Different Venue. Same Heart.

 

Last week, I traded my shiny gold wings for a pair of flip-flops.

My extra uniform, folded into a neat stack of blue polyester, was removed from my suitcase and replaced by tank tops/mesh shorts. I was finally about to set foot on Mexican soil. The anticipation was insane; I’d been practicing my Spanish for a month….and wondering how a “sky girl” would handle a week at sea.

It had been nearly a decade since I’d gone on a cruise.

Back then, in 2005, I was a college student with no inkling that someday I’d be a flight attendant. In fact, I didn’t even consider it as a career option. It seemed like some make-believe job, not a real career here on planet Earth.

To this day, it still blows my mind that I get paid to travel and turn strangers into friends. Is this actually my job? I often muse. Did someone crawl inside my brain and conjure the perfect way to satisfy my need for excitement AND variety?

When I was in third grade, I wanted to be a veterinarian. Sometime in middle school, I decided that teaching was a more suitable option. By my early teens, I was certain I’d become a lawyer. Then, in my twenties, I came to the conclusion that every line of work is mundane and I didn’t actually want to do anything…except read, volunteer, drink tea and take afternoon walks.

 Unfortunately, that isn’t very lucrative.

I stumbled across the aviation industry by mistake; after a trip to Vegas, I consoled a terrified 10-year-old girl and realized that maybe, just maybe, I could do that for a living.

Life takes some weird turns, huh? But that’s half the fun of it. The only thing I love more than a good adventure is a good mystery…

Anyway, cruising as a college student in 2005 seemed drastically different from cruising as a flight attendant in 2014. Plus, I was going with my parents this time (instead of people my age). Plus, I was nearly thirty now (even though maturity level puts me at roughly 14 years old). Plus, I was no longer a vegetarian (which meant I could eat EVERYTHING at the 24/7 buffet).

I had no idea what to expect, but I knew it would be crazy. Absolutely wild.

Within a few hours of being on the ship, I was in love.

With the sea, yes. With the rhythm of the waves and the constantly-playing dance music on deck, absolutely. With the setting sun as it disappeared into the navy blue horizon, yep.

But what I loved most of all was the enthusiasm of the employees.

These people were my kinfolk, it seemed.

Sure, we worked in different settings. But we had the same heart! We shared a thirst for adventure and a refusal to settle into typical, everyday life. We loved talking to strangers, being on stage, and traveling to exotic places.

Our brains were wired a little differently. “Weird” was our “normal.”

That first night onboard, the entertainers dazzled everyone. They danced and sang with enough energy to lift us from our seats. I found myself clapping along and even pulling my dad to his feet so he could join me.

What a rush.

I went back to my cabin that evening and journaled about how connected I felt to these employees. They were my nautical counterparts. I wanted to meet them and ask a billion questions.

Toward the end of the cruise, I got my chance.

While my father was relaxing in the whirlpool, I spotted the ship’s break-dancer on deck. I tapped his shoulder and proceeded to explain, in my typical frenzied way, that I was a flight attendant and therefore his “sister” in the skies. He didn’t laugh at me…at least, not externally! We discussed our gypsy lifestyles & all the reasons we love our jobs. It felt like I was talking to any one of my co-workers at the airline; the conversation was easy, natural and fascinating.

He introduced me to a few more dancers. I walked away feeling invincible.

To Grinzz, Sinitta and Troy: I miss you guys already. And I totally get you.

After all, we are made of the same key ingredients: curiosity, boldness and optimism. We have big smiles and bigger dreams. We want to hold the world in the palm of our hands. We want it all.

Eventually the cruise ended, and I returned to my sky life.

But I can’t help reminiscing about those five magical days at sea. When I go to sleep, I can almost feel the churning of the ocean beneath my bed. I can almost taste the saltwater in the air.

It’s a wonderful thing, really.

 

Love,

Lisa

   

These Rough Waters

Once upon a time, a girl told a boy she loved him.

She didn't do this with any expectations or hidden motives. She simply felt he deserved to know the truth. She wanted him to remember, especially during life's toughest moments, that he was truly loved.

Now, don't get the wrong idea...

This story may have opened with "once upon a time," but it's no fairy tale. It's real life, which means it's messy. Confusing. Beautiful and broken. There's no "happily ever after;" instead, there are a series of lessons. Love is often a tapestry of heartache and relief; different threads weave through each other, creating a baffling (yet breathtaking) image.

I've heard, and read, and believed that women are not supposed to say "I love you" first.

One book went so far as to claim that women ought to "shut up & be mysterious." Let the man pursue you, the authors of this book urged. Let the man chase after you. Let him fall hopelessly in love with your evasiveness.

And, most importantly, never EVER let him know how you really feel about him. That is, apparently, the kiss of death. Love must be kept quiet, until it's guaranteed to be returned. If you express your feelings first, you give away all your secrets. There's nothing left to be desired.

I suppose that's one way of looking at it.

But there's a flipside to that coin, right? Maybe?
Life is short. Too short to bite your tongue, in my opinion. None of us are promised to live 'til tomorrow.

If we really believed today might be our last, would it change our course of action? I think it would. My friend lost her husband in 2013. One morning, she woke up with him beside her. The next morning, he was gone.

And that is real life, folks. That's how the cookie crumbles sometimes.

So, in my opinion, if something needs to be said, say it. Today. This very minute. In fact, pick up the phone right now...

