Oh how I enjoy reading A Cup of Jo. Always thought-provoking.
Including today's: Befriending my Former Selves, a musing on dreams and making peace with the myriad of selves our lives, in our dreams, have become.
Oh how I enjoy reading A Cup of Jo. Always thought-provoking.
Including today's: Befriending my Former Selves, a musing on dreams and making peace with the myriad of selves our lives, in our dreams, have become.
Wrongly accused, wrongly quoted, reprimanded, and in some ways, framed.
I've had to do lots of deep breathing, reflection, looking at my weaknesses - which isn't hard, and embracing my strengths - which is tough.
Trying to personalize while not internalizing, understanding while not blaming, and making the conscious decision to walk the higher road, regardless of the repercussions.
Living my truth, one day at a time.
And then this morning:
"Let all bitterness, and wrath, and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, with all malice: and be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven you." Ephesians 4:31-32
"The pure love of Christ can remove the scales of resentment and wrath from our eyes, allowing us to see others the way our Heavenly Father sees us: as flawed and imperfect mortals who have potential and worth far beyond our capacity to imagine. Because God loves us so much, we too must love and forgive each other." Dieter F, Uchtdorf
I cannot allow myself to live in bitterness and anger and especially clamour. I will love and forgive, silently and boldly, and move forward.
Addressing the Spiritual Needs of Caregivers
Singer Songwriter Cheryl Wheeler sings,
Estate sale today, from 1 o'clock to 4
You go and get ready, I'll go start the car
Better to be early, then we'll be the first in line
And you know how I love this, it's amazing what you'll find
Going through dead people's houses
Wonderful things they have collected
Open the drawers and trunks and closets
Don't leave a corner uninspected
I'll head for the kitchen you check out upstairs
Old post cards and pens and blue fiesta ware
Shaving mugs and winged eyeglasses, giant plastic pins
Linen suits and flowered dresses, I'm so glad we got in
They just don't make 'em like this
It's an incredible prize
We can hang it in the kitchen
She was just your size
It's a beautiful frame
And the picture's all right
Salt and pepper airplanes
And that deco light
Tonight we'll go home and sort through our array
We'll find the best spots to put things on display
You can't get this great stuff anymore, I don't know why
But I bet we'll make some young strangers happy when we die
Many years ago I loved this song so much that I performed it in the ASL class I was attending as my final for my foreign language emphasis.
And this past fall and winter it's been on repeat in my head as I, and some of my siblings, have spent an inordinate amount of time doing exactly this.
We moved Mom out of her home the first part of November, with the support of her very good, kind, gentle, frank doctor - who told her she could no longer live alone and that she could no longer drive. She was confused, angry, irritated, bothered, and eventually, resigned to these ideas. We loaded a dresser, bookcase, computer, and many of her clothes, books, and other belongings into the pickup and drove them, and her, to my sister's, the place she'll call home for the remainder of her life.
And with that, a house over-flowing with 45 years of love, aka, things. And being her next-door neighbor, it became my focus to lead the sorting, tossing, boxing-up, and storing of her house.
Full-well knowing we didn't want an empty house, and feeling like this house needed to remain a home, a lucky/blessed moment arrived when my niece mentioned she was pregnant with number three and could really use a larger home.
And just like that, the sorting turned into cleaning, removing, dumping, and donating. As quick as this was accomplished the handy-man arrived and painted, updated lighting and outlets, and the pressure, at times, seemed insurmountable.
Being very careful of other siblings' feelings, and involving them as they could, we did just as Wheeler's song suggests - going through this living person's closets, dressers, trunks, corners, cabinets, under beds - we sorted through cards, postcards, old-time toys, fiestaware/china, S&P shakers of all seasons and holidays, pens and pens and pens, pads of papers, journals, probably 1000 books, family videos and photos, fabric, shaving mugs, and cans of hairspray, even a trophy - belongings that had been stored and saved and used and worn, through a lifetime of rearing seven children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
After every weekend, bundles and boxes would go home to siblings. Two rooms were set-aside for belongings to sort at a later date, at least two pickup loads of bags to donate, and then two large dumpsters filled with "things no one wanted." I brought boxes home, gave things to my kids, set on shelves.
And - I promised myself that I would not bring home anything that didn't already have a place, and that I would NEVER EVER EVER do this to my children.
Talk about exhausting. Quite the undertaking, and I am physically, yet more emotionally, exhausted. This weekend, on my 62nd birthday, I had the first Saturday off since beginning this under-taking in November. And I was lost. So yesterday, Sunday - I cleaned and sorted and boxed!
My niece moved in on Friday, and the house looks like a home. Whew.