Dancing...in Shit...with Covid...It’s a Thing

"I think I will walk in with you.  Maybe they will let me come in the room with you."  "Ok.  I would like that." That was my conversation with my husband as we were walking in to the Covid Walk In clinic on Monday afternoon.  I had tested positive two weeks earlier.  I was sure they would just send me home and quite frankly I was a bit irritated that I had to go to the work to "walk in" to appease my families worries.

This is what I whispered to my husband next. "I haven't done laundry in two weeks, my underwear today have a huge hole them...this is like a comedy scenario...we both chuckled."  

I cannot remember my husband ever taking me to the doctor before.  It may be awhile before he does again.  I can tell you I was grateful he was the one in there with me. The next 20 minutes are a blur and an ambulance ride to the hospital.  What is distinctly clear in my memory is that as they were undressing me to start an EKG, I looked over and Brian pulled his mask down to whisper...I love you.  I knew he was really saying..."don't worry about the hole in your underwear... I love you..."

I am certain the next several hours were a complete shock to him.  They certainly were to me.  I was going in for an inhaler to help me breathe. Next thing I'm in a ambulance headed to the hospital.  Turns out they keep oxygen there too...much better than an inhaler...who knew?  

Today is Wednesday.  I failed my "oxygen test" this morning.  I was a bit discouraged.  My daughter sent me a picture of her word board.  She had just changed the words today. What she didn't know was that I have been reading Adam Grants book "Think Again" wherein he talks about negotiating life, thoughts, and ideals, by dancing with those around you, learning to connect and find common ground with others.  I also had just finished re-reading my own post from years ago about dancing to life's rythym.   I needed her words...they found me  Good words always do if you seek them out.  Notice them.  Utilize them.

I am also a Peace pursuer who knows the benefit of a good swear word on occasion.  I have received a few of those during my stay as well.  A text from a good friend, "What? You mean this shit is real?! Are you ok?"

I have reflected on my Joy Jar gift words. "A wise girl once said, 'Let that shit go!' And she lived happily ever after."  I got a card from another daughter today with the words she used when she had her son 5 weeks early during Covid and Sepsis following for a total of close to 3 weeks in the hospital during January and February. I'm not sure you can read the photo. "Mom these words helped me. I hope they help you too.  'Put one foot in front of the other and soon you will be walking out the door.' The Kris Kringle movie." These words helped her...they helped me. I also read another old post today. Unwrapping shit 

I think you can begin to see the pattern here...dancing...and shit.  I love good strong words.  They are not always pretty.  Life is not always pretty.  But..it is beautiful.  I love to garden.  I understand the benefits of fertilizer to the soil that helps beauty grow.  It isn't the beautiful thing itself. In fact it often even smells pretty bad.  But given a chance to work its magic good things come.  

 My husband, each of my children and my friends and family have shared such good words with me. Most words do not come with a picture opportunity They just soak in...nourish you.  The isolation has been difficult for me. The Covid staff is amazing.  They work 12 hour shifts and because they know their patients need words they take time to talk. They have been kind and patient and encouraging.  I am grateful for them. Had I waited even one more day to come in my story could be much different I could have been in ICU and ventilated like so many others.  This post would not be a thing today for sure.

I love dancing in life's garden. That means I may on occasion step in it's glorious fertilizer!  This past month has been one of those months.  My husband was so sick with Covid.  I had never seen him so sick.  I was good in comparison.  When he got better I knew I would too.  I was only a day or two behind him. I made him get out the calendar one night and count how many more days I would be sick.  You know...his crystal ball.

Spoiler alert... 

There is no Crystal Ball.  Life is uncertain.

 I have a good friend who has been dancing in life's fertilizer herself these past few months.  We share an imoji of a spouting whale when we need to "vent" a little before going in for the deep dives life frequently requires on tough days.  Breathing Deep.  Another concept to visit and re-visit.  Some how especially Covid suitable this week for me. 

The only thing I would change is my underwear.  (Or would I?) 

Dancing. Shit. Holes. Covid.  

Enough said.

Fear FULL? Faith FULL? What are you full of?

