A Change

It’s subtle, but the signs appear.

Cooler evenings. Dew on grass.

Leaves waving, a branch bending, colors changing.

The sky changes, the air thins, the sun weakens.

A season ending, a season beginning.

Missing the old, embracing the beauty of the new.

Like a raging toddler to a calmer kindergartener,

From clumsy puppy to a stately dog.

Miss the old, embrace the new.

From running swiftly, to aching muscles,

From fresh ideas to reminiscing.

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From youth to old.

Miss the old, embrace the new.

The mess has a purpose

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Here on the right is a mess, but without knowing the story, you can’t know how it got to be there, why it’s the way it is and why certain pieces are part of this particular mess. That is because you do not know the planner or the purpose of the planner.

On the left is the outcome of such a mess. Inside the box are lessons that were planned from the mess. Inside the box, are lessons tailor made for the player of the box. It took a mess to get to the plan of the box. The things in the mess are not invaluable. The things left out of the box weren’t insignificant, they just weren’t needed. They didn’t belong in the plan, but they were part of the planning. They were sifted through, and put aside to be used at the right time.

As I look at both sides, the box with a plan and the mess, I ask myself, “Which do I prefer to work with?” I think and the answer is that I prefer the box with activities that I know will work for the player. I choose the box because the things in it have purpose for the growth of the player.

Think of these things. Chew on this analogy. What does it fit in your life?

Broken Glass

 

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I had a dream. In the dream, I was carrying a glass filled with ice-water. I’m usually thirsty in real life if I’m dreaming this, but before waking up, I was bumped into by you know who. He was oblivious to the fact that I was standing right behind him with a glass in my hand. As he bumps into me, the glass falls, not quite shattered, but all the water spilled out of it.

I don’t remember being upset at him. It’s like I expected it. What is memorable is the image of me cleaning up the broken glass and holding up the glass and thinking. “You can’t drink out of a broken glass.” The glass is ruined.

I woke up sad, thirsty and unsatisfied. It was a fitting dream.

Love

It’s not a celebration to reach the year mark of becoming divorced, but it is a milestone of sorts. It means you survived your first year of being single, especially if becoming single for the first time in 25 years!

I’ve had some time to process the loss of my marriage. I can’t say this process is complete. Perhaps it will never be, but some things remain: the love of God, a community of support and peace in my soul.

And I dare say, the beginnings of hope for something new. What does something new look like? It’s found in these verses: Anything other than this is toxic or on it’s way to becoming toxic. Nobody needs that.

 

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Lettuce pray…

I had a bout of insomnia a week ago and in the course of that fitful night, an image much like a repeating meme came to my mind.

My (meme) was of a head of romaine lettuce being cut with a pair of kitchen scissors and no matter which way I tried to fall asleep, I kept seeing lettuce being snipped.

(I know, crazy right?)

I finally fell asleep, but in the morning, the image came to mind.

I often feel like God talks to me through my dreams, but an image, or vision of lettuce??

What could the God of the universe have to say through greens?

I felt compelled to put salad on the menu for the coming week. I bought romaine lettuce and other salad ingredients and was ready.

The day came for salad and I eagerly “stepped up to the plate” a little to eager with scissors in my right hand and dripping freshly washed head of romaine in my left hand –salad spinner on the counter.

I shook the head of lettuce over the sink to remove the excess water and before plunging in with the scissors, I gazed at the innocent head of lettuce, took a breath and began the snipping. Just as I thought, the snipping sound itself gave a satisfaction. I smiled as I snipped, snipped and snipped again.

As more and more leaves fell into the salad spinner, the core of the romaine became smaller and lighter. I cut again until just the heart was left, devoid and bald in my hand.

I then put the scissors down and inspected the heart. I turned it around and looked at the stump. After a minute, I very satisfactorily chunked it into the trash can.

I went back to the salad spinner, filled it with water, drained it and began pumping the water out. I used this time to think about what just happened and then fitting words came to my mind. I felt content, satisfied.

