Kisses From God

The solitude was wonderful yesterday.
Very restorative.
I puttered and cleaned and cooked.
I love cleaning in my pjs.
But yesterday I got dressed because a friend was coming over.
I looked in the mirror and decided my hair would pass muster.
Barely.


My hair is poker straight and short.
Depending on how much I toss and turn during the night
it can look, as my sponsor's sister says,
"Like you stuck your finger in an electrical outlet."
It was as if I stuck half a finger in yesterday.
They don't call them rooster tails for nothing.

Today the sun shone for the first time in days,
guaranteeing the snow would melt although
more is falling as I type.

On cloudy days I try to remember that the sun is shining high up in the sky.
I imagine I'm in an airplane that breaks through the clouds to see the sun.
Today when I was on an errand
and realized the sun was shining bright,
I felt like I'd forgotten there was a sun.
Sunshine on my face feels like kisses from God.
Feeling that sunshine filled me with gratitude.

I used to think I could only be happy,
be truly grateful, if things were going my way.
If the planets were aligned as they say.
As if I have any control over planets aligning.
I sure tried.

This afternoon I had a chance encounter with someone
who it was nice to touch base with again.
So many times in my job I talk on the phone to the same
people over and over again and rarely, if ever, get to
put a face and name together.

It doesn't take many words to brighten someone's day.

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Before Me

A day of solitude lies before me.
My first in 6 weeks.
Sometimes on days like this, I practice silence as well.
Well, except for the committee in my head.
They never shut up.
I've gotten much better at recognizing their voices though.
Voices of my ego, not of my soul even though they try to convince me otherwise.

The biggest difference between dearest one and I
is that he is a big picture thinker
and I tend to get bogged down in details.

I remember once a friend told me a story
of when they had company coming and her house was a mess.
Everyone flew to a task. Picking up newspapers,
clearing the table, vacuuming the living room, wiping down the bathroom.
And there was one of her daughters, expending much effort by
dusting each individual leaf on a rather large house plant.
My friend was utterly frustrated.
I understood her daughter's actions completely.

Which is why you might come to my house
and find things in disarray
but my bookshelf has every single book in alignment
like soldiers on a march.
While a pair of dirty socks (or more likely, one sock)
might be peeking out from under the bookshelf
ready to be a soft landing
for a book that will never fall.

I wrote this post while thinking of the bookshelf in my livingroom. Ha. Then I remembered the bookshelf in the spare room. This one may harbour a dirty sock. I won't be spending my day of solitude finding out though.

Which kind of bookshelf do you have?

Sorting It Out

Today I sat in the parking lot before my AA meeting and just about put the car in reverse and left. I've never had such a strong resistance to going in. Thankfully a few things came to mind. One - that when you least feel like going to a meeting you should go and two - I've never regretted going to a meeting. So in I went.

I had sorted it out in the parking lot why I had such a strong resistance and I'll be hashing that out with my sponsor. I appreciate that she will tell me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear. It's why I asked her to be my sponsor in the first place. She loves me whole heartedly and will not baby me one little bit. She has the biggest heart and a humble spirit. Her bullshit detector is keen.

I am grateful though, that AA is a place where I can go and tell my truth. Today I felt resistance to being here. I sat out there and just about didn't come in. If it wasn't for what I've heard around these tables time and time again I might have put the car in reverse and driven away.

I am grateful for a place to be fully human and still loved.

Hallelujah

I was going to save this one until Easter but I couldn't wait. I hope you enjoy it, too.

And You Would Be.........?

I stopped by to see my sponsor on a whim tonight. As I got close to the road that leads to her house I said a little prayer and decided that dropping by to see her unexpectedly would be A-OK.

I drove up to her house and the lights were on. So far so good. One of her dogs came bounding up to greet me. That meant she was home. I rang her doorbell. I never ring her doorbell. I knock and then walk in. We have that kind of familiarity with one another. Her TV was blaring but she was no where to be found. I called. No answer. I slipped off my shoes and went looking. Her dog picked up my shoe and went to lay down and chew on it. As I called to him to give me back my shoe a voice said, "What are you doing in my house?" I looked around wondering where was my friend that she could see me but I couldn't see her.

That's when I realized the character on the TV show had asked me that.

Eventually I found my sponsor relaxing out back in her hot tub. I told her how her TV show lady was looking out for her. Lordy, we laughed and laughed.


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Way Too Fuzzy

I keep thinking that I'll write a post when I'm not so darn tired. Dearest one and I used to have a joke that we would spend time together in 1992. Then that year came and went. So waiting for something to change isn't the answer. Showing up is. I'm having more days with less spoons lately. I do hope that changes soon.

