I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains

2011 brought unbelievable heartache for many of my friends. There are travelers who left the road this year and won't journey on with us. My grandfather was among them. I have to acknowledge that pain because it spun around me so often this year; I was very aware of it--the shadow--the shape of things to come. For us--I mean the tiny molecule of life that is Rachel + Jonny--we were given the gift of abundant life. We went wandering through the dawn of this new life together, open door by open door.

Here are the 2011 awards for the Brown-Strange household:

Favorite Child: J. Chai

Best New Artist (to us): Fleet Foxes

Drugs of Choice: Jolly Ranchers chews, Kombucha tea

New Skills: play therapy, growing kombucha, breastfeeding, birthzeal

Best Relationship Enhancement: re-creating famous dates of the past, walks and hikes, slow dancing, playing with baby, roadtrips

Noteworthy Vicios: facebook, birth stories, blogstalking, League of Legends, staying up until 4 most nights

Most crazymaking hellbeasts: the bedbugs that plagued us for most of the fall.

Most Embarrassing Moment: tied between lighting my bra on fire in my mother in law's microwave and accidentally alerting the neighbors by screaming for help when Jonny and I were playing around in the backyard

Unexpectedly Awesome: Closer friendships with siblings and their spouses. Law & Order SVU. The songs from Team America. Co-sleeping.

Joyful and Triumphant: The arrival of Chai! and his kick-a homebirth, graduating with my MSW, getting hired at the FSTC as a part-time therapist, Jonathan's acceptance to the Advanced Standing MSW program at the University of Utah (SO PROUD!)

During August, in the third level of interviews for my job, Stuart asked me what I'd learned about myself with having my first year of marriage+ being pregnant in grad school + having my first child all in the same few months. I said that I couldn't really say that it was some harrowing experience that I'd had to overcome, because it was mostly just a joy. What did I learn about myself? If I'd had my thoughts collected, I would have said, I learned that I could really be happy! That I'd found myself brightly delighted with marriage and my baby, not the drudgery and lost identity I feared. I have my "bright companion" to thank for that. I know I won't be lost as long as we are together.

This year will always be special because I brought my son into the world. It is the greatest thing I've ever done. I learned so much from the day I birthed him, it was a triumphant and overpowering moment of strength and vulnerability that quenched thousands of fearful moments of being lessthan. But I didn't know him then. I had no idea. I didn't understand. I loved him, I adored him and wept over him, but I didn't understand that he was Chai. I remember looking so bewildered at the grayish otherworldy frog in my arms. Now his smells and sweet sleepy motions are as natural to me as my own breathing, his hands that pat my face as he nurses and all his quick and slow smiles. I love that little boy so much. I love his daddy. I'm so glad for all the time we had together this year. Almost seven months together. This summer was so vibrantly beautiful. It wasn't that adjusting was never hard--I remember those evenings when Chai howled for hours and we white noised, sang, rocked, swaddled, endured--but at the same time, the rough patches were brief and we had these glowing magical hours where we just marveled at him and enjoyed each other. I learned from Chai's birth the same lesson I've been piecing together all my life--pain comes in stages, and in between there are moments to breathe and laugh and feel alive and excited by the great adventure that life is. To look around and fall in love with the people around you.

2011 was intense, but kind. I thank God for every beautiful moment we lived free and safe and happy. You never know when one of those things might be compromised. People always talk about not taking things for granted, but everyone always does--you can't fully appreciate the depth and breadth of anything while you have it in your arms. The meaning and power of it swells in its absence. Nevertheless, my "theme" for 2012 is three words that a wise sage once said are the secret to happiness (also a Mason Jennings song, very good Mason!):

BE HERE NOW.

And here to finish the year off are a thousand pictures!

