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Of course a gratitude list would do something sneaky and add the word “work” to the mix. Fine. I like a challenge. Sometimes. If the mood strikes correctly. I have a complicated relationship with work, not because I’m lazy. Because I’m not. Anyone who saw how much river rock, black plastic, and dirt were around this house and are now gone knows. I grew up in a home, at least early on, where both parents worked outside the home. Mom was an RN and dad was a surgeon. They were busy folks. And when I was a teenager, Dad worked a lot–clinic hours, surgery days, being on call. When he wasn’t doing those things, he was resting or fishing.

I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to be when I grew up. I did know that I wanted my life at home to be more important than my life at a job. While I took measures to become a school teacher and eventually began the path to be a college professor, it became really clear to me that those career paths and having a life at home and an identity separate from those paths would be almost impossible for me to achieve. Some can do it and I SALUTE them. As a graduate student and as an adjunct, I remember grading papers in bed late at night, on the weekends, whenever I could to get the job done. This was definitely moving the needle in the wrong direction.

During one summer break, when I had to find temp work because adjuncts don’t eat in the summer unless they’re working somewhere else, I got a job at a water company in the West Valley of Yakima. My days ended by 4:30pm. I had every minute of the rest of the day to myself. What a revelation. Was it a lot of money? No. But this was the first time I had a taste of that work/life balance I had dreamed of. After that, I didn’t do adjunct teaching any more.

After my mom passed, I moved out of Yakima to Walla Walla and a job as an administrative assistant at Whitman College. I had office work experience, so that was no problem. I understand the culture of higher ed. No sweat. And while I took a significant pay cut from what I’d been making at the water company, I had an even sweeter work/life balance. My apartment building’s front door to the front door of the Memorial building was a five minute walk. I could sleep in until 7am. I was home before 5:15pm. I could walk to the grocery store. I could walk to Pioneer Park. I could (after a couple of months 😛 ) walk to my boyfriend’s house. All of this was within just a matter of minutes from my place.

Maybe that’s where I get into trouble. I conflate jobs with work. I mean, it’s easy to do right? But I think for the purpose of this little exercise, I’d like to differentiate. Jobs are the things I did/do to allow/pay for/make possible (I’m having a hard time articulating it) my work. Now please don’t misunderstand me, jobs are where I meet some of the most fabulous human beings. A person spends more waking hours with their co-workers than their families and it’s truly wonderful when those people are good, funny, wickedly smart, playful people. They make going to a job more than tolerable but a delight.

Work and a job only overlapped for me once and that was as the business owner of Shop Eleven. I have never worked so hard and loved any work quite so much, but the work/life balance was not quite right. I had the shop opened on Saturdays and missed out on that weekend time with Bryan. When I closed the shop, I very deliberately chose to do few if any markets or jobs that would encroach on our weekends together again. That time was sacrosanct.

Work that fills me with gratitude is the work that I know makes a difference to others, to me, in an intensely meaningful way, and I’m deliciously exhausted at the end of the day. Usually, that takes its form in my backyard garden, baking for others, cooking a meal for a lot of guests, creating (jewelry, paintings, pottery, writing). Preparing for and executing the May fundraiser for our Mom’s scholarship is exhausting every time and I LOVE IT. This is the work I appreciate. Maybe I’m trepidatious to find a job that is the work I love because I fear it will affect the work/life balance I cherish.

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I think about the graphic novel, V for Vendetta, a lot. I mean a lot. I’m due for a re-read here soon, I’m sure. There’s a corrupt, fascist government institituting a police state and there’s the resistance against it organized by V and Evey. In the course of the story, Evey discovers that there’s a letter tucked away in a cubby in her prison cell (Yes, I’m skipping a lot of parts! Read it and we can chat over coffee.) In it, the author of the letter, Valerie, writes:

I shall die here. Every last inch of me shall perish. Except one.

An inch. It’s small and it’s fragile and it’s the only thing in the world worth having. We must never lose it, or sell it, or give it away. We must never let them take it from us.

From V for Vendetta
Written by Alan Moore.
Art by David Lloyd.

I think we might define that inch a little differently from person to person, but at its essence it’s the core of our humanity, our integrity, our wish that the future is a little better than the world we were born into, that in our darkest hour, when everything feels like a black hole, there’s that little bit of light that keeps us moving forward. This is the inch that chooses “to be” over “not to be.” And it is our legacy. Ultimately, I believe it is our capacity to love. To me, that is the core of optimism and I am thankful for it.

Today was rainy, cloudy, gloomy, and chilly. I wondered how I was going to write about my profound appreciation and gratitude for nature when she was being a miserable pill. Right up until she wasn’t. I had to run an errand to the post office at around 4:30 this afternoon. The light was shifting, the clouds moving. I know these walks at Mill Creek will be fewer and less pleasant as the weather changes, but I had to seize the opportunity.

