Adventures of a Passionista

Today she is 39 again...

Today: June 24, 2011  

  She was born June 24, 1934 

Happy Birthday little Momma! 

I know when I arrive at your house, in a couple of hours, the birthday greetings will surprise you... and when we joke about how old you are, you will say, for the hundred-thousandth time you are "39"... and when we try to do the math: "let's see 1934, 44, 54, 64, 74, 84, 94 - oh I'm 39!" meaning she really does NOT remember how old she is ... and I, her ever kind, considerate daughter will say: "wow mom, you're younger than me! and I'm your daughter!" which always, many times daily will elicit crinkled eyes and wide-mouthed laughter... 

(the following is an updated/edited reprint from 2007)

"Her hair crowns her head like a glimmery, silvery halo: slightly over-parted too far left, and bangs dangling a bit too close to her dim eyes, but so white - so pure.

Reflects the nature of her heart.

7ish Springs ago, a stroke played havoc in her brain.  Could have been far more severe, yet we discovered, who she was had been altered - forever altered. This was a new day.  A new dawn - a new mom. A new sister.   A new wife.  A new memory bank.

My mom who, formerly & quite prude-ishly,  would never have ever said the word "pregnant"  in full voice (whispered such words!) now freely referred to body parts by slang and would giggle, eyes scrunched up & tears flowing in glee. Young girl giggling in an elder body.

So cute.  So full of life.  Kind.  So inappropriately laughing at the weirdest times - socially unaware of her outbursts - always with hearty laughter and often happy to show whatever she was chewing at the time.  So strange...

Putting family first, always, however -that didn't change.  Her outlook.  Now THAT is what changed.

(L - R  Aunt Mary Lou, Me & My MOMMA!)

My mother had always, always, always purposed to look people straight in the eye: honoring others, demonstrating integrity and the fact that she "had nothing to hide".  She taught us kids, early on, to look directly into eyes - that honesty can be read by the eyes, after all they are "the windows to the soul you know."

One day, Momma said she was not going to drive again.  Ever.  Independent creature she was, was not going to ever, ever drive again. She had been harboring a secret: a deep, very dark secret, for awhile.  Months later, the low vision specialist called it "macular dystrophy".  Different than macular degeneration - it was from birth, just now manifesting itself to the level of "legal blindness" (took DECADES to get to this level).

No central vision.  Yes- Peripheral.  No central.

How do you look people in the eye, if you can't see their eyes?

She had hidden the changes as long as she could, hoping for healing, hoping a change in diet would make the difference - holding on to independence for as long as she could.

The pile of gravel in the road - same color as the road - was the "seal the deal".  Bottoming out on the gravel, the men at the construction site, helped her off the pile, helped her turn the car around, and she drove back - 10 houses away to the driveway - never to drive again.

Later, much later we found out.  My life, busy, stupid busy (single mom at the time) and I didn't know for months that she had not driven.

I had already watched my mom shift and change from full-sighted -professional- bookkeeper-of- family-business to someone who had to learn to feel her way - memorize her way around the house... Now her low vision was coupled with  Alzheimer's.

Crap.

I'm sure there are books to warn adult children about the changes their elder parents will go through, but I wouldn't have read it and it wouldn't have mattered a whole heck of a lot - then.

Now, well, now is now.. and now we live in the moment , for the moment, celebrating each precious moment.

It still stinks.  Sucks actually.  (I hate that term.  But dang is it appropriate)

Dad.  Dad is so amazing.  I watch him love her and snuggle her and hold hands with her.  I watch them smooch - her with her lips scrunched up to her nose (so "sexy" haha) and him, giggling all the way in for the peck, touching -oh-so-familiar, now wrinkled lips like he has a million times before.  Now they kiss with a tenderness reserved for those who are choosing to be present in this moment, almost as if they're saying:  " we must be present in this moment.  This moment is a gift and we are going to relish it , and drink it in, and celebrate it - because you never know when..."

It makes me sick to my stomach.

Not them and their beauty.

The "you never know when". Actually, only initially -  Being faced with mortality - their mortality has awakened me to a new day. I battle between celebrating the present and dreading the future.  The future without them in it.

I KNOW they will be in a "better place".  Oh yeah!!

But I know the "crowns of glory" that I love to observe - daily, will be oh, so missed.  So very missed.

I want my grandbaby to see the smooches between them and groan and say "gross" and smile inside at how cool it is to know them.

