Yes It Is

I've been asked several times recently, what I'm doing for New Years? I take it literally, as in, what am I doing New Year's Eve. But it's also a question of what I am doing for the next 365 days. 

My initial response was I'm not doing anything. Which as I noodle it, is completely untrue. Let me back up the bus a little, I've never been a fan for New Year's Eve parties. There was always anxiety that a person shouldn't hope for good things, as they don't really happen. That if something good happened, then it had to be "paid" for in some way. I know this is a result of dysfunction in younger years. How sad to struggle with this in little and big ways from childhood on. Owning it is the first step. 

So, while I enjoy small gatherings for celebrations, after a time I long for the quiet of home. That's the introvert in me. I had a lovely invitation for a New Years gathering come my way. I was unable to work out the logistics, but my heart is warm from the invitation. It means everything to be remembered and invited. Everything.

I heard someone say that their resolution for the New Year is to say Yes more to things that scare them. I love that. Sometimes we aren't even aware of why we say no, it just feels safer. There are times it is safer, wiser. There are times it's just a habit that needs to shift. I think you have to say Yes mentally first, perhaps repeatedly. Literally say yes, I will say yes more often. Yes, I will. Yes, I will. This concept hits home for a person who is uncertain of trusting the future. Kinda of mind blowing, right? 

Back to the question of what am I doing New Years. I'd like to rephrase my answer. In fact, I won't say I'm not doing anything. I'm doing something even if it is different than what others are doing. I am going to enjoy a quiet evening. I have a good book to read, I'll be gentle with myself. I'll enjoy the company of my dogs. I'll build a cozy fire, and yes, I'll eat some comfort food. I'll say yes to me and what feels comfortable. I'll look for ways, big and small, in the days ahead that challenge me to say yes to opportunities, connection, and trust. 

As always, I'm being led exactly where I need to be and blessed in ways I couldn't begin to imagine. So, in the year ahead may we find the courage to say yes. Sometimes yes is out there, sometimes it's in our hearts.  It's okay to hope for good things, to look forward with faith. Yes, yes, it is. 

Giving...

It never fails, on birthdays, holidays, and especially at Christmas I wish I could do more for my kids. Give them more, lavishly, wholeheartedly. I know we don't need things, but still sometimes it's fun to give things. If I could, I'd give them the moon and stars. I'd pave their way, pay their way, shower them with what makes their heart happy. Except, I don't have that much control. Nor, if I know them well, would they want me to.

We each have to find our own joy, and it rarely comes wrapped in Christmas paper under a tree. Joy is more personal. Joy shifts and changes. Joy is lost and found again often in new ways we couldn't predict. It sometimes comes from the ruins of a dream we thought we had wrapped up. 

Even when I know all this from experience, there is the feeling like I should be doing more. Giving more. Like what I offer is not enough. In fact, I can't give more, I can only give what I am and have today. 

Mostly I have life experience, tempered with grief, seasoned with sarcasm & humor, covered in some dog fur and coated with faith. The list of what I thought I'd be, or have, is longer than Santa's list. 

What I have, what I offer is a flawed human, prone to making mistakes. Bundled in good intentions, and God given talents. There is not enough Christmas paper in the world to wrap all that up. I could tie bows until my fingers fall off, and still not tie up all that love. I can only offer it in tangible and intangible ways to those who grace my life. That starts with my kids and spreads from there. So, if I can't give everything I want, know I'm giving all I've got. 

Blankets

I was digging through a moving box recently. Yes, I realize it's been three years since I moved. Don't judge me. In it was a lovely, luxurious blanket. I don't remember packing it. But I did. I know I didn't buy it, because it is luscious, and I know I couldn't have afforded it. I assumed it was bedding for the air mattress, so never gave it much thought. Until this year.

I unfolded it and pondered. How long have I/we owned it, where did it come from and why am I connecting with it now. Life is like that, you know. We are oblivious to things until a light comes on and the timing is right. We're left wondering. Was it a need that was simply waiting to be met? Was I blind to it? Why didn't I connect the dots?

There are lots of blankets in my house. Ironically, or serendipitously, this one just happens to be king sized. Way too big for the air mattress. Most of my blankets have been nibbled on by a dog (or two) over the years. Of course, it would be nice if they hadn't. Surely, I would have corrected them if I'd had the opportunity. But, dogs, and blankets are stealthy like that. Blankets that have a hole in them are much like our hearts. A little tattered, slightly worn, but still soft and nurturing. They still have the capacity to offer love, warmth and comfort. 

I'm not fussy about the holes. I know some people would never tolerate something tattered. In a perfect world, which is some place I will never live, things get damaged and replaced. That's probably why it was purchased. Me? I make do. That's not necessary a bad thing. In fact, there is a lot of grace in that.

