witifulramblings

Archive for the ‘Faith’ Category

Day 97: Looking.

In Acceptance, Couples, Dating, Faith, Happiness on October 10, 2013 at 2:56 am

I’d lost all hope in love, and then I found it…and then I lost it.

The sadness is consuming and overwhelming. It hurts so bad, grieving hurts more than any physical pain and its hidden so no one sees it.

There is nothing lonelier than a blank phone, an empty bed, a quiet house, no one to share memories with, no one to share accomplishments with, no one to have fun with, laugh with, cry with. 

It’s so hard trying to mitigate this hurt. It’s a lonely process. 

There was a time when we first met, I think it was actually one of our first dates. He had gone fishing and he brought home Shad to cook–it was a rather bony fish and it didn’t turn out that well. The other night I visited with some friends and somehow the topic of “shad” came up, I told them how my boyfriend had once cooked it for dinner. They laughed, “that’s bait, you ate bait, no one actually eats shad.” I realized then that those are just memories, they’ll never happen again–not with him. I won’t eat “bait” again with him. It’s funny the things we hold on to, the things that seemed so insignificant at the time. I can’t glean a “lesson learned” from this, but I am trying. I have waited so long to meet someone who loves me. Where is he?

 

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The Unseen {Featuring The Advice of Others}: Day 67

In Children, Faith, Family, Happiness, Humanity, Kids, life, Love, Mother, Teaching on August 19, 2012 at 1:07 am

{photo compliments of poshbabystore.com}

This beautiful post by Ashley Sullenger at Time Out For Women really struck a chord with me today.

Her post focuses on her recognized purpose in this life, a purpose designed specifically for her alone.  Of course, her journey isn’t one of isolation though, no, she talks about her daughter, Preslee, and the role little Preslee plays in helping her to see that purpose more clearly.

It’s hard, when you’ve experienced a loss, to see other people living on, doing the things you had planned but that your loss interjected, it’s hard to take 50 steps backward, only to know that you’ll have to make your way forward again.

She entitles her post, “The Princess Dress I Never Saw.”  I’m learning, as I grow and develop in my life and my own journey, that there are so many things we imagine happening or plan for–and they just don’t.  It’s like Ashley says,

Not long after my daughter died, I remember expressing to my mom how painful it was to watch everyone else reach different milestones with their children….It felt like salt being rubbed into a big open wound, being forced to watch other people’s children accomplish what I longed to do with my own daughter.

I felt this exact same way in my lifetime.  It’s been really hard to watch my friends move on with their spouses and build and grow their families.  It is like salt to a wound, and it does ache sometimes.

However, someone put it nicely to me the other day,

It is about sowing the seeds of the future and looking forward to the harvest you have planned for.

Sometimes in the midst of everything, it’s hard to remember to rejoice in the reached milestones and the joy of meeting them.

sometimes it’s easier to be mad.

though, it’s always better to be happy

there will always be princess dresses not seen.

Always.

But this doesn’t mean we won’t see other things.

a whit who is thankful for good advice.

Day 59: on being wholehearted

In Blogging, Esteem, Faith, Happiness, Humanity, Laughter, Love, Men, TED Talks, Women on July 30, 2012 at 8:58 pm

Today I am on a flight, again.

I had the privilege of visiting NY, Connecticut, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, all in less than 5 days–whirlwind trip. Very fun, though.

What I am thinking about mostly right now, though, is a TED talk that I listened to on my flight into JFK. I was having a long day, sleep deprived, and I just happened to snap on one of the 5 free Delta radio channels (for the record Delta is a joke). There came words I needed to hear and I find it no coincidence that I started to listen to that very station when I did. For those of you that know TED talks, the briefers are limited to a less than ten minute time period to present their research in the most imaginable and insightful way, so the fact that I caught this particular one is quite lucky.

This talk wasn’t focused on the customary scientific findings surrounding most, no, it was centered more on an emotional type of research that could be classified in the psychological jurisdiction; however, I still felt it to fit its own category of sorts having listened to several TEDs and never encountered one quite like this previously.

