Nature Walks and Talks

Dear Meg, Your heart is so good. It takes only a moment of relief from your own burdens to get you ready to conquer the world. (And, of course, you were always concerned about others even when you were suffering.) The quote you shared is a new concept to me, but it resonates. We do seem to rally around suffering and shrug off joy. We all crave peace and joy, and those of us lucky enough to have a good amount of those things in our lives feel a desire to share that with others. But when we see the depth of the suffering in the world it can feel indulgent and selfish to enjoy our blessings. It's important to remember that hope brings solutions, despair only brings more despair. I deal with this so much in my own struggle with depression. I tend to see what's wrong and want to solve it. The more I focus on the problem, the larger it seems. What really gets me out of the rut is to find something I can do and do it with all my heart. Whether it's sitting in the sunshine, pla...

Dear Mal,       I'm writing this on my phone while laying on my couch. It's the first 10 minutes of silence I've had all week.  Even despite the business of motherhood,  I always have a lot on my mind.  For the past year of my life,  I often come back to the same question: With all the suffering that always exists in the world,  am I allowed to be totally happy?     I have a memory from my childhood of being in my backyard.  I would jump on my trampoline, feel the blood pumping through my veins, and the breath coming and going from my lungs,  and I would stare at the blue evening summer sky.  I would think "This must be what heaven is like." Moments like this happened to me all the time.  Thinking about it,  I could follow those same steps now, and probably really enjoy myself.  Yet for me, at least at this point in my life,  it would probably be somewhat tainted by the bitterness in the world that my...

Dear Mal,     What a refreshing and heart warming letter that brought me down delicious, if not slightly chubby, memory lane. It's probably a good thing that Ben and Jerry's doesn't make "One Sweet World" anymore, because my resolve to never buy ice cream would be over. You made a comment about how I grew out of the chick flick phase sooner than you did, I never really thought about that, but all that means is that I got cynical sooner than you did, and it's that I'm hoping I grow out of first.     And just for the record, upon reflection, I really truly do care about your silly ramblings, and I also think it's awesome, and I feel so happy that you confidently know that I do care.     I was trying to imagine what my current "Perfect Girls Night" scenario would be, because you're right, it definitely needs to be lower in both fat and sap. So picture this: we cook a deliciously fresh healthy meal, eat it outside on my porch while watchin...

Dear Meg, I feel like our first two posts were so large in impact that anything following them might just sound silly. But being silly is one of the best parts of our friendship! So, oh well if this letter isn't as deep as the ocean, as high as the sky. I'm just going to ramble silly nothings at you because, frankly, I know you actually care. (I'm so lucky.) Tonight I am craving chocolate and sparkling cider, but I have three sleeping kids and a husband at the office until late so, thankfully, I will not be able to go to the store and binge on junky goodness. Oh, but I want to. Remember One Sweet Whirled? Is that where our obsession with coffee flavors originated? And of course, Cafe Rio salads, Chili's desserts, pizza, watermelon, and ??Strawberries with mint leaves?? Just kidding. It's funny to think about how delightful food and a good chick flick used to be to me. Not as much anymore. I mean, don't get me wrong. Food is LIFE! But I don't really s...

Dear Mal,     Reading your letter on sharing brought up a lot of things for me.  You seem to have a way of saying things at the right time to help me overcome my insecurities.     It seems like you beat me to a lot of things in life.  While I was single,  you were married.  When you had a child, I had a classroom full of unruly sixth graders and a heart still lonely.  When you became more financially stable,  my husband and I were pinching borrowed pennies. I have always found enormous amount of comfort and peace in our friendship,  and was always easily forgiving of any minor flaws you had.   A sad thing happens in mind.  Each time I have to vent,  unload, or  seek a floatation device in the drowning depths, I do so with a tinge of guilt. "I don't want to be a burden to my friends. " "I don't want to be a buzz kill" "I want to be my old silly fun self". Yet as you pointed out,  I still have shared...

Dear Meg, I was thinking today about sharing. The kind of sharing that you do when you have a real friend. Last night when you called and announced that Sean passed his test, I couldn't contain my squeal of joy, (it even scared the kids). I felt happy just knowing that you have what you have wanted for so long. Later that night, I thought about the morning you texted to tell me that Rachel passed away. I sat on my porch in the warm summer light and sobbed. I didn't think about how terrible that day was for you. I felt it. There is something so drowning about my own emotions. I feel swept away with my own joy. I am suffocated by my own suffering. But there is a unique quality to the emotions I share with you. They enrich my spirit, they make me grow, they make me better. I'm so glad for your happy news, and I ache for your still recent and raw loss. But I also thank you for letting me share in those emotions, and so many more. Being your friend has made my life mor...