Many people seem a bit ashamed that they use Facebook to reconnect with friends from their past, and some who don't Facebook express a bit of disdain at the idea of wanting to connect with people from decades gone by. However, I am not one of them. I love getting back in touch and maintaining or refreshing friendships and making new acquaintances through this social media site. (Clarification-- by making new acquaintances I do not mean total strangers-- I mean using it as a vessel by which communication is increased with people I know (or have known) but not particularly in any depth--this would include people from church, the community and even some girls who lived in my dorm during college).
In particular, I have wondered over the years about a particular friend from high school (that would mean last seen 17 years ago). We were in band together, participated in the same events each track season and maintained a casual friendship. We didn't hang out after school or weekends or anything, but I did consider her one of my better friends. When I found her on Facebook I was so happy to learn that life had been good to her over the last few years and that she had beautiful children and a good husband. We have talked via Facebook for a year and a half, beginning to fill in the past decades snippet by snippet. This past week I had the opportunity to catch up with her at the county fair in our hometown (I was taking my 5 year old to visit Grandma for a few days). I anticipated a bit of awkwardness and was very afraid that too much time would have passed and she would be disappointed with the person I had become. I almost gave up, but decided to stay -- turns out I wish I could have stayed longer. It was good to laugh at the magicians and enjoy our little girls together. I wish I could have stayed longer. There was a bump in the schedule for the next day and since she had said that her husband would be bringing the girls again then, I contacted her after I got home and asked if they might be willing to meet up with my daughter and go on the bumper cars together. Turns out she actually brought her daughters and not only took my child on the bumper cars (6x) but also visited animals with her & otherwise made it an enjoyable last day at the fair. I am glad that my child has a new long distance friend. I hope very much that it will not be another 17 years before I get to enjoy the company of my friend again.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Rudeness
Tonight my supervisor handed me an investigation from a citizen reporting that I had been rude & "gone off on her." Initially I told my supervisor "Oh, then I probably was." I know that I am not always the most patient person with irrational and angry people and have on occasion not handled various situations in the most tactful way. However, in this case, I ended up writing in my declaration that I did not feel I had been unreasonable in my dealings with this woman. So I can't go into any details and that's fine, because all I wanted to say here is that I surprised myself --I really thought I was going to cringe when I listened to the wave file --hearing myself "going off" on her, but instead I found myself thinking that given all the circumstances of the call I had done my best to remain calm and rational with a completely irrational caller. I did not raise my voice (although it was strained at one or two points) and I attempted to direct her to other options. I did say she was accusing us of lying, but well, that was the truth. I hope the upper echelons see it my way, but really it doesn't matter because I am confident that I handled it as well as any other dispatcher would have. I kept thinking..gee, maybe they should pull a call where I really was rude to someone & play it for her...(Oh wait, I hope they never run across those calls)...
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Guboki
Guboki means turtle in Korean. Have you ever wanted to be a turtle. When you have opened yourself up in a way that invites criticism, to be able to pull all unprotected parts into your shell and hide until it passes.... that might be nice.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Basics
I must state at the outset, this is not meant to be a profound or humorous blog. It is just a blog, my thoughts, my feelings, whatever I feel needs to get out of my head via this medium. Nevertheless, I hope that anyone stopping by to visit finds what is written somewhat entertaining--for a moment or two anyway.
Now, a little introduction of myself:
I end up with so much swirling around in my head that sometimes it becomes difficult to focus on the here-and-now. Hopefully in this pinwheel of thoughts, anxieties, hopes and dreams there will develop a center of clarity and focus.
My life is filled with joy, but I also carry decades of silly little "hurts" that have participated in the development of who I am today, and sometimes they raise their ugly little heads and chip away at that joy. It is silly and, I feel, immature in allowing them to remain part of my life, but I seem to lack the tool to dig them out--like a dandelion being uprooted from the lawn. Beyond these silly hurts my day to day activities are affected by two other major aspects of my life: my job & my muscular dystrophy.
I'd like to think that I leave "the job" at work & come home free and clear of any clinging vines of tragedy. Some people in this career like to brag about their ability to leave it all behind. Some of these same people spend much of their away time drinking, smoking or otherwise (did I mention a general anger) hiding the effects of dealing with people on the worst day of their lives. I guess shedding a few tears during a church service, a little day to day impatience and moments of general melancholy are probably not as dysfunctional as they may appear to others.
