Over a month since my last post - this is a record! And a worthy record too - 2 weeks in Sweden and Denmark; shoulder replacement surgery for Scott; work, work, work, for me; end of summer/beginning of fall yard and family activities. And 90% good!
More details on our lovely vacation later, yet these pictures are a great tease into our late August and September.
So often women as taught to be subtle, not gloat on compliments, don't brag, don't point out assets. Yet in being taught this, we're subtly taught to not love ourselves, to not love our bodies (come one now, how many figure enhancing or reducing billboards are there, let alone social media shit talking about learning to self-love through medication, work-outs, diets, or plastic surgery).
And then we try to teach our daughters and granddaughters to love themselves - we tell them how much we love their dimples, their skinny legs, their sturdy legs, their soft bellies, their shiny hair, their kinky hair, their soft skin, cute toes, pudgy fingers, their smiles and smirks, and then we teach them to suppress these points of compliments when they grow older.
When was the last time YOU found something about yourself, your body, that you loved, and pointed it out, to yourself or a loved one?
I love my -
Hair - always been blonde, now is white with blonde. A little curl, a lot of body, thick.
Teeth - pretty white, pretty straight.
Hands - strong nails, slender fingers.
Feet - well-shaped even toes, decent nails.
In-between - still learning, and learning how to make peace with the parts that will probably not be my favorites, ever.
At 62, still learning how to love some parts of me.
A friend who's going through tough times this year, had a tough experience today, and she just sent me the most profound phrase I've heard in a long long time. Something I think we all need to know when we go THROUGH hard times, not around, not over, not ignore, but through the tunnel/door/canal/self-doubt -
". . . and I didn't break."
Sister, friend, daughter, grand-daughter, lover, significant other, client, caregiver, this is for you. You will not break - going through is so much tougher than being on the other side. I know. And today, my friend found this out as well.
Way to go, Danielle!
Two TED's in a row! I do love a well-spoken presentation. And this speaks to my soul as a folklorist and as a chaplain.
Enjoy - (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9Ihs241zeg&feature=emb_title)
What is your story? What is your disillusioned story? Your stereotyped story about yourself, about others?
Last week Scott and I argued about garbage bags - I said let's use up the grocery bags we have saved, first, and he said let's use plastic garbage bags and save the grocery bags for an emergency. And we raised our voices, got angry, then stopped and laughed.
It wasn't about garbage bags but control, and who is right and who is wrong and losing/gaining control, and really, doesn't freakin' matter? Trash is trash!
I found this TED talk today, and I like it; this explanation works for me. React emotionally, then think critically.
Enjoy - (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rAngiiXBAc)
This week I am reminded of two major steps I made 18 years ago - fall in love with myself and ask for a divorce.
I've read two bits this week that have made me reflect, again, on my choices:
From Anne Patchett's book, This is the Story of a Happy Marriage, and the short story in it by the same name: "I understood that I had avoided catastrophe by the thickness of a coat of paint. He had done me the two greatest favors that anyone had ever done me in my life: he got me out, and then he let me go." I often send silent prayers of thanks to Crisfield, MD, for this.
And this, from the Cup of Jo blog, a post "How I Made Peace with my Divorce," because I occasionally do look back, and wonder:
What if my husband and I could have made our marriage work? If so, we might have spared our children so much grief. Imagine if, now — more than halfway through our sixties — we were living together on our old farm, welcoming our grandchildren there. Gathering around the big old trestle table where, long ago, we once rolled out the cookie dough and made potato print holiday cards. What if the whole thing — our years of doing battle with each other, the money spent on lawyers, my move to another town, and then another town after that, and another after that — had all been unnecessary? What if, instead of shuttling between our two houses all those years, with their brown paper bags of clothes and baseball gloves and school projects and stuffed animals — our three beloved children had gotten to grow up with their two parents, together, under one roof?
