Bat Bunny is gone
Toasty is Gone
Soon to be Gone
I’m Done
Monthly Archives: November 2018
A New Day to Rejoice
Well yesterday is gone. The new company was an enjoyable addition once the ice was broken, and so many lines of conversation got cut off mid stream, as they are oft to do at family gatherings, that my insatiable curiosity was triggered repeatedly, and now I am intrigued. However it also appears that like me, they prefer the familiarity of their own castle, so it will most likely take the children doings to pry us out of our treacherous chairs to ever meet and greet again.
And because I have promised my eldest to stop deleting my posts I will let yesterday’s pity party stay put, and not delete it as would have been my previous modus operandi…..sigh. Besides, it appears that this is to be a year of change, because someone rescued the turkeys that were to be fed to Godzilla. Perhaps it is time to stop feeding our monsters.
Anyway, on a happier note, I have three days with nothing to do but pull weeds and work on the quilt I have finally started, and I intend to rejoice and be glad in them!
This work is an apt representation of me I suppose, for I have bins and bins of lovely fabric waiting to be used, but instead I choose to take on the challenge of cutting up old shirts and forcing it to work. Perhaps because there is no expectation of success.
Blessings Belinda
Outside Over There
Yesterday the depression settled in hard. Sadness and tears have arrived not just fatigue and pain. Unfortunately today is Thanksgiving and I have new people to meet. Please O Lord keep me from embarrassing my beloved with my incessant chatter in uncomfortable situations, but also keep me from being silent and unwelcoming in my effort to not over share. Oh why do I have to be a creature of such extremes.
I am so tired of being a failure. A failed daughter, a failed friend, a failed student, a failed employee, a failed wife, a failed mother, and a failed Christian. I don’t want to fail anymore, which is why I just want to be left alone, because I am completely happy as I putter and fuss in my lovely little haven of home and gardens. I am safe, not lost and adrift in the expectations of others.
However those that love me cannot understand, and because I love them beyond measure, I am thus forever obligated to participate outside of my abilities, which of course feeds my ever hungry anxiety, which in the end makes me sad…..sigh
What can one do but turn to the Lord.
“The Lord is my light and my salvation;
Whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the defense of my life;
Whom shall I dread?
Psalm 27:1
50:17 Zilch, Nada, Nothing
17) Write a letter to a family member
Monday brought the blues my way, and I don’t much feel like thinking about anyone or anything, so I am pulling out of the archives to answer number 17.
It is a post I wrote to my children for Mother’s Day a few years ago in protest of the notion that motherhood is a sacrifice of some kind, and that I should be venerated for the constant delight and thankfulness having children has produced in my life.
It is a bit stale, and I can happily say that I have managed to break free, but the sentiment is still alive and well within, and is a happy thought to hold on to as I wait for the doldrums to pass, as they always do.
The Best of Me
Sacrifice, I don’t think so. I would be so much less without the adventures we have had. I want you kids to know this, really know this, internalize it, sear it into your psyche, deep. Got it? Good.
You need to know I delight in you. It has been the greatest gift that you could ever give me these friendships we have embarked upon as you have matured into adults. I not only love you all deeply, but I like you, respect you, admire your integrity and wit. Sigh…I could not have asked for anything more than this as your mother.
Think of it this way, do you feel like you are sacrificing to be around me lately, or are you just being patient and loving, helping me through this period of angst I am amidst. Really it could be likened to your growing years, with all my moaning and groaning, and my occasional roaring, protesting life, and how it just never gets any easier.
But this has nothing to do with being a mother. I think it must be that fairytale we buy into, where somehow, sometime, we will be all grown up, and everything will just fall into place. All those foibles and gosh darn peccadilloes will resolve themselves and we will have arrived. Well I am sorry to tell you kids that’s just not so.
Oh sure you get better at mitigating, but one day you reach the tipping point, that nebulous moment when a strand of your tightly woven togetherness falters, weakened by age and use, and you begin the slow laborious rebirth of starting over, the learning how to be old before it’s too late. It is so disappointing, and refreshing, to realize you never do get to grow up, instead, if you are very lucky, you break free.
But I am not alone, I have help. Someone to laugh with me as I falter and struggle with this process of discovering a new adventure now that I only have myself to take care and no excuses.
Besides through the years I have learned so much from all of you that I am way ahead of the curve. Much better off than before I had you, and was trying to learn how to be a young adult all by myself
So please, please, please never isolate and smother me with the cloak of sacrifice. Instead let’s continue to give of ourselves, to each other, always and forever, and never forget, you give me the best of me, I would be so much less without you.
much love mom
50:16 Invisibility Wars Within
17) Seven things learned from being a kid?
- Never let them see you cry. It makes you prey.
- How to be invisible, by being outrageous.
- Never say what you really think, or ridicule will ensue.
- How to eat really fast; quietly
- Walking long distances can be enjoyable.
- Books are better than friends.
- Never cheat, it steals the sweetness of a hard won victory.
- Honor and truth and loyalty can never be overrated.
The hard thing is to unlearn some of these lessons when they fit so comfortably, like a well used pair of boots.
Thus I am often at war with myself.
themomfred 
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