"And there arose a great storm of wind, and the waves beat into the ship, so that it was now full.  And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow; and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish? And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still.  And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.  And he said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith?" (Mark 4:37-40)

Jesus Christ was asleep on a pillow in the hinder part of the ship during the storm which his disciples feared would end their lives. He had entered the ship after what had to have been an exhausting several days. Perhaps, that very storm had rocked him to sleep.  The storm for him was not an issue.  He was at peace on that pillow.  Ultimately, He was the source of Peace for everyone on that Sea. After "Peace Be Still" and the resulting "Great Calm" Jesus followed up with two questions:

"Why are ye so fearful?"

"How is it that ye have no faith?"

It is easy for one to consider these questions rhetorical. Perhaps even an observation of evident weakness.  What if they were not? What if He was actually opening a conversation? A conversation which would decrease fear and increase faith for those willing to consider their own answers.

Christian religions are not the only ones which speak to fear and faith.  And Faith is not allocated only to Deity.  It requires Faith to believe that the uphill climbs in our lives end at a peak worth the effort when you cannot even see a clear path ahead of you.

I have been contemplating Faith and Fear this year. With these two words on my mind I see lessons in all my reading, interactions,  times of self reflection, and even the movies I have been watching.  The interaction of these forces are an integral part of life. Specifically, I have been considering being Faith Full and/or Fear Full.  I have found it helpful to consider a gas gauge, only instead of Empty and Full it reads Fear on one side and on the other Faith.  In my life if the gauge is too far to the Fear Full side I simply cannot move forward. I actually stop.  Forward momentum can only happen when the gauge is leaning towards the Faith Full side.

Faith in one's self.  Faith in our children.  Faith in friends and family.  Faith in community. Faith that the sun will shine in the Pacific N.W. (It is Springtime after all).  Faith in healthy living. Faith in the power of Nature. (For me, that means Faith in a hike, kayak, walk, and getting my hands in the dirt while gardening.) Faith in a Higher Power. (For me, that means Faith in Jesus Christ.)  Faith our efforts at life's up hill climbs each day are at a minimum heading towards our desired destination.  Faith applies to every good thing we rely on for strength on our most Fear Full days. 

Fear is powerful when the gauge tips towards Fear Full.  Fear we cannot withstand the "press" of life. Fear we simply are not "enough." Fear of the unknown beyond the next curve in life's road. Fear should be given due consideration when navigating life. Fear can be benefical...it makes us slow down and consider our next step. But a road sign that reads "Caution Watch for Falling Rocks" does not mean "Stop Here...Turn Back" or "Stop Here...Wait for Rock to End Your Misery." A pursuit of Peace requires facing Fears and moving forward in spite of them. 

From ancient texts to Kung Fu Panda, the quest to balance the Fear/Faith gauge is not new. 

On the Island of Kauai, there is a rock at Shipwreck Beach which has been the setting for many a movie cliff jumping scene.  It is a short walk from where we stay on the Island and is one of my favorite locations to watch the sunset.  Prior to sunset there is often a line of people waiting their turn to jump from it's heights into the sea below. I have watched several of my children stand on the edge contemplating their leap towards the deep blue waters. Some have jumped (many times) and for others (like myself) this   beautiful solid rock serves it purpose in their life as a sunset perch. The Rock for some a place where strength is gained for a literal leap and for others a place where strength is gained for those other leaps of Faith in life.

At times our Faith (or lack there of ) can be about something very specific and at other times we are unable to pin point why the our Faith gauge is tipping towards the Fear side of the tank. Sometimes you have to leap into the deep waters and swim and other times you simply must wait and watch.

In the movie Kung Fu Panda, the wise tortoise, Master Oogway, taught Kung Fu Panda, Po, that "today is a gift."  One of best ways I know of for tapping into Faith is recognizing this fact. Focussing on the present day at hand and looking for the good things within your immediate reach is fuel to the Faith tank. Panda Po spent a great deal of time expressing fear of external battles, when actually, his fear was an internal battle to be won.  The Faith he lacked was Faith in his own ability to become.

Writing down fears makes them much less scary. Writing down where or what your Faith is each day makes it much stronger. In this way you are following Master Oogway's advice and acknowledging each day as a gift. Write each question, "Where is your Faith?" and "Why are ye so fearful?"  at the top of a journal page. Write your answers each day for a week, and then a month, and then another...  This may seem too simple to some who read this. Simple does not equal easy.  It can be extremely hard to see where your Faith is in the midst of Fear's darkness.

