2009 in Review

To recap 2009, change was the main theme. This has been a year devoted to looking at our habits and how the Cochrane Family spends their time. In the beginning of this year Jena went to the inauguration of Obama and was filled with the sense of possibility that anyone can achieve anything despite race, religion or creed. On a micro level, our family addressed our dental hygiene issues, took a hard look at our finances & time management. We have refinanced our home, watched a friend die a noble death, questioned the idea of God, and changed churches to the Unitarian Universalist Church. Each of us has had a memorable year and has much to be greatful for: Scott is in his 9th year with Verizon Wireless. He became a Cub Scout Leader & participated in the Sea Gull Century bike ride as well as headed up Alex’s Destination Imagination Team for Crofton Woods Elementary School. Jena completed the 2009 Columbia Iron Girl Triathlon & became a Hospice Volunteer. Alex entered 3rd grade & is playing the Cello. Zefram graduated from preschool at Community United Methodist Child Developement Center and has started kindergarten at Crofton Woods where he is learning to read and behave. And, Athena is more charismatic then ever. We like to joke that this is her world and we just live in it. She truly is the Goddess.

2009 Christmas Notes

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all. Our family had one of the best Christmases ever, but truly the best part of Christmas was spending time with those we love and stopping to realize how special these moments are. The Christmas season took over our house despite most of us being sick. Here are some of the highlights. Alex and Jena started off by going on a mother and son date to see the legendary Rocketts from Radio City Music Hall. They came to DC for the first time ever. Then on Christmas Eve the festivities kicked into high gear with the celebration of “La Vigilia” which is the Feast of the 13 fishes. There is one fish for each apostle and one for Christ. La Vigilia is an Italian family tradition. This meal is a labor of love that starts weeks before but is the highlight of the year. And if Christmas Eve was not spectacular enough there was the sheer delight and wonderment of our children on Christmas morning. Our 5 year old son Zefram did the sweetest thing by wrapping household items to give to everyone. Zefram even wrote each person’s name on the gifts, which is testament to the great education that he is receiving at Crofton Woods Elementary School in Maryland. What makes Zefram’s gifts so special is that no one told him that he had to give gifts. He did this on his own. There was nothing spectacular about Zefram’s gift but you couldn’t help but cry when you unwrapped a piece of ordinary cardboard because you know that he also wrapped all of his love in the package. Alex on the on the other hand has been running a wrapping paper business at School. He has been making his own wrapping paper, and also used his own product on all the family gifts. Again what was amazing is that he bought presents for everyone (out of his own money) without being prompted—He even bought several presents for his brother Zefram and that is a Christmas miracle if there ever was one. Each moment of Christmas brought so many special moments. Scott also got in on the action by creating a scavenger hunt for Jena that produced several wonderful gifts along the way. It was so much fun to run from room to room with the kids following along with glee. Then the world stopped, or so it seemed for an 8 year old boy. There was the Nintendo DS that Alex got from Santa Claus. He has wanted the DS for over 3 years. Alex acted as if he had just won the lottery and from his standards he did. It was truly incredible to witness his joy. Last but not least, Athena was the late comer to Christmas morning. She is only 2 years old so she is not affected by anticipation and decided to sleep in. Nevertheless, she enjoyed opening her presents when she got up. Her favorite part of Christmas was carrying around a teddy bear that is a foot bigger than she is. She carried the teddy bear everywhere while dressed in a pink ballerina costume with matching heals. (Yes folks she is a girl!) The Christmas magic does not come from what we get but by the unexpected events that warm our heart; and we had so many of these moments this year--Especially the anonymous gifts that showed up on our doorstep addressed to the entire family from Santa Clause. Christmas is a such a magical time of year that brings out the concept of peace on earth and good will toward men. For the adults, and hopefully for the kids, these are memories that we will keep forever. So in the words of Tiny Tim from a Christmas Carol, “God bless us, every one!"

Learning Joy from a Child

Athena teaches me about joy, happiness, and wonder on a daily basis. Athena is my 2 year old daughter. Her life is simple. Most days she lives in a state of pure happiness. She spins in circles and is constantly in motion exploring her world. I marvel at her. She constantly sings to herself, usually songs she makes up herself, but I occasionally catch snippets of songs I know. If Athena is not singing, she is babbling on in a joyful tone and exploring. Her heart is full of love and she is always available to give you kisses, or looking for her father to beep her nose. I am learning to enjoy the world through Athena’s eyes and to value the lessons that she teaches.

When Athena turns her attention on you, her eyes light up and her love for life is infectious. She has a radiating spirit. I often joke that it takes me 20 minutes extra to do the weekly grocery shopping because she must stop and talk to her adoring public. Athena is unencumbered by what others think of her. She moves through the world in perfect bliss. Just yesterday, she put her shoes on the wrong feet and stood up with open arms proclaiming to whoever was listening, “I did it!” I love her enthusiasm and how she cheers herself on. Her other favorite phrase is “I love it.” Athena is sheer joy in motion. When you thank her for anything she will reply in her sing song voice, “You are very welcome.” I have determined from all that Athena does that she lives in the perfect state of grace. She is as close to godliness as any of us will get. This is what Jesus must have meant when he said that the kingdom of God belongs to a child. As Matthew Fox said in his article Creation Spirituality, “To experience a personal cosmology, become a child again—not an adolescent, but a child—and thereby become a player, a playful being in the universe……If we can learn to delight again and play again, then we will learn wisdom again.” The universe is a Childs playground; for Athena this all too true. To spend time with her is very intoxicating and reminds me of the joy of living. She is a constant reminder to live in a state of happiness.

Peace Is A Choice

When I think about peace and tranquility, I often have the mental image of a Yogi doing meditation under some tree in a remote place in the world—or on top of a lotus flower. Peace is a luxury of those who do not live in the western rat race. I have told myself in the past that I am too busy for peace, that I have too many obligations to sit still for 15 minutes in silence. Nevertheless, I am learning to change my thought system.

Can peace really be achieved? To me, peace means intentionally slowing down on the inside so that you concentrate on the little things like taking a deep breath even when your world is going a million miles an hour on the outside. In every moment of the day (especially when my kids are screaming), I must make the conscious decision of not getting stressed out by the never ending to-do list and the self imposed deadlines. Peace is a choice. It means restructuring my life. I have found that meditation is about turning your life from a reactionary model to a proactive model. Instead of just getting up in the morning and starting into my day, it means sitting in silence and pondering my vexation, slowing down my heart rate, and paying attention to the parts of my body that hurt. In these quiet moments of self talk I achieve a clarity that sets the stage for everything that happens later in the day. Over the last 3 years, I have become addicted to meditation and doing the ‘Course in Miracles’. Meditation saves me from being a crazy mom and a frantic person. I am no longer backing my car into trees or running around in a panic. Instead, every morning I intentionally wake up before the kids to have my solitude. It is like getting a massage for the brain every morning. Quite frankly, meditation is my morning cup of coffee. Without it I am lost.

A Silver Lining to a Rainy Day

Bonding with each of your children individually is important. Alex and I stood out in the Rain for 3 hours to get a book signed by the author Rick Riordan, http://www.rickriordan.com/. It was a mother son outing to the Library of Congress National Book Festival in DC. Mr. Riordan is the author of the Percy Jackson series of books, a modern-day re-telling of the Greek Mythology. After we finished our last series (Harry Potter), Alex and I were looking for something else to do when we stumbled upon these books. Alex fell instantly in love with the 12 year old precocious hero Percy Jackson. Percy has special powers because he is a demi-god born of a human mother and a god, Poseidon for a father. He goes on modern day quests to save the world which appeals greatly to young readers. Alex is truly enraptured by Percy and the mythological series. Moreover he is learning Greek mythology without knowing it. Pretty cool!

