Category Archives: Unconditional Love

Feb19

A Plethora of Women

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A Plethora of Women

This last weekend I had the opportunity to facilitate a Day of Reflection for AMEN- The Alumni Mothers Extended Network for Bellarmine College Prep, the high school where my three sons attended and thrived.  I was sort of a replacement gig.  Sister Rebecca Shinas, better known as “the rockin’ nun of MySpace”, had some urgent family business to attend to.  So, my friend, Rosemary, had the thought to ask me.

Well of course!  What are the degrees of separation between Sister Rebecca and me?  I do have a Facebook…

Wondering if I was equipped to replace a sister who has devoted her entire life to spirituality and celibacy,  I was hesitant to accept.

I remember when Rosemary called me to ask.  I was standing in my kitchen and as she set up the invitation my head was telling me NO and my heart and intuition were screaming YES!  YOU CAN DO THIS!  BE BRAVE!

After a month of pulling books off my bookshelf and pouring over underlined and highlighted paragraphs, searching through my journals for significant dreams, scanning TED talks for presentations on life after raising a family, and searching the web for 10 ways to find your passion, I had my script and I was armed and ready.. perhaps dangerous.

I met some incredible women and of course the better part of the day was spent with their personal sharing.  One thing I’ve learned from being  Catholic and having to listen to priests talk from the pulpit every week and not being able to raise my hand and add my two cents is that women want to talk!  They want to share, to ask, to unfold their insecurities in a safe place and gain wisdom and strength from other women.  I was fortunate to be the facilitator for this day.  But truly the best material came from the gaggle of courageous and forthright women who attended.

So Amen to all of us!  We are brave.  We are courageous.  We are seeking answers.  We are finding our path.

What fruit will come from this day together is yet to be determined.

In the meantime, I promised to post the resources I referenced for my talk.  Some of them are pretty dated but really.. how much does this wisdom change over the years?

Ban Breathnach, Sarah. Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy. New York: Warner Books, Inc., 1995.  Something More. Excavating Your Authentic Self. New York: Warner Books, Inc., 1998.

Bolen, Jean Shinoda, M.D.Crossing to Avalon. A Woman’s Midlife Pilgrimage. San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1994

Bridges, William. The Way of Transition. Embracing Life’s Most Difficult Moments. New York: Perseus Publishing, 2001.

Cameron, Julia. The Artist’s Way. A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1992.  The Vein of Gold. A Journey to Your Creative Heart. New York: Penguin Putnam, Inc, 1996.

McCauley, Lucy; Carlson, Amy G.; and Leo, Jennifer.  A Woman’s Path. Women’s Best Spiritual Travel Writing. San Francisco: Publishers Group West, 2003.

Carter, Cherie-Scott, PhD. If Life is a Game, These are the Rules.  Ten Rules for Being Human. New York: Broadway Books, 1998.

Hendricks, Gay, PhD. A Year of Living Consciously. 365 Daily Inspirations for Creating a Life of Passion and Purpose. San Francisco: Harper/Collins Publishers, 1998.

Hendricks, Gay, PhD. & Hendricks, Kathlyn, PhD. Conscious Loving. The Journey to Co-Commitment. A Way to Be Fully Together Without Giving Up Yourself. New York: Bantam Books, 1992.

Livingston, Gordon, M.D. Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart.  Thirty True Things You Need to Know Now. New York: Marlowe & Company, 2004.

Martz, Sandra. The Tie That Binds. A Collection of Writings about Fathers & Daughters, Mothers & Sons. Watsonville, California: Paper-Mache Press, 1992.

Lindbergh, Anne Morrow. Gift from the Sea. New York: Random House, 1955 (the original printing)

Rupp, Joyce, OSM.  Praying Our Goodbyes. Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 1993.

Viorst, Judith. Necessary Losses. The Loves, Illusions, Dependencies and Impossible Expectations That All of Us Have to Give Up in Order to Grow. New York: Ballantine Books, 1986.

That wonderful 80 year old therapist who has her office on the Alameda?  Email me and I’ll send you her information.