I'm hedging my bets that I'm going to graduate from reading glasses to all day glasses today after my eye exam. I've been waiting for this appointment since June. Not that it's so hard to get an appointment but that's about the time I realized that without my reading glasses some things were way too fuzzy. Oh, couldn't I make an analogy of that sentence?! Insurance only pays for eye exams every two years so I had to wait until today to make it past that 2 year mark.

Youngest son and I deactivated our social networking accounts while we were on the phone together last night. Let's see how bad the withdrawal is, for me anyway. Our decision followed a lengthy chat about relationships and the false sense of depth to them when we know what someone is doing but not how they are doing. Sometimes I wonder if blogging can be like that, too. I've been having those what's the point of this again? conversations within myself about blogging lately. I still can't tell you what the point is but here I am anyway.

Dearest one is still home recuperating from surgery. I am missing commuting back and forth to work with him. It feels like a much longer drive when I'm traveling solo. We used to dream of working at the same place, different departments. What we have is so close to that we can hardly believe it some days. My office is less than a five minute walk to his. I have this pair of shoes that make a nice clicking sound as I walk. I am embarrassed, but not too much obviously, to admit how much I like that sound. Maybe it's because I spent my whole childhood trying to make as little noise as possible so I wouldn't get noticed and therefore not get in the line of fire.

Tired or not, there's lots to be grateful for today. Shoes, work, relationships, choices, sleep, eyesight. You.


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Wondering

"I never believed you when you said alcoholics don't sip their drinks."

Only daughter and I had just come from my home group AA meeting. As a result of what she'd heard in that meeting she believed me now. (And there may be some alcoholics who are able to sip their drinks. I never could.)Because it was an open meeting and she hadn't been to one since she was a young child, I asked if she wanted to come with me. It was a good meeting. They aren't always. Some meetings seem deeper and fuller than others. If that makes sense. It does to me.

"Raw honesty. That's what stood out for me," she added.

I wonder if I take for granted what only daughter saw as incredible?

PS. I wrote this post way back in the summer and forgot about it. The photo is for only daughter. For once she woke up to the first snow of the season today while we...cough....cough...um, didn't. That may never happen again.

Try

I'm beyond weary.
Had one of those days where I was sure I'd left my brain somewhere.
Maybe by the side of the road.

A good sleep will help.
I hope.

Ironically early this morning a line from a song went flitting through my head:

"Today I'm going to try and change the world"

I even talked to God on my way to work about doing just that.
Then I had the first day ever where I hated my job.
Before a co worker had much more time than to say good morning to me I vented my feelings.
Not really the kind of first I'm proud of making.
It didn't take long for me to see my ego in the midst of it all.
It's too long and boring and perhaps not fit for my blog, even anonymous as it is, but most of my life's frustrations usually boil down to ego of some magnitude or other. My job has given me numerous opportunities to see this.

Earlier this morning I turned on the TV and watched some of the miners being rescued.

What is it that makes the tears just flow unbidden while watching something like that? Do times like that make one know at some deeper level just how connected we all are? I have no idea.

Ironically my boss told me today that that Johnny Reid song above is her life's motto. I hadn't mentioned it to her at all.

She then said that the news of the miners was a wonderful change from the mostly doom and gloom one hears instead.

Those miners, in some way, did change the world today.

To Be Witness

The leaves are gone off the trees today. A hard wind came along and away the last of them went.I don't know what fits a death more - grey skies and bare trees or a sunshiny blue sky.

This is Thanksgiving weekend here. I came home mid morning and put a pie in the oven and made the cranberry sauce. The turkey was slipped in to the oven to roast just a few minutes ago. Dearest one was gone when I came home. I thought maybe he'd gone to have coffee with a friend. Nope. He was at the hospital with his dad, who had been feeling ill enough that dearest one's mom called and asked for help. He is okay, no heart attack as was feared. Dearest one will be home as soon as he can. It's been that kind of a weekend.

I am beyond grateful that I am sober and emotionally healthy. Otherwise I would not be in this place of accepting life on life's terms today. I don't do it perfectly of course. I'm just grateful for those times when it is so clear what the right thing to do is regardless of what my idea of the day was going to look like. Thy will be done is a really brave thing to pray some days. There is a bigger plan than I can see. That sentence doesn't answer all the questions. I don't think faith needs every question answered in order to be real and vibrant. Maybe just the opposite.

