Miss You

"Will they forget about me?"
That's my thought as I make the rounds and try to read a little of all your news.
I can tell you the exact moment that kind of thinking sunk into my psyche.
I was probably about 3 years old.
It was Christmastime.
My older siblings and cousins were dancing around my grandparents' house with their Christmas presents - my brother complete with cowboy hat,holster and toy gun - when I pulled on his pant leg and asked him where my present was.

He hardly missed a beat, telling me, "You're too little," and went back to having a shoot out with his cousin.

I've worked really hard the last few years when I feel that all too familiar panic that I have become invisible or will be forgotten or any other kind of thought pattern that mimics that time so long ago.

I drove hundreds of miles today and made it to a long time friend's house.
Freeways and rain coming down so hard the wipers couldn't keep up, didn't deter me.
I did it anyway, even though I was afraid.
There aren't any freeways where I live and trying to figure out which lane is the one I want is not my idea of a fun pastime. Drivers in this city are very kind though and let me in even after they watched me change from this lane to that within a few car lengths.

Tomorrow is my cardiac MRI among lots of catch up visiting with my friend.
Friday, I get to meet this longtime blogging friend. Cool.

I'm too tired to try and make this post make sense by wrapping it up by tying something in from the beginning of the post.
Miss you.

Raring To Go and Come Home

I'm gearing up to go on a road trip by myself
later on this week.
Nearly two full weeks
visiting family and friends.
Sandwiched in there are some diagnostic tests
in two different hospitals.
The final two tests to help the powers that be
determine whether heart surgery is in my future.

One of the things I'll be doing on this trip
is buying a gravestone for Rodney's grave.
He would have been 48 this past December and it will feel good
to have his place in our family marked in a permanent way.
As far as I know I am the only one
to visit his grave since his burial.
When I told to my mom this afternoon,
who has never been to her son's grave,
not even knowing where he is buried,
she thanked me for seeing this done.

I've booked myself into a beautiful bed and breakfast
for a few nights of the trip.
That feels like a lovely luxury.
I'm not normally a fan of B&Bs
but this place feels like
it will nourish my need for
sanctuary and solitude.
My time there is nestled between the
two diagnostic tests and feels almost like
a guilty pleasure.

I'm choosing not to take the laptop with me.
The break will do me good.
I'll be away from the computer for the next
two weeks.
Talk to you when I get back.

Headed In The Right Direction In Six Words

Baby stepping towards emotional/spiritual health.



~ Show My Face.

Being Human

"God apparently loves freedom as much as incarnation. And that is the rub of time and history and our interminable groanings. We are the victims of our own freedom and our bodily incarnations. God took that great risk in creating free human persons, and we must take it too. Doing it perfectly is not the goal, doing it is the goal.

The sons and daughters of God tend to be afraid of freedom and do not trust incarnation. We would rather hide behind the securities of law instead of taking God’s risks. We would rather be “spiritual” than just being human."

Adapted from Near Occasions of Grace, p.5

~via

Christening Hope

Summer holidays begin for me today.
The morning before last
there was ice on
the car's windshield.
Somehow ice and summer
only belong together in a cold drink,
not in a weather forecast, no?

Oldest and youngest sons
are leaving on a river trip today.
I told God last week that with
everything else going on in my life
something happening to either one of them
would be unbearable.
Like I can control it, you know?
Eventually I told God that I would trust
that he'd give me the strength
to deal with whatever life brings my way.
I have an unnatural fear of water over my head,
never mind a kayaks and rapids
and bears in the bush combination.
Which is to say I will stay safely on shore.

The last time I was on a lake,
which had a 300 foot bottom,
dearest one, only daughter,
youngest son and oldest son
ganged up on me
just to scare me
right in the middle of the lake.
They all laughed at the thought.
I started to cry.
I'm still not impressed
can't you tell?

For my last day of work yesterday
I was able unleash some creativity.
In my little office area
there are no less than half a dozen items
with the word hope on them.

Now, if I ever own a boat,
God forbid,
you know what her name's going to be.

New Again

New week.
New day.
New beginning.
New hope.

Two Beautiful Daughters

This one's a little touche for me right now:

"Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are anger and courage. Anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain as they are."- St Augustine

~via Waving or Drowning?

Six Words, Six Words, Six Words

Accepting reality takes lots of grace.



~ Show My Face.

Begging

There is a lovely rain drizzling down as I type.
Days like this feel suited to curling up on the couch and reading a good book.
But there is a counter full of dishes that need to be washed.
And floors to be scrubbed.
The house has taken a nose dive
since I started work 3 months ago.
Not enough energy to keep it up.
I'm hoping that over the summer I can clean out the clutter
and get it in decent enough shape that
I can get someone to come in once a week
to clean the bathroom and scrub the floors
and do the vacuuming once I go back to work.
Just typing that feels like luxury.
We'll see what transpires.

Yesterday I was able to get my remaining medical tests booked as well as the follow up appointment with the cardiologist. Just waiting to hear back from the geneticist for an appointment and then I am all set. I will be so glad when this is behind me.

What I keep in mind though, is that this day
is begging to be lived in.
And with God's help I plan to do just that.

Possibilities

I am counting down the days until I am off work for the summer.
It will be so nice to get up and not have to get in my car and go anywhere unless I want to.
I am headed on a road trip to see family and back to big city far away for more medical tests. I found out today that there will be more a few months after that yet. So my prediction of it being November before I find out if they will do surgery to fix the hole in my heart is about accurate.

I could write now about what has been weighing heavy on my heart. The people who needed not to find out through my blog know by first hand telling now. And I am grateful that I don't feel any need to hash it out here. It's made me reevaluate what I blog about and why.

