Fear Itself

So,  I was really good about posting everyday for a while there, until this week.  Suddenly, I had a lot of trouble caring about updating the world on how I've been.  I'm sure no one really cares about this as much as I do, but I felt the need to explain a bit.  It's been a crazy week.  There are a few poems I've written, that I just haven't felt inclined to post publicly, for personal reasons.  I know... this blog is my personal journal... but every once in a while, I have to hermit myself from the world.  It's funny where and when I choose to draw that line I suppose, but it's my prerogative, yeah?

Anyway, here I am.  Letting the world know: I'm not dead yet.  

Monday morning we will take our five year old in to get his tonsils and adenoids removed and get tubes put into his ears.  We're hoping that this will mean better sleeping for the entire family due to less coughing and an increased ability to properly breathe.  I asked him if he was scared yesterday and he said, "I don't need to be scared; I have everything I need."  This was, of course, after I assured him that he would not be alone at the hospital (which was apparently his biggest concern).

I have to say, that made me think.  There are a lot of things in life that scare me -- mostly myself, quite frankly.  And I get stuck on the details of this and that and how we are paying for that and how I'm gonna make this work and won't someone please think of the children!  But when it comes down to it, I'm surrounded by literally EVERYTHING I need; I just need to get that truth to reconcile my head and my heart with each other.  

I have several people in my life who are working very hard to help me to understand all this (and if you think I'm talking about you, I most likely am), but I have a very thick skull, so this could take a while to sink in.  

I can only say that my husband has infinite patience as I struggle with figuring all of this out (like what I want to do with my life if/when I grow up), and for that, I'm eternally grateful.  It seems like I'm constantly retreating "inside myself" lately, but he's always there, waiting for me to come out again, with open arms to hold me (usually while I cry about it).

I think everything that I've ever been taught to believe in is (and has been for a while now) up for debate.  The only thing I know for sure is that I know that God feels like this is okay, and (S)He loves me through it all too.  One thing I've realized, thanks to my honey, even when I turn around and try to run away, (S)He is everywhere and there is NO running away.  This is the beautiful state of grace: pushing away from those Great Arms, only to turn and land in them with the next fall.

So, really, someday I'll realize the truth of the statement my son made yesterday.  In the meantime, thanks for your support and patience.

Devotion

   for Jeff, the only ocean I ever want to be lost in

Drowning in the icy blue

   makes me feel most alive

Intense sensations here with you

   in ever deeper dive

You overwhelm defenses

   and wash away the mess

You engulf me with your presence

   submerged in sweet caress

Knowing my attempts to swim

   are swept up in desire

Carried on current's every whim

   and waving ever higher

You beckon me to come to you

   to rest within your gaze

I float into your arms subdued

   anchored safely here -- amazed

Sowing and Reaping

Putting on airs

to hide lonely stares

You know you look good

   and you're better than us

And your voice shines like silver

   so you enjoy all the fuss

Act tough enough

No one calls your bluff

You take what you want

   or you think you deserve

And then scoff at the hurting

   with little reserve

You hide in your act

And forget what you lack

Your beautiful wife

   can't begin to compare

With your unreal desires

   of fanciful affair

A lost soul you keep

For a price far too steep

You'll want what you've lost

   those you've put at arms length

When you realize the cost

   in your sense of false strength

The Mercy of the Prophet

To know

To see

To grow

To be

To envision the outcome

   before it's time

To carry the sorrows

   deep inside

To desire to fix things

   but waiting first

To foresee what's ahead

   and feeling the hurt

To hold up your family

   silently weeping 

To wonder why you're the one

  chosen for keeping

To take hold of

   this struggle to cope

To follow in love

   and live for the hope

To be

To grow

To see

To know

Ants Unmarching (Learning About Death)

