I try very hard to inspire. I learned early in my life that if I inspired others, it helped to inspire me as well. I would far rather view the moments of joy and glory in my life, than the valley of the shadow of death that I have often walked through. The joy and glory are still there but the shadow...the dark valley are often there as well. It is our choice where to focus.
In the Bible the 23rd Psalm says, "Ye thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me..." I was born with an absolute knowledge that there is a God, Higher Power, Jehovah, whatever name you choose to call him or her, or if you prefer not to refer to the sacred name at all, I KNOW that there is Higher Power. That has been a rich blessing in my life.
If you have no solid concept of any form of Higher Power I would encourage you to look to the restorative gifts of nature. The majesty of mountain peaks, the wonder of trees greening every color, the seasons that provide variety and renewal to life, look closely at all of these gifts and hold wonder close to your heart.
In World War II my father was a paratrooper and an infantry man. Shortly before that he had served as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of latter-day Saints. In that position he was a minister teaching about Jesus, love, and peace.
Not long after his return home his strong sense of patriotism drove him to enlist. He would have been drafted if he didn't enlist, but our family had been part of America long before it WAS America. I think his heart beat rhythm was America the Beautiful.
He saw the horrors of the earth being torn to pieces by explosives. Beautiful places would be laid to waste. He served in the Occupation Troops in Japan. Years after the war he spoke about the wonder he felt as he saw nature heal those gaping wounds. The earth would take time to renew and regrow, but eventually new plants would arise from the ashes. Trees that had been splintered and twisted, would shelter new sprouts that pushed through the damaged soil towards the sunshine.
I have faced breast cancer once before. I have the perspective that I went through incredibly hard before, and came out stronger and more determined to live life to its fullest.
That said, I would prefer NEVER to face cancer, or disability. I am angry on and off right now. I am the least angry when I first wake up. Then, once again the idea of what I'm facing engulfs me. Double mastectomy. The first time I had cancer my nipple was burned so badly by the radiation that it felt as though needles were being driven in and out. This torture would have been extremely effective if someone were trying to elicit secrets from me.
I lived two states away from my marvelous mom. She kept calling and saying, "I can come any time. Are you certain that you don't need some help?"
I would reply with determination, "Thanks mom, I love you, but I'm an adult. I've got this."
When the pain started in my nipple that was the very last straw. I called her sobbing, "Mommy, I need you!" She was there the very next day.
The breast biopsy has awakened the sleeping torture of nipple pain. It's AWFUL. I live with chronic pain, nerve, muscle, and bone. I've given birth three times. I have had a kidney stone, too large for me to pass. I KNOW what pain is. This particular pain rises high above the others in intensity.
It's also unfortunate that it is in a location that you shouldn't touch in public. When this pain hits, it doesn't matter whether I'm at the grocery store, or church, I grab that breast. A certain type of pressure eases the pain.
Will this pain still haunt me when all of the breast tissue is gone? I pray that is not the case. Even strong pain medication doesn't get rid of this, it makes it slightly more manageable but it is still there.
I always like to infuse something positive in my blog posts. I can't do it this time. The valley has laid me bare. Yet I do know that this WILL pass. I will remember my father's image about the restoration of wounded earth. I will NOT allow this cancer to destroy me or my vision for the future.
Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass....it's about learning to dance in the rain!
Thursday, July 26, 2018
Monday, July 23, 2018
Things That Go Bump In The Night
Dot, my comfort kitty, dashes madly about. She has a very unique feral meow. It could raise the short hairs on the back of the most hardened person's neck. If that is not sufficient to awaken me, next she will begin to bat the long springy thing that is meant to keep the door from bashing into the wall.
My husband had a laser pointer. It existed only for the purpose of exercising our cats and dog. He would move it about with the glee of a child. Dot, our kitty, would follow that tiny red dancing light until she was exhausted.
The last month has been tremendously stressful as I travel to various clinicians. Last week was the nightmare climax as I learned that breast cancer IS BACK! I now call my left breast The Two Timer. This is in reference to the fact that this is my 2nd bout of cancer in that breast. It wasn't enough to disrupt my life once, apparently twice is even better.