For some reason, this season, I have an ultra-soft, warm blanket to cover up with. I think it's a sign of some sort. I'm not sure exactly what though. Maybe I don't have to know. It's new, and yet it's old. It's soft and warm. It's a gift from another life. If it gets chewed on, so be it. We're all a little damaged, and we're all still beautiful. 

Counting Blessings

I think our sense of gratitude is like a muscle we must build and flex. It must be fed, comforted, searched for and defined. I used to be diligent about keeping a list of things I was grateful for, things that grace my life. I've kept this list for years. Lost the list completely once and began again. I've been slacking in keeping up with that recently.

Isn't that the perfect analogy for life. You start, you stop, you win, you lose, you begin again. You count your blessings.

Where are you in life? How are you flexing the muscles of faith and gratitude? Is your heart full of joy, angst, worry, anticipation?

I was just in the kitchen preparing for Thanksgiving. I was chopping onions, and celery. Measuring spices for stuffing. I've been doing these same tasks since I was old enough to work beside my mom in the kitchen. Now for years, I've been the mom in the kitchen. I've sliced and diced with parents, siblings, relatives, friends, and my children. Other times it's been a solitary labor of love while waiting for my favorite people to arrive. But it's tradition, it's what we do to break bread and give thanks for the life we have, the people we love.

I get that we can quickly, almost thoughtlessly come up with things we are thankful for. I understand sometimes we have to dig deep for even one thing to be grateful for. I know sometimes the worst of circumstances bring infinite blessings. I've experienced divine intervention and happy endings. 

So, I give thanks today for the feelings, the words, the love, the loss and the experiences that life so generously offers me. I'll pause to remember to write on my list and share it. It hangs in my kitchen, anyone who visits is welcome to add to it. One of my son's adds to the list whenever he's home. I treasure his words. I need to give thanks for that. I give thanks for you too. For the ways our paths crossed, and how our lives are woven together. 

Tears

There are days, golden days, when blessings abound that are still somehow tinged with sadness.  You wish it wasn't so. No number of wishes makes it different.

Sorrow enters our lives. Some experience it early, some experience it repeatedly, some go most of their lives only to be confronted with it late in life. I don't believe anyone escapes it. The sorrow shifts as I grow and change. It's hard, but honesty, great growth comes from it. 

Most days we can sweep it into a corner and look past it. Some days we can channel it into activity and not even acknowledge it. But it is there lurking. So somedays we simply must own it. Acknowledge its existence. Sit down and just feel it. In a perfect world, tears help wash it away. Tears cleanse and renew. Though of late, tears seem harder to find. The irony is I used to be a very weepy woman. Every sad movie, every poignant commercial and my kids would be watching for when the water works started. And they always did. 

Now, it doesn't happen so much. I know I'm not alone in this. Honestly, I could use a good cry, and a good laugh for that matter. Heck, I'd take tears and laughter one right after the other. Doesn't matter which order they come in. 

I've been pondering this, and truthfully need to talk to the big guy upstairs about it. Don't get me wrong I'm not wanting more sorrow. I would like to continue processing the share I've had. Sweeping it aside isn't working. Maybe you feel the same. If so, the good news is you are not alone. I'll pass the Kleenex if you need some and understand if the tears are stuck. I can relate to both. 

 

Open To Change

It's funny how life changes. You move along a set path that is comfortable and consistent. Until it isn't. People change, situations shift, chapters close. By force of nature, divine intervention, or serendipity a new door opens. Or an old familiar door closes.

Sometimes we don't seek out new opportunities, they just find us. Oddly enough each place I've worked gave me a tenure of approximately 6 1/2 years. How random is that. Maybe every six plus years the big guy upstairs felt the need to stretch me, to move me into the company of others. To bless me with things and people I didn't know I needed. Or to bless others with the gift of me. Life is like that. 

Relationships can be like that too. Some last years, some bloom and then fade. Some end abruptly. Some we hold fond memories of, and others leave painful reminders. 

Seasons of the year change, seasons of life change, seasons of love change too. I read an article recently where a person was challenged to envision the person they wanted to become. Even envisioning involves change. I can easily make a list of things I'd like to be less of, but things I'd like to be more of isn't as easy. 

I think change involves believing, trust and determination. It requires letting go of what was, to embrace what is ahead of us. They say change is good. They say change is hard. They say it won't always be this way. They say the best is yet to come. I do believe they would be right. 

You Don't Forget

Six years ago today, life changed. Since September is Suicide Awareness Month, it seems fitting to share about the impact of suicide, the stigma that surrounds it, and some personal thoughts. 

First of all, no one imagines it could happen to them. Even if there are signs, subtle or blatant, you never think you will end up being a survivor of suicide loss. You just don't know what you don't know. Until you know. And then, if you know, you know.

