My Day, by Deborah Oliver
The guys have gone to Vegas, yes they have flown the coop;
And so it stands to reason, I'm ten feet deep in poop.
From noses to bottoms, I get to clean them all
Including the potty that's floating down the hall.
Now I like home improvement, but this one is a bummer
Because I never planned on learning to become a plumber.
I went into the restroom to see that all was cool
And make sure there weren't any sharks 'swimming in the pool'
Something was amiss, there was no water in the bowl,
So I leaned in a bit closer and gave the knob a pull,
I lept back in revulsion as the toilet gave a rend,
And vomited back at me the contents hiding 'round the bend.
I plunged, and swore, and plunged; but it wasn't any use
Why is it that when Brad is gone, life gives me this abuse?
Off I go to Wal-Mart to find myself a snake,
A tool from which no 'occlusions' can hope to escape.
I'm knee deep in poop and it occurs to me
That while I'm at this task I should charge a handsome fee
The pay ain't much and I demand a raise
For everyone one of us who has had this kind of day!
So, let's all have a laugh-this one is on me
Here's to the 27th Wives and my victory!
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Enough
I wrote earlier about wanting to be more. I truly do long for that fulfillment. I believe that God has given me that longing, but I am not sure how to achieve the more he would have me to be. Simultaneously, I recognize that this innate drive can be perverted in such a way that I end up attempting to glorify myself rather than God.
Conversely, I recognized something today as I visited with a friend. While part of me longs to be more, there is also a part of me that cries to be Enough. Enough for what? Important enough regardless of my achievements, social status, appearance, wit, etc. ad nauseum, that my parents would stop what they were doing, without thought, if I needed them. I long to be valuable enough to merit consideration, at the very least, to those who are supposed to love me. I suspect I am not the only person in this world who feels that way. In fact, I would guess this intrinsic desire is part of humanity.
My story is a little long and complicated in this regard. How did I arrive at this emotional place? I suppose that as I was growing up I was a little girl who didn't necessarily feel good enough. For reasons that only became apparent in my late twenties, my mother left my father when I was two. I met her again when I was 24. We just didn't have contact for decades and I felt in my child's mind, that I must not have been enough of a reason for her to want to stay. Why wouldn't she want me? Additionally, when I was eleven my beloved grandmother died. It was only later, in a fight with my stepmother, that I learned she committed suicide. This affected me deeply and reinforced a sense that I was continually being left by those I loved.
When my Dad remarried, I had a difficult relationship with my stepmother. In her opinion, I was too fat, not ladylike enough, and never quite adequate enough to warrant unconditional acceptance. She constantly admonished me about what 'nice girls' do and don't do and frequently refused to buy me clothes unless I lost weight. Thus began an obsessive, frantic attempt to be slim enough and to be perfect enough. Compared to what? Some unattainable and highly subjective standard. Clearly that ongoing dynamic led to hurt feelings, resentment, bitterness and not a small amount of conflict. She was one of those people who says the most outrageous things in the heat of an argument; statements intended to inflict pain. Things like, "Look at yourself, no wonder you don't have a boyfriend!" when she felt I was too heavy. Or, "I hope you NEVER have a daughter like you!" (Was I so awful?) For whatever reason I was unable to shake those statements off. They became some of the lies that I, without any awareness on my part, began to believe about myself. "I am not good enough. I'll never be good enough." And while by her standards that may have been the case, those were falsehoods.
The constant, oppressive expectation that I need to be perfect and look perfect caused me to internalize the pressure and pile more expectations upon myself. In some ways, I ended up crippling my own heart. Despite my efforts at obsessive self improvement, I couldn't ever make her happy. Furthermore, I was unable to prove to myself that I was inherently, intrinsically worthwhile and I was unable to feel peace and contentment.
On the other hand, and much to my step mother's revulsion, I was without question my father's favorite child. I reveled in that! In his eyes, I could do no wrong, because I was his princess, which is precisely what the inner soul of any young lady wants to be. :) It was a glorious time in my life. From the view atop my pedestal, the world was my oyster. And in my mind, while others had neglected me, I believed I had at least one person who would never fail me. After all, I would always be a daddy's girl; my father's daughter.
