In Honor of Peak 8's Black Diamonds, Breckenridge

Nearly four years ago, I chose to make Colorado my home because of this season called winter. White fluffy goodness spread over mountain peaks, speckled with fur trees and ski lifts. Could it get any better? Keystone, Aspen, Vail, Loveland, The Beave, Arapahoe Basin, Winter Park, Copper... and then Breckenridge. The latter 8 I found much to my liking, Breck not so much.

When I first moved to CO, I was invited to stay at a friend's ski in ski out condo at the base of Peak 9, Breckenridge. I thoroughly enjoyed being able to roll out of bed, brush teeth, have a little breakfast, and hop on the ski lift. No complaints there. I also enjoyed the fact that when we were done skiing and had soaked in the hot tub awhile, we could just walk outside the door and be in a charming little mountain town filled with art galleries, gear shops, ski town bars, and nice restaurants. It is a picturesque place, the site of Dumb and Dumber's "Aspen."

But the skiing, I wasn't crazy about. Breck requires a lot of traversing and cat walks to get across the mountain, you've gotta ski a green to get to a black. In my past three speed-thirsty years, I have reluctantly skiid Breck because that's where my ski buddies were going. Not my fav, I always said.

Well the chips turned when Dan recently introduced me to the "Runs off Chair 6" Peak 8. There are about five nice long bump runs, all of a fairly equal challenge, and located in somewhat of a valley where the sun does not create "surprise" ice under the snow. More recently I have become like a kid standing behind the rope at Disney Land, Can we go in? When are they gonna cut the rope? I want those runs, the runs off Chair 6, Peak 8. I want them bad.

Those are the runs that I have gotten down before, and I can get down again. They are the runs that make my quad muscles burn, and leave me at the bottom lusting to go back up and conquer it just one more time. Its kind of like going surfing, I can't get enough.

I like the moguls because they challenge me, well first they scare me, and then once I get into the middle of them, I am determined to get down... and then they don't scare me anymore, they are merely obstacles to be overcome, obstacles that will make my quads and my lust burn more.

As I was making my way down recently, Dan was a mere speck at the bottom of the run, it was just me and the mountain... I realized that with moguls, you often times choose your course, you have to, but inevitably (for me at least), speed will cause me to change it, or perhaps I will catch an edge and have to take a different route through the bumps, then choosing another course, always planning my decent a few yards out. It can be dangerous, as I am a mogul-amateur, to plan my decent all of the way down. I choose my route, just a few yards, a few bumps ahead, and when derailed from this path, I adjust and choose another.

I laughed recently when a friend of mine told me that her younger sister has a five and ten year plan for her life. I didn't laugh at this young woman, but I laughed at the irony... of life. And I thought of my lesson from the mountain.

No doubt I need intention, a goal in mind, a plan for achieving that goal in order to get anywhere that I want to be. I carve out my own life, I make it what I want, absolutely. But what about that place where I get going just a little too fast, and I have to take a small detour in order to not ski out of control... then I find I'm on a new path, having to navigate a new way down, and perhaps a better way. And what about that edge that I catch, not knowing its coming, I may lose my bearings for a moment and have to reroute in order to maintain control on my skiis. And then there are those places where it gets a little steep, and I begin to feel like I'm in over my head, much in the same way I did on a surf board, when the ocean was angry, and I knew I was out of my league, and needed to go back to the beach. It is then that navigating my way across a steep spot and onto a new course could save me a broken leg or a broken neck.

Some of my best moments in life have been those detours, or reroutes that I had not anticipated when I originally plotted the course. I will get down the mountain, I will eventually meet Dan at the lift, but it doesn't hurt to reroute a little bit here and there, to test my limits, to learn what works and what doesn't, to leave room for the unexpected.

A five year plan is an ambitious undertaking. I wouldn't deter anyone from making one. I say go for it! But within that plan, leave room for change, growth, grace for yourself when you catch an edge. Maintain the flexibility to change your course if need be, and always leave room for life's surprises.

Behind... Ahead

Happy New Year!

2011

The end of December and beginning of January is a season of deep reflection for me. My Birthday comes December 22nd, and 3 days later the celebration of the birth of Christ, followed by the changing of the year six days later, bringing about both a sense of departing and a feeling of newness.

Wow, its a loaded season, but oh so good! About six years ago I began the practice of writing a brief entry on "The Year in Review" on my Birthday. I entitle each one with the age I am finishing up... year 28, year 29... you can do the math! It is fun to look back and recount those moments that I don't ever ever want to forget, and at the same time acknowledge the lessons learned, and moments of hurt, confusion, the "growing pains."

Christmas, put simply, is just the bomb! I have always looked forward to the entire advent season... the feelings of anticipating "the most wonderful day of the year", the constant parties, fabulous drinks, fabulous food, seeing old friends, hearing from friends who live far away, preparing gifts, the living room filled with the warmth of the lights on the tree... an entire season to spoil the people you love with gifts and grattitude, and party till the punch is gone. I have a hunch as to why this is, but the Christmas season just seems to get better with time. I am no longer a tyke, who can't wait until the sun comes up on Christmas morning so that I can devour my presents like Ralphie did, wondering if my "Red Ryder Bee Bee Gun" is under that sparkling tree; I am a big girl now, and the significance of the celebration has taken on an even stronger thrill. Its hard to explain, but I'm going to try...

I think the longer I live life, the more injustice, pain, loss, loneliness, and brokenness I witness others experiencing, and I experience myself. There is nothing worse than taking care of a child in the hospital who is there because they were physically harmed by the people who were supposed to love and nurture them. The unadulterated optimism of a child meets the cold reality of a world that is very broken. And despite our human intellect, education, technological advancement, and progressive industrialization, its still broke. Good people get cancer, children are hungry, and there are car accidents happening all over the world, every second. The more I observe "the broke part" happening to the people I love and to myself, the deeper the grattitude sinks into my soul, Thank you Thank you Thank you Jesus, for coming. God, thank you for delivering on your promise of sending your Son to our world. Another round of punch, please! There has never been a better reason to celebrate!

Put very simply and in purest cliche, I love Christmas!

So then comes the New Year. Summing up the old year has already been done on December 22nd, the greatest party of the year has already taken place on December 25th, so what's left?... its time to look ahead. I have been given the gift of another year... more time, more love, more learning, more hurting, more growing.

