Slice of Life: A Daily Story

Day Two

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Bumping Into

It’s very difficult to bump into old “friends”. I’m not even sure if I can call them “friends” – at least not any longer. At one time in my life, they were very close “friends”; and what I mean by that is that I confided many personal things to one or more of these bumped into “friends”. My life was impacted by them in various ways, good and bad. And as I said, it is very difficult to bump into old “friends”.

But here I am, standing awkwardly with many thoughts running through my head. Things like, ‘gosh, what am I supposed to say to her?’ or ‘do I give them a hug?’ and even ‘I wish they were still a part of my life.’ Time and distance does that, builds awkwardness into a once casual closeness that was not lost on either me or them. But now? Now I stand here uncomfortable and longing to get away.

There are things left unsaid. Does she know how healed I have become? Does he know how much he rooted me and gave me security? Can he ever understand how his being fallibly human enabled me to approach authority figures? Probably not; nor is this the time or place to discuss such things. And so I look away and watch my feet and smile and make small talk and recognize the longing within myself that sought more. More from each of them. I was needy then, maybe I still yet am. Maybe that contributes to the awkwardness, this recognition that I’ve not changed as much as I believed. The story moves forward.

She did look good, not seeing us as she scanned the crowd far above our heads. If it hadn’t of been for my companion she would have disappeared altogether without ever noticing me. But her attention was drawn to us by the shout of my companion. And she looked at her. And then she saw me. And I stood. I had to; she was after all coming towards me. And so I stood. I hugged her lightly – at least I believe I hugged her lightly. It’s hard to know if I did or didn’t for you see right at that moment I was lost in the longing of myself and the past and who we were together in friendship. We chatted idly, about the wedding, about her daughter’s wedding album(s), a mention of her son and then she was off. I fumbled with items in my bag, drawing a deep breath; my companion nudged me and mentioned that he was waving at us. I looked down upon the floor and yes, there he was, standing where he sits every year that we are here, smile as big as his face and arm waving wildly. I smile back and wave slightly and then the moment was past. They looked toward the stage and I resumed fumbling through my bag. I don’t feel regret and yet there was something. Maybe it is the realization of the loss of the friendship, the recognition of that which was and can never be again. The story moves forward.

And then we are off to lunch, my companion and me. I sat in the seat of the bus, staring out the window, stopped at a traffic signal near the place that we were to be let off. They came into my vision, I focused and I saw them. I said nothing. At least I believe I said nothing. Once again I was lost in my own thoughts, the past met the present in the longing of myself. However this relationship was never as close or as strong as the relationship between me and the two sitting on the floor of the center. Ever. In fact the relationship between me and the he of these was much more volatile than any relationship I had ever experienced with and by a person of authority. I learned a lot from this relationship, from this friendship, from him; I learned that it is alright to argue with authority, it is ok to question authority, I can raise my voice to authority, and that those in position of authority are not above me and not better than me. And so I exited the bus and as I did we paused; all four of us saw each other at the same time and we hugged lightly and smiled gently. I tried to keep the pity deep behind my eyes so he could not see that that was the feeling I now held for him. We chatted briefly about lunch, where to eat, what was good, did he treat us to the Mexican restaurant just last year or was it two years ago. And then we parted, they boarding the bus and we off to lunch. The feelings were far more muted than I thought they would have been, should they have been? The friendship, if truly there was “friendship”, seemed entirely past. And I suppose that is as it should be. After all, they are not in my daily life any longer.

I have moved on…that much was made plain today as I bumped into old “friends”. I am no longer the person I was seven years ago or eleven years ago, or even fifteen years ago when I first moved to Virginia. I am more confident of who I am in my own skin, of my own opinions and of my own feelings. While I am ever grateful to them, they are not integral to the development of me any longer. Bumping into them made that blatantly obvious. I am, apart from all of them, more complete.    