What I do know is that I have a strength I didn't know I had.
I have encountered all manner of gifts during this pain filled time.
Yesterday my therapist walked me through writing out a crisis mode list of beliefs, feelings and behaviours. Then she took the core hurt from that list and showed me how to change it into a possibility mode. She said every crisis is full of possibilities.
I did the work and she is right.

Life is not as I would have it.
My serenity isn't based on that.
What once sounded so pat and airy fairy
is now a reality in my gut.
Who knew it was possible?

A Gift

~ht to Just Be Real

Saturday Gratitudes

Tonight I am grateful for a wonderful AA home group who love me and surroud me with love and acceptance. I wasn't in the meeting room more than 5 minutes when someone asked me what was wrong and gave me a hug. I told them I didn't want to go there and just said that I was sad. They asked if they could share in my grieving.

Normally I only share for a few minutes in a meeting. I am very aware I am not the only one to share and I keep it brief. Today I took up more than enough time sharing. Most of the people in the room I hardly knew. Several of my home group were absent. But people recognize pain and I shared mine with them. They honoured it.

Afterwards I was able to go spend some time with a friend who has asked me to write her life story in book form. About all I can say about it is that for her to tell her story is to put family members in her home country in danger because of political unrest. I am honoured she is trusting me with her story. I trained in journalism a lifetime ago and still love to dig deeper into people's stories and ask the hard questions. It will be a long project to get her story on paper. Tonight I realized we will have to print it with an alias for myself as well in order to protect her further.

When I was done in town I drove to my sponsor's house and we sat outside and talked for nearly two hours straight. Her experience, strength and hope are a beacon of light for me. She is the person I love the most in the program.

It's a calm summer evening here. There will be maybe an hour of dusk tonight and then the sky will begin getting brighter. Unless I wake up at 2 AM I will be able to see the trees out the window from night until morning. I love this time of year.

I am enjoying a pot of peppermint tea from leaves I just plucked from a pot of herbs on my deck. It doesn't take much for me to feel content.

Sadly Six

Wounded Heart, Tears Unending, Distant Hope



~ Show My Face.

No Resistance

"You cannot live in the present or be present with your mind. It happens on a body level when you are fully attentive and offering no resistance to the moment."

From Richard Rohr's The Gospel of Mark (Tape 14)

Really Silly

"The snoring I can get used to but not the flailing of arms while you sleep...."

The woman's voice fades as it competes for attention with the sound of of clanking cutlery and waiters taking drink orders. I look up and if I turn my head to the right I can see her in a booth directly in my line of vision. The restaurant is dark and her face is illuminated only by the lamp hanging above their table. Her guy has his back to me and I never do get a glimpse of him. I notice her petite frame, how her blonde hair and fair complexion are complimented by the downy pink blouse she is wearing. Honest to God when I hear people carry on this way and see that their partner doesn't just up and walk out I wonder to myself if the sex is that worth it? I mean, really?

I turn back to my food and realize it was her voice I'd heard earlier when she ranted about getting a text message from a guy she'd dated twice over two years ago. She had a whine to her voice that made me wonder why he'd send her a text message this long after the fact?

As dearest one and I eat our supper her voice fades in and out.
Eventually I hear her start a list of things the guy needs to work on.
Number one is that he needs to try to snore less.
Yes. You got that right.
Try. To. Snore. Less.
"I'll get right on it," I imagine him replying.
I never do get to hear him talk.
I wonder what the rest of her list is.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry.
The next time I hear her voice she is telling him
with just a slight hint of a threat
that if he doesn't start snoring less
they'll have to sleep in separate bedrooms after they get married.
She's been talking to him like he is a child
every time her voice rises above the din.

Oh. My. Dear. Woman.
I wonder how long she's been trying to get used to the snoring.
From her first sentence up there at the beginning of this post
I thought maybe they'd only spent a night or two together so far.
And here she is planning a wedding and bedrooms and snore control.
As if there is such a thing.

I so want to walk over there
and ask him if he is out of his mind.
What the hell is he doing listening to a woman
tell him to stop snoring so much?
I want to tell him to run for the hills.
I so want to shake her silly.
Really silly.
And ask her how well does she love.
Because in the end it never comes down
to snoring or flailing your arms.
It just doesn't.
Sometimes it starts there but it never ends there.
Oh. My. Dear. Woman. How. Well. Do. You. Love?

One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other....

"I'm scared."
I look up and in the bed across from me
is a woman in tears.
There is no privacy in this holding cell.
Least that's what it feels like, a holding cell
or an assembly line.
She's too far across the way for me to say anything
without it sounding like I'm yelling my comfort.
Somehow yelling and comfort
don't seem to belong in the same sentence
never mind in an outpatient department.
A nurse comes who listens and comforts.
God bless him.

I've laid there for quite a few hours waiting for my test and this woman across from me is the third patient whose occupied that bed already this morning. I thought the system seemed like an assembly line when they brought me in. As I see people get undressed (well, not watch them, but you know they are doing that behind the curtain) get wheeled down the hallway and come back, get kicked out of the bed so the next person can have a turn, my hunch about assembly lines rings true. As this woman talks of her symptoms and cries I cringe inside. I'd be scared, too, if I were her. It doesn't sound good.

Earlier I smiled as I observed an old man (born in 1924, I heard him) reading a Diana Gabaldon novel. For some reason I would have never guessed Diana Gabaldon novels and old men belonged in the same sentence either.

People get wheeled off for colonoscopies and angiograms mostly. I seem to be the lone one being wheeled off in the other direction to the echocardiogram unit. I breathe in the hospital air and that smell, the one that lets me know where I am even with my eyes closed, makes me so very grateful that I am in the outpatient department and not a room.

