All posts by Rachel

About Rachel

Rachel V. Stankowski considered herself, among other things, a writer. Primarily due to the positive stigmas that accompanied the label, but also because it seemed to excuse some of her more major eccentricities, vanity included.

Words, but I’m tired.

Lent Conversations, , ,

I got the dreaded “you like tired! are you ok?!” this afternoon.

Doh! I was even wearing mascara and having a good hair day!  Stupid eye bags, ruining it all!

Regardless… it was a productive day and Seth and I had a lovely little lunch date. So, overall, it was a win.

What about Joan?

“In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” –John 1:1

Words. Words. Words.

My life is words. All day, every day.

Joan’s life seems similar.

“This week I will start a new book. I live in hope of the living Word in it. I also listen for the word of my own life that is true. Is it simply to go on, to finish what I began simply because I began it? Or is it to become what’s missing, whatever the upheaval it will cost me. That is the major question of my life right now. I long to put down the institution, the definition, the responsibilities, the expectations, the connections. I long to begin over… to become silence… to disappear.” –Joan Chittister

Oooo. Putting the living Word into our words. I bet it makes them all that much better.

I’m certain that my words are better when I’m really feeling it. When they really mean something to me.

But seriously, nothing means anything to me at the moment but my bed. I’m beat! Night, y’all!!

Oops, I forgot a title. Hence the 669. Weird. Fixed now. Still not a good title.

Lent Conversations, , , , , ,

Kind of a rough day. But some days are like that. Even in Australia, or so they say.

Maybe Joan has something to perk me up a bit.

“We cannot afford not to fight for growth and understanding, even when it is painful, as it is bound to be.” –May Sarton

Understanding really can be painful can’t it. You can hope and wish and what not, but really understanding the landscape and where you fit into it can be tough stuff. Boo.

“When we grow enough to understand that we are at a dead end, then what? Is it time to be resigned or time to struggle for breath, for new life, with all our might? I always thought that life got quieter, more settled, happier as time went on. But that’s not true. On the contrary. We simply become more aware of what we’ve missed, what we’ve given ourselves to that was not worth the giving.” –Joan Chittister

We always expect quiet and a feeling of being settled. We may even get lulled into sense of complacency and the notion that things are as they should be, but alas– change really is the only constant. And as we grow more, understand more, we once again find ourselves becoming increasingly unsettled and unsure. Is this the right place? Am I truly dedicating myself to something worthwhile?

When the answer is no longer yes, then the fight for new life begins. And what a struggle.

I can appreciate the desire to become resigned, complacent. Sometimes the temptation is so strong, but the quiet is false. And deadly. I’d rather struggle for breath, I think. Push forward for new light. A chance to be re-rooted and to bloom again.

Growth and understanding may be painful, but the most worthwhile things in life usually are, eh?

Drugs are the devil.

Lent Conversations, , , , , , ,

Lent! Posting every day! I was going to do it! But…

Well…

Heroin.

Heroin is why I didn’t– no, couldn’t! do it yesterday. For seriously.

Heroin.

It’s a big problem in these parts. Well, not just heroin, but opioids in general. And I’m trying to be part of the solution (you know, not part of the precipitate– ah ha ha ha!) by working on a grant to help quell the problem a bit up in the Northwoods.

The truth is, sometimes work drives — me — craaaazy — and other times, I wish there were more hours in the day so that I could work and work and write and write because I am on a roll and I believe in what I’m doing. Like super believe in it.

So anyway, that’s what I was doing last night. And what I’ve been doing tonight and will be doing tonight after this until I hit the hay. Don’t feel bad. I’m legit excited about this and really, really want it to move forward– another one of those grants that I’m just going to be so freaking proud of. So proud!

So what did we miss yesterday?

Oy! It was a good one. And I first read it in the morning so I had all day to ponder it and even jotted down some notes in my sweeeet new planner (totally worth the planer-less month on back order)… here’s what it was:

“You shall worship the Sovereign your God, and God only shall you serve.” –Matthew 4:10

Uh huh. One God. But whose got the right one? You? Me? Them? The folks who caught the comet early?

“These words trip off the tongue – all the while I worship other gods. Lesser genies of my ravenous soul. I have worshiped so many false gods in life, yet in the collapse of each of them – and they have indeed all collapsed – I have come closer, ironically, to the god who is God. Everything else has failed me – people, privilege, positions, profit – but not this God who is ‘not in the whirlwind.’ That God, like a magnet, draws me on. And someday, perhaps, I will lose myself down the black hole of nothingness and find everything. Without the dissatisfaction of the soul, how would we ever find our way to more.”

