9-11 and Birthdays

This is my 9-11 story, which is probably not so different from yours, except for the birthday.

Our youngest daughter was born on September 11, and in 2001 we were celebrating her 17^th birthday. We had a special breakfast with all the family that still lived at home—pancakes probably--then Mary headed off to school in her ancient Buick LaSabre. She had a bag full of candy to share with friends and was all smiles.

Paul and I didn’t have to teach until later that morning, so we left for a morning walk in the blue and green beauty of early Utah September chatting about plans for a family party that night. As we walked along the edge of our hill, admiring the view of Utah Lake and distant mountains, we heard someone’s TV blaring through their open door. Annoyed, we said, “Why do they have the volume up so loud?” Then we heard it. “airplane crashed . . .World Trade Center . . .”

We raced home and yelled to our college son as we entered the house: “Turn on the TV! Something awful has happened.”

We were just in time to see the second plane crash into the tower.

With all the rest of the country, we watched that crash over and over, numb with shock.  We watched news reporters standing in sooty air trying to make sense of what made no sense. We learned of another airplane crash and attacks on the Pentagon.

In the midst of this we went to campus and taught our classes, comforting distraught students.

Then we all came home, Mary with her bag still full of candy and eyes full of sorrow. “I just couldn’t talk about my birthday.”

We fixed Mary’s favorite foods, and my mother brought her delicious chocolate layer cake on the blue china “birthday plate.” The married daughters came home with their husbands, and the college sons too. But the celebration was subdued, and as soon as the candles had been blown out and presents opened, we all were back in front of the TV.

But before we left the table, I made an awkward toast—to Mary, and to all the other good and smart young people who will contribute to making the world a safer, happier, better place.

Every September 11 since that day, I feel the same gratitude. Yes, horrible things have happened, are happening, will happen. But at the same time—just as our nation mourns on September 11 at the same time our family celebrates —there are also good things happening. Those good things come about because of all the good people who are working hard to make the world a better place. As we mourn the tragedies of the world, let us never forget to also celebrate the many triumphs.

The Power of Purpose and Just About Everything

The summer between my sophomore and junior year of college I worked in retail, back in Edina, Minnesota. I worked in a suburban branch of the famous (at least in Minneapolis) Young Quinlan Department store. I was pretty excited to have the job, because it was a step up from the card shop I had worked in the last summer and because I got to work with great clothes and a great boss, a young woman who was energetic and fun.

However, before long, some time after I had mastered the art of ringing up sales on the 1915 giant gilded cash register, the work became just as tedious as the card shop. When there were no customers to help, my “fun” boss insisted we keep busy, or at least look busy. We colorized (arranging by style, size, and color) every rack of clothes, folded and refolded every shirt, and dusted displays. Then, there was nothing to do but stand out on the floor looking like we were ready to help at a moment’s notice. This was the worst. It was so boring! I tried memorizing poetry to pass the time, or sometimes just gathered with other sales staff to chat, until the fun boss appeared to scatter us. I watched the clock and did math in my head to figure out exactly how many minutes were left on my shift.

Then one day the job changed for me. I think I was helping a mom find a dress for her daughter’s wedding when I realized I was lucky to have a job that truly was helping others. I could help people find the right outfit in the right size and color, something that would make them feel more confident and happy. It seems like a little thing, this realization, but it really changed everything. I thought of how colorizing and folding the clothes made shopping more pleasant for others.  During down time, I began to look around at the racks and put together outfits in my mind for various occasions, so that if someone needed something particular I would have ideas. When I asked the woman who wandered in the door, “Can I help you?” I really meant it. And best of all were the times when I did have someone to help, when I could run get different sizes or suggest accessories. The time flew by and I began to love my job. The job itself hadn’t changed, but my purpose for doing it had.

I’ve been thinking about this experience as I’ve been reading the book Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance, by Angela Duckworth. One of her chapters focuses on the power of purpose. She tells the parable of the bricklayers: Three bricklayers are working on a building. Each is asked what he is doing. The first one says he is laying bricks. The second one says he is building a cathedral. The third one says he is creating the house of God. The first one has a job, the second a career, and third has a calling. Duckworth shares many stories of people who started a job, but found it became a calling to them, such as the engineer who took a job with the New York subway system straight out of college to pay his student loan, but then became fascinated with the idea that the work he and others did on the subways served an enormously important purpose for the people of that vast city. Another story focused on a girl who became a Hooters waitress out of high school. Then when the chef quit one night, she started helping out in the kitchen and when the bartender went home early she helped out there too, just because she saw the need. Before long she knew all the jobs in the restaurant and was managing it. Then she was asked to open a new restaurant. In a few years, she was CEO of the organization that owned the restaurant, all because she saw a larger purpose for the work she was doing.