I've never been one for New Year's Resolutions. Not really sure why. Perhaps its for a similar reason that I do not give things up for lent, and I refused to see "The Titanic" when it came out, I waited 5 years for my first viewing. If the band wagon is going one way, I am likely trying to run in the opposite direction. Its not always the best direction, but its my natural inclination.

I do however, like to wonder about the year ahead, what I desire to accomplish, where I'd like to travel, what unexpected adventures might pop up, the surprises that await me. I suppose the part about "desire to accomplish" is just a fancier way of saying "New Years Resolution." Haha! I've been beat! I am officially on the bandwagon!

So in the Spirit of New Year's Resolutions, I sat down this afternoon to write, and these words came to my mind:

"Wilbur, you have work to do."

One of my most favorite movies is "Amazing Grace" which portrays the life work of William Wilberforce, a tenacious and long suffering Brit who persuaded Parliament to end the Slave Trade in England in the early 1800's. The preacher of his youth, John Newton, played by Albert Finney, urges the young politician to get back to work, the work that would ultimately spare hundreds of thousands of lives, and stated quite simply, change the world.

Now my work isn't on the scale of saving thousands of lives. But I am inspired every time I watch that movie or hear those words, you have work to do. I watch it over and over to remind myself that God accomplishes good on this globe, in the midst of all the ugly stuff we hear and see on the news, we are capable of works of incredible justice and good, with His power, His help, His prompting. And often times the works of good are those that we desire most.

Right now I want to sit down and write words that will encourage people to live fuller and stronger and harder. To live with more joy, purpose, and depth. To live without fear, in total hope, immersed in a deep sense of peace. To know that there is nothing in this life, no barrier, obstacle, offense, injustice, that cannot be overcome. Though death is inevitable for all, even then, one's spirit cannot be crushed. This is why I write, it is the desire of my heart.

And so Wilbur, you have work to do.

But if writing is the desire of my heart now, then why is it so damn hard to sit down and do it? Why can I come up with a long list of "better" options, often times very good things such as skiing Vail, cooking a fabulous meal for Dan, coffee dates with friends, or even volunteering for Project Cure? And eventually my excuses digress into the more mundane life tasks such as putting gas in the car and folding laundry. To the lessers I say Good riddance! I'll fill up on the way to work tomorrow, and I will dig my socks out of the pile when I need them. And to the greaters I say: prioritize, be diligent, Vail is not going anywhere, and you cooked dinner for Dan last night. Bottom line, don't let the fear of failure stop you. Don't replace what you really want to accomplish with a lot of very good things.

Of course I write this to myself, my own personal pep talk gone public. And yet I believe very strongly that we all have been made to do something, we all have something special to offer the world, and if we don't do it, the world will be a lesser place. It sounds like a hallmark card, but I believe it entirely. In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer,

"A calling exists when your deepest gladness meets the world's deepest need."

I hope this is your best year yet...

Things I don't do

I recently picked up a good read entitled "Bittersweet" by a budding author, Shauna Niequist. Its a collection of her experiences, reflections, and lessons learned, in page-turning blog-style. One of the chapters I found most enjoyable was entitled "things I don't do." The title itself was very intriguing to me. I recently had a self-actualizing moment when my boyfriend gave me a lovely blank journal for my Birthday, and told me that it was for my "thoughts and lists." CAUGHT - I am a list maker, likely one of the most severe cases, and yes, I have begun keeping with me a small book in which I write my lists and carry them over from day to day, those tasks which I have not yet completed.

I recall two of my best friends discussing how they too keep "to do" lists, and will actually include in their lists something they have already completed in order to be able to experience the thrill of crossing out a task, and feeling that wonderful sense of accomplishment. I love it! Well, ladies, I have a new solution, its called the "things I don't do list," a list that provides multiple opportunities for checking off and crossing out!

"Things I don't do" was inspired by a chapter in Shauna Niequist's book in which she laments about the common American dilemma of "not having enough time to do everything I want to do." She reccounts the advice given to her by a good friend: "Its not hard to decide what you want your life to be about. What's hard is figuring out what you're willing to give up in order to do the things you really care about."

Ahhh reality... you mean I have to give something up in order to be able to do the things I really want to do? My immediate reaction to this is... that's not fair! I want it all! So there you have it, the truth, I am both human and American, in the purest form.

I want to be able to work full time, cook every night, make all of my christmas gifts by hand, see Dan every day, ski powder whenever it comes, blog daily, always have a clean house, design and make my own clothes, travel to an exotic place each month, volunteer at church every week, work on my book eight hours a day, do relief work in Haiti for a couple of weeks every month, get on the eliptical for 2 hours each day, and have coffee dates with all of my very best friends weekly. Of course these are only the first things that come to mind, the reality is, there are many many more.

So rather than focusing on all the things that I want to do and simply don't have the time for, I decided to make a list of the "things I don't do." Of course smoking cigarettes and sleeping with strangers are the entirely obvious, but I tried to make this a realistic list, including a few things that are very easy for me not to do, along with some sacrifices.

So here goes...

I don't...

