Archive for March, 2007

In Hiding

Wednesday, March 28th, 2007

I met a friend for coffee early one morning recently and as we were catching up with one anothers lives, she peered at me over her cup and softly said, “you have such sad eyes.” “But I’m always smiling!?!” was my reply. “You’re hiding behind that smile, you always do.” I didn’t know what to say, she knows me that well and saw right through me. Sad eyes…

We talked a bit about my divorce and how that’s all moving forward finally. Like so many of my friends, she doesn’t believe in divorce, but she understands my reasons and because she loves me, she supports me. I continue to draw strength from friends like her and others that I know are praying for me. I need all the prayer I can get.

Do I hide? I thought I did a pretty good job of wearing my emotions on my sleeve, but not so, according to her. Apparently I’ve put on such an amazing act these last few years that when I finally started to tell those around me about the end of my marriage, most were completely shocked. I was raised not to air my dirty laundry in public. I didn’t think it was appropriate to go around spouting off to everyone within earshot how miserable I’ve been. Besides…if I did, then I would become accountable for doing something about it! I needed time to figure out a plan for my future and how all these new puzzle pieces would fit together.

My puzzle is still in pieces but the edges are starting to come together. My friend and I talked about priorities and how they define who we are. God, family, home, self, career – my top priorities in the order they *should* be in. But I’m human and I fail. I recognize that life throws us so many curve balls and distractions that we have to be flexible in our reaction as well as pro-action. But the order of importance shouldn’t ever shift. It has to be the cornerstone in my life upon which all else builds from…all other ground is “sinking sand.”

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The Dream

Friday, March 16th, 2007

I keep having this dream where I’m sitting on the beach at sunrise and as my knees are bent up where I am resting my chin on them, I have my right hand cupping a small pile of sand. I’m letting this sand slowly trickle through my fingers. I scoop up a handful and then watch it seep out. I scoop another and watch again. I do this over and over and over again.

But then the dream changes and I’m holding my last scoop of sand and in slow motion I can see every grain as it slips away. I’m watching it fall from my fingers only this time I’m trying to will the sand to stay in my hand. No matter how hard I try I can’t get my fingers to close in together and keep the sand from trickling away. No matter how bad I want to hold that sand in my hand…it keeps on falling.

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My Sunshine

Wednesday, March 14th, 2007

Last night I stood in the door way of your room and watched you both sleeping. I couldn’t resist coming closer, taking my time as my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. I knelt down to cover your brother up with his blanket that he had pushed away. He sighed and mumbled incoherently and for a moment I thought I had woken him up. I peeked up into the top bunk to see you all sprawled out with what seems like a hundred stuffed animals. There’s barely any room up there for you but you never seem to mind. I watched you sleeping for what felt like an eternity. Hovering quietly, I didn’t want to wake either of you. I wonder what you dream about when you sleep. Is it happy tales of play ground antics and fun times with friends? Is it new versions of old memories, trying to retale the stories of your young past? Do you ever dream of the future and what possibilities and opportunities await you?

Momma dreams for you many nights. Momma dreams that you will continue to grow and thrive despite the hard times that we are facing. Momma wants you to only remember the days spent playing Chutes N’ Ladders and making plastic animals from Perler beads. Momma wants you to forget the day that things changed. Let sad memories soften and dull with time. Remember the day that your brother jumped into the swimming pool in early spring when the water was still ice cold. Remember the day that you lost two teeth at once and you discovered that I was the tooth fairy and instead of being heartbroken, you thought it was the coolest thing in the world.

My sweet girl, I want to hold your hand as we lay side by side on the couch watching Saturday morning cartoons. I want you to whisper your secrets in my ear, pausing only to kiss my cheek. I know these days are numbered. Soon you will no longer want to hug me in public, and heaven forbid I should try and kiss you good bye when I drop you off at school. Those days, I don’t want them to happen, but I know they will. For now, let me hold on to your youth. Can we both bask in this sunshine of innocence together?

*~*~*~*~*

you are my sunshine
my only sunshine
you make me happy
when skies are grey
you’ll never know dear
how much I love you
oh please don’t take
my sunshine away

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Where I’m From

Monday, March 12th, 2007

I am from homemade ice cream churns, from Bisquick and Carress soap.

I am from the three bedroom ranch with the converted garage, always hot in the summer, cold in the winter, blowing vapors from my mouth while watching tv.

I am from the Sycamore tree with its peeling bark and prickly fruit, the azalea bushes that always bloomed first signaling summer was on it’s way.

I am from summers at the farm and blonde amongst the brunettes, from Madge and Wade, Shelley and Bruce.

I am from the one who plans every event down to the last detail and the one who spends every dollar as soon as it hits their pocket.

From it’ll feel better when it quits hurting and I love you too-whooo.

I am from church picnics, GA sleepovers, dinner on the ground, and youth lock-ins. From finding myself and finding my Lord, all in the same place.

I’m from Florida tobacco farmers and truck drivers, fried chicken and collard greens.

From the raisins Daddy used to feed me while laying in his lap, the broken nose of my sister when she fell while skateboarding on the way to a scout meeting, and the fallen hand of my mother when she had no more words to say and no more energy to lift a finger in her greatest time of despair.

I am from the stacks of dust covered albums, with cracked plastic covered pages, at the top of the list of things to grab, just in case…

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