A New Face on an Old Friend

(If this seems like an homage to Janice Okun, it is.  I didn't always agree with her reviews, but I loved reading them.)

This looks a lot more like Christmas than Easter, no?  Yet this was the view today, Easter Sunday 2015, from the back patio of The Public House on the Lake.  This, their opening week - opening with a bang offering brunch on Easter Sunday.   Regardless of wind and weather, the atmosphere inside was warm and cozy.  Fans of the defunct Root Five will be happy to hear that the new owners of TPHOTL have maintained the basic decor and layout of its predecessor.

The service, right from the start, was exemplary.  The companion and I are experienced buffet aficionados, having run the gamut from spreads resembling something one might expect at the chuckwagon, to high-end extravaganzas offering those unpronounceable dishes that make me feel like the peasant that I am.  Nothing puts one off like poor service at a buffet.  Clear the plates, fill the coffee cups.  Very simple.  There were no issues here.  The staff was very eager to please.

On to the main topic:  food and drink.  Our first observation was of a huge and impressive chalkboard menu of craft beers, IPAs and hard ciders.  We reluctantly resisted the urge to indulge in a nontraditional Easter beverage and stuck with coffee.  I know - boring.  But bad coffee can ruin the Easter brunch experience, so I felt obligated to test it here.  This coffee was better than average - not spectacular, but definitely more than adequate.   As we made our way into the main buffet line, we were amused but appreciative of the piles of mixed plate sizes - everything from petite to manly.  The presentation of these plates was oddly charming.  This was a foreshadowing of the offerings to come, I suppose.

Salad lovers would be disappointed.  Only one large bowl of basic green leaf lettuce salad was offered, with one choice of dressing - balsamic vinaigrette.  However, there were quite a few other options for healthy eating.  The yogurt with fruit and granola was delicious.   Anyone who knows me well would be surprised to know that, upon coercion of the companion, I tried and enjoyed the smoked salmon and went back for seconds.  Another healthy option was the offerings of the carving station, with a nice selection of lean turkey, ham and roast beef - all very well prepared.  There was a disappointing lack of condiments offered for the turkey, though.  Gravy is nice, but how about some cranberry mayo or relish?  I am hesitant to offer an opinion on the vegetable medley, but I suppose if you enjoy spinach and yellow squash......  have at it!

On to the other highly enjoyable offerings.  The basic breakfast items were all nicely cooked and seasoned - particularly the scrambled eggs.  Knowing what I do about the egg mixture that most restaurants use for buffets, seasoning is critical, and TPHOTL hits it out of the park.  The companion proclaimed his loaded omelet to be "really, really good".  The pastry table offered a nice selection of muffins and danishes, but ... no bagels, toast or english muffins, so if you're looking to carbo-load on white flour bread products, you're in the wrong place.   Another deviation for me - the grits with shrimp.  I tried this for the shrimp and enjoyed it for both the shrimp and the grits.  Being a northern girl, I can't testify to the authenticity of this dish, but  - again - seasoning is key.  I don't know what was in those grits, but it made them very good indeed.  One downside was the sad offering of Belgian waffles.  One serving tray of cold cut up waffles cannot be considered as an adequate substitute for a waffle station, in my opinion.

The lunch/dinner items were in the range of tasty to divine.   My favorite was the seafood scampi which was an adventure in and of itself.  Scampi with lobster on the first round, scampi with mussels on the second round.  Who knows what was in there before my arrival and after my departure. Anyone who recalls with nostalgia the superb seafood offerings of Root Five will be happy to know that if this seafood scampi is any indication, TPHLTL should more than live up to its predecessor in that regard.

The companion saved his high praise for the cheesecake selection on the dessert table.  In particular, he gushed over the red velvet cheesecake.  Mind you, he comes from a long line of cheesecake lovers, so this might seem trivial to the reader, but it is high praise coming from him.

So there you have it.  In summary, this is a superior brunch for the money ($24.95), may not be for everybody, but definitely bodes well for the success of their regular dinner menu.

4 stars out of 5

Best Dishes:  Seafood Scampi, Omelets
Needs Work:  Belgian Waffles, Green Salad Selection (perhaps a raw vegetable station would be a nice addition.)
Missing: White Bread "stuff", Children's menu.  For future reference, parents:  If you have small children, call ahead and ask.  There were no chicken fingers, hot dogs or macaroni & cheese to be found at this brunch.
Missing but not Missed:  Mayo-based salads.  Who ever thought that picnic salads belonged on a brunch menu anyway?

