The Crooked Shall Be Made Straight

What I was willing to spend

I park my Honda CR-V in the C lot and catch the shuttle to the airport, where I check my bag at the curb due to my inability to pack 3 ounce bottles of shampoo and conditioner (or is it my unwillingness to follow the rules?).  I meander inside (I am early!) and make my way to security.  A security guard is shouting for everyone to remove their shoes and jackets.  I am wearing my pink hoodie sweatshirt with only a thin Target tank top underneath.  I glance down at my Birkenstock sandals, flick them off my feet, bend over and pick them up and toss them in the tray with my black, leather tote.  I’m SO not taking off my hoodie.  I don’t feel good about my arms! 

I look dead on into the eyes of the woman on the other side of the security checkpoint and I mouth, “Do I really HAVE to take this off?  I have FAT arms and all!” 

She nods NO and starts laughing in this KNOWING way, and in that instance, I realize we’ve bonded – this security guard and me.  I want to hug her, but I refrain.  She smiles real big, tosses her head back a bit, exclaims, “You’re too cute!” and waves me through!

“Thanks,”  I whisper.

I’m starving, so I make a beeline for the restaurant where I decide to have the fresh tuna sushi roll.  I order it and wait for the sushi chef to prepare it.  I wonder if all airports have fresh sushi, or if it’s only in LA?  In Texas, I could order chicken fried steak while I wait for my plane, but I doubt they’d serve me sushi! 

I finish my food just as the plane begins to board.

It’s a short flight to Oakland (why my friend suggested Oakland instead of San Francisco is totally lost on me since her wedding is to be in Sausalito, which is closer to SF!)  It’s nearly 8 pm when I deplane, but it is still daylight outside.  I take a deep breath of fresh air and walk toward the rental car shuttle.

I spent the hour plane ride reading STILL ALICE, and the emotional impact of the character’s early onset Alzheimer’s disease is whirling around in my brain.  I had just finished the part where Alice decides to create what she calls her “butterfly plan,” an arrangement to euthanize herself when the times comes that she can no longer correctly answer a series of questions she has programmed into her Blackberry – ones she must answer daily. 

If she fails to know the answer to these questions, her Blackberry will instruct her to implement the “butterfly plan,” which is the title of a folder she’s created for this occasion.

I pray as I walk, thanking God that I have the ability to travel alone, that I can walk and talk and remember who I am and where it is that I am going (never mind that I nearly forget to wait for my bag at baggage claim since I am anxious to make sure I know where to pick up my rental car!)

The Alamo attendant informs me that I’m entitled to a free upgrade since there are no more economy cars on the lot.  I say, “thanks” before I realize that the upgrade is a KIA.  Since when is a KIA an upgrade? 

I toss my bag in the backseat, get in, buckle up, and pull out my handy dandy navigator I named Stella (remember, her?).  I plug in the address to the hotel.  It is dark now, and I’m grateful that I won’t have to read the google map I printed as a back up plan and drive at the same time!  As I connect Stella to her power source, the cigarette lighter, a butterfly flutters in front of my face and lands on the passenger door. 

I admire her beauty while whispering the words, “F*ck, where’d you come from?  You scared me!”  I remember Alice’s suicide plan and wonder what it means that there is a butterfly in my rental car in the dark of night in Oakland, California!  I search and push the buttons on the driver's side door panel looking for the one that will set her free.  After 3 pushes, the passenger window rolls down, and the butterfly exits. 

I push “start navigation” on Stella’s small frame, and drive (awkwardly) out of the lot.

Stella and I converse during the 45-minute drive to the hotel I’ve prepaid for on priceline.com. 

She says, “Caution!” every five minutes because (evidently) I’m approaching the speed limit, and I respond with, “Let me drive, will ya?!” 

She instructs, “In 500 yards, take the exit to the right!” 

I question, “After that, then what?  Can’t you give me two or three steps at a time just so I can see the bigger picture?” 

She doesn’t answer. 

Stella is annoying, but I’m dependent on her to get me where I’m going.

I contemplate the spiritual implications of following and trusting a navigation system.

