An improvised life

Today I participated in a forum called Faith and Blue, an event spearheaded by the Juneau Police Department in association with a national weekend of activities organized by law enforcement and religious communities. The flyer notes, "National Faith & Blue weekend is a collaborative effort to build bridges and break biases." Since we don't have a resident rabbi, I got to play one on TV. The program will be edited and posted to Facebook. I'll share a link when it's available.  I was struck by the genuine caring and concern of everyone who participated, how much our cultural, religious, and racial identities shape our experience of the world, and the difference between those whose views centered in belief in Jesus Christ as savior/answer and those with more secular or humanist orientations. I have always felt that being Jewish was inextricably linked to my views of justice, and this project deepened my understanding of that connection.  At Alder's Bar Mitzva

Among the things I found after John died were 24 cans of Rainier beer in an outside pocket of his hockey bag. Yes, it was a massive bag – a goalie bag, though John didn’t play goal.  I got rid of most of his stuff pretty efficiently when he died, some of it with unabashed glee. The boxes of old magazines he carted through each move, fraying 1986 copies of Mother Jones and Utne Reader he was always going to get to. I brought 17 boxes to paper recycling. I doled skis and jackets to friends and family. I gave away his skates. But something stopped me from giving away the hockey bag, and I’m pretty sure it was the beer.  It’s a bit ironic given that I don’t even drink beer. I think I realized that case of beer stuffed in his hockey bag and smuggled into the rink was quintessential John. He was never one to travel light, a habit that continually irked me. But who was the hero at Happy Camp, three days into a Chilkoot Trail backpack trip, when he pulled out a complete copy of the Sunday New

Last night I talked to a friend who lamented the unsolicited advice others feel entitled to offer. Her family is going through hard times, and there are difficult decisions to be made. But she did not ask for advice.    I told her I’ve learned there’s one consequence of trauma people don’t warn you about: trauma serves as an invitation to others to peer into your life and advise. Most of it is well-meaning. But it quietly robs you of self-efficacy. It can trigger a spiral of dependence and self-doubt.    Over the last decade, my husband died, my best friend died, and I went from a paragon of health to a double-cancer survivor. The hardest part has been an erosion of my sense of self.    In addition to the Big Things – the death and disease – there were more insidious ways I felt my agency ebb. Complicated relationships. Giving up my work and professional identity to prioritize my children and my health. Moving seven times, not always by choice. Losing confidence that with enough grit,