I love the 'year-end review' that Thanksgiving affords me, and this year is particularly sweet.
- Today is my 23rd anniversary. In May of this year, we were talking about separation. (Actually we weren't talking a whole lot, as we could barely stomach speaking to each other for almost 2 months.) We had exhausted counseling; we were out of grin-&-bear-it; nothing was changing, and we were holding together solely for the sake of our dd's graduation cruise the first of June -- we were going to make it through that and then spend the summer figuring out how people separate. Something happened on that cruise...our hearts were softened (I assure you it was miraculous). We walked through the soul-ripping place of giving up hope, and found hope on the other side of it. My marriage today is completely different from the marriage it was for 22.5 years...we live every day like 2 people who have been to the edge of the cliff and are clinging to each other other to keep from falling, part desperation and part beauty and completely alive. It is something to be thankful for.
- Grayson is alive and whole. Enough happens to him to make a mother's heart quake, and this year's skateboard accident and interstate accident again reminded me how precious each day with him is. It helps make the car accident (#2, with my car), the drinking incident, the secret party incident, and all instances of teenage ingratitude take on less importance in the big scheme of things.
- My soul has life. My conversion at Easter brought me to a place of rest after years and years of restlessness. Sharing this path with my Bill is icing on the cake. The silent retreat this summer helped me come to grips with God, to apprehend God even if I don't comprehend God. There are one or two things that I finally 'get' after a lifetime of just assenting belief.
- My new home. It is a fresh start, without the burdensome sad memories, mostly marital, that the other house held for us. It's got a ways to go before I feel like it will completely be Home; but that is OK -- there's energy between the two of us to make that happen together.
- Chelly seems to have grown up, to have grown into her skin, and to be thriving at college. With her emotional history, with her diagnosis... this makes me so happy. She's here this weekend, and I just can't get enough of her, warts and all.
Those are the biggies, I suppose.
As for Thanksgiving Day, it offered up its own reasons to be thankful:
- My mom behaved. No judgemental observations, no woe-is-me- my-daughter-is-a-papist interactions, no uncomfortable silences, no how-you-should-raise-your-children comments.
- Mack being thankful that he is really, really ridiculously good looking (think Zoolander). My mom not getting the movie reference/joke and giving him a mini-lecture on pride, which did not derail him at all... he just looked at her and disarmingly winked, "But you think it's true, don't you?"
-going with Bill to Walk the Line, and seeing some parallels with my him to the Man in Black.
- Reading last night with Clark. He is hard to connect with; he withdraws into his own interior world and won't let anyone in. He completely resisted my invitation to read with him, coldly clutching the opposite edge of the bed from me as I started, "Once there were four children named Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy...". Narnia sucked him in.
- conversation with Clark:
ME: One of the things I love about you is that you are a deep thinker. You won't share your deep thoughts with me, but I know they are there. I don't know what they are, but I think you're almost always thinking of them.
HIM: Pretty much everything in the world.
ME: Anytime you feel like it, your daddy and I would love for you to let us in on some of those thoughts.
HIM: You mean like about mirrors?
ME: Yeah, like about mirrors. (Having absolutely no idea what mirrors had to do with anything).
(long, long pause)
HIM: I wonder how they work.
ME: You mean, like, how they take ordinary glass and coat the back of it with reflective stuff?
HIM: No, like ... Do you ever wonder if mirrors are really like windows into a parallel dimension, where everything that happens there is just like what happens here, except it's backwards?
Friday, November 25, 2005
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Update -- good grief it's been a long time.
Yesterday my dd surprized me by coming home from college for the day (she's 1.5-2 hours away). I was gone all day doing a road rally with a friend of mine, while dh was away in Chicago on business. DD came with 3 friends, whom of course I invited to spend the night. Meanwhile ds (14) had a few friends, of both genders, over as well while I was rallying.
So last night at midnight found me returning from my rally dinner (we finished 23rd of 26!) :-); dh returning from Chicago flight; 2 college girls watching TV upstairs; 2 more straight college girls at a gay bar, who said if they weren't in by 1 am, they'd spent the night at someone else's house; 3 teenager boys in the laundry room dropping themselves down the laundry chute onto all our sofa cushions piled up beneath them; 1 teenager spending the night away; and two preteens watching TV.
Two a.m. found me wondering what noises I kept hearing.
Four a.m. found me wondering why the back door was ajar...turns out the 14 year olds had been skateboarding on the nearby golf course. The TV was still on.
Nine a.m. found me making waffles for anyone who would wake up and come. The 2 college girls who had spent the night elsewhere came in and we all had a nice breakfast together. I learned that the teenagers had been playing "let's drop things out the front window and watch them land" at 2 a.m. Sent 14 year old out to pick up the random things that were littering our front yard, and to put all the sofa cushions back.
Ten thirty found me kissing dd and friends goodbye, going with dh and two of my kids to Mass, forgiving my 14 year old for his I've-had-no-sleep attitude, and being grateful for them all.
So last night at midnight found me returning from my rally dinner (we finished 23rd of 26!) :-); dh returning from Chicago flight; 2 college girls watching TV upstairs; 2 more straight college girls at a gay bar, who said if they weren't in by 1 am, they'd spent the night at someone else's house; 3 teenager boys in the laundry room dropping themselves down the laundry chute onto all our sofa cushions piled up beneath them; 1 teenager spending the night away; and two preteens watching TV.
Two a.m. found me wondering what noises I kept hearing.
Four a.m. found me wondering why the back door was ajar...turns out the 14 year olds had been skateboarding on the nearby golf course. The TV was still on.
Nine a.m. found me making waffles for anyone who would wake up and come. The 2 college girls who had spent the night elsewhere came in and we all had a nice breakfast together. I learned that the teenagers had been playing "let's drop things out the front window and watch them land" at 2 a.m. Sent 14 year old out to pick up the random things that were littering our front yard, and to put all the sofa cushions back.
Ten thirty found me kissing dd and friends goodbye, going with dh and two of my kids to Mass, forgiving my 14 year old for his I've-had-no-sleep attitude, and being grateful for them all.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Moving Day Eve
Well, after melting down yesterday, and having Bill come alongside me in the best way (frirm, assuring, gentle)....I think I'm better today. Must pack up what remains. I decided that the attic and the garage can just be done another time, and that has alleviated much of the pressure.
The truck will be here in the morning at 8. Hope I'm ready! :-)
The truck will be here in the morning at 8. Hope I'm ready! :-)
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Oh, I feel so much better about myself now
| Your IQ Is 135 |
 Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius Your Mathematical Intelligence is Exceptional Your General Knowledge is Genius |
Of course, Bill would agree with the logical thinking deficit. But I'd be killer on Jeopardy.
Can we tell that I have a million things to do today? And what am I doing but taking online personality tests....I definitely have problems with logic. The movers will arrive in 5 hours...the house isn't packed. Oh there are boxes here and there, but nothing like READY. I haven't even been in the attic yet. It's so overwhelming that I think I'll just surf the internet a little more. Ack.