Last night my sponsor and I settled into her hot tub after everyone had gone home. She reached both her hands out to me and under an inky black sky with pin pricks of stars trying to shine through, we prayed together. A first for both of us. The first words out of her mouth were ones of gratitude. We then sat and talked and even laughed a bit. It is a privilege to be witness to someone else's journey.


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Think Of Her

I'm just home for a moment.
This morning I phoned my sponsor to see if she wanted a ride to the meeting.
That's when I found out her husband had passed away a few hours earlier.
She'd tried to call me but in her distress dialed the wrong number.
I've been with her all day.
Just came home for stuff so I can spend the night.
Within the next few days her 'other family',
those in recovery will come together and grieve with her.
Please pray for her if you will.
Thanks.

Roadie

I'm off on a bit of a road trip tomorrow so I might be scarce around these parts for a few days. I've been sick all weekend so I'm not looking forward to a 500 mile drive but all things considered I'll be glad at the other end of it. And the fact that I have the money to put the gas in the tank and food in my belly is not being taken for granted. I hope.


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Live and Learn

"People do it differently." She says it without judgement, without her normal exasperated know it all attitude. Then she tells me that one shouldn't cut into the carrot to cut the tops off and shouldn't leave them to dry out either. If I'd left a little of the green top attached and put them in the fridge right away they'd stay crisp until the New Year. She tells me this in a tone that sounds as if she has bad news to tell me and wants to let me down gently. I tell her "oh, well, I'll know for next year" thinking of the bald headed carrots wilting in the fridge, hours of unnecessary work that will most likely end up in the compost bin. Live and learn.

Last night as I lay in bed reviewing my day I thought about the kindness of my mom in our conversation about my freshly stored carrots. I never felt welcome in her kitchen growing up. The rule was I could experiment all I wanted if I got up early Saturday while everyone else slept and if I cleaned up after myself. So I did. Dark winter mornings found me (and everything around me) covered with flour, managing to dirty more dishes than necessary. I don't have memories of my mom teaching me to cook. We were rarely in the kitchen at the same time and never cooked together. Once she slapped me across the face at the kitchen sink.

Still, she was patient from a distance. She made cooking look so easy but without her side by side instruction all I could go on was what I observed from afar. That led to one episode where I tried to make pie crust and gave the recipe a try five times in a row. First I covered the little counter with flour and dough and frustration. Then I went to the dining room table. Eventually my mom came home from town to see flour on every flat surface and I still hadn't managed to duplicate her ease at what seemed like zip, zip, zip and there was a beautiful crust in the pie plate in one piece! Without her guidance how could I know about using ice cold water and handling the pastry as gently as possible? About rolling it out from middle to edge with feather light fingers? I couldn't.

Anyway I lay in bed last night and cherished a simple conversation on a Saturday afternoon reminded that sometimes a kind heart gets buried underneath a lot of pain, but still it remains.

Danish? Norwegian?

Being Danish and Norwegian myself, this little video makes me smile.

All Crinkly And Bright

"How's my girl?"
That's how she greeted me, both in person and on the phone. I loved being her girl.

One day she greeted me while sitting at her kitchen table, a red rimmed white enamel bowl on her lap. It was full of the tiniest carrots and she was cheerfully scrubbing them clean.

When she smiled at me her eyes went all crinkly and bright.

"What a boring job. I'd never bother with carrots that small." That's what I thought to myself as we visited. She would've been shocked had I voiced my thoughts. I think it was that day I asked her what she did when she got cranky. She stopped and thought for a moment and told me she didn't get cranky. I would've thought she was lying except I'd never seen her get cranky. She had the kind of attitude that made the best out of everything.

I met her 20 years ago. I hadn't lived in this community as a sober person and when we moved back I went to a meeting in a town down the highway. An elderly woman there told me there was someone living in my community in recovery. I was lonely. I didn't know how to relate to people in sobriety. Many of my relationships had been built around partying and without the booze we found little in common.

So I called her up. Her of bright crinkly smiling eyes. She sounded gruff on the phone. Very gruff. Short, staccato bursts of words came out of her mouth. Oh my Lord I thought. She's needs help. I'll be her help. I'll be her saviour. That's pretty close to my original thoughts, too. I knew she was in Al-Anon. I thought whoever in her life drank must be drunk right this minute for her to sound so gruff. I pictured her as a tough old broad in camouflaged clothing wearing hiking boots.

