I was walking though a lush green rainforest. The leaves were bent, hanging from the weight of the rain. There were golden breaks of rays from the sun scattered through earthen trail. I kept walking looking to the canopy above me until I came to an edge.
The path opened to a clearing, like a small meadow, and before me I saw a white bear. I stood still; the blades of grass were at waist level and blew against me as a gush of wind came over me. The bear was running, charging at full speed, and knocked me to the ground. I put my arms up, crossed; covering my face and felt the huge teeth sink into my forearms. The pain was real, so vivid, my fingers tingled. The bear roared, as his black gums came close and I could feel his breath on my face. I closed my eyes.
And then as fast and the bear knocked me down, he was off. I stood to my feet, not afraid, but my chest heaved. I looked to my arms and hands, there was no bite mark, no blood. I felt complete awe and reverence as I stood before the bear. He reared up on his hind legs, he was massive. His paws are the size of my face and he greatly towered me in height. His mouth opened again, letting out an echoing roar. Then, silently, he came down and walked away.
He walked through the tall blades of grass, and into the thick dense rainforest. A cloud of fog came in behind and I awoke from my dream.
This dream has stayed with me and I can not help but be determined to find it’s true meaning. Native American Indians believe that animals come to you as a spirit guide. They are there for a specific purpose, to guide or protect you, lead you to a destiny you are not yet aware of. A spirit guide can not be chosen, it chooses you. It determines where and when it will present itself to you and you are the one who must listen.
I had never seen this bear before in my life. I had explained to Scott that it was like a grizzly bear, only smaller, and white. I could describe this bear perfectly, his smell, his fur texture, his nature. I knew the bear. I was not afraid, there was a connection to this bear.
When I went to research about my bear, I found the Spirit White Bear. It only lives in a small portion of British Columbia in the dense rainforest. It is elusive and rare. It is a genetic recessive offspring from the black bear, one in every ten bears born has the chance of being white. It can grow to 300 lbs as a mature adult. When I saw the photos, I knew that was my bear. I had never seen or heard of a Spirit Bear before this dream
The bear often visits me in my dreams, walking besides me as a companion. I have yet to find the meaning or what I am to do with it, but I am grateful for being chosen.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
message in a sunset
I saw the most beautiful sunrise this morning. It was a welcome sight, last night the winds were howling, ripping leaves and sticks off trees. Rain was pouring over the water spouts of homes, neighbors were clambering to rake out leaves from clogged drains. Cars were covered in huge tsunami type waves as they drove through puddles.
But that was last night, and not this morning. This morning, as I drove to work, I rolled up the mist covered hill, dew still fresh on the evergreens and as the road bent, and the trees parted, I saw the most brilliant light of oranges, blue, and violets. Mount Hood stood out in the backdrop, the peak illuminated by a golden halo, clouds swirled at the basin. Rays of light shone down through the breaks in the rose laden sky.
I turned my radio down, engulfed by the sight, trying to brazen it into my mind, I did not want to be distracted. I took out my camera and tried to take a picture. I could not focus it right, not enough to capture the image and do the sight justice. I realized maybe some things are not to be captured. Maybe, sometimes God shows you something that you need to capture in your heart. Maybe, God was showing me peace and serenity, strength and grace because there was a purpose that I did not know yet.
I wondered how many people, at this exact moment, are seeing what I see. How many people are capturing the essence of a sunrise? I wanted to share the image with someone else, but then again thought maybe, it would be more profound if I kept it to myself.
It would not be until I got to school, that I understood. Often we muddle through our lives. Things get out of control, priorities screwed up, we worry about texting, checking emails, arrange important decisions over lunch meetings. We constantly are trying to clean out our own gutters, while all the essence of life is backing up, flowing over downspouts and spilling into the street like uncontrollable floods. We try to fix damages after a storm. We tend to remember a huge storm over a beautiful sunrise because it is the damage that is left that is imprinted more in one’s mind.
For me, the sunrise meant that I needed to help someone realize the serenity and peace he had forgotten. I had to help someone find the essence of grace and forgiveness within himself because for some reason, his life had been overflowing. His “water” had been pouring in directions he could not control and the imprinting of past storms had been so great, that he did not see the sunrise within himself.