There is always both judgement and stigma around suicide. From the outside looking in people assume, make wild guesses, ask questions that can never be answered. I recall being asked why I didn't make my husband take his antidepressants, why didn't I hide them in his food? For one, drugging someone against their will is not kosher. And also, as if I had enough power to change another human by sheer will or subterfuge. Just not possible, nor was it my job.

Do I wish things were different. Of course, I do. Do I still struggle to wrap my head about how his choice and his actions unfolded. Every day. I can't know what his thought process was. I'm pretty sure he was incredibly angry and in severe mental anguish. I had someone say today people should just suck it up, that life is hard for everyone. Life is hard, and life is precious. Some days it doesn't seem like the hard will ever end. I took offense at those words, and I defended those whose struggle is beyond their capacity to deal with. I wish I'd said more. I wish life was different. 

All I know is I'm different because of this experience. You don't forget, it walks with you wherever you go. Amid the stigma and speculation. And you remember the day life changed. 

Superpowers

What is your Superpower? I'd never been asked that question. So of course, my mind went bonkers for a moment. Do I have superpowers? Or do I not. Do I have more than one? How many on average does the average person, if they have superpowers, have? How do you define a superpower? 

You see, it's an intriguing question. Some people's superpower might be always landing on their feet. Or their faith is their superpower. My son said he's pretty good at eating pizza although he's not sure it's a superpower. But it's probably close. My daughter's superpower is knowing just when the food in the oven is done without a timer. So, I know if the kids are home and we're cooking pizza I'm covered. Is loving deeply a superpower? Is laughter? Is compassion your superpower?

It gave me pause to consider those things I'm good at. Things I may even be great at. Things that might just be a superpower. So, think about it, what is your superpower? For the record, I think it's okay to have more than one. It's okay if they are still in the development stages. And if they include pizza, well that's super too. 

Grace To Go On

There are some truly horrible things that happen in life. Tragic losses, illnesses, accidents, suicides, senseless killings. Some so random it's hard to fathom. Many unexpected and completely devastating. Most of us encounter heartbreaking circumstances in life. We are forever changed. 

All this comes to mind because of stories in the news and because an anniversary of the heart is coming up. I journaled frequently when life was fraught with worry and fear. So, I can go back and look at where I was 6 years ago and the years since. I do go back and look. To maintain clarity, to seek new understanding. Just to remember and know I did the best I could at the time. Sometimes it's suggested I just let all that go. To not revisit it, but sometimes it's necessary, sometimes its healing. 

I don't know where you are in life. If you are struggling, if you are faking it while trying to make it. Or if you are basking in sunny skies and happy moments. Maybe right now life is all struggle and hope is waning. Sometimes we don't even know what to hope for. I remember being there. I prayed for answers knowing that none of the answers were easy ones. I recoiled at the ugliness that came my way. I trusted that something good would come of it. Could that be the gift of hard times? That something good comes from all experiences? 

We forget sometimes that there are others who would gladly trade their lives for ours. Even what we consider our messy life, with our hurting hearts. Because their burden weighs so heavy, because our life looks golden. We know it's not all golden. We know it's hard, and we know some moments shine with complete goodness. Because in our hope, be it overflowing or miniscule, grace to go on is found.

Greater Appreciation

I have a greater appreciation for the stages of life. Perhaps this comes from age, from loss, basically from love.

I'll admit to feeling some envy for those just building the lives they seek. For those dating, or getting married, or newly married. The fun, the anticipation, the newness. The infinite possibilities of it all. 

I remember the joy of expecting a baby, and the precious moments with my babies. Except I didn't realize how sacred those moments actually were. I was busy finding my way, learning, growing, worried I wasn't doing it right. I lived from day-to-day feeding babies, changing diapers, keeping house, cooking dinners, falling into bed exhausted. In the blink of an eye, they were off to school, then college and making tracks into lives of their own.

Life changed and I learned about being a single Mom. A path I never expected. Yet there I was. I believed in our marriage, I had hope for it, I was willing to work for it. It's a hard lesson to learn that you can't do the work for two. And marriage is work, commitment, flexibility, investment of love and energy. So, there I was, divorced learning how to navigate life and parenting. So many crossroads life brings us to.

Down the road, I married again which brought many blessings and much sorrow. Lessons keep coming to us in different ways until we learn them. Some of us are quick learners, some remedial. Such is life.

I have a greater appreciation of loss and grief, of rebuilding life after it. Of the sadness that is a constant companion, or the loneliness that comes with it. I understand now how lonely my mom must have been. How a phone call or a visit would have made her day. I wish things had been different with her, but relationships are never easy, ours definitely wasn't. I get it now, the amount of alone time that fills our hours. Just as I understand that my kids have lives of their own. Lives I raised them for, covering them in love, teaching them about strength. Filling them with faith and hope.

