My Chaos, A Gift

Think, think, and think. …What to write about?…. It’s my turn to post, and I have nothing.  My writing successors and partners, have set the bar so high, I’m going to need some sort of winged transport to even get close to their quality of writing.  It doesn’t help that my mind is a black hole, and my words are getting sucked in with no hope of surviving.  My preverbal plate is full, which could have something to do with the fact that my brain is mush.  It’s been a rough week.  Running around to and fro with my kids, chauffeuring them from this activity to the next.  Feeling guilty for not planning ahead the healthy meal they should be eating, but instead having Burger King in their bellies. 

Excuse after excuse.  I tell my self tomorrow will be better.  I will wake up earlier. I will plan my meals on Sunday, and have everything precut and packaged in little baggies like the good moms do on Pinterest.  Problem is, in order to get up earlier; you need to go to bed early.  By the time we get home from soccer practice, its bath, read, bed, and many times I fall asleep without wanting to.  Which then of course leaves dirty dishes in my sink, and streaks on my tile floor.  And don’t even get me started on grocery shopping.  This particular chore to me is like getting a cavity filled.  But grocery shopping on a Sunday is like getting a cavity filled, plus wisdom teeth removed, and blood drawn all at the same time.  Painful right?  That’s exactly what I think about getting my much-needed ingredients for a healthy week of meals on a Sunday afternoon. 

I fail time and time again.  But…..I keep going.  I keep trying, and I keep failing at being perfect.  That’s ok with me. Because I am a mess.  I have come to terms with that.  My mind is a mess, my schedule is a whirlwind of activities, and to be honest, my house isn’t picture perfect, inside or out.  At the end of the day, however, it’s my life.  It’s my gift.  I’m lucky to have it every morning I wake up.  The cherry on top is having the privilege to have conversations with two very important people while chauffeuring them around to the weekly soccer practice or dance performance.  Sounds perfect to me. 

~Esmeralda

Young Love by Carolyn

I'm pretty sure this would be against the "rules" of our Writers' Group if we had ever discussed it, but we haven't, so I'm going to do it before the subject arises . . . I'm going to post something that I wrote long, long ago. Roughly 40 years ago, actually. While looking through a notebook I carried during high school, I found this poem I wrote when I was 14 or 15 and very obviously full of teenage angst:

With empty heart you found me
and tenderly loved me then,
to fill the deep, dark emptiness
that you had seen within.

And while we loved and laughed and cried,
the summer's cool green grass 
had withered, struggling, and slowly died
just as our precious moments passed.

And then you laughed, and then I cried,
and I am crying still,
because you left a deeper void
you'll never return to fill.

Painfully bad, I know. Fortunately, I no longer remember the passionate love affair that inspired this outpouring of pain. I can only hope that my poetry has improved a little since then!

-Carolyn

In Spite of me

When people ask me about raising children, my immediate answer is:  Prayer.

I have prayed that my children would grow up to be better human beings than me; I have prayed that they would be strong enough to withstand life’s inevitable disappointments; I have prayed that they would put God before all else.  And ultimately, I have prayed that they would turn out alright in spite of me.   I realized very quickly that no matter how hard I tried to be a good mother, there was no way to get it right all the time. Over the years, it has become easier to accept that I can never be a perfect mother because this job is as much about me growing as it is about helping them to grow. 

There are however, some things that are worth passing on:

A young mother once asked my twenty-year old son what kind of a parent I was.  He responded:  She took our questions seriously.  I have written about my children and their questions before.  But it is true that I was so terrified of their intelligence that I could not risk dismissing their questions with flippant answers. (In fact I am afraid of all children and their uncanny ability to sniff hypocrisy and dishonesty. ) For the same reason I never lied to them or gave them a made up answer because I was afraid they would never trust me once they found out the truth. 

Along with taking their questions seriously, came taking their interests seriously.  We did ballet, baseball, swimming, soccer, volleyball, karate and music lessons.  I bought jewelry making kits and calligraphy sets.  I drove back and forth to art classes.  We have a room full of musical instruments.  All because they showed an interest and wanted to try something new.  I was never good at making them practice or stick with anything if they lost interest.  At one point I was accused of exposing them to too many things and that’s why they couldn’t put their fingers on their passions.  But somehow they have found their passions and I have encouraged them to pursue them. 