God works in ways we do not understand and if we get so busy with our lives we tend to miss his messages. Today, I was just lucky enough to listen.
But that was last night, and not this morning. This morning, as I drove to work, I rolled up the mist covered hill, dew still fresh on the evergreens and as the road bent, and the trees parted, I saw the most brilliant light of oranges, blue, and violets. Mount Hood stood out in the backdrop, the peak illuminated by a golden halo, clouds swirled at the basin. Rays of light shone down through the breaks in the rose laden sky.
I turned my radio down, engulfed by the sight, trying to brazen it into my mind, I did not want to be distracted. I took out my camera and tried to take a picture. I could not focus it right, not enough to capture the image and do the sight justice. I realized maybe some things are not to be captured. Maybe, sometimes God shows you something that you need to capture in your heart. Maybe, God was showing me peace and serenity, strength and grace because there was a purpose that I did not know yet.
I wondered how many people, at this exact moment, are seeing what I see. How many people are capturing the essence of a sunrise? I wanted to share the image with someone else, but then again thought maybe, it would be more profound if I kept it to myself.
It would not be until I got to school, that I understood. Often we muddle through our lives. Things get out of control, priorities screwed up, we worry about texting, checking emails, arrange important decisions over lunch meetings. We constantly are trying to clean out our own gutters, while all the essence of life is backing up, flowing over downspouts and spilling into the street like uncontrollable floods. We try to fix damages after a storm. We tend to remember a huge storm over a beautiful sunrise because it is the damage that is left that is imprinted more in one’s mind.
For me, the sunrise meant that I needed to help someone realize the serenity and peace he had forgotten. I had to help someone find the essence of grace and forgiveness within himself because for some reason, his life had been overflowing. His “water” had been pouring in directions he could not control and the imprinting of past storms had been so great, that he did not see the sunrise within himself.
God works in ways we do not understand and if we get so busy with our lives we tend to miss his messages. Today, I was just lucky enough to listen.
the beatiful key
I want a man who can love me for my simple beauty and complex thoughts. I want a man to be able to see that I am worried, and without asking, lean to give me a hug. He reads my body posture from yards away, and knows my mind is filled with thought.
I want a man to be able to look into my eyes, and tell me he knows the truth, my heart and will wait. I want a man to tell me without a doubt, 100 percent, I am the one he wants. If I run away, he will find me, and sit with me, until I have enough courage to love.
I want a man to tell me he loves me under the stars and know that I am the only one who hears those words. I want him to be confident in himself and his love for me, to love me for the mother I am. He can see the special gift I have with children, feeling and healing those with broken hearts, but somehow, unable to mend my own.
I want a man with conviction and character, who when I say, “go away, I need to be alone”, really knows I mean, “stay, be with me I am scared”. I want a man to read foreign subtitles to my favorite movie just so he can impress me. I want a man to know what to get me for my birthday without asking.
I want a man to be ready for me, to have faith in me, to give me a chance to try. He needs to know that I have been stumbling for a while, trying to reach my ground, but I am strong. I have the fortitude to fight for what I need, what I want, if he stands beside me.
I need a man to know that if he can not give me those things, I will walk away. I am not a folder. I am not a possibility. I am a scar on his heart. I am a hand to hold, that when it is gone, his hand longs for. I am that pause that makes him turn around and say, “Don’t go”. I am the thoughts that keep him up at night. I am the uneasiness in his stomach that keeps telling him, “try harder, work harder, stay for her, she is there, just show her”.
Scott, you are that man.
he took my hand
He took my hand, and patiently said, “When you are ready I will be there, I am here and I will not leave”. And he waited.
And I ran, I had sleepless nights, where his face flashed in my dreams, where I had fears for waiting too long, not being able to find his hand. I had mornings where I wished he was next to me, to wake up to his hands around my waist. I had days where I wanted him to kiss me so badly, that my heart felt as if it could burst inside my chest. And yet I did nothing, and he waited.
Weekends came and went, and with each passing day, I looked to him with more and more love. He told me all he wanted, more than anything, was just for me to walk with him a while, let him hold my hand. He asked me to pause for just a moment, take the chance, allow myself to open my heart. I cried and he waited.