I get it now. The journeys life takes us on. The valleys, the mountains, the phases we go through. I'm grateful, I'm wistful. I look longingly back, and faithfully forward. I wish many things were different, and I'm grateful many are not. Without the journey, I'd never know. For that I have greater appreciation. 

 

Puppy Tales

This is a rescue story. Let's call it Part One of the Great 8!

Eight you say? Yes, eight pointer puppies, approximately 16 weeks old were dumped in a Menard's parking lot. Eight puppies who had probably only known the confines of a kennel with a cement floor. Dumped like trash in the summer heat. That's where it started. Thankfully people stepped in. Two of the puppies were picked up by good Samaritans. The other six were rescued by Noah's Hope Animal Rescue. The first two were also turned over to Noah's Hope. So, all eight indeed had hope going for them. The local rescue reached out to Great Plains Pointer Rescue for assistance. Eight puppies are a lot. But this is what we do, and we do it with open hearts and willing foster homes. 

Now, let me also say I don't foster puppies as a general rule. I have a thing for gnarly old seniors. But rules are made to be broken. The call went out for fosters, and volunteers stepped up. All the puppies, who now have names and a safe place to land, came into the fold. Dolly & Dixon, George, Pearl, Slick, Keeper, Doug, and Ansell began their new life.

 

It includes many things they'd never encountered before. New noises, rules, leashes and collars, things to chew and not to chew. Crates, even going potty in the grass. It also includes cuddles and loving, treats, vet care, kisses and snuggles, toys to play with. All of this while we wait for Part Two to begin.

Part Two begins when they find their forever home. Until then they are growing, learning, playing, pooping and thriving in their foster homes. Well, hopefully not pooping "in" the foster home. All because they got lucky the day they were dumped. Because people stepped up to the plate for them. Because rescue programs exist. And yes, ultimately because people choose to adopt, not shop. 

Carry on you Great 8, with your puppy shenanigans, wiggle butts and velvet ears. We've got you and will see that you get only the best. 

 

What Needs Tending?

What's your garden like? I see some well landscaped, meticulously planted Gardenscapes. They look professional, almost too perfect. Don't get me wrong, they are well appointed, they are color coordinated. They have sprinkler systems. They don't appear to have anyone putzing around checking for bugs, buds, blossoms, weeds. Someone must tend them, but who invests the love and interest? We all need love and interest. We flounder without it.

I've been trying to find the balance between floundering and flourishing for some time now. Owning it is the first step. There are days I nail it. There are days I wonder where am I going, what am I doing? And why? Seriously why? I have a greater appreciation for the days I sailed right through. As well as a deeper understanding of the days that were an uphill battle. I look back trying to put life in perspective. To take responsibility for my stuff. We all have stuff you know. 

Now "garden" could be my actual garden, or an analogy that life resembles a garden. There are parts of my "garden" that I never tend. Never speak of. I do it because of shame sometimes. Because I feel like I've failed. Because I'm afraid of judgement. Because I'm afraid of trying again. Perhaps because it's easier, theoretically, to have weeds, than to weed them out. Weeds are a known entity. Weeds are consistent. We like consistent.

Those parts of my life are uncomfortable and take up precious energy. Energy better spent in releasing what didn't or doesn't work and planting anew. It's not easy. In fact, it's very hard. I think though, much like forgiveness, it's necessary. So, I ask what needs weeding, what's blooming, what needs forgiving, what needs nurturing?

Life Is Hard, Life Is Lovely

I have to wonder sometimes if I will ever fully regain joy and enthusiasm. Was that taken from me on the roads of life? Was it a thing of youth?  Do you ever feel this way? I know life is hard, I know I am blessed beyond measure. I know I have more than I ever imagined, more than I deserve. Still sometimes sadness tips the scale.

Then I wonder am I where I need to be, doing what I'm meant to do? I referenced that recently and a friend immediately said, oh yes you are. You were meant to be right here with us. I loved her immediate affirmation. I need to remember that. I know that the biggest moments in life can be miniscule in scope yet enormous in impact. Such is the juxtaposition of life. That said who doesn't need more affirmation?

I am not a thrill seeker, or a risk taker. I really lead a quiet life. Sometimes too quiet, but hey, I am an introvert by nature. A creature of habit. So, I am trying to do new things, or old things differently. Small things that only I will know are different. Little changes in routine, small indulgences to mix it up. It is a conscious effort to experience life differently. Perhaps the key is to really experience life. Be in the moment. I sometimes get lost in moments long gone.

Where are you in this moment of life. Are you struggling? Are you on hold? Are you wishing life was different? Is your faith a bit shaky and your dreams tattered? Are you looking forward with complete anticipation? Are you doing the happy dance? Are you filled with peace and gratitude. It all changes moment to moment. So, it's okay to have one foot in faith and one in fear. To be happy and sad, to feel lost and at the same time found. Life is hard, and life is lovely. And I'm here to share it with you. 

