Somewhere In The Stratosphere

My son left a CD in my car, one by Shinedown. It's a favorite of his and we have been listening to it while I drive him where he needs to go. One song on the CD in particular catches my ear. It's called Second Chances.

I like the melody and the sentiment of course but one verse has always stood out for me...

"I just saw Haley's Comet, she waved

Said, "Why are you always running in place?

"Even the man in the moon disappeared

Somewhere in the stratosphere"

Somewhere in the stratosphere.

In my life I have had this habit of looking upward, up to the sky, whenever I felt a need to address my Higher Power. I was taught that heaven was up there so naturally that's where I directed my attentions. If I was headed for trouble or upset about something I would look up and ask for help. If I needed help getting out of a jam I was sure to look up and whisper, "Please...I promise I won't ever do this again". Certainly during the very dark times I have been through I have cast my gaze above to humbly ask, "Why is this happening?".

As I grew and matured I started to look upward for many more reasons. When something good happened to me I would look up and whisper a quick thank you. As time went on the smallest of occurrences had me sending all sorts of comments upward. I realize now that those small things that work out, those lucky breaks we get, might also be worthy of a thank you. You know those little breaks like an empty parking spot right in front of a building when we are late for an appointment, rain that suddenly stops right before we leave the house for an outing and starts just as suddenly the minute we get into our garage or the dress we can't really afford and we discover is on sale when we get to the store register. Little things that make me look upward, happily and thankfully.

Lately it's been people that have me offering up my thoughts. Friends who have appeared when I needed them most, kindnesses and gestures that touch me, giving souls who fill me with what I need. I never miss a chance to send up a thought even when I am flat on my back and ready for sleep. In fact I do this every single night....I send my thoughts up somewhere in the stratosphere.

Over the years I have sent up lots of honest thoughts and careful prayers. I have sent desparate pleas and loving thanks. I wonder where they really go, these thoughts of mine? I send them off, into the sky and trust that they reach their destination. I trust that not only my requests are met with understanding but my appreciation arrives with the intended sincerity.

Each thought, each request, each wholehearted thank you, that started in a tender young girl's heart and is now sent from a very grown up woman's, they're all up there, every single one. I hope it wasn't for naught, wasn't wasted breath, wasn't an exercise in futility.

I hope there really is something up there.
Somewhere in the stratosphere.

Indeed.

Catching Perfection

I cannot believe I am about to post a blog about baseball...but yet here I am....

Chicago White Sox pitcher, Mark Buehrle, pitched what is called "a perfect game" this week. A perfect game is one in which 27 batters come up to home plate to have a bat and none of the 27 batters gets on base. Not a single one. They are all retired.

According to MLB.com this has only been accomplished 18 times. 18 times! That's astounding considering the caliber of pitchers that have graced the mounds of each MLB franchise over the years.

So much has been written about Mark Buehrle this week and rightly so. He takes his place in Baseball History. I thought about Mr Buehrle, I thought about what it must feel like to now be part of history, to be among this elite group of 18 pitchers. I also thought about Dewayne Wise....who is in his own sort of elite group I think.

Mr Wise is a reserve outfielder, not particularly well known, but talented at his position. The Sox manager put him in the game in the ninth inning to cover center field. The ninth inning. Gabe Kapler hit a long drive off Buehrle and Wise exploded off of his feet, making an amazing leap. It as a near bobble but Wise snagged the ball, preserving this perfect game for the moment. Buehrle had to retire two more batters before it was in the bag...and he did. Astounding!

Having watched all of this my thoughts went to perfection, perfect games and being perfect ourselves. Is there really such a thing as a perfect game? If not for Dewayne Wise this one would not have been perfect. His effort, his commitment to team and his desire to assist made that play perfect. Then it was up to Beuhrle to finish the job.

So on I thought...is there such a thing as a perfect life? If not for those that surround us, if not for those who love and care for us, no life would be perfect or anything near to perfect. If not for those willing to put forth effort for us, if not for those committed to us and if not for those who stand by and have that desire to see us do well....we would not have very much at all. So it is in that partner, that friend, that lover, it is in that person who has our interests at heart, that helps us succeed. It is in that other person that we find our perfection.

It was not merely pitches that made Beuhrle's game perfect. It was also the desire of a reserve outfielder to make a literal leap of faith and grab at perfection for a teammate...and hang onto it for him.

Oh that we all could have that reserve outfielder standing behind us when we need them.

Indeed.

Faith or Foolishness

I had an interesting conversation with a co-worker this past week. We happened upon a discussion of aunts in our families, both married to men who fought in WWII. Both having to endure the frightening separation from the men they loved. Both strong and enigmatic women, certainly apprehensive and unsure of their futures, both unafraid to face them.

