Writing Prompt - Dread -

 The 2nd writing prompt is this: What is something you dread doing, yet need to get taken care of in a timely manner? 

Well, it's like this - I need to recertify every five years as a Board Certified Clinical Chaplain. I'm board certified through two organizations, and the more robust one requires this. And - it's an exam, 100 questions, multiple choice, T/F. 

I hate taking tests. During my first year in college at Utah Valley University, I took an Ecology/Earth Science course. I loved the material, the professor was odd but passionate, yet his tests were terrible. And I failed them, every single time. The one question I remember arguing with him about had something to do with a frog sitting on a log, sitting near a log, sitting by a log. What the crap? And I stood up in class and told him I was not taking class in how to take his tests. And the following semester, taking a Chemistry class, another professor did similarly, as did I, yet this time I walked right out of his class, with applause from the other students. 

What a bunch of crap to intimidate or separate students not on their knowledge, but on their ability to take and pass an exam. 

And I vowed that I would never take another multiple choice, T/F exam. And when I became a professor I vowed I would never do the same to my students, and more - I would never require them to take a test in the testing center. 

I've made it all these years, and now, I have to do this. I have over 1000 pages of material to study, I have a letter from my doctor stating that I have test-taking anxiety and may require more than the 2 hours allotted, and I need to have this exam finished by the first of December. 

This means setting aside time to study, to study the practice test, and to stress. I'm dreading it all. Very much. 

Here's to concurring that last bit of fear (falling is another, but that's another story). 

Writing Prompt, Change your Life -

 I'm taking a 14 day writing challenge. It's about looking forward. Something I haven't done in ages. Today's is: 

If you could change your life in two weeks, what would you hope to change? What areas of your life would you like to improve? What would you love to let go of? How would releasing emotional baggage help you move forward? 

I am all about change. I love change, in fact, probably, too much. I think growth is necessary or we stagnate, become dull, lifeless, and end up existing. I like to push myself! so I'm answering this without a "If". 

I commit to changing my life these next two weeks. Exercise this past year has been limited to walking - I miss my Cody-trainer, and Scott isn't much motivation. As well, sleep has been tough to get, and that's my excuse. I need to do some weight-bearing exercises; I feel so much better when I do. 

I will let go of that "whine" that I need more time to sleep, I will go to sleep earlier, and I commit to doing that by not reading my phone before bed. 

I hope the emotional baggage I release will be that guilt of knowing one thing and doing something else. 

I'll be accountable to myself - I can do this. 

Husband -

This man drives me nuts, frustrates the hell out of me, and he is the love of my life, my rock, my column, my shoulder to cry on. Occasionally he'll give me the "Calm down," or "It can't be that bad," statement, yet for the most part he listens to my philosophize and theory'ize tangents and explorations, even when he's a bottom-line "Just tell me straight," "Why worry about that," person. 

I love him; these past nine years have been hard on our marriage - cancer, parents dying and Weaver estate to care for, child issues, caring for parents, sorting through Walker home, work-related trauma, 2020, and he's been still and the most amazing support - he's my calm presence; I can count on him; and he is all I need. 

Siblings and Life and Death and After -

Six weeks ago my mother passed away, 

at my home, in my library. 

The last few days of her life

 she was surrounded by family. 

And with that phrase I begin my list of the positives of having a loved one die. 

Mom loved having her children around her, and her last days fulfilled that desire; she was encompassed, enclosed, encircled with family. Every single moment; she was never alone from Friday evening when we brought her to my home until Saturday afternoon when she was laid in the ground, and then she was adjacent to Dad, to her in-laws.

Upon moving in to the Beehive Home where she lived her last year of life, she had, what my brother called a "Moment of Lucidity," and sent out a text to all of her children: "Why do I have to live here when you all have room for me and you are all good cooks." That moment quickly passed, yet it was a window into her dementia-connected frustration as well as her deepest desire. Company and Food, two elements in Mom's life she needed. Mom did not like being alone. Mom was not alone. 

Mom loved family dinners, reunions, celebrations, even if they put everyone out, having to rearrange schedules to make her guilt-trip work. These really were good times, and her insistence made her the worrier, listener, dinner-maker, party-planner, and damn stubborn - she would not allow anyone to step into her role, saying "Don't put me out to pasture." We all learned ways to unload some of this, while making Mom think she was still in control. 

Hence - 

I brought Mom home, my home became the gathering place, and there was not a single moment when Mom was alone. And with my kitchen under construction, we all were semi-forced into being right there with her; there was no kitchen for anyone to retreat to; and this is miraculous, really really the only blessing that came from my kitchen being 3 months behind schedule. 

We planned her funeral, figured out meals and transportation, called those who could not be there, and we had generations and genders together in deep personal intimate ways. We cried together, ate together, laughed together, told stories together, planned together, sat together. And not a single tense moment -  because for all of our lives we had learned how to be together, and together in tiny spaces. Thank you Mom, and Dad. 

After Mom's service we had a meal together, and then we quickly retreated to my home, again. We began in the family room, moved to the deck, hugged and cuddled and laughed and cried and asked questions and hypothesized answers and discussed dynamics and how we got to where we are and what if's and supported each other, again all generations and genders, and loved every moment. 

Our weaving of these last six years, since Dad passed away, and to a major extent years before, we have become pro's - we have learned all roles; no one was in charge, we know our strengths and weaknesses without having to point them out or discuss them. 

And just this last week, without a mother to "direct" us, we began planning our sibling reunion for next summer. We're stuck with each other, and I kinda like that.