Reclaiming Joy, Part One

 

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"We can not solve our problems with the same level of thinking that created them"

-Albert Einstein

For months now, I have been in a funk. And then I got sick of it. This is how it started.

All year I had been looking forward to summer. I was going to be teaching workshops in Costa Rica (at a five-star resort in the rainforest), Woodstock and Berkley, and my husband and I had been gifted a free trip to Jamaica for our anniversary in August. I was giddy with anticipation.

And then every one of those events cancelled…boom boom boom. And on top of the profound disappointment, I was scrambling to replace the work and income I’d lost. I sent out resumes all summer and didn’t get a single reply. Instead of teaching and lounging in hot tubs in exotic places, my summer days were spent mediating fights between my 3 and 7 year old, scouring the want ads unsuccessfully for writing gigs, playing “bill-roulette” and feeling completely defeated. And then I got a string of rejection letters on my new book. And my dishwasher broke and I didn’t have the money to fix it, so I was up to my elbows every day washing dishes by hand. And the worst of it, people I loved were fighting cancer and I was helpless to stop it. All of this in 105 degree weather.

It turned out to be a crummy summer and I was miserable. But I know that happiness is a choice. I had to stop focusing on all that had gone wrong and change the way I was thinking.

The first thing I had to do was to unplug from all negativity. On top of the frustration and helplessness I was already feeling, I sure didn’t need bad news pounded into my head.

I unplugged from the internet except to check in once a day- I did not read the facebook newsfeed or look at pictures of abused dogs in shelters or read about toddlers accidentally being shot with their fathers’ guns.

I turned off NPR (the hardest thing to do) because sometimes you just have to take a break from hearing about body counts and wars all over the world.

I didn’t allow anyone else’s negativity come into to my sacred space.

I played music all day, every day.

I read uplifting books that made me feel anything was possible.

I prayed for my loved ones, meditated and practiced yoga.

I got outside in nature every day, even if for a short time. 

It didn't cost me a dime to walk by the bay, but it was more valuable than therapy.

And for the first time in months, I FELT GREAT. I was happy and energized again. I was more patient with the kids. More patient with myself. More confident that somehow everything would be okay.

Once I was back in this positive space, things started to flow again. I got offered four gigs, plus a copywriting job. I was able to heal a friendship that had been fractured for five years. Two agents asked for my manuscript. My loved ones were managing and maybe even healing cancer.

I am now thinking more clearly, feeling hopeful. Everything once again feels possible.

So I have decided to continue with this. For the next couple weeks, I am going to write about the steps I’m taking to reclaim joy. I hope you’ll join me on this journey.

What I'm Giving Up

When I feel stuck in life, sometimes the simple act of letting go of old things, cleaning out a desk drawer, my closet, or my purse (which is a cry for help right now) can provide a feeling of relief. It seems to magically create a vacuum in my life, making room for new possibilities. But emotional clutter is another issue. 

All the self-help books tell us that the past does not define the future, the wake does not drive the boat, etc. But most of us hold on to things from the past, which keeps us rooted there. We don’t open that “drawer in our head” often enough, and soon we’ve got a jumbled head full of old beliefs and stories that no longer serve us. Or maybe that’s just me. Just like my closet, I need to do an inner purge now and then.

In order to make room for peace, harmony, and balance in my life, these are the things I’m giving up:

Resentment

If I’m feeling resentment, this means I’ve taken on too much, haven’t set limits or healthy boundaries, and now I’m frustrated with a situation I helped create. I can either accept the situation I’ve chosen and find gratitude for it, or I can change it and choose something different. I am gladly giving up resentment, and making room for gratitude.

My Old Story

I grew up the daughter of a convict and a single mom who worked nights in a bar, we used food stamps to buy our groceries and blah, blah, blah. I’ve already lived that story. It held me down long enough. I wrote the memoir. Wrote the essays. The story is over. I don’t want, nor need, to live it any longer. Buh-bye old story. I’m making room for a new story.

Feelings of Worthlessness

Those are going out along with the old story. Period.

I’m making room to step into my full value as a human being.

Shame

Co-authoring Dancing at the Shame Prom changed me in so many positive ways. It really helped me to shed a lot of that old shame. But shame is sneaky. It finds new and different ways to lurk into my psyche: money-shame, aging-shame, body-image shame. Once again, I'm kicking it to the curb, making room for self-acceptance.

Struggle

I have struggled a lot in my life. I’ve struggled financially. I’ve struggled for justice. I’ve struggled in family relationships. But recently, while teaching my son how to swim, I learned something. He was struggling in the water, exerting so much energy while going nowhere, eventually sinking. I kept telling him, “Just relax and let your body float. The water will support you.” And bingo- I made the connection. Stop struggling and float. Let the Universe support me. I’m letting go of struggle to make room for peace.

