More Will Be Revealed

My previous post was number 1300.
I'm thinking of making a commitment to daily posting in 2011.
It was much easier to write posts when my life was full of issues.
Don't get me wrong.
I am grateful for a settled life.
And it's not as if I've arrived.
Lord knows I haven't and never will.

It just leaves me scratching my head about what to write about.

I've been reading this greatest book about being creative and writing called What It Is. AuthorLynda Barry has lots of thought provoking ideas in it.

I found it in the young adult graphic novel section of my public library after hearing the author interviewed on the radio. It looks like an innocent book. I didn't even know there was such a thing as a graphic novel. Weird term.

One little bit in it has haunted me from the first reading:

"An iceberg is a big chunk of ice that floats in the sea. Sea water is not clear. It hides most of the iceberg. In order to be safe from underwater danger, ship captains steer away from icebergs."

And then below that is the question "How is a thought like an iceberg?" She goes on to ask what thoughts are made of. Can one have thoughts without language? Is thinking voluntary or involuntary.

That kind of stuff sucks me right in. She has a new book about drawing, too.

Today I told a friend that I like reading books about writing nearly as much as I like to write. I've been frozen with fear quite a bit lately when it comes to writing. Facing how much anxiety I live with in most of my life, really. I would never have believed it had someone observed it about me out loud.

Actually someone did a few years ago and wrote it on my medical record and I was about as pissed as one can get when I read it. A few months ago I had a moment where I was facing a possible wretched outcome at work and the anxiety in my body wouldn't leave even after I had mentally worked through it. I asked myself when had I felt like that before and I knew I had lived in that state of anxiety my whole childhood. The awareness in that moment brought tears instantly to the surface. I thought I had worked through my childhood shit.

That episode prompted me to ask myself what would happen if I entertained the possibility that I live with anxiety on a regular basis. Kind of in the vein of "me thinks you do protest too much". I don't know if it's a relief to acknowledge it but at least I'm not spending energy fighting reality. At least that bit.


P.S. It was -42C with wind chill at one point today. That's -43.6F. Thankfully a chinook is on its way.

Tempted

It's been bitterly cold. Weather we don't normally see until January. I am grateful to be inside today. The windows are frosted from top to bottom. I have a very vivd memory of sticking my tongue on the screen door frame whenI was about 6 years old. I had to wait for someone else to get to the house to rescue me.

I can't say I want to repeat that experience but sometimes I get tempted to see if it would still happen.

The Elk pictured above are no where to be seen this morning but they're warm somewhere.

The Art Form of Sticking One's Foot In One's Mouth

"Tidiness is the art form of the non-creative." ~ wildlife artist Greg Beecham

If there is truth to that quote then judging by my desk pictured above I'm quite creative!

It's bitterly cold here today. So cold the Puglies won't go outside. Last night I took them for one last constitutional before bed and they both sat on their butts trying to get all four feet up in the air at once to keep from freezing. Needless to say I carried them both back to the house, each snuggled under an arm like a football. This morning the windows are frosted up to the tops and the sun is shining through making it seem like I have stained glass windows.

At least the weather gives me something to write about. I've had a full week with little down time. Gone for 12+ hours at a stretch. Three luxurious days lay before me with no plans to venture farther than the yard. Winter makes me feel like hibernating and my cave is rather full of stuff.

Once winter is here to stay, and judging by the snow and cold, it is, I feel closed in on, like my clothes are too tight except it's the house that feels too tight. Invariably this lead to me wanting to open the door and chuck most of my belongings out in a snow drift so I feel like I have more room to stretch. Contrast that with a sunny summer day when I feel like opening doors and windows to let the outside in! Same amount of stuff, same house, way different perspective.

I had a few places to stop yesterday to buy yet more stuff. Winter boots. Greeting cards. I am so grateful for warm boots in this weather. It was a spur of the moment buy as I have boots on order from the catalogue. But I couldn't face taking one more dainty step on snow and ice in my dress shoes. I'd already just about ended going ass over tea kettle coming out of a store the day before and this lead me to walking tentatively ever since. I'm the kind of person who would lay in the snow after a fall, declaring "You don't understand! I had to wait to buy them until they were on sale!" as they loaded me onto a stretcher. And I'd expect applause, too, for that ridiculous behaviour. Oh, come on, you frugal shoppers know exactly what I mean.

So there I was standing in line at the checkout counter, in my new furry lined knee high brown boots, buying a bunch of greeting cards when I put them on the conveyer belt at the exact moment that the clerk started that belt going into overdrive. It was like she was driving a car and her foot was stuck on the gas. I take a lot of time looking for just the right card and one of those cards had been the only one of its kind in the rack and I'd be darned if it was going to get wrecked by jamming up the conveyer belt.

