Time

"I wish it need not have
happened in my time," said Frodo.
"So do I," said Gandalf,
"and so do all who live to see such times.
But that is not for them to decide.
All we have to decide
is what to do with the time that is given us." 

~ J.R.R. Tolkien,
The Fellowship of the Ring

I was thinking about time today, in the few moments my mind has to wander during the day. I wondered about what it means and how it passes and how it leaves as quickly as it comes. It left me wondering if I truly appreciated all it is in my life.

October is closing, TG. This first few days of November pass quietly. I find it easier that way. I spent so many years dreading that first week of the 11th month. Now, it belongs to me again and I choose which way it goes and mostly I choose peace.

It's not pleasant knowing a hurricane with your name caused such damage to so many. My boss laughed about it today and said I was the polar opposite of a hurricane, quiet, peaceful, solemn. I laughed at him and said, "you didn't know me back when". He is a thoughtful man; his reply, "what you were then made you what you are today, for that, we are grateful."

It's funny, I didn't see myself as peaceful. Inside is a turbulent, analytical crazy woman holding it together with self talk that takes that extra moment to calm herself down before she reacts. Is that the definition of sanity? Who would have thought that possible?

W and I are heading for a weekend in the mountains. We will be overlooking the river; a stone's throw from the lakes. D is home alone, old enough to be trusted and strong enough to care if friends do come over. My babies are grown, all grown and there is something that stirs inside me that says I did OK. I did the best I could in a life where best meant survival at times.

51 rotations around the sun, 18, 628 twirls spinning on the globe. I was thinking that over half my life is over. What's left is the mark I leave on my grandchildren. Tears flow when I think of them and those that will be. Will I be everything to them that Joy was to my children? Will they smile when they see me, wait, that was C who smiled the other day and M too, shy as he is?

May God grant me the moments my mother had. May my life be a legacy, as difficult as that can be and may I live to it's demands. I didn't know so much love could give so much happiness and crush you as well. Family is the song that defines you.

October proved this to me, it will always be a hard month. I made it, it's all up from here.

The Embers of Fall are Fading

"Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappointment them" 

~ Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

Somedays are just hard, some easy. For years they were always hard. I think that was during a time when I had the greatest of expectations of people. Now, I truly expect nothing. This past couple of weeks has been a bit of an awakening. I am grateful for it but more I think I am just accepting the fact that at the end of the day, mattering has to be all about yourself.

I took a taxi home today. I love riding in the taxi's because the drivers are so diverse. Their stories so incredible. You know that song that says they probably have a Phd. They almost always are underemployed, doing what they can to support their families. Inevitably putting their children through universities as they become Dr.'s and lawyers.

Today was no exception, this driver was very talkative.He wore the uniform of an extremest muslim and at first my mind leapt to the judgment of the armour. The draped shirts and flappy pants, the hat we see so often see on the heads of the men in the taliban.  

As the journey began he asked how my day was, I looked tired and I knew it but he comment how wonderful weekends were and I agreed. He asked where I worked or what I did and I commented oil and gas. That's usually good for a conversation starter and then it began. He had been a professor in Karachi, Pakistan. He came to Canada in 1971, before the troubles, couldn't find a job and ended up working in a garment factory in Toronto. He rose the mill ladder until he was hired by SunIce to head their sewing room. In the hey day it produced so many jackets and coats that were shipped all over the world. 

Then the jobs left - to the countries around where he was born and slowly but surely everyone was let go at Sun Ice. He tried tailoring but couldn't support his family so he ended up driving a cab.

He spoke of moving into a new neighbourhood and his neighbour didn't like the color of his skin. They egged his house and called his children names but they persevered  He spoke of the Koran and what it teaches, what it really teaches and then he spoke about being muslim and what it means to him.

I told him about how I had read the Koran. How I felt it was overall a peaceful book. He spoke about how he has had to internalize his faith and live to what he knows his faith wants of him and he spoke about war and about extremism. As he spoke I realized his roots in his faith were strong but he was as disappointed in his people as I have been in mine. 

God works in mysterious ways. I needed to hear what he had to say today. 

So, what am I on about?

I admit loneliness. You see, I tried hard to fit in but it wasn't me. 

Someday, I am sure, in time, I will understand human nature.

I was asked the other day if I saw another's point of view. I do, I really do. I just don't get it.

I worked with a person a long time ago. I lovely hard working sewing machine saleswoman who's been doing it for as long as I have been sewing, over 35 years. We had worked together for a year or so and she just pulled me to her side, put her arms around me and gave me advice I cherish to this day.

"Life will get better when you understand S that people will always disappoint you."

If I could see her now, I would respond;

"It's not that people disappoint me B, it's that I disappoint myself in ever expecting anything better."

Words

"I can remember the frustration of not being able to talk. I knew what I wanted to say, but I could not get the words out, so I would just scream. ~ Temple Grandin

Did you ever just want to stand in the middle of a crowded room and scream just to be heard? I really can't say that is my deepest and grandest fantasy but there are times when I would just love to know that my words mattered, that my heart mattered, that my feelings were valid.

It has been an extremely rough month. I can count on October being difficult but this one is just crushing me and I have been calling uncle all over the place. It hasn't been working.

So, I am going to bare my soul with this post, open it wide open as they say and hopefully, in the universe, somewhere I'll be heard.

My mother's name is(was) JOY. Well, really it was JOYCE but she hated her full name even more than I dislike mine so everyone knew her as JOY.

She passed away 6 years ago.  6 long years ago.

Mom had a gift, she got it from her Mom who got it from her Mom who got it from her Mom, well, you know how that goes.

