To Begin Again

She was born on August 8, 1953.

Compassionate. Creative. Courageous. She arrived on the planet with these innate qualities in tow, and they are the stars by which she steers her ship, come what may. Always has. Always will.

My best friend for almost 50 years, Kristine Patterson wears her heart on her sleeve, while always leaving ample room for yours. There are more creative ideas in that beautiful heart of hers than most of the rest of ours put together. Refusing to let fear have its way with her, she steps out where angels fear to tread, and invites them to come along. And they do.

Like most of us, life didn’t turn out as she expected. More glorious goodness than she ever thought possible, and more pain and loss than she thought she could bear. Time and again she has had to call upon her compassion to keep her heart open, creativity to make beautiful the life that is hers, and the courage to get up every day and choose to begin again. And never more than when the life she had worked so fiercely to build got blown to smithereens. It would have been so easy to give in and give up. To allow her heart to harden over, her creativity to wither away, and her courage to falter and allow fear to bully its way into her soul. But she never did.

One day at a time, she chose to begin again.

Moving into a small bungalow on a quiet street beneath a towering Dutch Elm, she began building a home in her own heart. The home that had been waiting for her all along. Sweeping out any old stories that had held her hostage, she made room for new ones that offered her freedom. Grieving what had been lost, she slowly opened her heart to what was to come. Sifting and sorting through the cupboard of her life, she held on to the goodness and beauty that still held true, and let go of that which no longer did. Or perhaps never had.

Her hands found their way to clay. The clay became works of art. Each work of art became a thing of beauty and a joy forever.

Her heart found its way to new love. That new love became a new life. That new life became the next chapter in the story that began 70 years ago on August 8, 1953.

Today marks the beginning of another trip around the sun for this magnificent friend of mine, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate her birthday than to join with her and say, Today, I am choosing to begin again.

A Lifelong Mentor

What is the emotion you are most familiar with? The one that has been your traveling companion since almost before you can remember. Perhaps the one that you’ve spent your life trying to avoid.

Mine is loneliness. Hands down. No question.

Wikipedia defines it as “an unpleasant emotional response to perceived isolation”. How fun does that sound?

However.

Loneliness has helped me become who I am today. She has served as a wise and kind mentor, helping me learn early on to cultivate a friendship with myself. To feel comfortable in my own company. To this day, time alone is a balm, which means I am never without a friend.

She led me to books from my earliest years, introducing me to the multitude of friends that are found in those pages. My favorite Christmas present was, and is, a new book. Books offer their friendship without hesitation. Pick me up. Read me. I’m always here for you.

My love of reading led me to a love of writing. Words on the page are my way of finding meaning in lived experience. Mine. Yours. Ours. Words on the page connect writer to reader and back again, creating friendships with people we may never meet, but come to know intimately.

Writing led me to speaking. Who knew a shy, introverted, sometimes-lonely girl would love standing on a stage, but she does. Speaking is simply a way to embody the words on the page and bring them to life in the presence of others.

I’ve always been one to forge fewer but deeper friendships. While I still wonder if it might have been better to cultivate more, I wouldn’t trade the depth and connection of those on my friend dance card for one with more names on it.

In conversation with my wise spiritual director, Dane, I was reminded again that the gift of loneliness is intimacy. It invites us to forge deeper connections. With ourselves, others, and the natural world. Often when we’re lonely, we aren’t longing for other people as much as we are for our true self. The one we were created to be, and sometimes leave behind, in an attempt to please others. Loneliness isn’t due to a lack of friends, but a lack of connection to oneself.

Loneliness is an invitation to come back home to myself. And you are always welcome to join me there.

Shotgun!

On August 8,1953 my best friend Kristine Lorraine Patterson was born.

So, do you want to have dinner?