Stella guides me, and I listen and follow her instructions, albeit in my normal, rebellious, and mouthy way.  And in spite of my proclivity for swearing, I am grateful for her wisdom and direction.

I weary quickly of talking to Stella, so I talk to God instead.  I say something like,

“I know that I’ve asked you to guide my life numerous times, and that you’ve mostly responded to my request(s), although not as specifically as I’d like.”

Then I say, “I’m wondering, God, if there’s a reason you only give me directions like Stella does. Perhaps because I can only handle knowing what’s 500 yards in front of me? That it would be too much for me to handle if you directed, ‘A year from now, I want you to do this, this, and this!’ 

That maybe there’s a reason I nearly always feel like I’m driving my life around in the dark of night, waiting and listening for your next instructions – most of which, I’ll admit, I must have either A) missed or B) totally ignored – since I can’t imagine that I’ve arrived at any place remotely close to where you’d want me to be right now.”

My talking to God is interrupted by Stella’s announcement:  “You have reached your destination.  Your destination is on the right!”

I pull into a parking space in front of the Travel Lodge, imagine that I’m an actor in a really bad film, and say to myself, “You’ve got to be kidding me.  This is my destination? Surely, Stella, I CAN do better than this!”

But this is what I was willing to spend – and it led me to this seedy motel right off the freeway, the kind you see in bad, made for TV movies.

I can’t help but make the connection to my current existence. 

I whisper, “Surely, God, I can do better than this!”

And I hear way down in the depths of my being, “This is what you’ve been willing to spend, Shelia, this is all you’ve been willing to spend.  The life you desire costs more than you’ve been willing to spend.” 

(Not, what you could afford – what you were willing to spend.  I make a mental note of this distinction.)

I shudder and shake my shoulders as if trying to get these thoughts off of me.  They are too deep and too loaded with meaning for me to weigh at this moment.

I lock up the KIA and head inside.

“Whoa!  This place smells like smoke.  Geez!  How do you breathe?”  I say, as I open and enter the lobby.

“Well, I’m a smoker,” the hotel night manager explains, “but I didn’t do this.  I just started my shift.”

“Well, mother of God, this is years worth of smoke build up!  Do the rooms smell like this?” I inquire.

“Nope, Ma’am.  Your room should be just fine.”

He swipes my credit card, hands me my key, and directs me back outside and up the stairs.

As I enter room 129, I say to myself, “I’m not even going to take pictures of this place.  I don’t want anyone to know I was ever here!”

I try to lock the door from the inside, but it won’t budge.  I open it, turn the lock.  It works.  I shut it.  Try to lock it again.  F*ck.  I go outside.  Shut the door.  Turn the knob.  It’s locked.  I insert the key again and step back inside, satisfied that I’m secure (sort of!).

I turn on the TV and turn off my thoughts and prayers. 

I pull back the bedspread, crawl under the covers, and watch three back-to-back episodes of “In Treatment” on HBO.

 

And the winner is...

My teacher friend, C, has chosen a winner for the caption contest.  

1st place:  Colleen  

*"SSR:  Shifty Seniors Retaliate"

2nd place:  Blognut  

"If I could find a bigger book, maybe I could hide an entire Nintendo Wii in it."

3rd place:  JC

"I'm really into virtual reading..."

Send me your addresses.  Each of you will receive something cool!

Thanks for playing along!  That was SO much fun!

*(SSR in teacher talk means Sustained Silent Reading!)

email me at lala1013@gmail.com

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I'm on my way to San Francisco right now.  I'll be back soon!  Have an awesome weekend!

Movie watching routine

This may surprise you (probably not!), but I always have a notebook open and ready when I'm at the movies just in case there is some potential wisdom (or humor!) to capture (and remember!) on paper!

I usually write it upside down in the dark, and I NEVER know if it will be legible until I get into the light again and look.  Sometimes I forget to go back and read what I wrote.  Sometimes I stumble upon it at a later time, and think, "Aha!  I so needed this today!"

Here are a few that I've written down in recent weeks.

