Mama, I'm Freaking Out!!

Mama, I'm Freaking Out!!

These are the words I heard a few weeks ago after my son bought an engagement ring for his beautiful girl.  Yes, my son is getting married.  In a sense, a part of me is getting married, too.  I've been looking up "Fun Ways to Propose" and Google-ing rings.  I want this to be perfect...for him...for her...for them.  But I have to keep remembering, it's not my wedding!  I've already had two.

My son will propose in Hawaii while our entire family is on vacation together.  Could a mother be happier?  I love Allison and her two wonderful children.  I couldn't have picked anyone more special for him.  Anthony is nervous, but as Darren told him on the phone tonight, "You love her. She loves you. You're doing the right thing. Just breathe."

We fly out tomorrow morning...excited....nervous...blessed.

Today is the Oldest I Have Ever Been

Everybody grows old. I do. You do. Our children do. And our parents do.  This is one part of life that no one can control. It's out of our hands. We aren't in charge of which part of our bodies will deteriorate first, and which part will want to live forever.  We have no power over when the alternative to growing older will happen and our bodies will shut down forever.  

I've been thinking about this concept a lot lately.  Not because I look in the mirror to see the reflection of a mature stranger peering back at me, squinting because she isn't wearing her glasses.  Not because I can't sit on the floor anymore for any length of time without stiffening up like plaster.  It's not because my children are having children, and I don't have the same energy I had as a parent. It's not because the sunlight seems to be shimmering more and more off of the tinsel in my aging hair. 

What makes me ponder this idea the most is seeing my mother suffer through growing old.  She's a beautiful 86 years old - I've never met another elderly woman quite as stunning as she is.  But each year her hands seems more crooked, her back more rounded, her hair more thin, her hearing less strong, her gait much slower, and her eyes just don't twinkle anymore.  She's tired, and I don't blame her.  She hurts every day.  It's a struggle to take a shower, and some days to even get the food to her mouth because her hands tremble so much.  She has no control over the aging process.   "As we get older, we realize that disability is just a part of life." -Ed Roberts. 

This makes me sad. I know she won't be around forever, and that doesn't seem possible.  My mother was my pillar of strength - my best friend, especially since my dad died 7 years ago.Now she is slowly crumbling, brick by brick, and there is no cement that I can find that will make her strong again. I can't fix this! 

How do people get through death? How do they manage their life after someone they love so much has passed away? I see them.  They go on. The sun comes up each morning as a reminder that the world moves forward without them.  New babies are born so the life cycle can revive itself.  Seasons come and go - life, death, life, death. Nobody cares if I scream, "STOP".  It won't happen. I don't have control. It's out of my hands.  She won't live forever, and neither will I.  I will hold onto the memories, the good times, the love we share for as long as I can...and I will write. And, writing will be my cement - my cement to hold the memories in place for as long as I can, through the days, through the seasons, through the life cycles. 

 

I gaze at her from a distance.
A stranger in every way,
But still the same woman as yesterday.

Her hair
Thinning and grey
Like wispy clouds on a peaceful day.

Her eyes
Enlightened with tales of life,
Contentment entwined with strife.

Her skin
Creasing with every year,
Every trouble, every tear.

Her heart
Pounding strong,
In concert with her angel's song.

Her hands
Trembling against youth,
Fingers crooked, yet skin so smooth.

Her posture
Arched over so low.
Her stride somewhat slowed.

Her life
Belonging to no other,
None other than my mother.

K. Bolen

 

I'm A Chik-fil-A Chicken

 

Chik-fil-A this.  Chik-fil-A that. Not a day goes by that I don't see the name of this company and all the responses of hate that follow.  Well, I have to admit, I like a good Chik-fil-A sandwich once in a while...and those waffle fries are amazing. But will I ever have another bite of their tasty bird again without being judged. I'm not sure.

I have plenty of feelings about this issue, but am I willing to share them with the world? If I do, I will be judged .  If I don't, I'm a Chick-fil-A Chicken.   

I believe that everyone has a right to their opinion...and a right to voice it. My issue is the line that it crosses when an opinion begins to hurt others.  This is where the "hate" in hate-crimes comes from.  White supremacy, illegal immigration, gangs, wars regarding religion.  Whose job is it to judge one life over another. Certainly, not mine.  Why should anyone have the right to bully another human being.  We try to teach our children that bullying is wrong and hateful - we should love everyone.  Are we really loving everyone? Freedom of Speech is not the real issue here.  No one is saying CEO, Dan Cathy, should go to prison or be exiled because of his opinion.  It's not his opinion that is hurting others, it's his investments.