He died six and one half years ago, my beloved husband. I'm not a psychic. Yet I know that Nyle lives on, now in spirit form. If he could find a way to let us know that he's still here, it would be with a spiritual laser pointer. It could just be an imaginative comfort on my part. On the other hand, comfort is comfort and the image of Nyle still teasing and playing with Dot brings me great comfort. This feline frolic happens about the same time most nights since I received the BIG C diagnosis.
My honey was part feline, part canine. Animals in need would walk to him, literally off the street. Dot is his last rescue. We have only a guestimate to her age. She must be about 12, but I find myself hoping that she will live to a very old age. On the other hand, I hope that I am not awakened every single night for the next six or seven years!
For me, she is the "thing that goes bump in the night." As I type her eyes are wide, and she keeps looking about as if she is concerned by what she sees. I wish that I could see what she can, especially if she can see my soul mate, my husband of thirty-three years of here and forever.
My husband had a laser pointer. It existed only for the purpose of exercising our cats and dog. He would move it about with the glee of a child. Dot, our kitty, would follow that tiny red dancing light until she was exhausted.
The last month has been tremendously stressful as I travel to various clinicians. Last week was the nightmare climax as I learned that breast cancer IS BACK! I now call my left breast The Two Timer. This is in reference to the fact that this is my 2nd bout of cancer in that breast. It wasn't enough to disrupt my life once, apparently twice is even better.
He died six and one half years ago, my beloved husband. I'm not a psychic. Yet I know that Nyle lives on, now in spirit form. If he could find a way to let us know that he's still here, it would be with a spiritual laser pointer. It could just be an imaginative comfort on my part. On the other hand, comfort is comfort and the image of Nyle still teasing and playing with Dot brings me great comfort. This feline frolic happens about the same time most nights since I received the BIG C diagnosis.
My honey was part feline, part canine. Animals in need would walk to him, literally off the street. Dot is his last rescue. We have only a guestimate to her age. She must be about 12, but I find myself hoping that she will live to a very old age. On the other hand, I hope that I am not awakened every single night for the next six or seven years!
For me, she is the "thing that goes bump in the night." As I type her eyes are wide, and she keeps looking about as if she is concerned by what she sees. I wish that I could see what she can, especially if she can see my soul mate, my husband of thirty-three years of here and forever.
Sunday, July 22, 2018
Cancer
I'm not sleeping very long right now. My brain wakes up after 5 or 6 hours of sleep. I can't lie still while my brain races into the void. That's how I feel right now. I feel as though I'm once again facing the great unknown.
How well can anyone sleep when mastectomy, possible chemotherapy, and Tamoxifen lurk around the corner? It's especially difficult because I have walk this road before.
Before I walked the road with my sweetheart. He was my protector. At six foot four inches of solid hunk, I knew that he would keep me safe. My 2nd lumpectomy the nurse fished for 20 minutes (not exaggerating) trying to find a vein. She was very clumsy in her attempts. I was not strong enough to tell her to quit. After all, I knew that she HAD to put in an IV so I was doing my best to be brave.
Nyle finally stood up and firmly said, "Find somebody else!" He did not speak in a loud voice, but when he spoke in his strong, deep, bass voice, people listened.
The nurse actually protested. That shocked me. She said, "Oh no, I've almost got it."
He stepped forward, so that he was between the nurse and I. He said again, "Find someone else."
Desperately I miss my protector. He died six years ago. I do feel his spirit ever so close. I also know that he will still be protecting me in the ways that his spirit can. I'm ever so grateful for that knowledge.
Yet I miss his physical presence. He does NOT kiss as well...just sayin'. I miss his chest laugh that said so smoothly, "All is right with life in this moment." I miss the masculine strength of his beautiful voice. I miss hearing him call me honey bunny, and just honey. I miss lying in bed snuggling while we listen to our favorite music. I miss his romance, and oh what a romantic he was. I miss HIM!
I'm trying to find positive things as I go through this Valley of the shadow of death once again. I do not believe that I will die. My cancer is early stage, and so far seems to be limited to the breast. You might wonder why I would opt for the most radial of treatment options. This is the second time that my breast has betrayed me. The other breast? I don't even want the possibility that it will also betray me ultimately.
