Awakenings

This morning I awoke to snow.

Tabletop

A friend shared a North Carolina sunrise while it was still dark here in AZ; it prompted me to look for this morning's sun.

I was in no way disappointed.

Mile high AZ.

I sat at my kitchen island, listening to the drip of melting snow and the whine of not-quite-a-puppy-anymore Giup.  I made microwavable rice (with chicken broth, and soon to be drenched in butter, salt and pepper) in an attempt to avoid fast food later that day; I didn't go in to work until 2, and I knew I should take a hike.

But I didn't want to.

My body and mind cry for the release of stress; my eyes often welling up and tears flowing freely.  It's been a very unusual week, and waiting for a house to sell doesn't improve my mood, either.  Having pink eye might be another reason.

It's Christmas this week, and for the first time in 30 years, I didn't send out cards.  Money is tight, and my heart too full.  I'm learning not to dread days but to be neutral-it's not me but it's better than the alternative.

Good things are happening; I had an epic little date with Lad.

Star Wars:  The Force Awakens

I was disappointed; it felt like fan fiction.  The next morning I felt like this:

Interestingly, only Ian & Shawna agreed.

The skies, however, never disappoint me.

People disappoint me, even though they don't intend it...and I'm learning to let it go.  In the long run, it doesn't matter.  Is this a callus I am forming?  Maybe.

I'm just tired of expecting a little, and receiving nothing.

It's Christmas.  I'm expecting nothing but to be with my family, and that's enough for me.  That's just how it has to be....for now.  And that's ok for me.

My Hope is Built on Nothing Less

"The world just isn't ready for you," he said.

I spent an hour last night chatting with a dear friend I hadn't seen in a few months.  As I shared my angst, his soft chuckles reminded me of why the friendship had endured:  his ability to see through my Lithuanian dramatics and bring me back to a place of logic and reason.

Have you ever noticed how dramatic it is to go through a car wash?  I mean seriously, there's this crazy element of possible danger...

 

The element of possible danger.  Is it why we stay, hurt and bruised, instead of moving on?  Is it better to be injured and unhealing than risk the possible danger of the unknown?  Having just recovered from 22 weeks of a broken hand, I know healing is better.

 

In the past few weeks, I have regained the ability to fit into all of my skinniest jeans.  Last night, I noticed they weren't fitting as well...they were even looser!  The King claimed I was losing muscle.  I asked him to grab my butt; he was quickly reassured that was not the case.

 

I stopped listening to the experts at least a month ago.  I hike once or twice a week - and my legs and backside are proof of it.  I eat a freaking "lunchable" of chicken poppers and pretzels for lunch, and gorge on junk food (if I want it) in the evening.  At least twice a week I do add a smoothie to my morning (who knew spinach, plain yogurt and a banana was so good?)  And then there's buttermilk.  It soothes my very soul.

 

My sister-in-law sent me a Michigan hoodie in a Star Wars pencil case, and reminded me to look for my favorite things...at work I see this:

Too many favorite things here...the poinsettia, the red licorice from my favorite volunteer Ka, the history periodical (because I work in a museum!) and the steampunk con flyer...

Another friend told me I have the coolest dad ever, and informed me that he knew that because I talked about my dad all the time.  My daddy makes me coffee every morning, and I admit that's pretty cool.  He also fixes cars, is very handy and loves sci-fi, airplanes and the internet.

I share his love of the last three!  We took a coffee selfie, it had 76 likes on Facebook!

 

Yet lately it seems I shed too many tears.  This is wrecking havoc on my body, with first an eye ulcer, then a migraine, then a cold sore, and this morning, pink eye.

Please don't suggest supplements.  I don't need to add righteous indignation to my growing list of emotions.

So I truly believe "the best is yet to be," and purposed to make the best.

Redecorating!  Surrounding myself with trimmings from Mackinac, my place of peace.

And while searching for a local place of peace, and thinking I was a cool off-roader, I did this to my trusty Durango:

Boulders are often larger than you realize when you have no depth perception.

So this morning I turn on KING classic Christmas radio out of Seattle, weep a little more (maybe I can clear up pink eye by crying?  It's worth a shot!) and I remind myself of the good in life.

Friends (near and far...but I am truly missing terribly the ones who are far)
Family (all healthy and whole.  One cannot ask for more.)
Sunshine (so thankful for the blue skies, too)
Rocks (even though I hit one rather hard - the beauty of the Dells and the surrounding mountains is breathtaking)
Coffee (no explanation necessary)

and this:

Pauly's new street tacos at Nastee Dogs.  OH.  MY.  WORD.

But most importantly...

Jesus.

