A Prayer for 2017

NOW:


A Prayer for 2017

Dear Sweet Lord Jesus,

Please protect us from Your people.

You told them to feed the poor, but they want to cast us out.

You told them to shelter the homeless, but they rage to send us all away.

You told them to cast the first stone if they were without sin (perfect) and You told them not to judge, and yet they hurl insults and they cast words of condemnation that hurt like bricks.

You told them to treat the immigrant like the native, but they want to take up stones once more, but this time to build a mighty wall, like that wicked tower of Babel, to thwart Your will. They want to build a giant Bable Wall instead of doing as You asked and feeding Your multitudes.

You told them to turn the other cheek, but instead they turn their faces away from those that suffer. They fight for weapons and vengeance, and they say, "That is not my problem!" or "That is not my countryman!" though You clearly told them that we are all brothers and sisters and neighbors through You, Christ Jesus.

And then... there are the violent ones...

Dear Sweet Lord Jesus, please protect us from your people!

WHY PEOPLE HURT YOU & HOW TO TRULY HELP OTHERS

 

    When I was about nine years old, my lovely old hound dog stepped in an animal trap. My dad had set it out to try to catch a fox that was eating the chickens. Dad had assumed the hound would not be hanging around the chicken house because he followed me every step I made and usually I was off in the other direction. Daddy had me help set the trap and told me to avoid it. It was right against the chicken wire coop, in a spot I almost never walked. Still, kids are forgetful and unpredictable, and a few weeks later I decided to take a completely different route to the big flat rock in the forest that I liked to stretch out on and read. I did not remember about the fox trap. It jumped back into my mind with a panic when Rock stepped in it and began to howl. I saw the trap and knew, from trying before, that I did not have the strength to open it, so I ran for my daddy.

 

    When I told him what had happened, Daddy frustrated my efforts to hurry and help my dog by digging around for a pair of thick work gloves before following me out the door. When we arrived at the dog, Rock had quieted down but he looked as pitiful as anything I had ever seen. As usual, Dad gave explanations on the go.

 

    In a soothing voice that I knew was for Rock's benefit Daddy said, "You have to be careful when helping an injured animal, Possumfrog. They are almost often panicked and if they're in pain they are going to be nearly out of their mind. Even a dog as gentle as Rock might bite you when you try to get his paw out of a trap." Dad was pulling on his gloves as he approached the dog slowly.

 

    "Rock ain't never even growled at anybody!" I wrinkled my brow, shocked at the very idea.

 

    "Yeah, but he's hurting something fierce right now." Dad was close enough to try to touch the dog and he spoke, "Let's see," As he reached out and gently rubbed Rock's head. This the hound allowed calmly, but when Daddy moved to his paw and began to put pressure on the trap, I was amazed, despite the forewarning, to see my sweet dog repeatedly and viciously bite my dad. Rock was probably the gentlest old dog I had ever known. Daddy spoke firmly to him and moved quickly to free the dog from the trap. Then Dad sat in the leaves beside a bush and slipped the gloves off. I joined him there and we sat silently for a bit, watching Rock. The dog limped off a few feet and licked his wounds. Daddy waited until the animal looked up at us forlornly before calling him over. We petted Rock gently and Dad checked his wound with a very careful touch. It was a small trap as animal traps go. Dad had told me when he set it that a bear trap could take a dog's foot clean off, but he didn't have any of those out. We'd never seen a bear on Ratliff Mountain, though several times we'd heard what my dad called a "painter." (I called it "panther".) But that beast (or beasts) seemed to have a truce with us. It didn't prey on us or the farm animals and, in return, we left it in peace.

 

    When thinking about the dog and the trap later, my absorbent young mind filed away this bit of knowledge: "Something may hurt you if it is hurting." It still took me decades to realize how true that would be across the board for so many species, including humams. I was almost fifty when I realized that people who are suffering emotionally are still in pain. They are like hounds in a fox trap; they will hurt even a helping hand. When I realized this, the concept of evil made much more sense to me, and I suddenly understood why helping people sometimes seemed like a waste of massive amounts of my time and energy. I used to try so hard to help everyone, only to be left watching while things just got worse. I was astounded to find out they were sometimes not a bit grateful for the assistance anyone gave them. I was often left feeling used and unappreciated. It was a frustrating and disheartening situation to find oneself in and it discouraged me again and again. I became afraid to reach out and offer assistance to anyone.

