Halbert Sullivan and A Toast to Fathers
Last Thursday evening my Main Man and I were privileged to attend A Toast To Fathers, the annual dinner and celebration for Fathers' Support Center in St. Louis, MO. The whole experience caused me to think more about the theme of contentment I started last week, but perhaps not in the way you would imagine.

The FSC is celebrating its 15th year, serving nearly 10,000 fathers and their families (including 25,000 children) since it began in 1998. Its primary mission is to "transition non-involved fathers into active parents, deeply involved in the lives of their children."

Halbert Sullivan is the President and CEO of the FSC, but 20 years ago you never would have guessed he would be capable of such things. According to a recent article in the St. Louis Business Journal, in 1993 41-year-old Halbert woke up from a two-week-long cocaine binge and made some life-changing decisions, including checking himself into a drug rehab facility and enrolling in St. Louis Community College. In the next five years he went on to earn his bachelor's degree from Fontbonne University in 1996 and graduated at the top of his class, earning a MSW from the George Warren Brown School of Social Work at Washington University.

Today, Halbert and his staff at the FSC focus on what many consider "hopeless cases," helping them become the kind of men and fathers they want to be. This includes helping a significant number of them earn a GED and gain steady employment as part of the process. Many men at the FSC have spent time in a correctional facility, making it even more difficult for them to find a job, but Halbert doesn't see them as a lost cause, perhaps because he has a similar story.

Halbert is the oldest of eight children raised in a housing project in Memphis, Tennessee by a strong mother and a sometimes absent stepfather. He started using drugs after his family moved to Rochester, New York when he was 14. Over the next 25 years he developed a serious drug habit and served three prison sentences, including two and a half years in the Attica Correctional Facility in New York. 

When Halbert decided to change his life, he had an uphill battle ahead of him. Very little would be easy. A number of barriers needed to be overcome. All the same, he earned a graduate degree and managed to land a job, which is what makes the founding of the Fathers' Support Center all the more remarkable. In 1998 Halbert left a secure job he liked as a social worker in St. Louis Public Schools to help start the FSC. According to Doris Stoehner, an FSC board member, "Halbert started without a salary, on a song and a prayer. We would go on the street corners in the projects and give out hotdogs and potato chips, trying to recruit men for the first program. It never ceases to amaze me the impact that the program--and Halbert--have made on thousands of lives in our community." (St. Louis Business Journal, April 19, 2013). 

(Photo from St. Louis Business Journal)

To learn more about the Fathers' Support Center and its programs for fathers go to http://www.fatherssupportcenter.org/, but for now I'd like to pause for a bit and consider some things about Halbert I most admire--something things I want to be true for me as well.

1) Discontentment as a Motivator for Change: First of all, Halbert was not content with things in his life that needed to change. In fact, it was a dis-ease or discontentment that motivated him to overcome some very difficult challenges including an addiction to crack cocaine, an extensive prison record, and the need for higher education at an age when most people are done going to school.

2) Content with Difficulties: Halbert did, however, appear to be content with the fact that the road would be difficult.

I can't help but think of M. Scott Peck here who said, “Life is difficult. This is a great truth, one of the greatest truths. It is a great truth because once we truly see this truth, we transcend it. Once we truly know that life is difficult-once we truly understand and accept it-then life is no longer difficult. Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.”

Nothing I know about Halbert suggests he ever thought, or even now thinks, that anything he is trying to accomplish in his own life or others will not come without significant effort.

3) Content with Sacrifice: From all I've seen and know of Halbert, he also appears to be content with the sacrifices he will need to make to continue his work with fathers. Raising money and support for the FSC every year is difficult. Although he has been successful in gaining significant recognition and resources, it requires effort--lots of effort. Moreover, Halbert owns two businesses of his own. I can only imagine what it takes for him to serve as President and CEO of the FSC and also manage two businesses. I just hope he takes care of his health because we need a lot more men like Halbert in this world.