Well, didn't I get the shock of a lifetime when she came out on her step as a stooped white haired lady wearing a pretty dress with an apron over top. She dried her hands and greeted me with a brilliant beaver toothed smile. She took me in as her own instantly. Her husband had died the previous winter and she was alone except for a grandchild she was raising. We sat on her musty blue sofa and chatted over china cups of tea.

She never dwelt on the past. But what I learned of it still amazes me. I live what most people would think of as remote. For me, it's normal. When she reached out for help in Al-Anon she wrote a letter. Eventually she learned of a meeting in the town down the highway. She had to walk several miles to the highway to catch the Greyhound Bus if she wanted to get to a face to face meeting. She did this regularly until the day came when she had a car of her own. It was a big yellow boat that glided down the highway. She could barely see over the steering wheel. We did a lot of laughing in that car.

The only mention she ever made to me of life before recovery was that she once went through a winter where the only company she had to talk to pour her heart out to during a 3 month time span, were her chickens. There was a certain grimness in her remembering. And also a thread of hope. If you can make it through three months without another living soul to talk to you can make it through anything.

She passed away quite a few years ago now. I miss her. We were privileged to take a road trip together once. Sometimes I'd take her to town. We went to meetings together occasionally. She took life as it came. She was up for any adventure. Our age difference of 50 years never came into the picture. We mattered to each other.

Yesterday I pulled the last of the carrots from the garden. You can see some tiny ones there among the bigger carrots. I thought of her as I trimmed their tops and decided which ones to keep and which to toss.

I kept many of the smallest of carrots in memory of that day she held a red rimmed white enamel bowl on her lap full of tiny carrots.

Grace

THE BREAD OF LIFE
October 1
St. Thérèse of Lisieux

Saint Therese of Lisieux, toward the end of her life, had a beautiful image of salvation. It’s not in her autobiography, so many have not heard of it. She describes salvation in this way: All of her life she is a little girl. She is proud and happy to be a little girl. Her heavenly Father is standing at the top of a great staircase, always beckoning her, “Come, Therese! Come! I ask more of you!” She lifts her little foot again and again by all the actions of her Catholic faith and religious life, trying to please God. She is trying to climb up to God.

God watches Therese and sees her desire to come. Then in one moment that we call grace, God rushes down the staircase, picks her up and takes her. She knows afterward by hindsight that God has done it, from beginning to end. But it was important for her to keep lifting up her little foot. Our struggle, our desire, our “yes” is significant and necessary. But in the end it is always grace that carries us up the staircase.

Richard Rohr in Radical Grace: Daily Meditations, p.324, Day 336

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To Read And Remember

I'm writing this from a bank of computers at the public library. My favourite librarian with her familiar right sided limp, just stopped to chat for a few minutes. Libraries have always been a haven for me although this big, new library is not as comforting as its crowded older edition. I like to feel hugged by a building and it just doesn't feel that way when the ceiling is 25 feet high above me.

It was a slow kind of day at work, the first of its kind since I started back to work last month. It was a nice change. There are times of the year when I can sit at my desk and read. This isn't one of them but it will come around again. Then I will be wishing for something to keep me busy. I'll take busy over bored any day.

In a little while I'll go look through the children's section of books. I have many favourite illustrators. One of my favourites is Tomie dePaola. I like children's books just as much as adult ones. Somewhere out in our shed I have a plastic container full of children's books. Dearest one wanted to chuck them because we haven't seen them for 5 years but I got all defensive and owly about it because I might not have room for them now but I will some day.

When I was a kid I used to bring home a stack of books from the library. I was so disappointed when I'd gone through the entire young adult section of the library. I think my biggest take home stack was 25 books. My mom was not impressed. She was the one who got the phone calls about overdue books. She was the only one of us who wasn't a reader. I remember once reading a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay in a weekly paper and being so struck by it that I wrote her a letter. I was only 15 years too late. Her name went on my list of must read books.

I still keep such a list. Books I hope to read one day. Wish lists online, too. I have a stack of books balanced on my knees as I type. Pity only a few will fit between me and the computer desk. Ah, there isn't time to read many anymore but lately I've had the pleasure of reading a few. I hope you have, too.


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Crazy On You

"...crazy on you......let me go crazy, crazy on you...."

I was in a grocery store this week when Crazy On You played across the speakers. I stopped and just listened, transported back to my teenage years lying in bed with my ear to a radio. Funny how music can make one feel like they've time travelled.

Most of the music from those years holds no appeal to me now but every now and then a song comes along that makes me feel 15 again.


