The Oldest Girl

Married at 15, having already lived a “full life”.  No quinceañera, no prom, no pictures to capture the accomplishments of her life. The oldest in a large family. Her Momma always busy, sick and/or pregnant. The daily chores overwhelming for anyone, let alone a little girl. In this culture large families were the norm. The eldest would soon be helping out around the house, especially if she was a girl. She did it all, and was a Mom to her siblings, more so than their own Mother. As if the household chores weren’t enough, she would be demanded to help out tending to the land along with her Father and brothers. How did she do it all? She would say with pride, “I was like one of the boys to our Dad.” She took pride in being able to do what the boys could do, at times faster and better. So why did Dad beat her so mercilessly?

Grown up and married now, with children of her own and her own household to tend to. You’d think this would have earned her freedom from all the responsibilities of her “childhood home”. No, not in this culture. The hats just kept piling on.

There was a “hardness” about her, yet the caring soul within her managed to come through time and again. Every now and then a tear dared to escape from her eyes, almost shattering that impregnable armor. With one hard swoop she would yank it from her face in defiance and resolve not to let this happen again. Who told her she shouldn’t cry?

I wonder if all her collections were part of her “living” in a world she had never known; she had never had? There was that miniature tea set in the midst of other miniature figures. There was her collection of Monchhichis (Japanese stuffed toys) – always sitting pretty on her especially made shelves.

Everything sat pretty, clean, protected. The stuffed toys encased in plastic bags to preserve their beauty. Lots and lots of porcelain figurines, especially dolls. She would clean them with care.

What was going through her mind?

What was brewing inside of her?

Forty plus one, was the number of her years. Such a short life! She finally broke beyond repair. Unanswered questions remain…how I miss this beautiful soul!

Choices…Decisions

This picture has always captivated me. I remember looking at this plant and thinking, I need to get rid of this “dead” plant. Then I saw this beautiful flower, almost as if defying the dead, brittle branches around it. Standing straight, showcasing its beauty.

Choices…decisions…

This “walk through the valley of the shadow of death” is incomprehensible. No way can I even try to explain “it” nor do I want to. However, I do need to keep on “walking”, “moving”, “living”. I have choices and decision to make.

Several quotes have captured my attention: “Suffering is a gift. May we suffer well.” * “No matter how dark it gets, love and hope are always possible.” * “Suffering is a gift; in it hidden mercy.” * “Life will continue, will you let it come in?”

My daughter’s race is finished, but mine is not. Will I “live” in a manner that “showcases” my hope and trust in a Living God? Will I stand straight and firm upon the promises of a God that does all things well? Will I “showcase” the beauty of the cross, the hope of the resurrection, the trust in the God who is, who was and who is to come? By the amazing, keeping grace of God – I believe so! I am willing! AND because He lives, I can face tomorrow, and I can rejoice in the LORD today!

Pedicure

It’s Saturday! What to do?

Summer and Sandals go together, right? Of course, sandals call for the cutest pedicure, unless —squirrel!— your like that lady I saw yesterday wearing shorts a tank top and sandals with (ready!?) white socks that reached all the way up to her knees! Yup! Yes, I cringed too.

Anywho, come on, let’s go get a pedicure! I’m bringing a book, and my notebook with my pen ready to write. Natalie Goldberg in her book “Writing Down the Bones” recommends one try to write anywhere and everywhere. The nail salon might be a good place to attempt to write “undistracted”.

Here we are. Good, it’s not that crowded. “Yes, pedicure, please.”

The comfortable massage chair beckons me to sit and unwind. The tub in front of it is being filled with bubbly warm water. Feet in…yes! My pedicurist and I try to communicate, yeah both accents are not meshing very well. Yes, a written paper with a “menu” of services. I point to the pedicure with massage, ending with warm towels.

Book, notebook and pen on my lap…trying to get my mind to settle…trying to get those creative juices going…OUCH!!! Can you guess where this is going? Um, is it just me? Are my attempts at “self-care” producing more, um, pain?

And, so proceeded the endless ouch! sorry! ouch! sorry! ouch! sorry! Blood, a chunk pulled out of my toe with oodles of crazy glue (yes, crazy glue…crazy huh?!) poured into the hole to stop the bleeding. By the way, this was my second time trying this place. I figured the first “assault”, I mean pedicure, she was probably having a bad day. Well, from the looks of it, today she is having an even worse day, AND we can’t communicate! You’d think my cringing face, the pulling of my foot and my audible “ouch” would be enough for her to get the message, right?

