Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveler, thousands of miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home! ~ Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers, 1836
I find that quote particularly appropriate this Christmas since I feel young at heart even though my children are growing up and when so many friends and family are not in the area to celebrate with us on this Christmas Day. I thank God for all who are within reach at this time and also for those in our hearts!
May the spirit of Christmas bring you peace,
The gladness of Christmas give you hope,
The warmth of Christmas grant you love.
~Author Unknown
Another busy year at work with another new territory to explore, and I expect the same to be true in 2010 as well. Last January, I traveled to sunny San Diego and plan to go to Orlando next month for a couple of days. These work trips are inside conference rooms without any time for fun out and about. Last Spring though, I was lucky enough to travel to Punta Cana with my Sister and some great people from work for an all-fun trip! Too many great activities to list, but Michelle is a great zip-liner, and I am a great beach-lounger!
Hannah has jumped right into 9th grade…high school! Busy, busy. She’s joined the workforce with a couple of great babysitting gigs. She babysat last night, spent the night at a friend’s, went to the bakery to listen to my friends sing Christmas songs this morning, went skating with friends at the ice rink in the afternoon, attended Mass with Grandma, and will babysit again later tonight. Hannah plans to play soccer in the Spring, and looks forward to some pre-season coaching from a friend of mine. So far, she has taken a different art class each term and is thinking of a career in the art field. Maybe she’ll attend Siena like her Mom & Aunt? Whatever she decides to do, she’ll be amazing!
Sophie is loving 6th grade. Some mornings, she pulls me along, while she runs down the sidewalk and across the street to the school. She swims 4 days a school-week when possible and loves the water. Still no words on a regular basis, but in November, Sophie said "Love Mama." Hannah heard it too! Who knows if Sophie will ever say it again, but it was truly music to my ears and in my heart. Sophie’s current favorite movie is The Little Mermaid. I think because of all the swimming and singing and that Ariel gets her voice back! She plays that part over and over again.
Happy, happy Christmas! May Christmas bring you spirit of peace, gladness of hope, and warmth of love that lasts through the New Year!
Love, Mary, Hannah, Sophie, and Rascal too!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Purple beads
Dear friend,
I've been thinking of you! I'm sorry that things perhaps are not going the way that you want and hope right now. When things get particularly tough, just remember to take a moment to thank God for all that He has given you, for that act of kindness when your day is going rough, or the memory of a you and a friend, or the sound of your children laughing. It is in these simple things that I can sometimes find the strength I need.
Last Saturday night, I took Sophie to the grocery store. Actually, she demanded it. She didn't pick out too many snacks, and so I knew she was really focused on getting to the frozen food aisle. I dread that row that encases those delightful ice creams. I try to get Sophie out of Polly's with no more than one container. She went straight for the plastic bag full of serving-size-vanillas. Then, I said, "just one" over and over, as I try to block her path, but am always fearful that her 165-pounds will go right through a glass door. While I am picturing in my frazzled head what I will do if she is surrounded by broken shards of glass, she slides behind me for the rectangle of pistachio, which I don't think she even really likes, but favors the color green right now. "Just one, just one," I repeat. Deaf ears! She wants and grabs a round quart of vanilla. I manage to return the vanilla quart without a major tantrum, which can include throwing herself to the floor. I can no longer pick her up, and so I do what I can so that I don't have to try. I grab her arm and hurry her down and around the corner. We pick up milk, bread, yogurt, and then I think..."How will I ever get her back past the frozen aisle to the check-out lane?" Out of the corner of my eye, I see that someone...something has caught Sophie's attention. The most beautiful sight! There was my friend's sister...your sister...with the most sparkly purple and gold mardi gras beads wrapped around her neck. Ice cream...no more! Sophie had eyes only for those purple beads. (Purple is also one of her favorite colors right now too.) Your sister was gracious enough to give Sophie a strand of her purple beads, even before the words had been said, "Hi, Sophie really likes your beads...the purple ones." Sophie was laughing at her twirling purple before we checked out...more ice cream forgotten!
Her act of kindness and Sophie's laughter eased my trip to the store, but it is the love I have for friends like you when I think of you, when I see your family, that gives me strength and reminds me of all that God has given me...my family and friends.
Anyway, I have been thinking of you. If you need anything, you just need to say.
Love, Mary
I've been thinking of you! I'm sorry that things perhaps are not going the way that you want and hope right now. When things get particularly tough, just remember to take a moment to thank God for all that He has given you, for that act of kindness when your day is going rough, or the memory of a you and a friend, or the sound of your children laughing. It is in these simple things that I can sometimes find the strength I need.
Last Saturday night, I took Sophie to the grocery store. Actually, she demanded it. She didn't pick out too many snacks, and so I knew she was really focused on getting to the frozen food aisle. I dread that row that encases those delightful ice creams. I try to get Sophie out of Polly's with no more than one container. She went straight for the plastic bag full of serving-size-vanillas. Then, I said, "just one" over and over, as I try to block her path, but am always fearful that her 165-pounds will go right through a glass door. While I am picturing in my frazzled head what I will do if she is surrounded by broken shards of glass, she slides behind me for the rectangle of pistachio, which I don't think she even really likes, but favors the color green right now. "Just one, just one," I repeat. Deaf ears! She wants and grabs a round quart of vanilla. I manage to return the vanilla quart without a major tantrum, which can include throwing herself to the floor. I can no longer pick her up, and so I do what I can so that I don't have to try. I grab her arm and hurry her down and around the corner. We pick up milk, bread, yogurt, and then I think..."How will I ever get her back past the frozen aisle to the check-out lane?" Out of the corner of my eye, I see that someone...something has caught Sophie's attention. The most beautiful sight! There was my friend's sister...your sister...with the most sparkly purple and gold mardi gras beads wrapped around her neck. Ice cream...no more! Sophie had eyes only for those purple beads. (Purple is also one of her favorite colors right now too.) Your sister was gracious enough to give Sophie a strand of her purple beads, even before the words had been said, "Hi, Sophie really likes your beads...the purple ones." Sophie was laughing at her twirling purple before we checked out...more ice cream forgotten!
