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I was sitting at the table tonight with my family and we were laughing and smiling so huge that it felt like heaven opened up and swallowed us into it’s embrace. I immediately felt my eyes fill with tears and my throat tighten as it dawned on me the significance of this moment and the impact that it was making on my heart. Thankfulness for my husband, his smile, his heart. Thankfulness for my kids, their laugh, their unique sense of humor. And thankfulness for my place in this family, my role of mom, wife, and friend… the thankfulness overwhelmed me to the core. The truth that this moment would fade away all to soon was not lost on me, for even now reflecting on it and trying to find words to tell of it, seem to diminish its heart affect. I am so deeply thankful and so deeply grateful, that mere words cannot express…. but if I were to try to describe it… if I could pull the words together into some order, it would be:
Love love love came swirling around me today like a soft whisper wind, and joy laughed at my cheeks and echoed in my ears that my spirit had to try to grasp the tail of this helium balloon moment that was floating and dancing away and taking my heart up with it into it’s fruition in a chorus of a song in loud Braille with a melody full of effortless love that was imprinting itself inside my heart.
What to do with the cacophony of emotions that come about when someone you love is nearing the end of their life? It doesn’t seem to matter to my heart that this person I love has had a long and wonderfully rich life, filled to the brim with experiences, of which I was able to share some of. It doesn’t matter that this person I love lives hundreds of miles away and the last time I saw them was three or four years ago. The doesn’t matters don’t matter, my heart feels raw and the inner depths of me feel like it’s going to implode on itself with the rest of me to follow into the smallest black hole abyss on the inside that I didn’t realize had the power to suck me under and in.
Maybe the impending death of a life so richly lived is a reminder to the lack of permanence we all have. Or it is a window to unresolved grief for others that I have lost, or those I am afraid to lose in the future.
It is bittersweet and I navigate a path and tension between one part of me that celebrates a life well lived and another part mourns what this significant loss means to me and all those involved.
I know I will go on. I know all others involved will go on. I know I am better for having loved this person. I know that a legacy has been set into motion that will always live even when they are no longer here.
But right now, before this person dies, I want to voice that I’m going to miss them, and dare say I already do. I want to say I’m sorry their end is near and will come. I want to say that I am with them even though I’m hundreds of miles away. I want to say thank you for all that you have poured into my life. I want to say that I recognize that you encouraged and supported me, and that I am forever grateful for it. I want to say so much more but I can’t because I’m imploding, and this imploding hurts.
I don’t want comments…
I don’t want “I understands”…
I don’t want platitudes…
I don’t want you to tell me later that you read this post…
I’m putting this here for me…
I’m scribbling this out to describe what I’m wrestling with…
I just want to write this moment out for my mind, my peace, my presence and my heart….
as if it will help the implosion go somewhere instead of the inner inside and away with a force that could sweep the rest of me with it.
I read a quote on the blog of another that I’ve been thinking about… the quote comes from flylady.net (who I have much to learn from) and it says:
“Keep in mind, you are not behind: you are just getting started. I don’t want you to try to catch up, I just want you to jump in where you are.”
That really covers a bunch of things doesn’t it? Pretty much every thing in my life. There are things I wish I did more of… like stitch more, clean more, and even write more, even if it is just to document my journey along this meandering path of motherhood and wife-hood, of life in all its array. So, I guess that’s what I’m doing here, while at the same time I’m listening to my washing machine spin upstairs, and while I’m smelling the zucchini bread bake in the oven… it really has been a productive day, including things such as a nap, laundry, changing Adair and Alec’s sheets…. all the things that may seem mundane, but really, they gave me some sanity today.
I’m 38. I have more than 38 lbs. to lose, I have less than $38 in my bank account, and I have a list of 38 other things I should be doing right now. But, I’m not behind, in fact, I’m just getting started, and I don’t have to catch up, I just need to jump in where I am.
Where is that exactly?
I’m not really sure…
somewhere between here and there…
but in the middle of now.
I’m not behind, I’m just getting started, I don’t have to catch up, I just need to jump in where I am.
There is something soothing about repeating that… it’s comforting. It removes pressure from outside forces, and it brings me to now… to today… to what I have control of… which is this minute and where I choose to go from here. I don’t really know if I even have to have a destination? I think it’s all about the jumping in and allowing the moment to settle me, and removes the sense that I’m behind before I ever think if getting started.
I’m not behind, I’m just getting started, I don’t have to catch up, I just need to jump in where I am.
Today I was describing a part of my day to my daughter, specifically about the “Blood Battle” that is going on between our school and a rival. Not blood per say as in fighting each other to a bloody pulp, but more in the shape of a blood drive with the American Red Cross at the center. So, knowing that my daughter is a sponge for all things scientific and cool, I shared my experience of how I donated blood. I told her about how I learned of a new way to do donate blood besides just the traditional way where donors give whole blood (consisting of red cells, plasma and platelets). I’d never heard of the a new automated process that I got to do called “double red cell donation,” where donors like myself can give just the red cells, and not just my red cells, but two units of red cells, which is the component of blood that is in the greatest demand! How cool is that!? So, being that this was so awesome, and that I got a great t-shirt for this experience, I described to her this fantastic process and how it makes my heart feel comfort knowing that something from within me can be shared, and shared with someone in need, and even help to heal!
Imagine my heart stop as I neared the end of my description and saw my daughter’s eyes enlarge and fill quickly with tears as she searched with her hand for the arm of the couch where she was sitting, as if she had to steady herself from this barrage of too much information! My immediate thought, Oh no… what have I done?! Too late to wonder that now, it was obvious that I had crossed a border of assuming she was going to think the science part of it was cool. She… in. no. way. shape. or. form. thought. that. AT. ALL!!! I, Mrs. O-positive-blood-donor-super-mommy had missed the mark, big time.
All my daughter thought was apparently something so big, that she couldn’t verbalize it. After I stopped talking and tried to back peddle to fix where ever it was that I went wrong, and to get her to communicate what she was feeling other than the visible panic, all she said was that she felt like she had something rise from inside her stomach, leaving itself “sitting heavy on her chest,” and that something was “so hard inside, something as hard as an eraser,” and that it felt like “a net was grabbing it and cinching it tight” into her chest and that it “couldn’t move.”