However, as years came and went, so did a successive string of wives. With this most recent wife, I experienced what I thought would NEVER come. The father who raised me, had custody of me as a child, and utterly adored me disappeared. To this day, I roll my eyes as he extols the virtues of her children, their spouses, and her grandchildren. It hurts me deeply to know that I can count the number of their visits on one hand. I guess I always hoped I that the mere existence of my two amazing children would be enough to create a longing in my father for a relationship with them even if he no longer desires one with me.
In truth, I've sinned in this situation as much as anyone. I took my eyes off the prize; off of God my father. I've expected people to fill that part of my heart that can be accessed only by God. I look over the fence and feel bitterness when I perceive a slight instead of immediately refocusing on God and thanking Him for provision.
There have been hard times in my life. Moments when I was utterly, truly abandoned. I spend three agonizing weeks in Barnes Hospital with a ruptured appendix and for the most part, I was alone. My father came once for about five minutes and my step mother popped in to St. Louis to see me; but she went shopping instead. As I type these words, they seem Jerry Springer-esque and absolutely unbelievable. But God stayed with me in my hospital room. He never left me, not for one second. His was the invisible hand I held during the many CAT scans and painful medical procedures. His arms were the ones that held me throughout those long lonely nights in that sixth floor hospital room.
I've cried many tears over the years as so many others have. Wasn't I important enough that my folks would WANT to be with me in the hospital? Aren't I "enough" merely by being their daughter that they would walk on water to be with me in case I died?
I know this sounds like a whine fest. And for many years, it was. In fact, I probably excelled and earned top marks in self pity. I bore my grudge with all the ferocity that only an Italian woman is capable of. But as I grow, God continually reminds me that I am ENOUGH...ENOUGH for him. I am ENOUGH to God merely because I am his child.
In Psalm 27:10, Kind David said, "Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me." Those are powerful words! He takes us just as we are! I am learning, processing, and realizing that it isn't my job to achieve some subjective standard to earn the approval of those around me. That is tantamount to digging through the dumpster behind McDonald's for food, when God himself has invited me to his house for dinner. He reminds me that I will always be welcome there. And next to me, there is an empty chair at the table that is reserved for you. God truly wants you, just as you are, exactly where you are, to be welcomed into his presence.
This slow and progressive realization is helping me to allow myself to be imperfect. What freedom there is in letting those emotional burdens drop! Certainly I'll be tempted to turn back and try to pick them up. But this is a problem that can be solved by abandoning the lies that I have believed about myself and seeking God to fill that need. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever and he will not fail me.
Conversely, I recognized something today as I visited with a friend. While part of me longs to be more, there is also a part of me that cries to be Enough. Enough for what? Important enough regardless of my achievements, social status, appearance, wit, etc. ad nauseum, that my parents would stop what they were doing, without thought, if I needed them. I long to be valuable enough to merit consideration, at the very least, to those who are supposed to love me. I suspect I am not the only person in this world who feels that way. In fact, I would guess this intrinsic desire is part of humanity.
My story is a little long and complicated in this regard. How did I arrive at this emotional place? I suppose that as I was growing up I was a little girl who didn't necessarily feel good enough. For reasons that only became apparent in my late twenties, my mother left my father when I was two. I met her again when I was 24. We just didn't have contact for decades and I felt in my child's mind, that I must not have been enough of a reason for her to want to stay. Why wouldn't she want me? Additionally, when I was eleven my beloved grandmother died. It was only later, in a fight with my stepmother, that I learned she committed suicide. This affected me deeply and reinforced a sense that I was continually being left by those I loved.
When my Dad remarried, I had a difficult relationship with my stepmother. In her opinion, I was too fat, not ladylike enough, and never quite adequate enough to warrant unconditional acceptance. She constantly admonished me about what 'nice girls' do and don't do and frequently refused to buy me clothes unless I lost weight. Thus began an obsessive, frantic attempt to be slim enough and to be perfect enough. Compared to what? Some unattainable and highly subjective standard. Clearly that ongoing dynamic led to hurt feelings, resentment, bitterness and not a small amount of conflict. She was one of those people who says the most outrageous things in the heat of an argument; statements intended to inflict pain. Things like, "Look at yourself, no wonder you don't have a boyfriend!" when she felt I was too heavy. Or, "I hope you NEVER have a daughter like you!" (Was I so awful?) For whatever reason I was unable to shake those statements off. They became some of the lies that I, without any awareness on my part, began to believe about myself. "I am not good enough. I'll never be good enough." And while by her standards that may have been the case, those were falsehoods.
