I like gifts like these. Spontaneous and full of connection to another human being.

tireswing over a creek

Okay, let me just set up a little scenario for you. Every Wednesday morning I spend three hours in a research class with a teacher from Korea. 1. I don't really like research. 2. My teacher is quite nice and a fair grader, but we simply cannot understand her English. If it wasn't for the powerpoints in English I would be lost. Today, for example, Dr. Park was giving some sort of example and I couldn't figure out if she was saying hamsters or gangsters. So, in my mind I just kept switching back and forth to keep myself interested. It really is an excruciately painful class. Getting a masters degree is not quite, not at all, what I thought it would be.

Then, each Wednesday evening I spend three hours in a psychopathology class. Today we were talking about human sexuality and the teacher made an interesting point about men and women. She said that women really have a wide range of femininity. A woman can be anything from a tomboy to a barbie. But men, on the other hand, have it more difficult. There's just superman to weird. I think that's interesting. And, I've often felt that men really get a tough time with all the feminism stuff. Personally, I like that beautiful balance where a man knows I'm completely capable of handling this life, yet I also love to have a door opened for me and to be picked up for a date and told I look just lovely. So, good luck guys, find that perfect middle ground.

I've really been proud of my father though. He told me once that he wasn't going to give me away at my wedding. Really, Dad!? Really. He told me that I'm not his possession to give away. I am an adult and capable of making my own decisions. He will state that I am Nevin and Myrtianne's daughter. I love that.

And then last year when Dad got part of his finger amputated, he had a woman perform the surgery. She was the best doctor for the job and Dad stated that if he wanted his daughter to have every opportunity in the world, then he should allow every other woman that same chance. Again, how much do I love that.

waltz

I was listening to an old Josh Groban CD this morning and was struck by the beauty of these lines:

I sing to life and to its tragic beauty.
To pain and to strife and all that dances through me.
The rise and the fall, I live through it all.

That, just like Gibran's poem on Joy and Sorrow, encompasses what I'm feeling and what I keep trying to express. On the wall next to my desk is the quote, "I get up. I walk. I fall down. Meanwhile, I keep dancing."

Amen to all of these words. Amen.

Alison (friend, daughter, sister, student, dancer, artist, singer, lover of life, writer, aunt, niece)

The good thing about sorrow is that it makes you appreciate the smallest of things. Those moments when a gust of wind blows a bunch of leaves off of the trees and I am surrounded by a small whirlwind of color. Like the old man across the street who sits in a lawn chair in the front yard every day and waves at the cars that pass by. The joy of getting a note from my father signed,
'love Nevin (Dad)' The knowledge of knowing that every pain I experience allows me to identify more fully with yet another human being. The simplicity of allowing myself to stop everything and understand what I'm feeling. The joy of praying because I feel like my sanity absolutely depends on it.
I know I've been writing about sorrow a lot lately. And it's not because I'm a totally depressed person. On the contrary, I think I'm actually a quite happy person. I truly love life and enjoy people and laugh a lot. Yet, the past few months have been filled with decisions and revelations that have allowed me to examine my life and who I am as a person and what I stand for. And some of those most important moments have been during the hardest days. So, I'm intrigued by that part of the process. The part where the waiting takes place. The part when the heart waits.

a little crust of bread

Today I was just praying for God to sustain me. As much as I know "it will all work out," that is not bringing much comfort at the moment. Because in this moment, it isn't working out, it isn't fun, it isn't okay, I'm not satisfied, on and on. And as much as I want to find rest in the okay of the future, I also want to find discomfort in the not-okay of this moment. Because this is what I have right now. This moment that feels like a dress that doesn't fit quite right. And in this moment, I feel like God is daring me not to notice Him. The last two evenings I've taken walks during that time when the sun is setting and its light is so bright that it brings tears to eyes on account of its brillance. It's something you cannot miss. There is no way to be outside walking or driving or talking to someone in the driveway without being annoyed at the blinding light. I feel like that's the Lord. He's trying to get my attention, claim my attention, focus my eyes back on Him. I'm begging for sustenance and being blinded by His brillance. Being reminded to find my completeness in Him, for nothing else will ever satisfy those desires and fill me up.

shit, damn, hell

I think there are some things that the heart knows are true that the brain just doesn't want to accept. Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe my heart is denying what my brain knows is the truth. Sometimes I think my damn optimism is misplaced. I've been cussing more lately. I don't want to act out with food, I don't do drugs, I'm allergic to alcohol, boys are just trouble lately. It's like I want a little 'bad' coping mechanism. Because I still feel sad even after I exercise, talk, paint, read, journal, pray, sing, dance, on and on. So, a good cuss word every now and then makes me feel rebellious and fiesty.