Betrayal? That is how I feel. I've had breasts since I was twelve years old. I admit that they have taught me about being a female as a young woman, helped me feed my babies, and made me look curvaceous in pretty clothes. The unfortunate reality is that one of them has put me through CANCER, not once, but twice. I have appreciated the functions that they have performed. I do not appreciate having them put me through the cancer process.
Two dear friends have suggested wisely that I need to let myself feel the anger that naturally follows grief. In my way, I am dealing with my anger. My anger propels me to dance, to walk, to motion. It also urges me to towards singing. Those are good things.
Unfortunately it also propels me to eating. Pass the chocolate? YES PLEASE! It is very annoying to me that in times of struggle I never once, not even once have craved something healthy, like perhaps brocolli? (Can't seem to even spell the word, let alone crave it)!
Last time around I made a bit of a scene. When traveling through the valley the doctors all weigh you. This is critical to determine if your weight is changing. Most people can't eat when they are facing this battle. I was nauseous most of the time. I couldn't eat regular food but I craved chocolate chip malts like none other. Not a shake....oh no, that malt was the most important. There I stood on the scale, almost in tears. I said to the nurse, "I might be dying from cancer, and I'm getting fat!" This emotion seemed reasoned at the time. Now I think, hmmmm, a little shallow maybe. I was facing the possibility of death, but I was worried that I'd gained weight?
I can't speak about this anymore. Most of the time when I write about my newest walk through the valley it helps me to sift, sort, and cope. This morning it just seems to be making everything more real, bigger than I can cope.
How well can anyone sleep when mastectomy, possible chemotherapy, and Tamoxifen lurk around the corner? It's especially difficult because I have walk this road before.
Before I walked the road with my sweetheart. He was my protector. At six foot four inches of solid hunk, I knew that he would keep me safe. My 2nd lumpectomy the nurse fished for 20 minutes (not exaggerating) trying to find a vein. She was very clumsy in her attempts. I was not strong enough to tell her to quit. After all, I knew that she HAD to put in an IV so I was doing my best to be brave.
Nyle finally stood up and firmly said, "Find somebody else!" He did not speak in a loud voice, but when he spoke in his strong, deep, bass voice, people listened.
The nurse actually protested. That shocked me. She said, "Oh no, I've almost got it."
He stepped forward, so that he was between the nurse and I. He said again, "Find someone else."
Desperately I miss my protector. He died six years ago. I do feel his spirit ever so close. I also know that he will still be protecting me in the ways that his spirit can. I'm ever so grateful for that knowledge.
Yet I miss his physical presence. He does NOT kiss as well...just sayin'. I miss his chest laugh that said so smoothly, "All is right with life in this moment." I miss the masculine strength of his beautiful voice. I miss hearing him call me honey bunny, and just honey. I miss lying in bed snuggling while we listen to our favorite music. I miss his romance, and oh what a romantic he was. I miss HIM!
I'm trying to find positive things as I go through this Valley of the shadow of death once again. I do not believe that I will die. My cancer is early stage, and so far seems to be limited to the breast. You might wonder why I would opt for the most radial of treatment options. This is the second time that my breast has betrayed me. The other breast? I don't even want the possibility that it will also betray me ultimately.
Betrayal? That is how I feel. I've had breasts since I was twelve years old. I admit that they have taught me about being a female as a young woman, helped me feed my babies, and made me look curvaceous in pretty clothes. The unfortunate reality is that one of them has put me through CANCER, not once, but twice. I have appreciated the functions that they have performed. I do not appreciate having them put me through the cancer process.
Two dear friends have suggested wisely that I need to let myself feel the anger that naturally follows grief. In my way, I am dealing with my anger. My anger propels me to dance, to walk, to motion. It also urges me to towards singing. Those are good things.
Unfortunately it also propels me to eating. Pass the chocolate? YES PLEASE! It is very annoying to me that in times of struggle I never once, not even once have craved something healthy, like perhaps brocolli? (Can't seem to even spell the word, let alone crave it)!
Last time around I made a bit of a scene. When traveling through the valley the doctors all weigh you. This is critical to determine if your weight is changing. Most people can't eat when they are facing this battle. I was nauseous most of the time. I couldn't eat regular food but I craved chocolate chip malts like none other. Not a shake....oh no, that malt was the most important. There I stood on the scale, almost in tears. I said to the nurse, "I might be dying from cancer, and I'm getting fat!" This emotion seemed reasoned at the time. Now I think, hmmmm, a little shallow maybe. I was facing the possibility of death, but I was worried that I'd gained weight?