He opened his heart to me, felt the deepest part of my broken heart, read my emotions and held me. He asked for my father’s approval with a dime, not saying a word, and it was granted. He took my hand, held me close, and asked of nothing in return. I kissed him, with all of my soul, and he waited.
He danced with me, and sang me songs. He wrote me letters; pulling all the words he could find to show me, he was real. He looked deep into my eyes and held my face, kissed the tears from my cheeks and he waited.
And I left, and while I was gone, I wanted him more than ever. I needed his touch, I needed his hand, I needed him, and he was there. Every moment, every step, every beat he was there… I loved him and went to his arms
A packed suitcase
Any of you who know me, know I try to have all my shit, (that is metaphorically speaking of course), packed in perfect little boxes. I have five year plans for my five year plans. I even have all my labels in my pantry facing forward. I load the dishwasher back to front and forks and knives go in sharp side down, just to be safe.
This tendency of mine can be a blessing and a curse at the same time. I thrive off of routine, but at the same time can be scattered and a free spirit. I could benefit from a grounder. I don’t like people telling me what to do, but I can always tell another exactly where to go. I take care of everyone else, but never manage to pack my own lunch. I am a good listener and good advice giver, but never take my own advice. I love the concept of the military but don’t really like guns. I take all right turns to get to school. (just kidding there is one left turn) The point of my story is, well, although I like to think my stuff is all packed, neatly and nicely folded, I may need to readjust some shit.
You see, I have been blindsided, bamboozled, the rug pulled out from under me. I thought I had packed my “mate” suitcase to a tee, all qualities nicely folded, lettered and alphabetized. I thought everything was perfect. I had “that” suitcase packed. And from no where, some tenacious ball cap wearing guy has thrown a wild googly into my case and messed it all up.
I was ready for a great trip, had the bikini, flip flops and such. But something was just a miss. I sat there looking and reassessing, when suddenly it dawned on me that maybe my destination was not Hawaii after all, but maybe I was going to Alaska. Maybe, I needed to throw away my five year plans. Maybe, I needed to “just go with it”. Is any of this making sense to you? Because I am befuddled!
So now I ask you, do I dump out this suitcase, throw all my shit into the wind and see where it lands? Or do I close the suitcase and wear a bikini in Alaska? Good thing it is summertime and I have all the time in the world to think. ARRRRGH!
This tendency of mine can be a blessing and a curse at the same time. I thrive off of routine, but at the same time can be scattered and a free spirit. I could benefit from a grounder. I don’t like people telling me what to do, but I can always tell another exactly where to go. I take care of everyone else, but never manage to pack my own lunch. I am a good listener and good advice giver, but never take my own advice. I love the concept of the military but don’t really like guns. I take all right turns to get to school. (just kidding there is one left turn) The point of my story is, well, although I like to think my stuff is all packed, neatly and nicely folded, I may need to readjust some shit.
You see, I have been blindsided, bamboozled, the rug pulled out from under me. I thought I had packed my “mate” suitcase to a tee, all qualities nicely folded, lettered and alphabetized. I thought everything was perfect. I had “that” suitcase packed. And from no where, some tenacious ball cap wearing guy has thrown a wild googly into my case and messed it all up.
I was ready for a great trip, had the bikini, flip flops and such. But something was just a miss. I sat there looking and reassessing, when suddenly it dawned on me that maybe my destination was not Hawaii after all, but maybe I was going to Alaska. Maybe, I needed to throw away my five year plans. Maybe, I needed to “just go with it”. Is any of this making sense to you? Because I am befuddled!
So now I ask you, do I dump out this suitcase, throw all my shit into the wind and see where it lands? Or do I close the suitcase and wear a bikini in Alaska? Good thing it is summertime and I have all the time in the world to think. ARRRRGH!
Unicorns in the Pearl
There I was, there I was, in…. the Congo. No, not really, I was in Whole Foods with Todd, in downtown Portland. We were standing at the drink section, trying to decide between grapefruit soda, green tea, or lemonade. Such a dilemma, when all of the sudden, what walks next to Todd and I, but a huge Unicorn. I rub my eyes and smile is such disbelief and amazement. Am I really seeing this? Ok, no I have not done any hallucinogens, and yes that is a Unicorn, well half of a unicorn.