There is a fine balance between advocating for your child and making excuses for them.  What I have hoped is that my children can take responsibility for their own actions and choices and at the same time stand up for themselves and their beliefs.  It is not easy but it gets better with practice and learning from mistakes, both theirs and mine.

I impressed on them from early on that I was not the example of Faith they should follow.  I am a work in progress, just like them.  I made sure they knew that their relationship with God had to be a personal one.  Don’t blame God for my shortcomings!  I take full responsibility for them.  And like I said. I pray that they will lead happy, healthy lives of service, in spite of me and my shortcomings. 
-Susan

What Things May Come by Andrea

Adversity comes. It is a part of the human condition. Adversity can make us or break us. It comes and it exposes us. Martin Luther King, Jr. is quoted as saying, "The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands in times of challenge and controversy."  Personally, I try with all my might to live with as little uncontrolled, unsolicited challenge as possible, and controversy is a pariah that I give much planning and effort to avoid. But, they both come without invitation or warning. It is at these times that who I am is not only revealed but can also be defined.

I have spent a great many days anxious and worried about circumstances over which I have zero control. What I have had to contend with, however, are the things I can control. More aptly, things that I have a responsibility to control. How I handle adversity will have an impact on my character for all time.

So what are my responsibilities when bad things happen?

My response: The number one way I should respond is in hope. This, however, is not always easy for doers like me.  Don't get me wrong, hope is not passive.  It requires active participation in the struggle. The action, though, is less about taking control and making change happen.  It's a wrestling match that takes place in the mind. I must wrestle with my thoughts to make them focused and faithful. I have to wrestle with my convictions and beliefs to get my bearings, to help me get centered.  My ideas of how life should go rather than how it is going must be subdued in order for hope to rise rather than fear and doubt. In hope, there is victory long before anything changes.  Paradoxically, victory comes from surrender, in not resisting the inevitable but embracing the challenge.  A hopeful response announces and embraces the notion that this too shall pass while still in the ring.

My attitude: An attitude colored by gratitude for the parts of life that are good and beautiful helps me to be better rather than bitter. Instead of kicking rocks because adversity has come knocking on my door, I must to choose to dig in and persevere. It is a daily decision. During times of woe, it seems I have to choose moment by moment to keep my eyes on the good, rather than the mountains of reasons to be anxious and overwhelmed, even by the daily-ness of life during a storm. Attitude really is everything.

Letting people in: I cannot overcome alone. I have had friends who literally patch up my heart and my faith. Inboxes overflowing with words of encouragement, scriptures, prayers and silly selfies to make me smile have been like water flowing over my parched soul during difficulty.  I have friends who call or show up at just the right time. They listen and share. They connect and empathize. They let me ugly cry and cry along. Vulnerability with the right people builds bridges that can offer support for the ages.

My faith: Faith is not a shield from desperate situations or desperate feelings and thoughts, but the nature of this walk requires a faithful response to trials and tests. I am assured that I will never walk alone as long as I walk with God. One of the many passages that gives me courage is:
     
        When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
        When you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.
        When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned;
         the flames will not set you ablaze. Isaiah 43:2, The Holy Bible

Disasters come in all forms. Some are physical and destroy swiftly such as storms or illnesses. Some disasters are emotional and seem as if they sweep over life all of a sudden with no signs of letting up. Some challenges are battles of the mind, and the struggle is to find the right perspective in order to effect a change of state if not a change of circumstance. Some tumult is completely outside of oneself and brought on as a consequence of living and loving within a community. I have faced all of these in some form throughout my four decades and am sure more will come.

This I know for sure: no matter what things may come, focusing on that which I am responsible for has helped me to endure adversity infinitely better than focusing on the struggle.  

-Andrea

Dandelions in the Winter

Every stride on the gray pavement gets harder with the weight of the worry I carry on my shoulders.  I began my run to clear my mind from the burden of my thoughts, but instead it is having the opposite affect.  Instead, with my quickening pace another item on my to-do list I didn’t finish pops up.  I run further and regret comes at me like the neighbor’s barking dog, over some choice I made that I wish I had done differently.  Unfortunately for me, most times, my mind isn’t my best friend.  More often than not, it is my worst enemy.  Reminding me not only of today’s unfinished business, but plaguing me with all my past faults and failures.