I saw this happen in my teaching career. In college, I prepared to teach English in high school because it seemed a safe, practical job. I reluctantly took all the education classes and soon it was time to do the student teaching semester. I didn’t want to be a teacher; I wanted to be a dancer, so I was just putting in my time. My teaching experience was miserable. I felt out of control and resentful of the students. I told myself I would never, ever be a teacher.

Then I decided against being a dancer, started a master’s program in English, and began teaching Freshman English. I had excellent training from my supervisors and wonderful text books on the value of teaching writing. But most of all, I came to care about my little class of freshmen. I read their writing each week and learned about their backgrounds and their hopes and fears. I wanted to help them. I believed that learning to think and write clearly would help them. So I spent the time to plan engaging lessons, I met with the students individually, I spent hours writing helpful comments on their papers. When a student proudly read a strong essay to the class and the class applauded, I felt her accomplishment as strongly as she did. Within a few months I knew that I wanted to be a teacher, that this was my calling.

So today I was listening to this chapter as I cleaned up the kitchen, swept the floor, and vacuumed the carpet. I thought about the power of purpose in tedious, daily, mundane tasks. If we can see a larger purpose behind vacuuming or mowing the lawn or changing diapers or whatever we hate to do, could even those dreaded jobs become part of a calling?

Nurturing our Selves

The other day I was feeling tired, so I spent the day lying in the hammock and binge-reading. I also had ice cream for lunch and cake for dinner.  Then I went to my book club and ate cake again. I thought I was nurturing myself. And it felt good, at the time.

But then the next day I needed to work extra hard to get what needed doing done, and I felt slow and sluggish after eating all that rich food and nothing healthy. So it really didn’t do me good; it didn’t nurture me.

To nurture means to care for and encourage growth and development of. We care for children and help them learn and grow. At work, we mentor colleagues, helping them to succeed in their jobs. We care for siblings and parents, for neighbors and friends, dogs, cats, parrots, and goldfish.

However, do we nurture ourselves? Just as the flight attendants tell us to put on our own oxygen first, do we take the time to care for our own needs as well as those of others. And when we do take time for ourselves, is it time that really does nurture?

This is what often happens when I take time for ourselves—I take out my phone and follow FaceBook or Pinterest. I stop at McDonald’s to get the chocolate milkshake with whipped cream on top. I lay on the couch and binge-watch Poldark.

These can all be good things—but they don’t exactly nourish, they don’t encourage my growth (except that milkshake, and that not in the good sense). They are dessert, not the main course.  A scientific article I found calls this kind of thing “self-destructive self-nurturing.” You think you are helping yourself, but are you really? Do you really feel better after five hours of TV watching? Do you feel more rested and happier?

It makes me think of all of those charts you see these days: eat this, not that. Eat Broccoli beef with veggies instead of Beijing Beef. Eat the BLT instead of the Hot Pastrami. Eat the Fresco Chicken Soft Taco instead of the Smothered Shredded Chicken Burrito. Both actually taste good, but one is way healthier than the other.

So now I’m thinking about nurturing myself the way I think about nurturing my children. What will make me feel cared for and encourage my own growth?

Here are some things that nurture me.

Getting out in nature. Stopping for 30 seconds on my morning walk to notice the pink sky as the sun rises. Driving up to the mountains to see the leaves turning orange. Walking out to my garden to eat warm cherry tomatoes. And yes, spending some time in the hammock, looking up at the sun filtering through the trees.

Learning something. Reading a book or article on something new. Taking a class I’m interested in. Sharing ideas with someone who knows more than I do. Trying to do something that is hard for me, like playing the piano, or writing a blog.

Building friendships. Taking time to get to know others, to understand them, learn from them, share with them. Going to lunch with friends, getting together to work or play together.

Exercise. Walking, lifting weights, running, biking—doesn’t matter what.  Moving my body nurtures my self—makes me stronger and happier and more able to be my best self.

Helping others. Turns out nurturing someone else is actually a great way to nurture yourself. In fact, when I am feeling sad, I’ve found the best way to feel better is to find someone to help.  

Spiritual Renewal. For me this means praying daily as well as frequent quiet shout-outs during the day, sharing honestly with my Heavenly Father my gratitude and my fears, recognizing blessings and asking for help for myself and others. It also means spending time with scripture study every day, to ground myself in what matters most.

So I am going to try to make better self-nourishing choices. Instead of FaceBook sometimes, I’ll make a phone call or walk over to a friend’s house for a visit. Instead of vegging out on the couch, I’ll try to get up and go for a stroll outside. Instead of eating cookies when I’m feeling down, I’ll try taking cookies to someone else, or just telling Paul what a great job he did mowing the lawn. And every day, I will prioritize prayer and scripture study. Because for me, that is like daily vitamins—if I don’t do that my entire personal well-being slips.

But then, still, there are times when I will just lie in the hammock and read a book. Because, hey, that’s important too.

What do you think? What are the ways you nurture yourself?