December!

Hurried shopping, Christmas partying, airport hopping, crying baby avoiding, hello hugging, Christmas lights horse-drawn wagon riding and freezing, "Look how much you've grown!" exclaiming, Christmas-carol playing, Christmas feasting, family laughing, card gaming, football watching, fireside sitting, family internet browsing, couch napping, holiday reading, "White Christmas" movie watching, gift swapping, more feasting,goodbye hugging, airport hopping, crying baby avoiding, airplane window Hollywood sign looking, fifth airplane landing, and "hello home!" saying.

Such is December!  How do we have time to think about anything else?!  Hopefully, we were able to to find the time to remember the little Babe born in the stable, God incarnate, to die so we may live.

Hope everybody had a wonderful Christmas and Happy New Year to you and yours!

Got to visit my friends Carli and Scott in Seattle! 

So good to see them!  Oh, this is Pike's Market, where they 

throw the fish.

 Scott, Jeff and I, standing in front of the 

original Starbucks!  Traffic stopped for us

while we took the picture!

 Seattle waterfront.

Seattle waterfront (in the SUN!).

My birthday buddies! 

Two of my favorite things:  SF cable cars and Christmas!

Union Square in SF. Second Annual 

Cheesy Christmas Day in the City!

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day written by Henry Longfellow, during the Civil War.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play.
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of Peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how as the day had come
The belfries of all Christendom
Had roll'd along th' unbroken song
Of Peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair, I bow'd my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong and mocks the song,
Of Peace on earth, good will to men."

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound the carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearthstones of a continent,
And made forlorn, the households born
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With Peace on earth, good will to men."

Half Dome: Did I mention? I'm afraid of heights . . .

I kept hearing about "Half Dome" when people would talk about Yosemite. I was always intrigued and thought I would see what the big deal was.  As I researched hiking Half Dome in Yosemite, I found many blogs, a few articles, and lists about the dangers of this climb.  Coworkers would talk about the stories of hikers witnessing people slide off the edge to their deaths and their own adventuresome tales of making to the top and back down again safely, getting lost and having to find their way back to camp in the dark with flashlights.  Not to mention, there are two large waterfalls and a rushing (raging in the spring) river to consider, which has claimed hundreds of lives of healthy people, just out for a day hike.  The warnings to proceed with caution and care are very present.

The hike is a 14-16 mile round trip, normally, depending on which trails you take.  Jeff and I hiked up the Mist Trail and down the John Muir Trail, so, including our 1 mile each way trip between the car and trailhead, our trip was probably around 18 miles.

Vernal Fall

Vernal Fall

After our 1 mile 10 minute warmup to the trailhead in the cool 50 degree air at 6:55 am and as the valley had a dim, blue light dawning, we hit the Mist Trail, still a little sleepy but excited to get to the top.  At a pretty good clip, we headed up the paved path towards Vernal Fall.  It's a 0.8 mile hike, uphill and very steep at times.  But, the views of the rapids and the eventual view of the fall is magnificent.  Vernal is a 317 foot fall and hikers climb over 600 steps of varying heights to reach the top of the fall.  I think this is the third most challenging and heart-pumping, hard-breathing, leg-burning part of the Half Dome hike. But, the view and roar and occasional crack of water hitting the rocks below is beautiful and distracting.  The hike then passes Emerald Pool, a very rich green-colored pool the water seems to rest in in before it reluctantly falls over the edge of Vernal Fall, and then up along the gentle granite slope the water recreationally seems to slide down into the pool.  We cross a bridge and begin a less difficult climb up to the next rock stairs up to Nevada Falls which is about 1.9 miles further along the trail from Vernal Fall.  This is another very beautiful fall and much higher than Vernal at 594 feet.  It's another great place to take in the view of the valley you just came up, listen to the rush and roar of the water sliding over the edge and down the granite cliff.  After a bathroom stop and visit with some mountain climbers headed toward the SW wall of Half Dome to climb (brave chaps), we headed through Little Yosemite valley along the Merced River for a bit, we enjoyed about a mile of a sandy, flat hike (easy, breezy after 3 miles of up!).  We hit one of the forks in the trail:  left to Half Dome ( ! ); or, right to Tuolomne Meadows (only something like 22 miles away . . . no big deal . . . ).