Ok, let's get back to our original NON-fairytale:

This girl told the boy that he had opened her eyes to a world she'd never imagined. He had taught her how to care about someone without expecting anything in return.

The boy had shown her how liberating it can be to put someone else's needs above her own.

He'd helped her become brave.

Call me crazy, but I can't see a downside to that.

If women aren't supposed to express their feelings first, then I'm a disgrace to my entire gender. Frankly, I'm ok with that. My job isn't to follow some dusty old roadmap or adhere to someone else's rules. My job is to navigate these rough waters in the best way I can, with the tools I've been given.

So let's set sail, shall we?

Love,
Lisa

An Open Letter to the Daughter I Don't Have

Dear Grace,

You were in my dream last night, baby girl.

I'm not going to tell you that you don't exist. I'm not going to point out the very real possibility that you might never exist. I refuse to dismiss you as a figment of my subconscious, over-active imagination.

The world has already done enough of that. I promise.

Instead, I am going to tell you that you're beautiful.

If you ever glance in the mirror or smile for a quick photo, your grin will be so bright I'll have to wear sunglasses to shield my eyes. Just kidding, I never wear sunglasses. But I will make you wear them. Because that's what parents do: protect their little ones from the dangers of this world. Including UV rays.

Oh, Grace...

There were years I dreaded your arrival.

I wanted to be free and unattached; children seemed like a handicap to that unbridled freedom. Anything that required even a modicum of responsibility was a chore, in my opinion. Not a blessing.

Then, there were years I eagerly anticipated your arrival. I wanted it so badly that I'd wake up crying. Everyone else was married; everyone had moved on to the next stage of life. I felt like I was watching a parade from my bedroom window. Or, perhaps more accurately, watching my own funeral.

Smile, baby girl. The story gets better.

See, I realized there are different paths in life. Not everyone travels in the same straight line, and that's ok. You entered my life via the beaten path, the trail with a Weeping Willow on one side and a briar patch on the other. I wouldn't have it any other way. I always loved a good adventure.

When you're older, you will see how special you are. For now, just remember that there is nothing accidental about you. I had plenty of time to evaluate whether or not I was ready for you. Trust me, I did a lot of soul-searching. Three decades' worth (...and counting).

People have children for many different reasons. A friend once told me that her kids were her legacy. They were her proof she had done something meaningful with her life, and her way of solidifying a place in eternity.

Grace, you are not my legacy.

You are my treasure, and you are loved more than you can imagine. But you were not born because I needed a guarantee that someone would take care of me when I got old. You were not born to ensure that my life would extend past the day I took my final breath.

You were born for so much more than my wants or my needs. Thank God.

Speaking of God, I promised Him that I would name you "Grace." Because you were an act of mercy; I never could've done anything to earn you. You were a gift.

I'm glad I saw you last night. It was a dream, so the background was fuzzy...but you were clear & sharp. Bright red cheeks, and a big Italian nose. Just like your mama.

If you ever read this, it will be proof of God's love.

Conversely, if you never read this, it will also prove God's love. The timing and outcome not for me to decide. We'll see, little one. We will see whether you exist someday or not.

Either way, it was great to meet you. Even just for a moment.

Love,

Lisa

Crossing the Line

Happy 2014! I initially dubbed this "the year of making good decisions," but I decided to rename it.

2014 is now officially The Year of Being Brave.

At church several weeks ago, someone mentioned a "chicken line" and the importance of crossing that line. If you stand by your beliefs, some people will get upset. Some people will be uncomfortable with the things you support, and some may even treat you differently because of your views.

But that's ok.

You see, 30 is on the horizon, folks. I've spent the past 29 years tip-toeing around issues that are even remotely controversial, because I was afraid to offend anyone.

But today I'm going to cross the chicken line.

Let's see...where to begin?

I did not grow up in the church. During my junior year of high school, a friend invited me to youth group and I reluctantly agreed. It was my first time hearing people talk about Jesus as though they knew him personally...and it rocked my world. I'm talking, turned my entire life upside-down. I started reading the Bible, to see what all the commotion was about.

Within a year, I became a Christian.

Since then, I've attended a few churches where homosexuality was blatantly condemned. Bible verses were used to explain why this behavior is inherently evil. Leviticus 18:22 is a popular one (fun fact: type 'Leviticus' into your search engine and see which verse pops up first). I accepted these interpretations as truth because it didn't really affect me...or so I thought. Being gay was unbiblical, and that was all I needed to know.

The funny thing about swallowing a pill is that its effects don't always hit you right away.

It took several years for me to investigate the matter more deeply. I began to realize that interpretations vary from one person to the next. Focusing on a verse in Leviticus might lead a person to one conclusion, while another person might find a different answer in Luke 6:37 ("Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned...").

I'm TIRED of this being such a big issue. Shouldn't we, whether Christians or not, start focusing on more important topics? Like treating other people with love, or standing up for those who have been bullied? I'm not saying a person should agree with things just to make others happy.

I am saying that maybe it's time to stop dwelling on little details and start paying attention to the bigger picture. Which probably definitely involves loving our neighbors.

That's all.

Below is a link to an article that really resonated with me. This woman says what I'm trying to express, and she does it with clarity & compassion.

http://rachelheldevans.com/blog/literalist-gluttony

Thanks, Ms. Evans, for crossing the chicken line...and helping me do so, as well.


Love,
Lisa