The constant, oppressive expectation that I need to be perfect and look perfect caused me to internalize the pressure and pile more expectations upon myself. In some ways, I ended up crippling my own heart. Despite my efforts at obsessive self improvement, I couldn't ever make her happy. Furthermore, I was unable to prove to myself that I was inherently, intrinsically worthwhile and I was unable to feel peace and contentment.
On the other hand, and much to my step mother's revulsion, I was without question my father's favorite child. I reveled in that! In his eyes, I could do no wrong, because I was his princess, which is precisely what the inner soul of any young lady wants to be. :) It was a glorious time in my life. From the view atop my pedestal, the world was my oyster. And in my mind, while others had neglected me, I believed I had at least one person who would never fail me. After all, I would always be a daddy's girl; my father's daughter.
However, as years came and went, so did a successive string of wives. With this most recent wife, I experienced what I thought would NEVER come. The father who raised me, had custody of me as a child, and utterly adored me disappeared. To this day, I roll my eyes as he extols the virtues of her children, their spouses, and her grandchildren. It hurts me deeply to know that I can count the number of their visits on one hand. I guess I always hoped I that the mere existence of my two amazing children would be enough to create a longing in my father for a relationship with them even if he no longer desires one with me.
In truth, I've sinned in this situation as much as anyone. I took my eyes off the prize; off of God my father. I've expected people to fill that part of my heart that can be accessed only by God. I look over the fence and feel bitterness when I perceive a slight instead of immediately refocusing on God and thanking Him for provision.
There have been hard times in my life. Moments when I was utterly, truly abandoned. I spend three agonizing weeks in Barnes Hospital with a ruptured appendix and for the most part, I was alone. My father came once for about five minutes and my step mother popped in to St. Louis to see me; but she went shopping instead. As I type these words, they seem Jerry Springer-esque and absolutely unbelievable. But God stayed with me in my hospital room. He never left me, not for one second. His was the invisible hand I held during the many CAT scans and painful medical procedures. His arms were the ones that held me throughout those long lonely nights in that sixth floor hospital room.
I've cried many tears over the years as so many others have. Wasn't I important enough that my folks would WANT to be with me in the hospital? Aren't I "enough" merely by being their daughter that they would walk on water to be with me in case I died?
I know this sounds like a whine fest. And for many years, it was. In fact, I probably excelled and earned top marks in self pity. I bore my grudge with all the ferocity that only an Italian woman is capable of. But as I grow, God continually reminds me that I am ENOUGH...ENOUGH for him. I am ENOUGH to God merely because I am his child.
In Psalm 27:10, Kind David said, "Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me." Those are powerful words! He takes us just as we are! I am learning, processing, and realizing that it isn't my job to achieve some subjective standard to earn the approval of those around me. That is tantamount to digging through the dumpster behind McDonald's for food, when God himself has invited me to his house for dinner. He reminds me that I will always be welcome there. And next to me, there is an empty chair at the table that is reserved for you. God truly wants you, just as you are, exactly where you are, to be welcomed into his presence.
This slow and progressive realization is helping me to allow myself to be imperfect. What freedom there is in letting those emotional burdens drop! Certainly I'll be tempted to turn back and try to pick them up. But this is a problem that can be solved by abandoning the lies that I have believed about myself and seeking God to fill that need. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever and he will not fail me.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Tears...for Josie
Becoming a mother transformed me from being a 'doer' to being a 'pit crew leader.' It is my job to fix things as they break and ensure that my kids can zip back into the fast lane of being children. I wait off to the side, tools of parenthood at the ready, waiting for the next flat tire. In this accessory role, I am realizing a new kind of pain, a more intense experience of pain. It hurts me to see my children struggling in a new school, missing friends, and attempting to catch their balance in our new city.