When I told Alex that the author Rick Riordan was going to be at the Book Festival he was overjoyed about getting his book signed by the author. Riordan’s first book The Lightning Thief hits the movie theaters this February, and may launch him to the fame of JK Rowling. This was our chance to meet him—and it was a great way for Alex to stay excited about reading. However the day did not go according to plan.

On Sunday, we packed a lunch and headed downtown on the metro and got in line an hour before the book signing began. Things already looked grim. Even though we were there over an hour before the book signing began, the author was so popular that we were on the 11th line. It started to rain but our hopes were not dashed. Then Riordan had to go for a TV appearance—and that was the end. After standing in line for 3 long hours Alex was crushed and wet. He started to cry and my heart broke because there was nothing I could do to stop his tears. It was heartbreaking. This is not what I wanted my son to remember about his mother and son outing. So I did the next best thing, I remembered that Riordan was speaking in the Children’s and Teens Tent at 3:15 so we ran from one side of the National Mall to the other in hopes of catching him there. Thank the gods we ran as fast as Hermes and were able to make a connection with a very kind lady. Our efforts were rewarded despite the overcrowded tent with a chair (to share) 20 feet from the stage. When we sat down, Alex and I were so close to Rick Riordan that we could see his eye color. It was a great consolation to a very rainy day. Riordan’s speech was riveting and told us of many things to come, including a series on Egyptian mythology. I am so delighted that Alex and I shared this time together and that his love for reading was rewarded. There is always a silver lining to a rainy day.

To spank or not to spank--That is the question

“Life is a circle. What we teach to our children is what they will teach to our grandchildren.” --Jena Cochrane

I don’t believe in spanking but it is so hard not to revert to hitting your child when you were spanked as a little person. Even though you are now the adult, each time you are in a confrontational situation with your child it feels like you are in the fight of your life to control yourself. This is hard because hitting comes so naturally when it is was taught to you. The biggest issue in not reverting to old habits is to keep the brain engaged when you start to feel hot under the collar. Here is a clip from my latest battle to keep myself at peace:

The heat of anger swelled up in me. The passion of the moment was intoxicating. I felt like an old drunk looking for a familiar drink. I wanted so badly to give into my passions and slap my 8 year old son across the face. He deserved it, I told myself. The words in my brain were insidious and I could almost hear the familiar language that my parents used to say to me. I kept talking to myself inside my head. This is not then—I told myself. It was true that Alex was deliberately pushing my buttons by falling on the floor and screaming mean things because I was making him re-do his sloppy homework. Couldn’t Alex see that I was trying to help him? But that is not how he saw the world at all. Instead he was fighting me with every fiber of his being. I was furious! I drank in a long sustained deep breath. I must continue to keep breathing I told myself and I focused deeper on my breath as I do in Yoga Class, determined to keep my peace. I drew a breath in for 5 sweet counts and let it out for 10 counts determined to stay present. I could feel the air as it danced across my lower lip in a calming release. My breath helped me refocus on my inner battle and kept me from seeing blinding red (www.oprah.com/yoga). I knew I was taking one of God’s practical exams and my son Alexander was ironically my teacher. He was challenging me to grow and be a better person. This moment was not just about teaching Alex to respect me, do his homework, and control his temper. The greater picture was about me learning to control my inner demons.

A Sunday Morning Run to help the Community

Before I went to church yesterday, I went to Severna Park to participate in the 12th Annual Victims Fund Run that was hosted by the State Attorneys Office in Maryland. See the following site: Victims Fund Run Linda was instrumental in getting me to run the 5K race. It was an important event for her, as Linda wanted to do something special for her husband. He had passed away 10 years ago at the age of 28 after being hit by a drunk driver. 10 years after the fact, Linda gathered a group of friends and acquaintances at 7:30AM to run or walk (as they were able) under the name Disco Ducks to commemorate her husband’s life. She told me that her husband had been a runner, so it was a great way to honor him.

The event was a perfect event for anyone looking for a Sunday Morning workout and giving back to the community at the same time. There were beautiful blue skies and many of Anne Arundel’s Finest came out to host, support and bring awareness to victim’s rights. Everything was so meticulously run. The run went along the B&A Trail behind many of the store fronts. There was even a coffee shop that had tables out along the trail. The most memorable event of the day was a group of police officers that ran in formation chanting cadence.

Everyone was warmly welcomed at the finish line and then treated to a buffet of watermelon, oranges, energy bars and huge bottles of water. The icing on the cake was the friendly raffle and award ceremony for the winners. Although the event has a hometown feel it has the organization of a grand event. The Victims Fund Run will continue to grow from year to year. I give the Attorney State Department 2 thumbs up for the fantastic fund raiser and my love to Linda.

The burdens that we carry together become lighter. –Author Unknown

Can you still be in Love after 9 years?

Recently Scott and I celebrated our 9th Wedding Anniversary. This made me ponder the concept of love as it relates to our marriage.

I feel that the love between my husband Scott and I is a sacred bond. It is most important because the union of our love created our 3 children, who are life itself. All the other loves in my life have been preparatory to this moment, so that I can be part of this creative loving energy. Together Scott and I are the yin and the yang, the sky and the earth. In no other life endeavor do I think that we will fulfill more of our purpose then in the unity of our love for one another. The love between us is the source of creation; and so it is with every couple who come together in love. This unity is so special that I will go even as far as to say that my love for my husband surpasses my love for my children because without that love my children would not exist; and my love for my children surpasses everything else. In religious terms the love of our family can be explained symbolically through the trinity. We are 3 loves in one, but all the pieces are important and unbounded. Being so centrally important to our lives, and being essentially boundless (limitless), love is a complicated thing. After 9 years of marriage and the demands of the everyday, it is hard to think of our marriage as sacred or to feel the sweet euphoria of intoxicated lovers. In a lot of ways, the love of marriage reminds me more of a river in nature then the trinity. It has calm parts, and then treacherous waters that seem to never end. Sometimes the river of love runs deep and other times there is barely a trickle in the river bed. However the water, like our spirits, is not deterred. Somehow the water is miraculously pulled toward the ocean as we are pulled toward our source in God. Despite how rocky the terrain, water still remains the most powerful force on earth. It sustains us and moves us forward. Water has the ability to gently romance us or to drown us. So it is with love. The faces of love are ever changing as the river changes from morning to night. Recently, Scott and I watched the tail end of the Disney movie ‘Pocahontas’. In it, Mother Willow (who embodies the spirit of God) says, “You do not know what will happen around the river bend.” And so it is with love. Love is a great river of experiences and it has many twists and turns that breath new life into every current. Recently, my son Alex discovered that the Mississippi river is 2,348 miles long. Although our lives can not be measured is such exact terms, they (like the river) will have many ups and downs over the journey of a thousand miles. The question is never about whether there will be rocks and rapids along the way, but how we will navigate them as we get pulled along toward the ocean.

Then as it was, then again it will be
And though the course may change
sometimes
Rivers always reach the sea
Led Zeppelin, Ten Years Gone

The First Day of Kindergarten

Going off to kindergarten is one of the many pivotal events in a child’s life. Aug 27th was, our son, Zefram Cochrane’s first day of Kindergarten. As with all things he is filled with exuberance and enthusiasm for this new milestone. Zefram by nature is a happy child. He is the quintessential “Tigger.” This is a fantastic approach to the world; but as a care giver of a child that bounces off the walls 24/7 like a super ball it can be overwhelming, leaving you exhausted by the end of the day. Therefore, it will come as no surprise that I am filled with adulation and joy as Zefram takes this huge step into the real world and is gone till 3:30PM each weekday. Admittedly, my life will be easier with Zefram in school because he is like having four children in one body.

