The Comfort of Being Heard

One visit with my doctor rips denial from my grasp replacing it with a truth I find difficult to accept. All day I yearned for a calm, supporting conversation. I could not think of how to make that happen and, true to my nature, bowed to the solemn quiet place of solitude. I could not trust a conversation to be supportive when I run from my reality...a child running from a call to come inside and take my medicine.

 

There are times and places when I hang in a balance that is solely mine. I become Calvin with my own personal Hobbes. I find a quiet place to spend time together. A place deep within where I can talk and my Hobbes will listen.

Stop, Drop and Roll

Remember the routine to follow if you should ever find yourself on fire? Stop, Drop And Roll? I believe this would be an effective stress reliever when life becomes a wee bit too much and stress feels like a burning fire. I may try it next time I feel an overwhelming sense of pressure. At times folks say their stress is so high they feel as if their hair is on fire. So, if you see a woman looking distinctly like a coastal woman, and there is that look, y'all, if you see that woman stop in mid-step, drop to the ground and begin rolling back and forth; think of this post. At that moment you will know something no one else knows, that woman is not crazy and she is not on fire. She is stressed beyond her limit and her hair is on fire. Let her roll. Do not mistake this for a Pentecostal moment of divine fervor! Yes, she could be Pentecostal and from the coast. There is no divine event taking place at that particular moment. Well, maybe if she has her hair in a large bun on the top of her head. Should that be the case there is a tiny chance you are witness to a holy roller who has lost her sense of decorum and dropped into a passionate spiritual roll without processing her whereabouts. There is a .00010 percent chance this is the case. Well, if she is wearing a dress that is below her knees and covers her arms and is up to her neck and has on thick stockings and no make-up the percentage goes up significantly. Putting that aside as a rare event assume the rolling woman's hair is on fire from stress and let her roll. Lord knows she is worth it. As a famous country song says, "Just walk on by. Wait on the corner."

PTSD - A Flame Thrower

The butterfly flew too close to the flame last night. A flight of fancy, a dream of normalcy, of memories thought dead as the butterfly emerged from her cocoon into the illusion of a new life; all these and more brushed the flame of remembrance, flashing into ashes leaving a fanciful beauty grounded by the ashes of decay.

 

 

 

 

THE LOUSY, ROTTEN BASTARDS DON'T DESERVE THE FORGIVENESS OF THE INNOCENT...BUT THE INNOCENT DESERVE THE FREEDOM FORGIVENESS BRINGS.



 

Car Kitty Gets A Home

Car Kitty, who has spent part of the winter in my car and part of the winter in my bedroom, has found a home. I may have mentioned Car Kitty in earlier posts. He met me a few months ago as he showed up time after time on my mother's porch. I discerned early on that he did not have a home. he was well fed by various people in the park. He was not afraid. He was clean and sure of himself. He moved back and forth between my feet purring a steady, contented hum. This is why I now have him. He likes to move back and forth between feet when someone comes home. My mother was terrified of falling. She planned to call the animal shelter to come and pick him up. My plan to save this self-possessed male kitten developed and expanded into attracting him to my home with food and water on the deck. As the weather grew colder I placed him in my car with a blanket and food and water. He did well. Who knew? The kitten roaming our neighborhood was special, inner directed, expressive and responsive. He rode with me when I went shopping. Clerks at the take out window at McDonald's could not believe their eyes. "Is that a cat riding with you." "Yes!" I would reply. "This particular cat rides very well in the car with me."

The weather grew colder. The wind blew. The car did not remain warm. Car Kitty moved into my bedroom. Food, water, litter box; the accoutrements of feline ownership.

Car Kitty reached down into his deep calm, settled in, found his spot and made himself to home. In the process he won my heart. Tomorrow he goes to his new home with a wonderful new mom. She is going to love him and he is going to begin the process of checking out his new digs, trying out his new mom and claiming "his" home perfect in every way.

Deep satisfaction fills my heart and soul. Car Kitty has a forever home. In the fine tradition of mothers all over the world, I let go. A piece of my heart travels with him. Good-bye my friend. Make me proud.

Just stuff...

