BACK WHEN "YOU" WERE "YOU"
 There is a car commercial that shows a teenager learning to drive. In the next sixty seconds we see him go from a boy to a man.  Getting his first car, a little red roadster, going off to college, getting married, having kids and a career. 
The announcer chronicles all of this in verse as the music swells. The spot ends with the man buying a new car( a modern red roadster)  that the announcer says reminds the now middle aged guy "of when you were "you".  
At first I scoffed at the commercial.  It seemed to be saying buying a new car is the secret to surviving a mid life crisis. The secret to throwing off the tired mantle of the old married domesticated man.
 Is that what they're saying to me?  It felt a little annoying and insulting to this old married lady.    Fast forward a few months later to when my 11 year old mommyvan told me in no uncertain terms " I'm not long for this world"  I traded in the van for my own little red roadster.  A 2011 cranberry Nissan Rogue. 
Once behind the wheel, I got it. I understood the feeling of being taken back, to when "you", where "you."
Back to the time when it was only me in my first car.    A time when confidence and optimism coursed through my veins. A time when self doubt was still a stranger to me.
A time before children, and carpools, and the work a day demands.
Now I know how a little red car can take you back to a time when you were different.  For me it not only took me back to when "me was me," but it awakened something in me.  The desire to take out
some of those 30 year old hopes and dreams. To bring them out into the light, dust them off and let them breath.
 Back when you were you.. I remember then, I remember that girl.  She's still part of me. I am excited about getting to know her again.

MADNESS!!!

Today I watched a 30 second tragedy unfold.
It will stay with me for a long time.

I opened our newsroom e-mail..it was a video clip sent by an angry Mother.
It wasn't a complaint about late school buses,  a bad lunch or an incompetent teacher.

The video was something far more egregious..
It began with a teenage boy walking up to a sitting teenage girl.  Before you can comprehend what you're seeing he begins to slam his fist into every part of her body.
He lands blows to her head, shoulder, and face.
Then when you think it can't possibly get more 
horrific, it does.
The sitting teen tries to fight back, but her flailing arms strike him once maybe twice. By then he has snatched her out of the chair, slammed her against a wall then to the ground. He pounds her face relentlessly like a boxer.
All of this turns my stomach, but what breaks my heart is the fact that a classroom full of students are there, in person watching, laughing, excited by the drama. Not one of them steps in to stop it.
There is no teacher in sight,  it's as if the students were left on their own to challenge and destroy each other like something out of Hunger Games.
AS I WATCHED MY HEART BROKE, FOR ALL THOSE KIDS
WHOSE KINDNESS AND COMPASSION WERE SWALLOWED UP BY CALLOUSNESS AND CRUELTY.
HOW DID IT HAPPEN, HOW DID THEY BECOME INDIFFERENT TO WATCHING A FELLOW  HUMAN BEING INFLICT SUCH SUFFERING ON  ANOTHER??
I THOUGH OF MY DAUGHTER CASSIDY,  AND MY SON CONNOR.  I WONDERED IF THEY WOULD HAVE TRIED TO STOP IT? IF THEY WOULD HAVE RUN TO FIND AN ADULT OR WOULD THEY HAVE STAYED IN THE CLASSROOM AND WATCHED?

• MY HUSBAND I RAISED THEM TO BE COMPASSIONATE, WE RAISE THEM TO BELIEVE THAT WE ARE ALL GOD'S CHILDREN.

WE RAISED THEM TO FEEL EMPATHY FOR THOSE WHO ARE SUFFERING.

I KNOW IN MY HEART, THEY WOULD NOT SIT AND WATCH THAT SAD SPECTACLE AND THAT ENCOURAGES MY SOUL.
BUT I AM STILL SAD FOR THAT BOY AND THAT GIRL AND ALL THOSE KIDS IN THE CLASSROOM.
THEY HAVE ALL LOST SOMETHING THEY MAY NEVER GET BACK.
INNOCENCE AND EMPATHY.. AND THAT IS THE REAL TRAGEDY.

