Pastoral Reflections

It’s been a crazy past couple of weeks for me. I told someone that I felt as though the wind was blowing me into a million different directions these last couple of weeks- ALL at the same time. I don’t love being super busy and need to cut down on SOME stuff, but I DO like having so much variety in my life.

Some of that variety has actually included attending two funerals within the span of 2 weeks. Now, while I do work for hospice, I actually don’t attend hardly any funerals because I work with the bereaved in the time period AFTER the death of their loved one. So it’s pretty rare that I attend any funerals, much less two within two weeks. One of the funerals was for a fellow coworker at hospice, and another one of the funerals was one that I was asked to officiate.

Some of you don’t get to see the “pastoral” side of me.
You see me as the quiet and innocent girl that works

out alongside you at the gym…or as your confident professor…or your awkward/energetic friend….or the guarded girl that’s hard to get to know. I embody all of these seemingly disparate roles, and I’m aware of being perceived as all of them. The subject of how I can exist in such paradoxical ways in different contexts is a subject for another blog post.

Regardless, I’d like to share my “pastoral” side with some of you that do not have the chance to witness it. And so, for this blog post, I’m simply going to share with you the sermon that I wrote for the funeral I officiated a couple of weeks ago. This sermon says a lot about where I’m at right now in terms of thoughts and feelings of the past couple of weeks.

 This funeral was kind of a funny circumstance- I was on call for a colleague’s parish while he was out of town. This colleague informed me that no one had ever died while he was on vacation…and then…go figure…only one day after he left town, someone in his congregation died. BOOM. I was suddenly charged with planning and officiating a funeral for a man that I had never met. What the hell was I going to do? Well, as any pastor or theologian knows, there are theological insights in every life situation. It’s just a matter of mining it.

I wrote the following sermon based on the famous Ecclesiastes verse (the family chose to have that passage for the funeral.) The very last few lines- the ones that I bolded- are the ones that I based the sermon on. I changed the deceased’s name….just because. And it’s written for preaching, not for reading. But since this is a blog…you’re getting the written version.

A reading from Ecclesiastes 3: 1-15

3For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
² a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
³ a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
⁴ a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
⁵ a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
⁶ a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
⁷ a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
⁸ a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

9 What gain have the workers from their toil? ¹⁰I have seen the business that God has given to everyone to be busy with. ¹¹He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover, he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. ¹²I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; ¹³moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil. ¹⁴I know that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it; God has done this, so that all should stand in awe before him. ¹⁵That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; and God seeks out what has gone by.

Some of you may or may not know that I am not Martin’s official pastor. Martin’s family belongs to this church, and as the reverend is out of town this week, I am filling in in his place. I am indeed a pastor; however, my particular ministry is actually with hospice- I provide support to people that are grieving the loss of a loved one. 

And so these past couple of days, I’ve been thinking pretty heavily about what I’m going to say for this homily section of Martin’s funeral service. You see, I never had the opportunity to meet Martin. I only met his family within the past week, and this was after Martin was already gone. And so unfortunately, I don’t have any special memories of my own to share about Martin. I have heard stories about him, I know some of the basics about his life, personality, and dreams- but I don’t have any of my own particular remembrances or perceptions that I can share.

What I know about Martin- I know only from his family- his daughter, his son-in-law, his daughter-in-law, and his brother.

And then- like it so often happens- I had a moment of incredible insight about just how significant it was that everything I knew about Martin came from his family. You see, I was reading the scripture text that the family picked out for this service, and one of the lines in the text simply jumped out on the page from me. It’s in the Ecclesiastes text- the first one that we read today. Verse 14, “I know that whatever God does, endures forever.”

“Everything that God does endures forever.” Everything that Martin has done- all of the lives that he has changed, all of the places that he has traveled to and lived- everything that has comprised his life- it endures forever. It goes on- it doesn’t stop- it can’t stop- there isn’t anything that can take it away. The very fact that I can know that Martin Pryor lived, the very fact that I can know that he was an educator and that he loved to go fishing with his beloved wife Amalia, the very fact that I knew that he had a witty sense of humor- it’s all evidence that everything Martin Pryor has done will endure forever. I didn’t personally know Martin Pryor. But because God’s creation is eternal and enduring, I am able to know him past the time of his earthly life. That is a power that is given to us by God, and it is a power that is awe-inspiring. Everything God does- including the creation of God’s child- Martin- it endures forever. 

