Silent Sundays: Photos of the Week, 9/12/10
Category Archives: Relationships
The Ping of Your Relational Sonar
It’s about 9:00 p.m. Labor Day night and I’m putting the last check into the last envelope as I finish paying my monthly bills. The day has been a long one with the majority of my time spent in my office reading and working on my statistics homework. I get up from my chair, stretch, grab the stamped envelopes on my desk and head to the mailbox.
I head down the long slope of the paved driveway. It’s getting dark and my mind switches from wondering if my bare feet are going to find a wayward stone (protective-mode thoughts) to the overwhelmingly beautiful twilight sky (refreshing, happy thoughts). My pace slows and I remember that my hair is pulled up into a ponytail, bound with a brown velvet scrunchie; perfect for a little pillow to rest my head on the concrete. I drop to the warm pavement, lay down, breathe in the cooling air and take a few moments to study the sky more closely.
It’s beautiful out tonight. The sun has dropped below the horizon so far that only the slightest hint of light shows along the western line. From there sweeping upward is light blue, medium blue, dark blue and the deepest midnight blue right over my head. The stars are beginning to show and as I lay still and focus, more and more tiny lights begin to peek out of the deep blue. I can now see about 30-40 stars, but one in particular catches my eye. It’s brighter than the rest and seems to be moving. I assume at this point that it’s a satellite and I watch it travel ever-so-slowly across my view.
My body begins to relax as I start realizing how many layers of sound are filling up my ears. I can hear the distant click of a katydid, intermittent bursts of cicadas, a constant tree frog sound, and another rhythmic frog sound over that. There is a dog somewhere in the distance that barks occasionally and every three or four minutes a car passes down the street, headed toward their homes for the evening. I look around for the satellite and find it again. I started thinking about my husband.
On the way down to the mailbox, I had hugged him goodnight because he was heading to bed. He gets up at 4:00 a.m. every morning to go to work. I had said, “I missed you today.” He said, “I missed you too.” We talked a bit about the homework I was doing and said goodnight.
I watch the satellite another minute more and my mind drifts back to a conversation I had last week with a colleague. He had written a blog entry for contract work we do over the topic of “checking in” with your spouse during the day. I’m watching the satellite and thinking about that topic when I link a thought about the sonar pings made by satellites, submarines or other devices that also “check in” with those monitoring their progress. I begin to play that sound in my head and think about parents monitoring their children as they grow and develop, spouses checking-in with each other to make sure all is good between them, leaders checking in with their team members in places of employment. Ping, ping, ping. The satellite has now passed two stars as I watch it continue to creep across the sky.
I start thinking about satellite orbits and how they decay over time. Without the sonar or other monitoring devices, there could be no awareness of how that orbit had decayed or whether it was stable and in good working order. Mother mammals of tiny babies constantly check to see if all their offspring are accounted for, birds guard their nests, alpha males of various species watch over their herds in case they are threatened.
I want to think about this balance or out-of-balance checking in between couples just a bit more so I reluctantly get up, walk the rest of the way to the mailbox (I only step on one small pebble), and head back to my office. On my way back up the driveway I hear a car leave our neighbor’s driveway, muffled rap music coming from the interior. I wonder what type of sonar is going on between he and his parents as he drives down the road. I get to my office and begin searching for sound files of sonar pings. I find some cool files of a WW II submarine sonar. CLICK HERE TO LISTEN TO THE SOUND.
While I’m playing with these sonar sound files I begin thinking, “They sound a little bit like a heartbeat.” My mind drifts back to all my relatives who have been in the hospital with heart monitoring devices…ping, ping, beat…beat. I think about the inordinate amount of journal articles I’ve been reading the past six months over a person’s physical well being and how it relates to their relational well being. People who are stressed because of unhealthy relationships actually have different vagal tones when on a heart monitor than when their relationships are better, or when they feel closer to their partners.
I make a mental note of this thought process and head back into the bedroom to tell Mick goodnight a second time. I need to check in with him and make sure our orbit is not in decay. He’s fine. We’re fine. I’m glad I check, however. He tells me goodnight a second time and that “All systems are go.”
How about yours?
Tylz and Rylz Go to Meers
How many people have visited Meers, Oklahoma to get a hamburger and wax nostalgic? How about Eischen’s Fried Chicken in Okarche? Wilson’s BBQ in Tulsa? J&W Grill in Chickasha? The Italian restaurants in Krebs?
How many have visited these establishments for so long that they then take their children and eventually their grandchildren? Of those grandchildren taken by their grandparents (who were waxing nostalgic as well as enjoying their precious cargo), how many decide to then take their teenage friends back and begin their own sentimental journeys?
I have no idea. I do know that at least one has followed this hypothetical pattern. She took her boyfriend on August 18th, their two-year “dating anniversary.” She took him to Meers, Oklahoma to get a hamburger because she had a nice time when she was a kid on a trip with her grandparents.