'Tis the season of our Savior's birth...and as my world melts down around me, as everything I've known changes and is rearranged, as I learn I will never be rescued by the man I thought would never let me go, and the world just is "not ready" for the ideas and wonderment I have to offer...I have peace in just this one thing.

My Savior.

Not a man, that he should tell or act a lie, neither the son of man, that He should feel repentance or compunction for what He promised.  Has He said and shall He not do it?  Or has He spoken and shall He not make it good? (Number 23:19)

I am brought back to Isaiah 54; my mainstay throughout widowhood...and again relevant as I am heartsore. 

Set in antimony...I smile out of curiosity.

My Hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness.

I've got this.

No.

He's got this.

False Start

Sometimes, we jump the gun.

Thumb Butte, late afternoon, Thanksgiving Eve.

All week, I had stressed about Thanksgiving.  The King and I have not seen eye to eye for sometime; the holiday required a show of togetherness that I had no desire to fake.

So I stressed.

A lot.

This kind of stressing.

I purposely went up the steep side, daring the air monster to show up, just so I could get mad.

Couldn't find him...

I rested at my reward bench, drinking in the view and sipping from my water.  My stress had vanished in the climb, and I collected my thoughts.  It was going to be fine.

It was better than fine.

Despite our differences, we proved we could enjoy our time as a family.

So, encouraged by others, I thought I could branch out a bit, and explore other options.

On the Constellation, in jeans and boots.

It'd been awhile, and honestly I was a tad reluctant.  Thumb Butte had become a refuge, it didn't seem right switching up my trails.

Somewhat heart shaped rocks-not much of a sign.

I thought it would be fun, but in the end I was too hot, was unprepared without water, and I missed my views (the view from the Constellstion?  My work!)  I realized belatedly that I should have stuck to what was working.  I didn't like finding airplane pieces without a partner, didn't like being next to that other place of stress, my place of employment.  What I thought would work didn't...and I was disappointed in my choice.

But then there's this:

Seriously.  When I parked in the driveway!

So I'm back to what I know (ditching a hike because it's too cold) and I'm learning what I like, what I could like, and maybe what should be.

Apparently, pride in one's clean vehicle is a good thing?!

I'm learning...

Rivers and Buttes and Such

I missed a week because of this.

Another day of snow!!!

(Although this photo is from the first snow.  Just FYI.  For transparency, you know.  Like the Obama administration.  Truth.)

I suppose it was ok I missed a week, as the day before I walked all over ASU's campus for homecoming.

Viking braids at last!!

But I hated missing my new habit, and was determined to make up for it with a trek up the steep side this week.

Look at the shadows on the butte-don't they look like climbers?!

It was tough-I had an air monster episode that scared me just a bit.

My reward.

What stinks is I was to meet a friend at 5pm, so I hurriedly skipped down the butte, ever conscious of the time.  

Except they *thought* they had texted to say they were gonna be late (i.e. they wouldn't show up until after the Packers won their game.)

Needless to say, I was still thrilled.  The hike had been hard, and I had loved it.  I sang, skipped and danced my way down, much like I had done another day on the butte this summer.

For finally, it was over.

Grief has stages:  denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I find I tend to lump my stages together, and rarely (if ever) do things the way everyone else does.  My depression came with my denial, much earlier this summer.  Over the weekend, I tried to bargain away my anger.  What happened instead?  I found freedom.

Acceptance.

Coffee really does taste better in one of my mugs...but now with coffeemate and a single sweet'n'low 😊

My time machine doesn't allow travel to the future as fast as I'd like, but I'm learning to pace myself and enjoy the ride.  My fast hike up the steep side reminded me that pain can accompany a trip too quickly taken, and sometimes slow and measured is better.  

Much better.

Fitness Quest.  Learning that life's quest is more than just fitness as we traditionally think of it.  It's a process of discovery I'm finding challenging, painful and rewarding, all at once.

Excuse me.  It's time to bring my time machine out and dust it off.  This quest has just barely begun.

The Rapid Pace of a Snail

These are days to simply get through.

Beautiful Callie.

Callie's death impacted my life in ways I least suspected.  Since her memorial last week I've only managed to hang on to one new habit:  my solo Monday Thumb Butte hike.

Breathtaking as always.

This hike was different; I never before noticed it was oak trees lining the trail.

Stunning autumn.

I don't mind hiking alone, although my preference is to have a partner.  Perhaps a time of quiet reflection is healthy; I simply know my preference is to have a companion.  Always.

 At least I know where this trail goes...my life trail?  No clue.

My oldest is home for a few days, and it's so good to have all three children together.

Lad towers over his sisters!

Tonight we had dinner as a complete family; I wonder how many more of these dinners as a family of five we have ahead of us.  So many changes, so few assurances.

Holding on to hope.

Do Over

It's time to begin again.