And not only am I able to know about Martin Pryor and witness his life after his death, but so are others as well. Martin was an incredible educator and devoted much of his life to education. The students that he taught and the students that they will teach- Martin is the one that started that ripple effect. Martin’s ability to reach others and incite a passion for teaching and learning- that continues to influence people to this day, and it will continue well into the years to come. It makes me smile to think about his students teaching other students- to imagine the possibility of Martin teaching one of his students about elementary education in his time as a professor, and the way that that student could eventually teach young children about reading, and imagination. Who only knows where that succession of teaching would take that hypothetical child?  His family informed me that his students loved him because he empowered them to do the talking and to construct their own ideas. What a gift he was able to give them- the gift of being able to form their own identity and ideas. I can only imagine how they continued to use that in their lives as they innovated ideas in their careers and with their families. Again, what Martin Pryor has done here on earth- it endures, and there is not enough power in this world that could begin to take that away. God created Martin, and we will continue to know Martin, to hear his stories, to see how he influenced the lives of others, and to witness the ripple down effect of his teachings. What God gave endures.

The next line in that verse states that, “Nothing can be added to it.” To me, that says a couple of things. First, it’s the idea that God creates us just as we are to be. Martin was created and lived exactly how God wanted- he was God’s own creation- and thus there was nothing that could be added to Martin to make him more worthy than he already was. The second thing it also says is that Martin’s life is enough. That everything that Martin did- his teaching, his writing for the newspaper, his service in the military, the raising of his children and grandchildren, the moving over 30 times- he did so much, and there is nothing that can be added to it. Martin filled and lived his life with abundance, and there is nothing more that could make it more complete. Martin’s life was fulfilled.

And finally, the final line in that statement says that, “nor anything taken away from it.” One of the most powerful lessons that I have learned from my time in hospice is that there is nothing that is stronger than love. And death- for as heart wrenching, for as difficult, for as confusing, and for as soul-sucking as death can sometimes be- not even death has the power to take away love. Death ends earthly life, but it cannot touch love. We all sit here today, simultaneously mourning and celebrating the life of Martin Pryor. And you will leave here today, and you will still love Martin. And tomorrow, you will love Martin. And time will pass by as it is want to do, and yet- we will all still love and remember Martin. Time, death, none of it- it can’t erase Martin’s life, nor can it take away love. The beginning of Ecclesiastes talks about how there is a time and season for everything. And the very exception to those verses is love. Love doesn’t have a season. It’s beyond time, and it’s beyond death. Nothing can take away from Martin’s life and the love we have for him.

And finally, the last sentence in that Ecclesiastes reading states, “that which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; God seeks out what has gone by.”

God is eternal and sees the world differently than us- God doesn’t see the world in terms of past, present, or future like we do. God sees all of that existing at the same time, and God sees us in our entirety. And since God always sees us in our entirety, it doesn’t matter where we are in our life- God is always seeking us, and God is always with us. And to me, this is the greatest image of all. Whether we are small children, whether we are in the middle of our life, whether we are happy, whether we are grieving, whether we are already dead- God continues to see us in our entirety, and God continues to seek to be with us. And that means that God continues to be with Martin now. That means that God continues to seek to have a relationship and closeness with Martin.

None of us know much about what heaven is like, and the Bible doesn’t actually give us much description. But that doesn’t matter. Because what we do know that God is always, always seeking us and wanting to be with us. And that means that right now, Martin continues to be with God. What that looks like precisely- we can’t know, and that’s okay. Because we know that Martin is embraced by God, and that is more than enough.

My heart breaks for us as I know that we are starting our journey of grief of missing Martin. You will continue to feel sorrow for many, many days. And my hope is that you reconcile living with that sorrow, because that sorrow is eternal love and longing, and it is a part of being human. But know that alongside that sorrow that Martin’s legacy continues to influence people every day, know that he lived life with abundance, know that nothing can take away your love of him, and know that he is embraced by God. And you, too, are will continue to be sought and embraced by God as you continue to live.

Mom

I haven’t written since 2016 and I think I’ve only written once since LJ has been born. I’ve dropped the ball on several occasions for weeks that I said that I would post, but didn’t as something inevitably consumed my week. I’m pretty much the weakest link when it comes to this sisters’ blog. And here we are again on a Thursday evening and I’m about to blow my week…yet again. I’m tired. I got little rest this past weekend as we celebrated my promotion on Friday (yay!) and St. Paddy’s Day on Saturday (fun!). LJ has been sick since Tuesday (sad face), I was out on Wednesday with him (another sad face), and now I have three billion things that I have to catch up on for work (emoji with staring big eyes). Oh, AND we are trying to put our house on the market so I’m running around every night trying to keep the place manageable for when we finally list it and have our open house. Whew.

In my head I have all these good ideas for a post (update on being a working mom, my promotion to Major, updates on LJ, a rant on the lack of maternity care in the proposed health care bill, etc)  but I’m just going to keep it short. I’m just going to write the post and consider it good enough.