I lean my head on Todd’s shoulder and whisper into his ear, “look to your left, there is a unicorn”. He smiles at me and kisses me on the cheek and goes on looking for this drink. Clearly he had not heard me?
Now I am a bit puzzled by this, one because Todd seems unfazed by the white unicorn and two because the unicorn was a bizarre sighting in Whole Food. It is not like Sundays are designated unicorn day at grocery stores. Well, I have to admit, this was the fist time I saw a unicorn at all. So I continue to stare, like any normal Jersey girl would do, trying to figure out just what in the world was going on. When, there in the midst of the isle, the lower half of the unicorn opened, and I noticed the unicorn had no pants on.
I leaned over to Todd, this time with a bigger smile and said, “No Todd look again, the unicorn has no pants on”. There in the isle of whole foods, was a unicorn with no pants on, only a small pink thong with white fluffy fur, hairy legs and UGG boots.
Todd turned to me, without missing a beat and said, “Of course he doesn’t have pants on, he is a unicorn. Unicorns don’t need pants.”
Another customer and I burst into laughter. Portland, you have to love the “magic” of this city!
I lean my head on Todd’s shoulder and whisper into his ear, “look to your left, there is a unicorn”. He smiles at me and kisses me on the cheek and goes on looking for this drink. Clearly he had not heard me?
Now I am a bit puzzled by this, one because Todd seems unfazed by the white unicorn and two because the unicorn was a bizarre sighting in Whole Food. It is not like Sundays are designated unicorn day at grocery stores. Well, I have to admit, this was the fist time I saw a unicorn at all. So I continue to stare, like any normal Jersey girl would do, trying to figure out just what in the world was going on. When, there in the midst of the isle, the lower half of the unicorn opened, and I noticed the unicorn had no pants on.
I leaned over to Todd, this time with a bigger smile and said, “No Todd look again, the unicorn has no pants on”. There in the isle of whole foods, was a unicorn with no pants on, only a small pink thong with white fluffy fur, hairy legs and UGG boots.
Todd turned to me, without missing a beat and said, “Of course he doesn’t have pants on, he is a unicorn. Unicorns don’t need pants.”
Another customer and I burst into laughter. Portland, you have to love the “magic” of this city!
My dating life
I have come to realize that dating is like a comedy of errors, especially as an adult. I have asked girlfriends, read books, talked to guy friends for dating advice. But what comes to my mind is if this is the natural thing, why does it seem so hard? I have also realized that I am not alone in this process of trying to date in your thirties with kids. So maybe, if you're reading this we can work on things together, and at the least laugh!
Let me premise my dating history to sum up where I am at the present moment.
My divorce was official June 2006, I had two young kids and no family to speak of here in Oregon. It was me, and just me. A week after my divorce was final, I tore my ACL,LCL, and Patellar tendon and was in a cast for 8 months. I was healing mentally and physically which probably was a good thing because no one should really date right after divorce. My friend, Steve, dubbed me as a “fucking train wreck”.
When I had moved into my new place, I had nothing. You see my marriage had fallen apart and my ex, well, anyone who knows him, knows,~ just don’t argue with him,~ it is not worth it, let it go. So I did. I let everything stay with him, and I moved out with $500 bucks a friend loaned to me, a few minor things and my freedom: freedom to be loved like I should be loved. I left a 400K house behind for a 2 bedroom 900 sq foot apartment. And I cried. I cried for it seemed like ever. I had two kids a busted up leg, no help and no idea how I was supposed to date again. So I tried my hand at dating, adult style… these are some of the worst dating stories so far:
1) Zodiac Killer~ Let’s see, how to meet men, ok grocery store, check I have one close by! Yeah, first bad mistake. He seemed normal. Handsome man, established, articulate, had a balanced diet in his basket, but not in his head. He met me at a rose park and then proceeded to ask if I cared for a drink. He had packed a cooler, nice wine. “Sure” I replied. He poured one glass, and I oddly looked at him, (WTF) came to mind as he cracked an O’Douls, non alcoholic beer. He explained he was a recovering alcoholic. In the span of what seemed like minutes he had consumed 12 non alcoholic beers. Red flag!! Run away, said the little voice in my head, but I stayed. Next, we went to the movies, he picked Zodiac Killer. My date took me to see a serial killer movie! WTF, I was confused and a little scared. Then during the movie, he proceeded to tell me he had an oral “thing” again (WTF) and flossed his teeth in the middle of the movie. Yes- check next date. No, I did not return his calls for a second date.