Nevada Falls

Up the trail to the left we go and begin the rest of our uphill-for-four-more-miles hike, on thin air. Huffing and puffing through the trees we clip along, like we're in a race because we always do everything fast and competitively.  We soon realize we will give ourselves heart attacks if we don't pace ourselves a little slower breathing the 8,000 foot air up the steep climb of trail and steps of rocks of all different shapes and sizes.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of up, we reach the bottom of the Sub Dome.  We wonder at more amazing views and scout out the rest of our climb.  We could barely see a few little specks of people on Half Dome working their way slowly up the cables and could see a handful others working their way back and forth up and down the switchbacks on the Sub Dome.  We catch our breath and begin making our way up the Sub Dome.  "Oh, this is easy enough . . ." I thought, initially.  But, as we starting gaining more elevation pretty quickly, and the trees were getting smaller and smaller below us, with no cable on the outside of me, with nothing but steeply sloping granite and gravel, and a panoramic view of the entire valley below, I became dizzy and my fear of heights started to play with my head.

Sub Dome and Half Dome behind.

A little pale and scared before
the ascent!

We hiked up the stone steps on the Sub Dome, up, up, up and the cliff seemed sheerer and sheerer to me.  After trying to fight back all the thoughts of "If I slip, I die and go splat!" and thinking the same things for Jeff, I began singing my old high school fight song in my head (what a lame way to distract my brain) and we made it to the top of the Sub Dome.

With only 400 feet up a 40-50 degree slope left to go, which looks like 1,000 feet at a 75 degree angle when you're standing at the bottom watching very small people make it up the final slope of the dome at the top of the cables, this required mustering every ounce of courage I had.  I was plain scared and my eyes were probably huge under my sunglasses!  This is the the second most daunting view of the hike (guess what the first is?!).  Jeff didn't seem bothered at all!

We had our short break, ate some Shot Blocks, and Jeff asked, "Are you ready?" and smiled . . .

"Nooooo!" I screamed in my head, but I told Jeff, "Yeah . . . "

We put our gloves on and walked up to the cables, looked up and grabbed on, one hand on each cable.  The slope was gentle for a few feet of the cables and then began up.  Grab with both arms, take a step on the not-so-traction-provident granite slope and take a little step up. Grab, pull, step. Grab, pull, step. Grab, pull, step.  There are boards about every 8-15 feet so the cables are like a long ladder.  I didn't feel comfortable putting all my weight on my feet because my shoes would slip a little when I would push off, so much of my propulsion up was from the use of my arms and pulling myself up.  The air kept feeling thinner, we kept getting higher, and we were to the 50 degree point about halfway up the dome. My arms were falling asleep from being above my head most of the time and my heart was pounding.  I'm not sure if it was fear, being tired and/or hungry, thin air and hard physical work, a little stomach problem or all of the above, but I became dizzy and nauseated for about 2 minutes and I thought I might have to turn around.  Thankfully, it passed quickly and talking to Jeff helped, so we continued up.

Jeff handled the ascent very well, of course.  He wasn't as afraid as I was, and although I won't speak for him, I will say, I could tell he was concentrating. : )

Twenty-five or so minutes after we started up, we finally made it up the 9 miles, 4,700 feet and the final 400 feet and 90 degree, I'mean, 40-50 degree slope of dome and were up top!  What a view, what a relief, and how exhausting, mentally and physically.  We congratulated one another, I laid immediately down, Jeff walked around, we took pictures, and we listened to others congratulate one another for making it to the top and marvel at the wonder around them.  Wow . . . we couldn't believe the view, were happy we made it, and were very tired.

After about an hour on top, we decided to work our way down to have lunch below the Sub-Dome (we wanted all of the danger of that out of our way).  So, we walk back up to the cables, look below at the little dots of people below us and try to see over the hump that slopes so quickly you can't see all the way down (this would be the most daunting view of the hike!), turn around to face the dome to slide down, holding on for dear life. Thankfully, going down was not nearly as frightening nor physically challenging as up.  I held onto the right cable, my cap shielded the view of the rest of the valley from my eyes so I would not see what I could tumble down to in an instant, and I took baby steps as Jeff waited patiently for me to catch up with his sliding down the slope.  We passed several going up this time (we didn't meet any on the way up), encouraged them to hang in there and that it "gets better and down is much easier."  One woman, just as she passed us, began crying, saying wanted to turn around to her husband (it really is scary!), as their little 10 year-old boy followed her.  And then one Persian man passed us as he would run up a few steps (this was still the 40 degree slope).

Hanging on for dear life!

We made it down both domes, not slipping (praise God!), not tumbling 1,000 ft to our deaths, as a few have, and happy it was behind us.  Lunch, then our 4 mile hike back down, down, down, to the pool just above Nevada Falls to recharge, take some ibuprofen, and rest our feet and knees.  Jeff pumped some water for some college boys who didn't take their gallon of water per person up with them, chatted with them, crossed the river over the bridge, and headed down the John Muir Trail back to the Valley Floor.