Sowing Seeds

Seeds. We plant them all the time. Metaphorically speaking we may plant them without even knowing we're doing it. Other times we plant very deliberately. Sometimes they grow, sometimes they don't. Sometimes they lay dormant. There are prayers I've prayed that are like seeds that have yet to show signs of growth. They were planted, tended, watered and yet nothing. Or they grew in ways I never expected. Growing yet never producing. Growing and then perishing. Some growing and blossoming. The way of it all is a mystery to me.

As mysterious as tucking a small hard seed into the ground and covering it with soil and faith. I don't know why it works. It just does. I'll never understand the times things I nurtured self-destructed. I'll always wonder why growth is so tenuous sometimes and so vigorous another. I'll marvel when the outcomes are greater than I've ever hoped. I'll weep as needed over losses that defy understanding.

 

I'll plant seeds of hope and gratitude. I'll plant because I believe in the possibilities. I'll pray over those planted long, long ago and those planted just recently. I'll delight when they break ground, and marvel at the miracle of it all. Trusting in the process of growth.

Sweet Grass

When I moved from the country, three years ago, I potted up some sweet grass and brought it with me. It was one of several plants I carried with. Some irises, some rhubarb, and the sweet grass. The rhubarb didn't survive the journey, one iris did, and the grass.  

The sweet grass came from a cherished neighbor, who likely got it in a roundabout way from native Americans. It's all connected through nature and history. When I was frantically packing the last of the last things, I hastily dug some grass and dropped it in an empty pot. It held on through the move, summer, and fall. In the Spring I couldn't even remember what was in the pot. The sparse amount of soil finally gave way to some spindly blades of grass. That seems a fair analogy of my move and the upheaval of it all. A little soil, some roots, an old pot, and a dusting of hope.

It occurred to me recently that it was time to plant to grass where it could thrive. It was growing, but it was confined and didn't need to be. Another analogy of my life? I believe so. Sometimes we are hesitant to put down roots, to explore possibilities, to encourage growth. Sometimes, we need to just dig deep, plant our hopes, dreams and yes, a little bit of sweet grass. All that said it gives me a touch of anxiety to just let it grow. I don't want to lose it. This tie to my other life. But the flip side is if it thrives, I may have enough to share. It may become more than it is. Same for me. 

Be Safe Stray Dog

The dogs and I encountered a stray yesterday on our walk. Someone's German shorthair was loose. Ironic, right? I walk this area several times a week. I'm like a mobile neighborhood watch with two pointers of my own in tow. 

I watch the gardens come back to life. The people come and go. The new construction taking place. I sort of know who has dogs, which houses you never see anyone, who has pristine lawns. I wonder what their view of the sunset must look like. I wonder what their mortgage payment must be. I wonder if sometime people might stop to chat, but that hasn't happened. They wave as they drive by so there's that. I wonder if they wonder about me as much as I wonder about them. But I digress.

When you are active in rescue, and you see the breed you are passionate about running loose you do your best to wrangle the dog. I tried. I thought I knew where he might at least be visiting, so we backtracked to ask. The stray trailed along. The people there didn't recognize him and although they have dogs, didn't have a leash to share. I lost track of him there and never saw him again. 

We walked the area again this morning, prepared with an extra leash. Fully aware that dog could be miles away by now. I knew another sighting was a long shot. And it was. No luck in finding him. My hope is that he found his way home. Maybe the lesson was that of being willing and opening to possibilities. Isn't that an investment in the karma bank? 

I feel bad I wasn't able to hang on to that dog. Chasing through back yards didn't seem prudent, but I wish I could have done more. Maybe he found his way home. Maybe someone else will help him on his way. Karma is like that. We never know where it leads and how beautifully it will unfold. Until then, be safe stray dog we'll be watching for you.

Connections

I had my Facebook page hacked and cloned about three weeks ago. So, this blog is all about connections. I remember when I first joined social media, my Mom poopoo'd the whole concept of friends across the world and why would I have those kind of "friends" when I didn't have especially close friendships with my siblings. That's another whole blog topic, by the way. 

I also realize that losing a social media account is a first world problem. I understand some people see no value and invest no time in it. For them, that is the right approach. For others (me, for one) it provides an avenue for interaction, sharing life, and life stories, shared interests, support and humor. So, losing those connections was significant. Believe me, I wasn't sure what to do with myself at first. I did a lot of reading to fill the time. A lot.

A small army of friends rallied by reporting that I was hacked. Like an underground railroad of friends working on my behalf, mostly unbeknown to me. There were also many who texted me to be sure I knew of the situation. Friends and extended family alike. I am so lucky to have friends like these.