Monday, September 26, 2005
All accounted for
Last night I lost Moses. We noticed when we came home from a walk that he wasn't in the house, but didn't think it unusual. Maybe he went for a walk or something. But two hours later, no phone call, no clues (bike still in garage, phone left in house, no friends had spoken to him), and no leads...we called 911. Where does a 14 year old go after dark, without a word of explanation? As I spoke with the emergency operator, he sauntered in. He'd taken a run, and stopped at a friends, never thinking we might wonder where our son was. All's well that ends well, I suppose, but it certainly gave us a start. Especially since we were in the middle of watching Mystic River. Not a good combination at all....
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Not quite moving
We've been living out of boxes for weeks. Our moving date has now been delayed until next Friday, which actually gives us time to get stuff done to the house before we move in to it. We've closed on it, so it just remains to get it in move-in condition. Carpet cleaners, floor refinishers, painter, electrician, invisible fencers, landscapers, deck builder...I think that's it. Anyway, quite a chore, but it will be nice to finally unpack there.
I went to Mass on Saturday night last night, so Sunday morning will be free for me. We've rarely done the Saturday option, but today Bill is training this morning, biking and running for a few hours with his teammates. I think I'll just do ordinary things: paperwork, grocery shopping, laundry. It is amazing how those ordinary things fall by the wayside when the house is overturned. I think of the hurricane victims, and imagine how grateful they'd be to just be able to do normal things. The messages I get in the media are that adrenaline is better, that new adventures are the best adventures. But when life gets topsy turvy, I'm reminded how blessed one is to live an ordinary life. Right now, commonplace sounds good.
That point reminds me of a questionnaire I was given last week. I'm trying to lose weight, and so I went to L A Weight Loss. One of the questions was "Do you eat when you're bored?" To which I replied: I'm never bored. I cannot remember feeling bored. The weight counselor looked at me uncomprehendingly. "I mean, I can't answer whether I eat when I'm bored because I'm never bored." She blinked. "Just answer 'No'."
Weight. There's one we could write an essay about. I'm not genetically large. But in college, I gained weight one summer (up to 140) and immediately went on caffeine pills and lost it. After that my weight was pretty constant (120-125 and a size 6) until I had children. Each child added 5 permanent pounds. So in the end of it, my 'normal' weight was 140-145. Livable, I considered it. But about 7-8 years ago, weight started creeping up on me. In one year I think I gained 10 lbs. I tried losing it (down to 140), and managed to do that. That's when I had my hysterectomy/tummy tuck. So I got rid of the childbirth belly, and a few worn-out organs, but did I lose weight? Nooooo. Recovering from a hysterectomy is hard, no matter what anyone says. It was a year before I felt normal again. But in that year, and in the subsequent one or two, I've packed on pounds. Thankfully, I can say I carry it pretty well. When you have atummy tuck, and have fat cells permanently removed, the up side is a flat stomach. But the down side is that if you put on weight, it no longer goes to your tummy but it does go everywhere else you have fat cells...thighs, butt, etc. It isn't a pretty sight. Now I'm up to 170, and can no longer say that I carry AN EXTRA 40 POUNDS gracefully! Who am I kidding? If I could get to 130 I think I'd feel great and look much younger. So I'm reduced to 2 proteins, 3 starches, 4 veggies, 3 fruit, 1 fat, 1 dairy, and 3 condiments per day. For the record, THAT ISN'T MUCH FOOD! I'm cutting portions in half, making lots of conscious food choices, weighing whether I can 'afford' that creamer in my coffee, etc. It's insane. But hopefully, I can get there. That would be nice.
I went to Mass on Saturday night last night, so Sunday morning will be free for me. We've rarely done the Saturday option, but today Bill is training this morning, biking and running for a few hours with his teammates. I think I'll just do ordinary things: paperwork, grocery shopping, laundry. It is amazing how those ordinary things fall by the wayside when the house is overturned. I think of the hurricane victims, and imagine how grateful they'd be to just be able to do normal things. The messages I get in the media are that adrenaline is better, that new adventures are the best adventures. But when life gets topsy turvy, I'm reminded how blessed one is to live an ordinary life. Right now, commonplace sounds good.
That point reminds me of a questionnaire I was given last week. I'm trying to lose weight, and so I went to L A Weight Loss. One of the questions was "Do you eat when you're bored?" To which I replied: I'm never bored. I cannot remember feeling bored. The weight counselor looked at me uncomprehendingly. "I mean, I can't answer whether I eat when I'm bored because I'm never bored." She blinked. "Just answer 'No'."
Weight. There's one we could write an essay about. I'm not genetically large. But in college, I gained weight one summer (up to 140) and immediately went on caffeine pills and lost it. After that my weight was pretty constant (120-125 and a size 6) until I had children. Each child added 5 permanent pounds. So in the end of it, my 'normal' weight was 140-145. Livable, I considered it. But about 7-8 years ago, weight started creeping up on me. In one year I think I gained 10 lbs. I tried losing it (down to 140), and managed to do that. That's when I had my hysterectomy/tummy tuck. So I got rid of the childbirth belly, and a few worn-out organs, but did I lose weight? Nooooo. Recovering from a hysterectomy is hard, no matter what anyone says. It was a year before I felt normal again. But in that year, and in the subsequent one or two, I've packed on pounds. Thankfully, I can say I carry it pretty well. When you have atummy tuck, and have fat cells permanently removed, the up side is a flat stomach. But the down side is that if you put on weight, it no longer goes to your tummy but it does go everywhere else you have fat cells...thighs, butt, etc. It isn't a pretty sight. Now I'm up to 170, and can no longer say that I carry AN EXTRA 40 POUNDS gracefully! Who am I kidding? If I could get to 130 I think I'd feel great and look much younger. So I'm reduced to 2 proteins, 3 starches, 4 veggies, 3 fruit, 1 fat, 1 dairy, and 3 condiments per day. For the record, THAT ISN'T MUCH FOOD! I'm cutting portions in half, making lots of conscious food choices, weighing whether I can 'afford' that creamer in my coffee, etc. It's insane. But hopefully, I can get there. That would be nice.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Just desserts
Son #2 ("Moses") and I had a running dialog today, abbreviated below:
MOM: I'll pick you up when school gets out at 1:15.
MOSES: OK. No wait. We have practice. Pick me up at 3.
MOM: OK. 3 it is.
(Phone call at 11)
MOSES: We don't have practice.
MOM: Allright. I'll be there at 1:15.
(Phone call at 1)
MOSES: Can I go to eat at Zaxby's with Herbie? You can pick me up at Zaxby's at 3.
MOM: OK, 3 at Zaxby's.
(Phone call at 2:20)
MOSES: Can you pick me up now?