However this adulation is tempered with the fact that we have been through the kindergarten routine before. Zefram is my middle child. Every milestone that he reaches with such glee is something that his older brother has already accomplished. Thus it is hard to get excited because (as parents) we have already experienced the event for the first time with our older son. From the parent perspective, it feels like there is nothing different or special about this event. It is easy to fall into a “been there done that” approach. Nevertheless, Zefram deserves our jubilation and if we can not muster excitement for him then we should let his energy and delight set the tone for the day.

As Zefram crawled into my lap (as he does every morning) I am struck by the warmth and affection that he emanates on a daily basis. Zefram gives the best hugs and I love his smile. He talks cheerfully of school and getting on the bus. He is not scared one bit. I hold him tightly to me, I am struck by how grown up he has become yet how he still needs me in his life. I wonder if that is how God feels about us.

To make the first day of Kindergarten extra special for Zefram we all walk to the bus stop as a family. As we walked, Zefram skipped and danced ahead of us down the quarter mile road. There is no doubt that Zefram is an extraordinary child and has so much to offer the world. I am blessed that he is my son. He teaches me about happiness and tolerance. As I wave the final good-bye to the School bus, I hope that he will enjoy the 2 cookies in his lunch and the picture of the rocket that signifies all his dreams taking off. In my head, I am already contemplating how I will welcome him home when he returns. But what strikes me more then anything is the over abundance of love I have for him. He is my middle child but as William Young said in his book the Shack,” I am especially fond of him.”

Iron Girl Triathlon

There are 5 new 2009 Iron Girls today in Crofton Maryland! Five members of Team Terry (including myself) finished the Columbia Iron Girl Triathlon. One of our team members could not race because of last minute medical complications. But being a veteran Iron Girl herself she did the next best thing by coming out and cheering for the rest of us and galvanized the group. Everyone did fabulous. Personally, I finished the Iron Girl in 2:27. My strongest event was the Bike.

I am sure that Terry Hendrix was looking down from heaven and cheering the entire team on. Her spirit was an inspiration while training for the race this last year and she was so thrilled that the pre-school mom’s were doing the race in her name. It is ironic that we started racing for her as a moral booster but it was Terry who gave us the inspiration to go the extra mile. Her never quit attitude helped me conquer my fear of the water. I often would go to the pool and say to myself, “If Terry can go through chemo, I can swim another lap.” Who new I would be able to swim in open water in less then one year from learning something besides the doggy paddle.

I am so grateful to all the people that got me to the finish line yesterday. I have so many people to thank. First of all, I have to thank Team Terry for encouraging me to sign up last November. The Pre-School Mom’s of Crofton Rock. I have secretly wanted to do a triathlon since I saw a mom do one on TV years ago. They gave me the push.

Thank you Kris O’krepki for the lending me her racing bike. Wow—who new you could go that fast. It was totally cool!

I am thankful to my husband who taught me how to swim and introduced me to the bike and watched the kids while I trained.

I am thankful to Mike (who is a 3 time Iron Man) that taught me how to change my gear shifts, rode with me, helped me change tires, gave me lots of pearls of wisdom and encouraged me to sign up for the Mid Maryland Tri Club. He was a Godsend!

Mid Maryland Tri Club was a huge blessing too. They were just what I needed. The support that they gave me was the key to having a phenomenal race. Each one of them helped me in so many ways and gave me encouragement, wisdom, food and friendship. Can anyone ask for more in life? I am eternally grateful.

I am thankful to the Medical Community. The Nurses at Nighttime Pediatrics that cleaned my road rash when I fell off the bike and gave me so much advice. And of course I am forever grateful to Anne Arundel Orthopedic Surgeons for putting me back together. The physical therapist at Waugh Chapel for helping me work through last year’s surgery.

I am thankful for Bikram Yoga. Bikram Yoga of Severna Park & Emily played a big part in my healing process. It gave me a full body work out that was as intense as running a marathon in 90 minutes without the intense pounding on my body. It is my secret weapon of how I kept my strength while I was still healing. I now love Yoga so much that it will continue to be a life long persuite.

I am thankful to Sport Fit. They were a great training ground. I appreciate their daycare, and their great pool. And of course, Arthur who was so fantastic at cheering me on. I will miss his smiling face and him saying “You can do it Mamma.”

I am thankful to Nightmare Graphics for the great race shirts and to Ulman Young Cancer Society for their encouragement and helping us make the connection with Nightmare Graphics.

Also—a big shout out must go to Princeton Sports who are the Nordstrum of the Sporting Goods industry. Stoney helped make sure that I had tires for the bike which they had to specially order. They don’t make wheels like mine since the 1980’s but he got the job done. Also, thanks to Denise who helped me by selling me clipless pedals a week before the race and taught me how to use them so I would not be left in the dust on race day. Without Princeton Sports support I would not have done as well on race day. A thousand thanks!

I am extremely grateful to my Grandmother Iole Kollar who came from Florida to watch me do the Iron Girl. We had Sushi the night before like we did when I was growing up and living together. She has been my best and most wonderful cheerleader all of my life. I can still see her driving the car behind me while I was learning to run for my marathons as a kid. Just having her with me on race day was a source of strength. I love her so much and having her there made all the difference.

Of course no Mom ever does anything spectacular without the thought of their children being close at hand. I am thankful to my 3 little ones for constantly challenging me to be the best Mom that I can be. It was exhilarating when they would run with me when I came into the neighborhood on training runs, or how they came outside to watch as I tried to learn to not fall off the bike.

Also special thanks go out to Christine Kellar for trying to tell our story because some stories grow past the individual and become about us all.

Most of all, I am forever grateful to each person, who reached out with emails, facebook postings, phone calls, and prayers. Each high five, and encouraging word helped me get across the finish line—this support was immeasurably important. Each word spoke directly to my heart.

Finishing the Iron Girl Triathlon has taught me that all dreams can come true, but when we cross the finish line, it is because of the love and support of so many people that helped lift us up to our full potential. A million thanks to everyone!

Team Terry is made up of 5 Mom's that are doing the Iron Girl Triathalon this Sunday, Aug 23rd. One of the Ladies in our group wrote these words to define why we are participating in the race. I thought her words were so poignant that I wanted to post her thoughts.

Team Terry had the humblest of beginnings. The idea of participating in the Columbia Iron Girl arose over a conversation between several mothers talking in a group after dropping their kids off at preschool. A couple of us were turning the big 4-0 and wanted to do something to commemorate the year. What better way to prove your youth than to participate in your first ever triathlon! Eventually, several other mothers also considered it for various reasons and soon, one by one, each of us would show up at school and say “its official, I registered.” So even though turning 40, or being a strong Mom, might be enough of a reason to want to be an Iron Girl, it’s actually just the beginning of this story.

One particular mom in our group was debating her decision to register for the Triathlon. Her name was Terry Hendrix. While she, like the rest of us, wanted to do something out of the ordinary for herself, she had concerns that originated from living with serious complications of Crohn’s disease which might preclude her from training appropriately. She thought on one hand it would be a great way to get in shape and lose a little weight, but on the other hand she was living with complications from Crohn’s disease which might preclude her from training appropriately. She never got the opportunity to think about the decision any further though, because less than two weeks from our original group discussion our friend suffered a seizure and was diagnosed with a rare and very aggressive brain cancer that had spread to her spine. While the rest of us prepared for the race she was in a battle for her life.

Our group, comprised of 5 preschool moms from Crofton Maryland, decided that we would run the race for her. It was our morale booster. We battled the sore, stiff, and pulled muscles while she battled the cancer with chemotherapy and other available treatments. Despite the complications along the way all of us truly believed that Terry would be here to see each of us finish the race. She was the strongest woman that any of us have ever known (emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually) and if anyone could win life’s ultimate battle, Terry could. Unfortunately Terry passed away this Fourth of July at the age of 42 leaving behind a loving husband and 5 year old son.

