New season, new post 2.0

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grief observed

In 2011 apparently I started blogging, and posted a whole 6 posts. Recently, I have been writing notes in my phone and have thought, “maybe I should blog again”. So I will start with a finished note:

The hardest goodbye means that you have the most cherished memories. It means you’ve lived life with someone that you loved and who loved you back. These hard goodbyes often come with deep loss and deep pain. I write from deep loss and deep pain because I carry cherished memories. It has been many years and still my loss stings. I haven’t spent these years in deep grief, but the hurt still stings at times. But from that hurt, I connect with people on a level that some don’t know. When a parent losses a child, they have insight to comfort other parents who also travel through the hurt of losing a child. This is not my loss, mine is that of a widow. In 2005, my husband, consumed by cancer, lost a battle that is all too often lost. Since my husband died, I have sadly been called on multiple times to walk someone else into this journey of widowhood. Recently, my oldest friend’s husband won his victory in death from his cancer battle. Her foresight to prepare herself for that moment was wise. I was not prepared and felt so much like a dear in the headlights. My husband had cancer, but we were so much on the “good prognosis; he’s gonna beat this thing” road; so, when he didn’t beat it, I was leveled. My friend was wise to come to grips that death was a possibility and she asked me questions. She also knew that when the day came, I would be there to walk her into this horrible journey no one should walk. I didn’t have that. I did (and still) have so much support. I have a mom that held me in the night when all I could do was cry. I had friends that sat with me while I couldn’t crawl out of bed. Ironically, it was this same friend that stayed with me and held my hand. I’m pretty sure when she came to hold my hand, I hadn’t even showered for a few days. That’s friendship. That’s how I know that I won’t twinge a bit if she happens to have a little body odor. She needed a friend that didn’t say trite things to make her feel “better”. She won’t feel better for a while. Nothing anyone, no matter how well constructed and politely said, will make her feel better. He brain will hear the words and know they’re sound and coke from a good intent (most of them). However, her heart is torn in pieces and will need time for some of those pieces to be mended back together (it will never all be back together). She will need, and probable offend people with what she actually needs and not what people think she should need. For some people this is a shorter time and for some it is longer. One should never impose their own expectations on another for the time it takes to grieve. My own guidelines in this are, “as long as they are not harming themself or others with their grief, then I will give them the time they need”. For instance, not showering for days after a while was actually harming to me, and someone stepped in and guided me to start taking care of myself a bit better. But, in reality, 2-3 days is ok. She will most likely move on and love again. She is young and I knew her husband well enough to know he would want her to love again. As a woman who has found love again, it is a new different love. People often ask me what it’s like. I tell them, I never stopped loving Jamie, my first husband, but my heart made from for Ken (my new husband). Most people have a “divorce” kind of view. I didn’t divorce Jamie, he died. So I never hated him, never had to work out that kind of pain.In a since, I almost envy the people who don’t like the person they were previously married to. (But, I “rabbit hole”). It is easy to love a new person. Especially one who’s heart is big enough to know that I will always love Jamie. I don’t compare them. I never say or think, “Jamie was better at this or that.” It’s hard to explain it unless you experience and I don’t really want anyone to have to experience it. But, hopefully when the day comes for my friend to be loved again, I pray that I will be there to support her through that journey as well. ‘Cause there will be those who say the wrong things or cast shades of disappointment on her for choosing to love again. I pray her kids accept that their mom can be loved again. I pray that her parents and former in-laws, accept that she can truly love and be loved again without forgetting her late husband’s memory. No one can have too much support on the journey of life.

Garden of Eden…not living in paradise

I was watching TV just now, when I was accosted by a Pomegranate commercial.  The jest of the commercial is that it was a pomegranate instead of an apple with which Eve tempted Adam with (this blog is not about the possible inaccuracy in that plot).  I get that they’re just trying to sell their fruit.  They have all the characters there, the slithery snake and the naked Eve, but why does sex have to sell everything?  I am not so naive to think that this is going to go away.  We live in a very sexual world.  I’m just kinda upset that they used a biblical story to tout their product is such a lewd way. Some say the fat ones are the ones who complain.

