Leigh Kramer

When Ace Smiles

I'm drawn to him like a magnet the moment I set foot through the door. I am torn between warring desires: locating the nearest sink to wash the bus germs away or getting my baby fix. The sink always wins, for his sake as much as mine. While my hands become clean, my thoughts are on him.

I'll walk over to wherever he is in the house. It's usually playtime when I get home from work so he'll be on his blanket surrounded by toys.

His eyes will focus on me and then: glee fills his face. Does a better greeting exist than a full-blown baby smile?

I live for that smile.

I've lived in San Francisco for a little over 3 months now. The way I found a job without looking, I thought an apartment would also fall into place in no time. Instead, I've joined the legions searching out a place of their own in this city. While I wait, I'm living with the family I house-sat for when I first moved.

I still can't believe I live here, much less that I'm an honorary member of Micha's family. For years we've traded stories and now I see the living embodiment of some of hers.

Her oldest two boys were already born when I first stumbled onto her blog. Our friendship grew the way only those connected via the internet can. We bonded over being 4s and lamented over not living closer. This was especially true this past year, as I would have loved to have been physically present during her pregnancy with Ace.

I was thrilled when she told me she was pregnant. A couple of months later she told me the baby would likely have Down Syndrome. It didn't change my love for the wee babe growing in her womb but there was an ache in knowing what the future might hold.

True, we never know the future. A baby born healthy is not guaranteed an easy road. Babies born with an extra chromosome grow up to live wonderful lives, especially babies born now when there is more education and support services. There may be uncertainties but there is still so much joy.

This has proven true for baby Ace. When he was born, I couldn't wait to meet him.

Who could have guessed it would happen because I'm living at his house?

Almost every day we have Ace and Miss Leigh time. He is most gracious in letting me get my snuggle fix.

When he smiles at me, I imagine it's his way of saying, "you're my person." I can't say whether he actually recognizes me yet but he responds to me and that's something.

I make noises and change words to songs to entertain him. When he's fussing at dinner time, I'll rock him or walk him around the house to soothe him. We've got our routines down during the small window we have in the evening.

He is one of the sweetest babies I know and I feel immeasurably lucky to get to spend so much time with him by virtue of living in his home. Each day he's growing stronger and bigger and it's happening before my very eyes.

He is becoming himself.

Ace has Down Syndrome.  There is no changing that fact. It will mark his life in ways we don't yet know but it's not the best descriptor of who he is or will be. It is not a tragedy.

The future is bright for Ace and I cannot wait to see who he grows up to be.

 ***

This Saturday October 17 I'm participating in the Bay Area Buddy Walk. I'll be rocking my blue #ACEface is my friend t-shirt. You’re welcome to purchase your own shirt! (Multiple colors, styles, and even kid sizes available.) All proceeds from the sales will be donated to the National Down Syndrome Society.

You can also support Ace and all his friends by giving to the fundraising page for this year’s NDSS Buddy Walk.

Friendship Is An Echo, A Mirror

I call them my Life Council but that makes it sound like I hand picked them for my team when really they were the ones picking me.

I had no say in the matter, other than to say yes to them, these fierce wonders who appeared in my life right when I needed them.

It's as if we were invited to the dinner party and most of us knew the hostess and some of us knew each other or knew friends of friends. Alchemy occurred once we sat at the same table. We thought we were there for dinner but it was the start of something so much bigger.

We were wide-eyed at one another as the bond formed and the roots grew deep below the surface. How did we get so lucky? We'd never experienced anything like it, a collective sisterhood appearing from the mists and saving our respective lives.

Though, to be clear, this group has never replaced the relationships in our lives. If anything, it's enhanced our day-to-day community. I still turn to my best friends, to my inner circle. My Life Council is in the same orbit. It's both/and.

We have a million names for ourselves and a million more inside jokes. We are the safe place and we are ever present. There are few topics we haven't covered and then turned around to cover again.

Day by day, we choose each other.

It sound idyllic. It rings true of blessing and honor and good old-fashioned luck. It is all these things.

And yet I never knew when I first said yes to the invitation, I would have to keep saying yes to these remarkable women.

There are times I've wanted to hide and times I actually have stepped back because I worried I was too much or not enough. Times when I was overwhelmed by my own ugly envy, an emotion I've never wanted to wield against my dearest friends.

We have taken turns dancing around each other, bowing out while on vacation or when life became too compacted with busy or too laden with emotion. But we always circle back around. We always return to one other.

We have showed up. We have said yes. We have marched.

We have risked vulnerability over and over again: would we hold one another? Would we still be there if even this was uttered?

We dispense wit and wisdom. We deliver a swift kick in the arse, as needed. We challenge. We speak truth in love. We have laughed loud in to the night and wept alongside one another.

We have summoned all of our courage to say the things we've told very few or perhaps no one at all and received the echo of "me, too" "me, too" "me, too."

We keep showing up in the ways we know best how and receive the gift of this mirror: "we see you, we hear you, we love you."

We see the best in one another and believe in each person's potential, even when they struggle to see it themselves.