EVER

Dr. Seuss wrote those lines I think. (refer to previous blog entry) 'Oh, the places you'll go!' Maybe I should read that again. I think I got about 15 copies when I graduated from college.

Today I went shopping with two of my girlfriends and we went into Sephora. I hope I spelled that right. It's a really intense make-up store. I've really never experienced anything like it. Ever. It was overwhelming and I can't say that I ever want to go back in. I am still in shock that stores can put pictures of basically naked people up. I mean really, can you miss the men's chests when walking by Abercrombie or the women's breasts at Victoria Secret? And Sephora had some of both. A little bit of the men. A little bit of the women. Don't want to leave anyone out now. I'm still amazed though and hope my sweet nephews never enter a mall. EVER. And yet, we scratch our heads and wonder why ever other woman in America is on a diet and men have complexes and we are all so self-conscious. I'll just hold up my air-brushed photo when I walk around. Oh except, that you wouldn't recognize me. So, I'm crying out against a crazy society that promotes outward, physical beauty and longing for a place where we look past all of that and engage in meaningful conversation.

have you ever seen a rock tumbler?

After seeing Phantom of the Opera, I am now back on a Broadway kick. I pulled out my Les Mis CD's. I love the last song. The lines...
'Take my hand and lead me to salvation
Take my love for love is everlasting
And remember the truth that once was spoken,
To love another person is to see the face of God'

I played those 15 seconds over and over yesterday. Somehow it helped me feel comfortable in my sadness. I think that far too often, I try to run from anything that feels yucky. But, I think there's harm in not being still for a little while and letting the feelings tumble around inside. Several of my wonderful friends asked me today why I didn't call them last night. My only answer is that I needed to be alone and mull and pray and sleep.

And for some reason today when I was riding the bike, the lines 'there is really nothing you must do and really nothing you must be' popped into my head. I like that. I don't remember where it came from. Just a little gift out of the sky. It felt like permission to be fully myself today. To release myself from my own expectations. To forgive the fears and worries of the future. To accept where I am and the feelings that I hold inside. To begin to hurt and heal and love in a cycle for the rest of my life.

take me there

Today another wave crashed. I sensed its coming and felt the water rush over me tonight. I'm not afraid of the waves anymore. They are overwhelming for a while, but I can now cling to the knowledge that the water always subsides and fresh air comes again. And while I don't necessarily enjoy the crashing waves, I can appreciate their purpose. I know that I am being challenged and refined and made stronger. I know to whom I look for strength. And I have learned that there is nothing amiss in feeling the wave, all of it, and not running from it. Because there is no way around, no good way. The only way is straight through and underneath. So, I accept the water and feeling of panic and the swirling foam and the sense of being in solitude, but not alone. And yet, while I write nice, fancy words about the waves, I long for a period of absence, for I am tired and weary.

Tonight was another evening of simply praying for God to wrap me up. I want to feel Him. And, of course, He answered. I hung out with my little sister again tonight. She asked me if I was glad I got her as a little sister. I could not be more delighted. And she told me how glad she is that I'm her big sister. That she wishes we could be real sisters. And as we were walking through the Vestavia Rave, she jumped up on the concrete that surrounds the flowers and starting dancing away to the music playing on the speakers. And so we danced and danced. We danced to Backstreet Boys and did ballet moves to slow songs. And then we finished up with swing moves. And she loves the twirls, where one person twirls the other person in and out. And as I twirled her in, I got a big hug and as I twirled her out, I got a huge smile. And I began to realize that I need Brigid as much as she needs me. In our delight in life and each other, I could feel the Lord and I was thankful.

wasn't it 1492?

