Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

New Beginnings: Welcoming Jenna

            I looked online to find sources and give credit to the creator of last night's activity. I found one on pinterest dated March 2011 but there's one on sugardoodle dated 2008 and I would guess even more with early dates.  Though it's gone through many tweaks (as with the young women's, new beginnings, and personal progress themselves) even plausible that it was created before internet access.  Bless those that have shared their ideas through posts and other internet sources.  I commend you, but as I am unable to find the original source, I will not be referring  other sites with this particular post.

            We had to have Jenna at her school by 5:00, though the concert wasn't scheduled to start until 5:30.  Her instructor had advised the class to dress up - girls wear dresses and boys wear ties.  I guess there was some question about why a girl couldn't wear a tie.  He was okay with that and so Jenna chose to wear a tie.  I took her picture before we left the house.

              It was a fun a fun concert.  

After it ended, we returned home for Jenna's basketball and went to the church.  She and Roland shot a few hoops before the "New Beginnings" program started.

            Aside from the leaders and their children, we were the first to arrive as they put on the final touches of the decorations and refreshment table.  The theme was:

A "yellow brick road" had been added to the floor that led to the temple

            We were each given a program that matched the poster ad


            Jenna had originally chosen to sit in the back with two of her classmates from primary, but Roland and I moved her to sit with us.  She was moved again just before the meeting started - this time to the very front row where she sat with the young women.

            Our opening song was "I am a Child of God" and then the girls and leaders stood up to do the Young Women's theme  - which was included in the program for those of us who aren't familiar with it

            The young women's president then  stood up to welcome everyone - particularly Jenna, the newest member of the young women.

            We then recited this scripture (while sitting)

            Jenna was then called up by the second counselor who gave an introduction about Jenna.  I have never cried when I've dropped Jenna off at her first day preschool or kindergarten or first grade.  But there were tears in my eyes last night when the first young women took her hand and led her down the yellow brick road and stopped at "faith" to give a message on the value and also gave Jenna a plaque which said:

            Jenna took the sign and continued to walk the path.  Each young women took her by the hand, explained the values of Divine Nature, Individual Worth, Knowledge, Choice & Accountability, Good Works, Integrity, and Virtue.  Each young woman hugged Jenna before she continued on.

            There are actually more values than young women, and so two of the leaders actually took turn in explaining and hugging.  Jenna looked overwhelmed.

            The personal progress specialist explained a bit more of the program as she presented Jenna with a booklet, and a binder, and the theme, a strength of youth booklet and book for camp and apologized as there was no journal (they had run out), and Jenna's favorite part: a bracelet to build upon - collecting charms and value colors when completing goals and projects. 

bracelet inside the box

            Our bishop than got up and touched on the wizard of oz and what each character in the story wants and how it applies to our own life. 

            It really was an awesome meeting.  More than half of us were bawling as we sang:

This is one song that really tugs at my heart strings and I really do
have a hard time singing it (or just hearing it) without getting emotional

            After the closing prayer awards were passed out

 and we had refreshments. 

            Cute names were given to the food like: melted witches brew and Ding Dong(s) the witch is dead (no witches were actually harmed during the making of this treat)  I wish I were able to remember them all.

            Jenna and a few other young women disappeared after the program.  When Roland and I walked out to the car, we found four girls playing basketball against the two young man who had been there for another meeting.  That had  actually the "highlight" of her day.  Silly girl.


Monday, July 6, 2015

The Choices We Make

     You ever notice that the choices we make not only affect you but those around you as well?  Take my decisions to leave the majority of my family to move to another state for the sake of my health.  And yet I personally have known others who have said, “I’m not going to leave my family.  Even if the doctor says it’s in my best interest, I won’t give up my children, my grand-children . . .” or what have you.  That’s their choice.
     Some live long lives and are successful with their health choices.  Others continue to hack out their lungs while babysitting grandchildren while their children are at work and end up dying anyway.
     Sometimes it becomes a larger burden for the child (or children) to bury the parent than it would have been if the parent had just moved out of state.  Sometimes it’s easier, realizing the sacrifices that were made by said parent.  Often there are questions with either decision.  Some questions go unanswered or are misunderstood.