Well, hell yes, I’m complaining.  IT IS NOT REAL!  The woman in the commercial has most likely not eaten for days, just so her stomach will not pouch out.  She is laying on itchy fake leaves, she has a snake wrapped over her body, and she is staring lustfully at a bottle of pomegranate juice (probably because she hadn’t eaten for days).

And they wonder why sex has become “no big deal” among teenagers.  And why multiple college classes figure out a way to teach about sexually transmitted diseases.  Logically, my microbiology test will include the top 4.  However, the other day I over heard 2 classmates of mine talking about how their government professor worked STDs into his lecture…Government people, GOVERNMENT.

And now, they have a biblical character showing how sexy pomegranate juice is?  I remember seeing Jane Russell talk about cross-your-heart bras and thinking that it must have been embarrassing for her.  Now, years later, I am embarrassed for those who are used to sell pomegranate juice, out meal, and rice-a-roni.  That’s just me, but I know that I’m not the only one who thinks this is crazy.

Avalanches and the need for Bolder Holders

My friend, S, cracks me up.  She never minds who she will be entertaining with her writing, and therefore, writes as if someone in the world will love what she writes (of which I most usually do…in fact, I can’t think of one I haven’t liked).  Today she wrote about free-range boobs (that’s not wearing a bras for those who need explanation).  So, yes, I’m going to blog on a blog…how original.  The point of her blog was about having to change from her free ranged lifestyle to living with family and having to wrangle them in.

She did bring up in today’s blog as well as past blogs, about the hardship of well endowed women finding cute (sexy) bras.  If you feel reserved about people who share to much information (TMI), then you might want to stop here.  I have decided to write as if someone in the world will like what I put down on paper (screen).

Us big girls have about 4 choices. Black, White, Beige and Red (this is our sexy choice).  Why can’t we have lacy (not grandma lacy)? Striped? Pock-a-dotted? Flowery? Oh, and they be comfortable.  Now, you say, they make those.  Yep, they do, but if buying a Black, White, Beige, or Red one makes me want a government bail-out, why do they think I can afford the fancy fancy ones (which you have to buy online with shipping and handling fees)?

I’m tired of my sexy under-outfit meaning that I’m wearing a matching set.  Forget the better half and what he thinks for a minute,  there is something about wearing an ENTIRE ensemble that I feel good about, not just the outer shell.

Why is that little-bitty, bump-it girl can buy 3 bars for 10 little-bitty dollars, but I have to wait for the semi-annual sales, to buy one get one half off? That means I save about 20 bucks (yep, that’s 2 bras for $60.00).  And you can hold that nasty comment that tares down my self-confidence that says that I can loose weight and buy cheap bras.

I will say that things are improving.  10 years ago I had issue about comfortable big boobs holders.  But on my 35th birthday that did change.  As some of you may remember me announcing to the whole room (at my surprise party, before I knew about the surprise) that I had just bought the most comfortable bras I’d ever had.

Sorry about the complaining.  I’ll try and have a feel-good blog at some point soon.

Frozen in time…the Heart Remembers

I REMEMBER. 10 years ago today I was sitting at the reception desk at Curtis Thaxter when one of the attorney’s wives called and had me interrupt the partners meeting (this was unheard of). We all watched through TV snow, the 2nd plain hit the 2nd tower. I felt like throwing up.

Time froze. In the days that followed all I could think about was being near my family.  Jamie and I had tickets on a flight on Friday the 14th from Boston to Dallas for my 10 year class reunion in Quanah.  However, it was announced that Logan airport would remained closed.  While others grieved for the loss of so many, I wanted to have my mom’s arms around me.  American Airlines worked so hard to figure out an alternative for us to still travel.  My friends thought I was crazy to still want to fly.

It worked out for us to fly out of  the Portland airport, landed in Dallas, and drive to Quanah. (we had decided to go ahead and attend the reunion.)  On Saturday night we left Quanah early and drove to Lubbock.  I was so very happy to have my parent’s hug me.  Sunday morning we went to church. Then, we went to Abernathy, where Jamie got to meet Arno and Minnie for the first time.  That night, as late as we could, Jamie and I left Lubbock and drove half way to Dallas and stayed with my friend Judith.

