Nosey

Oh, people... it's late and I suddenly realized that I forgot to get a blog post ready. Oops.

My friend Meg took me to get blood work done today, which means I left the house, which means I'm tired and not breathing so well this evening, which means I have very little in my brain to say.

But let me tell you ... it was a GORGEOUS day to venture outside. The sun was shining, the air was cool, a jacket was needed. It was like my own personal version of heaven. Every time I am careful and cover my face with a scarf and try not to breathe in outside air I end up inhaling enough to have problems anyway, so today we rolled down the windows, opened the sun roof, let the sun hit my face and enjoyed the moment.

That may have been a mistake with the way my eyes feel bruised and my head is aching from the reaction, but I don't regret it a bit... that sunshine felt too good to pass up. The trip to the clinic, getting my blood work taken and coming home takes all of 20 minutes, but I feel like I got a month's worth of blue sky and sunshine stored in my brain.

Now I'm not going to lie to you... I feel like a heroin addict who just had a hit and needs more. But before you all start feeling sorry for me about my return to confinement, you should know that this is what welcomed me home, and has been in my face ever since:

You would have thought I was gone for 20 years instead of 20 minutes for how happy he was to see me, and I find it impossible not to be happy when I see that nose.

Have a great weekend and check back on Monday... I have a new little twist planned on the blog next week! :)

My Privilege

This picture is the focal point of the room where I spend most of my day hanging out, snuggling with the dog and writing these blogs. It's a large canvas with photos of my nieces and nephews being their incredibly beautiful selves.

                            (Click on photo for larger view) 

As a single and childless woman, I have often been told by people that you just can't fully understand the love for a child until you have one of your own. The rush of love and caring and protectiveness that comes with knowing a human being is reliant solely on you for their physical and emotional needs is overwhelming. As a parent, you are responsible for making sure you send respectful and responsible adults into the world.

I used to think there was no way in the world I wouldn't be one of those people. Of course I would have children, and of course I was meant for that kind of responsibility. 

Of course, that isn't going to happen.

But I have to tell you, a part of me feels very privileged to be in this position. See those ten individuals on that canvas? There is no one more important to me than them. I have not, in my lifetime, felt a rush of love for my own child that is greater than my rush of love for them. I'm not their cousin's mom. I'm not looking out for someone ahead of them. Those ten people have the unconditional love and support of their parents, and when they aren't in the mood for that option they have an aunt who has no greater mission in life than to be their biggest supporter, their biggest cheerleader and their most ardent fan.

  (Thanksgiving 1999, one year later there were three more little ones!)

I found this picture when I was looking through photos to use in another post, and I laughed because it's typical. No matter how old I get, my brothers will think I'm 12 and I'll be sitting at the kids' table. But I looked at that table and realized that it was the only place I would have wanted to be... surrounded by those fun little people who are growing up to be amazing adults. And my only expectation of them is that they be true to themselves and know I'm in their corner. There's no place else I'd rather be.

Multiple Personalities

Is it just me, or does it look like I did a senior portrait session with my dog? For the first time, I have to admit, my male dog totally looks like a girl hoping for the perfect pose for the yearbook.

In reality all I did was turn around in my desk chair... that blue pillow is usually up against my low back and Riley lays on top of it snuggled between me and the back of the chair. His inquisitive look is actually him saying, "What are you doing? I was comfortable, dude. Sit back down this instant."

But you have to admit, in the second shot, he really does look hopeful about his future.

Grandma Flo's Holy Water Blessings

I've been thinking a lot about my Grandma Florence lately. September 20th was her birthday and it seems impossible she's been gone for over eight years already. My mother's tiny, red-haired mom may have looked slight, but she was anything but a push-over. Her house was always equipped with Pringles and malted milk balls, and at least once a visit when you were sneaking some from the kitchen you'd hear the phrase, "You kids go outdoors and play!" in her raspy, I-mean-business-tone.

                       (Grandma and Me, Christmas 1996)

Grandma Flo spent her life as a nurse and it was truly a job that held a great amount of pride for her. At her wake she was dressed in her nurse's uniform and the number of people who talked to us about her caring for them was astounding. Astounding, but not surprising, as she would sometimes forget a name but could always tell people which room they had been in and what their condition was, even if forty years had passed. She took her duties very seriously.

