The Light in Me

During the occasional moments of dazed consternation; when I question the purpose of my existence, the validity of my claim to life and all of the gifts and responsibilities implied in that gift of life I have, for the entirety of my life been flummoxed by one constant flaw. I have never belonged; I was shut out of the closeness shared by my mother and my sister, something I was bitterly jealous of as a child and resented so viciously as an adult that I have excluded them both from my life. Nor did I belong with the rest of my family, I was there and they were there and we surely loved each other as families do but it was always easier for them to exclude me than to include me. I can't say I blame them; I must have been a very odd child. My first rule of survival has always been to take every new situation deadpan seriously until it is proven to have a humorous element and then and only then can I laugh long and loud. I'm not sure where that comes from but it is probably associated with my second rule which is to never let anyone know when they have gotten to you.

Starting out life knowing you don't belong in your own family is, to say the least, uncomfortable. I didn't really fit in at school either; the fact that we were Welfare kids much of the time was an open secret and the offers of hand-me-down clothes and food from the school principal's office infuriated me. They told me to think of my little brothers and take the help they wanted to give us; who could blame my family if they never forgave me? I squared my little second grade shoulders, looked them in the eyes and told them I didn't need their charity. Pride is a sin. I tried a few times (much too hard of course) to fit in but I think I had pretty much resigned myself to being a loner by the time I reached the fifth grade.

High school was much the same and the family I married into wanted me no more than did my birth family; perhaps that was when I started to crave sameness. There is a certain amount of comfort in knowing what to expect. As for my marriage; if there is a flaw here it lies in me and not in Don. He is a confident, self-motivated, motivating, centered and focused individual who has gotten where he is today charged by his own steam and with the assistance of no one else. He neither needs nor wants my encouragement or approval. Still, there are moments when I do not belong; still…

I have had a theory on all of this since my early teens. I believe that in some past life, perhaps several past lives, I was a very prideful and demanding person. (I may still be, though I pray I am not.) I am a Christian, but I also believe I will not see Heaven until I have learned the lesson of humility. Why this convoluted view of a straightforward faith system? Because I am trying to figure out why I am here at all; I don't fit in; and loosely translated that means I am nigh onto unlovable. Why? What makes a person loveable? Is it redeeming qualities like compassion and the willingness to sacrifice in both word and deed, is it the ability to love unconditionally with no expectation of having that love returned? I have those qualities. Is it that light that shines in all living things that is put there by Grace the moment we are born? That light can grow to a near blinding quality in some and yet in others it may never grow at all. There is a light shinning in me; I can feel the strong but gentle pulse of its life and I know it is there for a purpose. Perhaps in this lifetime it simply is and I simply am.

There is always hope.

 

 

 

 

 

After the Melt-down

I am fixable; that is what Dr. Tepper at the Cleveland Clinic tells me and I believe her. Just one more test to see if surgery is an option and then the rest is up to me and medication adjustments. As for me, what can I say; I’m in it for the long haul. As for the medication, it is already beginning to have some unpleasant side effects; I will get by those. The really awesome news is that I may not have had strokes at all! The next test will give a definitive answer on that point as well as the surgery thing.

Today I had a mini-meltdown; I was alone and I am grateful for that because I am positive Don would have been clueless as to what to do. Flaming forsythia, even I didn’t know what to do but cry (which is very unlike me). I suppose the problem started last week when I started the new changes in medication and continued to escalate in the process of weaning myself off one med and adding another by slowly ramping up the dosage; add to that the fact that I have been trying to get my prescriptions changed from one carrier to another and am having problems getting the doctor’s office to write new scripts for those that will not transfer and the tension kept building. If that were not enough I only just today recovered from another very bad migraine. Put it all together and you have the perfect recipe for a Betty melt-down; not a pretty sight in any circumstance.

Just when I was beginning to feel lonely and abandoned (which we should never do) I glanced out my kitchen window and watched a chickadee scamper out of my bird feeder (yes, she was inside it) and fly away; and then out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of one of my favorite fair weather friends, the Common Flicker. For those of you who may not know, the common flicker is a woodpecker about 11” in size and they can provide hours of hilarious entertainment as they scratch and peck on the ground looking for ants and insects. There seems to be nothing they enjoy more on a hot August day than a good dust bath and I have watched them linger a good long while at their ablutions. I stood there at my kitchen sink looking out at the wilderness of my back yard and watched a pair of robins. How could I have gone 49 years and never before seen that the male robin does indeed have a deep red breast and that his lady has a more demure rust colored breast? A pair of rabbits was scurrying round doing what rabbits do this time of year, and a groundhog was obviously in hog heaven at the salt block we set out for the deer. No longer lonely with my friends just outside the window to keep me company I set about getting dinner ready.