Her act of kindness and Sophie's laughter eased my trip to the store, but it is the love I have for friends like you when I think of you, when I see your family, that gives me strength and reminds me of all that God has given me...my family and friends.
Anyway, I have been thinking of you. If you need anything, you just need to say.
Love, Mary
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Sometimes, a dog is just a dog, and sometimes not
(My friend just got a new dog, and she blogged about memories and the way this new dog stirs her. I started to comment on her post, but then the words and thoughts grew too many.)
I had to put my beloved Tyler the dog down about a year after my Dad died, I think. I loved that old dog. When I sat holding him while he passed from this world, I cried. I wrapped him in a blanket and took him home. It comforts me to know that he came home with me. Of course, I stayed with him through to the end.
He always stayed with me. He sat beside me and comforted me when I was in labor, when no one else was there...when my then-current husband was either at work for the first pregnancy or boffing his girlfriend during my second pregnancy.
Sometimes, a dog seems like a lot of work - the never-ending circle of let me out and let me in over and over - and the constant barking, whining, crying to be included in every aspect of family life. Isn't that like any relationship though? It's work, sometimes harder than you want, but sometimes great fun. Just because the dog is sometimes annoying, irritating, sassy, you don't give up. You can yell at a dog, and he still comes running back to you full of hope and love in his eyes. Maybe some people should just have a dog?
Of course, people who are bad with people might also be bad with dogs. Dogs are practice children. They are responsibility without too much worry. My ex loves my current dog, pets him, plays with him. Too bad for the ex that he hasn't seen Rascal in 14 months. Maybe some people will never understand? Maybe some people shouldn't even have a dog?
My dog gives and gives and gives even more. I love that old dog!
I had to put my beloved Tyler the dog down about a year after my Dad died, I think. I loved that old dog. When I sat holding him while he passed from this world, I cried. I wrapped him in a blanket and took him home. It comforts me to know that he came home with me. Of course, I stayed with him through to the end.
He always stayed with me. He sat beside me and comforted me when I was in labor, when no one else was there...when my then-current husband was either at work for the first pregnancy or boffing his girlfriend during my second pregnancy.
Sometimes, a dog seems like a lot of work - the never-ending circle of let me out and let me in over and over - and the constant barking, whining, crying to be included in every aspect of family life. Isn't that like any relationship though? It's work, sometimes harder than you want, but sometimes great fun. Just because the dog is sometimes annoying, irritating, sassy, you don't give up. You can yell at a dog, and he still comes running back to you full of hope and love in his eyes. Maybe some people should just have a dog?
Of course, people who are bad with people might also be bad with dogs. Dogs are practice children. They are responsibility without too much worry. My ex loves my current dog, pets him, plays with him. Too bad for the ex that he hasn't seen Rascal in 14 months. Maybe some people will never understand? Maybe some people shouldn't even have a dog?
My dog gives and gives and gives even more. I love that old dog!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
monotony and chaos
Ever feel like everyone else is out having fun and you're trapped in a hell of monotony and chaos?
Ever cry uncontrollably because you cannot manage to do the same thing over and over and over again?
It's not just doing the dishes every day. It's washing dishes, having the phone ring, leaving the kitchen to answer the phone, returning to find dirty dishes mixed with the clean ones drying.
It's not just the laundry. It's doing the laundry, only to find piles and piles more on your daughter's floor.
It's not just sweeping the floor. It's sweeping the floor, leaving the room for 5 minutes, and returning to find half a box of Special K on the floor and the rest on the table.
Ever cry uncontrollably because you cannot manage to do the same thing over and over and over again?
It's not just doing the dishes every day. It's washing dishes, having the phone ring, leaving the kitchen to answer the phone, returning to find dirty dishes mixed with the clean ones drying.
It's not just the laundry. It's doing the laundry, only to find piles and piles more on your daughter's floor.
It's not just sweeping the floor. It's sweeping the floor, leaving the room for 5 minutes, and returning to find half a box of Special K on the floor and the rest on the table.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Death and Birth and all between
Well, I imagine that poor Harold is buried by now. He was a son, husband, father, and grandfather, at the young age of 41. I'm tired of seeing young men, lying in a box. It's too sad to see his wife, hugging, crying, begging for emotional comfort. I offered what I could: a hug and my daughter as a babysitter, if she needs. It's so not enough. And that's why I'll pray for her...for the strength she needs to bear it and the strength that she needs to persevere and the strength she needs to feel truly alive again.
Death, as much as I feel for the people closest to those lost, it makes me think of my own life and those in it. Time is slipping faster and faster by. There is so much to do, to be, to live. Should I prioritize? Should I grasp at all of it...the gusto? Should I just appreciate the ebb and flow of my everyday existence? Seek the joy in the simple? Enjoy what people come my way?
Too sad was the despair and ending last night. I needed to teeter-totter it. So, I looked for hope and beginning and found a brand new baby. He smiled, cooed, and made all sorts of baby noises...some not so pleasant. I offered what I could to him and accepted from his expressive eyes the simple, true love of a baby.
I guess how we start out life is how we continue through it. There's struggle in life, in every relationship-no matter how simple or complex, but the love we share during makes it all delightful. I am happy.
Death, as much as I feel for the people closest to those lost, it makes me think of my own life and those in it. Time is slipping faster and faster by. There is so much to do, to be, to live. Should I prioritize? Should I grasp at all of it...the gusto? Should I just appreciate the ebb and flow of my everyday existence? Seek the joy in the simple? Enjoy what people come my way?
Too sad was the despair and ending last night. I needed to teeter-totter it. So, I looked for hope and beginning and found a brand new baby. He smiled, cooed, and made all sorts of baby noises...some not so pleasant. I offered what I could to him and accepted from his expressive eyes the simple, true love of a baby.
I guess how we start out life is how we continue through it. There's struggle in life, in every relationship-no matter how simple or complex, but the love we share during makes it all delightful. I am happy.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Old Man and the Sign
My Dad sent me a sign tonight. It was Rodney.
