Love Who You Love

Let love give what it gives. Show love, be love, give love.

Memorial Day weekend was all about this and it was one of the best weekends I have had in a long, long while. Who did I spend it with? The majority of it was spent with the kids. We chased dogs around the neighborhood, we picked weeds, went to the plant store and picked out flowers, we dug the holes, planted the flowers, and watered them. Shortly after I swept up the mess and used the leaf blower to clear the sidewalk, we each grabbed a popsicle and sat at the top of the driveway and looked at the new, beautiful front garden. It was a beautiful moment. Just the three of us, proud of our accomplishments.

Tony helped me mow the lawn, gather the branches for the bonfire and shop for the s'mores fixings. Paige set up the lawn chairs around the bonfire pit, figured out a couple games we could play before cooking the s'mores and thought up a couple of ghost stories. At one point, I overheard Tony saying to Paige, "This has been hard work. We're making Mommy proud." And Paige's answer was, "It sure is. Help me get these chairs apart." And Tony said, "Okay Paigey."

The entire weekend was like this. We worked hard together, enjoyed our time, and when I required that they nap or rest, they abided by my wishes. After the nap on Friday afternoon, Paige stretched her arms high into the air and said, "Ah, refreshing!" I laughed and said, "I told you so."

Yesterday was supposed to be our quiet, restful day. When I got invited to a party at a friend's house, I was a bit reluctant to go because I knew the kids had played hard all weekend and I was waiting for the meltdown. I packed them into the truck, figuring I'd leave in an hour or so. At the party, they played together, they played with the other kids, they said please and thank-you, they hugged me, and all I heard was, "You're kids are so well-behaved." Ha! But they were.

It was because of all the love. We were sweating it, talking it, showing it, being it and giving it.

Ah, refreshing!

Accountability

As a mother, I am required to look beyond my own selfish needs and become as selfless as I possibly can. This explains why I was willing to work through my marriage problems with my ex. Simply because I know that we all make mistakes as human beings, and knowing that forgiveness and change forward does wonders. I was really looking beyond my own hurt, and into the future of my children.

I am one of the fortunate ones though. My marriage ended, the family broke apart but in all this time, through my own hurt and pain, I concentrated on the needs of my kids. How easy it would have been for me to pack up my bags and move to a different state - away from the pain, away from the routine and start something brand new. I thought about it. I asked God for guidance. I prayed for guidance. I read books about child-rearing and what was the most important thing for the kids. Stability. I read so many books, talked to so many counselors, priests and friends. In all of this, the only requirement for the healthy child-rearing was show them love and give them stability.

I scraped up money for the plane tickets and went back to Buffalo every chance I got. If they needed love, they got it in bucket-fulls. I am still scraping money and plan on spending every vacation in Buffalo so that my kids can be a huge part of my family. It would have been easier on me if I would have just sold the house in Maryland and moved back to Buffalo. I could have done that easily. In fact, I talked to my ex last week about this and he said, "Thank you for not doing that, Carrie. The kids need their dad." I answered, "Yes, but they also need my family." And he said, "Absolutely, which is why I never fight you on your trips up north." And for that, I thanked him. He's got that figured out, and knows the benefit of a loving family, despite our divorce.

Stability. So, that ruined my whole plan of packing up and leaving town. I am a mother and so, I am required to look beyond my own selfish needs. But then I thought about my kids.

My only role in this life now that I have given birth is to be the damn best mother I can be. That is my role in life. That is what God called me to do. He didn't come to me in a dream, and I didn't hear his voice... I just know on the day that my daughter's head appeared and I heard her first cry, that I had a purpose and that I was accountable for her well-being. And then Tony followed, and I was divided by two, and grew ever so strong.

As anyone who has read my blog for the past two years knows, I am a believer in God. I have so many strong beliefs about God's purpose for me, and when I can say kind words to heal someone's hurt, I try to do that. When I say mean things because of the hurt I feel inside, I always ask for forgiveness. When I think about myself for too long, I've come to this understanding with God that He can put me in my place - which usually means that I stand up too quickly while emptying the dishwasher in my rage and crack my head on the open cabinet door, or I hit my hip on a table as I walk past without thinking. I usually hear something like: "Tone it down a notch, Carrie." I doubt it's God's actual voice, I think that it is probably just my own voice reminding me of what I believe: Do unto others as you'd have done to you. This is my rule for my life! And these are the words of God - my God, my ex's God, my enemy's God, my family's God...

I am accountable to myself and my children to listen to what others have to say. I am required to open my ears and listen. I ask all of you to do the same.

Thanks to a fellow blog writer for posting the following. It came at the perfect time:


Wednesday, October 03, 2007
When did God become an Excuse?

So, When did God become an excuse for doing what you want? Anyone who's worked in ministry or pays attention to news about people and religion know what I mean by this statement. It seems a lot in the past few years that people in religious leadership like to use God as an excuse to do whatever they want. They say things like "We're going to do this b/c we prayed about it," or something like " This s what God wants." These statements have been used to rationalize some of the most horrible things in history. I saw a news article recently talking about a so called "pastor" who thought it was ok for a father to marry his adolescent daughter because it was part of their religion. Holy Crap, what's up with that? How can God be used to say this is ok? Because God's become the excuse. Recently I was fired from a Job where I was excelling at that job. I was fired b/c they "prayed" about it first.

