It seems fitting that on this day that we honor mothers, that I share the tale about a mother I am helping out. Considering that I am in a helping profession, helping people in need is second nature to me but I must admit that my helping nature is challenged at times when it comes to non-humans.

A few days ago, I was standing in my kitchen at the sink as I am prone to do.  When I heard a sound, it was a little strange but when you live in a house built in the 1880s you learn that strange sounds can be rather normal. So I did what any lazy homeowner would do, I ignored it and figured if I heard it again, then I would mention it to the Man Unit.  Of course, I heard it again so the Man Unit goes off to investigate in the basement. His investigation turns up nothing, when suddenly the light bulb goes off that the wall in which we are hearing the strange sound is the one where the now defunct chimney that used to be hooked up to a fireplace is located. Uh oh.

For starters we live in a house with what is called a mansard style roof which in simple terms means I have a two tiered roof and on our house we have the larger roof and a smaller roof so running up on our roof to investigate is not an easy option. Long story short after many calls, we get a guy from a local pest company to come out. Ole Travis as I shall call him arrives and comes in our house to see if he can hear the sound.  It is at this point he realizes I wasn’t kidding when I explained on the phone that the old fireplace area has been sealed up completely so he heads to our roof to see if he can locate the source of the strange sound.

Drumroll please…after 15 minutes on the roof, Travis comes back to the front door to deliver the verdict. A mama gray squirrel has decided that our unused chimney would be a fabulous and safe den to deliver her baby squirrels and that sound we are hearing is Mama and babies nesting in my unused chimney.

Unused chimney and temporary home to the Gray family

This is the point which I revert back to my city slicker ways and ask how are you going to get them out? To which Travis explains that he is strongly recommending that we wait 2-3 weeks to have them removed. Come again? See, the Mama squirrel can be trapped and taken out easily but with the babies, they are too young to trap and without Mama they will die in my chimney thus creating a nasty smell that could linger for months in my house. Pass the smelling salts! Are you telling me that I have to live with squirrels in my chimney for the next few weeks? Yep, that’s the deal. To say I am not happy is an understatement, I once moved out of an apartment less than a month after moving in because I discovered it had cockroaches. My tolerance for critters is lower than low.

However while I hate critters and creatures, I understood that there is no way for them to get into our living quarters since the damn fireplace has been sealed up and the chimney itself is brick and lined with mental hence the sound we are occasionally hearing. Oh my!

So on this Mother’s Day, I am honoring all mothers including pesky gray critters that have invaded my chimney and are wreaking havoc on my nerves with their sounds. Guess all mamas need a little help at times, so I am doing my part. But what is the mailing address for this Mama Gray Squirrel because it seems really rude to stick me with a $500 bill when I have graciously allowed her babies to live.

Excuse me for a minute, but I need to get something off of my chest that has bothered me for quite some time.  As someone who admits to being a work in progress and works daily to make sure that I am mindful of others, I wish that others would return the favor.

It’s no secret that I am a Christian, I don’t talk about it a great deal in this space or frankly with many people because in some ways I am a throwback to an era long past. Certain conversations are simply too contentious for general discussion: religion, politics and sex. They all make for great conversations and they are also a great way to end relationships. After all you folks don’t really need to know about my fully stocked dungeon.

I am not naïve or foolish, there have been many atrocities committed in the name of Jesus. There are plenty of despicable people running around yelling at the top of their lungs that they are Christians yet there is nothing loving or Christ like about these people. I am pretty sure Jesus himself would delight in smacking some of these fools misusing his name to hurt and oppress others. Some so-called Christian teachings are pretty far out, and even I question how exactly they came to be.

All that said though, Christians are not a monolithic group. There are Christians running around hating on other Christians. I am pretty sure that a Southern Baptist will never have a civil conversation on marriage equality with someone from a UCC background. The thing is there are Christians who see the Bible as one big metaphor for life and others who believe the literal translation of the Bible. There are Christians who love Jesus but don’t accept him as their Lord and Savior. There are Christians who are ride or die for Jesus. Christians are a diverse group of people…really we are.

Which means when someone decides that Christians should all be lumped together in one big box; it feels uncomfortable. A few nights ago on Twitter, I had an exchange where someone said they didn’t think Christians believed in the Old Testament. I was momentarily stunned, some of my favorite parts of the Bible are located in the Old Testament, specifically the Psalms and Proverbs.  

In a day and age where the suggested mission appears to be that we are striving towards greater inclusivity for all, it hurts that so many are quite comfortable bashing Christians.  It’s just not cool. In many ways when I think of my own faith, I am reminded of how stunned I was to learn that a gay friend was socially and politically conservative. Like many people, I had my own preconceptions and they were wrong. It was a learning moment for me.