I want my sons to hear all the stories another 10 times - and know that they have become part of the next generation of love...

But the reality is, I've spent too much time on this blog - time that would be better spent giggling at Mom's wacky sense of humor and listening to Dad's "this is so funny I can barely get it out without laughing my own hiney off"  jokes!

So for now this "new" mom is MY mom - I love her and all her facets, new and older... she's cool!

Wonder what's made her giggle today?"

 

(Happy 77th Birthday, Momma!  I'll honor that you've achieved such a lovely  age, while you celebrate being "vertical" and "39 - again! ")

 

Copyright 2011 J. Allen G.

Funk - a - lunk... (or LUMP...)

I am a wordy girl.

Often verbose.

Redundant.

Repetitive.

:)  (see?)

However, since - who knows when????, I've found it most difficult to put thoughts together.  To write something profound, relevant, even just plain ol' "real"...

Winter is no stranger.  52 winters of life have left me, overall, a wiser, more settled woman.  I live in cold region.  Snow is expected - it is, after all, a significant part (in my lifetime of experiences) of what makes "winter" WINTER.  (I'm sure Arizona winters are wonderful - I just like the contrast of seasons in the Midwest)

This Winter, however, I've found myself caught up in "survival" mode.  Nothing earth shattering. Nothing life & death to warrant that "fight" or "flight" thing. Nonetheless, it's been a battle raging deep within my soul - the enemy has been a dark shroud of "depression" or "discouragement" or "body sickness" or "fragility" or a stewed-combination thereof that seems ever-present, ever-hovering over every lovely, fleeting moment of light that eeks it's way through the mud.

I know I am not alone.  I know the One I love and serve is with me.  I know this because He said so. Certainly not because I've been sensitive to "feel" Him, these days.  No, indeed, these days I'm trusting that He is with me because - simply - He SAID so.

I'm choosing to trust He's got my back & those of my dear family's - because HE SAID SO.

The problem, therein, lies in the inability to CONCENTRATE long enough to READ HIS PROMISES enough to STAND upon them.

Numb.

Scattered.

Is this depression?

I look around - at my family - and am overwhelmed with the enormity of CHANGE that is oft, seemingly, reeling out-of-control.  Elders changing so quickly they resemble only little of what I knew - some changes resulting in more mellow versions of the former, some changes resulting in operating with far less social boundaries than before- which requires much patience - and thick-skinned-expectations: it is not healthy for me to take personally the accusation from a parent that I am "mocking" the other parent for not remembering or seeing.  Especially considering, I would probably end up in jail for protecting that parent from someone who were to mock said parent... yet the look of disbelief and accusation was unmistakable. Broke my heart. A gajillion pieces fractured and exploded all over the place.

My parents are changing, before my eyes, there's not a stinking thing I can do about it , but adapt. Be available. Love.  Love. Love. Breathe them in, because there are fewer days together.  To accept them in whatever "state" they are in.  To celebrate who they are now, rather than grieve over who I've known them to be being stolen from me - from us.  Half full eyes.  Half full eyes. 

My adult child(ren) is (are) broken.  An aching heart is fractured and is trying to recover from being confirmed that "dissolving" marriage is not worth working & fighting for. 

My grandchild is broken.  His little heart is missing one, when with the other.  All sense of "normalcy" is gone.  Two households. Two homes. Two separate, lonely lives.  Two loving parents, with so much love to give, wounded, so wounded that "cancer" of the relationship has progressed too far to make the "last ditch effort" to try.to.make.it.work.   Easier (though so painful) to "move out & move on".

Loving them all, I watch, in disbelief, as two who love each other and are best friends (yes they still say that) act so. Yet they are choosing to do their own thing - child will, of course he will - adapt.  He will adapt. He will adapt.  I can do nothing but love them. Pray for them. Be available in any way I can be.  That's it.  No "parent band aid" is gonna fix this "boo boo"... not this time. So I let it go & let it be.  And it breaks my heart.   A gajillion pieces fractured and exploded all over the place.

I remember being a curious child. Southern US gave plenty opportunities to see the miracles of Nature. Caterpillars & cocoons hanging, bat-like, off of lush, swaying, weeping willows - were simply marvelous things. Young, impatient and determined to "free" the dangling creatures from "prison", I'm sad to admit, I may have actually KILLED a caterpillar/butterfly  (one or three) by "freeing"the creature OUT of it's cocoon - too soon.  It was not my job to do so. By ever-so-gently-tearing-open-the-pod- by doing so, I prohibited the very growth cycle of the creature - the very "vehicle" that would allow the transforming butterfly to develop wing strength enough to FLY, once it had fought, stretched, strained, struggled, and finally BROKEN THROUGH the tightly-woven-web. I, in my honest desire to "rescue",  actually Hurt. like dead.  Only because I FREED THE CREATURE BEFORE  it's GODinNatureDesigned STRUGGLE strengthened it enough to survive in the "outside world".