The first one is from the movie STATE OF PLAY.

I don't even remember the scene, I just know that when the words were spoken, they struck a cord in me.  I'm not usually thinking in terms of watching my back at all.  So, what struck me was what I thought instead, which was "Watch your heart!"    

And given some of the recent events in my life, I think this one may be pertinent, both in the "watch your back" and the "watch your heart" kind of way.  Wise advice, indeed!

The next one is from ANGELS AND DEMONS.

My notebook was upside down!  It says, "Be careful.  These are men of God."  

I shuddered when I wrote it, because as you know, I've had TONS of trouble with people who say they are of God. 

And finally, my favorite lines are from STAR TREK.  (I am not a Star Trek fan.)  I've never watched the series or any of the movies, but I found myself in a theater watching the new one on Monday afternoon.  

I LOVED it!

This is a conversation between Spock and his father.

Spock has just had an emotional reaction to the death of his mother and has just stepped down as the captain.

Spock's father:  Speak your mind.

Spock:  It is unwise.

Spock's father:  What is necessary is NEVER unwise.  

Those lines have been sitting near my chest for two days now.  They have such strong meaning for me.  I just have to figure out what it is!

Required reading. . .

You can write a caption if you feel so inclined!

(Winning caption writer will receive a set of those handy dandy folders with "CRAP" on them!  Hold on while I go borrow the caption writing rules from Sherri at Matter of Fact.  Be right back!)

1. Caption this silly photo.

2. Enter as many times as you wish.

3. Come back to check your silly competition.

4. Be a good sport and come back to congratulate the silly winner.

The silly winner's name will be added to my silly HALL OF FAME on my sidebar, and will also receive a silly gift from me in the mail.

The winner's name will then be entered into my grand prize drawing in December for a not so silly gift. (Could be a kitchen makeover!!!! But probably won't be. Just sayin'.)

SO, what are you waiting for?

Make me laugh out loud!

Post title from Blognut.  It is waaaay better than what I came up with!  ;-)

(And yes, she COULD win if "required reading" is waaay better than what you can come up with, too!)  

I've never done a contest/giveaway before, so I have no idea what I'm doing here.

I guess there should be a deadline, YO!  

(Cheri, that's the first time, I've said YO on my blog!  High five me, will ya, YO!)  I feel all awkward like, but I risked it and wrote YO write here on. my. blog.!!! That's what I call real personal growth!

Okay, back to the deadline:   Thursday, May 28th at 3:00 pm pacific standard time!

And I guess I will need a fair way of choosing someone?  Hmmm. 
Okay, my teacher friend, C., will choose!  She doesn't read my blog, and she doesn't know any of you! So, she'll be fair enough, I think!  I tell her the stakes are high! That school freakin' supplies are at stake!  ;-)

Nothin' like a nice, long walk at the beach with a buddy...

And a long weekend in which to do it! 

We walked and talked and walked and talked some more! 

It was grand! 

I LOVE THIS GAL!

Redondo Beach California

I always like long walks on the beach
best
I can talk to my friend
and tell her
my secrets
and listen closely to hers
and soak in the bright sunshine
and take in the fresh, crisp air
and not pay attention to the time
it takes to
talk about sex
and men
and good books
and allow our connection
to breathe new life into my very soul

in the cool breeze
with the scent of salt
soothing me
and tightening every pore

breathe in and breathe out
makes me feel clean and whole
for many days to come.

by She

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Inspired by the poetry of Nikki Giovanni

(because I like to imitate other people's poetry!)

 

Knoxville Tennessee

  

I always like summer

Best

you can eat fresh corn

From daddy's garden

And okra

And greens

And cabbage

And lots of

Barbeque

And buttermilk

And homemade ice-cream

At the church picnic

And listen to

Gospel music

Outside

At the church

Homecoming

And go to the mountains with

Your grandmother

And go barefooted

And be warm

All the time

Not only when you go to bed

And sleep

Nikki Giovanni 

School supplies every teacher must have!

What can I say? 

I'm addicted to school supplies, and these are my absolute favorites!

