Time - the trick to remember

My sister had a birthday last week. Iwas supposed to write a poem for this birthday - one that would be read - aloud - in the presence of other people who had written poems.

My response to this lovely invitation to create a prose of purposeful remembrance was less than enthusiastic.

The rebel in me screamed "NO I will not do that; I can not, will not, write a poem, I have no rhyming tones or groans.............." But I am older now, and calmer, and not so rebellious and stubborn, and I have, at long last, given my temper to God. I mailed it - packed it up in a box and took it to the post office....I didn't have it insured - didn't care if it got lost - in fact I so didn't care, that I left the return address off of the label.

I did succomb to temptation though - able to resist the urge but for a minute - and googled poems about turning 50. Those of you who are swift thinkers will figure out very quickly that if she is 50 - then I am 52. Or soon will be.

"at one time i would have not believedthat i could have livedto reach this agebut youth is never notedfor dealing with the pangs of mortalityneither is fiftythe trick is to pretendthat where you are in lifeis where you have always been,perhaps that is the illusionwhich keeps us sane"

That is my googled turning 50 poem. I did not write it, and I only shared a little bit with you, and no I didn't purposely not punctuate it, that is just how it pasted.........but it did ring a bell in my head...the line - 'the trick is to pretend that where you are in life is where you have always been' .

I have never really thought of that - in those words - where I am is where I've always been. Why does that fit so well? Why does last week feel so far away. And last year - well like it was yesterday. Time seems to stand still and fly - both - at the same time. It's a phenomenon.

Evangeline and Wesley moved home last Thursday, 3 days before the poem deadline. Time came to a screaching halt, and stood there, looking me in the eye - taunting me to just try to return to life as it had been. And then the last surviving computer died. And the trick was - to pretend that the way things were at that moment was the way they had always been. Because to know that things were different now, would mean, a new adjustment, a different routine, or no routine, or no adjustment, just constant un predictable behavior and response and.........hanging there - in mid air. My home away from home.

Back to the poem - I put words to her altime favorite piano performing hymn......and talked our youngest sis into signing to it....everyone laughed, and let out a sigh of relief...they were supposed to see it as humourous.

And now I am home, and time is both flying by and things are as they have always been. At least that is how it seems.

Stood up

I am disappointed - not sad- not mad - not glad - not depressed - not unhappy - just disappointed -

Actually I hadn't thought about being stood up. Well not since last Friday - until I went to my book club meeting last night. I was greeted with "so - did anonymous show up?"

And I had to say - "no" "no - anonymous did not show".

Now, I have to wonder - does anonymous exist?

And I have to say - yes - I believe she does. I've moved into a sherlock mode...got out the "maginizing glass" and started to investigate. It is not that I am ignoring the advice to 'let it go' - that advice coming from several sources. And it is not that I am haunted by the challenge from anonymous. My awesome husband - my love of 26 years - and I had a little dispute as to whether I should go to Starbucks. He really doesn't understand why this is important to me. I wasn't sure either - except that I really hate to be mis understood. I was smaller, slower, younger, laster than any of my child hood friends. And I learned at an early age that I could keep up with my words. My words came fast, and they came hot. What I couldn't do physically, I did verbally. And I was often misunderstood. The other disadvantage that I had was - I had eyes. Expressive, open, can't hide behind eyes. So - I gave up - I might as well just say it. It will be assumed that I thought it.

So - I'll just say it - did anonymous not show for fear - that maybe anonymity is safer - and that is the REAL reason for hiding her identity. Or is it because Anonymous is holding on to her version of how things transpired....and that hearing another version - the perspective of the one who experienced the meetings, was there, present in the room, heard the words, asked the questions, first hand - not through another's interpretation....would mean - well what would that mean? Maybe anonymous was in the booth next to the table at Bob Evans, and heard the whole congregation - which would make for an interesting comparison of the conversation that led to the resignation, that led to the interpretation, and the proclamation, that led to the transportation, that led to the motivation - that led to this.........where I am - where am. SO - to whoever sent the Blog link to someone I didn't send it to - it's made for alot of interesting conversations - here - in Hiram, GA.
Just disappointed

Hey there - Anonymous

when can we meet at Starbucks - seriously -
Thursday evening? that would be the 13th - say 7pm - at the Starbucks - Rte 278 in Hiram - not the one in Target -
hopefully - Janice