The speaker, Brenda Brown, was presenting her research on the topic of wholeheartedness. That is, what constitutes a whole hearted individual. She goes on to explain that she had spent several years interviewing several individuals categorized as wholehearted and then those who live, well, unwholehearted. The first problem, if you could call it that, that she encountered in her research was the notion that those who portray a wholehearted esteem recognize that to be wholehearted one must first accept that this requires making everything that you desire to be certain, uncertain. This was problematic for Brenda because, well, she’s a researcher and to be a researcher is to seek the definitive. She segues to note this first encounter required her to take a 2 year research break and attend weekly counseling, lol. However, once she overcame this realization she was able to even further delve into the information that would enlighten her as to what the belief system requires amongst the wholehearted. She goes on to note:

The way to live is not to control and predict, rather, it’s through vulnerability, the wholehearted live with vulnerability because this is the birthplace of love and happiness. The wholehearted let themselves be seen and they love life with their whole hearts even though there is no guarantee. The wholehearted recognize that you cannot selectively numb emotions. You see, when you numb anger, fear, disappointment, you cannot do this without also numbing love, happiness, and laughter. The wholehearted stop catastrophizing and believe in good, they are grateful because of this. They ask themselves, what makes me vulnerable and then they face it head on. They realize that it is this vulnerability that allows them to be them and to live.

Most importantly though, above all else, Brown’s research found that the wholehearted always believe this:

They believe they are enough.

Brown posed the question on her blog, what makes you feel vulnerable? She felt getting to the heart of this might help individuals to reveal their wholehearted nature. She received thousands of responses.

Waiting for doctor results
Initiating sex with my partner
Saying I love you
Getting a mammogram
Going to the doctor
Looking for a job
Going on an airplane

So I pose this question here, what makes you feel vulnerable? How do you find your way through that vulnerability, or do you?

a thinking whit

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Day 57: it is possible.

In DIY, Faith, Home Decor, Humanity, Mother, Women, Work on July 17, 2012 at 5:55 am

To redo your room with barely any money.

This was before.

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And now…

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Please excuse the crap sitting on the bed. It’s actually not done–later on I’m going to tuft a backing for that headboard (it will cover it and be rounded at the top where the edge is). I really wish I had a wide angle lens, so I could see the whole room (cut off the nightstand and armoire and complete other wall) but I’m proud of myself for seeing this project through. It kept me busy, and I had fun learning what not to do when painting furniture!

Plus, these pillows–

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The best idea ever because I do not sew. Just tie the thing into a square knot and pin it.

Strength and Courage: Day 38

In Esteem, Faith, Happiness, life, Thoughts on April 15, 2012 at 11:41 pm

Today I was thinking about the nature of strength and courage.  Both are things we need to make it through this life but there are definitely differences between the two.  I read a poem that highlights this, there were two portions that really stuck out to me:

“It takes strength to survive, but it takes courage to live.  It takes strength to love, but it takes courage to be loved.”

Up until this point, I’ve been operating on strength alone–building my strength again.  I wrote about this a long time ago, but after my divorce I found myself at the weakest point in my life.  I was weak both physically and mentally and it has taken me all this time, and experiences, to rebuild and test my strength.  However, now, it’s time to work on rebuilding my courage.  It’s not enough to merely survive, I want to live.  It’s not enough to merely love, I want to be loved.  Without courage, neither of these things are possible.

I love Woolf, so I’ll end this post with her words,

“This soul, or life within us, by no means agrees with the life outside us. If one has the courage to ask her what she thinks, she is always saying the very opposite to what other people say.”

Day: 31

In Esteem, Faith, Happiness, Humanity, Mother, Thoughts, Women, Writing on September 20, 2011 at 5:33 am

give me the strength to accept the things that I cannot change

and the courage to change the things that I can.

Daily Cupcake: What? Not Jewish Enough?

In Articles, Blogging, Blogs, Education, Faith, Family, God, History, Humanity, life, literature, Love, Men, Men, Mother, Musings, Parenting, Politics, Stories, Thoughts, Travel, Women, Work, Writing on November 16, 2010 at 7:07 am

It’s quite odd, during the Holocaust many struggled with the idea of being, well, “too Jewish,” or rather Jewish at all.  Lives were literally lost over Jewishness, whether you looked it, acted it, etc.

Well, now there seems to be a new crisis.  Now, we’re dealing with the issue of being “not Jewish enough,” put quite simply.

Check this out.

This post is dedicated to all of those who experienced, survived, or were lost in the horrific Holocaust.  If this is a historical event that interests you I highly recommend the two part comic narrative Maus.

God Bless.


 

The Roads We Travel

In Faith, Family, God, Happiness, life, Love, Mother, Musings, Parenting, Stories, Thoughts, Writing on September 12, 2010 at 8:22 am

There was a time when I followed the same certain walk to my work everyday.  You can read about it here.  The leaves are beginning to fall and school has resumed, my path is now a different one.  Walking along the other day I began to ponder this and how life leads us in so many directions.  Although this post has obvious analogous properties, it is quite real.