Tylz and Rylz (Tyler Garcia and Rylee Roberts) headed toward southwest Oklahoma at approximately 3:30 in the afternoon. They had scheduled the afternoon and evening off work, dressed up slightly, printed out a map and set out to find the restaurant on their own. It wasn’t their first road trip and it probably won’t be the last.
They arrived at the restaurant, ate dinner, talked to the cook, and said hello to the stray cats. The cook said they could take one with them if they wanted. “Well,” he hesitated. “Not the fat one. You can take one of the others.” Evidently he had a soft spot for the “fat” cat. I wonder how many hamburgers that cat has ingested?
Just prior to arriving at the restaurant, Rylee spied a sign on the road. “That’s where I went on youth retreats! Camp Y’Shua…Let’s go back there after we eat. I’ll show you where I camped!”
Where she camped. Where she went with her grandparents. Where she went to her youth retreats. Tyler was getting the grand memory tour and Rylee was just fine with being the tour guide.
They said goodbye to the cats at the restaurant, explored the grounds at Camp Y’Shua, stopped by the lake to watch the sunset and headed home.
Tonight I was trying to decide what to put on the blog since we moved our Sports release to Friday, and another piece I had come in didn’t really fit our mission. It was one of those “What do I do now?” times. So I’m digging. Digging for some angle. I asked Rylee, “What is it about the 20-something crowd that makes them want to go back and explore the Oklahoma culture? The grass roots of our state? What is it that motivated you to choose Meers for your two-year anniversary trip?”
“It’s not my ‘group’ or my friends that are doing this, mom. We were the only ones our age in the restaurant. I just wanted to go back.” She sounded slightly annoyed.
“Okay. So, you just randomly decided to go?”
“No,” she replied. “That’s not it. I just wanted to go because I went there once with Granny and Papa when I was little and I liked it. That’s all.”
She wasn’t waxing philosophical. She just wanted to share a happy memory with her boyfriend.
Her reason was so much more than I had assumed before I heard her answer. And, it was certainly deeper than my questions.
Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch: Divide and Conquer…..Together
It’s a Saturday. The nine-to-fivers are reveling in the covers that hide the dawn’s glare this A.M.
But not us. My husband and I begin our weekdays before some people go to bed, and the weekend is no different. Like every household, we have things to do. OUR problem is that usually we have each created our own lists (hidden in our own minds) and have divided the chores out between us without telling the other about the plans. It could be a problem if we let it. We don’t.
I stopped picking the last of the tomatoes to watch Greg lower the Purple Martin house to get it ready for the winter and ultimately next spring. He joined me in the melon patch to check on our first watermelons. We are both amazed at how much fruit our only two melon plants have produced. I made a mental note to put the tomato cages up for next season. He set up the sprinklers to water the yard. I fed the kittens. He fed the cats. I carried my coffee across the pasture to give the horses some carrots. They knew it was not my usual time with them, and they seemed grateful.
There is always so much to do out here, but neither of us seem to mind. We have stopped to sit on the backporch to have some coffee. Greg remembered that the front gate doesn’t latch. We have got to fix that. It’s added to the list. Before noon we will have added as many chores as we have completed this morning. Maybe he’s right next to me; maybe he is across the pasture. Either way, we are content to divide and conquer our chores for today, so we can spend the evening……together.
From a White-Skinned Father to a Black-Skinned Son
I am a white-skinned father with a black-skinned son.
A little over a year ago, my wife, Amy, and I adopted our son, Silas, from Ethiopia.
Silas turned two in December.
Today our conversations tend to revolve around our favorite snacks – yogurt and lemon pound cake at Starbucks – and favorite TV characters and movies – Elmo and Ratatouille. We also squabble very little these days. Sometimes Silas will take a swing at me when I take away the Wii joystick. And other times he’ll treat the cheese sandwich I made him for dinner like a Frisbee.
One day, though, Silas will want to talk about other things. Like the color of his skin. And my skin. And his mother’s skin. And pictures and events and people and dates he finds in his history textbook.
There are some historical dates I don’t want to broach with Silas then. August 12th, 1955, for example. That’s the day Emmett Till, a 14 year old boy, was brutally lynched in Mississippi by white, southern, “Christian” men.
Then there is September 15th, 1963. That’s the day when four little girls were killed by a white supremacist bomb at 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama.
Or April 4th, 1968. That’s the fateful day Dr. King had his hope-filled voice silenced by a sniper’s gun.
But then there are days in America’s history I can’t wait to explain to Silas.
Days like December 1st, 1955, for example. The day when Rosa Parks refused to give up her bus seat to a white man. That small, defiant “no” reverberated out into a large, defiant “no more.”
There are other days, too. Like August 28th, 1963. The day Dr. King delivered his famous message, “I Have a Dream.” It was a day unlike any other day. It was a day of dreaming of another kind of America.
And then there was November 4th, 2008. Obama’s presidential victory. And then there was January 20th, 2009. Obama’s inauguration.
These are dates I look forward to telling Silas about – not as a student of history, but as a participator in making history.
