In our house, 2011 has been…well… quite the year.  May we all leave it with eyes pointed forward and no regret.

The greatest highlight of my year was seeing my children really grow in their ability to read and write well.  They journal at school and daughter V has even taken to writing down her anger rather than yelling me – not all the time, but enough to take the edge off.   The novelty of that change alone could carry me blissfully through 2012.  They all three have the gift of great teachers who help them shine in this area in a way I never could.

I went back to work this year and really enjoy it, despite the challenges that new demand brings.  The kids go to an after school program that they seem to enjoy and I am so pleased to have it available, especially as winter approaches.  That great big gym is more fun than either of our living rooms.

In July the kids and I went to Florida to visit some of my family.  This was the kids’ first sight of the Gulf of Mexico and they had a great time.  They also were indulged in the attention of many adults.  Thanks so much to Aunt Linda for making it all happen!

Below are a few photos from the year, which despite its pain and grief, also brought a lot of joy.  Thank you to all the friends who helped make that possible.  We love and appreciate you so!

Wishing you all a wonderful and healthy 2012.

Love,

S, P, C & V

I live in the city of Minneapolis, but work out in the boonies (aka, the outer suburbs). Every day I go to work I pass these corn fields. Every day I marvel at how beautiful they are. From early growth to harvest and now to mowed down and covered with snow, the morning and afternoon light catch them so beautifully. It is a constant reminder of how much beauty there is in the world to be enjoyed.

It is early on in the book, but already so clear that Mr. Rogers impacted this man’s life because his friendship consistently brought this author unconditional love and acceptance and understanding. The impact that experience made is so lovely I may have to stop listening because I can’t be showing up to work with tears in my eyes.

It is amazing what a difference we make when we take a moment to treat the people in our lives that way, show them they matter and are important.

Today I happen to see a couple of people I haven’t seen in sometime because going back to work has changed my schedule. Both stopped to tell me they missed me and their faces made me believe it was really true. Those expressions come at a particularly weary time in this difficult process.  What a kind thing it is to have someone tell you that, make you feel your presence matters and its absence noticed.

So to all those sweet folks who have said that to me lately, I was so touched I forgot to tell you this:

“I miss you, too!”

Look Me in the Eye by John Elder Robison is the memoir of a brilliant mind and great storyteller.  Along with his fantastic experiences as sound and pyrotechnic engineer for KISS in the late 1970s is the rich perspective  of a self-described misfit who found his way, found his gifts, and found a way to feel important in society.

You might also recognize him as the brother of Augusten Burroughs who is portrayed in most of Burroughs’s books.

The tales he recounts that he gave his son about Santa Claus alone are worth the read.  What brings a more honest reflection of an American Christmas than a Santa who drinks too much and steals from toy companies?  There is also drama, abuse and reconciliation and the successful search for profound self-acceptance.

I highly recommend it.

If you enjoy these, you can find more of her work here.

On Moving from Shame to Whole-Heartedness:

On Vulnerability:

As those close to me know, I have recently separated and filed for divorce. It is a difficult time, but not all bad. My three children have a wonderful Dad and I am not at all alone in this most important role I play.

Since this process leaves me with little to say publicly, I won’t be posting for a while. Instead I’ll be working on other writing, adjusting to being a renter (a good thing), writing thank you notes to the many friends who have made this transition possible and doable, finding a job, and, I HOPE, now being there for all those who have been there for me.

Thanks again for stopping by.  Please do not comment here.  You are welcome to contact me at sally_vardaman_johnson@yahoo.com.

The world progresses slowly.  By the time I graduated college, I believed gays should be allowed to…well…be gay.  I knew too many gays to think otherwise.

But as the debate over the right to marry began to be vocalized in places where I could hear it, I thought, Pfft. That’s ridiculous. That’s just going a bit too far. I thought, Well, if they really want the same thing, they should find another word for it. And if they want all the rights that come between married couples, they should hire a lawyer and get it all in writing.

Feel free to take a break from this blog and go throw darts at my picture.

A couple of weeks ago Rep. Steve Simon (DFL), in opposition to an amendment to ban gay marriage in my current home state of Minnesota, called out the elephant in the room of religion-based argument favoring heterosexual unions over homosexual ones.  If you, for some strange reason, missed it, here you go:

I was so proud to live in this state that day.  And so sad a few days later when the amendment was passed.  But my greatest sadness was when I posted this video on my Facebook page.  Someone commented as though he did not really understand the issue, as though his comments were ill-formed and ridiculous.  It kind of broke my heart.

I don’t really know this woman, but what little I know about her is that she loves her children just like I do.  Because of that commonality I’ll assume she wants her kids to live in a safe and supportive community, just like I do, want them to have a quality education.  Just like I do.

But I am certain if she and I sat down and defined safe and supportive community and good education, we would have strong similarities and strong differences.  I am also pretty sure I would see a former version of myself in her ideals.

The debate that ensued reminded me of why I don’t often post political pieces and that those who feel strongly on either side of this argument are not going to be changed by reason.  I felt helpless in the belief that nothing I could say would help at all.  My instinct is to call the other side hard-hearted.  In all fairness, my heart is concrete on this one, too, poured and hardened around the philosophy that Rep. Simon described of “justice, fairness, wholeness, openness and compassion.”

How did I come to change my mind?  Quite a few things.  I saw two lives ended and their families capsized over the consequences of hidden sexual orientation.  But those are not my stories to tell.  Which is unfortunate, because it is hard to have the necessary compassion to see this issue clearly if you have not seen the relevant suffering up close.

