Category: Wholeness - trish hermanson

My Love/Hate Relationship with This Tree

8/18/2022

I loved this tree until I hated it.
     This Russian olive sprang up from a seed that blew in, and as it grew, I basked in the scent of its yellow flowers in the springtime and sheltered in the shade of its silvery leaves in the summer. Then it morphed into a monster - branches scraping our roof, seeds littering our driveway, thorns bloodying my arms when I tried to trim it. An invasive species!
     We needed drastic means to stop it. A chainsaw collapsed the giant onto our driveway, and a grinder reduced it to wood chips.
     I wonder whether I sometimes welcome other small seeds of invasive species into my life that grow into something I’ll regret. Like little judgements I make against others. When I judge others, I bask in the scent of feeling superior to them - I’m not like them! But this attitude keeps me from listening and admitting when I’m wrong. Or what about when I shelter in the shade of partisanship, gaining a sense of purpose by being part of a group? Do I unthinkingly accept the party line, embracing all the beliefs? Do my views harden like tree bark so I’m unable to recognize when something’s wrong? Or what about when I think “my truth” - basically my opinion - is THE truth? Do I close my mind to reality?
I wonder what Russian olives I'm welcoming in my life that I’ll eventually have to take a chain saw to.

Garbanzos and Other Gifts

1/18/2022

How my tastes have changed.
     I was a college student the first time I tried garbanzos. Yuck! A stranger named Marge, who was the age of my mother, served them on a salad to a group of us students she had invited to her home. Didn’t she realize we’d prefer pizza?
     Another person I didn’t appreciate during my college days was Olive, a woman the age of my grandmother. She lived in my home town and wrote notes to those of us studying away from home. Sweet, but I wasn’t interested in what she had to say.
     Then there was Stan, a guy I met as a college student. He was quiet, never married, worked for the same company for decades, retired, then died. But he proved to be a steadfast friend to those around him.
     Over the decades my appreciation of the ways of Marge, Olive, and Stan has grown. Their soft footprints across life’s stage went mostly unnoticed, yet they left behind gifts - hospitality, encouragement, and friendship. These days I want to follow in their steps and leave simple gifts behind, too.
     And sometimes I serve garbanzos on salads.

How Simple Words Changed a Life

12/11/2021

I recognized the stooped old man shuffling toward the building entry as someone whose words once impacted the world when he documented our times as a reporter for a prestigious international publication. Years earlier I’d heard Paul enthrall a crowd with tales of interviews with personalities like the shah, the pre-revolutionary political leader of Iran, when no other westerner had access. He knew how to open doors back then.
     Now no longer a player on life’s stage, Paul was faced with struggling to open the door in front of him. I rushed ahead and pulled it open, and he gave a polite thank you. I replied, “It’s a privilege to hold a door for a great writer.” His head spun toward me, and his voice quivered as much as his hands. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he shuffled inside, and I never saw him again.
     I opened more than a building entry for Paul. I opened a door to his soul with simple words that gave him a gift - recognition of his contribution in life, which others had forgotten. That’s something we all need. His startled response made me wish I could affirm someone in this way every day.
  Maybe I can.

When Dreams Collide with Reality

8/7/2021

Have you noticed that dreams don’t always come true?
     For example, I’ve yearned to see Stonehenge, that ancient circle of rock pillars in England, but the opportunity never arose. So Duane and I recently trekked to an American version - Carhenge.
     It’s a humorous imitation outside Alliance, Nebraska in the size, shape, and proportions of Stonehenge. Through “blood, sweat, and beers,” creator Jim Reinders says he and his family arranged thirty-nine vintage automobiles in a circle, some buried trunk-end down to create columns, others welded above to form arches. While Stonehenge represents a civilization four thousand years ago, Carhenge represents our American civilization with our love of mobility.
     But Carhenge symbolizes much more to me. It reminds me that we don’t always get what we want. I longed to see ancient stone pillars, I got crazy car columns. Among my other desires, I’ve dreamed of a pristine home pictured in “House Beautiful.” Mine is lovely, yet gathers dust bunnies I could trip over. I’ve yearned for perfect friends, but I get people as quirky as me. I’ve fantasized romantic love, but I get someone who needs forgiveness as much as I do. The contrast between my idealized notions and stark reality is like the contrast between Stonehenge and Carhenge. One is an unrealized dream. The other is reality. And if I don’t embrace what comes my way, I miss out, because the real deal may be as good as, sometimes even better, than the fantasy.
  It may be even as wacky as Carhenge.

What Do Bono, Beyoncé, and I Have in Common?

5/24/2021

What do Bono, Beyoncé, and I have in common?
     We are all one-name wonders. My moniker is “Grams,” which I’m especially proud of since my granddaughter Magdalene asked me to join her in a recital after I began teaching her autoharp. I gotta tell you, we rocked.
     In the recital’s printed program, I’m listed simply as “Grams.” This pleases me because grandparenting is a great calling, whether children are biological or informally “adopted” through friends or neighborhood. But our role can be tricky. We don’t want to mess with established family culture. We can’t depend on affirmation. And while being on standby for parents, we must still maintain our own lives.
     So we take opportunities as we spot them. We give what we can, and sometimes more than we can. Our contributions may fit our personality. Duane does metal and woodworking projects with kids. I play silly word games with them. Sometimes what we give is as simple as a wink, a smile, and a ride to an activity. Whatever we do, we affirm these kids’ God-given value, calling them forth to find their place in the world.
     So let’s rise up for this great calling. We grandparents are archers fitting arrows into bows, aiming precious souls into a century we will never see and places we will never go.
  We really are one-name wonders.