December 9, 2009
Perseverance
"Are you sitting down?""No, should I be?
It was the middle of the day, the middle of the week, and my brother was on the other end of my phone asking this question. Part of me had a feeling what was coming next, but I couldn't be sure. It was too soon, wasn't it? Of course I work for the government, so I should be plenty familiar with schedules shuffling like slide puzzles. Few things come when they are supposed to and many never look as expected.
"I report to OCS January 15th."
And there it was. My brother, who had spent the last year of his life training and hoping and waiting for one rejection after another, was finally going to get his chance to earn his place in the US Marine Corps.
"Merry Christmas."
"Yeah. You don't need to get me anything else."
There was probably no truer statement in the universe. He now had the one thing he'd really wanted - a slot with his name on it. And, from what he was told, a very competitive one at that. They told him to stay healthy. To keep working on his pull ups. To not break himself before January. I suspect they'll make plenty of attempts at doing it themselves come next month.
He tells me he made my mother cry. When asked if it was out of happiness or pride or fear, he said "all of the above". The thing I couldn't tell him was that his oldest sister was doing everything possible to not do the same. It is impossible for me to truly recognize who he has become and what he has chosen to do and not feel moved by the reality of it all. I've had the privilege of watching some of the people I love most in in this world realize their dreams and it never fails to hit me in that squishy spot at my core that I spent so long trying to pretend didn't exist.
They don't always see the tears or know of them, but they often appear. Sometimes I think I cry with joy for them at the confirmation that dreams are attainable. Sometimes I think I cry with sadness for myself because I'll never know what receiving that gift feels like. Mostly I think I cry because it reminds me life is too beautiful and amazing to not be changed by it.
He says he couldn't have done it without our support. I told him I was glad I could be there for him, but that he did this himself. He ran those miles. He pushed himself day after day after day to keep training and keep trying. He's the one who didn't back down at the questions and the lack of faith some showed; the one who held fast to his choice and refused to settle when others told him to consider a different branch.
Maybe never expressing doubt can have an influence. Maybe the prayers I and others offered on his behalf without his knowledge had power I was ignoring. Maybe the difference between constructive challenging and blatant questioning was stronger than I could have realized. If those things made even a small difference, I could respect that truth and be thankful. But this was his accomplishment. He got the job done. I wanted nothing to detract from that fact.
When we got off the phone I could think of only one thing to do. I called my mentor who, in his wonderful support of me this year, has often inquired about my brother's progress. It's amazing to me when I consider the chains that connect us all to one another; the way the little things somebody does to hold one person up enable to them to have enough strength to pull up somebody else as well.
"So your parents have a Marine Officer, a pharmacist, and a rocket scientist. Not bad." No, not too bad at all. But my mother makes it very clear that what we are makes her nowhere near as proud as who we are. There really is nothing finer than being loved and treasured for exactly who you are. I think in a way us kids are all examples for each other, and I have no doubt each one of us is better for it.
Today, it's my brother raising the bar. The goofy kid I grew up with turned into a fine young man who will go on to make an excellent Marine. I couldn't be more proud of him.
Captured At:1534
December 14, 2009
The End of the Tunnel
After two relatively light half days of telework a partial reality set in. Tomorrow morning, despite my mind already being on vacation, I would have to return to the office. The knowledge was disappointing. I felt as if my fade out of the 2009 work year was complete and I wouldn't have to see the Cape again while this calendar ruled.It's not like I had a difficult day ahead. Wrapping up loose ends in the morning, a Christmas luncheon, whatever remained of the kickoff for my new developmental program, and one last visit to the VAB to (hopefully) catch an old friend before he, too, vanished for the year. Just a simple eight hours, Bec, what's the big deal?
When the next day came I quickly discovered there wasn't one. Elation fueled my rising and readying and transit. I was so close to the end and my forecast for those final hours contained nothing to be unexcited about. The morning crawled pleasantly until the rallying call for lunch; last one out, shut the door!