It’s over…I’m limping…my toe is throbbing. This might not have been the greatest idea. I think I need to find another nail place…don’t know…ha!ha! Ya think!

My Massage

It’s been a little gloomy around here, so I think it’s time for some R&R.

Today I am going to take you to a place of rest, relaxation and renewal. Where your body will be lavishly lathered with wonderful coconut oil. All your senses will be engaged as you hear the sound of the birds, amidst the ocean waves crashing and taking you into a place of total bliss. The aromatherapy with it’s lavender scent will calm and relax you…deep breath…can you smell it? Let yourself go…relax!

That is until “Genna” (not her real name) walks in!

Picture Rocky training to “Eye of the Tiger”. Can you hear the knuckles cracking?

AND SO IT STARTS…your relaxing massage – ha!ha!, so you thought 8-\

Snap, crackle, pop! Wait, should I be fighting back? I’m confused…

She asks, “how are you doing?” My thoughts, “do you really want to know?” In a barely audible, squeaky whisper I manage to say, “ok…”

The torture, I mean massage, continues. Ouch! Was that an elbow to my…OUCH! Ok, never mind…uncle, uncle! Whatever she is pressing is making me lift from the table…really?! I’m paying for this?

Finally, she is done! The 60 minute relaxing massage, which turned into an all out beating, which I must say was totally unfair.  I should have fought back…just sayin!  Anywho, it was finally over!

On the bright side (cause I’m really trying to find the “bright side) it did take my mind off my emotional pain 😉

Where will I go next? Stay tuned…you just never know 😀

Thank you

Howdy all!

A little over a month ago I started this Blog. I’ve noticed some traffic – visits, likes, comments, follows – THANK YOU!

I have always liked reading and writing (Love of Writing). On May 8, 2017 my beautiful, 30 year old daughter went to heaven after a 10 month battle with cancer. I plummeted (not out yet) into a deep hole of sorrow and grief. Writing has become a source of “vomiting” my grief and pain onto paper. Typing onto a Blog is part of my process of trusting “my voice” to the outside world.

I’m a woman of faith, who loves her family, likes to have fun AND humor and sarcasm are, well part of me. I write about the good, the bad and the ugly…and the “really?!” “seriously?!” moments of my entire life.

Thank you for joining me on my life journey. Whether you peek in or stay a while, I am thankful for you.

The PEN is READY, what will come out next…

Images

Images, images…an onslaught of images; a constant replay.

What’s playing, “presently”, in the theater of my mind? My beautiful daughter being placed in that bag. Yes, it was just her shell! Yes, she “wasn’t there” anymore! Yes, yes, yes…I KNOW!!! It was all part of the “normal” process! I get it! I accept it! BUT the torture and assault of those images is relentlessly painful and gut wrenching!

Her frail, lifeless little body being placed on that gurney, with that black ominous bag. The zipper going up, up…closing…watching her little face disappear. I wanted to turn away, but that seemed “unloving”, and I wanted to “see” her face as long as I possibly could. I wanted to scream, “she will suffocate!” I wanted to STOP the process. I thought I’d vomit…maybe if I vomited that twisted feeling in my guts would be relieved…UGH!!!

I try to renew my mind. I try to “think” on things that are true, noble, praiseworthy. Really…I do! But somehow, the images return, over and over again. I am thankful for the times that the images are of joyful, memorable moments. I welcome the relief and joy they bring.

Always on the edge. People…noises…anything threatens to take me over the edge; to explode.

I wonder, “If the images stopped, would I stop missing her; remembering her?” “Are these horrid images better than not having anything at all?”

And so the journey continues…one day, one moment, one second at a time. Thankful for the grace to do just that…one second at a time!

“Cry whenever you need to. Scream. Shout. Lay on the floor. Sob in the shower. Be still. Run. Share without fear. Listen. Release your pain. Breathe. Be courageous. Throw away the map. Wander. Be real. Be compassionate. Read. Seek friendship. Be vulnerable. Don’t fear being broken.” ~ Zoe Clark-Coates

Present

Noise noise, constant noise!

Always connected; always engaged,

missing the moment at hand.

Can you be still for a moment?

What do you fear?

Do you know whose beside you?

Do you even care?

Can you see beyond the screen?

Can you hear the whisper from within?

Can you be present?

just for a moment,

just for a while.