I reached to save it and she just kept her foot on the gas. I grabbed that card and watched as the belt threatened to suck another card into that little space between belt and counter. I felt like I was playing Jacks and was scrambling to pick up the last Jack before the red ball stopped bouncing. At the last minute I grabbed up every last card, narrowly avoiding getting my fingers jammed in there when I said, "You're going to drive me crazy." You ever have that happen? Realize you've said out loud what should have stayed in your head and there is no going back? Not even on a conveyor belt.

The sound of my voice must have startled her because she suddenly let go of the belt drive button. She looked embarrassed to have been caught not paying attention. I was embarrassed to have spoken out loud what I thought I was only thinking. I kept my mouth shut after that for fear of sticking the other of my newly purchased furry boots in my mouth although I do think there's room for me to rest one of them up on my desk. Right beside the catalogue I ordered my boots from to be precise.

Entering The Cave

Second night this week that I am having insomnia.
It's been a good day.
Full of people.
Which has been strangely uplifting for this avowed introvert.

Winter is coming this week with cold temperatures and snow.


I do not feel brave about driving winter highways.
Not that I ever have but every year I feel less so.
But when you live in the middle of nowhere one has to drive to get anywhere.

So facing my fear of winter driving
is going to happen
whether I like it or not.
In the past few weeks I've come to see just how much
fear I have about most everything
and how it affects me on a daily basis.
Near 50 year habits are hard to break.

I'm not trying to fix that, just being aware of it.
Much better than repressing it.

Last night I woke from a nightmare with a start.
Waking past the point where one normally wakes up.
It was only when Something shouted at me in the dream
that I woke. I tried to stay awake then for a bit
because I was scared of going back into the dream if I didn't.

Tomorrow is another full day.
I hope sleep comes soon.
Sans the nightmares.


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Meant To Be

Today was a one foot in front of the other kind of day although I took a sick day because whatever is kicking my butt is still kicking. Didn't think my coworkers needed to be exposed to my germs.

Today another little piece of the puzzle, as my Spiritual Director calls them, was revealed to me. Snuck up on me only to smack me right in the face. An opportunity for growth. Lovely.

Ever since saying yes to God in the midst of early sobriety, I have been determined to embrace growth opportunities. Sometimes the hug is tentative and sometimes it's a bear hug. Either way it doesn't mean they don't scare the beejezus out of me sometimes. This is one of them. I'm trusting that stuff being revealed is stuff being revealed in its proper time, that it's not some random act but meant to be.


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Serendipity

Today contained one of those serendipitous moments that I credit to my HP. I had to look up the definition of serendipity before I could publish this post though. Does that ever happen to you? You hear a word used for years and understand it from the context in which it's said but if asked to define it you come up blank? That happens to me a lot.

Anyway, I've been sick since last week. I've been trying to shake it off, waiting for my immune system to do its work. Today I finally cried 'uncle' and went to the walk in clinic to get a throat swab. Let's hope this doesn't need antibiotics as I'm allergic to just about every single one of them. The person attending to me said she'd have to really think hard to come up with something I could take if the swab came back positive.

She was a medical personnel I'd known of who could be a great resource for one of my health issues. Today I asked her if she'd be interested and she said yes. She doesn't take new patients but was willing to help with this particular issue. I'm grateful for that. She is a wonderful advocate and having her in my court is a gift.

I am slowly learning how to be a self advocate, too. I've often either been worried I was inconveniencing people or I was on the defensive and came across as aggressive and demanding. There is something empowering about stating needs without apology or entitlement that I am grateful to be learning.

It's something I've learned was possible through the example of people in AA quite frankly. At first when people would simply say what they thought or set boundaries without apology and without throwing a hissy fit I wanted to duck before the war errupted. When there wasn't one (and I'm not saying this is normal or 100% happenstance in AA, cause I don't speak for AA, this is just my experience)it became a possibility for me, too.

So today I did a bit of a happy dance, sore throat and all.


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Good Friends

There are three funerals I could go to this week. This morning there were two. Then I opened the paper over lunch and there were three. Remember this post? The man in that post died a few days ago. The poor people left in that family have lost a sister and both parents now. I cannot imagine.

Tonight I reconnected with a friend I rarely phone but we both knew two of the three people who died. She is one of those lifelong friends one has where you pick up where you left off and it's like it was yesterday that you last spoke. There aren't many of those kinds of friends in this life and I am grateful for her.

