Dear Mr. Sunset......

  First, let me say, I address you as Mister due to the illusion I have in my head that you are some dreamy male worthy of my attention, because as it seems these days, most sit on a throne of expectation, but you simply sit in the quietness of your own beauty.   During a moment of human interaction today I experienced someone's frustration with my lack of  attention to their expectations, and I must confess, every fiber of my being was disrupted during those few ticks of the clock.  I felt a disturbance within my well being and needed an outlet to unleash this negative energy so I grabbed the four legged beast, the leash, my feet, and off we set forth to release it. The park, which is usually empty this time of year, was home to several teenagers playing basketball this evening, which only seemed to antagonize this feeling inside of me.  I kept putting one foot in front of the other, but my mind raced with this pent up entity tagging along, not belonging to me but left with me as a parting gift for not addressing it's presence to begin with.  The beast and I huffed and puffed our way around the kids and rounded the corner, and there you were.  I watched as you appeared over the horizon, not announcing yourself with a firm hand but a silent stealth that took my breath away.  The expressionist views that your color palette displayed melted the unwelcomed traveler within me. There I stood basking in your warm hues of yellow, orange and pink as if I was dancing along in my mind with the trickles of the brush used to create you.  You were lending yourself to a level of creativity for anyone wanting to bask with me, and once again, I became in awe of your creator and His presence within all things. 

With heartfelt gratitude, please find my words to you as a symbol of my love and appreciation for the intimate moment we shared together today.  Until we meet again, at the edge of this earth I will wait for you to present your next masterpiece.  

Sincerely,

Me

Dear 2020

Dear 2020,

        It was so easy for all the world to brand you such a depressing year, but how unfair is it to blame you for our struggles?  Many saw you as a distant lover chasing something grander in the distance leaving them feeling abandoned by you, when in essence you were allowing us the freedom to choose our own paths.  We were becoming charged with our own futures and for some, that weight turned into self destruction while others flourished and bloomed from your lack of attention. 

        I, myself, spent my time with you trying to build something, whether that be a porch gate, a seat or even a shed. I had no prior skill set to draw upon, no master teacher holding my hand (I wouldn't have let them anyway), or any idea how it would turn out, but I did have the stubbornness passed down from generation to generation of women in my bloodline that refused to quit this time.  Quitting, often seems to be a failure I have found comfort in when my mind wanders to a new task instead of favoring the current one. If you never complete anything then there is no fear of failure since the only judgement you will be subjected to is your own, in which you labeled it unfinished instead of failed.  Unfinished has the sound of opportunity that resonates throughout it, whereas failure has an ominous tone that is deafening.  To fail and begin again requires one to learn from self-action and change their mindset to listen for hope within starting over.  Hope doesn't live within fear but in beginnings.   

  So, to new beginnings, please find my heartfelt thank you for allowing me those moments with you to reflect on my weaknesses and accept them.  For in acceptance I no longer fear change but consider it a friend on my journey toward acceptance and self value.  

Sincerely,

Me

Dear Anger

 Dear Mr. Anger,

    The awkwardness of this letter is beyond my vocabulary at the moment so please forgive me. I understand the fury which exists inside of you that leaks out from time to time on those around you, myself included, and it’s with that fury that this letter is intended to reach.  No harsher words can be said than those YOU speak. I felt your power most in those fearful moments, the ones I wasn’t sure you would be talked down from that ledge of oblivion you choose to walk. As a mother, I felt the desire to coddle you into submission and wrap you in love but I found my swaddling to be severely insufficient for your needs.  As a friend, I wanted to listen and offer advice when it came to your overall being, but you spoke with intimidation so loudly I couldn’t calm the beast emerging to hear your cries.  As a woman, I waited for the apology that was deserved.  For in those moments you allowed your loss of control to capture my attention, you became unworthy of my energy.  My energy is filled with light and when spoken to in such a manner will blossom with the fruits of my spirit. Perhaps, in our future lives, we’ll speak fondly of each other to others and not let the entirety of our intimacy be buried in disgust but flourish from growth.  

Sincerely,

Me (just me)  

Anxiety

Mr. Anxiety,

    With you, each breath becomes quicker with a quiver that resonates from my inner spirit. It’s like being privy to my spirit breathing deep inside while my soul is rocking the rib cage as if a death row inmate desperately looking for someone to open the bars.  Then, an overall liquid coating of absolute cold weathered fear fills up inside of my stomach. Turning my guts into a knotted rope exhibiting the fight and flight response at the exact same moment, all whilst trying to discern the 5,819 thoughts running through my mind on auto loop. My soul is trying to escape the depths from where it lies and my body wanting to chase it so as not to be separated from each other. Stumbling after my thoughts and reaching out for  my peace become the only distraction I have left to focus on but both are quite exhaustive.  