I am looking forward to many enjoyable meals at this establishment!

Tears, and ...... Timers?

Nobody told me about this part.

I fully realize at this point that every woman's peri-menopause experience is unique.  As women, we listen to older women warning us about "the change" in ominous tones of voice.  The focus of the warnings are usually on hot flashes and weight gain.  My mother had hot flashes for years, but her emotions never seemed to get off-keel.  I had night sweats for about a year, followed by off the charts hot flashes for about 9 months.

Then, I launched into crazy world.

I view 2014 as the lost year.  Lost because when I wasn't insane from hot flashes, I was just plain insane.  I feel like it was a non-stop series of crisises that blurred together.  Absolutely everything felt like the end of the world to me.  I was in reactionary mode every minute of every day.   Looking back on that time, I think that the worst part of it was that I knew how I was acting and sounding, but I was like some sort of addict who just could not stop the bad behavior even though I desperately wanted to.   When I wasn't acting crazy, I was profoundly sad and depressed because I felt so out of control.   I finally gave in and asked for hormone therapy.  Hallelujah!  I started to regain my real life.  I still sometimes feel twinges of insanity, but I think (hope.... pray...) that the crazy anger is gone.

STOP!  Not so fast.  That was NOT the end.  I'm now dealing with a new issue which, I'm sure, will be seen as a welcome relief comparatively, but it is, nonetheless, baffling and sometimes downright embarrassing.

Tears.   As children, we received the message loud and clear.  Grownups don't cry.  I think I saw my Mom cry once - and it was not even when my Dad died.  So what happens when you suddenly develop this feeling that you are on the verge of bursting into tears, and you feel this way pretty much all the time.  It started with me about two months ago.  See, I should have known that the "feeling normal" stuff was too good to be true.

They talk about hair loss.  Receding gums.  Nobody talks about tears.  I don't know - is this the opposite of what I was experiencing last year?

Don't get me wrong - I am so beyond relieved to have gotten a grip on my anger insanity. Comparatively speaking, this is nothing.   But, it can definitely be embarrassing, which is why it took me two months to even write about it.  I was hoping that it would go away.  Not yet, I'm afraid.

By now, you're probably wondering where the timer comes in.   I had a particular exercise in my piano book that was giving me fits.  I finally thought I'd mastered it.  I was really anxious to play it at my lesson (for about fifth and hopefully final time, I hoped!) and was proud of myself for not giving up on it.  Well, one of the pitfalls of taking lessons with your best friend as the instructor is that you occasionally start talking and end up talking the lesson away.   I think we have both gotten used to it as just an unavoidable fact of life,  and I often told her that having me as a student was never going to make her rich.  On this particular day, as I said, I really wanted to play this pesky exercise, but ... alas .... it turned out to be one of those days somehow ....  and when I heard her timer go off signifying the end of our lesson time .......  well.... you guessed it.   I remember staring straight ahead at the music and taking very deep breaths.  I was afraid to even look at her.    Somehow I regained my composure, but I drove home with tears rolling down my face.  Now really... what a stupid thing to cry about!!  I mean, really????  Really???  That may be the point at which I realized that this was the next "phase" of "the change" for me.

As I said, I am not complaining, because overall, I feel so much better than I did 8 or 10 or 12 months ago.  I guess I am just sort of bewildered by it and, yes, afraid of embarrassing myself.   Who knows how long THIS phase will last?   I guess I'd better avoid K-Mart like the plague.  There's no telling what the blue light specials could do to me.

The Will To Live

Next month will mark the second anniversary of my mother's death.   It's pretty amazing that two years has passed already.  A couple of things have happened in the past week that has made me ponder her life, as well as my place in it.

We visited my cousin - our annual visit so that Bill could prepare her tax return.  She is 16 years older than me.  Many years ago, we were very close.  She was especially close to my mother, and last weekend, we were reminiscing  about her.    All of my older cousins thought that my mother was the best Aunt since, oh I don't know .... Auntie Mame, maybe?  I've had difficulty connecting this woman with the person I knew as my mother, but it finally dawned on me that she was not so different from me.  I love my daughter and wouldn't trade her for the world, but I knew enough to stop at one child, because I knew in my heart of hearts that one child was as much as I could handle, as a mother.  I do not get all mushy with maternal instinct every time I see a baby or toddler.  Babies, much like dogs and cats, seem to sense this in people, and rarely have I held someone else's baby that it hasn't started crying almost immediately.  Conversely, strange dogs and cats are drawn to me like bees to flowers. I do enjoy playing the role of the "fun Aunt" though.  Actually, I love it.  So, in this respect it seems that I am my mother's daughter.