You will find your efforts rewarded as your answers over time give witness to courage and strength when you thought you had none. When you see challenges which presented great fear leave you with a sense of empowerment and ability.  You will see miracles arise from the small daily efforts to overcome fear and exercise faith. Fear loves isolation that is where it can grow best.  Faith grows when it is tilled and cultivated. There is a reason it is called "exercising" faith.  This work is made easier with a work out partner or two. Share your fears. Have conversations about faith.

We are not alone on the seas of life. "Carest thou not that we perish?" Perhaps it is time you wake up a ship mate. You will awaken Peace in your own life as you respond to the questions which require you to reflect on your Fears and your Faith. It is o.k. to be afraid.  It is o.k. to talk about it.  Fear is not weakness.  We frequently exhibit our greatest courage utilizing faith despite real fear.  

What are you afraid of?

Each day IS a gift. Master Oogway never said each day is Peaceful.  But they can be just that...Peace FULL. 

Whatever comes my way...

 "What are you fishing for?"

I had asked this of a young man, with his fishing gear in hand. I was hoping the answer would be Barracuda. That was the fish my son, Matthew, was seeking on the Island of Kauai.  He had done his research over the past two days searching various web sites and YouTube videos, talking to locals at every small town market and roadside angler we came across.  

We had already been to two other gorgeous river inlets. There are 8 places where the rivers of Kauai make their way to the Ocean from atop Mount Kawaikini the highest point on the island. We had even retrieved our live bait for the occasion from a local tide pool.

It was at dinner the night before that Matt became convinced this beautiful lighthouse setting was the perfect place to cast his line. Our waiter's excitement was evident as he shared with us the story of his own Barracuda catch, pole set up, location and even time of day.  "Early while the sun is still low and the shadow around the cliff keeps the fish from seeing you there."  

The next day, at Ninini Point Lighthouse, we crossed paths with another young man. I had asked him what he was fishing for.  He gave me an unexpected answer...

"Whatever comes my way."  

For over 15 years our family has made the trip across the Pacific to the peace and tranquility of Kauai's paradise. The locals who might otherwise avoid tourist's conversation, ( I don't feel like a tourist anymore), are happy to share their love of the sea and fishing for it's bounties. We were not the only ones carrying fishing poles everywhere we went.  In fact, if you pay attention to the details, you will notice a pole sticking out of the window or the back end of most cars and trucks without a rental car tag.  Men, women, and children are everywhere on the Island throughout the day casting a line into the sea. 

Perhaps, the joy they find in this daily routine comes from the answer I was given that morning.  They accept each day from the sea "whatever comes their way."

We each cast our lines into the sea of life daily. Is the joy, the peace, the satisfaction with that "life line" found in our ability to accept whatever comes our way? I believe it is. Below the surface, just out of our view, the sea of life actually carries within it's current greater abundance than we could possibly estimate.

We plan, we prepare, map out the perfect time and location, then cast into life our efforts. Looking forward to a specific return on our baited hook, the reeling in is thrilling, though almost always more work than we anticipated. To what end? Exactly what you planned for? Did you catch what you were expecting? something better and bigger perhaps? Or, more likely, did you catch a snag and an emptyhook?  Is it "the one that got away?"  Will you accept a catch that is completely unexpected today?  Is it a keeper or will you toss it back into the sea?  Will it feed your family today and require the same effort again tomorrow?

So much effort for the unknown.  

At this lighthouse fishing spot in Kauai, as well as many others, there are anchors in the rock cliff that the lighthouse sits upon.  Fisherman tie a bell onto their poles and then anchor the pole to the rock.  They then wait at a distance, close to the lighthouse, so as not to be swept away by the temptest waves on stormy days.  Waitng for the faint tinkling of a small bell to signal that their cast for the day, even in the storm, has granted unto them a gift from the sea.

When taking fishing into consideration, "Let go and let God," has a whole new meaning. The visual of letting go of the line and watching it fly across the sea is powerful.  We can only control what happens on the shore before the cast. The location, the bait, our patience with the bite, even our willingness to accept the days catch.  Peace whispers that the fisherman's work (our work) will, in time, bring forth the bounty we seek. And so, we cast out our line again with a prayer... "Make me strong enough to reel today."  "Give me courage to face an empty hook...again."  "The beauty of the sea today Lord was enough." 

