It's Almost Time to Say ....

Good-bye.

While watching a scene from a movie with a fast train in it, Wesley turned to me and asked, "Do you remember Rowan?"

"Yes, of course I remember Rowan,"I replied. "We saw him at the picnic." I thought he was talking about a little boy in our Baha'i community.

He looked at me with another question written on his face: "Do you remember Rowan on the train -- the fast train?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed; No way! I thought.

I was astonished that he was referring to the Rowan he met six months previously in Switzerland. We talked about the fun we had on Switzerland's transportation system of buses and trains, and the fun he had with my friend Emily's children. He only spent a short time with Rowan and his sister, and he remembers them -- fondly. More than that, I sensed he feels a bond with Rowan. And isn't quite aware of the distance between them.

I wish they had more time together.

***

My dad came into town Friday. He brought Wesley a German-made electric train set. I don't know, but perhaps it is similar to the one that his grandfather bought for him when he lived in Germany. I do know that Wesley and his grandfather share a joy in playing with trains.

My dad left on Saturday. Minutes later he called:

"I feel like I didn't stay long enough."

"Me too." Silence -- we were both crying. "I think we feel this way because we didn't get much time together ..."

More silence. More tears.

I don't remember the rest of the conversation, in the end he told me he would be back in a few weeks to meet the new baby, we hung up, and I continued to cry. I wasn't crying because I missed him in that moment, I did, but the depth of my feeling and the situation didn't match -- I was crying because I had missed him for so long.

I wish we had hadmore time together.

***

I don't know how many times I've dropped off Patrick at an airport knowing it would be months before I would see him again.

A couple of those times I parked my car, walked with him to the terminal (back when we could do that sort of thing) ,and held his hand until he had to walk through the terminal doors. But I prefer the drop-kiss method. The one where you stop briefly outside the airport, give your loved one a quick kiss, watch him walk away with his bags, and then speed off, turn up the radio, and numb out before the tears have a chance to flow.

I always wished we had more time together.

***

I find that good-byes vary from awkward to torture.

I'm not sure how much of my current withdrawal from my community and friends has to do with this self-protection factor and how much of it is a genuine effect of life as it is with a busy husband, a book that keeps needing new scenes/edits, a difficult pregnancy, nurturing a busy toddler, and a desire to take advantage of my post-grad work through the Southeast Institute by reading, writing, and signing up for every weekend workshop that I can while I am here.

I read in an article (reference to come) that many pregnant women focus more on "being" than "doing" ... we recycle the being needs of the infants inside of us. We do this partly through our connection to them and partly to "fill up" and ready ourselves for the journey of nurturing and sacrifice that newborns require. Receiving nurturing and nurturing ourselves simply for who we are and not what we do becomes very important.

So whether because of this time of rapid internal and family growth, or because of unnecessarily making myself busy as a defense, I'm sorry that I will soon be leaving without knowing many of the people I know better.

Whether I know you through my training, through my neighborhood, my Baha'i circle, the Pin, Patrick's work, or any of the random and instantly fun and/or inspirational encounters I've had here, I'm sorry we didn't make more time together for general gab or whatever it is that brings people closer and more aware physically, of the bond that unites us spiritually.

Also, I am grateful for knowing you. You are each unique in who you are and what you choose to do with your time and life. You are each an inspiration to me. We may or may not have a lot of things in common, but that doesn't matter. It's how you are you and how you have something unique and new to offer others that I cherish you -- for it's our differences, not our similarities, that enrich us. And those differences, often the counterparts to my weaknesses, are the pieces I want to take with me as I move to San Anotnio, and to any other place around the world thereafter.

***

Wesley wasn't sad when he was remembering Rowan. He was rather joyful.

Once again I find myself standing in the shadows of my son's reality. At two, he doesn't know distance and time as barriers as I know them. And he doesn't feel sadness at his separation from people he loves and enjoys. Rather, he remembers them fondly.

I may not have spent as much time with all of you that I would have liked to ... but I am taking a piece of you with me.

And I am reminding myself that no matter how much or little time I have to spend and know the people who cross my path, no matter where I go, because of the natural spiritual connection we share, you are with me. And I am with you.

(That knowledge won't replace a phone call, a letter, an email, or a quick blog comment though, so let's stay in touch!)

Read more!

Ten Years Ago

I met Patrick ten years ago. He was a senior studying physics and I was in graduate school.

I liked a lot of things about Patrick, I especially liked that he had a plan: "I want to travel and explore the world, not in the 5-star hotel way, rather in a way that gives back to the people of every place I go."

We shared a desire to enhance the world. The difference between us at the time, however, was that he had a plan. Like me, Patrick has a lot of interests and had a lot of paths he could have pursued.

"I just picked one," he said.

He made it sound so simple: Just pick a path and devote yourself to it.

He had picked the MD, MPH route with a desire to bring health to the greatest number of people that he could. Three to four months after we met he left on a journey that would take him to medical school in Israel.

What could have taken 4 years of education ended up taking 5 years because he took a year off in the middle for us to spend time together after our wedding. Then he returned to Israel and I visited/lived there when I could.

The next step on his path was a residency in family medicine so he could translate his book knowledge into a body knowledge. Then, the final phase of his formal education: a residency in public health leading to a masters degree.

That final phase is finished.

The road has been long and paved with gems. Here are a few that I have gleaned through my husband's journey:

** Picking a path doesn't exclude all other paths, it provides a focus.
** There is no real "end" or "goal" to the path ... the path itself is the goal; The path is life.
** Life doesn't start at some point in the future: Life is now.
** Be flexible. You may not know how you are going to get there and open doors may shut in your face, but there's always a way around or through if you don't give up, if you believe in yourself.
** You don't need to be "special" to reach your goal.
** Goals that allow you to express "you" are worthy.
** It may not be the end that is most inspiring to others, rather what you do on the path.
** There is no magic number, or date, or condition that is worth waiting for before you start (on your path, living, or just feeling good about yourself). Just start!
** Let your heart shine ... your beauty does not take away from others, real beauty does not compete with others ...

So, yes, I am proud of my husband for completing his MD MPH goals, but not because of the title ... rather because of his perseverance, his focus, his dedication, his joy along the way ...

It's not that "now" he can do things, he's been doing things all along toward his goal of helping people ... now is a continuation of yesterday and today ... a constant motion.

I've never heard of a goal that "starts tomorrow" that works ... I've only heard of goals that are in process now that work ...

Thank you, Patrick for showing me that an imperfect now is preferable to the nonexistent "perfect tomorrow"!!!!! Read more!