My account has yet to be recovered. It may or may not happen. So, for me there were many losses beyond that of identity, security and connection. I've begun a new page, and have found as I send friend requests, many delete them because they doubt it's a legitimate request. That too is discouraging.

I've yet to figure out exactly what the lesson is in all this. I'll admit to being leery of the whole situation. Less trusting. And more than a little hacked off. I try to have faith in the process and trust in an unknown outcome. That may be the best we can do on any given day.  I miss the connections, the encouragement, the feeling of belonging. There are some cool people out there. Even if, especially if, I know them through social media. 

That Place That Moment

I was in line at the grocery store recently. The couple in front of me was having trouble with their debit card. You know sometimes there is a bank issue, a glitch in the matrix, insufficient funds, just plain bad juju. Any one of a number of things. It happens to all of us at some point in time. I felt for them. Just as the clerk was going to suspend the transaction, giving the couple time to reach out to their bank, another customer walked over and paid for their items.

Can I just say wow. Random acts of kindness. Generosity played out before my very eyes. The couple who received the gift didn't seem especially moved. Maybe they were simply taken aback, I hope that was the case. I wanted to hug this lady who saw a need and filled it. I want to be more like her. Willing to take action, to bless someone without reservation. Now the flip side is perhaps this debit card issue was a scam the couple was running. It probably happens, which is a sad state of affairs. Either way the couple needed help of some sort.

I could have jumped in to assist. But I was stalled by indecision, the it's not my problem attitude and honestly concern over the expense. How many times have my needs been met even when I saw no way for it to happen. Over and over, I tell you. Over and over. 

Here is my takeaway. Be generous, of spirit, of heart, and if necessary, with the blessings you can share. I came away a better person for being in that place at that moment. I'll never know the exact situation that unfolded. I do know one person gave freely. Amen to that. 

Not So Funny

I had someone poke fun at me because I don't have any "action" in my life. Well, the dogs provide all sorts of action, but not that kind of course. Basically, I was teased for being celibate. Now that's awkward, isn't it? 

The first few times it was kind of funny. You know jokes about "it's been so long since...." "do you even remember what it's like...". I'll admit I laughed. But then it became sort of a running joke, and you know what? Not so funny anymore.

I am celibate. I didn't set out to be. I thought I'd be married and in a monogamous relationship. But life had other plans. So, while I didn't set out to be alone, I am. Such is life. To be teased about it sucks on many levels. There is a distinction here. I can joke of things like this, but others don't have this privilege.

Yes, after a while I verbalized that I wasn't okay with this treatment. Maybe we think someone isn't doing life the "proper" way, or they are missing out, or that it's okay to poke fun at them. In every case of teasing there is some truth. What was projected as funny, was not. Do I need to repeat that?

All that said, I can take a joke, don't get me wrong. But when poking fun, pokes at sore spots, casts a sort of judgment, the joke isn't funny anymore. Words can hurt, use them carefully. 

Healing Awaits

Do you ever have down days? I think we all do. Some of us own them, some don't. Some push through to the other side. Some stuff their feelings only to have them come out sideways. Sometimes we can nudge the feelings aside by counting blessings. Because, true story, we always have blessings to count. 

However, life is hard, we have days that just weigh heavier. Days our losses feel especially tender. Days that feel like the sun just won't shine. 

It takes me back to when I was struggling and began taking anti-depressants. My first marriage was falling apart. I was numb. I felt like my smile wasn't getting to my eyes anymore. It was time to get help. I went round and round with a sibling who maintained that periods of depression are a fact of life, and you just deal with it. Wallow in the pain long enough, and eventually it would go away. It still sounds like a miserable experience to me. Life is hard enough, why deny the help that is available? 

Now I know, asking for help and accepting it is humbling. Owning it exposes our soft belly, so to speak. We want to maintain appearances. That we have it "all" together. Does anyone, really?? We want to be strong and independent. Strong can be a defense mechanism and independent can be isolating. Strong is exhausting, and frankly, no one who is strong really had any other option. 

So, when the road is rough, take stock of your surroundings. Check and see what you're feeling. Own the hard stuff. Accept the help that is available. Let someone know how you're doing, the weight you are holding.  Remember that every storm runs out of rain. Thank you, Maya Angelo, for this wisdom. Count some blessings, feel the feelings, release them. Healing awaits.

Alone, Not Alone

Living alone. It's not for sissies. It is where life has led me, and what I'm accepting. Face it, we all sometimes yearn for what others have. Those with curly hair, want straight hair. Short people long to be tall. Curvy people yearn to be thin. Single people envy couples. Couples may envy singles. You get my drift. Life is complicated. We may want what others have, even in the midst of gratitude for what we have.

I'll be the first to admit I never saw myself living alone. Granted I don't live alone, alone. I do have dogs, or rather, they have me. I'm pretty sure being alone has always been a great fear of mine. And yet, here I am. Ironically, I've been alone even when in relationships. So alone is relative. Funny how life works out that way.