Monday, early afternoon, we boarded a plane.  It had been nearly a week, and so much more had been discovered.  People were still not flying.  In fact, on our plane there were only 2 other civilians; the rest of the flight was full of soldiers and flight crews being transported to other areas of the US.  On the Atlanta to Portland leg of our flight we flew high above Manhattan at night.  Looking down over the city we could see the lights, like 7-8 lit football stadiums, shining.

It will never be a hard week to forget, I don’t want to. It’s important to remember.  I know that I write this one for myself, ’cause we all have a story to tell of that week.

I never would have thought that, that week would ever be over shadowed in Jamie and I’s life…then 2005 happened.  That’s another entry.

Grammar…The Weigh to Right

I begin with this disclaimer: I am not perfect, and I don’t get it right every time.  However, I know some of the rules.

The assignment in my Human Development class was to write an introduction to the class.  We were to write a six to eight sentence paragraph telling our classmates a little about ourselves.  Some of my classmates need to know that six to eight sentences means that in a block of 50-75 words that one should have six to eight periods.  Also, they need to know that when speaking of one’s self that it is a capital “I”.  If you have a nine year old sister, one should say “she is 9” and not “her is 9”.  Also, there are a few grammatical options to  making two sentences into a compound sentence, they are: “, and”, ” ,but”, “, or”, and, if you are getting really fancy, you can use the semi-colon (“;”).  I also find it funny that our professor cautioned us, in our very first class, to watch our homophones.  I guess they’re not aware that the English language has three options for the word there that can be used in their paragraphs.

I truly feel that I am the pot calling the kettle black.  As many of you know, I have had my own share of grammatical mistakes.  However, in my defense, I feel that they have been mistakes of accident, and not ignorance.

If I get a “F” on my first paper, it will not be a result of bad grammar. (How could it, I will have my Aunt Kathy proofread it).

Dripping Water…Going Thirsty

Night before last I finally broke down and watched “Book of Eli”.  My parents had actually kept from returning it to Netflix so that we could all watch it.  My first attempt, a few months ago, ended in the first minute (it just wasn’t the kind of movie I wanted to watch at that moment).  My regrets for not sticking with it, as it is a great movie (with a little violence, okay not just a little).  I won’t ruin it for those who haven’t seen it, but there is a steady theme throughout the movie of the need for water.

I think in a “western” world where we have water in bottles, and my hardest task in getting “good” water is driving to the store, living with the worry of thirst is pretty hard for me.  And, even though we are currently experiencing a shortage of rain in the plains of Texas, water is still coming from my faucets.   In fact, I realize with the leaky faucet in my front bathroom that if we were faced with a worldwide shortage of water, I would long for all that water, even Lubbock water, that has dripped down my drain for the past few weeks.  Thirst would be something I would know about 1st hand (don’t worry folks the plumber came today and fixed it).

I think I hear it in my brain when Jesus talks to the woman at the well (John 4:1-26).  But have I really understood what those words meant to her?  What the phrase “Living Water” would mean?  She had to walk daily to the well to get water….that’s EV-ER-Y SING-LE DAY, or she would go thirsty.  I liked the clear illustration in the movie of going thirsty.  It makes me realize how special living water is.  My head has always understood living water, but in contrast to going thirsty, I see my risk in taking it for granted.  It also, wasn’t meant for me to drink it all myself…I’ve got to share it.

Burnt Toast…The chance to restart, “redo”

So, this morning I was reading along, catching up on some old blog posts.  I had just put a tray of day-old rolls in the oven to broil (this is my favorite kind of toast).  I was just sitting there reading, and then I smelt it.  I had that “oh no” moment and jumped from my seat, too late to save them. The toast was burnt.  Luckily, I had more rolls (this is not always the case). I simply trashed my first batch and hit “redo” on the whole process.

This got me thinking, because my brain works like that.  For months, I have been thinking that I wanted to start seriously blogging.  I feel that my first try was kinda like the burnt toast.  Therefore, I have decided to hit “redo” on the whole process.

For the past 7 days I have been reading a fabulous book “one thousand gifts” by Ann Voskamp (whose blog I happened to be reading during the burnt toast debacle – http://www.aholyexperience.com/ ).   It has been making quite the impact on how I see this world.   How I see my circumstance (past, present and future).  And, how I respond with thanksgiving so that I can receive joy and give blessings.  So, my first step here is to recommend this book.  (And, thanks Rachel E. and Kacey S., for challenging me to read this book).