Me Nan

I am a bit of an X Factor addict. Every season I wait for the show highlights to be posted on youtube. Then every week after that I am waiting for my fix. The young girl below really captivated my attention even though her kind of music is not my own. I especially like the bit with her "Nan" towards the end of this clip. Just this morning I watched her vlog for this week and when asked what three things she'd want on a island with her one of them was "me Nan" because she said, "I can't live without me Nan." And I love that.

Everyone needs someone to love them so well especially while they are growing up. Some have parents who do that, or a friend, and many have grandparents. One set of my grandparents were that for me as a child. If you have time if you look on youtube for this young girl's live shows 1 through 4 you will see she really has talent. Her live show 4 mesmerized me.



Cher Lloyd - Live Show 1
Cher Lloyd - Live Show 2
Cher Lloyd - Live Show 3
Cher Lloyd - Live Show 4

End Of Story....Except.....

All the posts around the blog sphere today about voting in the US makes me think they take voting much more serious south of the border than we do in Canada, where there is a general apathy about it. Least that's my opinion. I admire the difference.

When I was a child my dad was approached by a provincial politician to enter the upcoming election as a candidate. I remember a big sign that was hung on the fence announcing to the community which political party we supported.

After my dad was approached we travelled to the provincial capital so he could spend the weekend hob nobbing with politicians. Money was tight so we pitched a tent in the pouring rain, in a campground 15 minutes outside the city. I remember my mom sitting in the car smoking her Peter Jackson cigarettes while three of us kids went inside a big city hotel with my dad to some kind of political gathering. There were ladies in fancy clothes serving fancy food. I don't know if it was pity or good social graces but they treated us like we were special. We were the only kids present. Soggy, bedraggled kids who had spent the weekend camping in a tent in the rain. We never went to another political function. My mom told my dad she would divorce him if he entered politics. End of story.

Except there was this big, blue, round building at the campground where one could buy candy and pay camping fees. People would gather there for a cup of coffee to shoot the breeze. I stood not much more than eye level to the candy counter and while my dad was visiting with the man behind the counter I reached up and stole a tiny Cadbury chocolate bar. It fit right in the palm of my hand. Inside it was two squares of delicious milk chocolate. I hid in the tent, water leaking from the roof and ate that chocolate so fast you would've thought I'd inhaled it. (A habit I never lost the whole time I ate chocolate!)

I doubt I wiped all traces off my face and I'm sure my mom had other things on her mind than wondering whether her kids were stealing candy. Like how it sucked to be stuck in a campground on a rainy weekend with 5 kids while her husband spent the weekend at political parties bull shitting with the candidates and possibly the former provincial premier. Looking back I doubt I would've given up a chance to meet Tommy Douglas either had I been my dad.

Fast forward 20 years. Dearest one and I are driving down the highway to our new home. And there beside the highway is that big, blue, round building where they used to have tiny chocolate bars for sale for a nickle. I could even remember exactly which camping spot was ours.

From then on we drove past that campground every time we went grocery shopping or had a doctor's appointment. One day, after I had sobered up, I stopped to make amends for stealing that chocolate bar. I have no memory of what followed. All I know is that I stopped carrying around the guilt and shame for my childhood crime. The adults around me as a child set all kinds of poor examples of morality but stealing wasn't one of them. It was a huge relief to make that amend.


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Seeking

"Most of us don't seek God during happy times. We seek God when we're in distress."

As the priest said this tears sprang to my eyes. Had I not been an alcoholic who's life was becoming more and more unmanageable every day would I have sought God? I'll never know the answer to that one.

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Fixated

Once in a very long while I feel like I get a nudge from the Holy Spirit. Most of the time I doubt those nudges, unable to differentiate between it and my ego. My ego is great at masquerading as so many things.

But last night I was sitting at a friend's house and got a sudden urge to call another friend. I ignored it for about ten minutes and then excused myself to go use the phone and call. Tears on the other end of the line. There really is nothing I can say to a sorrowing person that will make anything any better. But I can listen. So I did.

Kindness is seriously under rated. When I hear people talk about so and so is destined to do Big Things For God I recognize my own ego inflation tendencies. My experience tells me it's much harder to be faithful in little things. Especially when I get hung up on thinking there's something bigger I should be doing. What rubbish.

I'm having a really hard time lately living in this day only. I constantly feel like I'm waiting for something. Right now it's for the time change next weekend. I'm not sure why I feel like an extra hour of sleep is going to change anything but in my mind it is. My whole growing up I was fixated on the next thing, never this thing right in front of me. It was the only way I could cope with my reality. I know my restlessness is temporary but it is not fun waiting for it to pass.

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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