The luck of the Irish...

May your troubles be less and your blessings be more.
And nothing but happiness come through your door.

May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings,

Slow to make enemies, and quick to make friends.

And, may the Lord welcome you in Heaven,

at least an hour before the Devil knows you're dead.

-- Irish Toast

I have to admit...a part of me has always wanted to be Irish. The magic St. Patrick's Day began in school for me. Unlike other holidays, this was a day that meant pure fun. It didn't mean feeling left out, if I didn't get a Valentine. It never was homogenized to the point of saying "Happy Winter Holiday", in the place of Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah. There was no enormous feast to prepare for visiting relatives. There aren't any traditions that have to be followed to the letter, at the rink of offending those around you. Nothing is expected, other than the pure joy and fun of celebration. I remember picking out something green so that I wouldn't get pinched, and looking forward to a simple dinner of corned beef and cabbage. Despite my blended heritage, there isn't a drop of Irish blood in my ancestry. And yet, I've felt a personal connection with Eire since I first cut out a shamrock from construction paper in Kindergarten.The allure of leprechauns, castles, sprites, pixies, pookas and rainbows with pots of gold at the end is powerful. I'd look at my brown hair and eyes in the mirror and feel utterly bereft...all I wanted was red hair, green eyes and freckles.

Now that I'm older there are other reasons why I still feel blessed by St. Patrick's Day. The tenacious history of the Irish people is one I respect. They have withstood invasion and occupation for hundreds of years, and still have a strong cultural identity. Their rich history is made up of powerful metaphorical stories that are told cross-culturally. Their language, their traditions and their respect for their ancient times is noteworthy. Despite famine, wars (both civil and international), prejudice and, eventually, a divided country, national pride remains high. Unlike most Americans of other European ancestry, Irish Americans remain firmly rooted in the land of their forefathers. The rest of simply have left the "old country" remain lost to us. There is a connectedness between Ireland and the many countries the Irish have emigrated to that simply doesn't exist in most other cultures.

Yet what brings people, like myself, together with their Irish friends on St. Patrick's Day isn't the history, the fairy tales or the geography; it's the overwhelming friendliness of the Irish spirit. I have been befriended by the Irish, both American and those of the Emerald Isle, in a way that has warmed my heart. When other cultures can be insular against 'outsiders', the Irish friendliness is legendary. I have felt more embraced, more welcomed and more blessed by my Irish friends than I ever dreamed possible. Regardless of how we met, or how long we knew each other well, my Irish friends are all sociable, affectionate and neighborly. During times I've felt blue, or lost in the shuffle, it's been my Irish friends who have been not only considerate, but overwhelmingly sympathetic. Their zest for life, their affability and their congeniality has delighted me. It isn't any wonder that, in addition to my adoration for their magical stories, the kindness of the Irish themselves, has worked its way into my heart. I feel incredibly blessed to be accepted by this spirit of goodwill.

Wouldn't it be a different world if we all embraced one another as we would on St. Patrick's Day? Can't you imagine the good cheer, the friendliness and the sense of camaraderie all year 'round? To be welcomed as a sister, or brother, the moment we walk through a door, into a room of strangers is a powerfully dynamic experience. Once someone has felt that expressive acceptance, it is never forgotten.

So...on March 17, I encourage you to pull out your green sweater, to channel your inner leprechaun and to dance a jig to Irish folk music. I will reinforce any desire to march in a parade, to sing songs in Gaelic or to make merriment in your local pub. I invite you to go chasing rainbows or to listen closely to the hear the fairies whispering at dusk. But, most of all, I encourage each of you to bring forward the beautiful spirit of Irish friendliness...and to extend it to a new person in your life. Your heart will warm forever, with a little piece of Irish magic, in doing so.