The five of us have banded together to compete in the Iron Girl and to commemorate the life of Terry Hendrix by swimming, biking and running in her honor. Everyone on Team Terry got involved with the triathlon for different personal reasons; however the death of our dear friend has made this event something bigger than us. It is our intent to take Terry’s memory to the end of the course on race day. We will be racing in shirts that will say Team Terry on the front and her favorite quote on the back: “Love Life and Never Look Back.”

The five Crofton mothers that comprise Team Terry and will be participating in the Iron Girl race in Terry Hendrix’s memory are: Laurel Landry, Jena Cochrane, Cindy Wood, Karen Kuhn, Sarah White, and Carol Streeter. Look for the purple shirts (designed for us by Nightmare Graphics).

The Great Sadness

If there is one thing to be said about me it is that I am a Pollyanna at heart. I am constantly looking at the world through rose colored glasses—sometimes ad nauseam. Nevertheless, even Pollyanna gets depressed. The last several weeks have been a time of “great sadness” as William P. Young coins the term in his book The Shack. Lately, the sadness has been coming in great waves. They wash over me from time to time throughout the day and make me very sleepy and melancholy. My sadness is due to dealing with the death of 5 people in the last 4 months. Three of the people lived to old age—2 did not. These 2 deaths have rocked me to my core.

Ironically it is not dealing with death that has me so sad. It was the sheer senselessness of these 2 deaths that insulted my sensibilities. People are not supposes to die young. The one person who died was in her early 40’s. Within 24 hours another friend of mine was crushed by a miscarriage. She lost a baby that she was overjoyed about the week before. I was struck by the randomness of the world and its arbitrary nature. Neither person deserved their fate. There was no divine justice at work in either of these situations and no way to explain the events besides ‘bad things happen’. The last time that I felt this sad is when I had to deal with the death of a young child. Events like these bring up all sorts of questions. Isn’t there a God? Why does this happen? Why can’t God wipe away this type of suffering?

I understand that a lot of suffering in the world happens because we as humans make bad decisions and thus the bad things can be explained. However, these deaths are totally arbitrary. This is Nature at work—and these events are as chaotic to the brain as the random effects of a tidal wave or a hurricane are to the sea shore. I am furious at God! Can this really be his will? In an attempt to feel better I think about Rabbi Kushner’s book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People. His words bring me a sense of peace where I have not found much:

Life is not fair. The wrong people get sick and the wrong people get robbed
and the wrong people get killed in wars and in accidents. Some people see
life’s unfairness and decide, “There is no God; the world is nothing but chaos.”
Others see the same unfairness and ask themselves, “Where do I get my sense of
what is fair and what is unfair? Where do I get my sense of outrage and
indignation, my instinctive response of sympathy when I read in the paper about
a total stranger who has been hurt by life? Don’t I get these things from
God? Doesn’t He plant in me a little bit if his own divine outrage at
injustice and oppression, just as he did for the prophets of the Bible? Isn’t my
feeling of compassion for the afflicted just a reflection of the compassion he
feels when he sees the suffering of his creatures?” …No one ever promised us a
life free from pain and disappointment. The most anyone promised us [is]
that we would not be alone in our pain, and that we would be able to draw upon a
source outside ourselves for the strength and courage we would need to survive
life's tragedies and life's unfairness.

In essence it is our connection to others that makes the random tragedies in life tolerable. Although the answer to why bad things happen is illusive [and a question that scholars will argue about for another thousand years] I am comforted by our resiliency as human beings to overcome the unimaginable. This resiliency is found inside of me, and is strengthened by my connection to others in my life. In the simplest terms, life is about the comfort that we give and receive. In essence this is the divine grace of God. It is our resiliency, the comfort of others, and the hope of a new day that will carry my heart through “the great sadness” when life does not make sense.

Terry’s Independence Day

The 4th of July means a great deal to our country and has been steeped in majesty ever since 1776. It marks the official day that the Declaration of Independence was signed. The day is the anniversary of our founding fathers taking control of their destiny. Signing that document was a courageous act. It was a death sentence to every man who signed. But each of them made that heroic choice. They made the choice to make their stand; a choice to make things better for themselves, and for those who would come after them. The day is so special that not only do Americans celebrate our country hood, but we commemorate some of our founders who mysteriously died on that day. John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and James Monroe all passed away on the 4th of July. So when Terry Hendrix chose to pass away on the 233rd anniversary of the signing of Declaration of Independence she was following in the footsteps of greatness; many of those who new Terry have deemed the 4th of July “Terry’s Independence Day.” Like our founding fathers, Terry was feisty and fiercely independent and went out of the world in the manor in which she lived—on her own terms. Terry will not live on in the history books like all these great men but she will live on in the hearts and minds of those who came to love her and will never forget her. She was courageous in the face of cancer.

However what made Terry so remarkable was not the cancer, it was something bigger. She inspired the very best in everyone she met and lived each day to the fullest. Terry loved life and had a way of forgiving others when they did not live up to her expectations. I remember one such occasion when I did not show up to pick strawberries with her and she took it all in stride saying it was not meant to be. Terry had a way of looking beyond a person’s shortcomings and seeing who really was inside. It is those eyes that I often looked to when she was deep in the recesses of cancer because no matter how overwhelming the cancer was, Terry’s spirit never had cancer. You could see her soul fire burning within her even at the bitterest of times. Interesting enough, Terry did not ask why bad things happened to her—she merely asked why not her. Although the cancer would take Terry’s life at the end, it would not take her happiness. In a courageous act of heroism Terry wrote in lipstick on her mirror that she was healthy. And indeed she was; because she never let the cancer in. Cancer never corroded the beautiful person that lived within her body. Now she claims that independence every day as she floats through time and space “on the wings of Angels.” As you can tell, Terry was very special. Although I only new Terry Hendrix for a little over a year, I fell in love with her as so many people did. You simply couldn’t help it. All of those who knew her will bitterly weep for the 42 year old wife and mother who left the world a little too soon, but we are all better off for knowing her even for a brief moment. In our sadness, let us never forget that the ones that we leave behind today will always be carried to greatness in our hearts as we continue upon life’s journey. In each act of kindness that we do the Terry’s of the world will be shining through their independence from the bad things that sometimes can weigh so heavily on our hearts.

The most precious 2 hours

I had meant to take James for the afternoon so that Terry and her family could have a break—that way she could deal with all the doctors’ appointments and other things she needed to attend to without a 6 year old in tow. The play date was scheduled for Tuesday. However, the phone rang at 7:40 AM. Terry decided to change plans. She insisted that Zefram come over to her house for the play date instead of me taking James off her hands for the afternoon. I was shocked but Terry reassured me that it would be perfect. There was no arguing with Terry. She had made up her mind. Terry insisted that I start writing on my blog again. She was adamant. “You need to write” she told me. “Besides, it is all set up. My niece is coming over to watch the kids. It will be perfect. Go home and write” she told me again. It was an order more then a suggestion, so what could I do.

My problem with writing was that I felt inadequate to put the words down. After all—I am no one special—I am just a regular person, I happen to have dyslexia, and my voice does not do justice to the grand overwhelming issues that take place in the world. Although I thought that this was a perfectly good reason not to write, Terry thought otherwise. Whatever writers block I was having (and no matter how sorry I was feeling for myself) I needed to get over it fast. Terry’s call was no doubt the Universes way of giving me a good solid kick in the right direction. Nevertheless, I was shocked by Terry’s insistence to write. I could not believe the gift I was being given. Terry is dying from cancer. I am supposed to be giving to her, not the other way around. But one of Terry’s many endearing qualities is thinking of others even in the face of her own adversity. She is always trying to do good things for others—even at the very end. So with a grateful heart, I obediently dropped Zefram off and came home to write, determined not to squander the 2 hours I had been given by a dying woman. They were the most precious 2 hours that I had ever been given. These 2 hours were more special then gold or diamonds because in reality time is the only true possession that we have as human beings and how we spend it is so very important. I was thankful for the 2 hours and was surprised at how much I had accomplished upon my return to Terry’s house.