The Ultimate Post-It Notes!

 

I always check the "commitments are tough" box! 

Because, you know, they just are!

Of course, "maybe tomorrow" works just as well!

The Best File Folders EVAH!

To Do "in the near future" is effective because "in the near future" keeps changing. 

It's like NOW, or maybe NOW, or is it NOW?

But "when I feel like it" is ALWAYS in the future, too, so really, either works! 

Honestly, "never" is just closer to the TRUTH!

In my professional opinion, "in a big pile" is quite effective!!!

"Truly, madly, deeply" speaks to my heart, but "when pigs are flying" speaks more to my practical side about when's a good time to get things done!

So much stuff to put into one tiny folder! 

Categorizing CRAP sounds like an all day gig. 

I mean, is it, "TOTAL,"  "OTHER," or "MORE?"  

Decisions.  Decisions.  Decisions!

Decisions require commitment, and "commitments are tough," remember!

I have to entertain myself! 

It's not like I have a fart cushion in my desk drawer like someone I know! 

Of course, I work with teenagers, so fart cushions are just redundant in my line of work!

Habit 5: seek first to understand

K had been tardy every day for a little over a week.  He rushed in each day, walked straight over to my roll book which sits on the podium, changed the "A" for absent to a "T" for tardy and took his seat.  It was becoming a bit of a routine for him.

I finally decided that he and I needed to have a little chat about his seeming inability to get to class on time.  I feared he was taking advantage of me and of his classmates, and that because it's the end of the year, he thought he could away with it.   

Me:  K, can I talk to you outside?

We head out to the hallway, and I close the classroom door behind us.

Me:  Help me understand why you're late to class everyday.

K:  Ms. S., my dad left my mom and me and moved back to Vietnam.  It was all my fault he left. He left because of me, Ms. S., and well, I've been staying home in the mornings to make my mom breakfast and then waiting until she leaves for work.  I've been spending time with my mom before school.

Me:  K, if you only hear one thing from me this year, HEAR THIS: It is NOT YOUR FAULT your dad left. He's an adult and he left because he wanted to. It's not your fault. If he made you feel it was, then that was wrong of him.  THIS, SWEET BOY, IS NOT YOUR FAULT!

The next day, K. comes rushing into class with his phone open and holding it out toward me.

K:  Ms. S.  Here's a photo of the bus stop when I arrived.  See the time it was taken?  The bus was late.  See the second photo.  It's of the bus pulling up.  See the time it arrived?  Ms. S., I tried to get here on time.  I SO TRIED.  If the bus HAD been on time, I woulda made it!

Poor dude.  He's got way too much on his plate. 

I never told him he had to be on time after our talk, but the fact that he keeps trying isn't lost on me.  I just wish he didn't have carry such a heavy burden.  He's far too young to be taking care of his parents, for crying out loud!

I do love my students.  They are awesome kiddos.

I think this may be my problem...or this...or this...

"Early risers are happier, healthier, and more productive at work. They stay in better shape, earn more money, and report that they are more satisfied with their lives.

Get up early and seize the day!

— Michael Masterson: Entrepreneur and bestselling business author

(I wish I'd read this quote before I commented on Diane's post about happiness because then I would have had a much better response to her poll!)

SO THIS MUST BE MY PROBLEM, WHAT KEEPS ME FROM HAPPY, HEALTHY LIVING -- that I can't get myself out of bed in the morning.   Is there nothing to be said about those of us who can stay up all night reading or writing or watching infomercials on TV!  Nada?!

I so don't do early rising.  In fact, I've been known to get up at 6:50 am when I need to leave at 7:00 am in order to get to work on time. 

This often means walking out the door with my hair wet and getting to school looking just like this -- my hair all wild like. 

(That hair, in it's natural state, really is terrible.  Just terrible.  Never mind how exhausted I look!  And yes, that's a fake smile!  I am such a cranky butt today, aka, not happy, healthy or productive!)