With the permission of my daughter, Colby, I share a piece of her life.  She is the oldest of my four daughters and has been a constant light in my life.  Her enthusiasm for and joy in "fishing life's sea" in spite of the unexpected each day is amazing!  She married her husband Al, at the age of 21.  Their daughter Brooke was born a year later.  Just over a year after that their son Kaden blessed their lives.  Good jobs, sweet family...perfect, exactly as they had planned. 

One year later, Kaden was diagnosed with Autism. Not exactly what they had been expecting. The emotions they experience and the challenges they face together often seem unsurmountable to others. Yet, on a daily basis, they accept whatever comes their way.  In Colby's own words, "We appreciate so much more and find joy from so many new things with Kaden than I ever thought possible.  Brooke is a better sister because of him. It's perfect for us!"  An unexpected snuggle, a joyful laugh, a successful family hike, a full night of sleep...each worth the days work of reeling for the catch. So much joy in the unexpected gifts from the Sea.

Kaden is four now.  He is amazing!  Brooke is a first grader...such a big girl! And, this year baby Blakely is a new addition to their family. Kaden is still non-verbal but he does not needs words to show his love for his baby sister! Their life is lived unconventionally.  They cast into life's currents with the same consideration for the details as any good fisherman would.  There are evenings when I talk on the phone with my daughter and I can feel her tired bones through the phone line.  I know her husband feels the same exhaustion from the days labor.  Yet, there is always gratitude for the ability to make the cast regardless of the catch that day. 

Colby, has a tatoo on her left shoulder that reads "find joy in the ordinary."  If you ask her, she will tell you that I thought she was crazy to get words permenantly engraved on her body. (I would never have that same confidence!) What I really think is that they are perfect for her...an acknowlement of how extrodinary the ordinary can become.

Most days in our lives are "ordinary."  We cast our line and reel it in, with little grand reward, at times we are left completely empty handed. I have had days when I have left my fishing pole on the shore...it just didn't seem worth the effort.

It is our willingness to bait hook and cast into the currents, despite our discouragments and sore reeling arms, that allows the opportunity for the extordinary to find it's way to our nearly invisible line and tiny hook in the great sea of life. 

Finding joy in the "ordinary" of each day makes the fishing trip grand!

My son did not catch a Barracuda that year on the Island.  I am certain he will cast again another day...

"You gotta love the Victory Vomit" and other lessons learned in Sedona...

Victory vomit.

My son sent me a picture of it after his ascent to the top of a ancient volcano vent just outside of Sedona Arizona.  I seriously considered posting it. Instead you see the other photo of the magnificent view from the top which followed. 

His journey began while we were returning home from a glorious day in Sedona.  We were sharing stories with our nephew and his wife.  One of which recounted a road trip wherein our son, Matthew, had spent much of his time trying to get us all to guess how long it would take him to ascend nearby yet distant hills.  The usual sibling response was 30 or 45 minutes.  His response to that would always be "No, I could do it in 20 minutes easy, maybe 10."  This would be followed by an argument with his siblings until the next rise when it would start over. 

We were all laughing at Matthew's childhood naivete when he boldly stated, "You know what...I still believe I could have made it in 20 minutes.  In fact, see that volcano vent over there?  I believe I can make it to the top of that in 20 minutes...even 15 minutes."  To that his dad pulled over and said "Go for it." 

This was a ridiculous notion.  None of us could believe it when he jumped out and started across the desert.  His first obstacle was a large barbed fence he would need to climb in shorts and tennis shoes.  (I should mention here that it was this very same type of obstacle where he gave up five years ago along side the highway when his dad pulled over and ended the kids arguments in a similar manner.)  This time however, Matt was not to be deterred.  He made it over the fence and was off.  By now I had rolled down the window and was yelling for him to return to the car. I assured him that I loved him and that there was no need for him to prove anything. (Good "mom words"...)

Had it been any later in the year I would have insisted he return for fear of rattle snakes.  Today there was nothing to fear but a bruised ego and perhaps at worst a broken bone if he failed to navigate the last few vertical feet of the vent properly.  We waited. We watched. 

