Champions Who Have Our Backs

This week's local paper featured a front page headline regarding the death of an 89 year-old woman.  She wasn't flashy; didn't court publicity. The headline referring to her as a great champion was meant to honor her community involvement. 

There was something else that made her a champion in my mind. For 64 years she championed someone who became a phenomenal success in the arena of business and philanthropy. He did it, but he never missed an opportunity to acknowledge he couldn't have done it without her.  She was a champion: she had his back.

We all need someone who has our back...to champion us, challenge us, correct our course, keep us humble.  As a licensed marriage celebrant, I've had the opportunity to facilitate many marriages. Those that instinctually appear to me to be a union that will survive have that champion/challenger quality bound up in a sense of each one's place in the Universe.

Several years ago, a young couple comprised of a Type A surgeon and an introverted geophysicist, demonstrated such a quality. He, the introvert, laid out details of a new room addition on the floor of their condo with masking tape. Upon seeing it, she, the surgeon, ardently began suggesting--with some passion--moving a wall three inches here; a door two inches there, etc. Standing aside, I watched an interaction evolve that told me exactly how this pending union contained the seeds of back-catching.

In a simple motion, he stepped behind his agitated partner, putting his arms around her, placing the side of his head next to hers and said with a smile, "She gets like this sometimes." She was disarmed.

His startled partner broke into tears, turned and kissed him hard on the lips. He was affirmed.

This couple had each other's backs. This was going to be a great relationship made up of champions.

Recently a career businesswoman, who in her own right could claim to be a self-made success, didn't claim it. Instead, I heard her honor her mostly stay-at-home husband of nearly 20 years as being her greatest asset and cheerleader.

"He," she said, "Is the one who always says go for it, you can do it.  He's there with supper when I come home and he listens to me. He supports me when I'm not sure I can take on one more thing. Other's don't get our relationship. I do. He's got my back. He's my honey."

Look around. Do you have someone who has been catching your back? Do you have a champion that needs thanking, acknowledging, or hugging for always believing in you? If so, I challenge you to be big enough, humble enough and strong enough to say, "I didn't do this all by myself. My champion helped me."

Peace be in all, Jane

Seeds in the Snow

Here in the Northland, color vanishes in November. Shades of grey, white, and brown dominate the land, lake, and sky. Like the external environment outside my window, yesterday found my "internal" landscape barren of any color. 


I slogged through the day with uninspired attempts at cleaning my home. In my kitchen's junk drawer, there among the coupons and clutter, I found an envelope labeled John's seeds. I sighed and smiled at the discovery. 


Last August, my friend gave me a gift of Lupine seeds he'd harvested at summer's end. A series of major life events delayed me from planting them. The memory of the envelope slipped from my mind.


I shook the envelope, recalling the Lupine's spectacular bursts of purple, lavender, and pink that explode upon sturdy green stalks during June and July. Suddenly, fields of Lupine bordering roadsides and forest edges filled my monochromatic mind. Gently shaking the envelope I suddenly knew what must be done. 


I shoved the envelope in my jacket pocket, and pulled on my boots. Hefting two pots of dirt and a trowel from the garage, I marched through the light snowfall to my garden's edge. There among the tall grasses, I knelt in the twilight and sprinkled the seeds. As each nugget dropped to the earth, I envisioned their centers holding the hope of verdant green and royal purple..the colors of life and vitality. 


The seeds in the snow hold the desire I have for my life as winter tightens it grip upon the earth. The seeds in the snow are also my desire for you and yours. 
Peace Be In All,
Jane