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

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.

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.

What I knew...is remembered by what his wife wrote to me, received in today's mail:

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.

My Theory on Friendship

I've always thought that to share happiness and laughter is a wonderful thing, because you make others happy as well. The happiness grows and grows exponentially. However, I think to share your sadness and your worries with your friends is an even better thing. Each friend willingly takes a bit of your sadness away. Sadness does not grow when shared. We take it and replace it with love and understanding. So, please feel the love and understanding.

Ben...too young

I went to a memorial service today. A 22-year-old boy, barely a man, even though he was a great big hunky corn-fed farmer! He did not have his seat belt on, drinking and speeding. He was not invincible. His Mom spoke today; she pleaded to wear a seat belt when you are in a car. If she sees you without one, she'll tell the cops to ticket you and make you donate to her son's memorial fund.

Although I knew Ben only occasion, I've known his family since I was 5 when I rode the same bus as his Mother and his 3 Aunts. His Aunt Laurie is one of my best friends. She recorded a beautiful song that they played today at the service. Her voice, just the thought of her emotions pouring out, made me tear up.

I drive by Ben's Grandparents house and see his name on the seed signs. I went to parties there and decorated a float for the fair parade.

I drive by the corner where he died. It's one road over from my Mom's.

I've picked pumpkins and watched farm animals at his parents' farm.

He wanted to be a farmer. He was a farmer. It's a sad thing to speak in past tense about someone so young.

Live life. Embrace it.

Sometimes, I feel like I am just getting by. A wise woman reminded me: some people live big, and others live more quietly.

Value life. Embrace it!

Books...

Books...are better than life.

You can pick up a book and live it whenever you want that life.

You can put the book down when you need a break.

No wonder I spent my youth up a tree reading a book. All summer long on any non-rainy day, I would climb the tree behind the house and read. Then I could take a walk to the swamp and pretend to be the heroine. In bad weather, I would hide in my room or in the basement, and I would be transported to another sunny life.

How wonderful and lucky that my parents gave me the safety and security of a childhood where I could live through books and nature.

The heroine of my book always has a struggle, but she endures, and she thrives.

Her family is always quirky, but good loving people.

Friends are always the loyal and supportive sidekicks that build the heroine up instead of tear down.

The struggle comes from God, nature, society, man, or self.

I'm old enough to be over, for the most part, my doubt of or anger at God. God does not cause me much struggle anymore. He is more of a comport, a guide, a beacon home.

In the safe confines of my hometown, I do not have to struggle with much of a force of nature. An occasional power outage, a foot of snow...those are not life-struggling events. Those are just things to deal with. Nature is usually my friend. I can remember being upset in college. I would just look out the window and watch the leaves blow on the tree. My Dad always said, "You do what you have to do."

Society is a fearful thing. You have to wonder what we are all thinking collectively to have gotten to such a strange place in our time. We think certain things are okay when they are so strange. I heard once that people who are afraid to be individuals join groups. I think as well, people want others to be like them to validate themselves. I don't want anyone to be like me...that would be boring. However, we're constantly held up to the expectations of others. If you don't dress like this or act like this, then you are nothing, because you are not like me. It's the ego of the individual to think that they represent society. My Dad always said, "You just have to get along with people."

Me against man. My Dad always said, "Everyone's different." Why is it, then, that we cannot be accepting of others when they are not like us? I'm going to try to be more accepting of rude, stupid people when dealing with them one on one. They cannot help it that they are not totally cool like me. Every one of us has no idea what the other person is feeling or thinking. There is all this history that no one else can truly understand. Why do we try? Maybe we should just accept it and hope for the best. We seem to all seek this partner in life, this witness. But do they really witness you...the real you? No person knows me. Maybe the struggle comes when you want them to know.

I am in a constant struggle against myself. I am also very comfortable with myself. That, in itself, is a constant struggle. Logic? Circles.

I wish I could put this book down for a minute. Or end this chapter and start a new one.

double trouble

What would you do if your friend's abusive husband doubled the life insurance on her?

He is crazy. He's going to make it seem like an accident.

She needs to leave and get far away.

He is controlling, abusive, obsessed. He is really sick.

I'm not sure how she found out about the life insurance, but she's just not safe there.

I truly believe that he would kill her before letting her get a divorce.

He's all about how something looks. He has no substance.

Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'

People think that I don't like to hug. I love to hug.

If I were to cry, why would I want a hug? A hug would make me feel weak and make me cry harder...if I wasn't ready for it.