Originally, when planning for my week to post, I was going to write about my promotion because I knew it would be a significant, happy event for me that I would want to remember. However, fortunately our Public Affairs office already did a pretty spectacular job capturing that on social media. So I’m just going to tell you two short stories from this weekend that left an impression on me.

The first is about the best card I received as a part of my promotion and congratulatory wishes. LJ’s daycare had “helped” him make me a card and I received it Thursday night after he got home. It read, “At work you are now a Major” on the front and on the inside it read “But at home you will always be Mom.” The damn card made me tear up. First of all, I thought it was pretty special that his daycare would take time out to make me such a personalized card. Second, it is so true. At work I wear my uniform, for the most part look somewhat put together, and for the most part have my work organized and know what I am doing. But at the end of the day, I’m still just mom. I come home and put on my robe that has spit up, food, and snot smeared all over it (see above unedited picture!). I crawl on the floor with my son. I make funny faces and babble baby talk. LJ doesn’t care what rank I wear or what I’ve accomplished at work that day. All he cares about is getting snuggles from me and that’s all that matters.

The second is about an interaction I had with another mom friend that came to our St. Paddy’s party this past weekend. She has a five month old. I haven’t seen her or met him since he was born so this was my first time seeing them together as mom and son. I could have asked what seem like the obligatory questions for a new mom: How’s he sleeping? Is he a “good” baby? However, I’ve learned from my own experience that those questions are not at all helpful. First of all, I despise how a baby’s sleep has become the holy grail of parenting. Like somehow if your kid sleeps through the night, you are a good parent. Second, what is a “good” baby anyway? One that never cries? They all cry. How can a baby be “bad”?! At any rate, I stayed away from those questions (and recommend you do too, readers!) and simply just asked how she was doing being back at work and balancing all of life’s obligations. We vented to each other for awhile and admitted to each other that most of the time we have no idea what we are doing. And at the end of the night, I made sure to tell her she was doing a great job. And the next morning, I texted her the same thing. That she was doing a great job and was an awesome mom. Because that, folks, in my experience, can mean the world when you are a mom (or a dad) in the thick of things – having someone that listens and empathizes and someone that tells us we are doing a good job.

 

 

Lock Him Up

Wake the fuck up, people. I seriously can't stand the hypocrisy of late. Specifically, I'm talking about Pence's use of an AOL account to conduct state business. For an overview, click on this:

https://www.boston.com/news/politics/2017/03/02/pence-used-a-private-email-account-to-conduct-state-business?s_campaign=bcom%3Asocialflow%3Afacebook

First of all, who the fuck uses an AOL account? Is AOL still in business? Seriously if I have to take shit for still owning a Yahoo! account I submit having an AOL account is positively primeval. Second, where are the outraged mobs that were calling for Hilary Clinton's head? Why are we just subtlety pissed off when a geriatric man uses a private email account but filled with hate and disgust when a woman uses a private email server? I kniw, you may be thinking, "Hey asshole, the Governor's representive said he didnt break any laws." Well, news flash folks.  Neither did Hilary. But she was judged like she had. And notably, i havent heard anyone questioning the results of the Pence AOL account inquiry. No, we accept that a man did not break the law much more readily than when a woman is involved. 

Deep down, you know the answer. Deep down you know it's because many people carry a deep seeded hatred for women who don't "behave." This is not political. Take the politics out of it and compare the behavior and the corresponding public reaction. There's your answer. Don't try to talk yourself out of it or deny it. The quicker the denial, the greater the truth. Sexism is alive and well.  Stop being part of the problem. Stop blindly following the crowd without evaluation of motive. Just stop. Have the courage to be who you are and stand up for what is right. And if equality still poses a problem for you, remember that if you can convince someone he is better than the some other sex, race, gender, ethnicity, etc., he won't notice his own pocket being picked. Hell, convince a person he is better than someone else and he will actually empty his pockets for you. BOOM. Finken out.

Unfiltered

Even though it is nearly the end of February, this is my first blog of 2017.  For those that are closest to me, you may be aware that I ended 2016 with a bang.  Not the good kind of bang like the sound of fireworks on the Fourth of July but rather the kind of bang that brings with it destruction like the sound of a grenade exploding into soft earth.  I’m not ready to write about the events leading up to the end of 2016 but I tell you these things because for the entirety of 2017 I have felt, well, gutted.  My muse had fallen silent in the wake of 2016.  The asshole in me had finally been quelled.  As a result of this paradigm shift, I found myself purging friends on Facebook—people I went to school with, people I knew from work, people I knew from the Army—all were defriended.  I had simply reached the limit of my tolerance for putting on airs.