2) NJ Dating~ Did not date for a while after that episode, thought maybe all the men in Oregon were gay, wierdos or already taken. Let’s try the East coast. Well, there is a commitment gone wrong in a bottle. Let’s try to start dating again, and let’s see, maybe date a guy who is as far away from you as oh, um Jupiter. Ok retard, be realistic. Date a man in Oregon. Ok, …two boyfriends later. I realize this isn’t working. Back to Oregon men.
3) Sunglasses Guy~ I had a friend set me up on a blind date. We met at a restaurant. He was wearing sunglasses, yeah it was sunny, but not inside. He ordered his food and while we were waiting, showed me the pictures of his ex girlfriend the Tropicana Bikini Model who was 23. Hmm. Alrighty then, “She lookes tan” I replied. He also told me he was worth a shit load of money and loads of women want to date him…. his words… narcissistic huh? ( any one who knows me, know I don’t care about that crap at all) Dinner is done, he says “Why don’t you go get your car and meet me back here. I parked valet.
Well, I don’t pay for my parking I told him and said my car was two blocks down, would you like to walk with me.
“No”, he said, I will wait for you. He drove a corvette—yellow—assholes usually drive corvettes, and I was right. I got in my car and did a quick 911 to my girlfriend. “Can I just ditch this guy”, I asked, “hold on she said, “ I’ll ask my husband”. She comes back on the line. “ My husband said you are totally in the right to ditch him. When he turns you stay straight” Check got it… next date!!!
4) Fubu .~ Coffee shop, next logical place to meet a man. There is a handsome man in line with me, he strikes up a conversation and then asks for my number. Score! I am excited, he knows a man I teach with, a good friend of mine. I run a security check on him, my buddy, he gives me the go ahead! Seems like a great guy… a few weeks pass… he starts talking like a black guy. Now I have no problems dating a black man, in fact I am sure there are very nice single black men out there, but well, this guy I was dating was WHITE, not black at all. I get a little more and more uncomfortable with his slow progression, and people seem to look at him oddly. He is tucking his sweatshirts into his sweatpants that he pulls up to his rib cage too.
Must ask girlfriends about this, it doesn’t seem normal. Jane says, under no circumstances is this normal and dubs him FUBU—it stands for For Us By Us and is an urban outfit company.~ Christmas time, exchanging of presents.~ I painted a nice oil painting for him. We exchanged gifts, he presented me with… drum roll please…a plastic grocery bag all tied up. Strange I thought. He relied, “ I got you used knives off EBAY girl, Merry Christmas!. I untied the bag looked inside, yes indeed were 10 knives and a dusty butcher block in the bag. I handed the bag back and stated, “Oh no, this will not do. You must go!” Jane then dubbed him FUBU EBAY USED KNIVES.
Ok, realize dating man compass is defiantly broken! I must fix my magnetic compass. I must find a good man. What did I do, I bought a dog!
Ps. Finally met a great man, keep your fingers crossed for me.
Let me premise my dating history to sum up where I am at the present moment.
My divorce was official June 2006, I had two young kids and no family to speak of here in Oregon. It was me, and just me. A week after my divorce was final, I tore my ACL,LCL, and Patellar tendon and was in a cast for 8 months. I was healing mentally and physically which probably was a good thing because no one should really date right after divorce. My friend, Steve, dubbed me as a “fucking train wreck”.