1) Make my bed every day... its a special occasion when I make my bed.
2) Get up at the crack of dawn on my days off... I usually sleep in until 9:00. I would like to be able to get up earlier and enjoy the morning, but 12 hour shifts usually wipe me out and a little extra sleep is needed.
3) Try to change people... not only is it morally wrong in my opinion, but an extremely fultile use of time.
4) Complain about traffic jams or long lines... doesn't make any sense to complain about it if I can't do anything to change it.
5) Do my finger nails... I would love to have beautiful, lady-like hands, but the fact that I wash them 100x/day at work makes this desire nearly impossible.
6) Write Christmas letters... not such a huge stretch there.
7) Get to work early... I'm not getting paid for being there early, so why not sleep a little longer and arrive on time?
8) Assume to be an expert on anything. It is my goal to be a life-long learner.
9) Sign up for classes or activities to keep myself from getting bored. Bored does not exist in my vocabulary.
10) Eat scallops
11) Make my own pie crusts... Safeway makes them for me.
12) Think that anyone is ever beyond hope... at times this is a stretch, as I am exposed to some pretty ugly life realities with my work, but in my core, I do believe that no human being is ever beyond hope.
13) Needlepoint
14) My hair before work - it goes up in a clip. Sometimes I wish I could have beautiful hair at work, but it just gets in the way, and babies love to pull long hair!
15) Keep an immaculately clean house... there will always be a little dust on my shelves. I would rather go outside and play in the mountains, than clean.
16) Ski in bad snow just for the sake of skiing... forget it! Alas, my 4 years in Colorado have turned me into a snow snob!
17) Ever ever ever root against the Red Wings. Obviously.
18) Call in sick to work when I'm not. This is no stretch for me. I have been stricken with a severe midwest work ethic, that somehow I have never outgrown.
19) Go on crash diets... I love food too much
20) Get regular pedicures... they are more of a treat for me.
21) Floss every day - flossing usually happens about 3-4X/week.
22) Make cakes from scratch - I always use a mix.
23) Drink diet soda or cheap beer. PBR makes me want to vommit... perhaps I can blame my snobbery on the state of Colorado (i.e. land of beer) as well?
24) Keep a garden (this will probably change someday... I love gardens and growing things to eat)
25) Triathalons. Would rather get a root canal.
26) Twitter... I tried it once when Hugh Jackman was offering $100,000 if you could convince him in 100 words or less why he should give his money to your charity. He didn't pick mine, haven't been on there since.
27) Eat mayonnaise, mustard or undercooked asparagus... okay, maybe this one isn't such a big sacrifice! They all make me gag!
28) Work night shifts... I get too sick and crabby!
29) Scrapbooking... again not the hugest sacrifice for me.
30) Watch Michigan play OSU... prozac puts extra stress on the kidneys
31) Cook dinner every night... Chipotle and Whole Foods cook a fabulous dinner, and every night!
32) Watch the news... I need to maintain a good emotional reserve for what I encounter at work.
33) Spend time with excessively negative people who are energy draining. I also try to avoid people who are highly critical, or competetive with me (off of the court), including people who expect a lot and give very little. Life is simply too short to invest time here, but I wish them well.
34) Always fold the laundry... sometimes I am digging clothes out of the pile on my bed... works just fine as long as I can find what I'm looking for.
35) Watch T.V., save for the fall, when new Mad Men episodes begin.
36) Worry about other people's problems... they don't belong to me. I will pray for others, and offer advice when it is requested of me and I feel its appropriate to give, but worry is simply a waste of my time.
37) Go to the mall during Christmas - okay, maybe I can't entirely avoid it, but I try to.
38) Hold onto stuff I don't use or place a huge value upon, haul junk from place to place every time I move. I moved enough times that this practice has become engrained in me... I love to donate "stuff" and throw "stuff" away!
39) Update my electronics as soon as something newer and better comes out, as evidenced by my 10-year old T.V.!
40) Go into work when they call and beg me to come in on my days off. I need my rest and relaxation! It's called "R" time... Rachel Time!
41) Always voice my opinion. Sometimes its not the appropriate time or place.
42) Worry about the opinions of people I don't have any respect for... this one comes pretty easily.
43) Put energy into arguing politics - its exhausting. I will do this on occasion, when another person's views will challenge me and open my mind, and when I feel that my own views are being received in a similar way. However, I am very mindful of the situation, my own state of mind, as well the as reception when I choose to enter into these discussions.
44) Keep a daily journal - I usually write in my journal once or twice a week.
45) Sew my own curtains - Pottery Barn does a lovely job.
46) Ski the back country - the back bowls at Vail are about as Back Country as I go.
47) Buy clothes I'm not in love with
48) Go out shopping just to shop. I usually buy clothes online and have them shipped to me.
49) Live for the fulfillment of other people's expectations. I did this a lot when I was younger... talk about a severe waste of time.
50) Skydiving or parasailing. I used to be a HUGE risk taker. I'm not sure where that part of me went. Still comes out from time to time, but not when it comes to my life.
51) Keep in touch with every person I've ever known.
52) Pick fights with people or stir up drama... are you kidding me? Life has enough drama when you're not asking for it.
53) Crazy mountain bike trails. A nice simple trail with good views puts a smile on my face. I don't need cliffs, huge rocks, jumps, bloody shins and scars.
54) Belong to a gym. I think its wonderful that other people belong to gyms and I have nothing against them, but I am happy with my ski pass and the eliptical downstairs. The gym is just one less place I have to get in the car and drive to.
55) Change the sheets weekly. Since I am the only one sleeping in them, who cares?
56) Adhere my life to a timeline or plan - life never goes the way you plan it out, no matter how much planning goes into it. I like to have a loose structure with short term goals, the timing of which lasts no longer than a year. I like to leave plenty of time and space open for the unknown, and those spontaneous adventures that always come up!
57) Marathons. Kudos to those who do them, I am very impressed, but my own desire barometer is at 0.
58) Eat entirely organic food. I like to eat organic, and I treasure my trips to Vitamin Cottage and Whole Foods. But I also indulge my cravings for Doritos and Mike N Ikes.
59) Serve on multiple committees at church - I only do 1. One is what I can do well.
60) Worry about or try to solve problems that are beyond my sphere of control, such as the war in Afganistan.
61) Pursue extra certifications that aren't going to change the way I do my job, or the quality of care my patients receive from me.
62) Iron.

Live hard, live well.

What I Want for Christmas

Sometime back in the 90's, during the years of my youth, Amy Grant came out with what I considered at the time, a pretty cheesey song entitled "My Grown up Christmas List."

"So here's my lifeful wish
My grownup Christmas list
Not for myself but for a world in need

No more lives torn apart
And wars would never start
And time would heal the heart

Everyone would have a friend
And right would always win
And love would never end

This is my grown up Christmas list"

What a dumb song, change the channel, I thought in my 14-year-old mind. I'm going to throw up.

When I was a little girl, a teenager, and even a young adult, Christmas was about getting that thing I really, really wanted. Much in the same way that Ralphie dreamed, craved and fixated on his beloved Red Ryder BeeBee Gun, I too had my deep deep desires of the heart... a Baby Feels So Real, Strawberry Shortcake's pie kitchen, Annie's Mansion, Pink and Pretty Barbie. And then there were the later years... new Alpine Skiis, Gerbeaux jeans, my own CD player, the hundreds of books I could not live without at the time and still very much want to read.