As a parent, here I was trying to describe this cool thing (to me alone obviously!), and I somehow assumed that because she is a bookworm, and loves technology and science, and that she told me the other day, without a hint of worry or concern in her voice that her fourth grade teacher fed the class boa constrictor snake a white mouse, and the snake constricted it, suffocated it, then ate the mouse tail first. She seemed fine telling me that, saying it as if she was telling me that the sky was blue or that the grass was green. Yet, somehow from all that, and other stuff in between, I missed that she just wasn’t ready to hear about the b word.
The more we talked about it, I came to learn of her fears, and that it’s not just the word blood, or the description of blood that makes her chest feel heavy and tight causing alarm which demands tears, it extends to thought of what germs do to the inside of you – they can kill you, or what snake venom can do inside your body – like paralyze you, and what cancer cells divide and how they can’t be stopped. She went on and on crying and mumbling things I couldn’t even understand through her sobbing. What caught me most was that I had witnessed her eyes open the widest I have ever seen them, and I saw the torrent of sobs she unleashed, which was unlike anything that had come out of her before. It all underscored a fear that had been lurking under her surface waiting for this moment, and my saying the trigger word! I opened my big mouth, and brought on the panic! Me! Talking about the cool centrifuge that spun my blood to make it into two parts, bla, bla, bla…. it created a vortex of uncontrolled chaos within my daughter.
So strange in looking at it from an afternoon’s distance that something on one side, so life giving – donating blood to someone who could die if they don’t get it, while on the other side, sharing it with my daughter who I had to talk down off a ledge of fear for about an hour because it was too much information, which ignited all the other things that were connected to it.
I sat with her in my arms trying to comfort her and listen to her heart and fear, and I asked many questions to try to understand better her inner turmoil. And, to be brutally honest, I find it sad knowing that I still gave one cliché or churchy response to her fear, in saying the verse “Perfect love casts out fear.” Really now, what does that mean to young girl in this situation mama?! *sigh, note to self: next time just shut up and listen* Anyway, in the end, her near hyperventilating stopped and she settled and we talked about ways that she could express what is building up within her that said she doesn’t know how to talk about. We talked about how she could use her artistic gift to illustrate her concerns or to journal out words that provoke thoughts in her so that they don’t threaten to overwhelm her.
Sometimes I really want to write something. Its as if there is a need to just put words together in a sentence, and then put a sentence after that. But the paralyzing thought always comes first “what should I write about?” and that usually leaves me grasping at straws for some kind of topic, which never seems to reveal itself. Just like this, I’m grasping at straws and spelling out this process.
I think from time to time that I would like to write something, like an article for the paper, maybe I could be one of those cute regular columnist, or maybe I could write a book… and be a new JK Rawling. But, truth be told, I just don’t know how to get from here to those places.
Perhaps you just have to write, even if you don’t have anything at all to say. Just write for the sake of writing, to stay in practice if you will, so that when you do have something you really have to say, you can say it, spell it, write it, breath life into it.
Perhaps I should practice more… but I have a problem with that damn backspace key erasing whatever I put down, when I do put it down… that key and that little pinkie finger that reaches up to push it have a life of their own and act as a censor because in all truthfulness, what I have to say sometimes is rather insignificant. I guess there is a point that even if its insignificant, it needs to be said.
I’m not a runner, and I don’t walk too much, but I do remember well my fondness of swimming… actually, I loved swimming. Laps upon laps I swam in high school and some in college, and the peace of the water, the sound of the bubbles against my ears as I exhaled, and the feeling of buoyancy that made my body feel as if moving through the water was nearly effortless. These days, I’ve been out of the pool for so long, and the fact that I have little time to manage to arrange for swimming, or few choices of places I could go, I need to find and develop another love. But how?
These days my inactivity of sitting at a computer all day at work is evident in my body. My thighs don’t resemble the thighs of my college years… instead they are things I’d rather not look at, which prompts me to get dressed a little faster than others would. That is just so sad. My body is supposed to be a temple, yet in reality, I’ve let it become more like a lean to where rakes and lawnmowers would be stored…. a shed, and a dilapidated one at that, whose hinges creek and groan.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve been half heartedly attempting to right the situation by getting on the treadmill to increase any amount of movement possible. But again, it has been half hearted, as so many of the things I try to do are. What is that about me? Half effort? I shouldn’t be this way, but the reality shows that I am.
I have heard before that it takes 21 days to make a habit and three days to break a habit, so if you want to exercise/walk, etc… do it for 21 days and you’ll have a habit… but if you skip three days, you’ll break a habit. I can’t even get to 21 days, because I have too many three day breaks inbetween. Hysterical I find it, and totally depressing too, honestly.
I don’t want to have my thighs and hind end look old… its not a vanity thing, because I don’t really care how they look to others, its me that I’m thinking about. If I had to run a sprint if my life depended on it, I’d be breathing heavy after 10 steps and likely be giving out and giving up long before others would. This saddens me. I do have vanity about swimming though… I would love to swim now, if I was already in shape, or at least in better shape than I am now. Bathing suits reveal all the things that usually I dress quickly to hide. Not to mention that after swimming, the other things that hide the reality of myself need to be reapplied… like doing my make-up or styling my hair. I remember that when I was in college, I used to complain about my body… if I knew then, what I know now… wow, that would be some insight. I was in fantastic shape then, no cellulite, no labored breath when walking fast. These days there is room for improvement, vast improvement. I’ve fallen off the weight watchers wagon several times, there has got to be a better way.
I guess question I’m hunting after the answer is how to learn how to love exercise (walking or running, or whatever). I hear quite often that exercise releases endorphins… I don’t know what that’s like. I’m on a quest…. after a smooth thighier me, after a less poochy belly me. I haven’t seen her in a long time… I let her disappear somewhere and I’m so sorry me for letting my old you me go. I miss how much better my clothes fit on you, this new me seems physically older than she wants to be. If I could swim everyday without someone seeing my ass, I would, well… that’s if I could figure out a way to have my hair be a wash and go.
