Blessings

  Every so often I remember how fortunate I am.  Today was filled with reminders of the blessings of my life.   In the midst of trying meetings I encountered friend after friend.  Despite the time and distance that separates us the friendships remain.  In the midst of difficult organizational business there was laughter and joy.  There was time to catch up, to tell stories and to reconnect.
    Lately I have not been able to find my ground and center.  Yesterday I got to spend a blissful three hours with a friend of my heart. We were long overdue for a visit.  Then dinner with another friend of my heart.  They always help me remember who I am and that I am loved.  Sometimes it is hard to remember that there are people in the world who treasure me.  They told me again and my center came back.  It allowed me to enter meetings that make me cranky.  But there were friends there too who greeted me with hugs and smiles.  The world is a lovely place tonight as I go to sleep with the memories of the friends who are part of my life.  (Sisters, that includes you too!)

Random Thought

No one looks good in online dating pictures.  Also, we all sound ridiculous.  Bottom line: Everybody wants somebody to love.  It apparently helps the quest if you love to ride motorcycles, camp and shoot things. I am doomed!

Prairie skies

   One of the beautiful pieces of the Canadian prairies is the sky.  It is high and wide.  On a clear day it is scattered with fluffy white clouds on a soft blue background.  In the winter it can be gray and low wrapping the land in a silent cool embrace before the snow falls.  Today as I drove with newly seeded fields on either side of me, the clouds rolled in.  Dark rain clouds with spiky lines of rain travelled both sides of the sky.  I was driving in the center of them underneath blue.  The sun broke open a space in the rain cloud to the west of me.  A beam of light shot through right to me.   At least, it felt like it was directed to me.  I take it as a sign.  It was a sign to remember that even in the darkness light shines.   Light and dark need one another, but the Light always triumphs. 

Trip planning

   Every time I leave home for an overnight stay, it is a production.  First, the laundry has to be done.  Let's face it.  My laundry is never caught up.  I am not my mother's daughter in that respect. After the clothes are clean comes the difficult decision of what wardrobe will be needed .  This process can take quite a while depending on the length of the stay.  Only once I have erred on the side of under packing.  The sister trip to the Galapagos for three weeks found me wanting another couple of tee shirts and a least one more pair of shorts.  Now I know: back to taking more than I can possibly wear.
   Once the contents of the suitcase have been determined, the house needs to be cleaned.  Since I have two canine friends, they have their own live in sitter.   I cannot in all good conscious leave a messy house for the dog sitter. I don't really have much to clean but I manage to turn it into a long drawn out affair.  Of course, sitting down every thirty minutes or so to do something completely unrelated to the task at hand, does add to the time line.
   I have spent the evening getting ready to head out of town for five days.  I am exhausted before I even leave.  Everything seems to be relatively under control.  Tomorrow will tell.  It is two weeks before I leave for Europe.  At least I have the sense to start getting ready now. I have a feeling that the house may look like a tornado hit it before I have my one lone suitcase sorted out.  It will be interesting to see how much can fit in the expandable case.  The shoes maybe the problem.

Purple toes and scratchy eyes

    My body has had a hard day.  Work went well this morning.  There were two meetings after worship which I attended.  I survived.  When everything had been discussed and decisions made, we all headed out into the rainy cold. Most folks were going home, I went to pick up a trial pair of contacts.  Up until recently for people who need progressive lenses the only option in contacts was one for distance in one eye and one for close up in the other.  Supposedly they would work together.  My eyes must be odder than I thought because combination just me dizzy.  Now they have progressive contact lenses.  I must admit  I was skeptical.  However, I ordered a pair to try. 
   I raced home and headed up to the bathroom.  Opening the first package for my right eye, I discovered a problem.  Fishing out very thin plastic from its small saline filled bowl with gel nails is difficult.  It it even difficult to put said lenses in eye with said fingernails, or try to get the lenses out once they are in.  At one point I thought I was going to have to wear the contacts until they disintegrated in my eye because removing them with the long nails almost put my eye out.  I finally did manage to get that tricky issue resolved without ripping the very expensive lenses or damaging my eyesight.
   To my utter amazement, they work. I can see and read with them on.  The only problem was dry eyes which I am not sure whether is a result of a dry climate, ageing eyes or the fact that I had them in too long for the first time.  I will try again tomorrow.
    In all the wandering around my bedroom trying out the new contacts I managed to hit my toe on the bed frame. Not an uncommon occurrence.  I thought nothing of it after the pain subsided.  About an hour later I went to put my socks on.  My toe looked funny.  How did it get so dirty, I wondered.  Taking a wet facecloth I tried to wash it.  No luck.  I peered more closely with my new and improved eye wear.  My toe was purple.  A lovely bruise which covers the whole toe had appeared.  A charming sight, just in time for sandal season.  Do you think purple toes might be a new fashion trend in Europe this summer? 