Five years ago I spent 10 days here, in the city far from home, getting one test after another done. I was the youngest patient on the Cardiac Care Unit and spent my days with older women who had wonderful words of wisdom for me. I distinctly remember a woman with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, who was hooked up to oxygen 24/7, tell me what a blessing it would be if I got diagnosed with what the powers that be thought was a genetic connective tissue disease because I would be paving the way for generations to come.

That I would get to set the example of how to live with it.

Some days we walked to the TV room together and when we got there she'd move her oxygen pulse meter to my finger and check how I was doing. She'd nod her head in encouragement no matter what the number was and we'd turn and watch a TV that blared too loud and for too long. The day she talked to me about perspective I was sure she was an angel sent by God to show me the way to hope.

I am so grateful that the hospital is not where I live.
Grateful that I get to choose my attitude and outlook on life.
Life as it is.
Whether I like it or not.
They found a hole in my heart today.
A small one.
The doc said she's sitting on the fence
as to whether it needs to be fixed right now or not.
She's leaning towards not.
I'm fine with that.
I'm just grateful for another piece of the puzzle in place
for the temporary home I call my body.
The hole isn't going to kill me.
It doesn't solve all the questions
and the doc will be consulting with other specialists
to come up with a plan of action.

The last thing I wrote in my journal this morning
before we went to the hospital
was that I was scared.

The cardiologist and I ended up
negotiating the level of sedation I would get.
That meant I was awake for most of the procedure.
I forgot how triggering it is for me
to have tubes stuck down my throat
without any control over them.
I absolutely hate it.
But I made it through.

And here I am in a beautiful hotel room.
There are many things in my life right now
that are so totally out of my control.
Well, not like there isn't on any given day
for any given person.
I know that.
But some of the current out of control happenings in my life
are of the gut wrenching type.
And I don't like that one little bit.
Hey, I managed to type that sentence without swearing.
I've censored my swear words a number of times in this post.
I'd blame it on the lingering effects of the sedation
but we all know me better than that.

Digging deep for a gratitude list
is what I need to do right now.
That I don't have to do more than scratch the surface
for most of it makes me grateful in itself.
That I know it's okay to feel both scared and grateful is good, too.

As I went to wrap up this post that song from Sesame Street came to mind for a title.
So many things in life don't seem to belong together but still there they are.
I don't know, do swear words and hope belong in the same sentence?
Are they more alike than different?
Some days I wonder.

I am reminded once again of the term, "I get to...."
I get to have hope.
Not I have to or I want to
but I get to.
And now I'll shut up before I type a swear word or two in there for emphasis.

Going Under

We're in big city far from home where I'll have a diagnostic test early tomorrow morning which will hopefully put another piece into the puzzle that is my enlarged heart. It's been a long day of driving with the bonus of seeing one of dearest one's brother, who lives just a few miles from us and who set out on holidays this morning. We ran into each other at lunch time in a city 6 hours down the road. A nice surprise in our day.

The last time I had a diagnostic test that required being put semi under I woke up feeling drunk. I absolutely loved the feeling as if it hadn't been 20 years since I'd experienced such a feeling. This time I advocated for myself and told the cardiologist that I would refuse any medication that would make me feel that way again. She went a little off on me - concerned that I'm an alcoholic - and promptly ordered blood work for my liver. Sigh. My dear cardiologist it's been 21 years since I had a drink. I think my liver has recuperated by now. She also came up with an alternative which has no happy drugs in it. I am grateful.

For all my attempts at surrendering life to God on a daily basis there two times when I really get it that I am not in control of the universe. One of those is when I get put under for medical tests. The other is when I get on an airplane. I'm glad that going under anaesthetic tomorrow will be without the side effect of feeling like I'm flying high.

Out of the Mirage

Out of the mirage of her life appeared her authentic self.
She hugged her and whispered in her ear,
"I've waited so long to meet you."

Of Belly Buttons And Thanksgiving

The two tops hits I get on my blog are for
a poem by Ted Loder called
Thank You For Each Moment.

and for belly button birthdays.

Both seem appropriate to repost today.
Tomorrow is my belly button birthday and I'll be turning 47.
I am grateful for every year I get on this earth.
I was born way too early in a time where preemie babies rarely made it.
Every day is a gift.
So it seems a good time to reprint the original poem by Ted Loder:

Lord, thank you for each moment,
for the blue-sky moment,
the softening earth,
the refreshing wind,
the yellow bush,
for my full heart
and the joy rising in me.

Soften me
to receive whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Lord, thank you for each moment
for the twilight moment,
the pause,
the good tired,
for the quiet reflection,
the slowing down,
the mysterious sunset,
for the wisdom growing inside me.

Gentle me
to feel whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Lord, thank you for each moment,
for the midnight moment,
the loneliness,
the fretful wondering,
for the watchful stars,
the long ache,
the sleepless wait,
and the hope straining in me.

Focus me
to see whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Lord, thank you for each moment,
for the high-noon moment,
the job,
the necessary routine,
for the sweaty struggle,
the impulse to change,
and the courage gathering in me.

Ground me
to wrestle with whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Lord, thank you for each moment,
for the shared moment,
the listening,
the unguarded word,
for the fragile openness,
the ready smile,
the accepted difference,
for my passionate heart
and the trust rooting in me.

Stretch me
to grow with whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Thank you for each moment,
for the charged moment,
the confrontation,
for the hard decision,
the unexpected growing,
for my intense heart
and the truth expanding in me.

Free me
to be open to whatever comes as a gift
and to praise you in it.

Thank you for each moment,
for the holy moment,
the music,
the child's eyes,
for the sunlight,
the touch,
the tears,
for the trembling pleasure,
the unutterable beauty,
for the life and love and heart in me aware,
and the wholeness spreading in me.