When I visit my Dad at the cemetery, I chat with him a bit, walk over to the older relatives, back to my Dad, and then I glance over to Rodney and wave. Tonight, when I asked for a sign, which I always do, the Old Man made me really look at Rod's headstone.
July 31, 1999
10 years is a long time, but it really seems like yesterday.
I was just telling a co-worker today about Rodney, because she lost a young friend in an accident this week. Too sad.
I still remember that Saturday afternoon. My parents, Hannah, and a brother were at a picnic. I was about to join them, but got a call from Sister Helen (Rod's aunt). There'd been a farm accident and to pray. I walked up and down that sidewalk at my folks' house, carrying baby Sophie, whispering Hail Mary after Hail Mary.
Well, my prayers were answered, but not how I wanted, if that makes sense. Rod was called to Heaven. Some might argue where he went, but I know. He left a daughter and a woman who had loved him, and I was lucky enough to get to know those special girls after Rod passed.
I wasn't always nice enough to Rodney. Anyone who knew him knew it was sometimes hard to be nice though. Boy, he could tease me. One time, when we were teenagers, he made me so mad that I snatched his hat off his head and threw it on top of my parents' house. People laughed. He laughed, but I think I hurt his feelings, for which now I am sorry. He was just a boy to me...always.
Fast forward...at my wedding reception, where smoking was prohibited (Yes, even then, I was vehement!), Rod lit up. I told him off, but that didn't change anything. What a character! And then he made me feel so loved. He told my new husband that if he ever hurt me, he would be sorry, very sorry. He probably pounded his fist or something like that, and I'm sure gave him a very scary look to which I replied with my own scary look back at him, but no one could make him behave and secretly, I was pleased. I am sure that Rod would have carried out that threat if I had asked him, but I didn't want him to get into trouble. (And the ex-husband is "sorry" enough on his own!)
Rod was a good ol' boy until the end of his life...in many ways, but in the most obvious way to me, he was a boy in his heart, but trapped in a troubled body and hurt spirit. He's better now, easier now, content. But now, when a storm goes through, it's not God bowling; it's Rod thundering through, watering the crops, using those powerful feelings for good.
Life may have been hard for him at times, but he enjoyed it the best that he could. Someone reminded me tonight about Rod's laughter...
Can't you hear him laughing with us right now?
I can. He had a laugh. Man, he had a laugh. And I know I made him laugh a time or two.
After the funeral, they gave me something to remember him, not that I could ever, ever forget my lifetime friend, that boy that grew up down the road. They gave me a hat...a seed farm hat. I'm not sure that they remembered the hat incident, but I do. And I know that Rod got them to give it to me. I keep it at my Mom's on the top shelf of the closet in the spare room, because I just want to keep it. Keep it there. Keep it safe.
I know that Rod is one of my guardian angels. And now...I've gone through at least a dozen Kleenex. My eyes are swollen, and I'll have a crying headache tomorrow. I hope Rod knows that I would not do that, that crying, for just anyone.
So, where was my Dad trying to point me?
Embrace life. Don't be afraid to enjoy who comes into your life. The people in your life are what makes it wonderful and special and meaningful.
So, that's not exactly how the Old Man would have said it, but more like...
You do what you have to do.
And he probably would have added...
Oh...just get along with people.
And for good measure, Pop would have thrown in...
Are those your pajamas you're wearing out of the house?
He thought everything I wore in the 80s were pajamas. (I'm too sad. I gotta end on funny.)
I love Rodney. He is in my heart.
When I visit my Dad at the cemetery, I chat with him a bit, walk over to the older relatives, back to my Dad, and then I glance over to Rodney and wave. Tonight, when I asked for a sign, which I always do, the Old Man made me really look at Rod's headstone.
July 31, 1999
10 years is a long time, but it really seems like yesterday.
I was just telling a co-worker today about Rodney, because she lost a young friend in an accident this week. Too sad.
I still remember that Saturday afternoon. My parents, Hannah, and a brother were at a picnic. I was about to join them, but got a call from Sister Helen (Rod's aunt). There'd been a farm accident and to pray. I walked up and down that sidewalk at my folks' house, carrying baby Sophie, whispering Hail Mary after Hail Mary.
Well, my prayers were answered, but not how I wanted, if that makes sense. Rod was called to Heaven. Some might argue where he went, but I know. He left a daughter and a woman who had loved him, and I was lucky enough to get to know those special girls after Rod passed.
I wasn't always nice enough to Rodney. Anyone who knew him knew it was sometimes hard to be nice though. Boy, he could tease me. One time, when we were teenagers, he made me so mad that I snatched his hat off his head and threw it on top of my parents' house. People laughed. He laughed, but I think I hurt his feelings, for which now I am sorry. He was just a boy to me...always.
Fast forward...at my wedding reception, where smoking was prohibited (Yes, even then, I was vehement!), Rod lit up. I told him off, but that didn't change anything. What a character! And then he made me feel so loved. He told my new husband that if he ever hurt me, he would be sorry, very sorry. He probably pounded his fist or something like that, and I'm sure gave him a very scary look to which I replied with my own scary look back at him, but no one could make him behave and secretly, I was pleased. I am sure that Rod would have carried out that threat if I had asked him, but I didn't want him to get into trouble. (And the ex-husband is "sorry" enough on his own!)
Rod was a good ol' boy until the end of his life...in many ways, but in the most obvious way to me, he was a boy in his heart, but trapped in a troubled body and hurt spirit. He's better now, easier now, content. But now, when a storm goes through, it's not God bowling; it's Rod thundering through, watering the crops, using those powerful feelings for good.
Life may have been hard for him at times, but he enjoyed it the best that he could. Someone reminded me tonight about Rod's laughter...
Can't you hear him laughing with us right now?
I can. He had a laugh. Man, he had a laugh. And I know I made him laugh a time or two.
After the funeral, they gave me something to remember him, not that I could ever, ever forget my lifetime friend, that boy that grew up down the road. They gave me a hat...a seed farm hat. I'm not sure that they remembered the hat incident, but I do. And I know that Rod got them to give it to me. I keep it at my Mom's on the top shelf of the closet in the spare room, because I just want to keep it. Keep it there. Keep it safe.