For some time now, I have hidden my true feelings on many things because I was fearful that I was too radical or that my views differed from those around me.  Before I took any action, at least for the past two years, I had to evaluate whose ego I would be threatening and how I could soften my approach or mince my words in order to make the person not feel threatened by me.  No longer free to be who I was, I gradually became someone I wasn’t.  I became overly concerned with what people thought of me, never acknowledging that if people liked me for who I was pretending to be, they still didn’t really like “me.”  My anxiety skyrocketed due to the fact I was always second guessing my approach or worried when I upset someone that I had not done enough to stroke their fragile ego.  Writing a single email became an hourly endeavor as I poured over every word and evaluated it for how it would be perceived.  Apologies ran rampant.  I’m sorry for asking this, I’m sorry for bothering you, I’m sorry for doing my job.  This translated into I’m sorry for being who I am and I am even sorrier for being here and posing a threat to your perceptions of reality. Fuck that noise.   So, today, for the first time, I am choosing to write about a controversial topic.  Read at your own peril for this will be unfiltered. 

The 2016 election highlighted many issues.  Let’s start from that premise because I want to start on common ground.  It was by no means, no matter which party you support, a high point in the history of American politics.  I think we can all agree on that.  But no matter who you supported, I think it is important, perhaps even critically imperative, that we at least attempt to put aside bipartisan politics so we can unpack the blatant sexism that pervaded the election because this issue affects our country as a whole, regardless of your preferred party or candidate.  I could have found other examples but the election was probably the most glaring example I have and so I am choosing to go down this road with the hopes you will keep an open mind, regardless of your feelings about Trump or Clinton.  I would have written the same article had Sarah Palin been the first woman nominee for President on a major party ticket.  That didn’t happen and so I have to use the example reality provided me. 

From the outset, I am disgusted by the obsession with what professional women wear.  How many times during the course of the election did we hear the word pantsuit?  Why was no one talking about Trump’s tie/suit combinations?  We cared more about what Clinton was wearing than her agenda, regardless of whether you agreed with it or not.    My older sister, Amy, was working during the inauguration and overhead a comment about how the dress Michelle Obama wore made her butt look big.  I happen to think Trump’s ass is generally huge (unlike his hands – ha ha) but no one is out there talking about how pleated pants make his butt look even bigger.  Again, instead of commenting about her relative success or failure as a First Lady, people chose to comment on her appearance.  Why is this?  Why do we care so much about what women wear INSTEAD OF WHO THEY ARE?  This is not “just” the way things are, the way they have always been or the way they should be.  We need to name this.  It is fucking sexism and I’m so tired of it.  Both men and women don’t seem to understand sexism and they seem to want to deny its existence.  Even when presented with evidence, there is an automatic denial.  It couldn’t possibly be sexism. 

Take for example, the fact that David Petraeus pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge of mishandling classified information in April of 2015.  What led up to this plea of guilt, was an extramarital affair with Paula Broadwell, a biographer.  Petraeus provided classified information to her during the course of the affair.  This next point is important folks:  BOTH THE FBI AND THE DOJ recommended bringing felony charges against Petraeus.  In order to avoid a tawdry trial, Petraeus and his legal team worked out a plea deal where he would plead guilty to a misdemeanor, thereby negating the need to proceed with a felony indictment.  While there was some disagreement about whether Petraeus would prevail in a court of law, there was little public resentment voiced over the resolution.  I don’t recall much back lash, if any.  This is evidenced by the fact that Petraeus’ name was repeatedly floated as a potential appointee in President Trump’s Cabinet. 

Contrast this with what happened to Mrs. Clinton.  Mrs. Clinton used a private email server for official communications in her capacity as Secretary of State instead of the official State Department email accounts.  Those communications included correspondence that would RETROACTIVELY be marked classified by the State Department. Although none of the emails were marked classified, policy dictated that unmarked classified information should be treated the same as information marked as such. All of the emails originated in five other intelligence agencies and were all sent from unclassified systems, thus violating the very same policies Clinton was alleged to have violated.  Unlike in the Petraeus case, the FBI did not recommend charges against Clinton.  Part of the difficulty in the case involved the mens rea or intent requirement.  Specifically, it would have been very difficult, if not impossible to prove Clinton knew the emails violated the policy when the information had not been marked as classified prior to being sent from another intelligence agency.  Also unlike the Petraeus case, there was no evidence someone with unauthorized access received the information.  However, Clinton was vilified in the court of public opinion.  I remember being at the Iowa State Fair when then Governor-Pence was visiting and a mob of angry people began chanting, “LOCK HER UP, LOCK HER UP.”  I do not recall anyone saying such things about Petraeus, who was allowed to quietly resign as director of the CIA, plead guilty to a crime and less than two years later, be considered trustworthy enough to be a contender for a cabinet position.  Petraeus’s conduct was arguably worse, and yet, Clinton was persecuted and Petraeus was not.  I have to wonder if deep down part of the assumptions made about what happened in the investigation were based on the fact Clinton was a woman, and therefore perceived as “careless.”  As a result, even though the respective experts in the field—the FBI and the DOJ—did not find sufficient evidence that the elements of a crime were established, the public assumed the elements were met without even knowing, understanding or likely being aware of what the elements of the crime were and how they might be proved in a court of law.  Without knowing the facts or the standard of proof, the public was much more eager judge and condemn a woman on bad facts than it was to do the same to a man on fairly good facts. 