When I told Terry how I had spent my 2 hours she simply smiled at me over her walker obviously very satisfied. She said I told you that you needed to write. She was so pleased. Terry said that she had woken up that morning and had such a strong feeling that this was something that I needed—she said that she was moved by the spirit and that she knew that she needed to give me this gift. I also realized (in that moment) that it made Terry feel powerful to be able to give something back to me or anyone. Terry could not control dying, or what was happening to her. But she could control how people remembered her. In a strange sort of way, I realized that I had indeed given Terry a gift too; the gift of dignity. I had been willing to RECIEVE her 2 hours and that was as important as anything I could have ever done for her. This made her happy. So the next time I have an arbitrary 2 hours in my life I will think of Terry and really contemplate how I use my time. Terry has taught me so many life lessons in the short time that I have known her. I am forever grateful.

Terry’s Tenderness

I have been guarded about writing about Terry Hendrix. Nevertheless, she has been playing an extremely pivotal role in my life for over a year. Terry is the mom of one of Zefram’s friends in his pre-school class. I met Terry due to her overwhelming kindness on a field trip. She was one of the parent chaperones that day, and put my mind at ease that Zefram would be fine. Several weeks later when I had forgotten about a Mother’s Day lunch-in, Terry stepped in to take Zefram under her wing. So it is no surprise that when I had invasive surgery for my Plantars Fasciitis that Terry was there to drive Zefram to and from school while I was on the mend.

From the moment that I met Terry, I wanted to get to know her better. Outwardly, she is just like any other Mom, doing all the Mom things with her son James. But she had a fire in her eyes and sweetness in her soul that is rarely seen so abundantly. All you have to do is to take a look at her relationship with her husband to know that she is a special person. My friendship with Terry had the humblest beginnings, starting over our children and related common interests. I never knew at the time that I was on the threshold of a life altering experience.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008 was a beautiful day. The sky was a brilliant crystal blue. That afternoon I hobbled down the steps to say good-bye to Terry after she dropped Zefram off after school. Little did I know that I was saying good-bye to the way that I saw the world. The pain killers made me a little loopy as I stood there suspended on crunches. Nevertheless, I will always remember seeing Terry on the porch that day. She looked so lovely and radiant. Terry was always smiling and I was affected deeply by her jubilation for life. She stood about 5’3 weighing a hundred and twenty pounds beaming from ear to ear. I asked her, “What is your secret to happiness?” She simply said that life was short. Terry was a cancer survivor and she was resolved to living life to the fullest in every moment. I was shocked that she had gone through so much but was even more stunned by how magnificent she was in that moment.

The next day, Terry’s husband gave me a call. There was an ominous sound in his voice. Terry had experienced a seizure overnight and was in the hospital. In true Terry fashion being worried about others more then herself, she had her husband call me right away so that I could make alternate plans for Zefram. Two weeks of testing determined that the cancer had returned with a vengeance. This time the cancer had found its way into her spine and her brain. She started a regimen of chemotherapy and steroids and slowly her world and body morphed. Within months she looked like a different person. One day she joked that she felt like the Buddha except less enlightened. She was now bald and had the voluptuous figure of a Raphael painting. But the cancer never touched her spirit. This is the miracle of it all. The fire in Terry’s hazel eyes burned more intently then ever, and still does.

There have been many ups and downs for Terry and her family. The Medical Community can no longer cleanse her body of cancer, but she is resolved to face each day on her own terms. I constantly marvel at her strength and am touched by her love. Terry is a true hero. She is a hero for getting out of bed in the morning to spend time with her four year old son. Other times she is a hero in the way she smiles or hugs someone. Every task that Terry does, regardless of how simple or immense makes her a hero, because she is making a conscious decision not to go quietly into that dark night.

Terry has every right to be angry. Angry at the world, at fate, at God; but more times then not she drinks every moment in like sunshine like she is storing it up for a rainy day. Most would consider her situation the rainy day yet she still looks to the future. I am not writing the story of Terry for you to feel sorry for her. She of all people would not want that. I write this story because Terry has found the secret to life and happiness despite her circumstances. Terry has shown me that it is our relationships with one another that make us strong and make every moment worth living. Slow up and love well and often would be her motto. As for me, I will always remember Terry’s great tenderness. To be with her is to share a moment with God. Sometimes that moment is shared in smiles, sometimes in tears but mostly it is shared in her zest for life. Warren Zevon, the musician who passed away from Mesothelioma famously said when asked about his diagnosis “…you’re supposed to enjoy every sandwich”. This pretty much sums up Terry. It’s the simple things in life that bring us joy and contentment, and that is her secret to happiness.

Cultural Learning 101

Turning Friday Night into Family Night has spurred some wonderful and deep conversations within the Cochrane Family. Our children have been able to be engaged and learn from these conversations as much as the adults. Recently, we had Fatimah and her two children Wudood and Hanaa over for dinner. Alex my 7 year old son had a very special question for Fatimah which I broached with her earlier. “Why do you wear that on your head?” Alex asked shyly. My friend Fatimah is Muslim, and wears a head scarf. The rest of us held our breath because we did not want to offend Fatimah or her family by asking insensitive questions. These were our guests and our friends and we did not want them to feel on display. Fatimah merely smiled and very patiently answered that her headdress was called a “Hijab.” She went on to explain that she wears it out of reverence for God and as a symbol of her Muslim Faith. Alex then asked, “Do you ever take it off?” Fatimah laughed;” Yes, I take it off when I am alone or in the presence of my family. However if there is another male in the house who is not related to me I put it back on.” The conversation went on for a while and then Fatimah turned to her 12 year old son and asked him to explain further why she wears the Hijab so that it would be a learning experience for everyone at the dinner table. Wudood chimed into the conversation by saying, “It is to protect her beauty. “ Fatimah further explained that her beauty is a special gift that she reserves just for her family. The conversation took many twists and turns that night. Over pizza we discussed many of the religious and cultural differences (and similarities) between the Muslim and Christian Faiths. Our two families talked about the fasting for Ramadan in the Muslim Faith and the tradition of giving up something for Lent within the Christian Religion. That was a very special night in our house. Our home and our dinner table became the focal point of learning, sharing and understanding. Much of that conversation was as poignant as any formalized education our children will ever receive in school. Understanding, and therefore tolerance, starts at home regardless whether it is religious, racial, political or ethnic – and sometimes can take place over pizza. The bigger lesson to be gleaned from Alex’s question and the answer he received is love and respect. He asked a potentially impolite question in a respectful manner and received a thoughtful and detailed answer. Learning to respect and love everyone for who they are is a lesson we hope will last our children throughout their lives. Respect and Love and Understanding all lead to peace, and peace is perhaps the greatest manifestation of Gods love available to us on earth.