MOM: I can be there in 15 minutes.
MOSES: No, wait. Nevermind. Can you pick me up at Catina's house instead?
MOM: OK, I'll pick you up at Catina's house in 20 minutes, OK?
MOSES: Yeah, OK.
(Phone call at 2:40)
MOSES: Just pick me up at the tennis center instead.
MOM: Well, I'm turning into Catina's street right now, but I'll turn around and be at the tennis center in a sec.
MOSES: OK.
I pull up to the tennis center at 2:42. No Moses. Drive around once. No Moses. I am supposed to pick up another son (who has only made ONE change in original plans today) at 2:45. I try Moses' cell phone...it is dead. I try the number he called me on. There is no answer. I leave to go pick up other son.
(Phone call at 2:48)
MOSES: Did you try to call me? Where are you?
MOM: (Unleashing a tirade that has been longsufferingly bottled up for obviously quite awhile): Yes I tried to call you. I was at the tennis center, where were you? I wonder if you realize you are not the complete center of the entire universe, and that there are other things I have to do besides be at your beck and call. If you tell me Catina's house, you better darn be at Catina's house; if you tell me tennis center, you better darn be at the tennis center, because I tell you, I am there. I think you better get used to walking, pal. You can walk e v e r y s i n g l e step home, and you can start right now. And next week, the answer is NO; I will pick you up at school every day, and that will be enough. Am I making myself perfectly clear?
MOSES: Um. Yeah. OK.
I go home, feeling rotten. Because there is only a sick satisfaction in blowing it so profoundly; there's not a real happiness. So I mope at being taken for granted, and I mope at being so vituperative to my good-natured son.
I watch the back yard to see him walking over the hill, completing the mile or two walk from the tennis center to our house. I call him upstairs to apologize for my rant. No apology needed it turns out ... he had put me on speakerphone.
"Catina and everybody were wetting thier pants" is the exact description of the effect of my tirade on Moses' friends. Guess we both got what we deserved.
MOM: I'll pick you up when school gets out at 1:15.
MOSES: OK. No wait. We have practice. Pick me up at 3.
MOM: OK. 3 it is.
(Phone call at 11)
MOSES: We don't have practice.
MOM: Allright. I'll be there at 1:15.
(Phone call at 1)
MOSES: Can I go to eat at Zaxby's with Herbie? You can pick me up at Zaxby's at 3.
MOM: OK, 3 at Zaxby's.
(Phone call at 2:20)
MOSES: Can you pick me up now?
MOM: I can be there in 15 minutes.
MOSES: No, wait. Nevermind. Can you pick me up at Catina's house instead?
MOM: OK, I'll pick you up at Catina's house in 20 minutes, OK?
MOSES: Yeah, OK.
(Phone call at 2:40)
MOSES: Just pick me up at the tennis center instead.
MOM: Well, I'm turning into Catina's street right now, but I'll turn around and be at the tennis center in a sec.
MOSES: OK.
I pull up to the tennis center at 2:42. No Moses. Drive around once. No Moses. I am supposed to pick up another son (who has only made ONE change in original plans today) at 2:45. I try Moses' cell phone...it is dead. I try the number he called me on. There is no answer. I leave to go pick up other son.
(Phone call at 2:48)
MOSES: Did you try to call me? Where are you?
MOM: (Unleashing a tirade that has been longsufferingly bottled up for obviously quite awhile): Yes I tried to call you. I was at the tennis center, where were you? I wonder if you realize you are not the complete center of the entire universe, and that there are other things I have to do besides be at your beck and call. If you tell me Catina's house, you better darn be at Catina's house; if you tell me tennis center, you better darn be at the tennis center, because I tell you, I am there. I think you better get used to walking, pal. You can walk e v e r y s i n g l e step home, and you can start right now. And next week, the answer is NO; I will pick you up at school every day, and that will be enough. Am I making myself perfectly clear?
MOSES: Um. Yeah. OK.
I go home, feeling rotten. Because there is only a sick satisfaction in blowing it so profoundly; there's not a real happiness. So I mope at being taken for granted, and I mope at being so vituperative to my good-natured son.
I watch the back yard to see him walking over the hill, completing the mile or two walk from the tennis center to our house. I call him upstairs to apologize for my rant. No apology needed it turns out ... he had put me on speakerphone.
"Catina and everybody were wetting thier pants" is the exact description of the effect of my tirade on Moses' friends. Guess we both got what we deserved.
Trial
My server makes an error every time I try to post to my blog. I think it is time for a trip to the computer repairman.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Looking back on the summer
DS is home from the hospital, and is doing much much better. He finally (FINALLY!) seems to have turned the corner. He's returned to school.
Parent orientation tonight at Catholic school. Wow. Dh and I are trying to scrape our jaws off the ground, we're so impressed with everything about the place.
DD calls home every day, and we chit chat about life, in a comfortable way that we didn't when she lived here. All her friends are gay, apparently. She is in the midst of figuring out life. God, hold her hand, because I cannot. We get along beautifully, and of all my children she seems the most grateful for every little thing. Funny, at age 11, it seemed we could never do enough for her, she always demanded more; how she's changed.
Hurricane victims started arriving by plane in town yesterday; our city is housing at least 1000, if the news has the facts right.
DH and I still have the most wonderful marriage. It's been an amazing turnaround. I didn't even blog about this, I guess thinking it might not be for real. But sometime in the middle of June everything turned around. Lots of tears and lots of sleepless nights, and much angst....but everything is different now. We are making the marriage we never had for 22 years. No resentments; no hesitations; no covering things and ignoring things and stuffing things. Just the truth. Just goodwill. It is hard to believe.
We are moving to another house on the 23rd. I have no idea how it is actually going to happen, but I guess it will!
Bill and 2 of the boys have taken to riding their bikes after dark every night. Younger ds was very fearful at first, but now is learning to really like night rides.
I finished another painting today...that's three since school started. I love taking a class because it makes me actually get something done! I did one of clouds (that I gave to my sister and bil for their birthdays), one of a little church in Alaska, and this latest one is of Gettysburg (farmhouse in a field). I've gotta move away from landscapes for awhile now.
Missing my kitty
The cat hasn't come home. Haven't seen her since Friday, and she's never gone for long. What could have suddenly happened? She's a sweet kitty, and belongs to Chel, who is away at college. I'm not a cat person, but have lived with a cat because my daughter is a cat person. But you know, I'm missing the kitty and wish she'd show up.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Good News/Bad News
First the good: my dd has been cast in the next play to be performed at her college! And she's only a freshman! And it's a major part! They are doing The Jungalbook (based on The Jungle Book), and she is Baloo. She's also in a costume class this fall, and is therefore going to be making her own costume! This is good news, but it is nonetheless very stressful, and that worries me. But I'm so proud of her.