And I will tell Silas this: whether one voted for Obama or not, one could not argue that it was a significant symbolic moment. And a storied moment with deep biblical resonances. From hundreds of years wandering in the wilderness of prejudice and oppression. To now the new days of exploring the “milk and honey” land of equality and opportunity.
Undoubtedly, MLK glimpsed the Promised Land from a distance. Like Moses. Like a dream just beyond his grasp. But Silas, you, and others of your skin color will experience this land as a blessed reality. Like Joshua. And the nation of Israel.
I can only pray that this new land for you will shimmer with the topsoil of fresh possibility, and contain in its seedbed the promise of renewed dignity. But, Silas, there are still weeds trying to choke out these verdant seeds. For though the “color line” W.B. Dubois spoke of has been broken in America’s political establishment, it still exists in America’s religious establishment. 95% of the evangelical church, for example, still remains divided along the color line. Unfortunately, Martin Luther King Jr.’s truism stills rings true today: 11 am on Sunday morning is still the most segregated hour in America. Perhaps, though, Silas, by the time you come of age, that small, subversive 5% of the American church will have grown and spread through the body of Christ like a lush vine.
Voting though won’t bring this change.
Only Spirit-led repentance will.
I can only pray that you discover these seeds pods of repentance bursting within my heart. And your mom’s heart. And your grandparents’ hearts. And in the hearts of all of those who you know that call themselves Christ followers.
I am reminded of observing MLK Day last year. You, your mom, and I celebrated Dr. King’s legacy with our adoption community at the Queen of Sheba, a local Ethiopian restaurant. On that special day, our dear friends, Eric and Tara, received their referral picture from Ethiopia of their soon-to-be-adopted baby boy, Malak. That night we laughed and cried over Malak’s picture, ooing and awing at his large black eyes and his luminous smile.
Later that night as I lay awake in bed and reflected on that festive evening, I couldn’t help but wonder if in fact Dr. King were alive today, would he approve of couples like us and the Silvestres adopting black children. I also thought about how far we have come, from an age of colonialism, where Africans were our slaves, to this new post colonial age, where Africans are now our sons. And I wondered if Dr. King could have even dreamed of such a day when such transformation was possible. Who knows really? But it makes me wonder if at the Queen of Sheba, if just for a fleeting moment, with our bellies full of freshly baked bread, and sweet Ethiopian wine on our tongues, and with you in our arms, and Malak’s picture in front of our faces, if we did not glimpse even if for a moment, the future community of God, the eschatological days when the old age of hatred and racial division will be truly over, and a new age of love and racial harmony will have begun.
As I closed my eyes to sleep, I suddenly recalled Dr. King’s words spoken days before he was assassinated.
“The end is reconciliation;
the end is redemption;
the end is the creation of the beloved community.”
And remembering these words, Silas, I thought to myself, Perhaps the end has already begun.
-Josh Bottomly
Editor’s Note – this article is reprinted from Relevant, an online magazine. It was published as a Martin Luther King Day feature dated Monday, January 19, 2009. Josh is the Director of College Counseling at Casady High School in Oklahoma City. He coaches basketball, is a husband and now a father of TWO children from Ethiopia. Silas has a little sister. She joined the family in June of this year.
Meanwhile, Back on the Ranch: An Oklahoma Girl From Head to Toe
by Julie Allgyer
There is something special about girls from Oklahoma. We are…different.
I realized this after browsing through a real estate magazine at a local restaurant and noticing a photo of a girl who went to my high school back in the late 70’s. She was currently a local real estate agent living about thirty miles from me. We had not been good friends in high school and didn’t have a junior high slumber party memory to share, but somehow I knew that when I called her, she would remember me. She did.
Shortly after contacting her, my husband and I were invited to her home for a Sunday lunch. We had a fabulous time and I have since seen her on several other occasions. I even stayed overnight at her house (not exactly a slumber party, but it will do) when a two-day workshop took me to her city. We had dinner and talked about growing up in Chickasha, Oklahoma.
There are many other Oklahoma women who continue to touch my world: an OSU sorority sister bumped into me in the middle of Reading Station in Philadelphia, a classmate stopped by to have a quick dinner while traveling I-40 to a new chapter in her life, a lady at the convenience store wearing an Eskimo Joe’s T-shirt held my place in line, and my former principal, who is hoping to find her way back to Oklahoma, molded me into the writing teacher I am today. My former principal is also expecting her fifth grandchild, a girl named Preslee, who no doubt will reap the benefits of being raised as an “Okie.”
So here’s to Preslee, who has no idea how lucky she is about to get, and all the other women who qualify. You know who you are.
An Oklahoma Girl From Head to Toe
Sun-bleached or shiny black locks like a horse’s mane
Lake-blue eyes, or as dark as night on a rural road
When it comes to character, Oklahoma girls reign
With inner and outer strength, they will always carry their load
Lips that whisper a song just when you think you’ve forgotten the tune
Shoulders that can bear the weight of her worries and yours
Beads of sweat on her back from the Oklahoma heat in June
A loving heart beating strong and fast like an eagle soars
Legs that can carry her to her destiny, however long
Feet barefoot or not, walking toward a horizon of blue
Are you looking in the mirror? Do you see someone beautiful and strong?