From what I understand, "CEO Dan Cathy  invests in two organizations, the Family Research Council and the Marriage & Family Foundation. The Family Research Council leadership has officially stated that same-gender-loving behavior should be criminalized in this country. They draw their pay, in part, from the donations of companies like Chick-Fil-A. Both groups have also done “missionary” work abroad that served to strengthen and promote criminalization of same-sex relations. Chick-Fil-A has given roughly $5M to these organizations to support their work. Chick-Fil-A’s money comes from the profits they make when you purchase their products" -Wayne Self.

I am appalled by the lines of people standing in those Chick-fil-A lines, attempting to make a statement.  Peaceful...yes, but are we supporting the "bully"? You betcha'! Guilty as charged.  "When you see a bully beating up a smaller kid and you don’t take a side, then you ARE taking a side. You’re siding with the bully. And when you cheer him on, you’re revealing something about your own character that really is a shame."- Wayne Self

Love is love. It should be shared. It should be multiplied. We should all be surrounded by love...not hate.  This is not about Freedom of Speech.  It's not about marriage, gay or heterosexual.  It's about love and hate.  Simple as that. 

“If you judge people, you have no time to love them.”
― Mother Teresa

Gimme a Mulligan!

Gimme a Mulligan!

Yesterday was a challenge.  OK, well, more than a challenge.It was down-right crappy! 

My job has really taken a toll on me this summer.  I'm nearing the finish-line of my busy time.  I should be thrilled - almost done! I made it through another summer conference season.  But yesterday was a zinger! Yesterday...well, let's just say, "Gimme a Mulligan".  

Everyone says communication is the key to everything.  I do believe that - always have, always will. That's why I'm a Communications major.  So, why did I hang up on someone yesterday?  Why did I let that one person push my buttons without asking more clarifying questions? Why was I angry the entire day, letting my emotions consume me? It was her, right? She didn't listen. She didn't understand. She's always like this. She doesn't  know how to communicate. 

Well...this morning, I have a new perspective.  I'm still a little annoyed, but better. After telling my husband the story last night, he simply said, "You just have to learn how to communicate with her. You have to figure out what makes her tick." Well, duh! In that moment, I was expecting sympathy, empathy, anything that indicated he was on my side. But no, he had to be logical again -always so logical.  What he said made sense, and I knew it.  There was simply no reason for this woman to deny my request unless I didn't communicate exactly what I wanted.  I thought I did, but she didn't hear me. I didn't communicate in a way that she understood.  Lesson learned! 

Will I ever have to deal with this person again.  Yes...but not on a daily basis.  She will be my challenge.  My monthly "period".  If I understand what's happening, do some deep breathing, analyze the situation, maybe things will be better next time.  

Thank you morning (and hubby) for a new perspective.  Thank you for "Giving me a Mulligan"!

10% of conflict is due to difference of opinion. 90% is due to the wrong tone of voice.  .

Get Me Outta Here!!

It's about this time every summer that I start feeling the urge for a vacation.  Not just a quick trip to somewhere in the US, but a "get me outta here" trek to a tropical island far, far away.. I feel a bit sad, almost depressed by everything going on around me.  Oregonians typically feel that way during the cloudy winter months, but not me.  It happens for me in the summer.  I know exactly why - My life controls me during this time, instead of me taking control of my life.  Unfortunately, vacations for us can't happen until the fall.

  Darren is busy with his field season, gone almost every night.  It's funny how I love the first few weeks of his absence, giving me the opportunity to find myself again - alone, with only me. Watching what I want to watch on TV, baking, shopping, cleaning...but now I miss him. I miss falling asleep together, waking up together, and just spending more than 2 hours a day with him. Only four more weeks until my "work widow" status is over.  

My mother is also here in the summer...every summer.  Please don't misunderstand - I love my mom more than words, but we don't get to do the things that Oregon summers are famous for - camping, hiking, fishing, doing "outdoorsy" things.  We do the types of things that we can do slowly, that are handicapped accessible, and don't take much effort.  I'm so glad that we get to spend the last few years of Mom's life with her, and though it may sound selfish, I still feel the need for "me" time.  Me time with a drink in my hand, listening to the waves sooth me to sleep under the sun. 

This year our little retreat will be in Kauai once again.  It's our paradise, our sanctuary, our "get me outta' here" place.   We've experienced the island twice already, and nothing compares to the peace we feel with our toes in the sand.  I've tried clicking together my ruby, red shoes, twitching my nose, blinking my eyes, snapping my fingers and saying "Abracadabra ", but nothing seems to transport us any sooner then December to our paradise.

In the meantime, I'll have to settle for a Mudslide, blog time, deep breathing, and a countdown to vacation.