Sturdy Soul

It's nearly midnight here. I intend this post to close out my first year of blogging. But then, depending on when I push a magic computer button, it might actually become my first sharing of 2010. We'll see.



I'll admit right here: the last few weeks of this year have been rugged. A part of me is ashamed to say that, since I know others suffering grave illness. Some mourning suicides. Others struggling with chronic bodily pain and joblessness and poverty. I have none of those.



Rational thought points an accusing finger to the mirrored image and mutters: "She better shape up. Stop complaining. Just shake off the past and get ON with her life."



I'm trying. I really never thought it would take this long or be this hard. I've prayed harder than ever. Flung countless streams of heartfelt gratitude to the heavens. Felt the presence of God more sharply and intensely than ever.



And still, such sadness remains. With every fiber of my being, I know that full healing is possible, since nothing is impossible with God. But some days I don't think I will ever fully come out from under the shadow of what my father and husband have done.



But I'm trying.



As the last few minutes of this year count down, I hereby make a conscious decision to focus my attention on some good things and share those, even while tears wet the keyboard:



Thanks to the loving prompting of my daughter, I painted today. It's not finished yet since it still needs some sharp contrasts, but here it is as a work in progress.



I also closed out this year watching the last three hours of So You Think You Can Dance. That's all I was able to see of the season, since I don't have TV access. My dear daughter recorded the final shows for me and I was overwhelmed, not just with the quality of dancing, but with the overflowing emotion and joy and enthusiasm expressed by the dancers and the judges. Truly a celebration of life.



I wasn't able to finish out my 100 days of writing, but I'm quite proud of the 57 days I DID write.



And in November, I wrote poetry every day. From that body of work I've distilled a collection which I've named "Sturdy Soul." It reflects the heart of me and I am very proud of it.



So, I finish out this year in my home, alone, tears freshly dried, a painting also drying, poetry speaking of my heart's resilience. My walk with God has reached new heights and depths. My commitment to live real and honest and fully alive and loving is stronger than ever.



For this, and for the friends and family who have been so faithful in their love of me, I am truly grateful.

Touching Base

Not really sure of the purpose of this particular post, only that I felt led to write it. We'll see what comes :) . I'm gonna find some of my favorite flower and sunset pictures and sprinkle them in. With the days dark so early, I NEED this color.
This past week has passed pretty much like the few before it: still a little sick, still a little sad, still having wonderful creative moments, still experiencing times of deep sweetness with family and friends.

Yet a melancholy persists.

I hope what I'm about to say next comes out right: in the very many years that I've been working hard at surviving the life experiences I've been in, I have read, listened, prayed, studied a very very very great deal. (Here comes the maybe weird part). Because of that multitude of dedicated effort, I think I KNOW whatever it is I need to know, in order to be emotionally stable and peaceful and productive.

So, why am I not (stable, peaceful, etc.)? Yes, I agree, I do have moments when everything works well, but why has the balance not shifted, and stayed, on the side of emotional health?

Still yet more prayer and listening and humility has brought me to this conclusion: all those ideas that I KNOW, I need to believe and practice. With greater regularity. With deeper confidence.

So that's what I'm gonna focus on. My head is tired with all the knowing. My heart and soul are now gonna take the lead. I can envision more smiles, more vocalized gratitude, more laughter, more hugging, even if I've gotta hug myself.

Each day, I will act out my reenergized belief that God is Love itself, that God loves me, that God needs me, and that God lifts me up, every single moment.

And I will know (oops!! make that BELIEVE) that each one of you can feel that same Love lifting you, all throughout each day.

P.S. I'm all caught up on my Poem-a-Day challenge, and only 2 days behind on my WRITE:100, with a total of over 18,000 words so far.

After the Rain

All night the sky wept. When I woke to today's gray wet morning, Love surprised me by also waking me to a heart brimming with quiet hope.

She who loves sunshine more than words can say, rose from a sweet night's sleep, tore the lid from last night's pizza box and painted a list of possibilities for today.

Third on the royal purple list was "weed." I needed to make room for the flowers I'd bought yesterday.

I went outside, ostensibly to just turn on my fountains, but I didn't come back inside for two hours. Without any conscious intent, I bent over one of my gardens and pulled a handful of grass.

Delighted at how easily it gave up its hold, I pulled another clump. Then another.

The night's rain had not only watered last year's seeds and bulbs. It had also made it nearly a joy to pull the weeds that were choking out the perennials and those determined enough to reseed themselves.

As I worked my way through first one garden, then another, I thought of all the tears I'd shed these past few days, mourning the loss of a friendship that had, in many ways, sustained me in the nearly two years since an unwanted divorce had become final.

These recent tears at times felt like molten pain, searing my insides. But they also served to cleanse and clarify.

Late last night I was finally able to acknowledge that yes, many sharp and sweet joys came out of that friendship. But this good was, sadly, more than counterbalanced by acts of hurt and betrayal.

I am ready now to accept that I deserve better.

My weeding showed me that the rain loosened the soil, making the removal of what did not belong nearly effortless. In the same way, tears had soothed and softened my bruised heart, allowing the removal of old growth, roots and all.

Once the weeds were removed, several clumps of flowers were able to show their sweet faces.

Space was made for new flowers to be planted.

And so also do I feel tiny buds of love and tender hope stir in the soil of my soul . . . watered, yes, by tears, but also warmed into blossom by Love's constant embrace.

And I too am ready for new love to take root and bloom.