And while she often seemed serious, she had a softer side too. She loved watching her Cubs and made the best peanut brittle I've ever had... and she loved us all very much. She wasn't one to hug and fuss over you, and there weren't a lot of "I love you's" showered around, but I have a card she sent me after I sang at my Grandpa's funeral where she wrote that she was proud of me, and it means the world to me. I also have a gift from her that I treasure:

This is my night-light of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and it's sitting on one of my dressers that was part of my grandparents' wedding suite of furniture. I love being surrounded by things that belonged to people I love, and this furniture and night-light are no exception. Grandma was more faithful to praying the rosary than anyone I've ever known, and she gave me this light along with a cassette tape of how to pray the rosary when I was in high school.

It was shortly after I had stayed overnight at her house... my parents were on vacation with my aunt and uncle and I had gotten sick with bronchitis while they were gone. Ever the nurse, she didn't think I should be staying home alone and so I stayed in her guest bedroom. I was sound asleep and I woke up, scared to death, because there in my room was Grandma Flo in her nightgown saying her rosary. Apparently it was her routine to say her prayers in the guest bedroom and me being asleep in there didn't derail her mission in the slightest.

The part that woke me up, however, wasn't the rosary praying... it was the being-doused-with-holy-water moment. I learned that night that after Gram would finish the rosary she would take her holy water bottle and spray it in the direction of where her children and grandchildren lived while asking God to watch over them. I just happened to be laying in the general vicinity of one of their locations and got a little extra blessing myself...

That's when I realized that while Grandma wasn't one to shower us with hugs, she was definitely loving and protecting her family in her own way. She loved us and prayed for our well-being and happiness with repetition and dedication, and after that I started praying the rosary as well. It's my way of carrying on what she started, and it is still my way of being connected to her.

So when I say my prayers at night, I skip the holy water ritual but continue to say my rosary for Grandma Flo and all the people she loved. And I've no doubt my prayers are heard because while she may look innocuous, I can guarantee she's up there in heaven making sure the right people are listening.  :)

Chaos

When I'm on the phone with friends, at some point in the conversation they get exasperated with their children. There are questions to be answered, fights to be resolved, or tears to be dried. And I love it. There's something about eavesdropping on the chaos that makes me feel like I'm in the thick of it.

I love getting to imagine the scene on the other end of the line... seeing Tyler wiggling in his pj's while he sings along to his toy recorder, "One little birdie, sittin' up high..." or picturing Ben running in the house all red-faced and sweaty with the door slamming behind him as he yells to his mom that he needs a snack. Hearing Nicole's girls giggling or hearing Meg whispering to her daughter because Miss Taylor has handed her a note saying that she has a question (ever the polite one). I love picturing the sounds of living.

My friends, on the other hand, love when they have the stolen moments of peace and quiet on the phone. They usually call me from the car on their way to pick up the kids or on their way to the store when no one is with them. They call when the kids are out playing or when they're in the kitchen doing dishes (because that's a time they are guaranteed to be alone).

My friend Susie thinks I'm a jinx to the quiet. Her boys can be out playing or in bed or watching a movie, and the moment I get on the phone all hell breaks loose. Every time. Someone needs something or someone has to show her something or the dog knocks over a chair. Some random thing in the universe inevitably sprinkles activity back into a previously calm life.

It drives her crazy, but I think it's God's way of sprinkling my life with a little entertainment. While I regret it's at her expense, I love hearing every giggle, every exasperated question and every crash that follows. They were camping this weekend and Susie told me that out of the blue my boy Tyler told her that he felt bad for me. She asked him why, and he said because I was sick a lot... and that he can't come see me because he has a cold and that would make me get sick. The sweet little love of a kid.

I can't help but sit here and think if he only knew that all of his antics in every day life bring me more joy than I can measure, he wouldn't feel so bad for me anymore. I'll refrain from explaining it to him though, because I imagine in another ten years he'll try to use it as an excuse for being ornery and causing trouble. I can picture him as a teenager, with a serious tone and a sassy grin, "But mom, I'm doing it for Sara. We'd hate for her to be bored."