By birth or at heart, you may be an Oklahoma Girl too
Day 30: Belle Conversation. Conversación hermosa. Beautiful Conversation.
Today I needed comfort food. I was tired, a bit worried about my upcoming exams, and strongly considering whether or not to take a hotel room here in Oxford for two or three nights so I could get some rest before finals.
Since my arrival, I have both appreciated the lovely view of High Street, and cursed the never-ending foot-traffic noises of said thoroughfare…sometimes on the same day. Sometimes simultaneously. After three weeks, the continued lack of a complete night’s sleep was wearing me down.
Hence the comfort food run. For me, this meant my favorite restaurant, only a hundred yards from the entrance to Brasenose College. It is a small establishment in the back of St. Mary’s Church called “The Vaults and Garden.”
The place really does deserve it’s very own post. Everything organic, vegetarian and vegan friendly, free trade engaged – something for everyone. The food is magnificent, the staff are collectively warm and friendly, the setting is divine…and if you sit there for very long, you’ll be entertained by all sorts of “storylines” taking place at each table. For example, yesterday I went there for afternoon coffee and saw two young sisters dressed in darling outfits hopping around on the ancient gravestones and vaults, shouting out little British girly notices to each other:
“Let’s go to the shop and buy some sweets!” “Yes! Let’s buy some sweets!” “Let’s pretend we’re bees and buzz around.” “O-KAY! Buzzzzzzzzzz!”
Hip, hop, look for a spot, jump! – – they cautiously jumped from vault to vault in their brightly colored clothes. I chuckled thinking of the saintly skeleton only a few feet beneath them and thought the old body probably never had it so good as to entertain these toddlers during their play.
There is certainly a nurturing feeling about the entire venue. I’ve already adopted it, and I will miss the feeling I get while there after I go home.
Today my comfort food consisted of a roasted vegetable medley with lentils (onions, sweet potatoes, chunks of goat cheese, red peppers, tomatoes…yum); steamed English peas with baby onions, fresh crusty bread with butter, and lemon pound cake with just enough lemon filling to make you want more and more. By the time I had added a bottle of my favorite sparkling water to the tray, I was already feeling better – – and I hadn’t even begun to eat!
I headed outside and looked around for a table. “Yes!” I thought as I spied one vacant, usually a rare occurrence. I sped up my steps to try and get there before someone else snagged it. The weather was too beautiful and the sun too bright to waste the day eating inside.
Approximately half-way into my meal I began to realize another “storyline” at the table next to me was revealing itself.
Sometimes certain words or phrases familiar to a listener can sort of punch through even the most dense gray fog of introspective thoughts. That’s what happened to me when I heard…
“…you cannot do that. No good will come of it. If you push and push, the only thing he is left to do with all that inertia is either run away or push back, don’t you see?”
The voice was just about as close to Kevin Klein’s “French Kiss” character as can be found. My ears began to radar in on the subject matter.
“I know this, but I cannot just Turn Off all that I am between the hours of eight and five, then go right back into a conversation with all that emotion. I cannot just leave all of my life at the door! I must do something…something with all (she gestures by balling up her tiny fist and placing it on her heart) of me!”
The best way I can describe her voice was Penelope Cruz, only with slightly less heavy of an accent. As she continued, I made the connection that she was probably Spanish. She sounded like most of the Spanish folks I’d met during my trip.
He listened to her with intense focus, as did she to him when he responded. He thought out loud, she considered his remarks. She thought out loud, and he disclosed some of his struggles. Volley, think…volley, respond. Their conversation went on for 20 minutes.
He suggested to her that “you can’t understand why something is until you understand how something is….you need to break it down.” She responded, “I think about these things. When I first left home, I used to wish people would rescue me…I would call my mother. I wanted her to solve my problems. But over time I am working on myself.” He reflected, “I know what you mean. I have done that too. I discover sometimes that when I think myself out loud with someone like you, I see myself anew.”
What was I doing while this beautiful conversation was taking place? Honestly?…I was cursing the fact that I didn’t have my camera. I wanted to capture their relational dialogue in some way. I made a snap decision, left my table, ran back to my dorm room and grabbed my camera. Halfway across the public square on my trip back to the restaurant I spied them. They were still talking.
I waited a moment upon arriving, then approached them. I asked them if perhaps I could take their picture, and that their conversation had moved me. They looked at each other, smiled and then began talking to me. “Who are you? What was it we were saying that touched you? Have you had some of these thoughts? How do you solve these problems?”
I introduced myself and rather briefly I told them that I thought they were doing just fine. I told them that as long as they had friends like each other to share intimate struggles with, then they would overcome whatever they set out to find. The young man seemed intrigued that “somehow something they say has touched something in me,” and she told me, “I have thought about becoming a marriage and family therapist myself.”
He was doing his doctorate in nuclear fission. She was a philosophy student. The Frenchman and the Spaniard were extremely warm, generous and open. They asked if I wished to join them, but I declined – asking rather, for a photograph.