Muscular Dystrophy (FSH) has been a part of my life as long as I can remember. Not my personal FSH, but my father's. Growing up, I was impatient with the slow pace at which he walked, always afraid of falling, and when he did fall, I of course, in all my juvenile pride, was ashamed and embarassed by him. I was frustrated with all the things he couldn't do with me and I always felt that if he really wanted to he could. Now, faced with the same disease myself, I see that if he could have, he would have. I came around in high school when I realized that my father was embarassed for my sake when he fell in front of my school. How the shame fell on me like stinging hail. I hope that I communicate more readily with my children and that they see me with more compassion and mercy than I gave to my own father.
I became aware that I was having problems, probably related to MD, after my daughter was born. I had a lot of trouble bouncing back and began to realize that I had lost a great deal of strength in my arms and shoulders. I also began to experience a great deal of cramping twitching and general pain in my arms and legs. Lately these aches have been nearly constant, which leads me into anxious thoughts of how much my condition will have declined when this period passes--will I start to trip over my own feet?
The other day I told my husband that I think MD is a gift from God to help keep me humble. It has begun to drastically (probably evident only to those closest to me at this point) alter my appearance (particularly facial) and has had a great impact on my ability to control my appearance through diet and exercise. I am what I am and that has to be okay.
The anxiety however, must not be misconstrued as fear or self-pity. My father, through the way he lived his life, showed that MD is no more a death sentence than any of us hold, and it should not be the primary focus of life. We are here to serve, to do good and to share God's love and His plan for us with as many people as we touch. When faced with the common greeting "How are you doing today, Alan?" My dad would always reply in a cheerful tone and a little laugh "Better than I deserve." He didn't go about complaining about the pain, discomfort or disappointment of the disease. He just kept living and doing what he could do. He was an active member of the Grants Pass Lions Club as long as I can remember and later joined with the Gideons to get Bibles into the hands of many. When he could no longer work in his role with the State Children's Services Department he became the head of a charitable organization and served on several community councils that dealt with poverty and homelessness. He even helped form a homeless shelter for women needing an "address" so that they could apply for work and register their children for school. I hope that in some small way I follow his path and live life graciously with purpose.
I was once an artist, I played music and painted pictures. They may not have been the most lovely, but they were an outlet and an expression. I still enjoy drawing and painting, but life has gotten in the way of these endeavors. I would like to take a few classes. In the meantime I've thrown myself into photography. I would like to take some classes on the use of my Corel program to add artistic flair to the best photos. Of course, recently I broke my very nice Nikon camera and so have been using a digital Polaroid belonging to my son. It is not the same & since photography has become my main avenue of artistic expression I find this most frustrating! You may look at my life and think that I am not very creative and could not be of any use to artistic endeavors but do not be so sure--inside this rather drab unappealing shell is the heart of an artist.
My favorite role in life is that of mother to my daughter. She is 5 right now and I am sure can do no wrong. I have tried to raise her to be kind and compassionate, responsible and brave. I have tried to discipline with gentleness and let her learn that mistakes happen- its what we do with them that matters. She is gregarious and funny-- a gift from her father. She is beautiful and strong--also a gift from her father. I have enjoyed every moment of her life and have become so proud of her that I can hardly contain it in this frail shell. She is only 5 but in her short life she has lost two Grandfathers and her Halmony (Korean Grandma). Halmony is the only one she remembers and the one she misses very much. She has a confidence though, that her Grandpa Alan loves her very much and watches her life from Heaven. We have a picture of him holding her when she was just a few weeks old. She treasures that picture. Several times I have seen, as she walks down the hallway to her room, a brief pause in her step as she kisses her fingers and reaches up to touch the picture of Grandpa holding her. That too, I think, is a gift. My daughter and her one remaining Grandma have a most special relationship. Grandma is the only Grandma & Abby is the only biological grandchild. There is much love between them. That too is a gift.
Hmm, I have gone on and on and could probably go on more, but I won't, at least not now. Is there a cohesive thought to all this? I think so. Life is a gift--each and every part of it--the good, the bad, the ugly, the perfect moment and the ones we hope people forget. God has set us on a journey and He alone will see us through to completion. We just have to trust.
Now, a little introduction of myself:
I end up with so much swirling around in my head that sometimes it becomes difficult to focus on the here-and-now. Hopefully in this pinwheel of thoughts, anxieties, hopes and dreams there will develop a center of clarity and focus.
My life is filled with joy, but I also carry decades of silly little "hurts" that have participated in the development of who I am today, and sometimes they raise their ugly little heads and chip away at that joy. It is silly and, I feel, immature in allowing them to remain part of my life, but I seem to lack the tool to dig them out--like a dandelion being uprooted from the lawn. Beyond these silly hurts my day to day activities are affected by two other major aspects of my life: my job & my muscular dystrophy.