When I had moved into my new place, I had nothing. You see my marriage had fallen apart and my ex, well, anyone who knows him, knows,~ just don’t argue with him,~ it is not worth it, let it go. So I did. I let everything stay with him, and I moved out with $500 bucks a friend loaned to me, a few minor things and my freedom: freedom to be loved like I should be loved. I left a 400K house behind for a 2 bedroom 900 sq foot apartment. And I cried. I cried for it seemed like ever. I had two kids a busted up leg, no help and no idea how I was supposed to date again. So I tried my hand at dating, adult style… these are some of the worst dating stories so far:
1) Zodiac Killer~ Let’s see, how to meet men, ok grocery store, check I have one close by! Yeah, first bad mistake. He seemed normal. Handsome man, established, articulate, had a balanced diet in his basket, but not in his head. He met me at a rose park and then proceeded to ask if I cared for a drink. He had packed a cooler, nice wine. “Sure” I replied. He poured one glass, and I oddly looked at him, (WTF) came to mind as he cracked an O’Douls, non alcoholic beer. He explained he was a recovering alcoholic. In the span of what seemed like minutes he had consumed 12 non alcoholic beers. Red flag!! Run away, said the little voice in my head, but I stayed. Next, we went to the movies, he picked Zodiac Killer. My date took me to see a serial killer movie! WTF, I was confused and a little scared. Then during the movie, he proceeded to tell me he had an oral “thing” again (WTF) and flossed his teeth in the middle of the movie. Yes- check next date. No, I did not return his calls for a second date.
2) NJ Dating~ Did not date for a while after that episode, thought maybe all the men in Oregon were gay, wierdos or already taken. Let’s try the East coast. Well, there is a commitment gone wrong in a bottle. Let’s try to start dating again, and let’s see, maybe date a guy who is as far away from you as oh, um Jupiter. Ok retard, be realistic. Date a man in Oregon. Ok, …two boyfriends later. I realize this isn’t working. Back to Oregon men.
3) Sunglasses Guy~ I had a friend set me up on a blind date. We met at a restaurant. He was wearing sunglasses, yeah it was sunny, but not inside. He ordered his food and while we were waiting, showed me the pictures of his ex girlfriend the Tropicana Bikini Model who was 23. Hmm. Alrighty then, “She lookes tan” I replied. He also told me he was worth a shit load of money and loads of women want to date him…. his words… narcissistic huh? ( any one who knows me, know I don’t care about that crap at all) Dinner is done, he says “Why don’t you go get your car and meet me back here. I parked valet.
Well, I don’t pay for my parking I told him and said my car was two blocks down, would you like to walk with me.
“No”, he said, I will wait for you. He drove a corvette—yellow—assholes usually drive corvettes, and I was right. I got in my car and did a quick 911 to my girlfriend. “Can I just ditch this guy”, I asked, “hold on she said, “ I’ll ask my husband”. She comes back on the line. “ My husband said you are totally in the right to ditch him. When he turns you stay straight” Check got it… next date!!!
4) Fubu .~ Coffee shop, next logical place to meet a man. There is a handsome man in line with me, he strikes up a conversation and then asks for my number. Score! I am excited, he knows a man I teach with, a good friend of mine. I run a security check on him, my buddy, he gives me the go ahead! Seems like a great guy… a few weeks pass… he starts talking like a black guy. Now I have no problems dating a black man, in fact I am sure there are very nice single black men out there, but well, this guy I was dating was WHITE, not black at all. I get a little more and more uncomfortable with his slow progression, and people seem to look at him oddly. He is tucking his sweatshirts into his sweatpants that he pulls up to his rib cage too.
Must ask girlfriends about this, it doesn’t seem normal. Jane says, under no circumstances is this normal and dubs him FUBU—it stands for For Us By Us and is an urban outfit company.~ Christmas time, exchanging of presents.~ I painted a nice oil painting for him. We exchanged gifts, he presented me with… drum roll please…a plastic grocery bag all tied up. Strange I thought. He relied, “ I got you used knives off EBAY girl, Merry Christmas!. I untied the bag looked inside, yes indeed were 10 knives and a dusty butcher block in the bag. I handed the bag back and stated, “Oh no, this will not do. You must go!” Jane then dubbed him FUBU EBAY USED KNIVES.
Ok, realize dating man compass is defiantly broken! I must fix my magnetic compass. I must find a good man. What did I do, I bought a dog!
Ps. Finally met a great man, keep your fingers crossed for me.
let your light shine
I got a fortune cookie the other day and it read, “Sometimes is it necessary to let your light shine, and other times it is necessary to be the mirror that reflects the light”. I have thought about this for a very long time to try to figure this out.
As I sit bundled in my blanket, procrastinating finishing my paper on cognitive restructuring, which is basically making messed up kids normal, it dawned on me that what has made me shine is reflecting the spirit of the toughest kids.