These are some of the thoughts drifting through my mind today. It’s been a long time since I’ve written here… I don’t know why… maybe coming here is hard because this is one of the places I become honest with myself, and document that honesty.
In this small moment, I am at peace today…
with all that is, and all that will be for me…
this feeling is fleeting I know…
for tomorrow’s tomorrow might bring things that I will decide I must fret over…
or I will fret over them without ever thinking first if it even necessary…
we all know it isn’t.
But today, my heart holds a truth that I am contented…
with the me who I am, the quirks, the high pitched squeals, the geek, the girl, the hips, the split ends, the heart, the eyes, the all of me who I could list on forever.
Today all is well with my soul.
It’s been a little while since my last post. I’ve felt a little inward, a little reflective, and somehow without a pen for my voice. It’s hard to know what to express here sometimes, even if it is just meant for me and my inner reflections. It’s hard to know what I should say to myself…
Maybe I don’t want to get that truthful with the me I am today… or the me that I will become one day as I reflect back on this space of words written out in digital format.
I don’t know if I want to come to terms with anything today, other than today is a the first new day of this new year… and it’s open and unwritten, ready for me to explore the empty pages of it and make it into whatever I may.
There is so much that I would like to admit to wanting to see happen… while yet still finding that admitting that I want things different, things new, things changed, things improved… but if I share them here to this space, then in some way I am admitting my responsibility to see them happen, or worse yet I am opening myself to knowing responsibility to admit my own lack if they don’t happen. I realize that if I do not mention them, the possibility exists that whatever they are could dry up or vaporize at any moment without ever having the chance at being realized because of having no accountability whatsoever.
But here, in this space, I am admitting them to myself. Here in this sphere of my heart, I am acknowledging that I want some things to be different, and some ways that I do want things to improve.
I find it interesting that we examine ourselves so closely on New Year’s Day… it seems that I should become aware of such longings everyday of the year, just as I am today. Or, perhaps not. Perhaps the perspective is too much to bear everyday… I think the day to day mundane-ness takes over and it helps me to lose my perspective of the long term… but today I see it, as if it’s tomorrow…
and I can see what I dream it could look like if x, y, and z occur.
Back and forth between my beyond. The words enter there and whisper of the fragments of thoughts that have yet to be written. Back and forth and around the corners, are my moments, my me, my you, or the me and you that always seem to make room for one more.
Yesterday’s tomorrow and tomorrow’s today… back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The thoughts take me to worlds away within. With one word here that is followed by one word there… words like submerge, suspend, cushion, upend. The words themselves seem to take me different places within, which strangely enough I find all seem to look like the same secluded pool of thought that only a portion of me knows how to find. The thought pool itself is surrounded by an embankment of walls… which makes me wonder, what are these walls for on my insides? Are they suited for climbing and exploring? Or only for holding back and hemming in? Perhaps they serve as a shield to preserve and protect this special place, so that only I can explore it in the safety of my own desire and time… and perhaps if I do not explore this magical within-within, this unique pool of thought just bides its time until enough thoughts and interesting words form, that the word pool itself is forced to flow up, over, and outward onto my mind and heart, so that I can break free from the surface world for one brief moment… to find a timeless world escaping in encapsulated bubbles of thought, where the flowing over of the word pool ends up taking shape into something I can capture in my cupped hands if I dare.
What do I do with this? What to do with the interesting words I hold… in absence of knowing, I just watch them, read them, examine them… some appear to float, while others are so heavy they sink. The water of words in my hands is as real as my hands themselves. Fascinating to me how each one can stand on it’s own or can be strung together.
Embraced, rejected, moved, unmoved, tomorrow, today, experience, break, broken, healed, healing, renewal, reflection, honored, anonymous, magenta, liberate, security, welcomed, detonate, undecided, hypothermia, overheat, shine, resume, armload, magnify, agenda, theology, reel, wingnut, rail, rocker, denim, hardwood, lifeline, acorn, starfish, fossil, orange, umber, sunset, shoe, translucent, texture, adjustment, hinged, origami piano, undigested hypertension, around and around, and around they all swim…
They beckon me to either see the poetry they are in that above unfinished state, or to rearrange them into different combinations as the wind of my soul shifts from North to South or to the East of me. Unproductive, yet producing more than one would think, even if it is only measurable by me. It’s an experience, a moment, a truth, a reality partly captured with fragments of thoughts floating in the water of my pool of words. Where does your pool of thought take you? Do you respond to the words? Do you collect or discard them?
Carpeted, enclosed, plaid, glittered, gold, fuzzy fleece, whispered through clenched teeth, covered in mud, slammed shut, clink, kitty furring, separated and distinct, waiting for the clock to speed and then to stop… not you, not me, and nothing in between. Oceans and oceans of words for thoughts… expand, exhale, excel, achieve, nothing but thoughts expressed out loud to my ears and the sky. There is no wrong here, no right either, just words, and just left and just East of me, along a line, across an expanse, finding a way along a curvy path yet to be taken in between the within-within of me.
This is a glimpse of where my mind roamed today…
I am thinking of how I discuss negative emotions with my children… grief, sadness, fear, failure, worry, regret, pain, disappointment, etc., etc. I think I have some significant areas where I can grow when it comes to this. Overall, a learning experience from this evening has taught me that I can practice much in this area…
Tonight Adair was reading on the couch and I mentioned “ice skating” to her, in that it will be so fun for her to go next week for her field trip! She and her class are going to get a lesson and then some free time! How fun!!! I thought. Mmmmm, apparently NOT. She shook her head with the look of “Oh NOooo. That’s not me. You are incorrect mother.” to which I replied in an encouraging and vigorous head nod of my own accompanied with a wide and excited smile. Of course you know what that produced in my daughter… even more confusion and dismay on the face of my sweet child, which was then followed quickly by an aggressive head shake in the NO NO NO NEVER GONNA HAPPEN YOU CAN’T AND WON’T MAKE ME OR YOU’LL BE THE MOST HORRIBLE MOTHER ON THE PLANET direction. All I could do was stare at her with an encouraging smile, and apparently I must have kept nodding my head yes, because then her cute aggressive no-no-no-head shake gave way to a slowed down version, which e v e r s o g r a d u a l l y melted, and lead to her sweet little head giving way to a slump as it fell forward to do a faceplant into her awaiting cupped hands. This of course, was where her tears and incoherent speech became evident.