Eighteen miles.  4,700 feet up and back down again. Eleven hours.  Four hours in the car back home (probably not the way to do the ride home). : )

If you are in Yosemite, and want the challenge of a lifetime, Half Dome is it.  It is the hardest hike of the Valley and probably the hardest hike I will ever do.  If you do decide you would like to do it, train for it and get prepared. It is not easy and at times, dangerous even for those in excellent shape and even if you aren't afraid of heights.  You have to want to do it and you must be in shape for it.  Many have had heart attacks climbing the cables and healthy folks have made fatal mistakes on the hike and in the valley. Be prepared!

So, every experience should have a lesson learned, right?  I would say probably the obvious:  overcoming fear and the rewards thereof.  It was an amazing experience and, although not always "fun," it was mostly fun and worth it.  We hurt, could barely move after for about half a day, but we got to see things otherwise unseen by us, challenge ourselves and test our limits.  We got to do something big together and work as a team.  There is also a camaraderie between those who have shared the same experience that is fun to relate with others you may have nothing else in common with.  I have also never done something that was viewed as "dangerous" (other than driving the highway to work every day). Kinda fun, but won't be something I do often.





Here are more pics of the adventure:

We didn't take any without me in it, here,
but this shows the sheer rock face on the dome.

"The Saddle" between Half Dome (left) and the Sub Dome (right).
If you look closely, you can see hikers hiking the cables.

These are the climbers we met at Nevada Falls.
They climbed the SW side of the Dome while we did the cables.

More pics of the trip here. Click on the first photo to view a larger version and then click "next." : ) 

This is a San Francisco Chronicle article called "Danger on the Dome," if you're interested in reading more about it:

http://articles.sfgate.com/2007-07-07/news/17255275_1_half-dome-cable-handrails-hikers

Rachel told me . . .

Rachel told me I should update my blog . . . I have to be honest . . . I have no idea of what to blog about this time.  I noticed I had started a new blog entry on August 8th, opened it, hoping I would have something to work with, and was disappointed by the fact that it was blank:  Blogger's Block?

It's been almost two months since the last entry.  Tarah's been long gone and I'm sure much has happened during that time . . . New friends, new places, more trips, more bike rides, more work . . . But the questions remain in my head, "What do people want to know?  What do they want to read about? Why do they read and what do they care about? What's narcissism? What's sincerity and openness with us and our lives? What do I have to say or share that's worthy of their time?"  I suppose honesty and sincerity are valued.  I suppose not dressing things up or "packaging" them perfectly to make them more glorious than they actually are is valued.

So, what has happened in my life in the last two months that is worthy of your reading this and ultimately meaning something?  My boyfriend gone for 5 weeks to work in Central America?  A wonderful trip to the cabin of the innkeepers of the inn I lived in to visit a beautiful mountain lake to jump off rocks, swim up to a cold mountain waterfall and feel the fresh water splash on our faces, to float and ski in solitude and serenity?  Kayaking next to otters, sea lions, pelicans and watching dolphins jump in and out of the water at the end of a pier? A wedding back in Texas with old childhood friends and family, where the plane touching the ground made me cry and taking off made me cry again?  Two weeks of the homesick blues again?  A wonderful, encouraging visit from two of some of the most influential people of my life?  Routine work?  A relaxing visit to Napa to sit by the pool, ride bikes from winery to winery and up to a lake? My recent ponderings, self-reflection, life-reflection, internal struggles?


Picture to the left is courtesy of Jeff and Cindy; used without permission but my boyfriend took it, so I have rights! Right?. : )


I realize part of relationship with people is the sharing of yourself with another, and, part of caring for one another is knowing what is happening in one anothers' lives. So, to hold up my end of the bargain (and my apologies to those who did not bargain for this!):  There have been many activities, trips, things, thoughts, feelings . . . There have been many thoughts of the debate in my head concerning narcissism and self-absorption versus genuine vulnerability with who we are and our real lives.  There have been times of speechlessness as a result--feeling like everything's been said or said too much or that words are insufficient.  All the activities and consumption of California (or what this area of California has to offer) are starting to be drowned out by the cry of wanting something more significant than consumption, "talk," or packaging.  I'm itching to "do" something, see change, love better with the breath of time I've been given here. There is more to do than take trips and more to behold.  This begs the question, "So, what are you going to 'do'?"  The goal is to get these school loans paid and go overseas to do some medical mission work.  In the meantime, I'm ready to find something here to invest time in--volunteering or a ministry to be a part of.  Oncology nursing used to be ministry--meaning that's where I could "pour out" and, as they say in basketball, "leave it all on the floor."  But, my current nursing job, although it requires love and investment as well, is not quite as ministerial, and doesn't require the same type of emotional energy as oncology nursing did.