Now the bad: my ds (Grayson) had a bad skateboarding accident two weeks ago. No helmet. Head first after flying 20 feet in the air (just lost his balance going down a hill; no half pipes or anything tricky). He got up and walked into a total stranger's house with blood on his hands demanding that they tell him "Who did this to me?", ranting and raving and not knowing anything. We took him to the hospital, and while he fortunately doesn't have any skull fractures (thank you Lord) he does have a massive concussion. He's been throwing up ever since; he still doesn't know why he's hurt; and he is in horrible pain. (This is the same child that rolled the car on the interstate, that wrecked my car, that got hit by a car... you remember the one!) I feel like there's not much left in me...I've had the stuffing pulled out of me for now. I'm so grateful that he isn't looking at brain damage; however, I wish things would just settle down for him, and for us. Post-concussive syndrome is a pretty serious thing, and so we'll be watching him for quite awhile.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Starting off with a bang
I got a call today from the dean of students at the Catholic school. Apparently M did a few little things that didn't set too well with a substitute teacher. By the standard of the school he had been at, they were nothing. But he's not in Kansas anymore, and would have been wise to learn the lay of the land before being totally himself. For example: they were doing the introduction game where you tell one thing about yourself, and everyone tries to match up the comments with the person who wrote them. He writes "I am interested in both men and women". You have to know him to know that this is actually a funny statement....he's completely straight! But this is, after all, Catholic school, and such a comment is apparently very un-funny there. Sigh. I guess the only way to learn is to make mistakes. But I wasn't expecting a call from the discipline police quite so soon. The good news, at least, is that it wasn't G; usually if there's going to be a call from the principal it is usually G. So he's off the hook.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Catholic school impressions from a Presbyterian kid
Yesterday was our first day of Catholic school. What a hoot. I just love my #2 ds...he can always say the funniest things.
He gets in the car:
Mom: How was it??!!
M: Pretty cool actually. There are 15 cool kids in my class. Which is 14 more than I expected. (Editorial note: Yes, the one was himself, and yes, he said it with a twinkle in his eye.) Out of 57 freshmen. It was great. I sat down at lunch and two girls and one guy came and sat at my table, and before long everybody was sort of hanging around. We played games most of the day, and one was a photo scavenger hunt. We had to get a picture of a freshman putting on deoderant, so since I have some good pit hair going, I volunteered. (Editorial note: Just the night before, he had taken the discarded brown ends of the corn silk, and sat down at dinner with no shirt, but with the corn silks bushing out of his armpits. We laughed hysterically.)
Then at dinner last night:
M: During chapel they said this prayer to St. Joseph. Did you know they were talking about JOSEPH, like as in, Jesus' father?
Mom: Yes, I was aware of that.
M: They all seemed to know this prayer and I just mumbled something.
Mom: I doubt anyone cared.
M: Then they said some kind of a 'pledge of allegiance' to Mary. I guess since they just prayed to Joseph they didn't want her left out.
Mom: Pledge of allegiance to Mary??
M: Yeah, kinda weird, huh?
Mom: (with sudden insight) It didn't start out with "Hail, Mary" did it?
M: (wide eyed) YEAH! I thought "What the heck? Why are they talking football?", but then I realized it was some pledge of allegiance thing.
DS#1: You mean Hail Mary isn't talking about football?
Parents are cracking up.
Welcome to Catholic school.
---Beth
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Spiritual Retreat
I decided to post on my July spiritual retreat here on my blog. The post below was written in late July. My REAL life today is posted below it. I think I will add a few retreat observations here, over time.
The thought of posting everything about my retreat is overwhelming...and I don't know I'd be able to communicate it effectively anyway. But in order to take a stab at it, I'll just start with the experience of taking a retreat; and then, as I process it more and more, I'll add some of the content of what I gained from it.I went on an 8 day directed retreat. What that means it that you are assigned a spiritual director who advises you, listens to you, offers ideas for you to meditate upon, suggests scripture that might be meaningful, offers support for the journey. Many people (at least in Catholic practice, perhaps in other faith groups) utilize a spiritual director or confessor as a necessary component of their walk of faith. I think that since seeing the benefit for myself, I'll probably ask my priest about a local director. I have a feeling it is a bit like choosing a counselor, though.... some are a better fit than others.
My director was a grandfatherly Jesuit priest, whose theological leanings (if I had to put them on a continuum) were likely more liberal than my own. However, I'm so glad that I didn't let this color my opinions....I gained so much from him! He offered me points of view I really hadn't considered; he supported my observations; he kept me focused on the goal of it all; he made helpful suggestions.
I checked into the retreat facility on Sunday afternoon. We had a dinner together, then after the initial dinner, we didn't talk again until lunch 8 days later. Every day followed a predictable schedule:
8 - breakfast
9 - session with my spiritual director
12- lunch
5:15 - mass
6 - dinner
If I didn't want to go to any of these, that was fine...nothing was expected of me. But it gave my day a bit of structure. Beyond those events, how I spent my time was up to me entirely.
The food was homecooked and very good. The retreat facility was 'comfortably spartan'. Everything was clean and comfortable, but not more than I needed. In my room (my 'cell', as my friends and family joked) was a double bed, a desk and chair, a Bible, a crucifix, a luggage stand, a comfy chair, and 8 coat hangers. Thankfully I brought my cell phone, so I had an alarm clock...otherwise, I might have missed a meal! 
The retreat house had our rooms, a chapel, a conference room, a very small library/book store, a dining room, and offices for the spiritual directors and staff. The grounds were lovely ... 20 acres of woods bordering the river. There was a picturesque waterfall in the stream, walking trails, and benches and 'personal decks' scattered around the property. There was also an outdoor meditation chapel on the top of the hill. And this in Atlanta...just stuck between residential homes. You'd have thought you were in the middle of nowhere.
I kept a journal each day of what I was learning, my questions, my observations on the experience. I described myself in there as "arriving at the beginning of a rainstorm, with few concrete expectations, and a handful of fears." My first morning I noted: "I awake this morning after a great night's sleep at 7:05. Immediately, thoughts push into my mind. I'm amazed at how -- in a place with no demands, no noise, no real schedule -- I can be so assaulted with planning my day, wondering what will be next, second guessing myself, ...conscious thought."
At the outset, they gave us some information about the value of silence. I quote: "Silence creates the climate of interior stillness in which God's voice can be heard. Abstaining from dialog with others unleashes the easy, spontaneous communication with God, which is prayer. Silence enables us to make contact with our innermost self and thus satisfy our anxious quest for self-identity, inner freedom, and self-determination. Silence enables us to marintain the balance between the outward and inward forces in our lives between action and prayer. Too much community depersonalizes; too much solitude leads to sterile loneliness. The therapeutic value of silence reveals itself in a deep and peaceful tranquility. Silence and speech are correlatives; they complement each other. Without periods of silence we can only babble."