Jury Duty

Yeah, someone obviously missed the memo that I can't leave my house.

I find it so funny that the world keeps turning and I'm not on some grand list informing people that I'm not turning with it. But since that list doesn't seem to exist, for the first time in my life I've been summoned to jury duty!

I obviously sent in a letter from my doctor explaining that jury duty and I wouldn't get along so well, and am assuming that I'll be excused from the process. But getting the summons got me thinking and I realized that even if I was fully healthy and capable:

I'd be the worst juror in the world.

Seriously. The thought of passing judgement on someone beyond a reasonable doubt... I don't think I'm decisive enough. I have watched WAY too many procedural dramas and movies (The Fugitive, anyone?) where people were wrongly convicted or the DNA gets mixed up at the lab or, let's face it, witnesses lie on the stand.

On the other hand, if I was on a jury where someone hurt a child, I would convict them without even hearing the evidence for fear that if we were wrong and freed a guilty person then we could put another innocent child in danger.

See my problem? It's called an imagination and mine would work overtime. That whole "based in fact" thing? I would be sitting in the jury box wondering about the entire life stories of all the key players and trying to figure out their motivations. For crying out loud, I try to analyze my dog's behavior on a regular basis and he can't even talk back when I cross examine him. (Although he can certainly throw me a lot of attitude.)

Exhibit A:

So I'm a little relieved that I'll be sticking with Law & Order on television instead of the real-life version. I've been over the moon about the fact that fall shows are finally premiering and there is something to watch other than reality television... but I think it's better that I'm not a part of any sort of courtroom drama in real life.

Peace.

Peace.

It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.

                                                             ~Anonymous

This quote describes where I'm at most of the time. Don't get me wrong, other than the rowdiness of my dog there's not a lot of noise or trouble happening in my house. I'm talking about the noise in my mind, the trouble in my body and the hard work of keeping moving despite the effort it takes most days.

It's taken me a lot of years to get to a place where I can feel accepting of my life as it is and as it will be. There were so many years of fighting to be who I had imagined I would be at this point in my life. And the fighting turned out to be more exhausting than the accepting. It reminds me of a story I heard at church once about a man who didn't want to die and leave his home and his family. He was sitting on a beach thinking about his life and holding on so tightly that when he died, he had in the palm of his hand sand from the beach on Earth.

The man sat outside of the gates of heaven, but they wouldn't let him inside until he had let go of all he had been clinging to. But he refused to let go of the sand from the beach. It was his connection to his life, his family and his loves. One day he grew weary and decided it was time to move on, so he opened his hands and brushed away the sand he had been holding.

The moment he did this simple gesture he found himself on the beach he loved surrounded by everything he cared about. That was heaven. It was everything he wanted, but before he could have it he had to let go.

I found that experience when I let go of trying to be something I used to be. When I let go of my earthly ideas of who I should be and how I should live, I got everything I really wanted. I have authentic relationships that are based on real connections. I am closer to my family. I have opportunities to be creative and expressive, it just came in a different form than a job. I am loved and respected and cared for and cared about.

What else is there that I could need?

Now, the reality is that the noise and trouble creep in all the time. There are moments when I keep the shades drawn because the sunshine outside is just a reminder that I can't be outside and a part of it. There are those moments when I see myself in a new photograph and am startled that I don't see the same face I always knew... it's a face that's a little swollen and medicated and sick. Sick with a smile, but sick nonetheless. There are moments of watching people dance and longing for the days of being carefree.

But that's where the Peace comes into play. If you read that quote at the top of this post, you notice it doesn't say that peace in your heart wipes out the noise and the trouble and the hard work. It just makes them bearable. It makes them the background noise to everything that's important. And what is important is that God gave me gifts and I used them. And if I don't have those gifts anymore I believe it's because He doesn't have a need for me to use them anymore. But that doesn't stop me from seeing the gifts that remain. The gifts that come from the hard stuff. The gifts that allow me to have peace in my heart while the noise and trouble and hard work rumble on.

I got everything I really wanted, once I let it all go.