Angie and I, relaxing at Raymond Brother's Winery, 

after being bitten by a goat . . . 

So, "what has been happening?"  Life.  Good and real life, full of all the ups and downs, happy times, laughter, friends, times of missing other friends and home, restlessness, feeling completely satisfied at other times. But, it's time to minister, to love, and to serve.  Now, you can hold me accountable. : )

This was still "all about me." Lord, help me!

Monterey Bay

Monterey.  Can't remember which biologist's home this was, 

but he was a friend of Steinbeck's, who also lived in Monterey. 

The concrete cubes were where the biologist would hold sea animals

he would study, like octopuses, sharks, etc..

More of Monterey's piers.

Kayaking Elkhorn Slough, near Monterey. Very fun!

Robert Mondavi's vines and grapes.

V. Sattui's cellar.

Angie and I, after biking up to the Hennesy Resevoir 

on a scary road without a bike lane!

Jeff and I at Lake Hennesy

Miss you all and sending my love! (Thanks for your interest and for telling me to "update my blog"!)

Word Of God Speak by Mercy Me

I'm finding myself at a loss for words
And the funny thing is it's okay
The last thing I need is to be heard
But to hear what You would say

[CHORUS]
Word of God speak
Would You pour down like rain
Washing my eyes to see
Your majesty
To be still and know
That You're in this place
Please let me stay and rest
In Your holiness 
Word of God speak

I'm finding myself in the midst of You
Beyond the music, beyond the noise
All that I need is to be with You
And in the quiet hear Your voice

[REPEAT CHORUS 2x]

I'm finding myself at a loss for words
And the funny thing is it's okay

Goodbye, Tarah-rizer and Hello Status Quo.

Goodbye, Tarah . . . 

Tarah, the last of my traveling friends, rolled out of the Bay Area Sunday morning with her mom to help drive the post-night-shift-sleep-deprivation-induced-intoxication-ridden-night-nurse on the first days of driving back to Minne-SOH-ta.  It is the end of a mini-era.  Sure, there will always be more people to meet and to become friends with, but these were the original Fab Five Travelers and friends I met when I first came to California.  They are special.  Tarah heads to NYC to start her new assignment there at the end of the month.  She's been great fun to have around and I will miss her unique sense of humor, sarcasm and wit.  I will probably miss her Minne-SOH-tan accent more than anything!  Okay, maybe I won't miss it the most of all, but I will miss it and laugh to myself when I think about it.  Soh long, Tah-rah!  Enjoy the East Coast, again! : )

California is finally warming up and finally feeling like it might be summer.  Although, I have still only worn a swimsuit about three times this year, all three in the hot tub at the inn (I'm having swimming withdrawals and may have to head down to San Diego soon . . . ).  The grass is no longer green, but golden brown and it's incredibly dry here.  However, the weather really is great.  The sun shines most days, it's 70-85 degrees during the day and mid 50's-60's at night.  Perfect weather, other than a little too cool for skirts/shorts in the evening and a little too cool, for a Texan's taste, to swim.  The flowers are still beautiful and there are Jacarandas in bloom and are very nice.  There are some trees that are confused and think it's time for their leaves to turn (it always seems like some trees think it's fall) . . . This is, indeed, a beautiful place.

Hello Status Quo . . . 

Some of my girlfriends from all around the globe and some here locally are doing a Beth Moore Bible study (Daniel: Lives of Integrity; Words of Prophecy) which reminds us to be present in the culture we are found and relevant to it and the people in it, but to not be held captive by it--to not allow it to rule us in any number of ways, such as being consumed by keeping up the status quo in terms of financial status, professional status, intellectual status, physical appearance, etc.

I currently live in San Jose, in the Silicon Valley, where the "dot com boom" boomed. I was about to say San Francisco or Menlo Park were among the richest cities/areas in the US, but as I just looked, according to Forbes, San Jose is number one with the median of homes costing $625k (San Fran is listed as 3rd).  So, among all the Mercedes, BMW's, Jaguars, large homes, entitlement, perfectly sculpted bodies, Louis Vuitton, Coach purses, professional competition, and large homes, it seems it can be easy to be sucked into the ultimate "American Dream" paradigm--go, go, go; get, get, get; have the best, look the best, be the best.  Competition is the way of life and I've heard some here argue this may be the most competitive place on earth, especially in terms of technology.  Apple, Yahoo, Google, Facebook, HP, Adobe, Verisign, Cisco are just some of the names we encounter every day, headquartered here.  It's the "normal" rat race to be on top and be the best, amplified.