     My decision to move has affected Jenna’s education, as she will not be able to continue with in the dual immersion program – not at this time.  I don’t want her to lose what she has been taught and continue with her Spanish.  But foreign language is not even offered until she’s in high school. I hope to be living in a different part of the state by then.

     Our decision to leave Utah so abruptly caused stress for both Tony and Rochelle – who were also facing challenges of imperfect health. Our unorganized chaotic house only added to the stress – I’m sure.

     Mom had a good friend mentioned here and here who had secluded herself from everyone she knew – including her own family.  They all knew that she was sick.  They just didn’t know how sick.  She chose not to tell them because she did not want them to worry.  Though I do understand her choices, I think her decisions made it a lot more difficult on her family members – who knew how opposed Pam was to funerals and thus the family chose not to have one for her.  For me, it seemed symbolic to the end of her life: It felt very empty as if there was no closure. 

         I have learned throughout my life that funerals are for the living – not the deceased. I would actually be a lot more gracious with being honored once I’m deceased as it isn’t something I’m too comfortable with while I am living. I’m not big on hoopla. I didn’t even want a wedding reception. But there were a huge number of people that hoped that I would. And so I had one – for them. It did not take place until after Roland and I had been married for over a month.
     Are the choices we make good or bad?  Do we regret our decisions?  I don’t regret moving to Oregon.  I know that I am breathing better.  My oldest son says I definitely look happier. I am for the most part.  I smile a lot more when I go to church.  I laugh at situations that I can’t control.  I don’t worry.

     I took Jenna to the pool today and while I sat outside waiting for her, I cried for the first time since we've been in Oregon.  I was crying about being so far from my family members.  Jeanie’s having a baby shower this week. Jenna wishes we could go.  I did give shower gifts to my two pregnant girls before I left – but it’s not the same.

     I won’t hear my grand-daughter tell me she wants to go jump on the trampoline or see BJ’s smile light up when he sees me.  It makes my whole day.  I miss playing games with Kayla and Bill or the boys.  I miss their asking, “Where’s dad?”  “Where’s Jenna?”

     Two of my boys actually fought over taking Jenna trick-or-treating last year.  Tony was promised that he would get her this year.  There’s a promise broken.  I’m not sending Jenna back to Utah just to go trick-or-treating.  I think she is getting too old for trick-or-treating anyway.  Although it is easier to get away with when going door-to-door with your three-year-old niece or your five-year-old cousin.

     Corey (who actually posted this same subject and similar title to his blog here which I didn't realize until just before I posted) kept himself closeted for years knowing his decision to come out would not only affect him – but each of his family members.  I think he was scared on how we’d react.  He had already had a taste of what he thought was a bad reaction from me – and it was. 

I had behaved poorly – but not because he said he was gay – but because I had figured out that I had stopped caring about him somewhere along the way and it didn’t matter to me whether he was gay or not because I just didn’t care about him anymore.  (see post here) And that’s what is most upsetting – that I had stopped caring. 

   I am so so grateful that we’ve mended the fences that were built between us and that we are supportive of one another and that he is truly happy.  I love him with all my heart.  I love each of my family members.  It does hurt that I am so far away.
But I can breathe.

      Perhaps it’s selfish of me to prioritize my health over being with them.  Perhaps it seems selfish that I would rather communicate electronically rather than have my children or grandchildren remember me as hacking all the time and eventually gasping for air until I die.

     I don’t particularly want to die alone – but like Pam, I don’t want my children to worry about a funeral as the expense of them coming to Oregon or shipping my body back to Utah seems quite unnecessary.  Bury me quietly and remember me as having more years because I could breathe.  Because really, what good (or fun) am I if I’m constantly gasping for air.  I don’t want my death to be a relief to them.  I’m sure they wouldn’t (or don’t) miss the sounds.