What is my take-away from Halbert Sullivan? A contentment--or maybe acceptance is a better word--that changing lives and changing culture is hard work. It requires long hours and sacrifice. It will rarely be easy.

All the same, the joy I saw on the faces of those gathered on Thursday evening--especially the men and their families who have been through the FSC program, tells me the goal is worth pursuing.

When it comes to improving the lives of children and their families, Halbert Sullivan is one of my heroes. When I consider what he has overcome to accomplish his goal and compare it to challenges I might face, I am humbled. He encourages me to keep on, keeping on. Thank you Halbert.

Contentment

I've been thinking a lot about contentment lately--what it is, the benefits it incurs, potential problems or drawbacks, and how one might obtain or secure it. I think what got me started was something I read about creativity and contentment. I can't remember the exact quote, but the gist was that a lack of resources might actually challenge and allow one to become more creative. Apparently when we're limited to solving a problem or creating a solution with what we have, we may be more likely to come up with something new or innovative than we otherwise would have. The trick is to embrace our limitations as an opportunity for new ways of thinking, rather than to spurn our lack of resources. There's something there approximating a certain kind of contentment, but I'm struggling to describe it.

I saw what I think may be a good example of this last weekend when we visited the Nelson-Atkins Art Museum in Kansas City. (Even if you're not the "artsy type, the Nelson Atkins has something of interest for almost anyone.)

One of the featured exhibits was by Brad Kahlhamer, a native American artist who created 122 handmade, katsina-like dolls and birds riding on a stationary powwow float to form a bridge between traditional American Indian culture and the New York contemporary art world. 

I'm not sure what I think about Kahlhamer's work, but I was impressed by the way he used what he had in his studio, e.g., bits of wood, rope, wire and paint to create an amazing number of dolls and birds. Kahlhamer was born in Tucson of American Indian parentage, adopted into a family of German-American heritage and raised in Wisconsin. He says, "The dolls [assembled in this exhibit] are about my own community or tribe. . . . They represent a coming together of disparate parts to make a unified whole."

Similarly, over the ages American women have used quilts to express themselves even when it would have appeared that survival was of greater concern. While today's quilters flock to specialty shops to buy fabric easily costing $9.00 or more per yard, in the not too distant past, women created quilts from scraps remaining from sewing for their family or from less worn portions of old clothing. Even though quilts were primarily made as practical bed coverings, I cannot help but be struck by the care taken to create beauty in a utilitarian item. Patricia Cooper and Norma Bradley Allen describe this phenomena in their book chronicling the lives of quilters in New Mexico and Texas.

The Quilters: Women and Domestic Art features quilts and their history through the eyes of the women who created or inherited them. I was particularly struck by this comment from a woman named Mary.

"You can't always change things. Sometimes you don't have no control over the ways things go. Hail ruins the crops, or fire burns you out. And then you're just given so much to work with in a life and you have to do the best you can with what you got. That's what piecing is. The materials is passed on to you or is all you can afford to buy . . . that's just what's given to you. Your fate. But the way you put them together is your business. You can put them in any order you like."

 

Today well-educated and highly trained therapists call this kind of thinking cognitive behavioral psychology. They study and train for years to help people understand what Mary knew and described so succinctly. We all have problems--some of us more than others--but it's how we think about those problems that matters the most. Somehow, in the midst of very limited resources and difficult realities, people like Mary choose to create beauty.

Frankly, I can imagine few things more difficult than living in a dugout in the middle of Kansas, Oklahoma or Texas with the nearest friend or family scores of miles away. I don't know how they did it. In fact, it makes me a little ashamed of some of the things I whine about today.

But some people appear to do their best work when things are at their worst. In talking about her parents who moved from Springfield, Missouri to west Texas, one woman said, "Mama's best quilts were her dugout quilts because that was when she really needed something pretty. . . . If she had not quilted and planned quilts through those bad times, maybe she would have been planning how to get out of that country."

