Miracles occur naturally as expressions of love. The real miracle is the love that inspires them. In this sense everything that comes from love is a miracle.
--Marianne Williamson
Everyone has a lowest point in their life, a time when the burdens are more than we can bear. My dark time was just a few months ago. Everything that I knew my life to be was crashing in around me and I could barely tread water enough to breathe. I nearly drowned, and in part I was losing the will to stay afloat. The weight of my problems had been pulling me down for so long I was losing the strength to hang on. And at the moment when I almost gave into the tide my friends and family rescued me.
I normally refuse the help of others, I prefer to be the one offering assistance, but I was so weak I couldn't push them away. My loved ones rushed into action and nursed my heart and soul back to health while helping me restore and renew my life and my will to live. They helped me piece together what was salvageable and build a foundation for my new life to come. They saved my life and I can't imagine a greater miracle than that. Before my rescue it became difficult for me to believe in anything, especially miracles. Now I have experienced the greatest miracle of all--love. And henceforth I will strive to be grateful for every day that I spend on this earth.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Saturday, March 24, 2007
You Can't Make this Shit Up
I've decided to add an ongoing element to my blog. It seems that in life truth is often stranger than fiction, and nothing could be more true in a small town. One of the wonderful and yet bizarre qualities of small towns is that these locals seem to somehow nurture and support the odd characters in our midst. It's a theme in Southern literature, but I have to say that it is universally applicable to all small towns. Therefore I have decided to keep track of these quirky, and sometimes disturbing characters and events as I experience them. Yes, these people and events that are so off the wall that you just can't make this shit up...........
Here is the inaugural oddfellow, I shall call him Slick.
The other day I was running my usual errands, which now include buying pantyhose at Wal-Mart, an entirely frustrating experience to say the least. (And yes, the three dollar pantyhose run like no body's business.) I stood in the express checkout lane with my sugar free truffles, crappy pantyhose and a pack of substandard gum (I can't find Altoids gum ANYWHERE around here.) In a matter of just a few moments it was my turn to be check out and I met Slick. Slick is a chubby teenaged pimply faced kid who probably hadn't washed his hair in a few days and had mustard on his cheek. He dutifully scanned my measly purchase, tossed it in the bag and I swiped my debit card through the card reader. No beep. I swipe again, still no beep. Slick intervenes, "Sometimes the cards get dirty, " he says as he takes the card out of my hand, proceeds to lick the magnetic strip and wipe it on his dirty Wal-Mart vest. Then Slick runs the card through his card reader and PRESTO it beeps, authorizes and he hands me back my contaminated card. In truth, I wanted to say, "It's okay, you keep it," but I was envisioning Slick and his only two friends in the world emptying my bank account buying junk food and internet porn, so I took it back and left in horror. Now one might think that after such an experience I would never return to Wal-Mart in protest, BUT this is a small town and sadly the best place to buy crappy three dollar pantyhose. You just can't make this shit up.
Here is the inaugural oddfellow, I shall call him Slick.
The other day I was running my usual errands, which now include buying pantyhose at Wal-Mart, an entirely frustrating experience to say the least. (And yes, the three dollar pantyhose run like no body's business.) I stood in the express checkout lane with my sugar free truffles, crappy pantyhose and a pack of substandard gum (I can't find Altoids gum ANYWHERE around here.) In a matter of just a few moments it was my turn to be check out and I met Slick. Slick is a chubby teenaged pimply faced kid who probably hadn't washed his hair in a few days and had mustard on his cheek. He dutifully scanned my measly purchase, tossed it in the bag and I swiped my debit card through the card reader. No beep. I swipe again, still no beep. Slick intervenes, "Sometimes the cards get dirty, " he says as he takes the card out of my hand, proceeds to lick the magnetic strip and wipe it on his dirty Wal-Mart vest. Then Slick runs the card through his card reader and PRESTO it beeps, authorizes and he hands me back my contaminated card. In truth, I wanted to say, "It's okay, you keep it," but I was envisioning Slick and his only two friends in the world emptying my bank account buying junk food and internet porn, so I took it back and left in horror. Now one might think that after such an experience I would never return to Wal-Mart in protest, BUT this is a small town and sadly the best place to buy crappy three dollar pantyhose. You just can't make this shit up.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Ms. Phyllis
Women want men, careers, money, children, friends, luxury, comfort, independence, freedom, respect, love, and a three-dollar pantyhose that won't run.