Not everybody in the area lives pursuing wealth, the best bod, or BMWs.  I know many who are solidly grounded.  But, the pressures of reaching and keeping the competitive status quo are very loud here.  Maybe the pressures are not any louder here than in Highland Park, Texas, but, I do find it much louder than in LBK.  Maybe it's all relatively and proportionately the same, but is on a larger scale.  I don't know, but I do think it can be easy to be distracted to pursue status instead of things that are more worth our time than frantically trying to gain things that only last a few years.  This is not to be judgmental of folks with funds or find themselves with status as a result of their persistent, hard work.  People can and do use their status for good things, as well.  It's the being all-consumed, swallowed up, and held captive or debilitated by the motives and desires to obtain these things so that they define a person's purpose, time and life that I'm weighing.

The overarching question of the Beth Moore study is how do we be relevant and applicable here without our identities being consumed or ruled by this culture?  Do we obtain just enough of the status quo to be relevant to those or do we live in the status quo?  Do we just not care at all and possibly be irrelevant and unrelatable?  Does it really matter? What's worth our time and energy?  We have a life expectancy of 77.9 years, these days (CDC FASTSTATS).  Seventy-seven years to do what we're going to do, however small or big it may be.  What should be pursued?

I hope I keep my eye on the ball.  Of course, there is only so much status a nurses' salary can buy!  Nevertheless . . . I hope too much time, energy and focus is not wasted pursuing fleeting, ultimately unimportant things.

I hope you are all doing well, blessed and happy!  Happy summer!

"Moving" to California!

When I started travel nursing, I knew a completely new chapter was beginning in my life and another was ending.  I anticipated meeting new people and seeing new things, but didn't really know what to expect other than that.  I didn't know I would love where I was taken as much as I do. I didn't know there would be so much to do here and to enjoy. I didn't know I would be driving across the country a second time to "move" to California, of all places, "semi" permanently, to work at Stanford.  Today, as we were driving back into the bay after spending a day laying on the beach, watching and listening to the breakers crash onto the beach and after hiking the rolling golden hills, then driving back through the mountains through the redwoods and seeing the Diablo range's golden mountainsides glowing in the setting sunlight across the valley with San Jose and the rest of the South Bay suburbs sprawling the valley, I was awestruck by the beauty and serenity of even a bustling city and metro area.  I didn't anticipate my driving my things to California in a Penske truck, not knowing exactly how long I'll be here.  But, it happened . . . I am now a "California resident."  Never did I see this in my future, even a year ago!  But, I am excited I'm here and look forward to what will happen here.

So, on Memorial Day weekend, I flew out to Texas to clear out my storage unit and to put everything that's "to keep" on a truck to have it shipped out to Cali so that I could just delegate what to  put on the truck and wait for somebody else to do the very long, not-amazingly-fun 1,400+ mile drive to San Jose from LBK.  Well, the moving company truck driver had other plans and, I suppose, decided it was time to retire that weekend.  Moving didn't happen that weekend, although, I did get to see many wonderful old friends in LBK and was able to see family for a couple of days.

The next weekend, I tried again, and flew back out to LBK, this time with reinforcements (have to give Jeff props) and the plan was to load up a Penske truck ourselves and drive it back, ourselves. . . This time, all went perfectly.  Daniel K and Katie M also helped us load up the truck (thanks, guys!!!) and it would have taken about 4 more hours without their help.  So, we worked our way back out to the west coast, in about two full days of driving, and finally got my things out to Cali!  And, although I was thankful for the time to live simply, without many material things of my own, I did miss my things, as ultimately unimportant as they are.

Here are some pics from the drive!

Jeff and I . . . He drove the big truck and lifted many heavy things!

Thank you, Jeff! (Danie and Katie, I don't have pictures of you,

but I am grateful for your help as well!!!)

This is the Golden State . . . 

I have officially started at Stanford as a "regular staff" employee.  I'm not used to thinking of myself as "regular staff"!  The crew has been great and are enjoying giving the newbie a hard time.  I will enjoy my time with them.

So, I moved out of the Inn.  I was so very thankful for the support, encouragement, and company of Ralph and Theresa, who run the Inn, as well as the other guests there.  It was a fun time and they were extremely generous and open-hearted, sharing their home, their cabin in the Sierras, making sure all was well with me and my other travel nurse friends, cooking for us . . . They were wonderful and I will always be grateful for them.

Ralph and I, enjoying making s'mores!

Arjan (a former guest), Theresa and I.  I blame Theresa's and Ralph's

wonderful cooking for the extra puff on my face! 

The BBQ's, cookies, and everything else were wonderful! 

