Welcome, December.
Too often we underestimate the
power of a touch, a smile, a kind word,
a listening ear, an honest compliment, or
the smallest act of caring, all of which have
the potential to turn a life around.
—Leo Buscaglia
We: Used by the speaker or writer to indicate the speaker
or writer along with another or others as the subject.
As a resident of Long Beach, New York, I mentioned earlier that I personally felt the effects of Hurricane Sandy. The lower portion of my home, including basic living utilities, were left in five feet of floodwater and sewage. Everything that was touched by the floodwater needed to be thrown to the curb immediately due to the fear of contamination. We threw away big items, our walls, gas burner, couches, TV, toys, and much more. After hauling out big stuff, all that was left was “little stuff.” The doll my sister gave to me when I was ten and she had moved to Texas, our wedding and engagement pictures, our children’s footprints from the hospital, even the framed photo of our first “Make a Wish Polar Bear Plunge” (yes, I am one of those crazy people who jump into the ocean in January to raise money for the Make-a-Wish Foundation). Dragging those items, which were left covered in sewage, sand, and water hurt me in a way I will not forget. This loss of “little stuff” caused big pain. I found that I was losing other things during that time, too: my patience, my temper, my control, and my gratitude. The burden I carried was heavy. Even with my husband’s help, we felt loaded down.
Yet this letter is not about what I lost, or how heavy the burden was. Honestly, would you read it if it was? I wonder. I mean, loss is not inspiring . . . or is it? In the post-storm days, I learned about the power of “we.” As my husband and I were working the pumps to remove water and hauling out twenty years’ worth of water-soaked furniture, books, and memories, our driveway began to fill with cars. Words were not even spoken as my husband’s friend Phil gave us a hug, put on gloves, and walked down to the basement and began hauling stuff out. My sister and her friends all began showing up with brooms, pails, and bottled water. Her husband, a New York City firefighter, walked into the house after working a twenty-four hour tour and began shoveling sand that was once on the beach and was now a wet, contaminated hill in our basement. Neighbors who had not spoken in months, sometimes years, were respectfully helping carry each other’s contents to the curb.
As we cleaned our basement we began to hear tales of people in much worse shape than us, the loss of complete houses, the uninsured, the person who was laid off just days pre-storm. Long Beach residents would spend the next few weeks and months cleaning debris and gutting the houses of neighbors and friends. When we had gotten our house as gutted as possible, we moved to our friends’ and neighbors’ houses. When that was done, my husband joined a volunteer crew, helping gut houses of people he had never met before. I was witnessing “The Power of We” and it was awe-inspiring!
Then Natural Awakenings Magazine advertisers, who had only known me for four weeks, began emailing and calling, offering me office space and a home to live in. I had never even met these people face-to-face, yet they were offering me their home. I was overwhelmed witnessing friends and, more important, strangers coming together to help one another. I witnessed the hope and love of our community, not only Long Beach, but also our entire Long Island community.
While, it’s true I lost some stuff, things that were really, really important and that can never be replaced, I gained a profound insight: WE are New Yorkers, WE are Long Islanders, WE are humanity, and together with love WE can rebuild. Together we supported our local businesses and they supported us and we will and are still in the process of building back our little town in the hopes that it will be better than before. And the people of this sleepy beach town I live in are just a little bit closer to one another than we had been prior to “Sandy.” We were all changed. Events do that.
I am not the same. I have seen a city I love turned into a pile of debris, and at the same time I have witnessed a community come together to help, and support one another. I am a better person for having been part of that. Perhaps I lost “stuff,” but what I gained no flood or hurricane can ever take from me. I gained firsthand the power of WE. WE is stronger than me. WE can get through this. WE love you. WE trumps ME every time! The collective WE that is humanity! Your circle of friends, your family, the WE in your life must be called upon in times of trouble. How truly blessed I feel to have had the opportunity to experience that power of “WE” firsthand.
You don’t need a hurricane to make yourself available to the power of WE. There is tremendous joy in helping others. There is also joy in being helped, so seek the power of WE when you are facing a tough time or difficult task. How often do we say, “I’ve got this!” or “I don’t want to be a burden.” Think about something you may need help with, then reach out. See how different an experience can be when you are using the power of WE.