Slice of Life: A Daily Story

Day One

Friday, June 22, 2012

She

She walked upon the stage, haltingly, cautiously, almost wearily. The weeks have been long and difficult – moving does that at times and all the packing is taking a toll on her already weakened body. Illness does that at times. She was still young and unwilling to believe that she was no longer vital. What is vitality anyway? Well, if your career involves speech and one has lost the power of speech then obviously vitality involves the ability to talk. So I guess I am no longer vital, she thought to herself. She breathed deeply and placed one foot on front of the other, forcing herself forward across the stage. Recognition for achievements seems all but mundane in the face of the loss of her job, her career, her calling. YOUR calling God, she thought, YOUR call upon my life. Arriving mid-stage, she stopped and listened to her name echo through the sound system around the giant space that is the civic center. Accolades for a job well done, for all of her accomplishments, for all that she has done for and given to the church, the constituents, the conference. She dropped her head – not out of embarrassment, more out of shame. A feeling of failure seemed to seep deep into her bones and settle there. And then the Bishop approached her, hugged her, whispered into her ear – “there is more for you to do; God isn’t finished with you yet.” The tears began to well within her eyes. The applause began subtlety and began to grow. By the time she was released from the Bishop’s embrace the entire room was upon their feet and applauding. A standing ovation, for me, she thought. The tears fell. She slowly walked off the stage, escorted and aided down the stairs, she exited the room. Around the corner, out of sight, hidden from all the eyes – pull yourself together girl. She returned to the hall, walked to her seat. She held her head high.

Pride, isn’t that one of the seven deadly sins? She didn’t care; she was going to make sure that retained her pride in the face of her bitter loss. She had heard the call from God while still a young adult in college; it challenged her and urged her to change her major life course to that of a minister. Being a minister is a tough job, ridiculously tough as a female; the perspectives of many older congregations were not aligned to the acceptance of women in the pulpit, even now. Had she miss heard? Maybe she had misinterpreted? She completed seminary, began her ministry as every woman in the conference had, in the small rural church of the Shenandoah Valley. The Valley was the truest test of the preaching abilities of the women – if rural Virginia could tolerate you in the pulpit, then a successful career in the pulpit was assured. And she passed, with flying colors, and was moved to a very urban community. Things were going wonderfully and then she was struck – unable to speak; as debilitating as a construction worker becoming a quadriplegic. She was left bereft, broken, and feeling abandoned by God. Friends encouraged her, prayed with her and for her, uplifted her. Words of comfort and care surrounded her. And she knew the value of the words, and for the most part agreed with each sentiment. Yes, she knew that while God closed one door he would open another. Yes, she knew that God would walk with her through this period in her life. Yes, she knew that great things would come if she trusted in God. Yes, she knew … At times she just wanted to scream, but she didn’t even have the ability to do that any longer, did she?

She sat in her chair, on the floor of the civic center, with her head held high, and the tears streaming down her face; and those around her offered yet another platitude, another sentiment. They placed their arms around her shoulders and they gently hugged her and they encouraged her to hang in there, hold on, and wait upon the Lord. And she smiled bravely, with the tears streaming down her cheeks, and nodded slightly with each passing word and touched each hand lightly. And within, within she was screaming.   

Snapshots of Life

Snapshots of Life. Of living. Of being.


A photograph ... capturing a second of a moment in time and space. People frozen in time, forever.


Like this ...

Jeff and Karen in Paris

Looking at this photograph we, the viewer, have no connection or attachment to it or the setting (some of you don't even have know who Jeff and Karen are). We look at this photograph and say "gorgeous setting" or "don't they look happy" or even "wow". But we are not there, we are not Jeff and Karen, and we are not the photographer. Jeff and Karen, however, will look back on this photograph someday in the future and will remember not only where they were but who they were with (Bernard and Tracey), what they were doing moments before this photograph was taken, where they went moments after. Maybe they will remember where they ate breakfast or lunch, maybe where they shopped, or where they ate dinner. This photograph, to Jeff and Karen, will bring back a memory of visual images and a flood of emotions. They are connected to this photograph, to this event, to this moment in time and space. We, we are merely outside observers that have knowledge ... you now having more knowledge after reading this paragraph than you may have had just looking at the picture. But knowledge isn't a cue to memory and knowledge does trigger emotional responses.

Now, imagine living your entire life as the unattached viewer of a photograph. Imagine you have no connection to not only the visual cues of photographs but also the visual and audible cues of video images. Imagine having no emotional correlation to anything that you are seeing or hearing. You would not, could not, ever be involved in a life that you have no relationship to. 

That, THAT has been my life to this point in time. Snippets of a life that I have lived, a photograph of a moment forever frozen in time but not connected to me. Until this point in my life.

I imagine that most people can recall a moment in their life and remember what they were doing, where they were, and who they were with. I imagine that THIS is finally how things are becoming for me. Finally, after a lifetime of lack, I will have a full and complete picture. Not merely what I know, for knowing is different that memory, than remembering. I will have a complete picture of a life not only known about but also remembered. 