They agreed to let me take a picture and told me they would have not even asked for permission. However, he said, “Could you let us resume our discussion for a few minutes THEN you take the picture? It would be difficult for me not to pose if I knew of your intentions.” I agreed, and went to get coffee. Later, I peeked around the stone corner of the castle and took their picture. In less than a minute they got up and walked away….
Side by side, she would talk then he would respond. Then he would state an issue, and she would respond. Volley, think…volley, respond.
The rhythm of human kind, solving their problems without therapists, eventually walked out of site…around a corner and down an alley. I was comforted by the interaction, by the storyline at the table. Perhaps by these thoughts even more than by the food.
Nah…the food was amazing.
Nemo, Normandy and the mind-NUMBING Magical Power of the Sistah + Bro-hood Wedding Planners
My clinical supervisor once gave me some advice that plays over in my thoughts from time to time. She said, “You don’t really have to guess at what people are thinking. Usually, whatever comes out of their mouth is what is at the top of their mind. And context? Wherever they live and whatever they’re surrounded by are clear determining factors of what they’ll be bringing with them into the therapy office.”
I was thinking about this message last week because I was wondering why weddings have been occupying so much of my thinking lately. I didn’t have to wonder too long, however, because my supervisor was right. I’ve been attending weddings because it’s the summer “wedding season” of 2010 and I work at a university populated with students. These students are generally of the age to begin wedding hopes, dreams and plans…and also host or attend wedding ceremonies. Finally, my children are 18 and 23, which means THEIR friends are also thinking about and participating in weddings.
I’m immersed. Immersed in “dreamy-hopeful-lovey-cool-fun-startingoutonournewjourney” land. The upside of this immersion is having the chance to observe magical moments at each and every ceremony. This particular story is about magic. The magical power of a network of friends – focused, purposed and amazing.
And speaking of being immersed…I’ll begin the story by considering Nemo
As the net began an upward ascent, pulled by a hydralic lift aboard the boat, the fish began to panic. That’s when the magic happened. Nemo and his father began spreading the message to all the fish to swim downward. It would only work if they ALL swam together. Here’s a visually rough clip of the scene. I get goosebumps when watching it. Take a look….
Amazing things were accomplished when all the fish focused toward one goal. And ONLY because they planned together (Nemo and his father agreed on the plan) and worked together.
Another example? Amazing things were accomplished when hundreds of thousands coallition troops stormed the beaches of Normandy and paratrooped from the sky to turn the tide during WWII. And ONLY because they planned together and worked together.
And, amazing things were accomplished by a powerfully cohesive and supportive group of friends at Ryan and Elissa’s wedding in Stillwater, OK – Fall of 2008. And ONLY because they planned together worked together. Here’s what I witnessed when attending this wedding of my nephew Ryan and his lovely bride, Elissa:
I walked into the church before it began and was met with a visual of thirty or so college aged attendees greeting each other, opening the doors for guests arriving, suggesting to those just arriving that they sign the guest book, walking through the sanctuary of the church and meeting and greeting those seated.
What I immediately noticed was a warm and inviting environment that seemed to be completely manged by the bride and groom’s peers. “Interesting,” I thought. “They all seem invested in this process, and genuinely engaged in helping the guests feel welcome.” I found my seat, said hello to my family and made my second observation:
The bride and groom’s friends were basically running the ceremony. Although they had the traditional pastor-types leading the ceremony, the fingerprints of the wedding party were everywhere. They sang and accompanied several songs, the groomsmen pulled out matching sunglasses on a particular cue, the bridesmaids walked as if they knew each other and didn’t miss a beat whenever the bride’s dress needed arranging or the flowers needed to be held. Hmm.
This group was synchronized like a well oiled support machine. My next observation?
After the ceremony, the entire wedding party had exited to music played by their group. As I stood up to leave the sanctuary something caught my eye. In a flash, the bridesmaids came back into the emptying auditorium and began to spread out. They had a purpose but I didn’t yet understand what they were doing. I watched with intrigue as they began to quickly pick up all the wedding flower decorations, speak with the groomsmen who were tearing down the musical equipment authoritatively, talk with each other about “who cleaned out the dressings rooms and did they do a final check on all the lights,” and other efficient and responsible dialogue.
What was UP with this group?? At other weddings I had witnessed planners and/or bride or groom relatives do this same kind of task. But THIS was entirely the wedding party. Before I could really process this modern-day “Elves and the Shoemaker” magic, the auditorium was spotless. The work was DONE. And…we all headed to the reception. What did I find there? I’m sure you can guess…
The groom’s friends DJ’d the party. The bride’s friends escorted her outside when she got hot, and responded to the groom’s request of a drink for his bride. The group danced with the groom’s grandfather, they danced together, and they danced with each other. And, every time I turned around, one of them was talking to another guest – engaged in a genuine conversation and getting to know someone they had only met that night.