It’s a simple enough question, but forty-five years ago it was a lot more complicated than that. The invitation came from the drop-dead-beautiful 6’tall woman with the wild, curly, crazy hair I’d always wanted. Her name was Kristine, and at the time we were both working for the city parks and recreation bureau. For the past several months we’d been like opposing magnets, each of us trying to stay out of the magnetic pull of the other. Tired of wondering if I’d measure up as a friend, and weary from resisting the desire to get to know her, I decided to take the risk.

Sitting out on the lawn in front of my house, our first dinner together lasted for three hours. At the end of the evening, we looked one another in the eye and said, So, we’re best friends for life, right?

And we have been.

Since that night out on the lawn there have been more than enough reasons to leave one another on the side of the road. Too hard. Too painful. Too much work. Too many competing outside needs and expectations. For us, in the end, leaving one another behind has never been an option. No matter what has come our way, and with more still to come, somehow we’ve managed to build a friendship that has stood the test of time, not to mention: marriages and divorces, the births of our children and the aging and passing of parents, the joy of grand babies and grief over the loss of grand dreams, depression and health, money and not so much money, faith and doubt, and at times giving too much of ourselves and asking too little of one another. No matter the odds or how dark the night, somehow we are always able to find our way back and head down the road, ready to face whatever lies around the next bend—together.

This once-in-a-lifetime friend of mine is, in the words of her mother, unique, one-of-a-kind, and special. There is not a heart that is bigger or a mind more curious. An accomplished artist, she brings beauty to everything and everyone she touches. When her heart is broken, she allows herself to be broken open, making even more room for the love, care, and compassion she offers so freely. She champions my work every chance she gets, and calls me on the carpet whenever necessary. She turns grief and loss into grace and laughter, and is fiercely committed to living an authentic and wholehearted life no matter what it takes. She knows the matters that matter, and loves me no matter what.

I can’t imagine life without her.

We can’t know what waits for us down the road, but when it comes to the road trip of friendship there is no one else I’d rather have riding shotgun.

Happy Birthday Kristine Lorraine Patterson.

March 2020

The Halloween Party

“My goal” he said, “is come this fall, I want to want to invite you to our annual Halloween party”. At the time we were sitting with Bob, our potential builder, in his kitchen. Over cups of coffee, we poured over our plans and talked about the ins and outs of building the home we envisioned. By the end of our time around that kitchen table, we sensed that we’d found the guy for us.

We’d met with other builders to get estimates for our project, and to a person, they were first and foremost, all about the money. Don’t get me wrong. When it comes to building a home, money matters…to everyone. However, other things matter too. Like honesty, trust, respect, and a shared commitment to the end goal. In other words, in working together, we weren’t just building a home. We were building a relationship too.

Having talked to numerous people since embarking on this adventure, most people who have a home built for them don’t usually end up with the kind of friendship that we have with Bob. In fact, in the spirit of Halloween, I’ve heard far more horror stories than ones with a happy ending.

Sure there were snafus along the way, and sometimes writing those checks took my breath away. But there were no tricks, and plenty of treats along the way, and none of us ever lost sight of the end goal. A home we loved, and finding ourselves at the next Halloween party.

The first year we went as a homeless couple with signs around our neck that read Will work for house. The next year we simply turned the signs over to read Will work for mortgage. Which, by the way, has been worth every penny!

It’s been over 12 years since that first morning around Bob’s kitchen table, and tonight we are looking forward to another great Halloween party in their home. No costumes required. Kind of like our friendship.

Pixabay on Pexels.com

Bearing Witness

“the ultimate touchstone is witness, the privilege of having been seen by someone and the equal privilege of being granted the sight of the essence of another…”

David Whyte - Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and the Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words

Once a month I have the privilege of sharing time with two dear friends. We live in different cities and so use a video conferencing platform, which is usually as close as we can come to sitting on a porch somewhere together. We began as colleagues, ended up as friends, and the only real agenda of our monthly shared space is to show up together in whatever state we find ourselves. Today, as I shared some of my story as it looks right now, they listened deeply as they always do, and when I was done speaking, there was a lingering shared silence that communicated more than words could ever say. More words weren’t needed.

In bearing witness they had provided what mattered most.

To be seen.