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

Songs of 2011:

Team America Soundtrack

Hurt--Johnny Cash/Julia/Laura Lowe cover

The Cave, Mumford & Sons

Little Lion Man, Mumford & Sons

King & Queen, Okkervil River

New Friends, Yo Gabba Gabba

I Believe, Book of Mormon Musical

You and Me (but Mostly Me), Book of Mormon Musical

Turn it Off, Book of Mormon Musical

Balloons, Yo Gabba Gabba

The Boxer, Simon and Garfunkel

Somebody Loved, the Weepies

Autumn to May, Peter Paul & Mary

Battery Kinzie, Fleet Foxes

Helplessness Blues, Fleet Foxes

Tiger Mountain Peasant Song, Fleet Foxes

Take us to heaven to live with thee there

I think the holidays can be so amazing, but they also throw into starker contrast the have-nots and what is broken and disjointed from the jubilant family party merrymaking time. Some have nowhere to go "home for the holidays." It’s not merry for so many. And it makes me hate the Santa myth even more, because if he (He?) were real why would there be children who get nothing, some who get fine gifts and some who get little crappy things? Sub for Santa programs because…if your parents can’t afford it or don’t care, he isn't coming. If you tell the truth, it doesn't seem as cruel, and you can learn some lovely things about human beings instead of ascribing that loveliness to something that doesn't exist. I loathe the Santa myth because it sounds so much like an allegory for God, (obedience is to blessings as good behavior is to presents) and I hate that at the end when they get wise you say “Santa isn’t real, but it’s fun to pretend to believe in him, so don’t tell the little ones and ruin the magic.” It gives me shudders.

Today I looked over while my husband was reading and saw this word: EMMANUEL: God with us. I can’t think of anything more beautiful. I hope it’s still true. If empathy is "feeling with" someone, putting yourself in their place and identifying with their experiences, Christ's life was the definition of empathy. That's why the story is so beautiful, it is one of mercy long before the garden and the cross or even the miracles. The mercy starts with the vulnerability of a baby being born in the cold, the vulnerability of a baby being hated by some before he was even born. He was unwelcome. He was innocent and came to know ugliness just like every single person in the world, had that jarring awakening to pain. It was so kind of him to come and walk our path. It makes me feel so much love for him. Just like us, God with us, even though no part of him ever belonged here (no one starts out belonging here, but most of us grow into it). I love the song "Oh Come oh Come Emmanuel" because I feel that plea for deliverance, and I need it.

I liked going to church today and singing and being able to draw Christmas out for as long as possible--Gift of the Heart last night and each person reading a scripture about light--sibling gifts this morning--"Mom's Christmas" afterwards. I wish we always just sang during church and stopped speaking as much. There is something about music that allows for endless depths of possibility and hope and sometimes words, as much as I love them, are too clipped and narrow to contain what my soul longs for. Today I found it in the Christmas hymns and in watching the people in the choir react to a little handicapped boy who was on the front row in his wheelchair. Several of them sang to him and were moved to tears. I counted the "marks of woe" in their faces--I know about their losses, even those I don't know well, I could tick them off on my fingers--lost child, lost husband, lost job, no grandchildren yet and time is running out--I thought about what they must be thinking as they were singing those words, what they were hoping for."the weary world rejoices," it really is a weary world for so many. "Risen with healing in his wings." I let my crusading banners of differentiation droop at my sides and I just thought of people and how they need to be loved, how humbled I felt by the glorious child in my arms, for all the good in the world, for the hope of healing I have in Christ. I am hoping, I am trusting in Him to be able to lift all of this with his healing wings.

For my gift to siblings and their spouses, I found out their favorite picture books from childhood and gave them back to them. It was so fun giving everyone the books this morning—some of the inscriptions made people tear up, which made me happy. I liked seeing my siblings as the children they used to be--the little boy who loved dinosaurs so much--the sister who fled with me from the orphanage and lived with me in the forest (in our games)--the little brother whose book I read to him thousands of times when he was 3. It’s miraculous and heartbreaking that we are grown up, that the “in-laws” are a regular fixture now instead of a novelty. Every moment of this present reality is so glorious and you never know when everything will change forever, and one day all of this will seem so far away and sweet. So I am loving it today.