With only one short break as he assessed the last 50 feet or so which would include some more difficult climbing, 13 minutes later he was at the top.  It was a grueling 13 minutes.  It was so physically taxing that he literally vomited when he finally stopped.  He raised his hands above his head in victory and yelled out to the desert below.  It was a shout of triumph which would be carried away by the wind.  That was o.k.  (After all, he had just sent mom the victory vomit photo as proof)

Can you see him there?

  He looks so small  compared to his surroundings in the photo.   No one would notice him there.  This climb meant nothing really.  No one else cared at all. (Well, one pickup truck did pull over across from us out of curiosity.  I would like to think they were asking themselves, "Who is that courageous young man?" More likely they were trying to figure out what we were watching and when they realized it was just some "crazy kid" they moved on.)

 Contrast his perspective...

The view is grand.  The world literally lay now at his feet.  No longer was his vision obscured by the tall desert shrubs which had previously been an painful challenge to his ascent. He could now clearly see the surrounding landscape.

At some point, when he was about half way up the hill, we all started rooting for him to make it.  He later shared that it was at about this same point he had started to realize his goal was much further away than he had anticipated.  It was shear determination to prove himself the victor that pushed him on. 

It was a severe case of "I'll show you!" that preceded the victory vomit -- not the Prickly Pear Fries he had for lunch. 

When you are the youngest in a family with six children this ailment often compels you forward.  Taking you out of your comfort zone, through your apprehensions, to "What the hell was I thinking?" and then on towards "I'm not turning back now...I can do this."

I have been at the base of my own volcano vent for what has been very near a year now.  A lack of posts on this very site attest to my loss of words.  They were here swirling around in my head.  I simply could not formulate them into action.  In the past week two people I love called me out on this fact.  Noting "Why haven't you written anything since your mother died?"  I did not have an answer.  

With so many words rolling around in my head I needed something to pull the answer out of the whirlwnd.

While in Sedona that day, I was introduced to the infamous Sedona Vortexes.  These beautiful Vortex locations were pointed out to us by the driver of our Jeep 4X4 Adventure.  He was quite the character, "Max from Estonia."  Far from home, familiar with hard work, the taste of rat, and one who believed in the Vortexes ability to help people heal.  His jokes made us laugh as we all enjoyed our attempts to sort truth from fiction in his stories. 

This is Max:                                                  

 

This is us...feeling the Vortex??

Simple Definition of vortex

• : a mass of spinning air, liquid, etc., that pulls things into its center (Think toilent bowl or dust whirlwind.)
  

A Sedona Vortex is a place in nature where the earth is exceptionally alive with energy.  The term Vortex in Sedona refers to a place where the earth energy swirls and draws to it’s center everything that surrounds it like a tornado.  It is said that at these beautiful sites, trees often exhibit this swirling or twisting of their trunks due the powerful vortex energy at the core of a Sedona Vortex. 

My photo evidence:

Are these Vortexes real?  I have no idea. 

Do I believe that the beauty of our world, the energy of good company, sunshine, and a loving "prod" brought about through connection can release you from a life Vortex? 

Absolutely.  

Do I believe that people have been drawn to various places around the world for thousands and thousands of years for spiritual refueling?

Absolutely I do. 

I have posted my own experiences with a few I have been privileged to visit myself.  Medicine Wheel in the Big Horn Mountains, the Valley of Fire in Nevada, an ancient Buddhist pilgrimage destination and a cliff where the ancient art of Hula is still taught on the Island of Kauai. And, of course now...Sedona.

There are also my personal spiritual "Vortex" locations:  the front porch of my cabin in the Cascade Mountains, in my kayak, at the family dinner table when we gather any given Sunday, my daily walks with the dog, a road trip anywhere, and always when I choose to really connect through conversation with those I come in contact with. (A shout out to all those who were willing to engage in great conversation that Sedona day.)

When I made the decision to begin this writing endeavor "Pursuing Peace" I knew it would require self examination and a determination to keep at the pursuit myself.  What was I afraid of? What would I write if I had no fear?  Enough words...how about I just push open that scary door and face the monster?

Matt's call to my cell phone that late afternoon in Sedona opened the door for me. It was a brief communication,  "I made it.  13 minutes.  I'm going to throw up now."