We are there for one another, even when divided by state lines. We hold one another's secrets and celebrate each other's success.

I am a better person for having them in my life. They have taught me how to be a better friend, hostess, and all around kickass woman.

Sometimes I am tempted to wonder what I add to the mix. When I am stressed, I want to follow my gloomier inclinations to believe I wouldn't be missed but I have learned to flit those fears away.

These women have carried me during some of my darkest hours. They have believed in and for me when I forgot how. They have championed my cause and painted a vision for a wondrous future. We have talked endlessly over coffee and tea and glasses of wine. They have put me up in their guest rooms and poured cocktails and baked cakes. Their children and husbands are more than faces seen on a Christmas card.

How many more ways can a person choose another?

We are who we are to each other precisely because of who we each are.

We are the echo. We are the mirror. We are the gift.

Are You Hiding?

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"Are you hiding?"

My counselor let the question hang in the air for a moment. I turned it around, forehead wrinkled and looking toward the ceiling for insight.

In my quest to broaden community and build relationships, I've run up against my introversion and my insecurities. Despite a wide circle of friends accumulated over the course of the lifetime, including people I've known since grammar school, I am prone to worrying people won't like me or if they do like me, they don't understand me. All fears are alleviated when I'm in someone's presence but if I know next to no one at an event or months go by before the next coffee date, the fears creep back in. 

I may look forward to plans for weeks but the day of, I would feel something akin to panic and want to back out. This was supremely frustrating because community is incredibly important to me and I struggled to understand why it's sometimes hard for my actions to reflect my heart.

She continued, "sometimes we need to pay attention to what our guts are telling us. Canceling plans becomes self-care. But sometimes what you feel inside makes you want to hide and you need to push through anyway."

The internal lightbulb flicked on.

Was I hiding? Had I been hiding?

My counselor asked this question last summer and it has guided me ever since.

Being able to ask myself "am I hiding?" clarifies everything.

When I honestly reflect on this question, I can figure out what's behind the hesitancy. If it's been a busy week, maybe I do need to pass on plans and get my introvert on. But maybe I'm letting my fears speak more loudly than they should. Maybe I'm more worried about whether people will want to engage with me. Maybe I'm stressed over a personal situation and really don't want to talk about it- but I should. Maybe I'm nervous about spending time with a new friend: will they understand where I'm coming from or will they think I'm a big weirdo? (Probably both, which is actually pretty perfect.)

Most of the time when the angst arises, I push past it and end up enjoying myself. I'm almost always glad I went and that new connections were forged. This is how relationships are built: one interaction at a time. There is risk involved in relationships but because it's a priority for me, it's a risk I'm willing to take.

And when I feel like hiding? It might be a sign I need to take a risk that much more because 99% of my angst is all in my head. Not a reflection of reality. I will be angsty for the rest of my life but I'm not captive to it.

I don't have to hide anymore.

"Which Is Infinite, Which Is Yes"

"i thank you god for this most amazing day.

for the leaping greenly spirits of trees,

and for the blue dream of sky and for

everything which is natural,

which is infinite, which is yes." -e. e. cummings

 

You sensed a shift a month or so ago. You're content, more accepting of imperfection, more accepting of yourself. Your clockwork SAD never visits this winter, in spite of the unseasonable cold. Is it because of counseling or essential oils? Is it the cumulative effort of undoing the lies and shame?

This past fall, you looked at your shortlist of travel destinations and started dreaming of who you'd visit over spring break. So many friends to see, so little time and even less money for airfare. You especially wanted to visit one friend on her fairytale farm but the odds of an affordable flight seem slim. You told yourself it would happen some day.

But the idea wouldn't leave you so you searched flights every so often. Just to see. Just in case. And then one January day, an option appeared and you booked it. No takebacks, airline! You and your friend were giddy over this turn of fortune. (Is this where the shift began? Perhaps this, alongside a slew of other unexpected gifts.)

Two nights before the trip, your friend texted you about expected snow. Oh, snow. But it wouldn't interfere with your flight and you suspected you could live with a ground covering.

"I think it will be good and healing for us to have this time together," you told her. You don't question the impressions and feelings regularly accompanying your day.

And it is indeed good and healing to spend the week at Storybook Farm.

Another friend picks you up from the airport. You talk about life while the car wends its way through country lanes. You pull up to the house and see the cow and her calf grazing. It's a beautiful reunion. The three of you can't stop laughing because you're finally together again. The next day she and her son head back home to Baltimore.

And then it's just you and your friend and her animals and her family. She welcomes you in to her world. Over the next few days you sip hot beverages and talk at various table for hours. Her cat, the one who doesn't like strangers, becomes your constant companion. One of her sons reads a book about sap and syrup to you. You watch her spin wool in to yarn and you see how very much this life suits her.

You never expected to like Virginia quite this much.

You speak truth over one another and when it is your turn to listen, you do your best to accept it. She calls out your most shining qualities. She says you are a balm. She repeats herself until you start to believe. You cry when her words particularly resonate but you do not apologize for your tears. You don't need to.