In 1997 we began trying to conceive a child.  It took years.  During that time we considered the options: not having children at all, adopting, infertility treatments.  We spent six years letting our lives revolve around something we could not have.  Those years were some of the worst times in my life, and I ended up conceiving a child, and later two more the old-fashioned way.  I ended up being so lucky.

During that time a close friend, who served on the board of an adoption agency, loaned me the book The Kid by Dan Savage.  The Kid is the tale of how Savage and his partner chose to become parents and, eventually, adopt their son.  It is the story of heart-ache that all couples who struggle with infertility go through, except that the legal system and cultural biases were stacked against them, not to mention physiology.  It is the story of being rejected by birth-mothers and taking a chance on the one mother who chose them.  It is the universal tale of the uncertainty common as we enter parenthood, but with the added layers of judgment from flight attendants, the necessity of paying for quality legal services, and having one’s natural capacity to give and need love be degraded to immorality by large factions in our culture.

What do you know, these men are just as human as I am, with the same basic emotional, psychological and physical needs as I have.  I heard their story, and I never again lived under the ignorant assumption that heterosexuality was superior.

It is said that the mind is changed through the heart.  And the heart is only changed through empathy – through seeing the world from another’s point-of-view.  Dan Savage helped me see the issues that matter, and the ones that don’t.

At a quick glance of state legislative battles, change is very slow.  From the amazing duo’s fight in California being stalled to the Governor of Wisconsin attempting to enforce one of the cruelest manifestations of the bigotry and ignorance behind the opposition to gay marriage, denial of hospital visitation between same sex partners.

So I hope these stories of personal pain continue to get told.  It is through the telling of a personal struggle that we look at another person and see our own humanity reflected back.  One day I hope to live in a place where gays live openly and without judgment, without compulsion to be secretive and ashamed, free to fully participate in their communities.  This Pink Dot campaign is for Singapore, but I think it expresses my hope the best.

The intention is good, show love for and celebrate someone who has done much for us, but I wonder if family members should get a day to honor the role we play.

We don’t have Child’s Day.  One might say every day is child’s day.  My children would rightfully take issue with that.

We chose to be mothers.

I have a friend who has had a tough time in life, mostly at the hand of a short-lived series of big mistakes with harsh consequences.  What is amazing about this friend is that she has picked up her life, faced those consequences, and worked very hard to make big changes in the way she lives her life and treats other people.  Today, she is strong and kind and responsible and generous.  Those who meet her today cannot MISS the confidence and clear-headed warmth she exudes.

You know what still plagues this person I admire so much?  She can’t bear to tell her mother the things that she has done, can’t bear to see her disappointment. can’t bear to “break her heart”.  She continues to live under the shame we feel when we hide a part of ourselves to avoid rejection or judgment.

When we go down that path of believing the people we adore are too special to tolerate the worst parts of us, that they need to be protected from our humanity, we rob them of knowing us and sacrifice our relationship in the process.  And if we as mothers become so confident in our work that we refuse to see the worst, or take it personally somehow, we sacrifice our relationships with our children, choosing blinders instead.

It is the relationships that need to be prized and nurtured, more than the individual players.  If everyone is appreciated and celebrated equally, then everybody gets to be equally human.  No one gets to hide in a glass castle.  No one gets to pretend she is perfect.  And no one has to suffer a burning at the stake.  Everyone has a right to complain at times.  Everyone needs to forgive at times.

I want my kids to know that they can bring their worst to me.  (It seems to come naturally to them for now.)  I won’t save them from natural consequences, but I will always work hard to make my first response one of compassion.  “Yes,” I want to tell them, “it sucks to mess up.”  But one of life’s greatest skills is learning to live through the bad stuff, even when – no, especially when – we have created it ourselves.  And if we can master THIS skill, and NOT hide in shame, we can live life fully, less afraid of messing up.  That lesson is what I most want to teach my children.  It is the example I want to set, the mother I want to be.

Happy Mother’s Day to my mother, all the mothers in my life who have been role models for me, and all the mothers who share this journey with me.  May you enjoy tomorrow and time with those you love.

Like this conversation I had with the cashier at ALDI the other day:

Me:  “Hi.  How are you?”

Cashier guy: “Crazy.  How are you?”

Me: “Nutty.”

Cashier guy: “I’m from Tennessee.”

Me: “I’m from Mississippi.”

We nodded at this profound understanding and wished each other a good day.  I picked up my milk and went on my way.

I had a great business professor who had been a flight attendant in her early work life.  At her first interview, she was bright eyed and eager to travel the world.   The interview began in the usual pleasant manner.  But on a dime the manager stood up and started screaming at her, getting in her face and pacing around her while screaming insults at her stunned interview candidate.  This was a glimpse of a bad day in the life of a flight attendant, the manager explained as soon as she was finished behaving like a psychopath.

My professor told this tale as a bad example of interview strategy.  I agreed.

But now I think every prospective parent should go through some version of this before committing to that lifetime role.

As those of you closest to me know, this is the most stress I’ve endured in my life, for reasons beyond issues of raising kids and behavior and the like.  Even worse than when the kids were younger.  I only hope I’ll remember how I feel now so that, one day, if I return to a level closer to normal and manageable, I will realize it and appreciate it.

That would put all this to good use, right?  Learning to live life better and be more grateful?  I plan to find out.