I am just about to complete a three-daughter's-married-in-twelve-months year. My mom, their grandma, will not have been here for any of these beautiful events as her funeral fell in the same twelve months. I am also in the process of downsizing and selling our family home of 20 years.  All of these are good things.  Each has been a beautiful experience.   Even through the loss of my mom I often found Peace unexpectedly along the way.  However, I can see that the resulting emotional debris created a "life vortex" swirling a bit too close for comfort. Pulling myself away from it's force would require real effort.  Besides, those were my emotions, I wasn't sure I wanted them carried away...yet.

Matt was kind enough to send me a picture of the dreaded monster.  Yep.  The victory vomit.

Emotional climbs are a lot of work. You have to be willing to put in the equivalent of victory vomit effort. All the while knowing that the people around you, even people you love, don't get it.  Your goal is unappreciated.  This is your case of "I'll show you" and the you... is you. 

Making my way past "What the hell was I thinking?" and on to "I'm not turning back now...I can do this"  I know I heard the encouraging voice of Peace whisper"You can do this." (Had my son also recognized Peace cheering him on from amongst the cacti?)  I arrived at the point where the ascent was difficult but relatively quick (my 13 minutes).  The view from the top? I can see the whirlwind of my emotional debris traveling it's course and dissipating back into the landscape of my life. I am ready to make a triumphant shout to be carried away by the wind. (Perhaps while kayaking...that's peaceful.)

Can you see the dust swirling behind me? 

Perhaps it's a Sedona Vortex...

Is it time to create one of your own?

 

a moment of silence

The Marysville Pilchuck High School shooting has taken the lives of five teenagers (children really - only just beginning high school) and left one other to heal from injuries both physical and emotional.  Hundreds of other children were directly impacted, and I do not exaggerate when I say thousands more emotionally torn. Their parents all got up and went about their day no differently than any other. If they had checked on the weather before heading out there would have been no storm warnings to prepare them for what was actually in the forecast. They did not know that just a few hours into their day, each of them, in an instant, would be swept up in the fearsome force of tragedy, altering the landscape of the lives.

When I answered the call from my daughter that morning the tone in her voice gave my stomach an immediate twist.  "MP is in lockdown Mom.  There's a shooter and it's not good.  Check the news.  I will call you when I know more."  That was at 10:48 a.m. just minutes after the shooting.  It took Social Media to broadcast in minutes what would have taken hours just a few years ago. When I dropped my son off that morning he said, "I forgot my phone.  Don't forget to pick me up - I won't be able to call you." That morning I was an advocate of no cell phones in the classroom.  Three hours later I'm making a mental note to assure that he never goes to school again without it.  It was a text that would inform me our neighbor, a fourteen year old student at Marysville Pilchuck, was on CNN. 

As I listened to his voice, now in transition to that of a man, my mind's eye pictured the little boy dressed as Spiderman a week before Halloween, then only four years old "invisible" under our dining room table. Holding on to a corner of our own childhood imagination we all made sure he would be successful in his return home across the street unscathed and undetected.  Spiderman, was now fourteen, pulling his girlfriend under the cafeteria table. The shots, the screams, the hysteria all so loud and yet there was a silent clarity in the midst of the confusion as the shooter, (this was his friend...right?), made eye contact with him (he can't actually see him - he's invisible...right?), and then turned and walked towards the doors. 

I knocked on Spiderman's door just a few hours later.  None of the students from Marysville Pilchuck had been released to their parents yet.  I was checking on his mother hoping she had word of his safety. The door opened and standing there was Spiderman himself.  He was home unscathed and undetected. How had he accomplished such a feat? (Of course....he had used the back door of the cafeteria and jumped the fence - Spiderman at his stealthy best). 

After a hug Spiderman slipped past me to talk to my son, his friend for as long as they can remember.  I continued my conversation with his mother.  Glancing across the street I could see our boys, both High School Freshmen now, sitting on front porch.  The rapids of life's river now raging before them.  My son in shock, watching in horror as his friends are pushed from the safety of its banks into the icy water and Spiderman trying to catch his breath after pulling himself out of those rapids back to the river's edge.