Mothers Day Madness

Like a bride on her wedding day—I got caught up on what the perfect Mothers Day should be instead of what it was. I was very focused on what I was not getting for Mothers Day. Scott slept in. He and the kids did not make breakfast and then Scott went off to give blood leaving me alone with 3 children to get ready for church. I was mad! It was evident that there would not be a reprieve from cooking or any of the chores that makes a day ordinary. By the time I got to church, the bitterness of being underappreciated was reaching deep into my soul.. As I just hinted at, the perfect Mother’s Day for me meant escaping the responsibility of child rearing for the entire day, and obviously that was not going to happen. But the feelings of wanting to spend Mother’s Day without my kids & family added an extra layer of guilt to my already consuming bitterness. I was almost so over consumed in self pity that I almost missed the wonderment of the day. There were extraordinary things that were happening all around me that my bitterness was blocking. Scott had given me a blackberry for Mothers Day to help me organize my life, a gift that I had been pinning after for a great many months. Also, he actually was going off to give his donation of blood in my name—a very thoughtful gift to say the least. To not be out done, Zefram’s school had done a luncheon for all the mothers in his class. They had read little bios about each mother which the kids had come up with. Mine started out this way. “This mother loves all the colors of the rainbow. She loves wearing church clothes, making walkie talkies. I like it when she makes me green eggs and ham” (which is something that I do every St. Patrick’s Day for the kids). Alex stepped up to the plate by writing a litany of verses that started out with “my Mom dot, dot, dot.” He filled the template in with “My mom can cook. My Mom can paint. “My Mom can sword fight”. That one really made me laugh, although it is true. “My mom is Love.” Wow! It does not get much better then that. Later on, I spotted Alex coming up the road with Ms. Mary; she is the 80 year old woman that lives next door. Mrs. Mary was pushing Alex’s bike and Alex had 3 huge alabaster stones clutched to his breast. He had found the stones in one of the neighbor’s yards and had asked them if he could bring them home for his Mom. Clearly I was not under appreciated. My family loved me and I needed to see the love from the place they were giving it.

Saying Good-Bye

Two week ago I went to a funeral for Arthur Burton. Unfortunately, I know very little about him. Until I went to the funeral, on April 29th, I had no idea that he had been in the Marines or held a government job. So why did I go to say good-bye to him on a rainy Wednesday? Because he touched my life. I was particularly struck by how a person (like Arthur) that I hardly knew could affect me so deeply. What I did know was that Arthur was a great man and that he had tremendous presence of spirit. He worked at Sports Fit, a local gym that I attend in the Bowie Area. In this setting he acted as an unofficial ambassador of goodwill. Seeing Arthur in the morning was like seeing the morning sun. He was always smiling and greeting people. He had a knack of looking into someone’s eyes and making them feel special. Just his smile would light up the hallway. Although Arthur was most known for shaking hands with his tennis racket at Sports Fit, I knew him for shaking hands with people. I met Arthur when I was pregnant with my 3rd child. He used to call me Mamma. I ran on the treadmill until my 9th month and even played tennis. This amused Arthur. He was always around to give me a high five, a thumbs-up or a kind word of encouragement. These little tokens of common decency meant the world to me. You never think that simply saying hello and being genuinely happy to see people can be so powerful in someone’s life, but it was for me. Arthur’s kind words kept me going. It was like getting a dose of adrenalin everyday. Sometimes, his thumbs-up gave me the strength to run an extra mile. Even though I only conversed with Arthur for about 60 seconds a day, I learned so much from him and the way that he lived his life. Arthur taught me that simple kindness and a radiating energy can change the world. If we could all emulate Arthurs approach to life there truly would be world peace. May we all touch each others lives in the way that Arthur touched mine.

Easter Tidings

What does Easter mean for you? When I was a little girl it meant going to my Great Aunt Angela's house, spending time with my cousins, finding Easter eggs and eating lamb. Holidays are all about tradition and routine. There is something reassuring in routine and that’s why it is imperative to pass these traditions on to our little ones. Like reading a book or brushing our teeth before bedtime, traditions help weather the storms of financial and social unrest and all the other disasters in our lives. No matter what happens we can always count on Peeps and Chocolate Bunnies. This year the Cochrane Family is going to New Jersey to see my Great Aunt who is now in her late 80’s. Over the years she has been a stoic pillar of the family. Aunt Angela has spearheaded family togetherness and brought everyone around the preverbal dinner table for years. She is the reason that my cousins and I are still close. Speaking of which, all of my cousins will be going home to the roost as well this year. We all feel the call to go home and experience some type of normalcy in our lives. The big change is that we are now the adults that will be hiding the eggs for our excited progeny. This Easter, I am reminded that life is about family and the warmth of a simple hug. Easter brings up so many feelings that I want to share with my 3 children. It is such a rich time of year to connect with them. I try to read them the Passion Story so that they can understand the depths of despair found in the human condition and the joy & hope of rebirth that comes on Easter morning. This week our children Alex, Zefram, and Athena chose Easter as the Theme of the Week. That means that we will talk about Easter at the dinner table every night. There will be Easter stories and my older son is already getting a head start by sketching down what Easter means to him (I believe he has a lot of references to candy). Nevertheless the lines of communication are open to what this ethereal time of year is all about. As the matriarch of our young nuclear family I am learning to build traditions like my Great Aunt Angela. I want our children to understand why the church is decorated the way that it is before they ever step foot into it; why we sing Hallelujah from Handles Messiah. But the lessons of Easter will not stop there. It will follow to the dinner table as we explain to our children why we eat the things we do. I will tell them that we eat lamb to represent the Lamb of God. Then I will follow with a story about my Uncle Lou and how he used to make sure that there was always enough lamb for everyone to eat on Easter. Aunt Angela will further enlighten their education through wheat pie, Strugala, and homemade bread with colored eggs. These are dishes that people have been making in our family for hundreds of years. Like those that celebrate Passover, there is something consoling in eating foods that tie us to the past. It restores hope in our lives. Easter is such an abundantly ritualistic holiday. There is so much to teach my children about it and with luck, they will get to spend a lifetime learning it and living the traditions we hand down to them.

Empty Bed

I got out of bed and felt an overwhelming amount of sadness. The bed was empty. Scott was in England. The fact that he was gone was not a shock. We often take trips without each other, but it struck me of how much we talk to each other. When Scott goes to Virgina or Florida he is only a text message or an email away. This is not the case from London. It's radio silence, and the silence is deafening. It was as if he was here and then snatched away. On a small scale, this is what it must feel like when someone dies. One moment they are there and the next you are reaching for the phone and realize that you can’t talk to them. The feelings of sadness touched me deeply and reminded me of how much I love Scott. He means so much to me. It makes me appreciate him so much more to realize that he will not be in my life forever. It also makes me aware of my attachment to him. In Buddhism they say that all pain and suffering comes from your attachment to things. Our biggest attachments in life (without a doubt) are our loved ones. A small controlled simulation like this makes me contemplate how I would handle a situation if the worst would ever happen. Maybe one of the things that make death so hard is that we never talk about it so we are unprepared for all the emotions that go along with it like waking up in an empty bed. For now, I am very happy that Scott is coming back in a week, and buying a GSM phone while there to end the radio silence.

The Airport

When I was a little girl, my grandmother took me to the airport all the time to watch the planes take off. It was cheap fun. In those days, you could walk right up to the terminal and see the runway. I remember squealing with delight as I saw the impossibly huge metal birds lift into the air. The airport was a magical. As I grew older I was intrigued by all the places you could go and everyone’s story that walked through the halls. To me, the airport was the gateway to many worlds. Walk through one door and you could be at the pyramids in Egypt, walk through another and you could end up at the Grand Canyon or Grandma’s house. Your options were limitless at the airport. However what I found most fascinating at the airport were the people. I loved to watch the people almost as much as I liked watching the planes take off. They were intriguing and being at the airport provided a brief snapshot into their lives. Everyone at the airport has a story. The Airport is actually the petri dish of all the great emotions in life. There are people arriving to celebrate the birth of a baby, weddings, and new jobs. There are also plenty of lovers full of amore, and children lost in fun or screaming in protest, and still others are saying good-bye. All of life’s soap operas are played out at the airport. This is what I was thinking about as I dropped my husband Scott off at Dulles International Airport for his vacation to London. Scott kissed me and the kids’ goodbye and suddenly it occurred to me that we were becoming part of the many stories that take place at the Airport. Maybe some voyeur was taking us in the same way that we had watched them in the past. Sometimes you are the ones watching the action and sometimes you are the action. That is what makes life so interesting. At this moment I was filled by the aching in my heart. I was filled with amore. Our story is one of love. He is my Romeo. For us, the airport is a reminder that we all have the “...potential to live any life we want."