How can we stop this flagrant misuse of a Holy God? It's called accountability. This kind of thing occurs in places where we give one person way to much authority. When did God ever put a single person up on a pedestal? He didn't! The only person He ever gave major authority was Himself in human form, known as Jesus Christ. If the leadership was accountable to people who walk with God daily, then less little problems like this will arise. Where people stop, think, and talk, ideas outside that of God's word start to become evident.

PLEASE for the love of God, stop using God as an excuse. Why do we feel the need to say that God has said something that you know He didn't? I think it's because no one can argue. The people that say these things know that God isn't going to just come down and confront you in public over the stupid thing you just said that He said. It's only an amount of time before you'll have to answer for what you've said. In this life or the next you'll answer for it.

Start actually praying, looking for God's leading, and do that. Regardless of what God's leading is, do that! You've got to be ready to do thing you don't want to if you're going to do God's will. It's not always the easy thing, but it's always the right thing. The right thing also isn't always what we want. Remember that the next time you're going to want to do something just because it's convenient or want to get rid of someone because you're jealous. Remember that it may not be what God wants just because you want it.

What God wants is perfect. Why do we think that just because we want it that God will in turn want it as well? How selfish our sin must be.

Now we must wait for change...God Rocks!! Jtw

Divorce Just Took Third Place

I dye my gray roots because it makes me feel good.

I go to Springsteen concerts because I love it.

I read books because I enjoy it so much.

I write because it helps me think and makes me feel better.

I go to acupuncture because it keeps me balanced.

I plant my vegetable garden so that I can enjoy the tomato juice running down to my elbows as I take half the sandwich into my mouth in one bite; and because my kids like tomatoes too.

I exercise because I want to feel healthy and be healthy.

But,

I live in Maryland for my kids, weighing the negatives of moving them away from their father and how it will affect them and their future.

I go to work every day, for my kids.

I get up every morning, make breakfast, lunch, dinner and give baths, for my kids.

I read childrens' stories every night to my kids, for my kids.

I sit down and draw, and do play-doh, puzzles and games with my kids, for my kids.

I say prayers every night with my kids, for my kids.

I take my kids to church every Sunday, for my kids.

I talk about my brothers, sister, my ex, my ex in-laws, mother, father, in-laws, cousins, nieces and nephews, telling stories and doling out compliments, for my kids.

I come home from work after working ten hours and put on a pot of sauce, letting my kids put in all the spices, stir the sauce and eat it off the spoon, for my kids.

I speak kindly to others because it's the right thing to do, and to teach my kids.

This is what mothers do. When a mother puts herself before her kids, she isn't being a mother, she is just being a person with kids.

If I wasn't a mother, and since I'm no longer married, I could do whatever I wanted. I could make any decision for the path of my life without a second thought. But I have kids. And so I don't, because they are the most important job in my life. A job I wouldn't trade for the world.

I am sick of trying to define miracles from the shit sandwich on my plate. I am sick of trying to find good in all this jumbled mess. The miracles aren't to be found in the circumstances. The miracles are to be found beyond the circumstances... looking up through the fog of the grief and seeing the beauty of a sunrise. That's the miracle. It doesn't come forth on a plate, it doesn't require the belief that you'll sit on a throne next to Jesus, bejeweled in Glory. It comes from the simple act of loving and kindness and seeing; taking into consideration how all the sacrifices, all the decisions, all the moves one makes in their life will affect the whole chemistry of the universe.

If that means sitting complacent for a while and watching my kids grow up healthy in mind and spirit, well, then I suppose they'll be my sunrise after a long life of pointing out the beauty, despite the fog.

And I'll continue to do this, for my kids.

On Faith

I am a weak person, I've decided. Not weak in the sense that I know what is essentially right and wrong for my kids, but weak in the sense that I am so very cautious.

Think about the move my ex has made for a second. He was unhappy. He didn't see any chance of the marriage getting better, so he fled. He's gone, and maybe (hopefully, in my self-centered heart, hopefully), he has felt regret. But even so, he has moved on.

Here Carrie is, sitting complacently. I'm still in the same place. Raising the kids, working, cooking, cleaning. Have I been on dates? Very few. Have I given in to the temptation to "make myself available?" - nope. I haven't even been writing that much. I haven't done that because I am so afraid. So weak. Was his move strong? In a sense, yes. He was unhappy so he moved on. I was unhappy and was willing to sit inside of it.

Adventure.

It requires faith. I am too weak to push forward to do what I want to do as an individual. I am not strong enough - yet - to move forward and tow my kids along for the ride. They'd adjust. Hell, they adjusted to the divorce, didn't they?

It has been nearly two years for them since he left. They've adjusted just fine. It is their mother that hasn't.

I got news today of a move made by a lovely person. What did I do? I lashed out. How dare she? How dare she?

Am I right in my opinion?