I want to give these words some more thought. I'm wondering what kinds of creative projects might keep people managing, coping, accepting in difficult circumstances -- disappointments in marriage, challenging children, stressful employment, physical limitations. What is it about creativity that helps us be content when things are unlikely to change--at least in the foreseeable future? Or is it contentment with what we have, an acceptance of our limitations and scarce resources that helps us be content? I'm not sure, but I'm planning to give it more thought this week.

Piecing my thoughts,

Dr. Jennifer Baker

Looking Before Leaping--Some Things to Consider

This is Stella.

Stella will soon be 4-years-old. Stella knows presents come with birthdays so she is waiting--as patiently as any almost 4-year-old can wait--for her big day to arrive. On that special day she is hoping to receive a Dora the Explorer Talking Backpack.

Over the past several weeks she has come close to obsessing over this particular item, rejecting even the possibility of any and all contenders. On June 17 she is hoping to leap into the position of a Dora the Explorer Talking Backpack owner, a station of probable envy for many little girls.

I suspect that Stella, like all of us at one time or another, struggles a bit with the need for recognition. As a middle child, she occupies a position between two accomplished and independent (at least in her eyes) older twin sisters . . .

 . . . and one younger "baby" sister who is developing a personality all of her own.

With that kind of competition, its hard to know who you are. Some days Stella wants to use a baby spoon just like Indira. On other days she insists on a booster seat in the mini-van just like the ones her older siblings occupy. Buckled into a "big girl" booster seat in the back of my van recently, Stella exclaimed, "I just wish those girls could see me now riding in the back on one of the big seats."

Already, at a very young age, Stella is thinking about what will help her leap ahead in recognition and significance. And even though she isn't aware of it, she's already influenced by the subtle--and not so subtle--cues from her context (family, playmates and preschool) and culture (media and marketing) about what will cause her to leap ahead of others.

Sleeping, Creeping and Leaping
Over the last three weeks I've been talking a lot about the positive aspects of "sleeping, creeping and leaping" for plants and people, but before we leave this theme, I think its important to note one or two things about leaping -- what it is, what it looks like and how it might be pursued and developed.

People Choose, Plants Don't
When I talk about "leaping" for perennials, I'm referring to the blossoming and flourishing that occurs after the roots are established in fertile soil with adequate light, moisture and care. If this happens, good things naturally occur.

With people, it's different. We have a choice. We can spend many long years planning, hoping, dreaming, working and striving to achieve a perceived level of leaping that may ultimately be less than satisfying. We may laugh at Stella's preoccupation with a Dora the Explorer Talking Backpack, but many of us are often just as silly and immature. We may be just as focused on things likely to bring us limited satisfaction. New things, new experiences, new accomplishments--in and of themselves are not exactly wrong or bad, but they may be short-sighted. We can spend a lot of time and energy on things destined to bring very little joy or long-term leaping.

If our leaping or flourishing is dependent on what we have or what we are able to achieve, we place our future happiness and contentment in the hands of others. In this case, we have little chance of achieving what Dallas Willard described as "a pervasive and constant sense of well-being." If we want to spend more of our days "leaping," we will want to choose the focus of our activities wisely.

Leap Where You Live
You've probably heard the expression, "Bloom where you're planted."

I'd like to suggest we amend that saying to, "leap where you live." I've been privileged to know people with difficult circumstances who not only "bloomed," but "leapt" with joy and enthusiasm. Their day-to-day lives were marked with courage, conviction and contentment. They weren't often successful in the world's eyes. They didn't necessarily achieve great things. Their stories didn't make the evening news. They were just the kind of people you wanted to be around because of who they were and how they made you feel when you were with them. I want to be that kind of person, but it's not easy.

I'll admit it. Most of my life I've been achievement driven. I like setting goals and achieving them. I like to make lists and accomplish them. I like to be successful at the ambitions I have for myself. When I can't do these things, for one reason or another, I'm typically frustrated and irritable, (Translation--Not that much fun to be around.) Lately, I've been giving a lot of thought to how some of the items I have on my list might be for me a lot like the Dora the Explorer Talking Backpack is for Stella--just a passing objective on the way to something more. If I am to learn to "leap where I live," then it may be good to reconsider the focus and direction of that leaping.