Wednesday I was driving along when I suddenly realized my close proximity to Kaiser and the subsequent need of little e’s kindergarten shots.  My path suddenly took a turn and a few moments later our car sat nestled in a parking spot.  Walking up to the clinic, with a huge grin e questions, “am I getting a shot?”  You should know, there was little fear, this inquisition seemed pure jest.  I thought carefully on how to respond, ultimately deciding honesty the best policy, “yes.”  His demeanor changed almost immediately his body folding inward, the way it always does when he is truly hurt.  Then it escalated to pure anger, running up and down the halls screaming, climbing the beam, hanging from the window, kicking, biting, totally not my e—

I think e has probably thrown three to four tantrums in his life, not his thing.  He’s such a mellow child, the “go with the flow” type, so I knew him to be truly frightened.  I thought back on our recent hospital stay (for a possible hip infection) and the IV’s and pokes which accompanied.  To be so little, he’s getting bigger, but still the world is a vacuum and his little mind couldn’t escape those memories.  It took two nurses and I to hold him down…when they were just about to poke him, his little eyes filled with tears, looking up at me, “Mama, mama, hold me, I’m so scared, hold me mama.”  It was the fear of a child, yet at that second there seemed so much wisdom inside him.  I put my face against his holding back my own tears.  Up until that very moment feelings of exhaustion overwhelmed, pulling him from that window beam, I questioned, “why, is this so hard and I have to do it alone?”  If only I had someone to support me in this moment of difficulty.  Then pausing, with my face against his, an answer came, “you do have someone and he needs you to be strong, “YOU CAN DO HARD THINGS.”

We left the doctors office that day a closer mother and son.  The path we took taught us both something.  For e, he realized mama will always be there, and I saw how much e needs me.  The experience reminded me very much of my life as a whole and the relationship between my Father in Heaven and I.  It is not easy for him to deliver the struggles he is sometimes required to do, but nonetheless he knows they are necessary and required for our growth.  Life isn’t always about being happy–sometimes it’s about fear, and hardship, struggle, and pain.  All of these paths take us places we need to frequent, and offer us experiences and relationships vital to our growth and development as individuals.

In four years I’ve walked many different roads, some have been gradual turns, others indecisive forks; however, all have lent to me, happy me, sad me, scared me–a better me.

Haircuts and Love: Letting Go To Let Life In (Day Twelve)

In Blogging, Blogs, Esteem, Faith, Family, Friends, God, Humanity, Humor, Laughter, life, Love, Men, Mother, Parenting, Romance, Stories, Thoughts, wit, Writing on August 11, 2010 at 2:04 am

Sorry I have been absentee for a bit, turns out unemployment is real kicker.  But I figure, hey, if I can be happy without any income or anything to do for eight hours in the day then I will be just fine in life.  So, I’m still plugging away at this bliss thing and now I’m looking for it in all of the least likely places, but perhaps that is where happiness is the most abundant.  They do say, happiness isn’t having what you want but rather wanting what you have.  This sure as hell isn’t what I expected but by golly it’s what I got to work with.

I have a plethora of happenings to share.  Turns out Ethan isn’t just an “idea” or figment of my imagination.  I was feeling rather awake last night, at 3 a.m., and decided to check out the online personals.  There, in a black and white photo, he was.  His hair flowing and pearly white teeth.  For the moment, I thought it pure luck but then I remembered, “He is just a reflection, one you have abandoned, and now you must resume with your own ideal.”  In reality, I met him at a bar.  He looked sad, was obviously uninterested, and ran away mysteriously when the night ended.  It ended there, so I kept browsing.

I’ve been thinking a lot about love lately.  Then this happened,

I took E to get a haircut this past weekend.  Somewhere along the way I decide to try a new adventure—barbering school.  It was one of those ingenious light bulb moments, as soon as I saw it, aha perfect.  Mostly because the ad read five bucks and I was being cheap.  As soon as we pushed through the revolving door I began to fearfully contemplate my previous ingenuity.  We were the only Caucasian people in the entire garage-like shop.  Everywhere I look, all I see, CLIPPERS!  It was like one of those cheesy horror films where the girl looks from left to right to left, no escape, and then she screams.