     I’m grateful that I didn’t have to move here by myself but that I do have Roland and Jenna with me.  And as a member of the Church I automatically have a support group in the current ward (church) that I attend. I hope my decisions will bless those here as well as those that are still in Utah (and Nevada) 

     Whether I had stayed in Utah or come to Oregon, my choices would have affected my family either way.

Monday, June 29, 2015

The best day, worst day and longest day scenario

         My brother-in-law’s sister had returned home from a lesson on perspective (I think) and posted a thought about her best and worst Christmas – both which had taken place in 2005. It was a great thought, and I asked permission to share it on my blog.  She said that her understanding was that it was up for Church publication and it would be best if I did not share.  I figured when it was published in Ensign magazine, I could refer to the link.  But I don’t see any evidence of publication thus far.

         I saved a copy to my own personal files, but seem to have misplaced the ubs or it somehow got deleted or something.  I’ll find it eventually.  Meanwhile I have my own thoughts about one of the longest days of my life (starting out with a trip to the Medford Temple and ending with waiting for Greyhound)

         June 5, 2015.  What a day.  Denise and I had actually left the motel room early because she had wanted to go through the Medford Temple.  It was her main insentive for having had driven the much shorter but scarier route.  She had gone online to learn how late the temple would be open on Thursday night.  She failed to look at the hours of operation on Friday.  It was closed.  The gates were locked.  We had driven all that way and couldn’t get inside.  The temple in Medford doesn’t open until 3:00 p.m.  That seemed like the latest time that Denise would have had to leave Roseburg and be on her way to Newport. We had missed going inside.

         I had had a rental car lined up, but had cancelled believing Roland’s understanding of having someone physically take me to the address.  My main reason for being in Oregon was to secure a rental that was waiting for us outside Roseburg.  I had called the property management several times to let them know I was coming.  I was hoping that Denise would be able to drop me off at the rental and I would be able to get a ride back to Century 21 to sign the papers. 

         They didn’t get any of my messages.  We weren’t communicating at all.  I would still have to have a rental car.  What was I thinking?  I called a car rental in Medford, but they did not have anything.  They referred me to their location in Roseburg.  I thought I was all set until they called me back asking for either a major (non-debit) card and/or an Oregon driver’s license – neither of which I had.  So they had to cancel my reservation.  So I called the agency I had initially booked with.  They couldn’t find a car for me until 7:30 that night.  Property management would have been closed by then.  And it didn’t give me enough hours of sunlight that it was worth renting a car for. I can’t drive in the dark.  I decided that I would just take a bus home (originally I had wanted the plane – but the bus was a third of the cost – plus I didn’t have a way to the airport)

         Payments had to be in form of Money Order or a Courtsey check from the bank.  Oh, great.  I have two checks from a credit union that have branches in Utah and Nevada – not in Oregon.  I was frantic.  I did have a bank account number that Corey had given me.  There was a branch not far from Century 21 that I went to – but I had to open my own account and ask Corey to work with me from Las Vegas.

         The procedure seemed long.  I had a deadline for getting back to Century 21 and barely made it.  The girl who assisted acted like she had been put out.  Really?  What about me?  I had traveled three days to get there.  And then they wouldn’t accept my check.  I had to open an account.  It had been very painful.  And the day was not close to over.  Little did I know that I wouldn’t be leaving Roseburg until 2:30 the following morning!

         The location of the bus pick/up had changed.  We drove around the same street three times before Denise pulled over and I went into a sevice station to ask.  Denise hated the GPS and Siri and will probably never use again.

         She pulled up to a service station and had me go inside to make certain I’d really be able to purchase a bus ticket.  If you read my earlier post, you may recall that the bus was scheduled to come at 5:58 – but I had been told that it would be running late.  I did not share that information with Denise or Roland however as I did not want them to worry. 