Somewhere between sitting down at the party and getting back to the office the truth hit me. The source of the happiness wasn't due to being on the edge of a much anticipated (and some would say much deserved) vacation, and it actually had very little to do with the excitement that comes with seeing people I've been away from for a while. No, it was something much more profound. Much more important.
I had survived.
Though the best word I had, "survival" seemed such a weak way to define what had been accomplished. I wasn't about to claim a triumph (such a thing required more success than I'd had), but it was more than mere endurance. At that moment I could stand at an exit bathed in sunlight knowing that I was already better for all of the darkness I'd moved through - sometimes with a defiant stride, others barely at a crawl.
The remainder of the day confirmed for me that 2010 is going to be nothing like this year has been. I have a great opportunity to challenge myself and broaden my experience base as I work through SEAL, because of both what it requires directly and what it indirectly requires to ensure my projects function in my absence. The world when I get done with it all could look very different. It's exciting.
In spite of my high hopes for next year, my last agenda item brought another piece of reality crashing into my awareness. While potentially a new awakening for me, next year marks the final lap for the shuttle program. Kennedy will then go quiet again for (hopefully) a little while, and when it springs back to life it won't be with the same beautiful vehicle that I've never known life without.
With the vehicle go many of the people. I think of one in particular hoping to go voluntarily after it's all over. His early jokes about a VAB door being left to me upon retirement hinted at a time that seemed so far in the future. Now it's less than a year away. How did all that time slip past so quickly?
In that question I see one more objective for pushing forward successfully. Work smarter, work better, take it slow. There's a bunch coming up to miss forever if I'm not careful. Really, all of life is like that.
Captured At:1921
December 23, 2009
But willing myself to walk took effort. Inside the apartment were a couple last presents to wrap, a few frustrating computer glitches holding up a project rapidly coming due, and a washing machine full of clothes threatening to mold if I let them sit too long. And when was that trip to the grocery store going to happen? Did I really think I'd have a dessert for Christmas without it?
There was half an hour left until the sun disappeared below the horizon. Darkness would come quickly after that. Of all the items begging for my attention the shortest fuse was on the one thing of them all that was likely to be the best for me. Motivation wrestled with logic. Logic won.
So off I set for another last minute walk around the park. But it refused to be just another walk. My eyes settled on the first clusters of trees in front of me, each bathed in a magical yellow-gold that stopped my forward motion. I would say I could conceive of no other thing than to pause and truly drink in this favourite and elusive color, but such a statement implies more thought than I gave it. My eyes hit the trees and I stopped dead.
When I reached that spot again the world was now a soft pink. My thoughts continued wandering and somehow my iPod made all of the right choices to match. My body simultaneously felt the cold air outside coming through my jacket and the choking sweat I had worked up inside of it. Mentally I was resting in a beautiful sadness while also hardening with resolve, for what purpose I did not know. The response as I processed this pairing came quickly in the third person.
"Tough as nails this kid is."
"And every one of them fragile as a spider web."
Does the truth always seem such a paradox?
Walking didn't stir my mind to any significant revelation, but it did provide a reminder of how good a habit it once was for me. I realized writing was the same, but that too was slowly fading away. The collection of half composed thoughts waiting for completion spoke for itself. I didn't like to accept that either piece of myself would grow further out of reach if I wasn't careful. I also saw there still being a small opportunity to change.
But would I really take it?
Captured At:1813
December 24, 2009
Holiday Preparation
When I was growing up one of the Christmas decorations that received the most attention was a calendar with a little stuffed mouse. This piece of cloth hung on the door with one pocket that the mouse tucked into for each day until Christmas arrived. There was always a race each morning to move him to his next home and inevitably somebody was usually upset. The diplomatic approach seemed to be establishment of a three-way rotation. With only 24 days on the calendar, each of us would participate equally.A December or two ago a large box arrived at my apartment. The note attached told the story of how my parents had been out shopping when they saw these calendars in the form of large wooden houses with ornaments in numbered compartments that reminded them of their kids and the inanimate little mouse they had loved. I remember the unfortunate conversation after mine arrived to a less than warm reception. To my mother the act of mailing them to us had been one of sharing happy memories of and with her kids. To me it was yet another attempt at forcing Christmas upon me.