I continued spinning the leaves until they were only damp and left the kitchen counter smiling.

It is complete.

What is Divorce?

Divorce is when you realize you can’t listen to certain songs anymore.

Divorce shatters holidays.

Divorce means having to accept death to a dream.

Divorce means watching your kids dreams die.

Divorce means wearing a “less than perfect” label around your neck.

Divorce means living life being stalked by the past.

Divorce is watching your ex shrink.

Divorce is an unraveling of a cord.

Divorce grieves God.

Divorce means starting again though some parts have died.

Divorce makes little sense to extended young family.

Divorce is one big sigh…

Divorce is exhausting.

Divorce is joining a party you didn’t wish to be invited to.

Divorce bites.

Divorce is an ugly word.

Divorce screams shame.

Divorce aims at your heart and celebrates the bullseye.

Divorce cocks the gun and shoots straight.

Divorce is sitting alone on a hill and it starts to rain.

Divorce makes it hard to smile.

Divorce pain is found in your eyes.

Though divorce ushers in a new beginning, the end keeps resurrecting.

Let her be

 

This plant,  I’d almost given up for dead, when in reality her new life was yet to be. I’m glad I waited and I’m still waiting to see the beauty she will bring forth. It’s taking it’s sweet damn time though!

It will be worth the wait, to see the colorful blooms in all their snobbish beauty. They will be the highlight and center of my attention, for a while. Even for a good while. Until, with life’s daily troubles, I will become distracted or neglectful of it’s beauty. Not necessarily on purpose, but by sheer humanness.

That is when I need to say, “Hey, look, take care, water, pay attention…snap-out-of-it!”

For this plant though, I’m glad I waited on her. I’m glad I kept watering her and giving her attention. And, as before, I know she will unveil her beauty in her sweet time. Give her time.

An unfulfilled wish…

In case you never knew, I had desires to adopt a child. I went through the process with visions of providing a home for a needy little human. This never happened…the process got delayed by my lack of finger prints. And the end of that process was the beginning of my temporal insanity days.

Nobody knew my growing obsession with listening for cries as I passed a dumpster. Nobody knew how I swerved in traffic as my eyes scanned the highways for an abandoned child.

Never would I ever dream would come next. I began viewing adoption sites on-line. It’s quite easy to get lost in the faces of children in need. I even scanned the pictures of children of other countries. I even began to learn Russian. In case I could make a connection to a foreign child.

Though I’ve never told many of these desires, they existed. It’s okay now. Those times are over, and I got over my desire. Accepting what I could never have was a private difficulty. No one needed to know my unfulfilled wish. After all, I was blessed with three beautiful, intelligent children who I love dearly.

Melodious

I put the solo piano station on Pandora in order to progress through the pages of a novel, but instead of words, I envision alternate realities.

I’m a slender ballet dancer alone in the studio, practicing plies on the barre, but I could also just as passionately, be found in the lab, again alone, studying images of the brain in curious exploration.

I’m also an artist at work in the studio, again solo, lifting, smoothing, spreading and blending hues until they return to me colorful arrays.

More often than not, and to some, not as esteemed, the melodies conjure the memories. I’m giving baths, caressing a head, I’m reading while also enjoying the warmth of a small child pressing into my lap and in step with the tempo, I see the trio laughing, skipping, climbing and exploring.

I’m a mother.

 

 

Traverse

 

It drives me to the coast of Rhome

It grants me passage to the peaks.

It yearns to harness nightly waves.

But, there in sleep, defenseless, I dream.

Then, realizing, I breathe and then turn away.

Awake, I rise from the warmth of the eve and rise to tangle in worlds unknown,

Traversing to corners and cultures new.

In woods and paths unknown, I unravel wounded threads,

Pass and intrude. In a gentle sweeping and uncovering, it’s trapped.

Hidden, trapped, desiring release.

I rest, waiting. Sometimes it comes.

I rest, waiting. Sometimes it flees.

Seeking. It can’t always be hidden.