I was in an emergency room today for the first time since my mother passed.  It felt entirely different than the countless times I'd been in the emergency room with her.  Why?  Bill commented to my sweet friend that she should feel honored that I went into the room to be with her, since I dislike emergency rooms so much.  Hmmmm.... well, this got me to thinking.

I suspect that my mother started losing her will to live when our family started fragmenting and drifting apart from one another.  She retreated to the couch in front of the TV and rarely left the house except for church and grocery shopping.  The falls started happening about 5 years before she passed - so many times that I lost count.  It occurred to me today that with the exception of her final fall in the nursing home when she broke her hip, all she ever injured when she fell was her head.  Every single time.  Wouldn't you think she might have sprained or broken something else at least once?  It was like she never had the instinct to break her fall or protect herself in any way.  Of course, this leads inevitably to the question of could I, her only child, have done more for her in her final years?  What could I have done so that she might have felt that she had more to live for?  Well, I'm not sure I could have done much in a different way.  As she so famously told me in a voice mail message once, I needed to "get my head out of my ass, stop living in my own little world, and worry about something besides myself for a change."  Nobody would ever accuse my mother of being a modern parent, that's for sure.

No, today was different, because my best friend wants to live and be healthy and whole.   Since I've known her, any time she has tripped or fallen, her instinct has been to protect herself from a truly serious injury.  I don't know if this is a conscious action or not, but either way, I am grateful for it.  And when I found out which emergency room she was in, that emergency room was the only place I wanted to be.  It was so unlike my past experiences that it was almost a relief or a validation of some sort.

I wonder what my mother thinks of me, now that she is looking down at me from the afterworld?  I no longer feel the burden of trying to gain her approval, and in an odd way, I think that has helped me become someone she would have approved of.  Someone who rushes to the emergency room out of genuine concern rather than dread, fear and obligation.  Perhaps I've almost succeeded in "getting my head out of my ass".      Thank God for giving us free will.    The will to let go of past demons.  The will to learn new skills that end up enhancing our existing skills in ways we never thought possible.  The will to shrivel up and die when we think we have nothing left worth living for.  And, the will to live when we know for certain that we have everything to live for.

In Defense of Fifty Shades

Synopsis #1:  I have just finished reading a trilogy about a man who survived a horribly abusive childhood and went on as a teenager and young adult to use deviant sexual behavior to build a defensive emotional wall between himself and anyone who might care for him.  A young woman falls in love with him and is unsophisticated enough to believe that her love can penetrate that wall.  In trusting him enough to join him in his alternate lifestyle, she in turn, gains his trust and ultimately, his love.  He no longer views the perversions as being necessary for his survival.  She has broken down the wall with her love, her compassion, and her faith in her vision of what she perceives to be the real man hiding inside of him.   They marry, have children and live happily ever after.

Synopsis #2: "When literature student Anastasia Steele goes to interview young entrepreneur Christian Grey, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Ana is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Ana’s quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Grey admits he wants her, too—but on his own terms.Shocked yet thrilled by Grey’s singular erotic tastes, Ana hesitates. For all the trappings of success—his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family—Grey is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Ana discovers Christian Grey’s secrets and explores her own dark desires.”

Would you be surprised if I told you that each of these scenarios describes the same three novels?  It would seem obvious to anyone of average intelligence that the sole purpose of Synopsis #2 is to sell the books to horny middle-aged women.    Synopsis #2 is actually from Amazon, written to - SURPRISE - sell the books.   I won't digress into a discussion regarding the motives of the author, who allowed this type of publicity all the while protesting that the books are truly a love story.   After all, let's face it - sex sells.   And in the spirit of honesty, I admit that I picked up the first book (in a college bookstore, of all places) out of curiosity and the desire for a little titillation.  And I got a lot of titillation, but boy did I get so much more.  Which brings me back to Synopsis #1.