 

    Most of my life I've heard people say, "Take care of yourself first!" Or, "You have to love yourself first or you can't properly love others." For many years I did not at all understand that way of thinking. I thought that sounded like the most selfish way to live and definitely was not for me! I certainly didn't understand the connection between this idea and the frustration I was feeling when helping others. It took me almost two decades of limping and stumbling through adulthood to figure out that there is much wisdom in that advice. I finally understood that taking care of yourself is the foundation of taking care of others. Get your own life, health, happiness, and house in order as much as you possibly can, and then everything else will begin to fall into place. Your troubles will never go away but they will lessen and you will have more time and energy to help others fight their own woes. Before I realized this, it was like I was in a trap and still trying to help others get out of a trap. It was not much more than chaos. I was hurting myself and others and accomplishing so little. Most often, I was making things worse instead of better. You have to free yourself from the trap and lick your own wounds a bit before you can be any good for others.

 

    I also equate it to this idea: You should not drive a car to take a friend to the grocery store if the gas tank is empty, the tire is flat, or the transmission is slipping. You should take care the car and then take your friend to the grocery store. Yes, someone else may have to take them to the store today but you can take them the next time. Yes, you can push through some issues some of the time. You can put off getting gas if you have a little in the bottom of the tank, etc. But sooner or later, if you don't make that car a priority, you and your friend will either be walking home or you'll be sitting by the side of the road waiting for someone that DID make their own car a priority. This means you are inconveniencing someone instead of helping someone else. Now three of you are in a pickle instead of one. By that same token, you must take care of yourself if you want to take care of others. The car won't run without care and neither will you.

 

    If you are at all spiritual, you may like to look at it like this: The very first baby that God entrusted you with is not your firstborn (if you're a parent) it's not that darling niece or nephew (if you are an attentive auntie or uncle) or that sweet sibling (if you're a doting sis/bro.) But the first baby God gifted you with is ... YOU! I say with the wisdom and authority of many years and much pondering: God expects you to love yourself and care for yourself with as much duty and as much kindness as you care for the children you love, or would care for any child you love. You are God's child, just like those children are yours (and His) and He wants all of us well cared for! After finally figuring out that I needed to love myself so that I could then fully love and care for others, (instead of largely mucking things up) I have reached the point in my life where I do have enough energy to often successfully reach out to the people that are hurting so much they are completely self-centered, sometimes hurtful. They are dogs in a trap. Most of these people don't mean to be that way. I compare them to Rock with his foot in the fox trap. Under other circumstances, these people would be fine, gentle human beings, but they are currently under an assault of pain and panic. They are under too much emotional and possibly physical stress to do anything other than lash out. They will often fight you even if you're only trying to help them. But if you have the time (IE your own trap is off, your own needs are met) and you have some big thick gloves (IE thick skin, and an understanding nature) you really should feel duty bound to help, even if they will try to hurt you. Sometimes I have the time and the gloves. Sometimes I don't. I try to reach out and help the fallen when I can, but I have better judgement about when and how much to help. I've learned how to only assist when I'm not stretched thin, or depressed, or stressed out too much. This is a big world we live in and I'm not the only hope anyone has. When I'm feeling down, someone else can and must take up the torch and do the good that I simply cannot. Someone else will have to find the time and the gloves, because it will only make things worse if I dash in unprepared and wounded. It will make things worse if I run my own car until it quits by the side of the road. We are all human. We are none Superman, none God. No one could or should be there all of the time every time. I firmly believe in helping others, but I swear to you, you do have to take care of yourself first. This is how you truly help others: Help you first. Love you like God loves you. Take care of your first responsibility, then you will be able to do as much as is humanly possible for the ones you would like to help.

HOW TO CHOOSE FRIENDS AND IMPROVE YOUR LIFE

NOW:

Fate chooses our relatives; we choose our family and our friends. Whether you are looking for a lover or a friend, it is wise to associate yourself with good people because it's much better to be alone than in the company of bad individuals. Create your own circle of friends by spending more time with the ones that uplift and less (for family or people you have a real history with) to no (strangers and acquaintances) time with the ones that drag you down. The smaller your circle is the easier it will be to keep it working well for you and for them. Focus on quality not quantity. I'd rather have a dollar than four quarters, as they say. Remember: friends should improve your life, not drag it down in the muck and mire.

Toward that end, I have some decent advice. Things I learned the hard way over the many years I've been gaining and losing friends, you can learn in the few minutes it will take to read this list.

Gravitate toward people with these qualities and do your best to politely avoid the ones that have opposite qualities and watch while your life gets better and better in every way.