I can't speak about this anymore. Most of the time when I write about my newest walk through the valley it helps me to sift, sort, and cope. This morning it just seems to be making everything more real, bigger than I can cope.
Friday, July 20, 2018
Have you ever?
Have you ever had a moment in your life when you were busy, and there was always more to do than you had energy to achieve, and at any one time of the day you were just very busy, sometimes you've felt like there is more to do than you can do and you're VERY, VERY BUSY? AND THEN...everything just STOPS. When I was 34 that time arrived. I was diagnosed with breast cancer in two parts of my breast. I had two lumpectomies, and radiation. I still had so much of life that I wanted to live. I wanted to watch our two beautiful little girls grow up. I wanted to have another baby. I wanted to walk through life together with my soul mate and grow old together.
I went into remission. I went to the funeral of my husband's secretary. She was just a few years older than me. She had two darling daughters about the same age as our girls. She had breast cancer when I did. She DIED...I got to live another 27 years. When things were tough....1 year clear...5 years clear....10 years clear....25 years clear...I would remember this lovely woman and her courage and she inspired me to remember my blessings.
When I lived 27 years clear I drew a deep breath of relief. I mean, come on, you don't get breast cancer again, in the same breast, after 27 years, right? Apparently, I became complacent far too soon. IT'S BACK and I'm not referring to the little girl's comment in The Poltergeist. I opted for 2 lumpectomies and radiation the first time around. I truly wish I would have just had the blessed breast removed 27 years ago. AHHHH...hindsight....wouldn't it be lovely if we could see that lesson in advance instead of review?
I'm going to use this blog as a means to express my sorrows, my joys, my experiences while I once again walk through this dark valley. The good news in all of this? I am blessed with amazing family who are friends, and friends who are family. I have never had a hard thing in my life when I was not blessed with loved ones to stand with me and help support me.
I know that I will have dark times as I face this newest battle. Having said that, it never fails to amaze me that when you are faced with the possibility of your own mortality things that just don't matter fall away. Your vision becomes laser sharp on those parts of life that DO matter.
I went into remission. I went to the funeral of my husband's secretary. She was just a few years older than me. She had two darling daughters about the same age as our girls. She had breast cancer when I did. She DIED...I got to live another 27 years. When things were tough....1 year clear...5 years clear....10 years clear....25 years clear...I would remember this lovely woman and her courage and she inspired me to remember my blessings.
When I lived 27 years clear I drew a deep breath of relief. I mean, come on, you don't get breast cancer again, in the same breast, after 27 years, right? Apparently, I became complacent far too soon. IT'S BACK and I'm not referring to the little girl's comment in The Poltergeist. I opted for 2 lumpectomies and radiation the first time around. I truly wish I would have just had the blessed breast removed 27 years ago. AHHHH...hindsight....wouldn't it be lovely if we could see that lesson in advance instead of review?
I'm going to use this blog as a means to express my sorrows, my joys, my experiences while I once again walk through this dark valley. The good news in all of this? I am blessed with amazing family who are friends, and friends who are family. I have never had a hard thing in my life when I was not blessed with loved ones to stand with me and help support me.
I know that I will have dark times as I face this newest battle. Having said that, it never fails to amaze me that when you are faced with the possibility of your own mortality things that just don't matter fall away. Your vision becomes laser sharp on those parts of life that DO matter.
Monday, April 30, 2018
Adventure?
"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." This is a famous Shakespearean quote. In the newest Star War movies there are lots of battle scenes. There are scenes where intergalactic flying vessels are shooting through the stars, trying to avoid a battle scene. In genre the movie would be science fiction/action adventure.
Now we come to the "any other name." I am going to list three scenarios and I would like the reader to categorize whether the thing listed is an adventure, or simply annoying with no positive value. Here we go!
1. You have a blowout tire. You manage to wrest the car to the emergency lane. You are, however, in the middle of nowhere Idaho. You can't even get cell signal on your phone. Don't think too long on this situation. Adventure or annoying?