Joan says it doesn’t matter– yours, mine, theirs, Hale-Bopp.

When we think of God as infinite good and unconditional love, false gods are all those things that simply get in the way of goodness and love.

The things that satisfy our soul, the things that bring us closer to God, then, are the things that promote goodness. Celebrate love.

And maybe that’s my big fat problem with almost all religions, the reason I always end up feeling dissatisfied… because to me, rules, and the blind following of all the rules simply because they are the rules does not, for me, promote goodness and celebrate love.

Too much celebrating of rules and and promoting of exclusion. All of that– it’s not good for my soul.

 

But back to the heroin for now, k? Bonus post on Sunday, perhaps– 40 days and all that.

Drugs really are the devil, eh?

I’m right and you’re loved.

Lent Conversations, , , ,

What do you love? Who do you love? And when you love, what does that mean?

“Love is the power to act one another into well-being and God is love.” –June Goudley

That God is love. That is my favorite definition. Infinite and unconditional love. Whether you want it or not. Whether you believe it or not. Just love.

“The people who love us prod us – enable us – to grow. And God loves us. Maybe that is why I have been moved from one nest to another, all the way through life: God loves me and wants me to grow. I am trying, before I die, to learn to trust this continual going into the unknown. I better have a long, long life.” –Joan Chittister

Yes. Because if in our finite capacity for, what we want for those we love is to enable growth, the growth and being that can be hoped for for us in infinite love, it must be completely spectacular, don’t you think? And to be loved like that just because you are. Again, whether or not you want it, whether or not you believe it.

As a consequence, no matter what, no matter who you are, where you are, you are loved.

That’s kinda nice, right?!

Believing it, though, can be kinda tough.

Maybe let’s just assume that I’m always right. And if that doesn’t work for you, I think we can all agree that Joan is. Yes?

Yes!

A light shines in Stankowski-ville.

Lent Conversations, , , , , , ,

It’s Friday, it’s Lent, and we live in Wisconsin. So, naturally, we headed out this evening for a delicious church basement fish fry in Halder.

Halder might as well be Stankowski-ville and I just love it.

Baked fish, crinkle cut fries, homemade desserts, and enough left over for lunch tomorrow… what’s not to love?

The best part, though, was that on the way there, at nearly 6 pm, Seth pointed out that it was still light out. Still! At 6 pm!

And just like that:

“The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.” –Matthew 4:16

Too literal? Perhaps, but man, does daylight ever make a difference this time of year.

It’s still cold (like real cold) and there’s lots of snow left on the ground, but to see the sun when I get up in the morning and when I leave work in the evening? Absolutely glorious!

Post-work walk in the sunshine.
Post-work walk in the sunshine.

“Maybe one of the great unknown–unrecognized–truths of life is that light always dawns, eventually; that there is no such thing as a perpetual darkness of the soul. I know that in my own case the darkness only existed because I refused the light. I simply did not want the light. I had been in the cocoon of darkness for so long I thought that it was light.

“Maybe life is simply a going from light to light, from darkness to darkness till the last Great Darkness signals the coming of the First Great Light. That would explain why we are in a constant state of ‘disillusionment.’ I have come to understand that it is not protesting what we do not like that counts. It is choosing what we do which, ultimately, changes things.” –Joan Chittister

Light and dark make such powerful metaphors, don’t they? Maybe it’s because light and dark can be so powerful, even literally.

The last two lines though.

I have come to understand that it is not protesting what we do not like that counts. It is choosing what we do which, ultimately, changes things.

Wow.

Promote what you love instead of bashing what you hate.

Shed light in a dark place and the powerful hold it has vanishes.

If we want to bloom, we must stretch toward the sun.

 

Stretching toward the sun, sharing the light I have when I have it, and promoting the things that I love– those are choices. Positive choices. Choices that lead to positive change. I will continue to look forward to the light. Even in the darkest days of winter.

And just to prove it, I’ll buy a really cute pair of wedge sandals on Zulily in the middle of January.

Yessss, yessss. That’s why I bought those shoes.

So cute, right?! Come on sun!
So cute, right?! Come on sun!

Butterfly on the wind, lioness in high grass.

Lent Conversations, , , , , , , , , , ,

So, I might not be deep enough for today’s dealy-o.

“No one knows what lies ahead, when we say yes to God.” –Jan L. Richardson

Thing is, when I read that, I thought I got it. Maybe I do. You can tell me what you think. Maybe Joan just threw me for a loop.

