Heart of the Matter

The more I know, the less I understand
And all the things I thought I figured out, I have to learn again
I've been tryin' to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my heart is so shattered
But I think it's about forgiveness

~ India Arie’s “The Heart of the Matter”

I’ve watched friend after friend (writing friends who are also writing teachers, adjuncts) thrown away by their educational institutions in callous and even shocking ways. I’ve felt blessed to continue receiving enough classes to make ends meet (by enough, I mean overloads, as many classes as I could find). Unfortunately, I’ve discovered this semester that my time of overflowing classes is at an end. I haven’t been thrown away like some stories I’ve heard, but I’ve been told in no uncertain terms from the various institutions that I work for that I can no longer have overloads, no matter what (partly because of lower enrollment and partly so that they don't have to pay adjuncts health insurance).

Even with working at more than one institution, this change necessitates changes in our living situation.

Another change in our life has overshadowed everything for the past year: Lexi going off to college. I haven’t written about it because I’m not ready, but the bottom line is this: I am thrilled for Lexi to have the opportunity to live and study in NYC. Yes, I realize that it is a normal and natural cycle of life for her to go off to college and move on with her life, and I support her and let her fly. However, it has changed everything for me and for Laina. It’s like someone came into our home and sucked out a huge chunk of life and energy and who we were. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through, and we are still reeling from it and working to adjust.

Furthermore, I am rethinking my career path. I’ve taught for over twenty years and have loved it. I’ve taught people from all over the world and people of all ages. I have a high standard in my classroom, which means that I challenge my students to see, learn, and be more. Not all of them like that. In fact, nowadays most of them hate that.

Recent feedback from a student (printed with permission): “I am almost ashamed to admit that this exercise has left me feeling maudlin.  There are actual tears in my eyes.  I feel like I have wasted so much of my life with unimportant work and petty concerns when what I should have been doing is writing.  I am mortified by my own lack of discipline and I can only hope that it is not too late for me to accomplish something I can be proud to say I have done.  This semester has been the most fulfilling bit of education in my life, despite the fact that I already have an AA degree.  My attitude has always been never to let school get in the way of my education because ninety-nine percent of the drivel I sat through in college felt like remedial classes for high school.  I just seemed to reap more from independently reading on my own.  At first, I found this class daunting.  You want a lot of time and effort from your students, much more than most instructors at this institution.  I am sure that does not sit well with some of your pupils, but I appreciate it greatly.  Thank you.“

Words and students like this make teaching so worthwhile. The thought of giving up teaching breaks my heart; however, the whole climate has changed for educators, even for college instructors, and I have been looking for full-time work for five years now.

Moreover, my high standard also means tons of work for me. This semester alone I have read over one thousand pages of student essays and many more pages of simple assignments along the way (both online and on paper). All of that reading and helping students with their writing interferes with my own writing and creativity. This past month (while in NYC and away from the computer, away from a screen, for most of two weeks), I realized just how much strain my eyes and brain have been under. The crux: I am exhausted and need a real break while I reevaluate and decide where to go from here.

Furthermore, my dad has recently gone on hospice. Again, not something that I am ready to write about because I still have so much processing to do. But, I want to spend time with him and be there for family right now.

Coming to Florida was definitely the right thing five years ago. We have met so many amazing people here and been blessed in so many ways. We have healed and grown and learned so much here, and we have had so many incredible opportunities.

 

Florida 2014

Florida 2009

I am deeply grateful for the friendships and support that we have found here. Words cannot express how much you all mean to me and how you have blessed our hearts and lives with your kindness and love.

I’ve prayed for clarity and answers, and I’ve written hundreds of pages of journal entries the past few months as I sorted out options and the pros and cons of everything. As I processed it all, a few simple truths emerged.

Truth #1: Something has to change.

Truth #2: If I only do the same thing/ask for the same thing (piecing together a living), then I’ll just keep getting the same thing.

Truth #3: I am exhausted from piecing together a living.

Truth #4: We miss family.