I know that Rod is one of my guardian angels. And now...I've gone through at least a dozen Kleenex. My eyes are swollen, and I'll have a crying headache tomorrow. I hope Rod knows that I would not do that, that crying, for just anyone.
So, where was my Dad trying to point me?
Embrace life. Don't be afraid to enjoy who comes into your life. The people in your life are what makes it wonderful and special and meaningful.
So, that's not exactly how the Old Man would have said it, but more like...
You do what you have to do.
And he probably would have added...
Oh...just get along with people.
And for good measure, Pop would have thrown in...
Are those your pajamas you're wearing out of the house?
He thought everything I wore in the 80s were pajamas. (I'm too sad. I gotta end on funny.)
I love Rodney. He is in my heart.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Murgatroyd?
Sometimes, I get so frustrated with all that I have to do, I just cuss out loud. I don't need anyone to come running and do anything. I just need to cuss. It varies, depending on my mood. I have some favorites...none of which are all that nice. Sometimes, it's just an argh! I'm going to try to switch is to something funny...maybe distracting, like Heavens to Murgatroyd?
Maybe it's stress-induced Tourette's?
Maybe it's stress-induced Tourette's?
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Yearning...Bolt or Sun?
Yearning? What makes you yearn for someone? Yearning implies tenderness. But is it physical? Does it hit you like lightning? Or is it the emotional sun rising like a beacon?
That pang, that ache, that want...when the person walks away. That desire to lean toward him as he gets farther away and pull him back toward you. To safety, to make you safe. This pull...this electricity. How do you know if the current runs both ways? Does it strike just one and not the other? What if this strike sets you back or spins you around? Are these feelings real? Are you feeling the lightning just to feel the lightning? Real feelings? Do they come about like the sun rising? Slow, colorful, warm, bright, shiny, breathtaking...
Is yearning a response to a general loneliness? Is it just this specific person? Or could it be any person? I don't remember ever feeling this particular kind of yearning before...ever before. This need to be close, just near him.
When I hear him, I can breathe easier.
When I am near him, I cannot breathe.
That doesn't make sense, but it feels good, right, true.
Is yearning an addiction? I can't seem to get enough. Every bit, I enjoy though. Can you truly be happy with what is offered and not want more? Want what you want?
If I am lucky to get more or even luckier to get enough, will enough be enough? Or will I want something else? Do we always need to yearn? Or is there a satisfaction in having what you have? In loving what you love? In being loved back? Is the grass always greener? Or do I have patience enough to nurture my little corner of the world?
Is this a bolt of lightning that only I can see and feel? Or is it the sun...out there where everyone can see the shine and feel the warmth?
If it ever becomes real, will I bolt like lightning? Or will I be rooted in the soil of love and trust and warmth of the sun?
(I might need a bucket of friends to step in...to keep me still.)
That pang, that ache, that want...when the person walks away. That desire to lean toward him as he gets farther away and pull him back toward you. To safety, to make you safe. This pull...this electricity. How do you know if the current runs both ways? Does it strike just one and not the other? What if this strike sets you back or spins you around? Are these feelings real? Are you feeling the lightning just to feel the lightning? Real feelings? Do they come about like the sun rising? Slow, colorful, warm, bright, shiny, breathtaking...
Is yearning a response to a general loneliness? Is it just this specific person? Or could it be any person? I don't remember ever feeling this particular kind of yearning before...ever before. This need to be close, just near him.
When I hear him, I can breathe easier.
When I am near him, I cannot breathe.
That doesn't make sense, but it feels good, right, true.
Is yearning an addiction? I can't seem to get enough. Every bit, I enjoy though. Can you truly be happy with what is offered and not want more? Want what you want?
If I am lucky to get more or even luckier to get enough, will enough be enough? Or will I want something else? Do we always need to yearn? Or is there a satisfaction in having what you have? In loving what you love? In being loved back? Is the grass always greener? Or do I have patience enough to nurture my little corner of the world?
Is this a bolt of lightning that only I can see and feel? Or is it the sun...out there where everyone can see the shine and feel the warmth?
If it ever becomes real, will I bolt like lightning? Or will I be rooted in the soil of love and trust and warmth of the sun?
(I might need a bucket of friends to step in...to keep me still.)
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Get Motivated...to deal with past heartache
On the way to a Get Motivated seminar, the most innocent thing can cause such despair and pain and loss. But there is a place and time to feel those things and deal with those feelings. So, I made a deal then...with myself. Hold it in. Contain it. Push it down. Deal later. Dealing now...
I spent an afternoon at the corner of Jolly and Hagadorn Roads with that red barn some 12 years ago. Then, it was an antique dealer. It might still be, but I couldn't look that way for long this week. Just a glance brought back so much. It filled me up until my eyes were wet and I spoke softly.
Just about a year before Sophie arrived, I miscarried. It was "just" a blighted ovum, but she was also my child, and I had hopes and dreams for her. She has a name; I gave her Regan. Regan means regal or royal, and she seemed to be in a hurry to get to the Kingdom of God. So, it worked.
After the doctor appointment where she was removed from my aching heart, my husband (at that time) took me to that antique store on the corner there to take my mind off things. I wandered around, looking around, not seeing anything, but trying to mend the hole in my heart.
Although the sadness of that day doesn't overwhelm me now when I think about it, because without that baby turning into my angel then, I would not have my Sophie now! I know that she is the guardian angel for my two earth angels. But...being there, at that place where I felt so much sadness, even just driving by it, caught me off guard and filled me with the despair of that Autumn day almost 12 years ago.
I didn't want to go by again...thanks to the driver for understanding, for accommodating me without question. We didn't go by again. I didn't want to feel that way. No one should.
I spent an afternoon at the corner of Jolly and Hagadorn Roads with that red barn some 12 years ago. Then, it was an antique dealer. It might still be, but I couldn't look that way for long this week. Just a glance brought back so much. It filled me up until my eyes were wet and I spoke softly.
Just about a year before Sophie arrived, I miscarried. It was "just" a blighted ovum, but she was also my child, and I had hopes and dreams for her. She has a name; I gave her Regan. Regan means regal or royal, and she seemed to be in a hurry to get to the Kingdom of God. So, it worked.