2. You're moving across country with your husband and four children. Your car is filled to overflowing with humans, and their luggage. Adventure or annoying?
3. You're rappelling. You happen to look down and realize that you are very, VERY high up on the face of a mountain. Adventure or annoying?
My husband made a trip to the grocery store a grand adventure! It often seemed to me that when he titled any experience an adventure it became one. The lesson that he taught me and our children was that attitude can change things. Our family motto is "Happy, Not Crappy." I end with the same Shakespearean quote but phrased a bit differently, an adventure by any other name (like annoying) would provide progress and growth.
Now we come to the "any other name." I am going to list three scenarios and I would like the reader to categorize whether the thing listed is an adventure, or simply annoying with no positive value. Here we go!
1. You have a blowout tire. You manage to wrest the car to the emergency lane. You are, however, in the middle of nowhere Idaho. You can't even get cell signal on your phone. Don't think too long on this situation. Adventure or annoying?
2. You're moving across country with your husband and four children. Your car is filled to overflowing with humans, and their luggage. Adventure or annoying?
3. You're rappelling. You happen to look down and realize that you are very, VERY high up on the face of a mountain. Adventure or annoying?
My husband made a trip to the grocery store a grand adventure! It often seemed to me that when he titled any experience an adventure it became one. The lesson that he taught me and our children was that attitude can change things. Our family motto is "Happy, Not Crappy." I end with the same Shakespearean quote but phrased a bit differently, an adventure by any other name (like annoying) would provide progress and growth.
Thursday, September 7, 2017
Pushed BY An Angel?
The American Frontier pioneers were amazing people. They often left everything behind them, family, friends, and often even a continent. Many of them came propelled by faith in God. My family walked that very, very long, tedious, frightening walk.
Many of these pioneers were too poor to afford a wagon, forget oxen or horses to pull that wagon. So handcarts were used instead. The handcart was like a giant wheelbarrow. Into that handcart would go all of the things needed for survival, food, clothes, medicines, anything and all things that they could afford to purchase.
Imagine now that not only are you walking every single, exhausting day across an entire country, now you're doing it with possible hundreds of pounds of belongings? Going up hill would be exhausting, but going downhill? You are now not only proxy for horses or oxen, but for brakes as well.
One of my favorite stories to come from this amazing bank of stories is in regards to a young man. He later told others that on a specific day, in a specific time he was so weary that he didn't think he could move another step.
He was startled when he felt someone behind the handcart pushing it. His ability to pull the handcart became very light. Astonished he turned to see who was helping him. He couldn't see anyone, but he knew that someone was helping him. He ascribed that assistance to angels.
Angels, have a long history. There are many different beliefs about who they are, what they are, but to me it's quite simple. Angels are beings of love. They lighten our burdens when they become insufferable. Angels sometimes protect us from others or sometimes from ourselves.
When I was 16 or 17, I was crossing the street to my home one day. Being a teenager I was in a hurry. Aren't ALL teenagers in a hurry...often not knowing what they are hurrying to? I heard the screech of tires on a car going far too fast for our residential neighborhood. I looked up and saw a car barrelling towards me. I truly had the deer in the headlights experience. I could not move. I knew that I needed to run, but somehow I was frozen watching my probable death racing towards me.
Suddenly, there was a hand in my back, firmly it pushed me safely to my home. I knew that some kind person had seen the situation and helped me. I looked back to thank them. There was nobody there. My Mama, out in the yard watering, witnessed the entire event. She said, "You ran rather rapidly didn't you?"
I try my best not to do the all too human thing and explain that situation away. It is all too easy when confronted with something that you can't understand to look for explanations of reasoned intelligence. Faith is the evidence of things hoped for, but not seen. I choose to believe that I was blessed. To this day, 46 years later, I can still feel that hand in the small of my back pressing me to safety. My friend, waiting in her car for me witnessed the entire thing. My Mama witnessed the entire thing. Neither one of them saw anyone behind me.
Today, do you need an angel pushing your handcart as you climb up and down the hills of mortality? Remember that there are angels that we can't see with our all too limited vision. There are also human angels that we CAN see.