Now one of the greatest delights of my year is watching Grace and Jack dive into their presents with all of the joy and excitement I can so much relate to from my youngsterhood. They scream and giggle and nearly explode with kid gusto as tissue paper flies across the room. As I watch them tear open their presents with unadulterated enthusiasm, all I can feel is delight in its purest form.

Who of us does not look at a sparkling tree surrounded by presents and not remember the awe that words cannot describe, wondering if the treasure that we so much craved was in one of those heavenly packages? We were all little people once.

I'm not sure when my childhood present cravings faded, sometime after the year 2000. It certainly didn't happen overnight, as with many realities in life, time makes its changes. Sometime during this past decade, the thrill of opening the present I'd been dreaming about, the thrill of material possessions themselves, just disappeared... shazam, caput, no more. Where it went, I have no idea... perhaps it is floating out there over Lake Michigan, beside the cloud of profanity that Ralphie's father spun as he battled the furnace on Hester Street so many years ago. Who knows? Shazam, caput.

And now here I am, sitting beside the Christmas tree, no longer a blonde haired, blue eyed baby girl, wondering what happened to the last 30 years, reflecting on the lyrics of what was an annoying top 40 Christmas song during my high school years. Maybe my materialistic desires have changed over time, as most things do in this life. But there is one thing that has not.

As I sit here and contemplate those things that I really do want for Christmas, there is a little blonde-haired, blue eyed girl sitting here with me, the little person that I used to be, filled to overflowing with innocence and optimism, a child who does not yet know deep disappointment, injustice, and cold reality.

When I am dangerously honest with myself, these are the things that I want for Christmas:

*I want every child in the world to have a mom and a dad. And not just any mom and dad. Parents who adore and delight in them. I want the word orphan taken out of the dictionary.
*I want the war to stop. I want the taliban to get over themselves, get rid of their guns, and start feeding the homeless, and building schools so that little girls who've never been able to go to school can get an education. I want all of our troops to come home to their families, and never leave again.
*I want there to be no need to take our shoes off at the airport because we have nothing to be afraid of.
*I want all of the people in the whole world who have a diagnosis of cancer to receive an immediate clean bill of health.
*I want every disabled person in America, in the world, to never be shunned or mistreated. I want every person who is blind, deaf, or has a mental impairment to feel like a valued member of society.
*I want Dan to be able to go deer hunting with his Dad today.
*I want every minute reseemblance of racism to disappear from this planet for eternity.
*I want efficient and fair distribution of food, good nutritious food, for everyone in the world who is hungry.
*I want Detroit to be the #1 city in America for quality family living. I want the hood cleaned up. I want the public schools to thrive.
*I want the kids in Uganda to not get malaria anymore.
*I want every person in Haiti to have a home to live in, a home that is safe, where they have access to clean drinking water.
*I want conflicts to be reconciled and forgiveness to prevail.
*I want the world to be peaceful.

This is my grownup Christmas List

On Wealth...

I recently returned home after a short stint in Haiti with an organization called Global Orphan Project.

Ahhh Haiti... fried plantain, dusty roads, constant sweat, isuzu trucks loaded down with 40+ people, women with necks of steel carrying loads of 50 pounds on top of their heads, pot holes the size of a backyard pond, children playing soccer on concrete, vicious thunderstorms, rain beating on tin rooftops, green mountains, car horns as a means of communication "here we come," goats grazing in mounds of garbage, unwelcome dogs resembling rats, aggressive driving, traffic jams, naked toddlers waving 'bonjour' from the road side, Haitian Campa, Carribean glory... this is the world that robbed me of my heart nearly 14 years ago. Damn, its been a long time. And yet it was only a moment ago.

During the past week a member of our team asked me if Haiti had changed much since 1996.

"In the way that people live, not really," I replied. "The lifestyle is the same, but there are other changes. There are a lot of cell towers, a whole lotta rubble, and pain from the losses of January 12. You can see the pain and shock still in the eyes of some of the children. However, the most obvious change to me, is that the world is paying attention now. Haiti is on the map."

When I think of the word "map" my thoughts go instantly to a memory from my first trip to Haiti, 1996. I was talking with my friend Gesner (Joosnay in Creole). We were the same age, 19, and yet we had grown up in entirely different worlds. It was a gift for me to know Gesner, and his world, which was far far away from my affluent suburban upbringing.

I was wearing a T-shirt that was popular at the time, displaying 50 flags of various prominent nations around the world. I remember him studying my shirt then saying,

"Where is my country? I don't see it here. Where is Haiti?"

I went and found some markers, and together we drew a huge Haitian flag on the back of the shirt, 10X the size of the other flags. I wish I knew where that shirt was now, I wish I knew where Gesner was now, and hope to God that he's alive. They are paying attention now, Gesner, the world knows Haiti.

Now I have been convinced for a long long time that God exists, but when I look at Haiti, I know right down to the very nucleus of my existence that God is real. When I see the fingerprints of China, France, the U.S., Canada, and other nations responding to the cries of people trapped under the rubble of starvation, homelessness, AIDs, illiteracy, isolation and loss, I know that all human beings are image bearers of a compassionate God. We have within our DNA the potential to carry out works of immeasurable good, this we cannot escape, whether we acknowledge God or not, the potential for good explodes from within.

Another question asked of me during my recent week in Haiti was this:

"What is wealth?"

Crazy... I had begun thinking about this question on my first trip to Haiti in 1996, and here is my answer now...

Wealth is the smile of a child, that makes you want to freeze time and study all of the joy that radiates from the eyes that know they are loved by you.

Wealth is seizing the opportunity to comfort a child who is experiencing, almost hourly, the shock of her home crumbling, as the earth moves uncontrollably beneath her feet. The tenderness of your hand on her shoulder, and your presence of love communicates to her that there is life beyond loss and stability beyond chaos and fear.

Wealth is the glory of an orange and purple sunset over rolling, grass-covered hills. You are wealthy when you have the opportunity, the time, to sit and watch the sun go to bed.

Wealth is sincere gratittude when you receive a bowl of rice and beans that will allow you to sleep without hunger. Being thankful for a place to rest, a roof to keep the rain away, and a bowl of food. Thank you, God, that I will not go to sleep hungry tonight. Thank you for this meal.