I don’t have the answers yet, but I do have the beginnings of a plan. We are packing up this month and going to Missouri to be with my family for the holidays and a couple of months while I finish sorting things out. Transitions are hard, but this is still part of the whole divorce transition. I learned in Divorce Recovery that it generally takes five years after the divorce is officially final to be completely settled again. It’s been three years for me, and I know I’ve come a long way in those three years and am excited to see where the next couple of years take me.

Going through all of this (the divorce, the move away from everyone we knew, the fresh start, the longing for family, my dad’s illness and prognosis, etc.) has taught me so much about the kindness of others and the importance of forgiveness, of letting go. I’ll never forget words that my dad spoke to me over twenty years ago, when I was the one in college. He said, “When it comes down to it, all you’ve got it is your family.” Right now, that is the “heart of the matter,” and I am happy that Laina will have a chance, even for a few months, to be rooted in family, rooted on land that has been in our family for over a hundred years. Nothing can replace a foundation like that.

This is a bittersweet moment as we plan to leave friends who have become family here to go stay with family we have missed there. I don’t know where we will be by summer; we may settle into life in Missouri or return to life in Florida or even begin again some place new. Either way, I am ready for the next adventure.



New Journeys

I stand with a friend, looking out the window at the beautiful beach scene. A dolphin fin flashes, and I smile. Life is good, and anytime I see a dolphin, I view it as a blessing of hope, freedom, promise. As I watch the dolphin play, a gigantic hand emerges from the ocean. I shake my head, but the hand remains. It reaches out and grabs the dolphin as a gigantic, monstrous head also emerges from the sea.

“This can’t be real. This cannot be real.” My friend continues her chant, disbelief running throughout her mind and body. How can a Greek myth be here right now in 2013? It doesn’t make sense, but as the huge mouth opens and the dolphin is thrust inside, we snap out of it.

“We have to hide,” I cry. I call for my girls and search for a place to hide.

My friend helps, but she says, “If it’s the end of the world, it’s better to be one of the first to die rather than fighting to survive and witnessing all of the death and destruction and loss.”

We both teach students to write about literature, and I think of “The Lottery” and of Ray Bradbury and Kurt Vonnegut’s stories. Is survival at any cost living? Is giving up living? Is it better to be a witness or a percentage or a fighter? Is the personal cost worth the freedom? Are we really living right now in 2013? Tornadoes, unemployment, hurricanes, war, school shootings, bizarre and strange stories…What is happening in our world today?

I set up a place for me and my girls to hide under a stairwell with blankets, water, and snacks. We settle in, and my friend goes to hide with others in a storm bunker. I want to shout and ask if we are hiding in the right place or if we should join them in the bunker, but I am terrified.

I wake up with the terror and fear lingering.

It’s not the first time that I have dreamt of mythological creatures rising out of the ocean nor of an Armageddon, and I usually dream of tornadoes when I am in emotional turmoil. Personally, I know what the dream means: it’s the question about whether to stay in Florida where I have made good friends and love living by the ocean or to move back to Missouri where I have family that I miss. It’s about the search for place and belonging, for safety and home.

Yet for all of us, the questions remain. What is going on in the world today, and where do we fit into what is happening?

Lexi graduated from high school this month, and she asked why I didn’t cry at graduation. I said, “Well, you’re still here.” She’s scheduled to go off to a performing arts school in NYC in October, and I’ve been trying not to think about that. However, on Tuesday, I sat down with Laina to write in the dates for her school activities this summer and next fall, and right there in October during the same week Lexi starts school in NY, Laina has an event scheduled.

That’s when it hit me. Lexi won’t be here to go with us to that event or the ones following. I still haven’t cried about it, but I’ve felt down, depressed.

Following my divorce, we created a close-knit family of three, and that is changing. Change is good, but it’s also difficult. Lexi will always be part of our family and have a place with us, yet now is the time for her to go off and have adventures and new experiences of her own. I hope that I’ve helped her develop confidence and a sense of herself and her place in this world, and I wish her a fun, crazy, fulfilling ride on her new journey.