In the 2009 tradition of doing things I don't want to, I found myself stopping for a small tree as I ran errands during one of my days off. I bought some little ornaments and some shiny string for hanging them on the tree when hooks of a reasonable size were nowhere to be found. My entire visit to the store was spent with a knot in my chest and a lump in my throat. I stood in line to check out fearing being caught by somebody I didn't want to have to explain myself to.
At home I took it the tree out of the box and put it together on a table in an out of the way corner. The wooden advent calendar was finally freed from its cardboard prison and found a resting place on my desk. I turned on Christmas music and carefully tied strings through the ornaments and glued the knots to be safe. Five Christmases in my apartment and this was the first to see any decoration.
Over the years my sister has asked countless times if getting a small tree was really going to kill me. It may not have, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt like hell. It was a lot like standing in church trying to sing along with "Hark, the Herald Angles Sing" and only hearing my father's voice as flashes from my childhood home blocked my view of the band. These things happen exactly when I would expect them too yet still catch me completely out of the blue. See, I don't hate Christmas because something bad happened to me, I get sad at Christmas because it was always so good to me in ways that just don't exist anymore. Usually I just prefer to avoid and hopefully ignore the pain. This time I endured it anyway knowing it would make my family happy.And I suppose that calm glow of Christmas lights in an otherwise dark room isn't too bad either. I'd almost forgotten how peaceful and magical it is.
Captured At:1106
December 26, 2009
Holiday Spirit
It was the quietest Christmas morning I'd had in years. No bodies on the couch when I turned the corner in the hallway, no visiting relatives, no gifts to unwrap, no signs that an entire month had been building to that very day. It was easy to forget that elsewhere children were excitedly tearing into packages marveling at what Santa had chosen to bring them and families were standing in churches singing hymns to welcome their saviour to the world. More than any other year in memory, Christmas really felt like just another day.Establishing which family would be where and when seemed more challenging than ever before, but provided my grandfather's latest shift in health doesn't end the struggle this time, my parents will be here next week. Figuring out appropriate Christmas gifts also felt like a more difficult task than previous years. It was tough to decide whether the stumbling block was because we were all so fortunate or all so out of touch with each other. The level of success remains to be seen.
Christmas day was spent at my aunt and uncle's as usual, the five of us plus an "orphaned" student and her sister. We built gingerbread houses and ate too much food for much of the afternoon. We watched Christmas movies and played games and took our turns on the phone with relatives as they called. Everything around us suggested the holiday, but it didn't matter.
And the truth is that Christmas Day itself - December 25th - doesn't matter. What matters is the thing we've chosen to celebrate on that day and the spirit that surrounds it. Coming together to give gifts and have a big dinner is nice, but it's not the point.
I found Christmas this year running errands alone to pick up a few things missing from the 30 Operation Christmas Child boxes my home group was filling, and as I prepared two boxes of my own. I found it wrapping presents for strangers, talking with them about the year and their holiday plans and inviting them to join us for church if they didn't have any place to go. I found it in a packed Christmas Eve service singing Christmas carols I'd known my entire life but until more recently never actually understood. There was more peace and love and joy associated with those simple moments than I ever recalled experiencing huddled expectantly and nervously around a tree or even dripping melted candle wax through a midnight service.
Here I find myself challenged. Remembering and knowing and trying to share the love of God should be no more restricted to Christmas than expressing love to a significant other should be restricted to Valentine's Day. I consider the way I would question my boyfriends about why they felt so strongly about showing love on that one particular day but largely ignored the other 364. "It would mean more to me on other day," I would tell them. None listened, and part of me always felt they were driven more by obligation than desire. While God's distinct advantage of being able to see our hearts eliminates the doubts I experienced, I wonder if he watches us and similarly thinks "You do so well at Christmastime, but what happens to the rest of the year?" Sounds like a good problem for 2010.
