Each person has a path, a destination, and a mind to comprehend it. I watch each day as the people of our little community each in their own way wonders down their own path. I have a man that comes in the store everyday at least once. When I first started, he had just brought his wife home from the hospital. He was unsure of how things were going to work out but he was so proud to have her home. He wasn’t sure that he was capable of caring for her. He ran in the store that morning grabbing essentials. Kleenex, toiletries, and two Hormel dinners. The love in his heart, the pride he had for her being able to come home from the hospital was phenomenal. Each day, I ask about how his wife is doing, how he is coping. Yesterday he came into the store three times. Each time telling me more and more about his caring for her, how much her medications were costing them, he wasn’t bitter, or angry. He was still so proud that she is getting better everyday and still so much in love with this woman. The last time he came in, he bought a single box of tissues. I asked him, “How are YOU doing?” Big alligator tears escaped his blue eyes. He said, “I am fine.” I took his hand in mine, I looked into those tear strained eyes and said, ” I know it is hard for you, but you are totally amazing. Not all men would even try to take care of their wives. More tears. “I want you to know that you are never alone. There are those of us that have seen your strength, share a past that knows how hard it is, and are willing to help.” As he began to cry in earnest, I asked Pam if she would take over my register for a few minutes. I took this elderly man by the hand and lead him into the break room to sit down. As we sat there he began to talk. He told me how hard it was to sit in his chair and watch the woman that he loved dearly sleeping. Knowing that she was ill and the she may be called away from him at any moment. How hard it was to sit there and wonder if he was doing everything he could for her. I sat quietly listening, still holding his hand. When he cried, I held him and let him release all his fears, all his anger, all his doubt. We sat in silence. He hugged my neck as he rose to leave.
There are so many people that come through the store with various stories that they share. Each one seeking not just sympathy, but understanding. They seek empathy and love. They want to know that they are accepted even with their hurdles and short comings. They just want to be heard, to be listened to and to see someone smile and love them.
No matter what your path, no matter who you are, or why our paths have crossed, you are loved and accepted.
It is the day before Thanksgiving, and as I have finally decided to actually cook dinner for tomorrow the turkey is now cooking nicely in the roaster. I had not even wanted to acknowledge the holiday this year. I wondered what the point was. I don’t wait until tomorrow to be thankful, John and I are the only ones gonna be home and there is a big hole in my heart missing dad.
But after a day spent with my kids and some heavy searching. I went to work last night and listened to the people of our little town I was deeply saddened by them. There were so many of them without work, without the means and without loved ones or in some cases anyone for Thanksgiving.
So, I decided that there are several people that are shut ins that don’t have a way to have a meal. I am cooking dinner and before I go into work tomorrow, I will deliver them a hot, homemade Thanksgiving dinner.
I am very blessed, very thankful. As much as I miss Daddy, I am grateful that he isn’t suffering and he lives surrounded by the love of so many hearts. I have people in my life that love me dearly and I them. Together we make life beautiful, blessed, and above all we touch others gently. Yes, sometimes I loose my direction but it isn’t ever for very long and I am quickly shown the error of my ways.
Happy Thanksgiving to each of you. You are truly blessings and I am thankful that you are part of my life.
A picture is worth a thousand words. It doesn’t matter the content, there is always a story to write. A tale to be woven or a thought that is provoked. I don’t generally set out with a story in mind to find a picture to go along with it, instead I go out and see what the world shows me and then I begin to add thoughts and themes to the photo. People often want the real story behind a picture, that is fine if it is one of a smashed car, the game winning catch, or a bride and groom standing at the alter facing one another. But even then the mind can kick into overdrive. For example, the game winning catch. Picture in your mind a photo in the news paper of a young man making that catch, the defense in close proximity. Story in the paper goes something like this….. Young Junior So-in-So ran for X number of yards last night, in the picture above he is catching a 35 yard pass to run for another 10 yards scoring the winning touchdown to put the Wildwoolies into the playoffs. Okay, now go back and look at the picture again. What makes this young man strive so hard on the grid-iron? Where did he come from and what kinds of things are in his back ground? The defensive player in the picture, who is he? The head of the ref in the bottom of the shot, what makes him go out onto that field week in and week out for the love of the game? For as much as we love those stories of victory, people love stories about real people. People they can connect with on a level of human existence.
I can tell you about taking the picture above. I had taken John to the doctor in Santa Anna. While she was doing some tests, I went for a walk. Down the block just a ways I found this old building that is home to the doors shown above. I took the picture. Simple story. Look again at the doors above. In a small Texas town, as the hot summer sun baked the old paint off the buildings, a woman strolled along a sidewalk that needed to be mowed. The cracks allowed the grass and weeds to seek the sunlight. The frown upon her face showed signs of stress and worry. The old building reminded her of happier times, times when things were simpler. A time before herself were horses and carriages dotted the tiny town. The building is now a church, but at one time it was the local mercantile. The heart of the small Texas town. As she stopped to admire the architecture, her mind let that past fill her heart. The bustle of people that must have passed through this doorway years ago, the shelves lined the walls and filled with essentials for living. Fabric standing on the top of a shelf for new dresses, candy on the counter in glass jars, and the smell of feed emanating from the back of the store. She walked on to the corner and across the street, standing at the edge of the railroad tracks. She looked far down the tracks and wondered how many passengers would get off the train in such a little town..
