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
Friday, October 23, 2009
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.)
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