Touch me
through whatever comes as a gift
That I may be grateful
and praise you in it.

~from Guerrillas of Grace by Ted Loder

Broken Open

"Give me your failure, he says and I will make life out of it. Give me your broken, disfigured, rejected, betrayed body, like the body you see haning on the cross, and I will make life out of it. It is the divine pattern of transformation, and it never seems to change. We'll still be confused, but not so confused with our confusion. We'll still have our little anxieties and fears, but we will not be so afraid of our fears. We'll still experience weakness but will not be so weakened by our weakness......Our wound is our way through......We might eventually thank God for our wounds, but usually not until the second half of life....because of that experience [wound], his heart was finally broken open."

~ Richard Rohr in Everything Belongs.

I don't remember experiencing a wound so deep like I am these days, since I had a nervous breakdown nine years ago. I've always said I would never willingly sign up for that kind of pain again, neither would I trade who I became as a result of it. And so I trust that the journey through the wound is worth it.

A few nights ago dearest one was away for night and I was laying awake for several hours when I remembered that Fr. Thomas Keating has said that some people wake up in the night and spend time in Centering Prayer. Instinctively I knew that I was to lay in bed in that position of a baby at sleep in total trust. You know the one where their arms are above their head, in total vulnerability. I told God I would much rather cross my arms across my chest but in obedience I didn't. As my arms went above my head and I consented to God's presence and action in my life I started to cry and cried for a very long time. Eventually the tears stopped and I lay like that for a while yet. The turmoil that has enveloped me for weeks now disappeared and was replaced by peace.

The next morning I woke up and it was still there. I doubted it for a bit - wondering if I'd just gone into survival mode and had shut my emotions down. The peace has stayed through many more tears along with facing deep fears and making serious decisions. I continue to be humbled when God does for me what I cannot do for myself.

The video below has brought me great comfort today. Thanks to Beth for posting it.

Heart Problems

Taking another blogging break.
Be back later.
If I don't post by next weekend please pray for me
as I will be headed then to city far away for medical tests
for my enlarged heart.
Thanks.

Love

"Love seeks not its own."

Perspective

Today I did something I've never done before.
I photocopied the last few weeks of my journal
and dropped it off for my therapist to read.

I haven't seen her in a long while.
Giving her my journal to read will
be like getting two appointments for one.
She can read everything I would have told her anyway.
And it gives her some time to mull it over
and take note of what jumps off the page at her.

I'm grateful I'm not the wreck I was a few days ago.
I'm trying not to analyze to death
whether it's because I have some real peace
or because the circumstances don't seem so dire.
I'm trying to just be grateful for a bit of relief.

Today I thanked and gave boxes of chocolates to the staff of another institution who have fielded umpteen work related phone calls from me this past week as we settled into our new location. Funny how perspective is different from one person to another. As a coworker and I walked over to pick up some keys and drop off the chocolates she looked at them and asked me if they were a bribe. I told her no, they were a gift of thanks. I know the people at that institution were just doing their job, answering my phone calls and coming to my assistance. They did it graciously and with much patience whether I called three times in five minutes or twice in 8 hours, of which I did both many times.

At one point in my day I had a task where I walked between printer and computer every 20 seconds for about 15 minutes. One of my coworkers commented that I was very patient. I told her if the worst problem in my day was having to walk back and forth between the two machines to get the job done then I really didn't have any problems, did I?

Perspective is a gift.
I'm grateful when I have some.

Light

There is a light at the end of the tunnel.
Thank God.
I fell asleep on the couch at 7PM last night.
At 8 PM dearest one woke me and I sleepily
went and crawled into bed.
At 5 AM I shut off my alarm and slept another hour.
That helped.
I was pretty spoonless when I came home from work yesterday.
A day where I felt irritable and didn't want to be there.
It takes loads of energy to be pleasant
when one could be snarky without expending any energy.
I am grateful that feeling irritable is not my normal state of being.

Today is a new day.
Thank God.

Peace Be With You

Being vulnerable to God in front of other people is hard for me.
I can't predict when something will touch my heart and the tears rise up.
That's probably a good thing.

Today at Mass, the tears rose up unexpectedly and I struggled through the rest of the Mass to keep from crying one of those ugly faced snot nosed cries. Hearing about the disciples being in a room with the door locked because they were afraid of the Jews and Jesus appearing in the midst of them saying, "Peace be with you" I got a very clear thought that when the door of my heart is locked because I'm afraid, Jesus comes to me and wishes me peace.

There's no greater thing that I desire right now than peace.

Yesterday at the AA meeting I couldn't pray the Lord's prayer for the tears and today I could hardly get through the Mass without sobbing. For the first time ever I left Mass before the closing song was finished because I knew I'd be a sobbing mess the first time someone asked me how I was. And because I didn't want to become a sobbing mess I bolted instead.

I didn't feel bad about not wanting to become a sobbing mess in front of other people.

One thing I learned this past winter that was of great help to me was this. Picture a bull's eye. There are those who are in our outermost circle and they are acquaintances, then there are those who are in the next circle closest to the middle and they are friends and in the innermost circle is where we are intimate - that place where we let others see who we are without our masks on.

We get to choose who we let in to each circle
and people have to earn the right to be there.

I was given the very good advice not to let someone into the innermost circle who will use what I tell them against me. And I learned that when a person is abused those different concentric circles of the bull's eye are violated and the perpetrator gains entry right past acquaintance and friend into the intimate circle momentarily, against your will, and afterwards it becomes difficult to have any boundaries at all.
It's as if the lines get all blurry.

When I learned all this I instantly stopped feeling guilty for not wanting to let those people in who wanted in just because they wanted in.
I'm not obligated to them. They have to earn the right to be there.