Good friends have a mixture of honesty and kindness.
Purely honest people are great - if you have thick skin. If you are sensitive in the least, you could allow their honesty to drag you down emotionally and who needs that? If you aren't ready for complete honesty, there is no shame in that fact. You will get there. Just continue to take care of yourself and your circle and it will happen.
Totally kind people are like watered down whisky... that only has a drop of whisky in it. They are fine if you need a hug or a kind word but aren't looking for substance or focusing on long term relationships. Though they make great acquaintances, they are not the stuff real friends are made of. Good friends, real friends, will strive to be honest but kind. We need truth and we need gentleness. True friends have figured that out.

Good friends are open minded and can deal with the fact that people are different.
Hanging with people that live in their own little world and think everyone else should be just like them is like playing in an anthill. Sure it starts out fun but sooner or later those ants are gonna bite. God likes variety. We are all unique. Find someone open minded enough to accept that or you're just asking for trouble.

Good friends are positive in their words and actions.
Drama queens and complainers might be fun if you like reality TV shows. (I don't and try to avoid them in all areas of life!) But remember: The way someone talks about others behind their backs is the way they will talk about you behind yours. It may seem fun to co-hate. They may crack you up with their razor sharp verbal wit, but it won't be nearly as enjoyable when they turn on you and are saying hurtful things behind YOUR back. Leo Aikman famously said, "You can tell more about someone by what he says about others than you can by what others say about him." I stumbled on this when I was a very young teen. Even then, it struck me as life-alteringly profound. It has been one of the best pieces of advice I've ever taken to heart and has helped me avoid so many haters and drama queens. I strongly suggest you hold it to your heart and keep it forever.

Good friends stretch themselves and they stretch you.
If someone doesn't have an interest in learning and doesn't care about improving themselves they won't be willing to help others improve either, and that may be the worst sign of all. They are on a downward spiral and they will gladly drag you with them. Walk away if you can. Minimize your contact if you feel obligated to not walk away. These people are beyond your help. They likely keep company with their drug of choice (be it drama, pot, television, booze, video games, etc) and have no time for friends or life. They are zombies. They are the real walking dead. If you are related to them or already love them... God help you and bless you. You will need it.

Good friends show an interest in others.
Simply put, self absorbed people are going to wear you out and wear you down. Strive to surround yourself with people that can actually look at and care about others.

Good friends are givers, not just takers.
Sure, we should all be able to accept a gift or a compliment with grace. We should certainly say, "Thank you!" instead of making some self depreciating crack that honestly just screams, "I'm out of my mind with insecurities! It's all about me!". But good friends take it to the next level: they give as well as take. Ask yourself: Do they say nice things about me? About others? About themselves? Do they like to give gifts of their time, their words, their actions, as well as their money? Generosity is not to be forgotten when choosing your circle of friends.

Good friends are loyal.
This seems like an obvious one, but it must be mentioned. Loyalty is important. And it's a tough one because it is hard to determine early in a relationship. The best way to get an idea about someone's loyalty meter is to look at their family loyalty. Do they love and appreciate the "challenging" members of their family? Do they try to find something good to say about even those individuals that seem to rub us all the wrong way? Without loyalty friendship has no foundation, so take a lot of notice of this one.

BONUS: Good friends will have some common interests but the best friends will also have some complimenting strengths.
We all know friends should share some interests. You have to have something to talk about passionately, be it books, or stars, or collections of tea cups. But did you ever give life to the idea that differences are important too? This is true with lovers and with friends.  If a difference is too far apart it will weaken the relationship. "I believe in God and my friend is a militant atheist" is not a healthy statement or a good connection. If you can make it work, giant kudos to you, but most of us would suffer in that situation. However, some differences can actually improve you and your friendship. Certain differences will encourage growth and tolerance.
My previous best friend/current appointed sister (family now because I say so!) shares a lot of common interests with me. We love almost any form of art. We talk about writing, poetry, music, films, dance and all the finer pursuits of humanity. We love nature and being out in the woods or swimming in icy mountain brooks. We both like to make each other laugh and we're pretty good at that. We like to cook, and bake, and we love to eat. We are creators and nurturers. But we also have some differences that broaden our lives. I focus on studying and remembering people and relationships. She is a walking encyclopedia of pop culture. I love spiders and the smell of Jasmine. She'd rather be flogged with a cat o' nine tails than be around either. I much prefer fiction, especially Sci Fi. She often reads biographies and autobiographies of very real and interesting people. She is a messy extrovert and I'm a germaphobic introvert. She likes gory movies and I cannot abide them. I can handle scary all day long, but gory is not for me. All these differences work well for us. I help her understand the motivations and feelings of others, and she's the first person I reach out to if I can't remember the song at the end of that movie we saw ten years ago at the mall, when we bought those matching Bath and Body Works lotions, right before Christmas. What was the name of that movie? Okay, what was the name of the song? It's magically impressive to me that she is going to know the answers and I sometimes can't seem to think, or function, or move on with life until she does her magic trick! I encourage her to think about the possibilities for the future and she helps me look firmly at the past. I teach her about e coli and she drags me to social events. I catch spiders with my bare hands before she sees them, and she grabs the doorknobs and wipes down the counter tops before I ask. I enjoy the scent of Jasmine when she's not around and she watches her gory movies with another friend. We accept and encourage. We help each other change without ever insisting that the change come about.
I wish you all a friend like my sister.
I wish you all a lot of luck finding friends that improve your circle and your life.