This is when a light bulb went off. Instead of continuing on with what I normally would do… a cheer leading crazy thing where I try to put a positive spin on whatever the problem is, I instead opted to slow down with her and literally feel her anxiety. And although I never reached out to touch her, and instead only moved closer to her and sat next to the couch on the floor near her, I could still FEEL her dismay, her frustration, her shock, her betrayal, and her fear. Now, I realize I am probably the last person on the planet to get this, and that every other mother out there in the world is perfect with a capital P. Forgive my honesty here, forgive my hiding in plain sight moment. I know I have practiced this before, maybe with friends, but it seems it’s been a while since I have done this with my children.
I sat with her tonight and let her cry out and babble her rational, and I let her try to get to the bottom of the fear… with the open ended questions… and somehow she magically just came to a point where she said “Is all of my class going to be there?!!?!” and I replied “I think so…” which lead to her responding with a huff, “Well, if they are all going to go, I will go!” And although she said it, I could tell she wasn’t that happy about it, but nonetheless, that was the apparent end.
I don’t know exactly what lead her to that place, but she got there, and in that moment I heard the quiet voice that advised me not to be a cheerleader, and instead to acknowledge.
Sometimes I’m so thick, I think I miss those subtle cues, but thankfully today, I heard it, I listened, and I felt. I didn’t fix… I didn’t try to cheer… I didn’t spin… I didn’t try to construct a new reality that seemed better to believe… I just let her be temporarily grieved, and a magical outcome occurred.
My understanding learned from this? Talk less, listen more. Be ok with the negative emotions, whoever they belong to. Not everything is on the sunny positive side…. and that’s ok. Learn to deal with negative emotions, not by sweeping them away and ignoring their presence, but instead by acknowledging them and being ok to let them take up whatever space they need in that moment.
I don’t know why at times we turn into that person who has to have all the answers, and feels the privilage or duty to convey such. I don’t know why at times it seems like we need to look like we’ve either been there and done that, or heaven forbid that we act like we are smarter than that and have never felt this or that given emotion, or worse yet, that we invalidate the acutal emotion itself.
Pause.
Step in.
Join.
Go alongside.
Journey with.
Talk less.
Listen more.
There are a few people who I can read their expression and it takes me to a deeper place within myself that I didn’t know how to get to on my own. A fellow blogger… one who took a vacation and then is back again. I’m sure they never attempted such a feat when they set out with their fingers in a melody of taps over their keyboard, yet it is what is. It’s just… t r u e. Some people have a way of expressing things that I just wish for more of… and I don’t know exactly what I’m labeling here… but it’s more of this inner string of thoughts that is just under the surface and that is woven amongst other thoughts… and somehow I have this desire to write out the letters of what that string makes. Yet maybe… those letters aren’t in the alphabet of my mind. They are letters that lie beyond my own vocabulary and alphabet, and when I read the expression of a select few, it’s like they unlock this inner alphabet that is just beyond what I know how to pronounce or describe.
There are times when I honestly think “I need to write something.” I don’t know why I think it, it’s just that the thought pops into my mind and sits there, waiting, like a blinking cursor on a computer screen. The thought then leads me to a question of “What should it be?” What exactly should I write?” and then that is followed with the probing question of “What do I want to say?” and then it’s just crickets after that. A silence staring me in the face as I stare at the blinking curser in my mind. The truth hits me that there is no magical answer. I don’t logically know what to say. I don’t have any points to make, or… I just can’t open the gate to get inside anything that has a sound other than white noise.
Yet… what’s interesting is that at other times, its as if there is something that is bursting forth out of my mouth that I just have to express, otherwise I will spontaneously combust, or maybe the thought itself will combust and all I will have left are the burnt ashes of what could have been if I had just written while the thought was waiting to burst forth and leap out of my brain or heart. And still… there are times when I have a hidden language, hidden even to myself, that I just don’t know how to find the back door to open, or I can’t find the right key to unlock the treasure. (mind you, it’s a treasure only to myself, to others I’m sure it would be blat). I guess I wish to express what seems like I don’t have the opportunity to express anywhere else in my world. I know, I know… I could share these thoughts with others, I could randomly just pick a few and try to describe them to those close to me, but I guess what it comes down to is that they may not get what it is that I don’t even get, even though I know it is still there.
The undercurrent of another alphabet, the one that is waiting for the pen and paper to express, or for the keyboard and monitor to help bring into focus. A thread of thought that does not get prematurely edited by my ego, or given the ax by my fears of expressing something that seems unimportant, or heaven forbid, unprofound… as if I was ever profound to begin with! ha. I want to let my mind ramble, and then to make sense of the ramble NEVER. To just let the ramble and the thread that runs through everything be whatever it is on it’s own. Something that doesn’t need my permission to be understood or something that doesn’t need my understanding to be misunderstood. Just a thread, a woven structure of something that has no structure… that’s what I want to reach. Something that is unexplainable, yet is attempting to describe just what that unexplainable is. It makes no sense, but that is the beauty of it. Nonsense sense. Just written expression of where my mind is going, and where my thoughts are taking me…..
there I went, into the nowhere that was somewhere…. what fun…. I wish to come back and visit it again… where ever it was…. and however I happend to find it…. whatever it was. I’m just smiling and glad to know it was there… or here… within… whatever it was… it was what I was wanting to find. It turns out it has a vocabulary I can understand once its all written out… at least I understand it, even if no one else in this world does. I found a lock and unlocked it and peeked my head inside the door.
There are things building up… things we’ve set aside because we might need them, but someplace in us makes it so that we don’t use them. They are clutter. They are stuff. They are things we really are just letting stay in our house to complicate our lives. What are these things you wonder? The easy bake oven we gave to Adair years ago for Christmas that was only used a couple of times, if that. Then there is the box full of pans for the kitchen, baking dishes, etc. that will not fit in our kitchen as is, so they sit downstairs awaiting use. Have I used them? Maybe once or twice. Will I use them someday? Possibly…. and if I throw them away, I won’t be able to use them. But the thing its one of many things that sit in boxes in our basement, for that time, that day when we have more storage so that we can actually put them away (you know, put them away inside a cupboard in case we want to use them someday… basically changing its location, not getting to the root of the problem that we may never use it). Why have it if we won’t use it?