         As the sun was setting, I started crying, knowing (or thinking) that Denise was still on the road and has bad night vision like I do.  I spent the last 6 hours of the fifth at the service station waiting for the bus.
         As long and horrible as I believed the day had been, there was so much that I needed to feel grateful for:

A kind sister (who was planting flowers near the gate) opened the gate to let us inside and Denise took several pictures and the sister took pictures of Denise and I sitting in front of the temple. 

Denise stayed with me.  She sacrificed several hours of being on the road.  She drove me to Roseburg to get the key and then to back to Mayberry to look at the house – which really is a nice house by the way.

Denise drove me to the bank. She waited for me for over an hour (that is what it felt like anyway) and Corey waited in line in Las Vegas to assist me with my problem.  And it worked.  We had cut it very close bringing me back to Century 21 to sign papers. 

Denise waited for me.  I had called a cab so that she could be one her way. But she chose to stay with me and take me to the bus stop.  She did not get back on the road until after 5:00.  Heavenly Father blessed me big time through both Denise and Corey.

Though the bus had been late, I did not have to wait for it alone.  Jake kept me company for the first five hours – one hour after the station was closed. I also had the protection of Heavenly Father and a good book to read.

After an 8 ½ hour wait, I hadn’t missed the bus due to falling asleep or waiting on the wrong side of the building.  I was safe.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

I Love to See the Temple . . . at least from a distance

I don’t know why I feel compelled to post my thoughts on the temple.  I certainly don’t want my opinions to seem like desecration to what many value so dear and sacred.  But I don’t have that sacred spiritualness.  For the most part entering the temple (to me) seems discriminatory and overall (more than any other emotion) I have felt lonely being there.  And I know I’m not alone with how I feel towards attending the temple.  I have at least two other family members who have also gone out of obligation but have walked away with less than satisfactory desire to return.

Recently I filled out this survey for LDS woman to get opinions mostly on plural marriage – which I actually don’t have a problem with in the hereafter.  The survey also asked for feedback  with the sealing process made in the temple.  I would have answered the survey questions a lot differently just two years ago than I did this week when I took this survey.  I do have a hang-up with so much that takes place in the temple – sealings being high on the list.

Roland and I were not allowed to marry in the temple at the time we were married civilly.  Though he and wife #2 had been divorced, they were still sealed to one another in “the eyes of the Lord”.  In order for Roland and I to get sealed in the temple, we needed a clearance from wife #2 – which she saw as leverage to control us – well, Roland in particular.  I don’t know why she continues with membership in the Church – or why she hasn’t been called to a disciplinary counsel.  She may not admit desire for following in Satan’s footsteps – and yet she does.  Almost as though she idolizes him.  And so it was as if our fate to be sealed in the temple was dependant on Satan herself.  That doesn’t seem fair.

Our civil marriage was thrown together after months of postponing and changing the date and hoping to be sealed.  It was what I’d been taught all of my life.  It’s what I was told to strive for.  And I was content with my civil marriage but somehow wouldn’t allow myself to feel complete.

Roland and I were able to do sealings for the dead.  I would cry each time we did them.  It didn’t seem fair that I could be sealed for others but not for myself.

In this earlier post I gave three reasons why I had given Jenna my maiden name, but I left one out.  When I was pregnant with her and Roland and I were still not sealed to one another, he was told by the bishop that Jenna was automatically sealed to him – and his first wife.  Oh, I get to carry the child for nine months but she can’t be sealed to me?  And yet Deborah (Roland’s first wife) was taken from earth while the boys were all young.  6, 4 and 3.  Plus the unborn twin boys that were taken when she was. 

One of the reasons I agreed to marry Roland is because he was already sealed to Deborah and so he could obtain Celestial glory with her while I may be destined to obtain “angelhood”  in another kingdom.