A New Kind of Mom

For those that ever thought that being a mom was trivial and indistinct, they have never met Kris O'Krepky. She is a new prototype in “Momming.” Kris is one of the most loyal mothers I know. She dotes on her two sons Will and Finn. They were, they are, and forever will be the center of her universe. She drives her kids 20 miles each way before and after school to give them a great private school education. In addition, Kris is fiercely devoted to her husband whom she has been married to for 20 years (something rarely seen in today’s society). To see Kris is to experience a seemingly inexhaustible power house. Kris is the happiest when she is constantly in motion. She always has a project going whether it is re-arranging her furniture at home or re-arranging her life. When she is not running around doing a million things, she can be found curled up with a stack of books which she goes through like most people eat jelly beans. With this much energy it is no surprise that two days ago Kris did something life changing for her and her family. She passed her exam and was appointed to the Foreign Service Department. It will only be a matter of time before Kris leaves town to start her new life abroad; This is a job that she is well suited for and will be a great use of her skills. Indeed the United States will benefit by having Kris as an ambassador on foreign soil. As they say in the Walt Disney Children’s Movie, Mulan—she will bring Honor to us all.

The Controversy of the Dinner Time Prayer

Each night at dinner our Middle Son Zefram does the evening prayer before we eat. It is a great tradition and makes Zefram feel very important to do something as special as calling our family to order in this ceremonious way. The prayer is a cute sing song rhythm that goes—“God, Thank you for the sun, the trees, the mountains and me. Amen.” In addition the prayer has little hand movements that go along with the words that our children love to do. Even my youngest child Athena likes to get into the action with pointing to herself and saying “and me” at the top of her lungs. The institution of the dinner prayer has been a blessing in so many ways to our family and the kids get a great deal out of it. To the outside world the prayer seems innocuous enough but my husband Scott is an Atheist. To him, giving thanks and evoking a higher power at dinnertime is as foreign as living on the moon would have been for our grandparents. Recently, Scott initiated a deep conversation about the family dinnertime prayer. Since I am devoutly spiritual and my husband is devoutly Atheist it did not come as a shock when he said that he would prefer to remain quiet through the prayer but it was Ok if me and the kids continued to say it. Our differences in beliefs have led to a great many conversations over child rearing, respect and belief over the last 9 years. Nevertheless, our strong beliefs have never led to shouting matches, but have been more akin to deep philosophical debates. It reminds me of what dinner must be like for Mary Matalin and James Carville in the political realm. Despite their huge differences they are able to make their marriage work and so are we. What makes my husband Scott and my relationship so strong in the face of polarizing viewpoints is our deep LOVE for one another. I respect Scott and love him to the core of my being. I try very hard not to change him despite my ego tendencies. He in turn loves me so much that he is willing to allow me to raise the children with spirituality despite his deep inner convictions. His compromise means so much to me and is one of the reasons that I continue to love him and cherish him to this day.

Spring Is Here

On the way back from my run, I saw a flock of Robins. I was running up an incline and breathing rather hard, but as soon as I saw the birds my spirits burst with merriment. Robins are the first bird of spring in the Northeast and this was the first sighting. I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my family what I had seen. The Robin is such a special bird. The migration of the Robin is a clear symbol that winter is drawing to a close. Like the crocuses and the daffodils they are a living testament that rebirth is in the air and spring fireworks are right around the corner. In an era where we try to predict the weather, the Robins seem to have the inside track. Seeing the Robin as a symbol for spring made me consider the true symbols for unity that brings all of humanity together. Most of them are found in nature, like the Robin. The more enduring promises of hope and unity for the world can be seen in the simple things; the warmth of the sun, the water, the moon and the stars. Maybe this is why China chose to bring the world together at the Beijing Olympics in a metaphorical birds nest. Having a civilization that has been around for over 4,000 years they have come to honor nature in their everyday lives. Zen, Taoism, and Confucianism all honor and revere nature. Our family is making a concerted effort to enjoy the subtle things in life that can only be found in nature. Right now, my husband has started his seedlings in the basement. Each day it is marvelous to wake-up and walk down stairs to inventory the astronomical advancements that these seeds in the dirt have made overnight. Nature teaches us so much about calmness, and mysticism, and beauty. It even gives us greater insight into our own soul. One may argue that it is the true kiss of the Devine. When we get so busy on our cell phones, our to-do list and TV it is helpful to take a deep breath, drink in the air and look at the sky for a moment in thanksgiving. So often we discount nature in our lives, but it is the living breathing source that ties us all together.

St. Patrick’s Day

Children see the world in an extraordinary way. Especially holidays—even minor ones like St. Patrick’s Day. They are in awe of the Leprechauns that make merry mischief and finding a rainbow. Many times a child’s fantasy world seems trite to adults who think they have better things to do than be caught up in a hallmark holiday. After all, celebrating St. Patrick’s Day will not balance the budget or bring about world peace. Or will it? For me, Alex, Zefram and Athena remind me that looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is what life is all about. They are so excited to dress up in their spiffy green hats and decorate the house with shamrocks. They truly see the world through green colored glasses. Their joy and laughter is intoxicating as they skip through the house. To them—everything is possible; even little green men who are only 8 inches tall. My children have reminded me that St. Patrick’s Day is more then hoisting a pint; it is about the childhood wonderment that should not be lost in adulthood. Perhaps this is the attitude that Jesus was referring to when he said that the kingdom of God belongs to children. So keeping in this spirit, on this St. Patrick’s Day our family will be searching for rainbows and be surprised as Alex plays pranks in the name of the leprechauns. I believe he has already decorated my bathroom floor with tiny foot prints leading up to some item that the leprechauns have absconded. In a way, life does not get any better then this. It is all about childhood merriment and exploring the possibilities of what is. And in the end—I assure you that this type of thinking can even solve world peace.

You Never Know Who Your Talking To

Tonight the Cochrane family went out to Ledo’s Pizza in Crofton. It is the monthly fund raiser for Crofton Woods. Alex just loves it because he gets a chance to socialize with all of his friends. Toward the end of our meal we started talking to our waitress, Bridgette. We told Bridgette how happy we were that Ledo’s went out of their way to build community by hosting the school night. It is a night that the entire family looks forward to. We found out that Bridgette wasn’t an ordinary waitress. Actually, she was the owner’s daughter. I would have never guessed in a million years that her Dad owned the place. She said that she helps out at the restaurant on school nights because of the volume. It just goes to show you that you never know who you are speaking with. There is a phrase that says that the measure of a man can be determined by how they act to someone that can do nothing to them or for them. In our culture, there is still a perceived idea that some people are better then others depending on their perceived status. There is a tendancy to treat these people better then the Janator or the waitress. From a religious perspective, even Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. This was such a great lesson for the Cochrane Family to share at dinner. We are all equal in the sight of our creator.