The evening was chilly, but I was hoping that would help numb some of the parts of my brain I wanted to ignore. The uplifting beats blaring through my headphones weren’t drowning out the thoughts that were consuming me.  My life was becoming too hard.  I couldn’t breathe but not because of the energy I was exerting with my run, but because the pressure of it all was making it difficult to breathe.  The pain in my side from running uphill was nothing compared to the one I felt deep within the walls of my heart. It all became too much and I had to stop and catch my breath.  I turned off the music, and bent down focusing on my breathing, and holding back the tears.   It took every ounce of energy left in me not to crumple to the floor.

Although spring was right around the corner, the grass wasn’t quite awake and the flowers weren’t brave enough to make their appearance.  The path I ran wasn’t much to look at during these winter months, but a patch of gold caught my eye.  One little flower embraced the cold, February evening.  Some might argue that this little solider is neither a flower nor a thing of beauty but instead a nuisance.  It looked like hope to me.  This brilliant example of life was so bold to withstand the cold and uncertain Texas weather.  What made this tenacious little flower pop up over and over again, after being overlooked, unappreciated, even poisoned and crushed? Most people wanted to get rid of them by any means necessary.  Yet there it was.  Lone and beautiful.  Unaffected by the negative attention it got.  I looked around me and saw many more patches of brown, lifeless grass, and in the midst of it all, bright, yellow dandelions shown as inviting as the sun. Standing tall, taking whatever life threw at them.  Dandelions adapt to their environment and the weather, and therefore, continue to present their golden smile when most fragile flowers simply fade away.  I wanted to be more like this strong, insistent little flower.  I would adapt, and I would overcome the storms in my life.  I stood up, standing a little taller.  Turning on my upbeat music, I began my rhythmic strides again.  The fears and doubts still not completely disappearing, but I would survive. I would come out of this season of my life, with the grace and elegance of a little flower, at times overlooked, unappreciated, but pushing through. I continued the last part of my run, a little lighter, with less on my shoulders and lot more hope.  

~E

Dreams by Carolyn

I am fascinated by dreams, especially my own (a little egocentric, I admit). I have heard many theories about what dreams represent. Some say they are bits and pieces of thoughts that are in your brain, just put together in different ways. Others say they are flashes of your past, recalled by your subconscious mind. Still others theorize that dreams are portents of things to come. Or are dreams are messages from a source outside yourself? I'm not sure what to believe about the origin of dreams. I just know that I dream. A lot. I'm not sure if other people have patterns of recurring dreams, but I do. For better or worse, I repeatedly have the same dream scenarios over and over. The situations, surroundings, and people in my dreams change, but the gist remains constant.

One of my most frequent "dream themes" is this one:
I am in charge of a large group of children. I mean a really, really large group of children. I am teaching a lesson, giving directions - that sort of thing. No matter what I say, the children will not obey. They heckle me. They absolutely will not follow my directions. They take a perverse delight in mocking me. They are totally recalcitrant.

The teachers among you may consider this more of a nightmare than a dream. Let me say that it is quite unsettling. My frustration during this kind of dream reverberates through my dream persona. I can feel my dream self practically vibrating with irritation (and - dare I say it - anger). Let me also say that I have never really had this happen in real life, although I have been "in charge" of large groups of children for thirty-some-odd years now. I am very thankful that this kind of dream has not become a reality. It would completely do me in to go through this in real life!

So what does that dream mean? It seems fairly obvious to me that this dream speaks to my deep-seated fear of being unable to control my life, my surroundings, the situations I find myself in (or maybe just children). Maybe that explanation is too simplistic. Alternate explanations, anyone?

Another common "dream theme" for me is this:
I am out and about, maybe shopping, or going to some sort of event, or whatever - just going about daily life. I am with people and surrounded by people. Everything seems normal. . . then I realize that I am devoid of clothing of any kind. Naked as a jaybird! (Well, once I had on a transparent raincoat, but I don't really think it helped cover up much.) For the rest of the dream (which seems to go on forever), I unsuccessfully attempt to cover my nakedness with a variety of materials - newspapers, tablecloths, scarves, totebags, other people's clothing - whatever I can find in my state of acute and painful embarrassment.