MY BEST ADVENTURE

THEN & NOW & FOREVER & ALWAYS:


Those two that grew inside me - and then grew outside me, and became bigger than I ever was, in so many ways - it amazes me to think that they started out as something smaller than the flower seeds that I can barely hold onto before they fly off into the breeze and to the freedom of the great, wild world.

My imposing sons, grown and intelligent men, started out as something more fragile than those seeds. Just a hope, a dream, a wish, a drop of Joy inside my heart, too small for anyone to see or even feel; only I was aware of them.

Then they were big enough to see, if you had a microscope, but still too small to feel in any physical sense.

Suddenly they fluttered like butterflies, sheltered deep inside me, my Sweetest Secret. My own Little Miracles! I could tell someone they were moving, but only I could feel it.

Soon they were baby dolphins turning, churning, like my thoughts and plans. They turned me into a different person as they turned their bodies in my womb.

And then they became small, hornless baby goats that kicked and butted, demanding their way outside into the real world, stretching to freedom. Now others could place their hands on my tummy and feel the strength of my sons' limbs and their spirits. My eyes burned with happiness. They were strong!

Still, I held them where they were as long as I could, knowing they were safest in their fleshy nest.

And I was selfish with the bliss they gave me. It was mine alone, as long as they were nestled inside. I could share the excitement, or keep it all to myself, as I chose.

When they outgrew me, when I could no longer hold them inside of myself, I held them outside of myself. I cradled them in my arms, as many hours a day as I could find. I held them, knowing they would, Lord willing, just as inevitably outgrow my arms as they had outgrown my womb. Now, I shared them well. Others could hold them as long as they liked and there would still be hours left for me. I soothed my sons' downy cheeks with my cheek. I investigated their wispy hair with my fingertips. I stared into their blue eyes and lost all track of time. Time was gone, reduced to nothing in the depth of those bright eyes.

Together we lived and grew; we laughed and cried, and I wrapped them in a cocoon of my love and happiness. I covered them with my own strength. I tried to protect them from the toughness of the world without lying to them, "Things are hard." My spirit sang to them, "But I am here." My eyes so often rested on them. I rocked them to sleep to the sound of my heartbeat and the feeling of my lips pulling on strands of their delicate hair. I remember so well that hair on my dry lips, the smell of their clean skin, the sound of their soft breathing.

They outgrew my arms, so with all my might, I held their hands and cradled their hopes.

They shook my hand away and ran to play, as well they should, as well I hoped they would. I held them with my eyes, and my words, and in my home.

Then one day, they outgrew my home and, just as baby birds do, they flew away, and in the vacuum that left, time came back. I was so proud of my sons and happy for them, but I shook my head and looked around, listening to the clock guarding time, tick, tick, tock. I had lost myself in motherhood. Suddenly, I needed to be me again, but I barely knew who that person was. Who was I but their mother? Who was I when they were not close by? Now, I could only hold them in my heart, in my thoughts, and in my prayers, but I was used to all that and so much more!

What a battle I began!

I suspect, an empty nest is hardest on those who nested best, but if I had things to do over again, I would lose myself as fully, if not more so. They are worth every ounce of my forethought and my attention. They are worth ever battle I ever fought for them and a billion others that I was spared. I could not raise those great men without giving them my all. I have no regrets about making them the center of my world. I fully recommend it.

Motherhood has been my best adventure.

HOW I PRAY

NOW:

    On very rare nights, I fall asleep before I even begin my prayers. I try to avoid that, but occasionally my mind is trying to finish thinking something out, and the next thing I know it is morning.

    Most nights, I at least say the Lord's Prayer, as that is the prayer Jesus taught us. I learned that one by heart of my own volition when I was about twelve. It adorned the wall over the stairway at my church and the words touched my heart, so much that I tucked them away inside it.

