Yale and other possibilities

A Yale graduate (Marina Keegan) wrote to her graduating class about the sense of possibility that grabs/consumes us when we’re young. Do you remember it? It changes form as we grow from toddlers fascinated by grass, bugs, running water, and cartoons into young adults envisioning love stories, far off places, and fabulous lives full of fun and wealth and accomplishments.  Its form is unique to the age we are, and the sum of our experiences.  What have we already seen?  What have we already done?  And what still looms before us with heart wrenching appeal, calling out to our souls to chase it with abandon? 

Over the past week I’ve heard a lot about Marina Keegan and her passion for possibility.  I listened to NPR contributors lament her passing, amazed at her potential that was bound to affect The New Yorker where she had secured a job for after graduation.  I read articles and columns talking about how her words to her graduating class resonated with each author.  The widely common quote was some form of, “…we can still do anything.  We can change our minds.  We can start over…  We can’t, we MUST not lose this sense of possibility because in the end, it’s all we have.”

Every person I know has a different level of passion about any number of things.  Their spouse or their job, their children or their freedom, their guns or their laws banning those guns, their drugs or their clean living, their body or their intelligence… so often a fascinating combination all of the above.  Through my life I’ve experienced countless phases of longing for that passion.  My husband will likely tell you that I am passionate.  My friends, depending on the city in which or time at which they met me, will likely describe a similar person who varies only in specific interests or job titles.  But if I were to describe myself, I would droop at the reality that I lack the same passion I felt when I was 18.  When the possibility of AMAZING consumed my every day.   When my answer for, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” was always answered with, “EVERYTHING!” 

Perhaps the reality for us all is that certain things teach us to stifle that passion. 

Responsibility.  Working a job to earn enough money to feed your family when it’s the last thing on earth you want to be doing each day in the early afternoon, when your morning coffee has worn off and you still have 3 hours until it’s time to leave. 

Compromise.  Giving up pieces of your time every.  single.  day of every.  single.  year.  For your kids’ games and school events when you just want to read a book.  For your spouse when someone needs to fold laundry or cook dinner and you don’t want to eat what they want to eat and if you have to match those socks ONE MORE TIME!...  For your duty to America when your taxes need paid or license needs renewed when it feels like you JUST took care of it, you swear, JUST the other day!!

Humility.   Seeing someone you love get sick and wanting to help by cleaning and cooking and driving which feels so insignificant when what you want to do is rip out the cancer with your bare hands.

Even as I’m writing this I feel that familiar draw to possibility.  I see that even the examples I gave about responsibility, compromise, and humility contribute greatly to the health of the passion we already have and the greater passion we long for.  When we’re young, possibility looms in front of us in bright colors and quickly moving scenes in our imagination. We run so fast because we think we’re missing it!   As we age, that possibility should evolve into richer and deeper colors, with scenes that are timed perfectly with knowledge and experience.  We know that we can pace ourselves and let some of that AMAZING come to us, instead of franticly pursuing it. 

The risk in this, of course, is that we will not pace ourselves.  That we will stop running all together.  That we will ignore those moments of longing for passion and possibility because we’re afraid of what it will do to our life.  Inspired by Marina’s words, and the short years she was able to pursue passion and possibility, I think I’ll go ahead and treat those moments differently.  I will see them as opportunities to excel, not hide.  And I hope to be rewarded each time with the uplifting renewal of not quite knowing how the story will end.

"Wuv... Twooo Wuv..."

If you are any friend of mine you've seen and loved the movie "The Princess Bride."  You can also quote the movie (using sometimes-terrible attempts at the characters and voices) and have your favorite scenes to choose from.

Our brother is the last of Majdeski siblings to get married.  In my opinion, we saved the best for last!  His engagement became official yesterday.  His fiancee, Jennifer is witty and spicy and doesn't take any crap... love her!

But, I digress.  There are two scenes from "The Princess Bride" that come to mind when I think of Mike and Jennifer's engagement.  Both bring to mind my hopes for the happy couple... (please excuse any mistakes I make.  My husband tells me I remember things incorrectly... all the time... please feel free to correct me)

1. The scene where the priest is trying to perform buttercup's marriage and he is talking SO slowly and says, "Wuv.... twooo wuv..."- my hope for Mike and Jennifer is that their priest can speak clearly and quickly:)  If it takes longer than 7 minutes, you've lost the Majdeski challenge.

2. The scene where they visit Billy Crystal's character and he's constantly picking at/arguing with his wife- No, I do not think of this scene because I think you guys will fight.  I think of it because it's HILARIOUS! When she says to her husband, "I'm not a vitch, I've your VIFE!"... tears of laughter from this South Dakota girl... But, you knew I'd get serious and here it is.

