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Posts from the ‘The Power of Pain’ Category

One

I am tired.

No. Tired is inadequate; exhausted is overused.

Perhaps spent is more appropriate.

Those who know us know our lives are rather… erhm, full. Some seasons, full is oppressive; others, it’s beautiful – satisfying, even.

Last year we lived the first; this year we’ve seen glimpses of the second.

The difference? What we’ve chosen as our… fillers.

Seven years ago this month, I was counting down the weeks till Noelle’s birth, anxious to be delivered of the extra weight, anxious to get my body back.

I was tired of sharing my heart, my blood, my kidneys, my uterus. I was tired of being host to an ever-growing parasite. I wanted my parts back. I wanted to support my own life functions, and not anyone else’s.

I know. The naivete is crushingly hilarious.

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The Haves and the Have-Nots

The love of money is the root of all evil; the lack of money is the root of all evil. – Robert Kiyosaki

If a person gets his attitude towards money straight, it will help straighten out almost every other area in his life. – Billy Graham

The last six weeks have been a blur of sun and travel; biking, flying, and driving; food, games, movies, and books.

Yes, you know me. There was a lot of books.

I left with four Kindle reads and two hardcovers, but when I arrived at our home-away-from-home, I also wandered to their lobby’s lending library. Always curious to see what others choose to buy then share with others, my eyes landed on a black-lettered green paperback: Moneyball.

From the first pages, Michael Lewis swept me back to adolescence, where September meant less about going back to school and more about the World Series. With each chapter, I returned to the smell of my Grannie’s kitchen and taste of my mom’s apple pie.  I went back to the day I paced the front bedroom of my grandparents’ cozy old house, unable to watch as Dave Winfield tried to defy the curse of a 2-2-2 count.

He did.

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Superwoman and the Impossible Dream

I sit in the middle of a half-painted room.

Green painter’s tape encases the semi-white trim of my stairwell. A gallon of  Swiss Coffee paint sits opened two feet from me, a two-inch paint brush on the newspaper-covered floor next to me.

I am tired.

Two years ago, David and I remodeled our kitchen. We took out a wall, replaced the cabinets, and painted it – white.

White has a dramatic effect on a small house. The walls look cleaner, less enclosing, somehow.  And when I saw the kitchen results, when I realized how much white opened up the room I spend the most time in, I thought, maybe I should keep going with this color.

So I did. I stretched the Sandstone Cove into the hallway and down the stairs.

But I got tired.

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Sun-Induced Panic

I meant to blog before today, but, as you may have heard, we’ve got sun.

Finally.

Summer’s arrival in the Pacific Northwest has been nothing short of slothful. Our friends from sunnier parts of the planet have probably had plenty of belly-aching fodder to add to their Vancouver jokes. After all, British Columbians do melodramatic very, very well.  But in case you mistake rain complaints as Vancouver’s unique bid for an Olympic sport, I’d like to present a case for:

sun-induced panic sprints.

It may not be among the list of London 2012 Games, but here in the Wet Western Coast of Canada, we run faster than a cheetah when we see a hint of sun. Quick! Everyone, drop what you’re doing! It’s HERE!

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Keep Calm and Carry On

Have you ever really, realllllly wanted – even needed – something to happen… and it didn’t?

Of course you have. We wouldn’t be human if we got everything we ever wanted.

But sometimes, it seems kind of cruel, doesn’t it?

I’ve been reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to the girls. I loved this book – and its sequel – as a child. I thought it rather silly as a twenty-year-old ‘grown-up’. Now, as an almost thirty-two-year-old mother, I think it borders on profound.

In my eyes, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is a treatise on the evils of greed, gluttony, and selfishness. The hero is none of those things; the other children are all of those things. The hero survives; the others are destroyed by their impulsiveness, obnoxiousness, and covetousness.

They see something, they need to have it, they go out and get it.

They’re not much different than you and I.

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Mature Immaturity

Once upon another time, before I knew which life was mine, before I left the child behind me; I saw myself in summer nights and stars lit up like candlelight, I ‘d make my wish, but mostly I… believed. – Sara Bareilles

Take me back to the time when I was maybe eight or nine, and I believed… When wonders and when mysteries were far less often silly dreams and childhood fantasies…. before rational analysis and systematic thinking robbed me of a sweet simplicity. – Nichole Nordeman

Two of my dearest friends asked me last night why I’ve not blogged in the last few weeks.

What happened? Did we miss something? Did you stop writing?

The short answer: no.

The long answer: I had nothing to say.

Correction: I had nothing very pleasant to say.

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Photographic Memory

Yesterday should have been a very, very sad day in our house.

Except… it wasn’t.

Our beloved hockey team’s season ended too short once again.

Some of you are relieved. Others are happy. And a rather large selection of you so-called friends are ridiculously happy that us doomed Canuck faithful are sentenced to yet another painful ending.

I love you. But I don’t understand you.

(Don’t worry, you don’t need to explain. I will never understand you. Or, that part of you, at least.)

But there are a few who today, like me, are sad, somewhat confused, and yet… okay.

It’s only a game, of course.

But a great game.

(High fives to all who agree.)

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Be Not Yourself

He who conquers others is strong; He who conquers himself is mighty. – Lao Tzu

You all know I love Glee.

Well, I don’t love everything on that show. I don’t love the occasional schizophrenic character changes or the wheel of revolving relationships. I also don’t love the defense of every minority except one (those of you in that one know exactly what I’m talking about).

But I love the music.

They also know how to deal with bullies.

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No Guarantees

I’m just trying not to hang on too tight.

A friend of ours said these words as we celebrated with them this week. After years of hard work and manifold bends in the road, they are in a positive, hopeful, great place. So great, in fact, they can’t bear to think that right now might not last for the rest of their lives.

But they’re old enough to know better.

These past few days I’ve wondered if I have a stamp on my forehead that says, my life’s a little intense right now, so please make it harder, if you can. I’m so sure this sign exists – perhaps even has blinking lights around it – that the edginess of a few weeks ago looks happy in comparison to the feisty, cynical bark escaping me now.

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Strength for Today

Believe it or not, this is not the craziest stretch of life I’ve walked through.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s nuts. It’s a psychotic, insane, you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me season.

But it’s not my first time feeling this way.

Never mind that. You’re all reading this because you want news about David. So, here it is:

Yesterday I went to work. David was feeling well when I left. He wanted some activities to distract him, so he volunteered to do some of Noelle’s school work with her and plant some seeds in our make-shift garden. He said the activity made him feel energized and refreshed.

Then came late afternoon.

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