Love still exists

     Wedding season is upon us.  My calendar is filled with weddings for young couples who have decided they want to be married and share their lives together.  They have also decided that they would like to pledge themselves to each other in an historic church building, that is where I come in.  I am part of the package, the one who will conduct the service.  Often as I stand there with a couple on their wedding day, leading them through their vows, I am amazed that people let me do this. My denomination and the government agree that I have legal status to perform weddings.  It still boggles my mind.
      A vast array of couples have stood in front of me. Some I look at and wonder what will become of them;  if they have the stamina and fortitude to weather what life will bring them.  Most of them don't have any idea of the challenges that living with another human being brings.  Even if they have lived together for years something intangible changes when the vows are spoken, when a public commitment is made.  I worry for some of them.  Others I know will be alright.  Those are fewer than the other category.
      Believe it or not, it is easy to get jaded about love when faced with lots of weddings.  Sometimes I think to myself, "If you just wanted a big party and to wear a beautiful gown, just do it and skip the marriage part."  Don't worry, I don't say it out loud.
      Then there are moments that come along and remind me, that love still exists and is possible.  Today held one of those moments.  Our music director, who is in his mid thirties, got married two weeks ago.  From the initial date to the wedding ceremony was about six months.  No one is pregnant.   They are Mormon and Mormon weddings are a bit different.  Lots of planning but not the same kind of planning.  They pulled it off and today the choir had a party for them to celebrate.  The love radiated out from them.  They sat beside each other holding hands and telling stories about their courtship and the big day itself.  There was a sense a peace and completion in them.  You could tell they had found the place in the world where they are supposed be; beside one another.  
      It is always good to see love in the faces of two people as they look at each other.  May the years  be kind to them and when they celebrate their twenty fifth anniversary may they still look at each other the same way as they did today. 

Shopping Surprises

  The morning was going well. I was up early and dealing with issue of an uncooperative internet. Before 11 am. I had gotten back online, made arrangements for a roaming package for my phone while I am in Europe,  done two loads of laundry, made several work related phone calls,  called to reorder a prescription and eaten breakfast. I was feeling kind of cocky.  Ooops.
    At 11:30 I loaded myself into my car and headed downtown.  I had an appointment with my hair stylist to give me one more remedial lesson in how to make my new hair cut look like I have never run a brush through it.  Thirty minutes later I was at the front desk looking trendy and young with a head full of messy curls.  I reached into my purse to pull out my wallet and pay for the experience and one product to make the curls curl, no wallet.  As big as my purse is the red wallet stands out.  I looked at Sarah with horror.  "I left my wallet at home." "No problem," says she. "I will put it on your account."  Phew.
   I immediately returned home to make sure that my wallet was indeed where I thought was.  Thankfully it sitting very nicely on the bar chair at the kitchen counter, just waiting for my return.  I picked it up, put it back where it belongs and headed out the door again.
   The winter has caused me to put on a few extra pounds.  It was the weather, not the chocolate and potato chips, that made my hips and belly rounder.  This change in shape means my clothes do not fit well.  Since I am off to France for a month in just over two weeks, I need clothes.
  My destination was the mall.  It was my lucky day.  My favorite store had 40% off sale on everything.  Woo hoo!  I loaded up on pants and tee shirts.  With my loot in hand, I wandered further afield.  The next stop yielded two more necessities and a surprise.
   I had taken my potential purchases to the fitting to see if they did fit.  Two of the four did.  Great!  I went  to leave the dressing room and discovered to my surprise the door was locked.  Fiddle, fiddle, bang. 
"Helloooo.  Anybody there?"  Some poor soul answered and said she would go get the fitting room person.  "Oh, dear.  I will go get the manager," she said when she arrived.  I sat down.  No way could I fit under the door.  What would they do?  Call the fire department?  Hunky men was appealing, having to be rescued not so much.  I stood up and went back to the lock.  Fiddle, fiddle, success!  The door opened and I was free!  Good thing, because the manager said she didn't know what to do and the fire department might have been an option.  Good grief!
   Some days the surprises are quite something! Thank goodness it didn't involve men in uniform today.