A picture is worth a thousand words.
As I sit on the front porch this morning, laptop in front of me, the sun gently creeping up the horizon, the birds singing and the cool morning air surrounding me like a mother’s arms I began my day. Sitting in quiet solitude, I began to put pencil to paper. Pro and Con it my mother used to say. Today is that day. I went to the ASU site, still trying to figure out what on earth is going on about school. Finally, nearly through the semester that I could have been taking classes I get an answer. “You owe the college 50.00 for transcripts.” Really? What transcripts and where did they go? Oh well, if you would have told me that when it happened we could have taken care of it then. Check written and will be sent when I go vote this morning. That means that the spring semester I can get my butt back in class and get finished. Yahoo!!!
I sit quietly this morning listening. Listening not only to nature but to my own heart. I am always amazed when someone exits your life just how much growing you do. How much you begin to see. Even in the loss of a parent, you realize that every person that is in your life is there for a reason. To teach, to inspire, to guide until it is time for you to take that knowledge and use it. It may take you a little while to see that you are okay and the hurt still lingers like a sore covered by a scab but you start taking little steps and soon you realize that you have everything inside you to move on.
I think because Dad and I left nothing unsaid his death was far easier than mom’s. Mom and I left so much unsaid. So much that was not resolved. But in the last five years I have learned that even the unresolved has a purpose. The last few days have been incredibly emotion driven. It was as if I woke up on Sunday morning and everything and everyone opened my eyes a little better. Simple things and day to day chores made sense. It was as if I let go of everything and received as much.
One of those awe inspiring days that just blew away any doubt and sorrow. If you could call any day of your life perfect, that would be it. Yes, I know life is never perfect but there are those fleeting moments that are “Ah-ha!!! moments.” Each day since has had moments of clarity too.
The universe opened up and said, “HERE!! Here is your first steps. Here is the beginning.” It has been as uplifting and inspirational as this beautiful Texas sunrise.
During the past few days there have been some wonderful discussions with great friends, some longing to see some friends and each person has seemingly said the right thing at the right time. No, I am not giving up my writing nor will I ever hide it away again. I know that it isn’t my fault that one person can use it to blatantly try to hurt someone else. My only responsibility is to write honestly and weed out those people that have a negative impression. Give them to a higher power in hopes of them learning their own lessons.
It is my responsibility to myself and others to forgive indiscretions. To seek love and give it. To laugh, learn and inspire. Simple as that. I smile as the sun finally breaks the horizon into a beautiful sunrise for the sun has definitely risen in my world.
A storm is brewing on the horizon of my heart. I don’t really know if it is me letting the past into my future of whether I just have a really big pet peeve about it. I try incredibly hard to respect others and I expect the same in return. I spend about an hour writing everyday, I don’t always share all of my thoughts on here, I don’t always share my thoughts at all. There are days when my feelings and my emotions spill from my fingers like the drip in a leaky faucet. Then there are days that my thoughts and feelings gush like a raging river or the high tide of the ocean breaking against the waves. It is those days that I have to switch over to pen and paper and I can fill a legal pad. Most of those never get typed out because as I type I edit and what would be a legal pad written out turns into a small book. I am still an incredibly private person and what I share is often sensitive to me. But like all artists, I do like some sort of feed back, tell me it is good, tell me it bites, either way it helps me become a better writer.
Here in lies the problem of the storm, I don’t like my writing to be used against anyone, myself included. I don’t like it to be used to prove a point or to hurt anyone. I feel that if you are my friend and you read my work it is between us, but when you don’t bother creating that friendship I would rather you read a good book.
So with all of this being said, any posts after this one will probably be set to a private setting. I apologize to those that follow my blog but when I feel invaded and disrespected what else can I do?
I have actually taken the day off. I have played on Facebook, taken a nap, and watched a whole movie. I am dressed in my ragged jeans (the ones dad told me I needed to throw away, that I have taken little bits of different pairs of mom’s pants to patch), a t-shirt given to me by a dear friend, and a pair of thermal socks that were daddy’s. Comfort. It has been one of those days of lots of reflection, of searching my heart and soul.
One of those times in life when you look back and can see the road you have traveled. See the people that have helped decorate it with flowers and trees, even with thorns and stones. The people that have help mold you into the person you are, one of those rare times that you can actually see why somethings have happened. If they had not have happened your road would have taken a different path it would have created a landscape that wasn’t as colorful, as beautiful, as wonderful as the person it created.
It is as if once in awhile you have to look back to see where the future is headed. Have to see the whole picture not just focusing on the journey. I have spent many years hiding in the shades of grey. Leaving walls in tact when I should have opened my heart and let people inside.
Standing in the middle of the yard, with the smells of the country, the sounds of nature, and the comfort of home. Knowing that the people that colored my path would smile to know that I have become an amazing woman.