If I were in the privacy of my own home with someone I trusted or a hunky dude, then a hug would be good. My ex-dysfunction used to give me shoulder-time when I was upset. I liked shoulder-time. I loved it. I miss it. I'd like shoulder-time with a new man. Tenderness.

When my Dad walked me down the aisle, he patted my hand the whole way. I'm not sure if he was nervous or thought I was. Affection.

When my Dad died, I still remember the hugs from family and friends. I can still feel them, physically feel their arms around me. Comfort.

I get/give friendly hugs from/to friends I've known for 25 years. Those are nice. I trust those hugs. Trust.

The hugs when my Sister and her family are leaving after a visit are a way to hold onto them until the next visit. Kalli squeezes. Tyler pats my back. When I try to think of the description of my sister's hug, it hurts too much for words. Commitment.

I hug my daughters. True Love.

Today at work, some guy was talking to me and another woman. He said something about giving out free foot rubs, but how I wouldn't want one, because I don't like to be touched. Dude! What the French, Toast?

If anything, I tend to crave sensory input, like Sophie does. I love to get massages, manicures, pedicures. I'm not ticklish. I love to get my feet rubbed. I have a bumpy footstool at work so that I can take my shoes off and rub my own socked feet. It's a great stress-reliever.

However, to the point, and of course, I make light of it, because that's what I do. If some hottie were to give me a hug out of the blue when I was unprepared, I'd probably implode. Don't tease a girl with a sip of water when there's no well in sight. Seriously, I'd probably melt to the ground and cry in want of someone to hold me.

Death is stressful

The woman who watches my kids during the summer is really a wonderful, caring person. She has the patience of Job. She told me that as long as she is doing day care that Sophie has a place with her. What a relief to me to have that security. Sophie and Hannah are loved there.

In the span of 47 days, Belinda has lost her Mother, Brother, Uncle and a Cousin. Her brother died on Christmas, and she'll bury her Mother on Valentine's Day.

She feels alone. I wish I knew what to do to help.

Whenever I think about my Dad's dying, I have these quick flashbacks of what different people did for me. Not even what they did, but where I saw them. Those moments are etchings in my soul. Those moments still bring me love.

Belinda called tonight to thank me for calling our mutual friend Debbie yesterday to ask her to sing at her Mother's funeral. That was the very least that I could do, and she was so appreciative.

I think it helps to know that others are there. If I could, I would take a little bit of her pain and have it as my own.

Match: a spark or a burn?

Okay, after talking with my friend Lynne last week, I put my profile on a match site. (Don't tell my Mom!) My friend met a man in September on there, and he proposed on New Year's Eve. Not that I am looking for a quick husband, just someone suitable to date. Someone who sparks my interest? Anyone? Anyone out there? I am already considering removing the profile due to lack of response. Although I realize no dude (or even a dud) is going to start anything the week or two before V-day, I thought that I'd get some hits from places closer than IL or CA. (The IL guy was very suitable other than location.) Of course, tonight I spoke with another friend, who goes through drama after drama with guys she's met online. I just don't think that the drama is worth it. I am happy with me. My life is full with (and busier than busy with) my children, my family, my friends, my job, my faith. Do I really want another idiot to waste my time with unfulfilled promises that leave me burned? Or maybe it's possible that the next man I meet will be the one that lights my fire?

Relationships: Right or Right?

How much easier it is to be critical than to be correct. - Benjamin Disraeli

Some people just like to argue for arguing's sake. If everyone involved is okay with this, than it's great fun, like a debate, flirting, foreplay.

However, sometimes the easy, criticial way is abuse. No matter what the abused says or does, the abuser criticizes and belittles. Is it a cycle? More than likely the abuser was also abused in a previous relationship, maybe by a parent or a spouse. I say, grow up and break the cycle. Why would making someone else feel bad make yourself feel better? How do people not see that they are doing that? That they are creating sadness, madness, badness.

It is hard to see this happening to a friend. To see her beaten emotionally and mentally down until she has little self-confidence or self-esteem left. To see her stress levels so high that she is at the brink of tears at all times.

Relationships are not about being right or wrong, but being right. Right is trusting, building up, loving. Having faith in one another is goodness.

I am the Queen!

Be careful what you say for what you say may be misinterpreted.

Today, I jokingly called myself the Queen!

Bad day to go to the dentist...I need two crowns (crowns...Queen...get it?) and a filling. Ugh!

However, I did make it through the cleaning and the check-up without a flashback to the ERCP I had 2 years ago where the anesthesia wore off 5 or 6 times. Bravo for me!

