The Wall.

Earlier today I had words and thoughts exploding out of my head. I couldn't wait to sit down and write. And now here I am just after 8:30pm at night finally sitting down with a cup of peppermint tea and a box of kleenex for both my super runny nose and the tears that don't seem to stop falling.

The Wall. Today President Trump announced that funding for the Mexico-U.S. border wall will begin. And funding for sanctuary cities will be stopped. The latter is already being challenged as unconstitutional. I posted two articles by Dr. Reece Jones, my good friend, to my FB page and also added the link the the HBO documentary, The Fence.

I see my students. I see those who are here without papers. It is not because they are bad people or because they want to break the law. These beautiful young humans are here because they were running for their lives. I have so much to say, but lack the ability to be coherent anymore today.

The inherent racism that this wall represents is horrifying. How do others not see this? Where is the demand for a wall between U.S. and Canada? This is not for safety. This is not even economic. It is simply a fear tactic and a xenophobic measure that denies our plurality and ignores the value of multiculturalism. I am appalled and so very sad.

The Office

I spent majority of my day in our office. I do kind of love it in here...but I don't love the stack of paperwork that we had let go...for months. I pretty much nailed it today though and even managed to dust some book shelves. I used to buy every single book I read; shunning the library. Then I'd hold onto the books like they helped define me. Well, they kind of do in a way, but then when we moved to England, I was forced to let go. I just couldn't justify keeping boxes and boxes of books. So our stacks are much lighter now and I'm doing a better job of checking books out from the library or borrowing from friends. I'm even getting better about gifting books I do buy to others when they are worth sharing (and most are).

For Christmas, I gave my mom, sister, sister-in-law, and mother-in-law the book, Waking Up White, by Debbie Irving. If you are a white Christian woman who has grown up in the U.S., I highly recommend this book. I think it's great for guys too; I just knew it would be perfect for the women I shared it with. I'm hoping to keep passing it on...but I've already given away my copy to a friend.

I'm going to check out from the office now. I've got an empty Spotted Cow beer in front of me and a pile of laundry waiting for me in my bedroom. Tomorrow beckons. 

Marcus

I woke up today unable to move my neck. I couldn't sleep for a good portion of the night either, so I called the local Massage Envy as I'm a member and got the first available appointment: 10:00am. I was in such pain and I was even worried that the massage would do more harm than good since I didn't know the cause. Granted, I have slept in four different beds in the past week and driven hours and hours with shouting kids in the backseat, so...there's that.
Marcus was a miracle worker. The lactic acid pockets were expelled and I walked out a new woman. Still sore, but not with the pain and immobility as before.
But even more profound than Marcus's great massage work is his story. He served two tours in the armed services and in the latter, his team came upon an IED. It did some major damage and Marcus has been through 25+ surgeries and was "drugged up" by the recommendation of VA. Marcus said he finally realized he had a choice in his life and stopped taking all forms of medications. He found peace in massage therapy as he is able to help others in a one-on-one setting with the calm of dim lights and quiet music to surround him. He says he has an uphill battle, but becoming a massage therapist was life-saving. I couldn't get over the contrasts in his life and how open he was with me about them.
These are the moments for which I am thankful. I am thankful for Marcus. For his service to the U.S.. For his understanding of self. And for the care he offered me mere moments after meeting me.

Welcome 2017

Originally I posted my New Year's resolution here...but I'm editing this post a few months later b/c my resolution to write a blog, no matter how short, every day failed within a week's time. Boo!

Nevertheless, please enjoy our 2016 Schutz Family Holiday Video.

Little Girl, Get Up

Fifteen years ago I was raped. Fifteen years ago almost to the day. I’ve been thinking about writing that first sentence for a long time. Now it’s out. While the U.S. was getting ready to be hit by one of the worst terror attacks, I was on the other side of the world juggling the physical and emotional trauma connected to my own attack in the midst of a visit from my mother and her (our) good friend, Marilyn. And suddenly we were swept away in the chaos of 9/11. Caught up in international borders, stranded in Canada, and finally recovering and seeking intensive therapy in Washington D.C.

I don’t need or want to go through the details now. I just needed to write that first sentence in order to keep moving forward.

I want to tell you that most of the time I want to think being raped was just a blip. It was just a horrible event that couldn’t have affected me that much. After all, it could have been so much worse. I’m lucky that it only happened once and that I wasn’t hurt. People experience so much worse and so I minimize my own experience. It’s true. The phrase “no big deal” pops up in my head when the memory tries to come back or someone asks about it.  While I cannot know others’ experiences, I realize I must be honest that in my own life, being raped was a big deal. It does affect me.

It affects the way I talk to my boys about the words “no” and “stop.” It affects the way I watch interactions between men and women. It affects the way I watch or cannot watch movies. It affects the way I hear jokes or comments that use the word ‘rape.’ It affects my family and friends in that they don’t know how or when it will come back in my head. It affects the way I walk or run alone in broad daylight or in the dark. It affects my need for control. It affects me everyday.

I’ve discovered recently that the PTSD that I experienced from that one event comes back. Suddenly emotions are uncontrollable, concentrating is extremely difficult, and it’s hard to let go and sleep. I didn’t know this could happen. No one told me that the emotional aftermath of an event that I deemed “over and done” could come back so clearly.

What comes up for you? What experiences have affected your life, both positively and negatively?  How do you acknowledge the impact and keep moving forward?

If you’d like to read the story from my mom’s perspective, she has self-published a book that is available on Amazon. Little Girl, Get Up by Rosalie Koehler.