Wealth exists in community, where people care for each other's needs, and depend on the others in order to survive. I had the privilege of meeting the little baby who had been featured on a 60 Minutes episode back in March of this year. Her life came as the result of the rape of a slave girl, child slavery being a common practice in Haiti. What a horrific beginning to life, and yet this baby has a fan club of over 80 children, and nearly a dozen mothers to care for her. This is the gift of community.

In Haiti, wealth is abundant. Yes, people are hurting from loss, suffering from disease, still hungry, and illiterate, and yet the lack of "worldly" wealth (money, houses, status, cars, cocktails, designer clothes, season Broncos tickets, international travel, and much more) creates space for abundant love and simple gratitude to expound. Uncluttered by worldly wealth there is room for love to grow and be experienced, unchoked by the distractions of materialism. It is very difficult to understand or experience this simple love and joy when every posession/experience I could ever want is close within my reach and ability to obtain.

Americans aren't wealthy, we're distracted. With everything that money can buy, most Americans (myself included) pacify the deepest needs of the heart with monetary pursuits that offer temporary comfort and yet never truly fulfill our deepest human needs.

While I was in Haiti, our team visited 6 orphanages. This was one of the wealthiest experiences of my life, unmatched by a Tiffany's shopping spree, or a Napa Wine Tour. Even better than an undefeated Wolverine football season. In the eyes of God, these children are the diamonds that some people bleed and go to the death for in the diamond fields. They are gold and precious jewels to the God who is love. To have the opportunity to love and serve, and be loved by these orphans is an experience far too expensive to be bought.

Three years ago Tom Brady, New England's irreplacable QB, made this statement in a press conference: "Why do I have 3 Super Bowl rings and still think there's something greater out there for me? I mean, maybe a lot of people would say, 'Hey Man, this is it.' I reached my goal, my dream, my life. God, its got to be more than this. I mean, this isn't, this can't be what its all cracked up to be."... the reflection of a man who has supposedly "arrived at the top" of what our American culture values most. His honesty is both chilling and heart breaking.

In the years between my first trip to Haiti and my return visit, I have lived very well, not wanting for much, which isn't in itself a bad thing, I will not judge the heart's motives of anyone but myself. I am very grateful that God reminded me in a very real and physical way of what is completely valuable and precious to Him.

I will keep the sand of Haiti in my shoes, and remember what it truly means to be wealthy.

1996
2010

The Low Country

It doesn't matter whether I am baking in the middle of 90 degree Denver, listening to the children play in the tree next to my yard, or resting on the dock in my bikini at Lake Louise, listening to the hum of ski boats pulling laughing kids over boat wakes on tubes... when I read Pat Conroy's description of th Low Country, floating down a river on Sullivan's Island, following the tide out to the Atlantic, I can almost taste the sea salt on my tongue, and breathe in the sweetness of Pametto breeze...

"In the summertime, the salt water that floods the creeks and bays and coves of South Carolina is warm and sun-shot and silken to the touch. It did not hurt or shock to enter the water, but soothed and washed away the frazzled nerves of our runaway week. The creek was dark with the nutients gathered in the great salt marsh; you could not see your hand if you opened your eyes underwater. We were swimming in a part of the Atlantic that the state of South Carolina has borrowed for awhile. Now the tide was hurtling back, drawing the essence of its marshes, the blue crabs lying in wait for stragglers who would soon be prey. As the tide receded the oysters would be locked tight, retaining a shot-glass-full of seawater that would hold them until the next full tide; the flounders hidden in the mud flats; the mullets flashing in quick silver sea grass; the small sharks nosing around for carrion; the blue herrons straight-legged and heraldic in the motionless hunt; the snowy egrets - the only creatures in the Low Country - whose name invoked winter - staring at the shallows for the quick run of minnows... we remained wordless for the first 100 yards, remarkable only in our stillness and the rightness of the moment."

Love it.

A Taste of Heaven

"Sometimes its hard to tell where earth stops and heaven starts."

Monterey, June 2010

Selfless

So the other day at work, I bumped into a friend of mine, another nurse who had come in to do competencies. It seemed like a long time had passed since I'd seen her, maybe three weeks? I had heard through the grape vine that she and her husband had recently picked up a baby from the hospital via social services. What a story! So they get a phone call on a Friday evening, and the social worker asks them if they are interested in this two-day-old baby girl. Within 12 hours, they are at the hospital, picking up the little baby and taking her home. Its not your typical transition to parenthood... they had nothing... no baby shower, no nursery with the pottery barn crib set, not even bottles or diapers! So enroute to the hospital, they picked up a carseat, and on the way home, they stopped at Target for pampers and formula.

Heide showed me pictures on her phone... Lyle, her husband, holding the little princess and giving her a bottle. She has a sweet sweet face, and looked like she'd come straight from heaven, as all newborns do. I smiled as I looked at the pictures.

"I'm cutting back my hours," Heide told me. "I'll be on FMLA for 8 weeks... we're not sure if we're gonna be able to keep Mia yet. You see... the way it works, they have to contact all of her family members to see if anyone else wants to take her, and then if they don't, we get to keep her and the adoption goes through. But I think it is so important, whether we get to adopt her or not, that she be able to bond well in these first 10 weeks of her life. It could make all the difference for her in the long run, even if she has to go somewhere else and has a rough time there, she will have a foundation of love to build on."

I don't think I'll ever look at Heide the same way again. She has no idea what she gave to me just by sharing her life... the opportunity to witness what truly selfless love is. It encourages me just to know that love like this exists in the world. I pray with all my heart that Mia will be able to stay with, and become the daughter of these two wonderful people, who are willing to sacrifice so much, not only their time, income, and sleep, but their hearts as well. I don't know if I could do it, I highly doubt I could, the bond between mother and child is so strong. ... to bond with a child that you may have to let go of, because its an investment in that child's life, in her future, even though you may never see her again after those 10 weeks are up. It is a gift to me just to know this kind of love exists.

And I am convinced that the world gives medals to all the wrong people.

Encouraged by this...

I don't like to watch the news. It seems that I am always reminded of some injustice against the innocent, a child's way disrupted by none of ther own choosing, the reality of a broken world. So what is my part? My piece amidst the chaos?

"The only thing necessary for evil to prevail is for good men (and women) to do nothing" -Edmond Burke.