Writing helps a lot with emotional purging, which is why I’ve always kept a journal. But when writing it out isn’t enough, I pray. I pray for help in letting old beliefs go. Whether I believe in God (I do) or religion (not so much) doesn’t really matter. Words and intention hold great power. Simply stating that I want to give something up (on a daily basis) has changed me greatly.

I’m making room in my life for love, goodness, miracles, joy, and passion.

What are you willing to give up today? What are you making room for? I’d love to hear about it. 

 

Imagine the possibilities...

What's New?

A few people have written to ask why I haven’t been blogging much lately, and the simple, wonderful answer is – because my prayers were answered and I now have a three year old underfoot 24/7. In addition, Evan is out of school, so every day it’s the two of them loving each other one minute, squabbling the next, and I am the referee. Also I’ve been doing some freelance writing work to help pay the bills (which have grown along with the family), sending my new book out to agents, plus helping my daughter in law, who is living with us, to get established in the US. I’ve been taking her on school tours, helped her do all her financial paperwork, get a credit card, etc… It’s been busy.

We are still trying to figure out how this new family configuration works, and most days it’s wonderful--Aya and I love cooking together, hiking and taking the kids out to ride bikes. But it’s also a huge life change, chaotic, full of new challenges, and we are all searching for balance. I haven’t been able to write at all, which makes me crabby. Evan has had some behavior regression with the new changes; he’s developed fears, nightmares and clinginess to me (common behaviors in kids when there is a “new baby” in the family). I’m overwhelmed, but grateful.

In the middle of all these new changes I found out that my father, with whom I have a complicated, almost nonexistent relationship, has cancer. Today he had surgery in Houston. I am praying for his spiritual and physical healing, and for myself to come to a place of peace with what is, and what isn’t. This is still a tough one for me. 

Group hug in Texas with my dad, brother T, and nephew Jordan.

So many of you have prayed for my grandson to return, and I thank you. My heart is so full, so happy, with my family back together. Every day I get up and thank God for this second chance. And many of you are now praying for my father, and again, I can’t thank you enough. I feel your good wishes and love.

So, that’s it in a nutshell with me. What’s new with all of you?

“Oh Me of Little Faith”

As many of you know, I’ve been on a daily practice of meditation and prayer, and my life has begun to shift. (If you read any of my blogs from the disastrous years of 2010 and 2011, you know I’ve come a long way. Faith was my only way out of darkness.)

         My seven year old, Evan, has walked in on my practice on a few occasions. “What are you doing?” he’d ask.

Meditating,” I’d say.

“That looks boring…”  he’d say.

I pray for my children every night. My two oldest are on their own paths to faith, unsure, maybe a little bit cynical, as I was when I was raising them. But Evan came along at a time when I am stronger in my faith. And what exactly is my faith, you might wonder? I have faith that there is a grand intelligence that created a world so perfect and full of beauty and wonder that I could never squash it into a simple definition with my feeble human brain. I know that it cannot be encapsulated completely by a book, or words. I know it is something you must discover in your own heart, in your own way. I know there have been times when I was saved from certain disaster, times when I was lifted above the abyss. I know that we survived being asleep in a burning house while poisoned with carbon monoxide. And I’ve lived long enough to know that my prayers are eventually answered in unexpected ways.

The other night, as I was praying for Evan, I decided instead to pray with Evan. I knelt next to his bed.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“I’m praying for your health and happiness and safety,” I said.

“How do you do it?”

“You talk to God in the language of your own heart, and if there is something you need help with, you ask.”

“I want to ask something,” he said, and then he proceeded with this prayer: “Dear God, I want to know if you are real so please send me a message. If you are real, drop a hat out of the sky and let it land on my front porch.”

“Hmm…that might be a little tough,” I said, “because hats don’t fall out of the sky so you’re asking for a pretty big miracle.”

“Well, how about a flower, then? If you are real God, please put a flower on the porch by 7:30 am so I can see it before I leave for school. You should be able to do that because you make flowers.”

Not wanting to interfere with his prayer process, I smiled and kissed Evan good night. Before I walked away I added, “God doesn’t always answer our prayers in exactly the way we want, and not always when we want…just so you know.”

I then vacillated about whether I should go outside in my bathrobe, pick a flower and leave it on the porch. I didn’t want him to be disappointed in the morning (Oh me of little faith). Eventually I decided not to interfere.

The next morning I was sitting on my bed reading. The cat budged my bedroom curtains open to watch the birds outside, and that was when I saw something yellow out of my peripheral vision. I got up to investigate. There was a yellow daisy laying on our deck. It was 7:22 am.

“Evan! Come here, quick! You have to see this!”

Evan stepped out onto the deck and scooped the yellow daisy up. He started jumping up and down, “He’s real! He’s real! I can’t believe it, God is real!” (Oh little he with faith)

My eyes filled with tears for this tiny miracle. Not only was it a flower, it was one of the silk daisies we’d used to decorate for Taylor and Aya’s wedding three and a half years ago, and just as Aya and Ayumu are about to come back to the U.S. Where had it come from?

