Monday, January 25, 2016

Pain

Pain is a strange creature.  It takes many forms and wreaks so much havoc on a person's soul. It can be physical or emotional although in both cases it has great physical effects.  I saw pain today,  I have been in pain today.  It's rampant. The more you feel it,  the more you recognize it around you.

The worst pain is probably not something you can put a bandaid on or take a pill for.  The worst pain is silent and cannot be readily seen by others.  It's a slow torture in your soul of hurt in your deepest being. Something that seems incurable at the time.
You cannot choose your pain.  It comes and overcomes all on its own.
I'm reminded of a book I read when I was younger,  "This Present Darkness"  by Frank Peretti.  It depicts pain as a literal being that smelled of suffer and attached itself to its host.  A leech,  sucking the life out of its victim, effecting every aspect of their being and gleaning it's existence from the torture of another.  It's a pretty accurate description I think.  Ever since I read that book,  I can literally see it hanging on others...on myself.
Today I was travelling home from seeing my sister.  My beautifully pregnant sister who is going to be a new mother to my niece and nephew in a short while . After years of trying to have a family,  she is on the cusp of having her dreams realized.   However,  pain comes,  even to the elated.  This mongrel with no regard for station or wealth,  this indiscriminate vulture will do its best to suck joy out of the happiest of times.  Hers comes in the form of worry.  Overwhelming debilitating worry. The physical effects are so sad to watch as pain robs her of joy that she has been due a very long time. But what do you do? It doesn't seem to matter if you are a good person.  In fact I think pain attacks those even more.

As I travelled home today from a visit with my sister, I stopped at a Cracker Barrel for a bathroom break.  That's all I went there for,  in and out and done.  As I walked out of the door and headed to my car,  I was stopped by a woman.  I am not scared to strike up a conversation with a stranger,  but there is a dread that I feel when I am faced with someone who claims to be in need.  This person was one of those.  She chose me,  why I don't know,  to stop and tell her story to and ask for help.  I could brush her off and keep walking or I could dignify her plea by waiting for the tale.  It's a quick and hard choice sometimes.  Today I was in  no particular hurry so I listened.  The next part is tricky.  Determining if they are legitimate.  Unfortunately there are so many dishonest people in the world.  Trust is an issue because truth is so rare and it negatively impacts the plight of someone who really may need help. 
This woman told me she was from Jacksonville and that she was staying in the hotel with her three daughters.  She told me that she had been there with her boyfriend but that he had gotten mad and abandoned them.  She had used the money she had to secure the room for one more day, but needed food... Would I help?
This woman was calm.  She was matter of fact.  She looked like a woman being strong for her kids.  We walked back inside,  I helped her pick through the large menu and we ordered everyone a meal.  As I waited to pay for it,  we talked about daughters and shared a story or two about each of ours. She was very nice.  She looked me square in the eyes when we talked.  She was genuine and I could appreciate that.  I put myself in her shoes,  stranded with my three children.  It could happen in one way or another...to anyone...to me.  We laughed a bit and finally it was my turn at the register.  I paid for the meal.. A mere $27. And turned and handed her the receipt.  She wasn't gushy or overly thankful she simply said thank you and leaned over and hugged me.  I felt that pain,  the survivor who had to depend on the possibility of there being a nice stranger to feed her children.  That takes a lot.  It would for me. 
I left her in the restaurant waiting for her meal and continued on my way home. 
At least I could help  for a minute, relieve someone's pain. 
Now what to do about mine.  It's involuntary at times.  Tears roll down your face and you can't stop them.  You become overwhelmed with this knowing ache inside,  this sadness,  this defeat.  And although it's emotional it tears you apart physically as well. 
There you are,  going 70 mph while trying to see through foggy eyes.  A soul's lament..for what? For being wronged,  or forgotten,  taken for granted,  taken advantage of....a harsh word,  a neglectful stance.... It's all just pain.
Luckily,  the tears spilling out have a cleansing effect. The dam has broken and relieved the pressure. If only for a while. Regardless,  it strengthens your resolve and you live to fight another day. That's the cycle.  Pain is still there,  as it will always be,  but it has subsided it's attack for now.  It was flooded out by your tears....for today,  for right now.

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Family

On a girl's weekend to Callaway Gardens for Mom's 60th birthday. Yes, I know, she doesn't look 60.

My sister, Sandra, who is currently pregnant with twins, Everly and Easton. 

