I haven't blogged in a long time. I haven't even looked at my dashboard so I don't know who else has blogged. I have been in a funk. Maybe it's the time of year. Maybe it's circumstances I'm dealing with. Maybe I am just so tired of this life, so tired of the struggle, the drama, the uncertainty that I didn't want it to rub off on anyone else.
I've been desperate for relief. My sister and brother-in-law gave me a blue light to help with the depression. I have sat in front of it three or four times in the morning. Today two angels came to my rescue. Colette and my daughter-in-law, Sharee.
Colette called me on the phone and we talked for a l-o-n-g time. She was concerned because I haven't blogged. I have never met Colette in real life. We email and I follow her blog. She has a kind and generous heart, not to mention a beautiful voice.
Sharee came over and did Reiki on me, bringing some relief. As much relief as the Rieki was the talk, she spent as much time as I needed. She reassured me and loved me and told me something that took a big chunk of my stress away. Angels, both of them, worrying about me, loving me, helping me.
I believe we are never actually alone. I believe we are always attended by someone, family, that has passed on. I really do believe this. I think Mom was here with me today (oh, how I miss my momma), but I can't crawl up on her lap like I did when I was five and tell her my worries and about my hurts. (For one thing, if she weren't dead already, my sitting on her lap would probably kill her. A little depression humor for ya'.) I would love to hear her say words of comfort and maybe even a timeline like, "This worry will be resolved in February, that one will be resolved in March." I don't know if our relatives have that information but if they did it would be so joyful to have a little reassurance.
Our last prophet, President Hinckley used to say something that everyone loved. He said, "Everything is going to be all right." He said this over and over. He was optimistic but he also had knowledge we don't. He said it, I believed it and yet what's the matter with me that I don't believe it enough to be comforted?
So, I'm blogging to just say I'm here. Healthy, except for the bad food I've practically inhaled over the holidays. I'm breathing in and out. I'm trying to be "up." Usually I can see the funny side of life and this will probably be funny, too, in a year.
I have a list I keep at the bottom of my personal history file. I call it: HOW TO COMBAT STRESS/DEPRESSION/HEARTACHE
I have 28 items on that list--or maybe 27 as I seem to have prayer listed twice. Tonight I am going to start with one of them and work my way through. I'm going to start with number 15: Journaling. Write the worst of it down. This is not necessarily a journal you will want anyone to ever read. There is something about writing it out that helps. It’s better if it’s hand written, there is something about physically moving the pen on paper that helps get rid of the fear, depression, sadness, etc. I’m not saying it’s foolproof but it does help.
And before that list are some quotes I've saved. These seem to be meant for me tonight. And Colette and Sharee were meant for me too. I honor both of them and am thankful they are in my life.
1. Be thankful that sometimes God lets you struggle for a long time before that answer comes. Your character will grow; your faith will increase. Richard G. Scott, “Using the Supernal Gift of Prayer,” Ensign, May 2007, 9 (Don't tell, but Elder Scott is my favorite apostle. I have loved every conference talk he has ever given, and when I see him I feel loved, even though I am watching him on TV.)
2. We should honor the Savior’s declaration to “be of good cheer.” Matthew 14:27; Mark 6:50; John 16:33. Jeffrey R. Holland, “The Tongue of Angels,” Ensign, May 2007, 18
3. This is my prayer for all of us. 'Lord, increase our faith.' Increase our faith to bridge the chasms of uncertainty and doubt. . . . Grant us faith to look beyond the problems of the moment to the miracles of the future. . . . Give us faith to do what is right and let the consequence follow. President Gordon B. Hinckley Panama City Panama Fireside, January 20, 1997.
So, I've got to hurry and journal all my worries because I need to get to bed at some kind of a reasonable hour because church starts at 9:00 am, as opposed to last year when it started at 1:00. That's enough to depress a night owl like me, isn't it? Wouldn't it be nice if that were all that's wrong with me?!
Showing posts with label Sharee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sharee. Show all posts
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
LEAVING LIZA IN THE CARPORT
It was summer. Liza was still little, maybe seven months old. We were having a family dinner on the front lawn like regular red-necks. (If we all get together there are 23 of us and we can't really all fit into the house and it's so nice to eat outside--that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. There are no derelict cars, abandoned in tall weeds. I promise. Perhaps we are only pseudo-red-necks.)