Here is Lolly Business at our annual dinner at the Pope's table at Bucca de Beppo. I wish I had pictures of Christmas with the Stranges, but I didn't bring my camera. It was awesome though. Chai has a cousin who is about 9 months older than he is and so adorable. I can't wait until they are older and can play together. Chai's grandmother Strange was so kind to get him some beautiful books, toys, and clothes! I think everyone's favorite was the bear suit. I must eventually post a picture of that, maybe I will even write a whole post about it because it's the cutest thing I've ever SEEN!

Merry Christmas monkey boy!

Here we are on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day in the morning!

I love both of my Jonathans SO much.

This is from some weeks earlier. In the role of a lifetime, Chai played the Little Lord Jesus at a family party. He was brilliant and memorable for about 10 minutes, after which he hurled himself out of the manger and had to be rescued by my cousin (Mary and the shepherds were totally negligent) and was most unceremoniously replaced by a baby doll. My aunt started calling him "The artist formerly known as Baby Jesus."

Remember how before he was born we called him the Wondrous Little Stranger? And here he is, as the O.G Little Stranger! Check it! No crying he makes!

Christmas break really has been spectacular. There were many magnificents presents and magnificent persons present, but Emily, Abby and Mary get special shoutouts because I know they read my blog. Oh loyal my sisters! Here is Emily with Biscuit in the Santa suit she made him. Emily is a crafting genius, nay, a crafting savant. This Christmas alone, she made Jonathan a picture frame out of a computer motherboard (it's the most amazing thing we've ever laid eyes on, and we might start co-sleeping with it along with Chai) and she made this beauty for my father--out of a bike wheel!

The pictures are of races my father has won. It's incredible, and my Dad loved it so much!

And here is lovely Mary, who finally got what she always wanted--a "passionate bosom strap." I love Auntie Mahwah so much!

Here is Mahwah again with her GOTH present from Jonny--they had each other for Gift of the Heart. She gave him a kit with some hemp stuff and even finished some of the pieces he had made for himself years ago with his own beads (the picture was blurry!) and he made her a tree branch jewelry holder for all of her pretty pendants and feathers. I think it turned out really cool.
Abby made such a sweet present for Dit--a Japanese lantern, on which she painstakingly drew all of his favorite animals (no small task as Dit has exotic and particular tastes). Everyone was so touched when we saw this!

Here is Abby-yo-yo herself holding up the dress Cow made for her. It looked gorgeous on her and even matched perfectly with the shark stockings she got the next day:

These are all the presents I got for Chai. Just kidding! I actually got him no presents, because I knew he would get millions from his devoted grandmothers. He did. I feel kind of bad that this post is in no way comprehensive, but just trust me, it was super merry and introspective Christmas. :) I hope yours was, too.

I would be measured by the soul, the mind's the standard of the man.

A few weeks ago Jon and I saw The Elephant Man at BYU with some friends from my MSW cohort. It was an intense, intelligent production. The play was based on the life of Joseph Casey Merrick and I loved it not because it was pleasant, but because there was truth in it, truth that punched me right in the gut of my secret hypocrisies. My supervisor told me that being a therapist doesn't mean having perfect relationships--that's not possible, but it involves admitting your faults, acknowledging where you are lacking and that you are on a journey to figuring things out, overcoming your own darkness and becoming whole. We can know a lot about what would heal us, or just make us healthier, and still refrain from doing it. With that in mind, here is some of what I learned from The Elephant Man:

First, the play offered the conjecture that a deformity or malformation only becomes a flaw if we ascribe it that meaning. It also toys with the idea that many of the attributes that we admire in our culture are actually horrible deformities, we just don't label them as such, and even look on them as virtues. This idea made my thoughts take a very "Revelation" turn (the-first-shall-be-last-and-the-last-shall-be-first), and it occurred to me that even beauty can be a "deformity" if it makes you corrupt, shallow, and selfish, but society will support and applaud that deformity, whereas Joseph Merrick's left him friendless, cast out, and despised.

