MUCH TO SAY, BUT NOT ENOUGH TIME TO DO IT

I have lots to say but can't tonight because everything deserves some time. Actually, it's all about people and that shouldn't be rushed, even if no one but me reads it.

I will just say this:

I met a marvelous woman--whose blog I follow--today. More about her later.

I met with my personal history group. The girl whose house we meet at wrote an incredible poem which gave me much to think about. She is a very intuitive woman and one of the best people I know. More later.

I got a tender email from a friend, which I cannot tell about later, but which touched me, helped me--her cousin said it would and he didn't even know me or know that it was me it would help--and which gave me many, many things to ponder. She blesses my life. I have printed it so I can read it again and again.

I'm going on a trek with one of my incredible sons tomorrow and I am looking forward to it more than I would have realized. I helped him up when he fell down when he was a baby and now he helps me up when I emotionally fall down. Life is a never ending circle, perhaps. And he's funny.

I am so lucky to have my daughter's sister-in-law as a friend. She is also incredible. Pictures soon to follow of the dearest ornament ever which is all about love.

I read people's blogs on this marvelous thing we call the Internet and am amazed at people's goodness, complexity, commitment, joy and triumph over sorrow and down right funniness. My daughter, Gilmore Girl always seems to say just the thing to make me smile, and just when I need it. How lucky I am to have children.

One of these days I need to finish my ABC's of gratitude. I don't even know what letter I'm on. So, that will come later too.

That's all, nothing said but everything promised.

THE COMPLICATED LIFE

Today I did not have a personal history story written for group. This is almost the first time in two years that I have not been prepared.

The women in the group let me talk after everyone else had read and I talked about the book. The book. The book where I am exorcising my ghosts. One ghost. The loss of my birth dad.

I am beginning to realize this book cannot be about my loss alone. My sisters lost too, especially Julie--who will be referred to as the troll occasionally in the book. Poor Julie to be portrayed in such a way--she hardly resembles a troll at all. Anyway, I have a hot tempered scene in my head between me and the troll, who, I will have to call something nicer because she put up with "the brat" all those years and has never been properly thanked for it.

Mom had the biggest loss of all. Julie told me some of the details of what happened after my dad's death. Mom tried to hold the business together but the physical work was overwhelming.

I have another scene with her and Aunt Dee trying to make mattresses but their strength just wasn't enough. It will have to be a dialogue scene, painted by the speaker--haven't decided who that will be yet--who watched and participated more than I did. I just ate dirt, probably, and peed my pants.

So, the book is getting more complicated. Life is complicated. We don't know what someone else is going through while we merrily waltz Matilda--that is if we know how to waltz and we know Matilda and if she doesn't want to lead. We should always be on the lookout for subtle signs that someone else is in distress--that someone is suffering, is sad, is grieving or even is angry.

I told one of my son's once to, "Watch for the signs." (This was after he teased Gilmore Girl to the edge of insanity and she broke down and cried.) He said, "What signs?" He honestly didn't know. Some of us are more in tune that others but it's a skill that can be taught. Sadly, sufferers aren't likely to say, "Hey listen. I'm having a crappy life. Could you cut me a little slack here?" So we go on our merry way, not helping, not loving or being compassionate. Judging. Often judging.

Life is complicated. We don't know what someone else is dealing with. I wonder if we could be a little more careful. Watch for the subtleties. The sighs. The forced laughter. The silences. The countenance that is devoid of joy. The heavy hands that hang down.

I wonder if a word of kindness would help. A hand on the shoulder. An "I'm sorry." Hardly ever can we change things, but we can listen. We can let the other know, maybe even just by a look, that we might understand, maybe only 10% but that's better than nothing. Maybe even if they see us eat some dirt and pee our pants they could say to themselves, "Well, at least I'm not that bad." Maybe it would help.

I don't think it helped my Mom or my sisters. I was just one more detail that had to be taken care of but maybe it did help. Maybe it gave them something to take their mind off their loss. There is nothing so delightful as a two year old and maybe I was there, at that time for a reason, more than I know.

Anyway, life is complicated, isn't it? I wish we could have a visual image that shows how we are all connected and then a visual image that shows how we have helped one another. I'll bet we would even be connected to Kevin Bacon somehow. Maybe in as little as four steps.

FRIENDS WHO ARE WILLING TO BE CRITICAL

Tuesday I went to my Personal History group. I didn't take copies because I was still working on the piece. Hardly anyone ever writes on the copies anyway except for Sarah. I told them I really wanted feedback and Sarah, bless her heart, gave me some. And her ideas were good.

So I took her suggestions, fixed the manuscript and took it to DeAnn to critique. DeAnn then read it and gave me more good suggestions. They will make the manuscript better.

I could use another dozen critical friends.


Here are some of the sentences we cut:

“Well, if I ever have two dates in one night I’m not getting caught because I’m not cleaning out the chicken coop,” Holly says.

"I should get an award for encouraging sub-standard humans."

“Don’t touch your faces with your dirty hands,” I say. “Germs will crawl up your nose and eat out your brain.”

“Your stomach is inside, all covered up by skin.”


Now you can see why critical friends are good to have around.