Tuesday, June 19, 2012


It's a seesaw - up then down, up and down again.  And again.  And again.   There are times when I am up so high only to come slamming down, jarred into rude reality.

A common theme for me around here is perspective.  I've written about it time and time again.  In fact, I write about it so much, I'm slightly amused when I look back on all the posts I've written and cited on multiple occasions.  If you've been around awhile - you know.  If you're new, take a peek.

The past few months (years perhaps) have been a bit foggy for me.  It's crazy to think how long I've had turmoil in my life.  But maybe that's just life.  Some people have it easier then others - apparently I'm not one of them.  I saw a quote recently that sums things up well:

“I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle.  I just wish that He didn’t trust me so much.”  — Blessed Teresa of Calcutta

I am experiencing major upheaval in my life.  Divorce, buying and selling houses, and moving are huge.  Pile on top some major teenager drama and hurt little boys and it's amazing I even get out of bed every day.  However, even with all this, I thought I was beginning to see the light.  I thought I had hit rock bottom and was climbing out.  No, I knew I was climbing out and it felt good better.

And then - BAM! - something major happened to me a few weeks ago and it made me realize that what I thought was rock bottom was merely a ledge on a cliff and I silently slipped off.  It'll be awhile before this free-fall is over and all I can do is compartmentalize and hope for the best.

It made me realize how truly fragile I am; how uncertain and lengthy this recovery will be.  I can only keep my perspective.  I have my boys and we have our health.  I have a great job that motivates me to get out of bed every day.  There are many people far worse off then I.

And hey - at least I'm falling and haven't gone splat (yet).  Can someone throw me a parachute, please?

Saturday, June 2, 2012

the great paradox

Every once in awhile I stumble across a great piece of writing that speaks to me, causes me to think and reflect.   Tonight I was watching an episode of the show Touch and it had such a piece.

  The universe, from atom to galaxy, is in a perpetual state of flux - but we humans don't like change.  We fight it.  It scares us...so we create the illusion of stasis.  We want to believe in a world at rest - the world right now.  Yet our great paradox remains the same.  The moment we grasp the now - that now is gone.  We cling to snapshots, but life is moving pictures.  Each nanosecond different then the last.  Time forces us to grow, to adapt, because every time we blink our eye, the world shifts beneath our feet.
 The timing of hearing this piece is uncanny.  Things are moving forward here.  Last week we finalized our marital settlement agreement and signed the listing agreement with the real estate agent to sell the house.  Everything is very real - for everyone.  And it's hard.

The teenager is acting out.  The attitude is distasteful yet rationally understandable.  The behavior suspect and, in some circumstances, quite obvious.  In all cases, not good.  The venom spewing is hurtful.  It hits me at my core.  And yet somehow I am supposed to remain unemotional and understanding.  Teen years are tough - nothing compared to the "terrible twos" - add to that a divorce and a move and all the uncertainty to which that translates - of course it's a volatile situation.

And last night, as I'm tucking in my youngest who is now aware, the tears start flowing.  He doesn't want to move.  He doesn't want to leave our house.  Of course, you know it's not just the house.  And I hold him and he sobs.  And I do what I should - what I know I should do.  I reassure my love for him and that everything will be okay.  I explain how he's too young to remember that we've moved many times before.  I recount all the moves his brothers have been through.  I hold him and tell him that it'll be a new adventure - he'll have a new house and a new room.

And still he sobs.  And all he can say is "I just want it to be the same."

Yeah baby, I do too.  But nothing will ever be the same - and as the above passage states so rightly - it never could be even if you carry the illusion that it will be.  But that's a lesson difficult for even an adult to grasp.