Yes.  I took this photo just now.  Just so you could see my evidenciary evidence (or whatever it is Cheri calls it!  She's got the law degree and all, and she said that we have to prove our opinions with evidence!)  So this here photo proves my point.  I don't care enough to get up and get dressed all proper like, and evidently, this impacts my overall happiness and health and productivity -- at least according to Mr. Smarty Pants up there! 

But really, I work with teenagers, and while they may give me a cursory glance, they are not usually looking at me, they are looking at each other (and themselves!) 

I can't get up any earlier!  I've tried! (Yeah, don't go giving me any tips -- like "go to bed earlier," or "turn off the TV" or "stop it already with the caffeine before bedtime!"  I MUST stay up and watch Letterman's monologue, so that I can laugh just before going to sleep!  And on most nights, I stay up for his Top Ten list. 

Lights out last night at midnight!



Or maybe this is my problem:  On Tuesday, May 19th, I realized at exactly 10:37am, (while I was playing hooky from school and sitting outside eating my breakfast at the coffee house, after having slept until 10:36 am), THAT I FORGOT MY PHONE!

My hands started sweating.  My heart rate escalated.

At exactly, 10:38, after inserting a bite of my breakfast complete with eggs, bacon and potatoes into my mouth, I reached for my phone again, only to realize it wasn't there.

Breathing is now strained.
Tightness in chest is noticeable to everyone around me.

I gasp and suck in a deep breath. 

10:39:  I reach for my phone in my back pocket.  Holy shit!  It's not there!

10:40:  Get up to leave and go home to get my phone -- realize mid-stride to the car that I HAVE A PROBLEM!  Holy Freakin' Batman!  I'm addicted to my phone. (The first step is admitting that I have a problem, right?)  Return to my table where breakfast bowl sits cold and neglected!  Ask myself what it would be like to spend the day without my phone (you know, like in the days before cell phones were born!).  I search my brain futilely for any memory whatsoever of a time in my life when I did not have a phone -- Nothing.  I can't dig up even one memory of how I got through the damn day without it. 

DECIDE TO, RESOLVE TO, TIE MYSELF TO MY CHAIR TO live just this ONE day without it and see how it goes.

Here's my tally of how many times I reached for my phone while sitting outside in the wonderful sunshine trying to read my book for book club, which meets today!


That was ONLY during a 2 1/2  minute period of time, and then I forced myself to STOP IT ALREADY (well, because I was making myself all crazy like!)


Or maybe this is my problem:  I pay someone else to do my laundry (which includes having them wash all my underwear!)  I mean, really, who does that? 

I can't even look the young gal in the eye when I pick up all my clothes.  Not because there's anything wrong with my undies.  They're just all big like and could easily be categorized in the "granny panty" grouping of types of undies. 

So, I look at the ground and pay up and then rush out to my car, hoping she's not looking at my ass and remembering folding my underwear into tight little squares and thinking, "Yep.  It's all clear to me NOW!"

But I do love that all my clothes are now wrapped in seran (how do you spell that?) wrap and into cute little bundles ready for me to put away.





So, am I the only one who has problems?!

What's getting in the way of your happy, healthy, productivity-producing ways?
(If anything, at all!)  ;-)

Processing . . . It's important!

Her bangs cover her eyes, and with her right hand she sweeps them back, and that’s when I see the tears and the snot.  She’s reaching for a Kleenex and struggling to get out these words, “My heart is breaking wide open, Ms. S, it’s breaking wide open!” 

I ask her what class she is supposed to be in and she says, “Mr. G’s.  He asked me who he could send me to, and I said, Ms. S.  Send me to Ms. S.  Poor guy.  I think I scared him, Ms. S.  I think I scared him.”

“Mr. G. will be just fine,” I assure her and laugh at him under my sincerest look of concern for her.  Mr. G. teaches business, and he’s a wonderful man, but he only has sons, so I can see why he’d want to outsource this one.

Fortunately, it is senior skip day, and only four of my fifth period students showed up today.  They are busying themselves with playing cards and finding a playlist to listen to on my computer.  Too bad I don’t have the kind of tunes (2162 choices!) that appeal to this small group of 18-year-old boys.  They settle on the sound track of The Lion King.