There is always hope.

The Great Lady Bug Hunt

The use of the word hate generally rings a note of distaste in me, it is a truly terrible word and when directed at another human being it is always used with the intention of inflicting pain. There are exceptions to every rule and one major exception in the use of the word hate is when it is applied to bugs. I hate bugs with a true, deep and abiding hate that is so powerful it makes me tremble. At the moment I hate lady bugs to the point of total distraction.

Jennifer said I am a freak, when it comes to some things I suppose she is correct; when it comes to others, I suppose it is only a matter of time until the men in the little white coats come looking for me. Bugs; what can I say? I have been known to sleep in my own bed with cotton in my ears for fear a bug would… let's not go there. While I go tooling round my yard on my John Deere riding mower I have my ears plugged with cotton not because of noise but because of bugs. To clarify; my own unique definition of bug is: anything smaller than a human baby that crawls, walks, flies or rides its' way into within ten feet of me.

I have spent the last half hour on a quest for bugs in my house. With Tchaikovsky's Capriccio Italien boldly playing on the CD player I stalked and swept and vacuumed and I hope I have cleared my house of the dreaded bugs for once and for all. It would seem that I have a lady bug infestation and Don can't seem to stop laughing at my freakish obsession of wanting to get rid of them. I get no help from that corner, I can tell you. He is due home any moment from track practice and then my hunt will begin again because every time the doors are opened about a thousand bugs come in.

At least I don't have to worry about what I'll be doing tomorrow.

There is always hope.     

Dragons, Pooh Bear and Unicorns

The first song I can recall striking a deep emotional chord in me is Puff the Magic Dragon; I was four years old when it was recorded by Peter, Paul and Mary in 1963 and the fate of poor Puff, destined to spend eternity waiting for Jackie Paper to return broke my heart and drove me to tears. I loved it. From the first note to the last I was carried away on ships that sailed to the lands of noble princes who bowed when ere we came. To this day I have a very soft spot in my heart for Puff the Magic Dragon.

While I am revealing secrets about what a sop I am I may as well tell you about the other song guaranteed to bring tears to my eyes. For those of you who know me, you may not be surprised to hear that the other song is Return to Pooh corner by Kenny Loggins. I am not precisely certain why this song evokes such a strong emotional response from me. I didn’t have a Pooh bear or anything resembling one and the whole idea of the 100 Acre Wood would have seemed the most natural thing in the world to me. At any rate, by the time I heard about Winnie the Pooh and his friends I was too old to be taken in by the cartoon and stories in the way that toddlers are. Nevertheless, I fell hook, line and sinker for Pooh and friends; I offer my collection of Winnie the Pooh paraphernalia as proof of my continued devotion to all things Pooh. Having said that, I confess that when I hear the song, Return to Pooh Corner, I often weep like a baby who cannot find a loved and favored blanket or bear.

Another song I have a strong attachment to is The Last Unicorn from the movie of the same name, performed by America. The song is about the unicorn telling the world that “I’m alive!” and you will not defeat me Come to think of it, there are too many songs that have special meaning for me, hundreds if not thousands of them actually. Oh well, I only wanted to share with you some of the music that I like the most.

There is always hope.

Easter, Mayhem and Aliens

Happy Easter! I hope everyone is enjoying this most sacred of all Christian holidays.

As for me, I have recovered from the migraine that rocked my world more forcefully than did the students at Boardman High School’s Project Mayhem concert on Wednesday night. I knew I had a migraine coming on when we went to the concert but it is such a rare thing for us to attend anything the kids (nieces or nephews) do that I just could not back out. Truth told I am very glad I went; we sat with Curt and Erica and were able to see Bill, Amy and Matthew. Regrettably, I was not the only member of his (Matthew’s) fan club and I was unable to get close enough to say hello but even a glimpse from a distance was a treat to these hungry old auntie eyes. As for the concert, it was awesome. Those kids put their hearts into it and it showed; we enjoyed it immensely but Don says next time we’ll try a little harder to make it to a traditional concert LOL.

On to other, worldlier matters; I heard on the news today that Colorado is trying to work out legislation to bring alien workers to their farms; they would arrange transportation for and provide housing to these workers in order to acquire affordable help when they most need it. We should all be concerned with the farmer and his plight since much of his expense shows up in the grocery store. Here is my argument against importing workers. I can promise you that there are American citizens (perhaps not tens of thousands but many thousands at least) who are in desperate need of work (even at the wages paid to aliens) and cannot afford the transportation to get to employment or the housing when they reach their destination. If we have reached the point in social discourse where we can openly admit that there is still racism in this country (undeniably on all sides) then I say that it is also time that we say right out loud that there are Americans of every color who are, on a daily basis, cold and hungry and afraid that the car they call home may be stolen while they are out trying to make a days wages in order to feed their starving and sick children. That problem my friends is the most bipartisan problem this country faces and until we have addressed it we should not bring other unfortunate souls here to suffer struggle in conditions that no politician could endure.

