The wind is roaring outside this morning as I sit by the window that looks out at the lake. Our Lake; I can’t help but think of it in any other way now.
The waves are pounding the shoreline as if it’s the Pacific Ocean. Loud and booming, I alternate between wonder and terror as I watch the whitecaps appear and then get swallowed up as they break on the sand. Wonder at the immenseness of it all, I love the sound. It lulls me to sleep on cold winter evenings when it’s just me and the dogs at home. Oddly, the peace is mixed with terror if I think of how it could swallow me up if some freak of nature or God were to cause a tsunami. I close my eyes tight and concentrate on the dogs, breathing in unison as they sleep unaffected and secure. They are with Mommy, and its all they care about at that moment.
The waves are pounding the shoreline as if it’s the Pacific Ocean. Loud and booming, I alternate between wonder and terror as I watch the whitecaps appear and then get swallowed up as they break on the sand. Wonder at the immenseness of it all, I love the sound. It lulls me to sleep on cold winter evenings when it’s just me and the dogs at home. Oddly, the peace is mixed with terror if I think of how it could swallow me up if some freak of nature or God were to cause a tsunami. I close my eyes tight and concentrate on the dogs, breathing in unison as they sleep unaffected and secure. They are with Mommy, and its all they care about at that moment.
My beloved’s schedule and mine are different than when we first got together. I used to joke that I had to marry him in order to date him, for our work life consumed most of our daily life together. With my blessing, he finally retired to pursue his own dreams, and part of that dream involves travel.
The same happened for me a year later. I “retired” from my job which consumed much of my life, so much so I became very ill twice in the same winter season. First with shingles (albeit a mild case, it was a nuisance just the same) and bronchitis which blossomed into my first asthma attack. It was a serious wake up call that I wasn’t ready to heed.
I wrestled constantly with the notion of walking away from a terrific paying job. It was realistic, but at what cost? I couldn’t write at night; I was exhausted after putting in 12 hour days, sometimes 7 days a week. Church had become a distant memory, impossible to attend except for reading the scripture together on Sunday mornings on weeks I didn’t have to go in to the office. I rarely saw my kids or the grandchildren, and my friends were nonexistent. It wasn’t their fault – I simply didn’t have the energy to even pick up the phone. Part of me felt very guilty, a feeling I was unable to shake or dismiss. I needed an answer and concentrated on finding the positive in what I had done. I had left so many other jobs in anger; this was so different. I just didn’t want to do it anymore.
My book sales are good, a fact I realize is part talent and mostly part luck, for I know that I write better every year than when I first began this journey of self discovery and bleeding all over the page. I am finally purged and am ready to put to paper the real stories that live inside me and through me. I finally got the word from my publisher they are releasing my fourth book at the end of the year.
Newspaper work has been good to me as well, and picking up additional jobs affords me the freedom I crave and need to be creative. The best part is the recognition factor – someone recently asked for my autograph while we dined in a local restaurant; she had my book, and yes, she was over 50, but it doesn’t matter to me. She was thrilled to meet me and I was thrilled to do what she asked.
Signing her book with my smiling face on the back cover, I turned to my beloved and knew that God or karma or somebody was trying to tell me something.
As women we are constantly reminded of our duality and that there are choices we can make. We can have it all, but not all at the same time. I used to bemoan the fact that, although I was never sorry I had as many children as I did, I wished there was a way I could have pursued the dreams I had behind my eyes. I learned years later that it was not planned for me that way, and I can appreciate the successes more now than I am older.
The same happened for me a year later. I “retired” from my job which consumed much of my life, so much so I became very ill twice in the same winter season. First with shingles (albeit a mild case, it was a nuisance just the same) and bronchitis which blossomed into my first asthma attack. It was a serious wake up call that I wasn’t ready to heed.
I wrestled constantly with the notion of walking away from a terrific paying job. It was realistic, but at what cost? I couldn’t write at night; I was exhausted after putting in 12 hour days, sometimes 7 days a week. Church had become a distant memory, impossible to attend except for reading the scripture together on Sunday mornings on weeks I didn’t have to go in to the office. I rarely saw my kids or the grandchildren, and my friends were nonexistent. It wasn’t their fault – I simply didn’t have the energy to even pick up the phone. Part of me felt very guilty, a feeling I was unable to shake or dismiss. I needed an answer and concentrated on finding the positive in what I had done. I had left so many other jobs in anger; this was so different. I just didn’t want to do it anymore.
My book sales are good, a fact I realize is part talent and mostly part luck, for I know that I write better every year than when I first began this journey of self discovery and bleeding all over the page. I am finally purged and am ready to put to paper the real stories that live inside me and through me. I finally got the word from my publisher they are releasing my fourth book at the end of the year.
Newspaper work has been good to me as well, and picking up additional jobs affords me the freedom I crave and need to be creative. The best part is the recognition factor – someone recently asked for my autograph while we dined in a local restaurant; she had my book, and yes, she was over 50, but it doesn’t matter to me. She was thrilled to meet me and I was thrilled to do what she asked.
Signing her book with my smiling face on the back cover, I turned to my beloved and knew that God or karma or somebody was trying to tell me something.
As women we are constantly reminded of our duality and that there are choices we can make. We can have it all, but not all at the same time. I used to bemoan the fact that, although I was never sorry I had as many children as I did, I wished there was a way I could have pursued the dreams I had behind my eyes. I learned years later that it was not planned for me that way, and I can appreciate the successes more now than I am older.
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It brings to mind the biblical story of two sisters. Born under the sign of Pisces, I am both women at different times of my life. The story of Martha and Mary allows us to realize that we can be like, or indeed ought to be like, both of these women: we are to be, and to do.
It’s taken me my whole life to finally figure that out. I am so grateful I still have time to realize it. I have no idea where I will finally be laid to rest; it is my hope that it will be in the cemetery down the road. I can imagine us, my beloved and I, laying side by side as we watch the waves roll back and forth, the sounds lulling us eternally until we are ready to return for another adventure.
"As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!"
It’s taken me my whole life to finally figure that out. I am so grateful I still have time to realize it. I have no idea where I will finally be laid to rest; it is my hope that it will be in the cemetery down the road. I can imagine us, my beloved and I, laying side by side as we watch the waves roll back and forth, the sounds lulling us eternally until we are ready to return for another adventure.
"As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, "Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!"
"Martha, Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."
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