In the last two years, we've moved twice. In the last month, we crammed everything that would fit into our camper and drove from Anchorage, Alaska to Colorado Springs. While we are used to change, that never makes it easy especially in the middle of a school year. This week, my heart literally broke for my daughter as she flopped onto the end of my bed, rolled onto her stomach, and began leaking tears. "Mom, I miss Alaska!" she sighed. What does the pit crew do in this instance? I found myself grasping at straws, trying to comfort, but feeling every bit as bereft as she is. How do I soothe her heart? How do I fix this?
Then, if we look around us, everyone cries, everyone experiences some degree of pain. Are the tears we cry lost as they evaporate? Do they ever have an impact? Do they matter? I've been mulling this concept, and so I wrote this brief 'poem' for my daughter. We've read it together and I hope in some small way, she feels that her pain does not go unnoticed by her mother or by God.
TEARS
My heart cries a stream of tears
Each one shimmering as a pearl
You catch them gently, one at a time
Stringing these gems like dewdrops
Along a blade of grass.
When eternity beckons
I'll find not one was lost
Or cried in vain
And that You have kept perfect count!
You will finally show me what you've
Been working on all this while
Each tear a diamond in the crown
Fashioned just for me
Will take my breath away as
they reflect the splendor of
Your Glory
In the last two years, we've moved twice. In the last month, we crammed everything that would fit into our camper and drove from Anchorage, Alaska to Colorado Springs. While we are used to change, that never makes it easy especially in the middle of a school year. This week, my heart literally broke for my daughter as she flopped onto the end of my bed, rolled onto her stomach, and began leaking tears. "Mom, I miss Alaska!" she sighed. What does the pit crew do in this instance? I found myself grasping at straws, trying to comfort, but feeling every bit as bereft as she is. How do I soothe her heart? How do I fix this?
Then, if we look around us, everyone cries, everyone experiences some degree of pain. Are the tears we cry lost as they evaporate? Do they ever have an impact? Do they matter? I've been mulling this concept, and so I wrote this brief 'poem' for my daughter. We've read it together and I hope in some small way, she feels that her pain does not go unnoticed by her mother or by God.
TEARS
My heart cries a stream of tears
Each one shimmering as a pearl
You catch them gently, one at a time
Stringing these gems like dewdrops
Along a blade of grass.
When eternity beckons
I'll find not one was lost
Or cried in vain
And that You have kept perfect count!
You will finally show me what you've
Been working on all this while
Each tear a diamond in the crown
Fashioned just for me
Will take my breath away as
they reflect the splendor of
Your Glory
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Access Denied
At the risk of seeming self absorbed, I often use my life experiences to illustrate a point that I want to communicate. I share these for at least two reasons 1) because it is my context, my history and 2) in order to share my soul and vulnerability. Writing is easy for me to do, but difficult for me to share because I do feel as though I am parading about naked for an audience. I often worry about what I've written...do people like it? Does it make sense? Can they relate? Perhaps I feel as though my soul on paper 'outs' me in an irretrievable way and that others won't approve of what is in my heart. Writing is also a matter of obedience for me. I write what it is that I believe God is laying on my heart even though I risk disapproval or dislike from others I care about.
At any rate, I'm currently involved in a messy family relationship which is certainly something that most of us can relate to. I am angered by the lack of righteousness in this situation on the part of people who are purported followers of Christ. When sin is perpetuated, glossed over, and deemed holy it dishonors God. I struggle watching the dynamics of a family that seems to have lost sight of who God is. It truly breaks my heart and I can only imagine what 'the world' is seeing and what their conclusions about Christians are.
When Christians get into what I call 'the Holy Huddle' they turn their backs toward others and deny access to those who are in need of Christ's touch. We withhold all that God has given us. And not just what he has given us, but expressly given us for the purpose of sharing His blessings with others in His name. Although this happens in society and families at large, I am particularly concerned about this in the Christian community, because we are supposed to be holders of the truth.