So, is God real, or is this just a coincidence? Each of us has to decide. Each of us will struggle with faith through the blessings and hardships in our own lives, and I know Evan is no exception. He will have his good days and his bad. If he is anything like me he’ll have moments where he loses faith completely, and will have to fight hard to gain it back. But he will always have this sweet little story…of a yellow daisy that dropped from the sky and landed on his porch before 7:30am.

Maybe I should have let him stick with the hat request.

(Oh me of little faith…)

Throw Love at It

My friend Mary gives the best advice. Over a year ago, I sat in her front yard with tears in my eyes, and told her that my daughter in law and grandson were not coming back from what was supposed to be a visit to Japan. I told her I feared the worst – I may never see my grandson again.

Mary put her hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eye and said this.

“Love her through this. No matter what happens, just love her.” I got chills, because I knew she was in one of those inspired moments, when a Universal truth pulses through us. And then she gave me the longest, bestest Mary-hug, and I left her house feeling stronger.

I followed Mary’s advice. I loved my daughter-in-law. I sent her love in emails, packages, and letters, but mostly I sent love in the prayers I said for her and Ayumu every morning. For over a year, I continued to pray and meditate every day, because I didn’t know what else to do. And the side result is that so many good things have begun to happen in my life since I became diligent about this. I can’t prove that there is a God, or guardian angels, or saints. But if God is Love than I can safely say I believe in God. And I do know without doubt that approaching a fearful situation with love makes it better, and easier to bear. This has now become the rule in our house. When we are faced with a challenge, we say “throw love at it”.

And this is how I know it works…

A few weeks ago my husband Troy wrote this beautiful song for Ayumu. He poured all the love in his heart into it and sent it to Japan.

Suddenly, something shifted. Our daughter in law contacted us to say that on April 14^th ... she will bring Ayumu to America for a one-month visit. In two weeks, I will hold our beautiful grandson in my arms again.

The last time I held him, he was 18 months old. Now he is almost 3. He speaks Japanese, and I speak English, but I’m not worried about that. Love is the Universal language.

This morning when I prayed, this is what I said.

Thank you

Thank you

Thank you

Thank you to Mary for her wisdom.

Thank you to my husband for his music.

Thank you to all my friends, Erin, Beth, Dani, Amy, Julie, who held me together through this when it was unbearable. 

Love makes everything bearable. 

Love makes everything possible.

*The backstory is here: A Heart Breaks Slow

Answered Prayers

When you put your faith in love...

Troy is home from Japan with videos and pics of our grandbaby Ayumu, and as I peruse them again and again, I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I prayed for this EVERY day for a year. I woke up each morning, and thought about Ayumu. I closed my eyes and tried to remember the scent of his hair, the feel of his skin, the weight of him against my hip. I conjured up the feeling of running my fingers through his baby curls, the way he'd nestle his head into the hollow between my neck and shoulder, how he'd exhale and lay soft against me. Then I would take all that love, and put it into a prayer. Every single day. I called on every ancestor in spirit. I prayed to God, to angels. I asked for help from anyone who was out there in the cosmos.

A year ago, when Aya,my daughter-in-law, and Ayumu failed to return from a "visit" to Japan, when her facebook and email accounts disappeared, when she stopped communicating with all of us, yes, I panicked. I feared we would never see our grandson again. But I knew that fear was not my friend, and would only make a bad situation worse. After the tears and ranting, I decided, instead, to invest in faith. I put that faith in LOVE. 

For a year we have prayed, and sent only loving words to Aya. Even though she often would not respond, we still sent love. 

A year later, this happened in Kobe, Japan. I think this picture says it all.

My husband Troy and grandson Ayumu, reunited.

Some may say it was coincidence that while touring with Wilson Phillips, Troy was booked on a layover in Japan, but I know it was my answered prayer.

Aya rose to meet the occasion, and welcomed Troy into her home for three days, letting him spend every waking moment with Ayumu. Ayumu rushed into Troy's arms, held his hand everywhere they went, chattered in Japanese to him. If we had gotten angry with Aya, which certainly would have been justified, I know this gentle reunion would not have happened. Aya has matured over this past year. She is seeing things differently. And now, she is talking with both Troy and our son Taylor ( still her husband) about the possibility of coming to visit.

What I have learned through this ordeal is to never lose hope. Never lose faith. Miracles are possible when you keep your heart open. We don't have the perfect scenario, and I don't know that we ever will, but somehow we will find a way to be a family. Even with 5000 miles between us, through the cultural differences and the hurts and misunderstandings, we are a family. Love wins.

Saying goodbye at the airport, Troy whispers, "Come home to us, little one."

Miracles in the Darkest Moments

I’m keeping God and the angels very busy with all the prayers I’m sending up these days.

I’m praying for my stepmother Dawn, who has surgery for colon cancer next week.