Hell no! I am weak in my ability to move through transitions, and I am jealous, no, envious, of those who can.

Cheers to the brave ones. I'm not there yet. With a little faith, in myself, I just might be. But not yet.

It's only been two years...

What a joke I've become.

Who You Gonna Call?

When I'm at my worst - sad, heart-broken, desperate, dismal, hopeless - I sure feel lousy. I feel so lousy that I don't want to lift my head from the pillow. I feel so lousy that nothing seems possible, that giving up seems to be the solution of strength. The clinging, wanting, yearning for meaning is unbelievable.

Thankfully, I haven't felt that way in quite awhile. Don't get me wrong, I feel pangs of it, especially since... especially since... well, you know. But the pangs are usually fleeting, lasting an hour, maybe two hours at most and usually it's not every day.

I ask you, dear readers, to imagine those people who feel that despair every hour of every day. To even think that it might last longer than two days is difficult to imagine.

Where is the faith?
Where is the hope?
Where is the friendship?
Where is the love?

If you know someone that might be feeling this way, pick up the phone and make the call.

That's our duty as fellow human beings.

And please, don't imagine what it's like for too long. Compassion can only bring you to the place of understanding; any further, and you're sunk too.

I don't know why I write this... only to say, there is hope. There is faith. There is friendship. There is love. It's out there. If you're feeling like the person I described in the first paragraph: pick up the phone, make the call. There are people who will listen.

8 Hours Sleeping, 16 Hours Dreaming

I had a rough time waking up today. The kids' voices seemed a little more high-pitched, the pat-a-tat-tatting of Gracie's ears a little louder, and my eyes seemed a little bit heavier. I slept so soundly all night, just enough chill in the air to compel me to roll over again and pull the covers up to my chin. Why was I so tired?

I realized that, for the first time in months, the exhaustion didn't come from dreading the day. It didn't come from that little place of despair inside of me that spoke about the tragedy of the past few months. It didn't come from disliking work, dreading making lunches again. It came from none of that.

I was exhausted this morning because I earned it. I stayed out until 1am on Monday, woke at 6am, worked a full day, and after work, cleared out the weeds in my front garden and trimmed all the plants while entertaining the kids, speaking with the neighbors and throwing a stick to Gracie, Rocky and Murphy (the neighbors' dogs, who adore my house as much as they adore their own). I was physically and mentally worn down, but spiritually peaking.

So when Tony came in this morning, rubbing my back (as I taught them to do upon waking someone) and said, "Why are you sleeping so much?", my reaction was to smile. I smiled because it was the first morning in a long line of mornings that didn't give me the thought that I had to shut out the pain again. The pain is there, it will always be there. But I only have one life to live, and live it I must, and be as grateful for the chill in the air on a Wednesday morning, and be grateful that I have the long weekend (Fri-Mon) to spend outside with the kids, the dogs, the plants, the sunshine and the stereo blasting some great flippin' music. And I hope to wake up exhausted like this all weekend.

I Believe in the Promised Land

My soul has been replenished, nourished, charged up and is running like velvet across my fingertips. I had been waiting on a sunny day, and for three and a half hours, my face was lifted toward the brilliant light.

First, church on Sunday. Second, the gospel according to Bruce. The concert was worth every penny. In fact, I think Bruce might have lost money on the deal because it was simply, phenomenal.

I lived a lifetime in that arena. Any concert that begins with a song containing the words: "I dont give a damn for the same old played out scenes. I don't give a damn for just the in-betweens. Honey I want the heart, I want the soul, I want control right now," is going to be good. He followed it up with "No Surrender" and I thought of the street I grew up on, and my brothers' best friends, especially Pops: "We swore blood brothers against the wind. Now I'm ready to grow young again
and hear your sister's voice calling us home, across the open yards..."

And the songs continued on and on and on and on... this was a concert about hope and faith and love; and of course, rock and roll. Bruce sat on the stage with a nine year old girl and sang "Out in the Street" - a version that the little girl had never heard because she loved the Jonas Brothers version of it. PULEEZE. That little girl has no idea how lucky she is.

But I know how lucky I am. I ended up getting seats with five, Bruce-loving, friends. Someone backed out at the last minute. Fortuitous? Serendipitous? I had just realized Bruce was in town the day before yesterday, decided I was going, and then got the phone call from a long-time friend of mine telling me they had one extra ticket. "Do you want it?" Uh, duh.

The entire concert was an encore. And the encore was a concert. Easily, the best show I've seen by Bruce yet. And here's the song that spoke to me the most, I think. Maybe it was because Bruce sang it with such a passion, speaking to the group as a whole, but to each of us individually too.

Hard Times (Eastmountainsouth, 1850)

Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears
while we all sup sorrow with the poor
there's a song that will linger forever in our ears
oh, hard times come again no more

'tis a song… a sigh of the weary
hard times… hard times come again no more
many days you have lingered around my cabin door
oh… hard times come again no more

while we seek mirth and beauty
and music light and gay
there are frail ones fainting at the door
though their voices are silent
their pleading looks will say
oh, hard times come again no more

'tis a song… a sigh of the weary
hard times... hard times come again no more
many days you have lingered around my cabin door
oh, hard times come again no more

'tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave
'tis a wail that is heard upon the shore
'tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave
oh, hard times come again no more

'tis a song…a sigh of the weary
hard times… hard times come again no more
many days you have lingered around my cabin door
oh, hard times come again no more
oh, hard times come again no more

Tomorrow?