Not to say these kids didn't struggle.   But the kind of goal, of focus, of intent to make it work - where the each gave a concerted - 200% effort,  in harmony, in agreement, in one-accord, with like-mind, trusting, open, open, open to each other, willingness to speak in love, to endure pain to grow through transition, grow through openness, forbidding oneself the luxury of sweeping "it" under the rug - and facing, facing, facing all the "stuff" that has fractured this relationship .  That kind of struggle didn't happen... not long enough to create a beautiful, colorful, lasting relationship that would fly free of the challenges and temptations of life.

My spouse woke up.  a month ago.  woke up.  Awakenings in our home.  A year and a half of "sleep".  A year and a half of "slumber". A year and a half of Present in the Flesh, but Absent in the Mind.  A year and a half of our marriage, his relationship with our son - while living in the "pause" button.  A year and a half gone, not accounted for, and a month ago - he woke up. 

I'd like to say I looked hard enough at what he was going through to say that I recognized clinical depression.

I didn't.

It made me sad. angry. sad. alone. It broke my heart. A gajillion pieces fractured and exploded all over the place. made me broken.  made me sad. made me.

Therein was part of the problem.  

me.

me didn't love he enough to intervene.  (he ain't a butterfly) 
maybe I did love him enough - I think I had too much on my plates to see enough to do so...  he is, after all, getting leftovers of my life, these days...

He - the fun-loving, thoughtful, kind man I married long ago, has returned.  He surprises me by walking up to me & gently patting my shoulder. He moved from his recliner to my loveseat & sat beside me, because he wanted to.  not expecting anything. just because he wanted to.  Numb doesn't touch. Numb doesn't interact.  Numb is numb is numb.

Now, I'm disarmed as I feel someone's eyes on me - looking up I'll see he's smiling at me. While preparing dinner, he's surprised me by walking up behind me and hugging me.... It's been a long time. I've since told my beloved of 18 years, I will physically pick up his 6' 5" self, throw him over my shoulder and cart him off to the doctor - IF there is a "next time".

I will not let him live in depression - without help - again.  nope.  I will love him enough to intervene - IF there is a next time.

My baby boy is a young man.  A great kid.  Scholar.  Kind. Funny.  Calls himself a nerd. Loves God and is not ashamed. Loves people and is not ashamed.  Loves parents & is certainly not ashamed to lavish us with kisses & hugs in front of who-knows-who....  Loves tennis, & table tennis & basketball & supporting friends in their sports and all things involving sports & other people. Is fit. Is growing stronger. Loves deeply, feels passionately and is well-loved and respected.  My baby boy/young man oft feels alone in a crowd.  I know, all to well, that pain.  It kills me to think he hurts so.  He feels often like a 3rd wheel, outsider, friend but not best friend and longs for the closeness of someone to really care about him, to call him to discover how he's doing. to know he matters to the planet...  I watch, as an outsider, as he stretches his wet wings, struggling on that cocoon of "future" self - and, carefully, I restrain myself to let him struggle. I'll watch, but I strive, work hard to allow him to learn the tough lessons without my intervention. And I struggle with the balance in all that: parenting vs. enabling.   I'm so proud of him, let him know, and desire him to learn to SEE himself the way he is seen by the One who matters, who made him to be whatever it is He made him to be... he will survive and flourish - I am sure of it!

I've been fighting some sort of "sick" since before Christmas.  depleted reserves, maybe? but I feel fragile and a sense of impending "darned if I do & darned if I don't" - I want to protect my family from all this sickness I've been fighting - so I "stay away" from my elders, which frustrates them, I'm sure.  I'll do the work, but won't hang to visit.  Don't want to SHARE these things I've been repeatedly hit with for the past 2 months. and I keep getting hit.

And seasons transition into seasons and life goes on and on and on.

And sometimes words don't come (since Jan 16) and sometimes, just when you think you have nothing at all to say.. sometimes they just come pouring forth, each one accompanied by a piece of light sent to illuminate the dark fragments,that will serve, once again, to bring restoration to a weary soul.