Regardless of your political persuasion, if you can’t see the sexism in that, you probably never will.  If you do see it and "get it," then i implore you to stop being part of the problem. Be aware of sexism and name that shit--don't try to call it something else like "the way things are." Do not ignore it, deny it or avoid it. And for fucks sake, do not participate it or condone it. As long as we, as a society tolerate reporting on professional women's ensembles instead of their accomplishments or qualifications s, the media will continue to report it. Stop being part of the problem and state your opinions. We cannot continue to tolerate, or worse, take sick pleasure from tearing down some poor female who is trying to be seen as a professional because she wore a fucking pantsuit or a dress that did not flatter a size 0 ass. That's some straight up bullshit.

If I have offended you, I can tell you it wasn’t my intent.  However, I will not apologize.  I am sick and tired of being apologetic for having an opinion that might be different than yours.  My Higher Power sculpted me through many trials and tribulations to be this asshole.  Might as well let her out, at least once in a while.  Welcome to the era of the unfiltered Jill. 

Patriot's Day-"It's Everybody's Marathon"

This is a story I have not shared with many people, in its entirety. To this day, I sometimes get too emotional to finish the story when I'm talking with someone. I'd like to share it here because I can still type if I start crying (I started crying thinking about what I was going to write).

It was April 15, 2013, and I was sitting at my computer working on a few things. I knew my sister Molly was running the Boston Marathon that day. I was super excited for her and knew I would get to hear everything about it after she finished. All of a sudden, I got a text (I can't even remember who it was from) that said something like, "What's going on in Boston?"

I had no idea what the person was talking about (at this point, I can't remember if I looked on the internet and found anything out or not...it's a little blurry). Not much time passed and I got a call from an unknown number. My usual policy is to not answer those but because of that text about Boston, I was anxious and on high alert so I answered it.

It was my sister Molly. She had been one mile from the finish line when the bombs exploded (this is the part of the story where my tears start). Somehow, once they started clearing runners off the course, she had gone into an apartment building and found the one apartment that still had a land line. Luckily, we had been talking quite a bit that past year because of various stressful and dramatic elements in our personal lives. Molly had my phone number memorized because we usually only had time to talk during the day and she called me from a land line...so my number was the only one she had memorized that day because everyone else she called from her cell phone.

She told me that she was okay but she wasn't able to get a hold of her boyfriend (now husband) and his mom. She wanted me to text them and let them know where she was and that she was okay. I texted them but cell lines were jammed...it was a while before I was able to talk to him. And I didn't know it at the time, but he and his mom had been near the finish line, waiting for Molly to cross. They were helping people who had been injured when the bomb went off from inside a store for running gear near the blast site.

This is all difficult for me to think about on a number of levels. All three of the people I knew there...it could have been any or all of them that were killed or maimed...and I am so unbelievably grateful that it wasn't. Then, when I think that, I think how sad I am for all of the people and families who cannot say the same thing and I try to remind myself that you can feel two things at once...grateful for my family and sad for those beautiful people who lost much more...and I don't have to feel guilty about that.

It's hard for me to think about the people who were running and those who were there supporting those runners in one of the most iconic running events in the world. I imagine them joyous and excited and that was all torn away in one horrific instant...in some cases, it was torn away forever. I think about how life is so weird and if Molly and I hadn't been talking incessantly about whatever it was we were talking about so many times that she had my number memorized, she wouldn't have been able to get a hold of me or anyone. She was okay, so obviously something would have worked out but in the meantime, the angst would have been unbearable. I think about my brother-in-law who, to this day, cannot go back to the finish line of the marathon...and all of the other lives that were traumatized that day. And I think about how in the aftermath, a city and a nation pulled together and managed to find love and unity in the midst of fear and hate.