Sparkly pens- from Target :)

Thank you, ladies, for being such attentive and engaged participants!  Until we meet again..

Amen!

 

Jan4

Answered Prayer

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Answered Prayer


I’m sorta kinda glad that God doesn’t work like a gum ball machine.  Prayer in, answer out.  Automatic and immediate.  Feeding the Silicon Valley habit of getting things instantaneously.  Google this.  Twitter that.  Instagram it!  Now you see it, now you don’t on Snapchat.

I assume that God is more tech savvy than we are.  Yet counterculture in the most innovative manner.  God absolutely answers our prayers but not before we have wiggled and squirmed and hit road blocks and narrow openings of escape and experienced anxiety and fear and dread and hope and love and amazement.

Life giving clues come out of nowhere in places we are not looking. Yet the door we stare at remains closed.
There is the yin and yang of angst and yearnings and decisions wrought with uncertainty.  There are lessons to learn and wisdom to gain.  There are weeks and months of industrious and productive activity followed by feelings of abandonment.   There are moments of sweet victory as well as dead ends- each teaching patience and courage and fortitude.  Creating something anew in us.   A transformed man.  A renewed woman.

And then the answer comes…

When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.

Thank you, God, for answered prayer.

 

 

Dec18

Can you see me now?

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Can you see me now?

When I lived in Portland, Oregon one of my favorite things to do in the evening with my neighbor Clara was walk around the neighborhood and just catch up on the day, build our friendship, and look into peoples’ windows.

From the sidewalk of course!

Homes at night, illuminated from within, reveal so much more than the typical daytime drive-by viewing.  There’s often an interesting lamp or a curious seating arrangement. There is the lighting and the color and the architecture and the moisture on the windows that speaks of warmth and conversations and relationships within.

Clara and I would muse about the decorating but also about the family dwelling inside.  What were they like?  Most houses kept their draperies open in the evening as if to invite such speculation.

As if to say “see me”.

See what I’m like inside.  I may be awkward and not good at conversation.  I may be boorish or abrupt or seemingly uncaring or selfish or grouchy or cross.  I might appear unkempt and desperately in need of a hot meal and some sound sleep!   But look inside me.  See the me illuminated from within. See my intentions and my efforts. See my brokenness and my longings, my fears and insecurities.

In this season of light as we are hurrying to make some magic for our families, as we cook and bake in between 9-5 jobs,  as we volunteer at soup kitchens or church pantries or reach to give a dollar or two to a person with a sign on the corner outside the Safeway (after purchasing $200 worth of groceries how can you not?)…

Stop for a minute and look inside where the lights illuminate who we truly are.  Who the stranger is.  Who my neighbor is.  Who the homeless woman is.  Who I am.

Can you see me now?

Nov26

“Such is life!”

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“Such is life!”

Life is fragile.

One day you are enjoying your privacy in your big two story house getting your own tea and bossing around your cleaning lady and the next day you have an accident, spend the night in a hospital and consequently have 100 of your closest relatives worrying and knowing what’s best for you.

“Such is life!” my father would say.

When Adele married Dad at the ripe age of 54 years old, having never been married before or had children, she inherited all of us whether she agreed to it or not.  My siblings and cousins, aunts and uncles, were all very pleased with Dad’s choice of a new wife.  She kept him happy and even and tethered.  Something every one of us Shaheens seems to need I might add.

Someone solid to bounce off of.  Someone kind to put up with us. Someone with an internal compass to keep us on track.  We are an unruly tribe.

She is all those things and independent to boot, coming from solid Irish Canadian stock.  Having been raised by the nuns in the French province of Montreal.  Liking her tea and rolls just so at a certain time of day and reading her paper from cover to cover without interruption.  I’m not sure she was ready for a rambunctious family such as ours.  Or the outpouring of concern when she needed some medical attention and “help” (God forbid!).

After spending four days with her I am in awe of her 92 years of wisdom, strength and fortitude.  Driving home from our visit, I had 6 plus hours to contemplate what it might be like to be in her shoes and wonder why everyone is making such a fuss about her living alone and carrying on her daily life.