for Rodney

Peering closely, crouching down

Close as possible to the ground

His impish eyes stare

Ignoring bustling grown-ups

Brushing by with cares

The tiny specks amaze

Their endless movements race

Swarming in his boyish wonder

Hardly noting piles of junk

With yard sale treasured plunder

He reaches out in sheer delight

And grasps in fists held tight

He trips along with special find

Assuring no escape

In fingertips entwined

He holds them out in childish stride

to feel his mother's pride

But shrieks at his now broken toys

His mother can't protect

Her sobbing little boy

Like a Radio

for Mel

Her voice whispers over wires

   and she lifts a glass for me

   showing what the liquid means

With words that buzz

   out of static and fuzz

   in my brain's lost and frightened haze

When last we gazed

   face to face

   and caught each other's eye

A decade, since, has turned the page

   and life keeps passing by

Vastly miles separate

   but still our souls connect

With simple phrase

   or whispered prayer

   or bottled sorrows spilled

She's somehow here

   when I'm in need

   an unexpected friend

And after all the time and space

   I find I need to feel

She gives my hand a glass to hold

   and pours another drink

A Bonding of Souls

CAUTION: What follows here is a highly blunt and honest post (like so many of mine are).  I share for the benefit of fellow travelers on this road of life, so they may be wary the pitfalls before them...

~~~~~

When I was in Christian high school, it was hammered into us (several times a year), that sex was EVIL.  The argument went something like this (my paraphrase of multiple lessons pulled from the recesses of my faulty memories):  

Sex creates a bond between two people that can never be broken.  God intended this bond to be created only within the marriage relationship, with the intention that it would serve to bring the husband and wife together in an unbreakable bond.  And that is why you should never have sex outside of marriage.  

If you do have sex with someone, it's like gluing your soul to theirs.  (Enter object lesson here: hold up two different colored construction paper hearts and glue them together).  This is fine as long as you're in a strong and stable relationship with that person.  But look what happens when the bond is made and then broken... (Tear the two hearts apart from one another and note the remaining bits of paper stuck on each of the hearts from the other).  You leave a bit of yourself behind.  The more you bond with various people in this way and rip those bonds apart, the more shattered and torn your heart becomes (you can figure out how this works in the object lesson, right?)...

So, of course the theory/argument is... Don't have sex and you won't have this problem.  Great lesson for teens, right?  

WRONG!

I'm  not debating the truth in this lesson.  There is something about saving sex for a marriage relationship that I obviously think God had figured out.

My problem is this... there are other ways to bond one's soul to someone else.  I would know.  I'm still dealing with a few wounds of my own in this "soul bonding" area in past relationships that have absolutely NOTHING to do with physical acts of sex. (And, not to get on a side trail, there are those that can convincingly argue that there is the ability to have a physical act without any actual soul bonding taking place.)

So here's the thing... The bond begins long before the first physical touch.  If you let a person inside your soul, there will be a bond... and that will do far worse when it's broken than just "leaving a few pieces of yourself behind"... 

Frankly, it will rip your soul to pieces.  And while time, space, and a healthy dose of grace and forgiveness can heal the pain, there will always be a scar.  Even when you're "over" one another and no longer share in that way, the person who put that scar there, will ALWAYS be able to rip it back open again, unless you figure out how to stop them.  

And if you do... please let me know.  

I'm tired of bleeding.

Pondering the Speed of Light

for Tony

Driving 

   at the speed of light

If I turn on headlights 

   what will be?

Does time stand still?

Will anyone be able to see

Does light 

   follow light 

      follow light...

In an infinite question 

   of nil?

Einstein wonders, 

   "Can I become

synchronized worldly 

   at once--

To everyone 

   now a glow of light

the relative 

   ray of right?"

Becoming light 

   through logic astute

a brilliant beacon beckoning

The speed of light 

   becomes pursuit

of purpose for life reckoning

~~~~~

NOTE:

I had a lovely philosophical conversation with my friend Tony a couple weeks ago, who has been "pondering the speed of light" for a long time now.  As a result, I too have been pondering this conversation and some of its implications ever since.  I do not pretend to understand the scientific aspects of the speed of light or even of Einstein's theory, but I was struck with the concept of traveling at the speed of light and the possibility of "becoming light" as a result.  It boggles the mind really.

Delirium

Shivers running down my spine

In your thrall, I'm losing time

Freezing in your hot embrace

Pink blush creeps into my face

You're relentless as you make me ache

I lie exhausted, forced awake

This quaking that burns deep inside

At times I think I'd rather die

I cannot run despite the pain

Attempts to fight you all in vain

Drifting into fevered dreams

The chains you bind me with still gleam

Lost inside my private hell

Praying that I'll soon be well

Lovely

Shining softly in shimmering shifts

As tenderly treasured tresses trail

Graciously gleaning glimmering gifts

In vastly vulnerable avail

... lovely ...