Reflections
WHAT DO YOU NEED FROM WE? IS THERE A WE YOU CAN CONTRIBUTE YOUR OWN TALENTS TO? GET OUT THERE AND FIND YOUR TRIBE!
I’ve learned to use meditation and relaxation
to handle stress. Just kidding, I’m on my
third glass of wine.
Believe: To accept (something) as true;
feel sure of the truth of.
I am almost sad as I come to the end of the book. There are a million words that we can read about, think about, consider, and meditate on. As I thought them through and journaled about them, one that continually made its way to the top was the word “believe.”
I was getting nervous, thinking perhaps the beloved word “believe” may not make it in.
For a while, my family knows, believe meant something special. You see, when my sister Diana was dying, she was sick enough to be living in horrendous pain but not sick enough to let go. She absolutely loved this life, so watching her die slowly was like watching someone be dragged out of their own birthday party. And if you knew my sister, you know that she loved birthday parties!
It was literally heartbreaking, and most of the time my sisters and I didn’t know what to say, not to her and not to each other. We would speak to each other on the phone and I personally clung to a word, believe. Diana would say, “I will miss you so much, and the truth is, I don’t want to miss you! I want to see you and I want to be with you.” What do you say to that? It broke my heart in two. Holding back tears, I said, “I believe you won’t have to miss me. I think God is good and anywhere he is taking you, well, in some way or form, I believe I will be there with you.” It calmed her a bit and I shared that thought with my other sisters. It became our mantra while she was ill. I bought her a shirt, a tank top that had pretty script writing that said, “Believe” on it. She was wearing that shirt the day she finally surrendered.
After Diana died, we equated that word, “believe” to being “her” word. It reminded us of what she needed in the end to let go. Looking back, though, I am unsure if it was her word or ours. I mean, she finally had too much and her soul left. I will never know if, when she left this world, she left believing what I did. I am not sure it matters. Believe wasn’t really her word or mine; I think it is everyone’s word.
Recently, I gave my other sister a bracelet that said “Believe” on it for her birthday. I imagine it made her think of Diana. I was at the counter buying something else for her when I looked to the right of me and saw the bracelet and immediately changed the gift. As I said, Diana loved birthdays and she wasn’t missing this one! I do believe that Diana and I were probably together buying the Believe bracelet in some way that none of us can even comprehend. I also believe that when I dream perhaps I go to where she is, although I have only seen her twice in my dreams.
The bracelet I (we) bought, that was for my sister Laura also meant something else to her. Her children are getting older, the business she owns is getting busier, and her life oftentimes seems overwhelming. When I bought the bracelet it was the word I was giving to her and it wasn’t really about life or death. Believe the bracelet said. Believe that everything happens for a reason. Believe that the struggles you face today will be the memories you learned from yesterday. Believe that, yes, God is good. Believe in God. Believe in yourself. Believe. Believe and it shall be true! Oh, I am not naïve enough to think I can “believe” myself into a size four bikini (and I certainly believe that even if I could, not one of you would want to see it o). But still I believe in the simple power of belief.
Belief is this entire book all wrapped up! When “believing,” let’s not forget it is you who decide what you believe and you who decide how you handle your beliefs. Beliefs can also be a double-edged sword and it is good to take good care of your beliefs.
At the birthday dinner where I gave my sister the bracelet, an argument broke out (actually two). The first argument came about because of a simple discussion about whether it was right or wrong to bring a water bottle (or iced tea) to church. “I believe it is horrible, it is disrespectful!” said one person. “Are you kidding me? Water is fine, if I can’t feel comfortable in a home to bring my own water bottle, then I won’t go there,” said another. Beliefs.
I walked away to the next room and into the next argument, which went something like this: “Fox Five News is the devil, I wouldn’t watch that nonsense.” This was answered with, “Have you ever even watched it? I believe you probably should actually watch Fox Five News at least once before you criticize it.”