I observed on that first day that I was being confronted with all my words that pile up, even in silence, as I think and write ... and I realize I'm not listening yet. It took awhile to get used to eating with people and not speaking to them....felt a bit like we were all characters out of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" or something...silently shuffling around each other! By the end of the week, I was seeing so much value in the silence! One particular benefit that stood out to me was this: I could figure out myself without reference to the people around me; I didn't have to feel compelled to make small talk, to feign interest in the journey of another if it wasn't genuine. I observed toward the end of my week "One reason retreat is so nice is because there are no images -- no friend's faces, no celebrity magazines, no people in the news -- against which I can measure myself. The people here are strangers on a similar journey, about whom I know nothing, and silence forbids me getting to know. It has been refreshing to begin to learn who I am, NOT in regard to those around me, or what I do (for we all here DO nothing!)."
For more info about the retreat center I went to:
www.ignatiushouse.com
The picture is a painting I did earlier this year of Montserrat in Spain. St. Ignatius Loyola (the Jesuits' patron) gave up his former way of life after spending a night on Montserrat. I thought it was a providential symbol of God in my life. I have a chunk of rock from Montserrat, atop a chunk of rock from Ignatius House, on my desk now.
Can't decide if life sucks, or if I should be thankful.
My dd declared yesterday as one to go down in the annals of sucky days. Of course, she had just undergone her first vaginal exam, so what could we expect?
But on the whole the day did have its sucky elements, I have to agree.
First on the list was starting my day dumpster diving. We decided a week ago that we are moving. We are, one month from now, packing 6 people and 2 pets and the detritus of 11 years in one house, driving it a total of, oh, a half mile, and redepositing said persons and belongings into a smaller house that costs more. There is some sense in this move, despite the fact that when it's written out like that, I cannot imagine what that sense is. However, that is an aside. Back to the dumpster. Boxes. Must have boxes. Dumpsters labelled "Cardboard Only" are a mother-lode of boxes. I learned that one should not wear a cute sequined skirt and flip flops when d.diving; that people look at you funny when they come out of Barnes and Noble with their lattes in hand when you are hanging out of a dumpster; and that it really is easier once you actually get completely inside the dumpster to retrieve items. Silver lining: we now have plenty to get started.
Then dd goes to meet new female doctor. Dd is in a rotten mood. I have to take dd, because her car is in the shop. Silver lining: aforementioned exam does not uncover anything worrysome.
Then I pick up ds (17) at high school registration. He spent last night with a friend, assuring me that the friend would drop him at the school. He is dependent again on us for transportation since three weeks ago, he and three friends totalled his Explorer. They were returning from a weekend at the beach, driving at 7 am back from Charleston up the interstate. Ds had gotten sleepy, and his friend volunteered to drive so ds could take a nap. The friend fell asleep. The Explorer swerved into the grass and the friend overcompensated (waking to find himself heading toward the concrete base of a road sign), rolling the car onto its roof and skidding, 4 wheels in the air, to within three feet of the sign. Miraculously, all three boys were wearing their seat belts. Miraculously, they kicked out the back window and got out of the car. Miraculously, there was not even a scratched knee or a bumped head. The worst injuries were fire ants bites, from all the dirt that was deposited to the inside of the car. But that is an aside. Back to school registration. The friend could not bring ds to the school, so I learned that ds rode the friend's gas-powered scooter 10+ miles to school that morning, sans helmet. Silver lining: ds and friends are still alive to register for school. Ds is resourceful. Ds survived the scooter ride.
Off to dh's office, to pick up my 'paycheck' for the week. His secretary is out sick for the second day, and he's in a meeting. He's left the check at the front desk for me. I look like #$%$ from aforementioned dumpster diving (95 degrees, 90% humidity), but pick up the check and take it to the bank on the first floor of his office building. The teller kindly informs me that there are insufficient funds to cash the check. I call dh's cell. He's in the meeting so doesn't answer. I need to shop for dd's back to school needs, as she's heading to college in two days, not to mention things like groceries, gasoline (which costs about as much as groceries now), etc. I drive back home from downtown. Silver lining: dh and I are in a better place, so I don't immediately assume really nasty thoughts about him. He calls back, and had written my check out of the wrong account (one reason I normally get it from secretary). Still, I have no money in my wallet and I've lost my ATM. Silver lining: Even Chick Fil A takes a credit card.
We have now worked our way up to the afternoon. Ds (17) takes my car to pick up his own paycheck, and to go to his own doctor appointment. I lie down on bed with phone book, and call mobile providers to compare plans, since dd is moving away and we need to make adjustments. I call internet providers, dish TV providers, land line provider, duly writing down all the features and costs of all the options, so that I can intelligently discuss the topic with dh tonight. I notice as I'm speaking to James from the cable company that my cell phone beeps in call waiting; I ignore; my home phone rings; ignore; my cell again beeps in; I feel that I should wind it up with James. As I'm thanking him for his help the home phone again rings. I answer only to hear, "Mom, I'm really sorry." Not good. Ds has wrecked MY car. Silver lining: DS is fine. I now know that my insurance policy will provide me with a rental car (since I JUST TURNED IN the rental car YESTERDAY from previous accident).
DS misses his doctor appointment. DH goes (in the only remaining car we have, a two-seater) to pick DS up on side of road. I call my father, since I am now stranded without a car and ds (13) needs to be picked up from the church, where he's returning at 3 from an overnight trip. His soccer practice is at 4, assuming he made the team (which I haven't had time to check the final cuts, but odds were good). I get to the church at 3:05, only to learn that ds rode home in another car with Trey, a high schooler whom ds did not have permission to ride with. At 3:15 we phone Trey's cell phone and learn that Trey decided to stop and GET A HAIRCUT on the way home. I calmly, but with a slightly bitchy edge, tell ds that he picked a really bad day to make a stupid decision, and to please GET HIS BUTT in some vehicle and get to the church. I take my longsuffering father home and return to the church. Silver lining: ds makes it back despite being driven by a 16 year old male driver.
DS and I dash off to soccer practice. He didn't make the team.
Tired of looking for silver linings. Silver lining: People learn more from failure than from success. DS takes it like a man. Coach calls ds to explain her decision to cut him, and seems to truly care. (Doesn't make it a good decision though! GRRR.)
Run home, get ds (12) and take him to Tae Kwon Do. He doesn't get a tip, and is worried that he will not be able to test for his green belt next week. Silver lining: he's finally in TKD found something he's interested in doing.
In the 45 minutes he's there I go home and fix dinner. Cannot eat dinner with rest of family because I have to pick DS from TKD. Silver lining: Dinner is still good cold. I have a car, albeit my dad's, to pick up child.
Dinner conversation about Fight Club, trying to uncover the meaning of it all. Is it saying that we are all capable of great evil? Is it merely the story of the descent of one man? Is it mental illness? (try having a discussion about split personalities and imaginary persons with a child who has a schizoid disorder...) Silver lining: Said child is blissfully unaware that such horrors could be part of her future. But I'm not.