THE GIRL 


I'm  not her... the girl every eye rests on when she comes into a room.
The girl whose screw up are considered cute. I'm not the most popular, turning down invitations to lunch or coffee.
I'm not the witty one, or the one with perfect grammar skills or the speller.

I'm not the skinny girl who can eat whatever she craves and still look forward to short sleeves and swimsuit season.

I'm not the chick who always looks perfectly put together,  the girl with the cute laugh and the cascading  hair.

I'm not the one who is quick with a quip that can bring the house down.

Popular, pretty and perfect, that's not me
.
I'm not those things but I am this girl..
the cause of my Husband's smile and the gleam in his eye.
The girl whose 18 year old daughter still greets her with a hug and who will occasionally sit on her lab.

The girl she still calls Mommy.

I am the girl who is still asked by my 13 year old son to tuck him in and
say good night prayers.
 I am the girl who can pick up a phone and call her Mother just to say I love you.
I am the girl who can still make my sisters laugh and my brothers proud.
The girl who has a huge extended family who know me and pray for me and ask my advice
The girl who knows who made me and that his work is not a mistake but a thing of beauty.
I am the girl who knows her Father is the source of all that is good, and beautiful and pure, and strong.
I am the girl at peace with the woman I am.

I ALMOST LET THE DAY GET AWAY

 HE SAID I SHOULD WRITE SOMETHING EVERT DAY AND I AGREED.

I KNOW I'M NOT WHERE I WANT TO BE. THE WORDS DON'T TUMBLE OUT IN GENTLE WAVES. THEY HIDE, I HAVE TO COAX, AND PROD THEM TO APPEAR.
THEY THEY COME HALTINGLY, IN DRIPS AND STARTS... I'M NOT SURE IF THEY ARE THE RIGHT ONES BUT THEY ARE THE ONLY ONES I HAVE SO. SO I LET THEM COME, I EMBRACE WHAT THERE IS.

I HOPE TO BE BETTER ONE DAY.. I HOPE ONE DAY IT IS EFFORTLESS AND EASY.
BUT IS IT FOR ANYBODY??  SHOULD IT BE?

SO I WRITE, EVEN THOUGH IT DOESN'T FLOW FROM MY MIND TO MY FINGER TIPS, EVEN THOUGH I'M NOT SURE IT'S GOOD ENOUGH OR OF INTEREST TO ANYONE.
I WRITE ANYWAY, BECAUSE I  PROMISED HIM AND BECAUSE I WANT THIS AND BECAUSE THE WORDS ARE SOMEWHERE INSIDE ME TRYING TO GET OUT.
I WRITE BECAUSE I CAN'T IGNORE IT, I WANT IT... EVEN THOUGH IT'S NOT PERFECT AND POLISHED.
IT IS A PART OF ME THAT I CAN'T IGNORE OR DENY.
I WRITE BECAUSE I HAVE TO.  

THE NEIGHBORHOOD

The sky stretches on forever.. at sunset, orange and gold bursts of glory  fill the horizon.
There is green wherever your eye rests,   pines thrusting into the expanse of blue and white. Palm trees lining the perimeter like toy soldiers.

Little stunted bushes, and azaleas plants who have lost their flowers until Spring.
The sidewalk meanders for miles, peppered with couples strolling along with their fur babies, or  sweaty hard cores jogging with steely resolve, or  the ramblers, more interested in conversation than cardio.

The homes are like little doll houses around the square, pastels and muted colors in various shapes and sizes each with a patch of green in front. A porch filled with patio chairs and stylish planters.

Even with so much to see, wide open spaced  are everywhere.
I can breath here.  A little square park sits in the middle of it all
 perfect for kite flying and star gazing. It's fountain gurgles night and day welcoming thirsty birds.

A short walk takes you to a pond.. home to two snowy white ducks who must sometimes share it with mallards on their way to somewhere more exotic.

It is a place of water and blue sky, and sunsets, and stars and sidewalks. The sounds of a dog barking , breezes blowing through the pines, frogs on a Summer night.   Often a plane flies overhead rumbling and low but somehow pleasant sounding.
In December lights of every color twinkle outside the houses or draped across bushes.
Sometimes massive characters in  primary colors stand grinning at nothing on the front lawns, in they morning they are in a heap like melted crayons.
Sometimes sparkles and showers of light and sound fill the July sky
and children shriek and shout with the excitement of seeing fire and color  explode into the heavens
It is called Godley Park.. the name is reverent but welcoming.
My home, where I belong.

WHAT DO I SAY???

  I don't know what to say.   The feelings are there, the desire is there but the words are hiding.


They are somewhere beyond my reach. My brain searches for them like  four leaf clovers among ordinary grass.  Sometimes I find one, pure perfect and alone. I pluck it and then what?

I make my living throwing words on a script, telling the hard, ugly news of the day to people half listening while they cook dinner.

I turn phrases,  use puns and scare them with faux warnings about over exaggerated dangers.  I write as if I am a caring friend but I am a stranger who only wants your eyes and ears for 30 minutes.

What I write is not the real me,  those are the work a day words, the shallow,  treat them like your friend words.

The real me comes out only with the rare words, the elusive ones.  That is the writing that still escapes me. That is what I long for.

How do I put my heart, or my hope into words??? How do I express my soul??  Those are the words my brain reaches for..  they are there...but do not come easily.

They are treasure, worth searching for, worth finding.

I'm Back... To Stay!!!

I haven't been here for months, but I'm back because a crisis woke me up.  A few days ago, I walked out of the gym, my workout behind me, my day before me.
As I sat in my car, it hit me,  a wave of misery, and a sense of my own wretchedness over powered me.
I was stuck in a big empty hole, of my own making. I was going nowhere, spinning my wheels on my own personal hamster wheel.
Over weight, failing eyesight, rising blood pressure, dwindling finances and advancing age.
I felt like a complete and utter failure. Just weeks after turning 53, I felt my life was a big fat nothing.
My salary, still low, my weight still up, my insecurities in tact and my accomplishments insignificant.
The one constant in my life besides my family was my slavish devotion to a soap gossip website.
Daytime Dish was my daily bread, I read is every day, sometimes twice. It was my way to   decompress after work, my stress reliever at work, my weekend diversion and my companion, entertainment and guilty pleasure.

But it was killing me, I was giving myself to something that gave me nothing in return. I argued with strangers over fictional people. I read page after page of insults,  anger filled rants and idiocy from soap fans whose sole reason for lashing out at each other was that they liked different characters on General Hospital.
I had bad dreams,  I argued with posters in my head, I was irritable and dissatisfied with myself  and my life.
My emotions rose and fell on what happened not the soap board, and what was said about my favorite characters.
I disliked those who didn't like the characters I liked, I agreed and insulted with the best of them and
every night as I got on my knees to pray before going to sleep, the guilt would come.
The Holy Spirit whispered in my ear " Is daytime dish pleasing to God? Does he approve of you reading, and arguing and drinking in that swill every day??
I knew the answer but I shook it off and kept on feeding on the garbage even as kicked myself for doing it.  I continued until that day in my car.
I felt useless, and the knowledge that I was wasting my time and talents on a sewer filled website gnawed at me.
I felt lost and alone, like the little kid who gets separated from his mom in the huge department store.
I was scared and adrift with not a clue as to which way to turn.  Like the kid, I cried out for my parent. I cried out to my Father, God.
I poured  out my fear, pain and self loathing. I fully acknowledged that I and I alone had made the big mess that now engulfed me.  I cried and prayed, and asked for forgiveness. I hated myself .
Like any good, loving parent, God showed up.
He soothed me with the Holy Spirit and told me he loved me. He told me that my deep devotion and dependence on anything besides him would always end in disaster for me.
He reminded me that his joy is my strength.  He told me to trust him, and lean on him. He invited me to be his friend again and made me remember that his love, peace and wisdom is what my soul needs more than anything the world has to offer.  He told me that he loved me.
My Father showed up to show me the way home. I drove to work with a real smile on my face.