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A Gazillion Times A Day

I was taking minutes in an all day meeting this week and had to remind myself that I wasn't being paid to offer my opinion. I was being paid to record what others were saying. I thought I was less opinionated than I used to be but really I'm continually learning that the world will survive without me voicing my opinion, that's all.

Group dynamics are an interesting thing to observe when all you're there for is to observe, not contribute. Watching one person take things personally and confuse the issue with their very own selves gave me food for thought because I am much more like that person than like any other person in the meeting. I felt both compassion and irritation at her lack of awareness. What is that saying? There's how you see yourself, there's how others see you, there's how you think others see you and there's how you are.

I have two friends who drilled it into my head for years before I believed them, that what I thought of myself was far more important than what others thought of me. When I realized how much negative self talk I had going on I started to believe them. When you hear someone say out loud that they are such an idiot, stupid,......fill in the blank, then you can be sure what's going on in their head is much worse and more insistent. And they probably don't even know it. I had to train myself to recognize my internal negative self talk and re frame it or discount it altogether. In the beginning it was like being interrupted a gazillion times a day.

I'm of the belief that only when we get honest about ourselves can we like ourselves. For myself, personally, going to Confession has been the biggest gift in learning to like myself as I am. Which most likely makes no sense to some people who mistakenly believe that confession is a guilt trip, shame inducing, totally pointless thing to do because after all, Jesus has already forgiven us.

And really that`s the point. Knowing I was already forgiven (because if it`s up to me and not in the Hands of Mercy then I`ll quit trying right now) didn`t help cause that was a head knowledge thing. But process, the gut honest things I have said in Confession and received absolution for, has been so freeing and helped me own who I am in my humanity. It made it a heart thing. My shadow side doesn`t freak me out so much anymore. It`s just there. And always will be, so I can stop pretending that being a Christian makes it go away.

We all need someone, somewhere, to hear who we are at our worst and still accept us in order to even begin to change at a heart level. At least I did. Before that I was too busy spending energy on denying what I was capable of doing, what I had done. And if I didn't believe underneath it all that God loves me exactly as I am then I wouldn't even try. Man, I have cried some gut wrenching tears during absolution, God`s love so tender and full of mercy and impossible to comprehend.

(My apologies to Catholic apologists if I am slaughtering Church teaching. There was a time when I could and wanted to get all technical about all things Catholic (as in wanting to memorize the big green Catechism of the Catholic Church so I could have an answer to everything) and eventually I decided I just needed to live my story and hope to love in the process. People`s eyes tend to glaze over when I get technical or I get on my high and mighty need to be right horse and so far I haven`t learned how to be gracious and technical.)

Okay, time to chuckle, because this post is all about my opinion. It has to land somewhere. My head would explode otherwise.



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Ten Things

I need some kind of topic and this will have to do. If you have any questions for me that would be suitable for the blog leave them in the comments and I'll answer them in a future post! I am out of ideas!






Ten things about me:

1. If it was socially acceptable to wear pjs everywhere, I would. I most often clean house in my pajamas. Which explains why, when my MIL and FIL knocked on my door yesterday afternoon, I was still in mine. I had just finished cleaning house and was trying to decide between a shower and some computer time. Had I chosen shower I would have been much more presentable.

2. Making commitments to sit on boards and committees is not on my fun list. Even so I've been on several and am just wrapping one of those up this weekend. The amount of internal and external whining I am doing, reminding myself just how glad I am to be done, done, is embarrassing.

3. While memorizing numbers comes easy to me, keeping track of money makes my anxiety level rise. But I bit the bullet this morning and spent the time it took to record the last two weeks worth of purchases, bills paid, etc. into the spread sheet. I am always so relieved when it's done. Makes me think of a line by M. Scott Peck about the greater amount of energy it takes to avoid doing an unpleasant task than it does to just do it. So true.

4. I used to have the book that thought came from but who knows where it is now. I have bought more books than any other single item in my lifetime. Even when I was a poor college student I had a shelf of books. I am much pickier now about the books I shell out money for. I go into bookstores with a pen and paper and then order books I think I might like from the library. Rarely do I then buy a copy for my personal library. My dad says that makes me his daughter.

5. My arms are covered in freckles. I have never been embarrassed by freckles. They really aren't that common. Just me and my dad have them in my family of origin. I passed them on, too.

6. I strongly dislike being a passenger in any vehicle unless it's dearest one driving. Otherwise I am a bundle of nerves the whole trip. That's not too much of an exaggeration either. Just ask my kids. One of them had a driving instructor who told them I was banned from being in the vehicle while they were learning how to drive. The other two probably wish I had been.