After the doctor appointment where she was removed from my aching heart, my husband (at that time) took me to that antique store on the corner there to take my mind off things. I wandered around, looking around, not seeing anything, but trying to mend the hole in my heart.
Although the sadness of that day doesn't overwhelm me now when I think about it, because without that baby turning into my angel then, I would not have my Sophie now! I know that she is the guardian angel for my two earth angels. But...being there, at that place where I felt so much sadness, even just driving by it, caught me off guard and filled me with the despair of that Autumn day almost 12 years ago.
I didn't want to go by again...thanks to the driver for understanding, for accommodating me without question. We didn't go by again. I didn't want to feel that way. No one should.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Free Will
God’s greatest gift to us is free will. However, we also have a responsibility to take care of others. We need to make decisions not based upon just our own wants and needs. We have to use our free will to make good decisions for those who will be directly and indirectly affected by our decisions.
There are consequences to our actions.
Consequences beyond our knowledge.
Free will is not an excuse for others to use to get away from blame. You cannot hurt someone or abuse her, and blame it on her free will. The blame is still on the abuser. The abuser needs to take responsibility for his actions.
Why don't people learn this from others? Why do some people need to experience this before they understand it? Why do some people never understand?
Where is Chastity? Temperance? Charity? Diligence? Kindness? and Humility?
Free will is not an excuse to live otherwise. To ignore these 7 virtues by saying you have a free will is to choose to live your life of lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. We know where that will get you. So, if I cannot persuade you or show you that free will is not your right but your responsibility, what should I do? Keep trying to save your soul, or use your definition of "free will" and give up?
There are consequences to our actions.
Consequences beyond our knowledge.
Free will is not an excuse for others to use to get away from blame. You cannot hurt someone or abuse her, and blame it on her free will. The blame is still on the abuser. The abuser needs to take responsibility for his actions.
Why don't people learn this from others? Why do some people need to experience this before they understand it? Why do some people never understand?
Where is Chastity? Temperance? Charity? Diligence? Kindness? and Humility?
Free will is not an excuse to live otherwise. To ignore these 7 virtues by saying you have a free will is to choose to live your life of lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. We know where that will get you. So, if I cannot persuade you or show you that free will is not your right but your responsibility, what should I do? Keep trying to save your soul, or use your definition of "free will" and give up?
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Crazy Glue
People are fragile. They can break. It's as simple -- and as complicated -- as that.
Whether it's a quick snap or a slow burn, sometimes you think you cannot handle any more than that -- that feeling of dread...of what's coming next. Your body tenses up. You walk around all hunched. Ready to tumble. Or ready to fly? or to explode? or to just lie down in a fetal position and cry?
Then, someone comes forward...is a Man. A good man. He listens. You know that you can just say anything, even if it's irrational. You're crazy, but he accepts you anyway. He puts you back together. You're crazy; he's glue.
Whether it's a quick snap or a slow burn, sometimes you think you cannot handle any more than that -- that feeling of dread...of what's coming next. Your body tenses up. You walk around all hunched. Ready to tumble. Or ready to fly? or to explode? or to just lie down in a fetal position and cry?
Then, someone comes forward...is a Man. A good man. He listens. You know that you can just say anything, even if it's irrational. You're crazy, but he accepts you anyway. He puts you back together. You're crazy; he's glue.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Orange Crush
Ways To Let Go Of An Emotional Love Affair
What is an emotional love affair? An innocent crush. An inappropriate dependence. A dysfunctional replacement. Could be one or all.
(Stuff in ALL CAPS was taken from the link above.)
1.) SCHEDULE YOUR OBSESSING: hahaha! This suggestion is such an oxymoron. Have the author of the original article and the blogger-commentator ever been obsessed? Obviously not. Obsession...you cannot think of anything else. You think/feel it. It encompasses you. How can you turn it off? Even temporarily. The real thing you have to do is put a rubber band around your wrist and snap it hard every time you think of obsession.
2.) REPLACE YOUR CRUSH WITH SOMETHING: Now, distraction is a great route to take. However, what happens when you replace one obsession with an even worse one? What should I do? I've watched every Bones episode. I can read only so much before my eyes fall out. And of course, there's always exercise, but does exercise stop me from thinking about said-obsession? Or does it just give me more time to free my mind from reality and replace with fantasies about what might be nicer?
3.) ACCEPT THAT YOU'RE LONELY: Yes, I'm lonely, and that's why I obsess. Do I really need to be reminded about how lonely I really am when I am seeking help about being so lonely that I have to have an obsession? You are an obsession, you're my obsession. Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me? (Animotion) One is the loneliest number that they'll ever do. (Three Dog Night) I think it's the loneliest number that I'll ever be. And, I'll never be anything but that. Just one. That's acceptance.
4.) IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD: I like this one! ...The adrenaline rush of love, yes, it's basic. It's brain synapsis gone wild. It's your brain's own personal party. It's...My fantasy has turned to madness. All my goodness has turned to badness. (Animotion) When it's turned to badness, I guess it's time for the rubber band snap. But what's really wrong with a fantasy when life is so humdrum. So laundry and vacuum and dishes. Does the fantasy cause you to stop living? Or is it the fantasy that helps you cope with the existing?
5.) WRITE IT OUT: If you're too ashamed to admit to anyone you've lost it so hardcore for someone so utterly uninterested, try a nice, long journal session. Writing out one's emotions has been scientifically proven to help speed up the healing process... Now, this one I like. This is a time-honored way of creatively expressing one's loserness. Put it all out there...Loser it up. Maybe you'll inspire others? Maybe others will say...look at this crazy chick, because I'm not that gone with the wind.
Here's my suggestion for coping with a crush: Get a dollar bill. Walk to a vending machine. Purchase your own crush. I prefer grape, but purple is depressing, and this posting has been bleak enough. So, since orange is a proven happy color, I'll choose an Orange Crush.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Passport from Irrationality
I am absurd! How does my mind work?