Dignified daring decisiveness dreams

Forgiving the folly of fanatical fools

Listening inside for silent screams

Reflecting the rain of reality's rules

... lovely ...

Silvery soul serenely sings

Possession of poise, poignantly pondered

The brightness and beauty she brilliantly brings

In willowy wandering wings of wonder

... lovely ...

Faithfully found in forests forlorn

Hopefully hosting heavenly hearts

Tasting tears so tirelessly torn

Prophesying peace she patiently imparts

... lovely ...

She's lovely

Understanding Poetry: Lesson 1

I've heard several comments recently (as I've started posting more poetry on my blog) --  comments from people who "don't like poetry" or "don't get poetry" and I have to say, this kills me and my inner poet every time. 

"I don't like poetry!"

Here's the problem.  Poetry has been hijacked by marketers and twisted into becoming nothing more than a few catchy (if we're lucky) phrases that rhyme, thrown together to promote the remembrance of some product.  Poetry is NOT some corporate whore, people.  No wonder people don't like her.  That is NOT poetry; I wouldn't want to hang out with that kind of tramp all the time either.

"I don't get poetry!"

Here's the problem.  Poetry has been abused, raped, and beaten to death by English teachers everywhere, who feel the need to overanalyze each and every poetic device ad nauseam (it's okay; I can say this as I was one of those teachers for a couple years).  Poetry is a thing of beauty.  It's meant to be admired, adored, and loved -- not clawed and pawed at, undressed unceremoniously and left to quiver nakedly under some malicious scrutiny.  What a horrible way to cheapen poetry into some dirty little tramp in a darkened back alley!  No wonder people don't get her.  I wouldn't be looking to understand someone I was treating that way either.

So how do I enjoy poetry then?

For the men reading this, welcome to what women REALLY want as well; take notes! (lol)  You ready?  Here it is: Treat Poetry like the amazing woman that she is: 

1. Like any woman, Poetry needs to be wined and dined.  She has secrets hiding deep within like any woman.  She wants to be known like any woman.  But, yes, you are going to have to take the time to get to know her.  Seek her beauty and she will reward you in kind.
   
2. Savor the moments.  Like a fine wine (and yes, this analogy still applies to women too!), poetry cannot be rushed.  Inhale the scent of the overall bouquet -- the beauty of the soft sounds whispered solemnly (poetry should be heard as well as seen -- read aloud).  Every sip must be rolled around on the tongue.  Taste...  Every... Word...  And feel the rush that follows -- the beautiful agony of burning desire.  Appreciate the pain from which the beauty came, the crushing of the soul to squeeze the last drops of sweetness.  The capturing of each and every image, thought, and feeling... and the time, the churning, and the careful attention that it takes for them to mingle and age into something of worth.

This is your first lesson in understanding poetry.  More to come.  Above all, wait for True Poetry (the ONE).  Accept no imitations or substitutes.  Nothing satiates the soul like the throes of poetic passion and the amazing afterglow that awaits.

Initiation Rite

Cutting flesh deep

Dark confidences keep

Baring naked souls

Then fend off the cold

To be where you live

This favor you give

A place to call home

You make me feel known

In calling me friend

My honor you defend

Held true sacrifice

I trust you with my life

Exhausted

I'm tired now. Literally exhausted. I watched the inauguration on CNN while taking care of kiddos. Didn't catch all of our new president's speech, but caught enough to be proud of the new day dawning in our country. And even that phrase makes me feel jaded as I reread it. "A new day dawning" is so overused, that it feels cliche to me. And if it is, well, maybe it's okay.

I started the day with such hope, such fervor, such anticipation for what I felt was going to be an amazing history-making day. And it was.

But now I'm tired.

Because in the midst of all the joy that I feel due to the new page in our book of history, there is still an undercurrent among people that I love, of judgment, bitterness, and (in some cases) outright hatred. I'm tired of it people. Open your eyes and see, "There is more to heaven and earth... than is dreamt of in your philosophy." (Thanks to the master, Shakespeare, himself!)

I don't have all the answers (Thank GOD for that, yeah?). No one person does. NO one... including Obama. We will see where this country will go in the next four years. He will inevitably make mistakes. If he didn't, he wouldn't be human (and regardless what you may THINK you hear from his supporters and/or followers, he IS human)!