Diversity and Friendship

“Diversity is the one true thing we all have in common. Celebrate it every day.” ~ Melissa Etheridge

I didn't realize how exceptionally open-minded, inclusive and forward thinking my parents were until I became an adult. My father and mother had an extraordinary group of close friends. These people were vastly intelligent, successful, creative and dynamic. I grew being surrounded by men and women who had grown to prominence in their fields through hard work and inestimable charisma. These friends were of every color in the rainbow of human existence. Some were gay and some were straight. My childhood was not only a melting pot of talents, but also of backgrounds and lifestyles. When people, today, say they are "color blind", I know that there are those who take umbrage with that fact. Yet the way I was raised was not to ignore the color of a person's skin, their age, or their lifestyle choices, but to look within them...to see our commonalities and our bonds. Diversity, when I was growing up, wasn't even a buzz word yet. It was simply how we lived our lives; appreciating people whose company we enjoyed, whom we cherished and who were important to us. I didn't grow up color blind. I grew up looking for friends in whom my heart felt comfortable.

What I've come to realize, as an adult, is that without diversity, life is unbearably bland. In my Theology class, we have a wide variety of backgrounds, age groups, birth nations, financial situations, talents, political leanings and life experiences. Some have their lives already dedicated to church ministry professionally and personally. Others are lay people in various stages of spiritual quests. A group of 10 people with seemingly little in common, but our shared commitment to the class, began in September. In February, we are our own special, unique and deeply caring community. We are there for one another and our differences of opinion make for fascinating intellectual conversation and exploration. Had we all been in the same mindset, our study of Church history, Philosophy, Old and New Testaments and Ancient history would have been dull. It's the wide ranging interests, areas of expertise (or ignorance, in my own case), and perspectives that give our discussions regarding our readings for the week their zest. My class is respectful, curious, inquisitive, opinionated and dedicated. We range in age of from our 30's to our 80's...with every decade represented. We are teachers, artists, ministers, Brothers, mothers, people in the business world and people at home. We are all different, but that makes our community far more intriguing.

My one area of intolerance happens to be ironic: I'm deeply uncomfortable with those who are intolerant themselves. I find all my compassion, my heart for the world and my inner kindness to turn into something bitter and angry when confronted with nasty people. It's an area I'm working on and struggling with, but it remains a place in my heart that is hardened. I've been in situations in which several women (with whom, on paper, I should everything in common) were mean-spirited towards the daughter of a gay friend of mine during a ballet recital dress rehearsal. I have seen people judge a handicapped woman harshly because of the 'inconvenience' of accommodating her. I have heard rude remarks, by a highly educated woman, about the religion I was born into, as well as had anti-Semitic remarks directed to my family. I have born witness to every kind of wretched, ignorant and bigoted train of thought. I have answered back sharply. I have rebuked. I have ignored. I have held grudges. I have let things go. Most of all, over the years, I've learned to pick my battles. I've discovered when to fight and when to retreat in disgust. I have determined with whom to place my friendship and from whom to withdraw it. Initially, the idea of withdrawing friendship seemed to be cut from the same cloth as bigotry. I was uncomfortable with stooping to the same level. And yet, how could I choose to remain friends with people whose mindsets weren't a sign of 'diversity' or 'difference of opinion' but hatred and aggression?

The answer for me, in all of this, is forgiveness. When a person is simply ignorant and has their own issues of insecurity, this person may lash out in fear of the unknown. If that individual continues to grow, to develop and to seek out knowledge....especially about situations she doesn't understand....I believe forgiveness is well in order. I, myself, am far from perfect. I've been rude, unkind and unjust. My impulsive nature has gotten the better of me far too many times. But, through all of that, I've been shown mercy and forgiveness myself when I've actively worked to regain the trust of those I've hurt. It may not be my responsibility to chase after people to educate them, nor is it appropriate for me to require every single person I meet to think just like I do. However, I do have a duty to listen, to comment and to forgive, if forgiveness is warranted.

Through all of this, I have to count my blessings. I have the most exceptional friends any woman could hope for. They are all over the globe, and they are broad ranging in talents, backgrounds, ages, interests and life choices. The fact that they care about me is humbling and mind boggling. I feel like the weakest, dullest link in a beautifully luminous, interwoven chain. I feel profound gratitude to be counted among them....and I realize how vivid my life is because of its heterogeneity.

Best Friends

"Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only a true friend will leave footprints on your heart."