A winter storm has come to eastern North Carolina. Of course, the coastal folk, of which I am one, were spared the ice and snow. I rarely consider snow a hindrance. I am told, by those who live in wintery climates, that snow, as it begins to melt, re-freeze and melt again holds no beauty. The delicate flakes coming down quietly, transforming the world around us into a winter wonderland lose their form and beauty over time.
 One winter I travelled to Pennsylvania on business. I saw for myself the truth of a snow gone bad. Pennsylvania was new to me. The effects of a long, dreary winter were new to me. Buildings, sidewalks, streets and plant growth were a dingy, gray of melted and refrozen snow. Car fumes,over time, darkened the refrozen snow to a listless, shade of grey with dark streaks running through. No sign of the beauty of snow remained. I remember thinking how sad to live where dingy, gray dominates the color palette. Gray skies mocked a hope of spring to come. My spirit was overwhelmed by the dark, cold, wintery days.
I wanted to head south for home, on the coast,where the chance of snow draws fits of giggles and redneck drivers abandon their common sense recklessly speeding down icy highways. Two days later the sun pops out, the snow melts into the ground, Carolina blue skies stretch as far as the eye can see. No gray in sight.

WHAT'S ONE LIFE WORTH?

One life. One life. One life. One life.

my friend: texted with my brother today. "it" has come back.
me: the cancer?
my friend: yeah, cancer or an infection (nervous laugh)
me: i am so sorry. were you able to talk to him?
my friend: no. it hurts him too much to talk. we texted. i don't want to talk about it. lets watch a dumb t.v. show.
me: ya gottit!

text to my phone: pray for melanie. she stopped breathing. they are on the way to the emergency room.
(melanie is a four year old girl who fits into a modified stroller. she has severe scoliosis. her body is bending in on itself. if she is not saved the experience by a premature death, she will literally turn in on herself and die for lack of breath.)
me: in silent prayer..."oh God! oh God! oh God! be with this family and this child as this may be her time. help her family to see her entering into the arms of Jesus. oh God! oh God! oh God"

phone call: mom, we got off work early. my boss came running out of the house we were working on yelling for us to throw everything on the truck because we had to go right that minute.
me: what on earth?
son: he got a call his adult son had been in a very serious accident. no one knew more details.
me: i know that fear. i felt it driving to the hospital when i got a call from a nurse telling me you were in the er and that i should drive carefully. my mind went numb. my body went numb. then i headed for the hospital numb all over, panicked, oozing fear, praying . i know that fear.

email from my friend whos' daughter, Maria, was born beautiful and healthy. at 16 months she began to regress to the horror and fear of her parents. she had seizures, violent, long seizures. she had symptoms of autism, epilepsy, on and on it went. The name of the beast was Rhett's disease. mostly young girls, unseen at first, attacks in early years. I met my friend on an airplane flight. Conversation began. He was angry, in despair, trying all the self-help books, all the "if you have enough faith" churches, all the speaking it so that it would be so and nothing was helping her. He was terrified that he and his wife would die without enough resources to provide for their daughter. He was working harder and harder to make money. At home he was part of a 24 hr. a day care team. At home his daughter would not know him when he came home, she could not walk, she screamed and writhed in horrific siezures. She threw herself against the wall. Hospital trip after hospital trip.
 We stayed in touch sporadically. We had talked about Christ on that plane. As the year's  passed and no change happened for Maria, her father began to change. He surrendered. He began to talk about God in our emails. Time passed.  He took his daughter to a state of the art program with hope that their holistic approach would help. Nothing changed except that somewhere in those years Maria recognized her father for the first time.
Time passed. Maria will soon be 19 years old. My friend has been part of a group of people putting together an organization for people like Maria. He sent me an email with a link I will share. She is an angel. He has always been right about her being an angel. He speaks of God with a deep love now. He has seasoned.
 He is having major surgery on his neck to remove spurs. He says he has been in horrible pain for years. The doctors have finally found the source of the pain. He has never mentioned his pain to me.
He sent the link below. Brain Restoration Ministeries is a fledgling organization born out of the seasoning of many parents and friends. The first story you hear is theone told by my friend and his lovely daughter Maria. 

www.brainrestorationministries.com

Maria's mother is a pharmacist and has a long list of studies shown with her picture as part of the team of professionals working to find help for these children.

 

As my friend asks,

 

"What's One Life Worth?"

VERY SHORT BURST OF WTF

Training for a new job with the same company. customer service. i can do that with both eyes shut and my ankles tied together. BUT they have all these dang apps and codes and stuff like: go  to the third tree on your  right, circle it four times EXACTLY, run back into the house and try to get the username and password into that itty bitty space before it times out and then I, rock scientist supreme, realize that I can run from here to China but it ain't gonna work cause I, the wisest of the wise, have transposed the last two numbers of the userid and it will be a cold day in you know where before I can access the holy grail I am seeking.

I shrink into my chair and, with trembling hands, chat the trainers. I tell them that I knew I was crazy but I had no idea I was dyslexic! I could almost hear them collectively shout...





wtf!!