The situations are no different - just a deep-seated, lovingly-nagging reminder that "He will work", "He will work", indeed, "HE WILL WORK all things (yes ALL THINGS) together for GOOD for those who love Him, who are called according to HIS PURPOSE"...

Even broken people, broken lives.. He will mend, as only He can.

"Lord, thank You for your Peace.  When in deep despair, you bring comfort.  It is not my own striving or capabilities that have brought this to light - it is only, only, only Your sweet love that reaches into the heart of me - giving me life and light and setting me free.

Thank You.
Thank You.
I love you.
Amen."

While this may not be profound. It is, absolutely, REAL.

Oh, and I am a wordy girl, indeed.

Christmas Present(s)

There is no turning back: a TECHNOID CREATED remains a TECHNOID.

When did my little boys make the transition from cowboy hats and bandanas to world-wide-Halo-game-playing-gadget-attached-at-the-palm-stand-in-line-from-4PM-THANKSGIVING DAY-all the-way-to-6:30AM-BLACK-FRIDAY-to-spend-a-puny-50.00-TECHNOIDS????

Did I do this?

Am I responsible for submitting to every whim and fantasy of two once-young boys, now young man and man???? hmmmm????

Did I DO THIS???

I take no responsibility.

I did purchase a game console this.
and that.
and that.
and that.
And version 1 of this.
and version 2 of that.
and, and, and...
(no links people - you know what they were/ are!!! you name it!)

But I held back.  OH I FOUGHT THE GOOD FIGHT.  I said "no" so many times I forgot how to formulate the word "yes" off rusty "yes lips"...

And I think there comes a time in every parent's parenting-life, when the phrase "but everybody's got one" - really, really means "everybody's got one".

Cell phone.
I resisted.  Oh, I resisted.
Oh, wow, did I ever, ever resist...

... then there came a day when I could not find, reach, talk with my young teenage son, and boy did I need to find, reach, talk with my young teenage son... and said son ordered his first track (non  contract) phone THAT EVENING.

The fact that (most) EVERYBODY did have one - really didn't come into play then, what came into play was that it became important to ME for him to have one.

But I don't think HE GOT THE MEMO that it was important to ME.  I'm almost certain, that someplace in his boy/man mind he thinks he WON, for men, boy/men often battle, do they not? fight! challenge!  conflict!  stuff that video games are made of!

So if "he" thinks he "won" - so be it, deep down I KNOW I WON...

...but then the NEXT phone is bigger...
..."mom, I really want a 'contract phone' - cheaper minutes, better yada, yada, yada..."
...for the record - I DID NOT 'win'...

Looking back 29 Christmases for one son, and 16 Christmases for the other... there are so-many-LIGHT-BULB-defining-moments-in-time that are forever etched in "me old" memory banks. Ah-HA! discovery moments (usually reserved for students) that taught me oh-so-many-valuable lessons about the giving of gifts and the receiving of gifts...

1) Regardless what the list says,from TODDLER to YOUNG CHILD:  there are never enough presents/boxes/THINGS to open!
   It's really about the OPENING.  Therefore I learned from my OLDEST SON, that if I wrapped BOXES of all shapes and sizes - whether with something in them or not (often w/ existing books/toys) - that said baby bro would be THRILLED.  Both boys loved, loved, loved reading books... both boys had their favorites, though, and would wear them out... one Christmas I wrapped the youngest one's personalized story book (gift from friend with his own name printed in various storylines - way cool) in bright Santa paper, and Rudolph paper the next.  Following year it was toys, then snowflakes!  Always the SAME book, just wrapped differently.  One year it was in a box that was in a box that was in a box...sad to say, it was a short-lived tradition, "whiskers" and " baby books" - hmm, something ain't right about that.

2) Once you go gadget, ain't no going back.  Seriously.  It is forbidden.  Cannot go "electronic Battleship" one year, and generic move em w/ no sound Battleship the next. Just can't be.

3) Children learn that the term "Family Present" - means "most expensive thing that we wouldn't normally get unless the parents think it will result in some quality FAMILY TOGETHER TIME" then kiddies will risk all kinds of personal space and time to get said EXPENSIVE item...and parents try, try, try to understand said expensive "family present" but there's dinner to cook, and roofs to shingle and kiddies end up with the expensive Family present...

