A Thing of Beauty 2020

Dear UD,

As November 2020 approached, I didn’t know what to do with it. The world ended in a lot of ways for many people this year; the world is in the middle of a pandemic, and in America, we’re seeing increased racial violence as well as civil unrest and nearing the end of an election year where there was a televised presidential debate that was anything but presidential. I was in debate in high school, and if I acted like the so-called president, I would have been escorted off stage immediately and likely banned from future debates. Personally, I’m approaching my second birthday without my mom in this world, and a birthday year where we were both supposed to turn big numbers together (first her in August and then me this month). Not to mention that I’m living alone for the first time in my life while also working only from home, spending day and night on an electronic device for work, connection, fun, trying not to go bat-shit crazy, but not trying not to cuss so much. Yes, I normally don't swear much in general; however, you know if you hear me dropping F-bombs like crazy, then I'm either extra super exhausted (check) or super extra pissed off (check check). In the past few weeks (or is it months), I've been both, and so I find myself cussing a lot as well as singing to songs where I can curse some more. So, that's where I am this semester of super extra grading and responding and working on the computer all the f-ing time and dealing with the f-ing pandemic on top of everything.

 

The thing is, Uncle David, for all of us still here on this earth right now, what we are dealing with is very personal. Too many personal things that we don’t know how to process, don’t know what to do with, but hope to survive. I know that. At the same time, because of the pandemic and all that comes with it, there’s also the collective part that we are all dealing with that makes the personal even more difficult right now. And what do we do with all of that?!

 

And without you, without mom, without family living in the same home with me, I feel so alone. Just a week ago, I discovered something disturbing about someone I know personally (not a close friend or family member, but still someone I hung out with once upon a time), and I just wanted to call my mom, to call you. I want to hear Mom’s voice, and I know she’d say something like, “People are crazy. Just goes to show you never really know someone. That’s why we need God.” And, I want to hear your deep chuckle, because as horrific as the story was, I know you would help me process it and then find a way to help me see the positive in the situation, the good in the world, and the hope in humanity; and you’d make me laugh before we hung up. I miss you and mom so much it hurts. And it feels so lonely without you both in this world with me.

But the other week, I read an article that helped me not feel so alone. In a nutshell, “The ancient term 'acedia' describes the paradoxical combination of jangling nerves and vague lack of purpose many of us are feeling now. Reviving the label might help.” In the article, “Acedia: thelost name for the emotion we’re all feeling right now,” Jonathan L. Zecher states:

 Reviving the language of acedia is important to our experience in two ways.

 

First, it distinguishes the complex of emotions brought on by enforced isolation, constant uncertainty and the barrage of bad news from clinical terms like “depression” or “anxiety”. Saying, “I’m feeling acedia” could legitimise feelings of listlessness and anxiety as valid emotions in our current context without inducing guilt that others have things worse.

 

Second, and more importantly, the feelings associated with physical isolation are exacerbated by emotional isolation – that terrible sense that this thing I feel is mine alone. When an experience can be named, it can be communicated and even shared.

UD, it’s true that every one of us still on this earth has both personal and collective issues to handle right now, so it’s more important than ever to think about, find, and share A Thing of Beauty every day this November. That means looking at the people and places around us and finding meaning and beauty in what is, reimagining difficult or painful things in ways that calm and soothe, reseeing ugly things in ways that simplify and beautify. You did this, UD, in many ways, and Mom did it in her own way too. “Bless someone else, and you’ll feel better,” she’d always remind us when things were challenging. “Look how far you’ve come and what all you’ve survived. I’m proud of you,” you’d tell us. I miss you both so much. But, for my own sanity and to honor the tradition as well as honor you, mom, and dad, I will find and share a thing of beauty every day this month. Thank you, Uncle David, for always believing in me. Thank you, Mom, for always loving me. Thank you, Dad, for always teaching me.