Inclusivity and tolerance need to be two way streets for all, otherwise we will never end the cycle of hate and fear that has plagued this planet for too long.

PS: Excuse any typos, it’s that kind of day.

I am interrupting my normal flow here to get personal about a cause near and dear to my heart. If you follow me on social media, I am sure you are tired of me talking about this but I will always use my loud voice to speak for those whose voices cannot be heard.

When I am not dreaming of writing a best seller, my day job is chief executive/executive director/wearer of many hats of a small non-profit in southern Maine. My agency serves at risk, low income youth by providing safe, year round, out of school time programming to youth 7-17. We have grown rapidly in recent years, last year we served almost 600 individuals. Unfortunately the people who use our services cannot afford to pay for them so we rely on the generosity of the haves to help the have-nots along with my awesome grant writing skills.

After several great years of grant funding, things have gotten shaky. Shaky enough that we are tightening our already tight belt, trimming program days and all other sorts of not so fun things that do have an impact. However as we are in the middle of a grant cycle and on month four of running on our reserve funds, it became clear that I needed to do something…fast. So I decided to launch a crowd-funding campaign on Indiegogo. As you will see our goal is modest but with 30 hours or so left, time is running out and we really need to make our goal otherwise…I am looking at making some really hard choices that while annoying to me personally will be devastating for the youth that we serve.

So against my better judgment, I am bringing the cause to the blog in hopes that if enough people can help, it will make a difference in the lives of the kids that my agency serves.

This past weekend I crossed a serious milestone towards finding my path; I gave the sermon at a local church. Mind you I am not a member of the clergy, but for the past 9 years I have been in a serious search for my spiritual self and in the past 5 years I have thought off and on about applying to seminary.  Maybe it was no coincidence that I found myself in a pulpit this Sunday.

I must admit it was a rather strange feeling. But I had reached out to several friends who are members of the clergy as well as my own father who is a retired pastor for guidance on what exactly one says to a church. Sure, no one was expecting me to get all Apostle like but I wanted to share something meaningful so in the end I spoke from the heart on my own personal approach to life.

I have had several people ask me if I would share that sermon in this space and while I will do that; in light of the horrific acts at the Boston Marathon, it feels even more like a moment for sharing. Whoever committed these acts of terror meant to steal the happiness of the moment but they will never steal the joy. Our joy goes further than any specific moment or event and lives in us even in minutes of the unexplainable and the horrific.

¹⁶ Rejoice always, ¹⁷ pray continually, ¹⁸ give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

I have been in the helping business for the past fifteen years. Prior to going into the helping business, I was in sales and marketing- a sector that while very lucrative was lacking in the joy factor.

It was through my own experience of finding God that I was led to make the career shift or maybe I should say I was directed. The funny or not so funny thing though is that in the last 15 years I have seen my fair share of less than joyous experiences and people.

One of my earliest jobs in my new field was working as the house manager at a facility for women trying to get out of prostitution. I was a fresh faced twenty something year old pumped up on the Lord and eager to help. That might sound great but really it was a recipe for disaster.

All of the women that I worked with and met had been dealt what many would consider to be the losing hand of cards in this game we call life. One woman in particular had one of the saddest hands and is one of those people who has stayed with me all of these years. She was a recovering addict, struggling to regain custody of her kids and she herself was the product of incest. Her father was her grandfather. The details of her life were horrible yet despite what she had faced and what she continued to face, she always had a smile on her face; her spirit and infectious will to live were hard to ignore. She had joy, real joy not based on changeable factors but her joy came from her faith and understanding that there was more to this journey we call life than what we can see with our limited eyes.

True joy is always beneath the surface and sustains us in the hard moments of life. It is that quiet place in our being that knows, it is okay no matter what.

Happiness most certainly feels good and in many ways it feels better than joy but happiness is fleeting and never lasts. Until we learn the difference between happiness and joy we are constantly subject to the winds of change. We lose our jobs, partners, maybe even our health and too many times these events will steal our happiness but they don’t have to steal our joy.

Joy is often imbedded in us when we surrender ourselves and trust in that which is higher than ourselves. For me that is my personal faith in God through his son Jesus Christ. Trusting in what many consider to be the great unknown is a leap of faith but the rewards for those who choose to take that leap can be numerous and can include an inner joy that is unshakeable in the midst of any storm.

Joy is what I see regularly in my work with societies most vulnerable. Joy is what allows the child whose parents must take him to the local soup kitchen regularly in order to eat a hot meal to still have a smile on his face despite having under what many would consider to be less than joyous circumstances. Joy is the teenage girl who can never partake in the so called joys that her peers are able to do yet she finds joy in being of service to others.

I encourage you to seek joy, to pray, to meditate and to trust in that great unknown.

