It'll come back home to you

So, I was sitting in a waiting room today. I was sitting in a rocking chair listening to southern accents talk in the way country folk do. I mean fairly slow and soft. Country folk tend to use as few words as necessary to make their voice heard.
At one point, someone was talking about a boss whose philosophy was: everyone one of you is replaceable. She smiled and said, "He found out quick enough that it was true for him too." The guy across the room said "Yep, it came back home to him." He went on to say that this is the lesson he keeps trying to teach his grandchildren. "Be careful how you treat someone, because it will come back home to ya."
I started laughing saying he was exactly right. I lamented that I don't have the patience to sit and wait. I just get mad, and that ain't good. All the folks in the room nodded and said you've just got to wait. It always comes back.

We southerners have a simple sort of wisdom. Then again, most real wisdom is simple. I was reminded today how much I enjoy the soft cadence of rocking and talking with people. Talking with people who have life experience and good old fashion common sense.

My newest book to read is "The little book of letting go." I'm making a real intention of shedding some more layers and letting go. Fighting back, pointing out bad things, arguing with people who aren't listening has worn me down. I'm going to start letting all of that go and just simply let things go back home to them. Well, I suspect I have a few things coming back home to me, too. At least I can try not to add too many more things to that list.

I'm glad my back hurt today and I had to sit a while for the chiropractor.

Words

I was watching 'Grey's Anatomy' tonight. I watched a surgeon struggle to tell another surgeon about the death of her husband. The grieving widow said "I need to hear the word." Of course, Dr Yang was obliged to use the word dead. Ouch. I know how much it hurt her to say.
In the 1990's, I spent some time as a paramedic. It is the only job I have had that gave me the obligation to tell family members the patient was dead. One time, I really screwed this part up. I talked awhile with the wife if a deceased patient. After a few minutes, I told her that there was nothing else we could do, so we would be leaving. She looked at me and announced that she would be going to wake her husband up. I realized at that very intensely, awkward moment that I had not used the 'right' word with her. I looked at the deputy beside me and walked away. I would chicken out, leaving him to say the words.
I remember the moment. It is seared in my memory as an event that has taught me the importance of words. More importantly, it taught me the crucial importance of being present.
I have been reflecting a great deal on my years as a paramedic, emt. I realize how formative those years have been. I have touched those places in people's lives. I have touched places in our society where grief lives. I have done and seen things that most people never understand. Most people live in worlds where words don't really matter. I learned the hard way that they do. I learned the hard way how to tell a family member that someone has died.
So, watch your words. You never know what weight they carry as you speak them. You never know what people are needing to hear. You just never really know. I have learned the hard way. I have learned how to say the words that no one wants to have to say. I've learned how to speak the truth about a situation. I never want to walk away from someone, leaving someone else to give the words they need to hear.

After Christmas

I don't know who the author of this poem is. It was among some things a friend sent me last summer. I found it this morning, a true blessing on my day.



When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.

The real Me

Several things people have said to me recently are ringing in my ears. "You remind me of myself." "I doubt that you could have mis-understood me." "I am in awe of how you have handled this." "I want you to hear I simply spoke your truth of how wonderful you are."

The people who said these things are far wiser and far more successful in life than I would ever hope to be. And honestly, they are the ones who have had the opportunity to see the REAL Me. The real Me is honest, compassionate, loving, caring, sometimes even wise.

Why isn't the real Me always visible? I am struggling with this part of my Spiritual Journey. So many people in my life have not had the opportunity to see this. I am simply not sure of what part I play in that. I understand much of the psycho babble about transference and projection. Yet, deep down inside, I still feel a bit helpless in understanding any of this.

For one thing I am profoundly grateful. For all of my friends who read this blog, stay in community with me and walk this walk with me in love and compassion: I am in your debt forever.

Weaning

I tend to look at things differently than most people. Many years ago, I came across a definition of weaning that has stuck with me. The author of a breastfeeding book invited me to look at weaning as a sense of being fulfilled. Weaning can be done, gently and with love. I read this poem today, and it brought tears to my eyes.



Wean Me Gently

by Cathy Cardall

I know I look so big to you,
Maybe I seem too big for the needs I have.
But no matter how big we get,
We still have needs that are important to us.
I know that our relationship is growing and changing,
But I still need you. I need your warmth and closeness,
Especially at the end of the day
When we snuggle up in bed.
Please don't get too busy for us to nurse.
I know you think I can be patient,
Or find something to take the place of a nursing;
A book, a glass of something,
But nothing can take your place when I need you.
Sometimes just cuddling with you,
Having you near me is enough.
I guess I am growing and becoming independent,
But please be there.
This bond we have is so strong and so important to me,
Please don't break it abruptly.
Wean me gently,
Because I am your mother,
And my heart is tender.

Disappointed

One time, I was (finally) asked out by the cutest guy at school. He took me to the dance. He danced with me once and took off with another girl. I was left stunned. I didn't even understand what happened. He said he wanted to go with me. He said he liked me. He said a bunch of things. Yet, when the time came he did something totally different. Worse than that, he acted like he had done nothing wrong. At the time, I was so stunned, so naive, I didn't even know how to act. I just cried and felt sorry for myself. It was a terrible feeling.

Years have gone by, but I will admit that I still find myself in situations where I am still get stunned and disappointed. I still don't know what to do. Making people carry through with their promises is not possible. Either they follow through or they don't. Even when they make a solemn promise during a Baptism, you have to leave it to them. They can make a promise to have your voice heard. Yet, if their are no ears to hear, they cannot follow through. A boss can hire you with a bunch of promises of change. Then you find out that it was all words.

I've just realized that I make very few promises to people. I don't want to disappoint. I am learning to try to be clear with people what they can expect from me. The first thing they should expect is that I am human. I can promise that I will make mistakes. I can also promise that I will always offer an apology when I do mess up.

So, if you are reading this, please forgive me. I am spending some time very disappointed. I know that Advent is a time of expectation. I know that I am supposed to be hopeful for the Light to enter this world. Right now, it just feels pretty dark for me.