My Father was dying from cancer. I was traveling on a train in coach with two small children through the agonizingly long night. When I arrived at the destination I was exhausted, so were our children. My ride was not there. I called my Mother to see what was happening. She informed me that my Father had passed the night before. I was despondent. My Papa was one of my very best friends. I could not bear the thought that I didn't get to kiss him one more time, thank him in person for all the sacrifices that he made for me. I didn't want to come unglued in front of a waiting room full of strangers.
I took the kids and went in the restroom. There didn't seem to be anyone in there. I explained what had happened to the kids. They were far too young to really understand anything but that Mama was sobbing, and having a hard time speaking.
One of the stall doors opened. There had been a woman in the restroom that I had not noticed due to my extreme grief. She didn't say a word, she just wrapped me in the arms of love. The next words she said were, "I lost my Father a few years ago. I know how much this hurts. I'm so sorry!"
That was exactly what I needed at the time. Somebody who understood and cared. She enfolded me in the warmth of that hug for a few moments while I sobbed freely. Finally we both stepped back. She offered to get us food, asked if we needed a ride, She truly was an angel of mercy in human form.
Our ride came then. They had been at a different railroad in the town (Who knew there WERE two stations in the town)? I thanked our human angel and we went our separate ways.
We are NOT alone. Even in moments where we feel that nobody cares, nobody will help us, WE ARE NOT ALONE. Sometimes we have to be the ones to reach out for that love, that help, but we are not alone.
Many of these pioneers were too poor to afford a wagon, forget oxen or horses to pull that wagon. So handcarts were used instead. The handcart was like a giant wheelbarrow. Into that handcart would go all of the things needed for survival, food, clothes, medicines, anything and all things that they could afford to purchase.
Imagine now that not only are you walking every single, exhausting day across an entire country, now you're doing it with possible hundreds of pounds of belongings? Going up hill would be exhausting, but going downhill? You are now not only proxy for horses or oxen, but for brakes as well.
One of my favorite stories to come from this amazing bank of stories is in regards to a young man. He later told others that on a specific day, in a specific time he was so weary that he didn't think he could move another step.
He was startled when he felt someone behind the handcart pushing it. His ability to pull the handcart became very light. Astonished he turned to see who was helping him. He couldn't see anyone, but he knew that someone was helping him. He ascribed that assistance to angels.
Angels, have a long history. There are many different beliefs about who they are, what they are, but to me it's quite simple. Angels are beings of love. They lighten our burdens when they become insufferable. Angels sometimes protect us from others or sometimes from ourselves.
When I was 16 or 17, I was crossing the street to my home one day. Being a teenager I was in a hurry. Aren't ALL teenagers in a hurry...often not knowing what they are hurrying to? I heard the screech of tires on a car going far too fast for our residential neighborhood. I looked up and saw a car barrelling towards me. I truly had the deer in the headlights experience. I could not move. I knew that I needed to run, but somehow I was frozen watching my probable death racing towards me.
Suddenly, there was a hand in my back, firmly it pushed me safely to my home. I knew that some kind person had seen the situation and helped me. I looked back to thank them. There was nobody there. My Mama, out in the yard watering, witnessed the entire event. She said, "You ran rather rapidly didn't you?"
I try my best not to do the all too human thing and explain that situation away. It is all too easy when confronted with something that you can't understand to look for explanations of reasoned intelligence. Faith is the evidence of things hoped for, but not seen. I choose to believe that I was blessed. To this day, 46 years later, I can still feel that hand in the small of my back pressing me to safety. My friend, waiting in her car for me witnessed the entire thing. My Mama witnessed the entire thing. Neither one of them saw anyone behind me.
Today, do you need an angel pushing your handcart as you climb up and down the hills of mortality? Remember that there are angels that we can't see with our all too limited vision. There are also human angels that we CAN see.
My Father was dying from cancer. I was traveling on a train in coach with two small children through the agonizingly long night. When I arrived at the destination I was exhausted, so were our children. My ride was not there. I called my Mother to see what was happening. She informed me that my Father had passed the night before. I was despondent. My Papa was one of my very best friends. I could not bear the thought that I didn't get to kiss him one more time, thank him in person for all the sacrifices that he made for me. I didn't want to come unglued in front of a waiting room full of strangers.
I took the kids and went in the restroom. There didn't seem to be anyone in there. I explained what had happened to the kids. They were far too young to really understand anything but that Mama was sobbing, and having a hard time speaking.