--Phyllis Diller (1917 - ____) US comedienne
Honestly, is that too much to ask?
--Phyllis Diller (1917 - ____) US comedienne
Honestly, is that too much to ask?
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Wonderful Town
Midwesterners, especially those from small towns, have a special fondness for musical theater. I've never exactly understood why, but I definitely took that trait to heart. There really is something magical about a musical, the old-school type especially. There are quirky characters, always at least one that you can identify with, a sitcom-like plot structure, and in the end everyone is in love and happy. Oh and the best part, which I failed to mention, is the spontaneously bursting into song of course. (Who doesn't do that?)
I can't remember a time when musicals weren't a part of my life. My father was a high school teacher for 17 years and then became a principal. Every year we attended the student productions of musicals and plays. Sometimes in the summer my grandma would take me to see the summer musical at the Palace Theater, which was a community production, and of course when I was in high school I both performed in the musicals and helped construct the sets. I don't think I even saw a professional production until my senior year of high school. Oddly the professional ones have always seemed to lack some of the magic, maybe because the actors weren't people I knew.
As cheesy and unrealistic as musicals are, I've always loved the world they exist in. Things always happen for a reason and even the oddest character gets to fall in love. In part it isn't entirely unreal. I did grow up in a family where people would randomly burst into song, and every once in a while life does feel like a storybook come alive. There is a comfort in believing in happy endings.
Yesterday I was so lonely and heartbroken and not all that thrilled at the thought of spending my Saturday night at a high school musical. I wanted to be with my friends, somewhere where I'm comfortable and at home. Instead I was attending a high school musical with my parents as I had done so many times as a child. It felt pathetic and defeating all at once. I kept thinking, so this is all there is to do on a Saturday night around here.........
When the curtain lifted and the kids broke into song it wasn't long before I was fully engaged in the show. During intermission I overheard parents and friends discussing the performances and going on about how certain members of the cast would surely be famous some day. The second act resolved all conflicts comically, everyone fell in love and of course there was a standing ovation. While standing around afterwords and talking to parents and kids (some of whom I babysat as infants and yet are heading off to college soon) I felt something new. As a child I watched these plays in awe, it all seemed so real, and I wanted to be one of those pretty girls on stage. As a teenager I was on stage and I remember the exhilarating feeling of the audience's reactions to your acting, their laughter and applause. Now I felt something new. The great love and pride pouring out of the parents of these kids. The belief that they could really take the world by storm. Now of course the odds aren't in their favor, hundreds of small town stars end up cocktail waitresses waiting for the big break that never comes, but right now, tonight everyone knows they'll make it big. The warmth of that love is remarkable and in truth, if I could spend every Friday night this way I'd be a happy woman. Love is infinitely portable, a mom can be a mom anywhere on earth, even here. These lyrics from the musical seem quite appropriate:
Why, Oh why, Oh why, Oh--
Why did I ever leave Ohio?
Why did I wander to find what lies yonder
When life was so cozy at home?
Now, I don't regret leaving here even the tiniest bit. I think anyone from a small town benefits from knowing there is a bigger world out there. I doubt I'll even stay here, but I can't imagine a better place to be while I find myself and start my life anew.