Tony was my companion at church today. I had planned on attending alone, leaving the kids with my cousin so that I could deal with the message of the Mass and not be overly concerned about the kids picking their butts or staring at the crying babies. So I snuck up to the shower while they were eating breakfast and got ready for church. As I was blow-drying my hair, Tony snuck into the bathroom and asked me what I was doing. When I told him that I was going to church, he said, "I'm going with you!" I told him he didn't have to, that he could stay home and play, but he said, "No Mommy, I'm going. Let's get dressed." So I put him in some "Sunday" clothes and we went to church. On the way through the parking lot, he was jumping like a kangaroo, kicking his feet, shaking his arms. I told him to settle down, that we couldn't play like this in church. He didn't stop. So I did. We stood in the parking lot and I said, "All right buddy, get it all out. Jump up and down, shake those arms, kick those feet..." He did, and after a fit of giggles, I said, "Are you ready to be quiet in church now?" He shrugged and said, "Sure Mommy." And he was awesome!

"Just like riding a bike..." That was the thought that kept going through my head as I listened to the opening song, said my prayers and was seated. Easy enough. I made it through the readings and the gospel. The main theme of all was "Love one another as I have loved you." Simple enough concept. Putting it into practice is nearly impossible, but I understood it.

I thought I'd be thinking about Jeff the entire time, but I wasn't. I thought I'd be sobbing over the loss of him, but I didn't. Instead, my mind was on my divorce and on my ex-husband. Love one another as I have loved you... I thought about how many times I have forgiven him in the past two years, and how, after all this time, I still held onto an inkling of non-forgiveness. I realize that it is because I loved him so truly that I have a tough time not hating him, and thus I've been unable to fully forgive him. It is time.

Springsteen will be in town tomorrow night. The concert is sold out. I don't have a ticket. It is in D.C., in the city, at night. I am going. I will get a good parking space, and I will get a good ticket. I am going against the better judgment of my friends who think I'm insane for even thinking the idea.

My neighbors are having people over today. It is not for a merry celebration. It is because a brother-in-law died unexpectedly.

The brush of the jungle; the thorns at our heels; the grass so thick at our feet; the rolling thunder; the scorching sun; the car accidents, heart attacks, broken hearts, broken spirits, unemployment; the fast-paced move for money; the murders; the theft; the tragedies of loving...

The span of this life is so short. The span of this life is full of opportunities missed. Had I not gone to Mass today, would Jeff's funeral been my last time? If I don't go to see my best friend Bruce, will I have witnessed my last concert some time ago?

Tony broke the microwave dish (the thick, rotating dish that turns in the microwave) today. I heard the crash, and he was standing amidst all the big chunks of glass, crying. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He kept repeating it. I walked into that kitchen and was so angry. First the truck, then my computer, now this? I picked up the glass without a word. I vacuumed up all the little pieces of glass without even looking at Tony, without even acknowledging his tears. When he tried to talk to me, I told him to go play, that I had to go on-line to order a new plate.

What a flippin' hypocrite! He went to church with me today. He knows I heard the message, and what did I do? I ignored him. I ignored the fact that a plate of that size crashing to the floor and breaking into pieces probably scared the crap out of him. I ignored his apologies because I was too caught up in how it affected me.

Love one another as I have loved you... before tucking him into bed I apologized for my actions. He got teary-eyed again and apologized again, and I said, "Tony it was just a stupid plate, don't worry about it." He smiled and said, "Ooooh, you said stupid." Stupid, is right.

Life. So short.

Is getting up and going to work every day really about money? How many people truly love what they do to make ends meet? How long will it be before I scrap my job and take the lower, lower, lower paying job teaching at the college again; downsizing on my house and my lifestyle to do what I love?

Another day like today - facing myself, my true desires, and seeing so much love, knowing of so many tragedies that others are facing - probably not too long. It is about time to live, to remember, without worry, without regret.

Forgive, love, and live. Today.

Because tomorrow never knows.

Magical Moments

Life is not a series of magical moments, as I had once surmised.

On the day I got the call from my sister-in-law Kathy that Jeff had had a stroke, my first instinct was to laugh. Him having a stroke was nonsense. My family was invincible.

I lived a life filled with a series of magical moments. Until then.

Do you know my family?

Amazing. Wait, let me repeat: A-MAZ-ING! We're not perfect. Far from it, in fact. We're not always compassionate, even-keeled, level-headed. Not me. Not my brothers. Not my sister(s). None of us. Now.

Jeff was though, probably the most of all of us. He died. Did you know? And he wasn't a Saint. Far from it, but he was a good guy. Just like the rest of us. We thought with our hearts, not with our wallets. We thought with our humor, not with our intellect. We thought with our kindness, not with our pride.