We have boxes and boxes of things… of Mike’s old textbooks from college, or of fabric that I somehow have accumulated but never used. Or of cookbooks that I swear I will use when we get our new kitchen installed somewhere down the line… when in reality, if I want a recipe I usually use the internet to find one. Why do I keep the cookbooks then? Because maybe, just maybe I will want to use it someday…. I guess. Realistically though… will I? Of course not. I may have every good intention to, but honestly… will I? I suppose if I have it I just might, but if I don’t, then I will find another way.
It’s like that for many things in this house. The skinny jeans, the extra blankets, the boxes of saved artwork from my children… not just one box, but it’s climbing to the amount of 4 or 5 boxes now. I guess I can’t decide what is worth keeping and what is worth throwing away. I guess the problem comes because its all WORTH something, but is it worth this burden of keeping it, of holding onto it because someday my kids will be delighted to say “ohh Mommy! Thank you for keeping all of my school work and drawings from infancy! How did you know I would want it all? How did you know that I’d want to see every piece of homework that I did while in first grade?” OF COURSE NOT! They will likely say “Why on earth did you keep that? It’s a scribble on a piece of paper!!!” Somehow I think if I keep it, it will keep me connected to their childhood, to their innocence, and to the deep love I have for them. BUT, in all truth, I’m already connected to that, because I WAS THERE! Good heavens. I know I can go through and keep a few, but the problem comes because how do I decide which few that is? Like Nike says… Just Do It.
So the question remains… how do I free us from this clutter that we are somehow unintentionally letting define us? How do I separate myself from it so that I can break its choke-hold on us? Sure, a garage sale could cure that… but realistically I won’t have one of those… instead I’d pile it all together and think it didn’t look like enough to have a garage sale from and I’d say this is our garage sale pile, let’s add things to it and let it get bigger so that we can have a productive garage sale…. all the while we’d be still suffocating under the weight of this crap.
There is a switch that I think is faulty in my brain…. the “to keep or to throw/give away” switch. Today I shall try to flip it on and off in repetition to see if I can make progress. I’m going to open the trunk of my car and make several trips up and down the stairs until its filled! I am then going to happily drive to the thrift store and unload the weight of it off my shoulders. I can already feel how freeing that will feel.
Maybe I’ll find that the switch in my brain does work. Mercy.
How do you feel about allowing others in? Allowing someone to take a glance inside your soul? Sometimes I feel like that’s what this blog is. It’s my blog, my place, and although it’s public, I think at times I don’t know if I’m ready to share myself with others…. or at least share this part with others. Something about it is exposing, maybe too revealing, maybe too open to an audience who doesn’t have a face…. or even an audience that might not hold my heart as tenderly as it may need on any given day. And yet, all this inner dialog over transparency, or about exposure, or about expression, begs this question… how do we hold the hearts of others?
With care? With respect? With curiosity? With unconditional love? What about those who are having a bad day? Do we hold their heart just as tenderly? Just as lovingly? Just as preciously? And how do we hold our own heart? Are we cautious with it? Forgiving of it? Encouraging of it? Or do we sometimes hold on too tightly of it and not allow it the room to move freely to explore all that there is to explore? There seem to me so many things that we allow to get in the way of this heart holding, of this honor giving, of this centered focus to show a mirror to those hearts we see, to reflect back to them the unique God carrier that they really are.
In progress, in process, in step, in motion, in movement, in flow, in time, in all things… in rambling I must be, in thought, and held closely. This is my space for thought… and to let that thought write itself out on this wall… like a graffiti mural… this is today’s tag… this is today’s glimpse into what I have voice to share. It is a window look… of the me I have shared this mind and heart with all these years.
I have thoughts to capture, if I could just see them out of the corner of my eye as they pass like that scratch that seems illusive on my eyeball itself. Ever had that? Ever tried to zero in and focus solely on it, but even as you do, it scoots just left of where you can see it and all you end up seeing is its tail?
I feel just like that today… the thoughts that I would love to write about seem to be passing and all I can see is the tail of where they just where…. a faint whisper that they went by already and I couldn’t capture them. I know I do that with God too… I see a lot of where He just was, I’m too consumed to have my head buried in the cleft of the rock, that by the time I look up to glance about, He’s already passed by…. yet the truth holds that even where He just was lights up my face in a way that others can witness the illumination.
Let me pause a moment and think of where I have seen where God just was…
…In the tail of Adair’s giggle over the word “fluffy” that is written over and over again on a shirt for her, along with the colors of the rainbow spelled out as they show the color themselves…
…In the sunset that I saw hugging onto what was left of the day, waiting, just waiting for me to see it as I glanced out my kitchen window while deep in thought…
…In the wise eyes and heart of the woman I work with, who shared a banana squash with me that was delicious…
…In the way my husband asked me “how was your day?” in the most loving and inviting way, which even if it were the only thing he said to me all day, it would have been enough to feel loved an entire lifetime…
Those are tails of places I know God just was… and it’s not until now that I find them… after the moment has already passed.
I’m so blessed to have been able to just now reach up and grab the tails of those kite string moments… I shall hang onto them as they swim out of view into the expanse of space, and I will let them transport me through the great economy of love, grace and peace that they offered… while not expecting anything in return, other than for me to simply witness and revel in the truth in them.
This is a glimpse into my story today…
I’m finding myself hugged tightly by God lately… so tightly that I can hear my back popping and its the bear hug itself that announces to you how much you really needed it, yet didn’t realize that you did until you were embraced into it. It’s absolutely amazing. So strong, so complete… it’s the kind that melts away the day (or last couple of years) as if it never occurred, or as if it has no importance in the large scheme of things anyway. What a power and presence to be swallowed up within.
I love my job… I appreciate what it is, and what I am able to do… and I’m really appreciating who I am placed with. Such unique and beautiful people, all of them. Unique God carriers all of them. Everyday is like a treasure hunt or scavenger hunt, and I am getting clues to things I didn’t know I was hungry to know.