Taylor, Sharee, Austin and Bailey piled out of their car. All doors were slammed. No one looked back, as if a baby was there. They just came to the table for "how-de-do's" and hugs.
"Where's Liza?" I said.
Taylor looked at Sharee and Sharee looked at Taylor. All the blood drained out of both their faces. Their eyes widened. I could see the whites all around their pupils.
"Oh, no. We left her at home, in the carport," one of them said in a horrified whisper. They both turned toward the car. One was fumbling with the keys. The other stumbled in haste, "Hurry," they said in unison.
I will never forgive them. Never.
They stopped, they leaned against each other, laughing hysterically.
Hysterical laughter is never, I repeat, never attractive. They laugh to this day. Not hysterically but in a kind of smirky sort of way. They think it is funny that I believed they would leave Liza in the carport. She, of course, was asleep in her car seat. In the car.
It wasn't funny. They owe me. Those unattractively hysterical laughing people owe me. They really do
Taylor, Sharee, Austin and Bailey piled out of their car. All doors were slammed. No one looked back, as if a baby was there. They just came to the table for "how-de-do's" and hugs.
"Where's Liza?" I said.
Taylor looked at Sharee and Sharee looked at Taylor. All the blood drained out of both their faces. Their eyes widened. I could see the whites all around their pupils.
"Oh, no. We left her at home, in the carport," one of them said in a horrified whisper. They both turned toward the car. One was fumbling with the keys. The other stumbled in haste, "Hurry," they said in unison.
I will never forgive them. Never.
They stopped, they leaned against each other, laughing hysterically.
Hysterical laughter is never, I repeat, never attractive. They laugh to this day. Not hysterically but in a kind of smirky sort of way. They think it is funny that I believed they would leave Liza in the carport. She, of course, was asleep in her car seat. In the car.
It wasn't funny. They owe me. Those unattractively hysterical laughing people owe me. They really do
Monday, January 21, 2008
NOTES FROM BEING WITH THE CRAZY PEOPLE
Promised from Saturday's post:
They aren't really crazy, just pleasantly so. Just enough to take the hard edge off life and give it a spin and let the colors bedazzle you.
Sharee asked me if I wanted to go with her on Saturday to one of her favorite stores. I did. Taylor brought me some funky blue-type cheese. I gave him some cheddar sticks mixed with wasabi peas. We're like that, bestowing odd things on each other for no reason. Actually, we haven't given each other odd things much but it would be a great tradition. We should do it more often.
Bailey was with them--see Saturday's pictures for Bailey's good looking face.
The three of them are quick. They keep up a constant barrage of comments. You have to have timing to get your ideas in. They are quick in other ways too. Sharee was driving. We left a furniture store and wanted to turn left--on State Street. It was a "stop sign" street, not a "stop light" one. NO ONE turns left at a stop sign street onto State Street. No one. It's foolish, you will wait there four days.
"You'll never get across"--there are six lanes of traffic. "You'll have to turn right." I'm like that, always ready with helpful advice.
A side note: We have all been reading Carol Tuttle's book, Remembering Wholeness. In part of it she talks about petitioning your angels. Carol tells of an instance when her daughter said, "Have you noticed when I'm with you in the car you get mostly green lights?" When Carol asked her why she said, "I ask the angels to give us green lights."
So, Sharee cruises up to the stop sign. I again offer helpful "you'll have to turn right," advice, only its more of a command.
She turns her head, looks at me and says, "Oh ye of little angels."
She looks right, she looks left and there is a hole in the traffic--so help me, there is never a hole in traffic on State Street. There is a hole in the traffic going north and one going south. She turns left, and three seconds later all six lanes are clogged with traffic. I burst into laughter, she gives me a smug smile and away we go.
"Oh ye of little angels." My new favorite phrase.
Later we were discussing where to eat lunch. Everyone had an opinion including Bailey but he couldn't get a word in. He'd start to say something and someone else would drown him out.
Finally he yelled, "HOW COME EVERYONE'S WEARING CHICKEN-CHEESE UNDERWEAR." Only he yelled it so fast all the words ran together, like a flood.
"What?" we all chorused together, as if we had rehearsed.
"How come we never go to Chuck E. Cheese, anymore?"
Well, then.
After we ate--at Chuck A Rama--a local buffet restaurant--I heard Taylor say, "I'm sorry, Sharee, about the seat. I didn't know you would feel the vibration."