We learned that from our parents. Magical Moments.

I miss the rest of my family since Jeff died, but also realize we're each, individually, dealing with the loss.

Here goes: I have hardly talked to my sister, my best frined, my go-to girl, the woman I talked to every day, Corinne. We talk for about six seconds once a week now. It's not her fault; it's not my fault. We're just protecting ourselves from the pain, I think.

I haven't talked to my brother John since the funeral. I've talked to my mother only three times.

I can't talk to them because my grief is so HUGE, and their grief is so HUGE that we can't fit together in the same sentence.

And oh, Dear God, how I miss Jeff! I keep wanting to call him to bounce this grief off of him. "Can you believe it? How are you coping? He was so great, such a void... What are we gonna do without him?"

Oh, it's bad.

Then I look at the sky, see his face, hear his voice, see his shrug and find nominal comfort.

It's not a series of magical moments, but there are some. He's helping me, but I need everyone else too.

I suppose some of my grief comes from missing how it used to be with all of us when things were merry and joyful, dysfunctional and whole. My eyes are a bit vacant, open and sad these days. I can't wait until we're all back together again.

50 years or so?

I Shall Overcome

I came into this world as a daughter and a baby sister known as Carrie Lynn Fazzolari. Since 1972, I've become much more - a friend, a girlfriend, a former friend, a former girlfriend, a wife, a former wife. But always a daughter and always a baby sister.

I swam in the crystal clear waters of love, marriage and motherhood. I traversed through the blessed and not so blessed rivers of the marriage, and came to trudge through the muddy, muddy waters of divorce.

Life's about changing, nothing ever stays the same.

I took my vehicle to the shop. It should be fixed in a couple weeks.

My computer is finally working again.

As the tooth fairy, I have an on-going pen pal relationship with my daughter. [Questions asked yesterday: Are you a boy or girl? (Girl) What is your name? (Tammy)Questions asked today: Where do you live? Do you have wings? What is your favorite color? I'll answer and sign it "Love, T.F."]

The ovarian cyst is shrinking, even though it feels like I'm in labor 18 hours out of every day. But I know that one day, I'll give birth to it and find a blessing in the fact that it has subsided.

I met my deadlines at work with flying colors.

My lawn is mowed, my garden tilled (thanks to Jim), the clothes are clean, the house is picked up, I got four straight hours of sleep last night, and was able to toast with my neighbor and cousin to my new found freedom of being single again.

For nearly eight years, I went by another name; became another person by virtue of my marriage vows. And now, I am back to having the name I was born with, with one less older sibling. Things have changed.

I don't know much about coping with the lack of joy in my life right now, but a smile and laugh every once in a while lets me know that one day I may find it again; perhaps not as joyful because of the big flippin' void, but it will come again. Because life is about Hope. Faith is the anchor of the soul. And Love doesn't go away.

Eventually, the fear of losing it at church will subside, and I'll step through the church doors and face God again. I've had the intentions to do so every weekend and I've somehow avoided it. But things change, and I realize how much I really miss it. (Is it okay to where dark sunglasses in church?)

Divorce. Death. Illness. Work. Single Motherhood. Fear. Grief. Life itself.

Love. Hope. Faith. Compassion. Laughter. Kindness. Security. Life itself.

Life's about changing, but some things stay the same.

I am Carrie Lynn Fazzolari, and always was, and very proud to have overcome, even when life itself moved around me.

Dear T.F.

Lovely child, my daughter. She recently lost a tooth at school, and was so excited as she got off the bus. "Look Mommy!" Her mouth was wide open, the tooth was in a little box and she wondered aloud how much the tooth fairy would bring her this time. The first tooth she lost was on the day of the Breast Cancer walk - it was amidst my entire family. When she showed the gaping hole in her mouth, my brother Jeff reached into his pocket, handed her a five and said, "Tell all the other cheap bastards you want some money for losing that tooth, and tell the tooth fairy to beat that." He smiled and winked at me. She ended up making $20 that day, and expects it every time.

This last time, we talked a lot about the tooth fairy - how amazing it is that she can make it to every house and that she's got so much money to pass out to all the toothless children. Come to think of it, she is pretty amazing! Anyway, she got three ones, a nickel, a penny, a quarter and a dime in a pretty little box.

Yesterday, as soon as she got off the bus, she sat at the kitchen table and started writing.

"What are you writing?"

"A letter to the tooth fairy for all the hard work she does."

I was in complete shock as she wrote, reading it out loud and sounding out the letters. She did pretty well too, only asking me how to spell 'fairy'. She left the note under her pillow and as she was saying her prayers, she mentioned her need to hear back from the tooth fairy.

And the tooth fairy wrote back! She was so excited, she began another letter, this time asking questions. Her last questions were: "Why do you collect teeth anyway, and how do you get all the money to give to kids?"

I'm wondering what the tooth fairy's answer will be. I am thinking that maybe the tooth fairy can answer something like this:

"Because I'm old and decrepit, I've lost all my teeth. And the money comes from your mother's purse because I know how to sneak in and out of the house without waking the dog. I also take old people's teeth from them. Gingivitis, my ass! And when the time comes, I'll take your permanent teeth too. Love, T.F."

