Dreaming of Silver Roses

 

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Saturdays Current mood: chill Category: Life              Can you remember a time when you woke at five thirty am to be ready for the US News and Farm Report? It wasn’t at all that you were interested in the dropping price of pork bellies. It was more about the rush you felt knowing that you’d soon be hearing that exciting refrain of “Spiderman and His Amazing Friends”rushing out of the tv speakers.         You knew you had until noon to relish in Rainbow Brite, the Wonder Twins, Thundercats, The Justice League, Pound Puppies, and Tom and Jerry. Bugs and Daffy were longingly high on the waiting list. All that was missing was the Mickey Mouse Club! You could see the same cartoons and the same episodes a million times and that just made you laugh with anticipation like when the “beep, beep” poured out over you as the furious feet of the Road Runner zipped by the poor delusional coyote who found out over and over again that he was anything but “wiley”.                Your hair was free to stand in odd places like a dandelion on steroids until noon. You knew mom was way too into cleaning the house or getting your father’s “honey do’s” together to notice. Your pjs were rumpled not only from a good night’s sleep, but the roll in your Holly Hobbie sleeping bag which you drug into the living room so you could collapse within inches in front of the tv.   You had to be close enough to turn the volume low so you didn’t wake the folks prematurely. You were so close in fact that the tv picture seemed to be in pixels and you weren’t sure that animation’s artistic roots weren’t in fact in pointillism. So close that you could feel the static shock from the tv tube.               The dog somehow fit snuggly in the bottom of the sleeping bag and his coarse summer coat tickled your feet and kept them warm. The breakfast of champions which seemed trite and rushed all week long when you scarfed it down in a blur on the way out to the car with your back pack was lovingly lingered over on your tummy as the milk dribbled down your chin back into the bowl with your legacy of the Cap’n.                   Then you washed the bowl and spoon and carefully replaced them so that no one had any idea you’d already eaten and you could convince someone to fire up the griddle to make a pancake brunch!  You knew no one regulated syrup intake on Saturday morning.                You felt an odd camaraderie with the slowly rising sun. There was a peace in the song of the birds outside your window and the semi darkness of the living room. You could smell the fabric softener from the sleeping back mingle with the carpet shampoo. You could doze intermittently between cartoon episodes until one came on that you hadn’t seen in a million years!              Peaceful house, peaceful spirit, the freedom of a spontaneous day of leisure stretched out before you waiting for you.              Then the kids and husband wake up. Sigh. Thank God for Boomerang’s reruns of the 80’s and crazy dog who has to go “out” with the roosters.                       I’m surprised Holly still make sleeping bags in adult sizes. No one in my house is as early a riser as the dog and I. And hey, did you know legwarmers and those long arm length lacey gloves with holes for your fingers and bangle bracelets from the era of Cyndi Lauper are making a comeback at Claire’s? I am so excited! …….For, for Abbey. Abbey wants them. She, she wants to be the rockstar. I am going to make pancakes now…     Currently listening : ’80s Pop Hits By Various Artists Release date: 2001-08-21

Filed under: humor, life on August 16th, 2008 | No Comments »

            She rode to the elevator to the top trembling the whole way. On many floors she wanted to scream, “Let me off!” but she didn’t. She pressed her back against the wall furthest from the door as possible. It wasn’t because of over crowding at all, but instead she was fairly certain that unless there was space and a few warm bodies between her and the door way she would exit at some point. Her breath came in stuttered gasps and she felt light headed. Everyone with her was either quiet like she was or talking to beat the band. She could tell one guy near the front who had been one of the last to board the elevator was talking as if he had to put a wall of words between himself and everything around him especially the door. He was talking a mile a minute for insulation.  There was a fine bead of sweat across his top lip and he was trying very hard to look cool and relaxed.  She couldn’t say much as she wiped the sweat from her temples and the back of her neck. He was trying so hard to appear nonchalant. Too hard in fact and his mannerisms and incessant talking belied the demeanor he was trying so hard to pull off. Another young woman standing opposite of her was cool and serene. She figured that this young woman had done this before. She was checking her suit and belt with a back pack at her feet. The elevator smelled of sweat and stale air and gear grease of some sort. The light in the elevator wasn’t too bright but just enough natural light filtered in from the sky light above. The gears of the elevator were visible retrieving the cable from the long upward climb against the azure sky occasionally dotted with puffy white clouds. She felt like she was gazing up as the disciples must have done at the Ascension of Christ!