End of sermon (this was an excerpt)

In light of yesterday’s events I am reminded that there are simply things we will never have answers for, why would anyone want to harm innocent people? We don’t know why, but we know that these things happen and that there are people who walk amongst us who seem to lack any connection to that which makes us all human. Yet we cannot allow such beings to steal our light and our joy. Many are trying to make sense of the senseless and while it is most certainly the role of law enforcement to figure this out. If we allow ourselves to settle and focus on these acts for too long we risk losing a part of ourselves. Instead look for the joy and as Fred Rogers said “Look for the helpers.”

In this quiet moment as I gather my thoughts and figure out how to put on my game-face and get through the day, I just wanted to say thank you on behalf of the BGIM family. It has warmed my heart to read so many kind words in response to my last post. As a deeply private family (imagine that), that was a terribly hard post to write but both my brother and I realized that as this situation evolves by the hour, it truly is no longer business as usual for us and pretending it is, does us no good.

Many people have reached out and asked if there is anything that they can do to assist during this time. The truth is, I don’t know. While we await more tests and final words, we are trying to navigate the new day-to-day. One thing is sure, my father isn’t going back to work and that will definitely impact both my brother and I as my father is pretty close to being financially insolvent. In other words there is so savings or back up plans; we the kids are the back up plans. That creates a whole new level of concerns because it means all his needs will need to be taken care of by us. Thankfully years of working in social services and having assisted my father when my mother was ill means I am well aware of the social services that exist and we will be making use of those services. But as anyone who has ever navigated the world of social security disability knows, it is an involved process that takes time and still doesn’t cover the day-to-day as the process unfolds.

In the short run, I am flying home to Chicago tomorrow morning; however, I am only able to stay overnight because as much as I love my brother, sleeping on the floor of his studio is just not happening. My father lives in a single room occupancy building and building rules won’t allow me to stay in his place during his absence. So one of my biggest barriers to spending any significant amount of time in Chicago is a lack of places to stay; I can’t afford the cost of a hotel long term. I am fortunate that I have eight weeks of paid leave time off but the financial reality is that I still have to pay my family’s living expenses since the phone company does not care that my dad is ill. Neither does the heating oil man. It’s life. One of the reasons I have constantly stalled in going out for the past few weeks (before my dad’s situation suddenly became a crisis) is financial concerns.

If one were inclined, the most critical area of need is a place to lay my head either in the Loop or near the John Stroger Hospital. I am staying tomorrow night at the Club Quarters, Central Loop on Adams Street in Chicago, it is $117. 11 a night.

I would say the next area where assistance would be great is food, if you are local to me knowing that I don’t have to cook would be great. Right now the Man Unit is doing as much as he can to lighten my load but with the 7 year old in addition to his own full plate of work, it’s a lot. If we could just eat without much thought it would be great.

I struggled with whether or not to write this post because; I am not very comfortable with asking people for things. I always find that ironic considering what I do for a living, but as I explained the situation to a friend this morning, she told me that she hadn’t considered what the financial implications were for me having such a small family who all live in very small spaces in an expensive city. I also had an online friend who gently pointed out that people may truly want to help but if I don’t say what I need, no one can help. I guess that makes a lot of sense. So that’s it. That is where we are. If you feel moved to help, it would be lovely but please don’t feel like you have to. Just receiving people’s good thoughts and kind words is all I expected when I wrote my last post. But since some of you asked what you could do beyond words, the least I can do is let you know where the help is most needed.

PS: Since I have readers I have never met as well as friends that read here who have reached out, writing one blog post is the easiest way for me to address everyone.  I am all about simplifying things at the moment.

When I wrote my last post on Friday, I had no idea that by Sunday night my world would be flipped 180 degrees.  To keep it short and sweet, my father has been hospitalized and the road ahead is a journey that none of us in my family want to take. Then again that is the very nature of life as I learned eight years ago. To quote John Lennon “Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans.”

It would be easy in this moment for me to get mad and lash out at the universe for its inherent unfairness, but the truth is my family is blessed. In the past forty eight hours, I have seen my baby brother rise up and take the reins and guide our family through one of our darkest moments. Though it’s become clear that now it is truly time for me to head home and help lighten his load.

As my father reminded me today, we all have an earthly expiration date and all we can do is live and enjoy this ride as much as possible. Never forgetting to look up at the sky and revel in the beauty that exists even in our darkest moments.

So, this space may go quiet for a bit as I head home to Chicago and figure it all out. Despite my attempts to be Zen about this situation, I admit I am feeling a little like the Marsellus Wallace character in Pulp Fiction. After Butch rescues Marsellus, he asks him if he is okay and Marsellus replies “Naw man. I’m pretty fuckin’ far from okay.” Right now I am pretty fuckin far from okay but I am just going to trust that okay will eventually come back to me. Until that time, I am simply present.

I have always loved Depeche Mode…never let me down!