There are some things a mother shouldn't overhear although it is nice to hear that he apologizes for his indiscretions.
All day Taylor kept tattling, "Bailey's eating my sticks."
We reminisced about the time they left Liza in the carport. A post for another day.
I taught them the ever handy phrase, "We're gonna die," which Hillary, my wonderful daughter said so often, when driving with me. Again, a story for another day.
How lucky I am to have five children that I adore, and the people they have married I also adore and they have given me grandchildren, that I adore. How lucky can one woman get? All of them, all of them, are just a little bit crazy. I wonder if that's lucky too. Probably.
They aren't really crazy, just pleasantly so. Just enough to take the hard edge off life and give it a spin and let the colors bedazzle you.
Sharee asked me if I wanted to go with her on Saturday to one of her favorite stores. I did. Taylor brought me some funky blue-type cheese. I gave him some cheddar sticks mixed with wasabi peas. We're like that, bestowing odd things on each other for no reason. Actually, we haven't given each other odd things much but it would be a great tradition. We should do it more often.
Bailey was with them--see Saturday's pictures for Bailey's good looking face.
The three of them are quick. They keep up a constant barrage of comments. You have to have timing to get your ideas in. They are quick in other ways too. Sharee was driving. We left a furniture store and wanted to turn left--on State Street. It was a "stop sign" street, not a "stop light" one. NO ONE turns left at a stop sign street onto State Street. No one. It's foolish, you will wait there four days.
"You'll never get across"--there are six lanes of traffic. "You'll have to turn right." I'm like that, always ready with helpful advice.
A side note: We have all been reading Carol Tuttle's book, Remembering Wholeness. In part of it she talks about petitioning your angels. Carol tells of an instance when her daughter said, "Have you noticed when I'm with you in the car you get mostly green lights?" When Carol asked her why she said, "I ask the angels to give us green lights."
So, Sharee cruises up to the stop sign. I again offer helpful "you'll have to turn right," advice, only its more of a command.
She turns her head, looks at me and says, "Oh ye of little angels."
She looks right, she looks left and there is a hole in the traffic--so help me, there is never a hole in traffic on State Street. There is a hole in the traffic going north and one going south. She turns left, and three seconds later all six lanes are clogged with traffic. I burst into laughter, she gives me a smug smile and away we go.
"Oh ye of little angels." My new favorite phrase.
Later we were discussing where to eat lunch. Everyone had an opinion including Bailey but he couldn't get a word in. He'd start to say something and someone else would drown him out.
Finally he yelled, "HOW COME EVERYONE'S WEARING CHICKEN-CHEESE UNDERWEAR." Only he yelled it so fast all the words ran together, like a flood.
"What?" we all chorused together, as if we had rehearsed.
"How come we never go to Chuck E. Cheese, anymore?"
Well, then.
After we ate--at Chuck A Rama--a local buffet restaurant--I heard Taylor say, "I'm sorry, Sharee, about the seat. I didn't know you would feel the vibration."
There are some things a mother shouldn't overhear although it is nice to hear that he apologizes for his indiscretions.
All day Taylor kept tattling, "Bailey's eating my sticks."
We reminisced about the time they left Liza in the carport. A post for another day.
I taught them the ever handy phrase, "We're gonna die," which Hillary, my wonderful daughter said so often, when driving with me. Again, a story for another day.
How lucky I am to have five children that I adore, and the people they have married I also adore and they have given me grandchildren, that I adore. How lucky can one woman get? All of them, all of them, are just a little bit crazy. I wonder if that's lucky too. Probably.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
AN AFTERNOON WITH CRAZY PEOPLE
I spent the afternoon with these people. My beautiful and pretty-much crazy daughter-in-law and my full-on-crazy son. Here she is, being beautiful, and
here he is, plotting how he is going to mess up my photo opportunity.
More thinking. He's getting an idea. One finger on the mouth for concentration. Notice one eyebrow is going up. That's a bad sign. Okay, he thinks, I'm ready. 
Thanks, Taylor. I always appreciate your cooperativeness.
This is their second oldest son, who seems fairly normal but the craziness is manifesting itself. Yes, Bailey has the beginnings of the crazy's too. Thank you, Bailey, I'd hate for you to go through life ignoring your heritage.
More tomorrow about my day with these interesting people, that I call family.
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