New glasses

   We were living in Japan when my first pair of glasses were purchased.  At age ten it was exciting.  They were plastic frames; reddish brown at the top and clear at the bottom.  The color went well with my red hair.  Little did I realize then that forty-five years later I would still be wearing glasses.  Now instead of single vision low prescription lenses I need high index, high prescription, progressive lenses. 
    Day to day this is not an issue.  However, when comes time to buy new glasses it becomes a problem.  Being blind as a bat means that I can't see what I look in the frames unless I am leaving nose prints on the mirror.  It is hard to get a good sense of the overall effect at such close range.  Once I ventured out by myself to purchase a new pair of spectacles.  The saleswoman and I agreed they were stunning.  My sisters and my daughter disagreed, which resulted in a family decree.  I am not allowed to go shopping for glasses without a fashion consultant with me.  My daughter picked out my current frames.  She did a good job. They are purple with no bling.  She now lives two provinces away and I need new glasses.
   Today I prevailed upon the kindness of a friend to help me with a major financial and fashion commitment in form of new glasses.  At the first store, we found three pairs that would work. They were fun, in my price range and looked good.  My friend dutifully took pictures that I could text to my daughter for final approval.  Really, I am grown woman.  Why on earth do I need my daughter to say ok? But pictures I have.  I left the chosen ones on hold until tomorrow.  I need to think and confer.  I can't make such a big decision this quickly.
    Then we went across the street.  A charming man greeted us.  He looked at my prescription, looked at my face and trotted to the other end of the store.  He came back and handed me a pair of frames.  I put them on stuck my nose up to the mirror.  It was love at first sight.  My friend agreed.  "How much," I asked breathlessly.  $369 came the reply.  Gulp.  My lenses are $500.  Out of my budget.  "They are hand made in Italy," says the charming man.  "I have waited four months for them to come in."  Ohhh.  I could tell I was in trouble.  My friend did not help. "I like those the best," says she.  I look again.  I take them off and put my own back on.  I examine the object of my affection closely while the charming man extols their virtues.  It was too late.  They fit my face.  They are fun and funky.  "I'll take them," says I.  "No pictures for my daughter" I tell my friend.  She will have to wait and see them.  I am expecting rave reviews. They are on the cutting edge of trendy says the charming man. How could I resist?
     In ten minutes I decided to spend an extraordinary amount of money with the rationale that I wear them every waking moment of my life.  They will grace my face for at least the next two years.  Sounds good doesn't it?   The deposit was paid. The glasses are ordered. Handcrafted Italian glasses and a new hair do. I have decided that I am officially a fifty-four year old diva.    I am thinking that a tiara might look good with the new specs!

All quiet in my head

   It is late May and true to form I want to find another profession.   As I have said before I would like to find a job that doesn't require me to talk to people.  However, it occurred to me that perhaps I could try keeping my comments to a minimum at my current job.  Mostly people want some one to listen to them.  I can do that.  Besides I am sick of hearing myself talk.  I think I need to be quiet for awhile and let the dust settle in my soul.  I can practice presence and stillness with as few words as possible.  I think I maybe onto something here.  Maybe tomorrow I'll give it a try.  It's a lot less disruptive than a career change.

aurora borealis

   The first time I saw the Northern Lights, they took my breath away.  They filled the sky with dancing green light.  From side to side and up and down they swayed changing shape and size.  Still each time I witness their joy, I am moved.  It is though the Universe has joined in a cosmic dance which sings of peace and joy.  The graceful arcs of light call me into their circle.  They fill me with a deep sense of knowing that all will be well and in that dancing it is well.
    Years ago I traveled across "the bog' just north of Winnipeg on a regular basis.  On the night treks the Northern Lights often accompanied me for the whole thirty minute drive.  As I tried to sort out the intricacies of my life, they would dance and peace would come.  Instead the promise of the rainbow, I hold fast to the promise and comfort of the Aurora Borealis.  Word on the street is they might be out tonight.  I think a glass of wine on the back deck is in order.  It is time to get reacquainted with some old friends!