“I can only trust that what lies ahead will be fuller, freer, than the present. I hope for a life that is my own, that has no false chains to bind me, that allows me to move like a butterfly on the wind and to stand, when necessary, like a lioness in high grass. I want a life that is directed by the call within myself– not by an institution, not even by what looks like the care and concern of others.” –Joan Chittister

So. First impression: when you follow your gut, heart, and mind… when you say yes to the things that were meant for you, things that feel right, speak to you, then you are really living. Then you can really end up someplace amazing– the place where you were meant to be.

But then what Joan said. I don’t know. Do I get it?

Does it matter?

The message I get– that pursuing your dream, ensuring that you are following your heart, listening to God’s whispers into your soul, it’s certainly not a bad one, by any stretch of the imagination.

Joan’s just deeper than me. And that’s ok.

Want to know something super weird?

I believe that what really lights me up, paradoxically, is interacting with people.

I don’t get it. I don’t actually like interacting with people. In theory for sure and generally in practice as well. But at work, I’m noticing a theme– I’m kind of good at it.

I talked a tribal elder through saving and attaching a document to an email over the phone yesterday. It took me 45 minutes. He called again this afternoon and we chatted about his drive to Antigo this morning (90 miles south you know– it was warm down there!) and then I talked him through a doodle poll. Huge progress! He did it correctly. I somehow had infinite patience and actually enjoyed talking him through it. I’m excited for our next conference call on Tuesday, that guy is just great!

Then, right before I left for the day, my caller ID flashed Price County Health Department and rather than flinch before answering like I usually do, I picked up the receiver with gusto (I swear, it was gusto) and happily talked a woman through a survey I recently designed in preparation for a grant. She was fascinating.

Similarly, despite the crazy nerves before hand, I’ve never loved my job as much as when I ran focus groups for foster families and for BBS families. The foster care ones were in person, I actually asked a Mennonite woman if I could hold her little boy and chatted with she and her husband while I did. The BBS focus groups were over the phone and I still remember half the participants’ names and talk about them with the other investigators as though they are my friends… because I loved them. I loved working with them, talking to them, getting their perspective so very much. Loved them so much that I actually wrote this statement in an email to a program officer the other day:

Given local availability of expertise in certain rare diseases and the technological capacity to advance research via enrollment of geographically dispersed participants and provision of intervention via telemedicine, it seems unconscionable that licensure issues between states should impede the conduct of translational research for diseases that have traditionally been very difficult to study and related improvements in care.

I care so much about this stuff, I have become downright evangelical about it. (Also, I’m super proud of the email I crafted. Fingers crossed it makes a difference somehow, somewhere, someday!)

But I’m not supposed to. I’m not supposed to like it, to care so much about it that I actually speak up, because I am an introvert and introverts don’t like interacting and normally I’m text book about that sort of thing.

Maybe saying yes to God… to my soul… to the thing that lights me up… somehow turned me into an ambivert. I guess we really can’t know what lies ahead, what will make us stand up like a lioness in high grass… or maybe just a writer neck deep in telemedicine licensure mumbo jumbo.

A woman I work with said something like that to me the other day– she’s the director of our Center for Community Outreach and started out as a community social worker, dealing with issues surrounding drugs of abuse and other life-threatening concerns. I don’t remember her words exactly, but it was something along the lines of, “Our careers sort of build themselves over time if we let them, don’t they?” And she was right. Assuming our career is our passion. Or whatever our passion may be. If we let go, let God, let it take it’s course, we’ll be amazed where we end up.

Interestingly, as I reach the end of this post, I realize that the couple sentences above basically amount to a review of a great book I read recently entitled Women Healers of the World by Holly Bellebuono— every one of the woman profiled in that book, ranging from a traditional midwife practicing in rural Mexico to a princess in Iran, followed her passion, heart, soul, spirit, God, and found her way to something fulfilling in the biggest way.

I see it in my mom; teaching lights her up. The mitochondria is a siren to my friend Michele; she cannot resist it’s tiny little “powerhouse of the cell” call and it’s impossible to miss her response to that little organelle. I saw it in a friend of some friends named BeBe who described the most circuitously interesting route to WordPress so complex that I couldn’t repeat it if I tried. I heard it when my friend Jess told me how the continent of Europe basically begged her to come wow them with her regulatory knowledge.  I witness it all the time in my friend Marie as she works to change the face of what it means to be pro-life. These are all people answering God’s call for their lives. And you can tell, because they glow with it.