Roland and Deborah were sealed in the temple a week before she passed.  I raised boys – well from the time they were 11, 12 and 14 – so it seemed okay that she would get to raise my girl in the hereafter.  But she would still have my family name - at least while on earth.

How does that work anyway?  The entire sealing thing?  I mean, won’t the majority of us be adults in the hereafter?  It’s not as if we will be “raised” in the same way which we are on earth, does it?

Our knowledge of the hereafter is actually quite limited.  We don’t know how we’re going to feel or how it’s all going to “work out” or what we will be.  Based on my earth knowledge, the Celestial kingdom just doesn’t seem inviting to me personally.  Oh, I strive for a Celestial life because it’s been conditioned into me that that is what I want – but it really isn’t.  The very idea of creating worlds and living in spiritual and perfect glory honestly doesn’t appeal to me.  Too out of my comfort zone to maintain living in white clothing while playing harps (so to speak).  Although that’s just how heaven in perceived by some, doesn’t mean that is how we will spend all eternity.  At least I hope not.  But I certainly don’t want to be cast into hell either.

Growing up I had always heard:  “Any kingdom below Celestial Glory might as well be hell, because you’ll be all alone and you will always regret your decisions thinking ‘I could have made it’” Okay, I’m paraphrasing – and I had never actually heard that from leaders but rather cocky youth who’s minds worked like mine did because that's how we were conditioned to believe.  
 I don’t mean for it to sound like I resent the Church or Temple attendance.  I still have love and respect – but I also have hang-ups.  And though I had agreed with the un-Celestial/hell thing, I don’t anymore.

Jeanie and Biff have decided that they will be married civilly before they are sealed.  They were planning on being sealed.  They had set up a time and place from what I understand.  But guess what?  Jeanie’s first husband has a say.  They are still sealed.  The clearance presents all this red tape that is every bit as frustrating (perhaps even more so than) as it is with the government.   
I think that’s what bothers me the most – all of the politics that have crept into the Church – leading me to believe that the church and the temple are both run by the leadership of imperfect men and not always by inspiration.

My attitude now is a lot different than just a couple of years ago.  If Jeanie and Biff never get married in the temple, so be it.  It’s not as though they hadn’t tried.  And I expect their civil marriage will be far more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen in the temple.  They are currently at the temple right now – just not as husband and wife.

I know that by the time Roland and I were finally sealed, it just seemed somewhat rushed and very impersonal.  And I was not alone in feeling that way – though there were several in attendance who thought it was the greatest thing ever.  Truthfully, I have only attended one sealing in which the officiator really seemed to know the couple – and provided a sense of comfort that I had not seen at any other.  The ceremony was very well attended.  For some it was standing room only.  Thus in that aspect it really wasn’t comfortable physically. 

There are some sealings I haven’t attended because of the high population of family being smooshed into even the largest of sealing rooms.  And there are many I was unable to attend before I was of age to have my own recommend.   
There is a waiting room for those who cannot go through the session with their loved ones.  Big whoop.  “Here’s a place to sit and wait for your loved one who is getting married which you can’t participate in witnessing because you are not worthy”

I don’t actually know if that’s how the lot of them feel, but that is sometimes how I felt.

I do understand the sacredness of not allowing those that would be spectators with limited understanding who may desecrate the sacredness whether intentional or not.  But still – excluding family seems a huge sacrifice that one may later regret in the future. And yet there are several couples whose sacrifice have made their marriage more complete and have provided a sense of peace and closeness.

And for every story of resentment there are just as many (if not more) experiences of the positive nature.  One example comes from my friends who had made arrangements to be sealed on a specific day.  He had cancer and was strongly advised by the doctor to schedule his surgery as soon as possible.  First available date happened to be the same date of the sealing.   

The surgery was put on the back burner against the doctor’s advice.  My friends said they return to the doctor’s the day after they were sealed.  When the returned, the doctor could not find any signs of cancer.  And so I know there is a greater power behind the temple experience.  I also know that there has been heartache involved in others.  Apparently I’m one of those “others”. 