Living on the Edge of Hope

Living on the edge - the edge of what?
It could be the cutting edge -
or the edge of the precipice -
or the edge of a cliff -
or the edge of happiness -
But - tonight it is on the edge of hope -
The sky is calm, a little dusky - dark really - like an impending thunderstorm without the big clouds. There is a breeze - and a dusting of dribble from the sky. I've been here before - I recognize the smell, the brush of soft encouragement on my cheek, the breeze on my forearm as I reach out to push the hair out of my eyes. (When is that haircut appointment?) It's a pensive sense, a familiar anticipation without the confidence of knowing. Not quite like it was when we were living with our feet firmly planted in mid-air, or when I was slogging through the trough of despair, or even when I take up residence in the pit - hang the home sweet home sampler up, put on a pot of coffee, and wallow in the muck that makes it so safe. What or who would want to visit me here? I can count on not having to think about anyone but me - who would want to join me?
The edge of hope is up and out of that - it is like - sitting on the dock of Lime Lake - with my toes barely skimming the surface. Or standing at the edge of the Atlantic - flip flops in hand, staring out, amazed at how close and yet how far away I was. Wondering at the wonder - of the same water droplet splashing my ankles and then flowing back out - farther away then I could ever go..............
The edge of hope is seeing the light in the distance, knowing I can't get there any faster than the plane will fly or the train will rumble. That wishing for speed does not move me faster, and that I will only regret what I didn't get to see - cause I was so busy looking ahead that I didn't see the here.
The edge of hope is like letting go of something, fearing it will fall with a crash to the ground, forever, irrepairably (I should have a dictionary with me) damaged, and instead having it drop fast, too fast, and then suddenly take up it's own weight, and drift.........slowly - out of my sight where I can't reach for it - and take it back -
The edge of hope is dialing the phone number and knowing that even if it goes to voice mail - the voice will be familiar and safe, and soon there will be a message on my voice mail - playing tag - not teasing -but laughing - hopefully - to connect another day - really connect - the pick up where we left off connect, the I am safe with you - can cry and laugh in the same breath connect.
The edge of hope is - now.

Dear Anonymous

Call if you would like to -
770-9+42-4204
you obviously have some insight that I should hear.

Faking it

What would it look like if I were out of the pit -
Well - I am really not sure - actually - I had a brain jog about that very thought - yesterday - I thought to myself - what if I wasn't in such a "funk" - what would I be doing -
I am a doing person - my tombstone will read - Why are you standing there - you know the next right thing to do -Now go and do it. My girls have promised that they will see that this is the way it is. In fact - when I asked them if I needed to write this wish of mine down - and put it in a safe place - so they would know what to have printed on that slab of concrete - Elizabeth ASSURED me - that they would not forget that line - they have heard it a ka zillion times...........
So back to the doing thing - I would make the curtain for the curtainless window - which would mean finding the foot pedal for the sewing machine and setting it up - finding an iron - I own 3 or 4 - and threading the machine and...........well you get the picture.
AND so - this morning - I popped out of bed - well - not really popped - but did get my bones out of the bed - and headed downstairs to the newly - re-cleaned out - space that has been designated my work area. I found an iron - still in it's unopened box - and the controls to the 26 year old Kenmore, and the fabric - which had been spread out on the sofa down there for a couple of months - just making sure that it would look okay in that room - and proceeded to move towards this doing that I would be doing if I wasn't so sad - not unhappy - sad - and there is a difference - and if I am the only one who thinks there is - that is fine with me - cause I am the one thinking this.
I realize that the scenario for not sadness is not complete unless I am listening to something, as this is also part of the not sad activity - I am not a silence person - silence is too noisy - which will become the content for another post. I knew where the cassette tapes were - cassettes from the 1970 and 80's - and so reached in the bin of about 50 of them - and retreived a Key Life relic. Steve Brown is one of the most honest and gut wrenchingly transparent teachers that I have ever known, and it has been an activity which I find great comfort in, to listen to his voice, and soak in his words......like a loud speaker straight from the edge of the pearly gates. Would you believe (I know you will - cause you know God works in strange and mysterious ways) - the tape was from his Wednesday night teachings on JOB !!!!!!!!! A paranthetical thought is that JOB could also aliterate - Janice OR Bob - anyway - it seemed appropriate - that I would listen to an hour (two sides) of Job - while sewing a curtain, ironing on the floor - as I couldn't find the ironing board, and faking my good mood - Steve has been heard to say - fake it til you make it.
The curtain looks great !! And my mood is better - not giving all of the credit to the fake it part - but it didn't hurt.
It also hasn't hurt that so many of my dear old friends have written, commented or called - and reconnected with me, resurrecting awesome memories, some happy and some sad, but all special and rich and part of the fabric of who I am, and am becoming. Just check out the comments.

Thank-you - and go get Beth Moore's out of the pit book.........it is fabulous. And thank-you Ken - the movie was SO funny - I laughed hard, and see reaching the beach and Cannes as a metaphor for Bob and my journey - all of the mishaps, misunderstandings, missteps and missed opporunities - you still get to the beach - and we will celebrate it with all of the fervor of Mr. Bean.

System Restore

Wouldn't it be nice if we could go to our own system restore site, press restore to an earlier point, click go, wait a minute, and VOILA !!!
At least it seems to have worked on Bob's Toshiba !
we'll see when we attempt to print; or write something in WORd and it freezes....