What's the problem?  Here's the problem.   Since the movie hype started, I have read no less than three blogs from "Christian" websites.   Apparently, as a "Christian" woman, I am to avoid these books and the movie at all costs, because they are anti-marriage and they will encourage me to delve into an S&M adulterous relationship with a Christian Grey wannabe.  Furthermore, they will ruin my marriage by making me stray from my husband, even if it is only in my own mind.  Terrible!  It is clear that none of these blog authors actually read the books.  One of them admitted that the only basis for her conclusions was Synopsis #2 above.  Self-assured, self-righteous, prudent (prudish?) Christian women everywhere are chiming in in agreement, shouting bible verses to the skies.  I suppose I'm not surprised.  They condemn it and label it as porn.  Porn.  The penultimate four letter word that bible thumpers everywhere love to label anything they don't understand involving sex. 

I object.  I object to these religious nuts trying to tell women what to read.  I object to their pillaging of material that they have not and will not ever read in my lifetime.  I object to someone trying to make me feel immoral because I enjoy this material.  Because if they even tried to read it, they might see that it is a love story.  In which the sexual content is vital to the big picture of the story.  Is the sex a bit overdone?  Yes, I will admit that it is.  But who among us in the real world wasn't a bit obsessed with the physical aspects of their relationship with their significant other during those first few months or years?   The problem here is that none of the people who wrote these blogs or read and bought into them probably have the first clue about how they would respond if they fell in love with a sexual deviant who was a victim of child abuse.   They only know how to react in the typical judgmental fashion that has become the hallmark of the modern "Christian" faith. 

This is just one more reason why I would like to disassociate myself with the term "Christian".   I'm sure it would shock these people to know that I read the books, my husband read the books, I was not tempted to stray, and in fact my own marriage was .....shall we say ..... rejuvenated.  Yes, good upright folk everywhere, my marriage was strengthened by these books.  Not just because of the sex, but because he and I agree that this story is about so much more than sex.   A woman saved a man from a lifetime of living in a deviant emotional void with her love and her faith in the power of that love.  They were married.  They had children.  They were faithful to one another.   I happen to think that this is something that Jesus would approve of.    Please, by all means, tell me that I am un-Christian.  What a compliment that would be.    I may or may not see the movie.  I'm not sure I want to know what direction the producers went with it.   Read the damn books.  Then you can critique them.  Call them poor writing.  Declare the plot to be poorly-developed.  Call them fan fiction.  Just don't call them porn.

One Day at a Time (Or is this the first day of the rest of my life)

I just read a quote somewhere that went something like "you have no control over yesterday or tomorrow, only today.  Take control now."  

Where to begin.  Where to begin... when you look in the mirror and wonder who's looking back.   When you have to make a conscious effort every waking minute of the day to visualize what your words and actions are going to look and sound like to those around you before you actually speak or act.

How in the world, in the name of everything sacred, did I get to this point?  I know that there have been times in the past when I've been angry or upset for extended periods of time over this or that. You don't go through the majority of your adult life with no real friends to speak of by acting like little Mary sunshine.  I can hardly blame anyone for not wanting to invest their time in a relationship with me.  By some grace of  God, I have a husband and a best friend right now, and I'd like to keep them if at all possible.  So... I just have to be brutally honest with myself about who I am.  I have to do this before I can fix me.

Ok.  Yes, this sounds like I'm bashing myself.   I know that I can be a good friend, a good wife and a valuable human being when I'm not overwhelmed by this awful anger and frustration.   I am generous and compassionate and funny .....  yes, yes I am all of those things... when I'm not angry.  When I'm angry, I become sarcastic, biting, attacking, loud, judgmental, the queen of the rhetorical question, with very high expectations of the people who I perceive as being in the wrong.  I even manage to sound loud when I write angry words.  I'm a Mean Girl.   Yes, in the simplest of terms, I'm a Mean Girl.  Nobody wants to be friends with a Mean Girl.

"Hormones" should be a four-letter word.  How can those magical chemicals that help us to create new life also tip someone like me over the edge of pique?   And yet, they have.  I could just blame them for everything, but I can't let myself off the hook that easy.  In my heart of hearts, I know that this is a problem I've had for my entire life on which perimenopause has aimed a giant magnifying glass.   What is the answer......??

In the long term, I need a release.  Something that I can use both as a prophylactic and that I can turn to when I feel myself careening out of control.   My gut tells me that it should be some sort of physical activity.  When I look back over my life I realize that my worst periods of bad behavior have happened when I wasn't doing any sort of physical activity or exercise.  I need to find this activity and make it fit in with the rest of my schedule - even if I have to fit my schedule around it.