            She had to be first. She had to get out and line up to go first at all costs. She could never do it if she saw someone else do it before her. She had to be first. The ascent was taking forever. She felt as if the smell and sound of the grinding gears and rolling pulley would make her hurl. She felt washed out and blanched the way fresh green beans lose that first bright green when dumped into a vat of boiling water to be canned.

            Then there was a sudden stop. The stop wasn’t only of movement from the elevator, but everyone inside it car stopped breathing as well. No more talking. Everyone drew in a deep breath as the doors opened with the ding of the bell.

            The guide led them down a corridor and out a door that appeared normal. She almost expected to walk into a room. Instead there was a roof top and a platform prepared. She rushed to be at the front of the line fiddling with her suit as she walked.

The guide checked her suit. They fitted the leads and belts and cables. She felt the metal on metal click into place through her teeth. The sound made her teeth feel as if she had suddenly eaten something extremely cold. The guide was talking. Reviewing instructions. She was nodding but only partially listening. Too late. No turning back.

 There was no turning back once she entered that elevator. She knew there were those on the ground below who were cheering. There were some who never thought she would ever do something so radical. There were those wishing she weren’t. They didn’t want to see her hurt. But they were all watching. This was for all of them.

This was for her.

She walked to the end. There was the count and as the guide shouted she thought, “What was I thinking?” and then all she could do was pray the bungee held as she jumped.

           

Filed under: life, short story, wonder on August 14th, 2008 | No Comments »

Thursday, August 14, 2008

I so totally agree! Here, here! Current mood: contemplative Category: Life       “Some days, doing ‘the best we can’ may still fall short of what we would like to be able to do. But life isn’t perfect — on any front — and doing what we can with what we have is the most we should expect of ourselves or anyone else.“           For more information about Fred Rogers and Family Communications, the company he founded, please visit our website at www.fci.org. Besides the wonderful book I have listed here by Ms. Amy Hollingsworth, I also recommend the books recently written by Fred Roger’s wife, Joanne Rogers. I learned and grew a lot from all those books.     Currently reading : The Simple Faith of Mister Rogers By Amy Hollingsworth

Filed under: Uncategorized on August 14th, 2008 | No Comments »

“Where did Pollyanna go?”
She asked me.
“Not always a laugh a minute it seems.”
I smiled slowly, sadly
And shrugged a shoulder
And I watched her and replied,
“Where’s your big dreams?
Seems to me we’re both a little jaded.
Seems to me we’re neither one that tough.”
Cynically she laughed and she nodded adding,
“But whoever would have guessed
It could be so rough.”

Just lean in a little closer.
Rest your head on my shoulder.
I am your confidante.
I am your friend.
I don’t know about tomorrow
And I can’t predict the future
But I am here right now;
I am your friend.

“Don’t you have some message to deliver?
What? No pat answers, no clichés?
What? No trite words?”
Silent tears ran rivers
Down our cheek bones.
I prayed I didn’t sound quite so absurd.
“I don’t know what you need to hear.
I don’t think you need more words.
So I’ll just hold you till the tears are gone.”

Just lean in a little closer.
Rest your head on my shoulder.
I am your confidante.
I am your friend.
I don’t know about tomorrow
And I can’t predict the future
But I am here right now;
I am your friend.

“When we close space between us
When we move in close,
It always feels like home.
I pray there’s comfort knowing
I’ll be here and
You won’t have to deal alone.”

————————————————————-

Filed under: Uncategorized, poetry, relating well, relationships on August 10th, 2008 | No Comments »

Simple and plain

 

I keep hearing just tell the story

Keep it simple, make it plain

Don’t add ruffles, don’t add any laces

Just a stripped down model, Plain Jane

Show, don’t tell and certainly don’t preach

They have a right to think; no highfalutin speech

Let them choose for themselves

You don’t need to embellish

There’s no need to make it prettier

Just write the story

Simple and plain.

 

Bare bones alone; no artifice

But written in words that tantalize

You can lead and leave a trail

But they need the right to decide

Draw them in and make them wonder

Let them dream like some spell they’re under

But above all just streamline and contain

Just write the story

Simple and plain.