 

Love, Rach

 

PS: For those of you reading this blog entry, I encourage you to look for a thing of beauty as you go about your day this month. Whether you haven’t left your house for six months or you’ve had to go to work every single day despite everything going on around you or you are taking care of Covid-19 patients or you have or have had the virus. No matter what your circumstances, I encourage you to look for a thing of beauty right wherever you are. Maybe you’ll find it in the person next to you, or in the nature around you, or in the kindness of a stranger. But wherever you find it, I encourage you to share it. Tell someone else about it, pass it along, let it heal your heart. Because you never know whose heart you might bless or whose life you might save just from seeing beauty right where you are and passing it along.

 

Mom, A Thing of Beauty

Dear UD,

I’ve been dreading this November because last year’s November was the beginning of the end. A

year ago, Mom was healthy and alive, and everything was just fine. A year ago, we were oblivious and happy. Yes, Mom hadn’t been feeling well for a while, but she’d been working with a doctor, and we had no idea that cancer had taken root deep inside. It was late November, a year ago, when, a day after my birthday, we got the news that she had cancer. Six weeks later, she was gone. We lost her. And now we face the first November without her.

So, even trying to think of thinking of thankfulness and gratitude, of finding a thing of beauty every day this November, is painful. Difficult. Unthinkable.

But, UD, during my time of trying not to think of thanking, something occurred to me.

Mom was beautiful.

She was beautiful on the outside, and she was beautiful on the inside. She had a beautiful smile, her spirit was beautiful, everything about her was absolutely beautiful. Did she know it? Did she know and feel her beauty? Did she know that I, her oldest daughter, found her beautiful?

I thought about skipping "a thing of beauty" this year, but now I realize that I have to do it in honor of her. I want to find a thing of beauty every day this month, and I want that thing of beauty to be something for or from my mom. From what she looked like to what she did for people to what she believed to memories I have of her to shared experiences and adventures. This month, I want to explore and honor mom and everything beautiful in and of her.

Did Mom know how beautiful she was? Did you know? Do I? Do any of us really know how beautiful and precious we are?

I hope so.

UD, one of the things that I find beautiful about Mom was her connection with her siblings. You, Mom, and Uncle Bob were the three musketeers, the three stooges, the amigos. When the three of you were together, you were hilarious, fun, unstoppable. Uncle Bob is always the class clown, while Mom was the athletic showoff, and you were the smart goody-two shoes. But, you bound together and loved each other well and loved us well, and you all showed us the importance of family, of

frivolity, of faith.

Mom and her connection with you and Bob, her siblings—what a thing of beauty.

Love, Rach

PS: I hope that everyone who reads this will go and tell people you love how beautiful they are and how grateful you are for them in this world and how thankful you are to be sharing space with them right now.

A Thing of Beauty 2018

Dear UD,

I've been thinking about you a lot lately. Still missing you. Still miss talking to you. Still missing family parties at your place. It’s Apple Butter Day weekend, and you are not here. In fact, mom’s been ill so much lately, she didn’t even go. I’m still in Florida and busy with too many classes, and it’s crazy that my side of the family wasn’t even represented at Apple Butter Day this year.

Since I started writing you these letters three years ago, I’ve been telling you about the darkness falling in the world nowadays, the darkness in America that’s emerging again. I keep hoping that someday there will be a shift, and there won’t be that much evil to share.

2018 and migrant children are in cages in America.

October 2018 and, along with ten other victims, a 97-year-old woman was gunned down while worshipping in her synagogue. Here, in an American city. While she wasn't a Holocaust Survivor as first reported, she was alive during that terrible time, and she survived and grew and loved and lived until finally taken too soon by hate.

Uncle David, you said wherever we go, God is there. And I know He is. But sometimes when I read the headlines or scroll down my Facebook news, it’s hard to remember His love and goodness. I don’t see how people can be so horrible, hateful, horrid.

November is here again. Four years ago, I wrote that “a Thing of Beauty is combining gratitude with seeing things in a new way and with authenticity; it’s living in the moment and acknowledging what is (good and bad) and reinventing what life gives us.” And now, more than ever, we need to look for a Thing of Beauty. Something that we can reimagine as beautiful, an act of kindness, something we're thankful for. In the midst of the violence, the fighting, the political antics, and the hate that we are reminded of every day in the media, we must find the beauty, the wonder, the truth. And so this year, I will again express a Thing of Beauty, but I will also share a quote or poem to combat white supremacy and hate in all its forms.

