I have read the blogs of a number of friends in the last year or so.   They are fun to read, and I feel that by reading another person’s blogs, I get a glimpse in to their worlds and prospective. Sometimes,  it is a nice break from my own reality, and I get to know these friends on a different level. Over the years, I have journaled and even written songs, which has always been a great tool for emotional release and even introspection. I do love to write, but my writing these days is limited to occasional facebook updates, documents for work, and super long winded e-mails for my co-workers when we don’t have a chance to talk face to face. (anyone who regularly receives emails from me at work know this, and may be chuckling right now). Well, I gotta tell you something happened to me today to push me over the edge and has now launched me in to the blogging trend.

Before I get in to my story I would like to share my intentions for starting a blog. Perhaps what I write will not be for everyone, but this is not a popularity contest. My intention is use my gift of communication skill in hopes that by sharing I can make a difference in someone else’s life.  

 I’m going to start off my sharing a bit about myself- so that you can decide if this is a blog you might want to read.

For a 36 year old, I have seen more life than some people see in a lifetime. I have learned to embrace all of the ups and downs- because they have made me the person I am today.  Everyone experiences adversity in life. Some of it is self-perpetuated and some is circumstantial. Regardless of what kind we may face- I was taught early on, that it is the adversity we overcome in life that helps build our character. Life is one big fat learning experience- how we choose to let the world affect us is a personal choice. I would like to say that I handle adversity seamlessly. This is not the case. (duh!) But what I CAN tell you, is that eventually I figure out how to view things positively. Here’s why…

 I am a believer that everything happens for a reason- even the most trivial things. This is a belief that I hold dear to my heart.  Not everyone shares this viewpoint, and that’s ok.

I also want to share that I was raised to be respectful of other people’s opinions. Perhaps that is not the best way to say that. I am a very open minded person. There. That’s better. For example: I am a democrat-raised by a liberal single mom, and I am happily married to a strong willed and well educated republican. How else would that be possible? We truly have a relationship of mutual respect. I don’t agree with him on many issues- but I still respect that his opinion is just as valid as mine. Because of this carefree open mindedness- I am not the kind of person who is going to stand on a soap box and tell you how I think you should feel.

 Just sayin’.

SO, back to my intention for blogging. My intention in starting a blog is to help others build faith. The type of faith that I am talking about is really going to be unique to each reader. Faith in self, faith in others, faith in whatever God you believe in… it’s all good. I know that for myself, having faith translates in to having a positive outlook on life. At this point in my life, that is something that is very important to me.

So, I am going to title todays story “Driven by my cross”. The title is misleading…or is it? In this story, it was not me that was driven-but rather someone else who was driven by the cross I wear around my neck.  I got my cross pendant a few years ago from my husband Tod. It was the year my father got very ill with cancer. My father was a man of strong faith, and I chose it that year as a gift so that I could wear it as a reminder  to always keep my faith. Now remember- faith to me= positive outlook. Although my father was a good Christian man and active in his church, he also had the faith that I am referring to here. It became more apparent that last year of his life, as he made the best of every last moment. He loved life, was very posotive and could find the good in anyone. So if you ever wondered why I wear my cross- now you know.

Well our family has seen a lot of adversity this year. It has gotten to the point recently where it has almost been laughable. You know what I mean- when things are so ridiculously bad that all you can do is laugh?? Well that has been the theme of many an occasion for us over the last year. At this moment, most of the ridiculousness is financial. Some of you have heard stories- I am not going to get in to them here. I am sure at this point in time, everyone has been impacted in one way or another by the economy. I am also sure that everyone has also made at least one bad decision in life which caused financial heartache.  That pretty much sums up the nature of the financial beast that we are dealing with.

So money is tight, and I have reverted to a strict budget, meal planning etc. etc. Today after work, (in the midst of a snow storm) I decided to make the most of my trip to Madison and stop by Aldi’s for some things on my grocery list. I did not have any quarters for a cart (they make you pay for them-to ensure you bring them back) so I got inventive. I decided to just grab a few items at a time, and bring them to the closed register, and stack them until I was done. So I am going along slowly-checking things off my list (and bringing them up to the register by the handful) when a kind woman stops me. She asks “Is there anything I can help you find, I shop here regularly, and I would be happy to help”. A little embarrassed about the apparent scene I was making, I explained how I didn’t bring a quarter, and so I was being inventive. She smiled politely as I dropped my armful at the register. When I walked by her again, she looked at me quizzically. She once again spoke to me. She complimented me on my cross. She then proceeded to ask me what might otherwise be a very personal question. “Are you going through a rough time right now, financially?” Well, I have visited a psychic or two in my time, and for a brief moment- I felt like she was looking right in to my soul. I felt as if she already knew, and I could not lie. So I responded honestly, “yes, as a matter of a fact I am”.  Her response was simple, and almost sounded rehearsed. “I am going to buy your groceries today.” She proclaimed. “I have seen rough times too, and as long as I kept my faith, he has always provided. So just pick up the rest of your items, and I will meet you at the checkout counter.”