I can't remember a time when musicals weren't a part of my life. My father was a high school teacher for 17 years and then became a principal. Every year we attended the student productions of musicals and plays. Sometimes in the summer my grandma would take me to see the summer musical at the Palace Theater, which was a community production, and of course when I was in high school I both performed in the musicals and helped construct the sets. I don't think I even saw a professional production until my senior year of high school. Oddly the professional ones have always seemed to lack some of the magic, maybe because the actors weren't people I knew.
As cheesy and unrealistic as musicals are, I've always loved the world they exist in. Things always happen for a reason and even the oddest character gets to fall in love. In part it isn't entirely unreal. I did grow up in a family where people would randomly burst into song, and every once in a while life does feel like a storybook come alive. There is a comfort in believing in happy endings.
Yesterday I was so lonely and heartbroken and not all that thrilled at the thought of spending my Saturday night at a high school musical. I wanted to be with my friends, somewhere where I'm comfortable and at home. Instead I was attending a high school musical with my parents as I had done so many times as a child. It felt pathetic and defeating all at once. I kept thinking, so this is all there is to do on a Saturday night around here.........
When the curtain lifted and the kids broke into song it wasn't long before I was fully engaged in the show. During intermission I overheard parents and friends discussing the performances and going on about how certain members of the cast would surely be famous some day. The second act resolved all conflicts comically, everyone fell in love and of course there was a standing ovation. While standing around afterwords and talking to parents and kids (some of whom I babysat as infants and yet are heading off to college soon) I felt something new. As a child I watched these plays in awe, it all seemed so real, and I wanted to be one of those pretty girls on stage. As a teenager I was on stage and I remember the exhilarating feeling of the audience's reactions to your acting, their laughter and applause. Now I felt something new. The great love and pride pouring out of the parents of these kids. The belief that they could really take the world by storm. Now of course the odds aren't in their favor, hundreds of small town stars end up cocktail waitresses waiting for the big break that never comes, but right now, tonight everyone knows they'll make it big. The warmth of that love is remarkable and in truth, if I could spend every Friday night this way I'd be a happy woman. Love is infinitely portable, a mom can be a mom anywhere on earth, even here. These lyrics from the musical seem quite appropriate:
Why, Oh why, Oh why, Oh--
Why did I ever leave Ohio?
Why did I wander to find what lies yonder
When life was so cozy at home?
Now, I don't regret leaving here even the tiniest bit. I think anyone from a small town benefits from knowing there is a bigger world out there. I doubt I'll even stay here, but I can't imagine a better place to be while I find myself and start my life anew.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
A Weekend in Smallville
This is the first weekend I've spent in Ohio since I've moved here. Every weekend I had matters to attend to or plans with friends in Detroit and so I never went more than 5 days without seeing my friends. My heart has been breaking all day, I want nothing more than to be with the people I love. Even though I know that in time I'll have friends here, right now I just want my old friends. I want the comfort and support and love that only friends who've known you for a long time can give.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Saved-Up Wishes
When you love someone all your saved-up wishes start
coming out.
--Elizabeth Bowen
When I was in eighth grade I had a yellow pendoflex
folder that I recorded little sayings and quotations
upon in brightly colored pen. I'm not sure why or how
this practice started, but eventually the entire
surface inside and out was covered with tiny bits of
wisdom. I carried that folder through highschool and
even college like some sort of metaphysical security
blanket occasionally finding little spaces to add more
sage advice to the ragged folder. I carried it with me
into my adult life and until recently kept it like a
treasure in a box of other things that were meaningful
to only me. I decided that it was time to part with
the tattered folder in an attempt at purging some of
these "treasures" from my life (reference "Settling
In" to see the urgency of such activities.) Before I
could let it go I had to transfer the wisdom to another
source and so I recorded most of the quotations into
my molskein(my adult replacement for the yellow folder
I fear.) While taking this trip down memory lane it
was striking to see the ways that my perspective
had grown or changed now that I had I few more years
under my belt. Surely these words resonated with me
then, but some of them were so much more meaningful to
me now. As is the case with this particular
quotation.