Last evening I ate at Nabeel's in Homewood. I arrived, saw that the parking lot was full and decided to try a tricky sidewalk parking spot. And older man was pulling onto the sidewalk next to me, so I figured it would be okay. We got of our cars and I said to him, "So, I guess it's okay to park here?" He replied, "Oh, probably. Why not?" I said, "Yeah, gotta take a risk" to which he quiped, "That's right, just like Columbus!" I started to laugh and then walked into a window box of flowers and he whipped out "Watch out for the flowers in your risk-taking!"
I like little interactions with strangers.

So, the trees are changing colors. I love when the trees change colors. There's something peaceful about the changing of the seasons letting me know that life goes on and I have to keep moving. Sometimes I wish the world would stop so that we could mourn the losses around us. But, if we did stop, we would never get to start again, for there is too much grief in the world. I think the trees bursting into reds and oranges and yellows let me know that something else is in control whether today makes sense or not.

On your mark, get set

I have never been one for long debates. Actually, I've never been one for short debates either. I don't like what feels like arguing to me. I prefer, if necessary, to hear the other person's point-of-view, state my own, and move on. Perhaps because I've always had simple answers. My faith is based on Jesus and love. For me, relationships are built on communication and trust. I vote for the person I think will do the best job. As stated previously, I stand on love on any contraversial issue.
I think Eliabeth Gilbert says it well. "In a world of disorder and disaster and fraud, sometimes only beauty can be trusted. Only artistic excellence is incorruptible. Pleasure cannot be bargained down. And sometimes the meal is the only currency that is real."
In my social work degree, I am focusing on children and adolescents. There is something devasting about studying the issues affecting children. Some of the same things affect adults, yet it's different when it's a child. I study sexual abuse and post-traumatic stress disorder and disease and health insurance and on and on. And there are moments when I wonder 'what's the use?' Our world is so broken and hurting. And the answers are huge and unfinished and overwhelming. Remember, I like simplicity. So, for me, I have to break it down. And remember that I cannot save the world and every child ever wounded. But, if I can help a few. Love a few. Hope for a few. Be beauty for a few. Then, I will have made a difference and that is a start.

kick back

I forgot to mention Sam's friend, Christopher, who went bowling with us. Christopher asked what I'm studying in school. Social work. He asked what I want to do. Be a therapist. He asked why I want to be a therapist. Because I want to help people. And then, sweet Christopher asked, "Alison, do you want to be a therapist to help people or is it really just because you want to take naps during your breaks in those big comfy chairs you'll have in your office?"

I love it. Finally called on my own game. Thank you.

I give up

On Friday night I babysat Sam. He's one of my little buddies. He's in second grade, extremely high energy, and is usually quite delightful to be around. Well, Sam and I were sitting in my jeep outside the Summit movie theatre waiting to pick up Charlie, his brother. (how much of a mom did I feel like picking up a teeny bopper at 9:30pm at the movie theatre from his co-ed hang out experience?!). We were playing round after round of 'I Spy.' In this particular round, Sam said, 'I spy with my little eye something white.' I proceeded to guess everything white I could possibly see and no luck. Finally, I gave up and Same shouted, 'It's you, Alison! You're white!' I just fell over laughing. Way to think outside the box, little dude. I am definitely a 'white' person, though hopefully not truly the pasty white color I was looking for. And this is why I enjoy children.

curry powder

I am finding moments of such wonder lately. For some reason, I keep laughing in the car when I'm all by myself. It's delightful. It's like the Lord is just blessing me with moments of joy that spill out. I laugh at funny things I see, funny things that I think. But mostly, I just laugh for no reason whatsoever. Yesterday I drove home at 6am in order to make it for tailgating and the Titans game. I drove as the darkness disappeared and the sun came up in its glory. I couldn't even bear to put the visor down in the car. I just let the blinding sun rays pour all over me. And I watched the fog rise off the fields and then I got to witness a good couple thousand black birds flying across the horizon. A huge line of birds doing the wave across the sky.