Is there an actual thought process? Or is it a jumble of missing spark plugs? Should I look for the missing spark plug? If I look for it in a closed-up garage, will Humphrey Bogart rescue me? Would Humphrey/Linus rescue me? Or are happy endings just that? An ending? Where is my beginning? Waiting. Where is my life? Where is what I want? Where is what I want to do? The bottom of the list. The never-ending line through immigration. Go to the back of the line. Walk. Run. Plod.
I am an irrational. An irrational national.
I pledge allegiance to the irrational state of Mary.
Is there an actual thought process? Or is it a jumble of missing spark plugs? Should I look for the missing spark plug? If I look for it in a closed-up garage, will Humphrey Bogart rescue me? Would Humphrey/Linus rescue me? Or are happy endings just that? An ending? Where is my beginning? Waiting. Where is my life? Where is what I want? Where is what I want to do? The bottom of the list. The never-ending line through immigration. Go to the back of the line. Walk. Run. Plod.
I am an irrational. An irrational national.
I pledge allegiance to the irrational state of Mary.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Wealth and Waste
I have always told my daughters how rich we are in the ways that really count. We have one another. We have family who loves and holds us up when we need. However, after visiting the Dominican Republic and driving through the countryside, I am ashamed of my own gluttony and wastefulness.
Here I was on the way from a beautiful, all-inclusive resort to a zipline adventure, something totally extravagant, and I was passing homes with outhouses. I call them homes, but others might call them shacks. Our chicken coop is probably a little nicer than a few of these homes.
When I first saw some of the living conditions, I wanted to cry for them. How could they live like that? But the real question is...how could I live like that?
They are not shacks; they are homes. I do not presume to think that the families who live there are in anyway unhappy or unsatisfied with what they have.
I saw children in their school uniforms. I saw churches. I saw people congregating. I saw families together.
Just like here, there are some who are better off than others. Just like here, they make choices in how they live, and they are happy or sad.
I also saw gas stations, which consisted of gallon jugs filled with gas, sitting on a makeshift table. This works for them. However, how many times have I wished for a full-service station? What a luxury that would be.
I saw children chasing the bus to get the quarters that someone generously threw. I wish that I had thought to bring money for the children. What a treat for any small child anywhere! Anywhere? Maybe not here. How many times have I seen people walk by a coin on the sidewalk? Me...I pick it up if I see it. But, there are many who wouldn't bother. How many times have I wasted a quarter on some silly, stupid, extravagant thing though? Isn't that the same thing? Wasting something and just throwing it away?
I saw simplicity there. I surround myself with things here. To somehow complete me? To give me comfort? To make life easier? These things are silly and stupid. I am ashamed of myself.
I feel lost. I thought I knew myself. I thought I was a good person.
I am a wasteful, silly, spoiled girl.
Here I was on the way from a beautiful, all-inclusive resort to a zipline adventure, something totally extravagant, and I was passing homes with outhouses. I call them homes, but others might call them shacks. Our chicken coop is probably a little nicer than a few of these homes.
When I first saw some of the living conditions, I wanted to cry for them. How could they live like that? But the real question is...how could I live like that?
They are not shacks; they are homes. I do not presume to think that the families who live there are in anyway unhappy or unsatisfied with what they have.
I saw children in their school uniforms. I saw churches. I saw people congregating. I saw families together.
Just like here, there are some who are better off than others. Just like here, they make choices in how they live, and they are happy or sad.
I also saw gas stations, which consisted of gallon jugs filled with gas, sitting on a makeshift table. This works for them. However, how many times have I wished for a full-service station? What a luxury that would be.
I saw children chasing the bus to get the quarters that someone generously threw. I wish that I had thought to bring money for the children. What a treat for any small child anywhere! Anywhere? Maybe not here. How many times have I seen people walk by a coin on the sidewalk? Me...I pick it up if I see it. But, there are many who wouldn't bother. How many times have I wasted a quarter on some silly, stupid, extravagant thing though? Isn't that the same thing? Wasting something and just throwing it away?
I saw simplicity there. I surround myself with things here. To somehow complete me? To give me comfort? To make life easier? These things are silly and stupid. I am ashamed of myself.
I feel lost. I thought I knew myself. I thought I was a good person.
I am a wasteful, silly, spoiled girl.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
La-Z-Boy sucks!
I sent this to La-Z-Boy today. They suck...
I bought a Demi Sofa on 12/12/08, and it was delivered on 02/06/09. It is already broken! My 10-year-old daughter sat on it, and I heard a huge crack and something is sticking out the bottom of the sofa. I find it absolutely reprehensible that your furniture does not last even a month! I am appalled. No wonder your stores are closing if this is the the type of quality you deliver. Never again will I buy from your company, and I will definitely share this information with EVERYONE that I know. The sales rep assured me that this sofa would be sturdy; that was a lie. And whomever I talked to at the Customer Service Center was rude. I don't care how much the service fee is, even it's just a $1 fee, which I find doubtful. I cannot believe that I paid $800+ for this couch and now I have to pay anything again for it. Back to Ikea for me.
I bought a Demi Sofa on 12/12/08, and it was delivered on 02/06/09. It is already broken! My 10-year-old daughter sat on it, and I heard a huge crack and something is sticking out the bottom of the sofa. I find it absolutely reprehensible that your furniture does not last even a month! I am appalled. No wonder your stores are closing if this is the the type of quality you deliver. Never again will I buy from your company, and I will definitely share this information with EVERYONE that I know. The sales rep assured me that this sofa would be sturdy; that was a lie. And whomever I talked to at the Customer Service Center was rude. I don't care how much the service fee is, even it's just a $1 fee, which I find doubtful. I cannot believe that I paid $800+ for this couch and now I have to pay anything again for it. Back to Ikea for me.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Darn...I'm a horse
I occasionally read horoscope stuff for fun. I think that most horoscopes can apply to anyone at most anytime. However, what does the Chinese horoscope have against me this year?
Summary of the Yahoo link:
http://shine.yahoo.com/astrology/chinese/horse/yearly-overview/
The year - 4 so-so months and 8 bad months
Career - work even harder for no results???
