Blog Archives - trish hermanson

Why I Play Hurt

9/29/2017

A woman I know took a high-speed tumble on a mountain bike. She’s grateful she’s alive, not paralyzed, and that therapy is increasing her strength so she can maneuver a street bike now. But she’s mourning that she’ll never be able to engage in extreme sports again.
I get that she’s grieving over what she’s lost, and I won’t go into an "organ" recital of all that ails me compared to her. I’ll simply welcome her into the Fellowship of the Fractured, the cadre who have learned to do what we can. To withdraw from what we can’t. Whether we’re hamstrung from physical, emotional, or age limitations, we smile through our pain. We try not to embarrass ourselves in a world that values vitality.
In a stretching class I attend, the teacher warned, “Don’t do anything that hurts.” The man next to me chuckled. “As if I can do anything that doesn’t hurt.” I relate to that. Those of us in the battlefield of compromised health are pros at playing hurt. We are richer for our adversities. We’ve discovered that gems such as compassion, patience, and gratitude are mined in the darkness of pain.

6 Rays of Sunshine in Our Storm

9/20/2017

When a rainstorm along Highway 85 brought Duane and me to a halt, we found ourselves behind this Silver Subaru Forester, its rear plastered with bumper stickers. Duane chuckled and read, “To be or not to be. Check the box.”
I pulled out my notepad. “Can you read more?”
He craned his head over the steering wheel and peered between the slap of windshield wipers. “Guns don’t kill people. People with mustaches kill people.
“Think. It’s not illegal yet.
“Always give 100% unless you’re donating blood.
“Rock is dead. Long live paper and scissors.”
Traffic picked up. The Subaru turned right, and our entertainment disappeared down the road after one final read: “I wish Morgan Freeman narrated my life.”
A bit of sunshine in our storm, I thought, something I hope we always find. And I wished Morgan Freeman narrated each of our lives.

What It Takes to Become a Classic

9/15/2017

I couldn’t help but admire this Ford F1 parked outside a barbecue smoke house near our home. The only things holding it together are rust and memories.
When this model rolled off the assembly line, it provided wheels for my parents’ generation that was piecing together lives after World War II. The sprightly pickup first hauled drivers on dirt roads, then interstates, then clogged beltways. It’s taken travelers uphill and down on stock market rides. It’s watched passengers transition from mainframes to desktops to smartphones. It’s moved people from matchbox houses to McMansions and back to tiny houses.
Somewhere along the way, this particular truck lost an eye and turned into a stumbling Cyclops, struggling to read the road ahead. What a ride it’s taken on its way to becoming a classic. What a ride it’s been for all of us who carry rust on our fenders and lots of memories and are trying to read the road ahead in confusing times. But if we keep bumping along life’s highway, maybe we, too, will someday earn the title of classic.

How to Avoid Getting Swept Up

9/8/2017

It’s easy to get swept up into causes these days. But before I do, I’m asking myself a tough, nonpartisan question - what’s the best way to focus my passions?
An ancient Hebrew sage named Isaiah, who also lived in troubling times, exhorted his culture to be socially active in three ways: exercising justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God. Hmmm, do some who seek justice today need to grow in giving mercy? Should some who seek mercy instead render justice? And could both sides of an issue drop the swagger that they are totally “right” and humbly recognize there’s a moral code - if not a God - higher than their thoughts?
I’m also reminded of Jesus of Nazareth, who warned how ridiculous it is to try to harvest good fruit from thorn bushes. Do I excuse “little flaws” in a politician, a party, or a platform because “it’s the best choice available?” Do I believe the end justifies the means, not realizing the meanness of the means may swallow up any good achieved?
Am I compromising, doing something I know is wrong - like spouting sarcastic, arrogant, hateful words - to support what I believe is right? Am I willing to admit that some of my convictions might be wrong? Does my passion need to turn into compassion?
Questions without simple answers, but before I get swept up in a cause, I’d better be aware that I can get swept away with it.

Labor Day Lament

9/1/2017

When we were kids, we had playmates. We played ball, played games, and played music.
     Then we grew up, and what happened? We entered the workforce where during the workweek we wear work clothes and report to a worksite in a workspace with workmates in a workgroup where we’re handed a worksheet in a workbook. We use the company’s working capital to work the plan on our work-in-progress while we gain work experience for our work resumé.
     Some things work like a charm. We work wonders and create works of art. But if the workflow isn’t workable, we work something up or work something over or work through it or develop a workaround. If we’re lazy, we’re labeled work shy and admonished to develop a work ethic. If we’re reliable, we’re a workhorse. But if we work too long, we’re a workaholic.
     To escape our work environment, we volunteer at community work camps. But we still need work-life balance, so we go to the gym and what do we do? Work out.
     All of which leaves me weary. So this Labor Day weekend, whatever your work, I hope you relish the rewards of your labors . . . and work at resting.

Croutons...
Chew on these seasoned bits of life for a little hope and humor along your highway.

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