I saw the movie Patriot's Day a couple weeks ago. The movie really brought to life what was hard to imagine from reading about that day or hearing about it through the news. I cried throughout pretty much the entire movie. That day is one of those days that will forever be emblazoned in my memory.

Some of you who follow the blog and a lot of you who know me personally know that I qualified for Boston Marathon and I am running it on Patriot's Day this April 17. I've been a runner for almost my entire adult life and Boston was always a far off dream for me...something I'd hoped for and secretly didn't know if that dream would ever come true. Even when I qualified, it was kind of an accident (read my post "Bumbling and Beating the Drum to Boston").

Boston is special for that reason and it is emotional and even more special for me because of Patriot's Day 2013. I think about being there and running and I get emotional. When it's cold and I don't want to go for a run, I think about that day in 2013 and I think how grateful I am to be out running and how I will run for all of those people, runners and non, who were traumatized and terrorized that day and the following days. I might be crying the entire marathon but I will run and be grateful for every mile.

P.S. Molly ran Boston the very next year and finished the marathon. I admire her greatly for that. I am truly blessed to have such a strong, beautiful, fearless woman as my sister and one of my best friends.

P.P.S. There is a new documentary called BOSTON that will be released April 14, the Friday before Patriot's Day. Just watching the trailer was amazing. BOSTON

Dissident Daughters Holiday: Continued Family Reflection (and Diatribe!)

Last year, I wrote this blog post: Fighting Family Insulation.

For those of you that are unable to read the entire post again, I will offer a brief summary. Basically, I write about my concern that our culture is too focused on having one nuclear family and that we are too narrow in who we define as our “immediate” family. I strongly believe that this is to our culture’s detriment as we find ourselves either lonely (because we have such a limited understanding of who can be considered our close family), or else we overburden a few individuals to meet all of our needs.

I don’t have a singular answer to this cultural predicament because (like most issues) it is very complex, and it also would require many societal restructurings.

However. I do want to write about the Dissident Daughter Christmas because I am so happy with how our family organizes the holidays now. I also believe that the structuring of our family Christmas (as well as our priorities) is the beginning of a model for how we can reimagine family relations.

Now, before I get started, let me offer a disclaimer. I don’t mean to state that every family should copy our exact holiday celebrations, nor do I mean to imply that our family is without issue (because every single one of the Dissident Daughters could easily describe dysfunctional dynamics that are abound in our family system.) But still, I think there is something useful to be gleaned here about how we restructure our understanding of family and how different members are connected to one another.

First, the holidays are a BIG DEAL for the Dissident Daughters and the people that we love. The fact that they are a big deal means that it is a significant priority that we see one another for the holidays- it’s simply a given fact. It doesn’t matter who, where, or what you are in life- it’s a given that WE WILL SEE YOU. Sometimes I feel sad when I hear people talk about how they won’t see their parents for every holiday once they are dating someone because they will have to split their time. They seem to take it as a given that this has to happen- it’s almost as though it as benchmark of adulthood. Once you find someone to date seriously, you apparently have to loosen all other familial ties. Now, don’t get me wrong- I do realize that the more people there are in a family system, it does become more complicated to coordinate time together. But - I just HATE that our society is structured so that we try to only have one nuclear family. It’s almost as though the implicit, underlying belief is this: “Oh, I’m dating someone! This person is now MY PERSONAL FAMILY and it’s the most important FAMILY I HAVE! My parents and my siblings (my former nuclear family), now they are my SECOND TIER family.” No one actually thinks these words, but our decisions certainly reflect this line of thing. And I simply don’t like the presupposition that we have to create family hierarchies. This is (as I have argued in my previous post) vastly to our detriment in a variety of ways. Moreover, it’s a bit nonsensical. Why do we have to create hierarchies of love? Love is love, family is family, and it’s one of the only things in the world that is able to grow so beautifully with the more that you give.  So why do we have to create these crazy ass hierarchies of who is most important?

…Back to the holidays. Given that holidays are a priority, we will see each other. It doesn’t matter how many people are added to the family system, we will see you. So, here’s what we did:

1)     For Thanksgiving, a crapload of us went out to Boston to celebrate. Molly, Larry, baby LJ, and Larry’s parents all live in Boston. And to visit them this year was Dissident Daughter Jill, her spouse John, their children Trevor and Brooklyn, myself, Dissident Daughter Kristen, and our father.  The host of the big Thanksgiving Day is Larry’s parents (Leah and Larry Sr.) And they have just an incredible number of people over to celebrate the holiday in addition to the clan I just mentioned- their other son Eric…former neighbors…cousins….etc. It’s just a big gathering of amazing people.
Here is what I love about this gathering:

·        Molly and Larry don’t have to “split” their holiday between each of their family of origins. Because we all celebrate together, there doesn’t have to be any “splitting” of time! We can all just enjoy everyone’s company all at once.