I sit J. down next to my desk and say, “Tell me what’s going on.”

She squeaks out, “I don’t want to go to Paris anymore, so I’m just not going to go.”

“You’re planning to go to Paris this summer?”

“Yes.  For a month.  But Dick-head (my name for the 19 year old college boy she’s referring to) is making me not want to go.  We broke up, and I’m so sad I don’t think I can go anymore.  I don’t think I can do anything anymore.”

“Want to tell me what happened today that brought you to this decision?” I ask.

She explains in muttered, coughing, hiccuping crying phrases that he’s found another girl, that he’s being a dick to the rest of the girls in her club, and she needs to stay and protect these 9th graders from him and what he might do this summer.”

I hide my “ohmygodyou’vegottobekiddingme” face, and say, “Well, I think that’s your grief and anger talking.  And while I’m all for following one’s heart in most decision making, I think we might want to check in with your head for a moment.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Well, there’s a reason your head is at the top of your body, perched up there in the power position.  I think you might want to ask your head what it thinks about this decision you’re making.”

She smiles a half smile, and I lock my eyes onto the bleached blond streaks of hair that lay over her shoulders from underneath all that shiny, black Vietnamese hair that is her natural color.  I like the contrast she’s created.  It’s fun.  It’s spunky.  It suits her well.  And it is a symbol of just how young she is, 18 years old and about to graduate from high school.

“Think about it for a minute.  What would your head advise one of your club members to do if she happened to find herself in your predicament?”

No pause at all.

“I’d tell them to go to Paris and not look back!” she said.

And then she burst back into tears of anguish as if her own advice would certainly not work for her.

“You’re grieving a loss,” I tell her.  “It’s okay to cry.  It’s okay to mourn.  In fact, it’s necessary.  Let’s make a list of everything you miss about Dickhead, Okay?”  (Yes.  I said it just like that!)

“Okay,” she whispers, and I pull a pink post-it note from my handy-dandy dispenser on my desk.  (See picture below.)

After we made a list of what she misses, then we made a list of the “reasons he sucks” and “the cost to her.”  As we write, I show her that in order to have what she misses most about Dickhead, it will cost her dearly.  It will ultimately cost her her sense of well-being. 

"That's a pretty high price to pay, don't you think?"  I inquired.

"I never thought of it that way," she replied.

"Well, it's definitely something to consider," I say.  "And if you decide the cost is worth it (which it definitely ISN'T), then at least you know the price you've paid, and then it's on you for making the decision.  Sometimes we feel like these bad relationships happen to us, but really we've agreed to pay the price (a loss of our sense of self and our sense of well-being!).  It's good to process just what that cost will be to you.  Make sense?"

"Yep.  Perfect sense."

While she is talking (and gasping and snot-ing!), she mentions over and over again what she’s afraid of, and I decide she needs a list of her “fears,” too, so she can get them up and out of her, outside of her mind and body and onto the page.

We completed our list making with “The truth about me.”

It was heavy, deep and real, as Carrie likes to call it.

When we are done (about an hour after we began), I ask her if the process helped her. 

She smiled, “I stopped crying, didn’t I?  And I'm so going to Paris!”

We made copies of the post-it notes – one for her bedroom wall, one for her backpack, and one for me so that I can remind her next week when she comes in!

 

My penmanship SUCKS, but she said she could read it!  ;-)

Note my "red flag" comment when she mentions his pick up lines.  We got a good laugh out of that one!  ; -)

For more of the scoop on my teaching year and my amazingly trusting kiddos, go here, here, and here.

Get your kleenex first, k?

-----------------

Note to self:  Apply this processing tool to your own issues, She!  Geez.  You know what to do, now do it!  ;-)

I'm wicked tired and crazy busy, but this made my day...

Yesterday, we all wrote letters to show the teachers on our campus some love-y love for teacher appreciation.  I provided colored paper and pens and envelopes and then we delivered them all. 