7. I do like road trips though. I've been on the go far too much lately so it doesn't appeal to me at the moment. I am going out of town for work this week though and then making a longer road trip early next month. That one has a bonus of seeing a dog and a girl at least!

8. I find exercise a chore. I am always glad when I'm finished, glad I did it. My two favourites are walking and yoga. I used to play sports when I was younger. My mom put up with a gazillion basketball shots hitting the outside of the house right above where she sat inside in the living room, for years. I have no idea how she didn't scream out the window at me to stop. But she never did. That is medal worthy. Especially during PMS. When I used to get that I couldn't even tolerate the noise of cutlery scraping on plates at the dinner table. It sounded so loud. Basketballs would have sent me around the bend.

9. There were 41 robins on the lawn the other day. I was in town so I missed them. I grew up in a bird watching house and paid little attention to it. I regret that now. I have a 40 year old bird book from my grandma that sits on a shelf in my living room. The basics I can identify but the difference between this and that sparrow? Not a chance.

10. With dearest one being laid up this week I am finding out we share many more of the household tasks than I'd realized. It's taken one of us out for the count for me to see that. That is such a long ways from where we started and something I quite like. I think he does, too. After all, it means his socks don't go missing in the laundry any more.





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Another Family

Thursday already. I woke up as tired as I went to bed. Hopefully that will dissipate as the day goes on.
Yesterday I rushed around like a mad woman to get out the door on time only to sit in my car, double check my appointment times, then realize I had the wrong day altogether! But I had already made some commitments around my appointments so I went anyway. It meant that I got to my mid week home group meeting and that was a really nice change. Work has been too busy for me to slip away for an hour.

Dearest one is recuperating nicely from surgery. Just stubborn. So we are having a match of the stubborns. He is the kind of person who has a hard time sitting still at the best of times. Now, when he has to, I can see why it is so hard.

When he was in surgery I came down to the main area of the hospital and there sat someone I recognized from the program although I had never talked to him. I sat down beside him and we had the greatest conversation. I love when conversations go deep immediately. Maybe it was the setting we were in. Another member was recuperating from surgery and all day I saw members coming to visit him. How blessed we are to have another family to surround us in times like this.

The threat of snow hasn't materialized yet so that is a gift. I'd at least like to see the Harvest Moon before I see snow. Wouldn't you? It did freeze the night before last though. Ice on the windshield in September. Welcome to northern Canada.

Today is a busy day full of appointments. All self care appointments which makes me feel spoiled. Tonight is a bridal shower for a relative. Happy things to keep me busy.

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A Good Day

"Today's gonna be a good day." That was the lyric going through my head this morning as I woke up. I'd made my way to the bathroom hoping it was still the middle of the night but when I looked at the alarm clock it was only minutes until my alarm went off. Nevertheless that song lyric popped into my mind as my day started.

And it was.

My coworkers got together and showed their appreciation for all the hard work I've done the past few weeks by gifting me with a certificate to a local Spa. I'm not good at opening cards or gifts in front of others so for a moment I turned my back on all of them while I opened the card. Their kindness really touched me.

It was one of those work days when the work kept piling up and I felt like I wasn't even treading water at points. In the middle of that, in a lull, dearest one called to let me know someone had phoned me at home needing to talk about their problem with alcohol. I was able to slip away in private and return her call. It had to be Divinely led because of how that call went and how my story and hers intersected. You know when things pop out of your mouth and are unplanned and unexpected? The kicker was when she told me she was putting my number away for safekeeping right next to the word hope. Kind of gave me goose bumps, that did. I offered to stay in town and meet her at a meeting. She took me up on it only to call later and cancel. I hope to hear her voice again. I had to remind myself that we carry the message not the person. I so want today to be her bottom.

If you are the praying type please remember dearest one tomorrow in your prayers. He is having surgery tomorrow. He'll be off work quite a while recuperating. While it is not life threatening I think any time one goes under anaesthetic one faces their mortality. I am hoping he is pain free soon. I doubt he knows what that feels like anymore. It's been years.

Tonight we went out for supper to celebrate it being nearly 30 years since we got engaged. I was a teenager back then. I thought I was so grown up. I want to be a ballet dancer when I grow up. I've said that since I was a young girl. My mom used to laugh at me when I told her that. I probably said it the most often when I was in that awkward stage of adolescence when ones limbs are gangly and don't seem to fit the body they're attached to. I said that as often as I told her I wanted a nose job for Christmas or my birthday. I said it for years. Today I never give my nose a thought. It still looks the same as ever but I've changed. Today I take my wish to be a ballet dancer as having its roots in being about the beauty of the movement and about the inherent grace in it as well.