Most of the people at church are acquaintances. It's perfectly okay for me to tell them I am okay when I am not. I always felt guilty that I was lying if I didn't spill my guts to whoever asked me how I was. I don't anymore. That's growth.

I pray daily that I remain open to the God of my understanding and seek His presence in my innermost circle.

Peace be with you.

No Other Path

"....Here we learned that trouble was really a fact of life for everybody - a fact that had to be understood and dealt with. Surprisingly, we found that our troubles could, under God's grace, be converted into unimaginable blessings."

~ Page 110 As Bill Sees It

I belong to a pretty relaxed AA home group. What I mean by that is that every meeting we read a page from As Bill Sees It and we leave it up to the one doing the reading to pick a page, any page, to read from. It's kind of like Russian Roulette. Sure feels that way sometimes. The reading won't kill you but boy, it sometimes hits one right in the heart. Such was the case yesterday when the reading was the one above.

I was one weepy mess from beginning to end of the meeting. I thank God for a safe place to simply be and let the tears flow. It is a gift from God that I can look at what is going on in my life and see the good in it even though I feel like I'm at my limit of emotional pain. There was a time when I would have manipulated, connived and generally tried to get circumstances to go my way. Back then I believed that was the only path to serenity. Nope. It was the only path to insanity. I have never felt more powerless in my life than I have lately. That's not a bad thing. I am learning things left, right and center. The only way is through the pain, not around it. Not wait for things to go my way but accept things the way they are.

It's only in these kind of times in my life that I clearly see how much of the 12 steps have saturated my being and where I am still in need of surrender. Through tears and the grace of God, I am still surrendering. There is no other path to serenity.

Marking Time

The couch is a lousy place to sleep.

All week the Energizer Bunny and Yoga Pup
have been at my bedroom door way too early
in the morning wanting me to get up and play.
Their internal alarm clock is set between 4:30 and 6:00 AM.

I've been the only one home all week
and they keep tabs on people like an accountant
keeping track of every penny spent.
It's so obvious that I am neither of their masters
and by their behaviour they're letting me know
they miss dearest one and youngest son.

Normally they sleep in youngest son's room
but he's been out of town all week.
And if I put them in his room and close the door
they'd scratch the hell out of it and pee on all his things.

When I've been gone at work Yoga Pup has taken to marking
the furniture, the shoes, the container that holds his food and more.
There have been times this week
when the most endearing moniker
I can think of to call them
has been The Little Fuckers.

I went and bought pee pads
(did you know there was such a thing?)
for Yoga Pup and he thought they were a new toy.
He loves to chew plastic.

So last night I decided to sleep on the couch
in hopes that they'd let me sleep longer
and refrain from peeing on anything in the night.
Yoga Pup was beside himself with joy
when I returned to the couch every time I got up to
go to the bathroom in the night.
He would follow me down the hallway
and leap for joy (I kid you not)
when I was done and made a left turn to the livingroom
instead of an abrupt right turn to my bedroom.
You'd have thought he'd won the lottery.

I woke at 7 AM from a bad dream
and both dogs were still sleeping.
Energizer Bunny on the back of the couch
and Yoga Pup at my feet.
It's amazing what a little bit of extra sleep
can do for a person.

Grand Times Two

Have the kleenex ready when you watch this one.

Reality Check Out Lane

"Holy crap Hope! Give your head a shake."
That's what I thought
after I walked up to a check out counter this week
and read a sign that said,
"Another associate
will be happy to assist you."
only to think it said
"Another asshole will be happy to assist you."

Sometimes what we see
and what is reality
can be two totally different things, no?

Where Was I?

It has felt like a really long week.
I found myself driving home today
in that twilight zone space
of not being fully awake.
Scary stuff.
I have slept poorly every night and am on overload.
Sadness has been my constant companion,
like a dull toothache that won't go away.
Sadness is different than self pity.
I'm grateful I can tell the difference.

We moved our offices this week at work
and are still ironing out the bugs.
My head was full of trying to learn new equipment today
when the phone rang.
I raced to get it before it went to voice mail
only to answer it and totally blank out
as to who I was and where I was and
what the hell was that greeting
I was supposed to say again?
I sputtered and stammered
and finally just said a little sheepishly, "hi?"
The person on the other end burst into laughter and I did too.
A few hours later she phoned again
and I remembered the spiel this time.
She heard me out and then told me that was much better.
It felt good to laugh.
I haven't laughed enough lately.

Personally I have been through the wringer this week.
I keep reminding myself that
God gives grace for the situation not the imagination.
My imagination can and does run riot at times.

I have been a poster girl for self will run riot this week.
Not too proud of that.
At all.

I am grateful that through it all I had no desire to drink.
That's one victory anyway.
I feel like I've been clinging to hope
a little desperately of late.
Not normal for me.
I'm grateful for the ability
to be gut wrenchingly honest with my Higher Power.
Grateful for a sponsor who tells me what I need to hear
not what I want to hear
because she loves me whole heartedly.

I'm grateful for all your well wishes.
Sorry I'm being vague about details.
I just can't write it out here
without potentially hurting important people in my life.
There was a time when I wouldn't have given a shit
about whether I hurt anyone's feelings.
Today I do.
I'm grateful for that, too.

Catch Ya On The Flip Side

I'm taking an indefinite blogging break.
Too much going on that can't be written about here.
And it creates disconnect within me to write here about the mundane
and be struggling with deeper stuff offline.
I may be gone a day or a month.
God only knows.
Oh, that sounds so holy, doesn't it,
as if I consult God about blogging.
Which I don't.
Sometimes when I'm writing a blog post I do leave it sit a bit
because I sense there is more to write
and it hasn't come to the surface yet.
But I don't know if that has anymore to do with God or my ego.
See ya on the flip side.
Don't give up hope.