 Close my eyes, slow the breathing to settle the beast knocking down the walls, isolate one voice (preferably the one telling me this will pass), and envision God’s almighty, beautiful hand reaching down from above to envelope my spirit’s face to assure me there is no need to fear. There is no need to fear the unknown but embrace it as a student of life, forever learning.  

THIS Christmas

I started this Christmas season worrying about the Christmas tree and wanting it to be perfect, but finally realizing that my perfect tree wasn't the same as another's.  What the tree represents to me is a childhood love of the lights wrapped all around.  Riding in the back seat of the car, peering out the windows staring at all the twinkling lights that danced around the trees during this time of year, filled me with happiness and joy that my spirit tangos with every year. My tree has no topper and I'm pretty sure you can tell I added additional lights in the middle to cover up the fact that those "in tree" lights weren't working.  It has no real style label other than mine but it makes me think of a wooded forest with tree gnomes having a fun time hanging out in their tree house during the winter snow day...which, makes my heart smile in a way that I'm transported back in time to watching those trees sparkle as far as I could see all those years ago.   

I, then moved to stressing about what to get each and everyone on my list and being upset with myself for not following through with the "perfect gift" to each.  You know, the picture you have of giving that one item they will forever remember and adore above all others.  But, what is that gift??  I purchased clothing, shoes, lights, shoes WITH lights, fanny packs, and the ever faithful gift cards (the gift card isn't the perfect gift, so epic failure there, but a C- for amount and thought).  I masked up and stood in lines and walked more than my step counter had seen only to end up wishing I'd done more! Don't we all feel that way. 

Christmas Day came and as everyone opened their gifts I looked around at mine. First, the blessing of  spending the day with those I love and the ones they love in return by adding the Mongrel's new tamers to our holiday festivities. Second, The taste of the memories I relived when I was inhaling the dressing mom made that tasted just like Grammys, so much so that I wanted to eat the whole pan just to savor the memories (carbs be damned!).  Third, the yearly running commentary on the "dry turkey" and it's lack of taste.  One year I'm gonna surprise them, with a less dry turkey!  

So, after all the stressing and mental/emotional breakdowns that occurred in the past 2 months, my Christmas was filled with love and laughter that defined my Christmas as Merry and Bright, just like my tree! Thank you family and friends for my precious gifts this season!  I mucho mucho love them.  

The baggage we carry....

 I pulled the suitcase out from under the bed for what seemed like the bajillion time, this time noticing the threads, how they intertwined along the seams but was starting to show signs of fraying and made me think of all the times I've grabbed it to pack or unpack throughout my life.  

    I flashed back to the first suitcase I remember having as a young child.  A hard shelled, bright red child sized suitcase with two metal buckle closures, and a handle made of a plastic that matched the coloring of the shell perfectly.  On the front of the suitcase was a young girl dressed in her yellow jacket taking strides in front of a white picket fence, carrying a teddy bear in one hand and, of course, carrying a suitcase in the other.  It had the following words written on it, "Going to Grandma's". I was sitting in the front seat of my Grammy's old rambler, filled with happiness, clutching the suitcase in my hands while the bottom of it rested on my lap. She had started backing out of the driveway of our house to when I hear a giant thump and the car stopped suddenly.  Grammy simply put the car in park, slowly turned to me and said to me, sarcastically, "Look what you made me do.".  She had backed into a tree in our yard and dented her car.  I cannot count how many times I carried that suitcase while "Going to Grandma's" to spend the night and I cannot remember a time I felt less than fully loved by her.  It was always one of my most favorite places to go.  

   My thoughts drift back to the suitcase I'm holding in my hand today and to the first time I filled it up with my belongings from my first home with my husband.  We were so young, had just gotten married, and found out a month later we were pregnant. Here we were, two adults (by law anyway) trying to figure out what a marriage is supposed to be about whilst getting ready for a child of our own to raise.  We didn't even know who we were on our own let alone together in this new found adult life.  We struggled, a LOT.  We argued, a LOT.  We stopped communicating altogether.  I pulled that suitcase out, flew around the house tossing the important things inside to take with me, away from this mess, away from this mistake, and ultimately, away from my marriage.  I picked that heavy suitcase up and without even one last glance back, I tucked my head down and walked out.  I came back a few days later, but, alas, that was not the last time that suitcase was filled during that marriage.  If I'm being honest, I never completely unpacked that suitcase after that either.  Years go by, a marriage ends, the relationship is rekindled but never with the same vigor or hope that was held before and therefore, it would never last. It was like the saying, "round peg, square hole".   We were meant to have two beautiful children that God blessed us with but the mistakes from both parties involved meant a dissolution that would never allow a future to be present in this life.  We were not meant to last.   