Nature–teacher, healer, muse–has given me moments of peace and a place to ugly cry. I’m so thankful for the respite from grief and a way to channel it too. Sounds of birds, the noise the water makes as it flows over each section of the channel, the rhythmic pace of my feet on the path soothe my soul. And of course I text friends and family images that fill my heart because I want to share those moments. I am in solitude and I am in community. I have watched the changes over the course of seasons and thanks to herds of goats. I have seen blue herons, pelicans, birds of prey, ducks, and geese, dogs of every shape and size, and even one river otter. Lines and color, shadow and light, teach me to be a better artist, too.

I’m never going to be an intrepid backpacker into the deep wilds. I’m neither a camper or one who seeks out circumstances where I can “rough it.” Camping absolutely doesn’t appeal (unless it’s the Lee family where they bring lattes to the tent door.) 🙂 But I do love hikes and being at the ocean or walking anywhere there are beautiful trees. Nature even finds it’s way here when the squirrels and possum and raccoons show up. The stream running through my back yard decides to get clogged with leaves or weeds and I’m reminded just how determined and persistent nature is–a good teacher, indeed.

For all this and more than I can articulate, I’m am so thankful for nature.

Tip Jar: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1

For a lot of years, friends of mine have done this gratitude challenge (https://positivelypresent.com/2023/10/the-13th-annual-gratitude-challenge.html). I’ve often admired their thoughtful words, their diligence in sticking to something for thirty days straight–WHAT DISCIPLINE! And I whole-heartedly support the notion of practicing gratitude as a way to shift thinking. Bryan was a walking example of how lovely gratitude is. How can I do any less? So here goes. Let’s see if yours truly can stick to something for 30 days straight…

Self-care has become an increasingly weighted term. For some it’s a glass of red wine and a bath. For others it’s exercise and good nutrition. And yet for others it’s “fine leather goods.” All joking aside, I know that sometimes mere survival makes “self-care” seem like a luxury of only the privileged. But I think the definition maybe needs a little refinement and nuance. I once had a grad school professor say “do at least one thing every day that helps your future self.” I think that is a crucial, defining component of self-care.

Self-care looks very different to me every day and in every season. When Bryan was really sick, sometimes self-care was holding an icepack right at my sternum to help calm my vagus nerve. Sometimes it was stocking the chocolate drawer in the kitchen because I had no appetite for real food and a hit of sugar tapped my dopamine center when I was so incredibly low. Long-term, not very great self-care, short-term I’m really thankful I had it. Brushing my teeth is self-care. (Yes, Jody, so is flossing and I even do that on occasion.) Doing laundry is self-care. Grocery shopping is self-care. This past summer, walks at Bennington and Mill Creek have been essential elements of self-care.

Places I’d like to be more diligent in self-care is muting my internal critic, cooking healthy meals for one (IT IS SO HARD), taking care of looming tasks so I can get that sense of relief. I think those are all self-care too.

I’ll be honest, I like a hot bath and a romance novel and yes, maybe a glass of wine (white or rose more often than red becaue the ensuing headache is NOT self-care). I’m pretty basic (read that as you will) and that’s okay.

Most of all, I think extending grace to one’s own humanity, foibles, and failings is the kindest, gentlest form of self-care. And I’m thankful for all of it.

Tip jar: https://venmo.com/u/Rebecca-Lubbers-1

There are lots of reasons to be really sad in this world. We get new, horrifying reasons every.single.day. Humans don’t have the best track record. But sometimes humanity shows its beautiful face. We get these opportunities to defy sadness and horror–sometimes in the smallest acts. Creativity, dress-up, play are some of the ways to do that and on Halloween especially with little reproach or judgment (not that that matters if you love it–shout-out to my cosplayers and RenFaire enthusiasts). I love the exuberance and unbridled joy of kids (big and small) delighting in their costumes and the eagerness and hope for something sweet.

I have enjoyed getting texts from my kiddo, her Mom, and godmother showcasing costumes and decorations. Mary is my Halloween guru and inspiration. If anybody turns it up to eleven on Halloween, it’s Mary Lubbers who was the best druid ever today. Friends have stopped by with their children this evening to trick-or-treat (butterfly, ninja, three-headed dragon/hydra, a cute little devil, and a scary monster, AND THE CUTEST LITTLE COW*). I’m not saying I’m the best auntie in the world, but I am passing out full-sized candy bars. 😀 I played with costume make-up and curIed and teased my hair like it was 1989. I may have made one kid almost cry with my scary witch’s laugh. Who knew I was so gifted? HA!

Play is vitally important. Play is essential for good mental health. Play is a courageous act in the face of darkness. I hope you find opportunities to let down your guard and play a little more often. The world needs your joy.

*I can’t believe I forgot this one. SMH! I blame the sugar.