    Usually, the Lord's Prayer is followed by my own personal prayers. If I am especially troubled, thankful, or awake, I also say a prayer that I taught myself when I was about fourteen. It is called simply, "Thank You Lord". This one I found on the wall of Edith's office. Edith was the social worker that handled my family's food stamp case. She loved me and I her. I used to draw birds for her and she encouraged my artistic pursuits with praise that seemed honest and yet a little lavish. The words from the prayer on her wall spoke to my heart so firmly that I felt I had to hold onto them, to own them, and so I memorized them and loved them from that day on.

    If I am completely exhausted and not sure I will stay awake through even the Lord's Prayer, I begin with the child's prayer: Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake. I pray the Lord my soul to take...

    Most nights I say a full prayer that goes like this:

    Our Father Who art in Heaven, 
    Hallowed be Thy name. 
    Thy kingdom come, 
    Thy will be done, 
    In Earth as it is in Heaven. 
    Give us this day, 
    Our daily bread, 
    And forgive us our debts, 
    As we forgive or debtors. 
    Lead us not, 
    Into temptation, 
    But deliver us from evil, 
    For thine is the kingdom, 
    And the Power, 
    And the Glory, 
    Forever...

    Father God, I thank You for being not only my God and my Creator, but especially for being my Father! What a mercy! What a blessing! What a gift, to be family with You!

    Thank You for Your son, Jesus, who lived, suffered, and died for me and mine! What a humbling sacrifice that we can never deserve!

    Thank You for the Holy Ghost, who is here for us in this time of separation and great need!

    Thank You for all good angels, in Heaven and in Earth. For Heaven's splendor and Earth's beauty. For all good angels encamped around the children of God. What a sweet and comforting thought!

    Thank You for all good people, in Heaven and in Earth. Please help us to realize that we, as Your children, are all family.

    Thank You for the people I love and need, for those that make life here better and help me find the strength to focus on good works in Your name.

    (As I thank God for my loved ones, I imagine their faces. I see them doing what I think they may be up to at that moment, sleeping, playing video games, brushing their teeth, reading stories to their little ones, etc.)

    I thank You so much for my husband, WadeO. For my sons Cory, Liam, and Justin. For my daughter in law,Julie, and my grand kids, Lilly, Noah, and Jackson. I thank You for the close relationship my boys have. Please help them to strengthen that, to stay each other's best friends here in this difficult place. I thank You for my step daughters, and I pray You will soften their hearts toward their dad and toward me. Thank You for their partners. Bless my adorable grandkids, please and help them to find and follow You.

    (When I am feeling strong, I list my step daughters and their partners individually, but most often it hurts too much to think that deeply of them, it brings their rejection to the surface of my strained and battered heart.)

    Thank You so much for my mommy and daddy, for Sandi, Lila, Paul, and Mary. Thank You for my nieces and nephews, great nephews and great nieces, and my great great niece.

    (Here, I usually go on to list my two sister's kids and their children individually, and I list several of my in laws: sister in laws, brother in laws, nieces, and nephews. I usually list some from my first marriage as well, imagining them all snug in their beds or kidding their children goodnight, etc. but I will leave their names out of this account this time.)

    Thank You Great God Almighty for Aunt Nancy, Barbara and Elmer, and Leona and all their kids, grand kids, and great grand kids. For all my aunties, (I have no uncle's left) for all my cousins, relatives, family, and friends.

    Thank You Father, for life, love, laughter, learning, and liberty... for health, happiness, hope, home, hearth, honor, honesty, and humbleness... for safety, salvation, and sanity... for faith, family, friends, and freedom... for Goodness and glory... for mercy and mindfulness, peace and plenty, wisdom and wonder.

    Thank You for motherhood and for the wind.

    Please forgive me, my Father, for anything I have ever said or done that offended You or goodness. I pray You forgive me all my flaws, shortcomings, and sins.

    Please help my children. Please be with them and bless them always. Teach them and guide them. Please comfort them. Help them to know they are never alone. I know they are Your children as they are mine. Don't let them forget that!

    I pray You will look down on us, Father God. Please strengthen the weak, comfort the lonely, heal the sick. Help us live as children of the King, of the Most High God.

    (Here, I pray for any current needs. Right now my friend Nancy is on that list and so are good life mates for Cory and Will.)

    Please be with my sweet friend Nancy and help her win this battle against cancer. We need more people like her on this side of Paradise, people willing to do good, willing to love. Please help her find the strength to defeat cancer and to be with us for many years to come.