Relationships - Be other-centered. The one time I am actually thinking about doing something for myself, and this stupid article tells me I am selfish. And "The single Horse may have trouble this year finding a meaningful, long lasting relationship." This year? Really? As opposed to every other year of my life?
Health - Bad due to stress. Well, at least that's the same as always. More sleep needed? Well, let's try to work that in. Sure.
Wealth - I'll be able to save some money this year, if I don't spend any. Great! Great advice. Very wise.
In summary, since I'll have no one to do anything with outside of work and all I'll be doing at home is sleeping, I'll have an extra dime next year.
Jeez, what does the Ox have against the Horse?
Summary of the Yahoo link:
http://shine.yahoo.com/astrology/chinese/horse/yearly-overview/
The year - 4 so-so months and 8 bad months
Career - work even harder for no results???
Relationships - Be other-centered. The one time I am actually thinking about doing something for myself, and this stupid article tells me I am selfish. And "The single Horse may have trouble this year finding a meaningful, long lasting relationship." This year? Really? As opposed to every other year of my life?
Health - Bad due to stress. Well, at least that's the same as always. More sleep needed? Well, let's try to work that in. Sure.
Wealth - I'll be able to save some money this year, if I don't spend any. Great! Great advice. Very wise.
In summary, since I'll have no one to do anything with outside of work and all I'll be doing at home is sleeping, I'll have an extra dime next year.
Jeez, what does the Ox have against the Horse?
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Crazy like a circus?
You were in my dream.
I started out at a circus. I lost something and was searching for it. People were helping me look. I found it, and then I walked a long way. The circus and the walk were difficult, but I laughed a lot too. I ended up in with a bunch of people in this room. Everyone was talking and having a great time. I think it must have been a party. I can't remember everyone who was there, but you were there and so was your Dad. Questions were asked and answered. I don't remember what your Dad said, but I remember the way he said it. He was happy and healthy and sounded and looked so young and confident.
I'm sure that I dreamed this, because we connected this week and talked about our Dads and their birthdays.
Maybe it's just me that needed to dream this message, but I thought it couldn't hurt to share it with you. Maybe your Dad was trying to tell you something through my dream? Or maybe I just wanted to reach out and make sure you are okay?
Even though life is sometimes crazy and difficult, it is a wonderful thing. Your Dad was there in my dream. I hope you know that I am here for you.
I started out at a circus. I lost something and was searching for it. People were helping me look. I found it, and then I walked a long way. The circus and the walk were difficult, but I laughed a lot too. I ended up in with a bunch of people in this room. Everyone was talking and having a great time. I think it must have been a party. I can't remember everyone who was there, but you were there and so was your Dad. Questions were asked and answered. I don't remember what your Dad said, but I remember the way he said it. He was happy and healthy and sounded and looked so young and confident.
I'm sure that I dreamed this, because we connected this week and talked about our Dads and their birthdays.
Maybe it's just me that needed to dream this message, but I thought it couldn't hurt to share it with you. Maybe your Dad was trying to tell you something through my dream? Or maybe I just wanted to reach out and make sure you are okay?
Even though life is sometimes crazy and difficult, it is a wonderful thing. Your Dad was there in my dream. I hope you know that I am here for you.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
He's just not that into me - not a book or a movie, but a life
What if you could take the best of the most influential guys from your past, stir it up, and make a new man? An Iron Man. A Batman? A Superman! No...a Real Man! He's a compilation of at least 4 guys who have impacted you. Are you going to screw it up like you did before? Will he also vanish, vaporize, vamoose?
A boy from high school: a casual friendship that developed over time. Comfortable, safe, chaste. I was myself. We had classes together, but he was older, wiser, calmer. Funny, he made me laugh. When he wanted to move beyond friendship into a relationship, I didn't want to screw up the great friendship. I wasn't ready for more. I was scared. Time? Wait? He got mad and left.
A boy from college: an instantaneous feeling in my heart that warmed me. The moment I saw him walking toward me across Trinity Gardens, I knew that I would marry him. (Okay, you know who this one is, but I am keeping with the theme of anonymity.) My heart skipped a beat. We flirted. Funny, he made me laugh. We became friends and confidantes and dependent upon one another...secure in a future, in forever. An assumption. He lost respect for himself, and I lost respect for him when he stopped believing that I believed in him. He went to hell and left.
A man from work: unavailable at first, disinterested, but over time crush-worthy from afar. Funny, he made me laugh. Respect, his need for understanding and my compassionate ear and sage advice delivered. I should have been more wary, but we tried more for just about a minute. I wasn't ready. I was confused. He got hurt and left.
Another one from work: Exciting, spontaneous, energetic, hard working. Funny, he made me laugh. Knew me better than I knew myself. Could diffuse my anger at just the right time. Could talk me off the proverbial cliff. And then pushed me right over the edge. Too damaged and dysfunctional. He got cocky and left.
Some have wanted to come back. I thought about it. I still think about what might have...moving on. What if I could stir them all up in a pot, remove or revise the damaged parts, put all the good stuff together? I would have:
If I could add two more essential ingredients, they would be loyalty and commitment. (That narrows the field down to Dogs. Dogs don't leave unless they die, and you can't really hold that against them.) Let's dream though, and get back to the man...If such a man existed, he just wouldn't be that into me.
Would he? What if I was ready? What if I were scared, but he talked me through it? What if it were right and fun? He got me and stayed?
A boy from high school: a casual friendship that developed over time. Comfortable, safe, chaste. I was myself. We had classes together, but he was older, wiser, calmer. Funny, he made me laugh. When he wanted to move beyond friendship into a relationship, I didn't want to screw up the great friendship. I wasn't ready for more. I was scared. Time? Wait? He got mad and left.
A boy from college: an instantaneous feeling in my heart that warmed me. The moment I saw him walking toward me across Trinity Gardens, I knew that I would marry him. (Okay, you know who this one is, but I am keeping with the theme of anonymity.) My heart skipped a beat. We flirted. Funny, he made me laugh. We became friends and confidantes and dependent upon one another...secure in a future, in forever. An assumption. He lost respect for himself, and I lost respect for him when he stopped believing that I believed in him. He went to hell and left.