Thoughtfully yours,

Dr. Jennifer Baker

Creeping . . .

My niece just graduated from law school. She's a bright, beautiful, compassionate young woman who will undoubtedly do well. I'm certainly proud of her and I know her parents are too. I noticed many words of encouragement from friends and family when I read the posting on her Facebook page.

One of the most interesting came from a friend who included a link to a graduation address by David Foster Wallace* entitled "This is Water." Mr. Wallace uses the metaphor of water to talk about how so much of our life is daily, routine, ordinary, boring, frustrating and sometimes downright irritating. We may not be able to change much about our circumstances, he says, but we do have a choice about our perspective. In some ways, I think Mr. Wallace did a good job of what I've been calling "creeping," i.e., those phases in our lives where we don't see a lot of progress, but the day-to-day faithfulness in small, ordinary things matters.

If you're a regular reader, you know that the last couple of weeks I've been talking about the "sleeping, creeping and leaping" phases of perennials, comparing them to a whole and healthy life. In the perennial plant world, "creeping" typically refers to the second year of a perennial's life when you see small signs of growth, but nothing dramatic happens. This is typically preceded by a year of "sleeping," i.e. the year you put the perennial in the ground. By the second year most people are hoping to see a bit more for their efforts--something akin to what appears at the botanical gardens or on the cover of a gardening magazine, but most perennials need at least one more year for that to begin.

This tendency to want to hurry the creeping process is often true of many aspects of adult life, but in different ways at different stages.

Young Adults (20s and 30s)

This stage of life is one of rapid change for many young adults. After high school graduation there's usually college, military service or an apprenticeship. Some continue on to advanced degrees. Romances and relationships develop. Engagements are announced. Weddings are scheduled. Careers are started. Homes are purchased. Babies are welcomed. And then . . . things typically slow down quite a bit, at least in the area of rapid change. Suddenly the world can seem very "daily" and often dull compared with the earlier years.

Of course, critical foundations are being laid during this period in terms of finances, professional development, marital satisfaction and healthy, happy children, but it can be hard to see the value of this foundation in the midst of the "dailies" -- demanding schedules, daunting routines, diapers and dishes. One of the dangers of this period is the temptation to continue pursuing "excitement," rather than settling into the rhythm of everyday life. Impulsive financial decisions, too much "job changing" in pursuit of the perfect position, and the lure of an extra-marital relationship can all contribute to "root damage" severely impacting future growth.

Middle-Years Adults (40s-Mid 50s)

People in the middle years face their own challenges with "creeping," and not just in terms of the spread of their waist line. They may have safely navigated the early years, perhaps to the stability they now enjoy, but some now succumb to the feeling they're stuck in a rut.

It's not that I think ruts are a good thing. Rather, I have concerns about the ways people in this age group try to escape their perceived rut, or what it is that causes them to define it as a rut at all. Many a marriage has been ruined or damaged by self-centered, "rut-extrication" activities. Finances have floundered from foolish investments. Relationships, personal and/or professional, have been threatened by now-or-never choices that tend to take place at this time. Creeping is still a good thing, even in the middle years.

Later Years Adults (Late 50s, 60s, 70s and Beyond)
As one's years accumulate, there's a temptation to believe the "creeping" should be done by now, particularly if the previous three or four decades have been demanding. It's easy to think that now is the time to reap rewards,the time to relax, the time to enjoy the bounty and fruit of our labors. Isn't that what the investment ads all talk about?

While some of this thinking may be fitting, the fact of the matter is that every decade of life includes some creeping, some slow and steady progress up what may seem like a mountain of adjustment ... retirement, aging, separation and loss. Those who expect it to be otherwise often succumb to bitterness and despair. Those who plan for creeping are more likely to continue blooming in every season.