And today I feel beautiful and graceful so maybe my wish came true after all.

Treasure Trove

"You know, Hope, just live in this moment. After all, you could be dead before tomorrow."

"Hey, that's right! I could be dead and then I wouldn't have to deal with this would I?"

Oh, lovely thoughts that come into my head when I am feeling stressed to the max. Thoughts that sometimes make me laugh right in the midst of gut churning and heart racing anxiety about something I have no control over and have no idea how it's going to turn out.

I am very grateful to be in recovery.

It helped me delete an entire paragraph in an email where I had been trying to deflect my stuff by pointing out someone else's. I sat here and told myself that all I could do was own my stuff. End of sentence. So I deleted a paragraph that I'd thought might work in my favour in the situation. My side of the street. That's what I'm responsible for.

It doesn't absolve me of consequences. It doesn't even make it turn out pretty. But even in the midst of it all I feel clear about what's mine to own and what isn't.

I wrote the above about an hour ago. Then I made a phone call and found out that the gut churning, heart racing anxiety had not been founded in the reality of the situation. There were no dire consequences. There weren't even any consequences. The situation had been resolved by my email and then the whole thing vanished like a thin puff of smoke. The other person laughed and waved it away as it hadn't been a huge concern to them in the first place.

Yesterday, when it all started, I asked myself if this bodily reaction was what I felt as a child growing up in an abusive home. Instantly I knew I spent most of my childhood with my gut churning and that high level of anxiety running through my body. I felt a deep sorrow about this because I'd never recognized it before. Even typing that makes me teary. I can't remember the last time I thought I was in trouble and that bodily reaction came so instantaneous.

It took a lot of talking and praying to separate my childhood reaction from what was happening yesterday. It really bothered me that once I was clear in my head my body was still on high alert. For hours.

I spent the evening with a group of friends and talked it out. As the conversation shifted to the rest of the group and I sat quietly listening to where our journeys intersected my body relaxed enough that I was left with perhaps 5% of the original anxiety.

I prayed before I went to sleep. I didn't sleep well. The situation was on my mind the moment I woke up. I went to sleep and dreamed about the person and the situation. I woke up with more than a touch of gut churning and heart racing. Dearest one prayed with me and then lit prayer candles before heading to work.

And then I made the phone call and everything was okay.

I've been reading this book a little bit every night before I go to sleep. Last night I read:

"....you can use anything - everything - as a wake up call; you can find a treasure trove of information about yourself and the world in the big trials and the little annoyances of daily life. If you turn around and face yourself in times of loss and pain, you will be given the key to a more truthful - and therefore a more joyful - life."

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Meditation Song

I like most everything this singer/songwriter produces. His songs have often been a comfort to me. I'm not a big fan of Christian music (the term Christian is not an adjective. grrrr) as much of it seems to have cheesy lyrics not based in reality. But songs like this one do. I came across this song online tonight and remembered it being a balm to me more than once.

Lit For You

These are our prayer candles. If you've ever asked for prayer or if I've prayed for you then there's a good chance one of these has been lit in your name. Sometimes I have one candle just for people who have lost their spouses. I told God not too long ago that I was sick of lighting that candle. Not that I was tired of praying for them but I felt overwhelmed by how many people I knew who were widowed. Sometimes I light one and ask prayers for all the bloggers I "know".

For some people ritual is frowned upon but for me it is comforting. The ritual of lighting these candles can be both comforting and disturbing, depending on the needs of those I pray for. And sometimes there are just no words to pray. Which is in itself a prayer.

Lord have mercy.

The Answer Would Be "No"

"I wish I could go home and have a drink to relax."

That's the thought that went through my head on the way home every night this week. I didn't freak out at the thought, because a drink was not what I was after, but I did let myself sit with the thought. I wondered what was it beneath it that I was looking for. What was it about the scenario that was attractive to me? The previous week I had sat in a bar with coworkers as they closed their evening with a drink while I sipped on peppermint tea. I found the scene such a foreign feeling that I excused myself early and went to bed. I wonder if being in that setting had prompted my thoughts.

This week I have worked double and a bit more hours than I normally do. By yesterday late afternoon I had handled 350 pieces of paper. Most of them 4 times once you include photocopying, scanning, signing, double checking. They are still in a pile waiting to be filed now. All that to say it has been a very busy week. I have driven home exhausted every evening. I have never worked a Saturday in this job until yesterday. It was wonderful to leave my desk finally cleared of papers yesterday afternoon and go home.