After dinner, discuss cell phone options with dh. I've written all the pertinent info into carefully parallel columns, listed pros and cons, etc. Discussion goes pretty well, actually, until dh (innocently, teasingly) says, "I can't believe it is 11:00! This conversation should have taken five minutes! You should never ever consider a career as a financial analyst." Big teardrop. Followed by another. Silver lining: dh realizes he just said the wrong thing.
Pack it in. Tomorrow is another day.
But on the whole the day did have its sucky elements, I have to agree.
First on the list was starting my day dumpster diving. We decided a week ago that we are moving. We are, one month from now, packing 6 people and 2 pets and the detritus of 11 years in one house, driving it a total of, oh, a half mile, and redepositing said persons and belongings into a smaller house that costs more. There is some sense in this move, despite the fact that when it's written out like that, I cannot imagine what that sense is. However, that is an aside. Back to the dumpster. Boxes. Must have boxes. Dumpsters labelled "Cardboard Only" are a mother-lode of boxes. I learned that one should not wear a cute sequined skirt and flip flops when d.diving; that people look at you funny when they come out of Barnes and Noble with their lattes in hand when you are hanging out of a dumpster; and that it really is easier once you actually get completely inside the dumpster to retrieve items. Silver lining: we now have plenty to get started.
Then dd goes to meet new female doctor. Dd is in a rotten mood. I have to take dd, because her car is in the shop. Silver lining: aforementioned exam does not uncover anything worrysome.
Then I pick up ds (17) at high school registration. He spent last night with a friend, assuring me that the friend would drop him at the school. He is dependent again on us for transportation since three weeks ago, he and three friends totalled his Explorer. They were returning from a weekend at the beach, driving at 7 am back from Charleston up the interstate. Ds had gotten sleepy, and his friend volunteered to drive so ds could take a nap. The friend fell asleep. The Explorer swerved into the grass and the friend overcompensated (waking to find himself heading toward the concrete base of a road sign), rolling the car onto its roof and skidding, 4 wheels in the air, to within three feet of the sign. Miraculously, all three boys were wearing their seat belts. Miraculously, they kicked out the back window and got out of the car. Miraculously, there was not even a scratched knee or a bumped head. The worst injuries were fire ants bites, from all the dirt that was deposited to the inside of the car. But that is an aside. Back to school registration. The friend could not bring ds to the school, so I learned that ds rode the friend's gas-powered scooter 10+ miles to school that morning, sans helmet. Silver lining: ds and friends are still alive to register for school. Ds is resourceful. Ds survived the scooter ride.
Off to dh's office, to pick up my 'paycheck' for the week. His secretary is out sick for the second day, and he's in a meeting. He's left the check at the front desk for me. I look like #$%$ from aforementioned dumpster diving (95 degrees, 90% humidity), but pick up the check and take it to the bank on the first floor of his office building. The teller kindly informs me that there are insufficient funds to cash the check. I call dh's cell. He's in the meeting so doesn't answer. I need to shop for dd's back to school needs, as she's heading to college in two days, not to mention things like groceries, gasoline (which costs about as much as groceries now), etc. I drive back home from downtown. Silver lining: dh and I are in a better place, so I don't immediately assume really nasty thoughts about him. He calls back, and had written my check out of the wrong account (one reason I normally get it from secretary). Still, I have no money in my wallet and I've lost my ATM. Silver lining: Even Chick Fil A takes a credit card.
We have now worked our way up to the afternoon. Ds (17) takes my car to pick up his own paycheck, and to go to his own doctor appointment. I lie down on bed with phone book, and call mobile providers to compare plans, since dd is moving away and we need to make adjustments. I call internet providers, dish TV providers, land line provider, duly writing down all the features and costs of all the options, so that I can intelligently discuss the topic with dh tonight. I notice as I'm speaking to James from the cable company that my cell phone beeps in call waiting; I ignore; my home phone rings; ignore; my cell again beeps in; I feel that I should wind it up with James. As I'm thanking him for his help the home phone again rings. I answer only to hear, "Mom, I'm really sorry." Not good. Ds has wrecked MY car. Silver lining: DS is fine. I now know that my insurance policy will provide me with a rental car (since I JUST TURNED IN the rental car YESTERDAY from previous accident).
DS misses his doctor appointment. DH goes (in the only remaining car we have, a two-seater) to pick DS up on side of road. I call my father, since I am now stranded without a car and ds (13) needs to be picked up from the church, where he's returning at 3 from an overnight trip. His soccer practice is at 4, assuming he made the team (which I haven't had time to check the final cuts, but odds were good). I get to the church at 3:05, only to learn that ds rode home in another car with Trey, a high schooler whom ds did not have permission to ride with. At 3:15 we phone Trey's cell phone and learn that Trey decided to stop and GET A HAIRCUT on the way home. I calmly, but with a slightly bitchy edge, tell ds that he picked a really bad day to make a stupid decision, and to please GET HIS BUTT in some vehicle and get to the church. I take my longsuffering father home and return to the church. Silver lining: ds makes it back despite being driven by a 16 year old male driver.
DS and I dash off to soccer practice. He didn't make the team.
Tired of looking for silver linings. Silver lining: People learn more from failure than from success. DS takes it like a man. Coach calls ds to explain her decision to cut him, and seems to truly care. (Doesn't make it a good decision though! GRRR.)
Run home, get ds (12) and take him to Tae Kwon Do. He doesn't get a tip, and is worried that he will not be able to test for his green belt next week. Silver lining: he's finally in TKD found something he's interested in doing.
In the 45 minutes he's there I go home and fix dinner. Cannot eat dinner with rest of family because I have to pick DS from TKD. Silver lining: Dinner is still good cold. I have a car, albeit my dad's, to pick up child.
Dinner conversation about Fight Club, trying to uncover the meaning of it all. Is it saying that we are all capable of great evil? Is it merely the story of the descent of one man? Is it mental illness? (try having a discussion about split personalities and imaginary persons with a child who has a schizoid disorder...) Silver lining: Said child is blissfully unaware that such horrors could be part of her future. But I'm not.
After dinner, discuss cell phone options with dh. I've written all the pertinent info into carefully parallel columns, listed pros and cons, etc. Discussion goes pretty well, actually, until dh (innocently, teasingly) says, "I can't believe it is 11:00! This conversation should have taken five minutes! You should never ever consider a career as a financial analyst." Big teardrop. Followed by another. Silver lining: dh realizes he just said the wrong thing.
Pack it in. Tomorrow is another day.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Life changed
I see that it has been since May that I posted.
I feel like that was almost like another lifetime ago. Isn't that crazy?
Sometime between when we gave up on our marriage and decided to go on the planned cruise with our kids (but then we'd probably separate after that) and pulling back into Port Canaveral after 7 days at sea....somewhere in there, God brought healing.