Sinking My Hands

This week I get to return to my home group meetings after a hit and miss attendance for the last 6 weeks due to other commitments. I am glad that life will settle back into a normal routine again. Funny how that is. There was a time when normal routine seemed dull and boring and now I welcome it.

Because of moving our office, next week I will also be able to return to the mid week lunch meeting that our group is responsible for. The shorter distance between my office and the meeting location will make it doable now. I am grateful for that.

There are just patches of snow left in the shadowy depths of the trees now. Suddenly finding that last patch of snow and sinking my hands into its icy coolness is appealing. I want to say both a farewell to the snow and mutter a thank God as I make one last snowball.

Daily Rituals

I'm grateful that the snow on the ground will be gone by the time I am done work today. It snowed all day yesterday. The forecast is for warm, sunny weather by this afternoon.

I'm grateful this is my last work day for the week. We're getting ready to move offices so today I will be packing up all my desk stuff and odds and ends. I'm not a fan of changes in my enviroment but it will be nice to have my very own office space in a brand new building. It also means dearest one and I will be commuting to the same place so that means 15 minutes less commuting time morning and night. I can live with that!

There's laundry and housework to do tomorrow which means I will feel like I accomplished something concrete by suppertime tomorrow night. I'm grateful that it doesn't take much to make me happy. The ordinary daily rituals of life bring me great pleasure. For that I am grateful.

Blowing Snowing Tuesday

"Winter driving conditions are in effect."

That's what I woke up to this morning. The radio announcer warning us to drive carefully on our snowy roads in May. Yep. We need the moisture. The snow won't last.
It does look pretty coming down. Not so sure how pretty it will be driving to work this morning. We're supposed to have 4 inches of snow by evening. Good thing I can choose my attitude.

I had a great weekend. Wonderful women, fellowship and fun. Not a lot of sleep. I am body weary this morning. I see an acupuncturist for the first time after work today. Whatever the weather there is life to be lived. Fully. I want to whine for another 10minutes about the snow but am going to zip my lip now. Have a great day.

CAN

One of my all time videos and songs.

Of Pockets and Dresses

There are two pugs curled up between my feet as I type. They try and see who can get closest to me - not unlike children who want to have the top spot. When my kids were little and it was story time, I would sit with my feet curled up under me at the end of the couch. They would call out who got to sit in my pocket; that space left between me and the arm of the couch. I read to my kids every night from the time my oldest was 10 months old until she was 16. It's one of the things I feel I got right as a mother. One of my best memories.

Yesterday I went to town and looked for a dress to wear when I give my talk at the retreat this weekend. I have two dresses in my closet. One is the what I wore for oldest son's wedding last year. Too fancy for a retreat and the other is a summer dress for summer days. With snow in the forecast yet again I somehow don't think it would work. Anyway, there were sales racks with just my size of dresses. I couldn't make up my mind so I bought two and two pairs of shoes. I have never bought two pairs of shoes at once before. Anyway I came home late and tried on the dresses for both dearest one and youngest son, thinking they'd help me decide. Ha. Youngest son got a very puzzled look on his face when I said I need help deciding. Then I said, "I need a woman." He nodded and said firmly, "Yes, you do." Only daughter where are you? She and I did try to find something for me to wear when I was with her last month but had no luck. Darn. I think I'm going to end up packing both dresses and asking for help at the retreat picking one. I feel blessed that my biggest problem today is trying to pick between two dresses. Such a life.

I'll be away until Monday night. Have a great weekend.

Out Of The Way

"Let us be present to the now.
It’s all we have and it’s where God will always speak to us.
The now holds everything, rejects nothing and,
therefore, can receive God, too.
Help us be present to the place we’re most afraid of,
because it always feels empty, it always feels boring,
it always feels like it’s not enough.
Help us find some space within that we don’t try to fill
with ideas or opinions.
Help us to create inner space,
because you always show yourself best where we are
hungry and empty.
Keep us out of the way,
so there is always room enough for you.

Amen.

From Hope Against Darkness, p. 122

When I read quotes like that one above I tend to think, "Oh God, help me create inner space now." Without all the awareness and surrender creating inner space demands. I want results now when inner space, being present, is a journey. There's that pull between recognizing the beauty of the above quote and sometimes wanting that kind of result more for my own ego gratification than for any glory God might get. Which, if it was an instant happening for wretched reasons, wouldn't be the real deal anyway. So there you go. I'm just talking outloud here. Letting you know what goes on inside my head at times.

I'm getting ready today for a women's retreat that starts tomorrow night and lasts throughout this long weekend. As one of a dozen or so speakers on the weekend I always wonder if speaking at these things is an ego grab for me. I enjoy public speaking. I enjoy sharing my story thus far. I don't like being seen as anything except an ordinary women walking the path. For the most part. These things can feed that place in me that likes applause and attention. So I pray a lot when I write the talk, I pray a lot before I give it, and I need to pray the most afterwards. When women come up and talk to me because of the difference between where I was and where I am now. There is always that tension between wanting to keep out of God's way and wanting the limelight. I wish it wasn't so. I pray that God gets the glory. I don't know how it works really. I just know that I'm not where I'm at in the journey - as if that is somewhere anyway - on my own steam. Where I got on my own steam is a whole other story. And I share that in the talk as well. Anyway if I come to mind this weekend, say a little prayer for me, that my ego will be kept in check and that I am given the grace to stay out of God's way.

Pissyness Indeed

"Having fun yet?"

I smiled at him and said that yes, I liked my job.
He stopped in his tracks, looked at me and said how rare that was these days.
I replied that I'd been on the job less than two months.
He commented with a bit of a question mark in his voice that I still enjoyed it,
and I said I loved it.