“It’s utterly impossible for me to build my life on a foundation of chaos, suffering and death. I see the world being slowly transformed into a wilderness, I hear the approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too, I feel the suffering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once more. In the meantime, I must hold on to my ideals. Perhaps the day will come when I’ll be able to realize them!" Anne Frank

 “It’s difficult in times like these: ideals, dreams and cherished hopes rise within us, only to be crushed by grim reality. It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.” Anne Frank

“I don’t think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains.” Anne Frank

If Anne could still see beauty while in hiding for two years, then I can find it too. Today and every day this month, I will search for beauty, love, kindness, gratitude, goodness…..

Love, Rach

A Thing of Beauty: two years later

“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever” ~John Keats

November approaches again and of late I greet the month with part dread, part joy, part appreciation, and part hope. It's the month of my birth, and, of course, Thanksgiving, so I generally like to share daily notes of blessings during the month. Two years ago, though, I did not feel any gratitude, having lost a grandpa, dad, and uncle in succession within less than a year. Still in deep mourning, I could not find my way to thankfulness. Yet I wanted to try, and, more, I wanted to honor the men our family had lost.

Two years later, and I continue this tradition to honor them.

Two years later, and I still find feeling gratitude difficult, almost a chore, something I know I should do and even something I know is true when it comes down to it. This life is a gift, a miracle, and every minute there are thousands of microscopic reasons to express thankfulness. I know this. I see this. I appreciate this.

And still…

In the past two years, I have lost several more people who were special to me. It’s hard to be in this world without them. We will never again be who we were before losing them, and I feel such a deep sadness, anger, and fear inside now. The sorrow permeates everything in this new world, new normal, new me, and the anxiety is easy to see—too many awful things happening in our country, in the world, all the time now. But I didn’t realize the rage until last week when I was triggered into a memory of the moment my mom called to tell me that my uncle had died. If I think about it, I can still feel that moment and my body’s reaction as if it is happening right now. And, when I thought about it last week, I was livid that UD died, that the doctors didn’t catch it in time and help him, that God allowed it to happen, that we have to live in this world without him now.

Two years later, and I’m still finding my way through this new normal.

Gratitude is an attitude, a perspective that we choose, or not. And I want to choose it. But, how to do so in the midst of the grief, fury, and fear.

The online dictionary defines gratitude as “the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness.” I am ready to “return kindness” when I can find it. Yes, I know that there are still many kind people out there, but in the past few years, acts of kindness appear few and far between. UD had a spirit of love and a kind, giving heart, and we all still miss him so much.

In my blog entry two years ago when I started this tradition, I wrote, “A Thing of Beauty is combining gratitude with seeing things in a new way and with authenticity; it’s living in the moment and acknowledging what is (good and bad) and reinventing what life gives us. This reminds me of Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem, “Valentine for Ernest Mann” where the narrator sees beauty and connection in the eyes of skunks. This I feel I can do. I can look at what is, whether I like it or not, whether it’s ugly or bizarre, and find beauty or create meaning out of the muck. Like a lotus flower, I can find a way to blossom out of the mud….A Thing of Beauty is just that: to approach life with the “openness” and sense of “wonder” in order to reveal meaning.”

And last year, I wrote of how I needed this, needed to focus for a few minutes every day on something positive, on seeing beauty, noticing blessings, and acknowledging kindness.

So, once again, I will find “a thing of beauty” each day to share. I pray that it revives my spirits and that it influences others along the way. I invite you to find a thing of beauty in your life and share it with us. 

Chasing Moonlight

Chasing Moonlight

On the drive home from practice tonight,

the heavy, yellow moon floats,

low and full,

inviting.
 

Caught, we pull over,

stop in the parking lot of our condo complex;

stumbling over rocks and dips in the green grass,

we walk to the lake and search for the moon

past the water fountain,

over the trees,

around the buildings,

through Laina’s tired grumblings.

No moon.

 

Hide and seek.

Catch me if you can.

Go straight, I command,

walking through the field,

the moon…

My foot slides on a slippery, dark object.

I scream.