(I told them not to write me a letter, and since they are mostly obedient, I only received this one.)  BTW, I LOVE a kid who BREAKS the RULES! ;-)

I don't know if I'm a good teacher or not (they don't seem to remember anything we learn in class!), but I do know that I love them well! 

This kiddo has been to hell and back this year (her family's house burned down!), and she is struggling to get caught up so she can walk across the stage with her classmates. 

She is such a sweetheart!  I'm glad she KNEW that I cared because I REALLY, TRULY (with all my heart!) DO!

Best longest sentence ever

"If you knew the amount of good versus evil rhetoric that flew through my childhood household amidst an ever-crumbling marriage, frequent suicidal ideation, screaming, despair, and several highly creative people packed in a space too small to hold them, you'd understand why I don't so easily accept passionate pleas and emotional interpretations laced with words soaked through and through with alarming religious and political connotations."  Penelope Przekop

Go here to read the entire blog post entitled, "Note to End Times Magazine."  The writing is brilliant and speaks directly to my own experience of growing up in the Bible Belt.  (I wish I'd written this piece!)  ;-)

PS:  I'm so behind with reading your blogs.  I will catch up soon.  I miss you all.  I'm in the end of the year "crazies" over here!  Anyone wanna come RESCUE me?!

A change is gonna come

Blognut and BlogthisMom have written about change.  I thought after what I experienced today,  I'd join them!

(I listened to this song over and over in the car today!  And I'm listening to it now!)

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From HOPE AGAINST DARKNESS by Richard Rohr.

The word change normally refers to new beginnings. But transformation, the mystery we're examining, more often happens not when something new begins but when something old falls apart.

The pain of something old falling apart--chaos--invites the soul to listen at a deeper level. It invites, and sometimes forces the soul to go to a new place because the old place is falling apart. Most of us would never go to new places in any other way.

The mystics use many words to describe this chaos: fire, darkness, death, emptiness, abandonment, trial, the Evil One. Whatever it is, it does not feel good and it does not feel like God. You will do anything to keep the old thing from falling apart.

This is when you need patience and guidance, and the freedom to let go instead of tightening your controls and certitudes. A change can force a transformation.

Spiritual transformation always includes a usually disconcerting reorientation. It can either help people to find a new meaning, or it can force people to close down and turn slowly bitter.

The difference is determined precisely by the quality of our inner life, our spirituality. Change just happens, but transformation is always a process of letting go, living in the confusing dark space for awhile, and eventually being spit up on a new and unexpected shore.

You can see why Jonah in the belly of the whale is such an important symbol for many Jews and Christians. God lets Jonah run in the wrong direction, but finds a long, suffering, circuitous path to get him back where he needs to be--and in spite of himself! That is patient inner transformation (Chapter 4).

Today, I experienced grace and redemption in a way I've never experienced before.  I'm basking in the beauty of it all right now, and I really have no good words to describe it except maybe one,  AWE! 

(I know that's vague.  It was not a vague experience, though.  I'll consider posting details at a later time.  It feels too sacred at the moment.)

The "something old" fell apart nearly five years ago, and I've been living in the "confusing dark space for a while."

I think I've just been "spit up on a new and unexpected shore!"

Let's just say that "it's been a long time coming," and that something deep within me has shifted and is being transformed.  

Sweet!

Bedroom!

Before







After



I paid 23 bucks for that quilt!  Sweet!






The three piece art work is also Kim Parker.  I love Kim Parker's work.




Much better, huh?

Just out of my mouth

Me:  Let's clean the tables with 409 so we can prevent the spread of Fline Swu. Everybody up.  Let's go.

Boy in back of the room:  Ms. S., What'd you just say?

Me:  I'm feeling all germ-y.  Let's clean up so we can kill the Fline Swu stuff! (baffled at why he's asking!)  What?! Why are you looking at me funny?!

Boy:  Ms. S., you said FLINE SWU, not SWINE FLU!  And you said it TWICE!

Me:  I DID NOT!

Boy:  Me thinks you are tired.

Me:  Me thinks so too!

Good thing it's Friday!

PS:  Maybe I have it and it's gone straight to my brain?!