Or, maybe she'll tell Paige that she's kind and thoughtful and find out how everything is going at school and at home.

This should be interesting.

Arms Wide Open

Yeah, I'm a little afraid sometimes. It took a few days of wondering what was up with me, why I was waking up again thinking about the divorce and it's demise. I kept seeing faces of the women at the kids' counseling center, with kleenexes up to their red noses, puffy eyes from lack of sleep and a certain melancholy expression. In their faces, I saw my own. So many women who were going through the same thing I was going through, and I thought I had a handle on it. They probably thought the same thing. Yesterday, as I drove to pick the kids up, I saw their faces again - nearly two years later and I can still see their faces. The heartbreak they were going through. I said a quick prayer that they had moved on like I had, and then I thought that if I had moved on so well, why was I thinking about them?

I've been getting a little pressure from my friends to start dating again. They've talked up a few "really nice guys" and introduced me to a couple. Because I am a Fuzzy, I can talk to a stump and make it animated, that's never been a problem. I'm funny, I'm honest, I'm witty when I'm not feeling insecure and some people even say I'm pretty - big nose and all. Yet, every time I meet someone new - a potential date - I come home feeling a little deflated. "Nah... not worth it." The meaning behind this is twofold: One, no one will ever be worthy of my children. I want to say there are great guys out there who will try, certainly, and I could be as wrong as my friends tell me I am (and I kind of hope that I am); and two, waking up from a sound sleep in the middle of the night and feeling the heartbreak all over again (after two years!) is not worth having to ever go through again. I think I had my one serious relationship, and sadly, it wasn't even all that good, but I simply cannot be hurt again like that - the disappointment in myself at my own stupidity alone isn't worth it, not to mention the endless questions of why, how, with whom, how?

I've been running a couple miles a day for the past couple of days. I dislike running as much as I dislike grocery shopping, but I dislike my beer gut even more. Slowly, over the past few weeks, my gut has gotten bigger and I woke up on Sunday feeling pretty lousy. So, I vowed to lose the gut by Friday. I can do it. Just a lot of water, running in the mornings to get my metabolism going, playing hard with the kids at night, eating healthy and plenty of rest. It's really not that hard, especially when one only has six or seven pounds to lose. Anyway, as I ran yesterday, I had a bunch of thoughts racing around my head. At the forefront was Jeff, of course; and behind him were money woes, work woes and loneliness. They all wanted to be at the top of the list. So I took a deep breath and began sprinting, running away from the thoughts. The only one who could keep up was Jeff.

I looked up into the bright, blue sky and a hawk was circling. It made a big loop around me, teetering back and forth, having fun! I smiled fast and kept on running. When I stopped and looked up it was way off to the west of me. I stretched a little and turned around and ran back from where I had come. I looked up and it was right above me, following my path. When I reached the end, I turned around and looked up and it was above me again, going the same way I was going. As I slowed in my run, it sped up and flew to where my house was - I lost sight of it when it reached that destination.

It moved me, and since his birthday, I've seen a hawk every day. I even dreamed about him last night. We laughed hard in my dream!

And I realized, that not even death is keeping him from showing his love. And I learned that if death doesn't hold him back, then one lousy husband shouldn't hold me back either. I am free to fly at my own pace. I may never find someone worthy of what is in my soul, but I sure as hell am not going to sit on a perch and wallow.

And if I wake up again, worried about my fragile heart, I will wish to fall back to sleep and dream, dream, dream about the love that lives inside that fragile heart.

Take Me Back

I'm trying. I'm really trying to stay positive and to stop myself from slipping into the mud again, but the rain has been falling hard lately, and I'm just so tired. Highlights of my weekend: Tony snuck into the open hatch back of my truck, turned the key in the ignition, took his short little right leg and put it on the brake while putting the truck in neutral. The truck rolled down the driveway, I jumped out of the way, yelling for Tony not to move (he was trying to jump out the back), and jumped into the front seat to put it into park, just after the hatch back made contact with the garage door and both were crumpled. Tony kept saying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I was speechless for a good two minutes, then I said a quick thank you to God that nobody got hurt, and I banished Tony from ever getting in the truck again. (I take the blame, I should have had the emergency brake on or something, yet I was three feet from the truck the whole time, sweeping dirt from the walkway and the last time I checked, he was laying flat in the back eating doritos). Of course, I had just received the insurance check for the damage that the a-hole-who-left-the-scene did. Of course, that check won't even cover a third of the damage to the hatch. And my ex laughed, stating that I deserved it. Okay, it's funny in a thank-God-nobody-got-hurt-and-how-did-Tony-figure-it-out kind of way, but to state that I deserved it? Happy that I have to deal the cost and pain of getting it fixed? Another colon problem, I guess.

After my brother bent the door back with a crowbar and bungee'd the door so it would stay closed, I drove to pick up my computer from the shop. After $450, you'd think it would work, wouldn't you? Nah. I wouldn't normally care but I have two massive deadlines for work.