Here's the thing though. You may not agree with the man, but here are the facts:

1. He IS the president of our country. As such he demands our respect, our support, and above all our prayers.
2. He may be a supporter of freedom of choice in our country, but that does NOT make him heathen, a murderer, or any thing else that I've heard him called in an effort to vilify him. It just means that like all great leaders, he's able to look beyond one or two details and see a larger picture, one which most of the general public may NEVER be able to understand.
   

So, let's put away the hatred.  Let's reserve judgement for God and God alone.  And let's support our new leader, and strive to create the change that we so need and that he has promised to promote in this country.

This is Nean, signing off...  I can't take anymore of this.

Inauguration Day (White on White)

Sun-kissed crystals hang from trees

Soft-moon sliver silvery streams

The breath of morning rising dawn

Shines a silent promise song

Silent struggle of moon and sun

Day is here and night is done

Cleanly painted snowy white

Faintly water-colored quiet skies

Colors merge; brightness floods

Through pain that's bought with blood

The darkness gone, a new day gropes

Bitter anger silenced by hope

The Space Between

I'm working hard at living in the in between spaces of late.  I tend to be an "extreme person".  The beauty of the bipolar tendencies, I suppose, means that I swing from one extreme to the other and have trouble finding the "happy medium."

It's like this: I either love you or I hate you.  I'll tell you everything about anything, or nothing at all.  I'm either obsessed with something or bored with it.  I either feel like super mom, or like social services should come for my children.  I either feel like the most loved, most cherished, most confident, most beautiful woman alive, or I feel like a worthless nothing that no one would ever want to be around.  Welcome to the fantastic roller coaster that is me.

So, I'm trying to learn to live in the space between.

The thing is, I don't think I'm alone in this.  I think, in fact, that there are millions of "extreme" people all around me.  The question is what to do with us.

There is the world around me as it is: broken, miserable, dirty, chaotic, and lost.  There is the world that God intended it to be: whole, exuberant, pure, beautiful, and purpose-filled.  And then there is me, waffling in the middle, being pulled by both sides, by the desire to touch and connect with those who live in such desperate need of true contact with something real and honest.

And it's hard not to be swayed... to be pulled into the despair and hopelessness.  

It's also hard not to be swayed to ignore it all, to live with my head in the clouds, knowing that "God has something better than this"...  I don't want to live in a place of irrelevance to those around me either.

So, I swing back and forth, knowing that I've been given this "burden" of desire for a reason.  Knowing I'm not alone in this need to live in the in-between places.  And I'm not alone in my struggle for the "middle ground."

Wasted on Grace

Is your love enough?

Was this pain all in vain?

This trust still unjust?

We're asked to drop masks

   to seek to be meek

   to knock down road blocks.

We sacrifice our vices

   to concede what we need.

Practice mere cowardice

   to excuse what we choose.

We learn from the burns

   and reveal that we've healed

Hoping to cope

   to find that in time

Our soul's lost control --

   wholly wasted on grace.

Intimacy

Lost in layers

of barely-there clothes

Chasing her cares

in passionate throes

She longs to connect

to something more real

Than what she expects

From monetary deals

She peels pieces back

Knowing what she's lost

And every scar keeps track

Of monumental costs

Shifting stops 

She gathers golden

   shattered shards

Of rhinestone prayers

   and crystal hearts

And wonders when

   and how

   and where

Her life turned

   from whirling

   from twirling

   from swirling

To something suddenly

   so harsh and hard

And suddenly no one expects

More from her than meaningless sex

Voir Dire

To seek the truth

  in silent stares

unknowing proof

  of laissez-faire

To note a smile

  or hidden cry

based on style

  or sullen sighs

The proof contested

  mere suggestions

time is tested

  and jurors selected

Surviving Jury Duty

I made it through my first day of jury duty.  It wasn't so bad... Aside from a lot of "hurry up and wait" today, I met a lot of cool people and played spades for hours.  Without little people interrupting every 10 minutes.  Almost got called to trial this afternoon, but didn't make the final jury cut.  So back again tomorrow for day 2.  What will it bring?  More poetry?  Lots of time to think I'm sure.