Not long ago, I was volunteering at our beautiful library in town, when two older women walked in. They were bundled up against the Maine December winds and had all the usual tourist paraphernalia: cameras, umbrellas, that extra layer of sweatshirt that has "Maine"embroidered on it, purchases from the knick-knack stores and maps of our historic, but small, downtown area. Yet, these women had a different kind of twinkle in their eye. When at the library, I'm accustomed to answering questions about our elegant park, the best places to eat and the area attractions. I can suggest museums, that are a short drive away, the best shopping and out of the way spots that are the exceptionally picturesque. What was unusual about these ladies was that they asked none of these queries. They smiled, they walked around the airy, light-filled space and when they did come up to me, they simply beamed and asked if I would take their picture. I was more than pleased to oblige. As I was positioning them just outside, with Camden harbor in the background, they told me that they had been best friends since they were six years old, and as they relayed in hushed, elegant Carolina drawls, this trip to coast of Maine had been a dream of theirs since high school. Their joy, the longevity of their friendship and their palpable appreciation of being in a special place at a special time, tore at my heartstrings. I felt deeply honored to have been a witness, and even a modest participant, in their experience.

I'm a "best friend" kind of a woman too. A boy I once knew remarked about me, decades ago, that I'm attracted to boys, but prefer the company of girls. He said this in the nasty tones of condescension, but in reality, he

wasn't far off the mark. Throughout most of my life, I've had a best friend. Unlike the two beautiful ladies from Charleston, however, I haven't had one best friend for more than four decades. It seems, in my life, that I've had different best friends during different seasons in my life. When specific events have taken a turn to shift onto a new path, I've been fortunate to have a friend who has shared the journey with me. When my biological father left our family, and my mom was bravely putting the two of our lives back together, I had a best friend who let me sleep over all I wanted, in her very happy "normal" family. At Kathy's house, I felt secure and part of a peacefully safe tribe. When I was going through feelings of unease at being the only "only child" I knew, my friend Maria welcomed me into her busy, chaotic, fast paced house....getting a taste of sibling life. When I was passionately curious about spirituality and religion, fate opened up the door for me to have not one, but twin best friends who came from a deeply kind Episcopalian home. From them, I learned the faith that would become my own, and would forever change my life. As a new student in a boarding school 3000 miles away from my home, God gave me a sister....one from the same place and from a similar background. We were able to forge through unknown territory together on adventures. She held my head in her lap when I cried over a boy, long since forgotten. She inspired me to take life as it was presented to me, rather than worrying over the way that it had not transpired.

As an adult, I found this experience of friendship appearing didn't change. As a new bride living in Germany, I met others...each one a newlywed too, and each one eager to form a support system. We could pour out our hearts, express our misgivings, our fears and just wonder if what new marriage in foreign country was 'supposed' to be like this. Some of these friends were more hesitant about venturing out on their own but taught me how to cook beyond my ability to heat up frozen food. Others were pioneers, not even using a map to find some out of the way corner of Europe to investigate. I found I learned skills from each of them. Later, I found a best friend in

my childbirth class, another in preschool story hour, one at the children's soccer game and still another purely by chance. Each one of these women was part of my life for a milestone season. From them, I learned independence, how to budget properly, how to mix a mean Martini, how to tell if the hockey puck is off-sides, how to ask the doctor the right questions when I had cancer and how to tell a joke without forgetting the punchline. I've learned how to read a map, how to dress more stylishly and how to find a good hairdresser. I've discovered that some lessons come in the form of 'what not to do'...how not to treat my husband, how not to parent, how not to overreact and how not to leave a marriage. I've learned that some lessons are learned by the experience of others. I've learned that loyalty isn't always forever. I've had my heart broken, and my life enriched...by the same friend at different times.

I don't have a best friend right now. I don't even have a close friend nearby. Most everyone I know has moved, and while I have terrific people to know near and far, I miss that sense of intimacy. I miss being able to look at a woman, with a twinkle in her eye and say "Do you remember that time at that place?", and have her laugh uproariously over an event that's revealed only in shorthand conversation. I miss going shopping together and going to the theater. I miss lying in someone else's bed at midnight, drinking coffee and watching movies. I miss passing books and forth and then phoning every few hours and asking, "What chapter on you on?". I miss having my friend know my favorite foods and laughing about the ones I won't eat. I miss her redoing my hair because "Seriously...what was I thinking?". I miss having someone know my story without my having to rehash 44 years. I miss having a friend remind me of an event that I'd long forgotten...and feeling blessed that someone else could help be my memory keeper. I miss crying on her shoulder, and having her cry on mine. I miss sharing sweaters, borrowing earrings and ordering in Chinese food. I miss having a best friend.