And I am finding joy in listening to the passion in my friends. One friend recently described his love of playing the drums, such that he was meant to play. Another friend lit up when talking about chronically ill children in our group presentation. She carried that discussion out with such vigor. Another friend went dreamy eyed when talking about a glorious library in Ireland. Another friend came home from a conference just thrilled at having led her first psychodrama. I love this. I love this part about this time in life. I am watching my friends and myself discover and pursue our dreams. That's a fun thing to be a witness to. I am so proud of my friends. And I am so thankful that we are called to different things. It makes life so spicy.

breaking it down

I also have a statement to make. Where do I stand on abortion? Love. Where do I stand on homosexuality? Love. Where do I stand on a million other contraversial issues? Love. I've said a million times that I have no answers. I've decided that I have one answer though. Love. I don't want to claim that something is right or wrong. I don't want to claim that I know that best answer for someone else's life. I don't want to claim that I understand any person whose shoes I have never had to walk in. In reality, it doesn't matter what I think, if I think something is right or wrong. What matters is that I love each person for who they are and where they are in their journey. So, I chose love as my answer, my right and wrong, my understanding. Because if there's one thing I can understand, it's humanity and the need to be loved.

the land of the free and the home of the brave

Finally, I got to watch a winning football game. This fall I have been to more football games than I probably have in my entire life. I've watched Auburn lose, the Titans lose to the Colts, and BSC lost the homecoming game on Saturday. But, yesterday, finally, the Titans pulled out over the Falcons. I've never really been much of a football fan. But, I'm actually starting to like it. At least, I like being at the game. I still don't like watching football on TV. I must say that I felt like a true American at the Titans vs. Colts game. There was something really cool about being at the "American" sporting event. No other countries really care that much about football. So, there I was next to my brother, father, sister-in-law, and 70,000 other fans. And I was really proud to put my hand over my heart, listen to Sara Evans sing the most beautiful rendition I have ever heard of the national anthem, and just go crazy when the fireworks go off and the fighter jets flew over over heads during the 'land of the free and the home of the brave!' It was a neat moment. However, I must say that I usually laugh at least once during a football game at what a funny sport it is. I mean really, one ball and a bunch of guys knocking each other down all over the field. I simply cannot imagine running down the field knowing that at any moment some 300 pound dude is going to come toss my body onto the ground. I would run away screaming before my body was mutilated. I enjoy my health and my intact bones and ligaments. Maybe next year. I also laughed yesterday at the couple sitting next to Dad and me. It was a guy chowing down on a turkey leg (which generally grosses me out) and drinking beer faster than I could drink water and his barbie doll girlfriend. I don't think she even knew there was a ball game going on. They were a hoot.

Speaking of which, my father is a hoot. He simply doesn't care what people think about him. I love that. I think of all the lessons he has taught me, this is one that I hold most dear. I remember precisely when the lesson took place too. Dad and I were in the airport and he was doing his silly Egyptian walk and I got embarassed and asked him to quit. He told me that I didn't need to worry about what other people thought. It just didn't matter. And it doesn't. I can't say I always succeed at not worrying, but I try. Anyway, Dad was his normal self yesterday. He blew kisses into the air when the Titans did a good job, he waved at some horses that policemen where definitely sitting on, he stole an orange cone because Brad needs one, and he sneezed louder than you could possibly imagine. And the funny thing is, everyone loves my father. He is successful, yet not presumptious. He is wise, yet not imposing. He is generous, yet not forceful. Obviously, I think the world of him. And I'm thankful to be at a point where it is possible to really appreciate 'older' people, especially my parents. I am at a point where I know that I don't know everything. I am at a huge transitional period in life and I am thankful for the wisdom of those who have gone before and managed this life successfully. I thought that I would arrive at a place where I understood life and how to do this crazy thing. But, I haven't and I won't. My life is my journey. And I realize that no one knows how to do this life thing. You just do the best you can. That's what my parents did and I think I came out just fine along with my brothers. When Mike asked me what we should do in the middle of the dog fight, I didn't know for sure. I just knew to follow my instinct and protect him. So, I just follow my instinct. I listen to the wisdom of those around, pick what's right for me, and ultimately, follow the wisdom that resides in me as well.