In my friend’s case, her aunt had married a mere two weeks after meeting her future husband. He had to ship out to the Pacific just weeks after they married, days after he deposited his new bride with his parents, in another state. In, by all accounts, a figurative other world.

This young woman, a southern lady, adapted to life in the northeast. She adapted to life as a woman newly married, newly separated from a husband who just happened to be halfway across the world, fighting in a war. Their communication was nothing more than an occasional letter. Affirmations of love and a promise for a lifetime together, contained on onion skin pages, written in the shaky hand of a 20 year old Navy signalman.

We marveled at how they shaped their marriage in this way, through letters, a marriage that lasted 55 years. My coworker, a woman who has never been married, commented on the foolishness and folly of her aunt. The foolishness of marrying a man, two weeks after she met him, knowing that he was going off to war. In fact, her comment was…what was she thinking?

What was she thinking? She wasn’t. It wasn’t thought that propelled her into this situation but faith. Faith in this young man, faith in herself and faith in their future.

Later I thought about that conversation, thought about my coworker’s aunt. I thought about her faith and my own faith. I thought about what it’s like to have faith in someone else, someone you hardly know. I thought about the fact that time spent together does not guarantee knowledge in and of a person. Sometimes you cannot truly know a person even after twenty years together. Sometimes you can truly know a person after two weeks.

Either you know them or you don’t.
It’s faith.

Indeed.

Life Jackets

My daughter and her boyfriend have a boat they take out on the water. They wear life jackets as required by law here when they water ski, ride tubes, etc. Still, I can't help but worry sometimes. I wonder if, in an accident, she would be strong enough to hang on until help arrives.

Early this spring, four young, healthy, strong football players were fishing in a boat in the Gulf of Mexico...a boat that capsized late in the day. All four were wearing life jackets and, according to news reports, three of the four had taken theirs off at some point. They let go, they gave up, they stopped hanging on. The lone survivor, found clinging to the overturned hull of the vessel after two days, was still wearing his life jacket. He was still hanging on. He never gave up, he never let go.

Recently I had a conversation with a friend that made me think about those life jackets. It made me think about hanging on. Sometimes life piles things on us that wears us down. We get tired, we lose focus, we drift. If we're smart, if we're lucky, we have a "life jacket" in our life to help us remain afloat when things go awry. We have someone who will urge us to hang on and not let go. We have someone who, when we are tired and worn down and ready to let go will say, ..."Hold on tight and don't let go!". If we are lucky we have someone who understands that holding on is the only way to fight for what we want. Fight for what is ours. If we are lucky we have that life jacket.

Sometimes that life jacket is more useful on land than it is in the water. Sometimes we can't live without it.

Life jacket .... Indeed!

An Independent Woman

Years and years ago, when I was reading paperback romance novels with voracious abandon, I read An Independent Woman by Candace Camp. It was your average story, penniless girl, well born aristocrat, they cannot marry, but after the requisite twists and turns do marry and everyone wants to ruin it for them. They prevail of course in the end. Julianna, the lead character, was an Independent Woman by virtue of bucking the system and not letting anyone tell her what to do.

Often when we think of an independent woman we think of that woman who bucks the system. We think of a woman who lives alone, a woman who doesn't need anyone, a woman who would rather be alone than compromise. We think of a tough cookie, one who has the last word, one who will not be told what to do under any circumstance. Of course if you asked me I'd say that was a foolish woman. That's just me.

Some of the most quiet and docile women I know are fiercely independent. They have gaggles of children, even grandchildren, who take up the time they so lovingly give leaving little for themselves. There are women who spend their time in the service or care of another, their needs put aside for someone with a greater one...also independent. There are women who pass on careers and stay at home tending to families who are independent. There are woman who pass on family life and surrender their needs to a climb up a corporate ladder, independent. These woman are independent not because of their chosen path but because they have, in fact, chosen it. Chosen it for themselves.

I have always thought of a woman's independence in terms of thought and attitude and not necessarily action. One need not slam a door to make a point, get up and exit a room with a flourish to be noticed. Independent in thought, mind and soul are what makes a woman independent. Her choice, her conscious decision to live the life she chooses marks her independence. Sometimes that means having to wait for what she's always wanted, sometimes that means taking what she wants right then and there. Sometimes that means forging a new path in life dramatically different than the one she set out on. Sometimes it means staying the course, no matter how difficult, because that is what she wants. That is her choice. Her independent choice.

Independence in any form is cause for celebration, it's worth noting, worth honoring. A woman who chooses her course, not because it's what someone else wants of her, not because it's what someone else wants for her, not because it's what is expected of her but because it is exactly what she wants is worth celebrating as well.

Happy Independence!
Indeed.