Tag Archives: Soul Care

Homecoming

22 Tuesday Sep 2009

Posted by in Far Away Places, In the Garden, Life at Home, Soul Care

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There is a sad-gladness in returning home after a long awaited trip has ended.    

So it was very good that my Sunday homecoming made me feel infinitely precious.  After dinner and the all important walk with the dogs, our empty nest settled down in front of the television to pick up the threads of our common everyday life.  But I’ll be forever glad that I  looked away from the story unfolding on the television to catch a better story being told within my husband’s loving eye that I found focused on me.  As our eyes met, I watched the love in his eyes slip down his face to his mouth to break into a huge smile of gladness.  “I’m so happy you’re home,”  he’d offered up, just in case I missed the message spoken by the preface of his glance and smile.  

By Monday, it was time to slip back into reality, into my repetitive world of everyday life.  As I went out to tend my garden, I found the aphids were back in full force to dirty up the leaves of my potted citrus trees; and that the old ailing Magnolia tree was once again littering the back yard by dropping its leaves into a messy mass.   Sometimes as I stoop down to pick up leaves it reminds me of all the past times I stooped to pick up my youngest son’s socks.   So I have Kyle to thank for preparing me for life with this old messy Magnolia. 

Weekend get-aways come to an end but everyday life goes on without end, with or without my presence.  Laundry builds up, dust gathers on table tops and floors become dirty.  And each cries out for attention, just like a young babe who needs nourishment.  Yesterday, as I tended to the repetitions of  everyday life, I found they in turn nourished me by helping me shake off the lingering sadness of saying goodbye to friends I will not see (at least all in one place) for another three to four years — if our repetitive cycle keeps to the same schedule.

The repetitive nature of life turns my mind to these words of Søren Kierkegaard:

“If God himself had not willed repetition, the world would never have come into existence.  He would either have followed the light plans of hope, or He would have recalled it all and conserved it in recollection.  This He did not do, therefore the world endures, and it endures for the fact that is a repetition.  Repetition is reality, and it is the seriousness of life.”

The sun comes up and goes down; the seasons change as summer slips into autumn, and my lungs  breathe in and breathe out the air of life.  And with each breath, my heart grows lighter and I know that everyday life and the repetition of housekeeping and gardening and the making of meals for my empty nest family somehow feeds my soul and the creative spirit that lies within me.  And as lovely as my weekend was, and as good as it was to see the familiar ageless faces of my best and oldest girlfriends, it is the routine comfort of these four walls and my husband’s loving glance and hugs that remind me of the reality of an everyday God, who lives without end.  Amen and amen.

The Word Detective

20 Sunday Sep 2009

Posted by in Soul Care

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Whenever I hear an interesting string of words, I pull out my journal and take notes just like a detective.  This morning my friend Joni found words on the foil seal of a carton of Daisy Sour Cream  —  “The most precious thing one can make is a friend.” — and she thought I might like to record them, as I’ve done with other words off and on all weekend.

Twice yesterday I pulled my journal out; once while touring a thoroughbred horse farm and again when touring the Woodford Reserve Bourbon Distillery.   When the tour guide at the horse farm spoke of  how dangerous it can be when a horse becomes spooked at the starting gate, I wrote down her phrase ”one thousand pounds of freaking.’  And later, after driving back to Joni’s from touring the distillery, my friend Donna used this expression — “as serious as a heart attack” — about whatever she was talking about.  Perhaps it’s a fairly common expression to some.  But to my ears, it was uncommon and worth notation.

But this morning, I was not moved to write down the Daisy lid saying because I found it troubling.   On the heels of a wonderful weekend with my four gal pals, the words ‘make’ and ‘friend’ just didn’t seem to belong together.  These words were not friends.  At the same time, I am untroubled by using the word ‘make’ in connection with either bourbon whiskey or thoroughbred race horses.  I’ve learned that the making of race horses and bourbon whiskey requires time and passion and even a bit of science in the following of defined and results-proven processes, in addition to having good genes and good ingredients.

As I think about these four friends of mine and how different we are, I marvel that we should even be friends.  We did not choose one another out of desire or will.  Instead, our friendship seems so happenstance.  And this happenstance nature makes me question whether friends like us can truly be made.  And if not, are they instead begotten by God?

It will take more time to sort out my thoughts before I’m able to draw a conclusion.

No Regrets

14 Monday Sep 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Soul Care

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Today’s blue plate special is white milk sky and drippy outside.

It was the same yesterday when I put on my rain jacket and ventured outside to sow grass seed.  I was going against the experts when I decided to sail full steam ahead and sow my seed in the rain.  Sometimes I ignore well-meaning recommendations and do what my heart and gut tell me is right.  And with all the lovely Irish rain we’ve received, this time I’ve suffered no regrets from doing it my way.  

Wouldn’t it be nice to live ALL OF LIFE without regrets?   I think some people can do this fairly successfully.  People like my husband for instance.  When he makes a mistake, he doesn’t beat himself up.  Instead he shrugs it off — knowing he’s done the best that he can — and then doesn’t look back.  How I wish I could be more like that.  Is it self-confidence that allows this man to sail through trials so easily? 

One of my children is going through rough seas right now.  Part of me wants to throw out a life preserver to keep my child from drowning in sorrow.  But  I sense this situation may be a life-defining moment for one who tries to live life as a people-pleaser.  So I’ve forced myself to give my child space to swim out of the storm without my well-meaning intervention.

The situaton reminded me of a letter I wrote to one of my children not too long ago.  In it, I tried to string together a few motherly pearls of wisdom on this very subject. 

While it’s not easy asking for help or admitting mistakes, you can do both with grace and often with a sense of humor.  But if I’m going to keep this real, you do not do this as quickly as you could or should.  Humor your mother by allowing me to offer lessons I’ve learned from the school of hard knocks:   Be vulnerable – accept that you do not always need to be strong or right.  Especially trust in the goodness of those who love you.  Don’t sit on bad news (or what others might perceive to be bad) that needs to be shared.  And don’t worry about other’s opinions – seek the input of those you love then own your own decision – make no apologies for living your own life.  It’s yours to live.  It’s a funny thing that we humans strive for independence when I think God designed us to be interdependent, one on another. Why else would each receive different gifts and graces, if not to give and receive help?  Child, I think your life choices have shown you the value of dependence.  If others knew the story of your life, they might think the trials and challenges of school were a cakewalk in comparison.

It’s hard to see those I love suffer.  And though I’ve made sure my child knows that I am here if needed, I know that this trial is something that must be overcome without my direct involvement.  So even now, I sit on my hands and take solace in the words of the good book when it teaches that suffering produces endurance and endurance produces character and character produces hope and hope does not disappoint.  And in my book, one who experiences no disappointment is a close cousin to one who experiences no regrets.