I’m praying for my sweet friend Anita, whose body went into toxic shock last night.

I’m praying for my Aunt Laura, who just had surgery for breast cancer.

I’m praying for my daughter in law Aya and grandson Ayumu to come home.

And in the middle of all this grief and darkness, I spoke to my mother for the first time in ten years. It was a peaceful conversation - an attempt to heal.

It was nothing short of a small miracle.

Once again, I find miracles in the middle of mayhem, and wonder if they could occur any other way.

It’s not as though Moses was hanging out with some friends one day, drinking wine, and said, “Hey you guys, wanna see a cool party trick?” - then parted the Red Sea. It’s always at the darkest moments that miracles occur.

What I am trying to learn now is not to fear the dark moments, and instead, to trust.

To trust that there will be good somewhere within.

To trust that some how, some way, all of the pain will be healed.

To trust in goodness, and love.

These simple things I know -  every bloom that falls off the vine will return again when the season is right, and the sun will rise every morning now matter how pervasive the darkness.

This is the hope that sustains me.

The Messages Are Always There

 One of 100 white origami cranes we folded for the blessing of Taylor and Aya's marriage
photo by Christina Donnelly

This morning, as I was on my morning run with my hubby, we stopped at the top of the mountain, and sat on the ledge overlooking a lake. We decided to take a few moments to say a prayer, as we had many worries on our minds.

One of our dearest friends has lost both her mother and younger sister in the past two weeks.

Our sweet friend Anita still lies in a hospital bed (four months now), after a heart transplant.

My stepfather, and yet another friend, both await biopsy results.

So much to pray about today, and my heart was heavy.

As I sat in prayer, envisioning white light around my loved ones, Troy nudged me and told me to open my eyes. A beautiful white crane was soaring over the lake. In Japanese culture, as my daughter-in-law Aya has taught me, white cranes are a symbol of hope and good health. Aya and I have folded white origami cranes as a form of prayer.

I saw that majestic white crane, and knew that I could let go of fear and worry. Someone bigger than me, and much more intelligent than me, has got this thing called creation all figured out. Every once in a while, when I’m paying attention, the message is there.

Today it was written across the sky: All Will Be Well.

Pray for Peace on Memorial Day

On Memorial Day, enjoy a day off from work, enjoy your friends and family, the parades and barbeques, but before you do, please take a moment to watch this video and ...please, pray.
Just for a few moments.
Pray for the men and women who have lost their lives in service of our country.
Pray for their families.
Pray, with all your heart, for peace.
Pray that one day, we will no longer need to memorialize those we've lost to senseless, brutal war.
Pray not just for Americans, but for people everywhere who have lost those they loved to violence.
Pray for peace in your own heart, and let it spread to everyone.
Peace.
Pray.

Prayer for Japan

Proof that miracles thrive in the presence of love

My heart is heavy with grief this morning as I watch the devastation in Japan unfold on television. I lived through the1994 earthquake in California. It registered 6.7 on the Richter scale, and I thought the world was ending. It was terrifying beyond belief. But to survive an 8.9, only to be wiped out by a Tsunami only 15 minutes later? I truly can not imagine the horror.

I had to break the news to my Japanese daughter-in-law last night. We watched the news together, sick to our stomachs, praying her friends and family would be safe through the night.

It’s times like these that rock my faith. Is there a patriarchal God up there who just had a temper tantrum,  decided he didn’t like his creation and knocked it over like a cranky child with a stack of blocks? I can’t buy into that.

I don’t know if there is a God “up there”, or somewhere in the atmosphere, but if God is love, then yes, I see God. Because with every disaster that happens in the world, as people are suffering, a miracle begins to emerge. The God in you, the God in me, awakens. We become united as humans. All around the world we connect through our prayers, empathy and our actions. We connect through Love.

We give, even when we don’t have. We rush toward the disaster, rather than look away. We reach out to absolute strangers. In those desperate moments we realize, we are all one.

This morning  President Obama announced our commitment to help Japan, saying "The friendship and alliance between our two nations is unshakeable, and only strengthens our resolve to stand with the people of Japan as they overcome this tragedy." Sixty years ago Japan was our enemy. Today, our friendship is unshakable. I think of that every time I hold my half-Japanese grandson in my arms, and remember that my grandfather was a bomber in World War Two. Miracles occur in the wake of devastation.

Is there a reason for everything? I don’t know. But there is a reason for us now to rise to the very best in us. To help, to pray, to hold one another in grief, in loss.

So please join me this morning, and say a prayer for our brothers and sisters in Japan.

This too shall pass, and all will be well, for miracles thrive in the presence of love.

New Decade, New Beginnings

As I shed the remnants of 2010 like a bad virus, I am giddily optimistic about this new year, and in fact this whole decade. At the same time, I feel big changes shaking things up...the foundation beneath me trembling...

Everything is about to shift.

I'm ready.