“Why is everyone asking me how I am? Eh?”

When I’m 92 I want to be just like her.

Oct17

Something Special

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Something Special

When I was the ripe young age of 21 years old and engaged to my college sweetheart, my mother did something rather out of character for her.  She threw an engagement party for us.

Now keep in mind that there was no pinterest in 1978 and no internet for that matter!  I was finishing my college degree and typing my final papers on a typewriter that never quite spit out my monkey mind thoughts as fast as I wanted it to.  My mother’s parties were always the same- no fancy decorations or new recipes.  They usually consisted of the house full of my siblings, their spouses and their children. And even though no “extra” people were invited, we still had to eat in shifts at the dining room table.  The house was always full of chatter and love and the table was always groaning under the weight of homemade Lebanese food and the elbows of my handsome and hungry brothers.

I wouldn’t have changed one thing about that party!  It was just the celebration I craved!  All the love in the world was in that kitchen!

But my mom added a special touch that I will never forget.  From the dining room chandelier she hung a sterling silver baby cup with a curled pink ribbon tied to it.

Now, you must appreciate that in a family of six children, individual artifacts of each child are difficult to identify even if you can find them after twenty something years!  Having been raised “warehouse style” (look it up- it’s Freudian) in a house full of the opposite gender I don’t remember anything really being my personal property except maybe for my dolls and a couple random items from the Avon lady.

But somehow this tiny silver cup floated its way to the top of the old Amelia Earlheart trunk in the garage and my mother had a thought about finding it and displaying it from the chandelier.   Without the guidance of pinterest or advice from friends on Facebook, she gave the party that special touch.  And touched I was.

Indeed, it touched me so deeply that the tiny cup is displayed in my china hutch (her china hutch!) thirty five years later.  The ribbon has faded and the cup has tarnished, yet it is still a beautiful reminder of the occasion and my mother’s intention to do something special for me.

This weekend I am hosting an engagement party for my son, Peter, and his beautiful fiance, Brianna.  I couldn’t have hand picked a more lovely young woman for him.  That same dining room table that now graces my home will be groaning with food.  It has bowed even more with majesty under the elbows of my three handsome and hungry sons.  There will be family and friends and toasts and the fullness of love and good wishes. I’ve hosted many parties in my home but this one will be special.  We  open the door to join with a new family and hail the beginning of Peter and Brianna’s lives together and all the joys and challenges that lie ahead for them.  It will be a profound and meaningful celebration.

And I have been preparing for it for weeks!  Just this evening I was deadheading mums and raking leaves in the back yard.  Tomorrow I will pick up some last minute items.  Saturday, my “helpers” are coming to string lights, set up tables, roll grapeleaves and chop parsley for tabouli.  Sunday morning will be spent arranging flowers and ironing table cloths.  It is all a sweet labor of love.

So shoot me… I want it to be perfect!  I want it to be something that they will remember for years to come.  A celebration full of all the love in the world!

I want it to be something special.

 

 

 

 

May12

Motherless…

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Motherless…

I was at the supermarket balancing 6 month old Peter on my hip and purchasing groceries for a Mother’s Day Brunch for a small army, my shopping cart overflowing.  At 30 years old it wasn’t unusual for me to put on a feast for 30-40 people.  Doing take-out was never an option.  “Wow, are you having a party?” the checkout clerk asked.  Of course they always asked me that because, like my mother before me, my grocery cart was always piled high with food.  The more you feed your family, of course, the more you love them!

“Yes.. a Mother’s Day Brunch.  I wonder when it will be my turn to have a Mother’s Day?!” I said somewhat sarcastically and somewhat truthfully.  My Mother’s Day would be spent standing in the kitchen over a hot stove!  (Ha.. doesn’t that sound like something your mother would say?)

Be careful what you wish for.

By the following Mother’s Day my mother had succumbed to her battle with cancer and my mother-in-law had decided to go out of town.  I was to have MY day.