Well, it’s not every day you have a complete stranger offer to pay for your groceries. I was very humbled and grateful, but at the same time was half looking around for Ashton Kutcher to appear from around the corner. Now honestly- things are financially tough, but not that tough. Although I sincerely appreciated this kind proposition, I knew that it was not necessary. I proceeded to pick up a few more items while franticly trying to figure out how to turn down her generous offer. I wished to  convey my gratitude and equally acknowledge our mutual faith. I also wanted to make sure she knew that this story would never be forgotten.

Mustering up courage, I approached this woman again. I started by thanking her for her generous offer, and letting her know that it would not soon be forgotten. I further explained that although things were tough, I did have groceries in the budget. She then suggested that I might use my grocery money to pay another bill. This complete stranger really wanted to give me her money. Once again, I declined, and thanked her for her generosity and kind words. I paid for my groceries and left the store.

The snow covered roads outside were atrocious, and it was still coming down heavily. Under normal circumstances,  I might have immediately called lots of people to share this unusual yet amazing story. But on this occasion, I was left with my own thoughts. I wanted to share this story with many people. I immediately ruled out facebook because the story is too long and I wanted to do it justice. So on my long drive home, I mentally started this blog.

 I started by thinking about my Dad. I think about him a lot.

 I grew up in your typical divorced 70’s household. Mom had us full time and we saw Dad every other weekend. After we moved to Wisconsin from Connecticut, these visits happened twice a year. Dad would attempt to call every Sunday to see how we were doing, and to catch up on what was happening in our lives. Although the geographical circumstances were unusual- he did everything he could to try to connect with us and share his wisdom within these hour long calls. As the years went on (and adolescence set in) it became hard to give him a weekly play by play. Life was going on for me, without him in it. Suddenly every story I might have told him involved too much back-story, and characters who were faceless to him. Despite everyone’s best intention, the calls became awkward, and my social life became increasingly prioritized. My visits to Connecticut were always a whirl wind. Although I was always so happy to see him, I was also basking in the distant familiarity of it all. As the years went on, phone calls became more condensed. My father tried desperately to share his loving influence, but under the veil of adolescence, I am afraid it often was translated to lecture and criticism in my mind. The circumstantial absence of my father also contributed heavily to many years of self-perpetuated drama, as I struggled to fill the void.  Each day of separation made me seek his approval more and more.

 Not much changed into adult hood. The topics became more adult- parenting, marriage, finances, work- and Dad did everything he could to offer his well-intentioned feedback, but I was so busy trying to gain his approval- that most of this went unheard.  It wasn’t until the last years of his life, that I truly started listening. I recognized that his “lectures” were selfless efforts of love- he shared his life experiences with me, without expectation. These days I desperately comb though my memories to recall every “lecture”, and try to untwist the meaning of it all. He was a good man, “A wonderful human being”.

I was very close with my father- in my heart. He did the best he could as a parent given the circumstances we faced. I find solace knowing that he now has a full understanding of me, and  is finally able to put names with faces and understand all of the backstory.  It is a strange thing when you lose a parent- or someone you love. What is strange is that the relationship doesn’t go away. I can’t imagine there will ever be a day that I will not still be seeking his approval, or wanting to make him proud.

That brings me back to my present story.  Some of the most precious conversations that my Dad and I shared were about faith. A strong faith is something I know we had in common. Not a pushy or arrogant faith, but one that we let shine through our actions. My father also once told me that I “had a way with words”.  All of  these thoughts memories floated in my head (now, yesterday) as I took that long snowy drive home.  

Everyone has a story to tell, but some cannot put it in to words. That happens to be a gift I have been given, and I feel inclined to use it for the betterment of others. I hope that my story has caused you to reflect on the good in your lives, the good in humanity, or even the people in your life who you truly appreciate, but perhaps don’t  tell them you love them enough. I hope that some of you have reflected on similar stories you have to tell- stories which might help your friends to build their ”faith”, and I hope you share them.

So there you have it. That is how this blog came to be. If you have made it this far, I thank you for taking the time to get to know me a little better.