Our decor

Where is Alex? I have no idea.

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

The most wonderful time of the year

I wish there were enough time in the day to blog about all the musings I have.  I don't have any less ideas.. Just less time.  Time has been my literal enemy this year.  It's going to be Christmas soon.  When did that happen? The boys are running now and saying new words like Uh oh (alex).  It's all happening way too fast.  I cannot keep up.  I feel like I've been in a race since thanksgiving.  When is too early to decorate? Do I have energy to decorate? Do I have enough power cords to even decorate!? Sigh.  It's important to me to try and give my kids life experiences that they will remember and remember fondly.  I want their lives to be filled with stories that start with,  "remember that time,  Mom.....". I've come to the realization that my kids will never have a favorite dish. I simply do not cook.  How could they?  But I will take my daughter to pick out her first live Christmas tree.  (and mine!) I will teach her the right way to screw in a screw with a drill and I will teach her that she needs to wait on no man for anything as we build mommy's new bed.  I will attempt to bake cookies.. Or at least spoon them well onto the pan with her to teach her about the importance of size and space.  I want her to remember laughing at me when I did something silly on accident.  I am stretched thin.  But I want to give them great memories of how much I loved them.  So I muster up enough gumption to sing Christmas songs on the hayride through the Christmas lights because I've never seen my daughter so involved in a song before tonight.  And we eat a smore.. Calories and all because she's never actually had one.  It will also mean that even though she has been a rotten stinker to her brothers for a good part of the year,  I will make sure Santa brings her the dollhouse with an elevator that she asked for  just to keep the magic alive a little bit longer .  Because once the magic is gone... You can never get it back.  I live to make the moments of my child's life special.  Even through the attitudes and obstinacy.  One day I will rest and put away my fairy dust.  The elf will no longer visit and the stocking will hold things like gift cards instead of toys.  But I'm not really looking forward to that day.  Actually it makes me very sad,  for I am reliving my magic through them...even though it has long since disappeared.  Through their tiny eyes and excited giggles I get to be 5 all over again. 

Monday, November 16, 2015

I hate shopping

There is a woman who helps me keep my sanity. She is the only reason I have clean clothes. She is the reason my shoes don't stick to the floor. She's my cleaning lady. She's also my babysitter and assistant homework engineer. She's been known to organize my pantry and my cleaning closet. Most times, I don't like to admit that I have her around. That is a hard thing for superwoman to do...but I guess every superhero needs an Albert, right Batman?
The thing about Alberts is that they get up close and personal. They wash your underwear for crying out loud. Today, she told me about something I didn't really realize...my closet.
Granted I've got all sizes in there from the awkwardly obese to the sexy stuff I fit in for one day back in 2003. I mean, I have to keep the range of clothes or I'd be walking around naked at least half my life, depending on what season of life I'm entertaining. But here's what she said; " I know that you're a good mom because your kids all have nice things, your husband has the best clothes, but you...you could stand to toss some of your things because they've been there a while. You can tell you sacrifice for your family."
Well.
I'd never thought of that before. I do know that I will spend money on anybody else in my family 10x faster than I will myself. It helps that shopping to me is one of the most laborious tasks on the planet. Most days, I'd rather cut myself than go. It also helps that because of my varying shapes and sizes, I hate to invest too much in something I may never get to wear again for several years. I'm also coming off of the "I haven't bought new clothes in 2 years because I was as big as a house pregnant with twins and then not pregnant with twins...which looked even worse," time in my life.
Part of me is a little sad for myself as I look down at my pink shirt with little pill balls all over it topped with a moth hole somewhere around my equator. My pants are slightly too short and might have passed as crop pants in the summer with sandals, but right now, just look like I'm waiting for the waters to recede. I should mention that I'm missing a button also, but I couldn't wear my other brown pants because they are held up by a safety pin where the zipper broke. Luckily they are loose enough I don't have to unzip them to undress. Wow. How sad am I? My housekeeper is right though...my wardrobe is a pitiful place.
Is this sadness the product of me being a good mom? I don't know. What I do know is that I will spend more money on a sushi dinner than on a pair of shoes. I have a price cap of $27.00 for jeans, $23.00 for a shirt and happy dress price is $40.00. What century am I in? I promise, if I could make clothing for cheaper, I would.
So, in that sense, I dress badly because I'm just a plain cheapskate.
Whatever the reason, I think superwoman is going to have to come up with some wardrobe changes.