·         It expands who is considered in the family. I am not related by blood to Larry Sr. or Leah, nor are they even my in-laws! However, they are starting to be a part of “my family.” I have memories of celebrating with them at Molly and Larry’s wedding in St. John…we’ve started a tradition of going out there for Thanksgiving…they are warm and welcoming people. It doesn’t matter how we are or are not officially related- what matters is that we have experiences and memories together.
That’s family.

Family in Boston for Thanksgiving

2)     Meanwhile, our mother celebrated Thanksgiving in Iowa with Dissident Daughter Amy, Amy’s partner Brett, and Brett’s parents. (Both Amy and my mother had been out to Boston earlier that fall already.) Same thing here- I loved that people did not have to “split holidays” because of the in-laws and that they were able to simply celebrate and be together. Related by blood or not…officially married or not…it didn’t matter. Everyone who was in Iowa opened themselves up to everyone and celebrated together.

3)     We spent Christmas in Iowa. Christmas is a big giant shit show shindig for us.  It included all of the dissident daughters (Amy, Jill, Molly, Anne, and Kristen), our parents (Tom and Colleen), husbands of the dissident daughters (John and Larry, and partner Brett), children of the dissident daughters (Trevor, Brooklyn, and LJ), in-laws (John’s mother, Hope) and Kristen’s old college roommate (Shanice!). And again, it was a bunch of people celebrating together that had an incredible breadth of diverse life situations. Some of the people there were married. Some of the people were single and not dating anyone. Some of the people were in committed relationships. Some of the people were actually divorced (From one another, no less! The parents of the Dissident Daughters are divorced, and yet they spend holidays together with everyone else.) One of the individuals present was widowed at a relatively young age. Some of the people had children. Some of the people did not. Some of the people were related by blood. Some of the people were not. We all gathered together for 4-5 days, and we ate, played games, watched movies, laughed, argued, got each other sick, and just simply spent a LOT of time together with EVERYONE.

I just love how our family does holidays because it means that NO ONE is excluded (regardless of their life situation), we have a lot of time together, and it also means that I am blessed to have SO MANY PEOPLE in my family. We used to do the split holiday thing, and IT SUCKED. For example, we used to split time between the parents of the Dissident Daughters because they were divorced. Additionally, Jill and John used to go to Sioux City to be with John’s Mom on Christmas Eve, and then they would spend Christmas Day with Jill’s family. They also did the “split” thing.

     
And I will tell you (and I think others would agree), that it sucked when we did this. It sucked because people would inevitably be shorted on time. It sucked because other people would be so harried trying to make it to different places that they couldn’t even properly enjoy the holiday or the time they did have with loved ones.  It felt as though everyone “lost” to some degree. For those that didn’t have a partner or young children, they lost out on family time because they had to share what family they did have left with so many others. And for those that did have a partner and young children, they lost because they had  to race around trying to make everyone else happy. It was…it was like people were yet again the victim of our societal arrangements. That because our society is so limited in who we consider our nuclear family, we inevitably are shorted and lose in some way. We don’t receive enough, or we give too much.

Screw that. Just screw it. I love that this year, we said “screw it” to split holidays. This year, John’s mom came and celebrated along with us. Our divorced parents spent the holiday together. Kristen’s old college roommate was present for some of the festivities. It just seems like such a win-win situation to me. Everyone gets to spend more time with each other, no one has to feel different or singled out based on their life situation, and the number of people you have in your family grows. John’s mother, Hope, is also not my blood relative or even my own in-law. But I’ve spent so much time with her the past 10 years that it feels like we are related. Again, it’s the memories, shared experiences, and connections that make family. And she’s certainly a part of mine now, as well as my sisters, parents, nieces, nephews, in-laws, cousins, friends, etc. and etc. My family keeps growing, and I love it. We laugh, we argue, we get annoyed, we get ecstatic. We are-in short- simply family.

Don’t create hierarchies for your family members and family systems. Don’t limit who you consider a part of your family or who you love. Don’t make decisions simply because it seems like “that’s what everyone else does” or “that’s just the way it is.” It’s so easy for us to fall into these traps because our societal arrangements basically make it impossible for us to think outside of those lines. But I want to impress upon you that staying within the bounds of those strict arrangements are detrimental to your well-being (and please see my previous blog post for strong examples.) And I strongly believe that if we can all continue to find ways to step outside of the lines, we will open ourselves up to new relationships and additional ways of being in community with one another.