Ah belief. It can lead to interesting conversations, that’s for sure. I tried to remain neutral. But. It. Is. So. Hard. I have an opinion, a belief, and I began to say it, “My belief is . . .” I should stop there. That’s it, my belief. While I would love to have my friends and family come around to my enlightened way of thinking (please note that is said with the belief that you will hear the sarcasm), if you don’t come around, so what! For it is simply my belief (and that’s good . . . FOR ME . . . shout out to those of you still incorporating the advice months earlier from Panache Desai).
Believe is too strong a word to place on a news channel or an opinion.
Believe should be saved, for something like God, or heaven, or simply when discussing loved ones who you will one day meet again, or who are meeting you daily as you work in your garden, or when you are out buying birthday gifts. Yes, that is what I BELIEVE.
Reflections
DO YOU BELIEVE? IN GOD, IN HEAVEN?
IN PEOPLE? WHAT “UNBELIEVABLE”
THINGS DO YOU BELIEVE IN?
Faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not seen.
—Hebrews 11:1
Faith: Complete trust or confidence in someone or something.
If I had the power to give everyone a holiday gift, I would give the gift of faith. If accepted, even just by one tenth of one percent of the people on my list, I would know that the gift I gave would rejoice with you when you are happy; sit with you when you are worried; and if you find yourself in a fox hole, I’d like to believe it would be my gift that would be the one thing that would provide you comfort. —me W
That was the opening of my December 2013 letter and I was writing it while I was contemplating what gifts I had to run out to buy for the people on my list. The truth came out (as it often does when I put pen to paper) that what I really would love to give people is a strong gift of faith. Gifts as material items don’t always make sense to me (unless it is a surfboard, somehow that makes sense to me W). Wait, a candle that should have burned for one day burned for eight days, so you should get a present a day? Or, Christ was born so you should get diamonds, pearls, or, for people like me, a new surfboard? Just doesn’t compute.
I was speaking with my daughter’s friend one day. This little girl has gone through a lot: the loss of her father to a horrifying disease; Hurricane Sandy, which uprooted her family; and some personal health issues. I mention her background simply because it’s important to understand what I’m going to share next. We were talking about life (as us moms sometimes do with these kids), when she mentioned in no uncertain terms, “I am an atheist.” She went on to say: “I believe in science!” She continued, “You know, you seem really smart. I am actually surprised that you believe in something like that.”
Hmm, I thought to myself. Something like what? What does she think I believe, simply because I believe in God? “You know, honey,” I responded. “I faced a time when my son was very ill, and the doctors and science couldn’t figure it out. Would you believe that at the exact same time, my husband began undergoing tests to diagnosis a rare liver disease that would later turn into an even rarer form of cancer. Science solved both these problems. So, I can certainly see why you believe in science. I do, too. I spent many years in the pharmaceutical and biotech field and my belief in science is strong—almost as strong as my belief in God. Almost. The cure for my husband’s condition though—the science—well, it nearly killed him at least four times over a five-year period. It took a very long time for science to come through for me. Faith is not what helped the illnesses,” I went on to say. “No way. That was pure and simply skilled surgeons, physicians, and medicine—science. Faith was what helped me.”
The funny thing is, I get it. When people said to me during those turbulent times, “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle,” I wanted to vomit or scream. Really? So, there’s a guy up there (or Gal) looking through a book saying, “Well, Kelly McGrath Martinsen is of tough Irish and German stock. Let’s give her both a sick son and a sick husband because, well, the lady around the block wouldn’t be able to handle it, but good old Kelly can!”?
I have a close friend who was a firefighter in 2001 in New York City. He witnessed the tragedy of 9/11 firsthand, and upon witnessing that complete and utter devastation and evil said, “Right then and there I became an atheist.” He questioned further, “How can your God perform selective miracles? Allowing one person to die from cancer while the next survives?” Honestly, I have thought to myself, If there’s a God, then how the heck did those radical assholes take down our Twin Towers, killing all those beautiful people and leaving our first responders still slowly dying to this day? I get it.
I, too, have doubts, daily, sometimes hourly. Reflecting on my own experience, though, I know it was a miracle! No, not my husband’s remission; no, that was science. The miracle was that I didn’t just curl up in the fetal position and have a nervous breakdown. The only thing that I can attribute that miracle to was the fact that I had my faith; which was the one thing I called on during my darkest hours.