Morning Commute

I will not slip softly

  into decaffeinated chaos

The delight of dawn

  incomparable

  to the luxury of liquid love

  and steaming strength

The escape to ecstacy

  from blessed bitterness

  and bittersweet beauty

  to voice of divinity

  and caffeinated clarity

Guest Poet

I'm pleased to announce my very first guest poet on my blog.  While sitting at the kitchen counter having a cup of "snowman soup" that Nana gave us, Little Man (obediently following the directions on the packet which told him to think about sunny days) started talking.  Those of you who know my son know that most of the words in this poem are his own (including "void" and "allergic") and the phrasing is all his, I just rearranged what he said into a poem to share with you all. 

Here's a little sunshine for everyone!

For the Sun

   by Little Man -- age 5

   (with a little help from Mommy)

A big, bright ball

   hanging in black void

It helps us see color

   a whole lot better

Sunny days are good

   for playing outside

On winter days

   when it's very cold

You can go in the house

   and have cocoa

Some days the sun

   is not very bright

The sun is allergic to my eyes

Hardened

"Give me something concrete --

too much shifting sand --

I need to understand,

to believe and not retreat."

Asphalt shimmers in summer's heat;

The air ripples and waves

and the hard surface caves --

what seemed solid just under our feet?

Truthfully, I felt incomplete

Got lost -- unknown and alone

so turned myself to stone

and I don't want it to repeat

Do you really want concrete?

I want to give you more

-- to soften this hard core

and show you underneath.

Princess Cut

trauma of time

   temperature

   turmoil

rarity of region

   resistance

   rigor

strength of surrender

   severity

   asperity

carat, color, cut, clarity

defects affect assets

hardness heightens worth

multi-layered facets

signify phases of growth

extraction of treasure

means finding the weakness

the skilled cutters pleasure

designing uniqueness

hammered and scraped

fragility sliced

polished and shaped

by one of greater price

distress is the duty

love is the loyalty 

refining the beauty

reflecting our royalty

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Blog Entries...

... to bring you this very special Public Service Announcement ...

Saturday, January 10 at 9PM

Bube's Brewery in Mount Joy, PA

will be hosting a special concert

to benefit a special young lady, 

Hannah Garman

For more information, please visit the following sites:

• Ken's Blog
• Dan's Blog
• Facebook Group
• Change 101

Many others in the area are talking about this too and I don't feel the need to retype all the information since they've already done so quite adequately.

Please forward this post via your own blog by word of mouth.  This child is the same age as my son and is the niece of a former classmate of mine, so this particular cause hits close to home for me.  While I don't know if I will make it personally to this event, I will do my part to pass the word.

Above, all, please keep Hannah and her family in your prayers, as this is a difficult time for all of them.

... and now back to your regularly scheduled blog posts ... 

Winter Weather Advisory

Frigid silence falls

Shielding all 

in glass-like walls

Faltering through

Obscured view

Warmth eludes

Pelted by more

I try to ignore

This icy allure

The beautiful pain

The crystals of rain

Cut through the strain

Chipping away

At this wintry gray

A small price to pay

Soon it will break

It will shatter and flake

Melting mistakes

For love -- honest and true

And strength that's renewed

In a warmth here with you

Norman Rockwell has LEFT the building...

When I was a freshman in college, I brought my best friend (who was from upstate New York) home with me for Fall Break.  Since I only lived about 45 minutes or so from school and my family actually cared that I came home for the break and brought friends, this worked well for both of us.

We wandered around my little town during our few days off.  We met up with a local friend at the pharmacy down-town and my college friend was delighted that she could still get a cuppa joe for only five cents.  We sat outside and drank cheap coffee and locals passed us, many with a smile and a wave.  A few even stopped to chat.  

Beaming, my college friend pronounced my little town to be, "the perfect Norman Rockwell town!"  She wanted to hang pictures on her dorm room walls to remind her that such places actually existed in real life.

Now, this incident happened 14 years ago and a lot has changed.  The pharmacy with the five cent coffee is long gone.  It's been replaced by an organic cafe.  Cute and quaint, but not cheap.  Other local businesses have changed hands or moved on and the "square" looks quite different than it did then.