Still grieving the loss of my mom, I was not looking forward to celebrating.  My brother, Ronnie, joined us for brunch at a fancy shmancy hotel that had unlimited delectables and flowing champagne.  I should have felt like a queen.

But when Peter pitched the tenth tater tot from his high chair as my other two sons egged him on and howled uncontrollably, I dissolved into tears.  This was not the Mother’s Day I wanted.  I wanted my mother back.

Gathering children, diaper bags, to-go containers, etc, we made a quick escape and headed for home.  I slept for three hours and my brother, motherless as well, stayed and waited for me to wake up.  I  guess I scared everyone including myself with my emotional outburst in the restaurant.

It’s been 27 years since my sweet mother died and this day still brings back all those memories of her.  It was a significant loss at a very vulnerable time in my life.  I feel a bond with every woman who has lost their mother.  What is it that we know in our tortured wisdom?

We know that without our mother, no matter what type of relationship we had with her- wonderful or complicated- maybe both- there is a loss and an empty place.  We long for the bond we had or maybe the bond we never had with her.  We grieve the unconditional love that only a mother can give.  For everyone else we have to be strong or nurturing or unselfish or understanding.  But for our mom we can just be who we are.  And she will love us anyway.  And we feel an acceptance and a tether that allows us to be in the world with an unshakable foundation.

For those of us who are motherless, the bottom has fallen out and we now take on the responsibility to be a mother for others-  whether we are prepared for the significant task at hand or not.

Today I am thinking about one of our students at Presentation High School who just lost her mother tragically a few short weeks ago.  She is 14 years old.  My heart aches for her.  Her wound will never heal.

And remembering my precious mom, Dorothy, on this special day.

 

 

 

Feb15

Love is hard work.

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Love is hard work.

Now that Valentine’s Day is over we can get down to the real business of love.

Love is not always flowers and chocolates or a fine dinner over a bottle of wine.  Rather, these are icing on the cake of love.  The real work of love is behind the scenes.  Subtle yet powerful.   Painful and challenging at times.

Love is saying “I’ll be right there” when you have a million other pressing things on your schedule. Love is the two AM feeding when they are infants, the carpooling to 100 soccer games when they are 10, holding them accountable to a curfew when they are  teenagers, and eventually letting go as they kick and scream for their independence. Love is listening and keeping your mouth shut when you think you have earth shattering advice. Love is being strong and letting someone lean on you. Love is hanging on the phone for hours with a friend who just needs to talk. Love is knowing the difference between supporting and enabling.  Love is forgiving others and releasing obligation. Love is forgiving oneself for mistakes made and roads not taken. Love is keeping vigil at the bedside of a dying parent. Love is holding on to hope in a desperate situation. Love is praying for good news. Love is comforting the grieving. Love is walking to the end of ones’ land every evening and waiting for the prodigal son to return home. Love is holding out a light in the darkness.

Love is swallowing your pride when your pride is getting in the way of loving.

Love is hard work.

 

Sep10

Weekend with my Bestie!

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Weekend with my Bestie!

Yes, that’s me on the left and Patty, on the right.  We’ve been best friends since we were 14 years old but that’s not the entire story.

There have been ebbs and flows to our friendship.  Not unlike any other relationship that is worth its’ salt.

We met in San Luis Obispo this weekend and reconnected after more than a year of silence, misunderstanding and stubborn angst.  (Oh, you know what that’s like, do you?)  Two women collecting evidence of a misdeed, a miscommunication, a missed opportunity, misconstrued intentions and somethings amiss.

We declared amnesty and bilateral disarmament. We raised the white flag of surrender and caught up on our children, our husbands and lovers and lives and decided that life was too short to continue the war.  Amen.

And then we went shopping.

Our friendship has spanned the test of time. We were maids of honor in each others’ weddings and we sat waiting at the hospital during the labor and deliveries of each others’ first born sons.  I lost my parents to cancer.  Her daughter had a brain tumor.  I went through a divorce.  Her husband’s business folded.   You don’t throw that kind of loyalty away on a whim or an argument or a temper tantrum.