Perception is everything. I wasn't feeling too great about this news, but then in the next room was Shauna, Sophie's aide who was hit by a drunken semi-truck driver. Injuries resulted in her losing the bottom portion of both legs. Hmm...a couple of replaceable teeth not so tough to deal, huh?

Perception is everything. I got a call from Anastasia. Her hubby had surgery last week; they removed a golf-ball-sized tumor, two feet of intestine and his appendix. Now, he's being moved to a private room, because he has an infection and pancreatitis. His previous health issues: last year, he had testicular cancer. The year before was the horrific car accident while they were on vacation, and he took the brunt of the impact sustaining major injuries. The year before, neck surgery where they fused some vertebrae together. Hmm...a couple of hours of discomfort not so tough to deal, huh?

Perception is everything? Sophie said Mama tonight. Hannah wrote a wonderful poem as we shared laughter...real heartfelt laughter. My Mother is feeling good enough after her hip surgery to watch my kids after school and when I take a 5-day business trip. My Sister called me tonight, and I felt love! Maybe I don't have a spouse right now, but I have a wonderful family of children, parent, siblings, and friends.

I am the Queen!

Mary...Hail Mary

Prayers are there when I feel powerless, yet I need to do something.

When I hear tragic news, the first thing I say is Hail Mary...

When my Mom called home that Sunday evening in March 2000 and said, "They think they're losing him," about my Dad, I said the Hail Mary in my head while my words were a constant "Oh no."

When they called to say that Rodney had been in a farming accident and it didn't look good, I paced the sidewalk, carrying my baby, wailing the Hail Mary up to the Heaven.

When my 7th-grade-ESP-project-pal Jane was hospitalized later when we were in our 30s with they-didn't-know-what-scary-thing-at-the-time, this Scary-Mary said the Hail Mary for that Scrapper-Jane.

When I hear today that a family friend who has lived through enough heartbreak needs chemo for a cancer that is advancing rapidly, Hail Mary immediately pops into my head.

Sometimes, I feel as if my soul is constantly praying to keep others safe and healthy and to keep my heart from breaking from the physical demands that life puts on my family and friends. If I could take the pain of a sickness or disability from them, I would. Anything from my child's muteness to my sister's surgery tomorrow, everything from a chronic condition to a specific event, I would take it, but I can't, and so I pray. I pray with my heart and my soul.

My prayers are not always answered with the outcome I desire, but I know that Mary intercedes on my behalf. She hears and listens.

thankful for...because...

I am thankful for...
my Children, because they are who they are. They make me proud and bring me unbelievable joy.
my Mother, because she is strength and honor and love.
my Father, because he was not perfect, but his heart and mind persevered until his body could not.
my Siblings, because even when they are too near or too far away, they make me feel loved and safe, wrapped inside a special cocoon.
my Divorce, because if it hadn't happened, I would be at my in-laws right now, and it's snowing there...lake-effect snow. Snow...bad.
my Chelsea Friends, because each one has a special talent and goodness that she brings into the world that makes it shine for the better.
my Work Friends, because how could we all get through 5 days a week without the laughter and support.
my Furnace Man, because he's coming over to service my furnace tomorrow (literally, not symbolically).
the Meijer on Jackson Rd., because they had 2 planters, and I finally, finally re-potted most of the plants in my house. (Probably not the best time of year to do so, but I got it DONE.)
my Dog, because he gives me unconditional love, and I have no idea what I will do with him tomorrow when the furnace man shows up. Come to think of it...what will I do with my children?

Judge Mary or Pastor Mary or Sharey-Mary?

I don't judge people. I don't preach. I am more open-minded the longer I live. My friends are Baptist, Mormon, Catholic, Baptist, Lutheran, etc...I love them all. My Mother says I am too nice to my ex. My friends say that I am too nice to my previous dysfunction.

No one is going to change because of anything I say or do, but I am still nice to them. If I can be nice to my ex after he broke my heart, then I can be nice to most anyone. When I am upset about something, I write or I stare out the window and compose prose in my head. Writing, at least, makes it seem as though I am working. While staring out the window, well, that would not look like it.

We all have our demon-issues. I never said bad habits make bad people. I had a lifelong friend who weighed around 800 pounds when he died. He had to crawl up the stairs, because he couldn't walk up them. He smoked, drank, and ate. His obsessions were upsetting, but I still miss his protective presence. I think briefly about him and his sadness almost every day. I didn't judge Rodney. I didn't preach to him. I did throw his hat on the roof once when he made me mad. It shocked the heck out of him and made him laugh, which made me madder. I surely shared with him what I thought about things though.

That's all...just sharing my thoughts @ anything or nothing.