My grandmother taught me that you always need earrings and red lipstick in order to leave the house. Tonight my lips are red, but it isn’t from bright red lipstick.
You see, Crystal Light Fruit Punch is my new passion. It is great for hydration, but it does come with an undesired side affect. It stains my lips red and makes me feel like a little kid.
I guess it could be worse. At least I’m not into Berry Blue Punch. Blue lips with my red hair would be an unforgivable fashion faux pas. And I just couldn’t have that!
If we stripped away our standard answers and had to dig deeper for new ones, what would we say? It might take a few minutes to figure it out. It is a pretty sad commentary on our society that we are too busy to even know how we are.
Take the time to think about it. How are you? Really, how are you?
In the past, my standard answer was “surviving”. That’s where I was for a long time. But looking at my life right now, I’m doing better than that. And I’m so thankful that I am!
Even though my outlook has improved, my words haven’t changed. There is a lot of power in words. So it is time for new ones.
I miss my friend Evie, and it’s all Matt Wertz’s fault.
Monday night, I spent a little time researching music on the internet. Ok, so you could also say that I was playing around on YouTube but researching music sounds better.
As I watched Matt Wertz’s new Christmas video “Snow Globe”, I remembered that he actually filmed it at my friend Evie’s house. Well, technically, it was in her Airstream trailer. Why don’t you watch the video for yourself. Then I will take you on a little tour of the inner workings of my mind.
I don’t know what most people think while watching this video. Because I am me, so I only know what I think. But here is a little taste of what I was thinking as I watched.
I really do like Matt Wertz’s music. Hmm, he’s cute too. I really do need to buy this CD. Oh my goodness, he is wearing a red union suit. Wasn’t expecting that!
This room looks really familiar. I think I’ve seen it in another video. Oh, wait a minute, I think this was shot in Evie’s Airstream. I’m pretty sure it was. I miss her.
This is the 2nd video to be shot in there. I think the last video they shot in there was a Christmas video too. Maybe it will become an annual thing. I wonder who will be next year. I miss Evie. I wish I lived closer to her.
I wish I got to see her more than once a year. Wow, I’m really jealous of Wertz. I wish I could have spent the day at Evie’s house. Well, except I would rather wear real clothes rather than red underwear. Or if I wore red underwear, at least mine would be covered up. Do I have red underwear? Oh yeah, I did find that red bra on sale that time…but I don’t ever wear it. Why don’t I ever wear it?
I can’t believe how jealous I am of him right now. I’ve never even met the guy. I wonder what he is like.
Oh, that is the outside of the Airstream. It is really cute and different. Just like Evie. Oh, I miss her.
There’s Matt in regular clothes. His hair is pretty curly. Yeah, definitely cuter in real clothes instead of red underwear. But it takes a brave man to wear red underwear in front of everyone. Only other guy I know who would do that is my uncle George.
I really need to buy this CD.
I think this is the end of the song. Aaaghh, Wertz is walking beside Evie’s red truck. That makes me miss Evie even more!
I think my brain just works differently than other people’s. But that is what went through my head as I watched the video. Bottom line is that I miss Evie, and it is all Matt Wertz’s fault! But I do like his song…which is now stuck in my head.
I have dry eyes. In the past, every eye doctor I have ever seen has told me to deal with it. But I finally found one who is helping me. He has the same problem, so he understands my pain and is on a crusade to help others like him.
In order to fix the problem, he temporarily plugged my tear ducts. In January, he is going to cauterize them as a permanent solution. It’s great. The moisture stays in my eyes, so they don’t get bloodshot. I can wear my contacts comfortably. But there is one downside. Since my tears don’t go down my tear ducts, I cry more frequently.
Just like yesterday. I cried on my way to Thanksgiving lunch. I love my family, but I didn’t want to go. If you know me, you probably think that I love the holiday season. But you would be wrong. I used to be that girl but not anymore.
The song says “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.” I beg to differ. This time of year isn’t easy for me. It brings back some really bad memories that color the whole season.