I have helped pretty messed up kids to realize they have worth and are loved. I have gained their approval and acceptance where, in their world, they worry over their next meal or the sanity of their parents. What exactly will they get when fucked up mom or dad walks through the door. They tell me things like, they have no power, no food, their shoes may be held together with duct tape and their clothes are tattered or torn. So I find them new shoes and mend their clothes, and I listen to them. I hug them, when they need it, and tell them I love them. And when they see me every morning, they shine.
They are my little kiddos. Not my born children, not Maximus or Anthony, but they are still mine, and I still love them. They give me headaches, they make wrong choices, they fail classes, they purposely get thrown out of classes because they hate some teachers, but they are still mine. They are always at the principles office, and often I get a call, I just can’t take this kid… can you talk with him. Yes, yes I can.
Because if I can’t reflect the light they have, they will never see it. And if they feel they have no light, they will not make it in this world. That is the power to be a teacher. A teacher’s power is not to shine, but to reflect the light of the children who don’t think they exist, who don’t think they matter, who don’t think they have light in a dark place.
As I sit bundled in my blanket, procrastinating finishing my paper on cognitive restructuring, which is basically making messed up kids normal, it dawned on me that what has made me shine is reflecting the spirit of the toughest kids.
I have helped pretty messed up kids to realize they have worth and are loved. I have gained their approval and acceptance where, in their world, they worry over their next meal or the sanity of their parents. What exactly will they get when fucked up mom or dad walks through the door. They tell me things like, they have no power, no food, their shoes may be held together with duct tape and their clothes are tattered or torn. So I find them new shoes and mend their clothes, and I listen to them. I hug them, when they need it, and tell them I love them. And when they see me every morning, they shine.
They are my little kiddos. Not my born children, not Maximus or Anthony, but they are still mine, and I still love them. They give me headaches, they make wrong choices, they fail classes, they purposely get thrown out of classes because they hate some teachers, but they are still mine. They are always at the principles office, and often I get a call, I just can’t take this kid… can you talk with him. Yes, yes I can.
Because if I can’t reflect the light they have, they will never see it. And if they feel they have no light, they will not make it in this world. That is the power to be a teacher. A teacher’s power is not to shine, but to reflect the light of the children who don’t think they exist, who don’t think they matter, who don’t think they have light in a dark place.
My heart on the kitchen counter
Standing at the kitchen counter in my new home, a glass of red wine by my side and the dog at my feet, tears are streaming down my face, and I faintly hear the laughter of my children in the tub. I am trying to patch together the roughly 35 years of my life: my parents, my birth, three, to ten to twenty to thirty four, so hard to grasp all those years and memories, I try to press a little more to think of the time captured in a sepia-reddish photograph taken somewhere in the late seventies early eighties. I can't quite grasp the memory but from the picture I seemed so happy and cluelees, toothless too, with the long red pigtails- a signature even at 5 (or so).
I think to myself, if only I can go back a few months, say my goodbye a little more, held that hug a little longer, said I love you one more time. It has been a whirlwind ride the last few months and although I have accomplished so much in my life, I still feel as if I should have done better. I could have been a better daughter, a better wife, and better friend, but what I have learned is to treasure today, to not let the trivial things get by my side, not to have my time muddled by time mongers who are insufficiant in the appriciation of life.
People often say that stupid line, God only gives you what you can handle, well I have had my share of handling, forgive me, my fair share of "Shit". And as I stand here with those tears and feeling so helpless, what I really want, what I really need is for one special person to walk through that door, just touch my shoulder and wipe my tears away, tell me they can take over for just a moment, and that they love me. They love me more than anything in the world but say it without words with that touch to your face, and arms wrapped so hard around your body you are protected and safe and it is totally ok, to break, to cry.
I hang my head, missing father, sad for my heart,and hear a call to bring me out of my weaknees, "Mommy, does this have the sting in your eyes soap". I have to move on, duty calls, my moment of need has to wait. Maybe one day, I say to myself, wipe my tears, take a huge swig of red wine and close the photo album.
I think to myself, if only I can go back a few months, say my goodbye a little more, held that hug a little longer, said I love you one more time. It has been a whirlwind ride the last few months and although I have accomplished so much in my life, I still feel as if I should have done better. I could have been a better daughter, a better wife, and better friend, but what I have learned is to treasure today, to not let the trivial things get by my side, not to have my time muddled by time mongers who are insufficiant in the appriciation of life.