There was a time when I searched out new relationships so I wouldn't be alone. I didn't trust that I was exactly where I needed to be. Not that those choices didn't hold exactly the lessons I needed. Boy howdy, did they. And brought blessings for every lesson taught! I have grown since then. So, while I sometimes wrestle with being alone, I also embrace it.

Like everyone, we need to feel connected. To be a part of something bigger. To feel the comfort that comes with interaction, understanding and caring. To be asked how your day was, reminded to drive safe, to have someone say let me help you with that. We want to give of ourselves, and to receive from others. In a safe, mutually beneficial and fulfilling way. We want someone to laugh with, who listens, who responds appropriately (or inappropriately, lol). And we want our safe comfy space. I have a great appreciation of my space. Which includes more than a little dog fur and a liberal scattering of dog toys.

It takes time alone to understand what makes you comfortably you. It takes faith and resilience. Wrestling with being alone is basically wrestling with yourself. Eventually, thankfully, you find peace, yourself and find the comfort of being by yourself. You know what the good news is? We can be alone and be connected at the same time. One does not preclude the other. Carry on, knowing even if you live alone, you are not alone.

Hello Friend

I have a friend who calls me every week. To her credit, she has seen me, knows my need for connection, and patiently waited out my ability to hold meaningful conversation. She waited for a long time; I think.  Honestly, in the beginning I wasn't very open. I had trouble finding my words. I had difficulty trusting it was safe to just be me. Just the way I am. Add to that the fact I'm sort of an introvert and I have no doubt she felt like she was pulling hens teeth. Thankfully, she's a bit of a talker herself, so she held the conversation fluently when I was learning. I've come a long way conversationally. I tell her in another six years she won't be able to get a word in edgewise. There is something so important to be said here. Call your people. Even if there is not much to say. A human voice, as opposed to a written text, is a joy to hear.

That said, I have a friend who texts with me multiple times a day. My coworkers tease me about the reality of that relationship. They ask if I want to tell them anything. And yes, I would. I would like to tell them her texts help frame my life with humor, understanding, and connectivity. Not to mention accountability, mental health care, a love for food, booze, and dogs that is nothing short of impressive. 

It is about investing in the lives of our friends/family, and friends who are like family. It is about building and sustaining connections. It is the sound of voices we love and words that encourage us.

I'm told people just don't make phone calls anymore. But please do. Call your mom, call your friends, call your siblings, build deeper connections. But also connect in all the other ways we can. With silly text messages, memes, with hundreds of sleeping dog pictures, recipes, weather updates, sarcastic comments and gentle reminders. Throw in an I Love You while you are at it and a text when you get home. It's all good.

Just As I Am

You know those mental dialogs we have? Things we say to ourselves. Self-criticisms, inner nagging, or little put downs. Some are old tapes from growing up, from past relationships.   One I find myself saying often is it doesn't matter how I look. I kind of feel invisible. I'm thinking this may be an age thing, or a widow thing. Or both. People look at me, heck I look at me, but does anyone really see me? Have you ever felt that way?

Part of me says I look good enough, or it doesn't matter how I look. Or nobody cares how I look, sometimes myself included. Sometimes I take time to put on makeup, most times I don't. No one gasps at my stunning beauty if I do, or gags if I don't. In the end does it matter? 

Maybe not caring about that is a sign of self-acceptance. I don't have to please anyone but myself. That said I see the beauty in others, in their appearance, their make-up, clothes, personality, their heart. Somehow, it's hard to see that in myself. Why is that?

So many times, growing up, or as a grown up, it's all about looks. Look good, feel good, or so they say. Look like you've got it going. Look composed, look professional, look put together. Truth of the matter, none of us have it put together all of the time. We are works in progress. We are growing, whether we can see the progress or not. We drop the ball, we have human moments, we falter, we long to be seen, heard and loved. Sometimes we don't feel any of those things. I will own that first. I have days I fake it until I hopefully (prayerfully) make it. I struggle with feeling connected. I see other's value and beauty often before my own.

I could sign this entry from a messy person, who's had a messy life full of messy emotions and trauma. But instead, I'll sign it from a healing person, who makes mistakes and learns from them. Who accepts that all the pretty trappings don't necessarily make a person beautiful. Who gets that how I feel is more important than how I look. I feel strong (most days), I feel blessed (all days), I feel capable of using my words, and embracing life as it is today. Even if I wrestle with it first, perhaps more if I wrestle with it first. That said, I'm gonna slap a little make up on today and call it good enough. Tomorrow maybe I won't and that's okay too. Take it or leave it, just as I am.

Dear Sean Dietrich

Dear Sean Dietrich, we have some things in common.