    Please help Co and Will find good, God fearing women that will be helpmates for my sons, and that will allow my sons to help them as well. Please send them women that will love them, hold them, laugh with them, teach them, and learn from them. Send them women with strong character, good hearts, and that will make sweet conversations with my sons up until their old age. Please send them women that will seek goodness and that will be good mothers to my future grandchildren. And thank You so very much for Justin's Julie, who is all these marvelous things! I know that Justin and Jackson are in such good hands!

    If it can be Thy will, but in all things, always, Thy will be done.

    Thank You Lord, 
    For each new day You give to me, 
    For Earth and sky, and sand, and sea, 
    For rainbows after springtime showers, 
    Autumn leaves and summer flowers, 
    For winter snow scapes so serene, 
    Harvest fields of gold and green, 
    Stars that twinkle high above, 
    And all the people that I love!

    (And I fall asleep feeling very relaxed and very blessed!)

WHAT YOU CAN DO FOR ME NOW

    NOW:


    I have had several brushes with death in my 48 years. I fought a tough battle with meningitis. I nearly drowned. I have survived two natural births (those do still kill some women) an ectopic pregnancy, kidney stones (those I only THOUGHT were killing me!) and a few "face explosions".

    Every time I get close to death I panic, but when I was closest to death (the first face explosion when they gave me too many medications and I "bottomed out" and the near drowning) a warm and tender calm wrapped itself around me. It was almost like being high. I was fine, dude! Death was no big deal.

    Sometimes, I worry, just a little, that maybe my feelings about God and my belief are all unfounded and I will simply cease to be. I only worry a little about that though because in the time before I was born there was nothing to be afraid of or worried about. If death is just the reversal of birth, it is still nothing to fear. Usually this fear comes after a brush with death or before it. During the brush I think of you...
In the panic before the calm,  I worry about my family. I worry that my sonnies still need me, that I might yet be of some decent service to them in the future, if only I can stick around. I worry that they don't really know how much I love them. I'm concerned that, without me to remind them, they will undervalue themselves and not take good care of my sons. I fear they may lose sight of God if I am not there to remind them how much He loves them. What a hard, frightening, and lonely place I think this Earth would be without Faith!

    I worry that my husband will be lonely, that he may somehow blame himself or wish he had done something/everything differently. I worry he won't know that I knew he loved me and gave me the best of himself every day.

    I'm concerned that my family will suffer and be sad. That my parents may not be able to survive the loss of another daughter, that my sisters will feel the pain so much they will forget the pleasure we had being sisters, forget how to smile. I worry that those that rejected me: my wonderful niece/sister/daughter/friend Tanya, and my brilliant and beautiful step daughters, may feel guilty.

    I don't want to leave a legacy of pain, and grief, and guilt!

    So, I am asking you all now:
    Know that I LOVE (no 'ed' on the end of that word, now or ever) you all more than I, a practiced wordsmith, could ever express!
Know that I know you love me, or did love me, or could have loved me, or would have loved me. Know that what you gave me was enough, that I never held a grudge and would never want you to be sad or feel any guilt. Know that I went out of this world loving you, and accepting you, and praying for you every day.
Know that I want you to celebrate my life or wait in peace until you can celebrate my life.

    Know that I will see you again, or that it will cease to matter. Either option is not so bad, eh? Though I lean mightily toward the afterlife that I've studied and felt. I FEEL loved and God makes more sense to me than "the belief that there was nothing and nothing happened to nothing and then nothing exploded for no reason, creating everything, and then a bunch of everything magically rearranged itself for no reason what so ever into self-replicating bits which then turned into dinosaurs." (Yes, I stole that from the Atheist meme.) Because of my own feeling of being loved and watched all my days, because everything from nothing for no reason doesn't make much sense to me, because many things have happened to me that only the existence of God explains (angels and miracles, some might call them) because of the feeling of well being that I slipped into when closest to death, because Faith is better than Fear, because I believe there is something to the accounts from all over the world reporting such similar stories about what happens after death, because of all this and more, I lean mightily toward the idea of a loving God and an illuminating afterlife. I invite you all to study NDEs. Read Betty J. Eadie. Her account makes more sense to me than any other, though I love Danion Brinkley's story and many others as well. Keep your eye on Dr. Sam Parnia. I have a feeling that he may yet blow the lid off of the idea of death. Throw yourself into this or some other worthy project or subject. Be busy learning and loving.