Oh my! I am beginning to sound like one of them people.

I know what's important, and my heart is so full of the truth of what is important, but for God's sake, I need a break! I need a break before I break. I've been feeling this way for nearly two months and I have not gotten a day without something happening that throws me sideways. Not one day. And I try to stay in the moment, and smile, and count my blessings, and do kindnesses, but the crap just keeps coming. What else can I do? I feel like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, who tells his friends (who want the black cloud to go away so they can play), "I'll just go home, that cloud is sure to follow me..."

Oh, tomorrow is my divorce - final papers. Done. Over. New name. So, that should be an emotionally uneventful day. You think?

Anyway, I heard this song today and it has become a prayer for me because I don't want to break. I've been so strong for so long, I can't break.

Take Me Back - Van Morrison

I've been walking by the river
I've been walking down by the water
I've been walking down by the river

I've been feeling so sad and blue
I've been thinking, I've been thinking, I've been thinking,
I've been thinking, I've been thinking, I've been thinking,
Ah there's so much suffering, and it's
Too much confusion, too much, too much confusion in the world

Take me back, take me back, take me back
Take me way back, take me way back, take me way back
Take me way, way, way, way, way, way, way back.
Help me understand
Take me... do you remember the time darlin'
When everything made more sense in the world?
Oh I remember, I remember
When life made more sense
Take me back, take me back, take me back, take me back
Take me back to when the world made more sense
Well there's too much suffering and confusion
And I'm walking down by the river
Oh, let me understand religion

Way, way back, way back
When you walked, in a green field, in a green meadow
Down an avenue of trees
On a golden summer
And the sky was blue
And you didn't have no worries, you didn't have no care
You were walking in a green field
In a meadow, through the buttercups, in the summertime
And you looked way out over, way out
Way out over the city and the water
And it feels so good, and it feels so good
And you keep on walking

And the music on the radio, and the music on the radio
Has so much soul, has so much soul
And you listen, in the nightime
While we're still and quiet

And you look out on the water
And the big ships, and the big boats
Came on sailing by, by, by, by
And you felt so good, and I felt so good

Take me way, way, way back, way back
To when, when I understood
When I understood the light, when I understood the light
In the golden afternoon, in the golden afternoon
In the golden afternoon, in the golden afternoon
In the golden afternoon when we sat and listened to Sonny Boy blow

In the golden afternoon when
We sat and let Sonny Boy, blow, blow his harp

Take me back, take me back, take me back
Take me way, way, way, way, way, way, way
Back when I, when I understood, when I understood
When I was walking down the
Walking down the street and
It didn't matter
`Cause everything felt, everything felt, everything felt
Everything felt, everything felt, everything felt, everything felt
Everything felt, everything felt, everything felt so right,
And so good
Everything felt, so right, and so good

In the eternal now, in the eternal moment
In the eternal now, in the eternal moment
In the eternal now
Everything felt so good, so good, so good, so good, so good
And so right, so right, so right,
In the eternal moment, in the eternal moment
When you lived, when you lived
When you lived, in the light
When you lived in the grace
In the grace, in grace
When you lived in the light
In the light, in the grace
And the blessing.

It's Not My Colon, You A-Hole!

There I was, so mad at my colon for all these weeks... and it had nothing to do with any of my digestational (is that a word?) capabilities. I called my colon an asshole for no reason! The real assholes are my ovaries - or rather the cysts on my ovaries. They've been the cause of my pain - in the belly, in the pelvis, in the back. I've been getting treated for a bladder infection, kidney infection and bacterial infection of the intestines, and all along it has been my right, useless (at this time), ovary.

I spent the day at the ER. I was not going to continue taking antibiotics that were not doing their job - and if I did have a kidney infection and felt as bad as I have felt, I needed to get it checked out. So, I drove myself there and got all kinds of tests done, and the cysts on my ovary are the culprits for all of this. Eight hours later, and I am still in pain (there is no "cure", they just have to disappear on their own), but with two more antibiotics (to kill the infected cysts) and a "pain killer that you will thank me for" (the words of my ER doctor). Thank you. I can't take them, but at night, but I know that I am going to pop one of those babies in my mouth tonight and sleepy, sleepy.

The ER nurse who discharged me was, 1. Awfully cute (a stay at home dad, raising a 4 yr old and 6 yr old, two days in the ER, a chef the other hours he has free in the day); and 2. Very sympathetic. He said, "Oh, cysts on your ovaries. They're very painful." And I said, "Oh, have you had one before?" We both giggled, and he handed me my painkiller prescription. Good guy, he was. Don't know his name, but know he can cook a great pasta meal and he makes his own Italian sausage. Why didn't I get his number? Because men suck!

Just a little humor.

Still feeling crappy, but at least I know the source now.

Rainy Days and Tuesdays....

and Mondays, and Wednesdays and Thursdays, and Fridays, and Saturdays and Sundays, always get me down...

Where oh where is the sunshine? And why oh why do I feel like I woke up in Seattle, without the Grey's Anatomy's character (uh, McSteamy is a contender with Owen Wilson for a spot on the right side of my bed - after he pushes Paige and Tony out. Ah hell, we'll just use the sofa and let the kids sleep in peace...).