Mike, you're our only brother and we love you so much.  One of the things I love about you is that you love each of us for who we are, and not who you think we should be.  When I met Jennifer and spent time with the two of you I realized that's what she is for you.  You spent the weekend (stressful as it was with the rally and D.C. nonsense) acting completely as you would if it were just the two of us hanging out.  If I never knew anything else about Jennifer, that would have been enough.  Seeing the two of you be comfortable and genuine around each other and around us, jokes and banter and all, warms my heart.

I think I can speak for Steve when I say congratulations to you guys, and we love you...
... and don't forget the 7 minute limit:)

Sunday is here

I am selfish.

I am reminded every day just how selfish I am, and even more so in April when I spend 24 days being excited about my birthday.  I start near the end of March with small, subtle reminders... "Steve, it's almost April and you know what THAT means!!!!!"  The subtly starts to disappear on April 1st when I wake him up with, "STEVE, it IS April and you know what THAT MEANS!!!!"  It's my birthday month.  3 1/2 weeks for me to think about and talk about myself, constantly.  Sounds amazing, right?

This week I was humbled by my friends, both new and old, who went out of their way to make me feel loved.  Bright pink and green boxes full of my favorite treats seemed to arrive daily... but shining above all of the luxuries I received were thoughtful cards and notes.  Unexpected, because you all know that I am (slightly) emotionally challenged, almost always making a joke to avoid a heartfelt moment.  How is it possible that the people I love and respect have taken the time and effort to know me?... really know me, enough to know exactly what I needed this week.  Your gifts made me feel like I was sitting with each one of you, laughing and chatting- a cupcake is more than a cupcake when it means you remembered my obsession with caramel cream cheese frosting- perfume is more than perfume when it means you knew what scent I liked without me telling you- a wallet is more than an accessory when it has become a reminder that you think of me even when I'm not with you (and even when you don't agree with my fashion choices).  And with all of the tears this week, because I miss you, were smiles and smirks at the memories attached to the things you sent me.

This morning, I am humbled again.  In spite of my selfishness and in spite of the failings I constantly fight with, God is great.  In spite of the determined focus on MYself and MY birthday and MY struggle to fit in and be content with MY surroundings, God moves me to tears when I am reminded today that the greatest gift I have or will ever receive is a relationship with Jesus Christ.  I'm overwhelmed that all of you love me... I'm genuinely amazed by it.  It doesn't make sense to me that you would love me... and that's what it's like with Jesus.  It doesn't make sense that He would have given up heaven to live an uncomfortable and impossible life on earth, just so he could grab every sin I've ever committed, or will ever commit, and gathered them onto his shoulders as he hung on a cross.  It doesn't make sense that He died there, overwhelmed himself by the weight of that sin... the sadness and shame of it... and took it to the grave so he could (pardon the language, but it's true) kick death's ass and rise again!

He did this for me.  He would do it again for me, even if I was the only one left to save.  Even though I choose to be selfish over and over and over again.  And He did it for you.  All of you.  And then He put you in my life to humble me constantly with your love.

Sound advice

The conversation went something like this...

husband: "Remember, we're new here so just (pause)... well (pause again to carefully choose next words)...  just don't overdo it."

wife (aka: ME!!):  "What does that mean?  Don't overdo it?"

husband:  "Just don't go over the top.  You're really (pause- and by now I'm getting tired of the pauses)... well, you're just really outgoing and people here may not know how to take your sense of humor..."

wife:  "So, you're saying (pause of my own) don't be myself..."

husband:  (shit-eating grin) "basically..."

... welcome to your new home!  For all of you who know Steve and I, you'll laugh at that conversation.  You'll also understand the bruise Steve had on his right bicep after I gave him a healthy dose of my right-jab.  

I need to give Steve a little credit for his observation.  This relocation has been just one of several moves in our adult lives.  Each time we've arrived in a new city most folks have been quickly introduced to the nervous, high-energy version of me.  You may have met her... not much of a filter?  Chooses trial-by-fire for testing out someones ability to laugh at themselves?  Talks, A LOT!!!?... Steve no-doubt had all of these things on his mind as he gave me the first piece of advice I'd receive in Pierre, South Dakota.  "Don't be yourself!"

Naturally, I ignored his advice.  After dinner and drinks with a group that included a wide variety of law enforcement, I had made several new friends and a lasting impression on the chief of police (no pun intended with the 'chief').  It's not what you think!  He was kind enough to welcome us with a round of shots.  Now, I'm not an expert on shots (Whitlow, no comments, please), but I didn't expect the chief to choose something bright pink that smelled like watermelon!!  Steve politely declined, and after the rest of us raised and emptied our glasses, I turned to thank our host... "Hey Chief, thanks!  Kind of a girly choice though, dontcha think???"...

As it turns out, a great number of people here, including the chief share the ability to laugh at themselves.  I'm extremely thankful for that, and for Steve's advice.  Thanks for the blog ammunition, husband!  Please remember... Just be yourself.