I can't begin to imagine what attracted me to it all
those years ago, but I suppose it sounds good even
without understanding or experience. Now I've
lived those very words. I've loved and lost a few
times over at this point and recently that has been a
primary theme in my life. One of the wounds of my
divorce was this fear that maybe I wasn't capable of
really loving as I should. Then quite by surprise I
found myself in love. Suddenly my saved-up wishes came
bubbling to the surface and the life that I thought I
wanted was almost instantly negated. Things I hadn't
let myself wish for were now burning desires in my
heart. Was this because of my new found love? Well yes,
but not the man who I was growing to love. I was
finally growing to love myself. Now, I'm sure this
isn't exactly what Elizabeth Bowen had in mind, but can
we truly love someone else without loving ourselves
first? I think not.
So here is to saved-up wishes! Those glorious
desires of the heart that are well worth pursuing.
Henceforth I will purposely live so that wishes may
never go into storage again.
coming out.
--Elizabeth Bowen
When I was in eighth grade I had a yellow pendoflex
folder that I recorded little sayings and quotations
upon in brightly colored pen. I'm not sure why or how
this practice started, but eventually the entire
surface inside and out was covered with tiny bits of
wisdom. I carried that folder through highschool and
even college like some sort of metaphysical security
blanket occasionally finding little spaces to add more
sage advice to the ragged folder. I carried it with me
into my adult life and until recently kept it like a
treasure in a box of other things that were meaningful
to only me. I decided that it was time to part with
the tattered folder in an attempt at purging some of
these "treasures" from my life (reference "Settling
In" to see the urgency of such activities.) Before I
could let it go I had to transfer the wisdom to another
source and so I recorded most of the quotations into
my molskein(my adult replacement for the yellow folder
I fear.) While taking this trip down memory lane it
was striking to see the ways that my perspective
had grown or changed now that I had I few more years
under my belt. Surely these words resonated with me
then, but some of them were so much more meaningful to
me now. As is the case with this particular
quotation.
I can't begin to imagine what attracted me to it all
those years ago, but I suppose it sounds good even
without understanding or experience. Now I've
lived those very words. I've loved and lost a few
times over at this point and recently that has been a
primary theme in my life. One of the wounds of my
divorce was this fear that maybe I wasn't capable of
really loving as I should. Then quite by surprise I
found myself in love. Suddenly my saved-up wishes came
bubbling to the surface and the life that I thought I
wanted was almost instantly negated. Things I hadn't
let myself wish for were now burning desires in my
heart. Was this because of my new found love? Well yes,
but not the man who I was growing to love. I was
finally growing to love myself. Now, I'm sure this
isn't exactly what Elizabeth Bowen had in mind, but can
we truly love someone else without loving ourselves
first? I think not.
So here is to saved-up wishes! Those glorious
desires of the heart that are well worth pursuing.
Henceforth I will purposely live so that wishes may
never go into storage again.
Friday, March 2, 2007
Home is Where the Heart is?
If home is where the heart is, why isn't my heart here? The obvious answer of course is that this isn't really home anymore and my heart is still in Detroit (sounds like the beginning of a country song already.) I'm really trying to make a life for myself here, but I can't seem to get past the heartache for the people I left behind. When you don't live near family your friends really become your family, and my friends were the best family anyone could hope for. Now I'm surrounded by my actual family, who do love me dearly, and I just don't feel at home. I'm not even sure that I want to.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Settling in..........slowly
One of the biggest challenges of my "fresh start" is the actual move to a new home. Most of my worldly possessions have been relocated to my little house in the good ole hometown. Now the laborious job of unpacking and organizing becomes my all-consuming task for an indefinite period of time. On the upside the duplex is roomy and has character,on the downside it is much smaller than my last home. So here it is, my house full of boxes.......
"A good home must be made not bought." --Joyce Maynard
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
