A Legacy of Love

 

Fifty-nine years ago today my parents married in Salem Lutheran Church, north Minneapolis. It was a Friday evening, chosen as an auspicious day for some Swedish reason.  Shortly after, they drove to Banff and honeymooned all along the way.  The story goes that every time they stopped at a drug store so my father could purchase condoms, he got embarrassed and bought nail clippers instead. That was as close as my mother ever came to talking about sex with me. Even so, I didn’t come along for three more years.

I’m thankful they had such a great love. They kissed every night after work, Mom sat in Dad’s lap regularly, and I fell asleep to the sound of them talking quietly at the kitchen table.  Though I could never make out their precise words, I was comforted by the give and take rhythm of endless conversation.  I think they preferred each other’s company to anyone else, though our family times were filled with games and adult bridge players were a regular presence in our living room.

 My own marriage is less than four years old, and perhaps I waited until I was 52 because Ann and Roger set such a high bar.  I didn’t want to settle for less than sweet compatibility, mutual adoration, and I just wish they were still around to be part of the conversation. 

Keeping the Island Vibe Alive

 

We just returned from a week on a tropical island that was as idyllic as a magazine photo.  The temperatures were perfect, the ocean was clear, warm and glorious, and our time was ours completely. No agendas or alarm clocks.  We had no car so got around on foot, bike, or occasional taxi and kept pretty close to our hotel.  We ate breakfast and lunch together on our patio—simple meals I prepared after our run to a grocery store on the bicycle—and had lovely dinners out.  I didn’t worry about anything; even when our sailboat capsized in the ocean I stayed calm.

Now that I’m back, I’d like to ride this wave as long as I can. I want to be on an inner vacation, so here’s what I’m going to lean into.

Slow down.  Even though I now have certain places I have to be at set times, with a little more planning I can move toward them without rushing.  I spent time on the balcony just looking at the ocean.  I could look at beauty here too.

Do one thing at a time.  I loved preparing meals and cleaning up because that was the only activity I needed to do at the moment.  When I read I didn’t feel as if I should be doing something else.  I want to be that focused more of my day.

Have unscheduled time to let unfold every single day. Part of the wonder of vacation week was just listening to what we felt like doing next.  That’s not really do-able if every minute is previously scheduled.

Listen without interrupting.  I realize that when I interrupt to move things along I’m assuming I don’t have enough time.  I’d like to listen to anyone in front of me as if I have all the time in the world.

Talk to strangers and experience community wherever I am.  On the island, we talked to other guests, to the people who worked at the hotel, to the people we stood next to at the casino and to others on the airplane. I heard wonderful snippets of people’s lives and felt an intimacy I  would like to have with my next door neighbors at home.

 

Minnesota is also beautiful in the summertime, and keeping this relaxed pace alive in me will help me truly appreciate what I have in my life everyday.

Staying Put

I’ve been at the cabin by myself for 48 hours now, and this weekend I decided not to leave, no matter what. I could have run errands, gone to a movie, bought groceries, etc., but instead I’ve stayed put. It’s the rare day without appointments, schedules, or agendas, and yet even when I have the potential for an unstructured day, I’m likely to fill it with a different kind of work or the activities of pleasure. Eating just food from the pantry was a creative challenge and put meals into perspective--they were fuel, not the centerpiece of the day.

This weekend’s commitment to stay put makes me aware of how often I take action simply to be in motion. When a task comes to mind, how often do I ask myself—does this really have to be done right now? Is this how I truly want to spend my time?  I like to think I live mindfully, but how much of my day emerges from habit, routine, and obligation? I’m glad I have mostly good habits and healthy routines, but still, this stretch of unstructured time in one place helped me shift gears. Staying put let me listen to what I truly wanted to do and to do one task at a time.  When I made tea, I just drank tea and a spaciousness opened around me. 

I suppose that’s what the Sabbath is about—once a week our routines are suspended for the sole/soul purpose of connecting with true treasures: God, family, and one’s own heart. Our culture doesn’t really observe a Sabbath any longer, and I don’t either.  I’d like to incorporate a “staying put” day each month, to reset my compass, to reconnect with my inner guidance, and to savor what’s right in front of me.