Yet, I continually count my blessings. I have a husband who does love me very much, and despite his need to watch either the Red Sox or the Bruins at all times, is a good and decent man. I have teenagers who are smart and funny and interesting people. I have an accomplished, successful mother of whom I'm extremely proud, and cousins who make me laugh, in spite of myself. I have two dogs and one bunny, who think I've Queen of the World. I have friends with whom I'm still in touch after many yeas, and others who have slipped out of my life. I have wonderful memories, and painful ones. I have hope.

I am still on the lookout for a best friend. I hope she's on the lookout for me too. I am just waiting for us to recognize each other.

Old Friends in New Times

"A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart, and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words."

One of the truly joyful parts of my life for the past few months has been a rekindling of friendships with people I knew years ago. Thanks to Facebook, and to the Internet in general, I've been blessed to reconnect with men and women who knew me more than twenty years ago. It's been wonderful to catch up, to find out what's going on in people's lives and to figure out where we all fit in to one another's lives again now, in our 40's. It's been an adventure to discover new attributes the school athlete might have uncovered in himself and to see how incredibly brilliant the prettiest girl in class has become. I feel intensely humbled by old friends allowing me into their lives now. Learning to have adult relationships with the people with whom we've grown up can either be powerfully healing, exceptionally energizing, or even, sadly, mildly disappointing...if we find out that someone really doesn't choose to know us again.

One of the ways I'm reveling in my new/old friendships are the memories that my friends have of me....not the married mother of two, not the yoga teacher or even the college graduate. I'm discovering whole events I'd forgotten, thanks to my friends. Our brains only hold so much information. Obviously, for all of us, some memories get lost. In the business of every day life, in the severe stresses that can trigger mild memory loss and in the normal course of our own moving on, we tend to leave little pieces of ourselves behind along the way. A concert here, a picnic there, an impromptu trip to Boston can all be shuffled in the deck of our thoughts and end up on the bottom. I have had friends share beautiful memories they have about my late father, and the difference he made to them. I have had friends remind me of a brave, or a foolish, thing I once attempted. I have had friends remind me of my past, not as judgment, but as a common ground starting point in conversation. Because of this, special events that I'd dismissed as commonplace have been brought to my attention, and I am able to cherish those experiences all over again. I've discovered the beauty in seeing who I was, both the positive and the negative, and how those parts of me helped me to grow up into the woman I am now.

Of course, there are always those episodes in our lives we'd just as soon forget; harsh words spoken in anger, misunderstandings, poor behavior on our own parts for which we've never taken accountability and the low points in our character. There are aspects of our adolescence we'd all like to bury under 14 feet of hard soil, with a big heavy boulder on top, guarded by a 500 pound gorilla, so that these negative moments, of which we're ashamed, will never come to light. Yet, when we have the opportunity to say "I'm sorry" for a wrong done, even if the other party doesn't want to hear the apology, it can be as if the grave we've dug ourselves was never there. Being able to acknowledge our short comings, especially from middle school and high school, can take us a great deal further on the path of adulthood than denial or shame ever could. Holding onto those low points can create invisible restraints holding us back. Just like Jacob Marley, in "A Christmas Carol", we can create our wretched, heavy emotional chains, keeping us from moving forward. The simple words "I'm sorry' might stand like pink and purple elephant in the room, when you meet up with old friends again. But, getting it out of the way can be the healthiest possible way to begin friendships anew...and on a healthy platform. Often, these events loom larger in our own minds than they do in the memories of others. Regardless of the situation, saying your peace and offering a heart felt apology can bring your old friend and you closer together.

On the other hand, there are always going to be people who hold grudges. No matter what we say, or how honest we are, they will use our behavior at 15 or 18 or 25 or 30 as an immovable obstacle in their own lives. Instead of moving on, these people would rather remain bitter. For some, there may be a perfectly good reason why not to renew a friendship. However, I believe that the majority of these "unforgivers" find pleasure in control. And, if they can control our own sense of well being by withholding kindness, then there will be little we can do. This may also let us 'off the hook' from feeling badly any further. I believe, in these rare cases, it's best to move on, be thankful for the friendships we do have, and relinquish all further guilt over the matter.

