Awakened by a crash just past midnight, I quickly realized my husband was not in bed and had fallen again. It’s the second time in two weeks. He couldn’t get back up.
Paramedics arrived within minutes. Three strapping men had him on his feet again in no time. He was jostled but okay.
I laid awake for hours.
It’s hard not to worry, focusing instead on the good.
This note is to myself. Encouragement to keep moving forward.
We held a garage sale this past Saturday – no small feat for two gimpy old folks. Fortunately, we had help, and as it was a town-wide event, there were many people out.
Still exhausted two days later, but feeling like this squirrel with his treasure – blessed by abundance.
(photo mine)
People ask: “How can you be so sick; you’re a strong person?” Or I am too positive of a person – how is it possible?
What if it is because of these very things that life has chosen me for a master class – a spiritual quest – not for the weak of heart? What if it’s because I’m a good student?
(Image and art mine)
I dream that I am teaching again, and having assigned the class independent work, I am spending time connecting with each student to see if they are grasping the material. It’s my favourite part of teaching, and I wake up wondering if I’ll ever have that feeling again. So rewarding.
It is bittersweet, growing old. Many of life’s goals have been achieved, and yet, the desire for more still exists. At least, it does for me. I’m just not sure what to do about it.
A kidney stone, coupled with an infection has set me back five days – two trying to soldier through the pain, and three pursuing medical answers. Anyway, I’m on the mend, tired already of this foray into self-pity.
Tomorrow, I keep telling myself, is a new day.
(Image my own)
The times I waited –
restless and raging
deliberately put on hold
dismissed, degraded, ignored.
Why did I put up with that?
Was I so afraid I’d lose it all?
So uncertain about a future?
How the children came to me
need in their eyes, little arms
begging to be embraced,
and I too blinded to reach out
fixated on the anger, powerless,
immersed myself in distractions
could not respond to their pleading
while my own inner child was doing the same
How I’d let other people’s agendas
override mine – their need to be rescued
or fixed, or to ride on my successes –
boundaries never a strong suit
my own desires so far buried
as to be practically nonexistent
How I’d avoid confrontation
never the top dog – hiding
rather than facing the bullies
in my sight – my loyalty,
my friendship a given
seldom valued by even me
How I took on the discards of others
let men dictate my life –
sorting through their carelessness
like spoon feeding adolescents
Perpetually in mother mode.
I am standing on a threshold
no doubt others will not like
Where I matter now
and love takes precedence
and my inner child shines,
and my priorities are front facing
and loyalty an earned gift
Where men are called to account
and women upheld and valued.
I am proud of who I am,
forgive all the ways I’ve put me down
and chose to radiate Â
Love guiding this new light.
(Self portrait by me )
As a child, I knew no limits, setting out on adventures with never a fear for how I’d find my way back home.
Now, nestled in my home, I limit myself to certainties, fearful of risks.
Some days, I wonder about that child, and how it would feel to wander freely, and it makes me smile.
The body may be hindered, but the imagination remains forever young.
(Post originally appeared on One Woman’s Quest II, May 2022)
I’ve lived the fog of distance –
life’s highway a series of hills
destination without promise
Have learned that acceptance gains perspective,
that climates change, and hope sustains,
and that in the stillness dreams renew.
Now I travel quieter paths, appreciate
space, have surrendered to a slower pace –
certain that this too will change.
(image my own)
One Woman's Quest 