That thing about pride coming before the fall...

Its true.

Today I was told how good I looked skiing down the mountain...

and not 3 minutes later, I was sliding backwards 50 fifty down a black diamond, leaving a yard sale behind me.

Made for a good laugh, and no injuries, thank God.

Top 10 Ideal Retirement Jobs

Its about this time of year, on the home stretch of respiratory season, that I begin to dream about what I would do if income were not a necessity. Don't get me wrong, it is a privilege to be able to work, and to care for sweet little people, yet in the midst of 12 hour days, snotty babies, and albuterol treatments, compounded by my need to resurrect some high school spanish, I think about...

1) Being the story hour lady... wearing the hats and doing different voices for each character.
2) Leading the ski school parade of snowplowers down the slope... little people on their first trip to the mountains!
3) Designing and building my own doll houses... a row house, a southern plantation, an east coast salt box.
4) Opening my own bookstore/teahouse/bistro.
5) Planting an organic garden in a low income neighborhood and inviting the local kiddos to take part.
6) Reading all the books on my list.
7) Moving to Costa Rica for a year just to surf.
8) Being a historical presenter at Greenfield Village, all decked out in 19th century garb, ready to play the part and inspire a child's imagination.
9) Becoming a photojournalist... telling stories, motivating acts of compassion, and exploring those places I have only yet dreamed of, with my camera.
10) Doing full time nonprofit work and traveling to orphanages around the world to volunteer.

Never say never.

Closer to Free

So it hasn't been the eventful summer that it so often is. I said no to a trip to Panama, and no again to Italy. Sometimes saying no is without a doubt, the right thing to do, and yet, the adventure-seeking side of me protests and hurts every time that "n" word comes out of my mouth. I was recently reminded by my friend, Erin, that "God takes us through different seasons in life." And though my life has not been full of adventure lately, the experience of this current season has proven to be valuable in a way that I can only hope will be long-lasting.

My summer began with three huge, wapping yard sales, in which I decreased my net "stuff factor" by about 60%. Now I have been on a gradual "stuff" purge ever since the beginning of travel nursing and my exodus from the midwest, but the events of early June have proven to be the crescendo in this saga.

I used to live in an 800 sq foot condo with 4 overflowing closets, and a storage unit packed to the ceiling. Now if anyone had ever asked me at that time, to throw away the things I did not need, I would have replied that I had nothing to throw away, because, put very simply... I needed all of it. That's right, every picture frame, photo album, candle holder, shoes I wore only once a year with that one outfit, books I hadn't read, skiis with broken bindings that I clung to purely for the sake of nostolgia. And here's the plain truth... at the time, I needed all of that stuff... and yet I don't anymore, and I'm really not sure why I changed my mind. How does one go from being a packrat to a minimalist? From thinking I was "free" to "exceedingly free?"

Perhaps it was the experience of travel nursing, and realizing, that all I really needed to exist and thrive, I could pack in the back of a Ford Focus. Anything that exceeded that space, was not a necessity for me. That experience taught me that I actually needed very little "stuff" to survive.

When travel nursing was over, I realized that every time I was moving, I was hauling (or paying to haul) and reorganize junk. VHS tapes, an old vase, a waterlogged Ansel Adams poster, a book of combat photos from Vietnam, mugs, 25 cent wine glasses. A dozen things it seemed I could not live without.

Skiis, books, furniture, a beautiful home, I don't think that any of these are bad things, they only became bad for me when one of this or that was never enough, when more was always needed, when those "things" that I felt I could not live without, began to make promises that they could never keep.

With all of the junk purging, there are a few treasures I will always keep... the toy plane given to me on Brittish Airways on my first journey to Europe in 1979, Grandpa's John Deere Tractor lamp (when you push on the seat, the wheels turn), the faded painting of the blonde girl with the basket of daisies, hiding in the barn. I used to climb up on Grandma's bench to look at that picture when I was too small to see it at eye level, and when Grandma went to heaven, Grandpa let me have it.

These are the treasures, the few things I will hold onto... the rest can go and good riddance. I want to be free enough that I could move tomorrow... to Charlotte, to Munic, or perhaps Dubai... or maybe remain here, unhindered and weightless, and all the more prepared... to live.

So I have been thinking... what is wealth? And perhaps the definition of that is different for different people... for me it is to watch children laugh, to know love, to witness acts of compassion, to see and experience God's world. This is where wealth cannot be measured, these are the things that do not rot.

A woman's life does not consist in the abundance of her posessions.

Finally in Charleston

It began with a small beach town on the Isle of Palms... Low Country restaurants, Banana Cabana, flip flops and surf boards. Now I have seen my share of west coast beach towns, but the east is distinctly it's own, and the wonder of exploring a new place never gets old for me.

I dig my toes into the sand, I breath the air coming off the sea, and expect it to sting my nose, like it does on Pacific Beach. But the air is sweet, not salty. I take a deeper breath... still sweet. I am not in CA... this is the low country where the wind tastes like the tea they brew. Delightful.

It is late afternoon and the sun is in the south. The waves are breaking too close to the beach to play in the whitewash - good, otherwise I'd be missing my board, ruining the contentment of this moment. I am finally here.

Into the water... it surprises me with its warmth, the sand is carved into a wave-like pattern under my feet. I want to feel the force of the waves breaking against me, taste the salt in the water, experience the energy of the ocean.

Again I marvel at the wonder of a new place, a beach that I do not know, a sand bar I cannot predict, the sweetness of ocean air that seems so foreign to my senses. And my mind that is prone to wander and dream, wonders what has happened on this beach... some of us have a "geek curse." Mine happens to be a zeal for history.

Tour guides love me because I ask so many questions... I really tried to tone it down on our walking tour of the historic district, out of respect for the other 20 people walking with us. And yet I held nothing back when I was one on one with the Dungeon Master in the Old Exchange Building. It's fun to watch their faces light up when you ask them about details that most people don't care about, and you can speak plainly geek to geek.

In Charleston, I found a lot more than "Glory" on the beach and more historical drama than the mind can ponder... there was abounding satiation for yet another of my favorite past times, food and wine...

I scan the menu at Huck's Low Country... Carolina Crab Cakes, Oysters, Fried Green Tomatoes, Grouper, She-Crab Soup, Mahi-Mahi, Catfish, Salmon.... fresh from the water.