I spent last night writing what I want from this year, what I want to see happen in my life in the coming decade. In doing this journaling and meditating, I saw a huge flaw in myself. I really need to work on feeling I "DESERVE" good things to happen to me. The problem is, I expect the bad things. They're like an old shoe. I know how to navigate trauma. But the good stuff- I don't trust it. It can be ripped out from under you at any moment.

You see? That's the problem. Always waiting for that other shoe to drop- expecting it in fact. When I think of those who have achieved their highest dreams, I'm sure they didn't share my negative thinking patterns.

And yet look at the love that surrounds me. Somehow I must believe enough in that, because I am truly surrounded by goodness and love. How did I learn to believe in love? To trust in love and the goodness of people, even when I was shown repeatedly that people could be cruel, and betray you? How did I end up in such a beautiful loving marriage, when I only saw destructive relationships growing up?

It may have been this. For years- after being betrayed again and again by my own family and "friends", I PRAYED and journaled and posted on my wall and my bathroom mirror that I deserved to be surrounded by like-minded, loving people, who loved me and treated me kindly. I don't know that I completely believed it at the time...but I prayed and wrote it anyway....over and over, until it finally came to pass. It is a miracle, a prayer answered, that we all have one another.

Also, years ago I wrote "I am now open to the possibility of all my wildest dreams coming true". I posted it on my mirror, looked at it every day. That year, at 39 years old, I found my biological father and three brothers.

I'm ready to set a course for myself, to start praying more for goodness, and training myself to believe in it. I told Troy last night I've not felt in control of my destiny at all for the last couple years. I've felt like a leaf drifting on the river, going wherever it took me, which was often over the edge of the rapids. I want to now learn how to navigate my own boat. I know I can't control the river, but I can set a course, and learn how to paddle.

I am excited to begin the journey. And I will pray for goodness, and write it even when I feel doubt, keeping myself on course for miracles.

Wanna come?

A Miracle Story

Six years ago I had the worst birthday ever. Worst. It was December 2004. I was estranged from both of my parents. My mother had exiled me for speaking out against something awful that had happened in our family. My father was struggling with addiction again, and had let our relationship go. Neither of my parents called or acknowledged my birthday. In fact not one person in my extended family acknowledged it.

As if being estranged from my parents wasn’t bad enough, the nonprofit foundation I’d co-founded was in the middle of a hostile takeover by some ambitious board members. Power and greed overcame altruism. The musical instruments that had been donated to my students (kids in foster care) were taken away. The grant money was pulled from my arts programs so they could use it for advertising and self promotion. They were attempting to oust me and run the organization themselves. It was the year of the Grinch, for sure.

On top of that, my daughter was away at college, and I was missing her. My son was a teenager, busy with his own life and his rock band. All I wanted for my birthday was a couple of my close friends over for dinner. But even that didn’t work out. Two of them only stopped by briefly on their way to another event, one got drunk to the point of puking, and the other’s car broke down on the side of the road. So while my husband went to rescue her, I went to bed alone. Happy birthday to me….

The day after my birthday, I crawled into my bed like a wounded animal and cried a year’s worth of tears. I went through an entire box of Kleenex. But I did something else too. For the holidays, I had made a mix CD of songs about angels. I played this CD all day while I cried. And I prayed - not just any prayer- I remember this prayer specifically because I chanted it over and over for hours.

Please send me an angel to help me believe in the goodness of people again.

Over and over and over…crying, praying, crying some more. I spent the whole day doing this.

Often times, miracles are already budding just beneath the surface of your life, but you can’t yet feel it. Never in a million years did I imagine what would come next, and it wasn’t until late January that I found out. That Christmas morning, completely oblivious, I already had the gift nestled inside me. Just weeks after I sent that prayer out into space, I had become pregnant at forty-one years old (and using birth control).

After the initial shock (and boy oh boy…what a SHOCK) we figured out it must have happened right before Christmas, maybe even on Christmas Eve. I knew then my prayers (or my intent) had been heard and answered. Certainly not in the way I expected - but rarely are prayers answered the way we expect.

On the September night I went into labor, there was a freak electrical storm. Thunder and lightning, unseasonal for California, announced Evan's entrance into the world. I always tell him he rode into town on a lightning bolt.

Every birthday since, I’ve had this little angel-boy to spend my day with, running around the house, raising a ruckus like he always does, testing my patience, teaching me to love on the deepest level.

All three of my children were miracles that I hoped and prayed for. Each of them came to me in a different miraculous way, and each has taught me so much about the true nature of love.

As I was writing this, my son Evan, five years old, came into the room and asked what I was doing.

“I’m writing about how you – and how you came to me like a miracle.”

“What’s a miracle, mommy?”

Hmmm…had to think about how to define that to a five year old.

“It’s when…something really good happens to you right at the time you need it.”

“Oh. Like ice cream?”

“Yes honey, like ice cream.”

“Can I have ice cream after school?”

