No net provided

 

Now what?

Now what?

Here it is. The end of the rope.

What do you do now? The way I see it, there are 3 choices.

1. Hang on for dear life, and pray for a helping hand.

2. Let go and hope for a soft landing. Or a hard one…depending on your mental state.

3. Invert your body, cling by your feet and use your free hands to tie a knot in the end so you can climb back up.

Let’s examine the options, shall we?

While choice #1 is viable, it’s unrealistic. Especially if you don’t have an unshakeable support network. I mean that literally. As in people you are certain care enough to come stand under the rope and catch you. Better yet, pull you up, using their own massive strength. Chances are though, the reason you are dangling and wondering WTF to do, is because you have exhausted these people as well. Or, perhaps even pissed them off. The point is, if you hang on, waiting for someone to save you, inevitably….you will fall.

Which, of course brings us to choice #2. This one is rather self-explanatory. Letting go. Falling is imminent. If you have reflexes like a cat, the chances are favorable you’ll land on your feet. Alas though, we are only human. And your mental state needs to be factored in here. With a clear head, letting go is a great option. However, the psyche works itself into a tizzy when facing the unknown abyss of life at the end of the rope, and hitting the ground hard will definitely hurt. Maybe that’s what you want. For it to JUST.BE.OVER. I hope that is never the case.  At any rate, this option is just plain hard, but entirely your choice. No nets provided.

My personal choice is #3, but it often seems impossible. After all, the strength to pull yourself back up has been depleted by the journey to the end of the rope. Then there are the rope burns. When you have fallen this far, is it even realistic to think your blistered, burned and bleeding hands can hoist your aching, broken body back to safety? The simple answer is yes. But it requires an enormous amount of faith. The impossible kind: BLIND FAITH.

Faith Allows Impossible Things to Happen.

Read it. Learn it. Remember it.

Now excuse me while I tie a knot in my rope and begin to climb back up.

xo,

N

When you gotta go…

when you gotta go

 

Today while participating in a rather tragically funny conversation on Facebook, I was reminded of an incident a couple of years back that was, in the words of my friend Alexandra, “a movie moment”.

Let me explain.

While doing some birthday shopping for my then, 9-year-old Sugar Bean–at Justice  (I know, hold your judgements & vomit, please)–I had my 3-year-old Sweet Pea in tow. As usual, I was short on time, so when she said “Mommy, I need to potty” and began doing the “pee-pee dance” while standing in line to check out– abandoning the arm load of goodies I had carefully selected, to venture out into the mall in search of a bathroom– was not an option. There were 2 women in line ahead of me, and 3 in line behind me. So I approached the teenaged cashier, and politely asked if there was a bathroom in back that my Sweet Pea could use.  She curtly replied, “No. It’s for employees only. A little irritated, I pressed on.. Really? She’s only 3, currently potty training and needs to go badly. I’d hate for you to miss the commission on this load of stuff I’m holding when I leave the store to take her to the bathroom. Because I don’t have time to come back and get it.”

She gave me NOTHING.  Just a blank stare so riddled with silent subtext, I could have narrated it.

So…

I resumed my place in line, and very audibly  said  shouted to my precious little sprout, Sweetheart, the lady says you can’t use her bathroom, because it’s for big girls who work here, not for people who buy things to pay their salaries.”  

With that, Sweet Pea promptly peed on the floor. The carpeted floor. With such force and gusto, it splashed as it puddled, creating a sound that resonated throughout the entire store. That’s my girl!

By this time, it was my turn to pay for my purchases, and I approached the counter. Speechless, the Tart-in-Charge added things up. I forked over about $45 for at least $250 worth of clothing (those “Justice Bucks” really helped put the power in the punch). As I walked away from the counter, I turned and said “Perhaps it would have been a good idea to allow her use the bathroom. Now the carpet has to be sanitized, and I hope they make YOU pay for it.  Have a great day!” 

The 3 women in line behind me applauded. One even said, “You go girl! 

The moral of the story? I’m a terrible mom for not taking her to the bathroom, instead, risking detainment/possible arrest by mall security for insubordination while accompanying a minor and allowing her to urinate in public. Oh well. It’s not the first time I’ve made a questionable choice, and likely will not be the last! 

The irony? Not taking her was sooooo much more entertaining for everyone 🙂 

Plus, she got a new outfit complete with fresh undies, socks, and Converse hi-tops she had been asking for, along with some ice cream to soothe the trauma of peeing in public, and being applauded for it. Because when you are 3, that’s embarrassing. Boy is she in for a whole new kind of embarrassing in about 80 years!

 

Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook, and Twitter

If I made you laugh, please click the banner below to vote for me on topmommyblogs.com!

There’s no need to be shy – you can vote for me once a day!

THANKS SO MUCH…Y’ALL ROCK!

Top Mommy Blogs - Mom Blog Directory

Signs

redbird

Well.

Here I am again. My apologies for the silence. I just needed to catch up on all the things on my plate right now, despite the glaring fact that I am not the least bit hungry or eager to digest any of them.

But thou shalt not dwell, right? (I’m thinking this might need to be a Commandment, since it is rather profound.)

Anyway, I’m back. I had every intention of posting about something else entirely, then I received a message…actually 2…and my focus shifted. The first message was from my sister, via a story she told me many years ago, but just recently put down into words; the other, was…well…from God.