I don't know if it's the rain or the fact that my mother and I talked for the first time in a few days, and she is still so heartbroken and sad, and she said, "I prayed for the safety of my kids since they were born, and now look what happened? What's the point of it?" I tried not to get sad. I tried not to get upset. I failed.

"The point Ma is that you still have five other children that need you." I said this, and I told her that if I could take away the hurt and heartbreak for just one moment for her to see through it to the love that is still here, I would. She heard me though, and although we cried together, she said, "I know. I know. My faith is still with God."

Phew, that's good.

Her sadness though put a veil over my head today. I think maybe there was some chemical interaction with the layer of moisture that is making it rain so hard in Maryland, and a really bad mood because I am crabby today. Crabby!

I spent the morning envisioning the argument I would get into with my insurance company if they made me pay for the damage to my car; I envisioned an argument with Best Buy that I'd have if they charged me any more money to fix my computer; and I envisioned a full out battle with my small and large intestines if they even thought about acting up again (because they're real fiesty these past two days)... all for what? What is the point?

There are days when I want to continue to sleep... all day, and in that moment, every day. The heaviness of the weather, the heaviness of the emotions and the unbearable weight of living without a purpose (obviously the fog makes it really unclear), makes me think like this. And so, in order to find the purpose, I get aggressive and angry. I've felt this way maybe two times in the past three years or so.

I know there is a point. I know that my faith is anchoring my soul. I know that my children, my friends, my family are my purpose. I know that God sees it all, hears it all, feels what I am feeling. I know this. But there are some days when I just want to go to sleep and wake up to a sunny day.

Weatherman says the rain isn't going to let up any time soon. The dark cloud has risen... I'm heading straight into the storm. But I don't want to. On this Tuesday, I just want to stay down, sipping white wine and singing with Karen Carpenter. Rainy days and Tuesdays always get me down...

A Million Little Things

I can see his grin, the shrug of his shoulders as I recite the latest catastrophe. I can see the grains of chew stuck between the bottom teeth, and his lower lip big and round, like he stuffed a marshmallow in it. "Eh, what're you gonna do?" And then the shrug.

What a gift to me - to be able to see his face so clearly, and hear his voice. It was a big loss to heaven. A big loss. They got him, I got the memories.

In the past four weeks, I've had a rough road. A bunch of little things infecting my days - like poisonous spider bites trying to wreak havoc on the rest of my life. Here's the list:

1. Sunburn - ruby red legs, back, face, arms and neck; the bubbling of skin, the peeling and peeling and peeling and then the itch. I'm still itching in some areas and it's a bit embarrassing, to say the least. Good thing it wasn't a nude beach. I only say that because I spent most of my time with Cliff on that beach, and ewwww, can you imagine that?

2. A bacterial infection in my small and large intestines, causing severe abdominal pain and some blockages. I am happy to say that the abdominal pain has subsided to only hurting when I laugh (which isn't that often), and the blockages have exploded into little pieces.

3. A workload that has put me over the top. Deadlines, plus my side job (contracts as a consultant for extra cash) with deadlines, plus two beautifully energetic children, who, by the way, have been concerned about my health, and so react in a hyper way - not a sympathetic way. (As an aside, I am very grateful for a job, and for the extra side-income job).

4. I lifted two garbage cans into the back of my truck after a twelve hour workday, and when I hit the brakes to go over the speed bump, all the dirty garbage water gushed into the entire back of the truck... about two inches of water that stunk! I spent the next morning steam cleaning it, and had to wait two days because of monsoon-like weather of Maryland to air it out. I smelled like I worked at the dump.

5. I went to Home Depot last week to pick up some gardening supplies. It took me 20 minutes in the store. When I got back to my car, I saw that some idiot had smashed the whole passenger side of my truck - only about $3000 in damage. Oh, and no note. So I spent two hours in that parking lot, waiting for the police to finish a report. I am happy to announce that it will get fixed for a nominal deductible and I'll be on my way, while some A-hole is telling the story. "Yeah, I took the whole side of that truck out." "Did you leave a note?" "Hell, no. Why would I do that? That would be the nice, golden-rule, kinda thingy to do, and I'm an A-hole."

6. I threw my back out for two days. Nothing like crawling to work, gasping in pain, and trying to explain to the kids that, "Yes, Mommy is in pain again, and cannot run around the house like a big idiot, dancing and playing." (Thankfully, a little heat and some rest helped me out).

7. I prayed to St. Theresa to intercede on these matters. I am waiting to see the rose that tells me she heard and interceded.

8. Perhaps I'll see it on my computer, when I get it back from the shop. Yes, I was working along, on the computer that has all the pictures of my kids, all my i-tunes purchases, all my documents from both jobs, all my short stories, my work--in-progress novels... all of it, when the screen went black. No reaction. Nothing. All gone.

But you know, and here is my point, I'll take a million of these little things if I don't have to lose a fight with heaven again. And even Jeff wouldn't shrug his shoulders at that.