“Yes.” I smiled and held his little face in my hands.

“I love you,” he said.

And that, my friends, is the miracle.

Living In Possibility

It’s day four of my personally declared miracle week. So far, so good. I managed to fight off getting sick (with good thoughts and prayers) and have had a few "possibilities" come up, which have yet to materialize, but I have faith. Yes I do.

Yesterday I read a short article on Cheryl Richardson’s website about manifesting the desires of your heart. She told a story about taking a walk on the beach with a friend, and she declared, “I’m going to find a perfect sand dollar today.” She’d only found a few in her whole life, but that day- she would find one. An hour later, sure enough she did. Her friend was quite impressed. She then declared she’d find another for her friend, and…she did. The point of the story was – decide what it is you really want, and then set your intent on it.

Reading this, I smiled to myself, remembering how a girlfriend and I used to do something similar. We had this favorite thrift store we’d frequent in a busy part of L.A. where the parking was impossible. Every time we’d drive to the shop, we’d spend the whole twenty minute ride chanting PARKING SPACE, PARKING SPACE…and sure enough, we’d always get one right in front of the store. We didn’t think much of it. It was just our silly ritual, a superstition at best. But now I’m really pondering. Why would I put so much intent and energy into something little like that, but not put that same attention onto the things I really want in life - things I want much, much more than a parking space?

Am I afraid of asking for too much? Am I afraid that maybe the Universe is a limited place and there’s only so much goodness to go around (even though I absolutely know that’s not true)? Is there something in me that feels I don’t deserve abundance and rewarding work?

Maybe I don’t want to bother God with my petty requests when there are so many others who need help more than me. But I’m struggling this year. Really struggling on every level, and I want to be happy again. I want to be happy, peaceful, healthy and free from financial worry. I want to make a good living with the writing and music that I do.

So maybe I need to reinstate the PARKING SPACE chant, but this time redirect my intent.

HEALTH

FINANCIAL ABUNDANCE

PEACE IN MY HEART

PEACE IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD

HARMONY WITH ALL THOSE AROUND ME

ABUNDANT WORK AND OPPORTUNITY

But, unlike the parking chant, maybe I need to say it for more than twenty minutes. Maybe I need to say it, and pray it, every single day. Every single day. And see what happens…

Are Prayers Always Answered?

Some say that our prayers are always answered, but perhaps not in the way we expect. That’s a hard pill to swallow. Two weeks ago, as my dog Brandy lied on her side, emaciated and panting heavily, I prayed for a miracle. Two hours later she was dead, and I internalized that, thinking my prayers are never heard. But my friend Cindy said no- that was my answered prayer, it just didn’t come in the package I wanted. She said the miracle was that Brandy’s suffering had ended. I had a hard time seeing it that way.

This has been an intense, painful, and profound year. I will always remember 2010 as one of the worst of our lives and yet, it’s possible miracles were being shaped in the middle of the misery, miracles I may not be able to see at this time. It’s possible…

One of the awful events of this year was the ongoing nightmare with our violent neighbor and his vicious pitbulls. It began early this year when they moved in to the rental house next door. A few days later, their pitbulls who were running loose, came after us in our own yard. We first dealt with it in a neighborly way, addressing the new neighbors in a calm manner. Then the pitbulls attacked our friends’ Dalmation, sending her to the hospital. Twice. Then it happened again, and again to other neighborhood dogs, then their Shepard chased my pregnant daughter-in-law down the street snapping at her legs, and finally in May our dog was attacked. The neighbor’s scoffed at our $400 vet bill, as well as other neighbor’s vet bills. And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, the neighbor took it to a new level when he threatened my husband’s life. That was when we ran the background check on this loser and found out he had a previous arrest for assault with a deadly weapon – against a woman.

Troy and I are gentle people. We don’t name call, we don’t threaten, we don’t fight with people. But this awful situation put us all in danger, and like it or not, we had to fight. We put a restraining order on the guy. We got court orders against him and his dogs. The court orders were that he could only take his dogs out harnessed and muzzled only in the early morning or late evening, so other neighbors could walk their dogs safely during the day. He repeatedly violated this court order, staring me down as he walked by, his dogs barking and lunging at me.

For a year, we’ve had to endure the snarling at the fence every time we go into our yard. We couldn’t let Evan ride a bike or play outside at all. We could no longer enjoy the daily hikes that we’d taken every day for the past eleven years. I couldn’t go running in the beautiful hills- had to stay inside on my treadmill. We’ve been prisoners inside our own home, all the while hearing the constant barking and snarling next door as the pits fought each other over food or lunged at the fence at other neighbors who passed by on the street.

Every night I prayed and prayed for these dogs and their owners to go away.