In the short term and the long term, I have to get out of bed each morning and tell myself that this is going to be a day when I don't lash out verbally or non-verbally.  I have to remind myself that I have sent my soapbox on an extended vacation.  It is not necessarily a good combination to be gifted with the written word and to have anger management issues, and I have to measure everything I write to be sure that it has the tone that I envision myself having. So, that is another promise I make to myself every morning now.  When I am engaged in conversation, I have to keep telling myself that I am not waging some un-winnable war with the person I am talking to or talking about.  I've learned that it is an exhausting process to try to edit everything I say and write before my words become reality.  Please, God, tell me that this will eventually become instinctive.  Right now, it feels like I have an addiction that I'm trying to over come.  That sounds crazy, though, the idea that someone could be addicted to anger.  It is crazy, or is it my reality?

Mostly right now, I just feel sad.   I find myself wondering how many people I've alienated over the years that I don't even know about.  I don't want to be the person that people are forced to put up with out of obligation, but I feel that way almost all of the time these days.

I only have control over today.   Every day that I get through on an even keel is a victory.   Every measured, thought-out word that flows from my lips or my pen is a success.   I simply cannot lose the people I care about just because I can't keep it together.

I only have control over today.

Conscious Coupling.... or Uncoupling....or ...... what?

Sometime in the past year or so, Gwyneth Paltrow and her husband (of Coldplay fame) divorced.   Ok....well, as a part of the never-ending onslaught of celebrity news, the separation or divorce announcement is not exactly unique or interesting.  In this case, the actress in question is known for her "elite persona", but I think she outdid herself here.   She announced that she and Chris Martin were "engaging in a conscious uncoupling".      The utter pretentiousness of this statement had me confused as whether to laugh or sneer - so I did both for a while.   Then I realized that this ridiculous description had become a literary ear worm of sorts for me.    For the love of God, why???

Maybe for me, it's not the issue of conscious uncoupling, but rather the opposite - conscious "coupling".   Now, as someone who's been married for 24 years, I think I understand marriage fairly well.   I tried for a couple of our first childless years of marriage to spend as much time with Bill as humanly possible because I just thought that's what you did.  We drove to and from work together, ate lunch together, went everywhere on the weekends together, and ....... started driving each other crazy. Thank God Mandy came along and put a stop to that madness.  Over the years, we learned - sometimes the hard way - that we love each other for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with our hobby interests.  And while we understand the need to support each other's interests, that is entirely different from engaging in these interests together.  And it works.... for us.

Enter the "conscious couples" of the world who seem to outnumber us two to one - and who don't understand us any better than we understand them.    I just shake my head sometimes - the first sign of a conscious couple is the joint e-mail address and/or Facebook account with a user name like "frankandmarysmith" (important that it be all one word!!) or even better, the indecipherable combination of initials and last names - fmyetalsmith@idiot.com.    I'm sure you have a perfectly acceptable reason for having only one e-mail address or Facebook account, but for the love of God, have some dignity and name the account something that doesn't invoke visions of circus sideshow conjoined humans.   <Sigh> - am I the only one who sees the irony in the fact that people are protesting against corporate personhood, yet so many people make the conscious decision to throw away their individuality when they enter into the holy state of matrimony, taking the biblical "two shall become one" command a bit too literally?  The best part is when one of these couples join some group - together, of course, - and commit to some level of participation, but when one of them contracts the common cold, or a virus, or < insert any benign, non life-threatening, common, everyday affliction here>, they both stay home.  Really?  The last time I checked, I was an adult who did not need my husband to sit next to me and feed me chicken soup or whatever while I was sick!    In fact, when I am sick, I really don't want another human being anywhere near me.

I fully recognize that this is how these folks have chosen to live.   I assume that they are happy and comfortable living this way together, and while I may be smirking and laughing on the inside, I am quite respectful on the outside.  In return, it would be really terrific if I wasn't asked over and over why my husband is going here or there for a few days or a week without me and why I choose to go on chorus tours without him.  Or they give me that look reminiscent of a dog cocking its head, uncomprehending.  I am asked "Do you miss Bill yet?" with the appropriate vocal inflection - equal parts sweetness, concern and curiosity.  My answer - an abrupt "Nope"- never fails to startle the inquisitor in the most satisfying way.   It's not entirely true that I don't miss him.  I miss him, the person.  I do not miss the way I know he'd be behaving if I forced him to pay over $1,000 to be scheduled within an inch of his life.   I, the performer and anal-retentive time schedule freak, thrive on this type of experience.  He hates it.  Let's put it this way - people on these trips have gotten lost or lost track of time, and we've sat on a bus waiting for them.  My husband would "get lost" on purpose. And then I'd have to kill him.  Nobody wins.   So, stop asking me why he isn't coming with me or if I miss him.  This, in my mind,  is only slightly less intrusive than asking a couple why they "only" have one child (another phenomenon that I am familiar with).