No people, no problems

   I have recently decided that I would prefer a job where I don't have to talk to people.  Apparently, no such job exists.  I have scoured the internet trying to find something that will pay the bills but does not require me to interact with other human beings during the course of the work day.  Evidently excellent communication is a highly valued skill.  It is a skill I happen to possess but do not wish to exercise any more.  It probably has to do with being tired and encountering cranky folks on a regular basis for the last two weeks. 
   A friend, a number of years ago, in a similar state and in the same vocation stated vehemently "No people, no problems."  I laughed.  Now I think she was onto something.  I want to talk to people I know and like.  I can do that after work.
    I am already planning my revolt for the large organizational meeting that is coming up at the end of the month.  The planning team who always wants to encourage us to mingle assigns us to table groups. Generally speaking there is no one at my table that I know.  This year I have decided to pick my own seat beside one of my friends.   Who knows what chaos will ensue?  However, I am feeling contrary and anti-social.  Though I am quite sure this mood will pass, I am not sure it will be in time for the meetings.
    Thank goodness for holidays which are just a few weeks away, otherwise I don' t know what would happen.  Maybe I would be come a selective mute, unable to speak between eight and five.  What an interesting thought!

Detachment

    One of my greatest challenges is practicing detachment;   " letting go of our need to find pleasure, comfort, or satisfaction in things, people, ideas, customs, etc."  When achieved this state of being allows me to be truly present to the moment and let it exactly what it needs to be.  Unfortunately,  it isn't easy.  The habits of taking things personally, owning responsiblity for every situation,  assigning blame and passing judgement are ingrained.  They seem to be the default settings for reactions, especially when I am tired. 
   As I age, quite gracefully might I add, I am more aware of my responses.  I can often catch myself and name what it is I am doing.  However, unhooking from the emotion is something else altogether.  It requires that I take a step back when what I really want to do is step into it.  Mostly, nothing good comes of it when I enter the fray.  Tempers flare.  Feelings get hurt.  Hearts get broken.  Words which can not be retracted get said.  The goal is to move back into the deepest place where love is the only thing.  A place where the love that is known is the love of the Divine, of the Universe ,which is not dependent on human approval or possessions.  This love is the source of our being; the cradle of our lives.  Immersed in that love,  I remain at peace and am able to deal with others with love and grace. 
   The days are coming, I hope, when that place will be where I spend most of my days.  For now, I visit more and more frequently and am thankful for time spent there.

The promise of stars

    This evening as the sun set,  I lay on my bed reading.  As I turned the pages,  through my window I watched the light change.  From blue to pink and purple streaked, the sun's descent marked the sky.  The orange orb hung suspended for a while.  It disappeared into the inky night to be replaced a bright shining star. 
   With the lights out, the star was clearly visible.  It sparkled and beckoned.  It whispered and sang.  The voice of star trickled through the open window reminding me of endless possibilities, of unlived hope, of unexplored paths.  The promise echoed reaching into the limitless depths of soul dreams. 
   All I need do is follow the starlight.

Grace vs. Grumpy

  Watching groups interact is fascinating.  Some communities are able to navigate thorny issues with wisdom, discernment and patience.  Others are so angry that anything at all has to addressed, combined with their fear about change, makes it virtually impossible for them to succeed.
    I have worked with both kinds of groups.  For those groups who greet bumps in the road as learning experiences, the  process is rich and deep.  For the groups who are angry and fearful, nothing will work and the process becomes a source of deep pain and limited in the scope of change, if any that is effected. 
     I muse about what makes the difference in attitude. What allows some people to live with trust and others with only anger?  Is there a switch that can be turned from grump to grace?  If there is would somebody let me know where it is?  Is there enough love and prayer to move a group from self-destruction to creativity?
    The answers as always are hidden from view at the moment.  Thankfully, as we speak I am working with a group from each category.  They balance each other out.  Their journeys teach me skills that enable my leadership to grow and mature. Ahh.

Mother's Day

  Mother's Day has become a bittersweet day.  This year is the second one without my mom.  Grief eases, but it still comes.  There are moments when I wish I could talk with her, hear her laugh or give her a hug.  It doesn't matter how old you are,  there are times when all you want is your mom.
   I don't know if that is a "girl" thing or if "boys" feel the same way.  But I am girl and that ache for a mother is my truth.
   I am also a mom.  I am blessed with two children to whom I gave birth and two that are children of my heart.  My prayer for them has always been that the love that flowed through my parent's in their parenting might flow through me to my children.
   I am proud of who they are and who they are becoming.  Despite a few bumps every now and then they are moving into their own lives with grace and compassion.  Each time I talk with them I am reminded of what gift it is to a mother.  I have grown into that appreciation.  When they were teenagers, there were days when I wasn't even sure that I liked them!  We have all grown up.
    Today I remember my mother.  I miss her.  Today I remember my children and give thanks that I have an opportunity to be a mother to them.

