Formidable . . .

I got a text last evening from my sister, simply stating: "You’re a hurricane." Now having had the kind of day that I had had, I was a mix of perplexed and nervousness, thinking, "What?! What did YOU hear?" for I was pretty sure that I had been the subject of some in-church talk. Calmly, I asked, “What do you mean?” She wrote, ”Tropical storm in the Atlantic named Leslie just upgraded to a hurricane." Phew. The possible church talk referred to be me as being formidable. What did that mean? That I was confident, knowledgeable, had a spine to handle criticism, did my job well? or did it mean that I was pushy and a know-it-all? I don't want to be a BAD formidable. I kinda like the idea of the GOOD formidable. It doesn't translate very well with who I think I am -- or who I think I've been most of my life, so it's sort of cool.

Definition of FORMIDABLE
1: causing fear, dread, or apprehension (you only want to be that way when you NEED to be threatening -- like when scaring-off ucky boys trying to date your daughter -- or, conversely, ucky girls trying to possess you son! or women who want nothing more than to have your husband. Yeh, I've experienced that. Formidable is your friend sometimes ...)
2: having qualities that discourage approach or attack (Okay, when necessary, everyone needs this.)
3: tending to inspire awe or wonder : IMPRESSIVE (This is the good one -- too bad it's the last one listed!)

Hurricane -- formidable? I don't want to be formidable like a hurricane, do I?

Few people know this about me: I am a scaredy-cat. I have been a scardey-cat all of my life. I was always the youngest and the smallest and I wore glasses! I was always the new kid! (My father was an engineer with wanderlust and boy did we wander -- I attended EIGHT schools before going to college.) This was not easy in terms of establishing healthy self-esteem. New kid; shrimpo; glasses. But I was raised knowing that I was important! I never doubted that I was worthwhile! Interesting. Talented. Beautiful. But home doesn't necessarily translate to school, so I always had to prove myself. I had one year to show how smart I was or to be the fastest runner, even beating the boys (they hated that! but they had crushes on me). And then, after all that expended energy, after finally being accepted as being worthy of being a friend -- a classmate -- we would move. Spine? Yeh, I'd say so. "Causing fear, dread, or apprehension?" Maybe in a footrace! "Tending to inspire awe or wonder?" Maybe ... ultimately, but then I became the new kid all over again. It was exhausting being me. I finally had four years in one high school -- found my way, I think -- and then four years in college, where I really began to understand freedom of self -- began to relax and didn't have to work so hard to fight my way through. And I met David. He was like the eye of a hurricane: quiet and peaceful and calm and embracing. And he loved everything about me. Life became softer.

However, living through the hurricane of brain cancer and everything that came with that storm for David and for us, I really needed to be formidable. I needed a spine -- to deal with doctors, diagnoses, chemotherapies, camera crews, ardent fans, separation, fear of recurrence, loss of independence, plumbing and taxes -- just to name a few challenges. The last five weeks of his life ... I thank God for the hurricane training.

But back to little, formidable old me. I’m also sometimes to referred to as a "church lady" by a good friend. I know it's all in fun and affection, but I bristle! I picture Dana Carvey all pinched and wigged and all uptight and judgy. I don't want to be like that! I sure hope I'm not like that! but I don’t think that’s what he means. Church ladies ... I can’t look to 47 year old women as mother figures anymore – so have had to realistically adjust. I LOVE the older women in my church. Yes, they bring flowers and lovingly provide funeral receptions – feed us in times of sorrow and need – gift you with fresh cookies and lovely candles -- work hard with heart for their Church. I want to be THAT kind of church lady. A formidable church lady. One who tends to inspire awe or wonder -- someone who is impressive, even if they read silly vampire novels by mistake!

It was during choir practice when I received the text about being a hurricane. I shared it, very relieved and amused! Someone said, "Leslie is erratic!" I got another text; my sister said, “just don’t fizzle.” There were levels of meaning in that one. She claimed that all of her snow storms fizzle – that Isaac had fizzled (some people may disagree) – and she was inferring encouragement with this blogging newness. I liked that. It was like a cozy sweater in a hurricane, her encouragement. Sometimes even we who seem to be strong, confident or courageous need that eye of the storm to comfort us and feed us. Church ladies. Caring sisters. Courageous children. Championing girlfriends. These are good, formidable things. Yeh, that's who I strive to be! A church lady, a caring sister, a courageous mother and a championing friend.

But it sure would be pleasant to "meander" up to and around Bermuda in a slow and erratic fashion with only a playful degree of causing fear, dread, or apprehension, with a peaceful and steady center, not unlike a category 1 hurricane.