Nicki & I near the summit of Thumb Butte.

My Fitness Quest ground to a halt; my former career was over.  My life had been turned upside down, and I didn't know what I was doing.

Until now.

I'm so easily motivated.

Time to restart a business, with a friend who partners with me.  Time to restart a quest, simply because I can.

So very true.

In the past week, I've gone from wondering how to correct a wrong path to changing the entire destination.  Horrible things have happened, and wonderful things have occurred.  Never before in my life has there been such extremes; tumultuous doesn't begin to describe the waves. 

It started last Sunday, when a thirteen year old girl committed suicide.

The California girls.

She was a good friend of my daughter's, often staying at our home.  She had the most beautiful blue eyes I'd ever seen, and now she was dead at her own hand.  I watched my baby girl bravely call her friends and share the devastating news; strangely proud as she calmly and graciously shared of their friend's passing.

This week has seen her tears and mine; last Wednesday I made the final decision to move forward.

I also got to get steampunked, which is always cause for celebration.

 Poison Ivy & I.

From top of the world to the depths of despair, my heart has seen and felt it all this past week.

So thankful for the chef's in my life.

And so today it starts again:  a new quest, a new business. Perhaps I should just call it what it is:  a new life.

Insights

This week I empathized with a woman I've never met, as I see startling similarities despite different choices.

I'm beginning to see it so differently now.

My heart broke for her; I wept for her.  The depth of understanding shook my core, and I prayed for her.  

I could not pray for her husband.

She is blamed for her actions, yet his initial actions and later response over time is far crueler than her indiscretions.  The root cause of so many heartbreaks between a man and wife start with a simple thing:  a man ignoring his wife.

It doesn't matter what she's done; or if he's simply too exhausted and stretched himself.  The truth is he first uncovers her, and it leaves her vulnerable.

Uncovering:  when a wife no longer feels emotionally protected by her husband. The consequences vary, but always it leaves a path of destruction in its wake.

Only the man can rectify it.  Only a husband can bring his bride back under the shelter of his protection.  In the relationship between men and women, there are certain things only one can do:  only a woman can bear children, for example.  In this marital breakdown, caused by the man, only the man can fix it.

If he first stops thinking only of himself.

In the meantime, she is left to repeat mistakes, seeking only the protection he removed.  

The cycle repeats if the man waffles; his lack of decision makes matters worse.  

I'm watching from afar this scene unfold while dealing with my own heart...and I realize there is so much we judge about other women.

When their hearts beat as ours do.  As they fall prey to the insecurities their man exposes them to.  As they make choices that others judge on the surface, refusing to examine the cause.

As I prepare to re-enter the industry I love, my eyes are open for the hurt, the uncovered, the abandoned.  It has always been my desire to help them, but now I feel as if I come from a place of understanding them.

Men, wake up.  You have far more power over us than you know.  Use it wisely; you create more situations that you resent than you'll ever know. Think first of her, regardless of her sins.  Be the man she needed-recognize your own failings towards her.  For truly it is you who guards her gate...and only you who can swing it wide open.

Apple Roses

I worked late tonight, and then drove straight to another meeting.  My youngest kept blowing up my phone, and  I answered it snapping, "what do you want?"

Not inaccurate.

"I'm making you Apple Roses and wanted to know when you'd be home."

For the uninitiated, these are to which she refers:

http://youtu.be/_Dirf_QHDCw

I shared it earlier this week on Facebook.

This has been a tough week.  Today was probably my best day, as I start to settle in a bit.  Last night was little date with Lad:

Plane junkies.

B-47's did nothing for me, but the film of three B-52's taking off, followed by their tankers was exhilarating.  The talk also encouraged me as a programmer...even five-time aviation hall of fame inductee's aren't the best at public speaking.

Today I resolved to do the things I've always wanted to do...and that meant a ride in a helicopter simulator tonight.

Note the start of a double chin.  Sigh.

It was so realistic I got airsick.  Thinking that helicopter lessons are probably not for me.

He probably agrees.

OH!!!  That reminds me.  Happy news, my new iPhone 6s's name is Goose.

It's rose gold and has gold honeycomb and black bees on it.  The name is perfect!

My old iPhone 4s's name was TK421.

I miss TK421.

My 5s always irritated me so I never named it.

ANYWISE...

Two-stepping.  It's on the no regrets agenda.  Probably need to take a fixed-wing discovery flight.  Trying two new companies and helping a third.  These are all good things.

As is this.

My sweet daughter made me Apple Roses.  They were yummy, but I know I stole some of her thunder with my curt answer to her seventh text/call.

I hate that.

The lesson I'll take from the Apple Roses:  Love never fails.  Regrets aren't always the opportunities you didn't take.