Captured At:1230
December 31, 2009
The End is Here
My brother has just left to engage in what will count for today's workout and in doing so has provided me with a few moments to myself that I seem to want to spend at my keyboard. Today is the last day of 2009, a year that has not been able to depart anywhere near fast enough. Part of me is thankful tonight marks an end and has high hopes for the next year. Part of me fears it was just the beginning of worse to come. For the most part, though, I find myself indifferent to 2010. Perhaps the real answer is that things are just going to get back to normal, and I think that would probably be okay.2009 was a difficult year, just as I was forewarned. I did have to do many things I didn't want to. If I'm honest, I also suspected what some of those things were and didn't do all of them. That knowledge is probably why the fear comes in. Can the promise of being better for this miserable string of months be real if I know I didn't follow through all the way?
Well, the last real direction I was given before I left the office was to put part of our forward plans on hold. I then had to tell my teams that while their work to date on that particular item was appreciated, we could go no further until I heard otherwise (months away at best). Not exactly the sort of email one gets excited about ending the year with. Now had this change come six months ago I'm pretty sure I would have been angry and cursing and further stressed beyond comprehension, yet when asked on my last day how I was holding up I had nothing but optimism to share. I saw tremendous benefit in being told to wait regardless of whether we'd be allowed to resume; one way or another, the change would be good for us long term. All year long circumstances had ruled my attitude. That day, for the first time since I'd been glued to my current position, I responded to adversity in a way that truly pleased me. It was an awesome feeling.
In the spring I sat sad and scared and waiting for that final phone call announcing my grandfather's death. It felt like the cruelest joke in the world when he suddenly regained consciousness and showed Hospice that their estimates aren't always in line with God's timing. He could never truly recover - he was unlikely to walk again, nor would he ever return home - but he remained with us physically as his mind sailed farther away. When the call came on Christmas Eve that he was back in the hospital with something similar, I realized that those horrible weeks in April had also provided me with a calmer, healthier and more rational outlook on his eventual passing. I now felt peace in the face of something that had once terrified me.
In a similar vein I learned that some things just have to be let go. I said a difficult goodbye in January. Its reinforcement in April met a reluctant acceptance and the world went quiet until Christmas Day. I struggled with what the right thing was to do and chose to not be a jerk during the holidays. It was an expensive game of phone tag that broke my heart yet again, and I was sure the conversation would knock me down for the remaining days of my vacation. I was astonished to bounce back within 10 minutes. No sorrow, no fear, no regret. Just hope and faith and resolve to keep pushing forward. It was like the phone never rang.
I've been reminded just how much we have the potential to grow in the face of adversity. Difficulties in life are necessary. They challenge us. They allow us the opportunity to be and to become better. They remind us of how good we have it the rest of the time when life seems to be going our way.
On balance, I know the worst things possible didn't happen to me and that the year wasn't without it's share of good. I finished my master's degree. I bought a new car with much less hassle than I could ever have anticipated. I shared the space center with my parents. I saw new and amazing parts of the world. I was entrusted with more than I could have asked for. My sister is months away from the "Dr." designation she's always wanted and my brother is on finally on his way to become a soldier.
Most importantly, though, I came to appreciate how faithful God is. I worked so hard to put my head down and plow forward that many times I didn't always recognize how far beyond my own limits I had gotten. When I'd finally realize I'd hit the wall and could do nothing more than cry out for an exit, he'd show me where to find it. When I looked at the demands on me and knew they required more wisdom or insight than I had, I'd seek his and he would provide it. I knew he brought me into the situation I found myself in and I clung to the knowledge that it was his grace alone that would bring me out of it. Anything I've done right or well with this year, I give all of the credit to him. I know it wouldn't have been possible any other way.
When all is said and done, I look at me today, right now, and I feel different. I can't explain how or why or what I think will come of it, but something has changed. And something tells me that whatever it is and however it manifests itself in the future, it's important. I may not understand the specifics, but I don't have to.
As it turns out, the promise of being better in the end was good even if I didn't get it all 100% correct. So 2009, thank you for being so miserable. I would never have made this step otherwise.
Now get the heck out!
Captured At:1310