They are butterflies on the wind. It’s quite the sight.

 

So maybe I do get it after all. Just took some rolling it around in my mind. Isn’t it always like that? It’s too hard, it’s challenging, it’s thought-provoking, here are my thoughts, this is what I think, how I feel, what I believe.

Blossom!

Lent Conversations, , , , , , , , , , , ,

“One of the marvelous facts of life is that every ending carries within itself the potential for a new beginning.” –Mary Borhek

Or, as Semisonic says… every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end. That’s what started rolling in my head right away.

Poignant.

“I have had to learn this truth the hard way – and may not really have learned it at all. Whatever the public perception, I find it very difficult to give up the past. My pattern is to resist it kicking and screaming. But then, once the step is taken, never to look back. I simply am where I am – rooted until I go through the next forcible replanting  and then I root again. So far every planting has been a better one. When will I ever learn that?” –Joan Chittister

Forcible replanting.

I.

LOVE.

THAT!

It’s such a beautiful way to describe an ending. You never get uprooted without being replanted. You will blossom again.

Crazy abdominal pain? You will bloom again.

Heartbreak? You will bloom again.

Replanted again in greener pastures.

Every new beginning.

I have friends and family that need to hear this right now. I need to hear this always.

So much easier to remember from the other side of the new beginning. So very difficult to see from a fresh uprooting. I wish there were a faster way to the bloom, but the pain makes it so beautiful when it does happen. Promise.

bloom

Promise. Promise. Promise.

A Prayer for My Little Sister

Lent Conversations, , , , , , , ,

Today… for the past week… I have felt terrible for my poor sister. She is so so so sick. Just miserable. And today she appears to have contracted a stomach bug on top of the back/abdominal pain she’s been experiencing since giving birth 8 months ago plus the sinus infection she was diagnosed with last week. She called me, sobbing, and it broke my heart because there was not a thing I could do. I sent her to the ER via my brother-in-law (thank goodness for him– he’s amazing), and I listened while she cried, but that was about it. My poor sweet sister. I wish so much that there were something I could do!

“It is through prayer… that one will be given the most powerful light to see God and self.” –Angela of Foligno

Is prayer, for my sweet sister, perhaps something I can do?

“‘To see God’ is to care very little about anything lesser. But in prayer I see my own littleness most clearly. I know how cowardly I really am. My voice is but one drop of water in an ocean of oppression. It will not change the ocean. But it may put it in need of explaining the injustice it can no longer hide, perhaps. I cannot not speak what my heart knows to be true.” –Joan Chittister

Here’s what I know to be true: my sister is hurting and she needs me. I cannot do anything for her physically, but I can send her my love. I can throw out a prayer or two. I can ask God, the Creator, maker of heaven and earth, all the Angels and Saints, to wrap my sister in love, love, love. To give her comfort and peace. To let her rest and to take away her worry.

We are so small in the grand scheme of things, like Joan says… in the world, the universe, all of it. And this exceptionally rough time for my sweet sister will pass. But it most certainly does not feel small to her right now. Her whole world right now is pain and discomfort and worry and uncertainty. So my prayer this evening is for her, to know that I love her, that we all love her, that God loves her, that she is going to feel better in the blink of an eye and this will all be a vague memory of struggle, something that Abby and Stu and their sweet little family made it through, allowing them to look back on their strength.

{Source}
{Source}

cheesy blasters and shark farts

Lent Conversations, , , , , ,

“Mindfulness teaches us to be fully aware of each experience, letting nothing remain unnoticed, taking nothing for granted.” –Holly Whitcomb

Is that all?! Then why can I NOT?!

I just cannot seem to do it.

Not regularly anyway.

Oh but I wish!

“Mindfulness is the arch monastic virtue. Maybe that’s why monastics choose small cells, unfrequented places, simple surroundings. After all, it can take a lifetime to really see flowers, feel wood, learn the sky, walk a path and hear what all these things are saying to us about life, about our own growth, about the spirit in the clay of us. But once mindfulness comes, life changes entirely.” –Joan Chittister

Ahhh… but Joan says it can take a whole lifetime! So I suppose I’m not really behind.

I’m so convinced of this mindfulness business. At least I think I am. I’ve been reading books and attending seminars, learning about the value of mindfulness and meditation and every so often, I even spend a few minutes doing “not doing” … in a mindful way. Because it’s more than just anecdotal– there is legitimate evidence that mindfulness practices really can change you.

I want to go to there.