The swatting season

  It is that time of year again, when the beast in me rears its ugly head.  This normally even tempered laid back woman shape shifts into someone no longer recognizable. Today it the change began  and sent me running to the storage closet to dig out my weapon.  The battle is on. 
    The first foray of the enemy came last night as I was soaking in the tub.  It had been a beautiful afternoon and I left the deck door open for the dogs so they could wander in out at will. Why shouldn't they get to enjoy the sun as well?  Back to the tub.  The lavender bubbles were working their magic as I read my latest trashy novel.  Buzz. My ears perked up.  Buzz. Thud. My eyes narrowed.  Buzz. Buzz. Thud.  I could feel my blood pressure rise as I scoured the room.  There.  There in the corner by the mirror was the biggest dumbest house fly I have seen in months.  They are back! 
   Last year the fly community moved in with my boxes.  They insisted on taking up residence in my new house.  Of course it had nothing to do with the fact that I left the back door open for the dogs. In the fly community  an open door evidently  means "Come on in and bring your friends."  They buzz, crash into solid walls and windows repeatedly. They ignore my death threats. I figure it is only polite to warn them before I squish, swat and pummel them.  They only get one warning and then they are fair game.
   I am a lovely sight as I race around the house armed with my trusty red plastic fly swatter.  Splat, splat splat.  A joyous sound to my  ears.  Unfortunately as soon as I kill one, ten more of its cousins appear.  The fly information line is not working here in the South.  They are dumber than dirt and blessedly slow. 
   Today I killed five.  They dared land on the screen in the window next to my desk.  I take perverse pleasure in the annihilation of the critters.  The only problem is that squished flies leave fly guts around.  So far I have not found a company that cleans up after a crime of a flyicide.   Any enterprising soul out there ready to invest in a new start up company?
   I fear the flies are back and my thirst for vengeance has been tapped.  Game on.  Wonder who will win this year.  Last year it was the flies.
    

Response to the falling down the rabbit hole

This is the response I received from a dear friend of mine after the last post.  With his permission, I share his wisdom.

 

I just wanted to say that - well --- rabbit holes are just that - rabbit holes. A way in and a way out - and so we sit in the dark for a while and try to adjust and enjoy our new surroundings for what they are and what they might teach us. They are temporary and that is the wisdom that age teaches us - nothing in this world ever stops changing and evolving or changing. Sooner or later the opening for the rabbit hole appears and out we hop!

There is one thing that does not change however - love. NO matter what we've done, no matter where our life roads have taken us, no matter the seemingly unbearable things we endure - love remains to prop us up and tells us we are never alone in our struggles. There are many 'out there' who love and care for you - always remember that.

At the bottom of the rabbit hole

  As I have said before, emotional rabbit holes litter our lives.  With a bit of care, hard work and friends to help, they can usually be avoided.  Oh, there is certainly circling and dangling of toes into the abyss but more and more I have been just flirting with them in passing.  Well, today I fell in head first and have landed flat on my back at the bottom with the wind knocked out me.  Not sure how I got here.  It has been a long time since I fell all the way down.
    Now I remember why I try so hard to stay away from the pesky things.  It is dark down here.  It is lonely and down here I cry a lot.  Fortunately, I stocked up on Kleenex recently.   Much to my chagrin, I have spent the day wallowing and teary.  There is nothing I can put my finger on as to why I tumbled so fast and so deep.  Maybe sheer exhaustion has something to do with it.
   I suspect that it may take a few days to crawl back into the light.  It will probably be one of those inch by inch deals. Crap!  What I have learned since my last descent is that I will not stay down here.  This pit is not my permanent address.  I reside topside in the fresh air where the sun shines, where laughter flows and friends abound.  Grant me the wisdom to remember that lesson as I start to figure my way out of this rabbit hole. Oh, and pass the Kleenex.

Daily blessing

Bless this day which has been lived.
Bless the places which have challenged us,
   may they nourish the seeds of strength.
Bless the places which have brought us joy,
    may they be reminders of the Creator's grace.
Bless the sleep which welcomes us,
    may it renew us and refresh us
      so that we may welcome the gifts of tomorrow.

Internal Gratitude

  Gratitude is often underrated as an attribute.  However, I think it is one of the more powerful ones.  It ground us, roots us and provides a base for our living.  It is so much nicer to be around someone whose life begins in gratitude instead of beginning in scarcity.
   The difficulty is that when we start listing things for which we are grateful the list is usually comprised of externals.  My list always begins with my children, depending on the day my job makes the list.  Shelter, friends and dogs are in the top ten as well.  Externals are easy.  Internals are hard.
    I think that sometimes it is important to stop and think about ourselves and what we grateful for about who we are.  We can list a hundred things we don't like about ourselves.  We are hard pressed to find five things about ourselves for which we can give thanks.  It is an idea worth pursuing, for indeed no matter who we are we have gifts we offer to the world.  How stronger can those gifts can be if we acknowledge them and give thanks for them.  Better for us and better for the world.
    I think I will start my list, like everyone else, it may take awhile.