HERE IS A SHOT OF THE BRIDE AND HER MOTHER GETTING THEIR HAIR AND MAKEUP DONE BY TWO OF “THE GROUP.” ELISSA’S MOTHER HAS RHOMBERG’S DISEASE AND GETTING A MAKEOVER WAS A SPECIAL TREAT. ELISSA SHARED WITH ME THAT THIS WAS ONE OF HER FAVORITE SHOTS OF THE WEDDING…SHE AND HER MOM TOGETHER, GETTING READY WITH THE SUPPORT OF HER FRIENDS.
This group dynamic was the most powerful I’ve witnessed at a wedding of that age group (22-28ish). Later I found out the bride’s friends did the photography for the wedding, did the hair and make-up for the bride and her mother, and did the flower decorations and arrangments for the church and reception. When I asked the bride about the role of the “group” she said: “I truly do have a great group of friends that allowed us to have a magnificent wedding on a small budget. My hair, set-up of everything, photography and flower and decor arrangement was done by tons of our little helpers.”
So what is to be gained from learning about this group? Are groups important? Do they provide a social safety net for young couple stress and for setting norms about the institution of marriage itself? The short answer is yes. What a culture or society “agrees to” is extremely influential regarding how people think and feel about a particular issue. So the answers as to what can be gained are these validating life lessons, taught by group instruction:
When you need support, we’re here.
When you need diversity and creativity, we’re here.
We were beside you when you were married, so we’re in this together.
You’re worth our time and attention.
We believe in you, your marriage and your future.
When a group “blesses” a wedding, it’s a powerful thing. I would say it’s magic. And in this particular case, it was the mind-numbing magical power of the “sistah and bro-hood” wedding planners extraordinaire.
They were there when it started and I have a sneaking suspicion that when Elissa and Ryan celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary, they will already know who to call to plan their party.
A Lifetime Lesson Within a 45 Second Prayer
I’m not sure how many weddings I’ve attended in my lifetime. When I was very young, I paid attention to how comfortable the seating was and how long the service “droned on.” As an adolescent I paid attention to the dresses, hair and makeup of the bride and her party. In college I paid attention to the ideas of the service, cake, programs and invitations as I began to plan my own wedding. And now, having been married 25 years and been a family therapist for almost ten, I pay attention to the system.
I am fascinated by the rhythm of certain weddings, the families involved and the styles or personalities of the combined group of “his and hers” parties and guests. Simply sitting back and taking it all in is pure joy, especially when I notice the one thing that I want to take away as food for thought. Two weeks ago, I enjoyed an especially flavorful bite…maybe dessert. I didn’t attend the reception, but felt as though I already got my wedding cake. Here’s the story:
The chapel was filling with people. The daughter of my childhood church camp friend was getting married and we arrived only a few minutes before the service began. We were seated near the back and I was later very grateful for that particular vantage point. Normally I want to sit close so I can really soak in the action. However a seat in the back gives wedding guests a different perspective; a bit removed, but also broadened.My husband watched his former college roommate, the father of the bride, walk his daughter down the aisle. Next, I watched my dear friend light one of the family tapers for the unity candle ritual. It was because of the bride’s mother and father that my husband and I had met. They introduced us my sophomore year in college. As I sat there, I began to think about being in their wedding, and then they participating in ours. I broke out the Kleenex at least 15 minutes earlier than my normal crying point. I really love my friend and was excited for her daughter to experience this big day.
As the service began to get started with introductions and welcomes my mind turned to those getting married rather than those giving the bride away. The pastors and the betrothed were smiling occasionally, and some of the narrative was interjected with talk of “wedding day jitters.” At one point, one of the pastors made a comment about the groom feeling anxious and excited about their big day. I noticed that both the bride and the groom’s body language matched the conversation. My mind flashed back to my niece’s wedding last year where she bounced slightly and swayed from side to side during the wedding because of her sheer happiness and excitement. Her body movements kept us entertained the entire service.
These particular wedding day jitters weren’t that overt, but they were definitely a part of the discussion. I smiled again as the groom agreed about being excited for the wedding as the speaker noted his visibly heightened mood.
The message to the audience and the exchange of vows passed quickly and the unity candle ritual followed. As the music for this portion began, the bride and groom lit the larger candle, took communion and then repositioned themselves in the middle of the stage. While the music continued, they began to talk a bit and I saw the groom bouncing slightly. As the seconds ticked by and they continued chatting with each other, you could see their energy or anxiety build a bit as they laughed and tried to wait through the song. Just then, I saw the groom ask a question. I could tell this by the slight tilting of his head. I saw the bride respond by looking at him, smiling, and nodding in agreement. They took each other’s hands, bowed their heads and he began to pray. She was clearly in sync with him because you could see her head occasionally moving as he uttered a phrase, or she would smile and nod intermittently.
This shot shows the bride and and groom just as they began to pray together. Her grip is tight, his face is flushed and they aren’t quite centered yet…still approaching God through their prayer.