Ambassadors of Race Relations

My husband and I are watching the last couple of episodes of Battlestar Galactica together. It has been a gripping science fiction series; mostly attributed to its great writing and plot lines. The show deals with deep controversial issues such as God and Religion. But another subplot running through the show is the idea of race relations and a biracial child. The writers have been putting a lot of emphasis on the half human half cylon child that they proclaim to be the hope for the future. This story line is not new. It is reminiscent of the Star Child in V. This makes me ask what the writers are trying to tell us about race relations in our own culture. The biracial issue touched a nerve for me because I am one of the 4.9 million biracial Americans in the US. As a child, I always struggled with my identity and a sense of belonging. I am Latino and White. However, today I face the biracial issue more then ever as I go out with my blonde haired, blue eyed daughter who is a carbon copy of her Dad and looks nothing like me. At least once a day, someone will ask, “is she your daughter?” People are down right surprised that someone with dark skin can mother someone so fair. Although annoyed at these seemingly insensitive questions in the beginning, I now feel that this dialog is opening up the lines of communication between races. This is the type of conversation that needs to take place for there to be a continued healing of our nation. There is no doubt that biracial children are the hope for the future. Their very essence will break down the walls between the races not by them choosing sides but by the virtue of their blendedness and healthy sense of self. Being biracial is so special because the children of biracial couples are the product of love between the races that transcends past prejudices. Biracial children are the rich fruit of the melting pot of our nation. It appears to me that Battlestar Galactica, like many science fiction shows before it (Star Trek included), are dealing with what could happen if we could rise to our better selves. For now, my daughter Athena and I are content to do our part in promoting the healing process as we hop-scotch around the community doing our everyday errands and being an inspiration of what is possible.

Snow Ice Cream and Candy

Anyone who knows me and my husband intimately knows that we dislike the winter—especially snow. However, even though I dislike the snow passionately I try not to expose these views on my children—at least consciously. It was very hard at first to hold my tongue and not say anything negative. Nevertheless, I want my kids to have the opportunity to form their own thoughts about the snow and the winter experience without my jaded grumblings of shoveling the driveway or the overt disruption to my life. Regardless of whether you like snow or not—I am sure that you have one good childhood memory of building a snowman or being excited for a day off from school. It is interesting how our perceptions change about something as simple as snow being good or bad as we become an adult. Children have no such limitations. In their natural state they are joyous about the white stuff falling from the sky. Children approach snow with a sense of wonderment. It is great to see how their eyes light up as they stick out their tongues out a passing flurry. Looking at how my own kids view winter has changed how my awareness. I now find a sense of calmness and stillness as the white stuff blankets the landscape. In a way, I feel like the Grinch whose heart grew three sizes too big. Instead of going through the motions, I find myself enjoying the excitement of wintertime activities that I do with the kids—and now I’m even finding that I am trying to come up with more. Yesterday we made snow ice cream which is a tradition from my husband’s mom. It was delicious. We mixed a little condensed milk with new fallen snow and drizzled chocolate on it. WOW!!! It’s not Haagen Dazs but it’s pretty good. The other thing that the kids loved making with the snow is snow candy. I found the recipe in a Laura Ingles Wilder Book when I was a girl. Basically, you warm up maple syrup and drizzle it over new fallen snow (I like to stress new fallen snow). It is so much fun to do and you can create really interesting patterns. Alex, Zefram, and Athena had so much fun eating this sensational snow dish that we packed the freezer full of snow to keep the fun alive even after the magic has melted outside. Maybe will try putting food coloring and sugar in it next batch as suggested by a neighbor. In a lot of ways, I am discovering my inner child along with my little ones. Living in that space is so much pleasurable.

Grandma’s Pancakes

In these times of economic unrest, we are all looking for answers. This made me contemplate a family tradition passed down from my maternal great grandmother. It was called Grandma’s Pancakes. Essentially, Grandma’s Pancakes are a mixture of fried flour and water that is served up with ketchup. They are eaten like a thick crepe and are definitely an acquired taste as I am reminded by anyone who has married into the family. Nutritionally speaking, Grandma’s Pancakes may not have a lot to offer, but they were always served with a great deal of wisdom which was more filling for the soul then the body. You see, Grandma’s Pancakes were poor mans food dating back to when my family went through the great depression in Ohio. This delicacy was served in the house when times were lean and the family could not afford eggs. The irony was that the kids always thought that eating Grandmas Pancakes was cause for celebration. This was in part due to the fact that the Parents made such a big deal about eating them. Often the kids would dance around the house and sing praises in great anticipation. In many ways the concept of Grandma’s Pancakes reminds me of the Academy Award winning movie It’s a Beautiful Life. The adults always went out of their way to shield us from the doom and gloom around us. They taught us that even in the worst of times there was something to celebrate. I will never know if my affection of Grandma’s Pancakes is due to the nostalgia, life lessons, or their great taste. What I can tell you is that my kids like them almost as much as I did growing up. They have continued the tradition of dancing around in eager jubilation.

Recipe:
Combine1cup of flour and 1 cup of water in equal parts in a bowl. Add ½ teaspoon of salt. Thoroughly mix ingredients until the mixture is smooth. It should have the consistency of a milk shake.
Drizzle oil in a skillet and heat the olive oil until it has a sheen. Pour the batter into the frying pan with a ¼ measuring spoon. Because the thickness of the batter, it may require a spoon to smooth the mixture into a large round circle. If the consistency is too dense to work with, simply add water and stir and retry. Fry the dough until it is golden on each side. Remove from the heat and serve with Ketchup, jam or any condiments of choice.

What Can You Live Without?

I was raised by my maternal Grandmother that went through the Great Depression. She saved aluminum and tin foil. She was constantly after me to turn off the lights, when I was not in the room, and she washed plastic silverware and separated paper towels. Her favorite phrase in Italian was “LaLuge-LaLuge” which translates lightly to “you’re being wasteful!” In a time where everything was plentiful we thought she was an archaic dinosaur. Who new she was teaching us something so important. Then 3 years ago, my family went to Panama. We visited my 95 year old paternal Grandfathers house. I was struck by the fact that I could have bought his humble abode for the amount that I spent in one day on my wedding in the US. On the same trip, I also met a relative that made 1 dollar a day—we were their guest. The trip was transforming. I realized how blessed we were. My husband and I made the conscious decision to scale back our lives. Omar Khayyam in the Rubaiyat said that all you needed was “a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thee.” It’s pretty true. When we came back from Panama, I quit my career to give our children more quality time rather than things. Our motto became Making Family Life a Priority. In addition, our family gave up cable, eating out regularly, and shopping--Home Parties being the hardest because it was connected with a social group. Now, we buy a lot of our stuff used. Goodwill and second hand stores are regular stops. Sometimes it is hard on our kids who don’t understand why they don’t have the latest Wii, 700 channels on the TV or regular parties at the Kids Super Extreme Mega Bounce Zone. They have had melt downs when we have tried to limit the amount of TV and computer in their lives and said that they are “board,” but we are all learning values (as a family) to last a life time—kind of like the ones my Grandmother gave to me. Two new changes that we have recently made, is that we discuss our decisions in family meetings and read books like Wayne Dyer’s children’s book It’s Not What You’ve Got! The accumulation of stuff has been replaced by hugs, family dinners, game nights, and car trips. The sacrifices has been worth it! Our kids have less temper tantrums then when I worked full time. . We have found happiness in simplicity, and more importantly we love spending time together. And yes every once in a while we still splurge and buy something extraordinary which we appreciate so much more.

Rich in Cookies

I met Nancy before Mass at All Souls Episcopal Church in DC. She made an impression on me. Nancy commented that she would never be rich but thanked God for all the blessings in her life. The irony is that Nancy is truly rich in blessings. What makes her so rich is the kindness she gives away. After lunch at Open City Cafe on 24th street, Nancy pulled out this big Tupperware filled with cookies. She proceeded to send the dish around the table. It was filled with delicious sugar cookies with a fruit preserve. She also took out little valentines bags and encouraged everyone to take as many home as they wanted. Each cookie was the size of a man’s fist and was tantalizing to the taste buds. One bite made you feel like you were in your Grandmothers kitchen. On the way back to the church, I asked Nancy about her baking. She said that she loves to bake but she and her husband Lawrence are the only 2 people at home and so she gives away her baked goods. That way she can continue to bake. I admired Nancy and her generosity. It made me think about what each of us could give away to show love. What is your ministry? Sometimes it is the simple things. Nancy’s ministry is cookies. She gives away her gifts and changes the world one cookie at a time; And, I dare you not to smile when you are eating one of her delicious cookies.