There you have it, my Sunday sermon; unfortunately, what I say is true. Even so, this is a great nation and all we have to do to perpetuate it is work together.

There is always hope.

I Cannot Associate Myself With Obama

The talk of the town, if you watch the news, though not exclusively devoted to the 2008 presidential race; does center on Barack Obama and the speech he gave today in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I watched the speech hoping to be swayed in favor of Sen. Obama; I was sorely disappointed. There is in my opinion, no way for Sen. Obama to redeem himself in association with Rev. Wright. Not only has the senator refused to disassociate himself with his former pastor, he has also admitted to what he denied only last Friday; that he (Obama) has in fact been in church and heard firsthand the mean minded and highly prejudicial convictions espoused by Rev. Wright. “Yes,” Obama said today, “I have sat in church and listened to his (Rev. Wright’s) controversial remarks… He has a profoundly distorted view of America.” I am appalled at the news sound bites that I have heard, both from Rev. Wright and Sen. Obama both of whom have a significant and devoted audience. I understand that the Rev. has a right to free speech, but it makes me furious that he has attacked the United States of America. Flawed as we are; I believe this country to be occupied by good, hard working and determined people who will never stand idly by and watch as people like Rev. Wright try to rip this nation apart by causing a hateful racial war. White as I am, I refuse to deny the history of this country of mine and I just as vehemently refuse to disassociate myself with the progress we have made in addressing the consequences of all prejudicial and mean hearted convictions. It is my firm conviction that I am not alone when I say that the color of someone’s skin or their ethnicity makes no difference. We are all of us responsible for the moral development of future generations and I believe we are up to the task of instilling high standards of acceptance and forgiveness in the hearts and minds of this nation’s young.

That said, I also believe there were valid and important points made in Sen. Obama’s speech. He addressed the challenges poor white people face on a daily basis and many other things that crossed racial boundaries. He referenced blood relatives on three continents and his black father and white mother. Sadly for me, he was unable to say a thing that justified his association of twenty years with a man who said the kinds of things that Rev. Wright did.

I am trying to keep an open mind about all the candidates in both major parties. It is… difficult.

There is always hope.

The Open Road the Treadmill and the Party

We watched Into The Wilderness the other day and I have to say I liked the movie, though the ending was not what I expected it to be. I suppose one reason the story appealed to me is that I have always wished that I were brave enough to chuck it all and hit the open road.

I cannot begin to imagine how so much freedom would feel after 49 years of being someone's daughter or wife. Granted, there is very little I would change if I could go back and do it all again... still, I cannot help but wonder. Would that kind of freedom be as gloriously adventurous as I imagine? What would it feel like to wake up to the sound of the ocean and fall asleep to the sounds of the mountains as they settles into rest? Think of the valleys and the rivers and the sunrises and sunsets; and the people. Hard working and proud of it (as they should be) or rich and lazy (as I sometimes wish to be) and what of the people with stories to tell. Beaten down by age and worry or those who have attained a higher plain where their lives are lived in enlightened serenity. The experiences and opportunities are endless. There is no telling what I would give to be brave enough to do those things; I am too much of a coward (and at this point too old) to do anything but dream. Cari (my brave and beautiful niece) knows and I am very proud that courageous woman!

So much for dreaming, it is a sweet luxury that sadly can be endulged in only when time permits. I have much to tell and I believe the best place to start is at the end.

After sleeping in rather late (I worked and traveled all night long in my dreams and was, therefore very tired) I goofed around on the computer for a while (regrettably I had to pester Bill about tickets for the concert on Wednesday because I forget what he told me) and then when Don went off to track practice I forced myself down the basement steps and on to the treadmill. I walked 2 miles today and I have to say it is about time I did! Now if I can only force myself to repeat that feat again tomorrow I will have a good start to spring.

Yesterday, we had the Indoor Track Team over for an end of season party. It's always fun for me when they come over and I wish it could be more often. We had lasagna, watched two movies and ate the surprise birthday cake Liz and Haley brought for Don; they also gave him a very nice gift card for one of his favorite restaurants. I think they enjoyed themselves, or at least I hope they did.

Time is running out and Don is home and ready for dinner. Maybe I'll have a little more time to spend here tomorrow after my walk.

There is always hope.