Trust me - this is not a pretty picture. This kind of dream is always disturbing to me, and the excruciating embarrassment I experience lingers in my mind even after I have awakened. And, as above, I have never actually experienced this in real life. Thank God!

So what does that dream mean?  I am not particularly given to exhibitionism, nor am I egotistical about my physical charms. So, I don't think this "dream theme" reveals a deeply buried secret desire to parade through town in my birthday suit! I have postulated that these dreams signify my fear of having my deepest thoughts, my hidden faults, my human foibles, exposed to the penetrating gaze of everyone around me. Does that seem reasonable to you?

And yet another, sort-of-nightmarish type of dream I have more often than I could wish:
I am a young college student. I suddenly come to the realization that, although this is finals week, and very, very important tests are imminent, I have never once, all semester, attended a class. Ever.

I usually wake in a cold sweat from this type of dream. I am pretty good at faking it on tests, but I am very sure I cannot fake my way through a whole semester of missed information! If you know me, you also know that this would NEVER be something I would really do. I was that extremely irritating student who regularly signed up for 8:00 classes, and never ditched class. (But you could count on me to have really thorough notes to copy if you needed them!)

Why, then, have I been having this same kind of dream for roughly thirty years? I believe that this dream stems from my great fear, my almost-phobia, of not living up to my responsibilities. Why I worry about this so much, I don't know. I don't make a habit of being irresponsible. I am happy to report, however, that I am beginning to be a little less frantic about it as I get older. Something to look forward to for you youngsters.

On a more pleasant note, my favorite (though far less frequent) dream is this:
I am outside - in a yard, or on a street, even sometimes on the roof of a building - and I feel a desire to travel from that place to another. I lift my arms, and with no apparent means of propulsion, rise into the air. I am flying! I can steer easily by tilting my arms. I can swoop and glide through the sky like a soaring bird. I can control my speed effortlessly. When I wish to land, I gently touch back down on solid ground. What an amazing feeling of freedom! I am reluctant to wake up, to have this beautiful experience end, but I must. . .

Of all the kinds of dreams I have, this is by far my favorite, but alas, it does not happen very often. If I could program my sleeping mind to engage in this type of dream on demand, I would do it every night. And, as in both of the other cases I have mentioned, I have obviously never done this in real life. The sensation of flying without any kind of machine or device is incredible, and no airplane or helicopter or hot-air balloon ride can compare.

So, what do you think that dream means? I believe it represents my yearning for freedom from the constraints of daily life, or of my physical body, or maybe of worry. Or, maybe it presages my life after death. Not sure, but I do know I hope to have that kind of dream again very soon!

-Carolyn

“You gotta serve if you want to heal."

That is my friend Tara’s favorite saying.  And there is so much truth to it.  Last month I attended the funeral of my mother’s cousin.  Beautiful lady, with a beautiful smile that bore the scars of multiple tragedies with dignity and radiance.  She lost two sons to accidents within one year.  Her husband and younger brother died much too soon.  But she continued to bear these tragedies by dedicating whatever she had to serve others around her. 

There are two ways I see that service can heal us.  One is by distraction.  Taking time to serve others while we are in pain, serves to refocus our thoughts and energies on something other than ourselves.  Sometimes this change in focus helps us see our problems in a new light.  It may offer us new solutions or it may not.  But at least we have spent a few hours less dwelling on them. By taking time to do something for someone else, we temporarily forget our own woes.  Often we realize that our problems are not as big as we thought they were when we compare them to those of others around us.  Our problems don’t disappear, but they are put in a more proper perspective.

Service can also heal us from self-righteousness, arrogance and prejudice, spiritual diseases that can afflict all of us at one time or other.  When we serve people very different from ourselves we get to know their stories, walk in their shoes for a little while and see the world from their perspective.  It is likely that we come away from the experience with a lot more empathy and understanding. 

One of my goals is to collect stories of healing through service.  If you have a personal experience that confirms this hypothesis, would you share it with me?  I want to start a new blog called Service Therapy, where these stories can be of help to others.  You can email me your story to susanbenhansen@yahoo.com.
-Susan