People often say that stupid line, God only gives you what you can handle, well I have had my share of handling, forgive me, my fair share of "Shit". And as I stand here with those tears and feeling so helpless, what I really want, what I really need is for one special person to walk through that door, just touch my shoulder and wipe my tears away, tell me they can take over for just a moment, and that they love me. They love me more than anything in the world but say it without words with that touch to your face, and arms wrapped so hard around your body you are protected and safe and it is totally ok, to break, to cry.
I hang my head, missing father, sad for my heart,and hear a call to bring me out of my weaknees, "Mommy, does this have the sting in your eyes soap". I have to move on, duty calls, my moment of need has to wait. Maybe one day, I say to myself, wipe my tears, take a huge swig of red wine and close the photo album.
My father the Iron Man
My father, his voice is his life, you often hear my Dad before you even see him. His voice is beautiful, robust, deep and full of life. He used to leave me messages on my voice mail, with the radio voice, "Hi honey, it's Dad". I was always wondering why he did that. I knew it was him, so why the radio dad voice-- but still it made me laugh.
He came out to visit me this past September and we had a great visit. I took him to walk through the trails near our zoo. He made walking sticks for the boys and investigated every aspect of nature with Max and Anthony. He was healthy and amazed at the trees and foliage of Portland.
I also took him to a McMenemins, where we saw Iron Man, the movie, while sitting on a sofa and eating a burger. He thought that was the best invention in the world. He said he needed one of those in Pittsburgh. This visit was special to me, one because my boys got a chance to bond with their grandpa, but two because we got to bond. Over time, growing up, months had turned to years, the I'll get there soon", just kept being said. I am glad he just said one day to me, "I booked my ticket, I am coming out" .
This visit was the first time I got to see my father as a man, as a person and not some infallible superhero who was supposed to do everything right. You have a vision of your Dad sometime as the guy who can do it all. Sometimes I felt neglected if I did not feel he was doing something I wanted. But as an adult you see things a different way and you understand the lines, "I am doing the best I can". When you are 12, or 22 you don't understand what that mean. It is not until you have children of your own that you understand. My father, although he had his faults, always did the best he could.
Three weeks ago my dad became gravely ill. Now he is hooked up to all these machines, with doctors telling us we have to prepare ourselves because he probably won't get better. He has undergone Chemotherapy and plasma transfers, blood transfers and a ruptured lung. He is on dialysis and is in a special bed. But as I sat and held his hand, I knew inside he could hear me. I knew he felt my touch and I am so proud of him. He has fought hard these weeks and is doing "the best he can". And in my eyes he is tough like the Iron Man.
On February 6, my father, Jerry Wayne Summers, passed away from a disease very few have heard of or understand, Lupus. Lupus is an autoimmune disease that can affect various parts of the body, including the skin, joints, heart, lungs, blood, kidneys and brain.
In an autoimmune disorder like Lupus, the immune system cannot tell the difference between foreign substances and its own cells and tissues. The immune system then makes antibodies directed against itself. For most people, Lupus is a mild disease affecting only a few organs. For others, it may cause serious and even life-threatening problems. Studies suggest that more than 16,000 Americans develop Lupus each year.
Although my father passed away from this terrible disease, something good can come from his death. During my fathers’ last weeks of care, he was attended by his Rheumatologist Dr. Kathy McKinnon, a leading research doctor for the Lupus Center for Excellence, located in Pittsburgh, Pa. Due to the severity of my father’s illness, his organs could not be used for donation, nor could they be used for research, but what we can do is help him make a difference.
The founder of the Lupus Center for Excellence has agreed to match dollar for dollar any donation made to the Lupus Center for Excellence that comes under the name of my father, JERRY WAYNE SUMMERS. Never before have donations come from the death of a loved one to this center for research to find a cure. Together, a cure for Lupus is attainable.
If anyone is interested in donating, mail it to The Foundation for the Lupus Center for Excellence, 2403 Sidney Street, Suite 235, Pittsburgh, PA 15203. Make sure you include Jerry's name so it gets doubled.
With love,
Laura
ps - pass this to as many as you can, lets see how much good we can do. I know my father would be proud.
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