And then last Friday, it all exploded. It was a gorgeous day, so Cindy and I took our five year olds and my French bulldog to the park for a picnic. The kids were playing in the sand, Cindy and I sitting on a picnic blanket with my little dog when to my horror, the pitbulls came running unaccompanied into the park. Amidst a lot of Oh my God Oh my gods…I swooped up my dog and jumped to my feet. Cindy screamed for the children to climb to the top of the jungle gym. Just at that moment the pits zeroed in on my dog in my arms, who they’ve been trying to attack through our backyard fence every day for months, knocking one of our fenceboards loose. They barreled toward me barking and snarling. I tossed my dog over the chain link fence that surrounded the children’s play area while Cindy screamed and waved a stick at the pitbulls. I then jumped over the fence, grabbed my dog and ran to the top of the jungle gym positioning myself in front of the kids. I screamed for Cindy to grab the steel trashcan and drag it in front of the entrance to the play area. Cindy stood behind the trashcan with a stick, ready to strike. I held the kids who were now frightened, because I was crying. Cindy called 911 and called my husband Troy. About a minute later Troy came running to the park, video camera in hand. The dogs charged toward him barking viciously. They’ve wanted a piece of him for a long time. They growl at him through our backyard fence, and every time their owner walks them they lunge at him, straining to break from their leashes. Now they were free and he was standing alone.

I screamed for him to get away but he stood unmoved, video camera running. When they got within a few feet of him, Troy still didn’t move. He was so full of rage at this point he was ready to take them on, and to my amazement, the dogs actually slowed down, then ran the other direction. I was stunned. Troy showed no fear, which seemed to unnerve the dogs (either that or they could see the ten foot tall guardian angel that was surely standing over us all).

I remained trapped at the top of the jungle gym with the kids and my dog, waiting for the police. For forty minutes those damn dogs ran loose, as Troy stood watch with a big stick, and Cindy ran home for help.

The entirety of our Friday was spent dealing with this ordeal. We had the police at our home, animal services officers, etc…and a million phone calls between. Once again, because of these neighbors, Troy lost a full day of work (in addition to the days spent in court and at Animal Services and filing police reports etc).

Is there a reason for all this godawful drama? Are we being taught to stand up to bullies, to be tougher? Are we just having our faith tested? I felt angry as I thought about how much I’ve prayed this year for those dogs to be gone, and how once again my prayers went unheard. But then another thought came. Maybe it took this terrifying ordeal to finally get animal services to do something more than post warnings, and for the courts to do something more than issue a piece of paper.

On Saturday morning Troy drove out to Animal Services to have a meeting with the lead sergeant. Cindy and I both wrote detailed reports of the event (never mess with two writers- the pen is mightier…as they say) which he turned in plus showed her the video of the pitbulls charging at him.

I continued to pray, even though I thought I wasn’t good at it.

Saturday night we were at a gig when Troy got the voicemail from Animal Services. After a year of hell, the officer called to tell us we could finally get a good night’s sleep knowing our neighborhood was safe. The pitbulls had been confiscated from the neighbors.

I couldn’t believe it. Maybe that horrific event was indeed the twisted answer to my prayers. There are a million other ways that scenario at the park could have played out, and believe me I stayed awake that night playing them out in my head. Just moments before, Evan and Olivia had been running races across the grass…just moments. And yet, we were all safe and whole.

What is to be made of all the madness of this year? I know from experience, sometimes it takes great distance from trauma to see anything positive in it. Troy and I have surely been changed but for the better? I’m not sure. Troy said to me yesterday “I may have won the war, but I’m not without scars from it.” (and as a writer I couldn’t help thinking what a great line that was). But it’s true. My arms and legs are bruised from throwing myself over the fence, but what’s worse is my bruised spirit. We are tougher, jaded, guarded - not who we wanted to be, and we are left wondering why.

I may never realize the reason for all of this - there may not even be one. Maybe the world really is just chaos. All I know is I won’t let those people destroy who I am. I choose to be a positive person, in spite of the ugly things that have transpired, and I’m continuing to pray, just because. My prayer today is of gratitude, I might even feel a jaded, guarded slight glimmering of hope …and I will continue to pray until I see a moving van pull up in front of that house.

I'm not sure what I know or what I believe any more. What do you think? Are prayers always answered?

** (As an aside, I want to make it known that I am an animal lover, but dangerous animals have no place in a neighborhood. I have known good-natured pitbulls, but the reality is certain dogs are prone toward aggressive behavior. Michael Vick wasn’t arrested for fighting golden retrievers or collies, and you don’t hear about toddlers being mauled to death by poodles. Pitbulls are fighters, and people who own them should be forced to obtain a license and to undergo intense training. Irresponsible potheads with police records like my neighbors should never be allowed to own them.)

Rethinking Faith

Strangely, it feels like Spring this November. The Sun is shining bright in California, and the fields outside my house are green, alive with flowers. Even though it's oddly unseasonal, I'm grateful for the respite.

I feel the fog lifting from my life, I think, I hope…All this year, we’ve been dog paddling just to stay above water, as life continued to throw us one curve ball after the next. Well, it was more extreme than curve balls…it would be more accurate to say we’ve been dodging bullets.