Now the south is a wonderland for many reasons, but the fact that I will always have a pallate for cream, extra butter, and all things fried, makes me feel right at home. Now as far as I know, I don't have a drop of southern in me, I attribute my passion for fat, cholesterol and heart disease consumption, to an origin in hardy midwest farmstock. My grandmother always cooked like she'd never left the farm. And nothing tastes so good to me as Double battered spicy fried chicken smothered with creamy mushroom gravy and a side of greasy cornbread. I may shop at Whole Foods and eat organic salads in my everyday Denver life, but while vacationing in the Low Country, Cracker Barrel with an extra side of biscuits is just my speed. Meg was slightly horrified at my menu choices during our trip, but when in Rome...

I savor the experience of a Bed and Breakfast, and it's not just the blueberry waffles with lemon curd sauce... it's the Georgian-style charm, with no two rooms that look exactly alike, enjoying morning coffee with fellow travelers and comparing stories, resting on the veranda for afternoon wine hour, chatting with the inn keepers about the "insider" places to go... tell me what is off the beaten path.

Our B&B came with cruiser bikes... we were thrilled. A Sunday morning ride before church, up East Bay Street where the Georgian mansions still have cannon lodged in the walls, and Fort Sumter can be seen across the Bay. The park is hallowed with "Gump Trees", there are a million diamonds on the bay, the azaleas are in bloom, the air smells sweet again.

After our ride, Meg and I attended the Emmanuel AME church, the oldest African American Church in the south, and origin of the largest organized slave revolt in history. It is a rare treat for me, and we are received warmly.

Touring the Old Slave Mart Museum, was undoubtedly the most difficult piece of this trip. It's one of those things that I knew I wanted to do, and I'm glad I did it, however, I know that I don't want to go back again. Perhaps it was the fact that the tour ahead of us was all black, and I kept wondering what was going through their heads as they looked at the relics of a reality that is almost too dark to think about. Or maybe it was the feeling I had when I viewed the child-sized shackles, I could not stop seeing the faces of my precious babies in Uganda. It hurt my heart. Yes, once was enough.

On our last day in Charleston, Meg returned to the beach, and I walked downtown to get a final glimpse of Cobblestone streets, Palmetto Flags, hidden alleyways lined with Carolina Oaks, and the oldest sea port in the Union. I lingered in a cafe and had a conversation with a local artist, I bought a dress from a Gula woman whose dialect was absolutely delightful to my ears, I envisioned my return trip, and thanked God that every once in awhile life just is "that good."

I've been thinking about summer...

... because it's been in the 70's all week here in Denver. It's frisbee, bikeriding, barbeque weather. Usually at this point, I begin thinking of all of the places that I want to travel this summer, about putting my skiis back in the storage bin, and buying a plane ticket(s). But for whatever reason, I don't feel that way right now. I want to stay home for the summer, enjoy Colorado, be still. I made a list of things that I'd like to do in the upcoming months. The order doesn't necessarily reflect the priority, they're just my thoughts...

1) Hike 14ers

2) Climb the dunes and see Durango

3) Walk around the lake in Wash Park

4) Write

5) Swim in a mountain lake

6) Photograph a ghost town

7) Walk to Coors field after church and eat ballpark hotdogs for lunch

8) Take Grace to the zoo

9) Ride my bike

10) Enjoy Happy Hour on a roof top

11) Finally buy a field guide and learn the names of the CO wildflowers

12) Read a book under the tree in my yard, while lying on my stadium blanket



Most of all, be still.

Lake Victoria

There is no sound in all the world, more precious to my ears, than the laughter of a child.

Streets of London

January 18th-22nd, 2009

Our apartment in St. James Park is on a street called Palmer. There are two pubs on this street, Adam & Eve and the Sanctuary House. My experience of London pubs was limited, thanks to gluten, but the ambiance is exactly as you would imagine.

AtAdam & Eve I sampled my first "Jacket" - baked potato with melted cheese and pinto beans. The Sanctuary House is where we celebrated the Inaugeration and indulged in some Brittish pies - chicken with white wine sauce. The Britts seemed to be excited about the Obamas taking up residence in the White House.

At the end of Palmer Street, there is a very large church...

Westminster Abbey. I didn't go in,
as they charge 18 pounds to enter The idea of having to pay to go inside a church just doesn't sit right with me. Besides, the building has probably not changed since I was 12, seeing as how the place has been there for 800 years.

We walked past Big Ben, Parliament, and the Millenium Ferris Wheel.

In Trafalgar Square, I found the National Gallery. I toured galleries of 15th CenturyMadonnas, soldiers, cupids, and nudes, finally finding my Impressionists. I viewed Monet's beginning works, and watched his style evolve throughout his life. I gazed at Van Gogh originals, and wondered how many notecards, mugs, and tote bags have bourne the image of that Sunflower... how many hundreds of times have I seen that image? Yet in the oil on canvas before me, I could make out the individual strokes... delight.

From there, I went on to the National Gallery where the Annie Lebovitz exhibit was on display. I declined to spend the 11 pounds as I had already seen the exhibit in San Diego for $5. On the third floor, in the Parliament Room, I found one of my heroes, William Wilberforce, half completed by Sir Thomas Lawrence. Lawrence had died before he could finish painting Wilberforce's jacket and hand. As I gaze at the portrait, I recognize in Wilberforce's eyes, an intelligent compassion that is completely familiar to my senses. I am reminded of the heart of Jesus. How did Lawrence get it so right? I made a print of the painting and brought it home.

Heather is the master of the London tube system... we found our way to Covent Garden... a brick street and an outdoor market - art, earrings, handbags, hats, teddy bears wearing Brittish flag T-shirts. We watched a man ride an 8-foot tall unicycle while juggling two knives and an apple. He made 23 pounds in a half an hour - not a bad gig. In Covent Garden we found two Indian restaurants, Chowki (Monday eve) and Punjab (Wednesday). Pumpkin curry, samosas, and cheese naan, all with red wine. The Dining Bar just hit the ceiling. And I must mention the treasure of CG... Monmouth coffee. One taste of that and I am convinced that less is more.

We took our afternoon tea at the Caddigan Hotel at Knight's Bridge Stop. Scot sat this one out.