Stitching hasn’t been happening too much, other than to make a stocking for my niece and new baby nephew… what a miracle and precious creature. Blessing. Joy. Tangible grace and love. Wish I could see and hold. Will need to get linen to make stockings for my brother and his wife as well…. Wise man… and Angel that they are.
Stitching on Quaker Virtues… have stitched Simplicity all… and had to do some frogging of a border of a top motif that was off by one square. To punish it I have kept it in the bag for a time out, and ignored it all together… I should forgive my poor stitchery and take responsibility for stitching with tired eyes… I shall forgive it tonight and stitch it again while watching Biden and Palin debate. I’m really curious to see how it plays out. Will it be one sided? Will Sarah have better answers than she has for other interviews? Will Biden be mellower? Interesting to say the least. Which presidential candidate do I support you wonder? It’s not as obvious as some would automatically assume.
Well… it’s been a long time since I’ve written… I’m sorry bloggy. I shall not keep so quiet. I’ve been adjusting though this last month…. to this new schedule, to this new adventure, to this partially new part of me that I am walking into. It’s been a bit jarring, and a bit freeing, and a bit scary, and a bit beautiful, all wrapped up into one tapestry. So many colors, so many interesting textures.
I have an interview for the first position that I applied for at the University this Friday at 2:15pm. I can’t decide if I’m more excited than I am terrified, or the other way around. Truly, the pit of my stomach feels like it’s taken residence in the bottom of my throat. Trying to focus on how to truly be myself. It’s been so long since I’ve had a real interview… at least 12 years. Even though I worked last year at my kids Elementary school, I didn’t have an interview, it was more like I talked to the principle and said, “Do you need any more aides?” and he said “We might, let me look at the budget.” To which two days later he said, “Go down to the district and fill out the paperwork and when can you start?” I don’t think it could get easier than that.
Be myself. Be myself. Be me.
++God, please help me be me.++
In applying for employment at our local University, a friend told me “good luck…” and further went on to explain that a number of people apply repeatedly for positions there, yet fail to get them because they are in such high demand, in addition to the large size of the applicant pool. So, not only am I up against many many others, but there is also the factor that several of the others are already current employees at USU, which means that they will be given preference if we are even in our experience/education. This is disheartening to me, but instead of getting mired down by discouragement, I upped my chances by applying to a few more positions… sort of like throwing everything I can at the wall to see what sticks. I thought I’d get an inside look at what exactly the procedure is, and inquired with my adviser from college. He suggested that I simply try to get my foot in the door, with whatever position I could get, and then I can move laterally or upwardly when other avenues open up. He also said that because I am overqualified for the positions that I am applying for, I may not be considered as strongly for the job. Because after all, wouldn’t someone who is overqualified take the position and then be in hot pursuit of a better opportunity? So, I guess if I get an interview I will need to express that I do have longevity, despite being “overqualified.”
And overqualified… that seems to sound like such a funny thing… because obviously I want the job, otherwise I would not apply, and if I want the job, I believe I have the qualifications to do it well. What makes me overqualified you might ask? A Bachelors degree instead of an Associates degree. A rotten piece of paper is all. And, it’s a piece of paper that does not afford me any positions that pays more than the positions I am applying for at the University!
So there you have it. I am going to throw until something sticks. And yes, I know I throw like a girl, but it’s not about how you throw, it’s about the consistency of throwing that counts. And what am I throwing? Me! : )
In all of this I am sure God will surprise me… after all, Moses just wanted to be a shepherd, and God instead said to him that He wanted him to be a mouthpiece for God, a prophet. And Paul… a Jew who would be perfect to speak to the Jews on their level, but instead God sends him to the gentiles. Then there’s Peter, a fisherman and not that educated, who would have be perfectly suited to minister to the gentiles, yet instead, God sent him to minister to the Jews. So what of me? Perhaps I’m throwing all of this at the wall to see what sticks, and instead God’s going to do something totally different. We’ll see… we’ll see. I know that God is a God of abundance, and there is plenty to go around. Perhaps God is going to throw me at a wall and watch if I stick.
What is impossible for people is possible with God.
~ Luke 18:27
Many evenings we are fortunate enough to have canyon winds. They whisk out the stale hot air, and replace it with a freshness that is unseen, a recognizable movement that you can sense against your skin, and a current that you can inhale and take in deeply. It’s such a welcome occurrence, yet it does require some scheduling… like remembering to water your lawn in the morning instead of evening, as the winds seem to sweep away your mist and generously carry it to your neighbors yard. I miss the wind when it doesn’t come, for then I find the hot air hangs on me like a heavy blanket right out of the dryer, I can feel the weight of it, even though the air itself is not something that I can see with my own eyes.
I wonder sometimes when I feel the wind come on… are there winds like this in my heart? If so, what are they? What causes movement and shift within me? Is it an unseen wind, blowing in from the East? Does it bring with it a need to rearrange other things, like the watering inside? Would it blow any mist from the sprinklers in my heart and mind to other unexpected places? It’s all supposition I realize, but sometimes I do think that indeed my mind becomes fresher, the heated heavy blanket gets lifted, and the new air is easier to inhale because of it’s freshness…. and in fact, it’s very presence alone makes you desire to inhale it, just to confirm to yourself that it is there.
So much occurs with the wind… and yet it remains unseen, except for the imprint it reveals as it touches the leaves of trees. But in my heart and mind, I imagine the imprint to be less apparent, despite that it can’t help but to announce itself in a quiet echoing way. Do I have eyes to see it? Can I notice where it’s been? I don’t know if I feel it in the moment, or after it’s passed over and onward, but I believe at times within me, something just feels different, something feels shifted, like I have had a new page blown open for me to view. Perhaps areas that were once walls inside me, become less than such and are reduced only to hurdles. Perhaps areas that were once hardened within, become tenderized with a softer skin and center, that are more receptive to other thoughts and ideas that were once unable to penetrate to the deeper recesses. Perhaps places that held fear, are able to be transformed into an unexplainable boldness or eagerness to explore the areas that earlier seemed too frighting. And perhaps places within that once held tightly onto a lack of understanding, now possess a desire to understand and find a kindled hope that whatever needs to be revealed, will be as time allows it. A movement from uncertainty into assurance, a transition from insecurity into a freedom, or a flowing from being bound and confined, into an unhindered and unconditional acceptance of all hearts, no matter their shape, season, or condition.