The Grandmothers Part 2

  When the Grandmothers come to visit there are at least three who show up on a regular basis.  These are the wonderful woman of my family who shared with me their wisdom while they were alive and now that they have passed to the next life surround and support me with their unending love.  The first of the Grandmothers is my great-grandmother, Grandma Lulu. The second of the trio is Grammy, my maternal grandmother.
    I am the oldest of Grammy's grandchildren.  I was born the day before my grandparent's twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.  My mother did not make to the party. My father showed up and evidently kept handing out cigars. It was the late fifties and that was the custom.  I always referred to myself as their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary present.
  Grammy was a strong, independent, very intelligent woman.  If life had been different she would have made a fine doctor or lawyer.  As it was, she was a very fine secretary.  Now she would be called an administrative assistant.  She organized and kept several executives at Dupont on track for the length of their careers.  A business is only as good as its admin staff!
  Grammy was fearless.  There wasn't anything she wouldn't tackle.  When I was fifteen I saw her wade into the middle of domestic dispute between the neighbours.  The man's fists were flying, the woman was high and my grandmother sashayed right in and broke it up.  I was having a heart attack from across the street. Granted, at the time, we were in the middle of rural South Carolina and at least twenty minutes from the police getting to us, but somebody (my grandmother) could have gotten hurt.
    I would spend weeks with my grandparents without my siblings.  We each had that opportunity.  When I was there we would swim, cook, read, talk during the day when my grandfather was at work.  Grammy retired first.  In the evenings when he came home we would play cards after supper.  We would drink Coke out of glasses filled with ice and have ice cream for a bedtime snack.  It was hot down in July especially before air conditioning!
    Grammy taught me about strength, grace and wisdom.  She also taught me about how much I am loved.  There are times when I need to be reminded of those lessons.  It is then I go to my jewelry box and pull out her baby locket.  It contains a lock of her hair and has teeth marks where she tried to chew it when she was young.  My grandparents gave it to me for my high school graduation.  It brings me comfort and connects me to long line of my grandmothers.  Always a good thing, just like a visit from the Grandmothers.

Multiplying stuff

Less than a year ago I was certain that the physical stuff of my life had been culled.  It was at a manageable level, never again to soar to heights that would overwhelm me with its magnitude.  Alas, I fear I forgot to take into account the fact that stuff breeds in the night.  In the dark, after the lights are turned out, something happens.  I don't the details, but I do know that when I wake in the morning there is more stuff than there was when I went to sleep.  The paperwork seems to have the fastest gestation period.  There is no way that I personally have created this much paperwork or could have brought it into the house.  It is everywhere.
  And where did all those clothes in the bottom of the closet come from? I know some of them jumped off the hangers when I was at work but there are clothes there that aren't familiar.  Some might question my memory or my sanity, while both may be on the edge I still am fairly certain of these facts.
   There must be a way to stop the constant breeding of stuff.  If a deterrent is not found soon my children will be looking for me under the piles of paper, loads of clothes, and stacks of books. Why is it that this phenomenon does not extend to something useful, like fabric?

Words and power

           The words and the stories ripen inside me.  They dance and sway, skitter across my consciousness until finally they take shape and start to grow.  When they reach a certain point they spill out like juice spurting from a overripe orange when you pierce its skin.  I knew this once, that words were trying to escape through my fingers, but I had forgotten it.  The knowledge got lost in the years of trying to be a good wife,  making sure my children knew they were loved, develop my career and keep my sanity in midst of the unfolding chaos of life.  No wonder I forgot that I have something to say.  But now that the flurry of activity is dying down; husbands and I have long since parted ways,  the children are loved into adulthood, my career has taken root,  and the chaos has ceased its chatter, the memory is returning.  The familiar feeling of fullness which is only relieved by the actual act of putting pen to paper or fingers to keys is back and recognizable.  I know what I need to do, that very thing which I have for so long avoided; open the channel and let it flow.

                  These words are the record of my journey to get to a place deep inside myself where I rarely go.  When I stand in this place and listen to the silence,  I know my power and love myself.  When I stand in this place in the center of my being,  I am enough.