You're Invited

My host family in Mymensingh, Bangladesh during my Peace Corps Pre-service Training

Writing has been on the back burner for me the past couple months. I’m in a new job, I’m taking an online course so I can get a lane change (teacher speak for pay increase), Dave has a million new projects to write for, K1 is adjusting to Spanish Immersion kindergarten, and we still have a little settling in left to do.

Now Thanksgiving is upon us and I’m realizing just how quickly the last few months have passed. Sometimes on my familiar drive home from a Trader Joe’s shopping trip, I wonder if we really lived abroad when it seems like we never left. And then I have moments when share a memory or tell K2 to go get his dummy (pacifier) and I realize that one short year made a lifelong impact.

I usually wait to blog until I have a lesson or thought keeps coming back to me. And yet lately, I feel like I rely so heavily on the words of others to say what I am thinking and feeling. I went to a two-day training last week that was about mindful and culturally responsive facilitation techniques led by the honorable, Lee Mun Wah.  I have been to cultural and racial diversity trainings for years. I seek them out. And this one affected me the most. If you watch the clip that the link above takes you to, you’ll hear Lee Mun Wah say,”What it’s going to require for us to have a multicultural society is to take the time to walk across the room.To go into another neighborhood, to invite another family into our home, and to get to know theirs.”

The word that strikes me here is “invite.” We cannot assume that just because someone hasn’t spoken with us, shared a story with us, or walk with us it is because they don’t want to. Most likely, it is because they have not been invited. During my training, I experienced many profound moments. One of them was at the very end of day two when all of the participants were holding hands in a circle. One Hmong woman stated that she has been teaching in schools for many years, but that day she ate lunch with a white person for the first time. Wow. Just take a minute to think about that. It’s not that she didn’t want to eat with a white woman, it’s that she was never invited. And when you’re never invited, you feel you aren’t welcome. Let that thought rest on your heart for a moment. Who do you eat lunch with? Who do you break bread with and how often is it with someone who comes from a different ethnic, racial, and/or cultural background? Who have you invited to the table? We must take time to share our stories.

My challenge for this holiday season is to invite someone new to the table. Invite him or her to have lunch with you, to come to your house for a meal, or to meet for coffee. If you can, reach beyond your comfort zone and invite someone from a different ethnic, racial, and/or cultural background.

Let’s share our experiences and stories and report back. 

I’m taking the challenge. Will you?

One of many great TED Talks by Lee Mun Wah:

http://tedxtalks.ted.com/video/The-secret-to-changing-the-worl

Anniversary Post: Lean In

Today is our 8^th wedding anniversary. Quite a big year. Eight is my favorite number and if you turn it on its side you get infinity.

Thankfully, my sister is stepping in to give us some much needed time to lean in and reflect on our eight years over dinner tonight.

We’ve been back in the States for two weeks now and it feels so good, but also like we haven’t been able to catch our breath. Back to work for me in a few days and we are still in the process of getting unpacked and organized. We are also working quickly to fill our home with furniture and food.

Molly & Alex's Wedding, 2013

On one hand, this is really fun. A fresh start is exciting, rare, and provides an opportunity for us to be purposeful and thoughtful about how we begin again in Minnesota.

On the other hand, it’s tricky. I don’t want to say difficult and I don’t want to say stressful because I’m talking about the stress and difficulty that come with simply spending too much money in a month. Shopping is fun, but spending all the money that comes with it is not. And so we can often come to times of disagreement or the simple inability to make a decision. 

Honolulu, 2006

In just a few weeks, we’re shelling out money for cars, food (all the basics and then some), furniture, school supplies for three of us, and whatever else pops up. And can I tell you that furniture is expensive? I think the fact that we are buying everything at once is really the killer. I spend my days dragging the boys between World Market, Goodwill, IKEA, consignment stores, and West Elm to name a few. Oh, and Target. Everyday is Target. Again, it’s fun. But really, I’d just like to sit on a couch instead of a mattress on the floor or sleep in a bed instead of the Aero bed we’ve been on since August 4^th.

Paris, 2010

And this is when we/I need to get a little perspective. As I complain about the trials and tribulations of running too many errands, throwing away too much on furniture, or spending too much time trying to find bargains, I realize that this is not a problem but a blessing. We are blessed with the ability to make these decisions. To fill our home (eventually) with physical things that make us happy and comfortable. I have been stuck thinking about how we don’t have a proper home until all is right, but then...

Mazatlan, 2008

my husband of eight years waltzes in and reminds me that we’re okay. We can and should take our time. I push back a bit because there’s a big part of me that thinks our routines can’t start until the kids get a dresser or we have a dining room table. And yet, last night we ate dinner together, read the kids stories before bed, and Skyped with grandparents. 
It seems the most important routines are still intact and will be no matter if we’re in a hotel in Iceland, dog-sitting in England, or living in an unfurnished home in Minnesota. An old friend reminded me in his response to my last post, “Home is where you feel loved, safe, supported and comfortable,” and that we do. Well, our Aero bed could be a tiny bit comfier, but you know what I mean.

Turialba, Costa Rica, 2005 (waterfall rappelling)

Finally, I need to give a huge shout-out to my husband of these eight crazy, amazing, trying, challenging, joyful, adventurous, and educational years. I am not sure how I will ever be able to thank him for following my very pushy lead on our journey to England. Not every husband would agree to a leap of faith like Dave did. Somehow I ended up with the perfect guy for me. All I know is that we like helping each other reach our goals; our dreams. When we know something is important to the other, we lean in rather than out. 

So the next time someone you love has an idea that might sound a little nuts, try leaning in. You never know where it will lead.

August 18, 2007 

Las Vegas, 2014

Windsor, England, 2014