I welcome these changes… these winds of the heart… of the mind… the winds that I cannot predict, but that seem to come at their own readiness, when the climate is just right and beckons them. It’s interesting to see also that stiffer winds do blow, and with them they can destroy what once seemed like sturdy structures. A tree in our yard succumbed to such a fate the other day, not from mere canyon winds, but the gustier winds of a current that was passing over our area. It was the type of wind that requires you to stack your chairs, huddle potted plants together for safety, and the definite removal of tables and umbrellas that could transform into kites as the winds power could easily abscond them. Our tree split at a weak point, the whipping wind snapped and felled it. I imagine it was due to a succession of the continued beating from the wind that finally made it bend to the point of no return. But I am unsure if the wind actually destroyed the tree, or if it merely just revealed it’s weakness in that moment. Despite the tree being staked and supported, the wind still found it’s snapping point. I’m curious as to what these stronger types of winds in our hearts and minds are? The ones that come in on a front of their own… what about the impact that those leave within? I can imagine the aftermath. There are sudden and tragic events that can happen to so many, and those events, those winds, in and of themselves, can literally force us into a new reality on many levels. Do these experiences just reveal tenderness that we didn’t know was there? Perhaps these stronger fronts of wind merely allow us a unique glimpse into the humanness of our heart and the love it can and does hold.
These are the stirrings within me this morning. Stirrings of the canyon winds in my heart, as they make a hollow whistling sound like the wind does as it passes through pine trees… this is what I am hearing today… the low echo of it’s presence as it blows across the surfaces of my heart, as it bellows quietly it’s distinctive low hum in my mind, just asking for me to question it and sit with it, all the while knowing that I can’t catch it, instead harnessing a portion of it’s force.
“The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”John 3:8
I’m in a spot where it’s time to get a job… and it’s not just any job that I’m after… but a job that I love, and that I get paid for something that I’d do for free. I’m torn between getting a little more schooling, which will take me about 10 months full time for web design and coding, or… the possibilities do exist to find employment now, with my current set of skills. More schooling may mean more $, but it also means more sacrifice in this tight and struggling economy…. but, for possibly only 10 more months. I don’t have the money to pay for the schooling, so choosing that as an option would be working on faith that it will work out somehow… begging, borrowing, with my limit at not stealing. 
OR, seeking employment now. The good ol’ pro and con list about each is tabulating in my mind these days, while there are lots of dicussions with God as I do so…
Oh… and did I fail to mention that I actually applied for a job? Yep. I did, I did. When I saw it and read it’s description by happenstance (perhaps read as God’s divine appointment) it sounded as if it was written exactly for me. How odd. I applied and hope to get an interview… we’ll see what happens.
Being a mermaid is still in the back of my mind…..
After spending the evenings watching the Olympic events while stitching, I finally retire to sleep, past my normal bedtime. I’m exhausted after all the watching of the winning of Gold, Silver, and Bronze Medals… I tell you… I’m amazed at the conditioning of all the athletes. What I find most comical is that in my sleep, I am competing! I am swimming the 4×100m Freestyle relay with the men’s swimmers! I am swimming in my own final of the 100 Breaststroke along with all the women, and I am swimming alongside Piersol in Backstroke and tying him for Gold! And, after all of those, as if they were not enough, I am doing the floor routine of gymnastics and then the balance beam, followed quickly by my playing of Women’s Beach Volleyball! I have fenced in my sleep, I have participated in the men’s kayaking, and, of course I am so in sync with my sync diving with the Chinese Women’s team. I have won so many Gold, Silver, and Bronze Medals in my sleep, I am just amazed at all of my abilities. I’m most suprised by the fact that I compete both with the men and women… what a shock, but none the less, I am so excellent at any sport I try, that I medal in it. It really is quite the thrill! I have seen myself in a body suit speedo, I have looked so great in my beach volleyball bikini, and I have even been amazed at my muscle conditioning as I kayaked. I am a dream Olympian, and a medalist at that!
It’s been a while since I’ve written anything of real substance. It’s hard to get to that place to write from in the clutteredness that I know I allow my life and day to get to. The other day, my mom phoned but was unable to reach me, and thus she had to listen to my voicemail on my cell phone. She later told me that I should re-record my greeting, as it sounded like I had recorded it on a low day. I explained that I recorded it intentionally in that way, as I had tried to tone down my voice in a way, so as to be softer, and less zingy and zangy. More palatable, more patient sounding. More comforting, more mellow. I guess I sometimes feel like I sound like an excitable small yappy dog, one of the ones that never shut up. Yep, that’s me sometimes… I just keep on barking in a high pitched shrill… yap yap yap.
So what is this softness about that I’m looking for, searching for, or trying to be? Maybe it’s a softness from the inside, that I do know is there, yet doesn’t seem to always be tangible. Maybe it’s a speech seasoned with just the right amount of salt (love), and just the right amount of inflection for just the right moment. Maybe just not the sound that sounds excitable all the time, the yap, the yip, the zang and the zing.
Wondering to myself… is it possible to take the yappy out of me, and still be me? And, maybe it is just me, in that when I listen to my own voice, it’s only something that I hear… the shrill yap, the zingy and aloof girl who could stand some more maturing. Maybe in all reality, it’s not really there at all, and instead, I should be content to sound just like me, however the me sounds in that moment. The very me who God has created and brought with flowing grace into each gift of a moment that I am honored to be a part of. Maybe it’s not about me trying to sound like I am soft persay, but trusting that when the time calls for it, the Spirit within me will guide me in giving generously the gentleness of heart and self-control of speech or tone, which beautifully finish off the list of the fruit of the Spirit.
Being content with me… the shrill, the zing, the zang, or the dull, the thick, or the moments of no thoughts at all. Giving myself as myself, not as some phony put on self, that doesn’t to my mother, sound like myself at all. I love you mom.
