So, why don’t I just dispense with the stress and walk first? Given that my walk time is my quiet time, my chew on things time, my talk to God time; why don’t I go walk first instead of worrying first, reacting first, throwing my hands up in despair and then, when all else fails; finally taking the remedy?
Why I did it, I’ll never know, but there was this dog-running down the busy four lane road adjacent to our neighborhood. Well, I WAS looking for adventure of sorts; or maybe just a calm, peaceful sightseeing tour to finish off the night. I arrived home from the Sweet Adelines Christmas party a whole 30 minutes earlier than usual and decided to give Phil a call on his phone to see if he wanted to go check out Christmas lights in an expansive neighborhood next door. The car was nice and warm, the temperature outside well below freezing and I really didn’t want the chill of running up to the house- why should I discomfort myself in this age of technology? Phil answered his phone, but he wasn’t home. He was with Kev, moving gear into the new recording studio set to open any day now. “Come on down, Mom,” they invited. Right. I was just down there. Once for the party and once earlier to fetch Philip from work. So, I declined and proceeded to take myself on what I thought would be a relaxing 7 minute ride around the block and then home to bed. But, as I said, there was this dog running down the busy road. This dog that looked a little bit like the dog of my best friend’s boyfriend, and a little bit like the dog of my youngest son’s girlfriend, and a bit like a dog who comes through the carpool line at school each evening. Well, I did the only logical thing: I pulled the car over, opened the door and invited the dog in. It smelled like wet dog. I picked her up in my faux suede, dry clean only, coat and deposited her on the passenger seat. She was quite happy to go for a ride – into the nearest parking lot, where I checked her dog tag. Tried to check her dog tag would be more accurate. First I had to turn on the overhead light, then I had to coax her back to the front seat (she had gone exploring in the rear of the car) then I had to fish in my purse for my reading glasses and then the dog kept turning her head while I tried to read the phone number on the tag. Good heavens! What had I got myself into? The address was a little town about 15 miles away. I dialed the number and got a live body who told me the dog was staying at a house——-right across the street – in my subdivision. I delivered the dog within 3 minutes. Now why did I even stop? Every stray puppy, I guess. I could not stand to see a little dog crossing and re-crossing the street; when maybe, you know, I might be helpful and rescue it. I just couldn’t bear it if the little thing got hit.
RESPONSIBILITY OR, He that is faithful in small things will be faithful in much
My children are growing up. Yes, my youngest is a senior and will graduate next May. I love watching children grow. I love the rites of passage; the times when a mother can distinctly see the fine character developing in a child as that one moves first into taking responsibility for him (or her) self and later begins to take leadership or servant responsibility for others.
Last Thursday I forgot to replenish my gum pack in my purse. I realized this about a mile from the school. Too late to turn back home and too late to make a quick stop at a convenience store, I was about to drop Philip off for his early morning college class when I bemoaned the oversight audibly. “Oh, I think I have one,” replied Philip, fully aware of my plight and how I hate the thought of breathing dragon breath at my students. “Just one left,” He commented, fishing the stick out of the package and laying it on the dashboard. I thanked him heartily and then, as he was about to throw the empty package into the trash, “Wait a minute, here’s one more. This one’s for me!” he said, smiling and popping it into his pocket.
Friday night I worked BINGO for Sweet Adelines. It was busy; a full house and a late session. At quarter to midnight I started to check in with Philip, but thought better of it as he might be sleeping. Five minutes later my cell phone rang. “Hi Mom, it’s a bit later than usual, where are you?”
I like to see that my kids are concerned for others. I do not want to be smothered any more than they do. I do not want them to have to build their lives around taking care of me or mutual enabling. But Kindness, Concern, Empathy, healthy Responsibility toward others; those are great character traits. The boy of whom his sister in law once said, “You’re way too nice to be a teenager,” is turning out to be a fine young man.
There is a hundred acre park near the place I live, where I love to walk. It is hallowed ground. I know it is hallowed because God speaks to me there; plays on my heartstrings with his presence, renews my mind with grand views of magnificent desert canyons; fires my brain to remember lessons long forgot; knowledge embedded in my DNA; senses long dormant. There my logic becomes untangled; hunches long denied are acknowledged, and I become ME again, the ME I am created to be.
I become balanced, centered again in the me that would rather be well than right. The me that has learned to live one day at a time in courage and trust, rather than the me that runs around unsuccessfully trying to control others in order to order my future.
I have walked many places. God is not absent from any of them. A walk is always restorative. But this, this is a place I keenly sense his presence. I like to think of the early valley farmers and ranchers – over 100 years ago, who first settled this land and farmed and later deeded, gave, or sold the land to the city.
What must they have done to this land to make it undulate so with vibes of the sacred? I picture them standing in a field, faces uplifted toward the sun, crying out, “God, thank you for this land! We hallow and dedicate this field-forever as a blessing to others-that they might feel you presence here and seek your wisdom and health through enjoyment of this great outdoors!
What one wants, more than anything else in the world, is to protect one’s loved ones-particularly one’s children; to see that no harm comes to them, that no evil comes near them. One longs and agonizes to keep them from physical injury; to manage the equilibrium of their emotions so they never fell hurt or pain from failed relationships or angry people.
