and what have you done?

Often, I feel as though I just do not do enough; oh, I do plenty for myself, don't get me wrong; it's doing for others that seems to roil itself into that sick-acidic-ball in the middle of my stomach. I want to do more for others, I just don't. I have all sorts of excuses ranging from being too busy to not feeling well to not having enough money, to...well, you get the idea, n'est pas? I need to get up off my duff, which is pretty much it's own solar system (HEED, PANTS NOW!!) at this point; the volunteering muscle could be well-used. As everyone knows, I can do plenty of stuff - some of it fairly well - I should share my multitude of talents and my wealth of knowledge with others. I would feel more Christ-like; I would be less self-centered; I would be more aware of the plight of my fellow man. So, in truth, I see that this would simply result in my being a better version of what I already am...nobody wants that, right? I'll make some sort of decision about it later; right now, I have no money and no time, and I really feel like I'm coming down with something.

and, so, this is Christmas

Christmas is a difficult holiday, but I truly enjoy it tremendously - mother issues and all. Most of the childhood memories that I am able to face have to do with December 25th, and many of my adult memories are filled with the joy of that day. I can laugh at the homemade-ornament-debacle of 2001 and the great-artificial-tree-debate of 2002 - oh, yeah, I am just splitting a gut right now thinking about those - NOT! But I am starting to find them mildly amusing, and that's progress. I am hoping that it is progress in the right direction.

comfort and joy

So, last Christmas, I received a RED ipod from my superfantastic daughter, and this year, in the weeks preceding Christmas, I have had carols and hymns to follow me all around the house. I cannot begin to express how much joy I have found in this - the music lifts up my soul in the most comforting way. So, to my dearest girl, thank you this year for the gift last year - you have brought the soothing expression of music, simple as it is, back into my life, and along with it, peace in my heart. I love you.

Heal thyselves

Really, I do not want to remain on this topic or in this place for an extended period of time, but I must say that this is the Blackest Friday I have known in many, many years.

Anyone who knows me even just a little bit, knows of my great love for baseball, a game I have always believed to be one of the few really pure team activities. Truly, although I adore my Giants, I love the GAME. What a sad day for all of us who feel this way; the Mitchell Report has blown a whole through my heart. I knew it was coming; I knew there were dirty players, but DAMMIT!!!

Coming soon to a bookstore near you

To borrow one of my favorite daughter-phrases, "the problem with me is" I am a true teacher at heart - while I may not do much of anything correctly, I absolutely KNOW how most anything SHOULD be done - I can teach everyone everything! This is why I am hoping to write a guide book - "The Things I Know That Apparently No One Else Does." It will be a compilation of my vast knowledge about some of the little-used shortcuts to take to virtually any Costco, the best way to maneuver through Target, the most efficient waiting-in-line protocol, and the proper etiquette on pretty much all there is for which etiquette is necessary. Clearly, my help is required.

Having recently read a blog (http://www.rebalala.blogspot.com/ - quite excellent) invoking Grace Kelly, I got to thinking about grace and what it means and the tremendous power of the word itself.

I have never had what you might call grace, in terms of gracefulness (much to my mother's great dismay, try though I did to stand on my toes or pretend that I could complete a Pirouette or an Entrechat), but I find that my life is filled with grace, the kind that comes only from God. I do not have this of my own accord, and sometimes, I do not have it at all, but on occasion, I see it weaving its way through the most difficult parts of my life. There is much that would not happen, that I would find unlivable, that I would be incapable of surviving, if it were not for grace.

Not knowing how to respond or defend or give proper expression to that which remains unsaid, I fall upon grace to find the words, the armour, the way, and more-often-than-not, it picks me up and moves me along. Sometimes, it's the only way I can walk at all, with grace, if without gracefulness.

some women I know

As I was falling happily to sleep last night, I was thinking about the ways in which we conduct ourselves in the world - how we protect ourselves, why only certain facets of our lives are available for public consumption, the huge barriers we erect until we are ready to go crashing through them. These things were finding their way through the labyrinth that is my mind for many different reasons, mostly because there are women who are not quite prepared, just yet, to see what faces them on the other side of those walls, but one day they might be.

I have said before, and do still believe, that it IS about the destination and the journey, not so much. I have gone down roads that led nowhere, found places that I did not need to visit, gained knowledge that I had no business knowing. Yes, these false starts may have made me stronger/wiser/better, but what I had to do was go headfirst through the morass that led to the bridge that took me, finally, to the layer of bricks and mortar that I had to travel beyond...I had to get THERE.

Everyone's "there" is different, some only slightly and others so far removed that it is barely recognizable to the human eye. The personal path we all take to where we each need to go is our journey, our memories, our life. But getting to the other possibly-not-greener pasture is the destination which allows us, at last, to be free. It does require some tree demolition and concrete sandblasting (there may even be a scythe involved); the work IS necessary, I'll give you that, but it's what we do upon arriving at our destination, that permits us, finally, to be our true selves. I wish/hope/pray that, as difficult as some things are to overcome, women who need to break through and get "there" will find the required stamina along the rutted road of their personal journey. It's worth ruining a few pairs of good shoes.

I Ain't Packin' Up Anytime Soon

It has come to my attention that a relationship is helped to survive considerably if one of the people involved has optimistic tendencies, believes that there is more good than evil in the world, strives to find that goodness in everyone and everything. In the incident of my own marriage relationship, that person would be my husband; it can't be me; it's a mere process of elimination situation. Again, this may be something that I should have likely discerned long ago; again, a bit slow on the uptake, but, in order to arrive at certain places, I am required to recognize/admit/embrace certain aspects of myself of which I am not particularly proud, but do not necessarily want to change. (Oh, the things that swirl around in my head - it's really not pretty!) It's the whole domino effect; if I change this, how will it affect that; if A+B no longer equals the familiar C, what does the new (possibly - but also not - improved) C look like/mean/require from me? Maybe it all just comes down to laziness or pessimism or some other negatively-connotated word, but I prefer to call it reality - that's the home of my denial, and I am comfortable there, why move?