With that we parted ways, he to do his job, and me, mine.

That was a snippet of my day.
It was a day where parts of it
contained not one iota of common sense.

I work in a building that houses big shows.
We just rent office space in the building.
The big shows are the kind where 300 exhibitors turn up
and many more come to see what they have to offer.
I arrived at work this morning
only to have the security guard quoted above
tell me that I wasn't allowed into the building
until such and such a time. Sigh.
Did not matter that I worked there.
I asked him to radio someone to see if
they could make an exception when he commented
on how uncommon common sense was
and then radioed someone who okayed me to go in.

Later on a different security guard
refused to let me go down the hall
to use the bathroom because
I didn't have a visitor's pass hanging around my neck.
I am gullible.
I thought he was joking.
He wasn't.
I felt pissy for a moment.
Well, no I didn't piss my pants.
But I was tempted to go right on his shoe.
'Cept we women can't aim like that.
And that would have gotten me
barred from the building for sure.
Kidding.
No such thought entered my head.
That was pure story telling
coming from a tired me
who should probably be sleeping
instead of writing nonsense.

When he refused to let me go through the doorway to
the ladies room I turned around
and crossed the pavilion to use a
no visitors pass necessary bathroom,
where I got rid of my pissyness entirely.

Lickety Split

It's been a long day.
It did snow.
The snow didn't last.
We needed the moisture.
So it's all good.

The pugs and I had a long nap.
I'm feeling better than I did last night.
Not sick enough to be in bed.
Not well enough to be doing much.
That in between place.
Sickness limbo I think it's called.

Several times today I got all teary
out of gratitude because
of what a gift it is
to be sick temporarily instead
of permanently, you know?
I felt grateful for that.
And then I felt silly that
those thoughts made me teary.
I had my own little drama
right there in my living room.

Thankfully it was short lived.
I'm still grateful.
Just not teary.
Nor feeling silly for the tears.
I was missing people who have died.
Thinking about my friend Karen
who would give anything to be alive
on a cold snowy day in May.

I guess in perspective it's all better
than whining about feeling sick.
Not that I'm not capable of whining.
I can win me a whining prize lickety split.
Just ask dearest one.
He's heard me whine aplenty.
Doesn't mean I welcome the flu, either.
But it's only the flu.
Ya know?

Let It Snow

When you read this I'll be abed with the flu.
No early morning alarm for me.
No sirree.
Just a headache, fever and nausea.
What fun.

Reading that over makes me realize I typed it
as if the flu was something I was planning to have.
No, it has me.
It kept a low profile all day,
teasing and receding
only to hit full force after I got home.

I can't remember the last time I had the flu.
For that I am truly grateful.
Grateful that the flu is something
that comes along and then goes away.
Life continues.

PS Lest you think the title means I am delirious
I will be laying on the couch
watching the snow fall.
Yes, snow. In May.
That's what the weatherman is forecasting.
Let's hope he's wrong.
Although snow in May won't last long.

Monday, New Day

"What the heck is that noise?"

That was my first thought upon awakening.
My alarm is not pleasant to wake up to.
Which I guess is the whole point.
In about a ten second flash I went from that thought
to just about deciding to stay in bed. Next I thought about
this day being one full of opportunity,
"God help me" I whispered as I got out of bed.

And with that I got up and did yoga.
I want to say against my will.
But I did propel myself out of bed
and do it.

The birds were singing as I went to sleep last night
They were there again when I woke up.
They had a shorter night than I did then.

I thought about going for a walk instead of doing yoga
but the bears will be roaming already and I'd prefer
not to cross their early morning path.
Although that would wake me up in a hurry!

I'm grateful for a new day.
Mondays are like fresh, hung on the line bedding.
I get to make of it what I will.
I do love having choices today.

Dearest Dearest One

It's a wonder what 10 hours of sleep can do for a person.
I need between 9 and 10 every night
but unless I want to go to bed by 8 pm
it's not going to happen.
I was in bed by 8:30 one night this week.
My body demanded it.
Sleeping in is a treat.
It helps me feel more alive.
I wish my heart wasn't racing like crazy
every morning.
Dearest one teases me that it's because
when I come out to the kitchen
my heart speeds up when I see him standing there.
The man can make my heart do flip flops
tachycardia is another story.
I guess for today I can
leave my health in God's hands.
Sounds so simple, although my only sane option.

Today is dearest one's graduation.
These past two years he's been teaching students
and taking courses at the same time.
We're going to make a lot of noise
when he walks across the stage.
He doesn't know that yet.
But he will when the time comes.

This is a man who grew up in a culture where post secondary education
was frowned upon as worldly.
He left high school half way through grade 10
to look after the family farm
after his dad had serious surgery.
Despite being told as a boy that he was dumb,
despite growing up in an enviroment
where home work was seen as coming
afterfield work and chores, if at all,
eventually he returned to school
and graduated as a registered nurse.
Totally out of his cultural norms.
Today he'll receive his nursing degree.
In the fall he'll start on his Master's.
He works hard.
He loves learning.
He is right where he's supposed to be.
I'm proud of him.
Very proud of him.
He's my dearest one.

I Get To...

When I'm doing yoga the pugs think I'm a trampoline.
They take advantage of me lying in a pose and try to clean out my ears for me.
Then they decide my belly would make a great jumping on and off point.
They are persistent.
I decided this morning not to get cross with them,
I was at the tail end of the session anyway.
So I sat up and rough housed with them for a few moments
and then got up and made my breakfast.

I'm off to town today to buy groceries.
Buying groceries is a privilege.
Not too many years ago we were regulars at the food bank.
We went months without tasting a piece of fruit.
I missed it.
The summer we were once again bringing in an income
a fresh peach never tasted so good.