My youngest son attends the other Marysville High School.  "What a relief" you may say.  Yes, undeniably in the moment it was.  And yet, these were his peers.  He knew each of them, they all attended the same Middle School, he played football with them last year.  While Jaylin was voted Freshman class homecoming prince, my son had been nominated for the same at Getchell High School, whose homecoming was to have been that same Friday.  And then, of course, there is his connection with Spiderman.  He knows there will forever be difference a between Spiderman, who was in the cafeteria that day, and himself, who could only watch the events unfold. I sense my son carries a burden that came with these events that I can't quite understand yet.  I see the impact of this past week in his eyes during moments of silence.

MP was where I graduated from High School along with four of my children. I have lived in this community for 46 years. As a result I have struggled to write this post - give words to my thoughts - find peace myself.  I couldn't even bring myself to visit the memorial fence along the High School's outer field until five days had passed.  The events seemed so personal (even though I personally knew none of the victims or families), so visceral, so exploited, and so loud.

The first glimpse I caught of Peace was the quiet appearance of red and white ribbons all over town.  Along overpasses, surrounding local playgrounds, tied to the trees which line our streets so beautifully in the fall.  Main streets, side streets, back streets...they are everywhere.  A simple knot, tied by hands perhaps unknown and at the same time with a feeling of familiarity.  They whispered the call for healing, unity, forgiveness, and peace in midst of unimaginable turmoil.

October 24th also marked the anniversary of another Marysville tragedy.  It was not one be heard across the nation as the shots in the cafeteria were.  Yet the quiet response of our community at a time of loss was just as powerful.  This also involved High School children and the sudden tragic loss of life.  As I reflected upon that experience in 2011 I was reminded that Peace is found in the small, silent expressions made to give voice to the feelings of our heart.

Life's river will have many rapids, and a walk along it's rocky edge may mean at times we find ourselves in the midst of its turbulence.  The water's are loud and fear invoking as we are reminded that we cannot control all things - often those things we have felt most secure in.  For more than 300 years "a moment of silence" has been practiced by people of diverse ethnic and religous backgrounds as means of coming together in what I believe is a universal recognition of the need for quiet and connection in times of turmoil.  An expression of the fact that even though we are all so very different, we are also all very much the same.  That no matter how tough we are and how in control we may appear... the time will surely come when we are also vulnerable and without control. 

I would not want any child, any family, any community to experience tragedy the way ours did this past week.  That being said, I know its force will sweep through each life in one form or another. Our attempts to shield ourselves or our children from it are futile at best.  There are the obvious rough waters we put up warning signs for (as we should) in our best effort to protect those who will walk the path we have marked, yet we simply cannot see what lies around each bend in the river of life.

For three years now in the summer my family has enjoyed an end of the Season river float.  Eastern Washington sunshine and inflatables to relax on are all we need for the days adventure.  Last year as I was floating along, day dreaming, the peaceful quiet of the river gave me no warning of the current which was pulling me quickly towards what my family could see would be a toss in the water.  Wait for it...wait for it...there she goes!!  Mom (who had kept herself remarkedly dry - was soaking wet!) Everyone got a good laugh at my expense. (No surprise in that fact.)

I have reflected upon that river float many times - daily since the shootings.  The quiet rush of the water around me when I slipped below the surface was so peaceful.  I had gained a completely different perspective of the river in that moment of silence.  Peace is always within our reach - even in life's turbulence. My son and Spiderman will be shaped by tragic events not of their choosing throughout their lives. We all will. None of us immune from adversity.  Life is hard work. Peace is our co-worker always ready to give us a different perspective of our surroundings.

For those of us fortunate enough to remain safely along the river's edge (this time), our job is to not be afraid to get our feet wet. Peace is there tying a ribbon with you in the NW wind and rain.  Peace is there when you prepare a warm meal or pick up that pizza to deliver.  A kind word, a hug that lingers just a bit longer, a listening ear, a hand to hold, a message that says "I do care.  I am here. You are not forgotten." Peace will whisper what work needs to be done in a moment of silence.

Shhh....can you hear it?

When I looked across the street that first day at my son and Spiderman sitting on the porch I saw their childhood shadows "fishing" at the base of our small waterfall in the front garden with a stick and a string.  In my heart I hold them there.  A simple time.  Quiet waters.  This past week in my moment of silence I grabbed onto a red and white ribbon.  When I reached the river's edge there holding onto the other end was my son and Spiderman.  Their strength a testament to the ability of our youth to power through adversity and find Peace in the process.