Friends who are truly our 'amigos' are able to do this. We can laugh and say "Good heavens! We thought we were so mature!" when in fact we were anything but and made complete fools of ourselves together. Old friends are also wonderful because we don't have to explain our life story to them; they knew about us, about the good and the bad, and they love us anyway. They are able to lift us up when we need a shoulder to lean on, and remind us that they were present during our most embarrassing moments, if we get cocky. Old friends are our link to who we truly are; past, present and future. They are our touchstones, our Greek chorus voices of reason and our own devil's advocates. They can love us deeply, and still hold us up to a higher level of accountability. Friendships like this are profound and we shouldn't allow them to disappear from our lives because of time and distance.

Den Ming-Dao wrote, "Those truly linked don't need correspondence. When they meet again after many years apart, Their friendship is as true as ever." While I agree with that, in theory, I do believe that correspondence can be a delightful tool. It can challenge us, it can inspire us, and it can rekindle the flames of a friendship where there were once only the barest embers. And yet, once reconnected, it's a heady feeling to be able to pick up a conversation with a friend that began three quarters of a decade before. It's as if a dream has come true when you can share memories, and remind your friend how precious they were to you...and how precious they still are. Finding hidden treasure in old friendships, when reconnecting after many years, has left me passionately grateful that my errors were enough to allow forgiveness for my many faults. Forgiving a friend who made mistakes is one thing. But to be forgiven is the most faithful of gifts one human being can do for another.

My advice for this week is to seek out one old friend. Discover what she's doing today. Find out if he still loves sports. Learn who your friend is today, while still providing her with a bank of memories for tomorrow. You may discover that you laugh and cry...often both at once. But, I doubt that you will regret the experience.You may even find that your friend shares memories you have long forgotten that will provide a time travel machine to help reconnect with yourself again.

Thankfully, '80's attire is no longer required.

"What we have here is a failure to communicate..."

"What we've got here is a failure to communicate" is one of the most famous lines uttered in any movie, in any decade. It happens to come from "Cool Hand Luke", starring a young Paul Newman, in one of my favorite films. It's said, dripping with malice, by a vicious police officer to Paul Newman's character of Luke, a man determined not to be beaten down by anyone...not the prison staff, not the fellow inmates, and certainly not the local police, who overreact in sending him to prison in the first place. While this blog piece is actually not a review of the review and insight into the movie, I do suggest that readers rent this Academy Award winning film. My intent is to focus on the ideas, thoughts and semantics regarding communication.

Communication, more specifically, the art of conversation, has changed radically since the advent of the Internet and mobile phones. One of the positive side, we are able to connect with friends all over the world with ease. I have friends in Australia and Europe with whom I converse regularly, thanks to the Internet. When one of my friends lived in Japan, we were able to be a support network for her, while she was abroad. Through mediums like Facebook, I've been able to reconnect with friends from high school, college, and our own days abroad, right from home. I've had an easier time maintaining friendships with friends who once lived close by, and have moved away. I am able to talk to my mother and daughter every day, both of whom live far from me. And, yet, these useful, and helpful tools can, too often, fill the void we inherently need in our quest to 'be heard' and to 'hear others'.

I recently read that 78% of Americans use the Internet as their primary tool for conversations. I found this statistic very sad and unsettling. I certainly use and appreciate the internet's many gifts, but isn't there something truly wonderful about sitting down with a friend, in person, and enjoying a cup of coffee, a glass of wine or a mug of tea? Isn't there something missing when we can't look at that friend's expressions, hear her laugh or see his smile? When we email, AIM chat or post on Facebook, we can't see that friend's twinkle, and really know her meaning. We can't place a hand on her shoulder, give her a real hug and say "I'm here for you. I understand.". We're unable to truly sense his meaning and intent. So much of our communication, as human beings, is non-verbal. Our body language is unreadable over the Internet. We can't see someone who is clearly hiding a heartbreak, or bursting with joy. We can only attempt to extrapolate meanings from their written words.