I want to give my children the experience of all the good I have encountered in life AND give them good things instead of the disappointments. Just what could be the danger in that? Consider this: Beyond becoming a hover mother, I can easily degenerate into a control freak; managing and manipulating all the events and circumstances that touch my loved ones.
How much better would it be to provide the tools, information, and encouragement and be available as a reference rather than a manager?
May I handle the joys and disappointments in my life with such truth and aplomb that those nearest me may be EN couraged – Given courage-to face their triumphs and trials with wisdom and strength!
P. S. The picture? that’s my youngest – PS – and Me
Hike Flat Fourteeners – I love it! I love the mountains, I love the rolling hills, I love the landscape, I love to walk. But….UP? Now that’s not a good thing for me. There was a time I thought I would never have the stamina to make it to the top of a Colorado fourteener even though I camped at the base of many; and later, a time when I successfully climbed Gray’s Peak (14,270). Still later I ascended Mount Bierstadt (14,060) and lived to write about it for a Mountain Writer’s publication – even though I could hardly walk and it hurt to stoop or lift for months afterward. Now I have embarked on Colorado Flat Fourteeners; a program in which I don a pedometer and walk the total number of paces it would take to hike all the Colorado peaks over 14,000 feet. The rest of the Sweet Adelines and I are doing this together. What fun! When I have finished all 53 I get a T-shirt! This week we did Pike’s Peak together (14,110 – now flat) – and I did an additional smaller peak. By the end of next summer I should have all of them in the bag.
Well, we aren’t ALL here, but some of us got together for dinner and fun in the leaves.
In my spare time; well its not spare time really, just the time left over after my 40 hour job teaching music. Then again, its not exactly time left over, its time I MAKE. Do you MAKE time? Do you have any secret ingredients for making time that I should know about? Anyway in my “spare time” – meaning the common usage of that word, even though I have established that really, nobody has spare time—I SING! Tuesday is probably the most over-loaded day of my week, for on Tuesday I rise and go to work, teaching about 175 students, then home to check on the household, next to an hour long voice lesson, pick Philip up from work and give him a ride home and proceed to a 2 ½ hour Sweet Adelines rehearsal. But you know what? If I am singing and breathing right, it is a most exhilarating day! I do believe singing for 12 hours might be cheaper than a visit to an oxygen bar and it certainly does release the endorphins and dopamine. In my spare time I make time to SING! What do you do with your spare time – or the time that you make?
During the course of the writing of my just completed novel I read a number of books about codependence and addiction; not only the usual alcoholism or chemical dependency treatises; but also writings about clean addictions such as caretaking, affirmation addiction, or the currently popular: workaholism
One reoccurring concept, pinpointed as a factor in addiction, which I at first had a hard time wrapping my mind around, was the idea of carried shame. The concept reoccurs often enough that it is safe to say it is a contributing factor in the development of codependence or addiction in an individual. That is; carried shame causes addiction. Carried shame causes the workaholism of the caretaking codependent.
As near as I understand it, carried shame is when one person does or says something abusive or shameful to another. The victim, or the recipient, sees that the perpetrator should be ashamed and is ashamed or embarrassed for them. Or perhaps the recipient is ashamed for being the one that triggered the shameful thing, revealing the flaw in the perpetrator. The victim / recipient is painfully embarrassed or ashamed for the person perpetrating the incident and carries that shame forward in life; trying to assuage the pain (cope) through a variety of ways; perhaps self-medicating with alcohol, or perhaps merely striving to be perfect.
The carrying forward of Carried Shame is most clearly seen in individuals who have suffered violent physical / sexual abuse and self medicate via chemical abuse; but carried shame can also turn up in the most unusual places.
WWJD? Is a fine thing to ask oneself. Yet, too often I have heard it used by bullies in position of authority. It goes something like this: What would Jesus do? Well I’ll tell you exactly what He would have you do. Listen up. I’ve got it all figured out. Just do exactly what I tell you to do; exactly the way I tell you to do it and you will be doing exactly what Jesus wants you to do. Slip up, do any less than precisely what I tell you and….you know where you are going.
This, this abuses the follower or the sinner shamelessly in order to manipulate them, to control them, to meet the standard of the bully, the church, the family or the organization. And this, I believe, causes pain and fear and carried shame.
My daughter-in-law is a great cook. I love being asked to stay and eat at my son’s house when his wife is cooking. I can just run off and play or read with the grandkids, entertain the baby, and after a while the aroma of a healthful meal wafts in pursuit of my growling stomach, inviting me to the table. Sometimes when left to my own devices at home I crave the fresh ingredients my DIL is fond of using: Romaine lettuce, organic zucchini, mushrooms, garlic, cheese… Last week I decided to put together a seven layer bean dip for an extended family get together. But I do not have the patience of my DIL. I had a number of items on my to do list and I really wanted to be out visiting; not in the kitchen preparing. I had a terrible time disciplining myself to stay in one place and dice and assemble the ingredients.
Over the years my understanding of the adjective “gifted” is, “can do without sleep,” And how do I define “gourmet cook”? One who has patience for shopping and chopping.
I am trying to learn patience. I just spent an hour and 20 minutes in the cell phone store.