One of the stall doors opened. There had been a woman in the restroom that I had not noticed due to my extreme grief. She didn't say a word, she just wrapped me in the arms of love. The next words she said were, "I lost my Father a few years ago. I know how much this hurts. I'm so sorry!"
That was exactly what I needed at the time. Somebody who understood and cared. She enfolded me in the warmth of that hug for a few moments while I sobbed freely. Finally we both stepped back. She offered to get us food, asked if we needed a ride, She truly was an angel of mercy in human form.
Our ride came then. They had been at a different railroad in the town (Who knew there WERE two stations in the town)? I thanked our human angel and we went our separate ways.
We are NOT alone. Even in moments where we feel that nobody cares, nobody will help us, WE ARE NOT ALONE. Sometimes we have to be the ones to reach out for that love, that help, but we are not alone.
Thursday, August 24, 2017
How Do You Use Your Words?
Raising our children I would encourage them, "Use your words in a kinder fashion, or in a quieter tone.
Words are fascinating. In every language words create our ability to communicate. Sometimes words are delivered by sign language. We live in a remarkable era where translation can often be as simple as pushing a button on a computer.
My parents recognized the power that words carry. My father had a Master's degree in speech and drama. He loved to introduce new words to me as I was growing up.
My husband loved words as much as I do. He used to read the dictionary (so did I), unlike me, he adored playing Scrabble and knew all of the words that do not sound like words because they are used infrequently. He also knew how to put those unique words on spaces where the value was doubled or tripled. I remember that many times his score for one turn would be in the 60s. That is an extremely high score in Scrabble.
I did beat Nyle at Scrabble one time. The reason was that we were playing with another friend. Nyle and this friend played the game as though their lives depended on it. They were so busy trying to annihilate each other by Scrabble score that they didn't even notice the game that I was playing until I won. Obviously I still cherish that one time memory.
Words can be used to carry harm, and hurt. Words can be twisted and re-arranged in such a fashion that the actual message is hidden within. We have all experienced words that hurt. "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me." I've heard that Mantra all of my life. It is NOT true! Words can cause long lasting hurt. They can precipitate actual physical harm. Psychology explains that it takes four positive comments to replace one negative comment that we hear. Words can have great power to hurt...even to destroy!
It fascinates me that is often easier to be kind or polite to a total stranger than to those in our own family. On the one hand, home should be a safe place where you are loved unconditionally. On the other hand, why would we ever want to use the power of our words to strike out in anger towards those that matter the most to us?
What words are you using today? Are your words helping or hurting? Do you understand the power that words carry?
Words are fascinating. In every language words create our ability to communicate. Sometimes words are delivered by sign language. We live in a remarkable era where translation can often be as simple as pushing a button on a computer.
My parents recognized the power that words carry. My father had a Master's degree in speech and drama. He loved to introduce new words to me as I was growing up.
My husband loved words as much as I do. He used to read the dictionary (so did I), unlike me, he adored playing Scrabble and knew all of the words that do not sound like words because they are used infrequently. He also knew how to put those unique words on spaces where the value was doubled or tripled. I remember that many times his score for one turn would be in the 60s. That is an extremely high score in Scrabble.
I did beat Nyle at Scrabble one time. The reason was that we were playing with another friend. Nyle and this friend played the game as though their lives depended on it. They were so busy trying to annihilate each other by Scrabble score that they didn't even notice the game that I was playing until I won. Obviously I still cherish that one time memory.
Words can be used to carry harm, and hurt. Words can be twisted and re-arranged in such a fashion that the actual message is hidden within. We have all experienced words that hurt. "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me." I've heard that Mantra all of my life. It is NOT true! Words can cause long lasting hurt. They can precipitate actual physical harm. Psychology explains that it takes four positive comments to replace one negative comment that we hear. Words can have great power to hurt...even to destroy!
It fascinates me that is often easier to be kind or polite to a total stranger than to those in our own family. On the one hand, home should be a safe place where you are loved unconditionally. On the other hand, why would we ever want to use the power of our words to strike out in anger towards those that matter the most to us?
What words are you using today? Are your words helping or hurting? Do you understand the power that words carry?
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