What do we withhold from others? First and foremost we often deny seekers access to friendship and acceptance. Acceptance of a person denies them the comfort, grace, mercy, friendship that Christ himself offers. I can remember being the new kid in eight grade. Finding a table of people to join for lunch in the cafeteria was terrifying! Would I be rejected? In that same way, Christians often label others as either acceptable of receiving or unacceptable. We, like the Pharisees and Sadducees get all tangled up in what we think God's will is and lose sight of God himself. We hurt people and wound already wounded souls whether intentionally or unintentionally. In in actions or lack of action, we fall into the deep crevice that exists between what is 'right' and what is 'righteous.'
Why is it that we withhold ourselves? Sometimes, it is a false sense of superiority. I once attended a church where the Pastor's wife felt that persons not raised in "Christian" homes began the world as "damaged goods"-those are her exact words! I think the point that Christ makes is that we are all de facto damaged goods. It is inherent in human nature, regardless of how one was raised! I'll never forget having to think about whom I should invite to church knowing that they might feel the sting of her rejection. I once brought a friend struggling with alcoholism and was mortified and ashamed by my own church. He couldn't have been any less welcome and all of my apologies could never change or undo how he was treated.
Sometimes, we refuse to extend God's grace to others because we are keeping a record of past hurts and wrongs. I can say that I am very careful about whom I allow into my emotional space. A long history of toxic relationships prevents me from fully exposing my underbelly. In the past I can attest to the fact that I denied them any understanding or any validation because I was keeping score. I am slowly learning to balance validating their hurts. I must acknowledge that I actively sought to deny them the forgiveness I am required to give all because of my own warped sense of what was 'the right thing to do." Who am I to think that I can mete out God's justice?
Finally, I think that some people do not 'need' or perceive a 'need' for other people in their lives. Maybe they grew up with all the friends they needed and don't care to make themselves available to others. As a military wife, I can say that those moments have been painful to me! Women of faith will literally say, "Oh yeah, we don't like to make friends with military wives, because you all move all of the time." Ouch! Life is lonely enough without the body of Christ ignoring you. Other people are more introverted and don't want to engage anyone. But that is not following the example that Christ gave us.
I ask myself, what is it that God has denied us? The answer is simple; He has denied us absolutely nothing. He offers us love, forgiveness, and even LIFE through his own son Jesus. Amazing! It is profound that the only perfect being who was and is made himself human and vulnerable for us. He allowed himself to be shunned so that we might not be.
Gosh, I need to be doing a better job! We, as Christians, need to be doing a better job! I am convicted that we need to share the truth in love with one another when we see members of the body of Christ denying access to the foot of the cross. There is truly nothing more destructive to ourselves and to others than to deny them the community of Christ and the love that he offers. We aren't perfect or more deserving than anyone else. As my friend Bob Riggles says, "I am just one hungry man telling other hungry people where they can find some food.
At any rate, I'm currently involved in a messy family relationship which is certainly something that most of us can relate to. I am angered by the lack of righteousness in this situation on the part of people who are purported followers of Christ. When sin is perpetuated, glossed over, and deemed holy it dishonors God. I struggle watching the dynamics of a family that seems to have lost sight of who God is. It truly breaks my heart and I can only imagine what 'the world' is seeing and what their conclusions about Christians are.
When Christians get into what I call 'the Holy Huddle' they turn their backs toward others and deny access to those who are in need of Christ's touch. We withhold all that God has given us. And not just what he has given us, but expressly given us for the purpose of sharing His blessings with others in His name. Although this happens in society and families at large, I am particularly concerned about this in the Christian community, because we are supposed to be holders of the truth.
What do we withhold from others? First and foremost we often deny seekers access to friendship and acceptance. Acceptance of a person denies them the comfort, grace, mercy, friendship that Christ himself offers. I can remember being the new kid in eight grade. Finding a table of people to join for lunch in the cafeteria was terrifying! Would I be rejected? In that same way, Christians often label others as either acceptable of receiving or unacceptable. We, like the Pharisees and Sadducees get all tangled up in what we think God's will is and lose sight of God himself. We hurt people and wound already wounded souls whether intentionally or unintentionally. In in actions or lack of action, we fall into the deep crevice that exists between what is 'right' and what is 'righteous.'