I thought perhaps we had just gone our separate ways.  We were different.  If we had met now at our ripe old ages of fifty-something who knows if we would ever have become such fast friends.  I consoled myself with thoughts of  “Life goes on” and  “Que sera sera” and  “I have other women friends”.

But as soon as I saw her walking down Monterey Street waving her arms to get my attention and opening them up to grab me in a huge hug I knew there was no one like her.  She is my oldest bestest friend.  She is the olive oil on my bread.  She is the salt on the rim of my margarita glass.  She is the person in my life who understands me best.  And I her.  She is the closest thing to a sister that I will ever have.  We’re in this crazy world together through thick and thin.

And there is no doubt in my mind that we will be besties forever.

Patty and Rosemarie @ 19 years old

 

Oct29

Remembering Mom

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Remembering Mom

I love this picture of my mom holding my son Robert when he was 3 months old.  That joy you see in her expression and the contentment in little Robert’s face says it all.

Dorothy, Dottie, Dot, Auntie Dot, Sittie, Mom…   She answered to many names whenever and whomever called and needed her warmth and generous love, her comforting down home cooking or just her calm presence and her sensible outlook on life.

25 years ago today my mom left us for what we fantasize as a “better place”.  25 years ago her five sons sat around her bed in her home and waited with her for the angels to come.  I got the call at 3am, having gone home to nurse a hungry baby- my mom would have wanted me to do that.

We celebrated her life with family and friends and of course plenty of food.  She is the woman who taught me that food is love.  And she would have wanted us to eat and laugh and take care of each other in our grief.

When she died she left such a palpable void in our lives and I would guess in almost every life she touched.   I often wonder what we would have done together in the past 25 years if she were still here.  Mother daughter things…  shopping, pedicures, talking every day on the phone.  What mistakes might I have avoided and which decisions would I have made differently under the auspices of her motherly wisdom?  What kind of woman would I be today if I had had the benefit of her nurturing, her advice, and her confidence in me?

I can see her mushing over my grown sons, petting them and cooking for them and asking them questions that would be totally off limits for their mother to ask of course!  And they would answer and tell her everything.  Because she is their Sittie and they  love her and she would be an integral part of their lives as she was for all 13 of her grandchildren.  No words can express the sadness when I stop to think of how our lives would have been enriched by her unlimited and unconditional love for us.

Mom, we carry a torch for you.  We embody all the wonderful things you taught us.  Don’t fight with your siblings.  Be honest on your tax returns.  Love everyone and feed them if you have the opportunity.

We will, Mom, and we do.  We do it with you in our hearts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sep17

Diva to the World

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Diva to the World

 

I celebrated my birthday on Thursday and am now another year older and a wee bit wiser.  Several years ago I received a birthday card from a wonderful friend that had a similar picture to this one on the outside and on the inside it said “Diva to the World”.  I loved that card and practically tore my bedroom apart last night looking for it but to no avail.

When a woman gets to a certain age birthdays take on a whole new meaning.  I am in no way a “Diva to the World” but I can appreciate that it is a goal to strive for when outward beauty wanes and inside wisdom takes precedence. There is certainly a profound moment when a woman realizes that this transition has occurred.

There is much responsibility that comes with being this kind of woman.  We have so much to share and teach through the manner in which we live our lives.  Do we whine about every wrinkle and emerging gray hair?  Or do we walk with confidence, knowing that we have discovered many of the secrets of life- having traversed our own personal paths through dark alleys and into unknown caves- across high scary platforms that have build within us character and strength.

As women of a certain age we have a responsibility to mentor, to refrain from destructive gossip and to uplift other women in our lives.  We also have the ability to love fully and unconditionally arising from the perspective we have gained in our years of chasing our own inner demons and knowing that none of us is without flaw or weakness.

I found this beautiful quote in one of my journals as I looked and looked for that Diva to the World birthday card.

“A mode of conduct, a standard of courage, discipline, fortitude and integrity can do a great deal to make a woman beautiful.” ~Jacqueline Bisset

To all my “Diva” sisters…

Live with integrity and grace.

Happy Birthday.