For a minute here, I’m going to talk about a blessing. My sister, Shane Jackson.  Her strength astounds me, and her faith is unshakeable. Throughout my life, she has been my protector. Quite honestly, if not for her return to Alabama back in 1980, after fleeing a horribly abusive marriage and bringing along her very own firstborn, just 6 weeks old, there is a good chance I might not be alive today. I was 8 years old. For now, I’ll leave the details for another post, but I can say with certainty that she saved my life then, and she hasn’t stopped since. The two of us have…let’s just say…weathered many a storm, and seen things nobody should have to. And, if the past few years are any indication, we are right in the eye of a hurricane, hunkering down, hoping and praying for it to pass. Again. But I digress. Besides being a Rock of Gibraltar in human form, she is also a gifted and talented writer of poetry, fiction, inspirational words, etc. You name it, and she can perfectly put it into words, even when one might believe there were none to describe it.

Here is the story. All true words. Enjoy.

The Story of the Redbirds 

When my father died, I was devastated. He was my best friend, my protector. Everything that happened in my life he knew about. After the funeral I crawled into my mother’s lap and stared for a while. She never questioned me; never said a word,  but rather held me as if I was an infant. After a month had passed, I was home with my children, cleaning dishes while talking to my mother on the phone. All of the sudden two redbirds appeared at my breakfast room window. They were pecking and making noise. I moved over to the sink and they followed me. I told Mother I would have to call her back and I ran upstairs to get the video camera. When I got to my bedroom, there they were at the upper level windows pecking, just as if they were trying to tell me something. By this time I was freaked out. I began videoing them. I ran back down to call Mother and they followed me back to the kitchen window. I was so weirded out, I was almost yelling on the phone. Mother sat  there until I finished and then said,  “You’ve never heard the story on the redbirds”? “No”, I said. She began to tell me how redbirds come into your life when you’ve lost someone you love. They represent them and bring good will and joy back into your heart. They are there to let you know everything will be alright and life is turning around for your heart.

Several months later, I lost my mother. We moved from Persimmon Tree road to Sugar Creek. I was done. Crushed at the loss of my mother. She was my everthing. Both my mother and my father were the world to me, as well as to everybody else. There was no bringing me back from this one. I was surviving, not living. I tried to keep a good face for my children and my husband but honestly, I didn’t want to breathe. One day I was home and cleaning, as usal. I walked out to the pool to set some chemicals down and took my seat, positioning myself to look out over the land and just meditate. There was a white fence surrounding the pool on one side. I hear this screetch and turn. There they were, Three redbirds perched on the fence together and looking dead center to my soul. Three, you ask? Yes. We lost Andy’s father first, my father just months later and after 18 more months, my mother. When we moved to Village Lane they followed…the three. They remained there for our duration on the Lane.  Yet again we have relocated, and I believed they were gone for good. However, I’m here five months later and I am happy to say, some very verbal sweet precious redbirds have found me.

I now know…I’m going to be okay.

~~Shane Jackson 

As I mentioned earlier, I received another message too. From God. He knows what He did, and I’ll keep it a blessed secret, and only say “I hear you loud and clear, and I know you are watching over me. Thank you.”

I now know…I’m going to be okay, too.

**For the inquiring minds, who want to know: Does it involve another bundle of joy with ten fingers and ten toes, I can say with absolute certainty…..NO!!!

Again…Really?! You have to be joking.

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“God won’t put more on you than you can carry at one time.” 

I know how the sayings go. Really, I do. However, I have been experiencing a big “WTF, God?” moment all day long, as I hear that my home state of Alabama….my very own small, hometown of Athens…is being ravaged by tornadoes yet again. For the second time in less than a year. Haven’t these people, MY PEOPLE, suffered enough???!!!

About an hour ago, I found out a dear friend of mine, whom I cheered with from 7th grade on through high school, lost her home and all her possessions. Fortunately, she and her husband escaped with their lives. Barely. ‘Things’ can be replaced; lives cannot. They lived in a community that was hit last April 27th, by a twister categorized as an F5. That tornado was the first one on record the National Weather Service had ever given an F5 rating to. Just seems so unfair that she and her family, as well as so many others are in harm’s way yet again. Why must people with so little to lose…..lose?

WTF???? I know there has to be a plan here, put in place by divine powers. Right now though….I just don’t see it. Please, help me see it.

Last year, I was honored to be able to help organize a massive relief effort, California for Alabama, to help those affected by devastating tornadoes. I would love to do the same now, but it just seems impossible. Especially given the state of the economy. So many people don’t have enough for themselves. How can they possibly give to others? My own family is experiencing difficulty, yet I find myself wondering what I can do. My plate is filled to capacity and ready to topple over under the weight of my own reality, but as bleak as it appears, my slice of poop pie pales in comparison to what friends and family back home are feeling. There is only one commonality: heartbreak.

I had planned to write a post this evening that would make everyone laugh. About something obviously so trivial that I can’t even remember it now. Seriously. Perspective intervened.

Maybe that was the plan all along.

If you read this, and would like to somehow help the people in Alabama, leave a comment with your email address, and I will see to it that your kindness is directed down the right path. Promise.

xo,

N

%d bloggers like this: