Cyclothymic Cister

Before the Internet, I used to lie in bed at night composing thoughts as if I were talking to a wise entity. (An actual face never came to mind). I would re-word and re-phrase the thoughts till they were crystal clear. Now I can blog. And hopefully, there are a lot of wise people with real faces out there who might just comment back.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Bumper Sticker Snobbery

I saw a bumper sticker the other day that said “My daughter saves lives. What does yours do?”

Does that sound kind of snobbish to anyone else? While I am glad for that mother that her daughter is successful, it seems catty to ask what my daughter does, as if it would not be nearly as important as her daughter.

What hurt me was that I had the same aspirations for my daughters as that mother probably had for hers. I taught my children the right things. They were brought up in a good home with proper values. I long to be proud of them. Maybe even brag a little. Yet both of my daughters have made poor choices and have not even come close to living up to their potential. In fact, they are probably the lives that HER daughter has to save.

So I am glad there are life savers in this world. But I love my daughters just the same. They are precious to me even if they never hold prestigious positions.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Eclipse: to decline into obscurity





There is an eclipse of the moon this morning on my birthday. And just as the earth is casting a shadow across the moon, so it is across my life. Even though the light gets fainter, and the glow of my countenance gets dimmer, I'm still smiling.

Monday, August 27, 2007

on turning fifty

As a bear innately knows when to wake from hibernation, so my memories of the past 50 years have awakened from slumber. I haven’t been dwelling on the fact that I’m turning fifty. The memories just seem to be connected to an inner clock. As the chimes ring in the half-century mark, the memories yawn and stretch and come out of hiding.

The scenes intrude on my day to day life with voodoo-like jabs. Some scenes make me smile or even laugh out loud, and then suddenly one will make me cringe with embarrassment as another makes me sob with grief, and still another stirs the ache of regret. Some memories make me look back with wistful longing. I have no control of this bombardment. There seems to be no end to the flashbacks.

I’m trying to benefit from this opportunity, if I must endure it. Will I make positive changes? Will I make the same mistakes twice? Can I forgive myself for the bad I’ve done and show humility for the good? Have other people forgiven me for my selfishness and foolishness? Do I have enough fortitude to really be a better person? Or am I too lazy? Will I accomplish things that I thought I would? Should I simply be resigned to the way things were and are? Will I die before I find out?

Surely I’ve been faithful over a few things. God, remember my frame that I am just dust

Thursday, August 23, 2007

My Husband Did it Again

My husband rescued another kitten. This one was found on our vacant lot in an old iris bed. Her crying could be heard over machinery and men's voices. My husband's ears are tuned in to hear meows so he searched her out and picked her up in his arms. The horrible thing is, the kitten had been thrown in a fire. Her hair was singed, her whiskers were curled and she had no eye brows. (Thank goodness there were no burns on her body). Now she is at our house and doing well. She is a calico. We named her Varie, as in Variegated.






Scratch and Dent

There is already a big scratch. On our new hardwood floors. In a very visible spot.

When we discovered the scratch on the floor I immediately remembered a scene out of a book (a true story, entitled “A Severe Mercy” by Sheldon VanAuken). A young couple were madly in love so they made a pact to let nothing come between them, including material possessions. To ensure that didn’t happen, they purposely put a dent in their new car so the shiny new automobile would not become an icon.

In response to that anecdote my husband said, “Well, we won’t be worshiping our new floors any time soon.”