I was grateful for the length of the song because I was witnessing something amazing. As the prayer continued, his head bowed slightly more, the flushing on his face disappeared and his body got quiet. Her shoulders relaxed, her elbows dropped a bit and a peaceful smile replaced the smile of excitement there only a minute before. Their heads leaned in a bit closer and my sense was that the chapel full of people were disappearing in their minds. It was just the bride, the groom and God. There must have been an “amen” because they both took a deep breath and lifted their heads – more sure of themselves, relaxed and ready for whatever would meet them next.
This shot was taken close to the end of the song and their prayer. Kiley’s face and arms are relaxed, Josh’s shoulders and neck are relaxed and even the maid of honor is quiet and focused.
Long after the introductions of the newly married couple and the recessional of the wedding party, the prayer scene played over in my mind.
As a therapist, I had witnessed a “symmetrical to complementary shift” take place…the individual and couple anxiety that had been rapidly cycling was released over to a higher power they trusted to manage their next steps. As a Biblical scholar, I thought of the numerous examples I’ve read about in the scriptures of godly men or women wrestling with an issue, praying it through and then celebrating their relief as they are redirected with a renewed purpose or vision. As a family scientist, I was glad they had spirituality as a core element and resource in their relationship – a strength that would get them through many times of anxiety or stress they would face down the road. And as a friend, I was grateful (and emotional) about the thought that the children of our younger selves were growing up and prepared to begin their own lives.
What can we learn from Kiley and Josh, the praying newlyweds? Well, I suppose that when we’re considering our own food for thought, prayer is certainly an excellent ingredient for a well balanced relationship. After all, wouldn’t most of us appreciate a way to externalize our anxiety and place it on shoulders much bigger than our own? Knowing God carries what they can’t is a sure-fire way new couples can walk with confidence through their newly-wedded life.
And for me, I suppose another thing I’ve learned is that when attending the weddings of my friend’s children, carry the super jumbo pack of tissues. If this generation continues to teach me lessons such as I witnessed this time, I’ll be keeping Kimberly Clark in business for a good, long while.
A Relational Foundation Constructed with Hard Work, Thought and 220,000+ “Floors”
This photo, retrieved from the OMI website, shows a couple using “The Floor” as a tool to assist them in their skills practice. For more pictures or further information, visit:
http://www.okmarriage.org/
I worked as the Director of the Service Delivery System (SDS) for the Oklahoma Marriage Initiative (OMI) from 2002 through 2004. This private/public partnership is managed by Public Strategies, Inc. (PSI) of Oklahoma City. Sometimes when I visit with the staff it still feels as if it’s only been a short time since I was there. And, I still joke that it feels like I put in three times that many years of productivity during my tenure with the program.
Kendy Cox, a member of their leadership team and Director of OMI Services, called me late last October with some good news to share. The OMI was preparing to hold an impromptu celebration with their now burgeoning staff of over 100 as well as a few friends because they had reached a special milestone. They were commemorating the delivery of their 200,000th marriage and/or relationship education (MRE) service. I was asked to stop in and discuss the earlier history of the OMI SDS as part of their event. I had five minutes to summarize two years (times three!) and so I begin thinking back about how best to accomplish that mission.
Flash forward seven months.
I was cleaning out my e-mail box last week and came across the notes I sent myself that I had prepared for the staff meeting that day. I “Facebooked” Kendy and asked where their current number of services delivered presently stood. When she responded that they had added another 18-20,000 to that number since last fall and would most likely reach 30,000 by the end of their FY (end of June this year) I knew it was time to write a blog entry. 30,000 was the number I announced the OMI had reached right before I left…and it had taken, during the ramp up stage, 3.5 years to get there. Now they were reaching that number in seven months.
So, with that as the context, I’m going to share with you what I discussed with the OMI staff in an updated version. A note of warning – I get emotional talking about this so if my writing is prone to hyperbole toward the end…well, I’m warning you now. Researchers have feelings too. Here we go:
When I began at PSI, there were eleven women and one male college student who was interning with us for a few months. The OMI program had been up and running for 18 months and had trained 450 workshop leaders, but we only had data collected for 83 workshops that showed we had served 1184 citizens. This was problematic because at least 375 of those workshop leaders had signed a contract to deliver four workshops over a twelve month period.
We then began large, in-depth qualitative interviewing project that kept us working nights and weekends for six weeks. We hired twelve college students to help us complete the project. This resulted in data showing that in actuality, almost 10,000 people had been served. Many lessons were learned though that project that are still program changes today such as: workshop leader refresher courses, follow through with leaders to report their services delivered, recruitment support, special population niches and adaptation needs for the curriculum, etc.
After that point, we started rolling out large group weekend workshops, the high school family and consumer sciences program, the PREP Inside and Out program – or Prison PREP, and the First Time Offender Program. By the time these programs were gaining traction, we had almost twenty people on staff and I had a full-blown service delivery team of eight full time and two part time employees.
Because we were still trying to find ways to balance the supply of workshop leaders and the demand from Oklahomans to attend them, we began an Oklahoma touring program where we began sending our own employees or contracting with our best workshop leaders to hold “Sweetheart Weekends” all over the state. Oh, and somewhere very early on at this point a little project called “Building Strong Families (BSF)” began their planning work for what would later be a multi-phasic, multi-site marriage education research project and would include Oklahoma as one of their most prolific sources of data.