Now, I'm living in a cottage back-house, behind a home in San Jose.  I am very near a friend and her husband from LBK, which will be fun.  I love the new cottage. It's nice, my landlords are very nice and take wonderful care of me.  This will be a good place to be.  The only downside is many northern Cal homes do not have AC . . . so, it gets warm, but, since it's in the 70's most days here for a high, it's not much of a discomfort. I have spent most of my days in capris or pants, often wearing sweaters except for a couple of hours during the day in the afternoon. : ) I also have no tan and have not worn a swimming suit except to sit in the hot tub. I do not feel like it's summer at all.  It's very pleasant, though, and great for other outdoor activities.

I hope you are all doing well!  : )

Letting go or holding on?

Bebo Norman has a great song with a line that says, "This could be all about just letting go.  Or this could be all about just holding on."

Heather pulled out of California today.  As Tarah and I waved her on, her little prius with "moo" on the license plate, packed to the top, full of the essentials for living and a few souvenirs from the along the way, and riding a little low, Tarah said, "And the five became three, and the three became two . . . " The five of us who started at the hospital at the same time became three as our Bostonians left about 6 weeks ago, and now, it's just Tarah and I, hangin' at the inn for a couple of more weeks before I move to another neighborhood.  We both sighed and shuffled back up the front steps of the inn, heads hanging a little low, to head back to bed.

Last week, Heather and I took our favorite drive down the 1 on the coast, one last time before she heads to Montana for her next assignment.  We went into this little local shop in Half Moon Bay so she could buy some wedding gifts for family and friends.  Making conversation, the storekeeper asked us what we do and where we're from.  As Heather explained we're travel nurses and what that means, the lady said, "Wow! You're gypsies, ladies!"  Well, except for the thieving part, I suppose we are. Ok, maybe just the others, because I'm going to stay here for a while, but, I still feel like one--transient and temporary, just passing through.

So, this experience and past year full of transitions and changes has led me ask the question: is life about "letting go" or "holding on"?  We let go when we move out of our hometowns and away from our parents for the first time and go to college or begin working.  We let go of the grade of a bombed test after studying for hours.  We let go of hurtful words or situations.  We let go of unhealthy relationships. We let go of things that have expired or spoiled or are just past their time like places, situations, things, people, life stages.

If we don't let go of things when they are past their time, or may be spoiled or toxic to us (like not letting go of a hurt inflicted upon us and refusing to forgive), they can kill us or hold us captive in ways.  Not letting go can keep us from living as we are bound and chained by the past, even if it's good things we don't let go of, like precious friends when the time comes.  If we don't let go and decide to live in the past, to only live for things already gone, we miss out on the blessings of new friendships in new places or new lessons, because we refuse to let them in when we are so preoccupied by that which is already gone or completed or finished.  "Letting go" also allows others to move on in our blessing, looking forward for what is next for them, so they may enjoy it to the full, without the hindrance of a little dark cloud from our lack of blessing them to enjoy it.  We should let them go, in our blessing, and let them live in the joy and excitement of the anticipation of the rich experiences of their next adventure.

Later, Moo.

Letting go of the things in us that are toxic or harmful or binding for us is also essential for our own growth and health.  How can we move on if we refuse to let go of things that keep our feet tied?  How can I love others if I don't love myself enough to let go of things that harm me, like habits or addictions that have a hold on me, or even self-depricating thoughts? Let it go.  I have to let go of all the lies told me about who I am by the world: "You are not beautiful enough;" "You are not wearing nice enough clothes or living in a nice enough house or driving a nice enough car;"  "You need to work harder to get on top;" "You need to be more intelligent to be accepted." Lies. Let them go.

What do we "hold on" to?  There are relationships that we hold on to, even over distances and time. Family.  Fellowship.  We hold on to the new friends we make in new places as we love them and they love us through the "newness" and life in our new places. But, there's one thing I've had to cling to more than anything else, as everything else is transient and transitional:  I've been forced to hold on to and run after Faith and Truth.  One thing has remained steady and solid--My God, even when, especially when I have not remained steady in my pursuit of Him. But, any time I realize I need to pursue Him and find Truth, comfort, encouragement, hope, He's not far away and is ready and eager to comfort and teach.  Sometimes, my friends have to leave or I have to leave in order to be desperate enough to feverishly seek Him and remember all He is and has done for me, the hope I have in His promise that He is always with me.  Sometimes, it seems, I have to feel like so much is changing or slipping away, that I have nothing else but Him that is and will always be steady and sure.  I think that's something worth holding on to.

I suppose it takes a lifetime of practice to know what to hold on to and what to let go of.  Holding on to the right things makes life worth living and purposeful and good.  Letting go of the right things does the same and allows us and others to move forward.  Maybe it's just practicing adequate balance of letting go and holding on that's the challenge, as well as holding on to and letting go of the right things.