Recently, I met my friend, Molly, for coffee. Despite the fact that Molly and I live 5 minutes apart, we both seem to run the same ragged hockey mother lifestyle. For us, the Internet has been our way of still touching base and cheering each other on, whether from home, or various hotel rooms at hockey venues. However, meeting Molly for coffee made me realize how much I miss having face to face communication more often. Online, our conversations are to the point, even if we do get a little silly. However, sitting at the coffee house, we talked in a circular fashion, with multiple strands of thought weaving around us to create a spiderweb of thoughts and ideas and sharings. I realized how utterly human it is for our most meaningful conversations not to progress from Point A to Point Z. But, rather, to meander and redirect and to walk down both the path of seriousness and joviality at the same moment. It's healthy, and it's completely necessary, to allow our conversations to drift at times...to take on lives of their own and to create new trains of thought based on these offshoots.

While I am not advocating the end of the Internet by any means, and while I don't wish to limit any one's thoughts on using this valuable resource to stay in touch, I do want to raise awareness about the need for 'real' conversation. Making eye contact, giving a warm hug and just seeing your friends face to face can truly give a lift, when you need one, and can make a difference to that friend, if she's hurting. My advice is not to allow the human element of our communications to be removed, simply because of the ease of the internet's communication tools.

Plus, it's just plain fun to laugh so loudly that people stare. Try it. It's good for the soul.

The way we communicate with others and with ourselves ultimately determines the quality of our lives. ~ Anthony Robbins

Friendship, Loyalty and Ruth

Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.

Ruth 1:16

One of my favorite books in the Bible is the book of Ruth, not the least of which is because Ruth is my middle name. The Old Testament, to scholars and historians and theologians alike, is full of metaphor, mixed with historical fact. The Old Testament is filled with images, thoughts, ideas and stories of long ago. These books are debated in Rabbinical schools and Christian seminaries. The places mentioned are among the most popular digs for archeologists. The life lessons, and ethical teachings, are still prevalent today. And yet, it's the book of Ruth that speaks to me the most, out of all the Old Testament books. Why? Because, it speaks on the level of deep abiding friendship between women, a sense of undying loyalty and perserverence in the face of wretched adversity. It's not a complex theological idea that will take me a lifetime to wrap my head around. Rather, it's a lesson in how women could, and should, behave towards one another.

Ruth is an extraordinary woman. She leaves all she knows to join her husband's household. When he passes away, and when famine threatens the land, Ruth, and her sisters in law, are released from their mother in law, Naomi, to return to their own families, where they might find a better chance of food, shelter and future promise. But, Ruth refuses to leave her aging mother in law, and instead becomes the bread winner, quite literally, insistent upon honor and kindness and a shared burden. How many women would show this type of character today? Ruth's example of standing together to face hard times was unique in her own time, and it's unique today. Her example of selflessness and hard work for another person inspire me beyond measure.

Beginning in middle school, girls are often pitted against one another. They compete, they establish territories and they torment weaker ones with 'Mean Girl' tactics. Girls can be far worse bullies than boys....because the words and manipulation they inflict can last a lifetime. They spread rumors, they malign and they instigate fear. Sadly, this behavior can continue on until adulthood with some women vying for attention by making others around them "look badly" to their mutual friends. They are competitive, back biting and disloyal, at times. It would never occur to these girls (and women) that our bond as women, and as fellow human beings, should transcend jealousy, bitterness and hostility to make oneself feel better.

Thankfully, I've been blessed with wonderful women friends. Most of us are all around the country (and the world) these days. But, with help from the internet, I'm able to glean support, kindness and friendship in much the same way Ruth gleaned in the fields. If there is one harsh reality that I wish I could spare my own daughter, it's the pain that can be inflicted from other women. And yet, underneath the pain and throughout the lessons learned, other friendships can be formed that are lasting, true and free of competition. I don't believe we can fully appreciate the trueness of loyal friendship without feeling the sting of false.

Like Ruth, I hope to become a woman of unquestioned loyalty, hard work, kindness and commitment. I hope to show love when I'm afraid. I wish I could be as courageous, in the face of uncertainty, as she was. I hope I can pass these traits on to my daughter. I hope that she will know the kind, but more difficult, path will build character far deeper and much further reaching. It doesn't make hurt caused by other girls go away, but it does make you appreciate those who are loyal all the more.

And, I'm most definitely proud to be Ellen Ruth. I have some big shoes to fill.