By the time I told the officers of the company that I wanted to go to OSU to teach, do research and begin my Ph.D. work, we had a little over 30 employees and were doing training and technical assistance work fairly frequently. We had just been awarded the first three-year demonstration grant for the Adoptive Couple Retreats, Kendy was pregnant with her first child, PSI was waiting to hear the results from the first s
ubmission of the NHMRC proposal, BSF was evaluating sites, Supporting Healthy Marriages (SHM – another multi-site project) was just beginning to get started and the 200 million federal healthy marriage dollars had not yet become a reality because Welfare Reform (the personal responsibility and work opportunity act) had not been reauthorized.
Right before I left, I got an opportunity to speak with Scott Stanley, Mary Myrick and George Young at the 2004 Dallas Smart Marriages conference. I had just run data for an updated overview of our service delivery impact and realized that we had hit the 30,000 number of those being served by one form or another of marriage education curriculum. I will never forget talking to that room full of people because right before I shared those numbers I realized that that particular number represented almost 1% of the population of Oklahoma. When I shared that data, I remember feeling joyful and the audience must have as well because they began clapping for our program in appreciation. The Smart Marriages attendees are one of the most supportive groups I’ve ever encountered.
So, OMI – you’ve come a long way. You now have over 100 employees in several locations across the country. I always used to prepare talking points data for Mary, Kendy or Director Hendrick to use when discussing the OMI so I’m going to give you a little gift and share a bit of research I did last night at midnight on the Census Bureau data for Oklahoma to end my comments.
The 2000 Census estimated that Oklahoma had roughly 3,451,000 citizens at the time of reporting.
If you calculated the reasonable age range of potential service delivery persons over these past ten years, that number would be approximately 2,750,993 persons. Of that number, we need to subtract another 5% who would be unable to receive those services (this number includes those institutionalized or have other physical or emotional barriers to receive services).
After this we would need to calculate for attrition (some demographers calculate between 5-7% per year within a given geographic region). Then we need to total cumulative services delivered. To conceptualize a simple impact number, if we agreed to this statement: if “each person served in some way influenced at least one or two other persons by the effects of the marriage education intervention,” then the grand total of the “serviceable ten-year cohort” could be as high as 22% of the state’s population. Even in simple numbers, the primary impact would be 8.3% of the serviceable ten-year cohort.
That seems significant. And, I think it’s appropriate to now enter a picture of the wrapper they had replaced on a case of Hershey’s chocolate bars then passed out to celebrate the benchmark. I have one hanging on my door at OSU…yummy!
Okay, so flash forward back to present day. I’m going to safely assume the OMI hits that 230,000 mark by the end of June. So….
What do 230,000 people look like?
Well, in Oklahoma we sometimes measure crowds by “football stadium standards.” 230,000 would almost be three Dallas Cowboy stadiums crammed with fans.
Well, in Oklahoma we sometimes measure crowds by “football stadium standards.” 230,000 would almost be three Dallas Cowboy stadiums crammed with fans.
230,000 is about 27,000 more than the entire U.S. active duty Marine Corps.
230,000 is just 20K less than the number who crowded the mall in Washington D.C. when Martin Luther King delivered his famous, “I Have a Dream” speech.
230,000 is how many gathered to hear Obama speak in Berlin – the largest crowd recorded during his 2008 campaign for President. This next picture is just one small glimpse of that crowd, but might help you envision the number of people who have been through a MRE workshop in Oklahoma.
So how do I close this entry out? Well, the next logical tho
ught would be: to what end? What are the impacts of these services delivered and are they making a difference?
ught would be: to what end? What are the impacts of these services delivered and are they making a difference?
To date, the OMI has experienced a process evaluation by Mathematica, several of their programs or funded grants have evaluation components within the model, and the report for the multi-site BSF study just came out. Oklahoma was the only site that showed some effects, although there were intermittent groups and populations within the study that had effects as well.
There is still more to be done, however, in terms of evaluation. Very soon we hope to see some calculations as to the effect – if any – on the divorce rate within the state. Other measures in terms of strengthening families could be many and the OMI Research Advisory Group has articulated several ways to frame these types of assessments. I’m personally looking forward to more outcome data sooner rather than later.
Until then, however, I just want to congratulate the Public Strategies management team and staff. AND the Oklahoma Department of Human Services who had the insightful forethought to begin funding this project upon the recommendation of our governor ten years ago.
I was thinking that most every one of those 220,000+ Oklahomans had utilized the “Floor” from the Prevention and Relationship Enhancement Program® (PREP) curriculum during their MRE workshops. I believe it’s safe to say that quite a foundation is being built in Oklahoma, and the materials for those strong families include 220,000+ small yellow and white tiles with the rules for communication written on them. This doesn’t make a “yellow brick road.” Rather, it makes a foundation upon which many committed relationships and marriages are being built here in the Heartland.
Hats off to you, OMI – and best wishes for the next ten years!