4)All this said, ONE OF THE greatest, greatest, greatest "presents" of all (no vote needed, you'll know it's right when you read it! Ha!)  ... one of the GREATEST PRESENTS of ALL is.....

... BEING PRESENT...

Breathing in the very conversations of those whom I love most  - honoring them by LISTENING to them - and in doing so, enriching my life - indeed GIFTING MY LIFE by them AND gifting THEIR lives by showing them how important they are to me and to the planet. My paying attention - being PRESENT - is a far greater gift than any technical gadget, or up-to-date-phone-ery could ever be...

Breathing in deeply aware that each breath is a gift and thanking the One, who by example, has paved the way for me to BE PRESENT - as HE is PRESENT.                                                   

Emmanuel : GOD WITH US.

God with us.

(Present!)

neglected.

My little bloggy has been neglected.
My adult children have been neglected.
My miraculous, amazing, brilliant, beautiful grandson (yes BEAUTIFUL!) has been neglected.
My house repair progress has been neglected.
My hair has been neglected.
My side of the bed has been neglected.
My marriage has been neglected.
My health has been neglected.
Ultimately, my soul - yes, sadly, even the health of my SOUL, has been neglected- for too, too long...
 
I suppose my flurried, hurried, exhausted state is a product of all whirling around me: concern for others,  self-imposed commitments, family-imposed commitments (necessities), financially-imposed
commitments... Maybe more accurately, I should say my current state-of-being is directly related to my self-imposed commitments- because, ultimately I have no one to blame but myself for over-committing, when I am already "committed".  (or should be.  that would be a joke. hmm not a very funny joke!)

Lonely?
Sometimes, often actually.
Do I reach out? 
Heck no, who has time to commit to an "outside relationship"?!? After all, I don't even take time to see the few people who love me, why would I waste time with those who don't?  or try to develop friendships when my time is so limited & so precious?

Tired?
self-imposed, burning the candle from the middle (the ends were gone long ago...) only can point the fingers one way - me.

What do I do to correct?
Heck, I dunno that takes energy.

Actually I DO know, just don't know if I want to take the effort to focus on me.

Okay, so the reality is this:  If serving others is important to me (it is)  and I desire to continue serving others (I do) then I must make certain be achieve some form of "rest" in order to better serve.

Stink.

My nasty self and I had better take time to RE:

RE-  
    fuel
    fresh
    energize

By RE-establishing my relationship with my Lord who longs to "refuel,refresh and re-energize" me.

Actually, He's been longing for me to drop the load - for a long time.

Okay, Lord.  I get it.
Thick-headed.
Stubborn.
But too tired to do it on my own much longer.
Any longer...

Now,
I come back
to
You
cuz your daughter
has dried up
and needs
You
to make
it
one
more
day...

And so, with Grace and Mercy that You, alone, offer, (as a gift - I surely don't deserve it!) I receive your Love... and I begin, again, with You in the Lead. (where You belong)

Help me, God, to honor You, by honoring MY BODY, MY MIND, MY SOUL...
after all, You created me in Your image - I'm just not healthy enough to reflect You like you desire me to...

Help me be more like You.
Help me look like You do.
Help me see what You see when You're looking at me
Help me see me like You do...
So I can see what You see when You're looking THROUGH me,
So I can do what You want me to do...

(slow learner, Lord, but thanks so much for the REFRESHer course!) 

Love, love, love.

Your daughter.... me.

 

 

Who am I?! No, really...

8:30 am sitting here at computer after having scanned the huge-o-mongo Sunday paper/sales ads and have become numb to input, numb to outflow (ain't none) and numb to numb.

8:31 still here...

8:32 yep,still here...

Normal Sunday mornings find me @ 8:00am plugging in my ear monitors- #9, grabbing my hand-held wireless microphone-#3 and stepping either downstage left or stage right and warming up with one of the most amazing bands imaginable.  The kind of musicians that would make American Idol #'s 1 - 4 swoon with desire at their professional abilities.  Good band.  Good stinkin' band.  I'm a singer in a good band. I've been with a configuration of this band for 12 years. Fun. Good times. Cool.

So here I am, Sunday morning, having CHOSEN to take this morning off, and I don't know what to do with myself.  This relaxing down time is so foreign.

I've learned to consider myself as a "gap-filler":
def: Gap-Filler:
         I see a "hole" somewhere and I "fill it".
         A need: I try to fulfill it.
         A mess: I see to clear it.
         A project: I do it.
         A song:  I write it (or try) or sing it or provide the idea, in the least.
         A script: I write it, cast it and direct it.  Or used to.
         A missed detail: I see it and do it or somehow make certain that SOMEONE completes it.