A man from work: unavailable at first, disinterested, but over time crush-worthy from afar. Funny, he made me laugh. Respect, his need for understanding and my compassionate ear and sage advice delivered. I should have been more wary, but we tried more for just about a minute. I wasn't ready. I was confused. He got hurt and left.
Another one from work: Exciting, spontaneous, energetic, hard working. Funny, he made me laugh. Knew me better than I knew myself. Could diffuse my anger at just the right time. Could talk me off the proverbial cliff. And then pushed me right over the edge. Too damaged and dysfunctional. He got cocky and left.
Some have wanted to come back. I thought about it. I still think about what might have...moving on. What if I could stir them all up in a pot, remove or revise the damaged parts, put all the good stuff together? I would have:
- someone with whom I could be myself - loud or quiet, glad, sad, mad, or smad.
- someone who made my heart beat faster the moment that I saw him and who would keep it beating that way - in a tie, without a tie, or halfway untied. (That went somewhere I hadn't planned.) A faster beat with just a look, a glance.
- someone who earned my respect and likewise respected me. If he makes a mistake, he says sorry, and eh, all is forgiven. No cover ups, no tangled webs.
- someone who could balance outrageous antics with tender feelings. Fun, yet snuggly.
If I could add two more essential ingredients, they would be loyalty and commitment. (That narrows the field down to Dogs. Dogs don't leave unless they die, and you can't really hold that against them.) Let's dream though, and get back to the man...If such a man existed, he just wouldn't be that into me.
Would he? What if I was ready? What if I were scared, but he talked me through it? What if it were right and fun? He got me and stayed?
Monday, January 5, 2009
Crying for a neighbor
Dale E. Cooley, 80, of Mason, died Nov. 14, 2008. He was born June 24, 1928 in Charlotte. Surviving are his wife of 53 years, Virginia, a son Warren, and other family members. I never knew that Dale worked at A & P for 42 years and served two years in the U.S. Army, one year of which was spent on the Korean Peninsula.
We think of the happy times - and all the beautiful flowers Dale used to enjoy growing. He was pleased to have Hannah come to the edge of the yard and tell him hi, and she always had a mini-chat. One time, she told Dale that she was "sixteen," and now Hannah is so grown up and has a nice young sister...
Every evening when Hannah and I pulled into our driveway, I glanced over to see Dale puttering in his garden. He really did grow pretty flowers, but even better he grew a good neighbor. I can see my 3-year-old Hannah bounce over to the fence to make curious, but polite conversation. He would explain about his garden, carving lessons out of nature.
Dale and Virginia from their observant posts knew that I was a practically single Mother and then a truly single one. They never judged or intruded, but they made me feel safe by their presence across the narrow drive and a split rail fence.
We were tolerant neighbors. We knew inherently that the others were doing the best that they could to be considerate. Dale "taught" us about the messy berry tree at the end of our driveway in a way that suggested it might be good to get rid of it, which we did. The way that he guided us is a lost art form in neighborhoods full of young up and comers. Today's neighbors would complain about the tree and take legal action.
Dale even liked my dog. He really did, and Tyler the dog liked him. (That says a lot about a man, not just that a dog liked him, but this dog in particular who at times sided with his mistress and not his master.) Dale would reach down over the fence and pet Tyler while he would continue his chat with Hannah. Not once did Tyler snap at him.
If I close my eyes, I can see Dale over that backyard fence lined with chicken wire to keep the critters out, leaning on his rake, wiping his brow with a handkerchief pulled from his pocket, with his wheel barrow in front of him, smiling as Hannah bounds over for her evening greeting.
When I opened Virginia's letter, I cried.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Taming of the Shrew-Mother
Right this second, I am listening to my 14-year-old daughter on the phone. With. A. Boy.
She's calm, cool, collected. She's sweet, yet sincere. She didn't break out in hives and jump up and down, giddy with terrified excitement.
She talked to this boy for more than 5 minutes...maybe even 10 whole minutes! From whom did she learn this talking-to-a-boy skill? Certainly not me. I can't think of things to say for longer than a minute or two. Men shrink away from conversations with me. I'm elephant-headed, spiritual and religious, and a Mom. Most men are liberal, naturalist/spiritualist, hoochy-boys. What would we say to one another?
Of course, before the boy called my daughter, she was trying to figure out what she would say to him when he did call her back. They've been talking for a couple of weeks now. And they have a movie-thing planned for a near-future Friday.
Should I just let this Lucentio-boy wisk away my Bianca-daughter? How do I stand idly by? Should I get her to a nunnery? Should I allow this movie-going? Should I drive her and her friend? Should I let another Mother drive them and show up at the same theater and sit behind them?
What do I do if she sees this boy for a long time? And what will I do when it doesn't work out? Forget about that baby manual that comes out at birth. Where, oh where, is the adolescent enchiridion, the minor manual, or even a juvenile journal? Should I lock her in the hay mow? Perhaps, I should, at least until my Petruchio shows up!
She's calm, cool, collected. She's sweet, yet sincere. She didn't break out in hives and jump up and down, giddy with terrified excitement.
She talked to this boy for more than 5 minutes...maybe even 10 whole minutes! From whom did she learn this talking-to-a-boy skill? Certainly not me. I can't think of things to say for longer than a minute or two. Men shrink away from conversations with me. I'm elephant-headed, spiritual and religious, and a Mom. Most men are liberal, naturalist/spiritualist, hoochy-boys. What would we say to one another?
Of course, before the boy called my daughter, she was trying to figure out what she would say to him when he did call her back. They've been talking for a couple of weeks now. And they have a movie-thing planned for a near-future Friday.
Should I just let this Lucentio-boy wisk away my Bianca-daughter? How do I stand idly by? Should I get her to a nunnery? Should I allow this movie-going? Should I drive her and her friend? Should I let another Mother drive them and show up at the same theater and sit behind them?
What do I do if she sees this boy for a long time? And what will I do when it doesn't work out? Forget about that baby manual that comes out at birth. Where, oh where, is the adolescent enchiridion, the minor manual, or even a juvenile journal? Should I lock her in the hay mow? Perhaps, I should, at least until my Petruchio shows up!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)