So (on to the "update" part of this blog, rather than reflectionary rantings), now is a time of both "letting go" and "holding on."  : ) Heather leaves, Tarah and I remain.  I am moving to a little backhouse "cottage" in a nice neighborhood about a 10 minute walk from a friend from Lubbock (she and her husband moved out here a couple of months ago) and I am VERY excited about that (I will be "holding on" to my friendship with Bethany! : ).  I start my permanent position at Stanford in the middle of June, and I am excited about that as well. I enjoy the unit I work on (23-hour outpatient surgery and the infusion center for people needing outpatient 30 min to 6 hour infusions) and enjoy the folks I work with.   The weather here . . . somebody lied when they said "warm, sunny California!"  It's been cool, windy, and we're still having rain, even though the cool and rainy season is "over."  I miss the warm evenings and thunderstorms of home!  But, there are many things on the to-do list for the spring and summer, like Yosemite!, Tahoe!, San Diego!, umm . . . and lots of other things!

I hope you are all doing well and are blessed!

You keep your heart above your head and your eyes wide open
So this world can't find a way to leave you cold
And know you're not the only ship out on the ocean
Save your strength for things that you can change
Forgive the ones you can't
You gotta let 'em go

Like a sweet sunset in Georgia let it go
And like the fear that grabs ahold ya let it go
Let it go
Let it go


From "Let it Go," by the Zac Brown Band

Texas Men and Texas

There’s nothing like the smell of a cleaned up Texas man.  Those of  you, who have grown up in West Texas or small-town Texas or have roots there, know what I’m talking about.  These are the men who go out and work the pasture or land, whether be it farming, ranching, working out in the oil fields or in the oil or gas refineries, out on the feedlots, or any other trade.  These men go work hard all day and come home in their dirty shirts, oily, smelling like the tractor or truck and dirt, hair disheveled (if they have their hair under their sweaty hat--maybe they already have that hat-induced receding hairline), kick off their boots and take a deep breath and go, “Whew!”  There’s nothing like receiving a hug from a dirty Texas man.  Then, for public or special occasions, they “get cleaned up.”  They go wash off the dirt and grit from a long day of work, put on their best starched and pressed button up shirt, tuck it into their starched wranglers with the permanent crease-line down the middle of the front of the pant-legs, buckle their belt buckle, put on their shiny “dress” boots, dab on a little of that cologne that every clean Texas man seems to wear, and they’re ready for whatever occasion awaits.  Maybe it’s their kid’s ballgame.  Maybe it’s a party.  Maybe it’s dinner out with the family or a holiday dinner.  But, there’s nothing quite like seeing and smelling and receiving a hug from a “cleaned up” Texas man.

A handsome Texas man sat next to me on the flight from Austin to Dallas this morning and, like so many of the other sights and sounds and smells I’ve experienced on this little mini-pilgrimmage back to my “homeland,” it made me feel like I was "home."  He reminded me of all the Texas men in my family who get cleaned up and smell so good.  There’s nothing like hugging a clean Texas man and burying your face into his neck and taking a big whiff of whatever secret cologne it is they wear.  But, my Granddaddy wears it. My Daddy wears it. My uncles wear it.  I just wanted to give that man, who was about the same age as my Daddy and uncles, a big hug and take a big whiff.  And, it seems to me, that that dress and that smell is usually accompanied by a gentlemanly, teddy bear heart.  I am home, indeed.

So, as I was sitting there, in the airport of my state’s capital, listening to sweet country music play over the public speakers, watching people slowly stroll by in their unique Texas style, as I was looking out the windows at the green grass the spring rains bring, after having driven past ditches and medians full of bluebonnets, Indian paintbrush and other wildflowers I can’t name but are still familiar, feeling especially nostalgic on this week-long trip back home to Texas to visit family and friends and to take “Texas” in, my thoughts turned to “Texas” and “home” and “who I am” and “where I come from.” What is “Texas”? Where is “home”?  “Who am I?” And, “where do I come from?”

In California, I’ve noted some general animosity towards “Texas” and often wait for a look of surprise and possible disgust or judgment as I tell them where I’m from.  There are many stereotypes out there, about Texas as well as California.  We in Texas, tend to think of our “good ol’ southern values” and open hearts and friendly smiles and waves while others outside of Texas may think of our radical gun-blazin’, big mouthin‘, radical conservatism, capital punishment and “the axis of evil.”  People in California (okay, northern California) tend to think of their beautiful landscapes, the mountains, the Bay, the ocean and beaches, the embrace of people from anywhere and everywhere and accepting people for who they are, allowing them to express themselves while others outside of California may think of radical liberalism, hippies, drugs, mohawks, piercings, tats, lipo-suction, facelifts, boob jobs and The Housewives of Orange County (which is in Southern California).  While some of these things in the accounts of both Texas and California are somewhat true in some instances, I’ve learned misperceptions and inaccurate preconceptions are ubiquitous in both areas and probably all over the world concerning everywhere else in the world.