But the sad part isn't this list of changes.  No, the sad part is the "rise in crime."  Now everyone is having this issue everywhere, but here are our highlights (all within the past five years ):

• In a development just across the field from where I lived in high school, a young man shot a cop who was trying to arrest him for a minor driving violation (obviously there was far more to the story uncovered later).
• Not two months later, in the development that my boyfriend in high school lived, our little town made NATIONAL news thanks to a "good Christian" 18-year-old boy who shot his 14-year-old girlfriend's parents and "kidnapped" her.  The couple ran across state lines and finally got caught in Indiana.  This was the same weekend that my brother got married, and the month after my in-laws moved to our town, looking for a nice quiet little place near their grandchildren.  This same boy and some of his friends (one of which apparently lives around the corner from me) video-recorded themselves on "night raids" where they would enter homes with weapons while inhabitants were sleeping.  
• Last summer, there were a series of break-ins in the area, and the police were asking everyone to alert them if they planned to be out of town overnight.
• Within the past year, our local school district has been in the news for both racial violence in the parking lot AND for the band director(s) having affair(s) with students.
• TODAY... as I was typing this, there was a "hostage situation" in a bank just a few blocks from my house.  Thankfully, it turned out to be just a "suspicious package" from the sound of things, but the entire "downtown" area was shut down for a couple hours by the bomb squad.

My memory is a tad fuzzy on the details of all of these things (so if I got some wrong, I'm sorry); frankly I try to forget them, but I highly doubt that you'll find these things in a Rockwell painting.  Sigh...

Releasing the Inner Poet

One morning, about a week or so ago, both my husband and a friend of mine make comments on twitter about the sky.  The statements came to me simultaneously and I found it ironic that two people who don't profess to be poets made such musical praise for the beautiful gift we'd been given that morning.  I've been mulling these ideas over for the past several days and it finally came together into a poem, just for them.

Revelation Skies

    for Jeff & Jaime and their inner poets

Drowsy divinity dreams

Nestling deep in celestial fleece

Silver cloud covers brightest beams

Dim-lit expectations release

A hopeful morning dawns and gleams

And lends the snowy kiss of peace

Current Playlist

It's January and I'm tired, and my family is sick.  I feel like I've been so incredibly depressed lately, but tonight I will go to sleep with music in my head and hope for a brighter tomorrow (beautiful cliche, isn't it?)...  Here are three songs that I find personally very meaningful at the moment:

Who You Are

"I won't be satified; I won't be found alright 'til I find who You are.  I'd climb every mountain; I'd travel the deepest valleys to find who You are....  You calm the storms at night; You turn the dark to light.  You're everything and that is who You are...." (Desperation Band)

Above All Else

"Jesus, my passion in life is to know you; may all other goals bow down to this journey of loving you more....  Savior the more that I see your beauty, the more that I glimpse your glory, my heart is captured by You... nothing this world can offer could ever compare to You.  So hear my heart's cry, and my prayer for this life: Above all else... give me Yourself...."  (Vicky Beeching)

Sweetly Broken

"At the cross you beckon me.  You draw me gently to my knees and I am lost for words, so lost in love; I'm sweetly broken, wholly surrendered...." (Jeremy Riddle)

Goodnight world.  See you in the morning.

Ghost Town

Wispy wind whirling

Tipsy time twirling

The wraithlike remnants

   of relived lives

   and deathly dreams

   of abandoned apathy

I haunt them now

   wondering

   wandering

   wanting to know

Feeling so...

   unlived

   unloved

   unheard I disavow

Ripples rending

Breath unbending

Echos ending

Another one

I'm on a poetry roll today apparently:

Dream Deference

I wish that I could understand

Confusion hidden in your eyes--

Haunting spaces in between

The awesome stillness underneath

We sift through more of this than planned

So much here, we sympathize

Seeking out the things unseen

Our deepest secrets to bequeath

Dark Poetry

I don't know where these came from... but these have been floating in my head for the past 24 hours or so.  If I don't let them out, they'll eat me alive.

Lonely

Traversing the world

Alone

Hiding inside unfurled

Stone

Waiting for someone

A home

With friendship undone

I roam

Unsettled inside

Too stressed

The torment subside

Need rest

Torment

Clawing, scratching

forced deep down

Thawing, hatching

Laugh to hide frown

Overriding all my power

From within me it devours

Please don't call the asylum yet.  I refuse to go unless you come too.

Post-Holiday Blues

This morning I'm tired.  