There is the joke about St. Peter showing a Protestant couple around the kingdom of heaven.  As they pass a large door St. Peter motions for them to keep quiet.  After they pass the door (while wearing puzzled expressions) one of them asks what is behind the door. 
Peter replies that the room houses all the Mormon folk who believe they’re the only ones there. 

How sad it is that so many have been conditioned to believe that very thing, for there are many outside of the LDS faith who live wholesome and Christian lives better than many who are in the Church - as though the Mormons own the title "Church" to be spelled with a capital "C"

I once had a religion instructor explain kingdoms and the individuals’ capacity.  He compared these to vessels of water.  A Dixie cup can never hold the same amount of water as the Pacific ocean, and yet a Dixie cup is capable of being full.  I can be full to my own capacity and live happily in the kingdom in which many will share the same thoughts as I. 

  I will not be happy living in man’s idea of the Celestial “mold”  As I mentioned in this post, there were more of us who ended up in the Terrestrial kingdom than the other two combined.  Overall, those are the people I would like to hang out with for all eternity.

And as Corey and I may not be able to visit my dad (according to Mormon Doctrine – as we believe he will be obtaining the greatest of Heavenly rewards) we are hoping that dad will make the time to come and visit us according to where we are (or might be)  I would like to obtain meekness to be more like my dad.  I just don’t seem to have it in me right now – though I would like to obtain that quality.  Perhaps by becoming "meek" I would have a different perspective than what I have for myself right now.

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Saying Good-Bye to Mom's Angel

I wondered which one of us (me or my brother Corey) would post about Harold first.  I came up with most of these thoughts and typed them in by 1:00 am this morning - but only drafted it as I had no title.

Last year we (my sibs and I) put mom into an assisted living program as she was in need of 24/7 care.  This time last year she was trying to escape.  She wore her coat and carried her purse and would walk around the doors and windows of the facility – looking for a way out.  She wasn’t happy there – not all the time anyway.

By mid April, mom had accepted her new home and was reading everything she could get her hands on.  She didn’t retain anything.  But she did read.

I don’t think it was until May when she developed an attraction to Harold and soon the two became inseparable.  I find it interesting that Corey created this post on June 3.  Mom has a boyfriend.  And just one month later I created this post indicating that he was not.  Depending on her mood.

Actually, I don’t ever recall mom referring to Harold as her boyfriend.  That was more from our point of view.  It really depended on mom’s mood and the turn of events that took place each day.

Harold had known that mom was diabetic and was not supposed to have sugar.  And some days he’d scold her or strongly advice against satisfying her “sugar eating desire” Those were the days when she would not even acknowledge Harold as a friend.  He became “that guy” – an intrusive resident. 

Other days (I’m finding in most cases) mom was infatuated so much that she would rather remain in the company of Harold than to have to leave him in order to visit with one of us.  Corey lovingly wrote this post about feeling like “second fiddle” – but not really.  It did seem somewhat comical at times.

In the beginning, Harold was just “an old man – old enough to be mom’s father” or so she’d say.  I figured there were probably a good number of years between them – nothing that drastic however.  I had asked Harold his age and learned it was a twelve-year difference.  The same as with my sister and her husband.

By August mom was beaming while telling people about her friend, Harold.  In her mind they were only five years apart.  I find it interesting that her mind had gone from one extreme to another in only two months.  For each month she lived there, she fully believed it had been another year.

Harold was quite bent over.  For the most part when I saw him, he was wearing blue scrubs.  He was very positive and always wore a smile on his face.  He and my mom were so very happy to have one another.  Funny how they never sat together for meals.  Except for mealtime, rarely was one ever seen without the other.