    Watch The Five People You Meet in Heaven. The message is best summed up by this quote: " Life has to end, ... Love doesn't. "Marguerite also says, "Lost love is still love, Eddie. It just takes a different form, that's all. You can't hold their hand... You can't tousle their hair... But when those senses weaken another one comes to life... Memory... Memory becomes your partner. You hold it... you dance with it... Life has to end, Eddie... Love doesn't. "

    When you miss me a lot, focus on you. See a counselor, join a grief support group, take a bubble bath, or a Tylenol PM followed by a good night's rest. Take a nap or a drive. Watch your favorite movie. Read a great book. Have a good cry and pull yourself together. There is no shame in grief, but you cannot let it dissolve you.

    When you miss me a little, focus on me, go read the poems, and essays, and stories I left for you. You will find me there. Forgive me if you find the old me, the one full of hurt and anger. Focus on the me that was better at loving. Read my poemish thing "I Have Lived." Read "Before and After". Read "I Love You More". Read "The Next Day". Read them all if you want, or none of them, or one of them. Follow your head and your heart. It's all good!

    I hope you will help each other minimize the loss:

    Sons, band together as never before. You have always been close, be now closer. Be there for yourselves, for each other, for Julie, for Jackson, Lilly, and Noah, for your sisters and your dad, my dear, sweet husband. Take care of my sonnies and their loved ones, please! Never forget that you are worthy of love and care! Never forget you were my very breath and are my greatest Earthly delight.

    Husband, take care of you for me. Take care of my boys, my grands, and my girls - if and when they will allow it. Be productive. Be happy. Sing and play the guitar. Write. Love, Learn, and Laugh. Know that you made my life so gorgeous, that my heart is still there with you, beating inside your chest! Please, take care of my man! My split-apart, I still adore you like no other!

    Sisters, wrap your love around each other and my precious Momma and Poppa and help my family endure. Do what we have always done best: Mother. Aunt. Share. Love. I beg all three of you to take my boys under your wing more than you have ever before. You've always been great aunts, be now Super Aunts. They need a tender touch, a mom-like ear, a soft place to land, a whispered prayer in the night. Be that for my sons, and for each other, and for us all. Don't ever stop being my sisters and I will never stop being yours! Remember that in this life, you were as much a part of me as the blood in my veins.

    Nieces and nephews, my dear almost-children, be strong for me and for each other. Know that I would have taken a bullet or fought a bear for any of you. Know that I would have taken a life for you and not lost a bit of sleep over it. I considered you all worth killing or dying for. Band together. Take care of each other. Follow me into the unknown and we will laugh and love again.

    Momma and Poppa, dear sweet parents, please be strong if you can! Thank you so much for so much! You know better than anyone that I will see you again! In the meantime, please be there for the daughters you still have on this side, for the grandsons that will need you now more than ever. Pour all the love you wish you could show me into them. I will feel it. I will see it. It will make the angels sing. Take care of my sweet, lovely parents! Love my husband for me, my boys, my girls, my sisters, my kids (nieces and nephews, etc). It is all you can do for me now.


    This is what you all can do for me now: Love each other for me.

    I love you all!

    I love you more than chocolate, more than the smell of rain, or the sound of the sea. I love you more than the night sky full of bright stars, or the relief of a swimming pool on a hot summer day. I love you more than the first frost in late autumn, or silent snow flakes, or rainbows, or daisies, I love you more, more, more! Now, please love yourselves and each other more, more, more! That's my charge to you.

THE GIRLS AND THE BOYS

Gender Courage

NOW:


    My mom and dad both came from extremely poor families with ten children. My dad had two sisters and my mom had two (living) brothers. Both of my parents families lost a son while the child was still very young . Dad's oldest brother, Victor died while still a toddler, and mother's little brother, David was stillborn. She can remember the adults lying David's lifeless little body up on an ironing board after he was delivered. What a sight that would be for anyone, especially a child.

    The first "The Girls", that I was familiar with were my mother and her sisters, though I only remember them this way in stories from my mother's youth. Mother was not the oldest child and she was usually the smallest. (It did not take long for her younger sisters to outgrow her.) But she was often the fireball protector that her sisters hid behind when danger was afoot and she did her utmost to protect "The Girls". Mother's family was exposed to abuse from several males which left her all about girl power long before she had four daughters to keep up with.