Back to my discussion with my daughter’s friend: “So, honey, that is why I’m a bit bummed out by your comment. Not because you no longer think I am smart; I have been called dumb by the best of them. Nah, I am bummed because life is tough, you have already seen that at such a young age, and I am sad that you have no one to yell at, or to blame and to thank, and most of all no one to cry out to and ask for strength.”
For some, faith is a “maybe”; for some it’s an “absolute”; for some it’s a “revolution” or a “cause”; for others, it’s a “less-than-1-percent chance.” Yet, for all that have even an inkling of faith, it is there when they need it. “I want you to have that there when you need it,” I told her.
That conversation impacted me tremendously. If I could give everyone reading this book (assuming again it is more than just my family) a gift, then I would love to offer you the gift of faith. Make it your own imperfect, sometimes doubted, but always there when you need it, faith.
So rather than look for presents for my family and friends on the day I wrote the quote above, I decided instead to write a letter to Santa to see if perhaps he could fill the request list. Here is what I wrote:
Dear Santa,
First, thank you for last year’s present! The eight-foot stand-up paddle-surf-board was a great gift, and I loved hitting the ocean this summer and riding waves. I felt like a kid again . . . and it was AWESOME! Speaking of being a kid again, this time of year always reminds me of my childhood when I would eagerly write you a letter with a compilation of all the things that I truly felt I could not live without. Year after year, you came through; not with everything—I see now that would have been gluttonous—but with the really important things. Thanks especially for Christmas 1978; you really hit the nail on the head when you brought me my Lite-Brite!
Santa, we have done this dance countless times, albeit in my younger days, but we both know the routine. I give you a list and you give me the stuff. Right? Nope, not this time around. This year, I am changing it up, Santa. This year, I say, “Keep your stuff.” That’s right, I said it. Keep. Your. STUFF! I am sick of it. My kids fight over it. It clutters my house, even my mind. So, this year, keep it! Wait, don’t just move on to the next “stuff-requesting letter” just yet. I do want to ask for something. Mind you, it’s not for me; it’s for humanity. You see, Santa, we witness a lot of horrible things each day, and the things we see have me worried. Truly worried. There’s disease, war, shootings, terrorism, and words that we weren’t even aware of a few years ago, like Ebola and ISIS. Fear not, I am not requesting that you put an end to disease, hunger, or housewives trampling each other to death buying things they think they need, exactly one day after giving thanks for all they had! No, I am realistic and know you can’t do that. I know you are just a magic man in a red suit from my childhood who perhaps has not yet taken the self-help steps needed to grab a hold of his own weight problem and trajectory toward self-induced diabetes. The gift that I am putting on my list is a powerful one. This gift will bring a person peace when suffering, courage when attempting, love when questioning, and hope when doubting.
You see, Santa, I got this gift from my parents when I was a little girl; I kept this gift with me throughout my life. Initially, I didn’t even take care of it—that happens with gifts when we are young. Truth be told, there were times when I forgot I even had it! Yet I walked around with it day in and day out. It was always with me. I was relieved to discover that after years of not using it, that it still worked. During my darkest hours, when my husband or son was sick or during the tough period when I lost my job, I was very happy to find that it was right where I left it and that without much nurturing at all, it has lasted my entire lifetime and hasn’t lost any of its power.
I am talking about Faith. This year, all I want for Christmas is Faith. For those people that already have faith, make it stronger; for those that are struggling to relocate lost faith, make it visible; and here’s the tough one: for those folks that have absolutely no faith at all, let them discover it.
That’s it. That’s all I want for Christmas. I know this whole letter thing is a quid pro quo arrangement, so, in return for granting humanity with the gift of faith—renewed, stronger, or new—you will get one nice glass of organic milk; three homemade sugar-free, gluten-free Paleo cookies (I can’t promise they will taste good); and some kale for your reindeer. What do you think? Is it a deal?
Reflections
WHERE DOES YOUR FAITH LIE?
IN WHOM DO YOU HAVE FAITH?