Life is difficult. People are often frustrating or irritating. Some circumstances can be more than challenging. The happiest people with whom I'm acquainted also know we have a choice. We can be grateful, generous and kind. We can practice kindness and care. We can let go of a need for self-importance and live with grace and compassion for others. When we do this, a root system developed over the years will yield the most beautiful blossoms of all. I'm pretty certain Emily knows this, but just in case she needed a special "graduation nod" from her aunt, I thought I'd write this blog with her in mind.

Congratulations Emily! Keep on creeping on!

Dr. Jennifer Baker

* I wanted to include the link, but it's no longer operational.

Sleeping: Plants and People

My kitchen window looks down on one of our Spring perennial flower beds. When the daffodils and hyacinths are in full bloom, I love the view. In a month or so, I know I'll be treated to purple blossoms on the butterfly bush and periwinkle hues on the hydrangea. Right now, however, it's pretty uninspiring.

The long stalks of the daffodils are stretched out on the ground, turning brown and drying up. I'm ready to be done with them. I want to move on to something more colorful. "I think I'll just cut them back?" I say to my husband.

"Wait," he warns. "You need to give them time. Right now, while they're still green, they're gaining the nutrients they need to strengthen the bulbs. Be patient. You can cut them back in another two or three weeks when they're all brown and yellow."

I know he's right. I even checked the gardening books to be sure and they recommend the same thing. 

Last week I wrote about the "sleeping, creeping, leaping" cycle for growing beautiful perennials. What I didn't say then, but need to add now, is that perennials also need to "sleep" or rest during the year. When it comes to plants like daffodils, daylilies and iris it means you need to wait to cut back unsightly foliage. Patience in this area is key to the long-term health of these perennial, bulb-based flowers. Cut them back too quickly, shorten the time they're resting and rejuvenating, and you shorten the life of the bulb.

Sigh. Patience was never one of my key virtues. I take some comfort in knowing I'm not alone in wanting to hurry things along in my garden and in life. Lots of people today, it seems, are eager to move quickly from one thing to another without giving their body, their mind and their emotions time to recover. We've grown accustomed to instant messaging, fast food and microwave meals. We expect problems to be resolved quickly and efficiently. We grow weary of waiting more than a few days or weeks for a resolution to our problems. 

Addicted to "Wake"

The most obvious and frequent place we neglect the necessary replenishing phase in our lives is with a healthy daily sleep routine. When it comes to "sleeping" or resting it's not unusual to hear people boast of how little they rest, almost as if it's a merit badge of some sort. One of my colleagues once said that Americans are "addicted to wake," i.e., we are frequent users of "stimulants" to keep us awake.

If we're not cruising the internet well into the night on our iPads, Smart phones, or laptops, we're sending text messages or answering email. When our alertness begins to fade, we resort to caffeine-laden drinks to keep us going.

In short, we avoid the restful 7-8 hours of sleep almost every human being needs to maintain health and optimum functioning to keep ourselves conscious for fear we will miss something if we close our eyes for an extended period of time.

Chained to Choice and Change

Over the last few decades, mostly without our awareness, the options for choice and change have proliferated. Although it would be almost impossible for most young adults  in the U.S. today to believe, not all that long ago most people were limited to a small number of television stations. To change from one to another they had to walk across the room. Since there was often only one (or at the most two) televisions in the house, changing channels required skills of negotiation with siblings. Sometimes you just had to put up with what the person in charge (read "parent") wanted to view. In short, choices were limited and change occurred at a snail's pace.

Today, the world wide web, which can be viewed from multiple devices, offers a bounty of choices. There are sites to help you find a mate, cheat on your mate, and hook up with a new mate. You can gamble away a life savings without ever entering a casino, view pornography without ever buying a magazine, and shop until you've maxed out every one of your credit cards. Pretty much anything you want--both good and bad--is available to you with only a few clicks on the keyboard. The natural restraints and delays of the past are much easier to sidestep when it comes to avoiding impulse control problems.