wwuuuvvvv, truwww wwwuuuuvvvv

So, the nephews blog as promised. This past summer, Warren, Mike, and I went backpacking for a weekend. We hiked out on the last day and Mike and I waited in the parking lots with the packs while Warren went to get the car. While we were waiting, several hikers arrived with their dogs, none of which were on leashes. All of the sudden, two of the dogs got into a vicious fight very close to us. I tried to wedge Mike in the middle of the packs and wrapped my arms around him to use my body as a shield. Luckily, one of the owners stepped in the middle of the dogs and broke them apart. But, it was so close and terrifying. At some point during the fight, Mike whispered, 'Aunt Alison, what should we do?' He was scared, I was scared, and I didn't know what to do. I just knew that I wanted Mike to be safe. More than anything, more than myself, I needed to protect him. And, although, I was frightened, it was a wonderful feeling. I think there are several people in this world that I would take wounds for just to ensure their safety. But that's just in theory. This was a gut response to a real-life situation. I wanted Mike to be safe and I knew that I would take a dog bite to my body over one to his precious little self. I liked that feeling. Those four little guys have my heart (and I think they know it!).

put on your party hat

Today is my father's 65th birthday. For some reason, the birthdays this year seem different. I turned 25 in July. That's as close to thirty as it is to twenty. My middle brother turned 35. That's as close to fourty as it is to thirty. And Dad turned 65. You guessed it, that's as close to 70 as it is to 60. And there's something important in this to me. Every year I get asked if I 'feel' older on my birthday. And this year, I actually do. I feel like 25 is different. Like somehow, by turning 25, I officially became an adult or at least expect myself to quickly become one. I am not where I thought I would be in life at this point. I didn't have an exact plan, but it really didn't consist of still being in school and being single. Hmm, let me rephrase that because it sounds like I'm disappointed in where I am in life. I didn't expect to be in the process of earning a master's degree and discovering who I am as a person. I didn't expect to have more questions than answers. I didn't expect to have such amazing friendships and actually have a decent relationship with my mother. I didn't expect to have four nephews who I adore and would give my life for or adopt if the need arose (another blog about that later). I didn't expect life to be like this. But, I have learned by now that life never takes any kind of path I could imagine and I am just fine with that. I have already lived a challenging, exciting, amazing life.

But it is strange to think that in five short years I will be thirty years old. And my brother will be (gasp!) headed toward middle age and my father will be seventy years old. Now, that is assuming that we all, God willing, are blessed with another five years of life. As I watch my father age, I'm not really happy about it. He is still physically fit and works all the time and travels like its his job. Yet, I see small changes in his energy and walk. And I don't want him to get 'old.' I want him to forever get to go dancing with me. However, I know that I can't stop time and wouldn't really want to any way. Because, in spite of the challenges and 'growing pains,' I'm enjoying this growing up process. I'm learning a lot and I don't want to stop. So, life goes on in its glorious, heartwrenching circle.

Call back

I realize, as I read over my past postings, that I continually arrive at a place of 'no answers.' A place where I glimpse mountains of sadness and frustration and loneliness and heartbreak (either in my own life or that of others) and I have no idea why and no answers. I don't know where to begin. But, I have come to two realizations. First, I am thankful that I am older and have gotten to experience some of life. I have a different perspective than I did even in college. I remember a particular romantic break-up in college that was simply devasting. In some ways, I'm not sure I even thought life could go on. Yet eventually it did. Other painful experiences continued to happen and now, when something just awful happens, I am able to step back and say, 'Wow, this really hurts and it really sucks and I hate like hell that I am going through this, but I know that it will pass, the world will keep on turning, the sharpness of the pain will eventually become duller, and I will be okay. Right now, I don't feel okay, but I will be okay. I will. I always have been before.' And two, I think the depth of my faith is in these questions. Faith is simple when life is easy. And sometimes faith is even easier when it's hard; I just cling to Jesus. Yet, the hard times bring out my questions more than usual. The why's and the anger and the hope. I have always been aghast to hear that it's 'wrong' to doubt God or question Him or be angry with Him. To me, that's simply ridiculous. I am in a relationship with the Lord and in my real relationships, there are no hidden emotions. Plus, if God created me, I figure He better be able to handle my anger. It was His idea in the first place.
I'm currently reading 'Velvet Elvis' by Rob Bell. It's excellent and I highly recommend it. I love the following lines, 'A Christian doesn't avoid the questions; a Christian embraces them. In fact, to truly pursue the living God, we have to see the need for questions. Questions are not scary. What is scary is when people don't have any. What is tragic is faith that has no room for them....Maybe that is who God is looking for - people who don't just sit there and mindlessly accept whatever comes their way.'