Maybe it started when we went to Father Newman, and he told us there could be no fundamental change to our marriage, because we would always fundamentally be the same people. Maybe it started when we agreed to postpone arguments on the cruise for the sake of the children. (We DIDN'T postpone arguments, but we previously agreed to, and maybe that agreement was part of the healing). Maybe it was just admitting to God in prayer that I didn't have the stuff to stay in it anymore, that enough was enough. I really cannot say. But the cruise certainly marked a turning point.
We fought and fought, knowing that the alternative was an end to 'us'. That brings a focus to the fighting....it became a sense that we were fighting FOR us -- for the survival of our marriage-- rather than against each other. It was hard, so hard that I remember nights where we were too tired to physically lift our heads off the pillow to kiss and makeup at the end of it. The Kleenex ran out. Our voices became hoarse whispers. But we made it through to the next day having resolved some small piece of the problem. We slowly realized we weren't backing down, then that we weren't giving up, then that we might just make it. We recovered trust. We recovered respect for the other's perspective. We recovered affection, and desire. Hope was truly the thing with feathers; it would flit in and out. Some days I would have no hope; some days I thought perhaps I could at least imagine having hope. And at some point, I guess I realized that I must have had hope all along, because I was in a position of looking back, realizing that I had held on. I don't know how.
I wish I could patent the process and replicate it for the benefit of others. But I cannot. It is so particular and so precious. I can only stand on the other side and know what it took from myself and from dh to get here. There are still a few niggly issues that haven't been really covered yet. And there are circumstances that uncover the same old rush of feelings....but we are different. We are able to hang on to one another, draw strength from each other, and fight through the conflict (and the desires to flee, to lash out, to withdraw, to sweep under the carpet for the sake of 'peace'). I can now say I love my husband. I really love being married to him. And it's been years since I felt that deeply, in the way I do now. Funny thing is, if you know me IRL, you'd think we had a pretty good marriage....two people who laugh frequently, who seem compatible and well suited, who have been together for over 20 years. But now, there is an immediacy and an intimacy that's never been there before. It is a costly intimacy, because the suffering we've both undergone to have it has been real enough to taste.
I pray to God that he will restore to us the years that the locusts have eaten.
I feel like that was almost like another lifetime ago. Isn't that crazy?
Sometime between when we gave up on our marriage and decided to go on the planned cruise with our kids (but then we'd probably separate after that) and pulling back into Port Canaveral after 7 days at sea....somewhere in there, God brought healing.
Maybe it started when we went to Father Newman, and he told us there could be no fundamental change to our marriage, because we would always fundamentally be the same people. Maybe it started when we agreed to postpone arguments on the cruise for the sake of the children. (We DIDN'T postpone arguments, but we previously agreed to, and maybe that agreement was part of the healing). Maybe it was just admitting to God in prayer that I didn't have the stuff to stay in it anymore, that enough was enough. I really cannot say. But the cruise certainly marked a turning point.
We fought and fought, knowing that the alternative was an end to 'us'. That brings a focus to the fighting....it became a sense that we were fighting FOR us -- for the survival of our marriage-- rather than against each other. It was hard, so hard that I remember nights where we were too tired to physically lift our heads off the pillow to kiss and makeup at the end of it. The Kleenex ran out. Our voices became hoarse whispers. But we made it through to the next day having resolved some small piece of the problem. We slowly realized we weren't backing down, then that we weren't giving up, then that we might just make it. We recovered trust. We recovered respect for the other's perspective. We recovered affection, and desire. Hope was truly the thing with feathers; it would flit in and out. Some days I would have no hope; some days I thought perhaps I could at least imagine having hope. And at some point, I guess I realized that I must have had hope all along, because I was in a position of looking back, realizing that I had held on. I don't know how.
I wish I could patent the process and replicate it for the benefit of others. But I cannot. It is so particular and so precious. I can only stand on the other side and know what it took from myself and from dh to get here. There are still a few niggly issues that haven't been really covered yet. And there are circumstances that uncover the same old rush of feelings....but we are different. We are able to hang on to one another, draw strength from each other, and fight through the conflict (and the desires to flee, to lash out, to withdraw, to sweep under the carpet for the sake of 'peace'). I can now say I love my husband. I really love being married to him. And it's been years since I felt that deeply, in the way I do now. Funny thing is, if you know me IRL, you'd think we had a pretty good marriage....two people who laugh frequently, who seem compatible and well suited, who have been together for over 20 years. But now, there is an immediacy and an intimacy that's never been there before. It is a costly intimacy, because the suffering we've both undergone to have it has been real enough to taste.
I pray to God that he will restore to us the years that the locusts have eaten.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Hope is good
After meeting for four hours with a friend that we both thought could offer some perspective, we came away with a lot said, and a plan for getting us started on the path back from the edge. We aren't off the edge, but we're both sensing that it is worth the work it will be to save ourselves from this hellhole we've been dancing around the rim of. The plan is this:
- Table controversy. Not forever, but just for now. Write it down to come back to later, but for the time we're on the cruise, just defer conflict till we get back. Use this trip to have fun and reconnect with one another and our children. Refuse to be drawn into anything that doesn't serve that goal. When we get back, we'll talk about the situations we've written down, but not until we get back.
- Dh needs to spend time one-on-one with this friend, searching out some of what's going on inside him.
- She suggested that I get away for a solitude of at least 2 weeks, maybe three. Alone, or perhaps with the help of a spiritual director. She observed that I need to find out who I am, unrelated to whose daughter, mother, and wife I am. She said I needed time without everyone around to rediscover the nugget of who I really am, at core. I have been wanting a spiritual director, and lo and behold, she gives me a brochure of a local ministry of spiritual direction -- that has both Catholics and Protestants on the board, and among the directors.
In the past few weeks, I've had 5 glimmers from God that he's out there, and I'm not forgotten.
One was a momentary flash of just how great a marriage ours could be...it lasted a nanosecond, but that instant was filled with images of what dh and I could look like if our marriage existed at the level it should and could. A
Another glimmer was a searing insight (in a McDonald's bathroom, along I-26, of all places): what IF there's a big ol' problem in myself and it isn't primarily dh's problem? This insight wasn't a capitulation to his perspective, but rather an opening myself up to do the internal work that I (and only I) can do.
The third glimmer was a phone call from this friend we met with, last week. I hadn't heard from her in ages, and I had spent the day in tears. Finally I threw a pair of socks on the floor and told God, "ENOUGH. I've had enough. You're going to have to do it, because I've had ENOUGH." Within a few minutes, she called, and we set up the meeting that we just attended.
The fourth glimmer was the snakebite. It really gave me a metaphor for life.
My last glimmer was the solitude/spiritual director angle our friend suggested....I had been wanting that, but didn't know where to find what I was looking for. It's almost like, if this had been a script, it would have tied itself up too neatly to be believed. But it isn't a script, it's my life. And somehow all these threads wove together to lead me to a spiritual director.