We both are survivors of suicide loss, we have a thing for old dogs, we write. Granted you are a way more prolific a writer than I am. But then writing doesn't put food on my table or feed my dogs. Writing is a way to process my thoughts and feelings. Then I figure if I'm struggling with something, maybe someone else is too so why not share my thoughts. And words, words are tricky sometimes. Sometimes I have them, sometimes I don't. Most of my life using them has been a challenge. You see growing up it wasn't safe to have an opinion, to point out a wrong, set a boundary or say what you need. Guess you could say I come from a dysfunctional home. I'm thinking more of us have than not. 

Here is what I know, life does not take us where we think it should. Being divorced, a single Mom, a survivor of suicide loss, a widow were not life goals. In fact, I wanted to own horses, lots of horses. The big guy upstairs felt dogs were more do able. So, I do dogs, and I love them, especially the gnarly old dogs. I thought marriage would be for life until my ex-husband decided otherwise. So, then I was gifted with being a single Mother. You do the best you can, and you know what? They turned out good. They grew up, I grew up. It's all good. The dog thing started when I got divorced. Getting a dog was the smartest decision I ever made. We should all keep a list entitled "Smartest Decisions I've Ever Made". Write yourself a note to start that list. We all deserve a little more credit than we give ourselves.

Your journey with suicide loss is completely different than mine. You lost a parent. I lost a spouse. I feel for you even though I can't fathom how that impacted your life. Sometimes I can't fathom how suicide has impacted my own life. Or how the pain of life impacted our people who chose to end it all. It is just impossible to wrap our heads around. 

In times like these we just keeping moving forward as best we are able. Surround ourselves with what gives us comfort and joy. We grieve and we grow. We wait for the words to come and share them when they do. We laugh at the irony, we heal from the hurts, we share our gifts, we love our dogs. So can I say thank you for your words and thank you to the big guy upstairs. I think you have a different name for the big guy, but I know you believe. I know that because how else could your path and mine have crossed like this? Rhetorical question. No need to answer. Carry on, you're doing great.

We Just Don't Know

I heard a dialog recently. The question was asked "why would they put up with that"? "Were they stupid"?  That whole thought process made me sad. We do the best we can with the information we have at the time. We do the best to honor our commitments, to trust the situation, to believe. We believe in those we love, we trust them, until reality teaches us otherwise. If a person has never had that experience, then God bless them. They have no idea how lucky they are. Others have lived with dysfunction, learning the hard way. 

The bottom line is we just don't know what another person is going through. Let me say that again. We just don't know what another person is going through.  Sometimes we are that person, holding on by a thread and trying to sort it out. Other times we look on and it's painfully obvious we can't learn life lessons for another person. It's hard all the way around. In reality most of us do attend the school of hard knocks at one time or another. When we hear those questions, comments, those judgements it may take us back to times we felt like failures. Were we failures? Nope. The writing was on the wall, but we weren't able to read it. We made choices that weren't the greatest but were what we needed to do at that particular moment. They were part of our growth and development. Therefore, they were important pieces of who we were and who we are. 

They are the very reasons to be gentle with ourselves and each other. We don't know what life is like for others. We just don't know what we don't know. And no, we're not stupid. We are humans having human moments. Growing from them in our own way according to the bigger plan.

Food For Thought

Do you ever feel like you've eaten everything a million times. Do you ever feel like there should be more food and beverage choices? Seriously, what else is there for breakfast? Lunch and dinner? Maybe it's the company I keep, but dang, it feels like deja vu. Fixed it before, packed it in my lunch before and had it for dinner before. Honestly, I love food, I love cooking, I like to eat. I'm surrounded my thousands of food options at work every day. But I'm kinda of done with it. Don't worry, I'm not about to stop eating. It is food for thought though. 

I should be as excited to eat as the dogs are, as a child with ice cream is, as someone diving into a deep-dish pizza after a famine is. There I go with "should", should gets me into trouble every time. It sets me up for disappointment when I need to extend myself grace as large as a bowl of gravy. Pass the gravy please.

I suspect, because I am smarter than your average bear, that part of it is that eating is a solitary experience. Owning it is the first step. Add in the tendency to be frugal, the waning motivation at the end of the day, or the morning rush in the beginning of the day. Somewhere along the way I lose the creativity and only lightly garnish with gratitude. Some folks may look on in envy and say you can eat whatever you want, whenever you want. There is some truth to that. Funny how that's both a blessing and a curse.

How do we face those things that challenge us? The food choices, the life choices, the faith choices? How do we shift from stuck to unstuck. How do we find our gratitude. How do we spice it up so that we are fed spiritually, emotionally and physically? Good questions, no easy answers. Except for the gratitude part. That's the icing on the cake, the gravy on the taters, the whipped cream on the pie, the chocolate on the eclair.