Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Another V-Day Come & Gone

Transparent LanguageIt is true love when two people with colds can look at one another across a crowded table and feel contentment.  Not in the location (crowded & noisy) not necessarily in the all-alone-ness of it (took the kids) but in gratitude just for being there.  For making it.  For muddling at times.  For soaring at others.  For enduring.

I read yesterday of the longest marriage in Louisiana - 81 years I believe - that's the stuff of legends.  The stuff of child brides (and grooms).  That's the stuff of endurance.  Of making it through (imagine) a Great Depression, World War, Korean War, Vietnam War....it's abiding in the midst of cultural shifts that 81 years can't even fathom back when they were on year 1.  It speaks of "sticking it out" and of contentment...an emotion, feeling, state of being so often discounted and discarded.  Of finding that contentment rather than seeking some vague notion of fulfilment.  The two don't often go hand-in-hand but I'd much rather describe myself as the former rather than the latter.

In making it through as many Valentines as we have I can say that love is not a feeling - it's a state of being.  And it isn't measured by the number of flowers one receives, the sappy poems one is capable of composing, nor of the necessity of being alone.  I would submit that love is the ability to be together in the midst of chaos, of knowing when flowers have become (dare I say it) unnecessary....when legacy has perhaps taken primary importance - seen in the faces and natures of the children one has the privilege of raising.  And surely, it is patient & kind...it keeps no record of wrongs....especially no record of wrongs....

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

To recall upon a loss....

Transparent Language"...remember that all worlds draw to an end and that noble death is a treasure which no one is too poor to buy."

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Some people get more....

Transparent LanguageWhen we last encountered our blogger she was weathering a year of ups and downs and ups and downs, perhaps resting on her laurels a bit as the year rolled to a close. December was going to be a coast month....and the benefits of having a 2009 which was filled with all kinds of changes and falls from roofs and the like, was that providing for a Christmas in 2010 felt certainly more doable than in the past year.

(Gifts for kids - check)

But some people just get more.....

In this house we have seemed to get more challenges than average.  Pollyanna over in the corner with a bag over her head is wanting to scream "BUT IT COULD BE WORSE!"....Pollyanna needs to sit in the corner a while longer.

December 2010 was the beginning of our collective lives with Type 1 Diabetes.  'The baby girl' spent some quality time in the ICU was blood sugars were levelled off and I pretended all was fine and well and giving multiple injections (and receiving multiple injections) is really like Disney World only better.  Yup.  Denial.  Don't enter the ICU without it.

Even visitors just kind of half smiled and shook their heads.  Not us again.  Not another (insert big happening).  I think sometimes our family tragedy bores people.  It certainly has meant the phone lines have grown silent (you know who you are).

But in life...some people get more.  And that's life.  And I'm not sure I'd have it any other way.  There's not another societal or political or economic system that would rectify the providential nature of this life we are given.  Some people get more. Or less.  Or less is more.  It really depends on perspective.  And in the end, who are we to say what is fair or just.  (And the reality is - most of the time I wouldn't want what I justly deserve.)

Some people get more.  And it behooves us all to acknowledge the times when the getting is good and that goodness could be spread around to someone else getting an added dose of bad. 

For 2011 I plan on eating less carbs, reading fewer awful books, embracing my humor, unembracing a few people, and generally praying for the grace it takes to accept the moments of getting more (or less) in a fashion that perhaps will someday make the Giver just a bit proud of me.