{Source}
{Source}

Turns out, you don’t have to live a monastic life to be mindful. Supposedly, it only even takes a few minutes a day. I know I waste at least a few minutes a day that could be put to this much better purpose.

Especially now that 30 Rock is over……….

 

 

PS: Not lent related, but lent is long and I just finished another book… and it’s sticking with me so I should tell you about it. I just finished listening to All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. I have to admit, it had a slow start and probably wasn’t the best choice for an audiobook to run to, but man. I don’t really want to say anything about the story except that it’s about a blind French girl and an orphaned German boy during World War II and I have to say, it’s got to be the saddest war story I have ever read. It just… stuck. In my gut, in my heart. It broke my heart. Wowie zowie. Highly recommend, just maybe the print version.

It’s Rachel, no extra a, Coach McCarthy.

Lent Conversations, , , , , , , , ,

 “Spirituality is expressed in everything we do.” –Anne E. Carr

Another day of lent, another quotation. And this time, by a woman named Anne. Anne with an e. Important to take note of that e. My graduate school advisor spelled her name that way, with an E, and a lot of people spelled it wrong. First time, fine. But over and over and over again following several back-and-forth correspondences? She always found it to be offensive– showed a lack of caring, lack of respect, lack of attention to a detail that was important to her. I’ve waffled back and forth about that idea for some time. But I get it. I really do. I have enough years of Rachael with the extra a instead of the correct Rachel to understand why it can be frustrating.

Packers coach Mike McCarthy spelled my name Rachael on a wedding gift. Seth suggested I change my name accordingly. Disagree. But I digress.

Seth and Rachael... so close.
Seth and Rachael… so close.

Spirituality is expressed in everything we do. When we fail to take note of something that’s meaningful or important to someone else, it can be hurtful. Mistakes happen, of course, but often it’s a choice not to spend the time, to take the note.

Believe it or not, that doesn’t seem to be Joan’s point today (she’s just so much deeper than me!):

“I believe that our lives are our spirituality but I am not sure that behavior is its best test, its certain indicator. I do a great many things that ‘look’ good: I suppress anger, I give partial responses to serious questions, I hold myself to my own breast and live life within life within life that no one else knows about. But at the same time, I long desperately to bring all of them into focus, into line, into the One, where the heart is soft toward everything and everyone in this world. So which approach is real spirituality?” –Joan Chittister

Oh my. Another question… not really an answer. Does our behavior really reflect our spirituality? What’s in our heart of hearts?

Because of Anne (with an E), I’ve always tried to pay careful attention to how people spell their names and to get it right. I want to make note, to display to that person that I care… but then again, am I actually making note because it is part of my heart being soft toward everything and everyone in the world? Or am I concerned about it only because I feel like it makes me look good? Like I have paid attention?

Huh. I honestly don’t know.

The way I treat people, whether I note the e at the end of their name, maybe it matters. But does it really matter if I’m noting it only to look good? Not because I really mean it?

I guess the question is, then, how important is intention? Even Joan doesn’t seem to have that all figured out. Must be something worth thinking about.

Turns out, after mulling it over alllllll the live long day, through several loads of laundry and a walk in the snow with my Curls, a trip to the Y and the grocery store in yoga pants followed by a dinner of spaghetti and a nice long shower, a viewing of Pitch Perfect (I finally got Seth to watch it!) and a big bowl of popcorn, I have decided that part of my own personally spirituality, the thing I feel in my heart of hearts, is that any chance I have to make someone else feel good… or at the very least not feel bad… I should take it. I want to take it. Because I believe in raising others up, not bringing them down.

Well, I believe that most of the time. Not all of the time. You know those times when it’s practically impossible. Mean girls, Facebook, you catch my drift. Doesn’t seem to matter how many years go by. I’m trying to be better. I swear I try!

Regardless, my decision is that remembering the e on Anne or the single l in Michele or the correct way to spell Amy/Aimie/Aimee matters. No one is celebrating their name being spelled correctly (except, I imagine, for all the poor Siobhans out there), but  when I have an opportunity to make a note, spell it right, and not contribute to someone feeling disrespected or ignored or whatevs, I better take it.

I think that behavior matters. Maybe because of my intention? I don’t know. What do you think? How does your behavior reflect your soul?

 

PS: Seth and I are Packer owners now. We have a share of the team. So Coach McCarthy better get it right next time! Fun fact– he took this picture for us when we were at Lambeau Field last Tuesday.

Family at Lambeau

I kid of course. We’d have kicked my mom out and had her take the picture of the rest of us if he’d been there 😉