So, Texas.  Ah, Texas!  Maybe I will momentarily become the stereotypical “Texan” as I recount all the glories Texas has to offer!  I can’t help it, Texas is home and Texas is in me.  Besides, haven’t all my other blog entries been about the glories of California?  I don’t want to over-glorify Texas, although this still may qualify. She has her many problems, as does everywhere else.  But, this is Texas to me:  Good-smellin’, cleaned up, pressed and starched Wranglers-wearin’ men; dirty trucks on dusty roads and kids, like myself, boppin up and down in the passenger seat as we bounce down the road on the farm, or standing in the bed of the truck, holdin’ on to the headache rack with our faces in the wind as our hair is blown crazy, smilin' and laughin’; Dad stopping the truck, getting out the shovel and killin' a rattler; learnin’ how to siphen water over the waterin' ditch so it flows down the rows to water the corn (shake the pipe first, so you don’t git bit by snake!); barbed wire fences; breathtaking sunsets;  the best Tex-Mex in the world ( ! ); amazing barbeque; mesquite trees; yucca; dodging tumbleweeds in the car; having at least one dent or scratch on your car from a tumble-weed as big as your car; running from tornadoes (literally, running down the street, seeing tornadoes and funnels on three sides, carrying all of our pets down to the cellar, the tornado siren blaring, on more than one occasion!); knowing exactly what shade of green of the sky means to keep an eye out and ears perked for tornadoes;  a good and exciting electrical storm with thunder that makes you jump and rattles the windows; the low, slow roll of thunder as a thunderstorm rolls out; the sound of the breeze through the cottonwood trees; the sound of locusts proclaiming the heat of the summer; the annoying but still somehow awesome brown dust-storm of the LBK; and, one of my favorites, the slow drawl and sweet twang of country talkin’ Texans, like saying “tar” for “tire” or “reckon” or “darlin’” or the tell-tale “fixin’ to” . . .

Why are we Texans so darn proud?  I’m not sure. It’s probably nothin’ but good ol’ brainwashin’ since we were just tiny Texas toots.  Even so, Texas is where I’m from and will always be from.  It’s where my Granny used to fix us chocolate gravy and we used to sit around the bar while she made more toast and wait for the next slice because she couldn’t make them fast enough for us and we would immediately smother the toast with the delectable chocolate gravy and dip our bacon in it.  It’s where I rode a tractor and combine and Daddy let me pull the levers and I watched the corn fall into the grain cart, wide-eyed and fascinated.  It’s where my brother and I got “lost” in the canyon by the lake.  It’s where we changed the rock-sign on the hill at the lake that read “Lee Hill” to “Crowe Hill” : ).  It’s where I learned to always watch for rattlesnakes.  It’s where “somebody” shot an arrow into our neighbor’s car at the lake (it wasn't me). It’s where countless slumber parties took place, including one the night before prom when we got rained in at Cortney’s house, down the mile-long muddy road and I drove backwards all the way to get out because I would get stuck going forwards.  It’s where Jayme’s mom had cookies waiting for us the first time I rode the bus out to her house to spend the night.  It’s where I drove a 1987 black Chevy van, Cortney an old blue pickup truck with the shift on the column, Amy-big red, and Jayme--the train whistle buick.  It’s where I graduated high school and college.  It’s where all my friends got married.  It’s where I was born and where my Granny and cousin died.   And, it’s where we remember the Alamo!!!


That’s why I’m proud I’m a Texan, I suppose.  All this, and so much more, has happened in Texas.

So, this week, I got to see friends and family in Austin and Sunray. I saw how we've grown up and aren't little kids anymore.  We have grownup jobs, grownup spouses, are grownup parents . . . I saw how things have changed and how they have stayed the same.  I got to eat the same El Rancho Mexican food I grew up on and is legendary in these parts.  I got to enjoy my Texas heritage, my Texas friends, and my Texas family.  And, I remembered, I still love Texas!  Yes-sir-ee Bob, I still love Texas!

My great-granddad, "Grandpa Gibson," helped lay these tracks north of Sunray.

He met his bride-to-be when he was injured on the job, working on the railroad, 

and "Grandma Gibson" and her family nursed him back to health in their home.