It seems like for the past several years, the first week of January brings more than just the typical post-holiday let-down for us.  Inevitably someone seems to get sick -- often several of us.  We spend so much time and energy preparing for the holidays and hopping from one gathering with family or friends to the next -- and this often lasts nearly two weeks for us.  

The sleeping and eating schedules are disrupted and there seems to be more than the usual sugar, caffeine, and "junk" consumed.  Even when we try to be conscious of it, it seems to hit hard in our house.  We're so completely creatures of routine in our family, that even the slightest disruption sends at least one member of the family into a melt-down (and yes, it's me as often as the kids).  Now... add a million holiday disruptions and I guess it's no wonder that we end up sick the week after the holiday rush.

And my house is a wreck... and this is no one's fault but mine.  Nothing like trying to clean and reorganize when no one feels well to begin with.

Emotionally speaking the week after the holiday is hard for me too.  I'm surrounded by family and friends for weeks and then we suddenly have nothing.  No celebrations to look forward to suddenly.  It's sad.  Thankfully, this year, I at least have an Over the Rhine concert to look forward to the first weekend in February and a promised weekend away with hubby that we have to schedule.

So, I'm off to decide what to do to get me out of this funk.  I guess cleaning would be a good start if I can get up my energy.

Bring It...

I'm reading a lot of blog entries of friends regarding the new year.  I even posted one myself yesterday, since I had this moment of nostalgia and ... whatever it is.  Some people are incredibly hopeful with the "new beginning" and are busy making goals, resolutions, etc.  Other are intensely cynical about all the hooplah and "pretense" of new starts and the "artificial" deadlines that surround our plans and goals when we rely on the "new year" as the only time we set goals.  I find myself falling somewhere in the middle actually.

While I don't want to use January as the only time I do this, I find nothing wrong with the concept of evaluating one's self at the new year, with setting goals for the next year (although I balk at calling them resolutions -- because that feels like setting yourself up to fail).  It's good to be in constant mind of where you're headed, or you become in danger of making a wrong turn and finding yourself pretty hopelessly lost -- much like I did last year.

We found ourselves at hanging out with a few very close friends on New Year's Eve this year.  The topic for discussion for a large part of the evening was, "What was your high and your low from this past year?"  My ultimate low (and indirectly my high as well) was the fact that I got lost this past year.  It ended up rocking the foundations of my life in ways I had no idea were going to happen a year ago.  I found myself having totally rearranged my life in the past year.  

The negatives (the lows) to that were the toll this all took on my marriage and family, and even on some of my friendships over the past 12 months.  I was so busy being caught up in my self and what I needed that I missed the fact that I was failing everyone around me, including my employer... resulting in a change of occupation as well this year.

The positives (the highs) in this come down to the realization of what amazing friends and family I have, not the least of which is my incredible husband.  I'm finding myself and I'm rediscovering him too.  I'm learning who I can depend on to be there for me -- no matter how often I fail them.  We finalized the adoption of our daughter this past year, which was a definite high as well, but even more than that for me is the falling in love with my hubby that is happening all over again.  I'm rediscovering myself, my inner poet/romantic/writer, and I've written more this year than I had since college.

Frankly, I never wanna repeat 2008.  It was a dark valley in the overall picture of my life.  There were distinct moments of sunshine, of course, but I found a few paths in that valley that I wasted a lot of time on since they were leading to nowhere.  2009 is a year of promise... a year for restoration, regrowth, and reconciliation for me.  There are relationships that need to be re-established and/or redefined, and it's a long road, but at least this one has an ultimate destination worth pursuing.

The pain and passion that I'm sure 2009 holds for me... I'm ready.  It's never easy, but I'm ready.  Bring it on.

Carpe Diem!

For New Beginnings

January dawning clear and bright

  Marking end to Silent Night

December's shadow-longing cast

  The false-hope parting come to pass

Seeing worlds before my eyes

  Bubbling laughter -- tearing dry

Pre-occupation last year left

  Errant longing calmed, bereft

The bitter wine poured over time

  Make midnight dreaming more sublime

I don't make resolutions, but I confess to having wasted a lot of energy and time on the pursuit of... nothing in 2008.  I sincerely hope that 2009 proves more productive for me in all areas of my life.  Our time is what we make it.  My wish is to make this year and myself into the things they were created to be.  May I do justice to this gift of a new beginning, by appreciating each and every possibility it presents....

Happy New Year, All!