Some people in my office are so excited about baking and decorating and everything that is jolly and bright. I’m happy for them and wish I could feel the same way, but I don’t.
I’m not like my new eye doctor who has a solution to the problem. I just know that I’m not the only one with the problem. I know there are other people who have a hard time during the holidays. We have different reasons, but the outcome is still the same.
So what do we do about it?
Maybe for me, part of the solution is not getting so overwhelmed by the events on my schedule, but by doing more for others. Standing outside and looking up at the stars, even if my nose gets a little cold. Taking the long way home so I can see the lights on First Presbyterian’s outside Christmas tree. The one that always makes me smile.
None of these are permanent fixes. But maybe the goal should be to do something to get through each day, and before you know it, the whole season will be over.
I don’t want to be a Scrooge. I want to be joyful and happy. I want to be a light to others. If I can find some little joy in every day from now until January 1, perhaps it will blossom into something greater. And somewhere down the road, possibly I might find again “the most wonderful time of the year.”
If you struggle with this time of year, what are your ideas of how to get through each day?
I’m sitting here in the chemo lab with liquids slowly dripping into my body. The IV taped to my left hand limits my movements to this chair for the next six hours. All the research that I did in advance could not have prepared me for this day. And trust me, I did research it to have an idea of what to expect.
No, I do not have cancer. I am not receiving chemo treatments. But pretty much everyone else in this room is.
I have always struggled with low iron levels. They have finally gotten to the point that I had to talk to a hematologist. My doctor has high hopes that an iron infusion will not only increase my iron levels but also ease my migraines and make me feel better. All treatments given by IV are done in the chemo lab, which is why I am in here today.
I’m in a large, clinical-looking room with 20 comfortable recliners. When I got here this morning, only a few seats were filled. Most people only need an hour or two of treatment, so I get to watch everyone come and go throughout the day. At times, the room is full. At others, half full. Around lunch, it is back to just a few people and me. But no matter how many people there are, it basically means a bunch of cancer patients and me.
I expected it to be sad and depressing. I mean, the odds are that some, if not most, of these people will die. But it isn’t sad; it is a happy place. The patients receive hugs and are greeted by name as they walk in. Many of them are in here every week for treatments. Clearly, relationships have been formed. Lives have intersected.
As a creature of habit, I see certain people on a weekly basis. The employees of my local grocery store, my favorite restaurants, the library. Some I know by name, but most only by their faces. I usually greet them with a smile, but I rarely talk to them beyond a quick “hey”. Sadly when I’m in a rush, I’ve been known to turn away focusing only on the task at hand.
I have two main nurses to take care of me. While efficient in their work, they also bring a kind and compassionate dignity to their job. At one point, one of them walked over to me and kissed me on the forehead. That was it. She wasn’t checking on my meds or my IV line. She was just extending the grace she gives her regulars to a girl who was here for just one treatment. A girl she probably won’t ever see again. A girl who got rejected on Saturday night and had to deal with problems at work all Sunday afternoon. A girl who was just feeling a little bruised.
But my nurse didn’t know all that. She was just taking care of her patient in the best way she knew how.
Part of me wishes that my iron level don’t come up. I hope I keep needing iron infusions because I don’t want to forget the chemo lab. I don’t want to forget to notice the people I see on a weekly basis. And I don’t want to forget to take care of the people in front of me in the best way I know how.
My sociology professor always said that “you are who you are because of where you have been and when you were there.”
I’ve spent the last 6 days in Nashville, once again helping with Hutchmoot. A funny name (though it makes sense to us) but the concept is quite sincere. The idea is to gather this creative community of kindred spirits who create or just love stories and art.
And it works. It really works.
There were sessions with songwriters, authors, illustrator and pastors. Concerts with a variety of artists. A keynote speech by Sally Lloyd-Jones, author of The Jesus Story Book Bible. All inspiring and wonderful. But much of the beauty of this event happens in stairwells and hallways and nooks and crannies as we live life together. Sharing one another’s joys, burdens and dreams. Reconnecting with old friends. Making new ones. All brought together by our mutual love for similar things. We are all the same, yet different at the same time.