It is a scary thing. It is an exciting thing. It is a miraculous thing. It is a first. Finally, it is all me.

Monica and Kim

This is me and one of my very best friends on Rosedale Dr. in Las Cruces. It was taken on the way to high school, Mayfield High School. We had just stepped out of the house and her brother, Danny, snapped this picture of us as he was teasing us (an activity that he did often when he was home). We will come back to her house after school and listen to Donny Osmond and the Beatles White Album, drink sodas and munch on chips, and we will talk about the boys in high school, the girls in high school, and we will try our hardest to fit in even though we both know that we will not ever fit in. 

I remember, not only this day but many days such as this at Kim's house.

The Sounds of Silence

So, I am sitting here (well, laying actually) in what would be absolute quiet, if not for the small plane landing at Langley, with myLittle Kitty on one side and myAnnie on the other, pondering the deep silence of the house. A silence, now that the plane has landed, that isn't even disturbed by the breathing of the animals beside me. 


This, I realize, is the first time in my entire life that I have had a moment of total silence "all-to-myself". It is rather disconcerting and yet ... and yet it is also rather amazing. 


There is a calm in this deep silence. 


The caucophany that causes stress andstringshighemotionintoanxiousactivityis, well, is gone. 


I simply ... am. 


That may not seem like a lot to most people but to me ... me, myselves and I? Well, this is like being in paradise, or how I would imagine paradise to be, not ever having been to an island paradise. It may be a once in MY lifetime occurrence, or THE calm before a storm, or simply a gift from many to one. It MAY mean absolutely nothing. OR, it MAY be the dawning of a new ME.

Slice of Life: A Daily Story

I have found my next big  365 day adventure. Ruth and Stacey at Two Writing Teachers encourage readers to reflect on a moment of a day, 31 days specifically, March 1st to March 31st — bring a small slice into focus, and consider it as a writer. So, I have decided to utilize their challenge, take a small slice of each day for a year (ack! Am I crazy?), consider it and write about it. Look for this crazy adventure not only here in this blog but also on facebook where I'll be posting them in notes. I'll be starting in exactly 67 days, since there are 66 days remaining on my 365 Daily Photographic Gratitude Journal. Hard to believe a year is almost complete. It went by far too quickly.

The End

And so it all comes to an end for yet another year. The Lenten Dailies, the Stations of the Cross, the Encouraging words that I have been doing (on Facebook). I have learned so much about myself through the writings this year, through the readings of the posts by my friends, through the comments made by friends and acquaintances. I have grown and the most important thing through these Lenten encounters is that I have seen the growth. Even more impressive is that I like who I have grown into.


Change is hard to embrace at times, especially change within oneself. It has taken me some seventeen years to reach this point of maturity, to become the woman that I see myself as today. It has taken me some seventeen years to say honestly, I like the person I am becoming. 


I thank God for this journey during Lent this year.

Via Crucis :: Immersion

Fourteenth Station:  Jesus is Placed in the Tomb (Matthew 27: 57-60)

The Tomb

 ^57-61 Late in the afternoon a wealthy man from Arimathea, a disciple of Jesus, arrived. His name was Joseph. He went to Pilate and asked for Jesus' body. Pilate granted his request. Joseph took the body and wrapped it in clean linens, put it in his own tomb, a new tomb only recently cut into the rock, and rolled a large stone across the entrance. Then he went off. But Mary Magdalene and the other Mary stayed, sitting in plain view of the tomb.

Jesus impacted the lives of many Many individuals. He impacted groups of people. He impacted those whom He walked among, people from before and future people. Jesus made an impression and an imprint upon all of humanity for all of eternity. Jesus was, is, and ever shall be THAT person - THE person who touches the lives of all who hear about Him. Thus it was so even as He died upon that cross. And moved, the Arimathean asked to place the body of Jesus Christ into a tomb that he owned. Impact; then, now and forever. Thank God!


Father God, Your son, a simple unassuming man is known of by millions and millions of people - loved, hated, praised, jeered, cared for, tortured. There is no in between. And Jesus Himself stated that it would be so - none could straddle the fence, you are either for Him or against Him. None can be "lukewarm". Father God, may I always be "on fire" for You through Your sacrificial son Jesus Christ. May I NEVER "stay upon the fence". May I always be with You Father God, now and forever, through Your son, Jesus Christ.