Why is it that we withhold ourselves? Sometimes, it is a false sense of superiority. I once attended a church where the Pastor's wife felt that persons not raised in "Christian" homes began the world as "damaged goods"-those are her exact words! I think the point that Christ makes is that we are all de facto damaged goods. It is inherent in human nature, regardless of how one was raised! I'll never forget having to think about whom I should invite to church knowing that they might feel the sting of her rejection. I once brought a friend struggling with alcoholism and was mortified and ashamed by my own church. He couldn't have been any less welcome and all of my apologies could never change or undo how he was treated.
Sometimes, we refuse to extend God's grace to others because we are keeping a record of past hurts and wrongs. I can say that I am very careful about whom I allow into my emotional space. A long history of toxic relationships prevents me from fully exposing my underbelly. In the past I can attest to the fact that I denied them any understanding or any validation because I was keeping score. I am slowly learning to balance validating their hurts. I must acknowledge that I actively sought to deny them the forgiveness I am required to give all because of my own warped sense of what was 'the right thing to do." Who am I to think that I can mete out God's justice?
Finally, I think that some people do not 'need' or perceive a 'need' for other people in their lives. Maybe they grew up with all the friends they needed and don't care to make themselves available to others. As a military wife, I can say that those moments have been painful to me! Women of faith will literally say, "Oh yeah, we don't like to make friends with military wives, because you all move all of the time." Ouch! Life is lonely enough without the body of Christ ignoring you. Other people are more introverted and don't want to engage anyone. But that is not following the example that Christ gave us.
I ask myself, what is it that God has denied us? The answer is simple; He has denied us absolutely nothing. He offers us love, forgiveness, and even LIFE through his own son Jesus. Amazing! It is profound that the only perfect being who was and is made himself human and vulnerable for us. He allowed himself to be shunned so that we might not be.
Gosh, I need to be doing a better job! We, as Christians, need to be doing a better job! I am convicted that we need to share the truth in love with one another when we see members of the body of Christ denying access to the foot of the cross. There is truly nothing more destructive to ourselves and to others than to deny them the community of Christ and the love that he offers. We aren't perfect or more deserving than anyone else. As my friend Bob Riggles says, "I am just one hungry man telling other hungry people where they can find some food.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Seriously???
I want to know who thought up product names for Apple and Dell. They should be fired! On grounds of principle, I do not plan to buy an I-pad or Streak. How about a cooler name, like Fiat or Invest? It irks me to think that someone got paid for doing a job that poorly. EGADS what have we come to?
More
Just thinking as I look in the mirror and dress for a date with my husband that time is starting to show itself. I fight it as we all do, but I know it will win. As I glance down at the bathroom scale which is so neglected that it is heavy with dust, I realize that I am more than the number would be if I worked up the courage to step upon it. All of the experiences I've had, people I've met, tears I've cried, emotions I've felt amount to more than the size of jeans I can squeeze into. Maybe if I wore my inside on the outside, I could rock a muumuu! Instead, here I am trying to dress this mutton up as though it were lamb. Bring on the Spanx, booty-control jeans, and Oil of Olay. DRAT!! I'd love to be one of those people who 'forgets' to eat and when I meet someone who says, "Gosh, I missed lunch," I must fight the urge to slap them. Seriously??? I wake up wondering what I can have for breakfast and planning lunch over my first cup of coffee. I wear control top hose as a remedial measure for moments of dietary indiscretion. If bad food choices were skeletons, my life would be a graveyard. Where are the professional mourners??? Bring on that parade! Let's get behind a cause we can really celebrate!
You may ask, "Where is she going with this?" The answer is, I don't have the faintest clue. All I know is that every day of my life, I've woken up wanting more. Yearning to be more than a particular size in clothes or number on a scale, I want to matter! Let my life be something that left an indelible mark somewhere that will not be forgotten. I hate the thought of getting lost in the sea of humanity like a single atom amongst all of the atoms that make up the universe. Somehow, I long for the essence of who I am to be different from anyone else and to be valuable not just in spite of it but BECAUSE of it. I'd be the tattoo of a drum that could be distinguished from any other. Like the cry of a newborn child, my mother could single me out in a nursery full of screaming babies. I'd ink myself on the walls of caves so that thousands of years from now, traces of me would remain.
