Letter #85 - Travis

I LOVE the name Travis.  In fact, if I have a son someday, it's pretty high up on my list of potential names.  I have a cousin named Travis, and a good friend of the family named Travis.  Today's letter went to the latter.

What's funny is I hit the period before the "r" and so a second ago that last sentence read "latte." it's funny because Travis is a manager at Starbucks.  Ok so it's funny to me.

Moving on.

My father spent the majority of my life working as full time clergy for our church.  Full time clergy in our church go by the title of "Appointee".  As a result, I am what is dubbed an Appointee Kid.  This life is as enriching as it can be frustrating.  The blessings I've had from being an Appointee Kid (AK) include having lived all over the world, having met hundreds of interesting and wonderful people, having traveled the world and learned all kinds of cool cultures, and having created bonds with other Appointee Kids.  Travis is also an AK.  He's older than me, so we didn't grow up attending the same camps or church functions together, but our parents worked together and were very good friends (his father performed my wedding last year).  As a result, Trav and I share a bond that is unique and very meaningful to me.  While we've had our own ups and downs with that life, we can understand each other on a different level, even though we may not be BFFs.  We also share an interesting take on church life and spirituality because of our upbringings being so close to the church.  Most people would assume this means we are either goody two shoes, or complete rebels, but mostly we fall somewhere in the middle... with deep senses of personal spirituality and a deep appreciation for the culture and community of our church while still finding ourselves somewhat skeptical and frustrated with the politics and challenges that come with running any organisation.  Appointee Kids tend to see a different side of the church than most people.  We see the good, but we also see the dirty underbelly.  We have to learn to maintain a delicate balance so that we can operate within the community of the church, but still separate the business and frustration from our spiritual selves so we can try and avoid becoming complete cynics.  Most of us are reasonably successful at walking this line, and I think almost all of us waver from time to time on one side or the other of the line.

That's why maintaining our AK bonds are important, because we help support each other during the frustrating and wavering times.  Travis and I will always have a special bond, and my letter to him was to reach out and remind him of that.  Also to thank him for making time for my husband and I when we were in his neck of the woods a few weeks back.  It was great to see him for awhile and to get to spend some time catching up and just shooting the breeze (and eating Mexican food lol)

Travis, you rock buddy.  I love ya!

Letter #70 - Joan

As a general rule, I am not very good with "old" people.  By this I mean anyone who has white or grey hair but has also lost any or all of their mental capacity.  I don't say this to be mean, I don't feel they are any less important, I'm just not always good at communicating with them, which is odd because I'm great with kids and there are often parallels in the communication style needed.  I guess it's partially just that - I'm always worried they'll think I'm talking down to them, or that I'm being disrespectful.  I have a hard time separating their age & life experiences from the mental state they may be in.  My brother, on the other hand, is amazing with this group.  He's like a god in nursing homes... it's incredible to watch.

My husband and I have a neighbour who is teetering into this category.  She's still pretty sharp mentally, but she I get the feeling she is excruciatingly lonely.  She also isn't afraid to ask for help... a lot.  While this is a good thing, it can also be frustrating for me because sometimes her requests cut into my plans and I don't feel any emotional obligation to her.  *That* may sound bad, but I'm being brave and going with honesty.  I'm not proud of these feelings, but they are there.  This week Joan called me late one evening while I was in the middle of working on a research paper.  I almost didn't answer, but decided at the last second that if she was calling this late it may be an emergency and I knew I would feel awful if I found out the next day she had needed to get to the hospital or something worse and I didn't pick up the phone.  She was fine, she just wanted to know if we could take her trash out.  That didn't bother me, it was the 30 minute conversation that ensued about why the complex changed the dumpsters again and didn't they think about the fact that people like her can't haul their trash up over their heads to dump it in, and her plan for talking to them about just that... in great detail.

Remember the part where I was in the middle of writing a paper?  I don't have it in me to be rude, so I stayed on the phone until she was ready to hang up, but I was a little annoyed.  As she hung up she told me that she would hang a bag with some cookies on her door for us because she had bought some (insert another long story with unnecessary details such as which area of the store these cookies are located in and roughly how much they cost and how often she is able to find them) and wanted to share.  I thanked her and hung up.  It just so happened that my husband and I were headed out a little later to do a quick late night grocery run (once I was actually at a good stopping point for the night with my paper) and we grabbed Joan's trash on the way out.  The bag with "a few cookies" turned out to be a huge collection of cookies, crackers and candies... enough to last us weeks.

I felt a pit in my stomach.  Here I (again) had been so focused on my own needs that I really kind of blew her off (even if it was internally)... I only half listened to her once I understood her request, and when I hung up the phone I made some sarcastic comment in my head.  What made me feel so bad was that I had been annoyed and frustrated, and she felt heard and special because someone kept her on the phone for a half hour talking about dumpsters and cookies.  So I decided to make things right for me, I would invest some time in her as well, and I wrote her a letter.  I could stick it under her door, but I'm mailing it, stamp and all, because I think it will emphasize that I am trying to acknowledge her.  The letter was short, I don't really know her well so I didn't have a whole lot to say, but I put in the time and effort to recognize her without being petty and frustrated.  I felt better about it, and I have a feeling she will be really excited to get some "real mail" from someone who took the time to care... Joan gave me a wake up call on myself, so I was glad for it, and I hope it will help me be a better and more patient person in the future!