You are fully seen.

You are fully loved.

You don't have to be anything other than yourself. It is enough. You are enough.

A day or two before you leave, the snow melts and the ground is less muddy. It's in the 60s and the sun lights up everything around you. The grass is green and the sky whispers of spring. It is here. It is almost here.

The maple trees keep filling the jars with their sap. The sheep is about to birth a lamb. The chickens will hatch shortly after that. Farming speaks of seasons, of births, and of new beginnings. You realize you feel whole.

Maybe you have felt whole for a while but there it is, reflected in the eyes of your friend, in the ease of your smile. There's still work to be done, yes. But there is much to celebrate as well.

You add this trip to the list of extravagances from this past year. You stop wishing you had something to show for these beautiful gifts. This is the time to receive, to sit with hands cupped and grateful.

This is infinite. This is yes.

 

 

Linking up with my friends at LoveFeast Table for the Gathered Thoughts Party. You are invited to link up a Gathered Thoughts post at the LoveFeast Table Gathered Thoughts Link Party to win a 365 Gathered Thoughts Box of your own. Or leave a comment to win a set of spiral journal notebooks.  Head over there for more details.  

Snapshots of the PNW

My flight got in later than planned. It was pitch black and cold when my friend's car pulled up to the terminal. I threw my weekender bag in the back and jumped inside, hungry for warmth, thrilled to be here at long last.

We first met at a grammar school volleyball camp in junior high. Several years ago we reconnected at church. We've been friends ever since.

We'd talked about this visit ever since Linda moved to Seattle four and a half years ago. I'd been to Spokane and the Oregon coast and wanted to experience more of the Pacific Northwest. The stars hadn't aligned until now.

Her car zipped us toward her home, past the city skyline, past the glow of the Space Needle. It was strange to finally see the landmark in person. Neither of us could remember the Frasier theme song but we laughed about it anyway.

***

The time zone change threw me off but the silver lining was time to read in the early morning hours while my friend and her roommate continued to sleep. An introvert's vacation dream.

A chance to rest and recharge. A little extra time to dream.

***

We shopped at Buffalo Exchange and the biggest, most ginormous Goodwill I've ever seen. I stopped at the Book Larder, which will forever be known as cookbook heaven. We walked through Pike Place Market and I left my mark on the disgusting yet fascinating Gum Wall.

We tucked into scones and crepes and tea lattes and molten chocolate cakes and one of the best sandwiches of my life. I didn't spy Molly Wizenberg anywhere but I sure did delight in pizza at Delancey and drinks at Essex. 

We walked the beach at Golden Gardens Park and the wind whipped through my hair and my eyes watered from the chill. But I wouldn't trade that beauty for everything. I couldn't get over the mountains, seemingly everywhere I looked in Seattle.

I had mentally prepared myself for gray cloudy, rainy, frigid days. (On the other hand, I chose not to bring my winter coat. I'm in a bit of denial.) And instead we feasted on the sun and weather in the upper 40s or 50s. One gift after another.

***

One morning we sat at Remedy Tea and talked for a couple of hours. Faith, community, callings, work, singleness, social justice. I swear we covered it all. We heard each other's hearts. We offered solidarity. We offered a listening ear.

My tea steeped and her coffee brewed and we tucked into muffins. But the star of the show was the conversation. It always is.

It's amazing the gifts we unknowingly give one another when we take the time to be still. To sit, unhurried and unhindered. To let words meander. To let ideas sink or swim. To truly see one another.

***

Toward the end of the week, Linda's car pointed toward British Columbia. We crossed the border and there I was on Canadian soil for the first time.

We headed to Claire's house and later to Idelette's. It was surreal and magical to see these Amahoro friends for the second time this year, especially since Kelley and her daughter flew up for the occasion.

Kelley asked about the Enneagram and the words scarcely left her mouth before I yelled, "I've got the cards!" and popped out of my chair to retrieve them. We took those first steps in figuring out everyone's type and then let the conversation fly free.

I sat on Idelette's famous red couch. I drank tea. I talked with my friends. They got to know my friend. Did I mention it was surreal?

For American Thanksgiving, our Canadian friends made a feast. Two delicious turkeys and we all contributed the rest. I walked in the door and Sarah barely let me set down the green bean casserole before hugging me. When sister-friends reunite, it doesn't matter if you've seen them a couple of months prior. You're going to milk every moment you can before you have to go your separate ways.

I met husbands and kids and the house was chaotic and exactly as it should be.

We gathered around the table and by the end of the night, my cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much. We traded stories and talked about our callings and even what we're grateful for. We teased each other. A few found a way to joke about the Enneagram and I thought my heart would burst.

I left Idelette's house that night nourished. By the delicious food, yes, but more so by the company. I don't know when we'll be in the same room again. Maybe in the spring, maybe the fall.

These are my people. My long-distance friends. There's never enough time together. And yet, there's always just enough time to ask a necessary question, share a word of encouragement, a hug.

***

What incomparable gifts: forever friends, sunshine, amazing food, a soul reset.