The second night that thought above went through my mind I realized what I was looking for was some way to reward myself for the hard work I was doing. I was craving recognition and reward. So I got creative. I wanted a beta endorphin boost. I went and picked fresh veggies in my garden and dug potatoes for supper. An hour from ground to table. What a treat! Another night I got home and forced myself to put on my running shoes and went for a walk. That helped. I spent an evening with a group of friends. We did a lot of talking and belly laughing and ended the evening in prayer. By Thursday, when the thought was still rattling around in my head, I booked a massage for yesterday. A treat I have not had in several years.

And then came Friday. As I pulled to a stop at a red light there was that thought once again. I asked myself what was it I was looking for. Out of nowhere came a question,

"Has going home and relaxing with a drink ever been your experience?"

I started to laugh. Um, the answer would be no. It was never even a goal. I can't relate to it one bit. I can relate to drinking to get drunk. Drinking as fast as I can guzzle them. Drinking to numb the feelings.

But relaxing and having a drink, no. I had been romanticising an experience that was foreign to me. And with that the thought stopped harassing me. It still makes me laugh.

Yesterday I went to work early and then stopped part way through my day to have my massage (it was wonderful,I booked another one) and then went to my home group meeting where I shared this week's experience. I was so grateful to have a place where I could go and be honest and get understanding in return. I went back to the office with a lighter heart.

Now I have two days off to relax and refresh. I slept past 6 AM and soon family will be here to spend the day with us. Tomorrow I will tackle things that need to be done before work comes around again. I have a garden that needs cleaning out. There are simple every day chores to be done. Life is good.


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Giving My Head A Shake

"How about I forget to send it in the courier and by the time it eventually gets there all will be good?"

I'd gone into her office and shut the door behind me to ask her perspective on my newfangled plan to help someone through a loophole I designed myself.

"But if they ask me on the other end I'll have to lie and say oops, I forgot. I'll know I conveniently forgot,not accidentally forgot. Okay, so that's not going to happen. Scratch that plan. I have to sleep at night."

My boss smiles at me. She knows that I'm a stickler for having my integrity intact at the end of the day. Not sure why forgetting on purpose became a viable option in my own mind to begin with, although if I told you the whole story you might see why, but the bottom line was it instantly became a non option when I realized I might have to lie to cover my butt down the road. If I hadn't thought it through out loud with my boss I might not have seen that and then would've slipped through the loophole only to fess up when I realized what I'd done.

I know in the whole scheme of life most people would look at the situation and think what is the big deal. So a piece of paper gets sent a week late and it helps someone out. On the other end that slip of paper being a week late is really not a big deal. It wouldn't make a difference to them in the long run. But I'd know my motivation and intention and well, there you go. I was grateful for some clarity before it all potentially blew up in my face.

I handled so many pieces of paper today that I left them in a stack on my desk to deal with tomorrow. Although tomorrow will see another stack as high to add to it. By day's end I couldn't think straight and instead of spending any energy on getting tomorrow's day ready I left the papers on my desk, locked the office and came home. I am once again counting the time until I can go to sleep. I am grateful this weariness is temporary.



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Learning

It's just after midnight.
I was in bed shortly after 8 pm , sound asleep in no time and now I'm not.
I hope sleep comes back soon.
Tomorrow will be my busiest day of work for the year.
I look forward to it and will be glad when it's over.


When I went home a few weeks ago
to celebrate my dad's milestone birthday
I visited with two of his cousins.
My dad's cousins can be counted on one hand
and I don't remember meeting but one of them
in all my growing up years.

These two cousins and I sat and visited for nearly 2 hours straight.
The first time I'd had a more than surface level conversation
with anyone from my dad's side of the family. Ever.
It was wonderful. A real gift.

It's been a painstaking journey for me learning how to make small talk.
I have to work at it. Social courtesies still seeem like a mystery to me much of the time. Below the surface level conversation comes much easier.

I also have to work at remembering to ask about the other person. It's literally a mental note I think in nearly every conversation I have. "Ask them how they are. Ask them the question they just asked you."

One of the gems in the conversation with the cousins was that one of them told me she thought it was a common family trait to struggle with being socially adept. Which strikes me as funny right now, seeing as we share the same last name and had to get to a certain level of social adeptness to even have that conversation.

But have it we did and were both blessed because of it.
I love it when an unexpected blessing is plopped in my lap.
I love it when I have eyes to see it and an open heart to receive it.


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