Some describe it as finding “their people”. Others as “the best experience of their life”.
I’ll describe it as I usually do…with a story.
A few minutes before supper on Friday night, I made my way around the dining room lighting the many candles. When I finished, I absentmindedly scratched my neck. And burned myself with the hot lighter still in my hand.
It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized the burn on my neck was a perfect 1/3 inch heart. How the round end of a lighter made a heart shaped burn confuses me, but I love that symbolism. In a place where love was so evident, Hutchmoot marked me with a heart.
I doubt my little heart will leave a scar. But how I wish it would. I long to have that physical mark to remind me every day that Hutchmoot changed me. It left an impression on me and has now become woven into the warp and woof of my story.
Have you ever felt validated, truly validated by someone? I’m not talking about your mother who tells you that you are “smart and talented”. At least, that is what Mama tells me. Feel free to substitute your mom’s words for mine. Even if it is true, she is your mother and is supposed to tell you that kind of thing.
I’m talking about someone whose words speak truth and life into you. Penny Carothers did that for me. She told me that my Different Eyes article was beautiful and brought tears to her eyes. Then she said that she would love for Burnside Writers to use it. That made me feel like a writer. For that alone, she will always have a special place in my heart.
Tonight, I read a blog post that Penny wrote a month or so ago. It is her response to one of her friends telling her to write the thing she was most afraid to write.
So I started wondering, what am I most afraid to write?
I’m afraid that I am not really a writer. Because I’m not writing. No blog posts, no articles, not even funny emails to friends. Writers write, and I am not.
I’m afraid that my voice is gone. Swallowed up by all of the difficult things in my life. Migraines. A trying job. Car trouble. A strained relationship with my older sister. Drama on the music team at church.
I’m afraid that even if I find my voice again, nobody will want to hear it. Why is what I have to say so important?
I haven’t written a post in over 3 months. I don’t know that what I have to say is important. But if I don’t say it, I’m letting fear rule me.
If you fall off a horse, they say that you should get right back up on it. If you don’t, fear takes over. Maybe it is more realistic to say that the longer you go without getting back up, the easier it gets to forget about it. To forget how much you enjoy riding a horse.
It wasn’t Penny’s post that left me feeling bruised. I did that to myself when I stopped writing. No, her post illuminated truth. Writing is what helps heal. It often isn’t pretty, this outpouring of words and emotion. But it is what writers do.
Is it better to have loved and lost or to have never loved at all?
I remember having this discussion with a friend a couple of years ago. I thought it was better to have loved and lost. He preferred to have never loved.
The difference was that he had lost, while I had never loved. Each of us determined that the worst outcome was the one in which we currently resided.
Someone email me about this subject recently. Is it better to have loved and lost or to have never loved at all? It got me thinking, and I have changed my stance. I have decided that neither is better. They are both awful.
So if neither one is better, why should we even discuss it? Because how we deal with both situations is crucial!
I still haven’t loved. It makes me feel alone. It hurts.
But I have seen so many friends lose love. There is a different pain involved, but it still hurts. It makes them feel alone.
Any time we get hurt, our brains tell us to protect ourselves so we don’t repeat the same thing. Physically, we flinch. Emotionally, we do the same thing.
In trying to protect ourselves, we run the risk of shutting ourselves off. Putting up a wall so we can’t be hurt again. But that isn’t a solution.
Being vulnerable is how we become real. And being vulnerable is the only way to give love a chance.
The tears are there, right behind my lids. I desperately hold them in. As if it proves that I am fine. If I thought they would bring relief, I would weep my sorrows away. Instead tears only bring more tears.
You don’t need to call to see if I am ok. I’m ok. I’ll survive. I’ll fight off these tears. Until the next time they come.