It was an afternoon "Low" tea. I learned that the High and Low adjectives for tea have nothing to do with one's place in society, or with the time of day at which tea is taken. "High" and "Low" simply describe the height of the table upon which you take your tea. Heather's was a white afternoon, and mine, a Moroccan mint. We had sandwhiches of cucumber, turkey, roast beef and egg salad. And then three teers of scones, chocolate truffles, strawberry fruit tarts, and cream with raspberry cordial. I decided not to eat for the rest of the day. That lasted about 6 hours.

At St. Paul's Square, we parted ways for a few hours. I went in search of Roman ruins, of which I found one, a piece of the wall that was the border of Londonium. I collected my thoughts on paper at a small cafe where I discovered that adding two teaspoons of sugar makes the perfect cappucino.

London holds a great deal of nostalgia for me, and I often feel my sixth sense kick in... yes, I have been here before. And it's true... my earliest memories in life, are of riding in a yellow back- pack on my father's shoulders, looking up on buildings that have looked down on centuries.

And walking the crowded streets of London, I taste swiss cheese, and my mother reaches up to hand me another piece. My jacket is blue and furry around the the hood. People wear black coats, don't smile much, and say the word "bloody" a lot. I look down at Mom, with her dark black hair, in her plaid bell bottoms and tan jacket. I ask her,

"Mommy, why does my cheese have wholes in it?"

"All swiss cheese has wholes, Rachel."

"Oh."

And swiss has never tasted so good... while walking the streets of London.

I love this...

We sang this yesterday. It's not your typical advent song, but I could sing it every day of the year...

How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
in a believer's ear
It soothes his sorrow, heals his wounds
and drives away his fear.

It makes the wounded spirit whole
and calms the troubled breast.
'Tis manna to the hungry soul
and to the weary rest.

Dear name, the Rock on which I build,
my shield and hiding place,
my never ending treas'ry filled
with boundless stores of grace.

Jesus, my Shepherd, Brother, friend,
my prophet, priest and King,
my Lord, my life, my way, my end,
accept the praise I bring.

-Newton/Moore.

Gratitude...

Is it a state of mind and heart? I think so. I was recently reminded by a friend of mine, of the importance of recognizing and giving thanks, while at the same time, presenting my requests to God. It's interesting (and humbling) how priorities play out in my mind... I always think first about those things that I need or desire... Lord, please protect us while we are in Uganda, please save Detroit and the 3 million people who might be without jobs, please help my Mom to get well, please help my sister with her presentation today, and Dear God, please bring more snow. What I need and what I want, always come first.

Now I've probably heard this phrase a million times from people: "I am waiting for God to show up" or "I prayed that God would show up." Could it possibly be that God has always been right in the middle of the place where He is desired to show up? Could it be that I cannot see Him, because my tunnel vision of what I need and want is blocking my ability to see Him? Perhaps He is right beside me, He is right in the middle of the mess in Detroit, He is taking care of my Mom. When I go to Him with a heart of grattitude and begin to recognize and give thanks for every gift that He has given to me, and to the people that I love, it's amazing how quickly He "shows up." And then I am reminded that He has always been there... I am the one who has "shown up."

I made a list of 100 things that I am thankful for, just in this past year... it's amazing what begins to come to mind, when I open my heart up and receive the gift of gratitude, that comes only with His help.

My Furry Friends

I guess that in the grand scheme of things, a pet allergy isn't that bad - I'm trying to keep things in perspective. I was twenty years old when I developed my cat allergy and dogs were soon to follow. Until then I could snuggle with the barn kitties and hold Lady Jane like a baby. Those days quickly came to an end when my airway began to constrict and my eyes teared up.

The other night I was over at a friend's pad and he has this fat, fluffy kitty, and I couldn't help myself... I had to pet the little guy. I rubbed his soft belly as he rolled around on the floor. By the time I got home, my eyes were itching, and when I woke up the next morning, my right eye was swollen shut. Bad move, Rache. Oh, but I just couldn't help myself!

My reaction to kitties is by far the worst. Dad never let us have cats growing up simply because he hates them. I think his hatred is due to the fact that when he was three years old and his family lived on the farm, his kittens liked to sleep next to the tires of Grandma's car, it was warm there... you can figure out the rest. So no cats for the Cieslak girls. We always looked forward to farm days when we could play with the barn kitties. Dad did get us bunnies, and eventually a Border Collie, Lady.

Mom says that my very first word was not "Mama" or "Papa", it was "Dog." She would take me for walks and I would yell "Dog!" every time we would see one or hear a dog's bark. So I am both innately, and by default, a dog lover.

The take home message... Benadryl is a wonderful creation.

Thanksgiving and Migraines

I usually hop out of bed and begin my day running... I've had more than a full plate lately, with preparations and research for Uganda, writing every chance I can get, rearranging the schedule to accomodate trips to the High Lands, and reading my new fav "The End of Poverty." Oh, and did I mention that I still work full time? Work has been a bit of an afterthought lately.

I don't have time for migraines. There's too much life going on. But the reality is, they happen, and I've tried everything... mega hydration, prevention with diet, increased intake of soy, more sleep, scheduled relaxation, massages, prayer and meditation, caffeine and chocolate, light in moderation. No bueno.

This morning I dragged myself out of bed in a migraine hangover. Those of you who have had a migraine attack, know what I'm talking about! It took me two hours and two cups of coffee to get going this morning. I have decided to take my wholistic self to the traditional MD and get some amo to blast these headaches back to where they belong. Nuff said.

Okay, so every Thanksgiving for the past three years, I have spent the day with my friends from high school (who now live here in Denver). We have a very non-traditional holiday. Probably the most traditional part of it, is the NFL. Scot makes a to-die-for vegetarian stuffing, a free-range-organic turkey, and the newest addition... chocolate martinis. What a celebration! For me, Thanksgiving is one of the best days of the year... because I love eating, but more so, it is the gift of being with people that I call family, and celebrating all that is good, and the One who has given us the good. I can't wait!

Scot always closes the Thanksgiving invitation with this quote (it makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time!) Those of you who know me well, know the burden that I feel for the plight of native americans.

"I celebrated Thanksgiving in an old-fashioned way. I invited everyone in my neighborhood to my house, we had an enormous feast, and then I killed them and took their land" - John Stewart.