On September first, after mom was found upon the floor and rushed to the hospital, the staff told Harold to get rid of all of his candy.  Harold blamed himself for mom’s condition.  But it wasn’t his fault.  A few fun-sized candy bars would not have made her blood count go that high.  Two truckloads of candy would probably not have made her blood sugar go that high.

We thought she would die in the hospital.  Harold had made arrangements for one of his sons to bring him to the hospital to see her.  He was all decked out in suit and tie.  He came in to visit with mom and held her hand and talked to her with his loving voice. 

Mom didn’t wish to die in the hospital.  She wanted to return to the assisted living.  She lay in her room in a hospital bed and Harold would come to visit – knowing she would pass.  He was ever so gentle with her.  He loved her. And she him.

When he wasn’t in her room, he would visit with Joh and tell him things about his relationship with my mom.  Joh said it was my mom’s desire for she and Harold to wed and maybe have a child together.  Harold had reminded her that they both had spouses already.

At the funeral he rushed to the casket for one last good-bye.  I had never seen Harold move so quickly.  It was also the straightest I had ever seen his posture.

After she died, Harold tried to return to living without her.  He wanted to smile and help with the residents the way he had before.  And he did . . . for a while.  But in time the smile faded.  He missed mom!  There was no doubt about it.

Corey would call him.  Kayla and I would visit on occasion.  Jenna and I would take the bus.  We may have stopped when we no longer had bus passes.  But I would write to him and call him and let him know we would come see him when the weather cleared.

I thought we could go during Jenna’s Valentine/Presidents Day holiday – unfortunately she got sick.  And I am currently with my annual February sinus infection.  I planned to call him when my head cleared.  I guess there’s no sense in calling.  His daughter-in-law called me and told me that Harold is now on hospice.  That is a good thing really. 

The last two times that Jenna and I did visit was heart breaking.  Harold seemed so bent to the floor that it appeared his head was nearly in alignment with his feet.  He was banged up in different places each time we would visit.  He had taken I don’t know how many spills.  He would walk us to the door but he had slowed down.  But he’s going to be whole again pretty soon.  And he will finally be able to meet dad.  He and mom can have a reunion and the two couples can have a party.  It will be great!

I’m sorry that Harold declined so much after my mom passed.  I am sorry he became so sad.  He really didn’t enjoy living there.  And now he won’t have to anymore.  Thank you, Harold, for befriending mom and for allowing her to experience the joy.  May you share some great moments in the afterlife as well.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

My Life as a Ball

My body is sooooo sore and has been for a few days.  I feel like I’ve been used as a ping-pong ball by two very expertise players.  But of course I could never be used as a ping-pong ball.

A bowling ball maybe.  And not one of those shiny ones that glide smoothly down the lane to shatter pins.

I would be one of those dust collectors that has a flaw so that there is no speed involved whatsoever.  Or perhaps I feel like the pin that has been hit over and over.

Beach balls, though big, are light and airy and can pop quite easily.  I am thin-skinned and have cut my fingers peeling back egg shells (on occasion)

I could never be a basketball or rubber ball or super ball.  I have no bounce – though I may have had at one time.  I’ve long since outgrew my ability to bounce.

I suppose I could be a soccer ball that’s been kicked too many times

Or pool ball that’s been poked and prodded. 

You ever experience body pain a few days after you’ve come down with a cold?  You ache all over. That is how I feel – except no cold.  At least not in the body.

It’s been below freezing - in most of the nation it seems.  I think that has contributed to my soreness – along with my unstable bed and body weight.  Plus I haven’t been walking to the bus stop on a daily basis.  I haven’t been trudging through snow or climbing.

The air is gunky right now.  I don’t want to go outside and get that in my lungs.  I suppose I could walk in place within the house.  I’d rather take a bath in Ben Gay.

I could be a medicine ball.  Heavy.  Kind of soft.  I don’t think I’m therapeutic however.

I should work at being an exercise ball and assist others if not myself.

Tomorrow we get our new bed base.  I think that will help ease the pain.