Our family has made a step in this direction with our holidays. Help us imagine and create other ways that we (and others) can take more. 

The Ghost of Christmas Past

I am in the holiday mood and I don't want to write a blog that will get me all fired up and in a rage. I feel happy and warm with the holiday spirit and I want to share that with all of you. So, if you will humor me, I want to take a walk with the Ghost of Christmas Past.

One of my favorite Christmas memories is sitting in the dark, watching the tree lights, with Christmas music in the background. Growing up, it seemed so magical and exciting. I can still recall the feeling I had inside, only at Christmas. We would put our sleeping bags by the Christmas tree and sleep downstairs by it some nights. Of course, not THE night...when it got close to Christmas, we had no desire to sleep by the tree, lest we scare Santa Claus away.

Our tradition was to hang our stockings along the staircase...and we knew Santa had come because he would take down all of the stockings and put each person's stocking by her (or his, for my dad...lol) pile of goodies. We'd sneak down, sometimes in the middle of the night, to check if the stockings were still up. When I discovered the stockings missing, my heart would leap and I would be flooded with excitement and anticipation.

I remember one of the more daring and dramatic Santa Claus occurrences was one year when we went to Midnight Mass. When I was in grade school, the parish still had the Midnight Mass at midnight (it's earlier now). We looked forward to this as kids because we got to stay up late! That year, the stockings were gone when we got home from church! (Events such as these were clear evidence of SC's existence provided to the naysayers at school.)

Speaking of evidence, one year, Santa made an actual appearance, IN PERSON, to Jill and I. We were all sitting in the living room when we heard a knock on the door. Jill and I answered it and there was Santa! He personally delivered our toys that year and we got a picture with him (now there was physical proof!).

One story we like to give Jill shit about is the year she wanted a My Pretty Pony waterfall. She didn't get it when all of the presents were found and she wanted it so badly, I think she started to cry. My parents couldn't take the sight of her disappointment so they told us to check outside and we found the pony waterfall laying in the snowbank by the door. Santa must have dropped it on his way in! It turned out, when my parents were setting out the piles of gifts, they thought the piles were uneven, so they took one of Jill's gifts out to be returned. When they saw how dismayed Jill was, they devised a plan to stage a Santa Claus blunder.

I also have fond memories of driving around Denison, bundled up in the back seat of the car, looking at all of the Christmas lights and singing Christmas carols. The ones with a lot of lights were deemed "lighthouses". Mental notes were made to pay these houses a visit on the drive the following year.

Denison also had an actual little house the town put up every year where we could go see Santa (this also seemed pretty legit when it came to belief...I mean, there was a house!). I remember and we still have a picture of Molly screaming in terror as Santa holds her and poses for a picture. She was 10...just kidding...I think she was two.

My mom would make sugar cookies (let me tell you right now, for the record, I have never tasted a sugar cookie that can match hers) in a bunch of different Christmas shapes and we would all sit down to frost them together. As the tradition progressed, we came up with contests (ugliest, creative and the most recently added "it was good until..." category...see picture) and each person picked cookies s/he had decorated to enter into the contest. We all voted and let me tell you...since we are Aleschs, the contest was always taken very seriously and documented with pictures, for posterity.

There are cookie stories that live in infamy, to this day...like the time I tried to be super creative and stuck a Reese's cup on Santa's cookie sack (my thinking...it was brown, like his bag...brilliantly clever). Turns out, not so much and it gets brought up every time we frost cookies (no one would eat it!). Anne also still takes some very serious ribbing for her cookies as a child...she would pile every decorative bead and sparkle and frosting color on one cookie. Those were always "left for Santa" because they were pretty much inedible!

There are 17 years between Kristen and I, so I felt fortunate that the Christmas magic was extended into my adult life. Santa Claus still came to all of us because Kristen was young. He still took the stockings down and put them by our gifts. And even though I didn't like to get up as early when Kristen found the stockings were gone, I enjoyed the magic that I still felt and the warmth of enjoying that time with my family.

As the years have passed, our Christmases have looked different from year to year. The year Jill was deployed in Afghanistan, we took a soldier nutcracker with us wherever we went and took our picture with it, so she "was there with us" (Kurt Warner even signed it that year at the Fiesta Bowl parade!).

We have added people to our family and shared our time with other families and friends, which has enriched our lives and memories. I like thinking back on my Christmas memories and enjoy the feeling when a Christmas carol evokes a memory (The Oak Ridge Boys Christmas and Mannheim Steamroller are essentially the soundtracks to my Christmas memories). I hope you all have the same simple, beautiful, funny, heartfelt, nostalgic memories, whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or like me these days, enjoy getting together with family and friends to celebrate our lives, light and love together.