Blog Archives
Playing with the moon – and cherishing my son
A beautiful moment at close to four o’clock in the morning.
I had let Butters outside, and returned to my room. As I went back to retrieve my cream colored, insomniac manatee/sharpei/shepherd – I bumped into my son coming inside.
We had both remembered the moon.
We sat outside together, listening to the birds – in the dark, and staring up at that gorgeous huge moon. As dark as it was outside, the moon shone like the sun. We spoke of how the sky must have looked before electricity. We spoke of stars and places available to see them in total darkness.
And as we spoke, and sat in awe of that moon, I was filled with such gratitude and love for the relationship I have with my son.
When we both went in, he was wide awake – I got back under my sheets and he came into my room and sat on my bed beside me … “It’s like Christmas …” he said. And it did have that feel to it.
That up-too-early, but full of wonder and leisure feeling.
We parted, but that moment didn’t go unwritten in my memory bank. I love that he chose those words. I love that his memories of being up early and excited and us being together brought that comparison to his lips.
I awoke again at 5:30 and managed to capture the moon on my ‘real’ camera. Then I played with it a little. 😉
Embracing fear
I’m finding my fears are directly proportional to how much I am capable of loving. The more I grow, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally, the more I fear. And I wonder how that can be?
I know that the opposite of fear is faith – I know that fear is unhealthy. I know this, and yet I am scared.
For me, this is also growth. When for years (other than my son) I didn’t fear losing something, not caring enough to be afraid – this is growth.
Faith I can work on.
The ordinary seems more ordinary to me lately. All the childhood dreams and hopes I had for myself are keeping me up at night. I want the fantastic. The magical. The fairy tale.
For years I did not believe anymore. Like a wide-eyed audience member discovering the secret behind a magicians trick – such disappointment.
The past few years I have been finding my own magic. Slowly. And finding myself open to believing again. Then out of nowhere, as if a reward for opening my eyes, destiny put more in my path.
I think my fear stems from not wanting to suddenly see another trick revealed.
No, I do not want to sit in naivety. But to have wonderment at what life can bring – to be surprised and to feel anything is again possible – I want more than anything.
Musings from the Laundromat – Giving and Receiving
First I’d like to thank Butters for only waking me up 4 times in the night.
Then, I would like to thank my weekend alarm (set when Nic was still a young school boy, you know … a few weeks ago) that went off at 2:16 am.
It had been set for something he was going to that I had to wake him up for. What was it?? … I can’t think of it.
Anyway, in trying to turn off said alarm, I:
1) woke the rare sleeping dog
2) knocked my phone off of the nightstand, and
3) sent my glass of kiwi-watermelon drink flying – only to land in between the bed and the wall. A nice tight space for cleaning up.
I don’t know if that is the actual flavor by the way … I’m guessing based on the portion of my carpet that is now a lovely kiwi-watermelon color.
Heard my son up several times in the night too – and when I left the house this morning, he was rocking moves like Jagger.
A sleeping Jagger, but moving like him none the less.
Speaking of moves, yesterday I modeled a dress for a good cause. CASA is a program that benefits abused and neglected children in the area.
It was a lot of fun to meet the other models and attendees.
It was also a little hilarious to be half-naked getting ready in a room closed off from the event, whilst facing a huge, wall sized window facing the river.
I don’t think any of us really cared. The people going by on their jet skis probably were going by too fast to notice. (Not sure about the people on the beach.)
I noticed some things though.
I noticed that I didn’t have the fears I had in my 20’s or 30’s to stand in a slip and a bra in public view.
And I noticed that I thought the other ladies, in all shapes and sizes were beautiful. Just as they were.
They were even more beautiful to me because of why they were there. Women giving their time, wanting to do what they could to help such an amazing non-profit organization.
I refer to my growth again as a lot of things are changing. 44 has been pretty amazing so far.
It’s so wonderful to be comfortable in my skin, comfortable in my head and full of hope and joy and promise.
Life is amazing. And if you’re patient enough, and do the next right thing, it turns out life has gifts you didn’t even know were coming.
I’m still processing this.
But, as someone very special to me said recently, it is nice to sometimes receive after all the time we gave.
Yet, I can never forget that there is nothing worth receiving unless I keep giving.
Enough
The 29th was my 44th birthday. It was unlike any other.
Other than the fact that I spent it alone after work, I just felt different.
Okay, if I’m being fair, the quiet house and the importance, to me, of the special post I wrote that night was a pretty awesome way to spend my birthday.
Up until this year though, it seemed no matter how many birthdays I’ve had, I always experienced that twinge of excitement either the night before or morning of.
That warm, fuzzy, childlike moment when your head tells you “It’s my birthday!”
Not this year.
I’m glad I was born, don’t get me wrong. And I am grateful for life every day.
Flashback time … gather ’round. Little story for you.
When I was 9 or 10, and living in England, I had a rather complicated appendectomy. It resulted in staying in hospital longer than the other children. They went home minus their appendix and I waved goodbye, wishing I was going home too.
My poor (now 40-year-old) Teddy had to have an appendectomy too. I performed it. We had to match 😉
A while after that surgery, (and after I finally got to go home) I became very ill. I was misdiagnosed with gastric flu.
I got sicker.
My mum, deciding it was ridiculous that I could not even keep a drop of water down, walked me to the doctor. (Yes, we walked. We didn’t have a car, we walked everywhere.)