The last time I was in the grocery store
I didn't go very far when I realized
they had changed every single flipping aisle.
I went up and down the aisles grumbling out loud
about how stupid it was, among other things,
to put pickles across from potato chips.
And why would they have kleenex in one aisle
and paper towels and toilet paper in another?
Eventually my whining got old even to myself and I shut up.

I imagine today I will feel no less irritated
when I see in what ridiculous ways
the aisles have been rearranged.
The store proudly announces when you walk in
that it's now a more efficient shopping experience.
Not.

Because I get to choose my attitude
I'm going to keep front and center
that buying groceries is a privilege.
I get to buy groceries.
I get to do a whole lot in life.

Today is the fifth anniversary
of dearest one's brother's death.
Five years ago today it was snowing.
He laid on the ground all day covered with a white hospital blanket
until the police were done their investigation.
Dearest one and I and all his family walked past his body
on the way to the house where we gathered in disbelief.
It still seems surreal this many years later.
Not sure why the police lifted the yellow tape
and let us walk past his body.
It was his death and the life circumstances we were facing at the time
that cemented in me that God is with us in our pain.
Because of his death I know that whatever life throws my way
I am not left alone to deal with it.
I believe Jesus hunkers down beside me
and is with me in it,
weeping as I weep,
whether I can feel his presence or not.
If you could lift up dearest one and his family in prayer today
that would be greatly appreciated.
This day doesn't seem to get any less painful
no matter how much time has passed.
Thank you.

Waterworks

Two rambunctious little pugs woke me up this morning.
It's hard to stay grumpy when
they nearly wiggle themselves inside out
because I am home.
In a few hours I'm off on a road trip to see Fr. Charlie.
Who knows how I'll be when I get there
but right now I feel like I'm going to talk for 2 hours straight
without nary taking a breath.
Well, except that breathing is necessary.

Yesterday I sat in a waiting room
and listened to a young girl talk just like that.
Loudly.
I heard all about so and so and their boyfriend
and whether the baby is his or not.
Wow, she talked loud.
Like the young person beside her was deaf.
I watched her friend's body language
and it seemed to say please speak quieter.
I sat and judged the young girl for her verbal diarrhea
until I realized that most of us
probably have similar conversations going on all the time
except they happen in our head not in a public arena.
So there really is no difference between us.

I was sitting there waiting for a pelvic ultrasound.
One where the prep is having to drink a litre of water
and then hold your pee for an ungodly amount of time.
I went to the reception desk upon arrival
and told them this was cruel and unusual punishment.
They asked me to repeat myself.
I did.
In a whisper.

When I was called (they call first names only)
I walked very quickly to the room.
I got up on the table
(I know this is all too much information
but aren't you glad you aren't in a public waiting room
hearing me speak this rather loudly in your ear?
Wait. A blog is sorta like a public waiting room.)

Anyway I got up on the table
only to hear her say after a few seconds
that I needed to go and pee a little bit.
My bladder was too full.
I would've laughed except that would have caused me
to pee right there on her table.
I told her peeing a little bit wasn't going to happen.
Now, I envy all those folks who can stop peeing at will.
It isn't and never has been me.
She told me people did it all the time.
I told her not in my lifetime.
She sighed and did the ultrasound.
Then she let me go pee and did another kind of ultrasound.
Blessed relief.

When all was said and done I looked at the screen
before I left the room
(as if I can miraculously read an ultrasound picture, duh)
only to see that it wasn't even my name on the screen.
My first thought was that there was no way
I was going to repeat the torture.

So I went out and told her
that um, right first name, wrong everything else.
Her face registered an "oh shit" moment.
She assured me she could fix it but it would take a while.
Turns out there were two of us in the waiting room
with the same first name.
And when they'd called it
I saw this other person out of the corner of my eye
start to get up out of their chair
but I beat them to it.
I had to pee so bad I just wanted the test over with.
I never stopped to think it wasn't my turn.

And since I don't think there is any delicate way
to finish this rather indelicate post
I will just stop right here
and wish you a good day.

Seepage

You know blogging has seeped into your psyche when you are having a dream in which absolutely everything is going wrong in your day and in your dream,in the midst of the day falling apart, you think to yourself how you'll blog about the day from hell.

Blooming Locks Of Love

"What happened to your curls?"

That's what I asked my regular cashier this morning as I went through his checkout. He had a head of long greying ringlets that were beautiful. I'm guessing he is about 60 years old and his hair made him look kind of wild but I liked it. His closely shaven head was a bit of a shock so early in the day.

It's been my habit since starting work to stop at the grocery store every Monday and pick up some flowers for my desk. It's a wonder what a difference a $3 long stemmed rose can make in a person's day. This morning I bought two and wouldn't you know it, I wasn't careful when I was opening up the office and I promptly broke them both off about half an inch from the flower. So now I have a rose floating in my coffee mug and one in the top of the vase. C'est la vie.

Anyway, this cashier has had the kindest, cheery face for being at the tail end of his night shift when I see him on Monday mornings. He stands out for doing his job with class even though he's minutes from quitting time.

This morning he looked back at me and said, "I donated it for someone with cancer." I couldn't tell for a moment whether he was teasing me or serious. Then he added that a friend of his, her husband had cancer, and had had the exact same kind of hair as his. Now the man will have a wig while the cashier will grow back his locks. A win-win situation.

He always wraps my flowers with flair and hands them to me gently, wishing me the best of days. As he did so this morning he talked about how he tries to live life quietly and without fanfare and it puzzled him that so many people commented on his haircut.

He handed me my receipt and my flowers and we parted company.
My roses were blooming beautifully on my desk by afternoon.
I bet this cashier's heart will do so forever.