Doesn't that seem absurd? Why should it matter to me that I counted for something? Maybe my yearning is foolishness, but perhaps it is inherently human too. After all, why build the highest skyscraper in the world or the Egyptian pyramids if not to leave a marker of your existence? Why paint the most beautiful landscape or compose the loveliest song if not to aspire to beauty? Most of all, why bother?
It is here that I come full circle! I bother because it matters...to me and probably to each and every one of us if we permitted ourselves really feel. I bother because I believe it matters to God. Otherwise, every breath and each step are taken in vain.
You may ask, "Where is she going with this?" The answer is, I don't have the faintest clue. All I know is that every day of my life, I've woken up wanting more. Yearning to be more than a particular size in clothes or number on a scale, I want to matter! Let my life be something that left an indelible mark somewhere that will not be forgotten. I hate the thought of getting lost in the sea of humanity like a single atom amongst all of the atoms that make up the universe. Somehow, I long for the essence of who I am to be different from anyone else and to be valuable not just in spite of it but BECAUSE of it. I'd be the tattoo of a drum that could be distinguished from any other. Like the cry of a newborn child, my mother could single me out in a nursery full of screaming babies. I'd ink myself on the walls of caves so that thousands of years from now, traces of me would remain.
Doesn't that seem absurd? Why should it matter to me that I counted for something? Maybe my yearning is foolishness, but perhaps it is inherently human too. After all, why build the highest skyscraper in the world or the Egyptian pyramids if not to leave a marker of your existence? Why paint the most beautiful landscape or compose the loveliest song if not to aspire to beauty? Most of all, why bother?
It is here that I come full circle! I bother because it matters...to me and probably to each and every one of us if we permitted ourselves really feel. I bother because I believe it matters to God. Otherwise, every breath and each step are taken in vain.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Motherhood is....
Motherhood is
standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon
with no fence, no wall to protect you.
You stand there, unable to see without your glasses.
'Cokebottle glasses' without which you can not see
the Giant E on the eye doctor's chart.
The moment your child is born,
it is as though the glasses you've been
lacking are placed upon your face
and suddenly you now see what you could not.
You could have fallen!
The world is fraught with danger to you and your child.
And all the while, you have been blissfully unaware.
With cognizance comes duty and 'response'-ability.
Red flags fly wildly!
"Don't run with scissors;
You could have gotten hurt!
Who knew the myriad of concerns
we would all face at the onset of
life with children?
The answer is, your own mother of course.
After years of swearing you'd never be like
her, you've finally outdone her.
She chuckles at the irony
finally able to relax knowing that
she brought you to adulthood
without losing you along the way.
While you attempt to avert
disaster at every turn,
she sits quietly enjoying, even savoring
the irony.
Comeuppance has come
in the form of a grandchild
and she laughs knowing
you finally had a child like yourself
to keep you grounded, to keep you humble,
and to help you realize that she
was right!
standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon
with no fence, no wall to protect you.
You stand there, unable to see without your glasses.
'Cokebottle glasses' without which you can not see
the Giant E on the eye doctor's chart.
The moment your child is born,
it is as though the glasses you've been
lacking are placed upon your face
and suddenly you now see what you could not.
You could have fallen!
The world is fraught with danger to you and your child.
And all the while, you have been blissfully unaware.
With cognizance comes duty and 'response'-ability.
Red flags fly wildly!
"Don't run with scissors;
You could have gotten hurt!
Who knew the myriad of concerns
we would all face at the onset of
life with children?
The answer is, your own mother of course.
After years of swearing you'd never be like
her, you've finally outdone her.
She chuckles at the irony
finally able to relax knowing that
she brought you to adulthood
without losing you along the way.
While you attempt to avert
disaster at every turn,
she sits quietly enjoying, even savoring
the irony.
Comeuppance has come
in the form of a grandchild
and she laughs knowing
you finally had a child like yourself
to keep you grounded, to keep you humble,
and to help you realize that she
was right!
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