When she got me inside the practice, the doctor took one look at me and said something along the lines of “Oh God, she’s in trouble.”
An ambulance was called.
I remember being very aware of my surroundings. I was so excited to be in the ambulance! It was my first time after all! I remember chattering on and on to the doctors and nurses when we arrived at the hospital.
My mum had promised me I could have Ribena (A blackcurrant drink in the UK) I specifically recall telling them this as they wheeled me down a hall on a gurney.
I also remember wondering why they didn’t seem to care! LOL!
Their faces were serious and they were in a hurry.
Turns out, scar tissue from my mucked up appendectomy had grown around my intestines, resulting in strangulation.
Also turns out, due to dehydration and the seriousness of the diagnosis, had my mother not brought me in, I would have had died within half an hour.
I lived. (Obviously. That always cracks me up, when someone is telling a serious story and it gets to a dangerous and life threatening part and the listener, with wide eyes, asks, “Did you make it??”)
The surgery was a success. I recall the doctor telling me that he cut me so that I could wear a bikini and the scar wouldn’t show. (Dude! I’m 10!)
I used to hate that scar! I even got my belly button pierced years ago so that the jewelry would be the first thing I noticed while looking at my naked body, instead of the scar.
I still rock the piercing, but I look in wonderment and respect today at my scar, my reminder of how near to death I was.
Then came the partying. SO much partying. I treated my body like a carnival for a while. Albeit a carnival in a bad part of town with really crappy rides … but a carnival none the less. (Debauchery Soup people, Debauchery Soup.)
I lived.
Ever wonder why? “Why am I here?”
I have throughout the years pondered that question.
Was I spared for Nicholas to be born? Is he to be someone great?
Obviously as his mother I can tell you he already is someone great, but you know what I mean.
Like a Terminator type ‘great’ – “He will save the world in the future! So you shall live to bear this child!”
That kind of great.
On a serious note, a friend of mine lost her partner the other day – whenever I would call her to chat, or get advice, I could hear him in the background saying “Tell her she’s enough!”
Tonight my friend Samantha had posted on her wall: “People who tell you how to be a better person, offer advice, point you to their path or try to fix you, don’t realize that they are already enough.”
I liked that.
I like the thought that everyone is right where they are meant to be. And not only am I enough, but so are they. Just as they are.
(And if no one has told you today, “You are enough. And you are loved.”)
Lately I’ve been feeling like more than enough. I’m filled with a magical, mystical sense of hope and life.
I feel every experience I have had in these 44 years is soon to reveal a purpose. A destiny. A bell has been rung.
And thank God I’m ready for that! Because I am so very grateful for everything I already have. I do not want for anything. I have shelter, food, family, friends.
I have passions and causes.
Dreams and desires.
Yes, something has been awakened in me.
It truly has been a week of birth.
There is such good …
I find myself from time to time almost pleading Earths case to God.
I’ll share with you my nightly prayers. I always say “Thank you.” I always end with “God bless all those in my heart, on my mind and in the world, Amen.”
The meat of my prayers is usually me asking for guidance – praying for strength in areas I’m lacking.
Sometimes I pray for more patience, the increased ability to love – to be tolerant. I pray to know which path I should be taking.
When it’s a particularly sad news day though, when atrocities have been committed and we’re made aware of them – I don my humankind legal defense cap.
As if God doesn’t already know, I plead “God, there is such GOOD in the world too.” As if I’m afraid he’s going to shut the whole event down because of evil.
I have a favorite quote, by W.H. Auden.
“Evil is unspectacular and always human, and shares our bed and eats at our own table …”
I love that quote. I love how the words feel coming out of my mouth – how the thought provokes – the simple eloquence of it.
And it, for me, is truth.
I watched a documentary this morning called “Hitlers Children.” (If you have Netflix, it’s a streamable selection. )
One particular storyline resonated with me.
It was that of Rainer Hoess – grandson of Rudolf Hoess.
He looked at photographs of his father standing in the garden of the family home on the grounds of Auschwitz. Other photos showed his grandfather in that same back yard.
Later in the documentary, he took a trip to Auschwitz – his first one.
One of the questions he pondered, while staring at a photo of his father standing by the garden gate was, how could they not have known – not have seen?
He was afforded entry into that same garden and stood at that very garden gate. The house was cleverly designed with no views of the crematorium – textured glass windows on the side of the house that might let some truth in.
The garden itself was surrounded by tall walls, offering only a glimpse of outlying buildings.
I wondered what it must have felt like to stand in that location. To know that your lineage included a monster. I didn’t need to wonder for long – when Rainer lost his composure, I did too. I wept on the couch with this man who was riddled with guilt for a crime against humanity that he couldn’t possibly have anything to do with.
During the tour, he agreed to speak to a group. He was nervous – understandably. At one point, a holocaust survivor, from that camp, wanted to shake his hand.
My already wet cheeks were wet anew when this old man took his hand and told him, ‘you didn’t do this.’
They hugged and my heart wanted to burst.
There is good.
There is good everywhere if you look for it – take time to avert your eyes from your problems and worries and choose to see it!
On a personal note, I have a friend, who takes care of not only her grandchildren – but her bed ridden mother and her disabled brother and reached out to ME to offer ME help to send my son to England! She is the epitome of selflessness to me.
She smiles and though she gets tired, she’s happy and grateful and is of service to others.
GOD! There is SUCH good.
I’ll be praying tonight to be a part of that good.
Debauchery Soup 