My bottom line - years of pre-cana sponsoring taught me that marriage is a tough business and it's different for everyone.   Whatever works!

But, I reserve the right to snicker on the inside at "frankandmarysmith".

The Evolution of My Personal Faith

Anyone who was brought up in the Catholic faith will understand what I mean when I say that I've spent most of my life thinking that faith and religion were one and the same.   The routine was .... well.... very routine.  Weekly Mass, religious ed, etc ...  I was spared the indignity of being forced to attend Catholic school, but I sat in Mass each week like a good little soldier, and in my mind,  Mass=God=Faith= Eternal Salvation.  

As an adult,  I was exposed to other Christian religions and the Jewish faith, and I was sort of shocked to learn that these folks also thought that they held the key to the afterlife (well, some Jews don't believe in the afterworld, but whatever!).  When music re-established itself in life, I began to equate my participation in Mass as a musical thing that equated to faith.  The music liturgy seemed to define my devotion.  A fantastic music program at my church translated into me feeling quite religious and fine indeed.

So, what happened when the music liturgy was less than fantastic?  I was forced to actually listen to the Mass and the homily with mature ears.  And I wasn't sure I liked what I was hearing.  What else was out there?   Protestant churches?  Unitarians?  Universalist Unitarians....... New Life, Brothers of the Lord, Disciples of Christ, .......  huh?  The luxuries of  Protestantism beckoned.  Cushioned pews.  Welcome areas.  Pre- or post-service coffee gatherings.  Real choir areas not located at the top of punishing flights of stairs.  And the coat racks ... oh, the coat racks!  I digress.....  Even as I occasionally indulged in these trappings, I still felt like there was something missing.

I remember that famous line from the first Presidential campaign of Bill Clinton - "It's the economy, stupid!".   For me a few months ago, it was "Hey, it's Jesus Christ, stupid!"  I read some materials that dared to suggest that the actual commandments of Jesus were more important than anything spoken or written by his Apostles or any men who came afterward.   The more I read them and thought about them, the more I realized how little established religious practices have in common with them.   Gandhi was famously quoted as saying "Your Christ.. I like him very much.  I don't care for your Christians.  Your Christians are very un-like your Christ."    I wondered what would happen to my faith if I were to stop concerning myself with all of the superficial "stuff" that fills established religions and instead were to concentrate on Christ.  Just Christ.

As the months passed, I focused on the commandments of Jesus in my daily life.   What changed?  I was less critical of the religion of my childhood.  I realized that it could be an important social component of my life that could serve as a means to help keep me focused on the study of my personal faith.  As I looked at my fellow Catholics, I was surprised to detect thoughts and feelings very similar to mine.   Views toward sexuality, homosexuality and "traditional families" were leaning much more toward a "live and let live" philosophy...  this was new?  ...or maybe I just hadn't taken the time to notice before.

Where does this leave me today?   Today, organized religion is an activity that helps me to carve out time for my faith, but it does not define my faith.  For me, faith is mental.  For me, faith is a feeling and a conviction. Faith for me is:

 - knowing that if I try to treat everyone with dignity and respect, I will almost always come out on the other side having learned something.  Some of the most surprising experiences come when you acknowledge someone who you might feel totally disengaged or alienated from - for whatever reason.
- knowing that sadness, sorrow, personal tragedy and obstacles are part of a bigger plan that I may not understand now or maybe ever.
-knowing that moments of beauty and sweetness can exist within those tragedies if we allow ourselves to see them.
-knowing that one of the greatest joys we can ever experience is to pray for someone other than ourselves and to have those prayers answered.
-knowing that I am perfect in my imperfections and that I can identify and acknowledge those imperfections without bashing myself, because faith is an ongoing work in progress.
-knowing that the good things in my life are worth fighting for.   Because they won't always be joyful and perfect, but they will be sometimes challenging and always ever-evolving and always worth the effort.

Love one another as I have loved you.   It doesn't get any simpler than that.