Well, it’s been a while since I’ve posted. Had surgery to remove my paraovarian or paratubal cyst. All went well, and I was very blessed to have my mom here lending her hands and time. I am all better and yesterday I did not need a nap, which is saying a lot, because a couple days prior I took four naps in one day. I was exhausted.
On stitching notes, I got the linen for the remaining two SB stockings I need to do. One for me (Elisabeth’s Stocking) and one for Mike (Reed’s Stocking). I’ve got my angel all the way stitched and the stars and trumpet, now I just need to do the top vine and lower scene and I’ll be done. I’m moving quickly on it… just started the day my mom came (a week ago Saturday) and I’m moving right along. Will complete this one, then move on to do Mike’s so that I don’t have confusion between charting symbols like I did when I stitched both of the kids stockings at the same time. After I’m done with these, I’ll send them off to mom to make, as she’s so crafty with her sewing machine.
I am readying myself to start the 2008 Quaker Mystery Sampler stitch-a-long, and just waiting on linen and thread. It will be fun to have a different Quaker to switch to when I’m tired of the Virtues.
On other fronts…. school for the kids will be starting in no time, at which point I will be going to school full time during their school for web design stuff. Let the geeking begin.
I have fretted, and I’m exhausted. Fretting seems a little less organized than worrying to me, kind of like several trains of thought running wayward all at one time at reckless speeds. Fretting is not helpful.
Amazing how just making a decision on something can solve the fretting issue. The decision I have made is to have my cyst removed, and to be free from the thought of it after on the 22nd of July. I won’t have to worry about it every time I sit and feel it, or when I am pushing the lawn mower around the backyard and it’s making itself known in my belly. I won’t have to give it a second thought once it’s gone and out of MY body. I am choosing a doctor who seems experienced and intelligent, and I am going to put faith and trust in him and the divine appointments that have brought this cyst to light, and for the pain that it has caused. Pain is a signal, a warning, and I am going to take heed of this warning and treat it. The doctor will remove it laproscopically, and I’ll be on my merry way enjoying the rest of the summer with quick healing, and eating a Blizzard because my mom will come out to give any help with the kids or home while I recoup for a couple days. It shouldn’t take long at all from what I have read, so I am going to mostly use the time as an excuse to stitch and play with my mom and kids.
I feel relieved knowing that it will be gone, and now I don’t have to fret. Notice: don’t have to. Still could- but don’t have to. Fretting is useless and it gives me a headache and it allows God some chill out time while He watch and waits for me to realize it’s lack of futility, and then He continues to wait until I cast my burdens fully upon Him.
I’m casting now.
After spending time thinking about it, I’m not angry, I’m just utterly annoyed. I know my cyst is a cyst, I’ve seen it on ultrasound, it’s simple, but it’s there. I’m not a hypocondriac, or trying to make mountains out of molehills… but it seems to me that medical people should have it more together to realize that my u/s was Thurs. morning, and I’ve waited the entire three day weekend just to hear what’s next. And so, I call them to get the ball rolling that I want to hear answers from them TO-DAY, and yet it’s the last minute that they call me back, and not only that, but that they leave a message that I can’t return until tomorrow. It’s sensless. It’s SO IRRITATING, is it not?
Anyway, maybe it’s that I’ve been playing the ”let’s watch it and wait” game for a while, and I’m just losing my patience because I’m starting to feel like no one cares. From what we can tell it’s nothing, but still, it is something. It’s not “normal”, and it’s as frustrating.
Well, here is my start of the windmills pattern. I just need to do one more puffy cloud type thing to the right of the windmill, then I can start on the first words row. This is moving along quickly, mostly because it’s a narrow pattern, at only 3.19″ wide, I feel like I’m moving right along given that I just started on the 4th of July. It’s a nice distraction from my Quaker Virtues, but I admit that I picked that up last night for a bit because I didn’t feel up to stitching the little flowers or grass yet… but today the desire to do those came easily, and I’m finished.
On medical fronts, I picked up a copy of my ultrasound report from the Radiologist regarding my abdominal cyst, I followed that by calling my nurse practitioner to get the results (I know, I know, I already said I just got them, but I wanted the treatment plan), and so I spoke to my FNP’s friendly, yet seemingly spacey, clinical assistant named Ashley. She said that my FNP had not yet looked at my results and she’d call me back a little later. I asked her to call on my cell phone, as I would ensure that I’d have it on me all day. But wouldn’t you know it? Guess what happened? Of all the times when something wonky goes on with my cell phone, or the Verizon-can you hear me now-network, it was when the friendly Ashley calls me back at 5:30pm (WHEN THEIR OFFICE NO LONGER ACCEPTS INCOMING CALLS BECAUSE THEY ARE CLOSED) and somehow only gets my voice mail, even though I HAD MY PHONE ON ME AND I DID NOT MISS A CALL. What in the world? And of course, I can’t call back (read: I tried but did not get through) because they are done for the day. RRRRRRRGH! Did sweet Ashley think to try my home phone? No, because apparently when I asked that she call my cell, that meant to only call my cell. My word. What an annoyance, to put it mildly.
The results that I got from the radiologist as he interpreted my ultrasound (and compared it with previous CT scan) show that my cyst does not appear to be ovarian in type, but may be a “peritoneal inclusion cyst”, or a “mesenteric cyst”. So, today, I spent some time getting my medical degree via google, where I found that if it is either of the two above, the chance for anything malignant is very rare, as well as that both of them are not all that common.
Regardless, I just wanted some peace of mind today from happy-sweet-as-sugar-Ashley, and therefore my FNP, advising me of what to do about this. What is my treatment plan? I’m tired of stressing over something that apparently is nothing, but yet I feel it every time I sit, or sit and cross and uncross my legs, and or sneeze, or have a full bladder. I tell you the truth, that you do not realize how much you sit, until you realize that when you sit, you are uncomfortable. I’ve had this for sure since March, and who knows how long before that… I always thought the pains I was having in my left abdomen was due to gas! Good grief.
Tomorrow I am to call happy Ashley back, when she WILL be in the office, even though she was in the office when I called back tonight, just that they no longer accepted incoming calls because they were closed.
SO ANNOYED.
Thinking of getting another doctor.