My sense of grief over the picture I’d made in my head that night lasted only a few days. Gradually, it came to me that the story I’d allowed myself to fall in love with — of the characters who might have resolved their problems — was a work of fiction. The real characters who had in part inspired it — my children’s father and I — could never have lived out our lives happily and lovingly together. We were too different. It wasn’t even about a shortage of romantic kisses like the one I used to study on my postcard. That’s the Hollywood version of what keeps a couple together. As hollow as that phrase may be — irreconcilable differences — it applied to us.
I do wonder "What If," to both of these musings, and yet . . .
Gosh, it's been awhile since I've posted. Busy with Mom, family events, work, life. And I love it this way - mostly.
Reintroducing myself seems like a good thing to do now, so here I go:
Ronda Walker - born in Rigby, ID. Graduated from Rigby High School in the late '70's. My family moved to Orem, UT during this same time. I have 6 siblings - 3 brothers, 3 sisters, I'm the oldest. My father owned restaurants in Idaho and managed several in Utah after moving here.
I married 2 weeks before I turned 19 (my other options were college - nursing, teaching . . . well, that's it, so I married). We lived in Orem, then Brigham City, then Alabama, then back to Utah, where I've lived for the past 26 years, and where I tell some people, I've been trying to leave for the past 26 years.
I have 2 amazing children, who are the loves of my life.
18 years ago I graduated with my MA in Folklore from Utah State University. I began college at 31 in AL, finished at 44 in Utah, with an AA from UVU and my BA from BYU.
Shortly after I graduated from USU (goal 1), I went to Crisfield, MD to do research with the Folklife Field School from the Library of Congress (goal 2 - fall in love with a community doing research). I fell in love with myself, learned about myself, and 3 short weeks later came home, asked for a divorce (after 25 years of marriage), and moved forward (subconsciously goal 3).
My kids and I moved into my parents home in Orem, and about 4 months later I married Scott Weaver (my rules were - never marry again, marry someone who wasn't from Utah, had life experience, and no children at home - met 2 of those), whose parents had lived across the street from my folks all these years. We've been married 17 years. Scott has 4 children.
Together we have 20 stunning grandchildren. We love each other's children, and for the most part, they love us. Put these kids and their spouses together in a room, and there's no telling whose is whose.
I've been involved in the communities I've lived in, particularly as one of the founders of Timpanogos Singer Songwriter Alliance (TSSA) and as Orem City's first Arts Council Director.
I've had several jobs/careers, meeting amazing people along the way. Yet the 2 which have been my passion are teaching and chaplaining.
I taught folklore and writing at UVU (an amazing blessing) for almost 20 years, as an adjunct professor.
I say "almost" because in the fall of 2012 I found a lump in my left breast. I had surgery, chemo, radiation, and then spent 2 years figuring out who I was. That's the genesis for this blog (a former student decided I needed a "handle" and named me "Folklady." Hence the name of this blog.
In the fall of 2008, during counseling, my therapist asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I told her, "I've always wanted to be a chaplain." 2 weeks later I was in a healthcare chaplain program.
For several years I taught and chaplain'ed, and then 6 years ago I had the privilege of going full-time, as a Palliative Care chaplain working at Utah Valley Hospital. I absolutely love what I do - working with cancer patients as well as people whose lives are nearing the end or those who have difficult and life-altering diseases.
I also have a counseling business, where I counsel folks in "transitions" whether health, marriage, religion, region, and these days, post-pandemic stress.
When I'm not working my butt off, I enjoy exercising, reading, traveling (so excited to use my passport again next month), sewing, cooking, gardening (just re-landscaped this spring), good live music, spending time with our children, and writing - even more now than when I was teaching. I also love deep conversations - talking philosophy, rhetoric, thoughts, not people.
I'm an introvert, a deep thinker; I'm tough skinned yet hate conflict, and I have little tolerance for overly-emotional or overly-sensitive folks. I'm a "take me as I am" person.
So there's the short and sweet of me; my blog has been my journal of these past 8.5 years. You can read all my ramblings and some writings from others that touch my heart.
