One of my favorite moments of the last week was walking into the new house of my sister’s college roommate and her husband. I met this couple about 10 years ago, when I visited my sister at school, and they were fantastic then, just to hang out with when my sister was in class or at some meeting she had to go to (they remain fantastic now). When I walked into their house for the first time, with my brother-in-law, they weren’t home. Given their personalities, and the contact I’ve had with them over time, I figured the self-tour was well called for. So that’s exactly what I did. Based on how I knew them, I made myself at home immediately. I had absolutely no hesitation. Soon after I realized this (rummaging through the cupboards to put away some dishes to make room for flowers), I came to the conclusion that a home is indeed what you make of it, and it becomes a part of you. Now, if this were the home of a variety of other people, I’d likely sit at the dining room table and allow someone else to take initiative, someone who had explicit verbal direction to make themselves at home (not the implicit instruction I felt on account of their personality). I love this about people and their spaces. I love that I get to fill a friend’s ice trays when I’m over for a party. I love that I know I can grab a glass from the cupboard and help myself – all based on the familiarity and understanding of a person. 

I always feel like I’ve overcome some great obstacle when I’ve used the public transit of another city – especially when no form of rail transit is used. On my lovely travels in the pacific northwest, I was able to make it from Seattle to Bellingham and Bellingham to Seattle to Seatac with my own devices.  I think the thing that gives me the largest sense of accomplishment is that I’m typically so nervous on the trains and such. I always have the looming anxiety while I’m not too sure where the bus goes, or when I have to push the button or pull the cord to get off. I don’t know if the stop that I’m at is the one I want to get off. Or if the directions I got from the website are correct, especially when I ask a bus driver if the bus takes me to the airport and his response is, “I don’t go into the airport, I go just past it” and I decide to go with it anyway, for the adventure – and because if I get lost, I have time to kill and the ability to call a taxi, or a a friend who’s next to a computer and able to assist me via their own internet connection. But still, I sit on the bus waiting to see where it’s taking me, if “just past the airport” means an exit on the interstate past, or a tenth of a mile walk to the terminal. Lucky for me, it was a tenth of a mile walk, as I had thought, and all of my prior research was correct. 

If I’m to analyze this even further (and really, who are we kidding here, I’m going to analyze the hell out of it) this comes down to my need to be right… umm… all of the time. So the fact that for a half an hour, or right around that I don’t actually know if I’m right or not, and it turns out that in the end I am, well hot damn! I’m a superstar. Now, on top of that, being that I was the only one to take the 191 to he airport stop either makes me an idiot or amazingly adept at traversing the jungle of the unfamiliar city’s public transit. We know that I made it to the terminal – and all the way back to Denver, so it comes right on down to the fact that I’m amazing, obviously. The irony in all of this is that I feel the anxiety for up to an hour or more, not sure where or when or how I’ll end up where I’m going – or if I have enough change to pay for it. When I finally get there I have that minute or two of feeling like I’ve prevailed over something invincible… but when it comes down to it, really the stress outweighs it. It leaves me laughing at myself, the pride I feel is pretty silly all-in-all, especially if I were to find myself lost in the end. 

As I was on my flight to Seattle, I had the great fortune of finally able to sit down and read one of my favorite periodicals: Good. In this amazing magazine, I read the profile of Tom Siebel. The name is likely lost to a great number of people, which is entirely expected. Siebel is the center figure of the Meth Project – to which he’s donated millions of his own to produce.

It was great to read about this man, and I was taken aback by the short write-up that they did on him. What strikes me as most amazing about him is his drive to solve a problem at its root. Methamphetamine has been an issue in Montana for some time, and detrimentally so. Where the legislators in Montana wished to make the prison system larger, Siebel had the insight to suggest something different. He made some of the most shocking advertisements I have ever seen. His work produced the wanted result and today Meth use in Montana is down – a lot. It makes me pretty hopeful to encounter people like this, even by proxy of a magazine.