Don't get me wrong. There are a lot of advantages and good things about the advent of the internet and I'm not one of those people who want to go back in time. I enjoy writing this blog, for instance. I post pictures on Facebook. I text my husband, children and friends. I occasionally shop online and process dozens of emails each day. But just because the internet can help us expedite some things, it doesn't necessarily speed up change in human behavior. For better or worse, most of us are a lot like perennials in our requirement for a "sleeping" or resting period.

 How Long is Long Enough?

"How long am I going to feel this way?" questions Megan. "I don't really want to get a divorce, but I'm so frustrated and angry with my husband right now. Will I ever really love and trust him again? I don't know how much longer I can stand feeling this way."

"We're worried about Sean's behavior. We've tried doing some of the things you suggest and they help a little, but will it be enough? When will he learn to be more responsible? We've been at this for 6 weeks. Should we be seeing more improvement by now?"

"Brian died three months ago and I still miss him so much. I feel like I'm stuck in some sort of gigantic waiting room. How long can I expect to feel like this?" wonders Sara.

How often I've heard questions like these--questions I can't really answer, except to say that it usually takes longer than we think. Retooling, refueling, reclaiming, renewing, revitalizing . . . all these things take time. The human body, mind and soul cannot be microwaved or instant-ized.

Behaviors and routines are established over time and they also take seasons to change. Healing, resting, recreating, restoring ... can take weeks, months and sometimes a year or more, but if done right, spring will come again. The roots will strengthen; the foliage will flourish; and blossoms will bloom for perennial flowers and for people.

Catching up on some rest,

Dr. Jennifer Baker



Sleeping . . . Creeping . . . Leaping

A good friend of mine who has an exceptional green thumb taught me a little phrase she applies to perennial plants that I find apropos to much of life. First, let me define "perennial" -- at least as it applies to the world of gardening. Simply put, it’s a plant that lives for more than two years that is not a bush, shrub or tree. Good examples of common perennials include peonies, many kinds of daisies, hostas, and ornamental grasses.

Perennials can be distinguished from annuals (often referred to as bedding plants), because annuals need to be planted every year, i.e. they die over the winter.  Good examples of annuals include petunias, impatiens and coleus.

Sleeping: The first year you plan a perennial, you don’t see much return for your effort. The plant, which you undoubtedly paid more for than an annual, doesn’t do much. It just sits there and establishes a root system. This is what my gardening friend refers to as “sleeping.” This is a time when you might wonder if the extra dollars you paid for it are actually worth the investment. At this point, it is less than spectacular, but wait … there’s more.

Creeping: In the second year of a perennial’s life, if you’ve taken care to plant and water carefully, you’ll likely see what my friend refers to as “creeping.” This is the slow growth a perennial begins to show as its roots are established and it expands to fill its new location and “show its stuff.” It’s definitely not a head-turner yet, but if the soil is right and it is coupled with the right care and feeding, a well-established root system or foundation will be evident.

Leaping: Finally, the third year comes. If the first two years have gone as they should, this is the point where a perennial is often observed to be “leaping” out of the ground, filling in a garden space and flashing beautiful blossoms and foliage.  Non-horticultural types marvel and wonder about your green thumb. What they don’t know is how much patience it took for you to get your plant to the place it now occupies. 

Perks of Perennials

In my mind, well-developed perennials are a labor-saving bargain. Once established, they take much less effort than annuals. You plant one time and weed less because they're often very good at crowding out weeds. (Of course, if you're a perennial enthusiast, like me, you may continue to try new places to plant more of them ... but that's a different issue altogether.) Perennials don't have to be replaced each year--like annuals, so they're less expensive in the long run. Because of their well-established root system, they also tend to be more drought-resistant than annuals so you can water less, saving both labor and money.

Basically, there are a lot of reasons to like perennials, but perhaps one of the reasons I like them best is that there's so much wisdom in a perennial. If only we could all be a bit more like perennials in our relationships. What if we could see our relationships at home, at work and in the community the way we see perennials--developing slowly over time to produce a beautiful harvest as the years roll by. But, I'll save that for next week. Right now I'm off to work in the garden.

Perennially yours,

Dr. Jennifer Baker