I smell the leather and so many memories flood my mind.  The salt air from later life adventures lingers inside the lining as if it were to tell it's own story of smiles and tears.  How the ocean breeze carried it out to sea and left it there to be found by someone else only to be returned to me years later with an extra destination sticker clinging to its shell.  As I put it away this time, I look at the now dated leather suitcase in my hand and notice the stained remnants of memories that this suitcase holds for me.  This baggage I carried time and time again, but never completely emptied before heading out again.  Time to dig deep and clean the dusty, tattered bag inside out.  I started with realizing what no longer fit me and tossed those items first (feelings of unworthiness and fear of failure). Then, I tossed what no longer felt like my style (indecisiveness and regret).  Finally, I found and embraced pieces that I never knew I had packed away to begin with (my voice and respect).  I pulled them out and danced around while holding them against me for a few minutes. My hands grip them tightly and a smile begins to form on one end of my mouth that spread to the other side. Swaying and moving, there in my bedroom, for a few  just reminiscing about past times and dreaming of future moments.  My eyes focus back on the brown, faded, but smooth surface of this bag that I've carried for so long, I place my hand on top just one more time and allow my thumb to carefully stroke the feel of the leather, then,  picking it up and gently placing it back in its place until it is needed again.  

     

Random act of kindness

This past Tuesday driving away from work, I’m thinking about all the things I want to get done with my upcoming days off, when I notice my battery light comes on in the Yota.  Now, being that this is a brand new battery, I’m a little alarmed as to why it’s now coming on. Then, more alarming, smoke starts to boil out from under the hood where the battery sits. Luckily, I was at a stop sign and was able to pull into the nearest parking lot (right beside said stop sign) and cut the car off. This parking lot was to Tony’s Bar. I popped the hood and jumped out, no sooner did a man pull into the same parking lot and jump out of his vehicle (barefoot and all!) to raise the hood and check out what was happening.  To be completely honest, I popped the hood but was a little terrified to stick my hand under there to raise it because all I could think was ‘what if there are flames under there?’!  As this stranger gets the hood raised we both watch as the starter cable connected to the battery literally melts away from the battery!!  Well, I’m not driving her now is the first thing that came to mind.  I figured I had better see if anyone was at the bar to ask if it was ok to leave the car there until I could get it towed home.  Then the second thing I thought was, man it’s hot out here.  It was nineteen million degrees south of hellfire in the temperatures this day and I was already starting to swelt (combination of sweating and melting). My hair had begun to be worn as a scarf and I’m pretty sure my lashes were barely clinging to the stray hair that swept in front of my face.  So, with my beautiful swelting self I walked up to the side gate of this bar to see if anyone was there.  I see a gentlemen standing at the back of the bar area on his phone. “Excuse me sir!”, I said a few times before he finally heard me.  He walked up and I explained what happened to the car and asked if it was ok for me to leave it there for just a short time. He said, “it’s no problem ma’am but I do appreciate you asking”.  He then invited me in to stand by the big ole fan he had out there and wait until help came. He was such a nice man, I looked at him and said, “well, Tony, God decided for us to meet today so let’s find out why.”  For the next hour, I was blessed to get to know a little bit about Tony. He has owned that bar for 35 years and I believe just about every year he has held a poker run for Holy Angles in Belmont, North Carolina.  He told me the story of how it has blessed his heart to be able to raise money for this organization every year but sadly this would be the first year he wouldn’t be able to because of COVID-19.  Here this 65 year old man stood telling me about how much he has loved doing this event so much he designs a new T-shirt for the event himself every year.  He then gave me a tour of his bar, offered me a bottle of water several times, and stood and chatted with me, a swelting mess of a woman, and even took a look at the car for me. One moment when he pulled that battery cable up and touched it to the battery it sparked in his hand and I thought this man was gonna get shocked and die right there in his own parking lot. I know it’s not that much voltage now but I am also the person who once when I heard the boss couldn’t eat for 36 hours I shouted “you can’t eat for THREE days?”  The looks I got on that one we’re nevertheless along the lines of ‘that black hair must be a dye job’!  

  To end our chance meeting he even called a tow service that is owned by a friend of his and assured me the car would be safe there until they got there to tow it. I guess I could have seen the car breaking down as a bad thing and been upset but instead I believe it was meant to happen and for a reason beyond my knowing. I was trying to think of a way to repay this mans kindness he showed to me that evening so I have donated $50 to Holy Angles and if anyone reading this is looking for an act of kindness to share in I hope this can be it.   I will forever be grateful for this Tony and his kindness that hot September evening after work!  So Let’s all try to be a Tony (kind, compassionate, and friendly) when encountering strangers in our daily lives! 

“The Holy Angels mission is to provide compassionate, dependable care and opportunities for high-quality living to those with intellectual developmental disabilities and delicate medical conditions through physical, social, spiritual, educational, vocational and emotional support.”