- Table controversy. Not forever, but just for now. Write it down to come back to later, but for the time we're on the cruise, just defer conflict till we get back. Use this trip to have fun and reconnect with one another and our children. Refuse to be drawn into anything that doesn't serve that goal. When we get back, we'll talk about the situations we've written down, but not until we get back.
- Dh needs to spend time one-on-one with this friend, searching out some of what's going on inside him.
- She suggested that I get away for a solitude of at least 2 weeks, maybe three. Alone, or perhaps with the help of a spiritual director. She observed that I need to find out who I am, unrelated to whose daughter, mother, and wife I am. She said I needed time without everyone around to rediscover the nugget of who I really am, at core. I have been wanting a spiritual director, and lo and behold, she gives me a brochure of a local ministry of spiritual direction -- that has both Catholics and Protestants on the board, and among the directors.
In the past few weeks, I've had 5 glimmers from God that he's out there, and I'm not forgotten.
One was a momentary flash of just how great a marriage ours could be...it lasted a nanosecond, but that instant was filled with images of what dh and I could look like if our marriage existed at the level it should and could. A
Another glimmer was a searing insight (in a McDonald's bathroom, along I-26, of all places): what IF there's a big ol' problem in myself and it isn't primarily dh's problem? This insight wasn't a capitulation to his perspective, but rather an opening myself up to do the internal work that I (and only I) can do.
The third glimmer was a phone call from this friend we met with, last week. I hadn't heard from her in ages, and I had spent the day in tears. Finally I threw a pair of socks on the floor and told God, "ENOUGH. I've had enough. You're going to have to do it, because I've had ENOUGH." Within a few minutes, she called, and we set up the meeting that we just attended.
The fourth glimmer was the snakebite. It really gave me a metaphor for life.
My last glimmer was the solitude/spiritual director angle our friend suggested....I had been wanting that, but didn't know where to find what I was looking for. It's almost like, if this had been a script, it would have tied itself up too neatly to be believed. But it isn't a script, it's my life. And somehow all these threads wove together to lead me to a spiritual director.
Monday, May 23, 2005
League Tennis
You learn a lot from playing tennis. I returned last night from the state championships with my little team of 2.5 players (beginners). We wanted to win, but it wasn't a higher priority than savoring the experience. Everyone on the team is supportive of one another, so it has been an amazing season. We're not 'friends' really, just a group of women who play tennis together more or less once a week. That's it. But it clicked, and we all had fun. Can't say that about some of the teams we played though!! Really, tennis can bring out the not-very-ladylike inner bitch in some women. But not us. We had fun.
The day before we left for the state championships, we were told to come to the clubhouse for team pictures. We showed up at the appointed time (noon) and were ushered into a private dining room. The table was set with cloth and china, fresh flowers, rose petals scattered over the tablecloth, and a rose at each place. Under each rose was a wrapped package from a local jeweler, with a little rosebud lapel pin attached to the center of the bow. The package contained an engraved Reed and Barton silverplate pictureframe. There were champagne glasses at each place as well.
We were stunned. A 'secret fan' had treated us all to a surprize luncheon in our honor. I was floored. This is the first year we've been together as a team. There's not a shared history. As the cameras snapped and the glasses were raised, we felt like princesses. One of the women, married 38 years, ventured, "I think this might have been my husband. He knows the jeweler, and he knows that crepes are my favorite." He just happened to be dining in another part of the building, so she sent for him, and found out that it was his doing. He just beamed at having pulled off a surprize on every one of us, and we all tripped over one another to thank him.
He developed the pictures, and sent each one of us prints.
Can you imagine the generosity and thoughtfulness that would do this for a group of women he didn't even KNOW? Just for love for his wife. I'm still speechless.
The day before we left for the state championships, we were told to come to the clubhouse for team pictures. We showed up at the appointed time (noon) and were ushered into a private dining room. The table was set with cloth and china, fresh flowers, rose petals scattered over the tablecloth, and a rose at each place. Under each rose was a wrapped package from a local jeweler, with a little rosebud lapel pin attached to the center of the bow. The package contained an engraved Reed and Barton silverplate pictureframe. There were champagne glasses at each place as well.
We were stunned. A 'secret fan' had treated us all to a surprize luncheon in our honor. I was floored. This is the first year we've been together as a team. There's not a shared history. As the cameras snapped and the glasses were raised, we felt like princesses. One of the women, married 38 years, ventured, "I think this might have been my husband. He knows the jeweler, and he knows that crepes are my favorite." He just happened to be dining in another part of the building, so she sent for him, and found out that it was his doing. He just beamed at having pulled off a surprize on every one of us, and we all tripped over one another to thank him.
He developed the pictures, and sent each one of us prints.
Can you imagine the generosity and thoughtfulness that would do this for a group of women he didn't even KNOW? Just for love for his wife. I'm still speechless.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Views of Reality
Dh and I finally talked last night.
I'm not sure it made me feel any better.
Here's his take:
1. Through hours of prayer he's come to believe that his outbursts are not anger, but frustration with me.
2. What he says does not matter to me.
3. I am defensive, and he believes it is because I have something to hide.
4. If I observe my belief that something he says is incorrect, it is proof of #2.
5. Therefore he cannot talk to me, with any hope of anything good coming of it.
Here's my take:
1. It's not me who is throwing pans and hitting people. So let's keep that in mind.
2. He has such an ability to sublimate pain and to dissociate from the pain of reality, that he in actuality 'splits.'
3. He has such abuse (sexual, physical, verbal) in his childhood, which he has only recently come to remember the full horror of, that it colors all his observations.
4. I recoil from his anger, frustration, and shame both in its outward forms (tantrums, harshness) and its quiet forms (passive aggressive behaviors, blaming the victim).
5. Therefore, I cannot talk to him, with any hope of anything good coming of it.
I wonder how this marriage can weather this.
I'm not sure it made me feel any better.
Here's his take:
1. Through hours of prayer he's come to believe that his outbursts are not anger, but frustration with me.
2. What he says does not matter to me.
3. I am defensive, and he believes it is because I have something to hide.
4. If I observe my belief that something he says is incorrect, it is proof of #2.
5. Therefore he cannot talk to me, with any hope of anything good coming of it.
Here's my take:
1. It's not me who is throwing pans and hitting people. So let's keep that in mind.
2. He has such an ability to sublimate pain and to dissociate from the pain of reality, that he in actuality 'splits.'
3. He has such abuse (sexual, physical, verbal) in his childhood, which he has only recently come to remember the full horror of, that it colors all his observations.
4. I recoil from his anger, frustration, and shame both in its outward forms (tantrums, harshness) and its quiet forms (passive aggressive behaviors, blaming the victim).
5. Therefore, I cannot talk to him, with any hope of anything good coming of it.
I wonder how this marriage can weather this.
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