I'd like to think that I leave "the job" at work & come home free and clear of any clinging vines of tragedy. Some people in this career like to brag about their ability to leave it all behind. Some of these same people spend much of their away time drinking, smoking or otherwise (did I mention a general anger) hiding the effects of dealing with people on the worst day of their lives. I guess shedding a few tears during a church service, a little day to day impatience and moments of general melancholy are probably not as dysfunctional as they may appear to others.
Muscular Dystrophy (FSH) has been a part of my life as long as I can remember. Not my personal FSH, but my father's. Growing up, I was impatient with the slow pace at which he walked, always afraid of falling, and when he did fall, I of course, in all my juvenile pride, was ashamed and embarassed by him. I was frustrated with all the things he couldn't do with me and I always felt that if he really wanted to he could. Now, faced with the same disease myself, I see that if he could have, he would have. I came around in high school when I realized that my father was embarassed for my sake when he fell in front of my school. How the shame fell on me like stinging hail. I hope that I communicate more readily with my children and that they see me with more compassion and mercy than I gave to my own father.
I became aware that I was having problems, probably related to MD, after my daughter was born. I had a lot of trouble bouncing back and began to realize that I had lost a great deal of strength in my arms and shoulders. I also began to experience a great deal of cramping twitching and general pain in my arms and legs. Lately these aches have been nearly constant, which leads me into anxious thoughts of how much my condition will have declined when this period passes--will I start to trip over my own feet?
The other day I told my husband that I think MD is a gift from God to help keep me humble. It has begun to drastically (probably evident only to those closest to me at this point) alter my appearance (particularly facial) and has had a great impact on my ability to control my appearance through diet and exercise. I am what I am and that has to be okay.
The anxiety however, must not be misconstrued as fear or self-pity. My father, through the way he lived his life, showed that MD is no more a death sentence than any of us hold, and it should not be the primary focus of life. We are here to serve, to do good and to share God's love and His plan for us with as many people as we touch. When faced with the common greeting "How are you doing today, Alan?" My dad would always reply in a cheerful tone and a little laugh "Better than I deserve." He didn't go about complaining about the pain, discomfort or disappointment of the disease. He just kept living and doing what he could do. He was an active member of the Grants Pass Lions Club as long as I can remember and later joined with the Gideons to get Bibles into the hands of many. When he could no longer work in his role with the State Children's Services Department he became the head of a charitable organization and served on several community councils that dealt with poverty and homelessness. He even helped form a homeless shelter for women needing an "address" so that they could apply for work and register their children for school. I hope that in some small way I follow his path and live life graciously with purpose.
I was once an artist, I played music and painted pictures. They may not have been the most lovely, but they were an outlet and an expression. I still enjoy drawing and painting, but life has gotten in the way of these endeavors. I would like to take a few classes. In the meantime I've thrown myself into photography. I would like to take some classes on the use of my Corel program to add artistic flair to the best photos. Of course, recently I broke my very nice Nikon camera and so have been using a digital Polaroid belonging to my son. It is not the same & since photography has become my main avenue of artistic expression I find this most frustrating! You may look at my life and think that I am not very creative and could not be of any use to artistic endeavors but do not be so sure--inside this rather drab unappealing shell is the heart of an artist.
My favorite role in life is that of mother to my daughter. She is 5 right now and I am sure can do no wrong. I have tried to raise her to be kind and compassionate, responsible and brave. I have tried to discipline with gentleness and let her learn that mistakes happen- its what we do with them that matters. She is gregarious and funny-- a gift from her father. She is beautiful and strong--also a gift from her father. I have enjoyed every moment of her life and have become so proud of her that I can hardly contain it in this frail shell. She is only 5 but in her short life she has lost two Grandfathers and her Halmony (Korean Grandma). Halmony is the only one she remembers and the one she misses very much. She has a confidence though, that her Grandpa Alan loves her very much and watches her life from Heaven. We have a picture of him holding her when she was just a few weeks old. She treasures that picture. Several times I have seen, as she walks down the hallway to her room, a brief pause in her step as she kisses her fingers and reaches up to touch the picture of Grandpa holding her. That too, I think, is a gift. My daughter and her one remaining Grandma have a most special relationship. Grandma is the only Grandma & Abby is the only biological grandchild. There is much love between them. That too is a gift.
Hmm, I have gone on and on and could probably go on more, but I won't, at least not now. Is there a cohesive thought to all this? I think so. Life is a gift--each and every part of it--the good, the bad, the ugly, the perfect moment and the ones we hope people forget. God has set us on a journey and He alone will see us through to completion. We just have to trust.
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