Yet, yet, yet…as Laina has wailed, “What will we do without Lexi here?!”

She will leave behind a void in our home, a void in our hearts, a void in our happiness.

I know we will all be okay, but again questions remain.  Who will make us laugh after Lexi leaves?  How will we fit into our new lifestyle? What will our daily life look like then? And, where do we belong?

I don’t have any of the answers right now, but that’s okay. As Rumi says, live the questions. Besides, endings are really new beginnings, and so our new journeys begin…

A Heart That Breaks

Sam is a six-year-old black lab that came to us as a puppy; the runt of his litter, he has always been energetic, loving, and skinny.  Thorin, a rust-colored Australian terrier that was a gift from Granny, is ten years old and has a mind of his own.  No fence can hold him in; one time he climbed a ten-foot cattle gate in his quest for freedom.  Sam, too, loves to run, but he is also a lap dog, plopping on my lap for comfort during a thunderstorm, his 75-pound body quivering with fear.  These dogs are my girls’ last link to their childhood in Kansas City, and we are about to lose them.  We only have one day left to find them temporary foster homes; some place they can go until I am in a situation where I can take them.  If we don’t find a solution, my ex will take them to a local pound where the dogs will be adopted out or killed, and we’ll never see them again.  We will never know what happened to them.  I have done all that I can to help, all that I know to do.

 

When I moved to Brevard County, Florida three years ago, I found a temporary home for them with a friend who has a farm.  She was so sweet to offer, but at the time, my ex refused to let them go, committing verbally to keeping the dogs until I could take them again.  When I reminded him of that, he texted back, “Circumstances change. Sometimes tough decisions have to be made.  It need not mess up my relationship with our daughters.  It’s all in the ways we choose to see and present things.” 

Three years ago, I didn’t trust God.  I felt too bruised and battered by life, too broken.  And, all I could see for positive change was a God who would use some awful tragedy to help me.  I didn’t want that kind of help as I already felt like I was beaten down far enough.  On the other hand, I knew that something needed to change, so I started praying every day, saying, “God, I don’t trust you.  I don’t trust you, but I want to.  Please help me learn to trust you.”  Since then, God has blessed my life in so many ways, and I am learning about prayer power. 

During our first couple of group studies at church, I learned that Nehemiah’s first instinct and action when learning about a problem was prayer and that he prayed for four months before taking any other action.  In our fast-paced, throw-away society, that is astonishing.  I shared this story with my girls, and we have all been praying for a solution for our dogs so that we don’t lose them. 

I also learned about having a heart that breaks (a compassionate heart) and doing whatever God has placed on our heart.   Late one night last week, an idea came to me to start a blog “A Heart That Breaks” and commit to one year.  For one year, I am to remain open and listen, to ask myself what God has placed on my heart to do each week, and to take action and help someone around me.  To use my blessings to bless others. 

I don’t know about you, but I loved the idea in theory; however, in reality, I am thinking, “Really?!  God, are you sure this is your idea?!  Do I really have to do this?!”  Not that I don’t want to help others, but that I wonder if I will have the resources (the time, the energy, the money, the health).  At the same time, I feel scared to put myself out there this way.

Over General Tso’s chicken, I told the girls about the idea and asked if they wanted to join me.  They agreed, and it is somehow apropos that we will begin on September 1^st.  Three years ago, that is the day we loaded up the van and drove away from Kansas City and away from everyone and everything we knew and drove to a very uncertain future.  Three years later, we have many blessings for which we are grateful:  we live in a 3-bedroom condo in a very nice area; we have two cats (Piper and Zeus); the girls attend good schools with great friends; I have work that I love; many kind people have given us friendship and help; we had an awesome summer with Astrid; and so on. 

We still face many challenges and difficulties.  We do not know what will happen to our dogs.  We do not know what this year will bring.   Nothing is guaranteed.  Yet we have made a family commitment:  We are blessed, and so we bless others.