But now I am exhaling…I feel the change happening. I believe the storm is over for now, and I’m ready to rebuild. As I am walking through the tattered emotional wasteland of my life taking inventory, one of the things that got hit hardest was probably my faith. Faith in what?

Exactly.

I’ve just been trying to survive. No time for contemplating, musing. No time for meditation and centering, although it’s what I needed most. Yes- there were some frantic prayers bandied about…to the great unknown. And at times I felt I was being looked out for. By who? I don’t pretend to know.

But now…I miss that part of myself. The part who is hopeful and optimistic. The part who believes that there is a benevolent reason for all the things we survive.

I have no idea what I believe or how to get back to that girl I was before everything got so crazy. But I think prayer is a good start. Prayer to who? To what? I have no idea, but I’ll just throw it out there and see what happens…

My Cup Runneth Over

(Me, brother Ted, sister-in-law Heather who is married to my OTHER brother.)

It never ceases to amaze me… the regenerative power of the heart. So astounding how it can be shattered and scarred and keep on beating. How it can be abused and betrayed and keep on loving, and how it can grow to accommodate all the ones you love and still have room for more.

My heart has impressed me this weekend. On Friday, it was pounding out of my chest with overwhelming stress as I drove to LAX. I was on my way to pick up my brother and sister who flew in for my son Evan’s 5^th birthday– that was the good part. The bad part was every day last week some godawful event popped up to emotionally smack me upside the head until I was at my breaking point. So I was driving on the 405 highway in traffic, crying (who isn’t crying on the 405, seriously). Not knowing what else to do, I started to pray. Well, if you can call screaming at the top of my lungs over and over I NEED HELP, praying. And of course no one on the 405 found that unusual. I cried and screamed until I was at the airport, drying my tears, ready to embrace my family. And there they were, my Ted and Heather, angels sitting at the curb. I was so scattered I missed the turn-off three times and had to keep circling around the entire airport as they watched in disbelief.

When I finally got to them, we hugged like crazy, they jumped in my car and Heather told me about her journey that day. My darling girl had strep throat, but was determined not to let anything stand in her way. In Houston as she stood at the ticket counter running a fever, she got all woozy and puked in her purse, but still… she got on that plane. And here she was in sunny L.A. with her infected tonsils, little pukey purse and a smile, ready to go. Talk about a trooper.

(Family dinner at Monty's - where my oldest son Taylor was playing his Friday night gig)

For those of you who haven’t been reading my blog all this crazy year, let me introduce you to my family. Heather is married to my brother Ted, not the Ted that I picked up at the airport…the other Ted, the straight one. And they live in Texas with my dad, Ted, and my nephews who are not named Ted, even though my Dad pitched the idea. Heather is the glue in our family. If we fall out of touch, she’ll call and say “Talk to your dad” then put the phone on my Dad’s ear.

My other brother Ted, from Seattle, was the one who orchestrated the trip. He is the family organizer, photo director, party planner extraordinaire, and my twin soul. He wanted us all to be together for Evan’s birthday. We tried to get our other brothers Ted and Caleb to come too, but couldn't swing it. This is a new joy for us, spending birthdays together. You see, before I found out that my biological dad wasn’t dead, (seven years ago) we didn’t even know about each other. But now, we are as close and bonded (and crazy) as any family could be. So no matter what the cost, we squeeze in as many trips as humanly possible. No strep throat can stop us!

My loves, Heather and Ted. Doesn't she look good for having strep throat? Geez!

We spent the weekend laughing, dancing, eating, walking on the beach, sharing warm evenings with my friends, morning coffee on the deck, heart to heart talks. Then on Sunday we put together a homespun carnival for Evan’s birthday. And…wow…do I feel blessed by my amazing friends and family who pulled together to make Evan’s birthday so special. As I looked around - my chosen family, my sweet husband and kids- all laughing and smiling, everyone playing a role at the party, running the carnival games, helping set up, serving food…I realized – my prayer was answered. My lame backward prayer I NEED HELP, was answered beyond my wildest imaginings. I was surrounded by such mighty, fierce love all weekend. They not only helped me put on a party, they loved me, made me laugh, restored my soul, and glued all the pieces of my beat up heart back together.

It was a perfect weekend, and just what I needed. (Funny, I thought I needed a refill on Xanax…turns out I just needed love and laughter.)

Me, and Uncle "Spongebob" Ted, and Dani. We think Uncle Ted may have smuggled this costume in his luggage...can't find it anywhere. Hmmmm...

Today, the party’s over, my family has flown home, and I miss them so, but I am feeling strong. I am now ready to step back into the fray of my life with a full and grateful heart. So I today I say another prayer…and it goes like this:

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

(My girls! Heather, Cindy, me, Erin, Dani, Joy and Cristen who all helped me with the Carnival)