It reminds me a little bit of the Foundation for a Better Life. I remember seeing a PSA produced by this group, and thinking that it was a cover for some religious entity or company or something, I decided to investigate. I came to found that it’s a foundation that does not accept any sort of donations from anywhere, it already has donors, and those donors remain completely anonymous. You know the ads, “Eats Flies, Dates a Pig, Hollywood Star…” and you see a picture of Kermit the Frog? I’ve admired that campaign from that day forward. Whenever I see a billboard, or posters, or anything, I get psyched to see that people really care about one another.

I had a friend recently say to me, “Life seems to produce so many people that have interest in no one other than themselves.” All too often that seems to be the case, but I think when it comes down to it, most people are really interested in serving one another in a big way, in great ways. Those voices, however, seem to be drowned out, until a few good ones come up to the surface and surprise all of us. Here’s to the world changers, even putting a little smile on a few people’s faces here and there.

I tend to give people a certain amount of trust right off the bat, and I think I’m finding myself evaluating how it’s given away so freely. I feel like it’s been some time since someone has betrayed my trust in a similar way. If it has been betrayed this way ever before.

I enjoy giving the benefit of the doubt. I love giving more chances than simply one, and certainly more chances than may be deserved. This time, I think it was all for naught. Perhaps this is the end of the line for me. I cannot bear a grudge in this, so I will forgive. But there is a bridge that is burned. 

To avoid being vague, I gave the opportunity for one person to be completely honest with me, and there were blatant lies that I received in honesty’s stead. I typically open those opportunities to face hurt at its most honest and open place, because the truth is very important to me, and I’d much rather hear truthful statements and questions than have it be glossed over with dishonesty to protect me. It is certainly of the utmost importance; I hold that principal most dear. So when the door has been open to the truth, and it always is, I’ve encountered most going through it. So much so, in fact, that I’ve come to believe that all people have the decency to at least take a look through that door, while most take the opportunity to walk through. For the first time since I’ve started leaving this ‘door’ open, I had someone decide to throw a rock through the window with no regard to the door. This is my best stab at an explanation. My trust was utterly betrayed by someone lying to me.

I think it is understood that if someone lies about one thing, then it takes away the validity of all things said and/or done by them in the past. This is where that rule of second, or third, or fourth chances comes into play for me. I’ve had people take that second chance and run with it; make a decision to be honest from that point forward. I can’t say I’ve ever known someone who has taken that opportunity and run from it, until now.

Forgiveness is by no means a basic, positive human right—that is, a right in which people should be actively given. The ability to give forgiveness, however, is, of course, one’s own prerogative. I will give it here. Holding onto a grudge against anyone, it’s like storing some ball of bitterness, and I know that is harder to get rid of than any hurt that may have been inflicted. However, I now know that when someone throws that rock through the window, they definitely see that the door closes, the window gets boarded up and eventually fixed, they do face a consequence. The privilege is lost. I think this is the first time I’ve closed this door to anyone.  

There were two things I asked: that I be respected and that I be kept in the loop. Neither done, game over.

In just over a week my Big sister is going to be married. I will be the sole female in the family bearing the surname Lord. I will wear the name with pride! Not that I hadn’t before. The great thing was, in the end, that I was completely uncertain if she was going to change her name or not.  She’s been engaged for some time, and it was only a couple of weeks ago that it occurred to me that I should ask her if she was going to stay a Lord like me, or cross over the line. In the oh-so-formal way of communication, I texted her to ask if she was keeping her name. To be honest, I thought she would. It’s only the precedent set by my mother. I guess as logic follows, if she was following precedent, I wouldn’t have a wedding to go – as our parents eloped.  

I guess I could see it either way. It feels like there’s a bit of solidarity that will be lost, but I guess gaining a couple new family members, in the end, is well worth it. My sister will always be my sister. And really, I never actually use her last name unless I’m sending her a piece of mail of some sort. Hell, I rarely use her first name… typically we use the general “sister”.  Now this ensures that if I were to ever get Alzheimer’s – I would likely have less of a problem and wouldn’t need to worry about hurting her feelings. 

So, that’s that. In two weeks, I’ll be the one and only Miss Lord (yes, there are others, and yes, I have one aunt, but let me mourn the falling of a great name). This change in her life is nothing short of fantastic. I’m more than excited to see this happen for her – so I certainly revere this change. She has bigger and better things to go on to, I guess I get that. I won’t put up a fight, but apparently it warrants a post…