 

Filed under: Uncategorized on August 10th, 2008 | No Comments »

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Acid Rain Current mood: artistic Category: Writing and Poetry         You say things I know are meant just to hurt me You’re hurting and want to watch someone else bleed It’s sort of like watching someone else’s wreck on a high way There’s a macabre strain in you and you feel the need   To lash, and strike, to bite, and fight It doesn’t happen all the time But the anger grows and the valve blows And I’m frozen in time And this Pandora’s box of awful thoughts Rain down and gush free, like I long to be When you rain down that acid rain on me     I guess I should be stronger in the battle Maybe I should stand and give back But there are time you love me oh so tender And I’m just not one built to return an attack     Can’t lash, or strike, can’t bite, or fight It’s not the way I’m made I cringe and hide and cry inside Till this monstrous masquerade Is over and I thaw out again in time We gather up our fears and dry our tears We wipe up the mess and lick our wounds clean From the acid rain that poured down over me.     Yes, I hear you love me and you’re sorry Other ears that matter hear us too. I pray that in time it changes That you are somehow healed by how much we love you.     While you rant and rage and misbehave I just take the blows The space of peace that comes between Each hideous episode Give us reprieve and we can breathe Until again your anger shows And the acid rain pours down over me.   —————————————————–  Psalms19:14-    May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart        be pleasing in your sight,        O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. ——————————————————–   I was told once that words like time can’t be taken back. Like time they are a nonrenewable resource. It matters what and where and how we spend them.   I read about the spray paint can image from Dr. Gary Smalley, a fantastic marriage and family therapist. He talked about how in conflict some people react like a half full spray paint can ran over by a car. What’s inside just explodes out and all over whatever is closest. That image struck me so strongly. I know there have been moments I have stuffed and surpressed to the point that the slightest touch in just the right place have set me off.   Generationally speaking, some hand me down habits need to die in relationships. It’s not okay just because it’s all we have ever known. It takes an imensely strong, senstive, and humble person to recognize it and a dedicated person to do the work it takes to end the cycle. Abuse that is passed down and resurfaces can not be excused.   We are all responsible for ourselves and we can not allow patterns of behavior that are unfit to continue just because we don’t know any other way to react. Learn. Nothing is more human than our drive to know more and do a better job than those who have gone before us. Animals are instinctive and follow the pattern. Human beings can learn, adapt, and grow.    I recommend Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend’s books, Dr. Gary Smalley and John Trent’s books, or Dr. Gary Chapman. There are many, many more resources. The work is always individual. The only person you can change is you.     Currently listening : Jim Brickman - Greatest Hits By Jim Brickman Release date: 2004-05-04

Filed under: Uncategorized on August 6th, 2008 | No Comments »

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

A funny thing happened on the way to clean the…. Current mood: cooky/wacky Category: Life   Nana was coming, so full of delight  The children were rushing to help with the night’s  Grand preparations and rigmarole All was well til I flushed the toilet bowl It was quite blue and foamy somewhat like the east coast I’m still cleaning bubbles from the Dawn dishwashing soap…. -A true story thanks to Mat and Abbey           Hurray for grandparents who visit and small children who can’t wait!                           Currently listening : Bubbly By Colbie Caillat Release date: 2007-10-01

Filed under: Uncategorized on August 5th, 2008 | No Comments »

Trust
Current mood: thoughtful
Category: Religion and Philosophy

 

I received an email this A.M. that I found fascinating and gave me cause to pause and wonder to ponder so I am passing on the question. I was asked:

Who do you trust more?

Your
Doctor?
Pharmacist?
Hair Dresser
Attorney?
Maid?
Friend?
 OR
Mother-In-Law?
(trusting “myself” is not a choice) 

Technorati Tags: opinion, fun, interesting
©2008 . All Rights Reserved.
.
pearl@fresh-perspectives.net
  
My reply off the cuff was:

Hmm, I think that question bares pondering. I guess instinctively I trust people like doctors, hairdressers, pharmacists without question for their area of expertise. Kind of the way you walk into a room and just sit in a chair that seems comfortable to you or that you have sat in before. You never stop, check the bolts or wood or frame(- at least few people I know would do that). You just expect the chair to be trustworthy and you sit because that’s the chair’s function. As far as trust goes based on a field or professional need, I guess I have blind trust for those folks who have been to school and trained for the careers they are a part of.  I trust my friends based on time spent with them and their ability to be consistent.
 I guess still reflexively when I am interested in building a relationship of any kind I just instinctively trust until that soul is proven untrustworthy. I am kind of a sunny side, glass is half full, unjaded or un- disenchanted kind of person. I take people - yes, even my mother-in-law - as they are at ‘grace value’ instead of ‘face value’ until they illustrate that it is risky business trusting them. I am also gullible enough to risk it time and time again if the relationship is captivating to me and/or appears to be worth the work…. or if it seems I am in this relationship like it or not and I need to make it work (example in-laws or extended family of any kind! I married into it for a lifetime commitment, so I need to figure out how to work with them.) I guess because I believe to gain trust you have to be willing to risk it first. Waiting means that someone who isn’t as Pollyanna as I am may not risk it first. Offering first gives them some collateral so that they aren’t on the defense and it might be easier for them to risk. That may not be the answer you were looking for, my friend, but I am wordy and nerdy so it’s what popped into my head and worked it’s way out!
 I was thinking about this and the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well popped into my head. (John 4). This lady had a personal history that made trust a huge risk factor. She had a cultural set up that compounded the situation. She had gender role issues that were not favorable from her perspective. There were so many major reasons not to be the one to trust. From an earth centered perspective, it was wisdom to withhold trust- even from Christ, especially from God. After all she knew who she was as far as following the rules were concerned. She was aware of the fact that she wasn’t up to code as far as God was concerned among her own people and their beliefs and she knew she certainly wasn’t up to the standards of behavior of an upright, moral Jewish male teacher of that day. She had no reason to trust and a million reasons and examples of why not to!

 What did Jesus do about it? He wanted a relationship with her. He had to gain her trust. I think the first thing I think about is how He went to her turf. He made the journey as close to ‘home’ for her as possible on a time table that made it as comfortable as possible for her. He didn’t wait for her to clean up her act. He didn’t demand that she meet Him at the temple (but he didn’t go to her bedroom either where most men would have been most likely to meet her). He chose a safe place that she was familiar with and that would make the moment as focused and quiet and easy for her as possible. Sometimes the beginning of trust is to risk giving someone else the “home court” advantage. It also might give us a perspective of where they are coming from or understanding them better. What’s that old cliché’ that’s attributed to Native American wisdom, “Never a judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins.” Many times trust dies in the beginning because we refuse to see the sacredness inherit in another art work of God and work a little internally to get beneath their skin and peer out. We don’t want to see the way they might see. We can’t lower our standards or guard enough to risk giving them an upper hand in any way (real or imagined). We have to maintain total control. Trust is a risk. You can’t have complete control and trust at the same time. Trust by definition is offering someone else a measure of control over you, yours, or your space.

 To gain her trust Jesus used a risk. He asked for a favor. He asked for a drink. She had the right to refuse or ignore. She had the right to hurt his feelings or be unkind. She was kind of cold in fact in the reply. After all usually the guy bought her a drink. She was constantly on the alert for some new line I would imagine. But it started a conversation that led to a relationship. Jesus took the initiative and put Himself on the line to connect with her. He didn’t let her walk away from the conversation easily either. He kept speaking the Truth (like He could help it since it’s who He is) in a place where a lie would have been easier on her heart and smoothed the road to a casual relationship. The deal was, He wasn’t interested in a casual relationship. He was redefining intimacy for her. Her definition wasn’t working. She was with guy number five at least and what she considered the pinnacle of  trust and intimacy had repeatedly failed her. He had to redefine what to look for and the only way to that definition is Truth. Trust and intimacy are build only on Truth.
 
The results were a new relationship and an affirmation for her that there is trust. There are people worth the risk. Trust is healing.

 

Currently listening : Bach: The 6 Unaccompanied Cello Suites Release date: 2006-06-06

Filed under: Uncategorized on July 31st, 2008 | No Comments »

 But That’s What I Hear

 

You call me first instead of waiting

For me to reach out to you

You never think much about it

But I do.

You act as if I know things

As if I have a contribution to your world

even in the little things

You don’t do it to remind me of my value

But that’s what I hear.

 

You let me weep like a crazy person

You let me rant like a raving loon

You never hold my weaknesses or strengths against me.

 

You like to talk about what I like

You invade my world, the inner places,

You never think that much about it

But I do.

You act as if I’m normal

When I know that I’m as imbalanced

As they come

You may not out right encourage, disciple, or engender courage

But that’s what I hear.

 

You let me hug you without shirking

You let me over analyze and think too much

You never hold my weaknesses or strengths against me.

 

I think it’s just crazy that you like me

And that you allow me to like you like I do.

You never think much about it

But I do.

I think that it’s amazing that you love me

And I can’t believe you’re proud to call me friend

That you’re proud of me.

It always amazes me

But that’s what I hear.

Filed under: Uncategorized, life, poetry, purpose, relating well, relationships, wonder on July 30th, 2008 | 1 Comment »

A little Ode to Joy for you!

Filed under: Uncategorized on July 26th, 2008 | No Comments »