    I am even more familiar with the idea of my mother and her favorite cousin, Nancy, being "The Girls". I have heard many stories of their adventures and antics as they were growing up. When they were sixteen (my auntie) and fifteen (my mother) they married brothers, thus happily ensuring that, like their childhood had been, a lot of their adult life would be spent side by side. They thought they were both sixteen when they married those brothers, but my mother found out in later life that an aunt that kept telling her she was a year younger than her cousin Nancy, was actually correct. My mother's parents had forgotten what year she was born in and incorrectly told her she was the same age as Nancy. It boggles my mind that someone could forget the their niece was a year old when their daughter was born, but I did not live their hard lives, so who knows? Maybe it could happen to many of us in like circumstances.

    After my mother and Aunt Nancy had their kids collectively they had three boys and seven girls, though one daughter had died at eleven months old. My mother had all daughters. My cousins, sisters, and I were raised nearly like siblings, especially in the earlier years, before I was born and when I was quite little. Now "The Girls" became the term used by my aunt and uncle and my parents when they referred to my sisters, my cousin/sisters and me.

    I barely remember those days when our two families were together most of the time. Many of my childhood hours were spent in total solitude, and I grew up very much like an only child. When I was seven, my sister Lila (at age seventeen) gave birth to my niece, Tanya. A son and two more daughters followed, and it was not long before "The Girls" was used for my two youngest nieces. They were close in age, pretty, petite, and feminine. The moniker worked well for them. Sometimes, as we were prone to gallivant around together, they hung the term on Tanya, my favorite cousin, Ramona, and me, but mostly, probably because the three of us might more likely be found up a tree as brow deep in a dollhouse, "The Girls" was reserved for my two little nieces.

    These days, when anyone says "The Girls" I tend to think of my five step daughters first, though they are all women now. Usually, that is who the speaker intends me to think of. It amuses, and let's be honest, please me, when someone says, "Where are the girls?" And they are actually talking about some combination of my sisters and me. I will happily be part of "The Girls" all my days. It is not an insult in my book.

    I don't remember anyone ever referring to my dad and his brothers, or my mother's brothers, as "The Boys" or even "The Guys". Unity and youth seems to be a chick thing, though my sister Lila and I did often refer to her foster sons, John, Chet, Tracey, and Shane and to my two sons, Cory and Liam, as "The Boys", both collectively and in smaller groups. She had her group of "The Boys" and I had my group of "The Boys" and together they were "The Boys." At that time, our guys did not mind the group moniker in the least. Now, I wonder if some of them might take offense if we were to call them that. As I said, unity and youth seems to be a chick thing. My husband bristles if I call him a "boy". He's a man, don't I know that?! I laugh off this wild idea and tell him I'm still a girl, a female. He's still a boy, a male, but he disagrees without fail. I have noticed that males in minority groups are similarly offended if they are called "boys." That type of thinking is apparently not a girl thing at all! I don't really understand how "boy" could be such an insult to a man when "girl" is never a bad thing to most of us females. And if you think "boy" is insulting, try calling a grown man a "girl"! (You might want to try this from a safe distance, especially if you are male yourself.) Ask yourself: Isn't it a strength to be okay with your sex at any point in your life? Shouldn't it be an acceptable thing to enjoy thinking of yourself as younger? Is is truly an insult to be compared to half the marvelous people in the world? Don't we all have a feminine side and a masculine side?

    I wish for a future that is just as receptive of "boys" as it is of "girls" and just as receptive of "girls" as it is of "boys". Wouldn't it be nice if no one raised an eyebrow at the next batch of "The Girls" that would not stop climbing trees, playing with toy vehicles, or being love with the speed and freedom they found on top of horses and bikes? Wouldn't it be nice if no one raised an eyebrow if a male (straight, or homosexual, or too young to know or care) wanted to be more in touch with his softer, feminine side? Isn't gentleness a virtue?

    When they were growing up, my sons played with dolls and painted their nails if they took a notion. I did not worry if they wanted to wear sandals, or flip flops, or the colors pink or purple. Though their dad made a big deal out of it many times. To this day, both my sons are so far from homophobic they scare the homophobic, and this just makes me proud! So far, they have only dated females, and I would be surprised, though not at all displeased, if that were to change. I want them to continue to be happy, and healthy, and kind. I don't see that what they do with their private parts is any of my business or anyone else's. As long as everything is between consenting adults, I'll keep my bedroom and you keep yours. 

    I think the shame we have long placed on being soft/feminine has long since lost it's practicality, if it ever had any, and should soon become a thing of the past. I'll give you this: Perhaps, it was necessary to squash tenderness when we had to go out and fight the saber toothed tiger for our dinner, but now that we've reached the stage where brains bring home more bacon than brawn, couldn't we let our guard down enough to stop shaming people for being sweet and kind? Couldn't we just enjoy how cuddly they are even if they are "The Boys"?