Yep.  A gap filler.

Retired from drama a month ago - 20 years of teaching, leading, directing, instructing, personality-gingerly-drawing pictures using people to play other people and creating emotions , thoughts, scenes to result in walls being dropped, guard being dropped, something, even PROPS being dropped - all for the sake of theater in the church  - done with excellence and with authenticity ...

So this Christmas season, having retired, I find myself fiddling my thumbs.  Better than sitting on them, perhaps, but quite foreign.

Then choosing to take off from the Worship Team (cool band from opening) for a weekend - one weekend, I find myself grappling with my identity.

Who am I now?

It's all too easy to attach our identity to what we do- what we create- what we do.  Our field of reference often determines how we classify or justify or identify ourselves.

Hi, my name is Judy and I'm a singer in a cool band.
Hi, my name is Judy and I'm a drama director (who sees layers and the how to do)
Hi, my name is Judy and I'm a passionate awareness gal (breast cancer, aging, etc)
Hi, my name is Judy and I'm a mom
Hi, my name is Judy and I'm a wife... a daughter ... a hard worker...a good friend...a poor friend... a messy housekeeper... a good cook... and on and on.

8:48 am still here and trying to figure out "what's next"...

Is there a project?  I'm project minded.  I'm fueled by the desire to create and prepare and complete. When do I "be still and know"?

What REALLY defines me? 
WHO really defines me?

When my value, my idea of who I am become so defined by "what I do" rather than "whom I serve" - my whole being becomes an instrument of self.  Self aware at the sake of God aware will kill me.

8:51am  still here, but not for long.

"Lord, I am YOURS.  I desire You.  I long to be defined by how closely I resemble You.  I want to be recognized as Your kid, well loved, well "fed" and created in YOUR image.  The things I do or say or think or feel or create - all for YOUR glory and in YOUR image.  I wanna be like You."

8:58 and I'm outta here.  Gotta get ready for church.  Gonna LISTEN to a great band as they lead me into worshiping the One I so desire to be like.  Gonna LISTEN to the preacher as he teaches about the One who loves me and created me to love him.

I was created to love.

Who am I?

Judy, a King's kid, well -loved.

...and I'm ready for bed.

These days they are a flyin'
My mind she is a racin'
My heart she is a breakin'
And I'm ready for bed.

Use to be my "go to" was chocolate or even better CHOCOLATE FUDGE WALNUT BROWNIES.  Now, all too often my "go to" is  "sleep".

Clarification.

I actually don't really sleep much.   5ish hours per night.   About a 5 min POWER nap daily.  That's it.  Play catch up every 3 weeks or so - actually get in 6 - 7 hours... but mostly 5.

Yet, these days I've found myself filling up with so many "TO's" that truly "being IN the moment" and processing each moment - escapes me. And escaping me protects me from feeling too deeply: hurting too deeply, grieving too deeply, even loving too deeply. (spread so thin)

I liken that to sleep.  There but not "present".  My current "TO" list - note: far BROADER than a mere "to DO" list - DO is a GIVEN...

To think: process me, them, us, we, devastation, future, hope
To plan: me, them, us, we, devastation, future, hope
To remind: me, them, us, we, them
To go: for, because, now, later, always 
To  research:  for, because, now, later, always, too much
To walk:  away, to, from, slowly, briskly, far, farther
To organize: me. 
To help:  them, them, them, them 
To love: better, practically, emotionally, attached, fully, unconditionally 
To purpose:  to squeeze life while life is squeezable.

I'm not a cancer survivor.
I'm not an elder with failing memory.
I'm not an elder with low, low, low vision.
I'm not a spouse watching my spouse decline-right before my eyes.
I'm not a teenager feeling alone: brilliant, funny, left-out.
I'm not a husband struggling to manage - with vision- yet limited by others.
I'm not a church leadership with bruises.
I'm not a daughter-in-love pulled from every direction as wife, mother, business-woman, friend, daughter.
I'm not an adult son struggling to be healthy, to plan for the future of his family while his hands, his WAY TO MAKE A LIVING, are killing him.
I'm not - no I'm not.

But I am me.

And me is a child of The One who holds and deeply loves all those in ways I cannot.  And He offers me peaceful sleep - it's up to me to receive it.  (Thank You...)

Do I hear "naptime"!"