The play was written with the author's stated intent being to deliberately offend and "alienate" the audience. The actor who portrayed Merrick made the [brilliant] choice to demonstrate Merrick’s deformity by constantly drooling, hasta having strings of saliva swinging from his chin and spraying spit when he talked. One part of my brain was raining with compassion--when other characters recoiled at him, I felt hurt on his behalf and ranted in my mind--“I would have been kind to Merrick! I would have been his friend! How could those people be so awful?” while one was repulsed by the spit insomuch that I wanted to gag when I looked at him, so I found myself averting my eyes whenever the actor spoke. Oh. I get it now. I was amazed that the actor had found a way to stir in the audience a sense of revulsion for Merrick reminiscent of what his contemporaries surely experienced. It was a BYU audience, presumably more soft-hearted and primed to feel pity than most, but he made us recoil. So then I had to deal with that urge to recoil, and think about where else it shows up, how it conflicts with other facets of my character, and what it means.

One of the most interesting aspects of this play was that every character BUT Merrick and Treves, the doctor who arranged for him to live at the hospital, wears a mask throughout the play. The idea is that we all have something we desperately wish to hide--a "deformity" of our own--and that we are rarely truly genuine. At one point a woman removes her mask and this is symbolic of her actually being completely naked. Another character screams at her "Woman, clothe yourself!" Sometimes we don't wish to see each other as we really are--or to be seen. It's too frightening, too sad, it would make us too ashamed. Merrick couldn't hide the flaws on his skin; most of us have the ability to hide quite a bit about ourselves. I thought about the masks I have had throughout my life, for different people, and what I have hidden. How many masks flaked off like dead skin cells when I met my husband, and others that are part of my own skin it seems. I thought about the things I am still masking and what it would take to remove each one. (This is a good thing to journal about, if you want to go there).

There was an interesting constrast between the way the upper and lower classes responded to Merrick. The poor maltreated him, placed him in a freak show, beat him, robbed him, gawked at him and used him for their own pleasure (entertainment and voyeuristic interest). The rich paid for a permanent “home” for him, sent him gifts, visited him, and used him for their own pleasure (it was “in vogue” to look upon him and tell the tale, voyeuristic interest).

The play briefly touched on the idea that no one saw nothing innately “him” that they could love, only what they superimposed as their reflections in him. There was a scene where people proclaimed that Merrick had various qualities--pointing out that he was insecure, well-read, soft-spoken, etc. always ending with the statement: “He is so much like me.” This made me think about empathy, the idea of feeling with someone at the connecting joints of humanity: pain, rapture, grief. Is empathy selfish, because what we “feel with” is only a reverberation or extension of our own feelings? So pity for anyone is really self-pity, and love for anyone is really self-love?

Lastly: Wanting to be “like others” was what finally killed Merrick (in real life, and in the play). Because of the weight of his head, Merrick had to sleep sitting up, but was attempting to sleep lying down in order to be more like other people, whom he desperately wanted to be accepted by. In the scene of his death, the ghosts of women who were once his companions in the freak show sing to him: “Sleep like others you’ve learned to admire, sleep like your mother, sleep like your sire.” I thought about the idea that trying to be like others is what kills us, and I've determined that it is true, at the very least for a myriad of tiny deaths. The death of authenticity, the quelling of a free spirit, the quieting of so many words, "songs we never share." How has wanting to be like others killed parts of you?

I don't know that these thoughts have driven me towards any definite conclusion, just fragmented hope that I can move towards offering an authentic self and work to provide a safe place for anyone I meet to be accepted, to know that they are worthwhile.

Also, here is a sweet picture of Chai being an adorable love, to remind us that there are easy/lucky/free things in the world as well as heavy and complex things. Oh, my own Lolly!