My last post was a poem that was on the depressing side, so I thought this week I’d share a funny story. Next week, I plan to have a fiction piece for one of Emilio’s photos ready to post. I’d give you a hint of what it’s about… but I don’t know yet :)
Last month, my sons’ cats had their yearly vet visit. My older son (he’s 12) was concerned about what he thought might be tumors so he talked to the doc about it and they took some fluid to test. The conclusion: fatty deposits. My son asked questions and the doc confirmed that they would shrink in size if the cats lost some weight.
As soon as we got home, my older son announced he was going to take the cats for a walk. With a raised eyebrow I asked, “A walk?” He said yes. So I asked how he planned to do that. “A leash.”
I stifled a laugh. I had a feeling I knew how this would go, but I helped him find a harness they couldn’t wiggle out of. Lizzy was the first victim volunteer. It was as if she grew ten more legs, but we finally managed to get the harness on her. As he carried her outside and set her on on the porch, I told him to just let her explore in the yard . After ten minutes or so, I went outside to find out how the walk was going. This is what I saw:
When he heard the door open, he turned to me and said, “she won’t move.” Apparently, his good intentions didn’t translate into feline motivation. I asked what happened if he picked her up, so he lifted her to standing position and, as soon as he pulled his hands away from her belly, Lizzy fell onto her side again. We laughed.
He learned a lesson that day: you can put a cat on a leash, but you can’t make her walk.
Yesterday I went for a morning run. I jogged past houses with parents in robes watching their children hunt for Easter eggs. I smiled when the kids squealed with delight and knew they’d found one of the colorful prizes. I remembered those days when my kids would be so thrilled to find a bright orange egg “hidden” in the middle of a freshly-mowed lawn.
My boys are 12 and 9 so they are past this, which does make me a little sad. In fact, my 12-year-old’s reaction to his Easter basket was, “This is so lame. I got up early for this?” Well, he didn’t actually say these words (I don’t know if “lame” is even used by his generation) – I just put words to his grunts and eye rolls. Even the cookies-and-cream Easter bunny and enough candy to send him into a diabetic coma failed to impress him.
I feel both of my kids stretching for their independence and I struggle to step back and let them explore. I let them ride their bikes to the park without hovering over them (but make them call me every hour just to make sure they are okay.) The Easter Bunny must sense my desire to keep reaching out to my sons because they each received a game in their basket, which we can play together. I won’t push it, but if they ask for my time to play, it’s theirs.
My younger son hasn’t quite gotten to the separation age, so I have him for a while longer. My 12-year-old, on the other hand, is horrified at the thought of being seen in public with me. At home, he will visit with me… sometimes. He may not be reaching out to me, but I have to keep trying. When the day comes that he does need me, I want him to know I’m right here.
As I was running one morning, this drainage area caught my eye. At the time, I didn’t know why, but I stopped to snap a quick photo. For nearly a week, this photo came to mind as my thoughts gathered regarding its significance. Then, it finally occurred to me…
During heavy rains, this culvert fills with rushing water. Ducks come to check out the new vacation spot and weeds flourish as the abundant moisture soaks their roots. As sunny days pass by, the water level depletes until all that’s left are eroded indentions cradling the last evidence that a river temporarily existed. Eventually, only hardened dirt remains, supporting the most stubborn weeds. This “barely existence” goes on until the next rain, when the process begins again.
I realized I was drawn to this photo because it is a naturally occurring representation simulating life itself. Specifically, how I’ve felt for a while now: drained, like I have just enough energy to exist, and no nourishment for parts of my life that used to thrive. I’m putting more effort into to finding “rain”- seeking out things that provide sustenance to counterbalance the demands being made of me. This means devoting time daily to prayer and reading, embracing laughter, and taking in the beauty of nature around me.
More sleep needs to also be part of this. I’m working on that. Baby steps….
Do you ever feel like this? What is it that makes you feel alive?
If I normally visit your blog and I haven’t, or if you have subscribed to my blog in the last three weeks – please know that I will visit your blog eventually :) I have over 200 unread emails that speak to my recent neglect, but other demands have cut into my blog activity. I am crossing my fingers that I will have an hour each night to begin catching up… before I’m completely lost in the monster that is my email!
Thanks to everyone for the prayers and patience. I feel stronger each day.
Faith isn’t walking into a fire, certain you won’t get burned. Faith isn’t blind, either, but it does mean facing the unseen and the unknown with the conviction that we are not alone and the experience will somehow sculpt us into a new version of ourselves.
Faith is easy to proclaim, but when it comes down to it, it can be really hard to live by. It’s kind of like putting on a blindfold and running down a busy street (if the street is in Phoenix, this would be insane.) In our minds, we recognize the dangers- we could stumble into a light pole, wander into traffic, get hit by a bus, fall into a ditch… the list goes on. Would you have enough faith to do this?
When adversity hits, my tendency is to obsess over the facts, mentally travel the possible actions and their consequences, and then I make decisions accordingly. I rush in and “do” something.
To me, faith is the ultimate trust. Kind of like running down a busy street blindfolded. Faith is relying on something other than my own abilities. Faith is believing that there is hope even when all the evidence I see says otherwise.
I recently found myself at a crossroads of sorts; sandwiched between my faith and a desire for freedom from my circumstances. For many crushing weeks, I’ve wrestled with the rub of choices (mistakes) I’ve made. I’m coming to terms with my life being an “is what it is” situation, for now. I don’t see hope when I look forward, but I’m trying to have faith that God has more planned for me than what I can see. Some days it’s harder to have faith than others, but I take each day as it comes.
In the depths of all-consuming darkness, I came to a realization: rather than focus on what’s missing or what should be, I need to turn my attention to what I already am. It occurred to me that I’ve never depended on anyone to provide me with happiness, so why would I allow someone to steal it from me and disrupt my inner peace? My answer: I shouldn’t- and I have to change this.
I have obligations to keep. Most of the time, the weight is too much to bear and I want to just sleep, but I can’t allow this to immobilize me any longer. I can’t let my future to be so burdened by past mistakes that today is lost. In this moment, I see my life is worth more than that. Tomorrow, I may be snared once again by the trap of what isn’t, but I will try to refocus and remind myself that my success/failure is not dependent on only one aspect of my life.
I’m still surrounded by uncertainty, but if my state of mind holds, I hope to return to more regular writing – once a week for now. Thanks again to all the wonderful people (both online and in person) who have encouraged, prayed and otherwise helped me during this low period in my life. You are special to me :)