My usual haircut order goes a little something like this,

“Scissors ONLY, not too short on the sides, about an inch off the top and clean it up around the edge—keep the sideburns.  Absolutely no clippers, none.”  Then I stand by nervously, invading the stylists  personal space, while I give her careful instruction throughout.  In no time at all, she grabs the hair between her fingers, looks at me, “is this okay to cut?”  It’s true, I am feverishly neurotic about my child’s monthly haircuts.

Back to the cultural barbershop,

We approach the register and the lady informs me of their, “no card” policy, but not to worry that I can go get some money at the Dollar Tree two shops down.  If I don’t die on the way. I failed to mentioned that it took a thirty minute trip into the ghetto to reach this detination five dollar barbershop.  We leave and head to Dollar Tree. After twenty minutes in line, waiting for our cash dispenser,  I suddenly realize we’re going nowhere.  Looking ahead I spot a man pointing his fingers in an upward motion, then downward, he starts singing, stops, jumps backward, and lets out a huge “Ahhhhh Gotcha,” finger wink included.  It took me awhile, but finally I recognize his behavior as delusional.  That day all Dollar Tree customers got a cartful of cheap shit and a Ray Charles reenactment.  After another twenty minutes and an entire scene he pays the cashier, slowly we move ahead.  The man in front of us must have felt sorry for E having to wait because he slipped him a dollar bill on the way out.

Making it back to the barbershop I provide payment, after which a woman inquires what I would like (see above).  She shoots a look of dismay and finally grunts, “I think I can do it.”  This scares me.  My little E has the most precious blond locks, but his hair is fine,  and ah chop chop is an easy look for someone lacking Caucasian hair expertise.

Thirty minutes and three barbers later  five chunks are missing, and it looks like someone took a weedwacker to my kid’s head.  I respectfully request a refund and they scoot us out the door, quickly suggesting a salon across the way.  They were quite happy to see us go–as were we to be going.  At this point, I am running across the parking lot happy to pay for any overpriced haircut.  Thankfully, Suzie knows what she is doing and produces a decent fix.  It was the first time in four years of haircuts that I sat peacefully in the waiting area.  It was while I was doing this that I noticed an older woman in the corner.  She had bruises and sores covering her body complete with a chin full of hair–I bet she’d seen better days.  Then I began to pity her, imagining her life.

“That poor woman probably sits in a nursing home all day.  I bet her kids never visit her.  I mean if I was her kid I would at the very least take her to get a chinny wax. This is probably the highlight of her week, getting her hair washed.”

I felt so utterly dismayed for this woman.  Then in he came, an older man.  He touched her shoulder softly and bent down to whisper in her ear.  He was gentle with her and it was quite obvious that he was her her husband.  He then handed her some cash (as all husbands should do).  My despair for her dissipated.

This love obviously began during the innocent years of beauty, yet here it was, still, in the tender end.  Living on.  Everyone hopes they find that.  The kind of love that lasts through bed sores, sagging tattoos, heck even chin hair!

I’m glad I let go that day, relinquishing my haircut neurosis, because it let me see something I might not have otherwise.  I think from now on I’ll find happiness in being a little less compulsive.  It allows you to envelop life, that’s a great thing.


Cupcake: Laugh at Me

In Blogging, Blogs, Dating, Faith, Fun, Humor, Stories, Thoughts, wit, Work, Writing on July 28, 2010 at 5:20 pm

Today’s cupcake is just something that made me smile and since this place is about being happy, enjoy.

Yesterday while  in NEO (New Employee Orientation) training we visited the various offices within our building.  A sort of get to know you.  We had this thing, “Fun Facts” where each department manager was asked to share a fun bit of information about himself/herself.

While in the legal department we met an older gentlemen named, Earl.  His fun fact was that he model railroads. Cool.

Anyway, when we got to Directors Office the NEO officer explained to the manager the concept of “Fun Facts” he began to recite all of those we had previously collected throughout the day.  He couldn’t recall Earl’s Fun Fact.  I leaned forward to help him and somehow this came out, “he male models.”  Aw, orthodontics–my retainers were the source of this word confusion.  Laughing, everyone agreed that was the funnest fact of the day.

Huge joke circulating the office –Earl from the legal department is a male model.  I wish I had a picture of Earl.

This reminded me slightly of my eighth grade science class.  The answer was organism.  It was for extra credit, I think.  The boy next to me  whispered the answer in my ear.  I was golden, raising my hand with great height I blurted it out, “Orgasm!”

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