The girls run so fast to the safety of the parking lot

and artificial lights—

Laina on the concrete, laughing and moaning;

Lexi doubled over with laughter;

I stagger in between laughs and squeals,

hunting always for danger,

until I, too, reach safety.

Drawing deep breaths in between lingering giggles,

we race to the car and pile in.

What did I step on?

“Mom, it’s a snake,” Laina declares. Lexi agrees.

It was flat. Slippery and flat. And it moved.

We ponder the dark possibilities.

I want to see…

“I wanna go home,” Laina wails. “I’m exhausted and sore.”

“I’m game if we stop for shakes,” Lexi adds.

The image of the moon beckons

like a journey too long denied.

Determined to capture a photo of the beauty,

we embark on our own adventure:

chasing moonlight.

 

Down roads,

around houses,

through neighborhoods,

we drive,

capturing glimpses of the round moon.

 

Who else do you know who chases the moon?

“Just you."

My mom would.

I roll down the window;

at another peep of the moon,

I let loose a long howl.

The moon peeks,

creamy and cold;

the moon winks;

brilliant and bright.

We park at a friend’s place near a golf course,

snap photographs

over the alligator infested river

through the light fog, and

the moon sparkles

luminous and low,

so low we reach out and grab hold

of moonlight,

of promise and hope and

of all things lovely and new and good.
 

Beauty, Truth, Love

     Yesterday I was wrapped in a work bubble, completely concentrating on finishing tasks for fall semester so that I could enter final grades and begin prep work for spring semester, so I didn’t learn about the Sandy Hook tragedy until late in the afternoon.  I didn’t finish working until late evening, though, so Facebook and the internet were the only sources available until this morning when I watched the news shows…and cried.  It is unbelievable, disturbing, and heartbreaking.

          After an hour, I turned the TV off because I do not want to be inundated by the media, especially with something so distressing.  I cannot even imagine the pain and horror of the parents and families who lost someone yesterday morning in this senseless tragedy.  I am so sorry. 

          I’ve heard people blame guns, while others blame the fact that God is not in schools like they want.  For this or other cruel acts, some place the blame on parents or the government or schools or technology or lack of morals or the media or violence in our culture.  I, too, want to look anywhere but in the mirror, yet Michael Jackson is right that we need to start with the “man in the mirror” and, as Gandhi said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.”

The truth is we are all to blame, and we are all innocent.  Yes, there are serious conversations we need to have about issues like gun control, the public school system, bullying, and the increase in violent acts like school shootings, especially one so horrendous as to be at an elementary school.

But right now, I want to focus on simple yet vastly important issues like how we communicate with ourselves and others, how we treat ourselves and our children, how we nourish and fuel our minds, bodies, and souls, and how we are all connected. 

Today, I am filled with questions.  What do we put into our minds, bodies, and souls every day?  Who are the five people we are around the most?  How do we treat those who cannot do anything to us, including our pets and children?  What do we believe about ourselves and each other?  What ambiance we have created in our homes, wherever we live?

The answers to these questions are so simple yet so complex, and they create the world we live in, the life we live.  It’s all about choice.  Every day, every moment, we choose what to watch, what to listen to, what to eat, who to hang out with, what to believe, what to do.  I know it’s not so simple as I struggle with the choices I make in each moment every day, yet I do know that it is also that simple as choice equals our lives.

We must start and continue with these conversations rather than simply going back to our daily lives, ignoring issues, or postponing action.  Today is the day to begin.  I read a poem about kindness today that blew me away.  Today is the day for kindness, compassion, giving, loving.  Today is the day to use words that build, choose thoughts and actions that encourage, and fuel yourself with images, people, words that foster beauty, truth, love. 

We must come together:  parents, teachers, artists, musicians, politicians, reporters, leaders, teenagers, children.  Together we can find answers, take action, and create authenticity of this human experience.

Nothing, nothing matters more than those we love.  I am reminded of words my dad once said, “When it comes down to it, all you’ve got is your family.”  So, today, if you are lucky enough to have the chance, spend quality time with those you love…listen to them, build them up, hug them, love them. 

Simple words, simple acts, simple choices.  But those simple things can make a difference, can mean everything.