Mom used to do this thing, these words, each time you left her either by phone or in person because it was just what she did, all the time. You never left her without telling her you loved her. She would then respond, "I love you more".

She meant it, she did love you more and now, 6 years later I know exactly what she meant when she said it.

Who would have thought that 3, oh wait, 4 words could come to mean so much and be so missed in such a profound way.

You see, the words I love you make a huge impact on your psyche. Knowing someone cares in that way makes facing the world a bit easier.

I miss hearing her say that more than any of you could ever know.

I get that people misunderstand me. I get that voicing an emotion can sometimes,  oh wait, will always backfire in the dynamics of my family so that has been my fault, my breaking point for this hard month.

My words matter to me and I have to realize that after years of not mattering that I can be better than that.

October will be over soon, I can hardly wait. I need it to come to a close.

Going Private

I am taking the blog private - if you wish to see it my email address is oilgirl2@shaw.ca. Please idicate you wish to be added to the privacy list.
Thanks,
S

Hatemonger

Those that hate goodness are sometimes nearer than those that know nothing at all about it and think they have it already. ~ C.S.Lewis

Silence on some issues has saved me. Some have asked why I am silent? I like honesty and people that have the (%^;*('s)  to ask have gotten their answer and from what I have seen, understand. Many, however, have simply judged it. Here's the thing though, I can even understand that now. I should clarify here though, understanding some one's perspective does not mean I accept it. I just get that each of us has our own thinking and no one has a right to dictate what that should be.

So, what am I on about?

I never understood what a hate monger was until I met someone who truly defined it. In every word she spoke it was to the negative of another's value. She tore families apart and friendships asunder and if you fell in her path, your life experienced drastic consequences as one person was put against another and her words always the catalyst.

Thankfully, I haven't had to interact with this individual in a long time even though the effects of her words have manifested themselves in so much of my life. Time has healed some of the damage, thank goodness, but I have to ask, to what purpose is anyone served in the promoting of hate?

I guess my second question would be; to what purpose are the words we are using causing hate?

I HAVE BEEN QUILTY OF THIS, which made me think deeply about what I am going to write.

I have been asked numerous times to be a voice. A voice for single parenting in the church, a voice for ecclesiastical abuse, for spousal abuse, heck, for a number of things and I have frustrated many with the response I have always given which is universally no. There is still too much emotion to be valid in my opinions. Until the emotion is replaced with a semblance of control my words can and will be misconstrued. I can't and I won't go there. Will there ever be a moment when I can? That's the question isn't it? Until then I silently watch and feel the pain of others. It's all I can do until what I offer can have validity.

So, to get to the point.

I brought myself to watch the Saturday sessions of conference. Some ask why I do it and to tell you the truth, I am not quite sure why. Maybe a hope that things will be different or maybe something that might reach deep enough for me to trust a change, either way I watched and as I did, I heard with different ears. Not with blind obedience or hope but a reality that brings a whole new paradigm to believing.

It was hard, especially through a couple of the talks where, without the blinders of faith on, I heard, yes, I know this is going to offend some of you, "hate mongering". Without the absolute belief you hear the idioms of barbs and twists that give members permission to subtly bully those who have chosen a different path. If you wondered if Saturday's talks hit nerves just peruse through some of the sites and feel the pain.

I am all for uplifting and inspiring others but openly speaking against another's path and speaking it as evil makes me wonder why I even opened the door to watching conference in the first place. Hate the sin, not the sinner. For those who left the church because they looked on the Internet for it's history: to condemn them for opening the storm cellar door while the tornado is over head is minimizing the churches own role in hiding the history in the first place. The proverbial storm cellar was built by the endless correlated teaching these people received for years at the church's own hands. It was their weak storm cellar door that blew off and resulted in some members being sucked into the vortex of truth written by the very scholars the church employed. What else is to be expected when we are taught for years to value truth to only find out later the truth they meant was the one they predefined.

It took only minutes for my FB feed to be littered with the words of weakness and "giving up" and all the other quotes that pinpointed the sinner and not the sin. It was then when I realized what it meant to be an ex-mormon. To be on the other side of the fence and to be mocked or ridiculed by leaders purporting to be Christ's disciples.

I am guilty of posting comments meant to inflict thought but yesterday it was about hurt and pain. To Chris, whose pain reached to a depth neither you or I could understand as he was told his parenting should be undone because of his same sex attraction. Like his ex-wife didn't need any more ammunition. Chris is no less a great father being attracted to men or not. I could compare him to someone here but I really am trying to take another path. Chris is a loving, compassionate kind and good father who tries in every way to parent his children. The words of an apostle undid any strides he had made to becoming negligible in his own children's lives.

Being ex-mormon has had a number of consequences for me. I sit alone for our Canadian Thanksgiving today because of a family member who feels my path makes me unworthy of inclusion. I have lost an entire social life and am in the process of rebuilding it. It's ironic that the very one's so punished by the words of the leaders of the church are the ONLY ones who are accepting me now. I never knew until now just how many conditions to acceptance there were.

Hearing for the first time with the ears to hear just how exclusive the talks were was shocking to me and made me look to the Saviour's words in the New Testament. Christ really was about the sin and not the sinner. His words didn't have the same tone at all. Here is where I know without a doubt this is all my perspective.

When did the perspective change?

I guess maybe when I became the sinner in their eyes.

Loser

"Why love if losing hurts so much? 

I have no answers anymore; only the life I have lived. 

The pain now is part of the happiness then." 

~ Anthony Hopkins

Some pain defies description. Some pain resides so deep within you that nothing, and I mean nothing can excise it. Once a year it comes and lives with me for a day or two or three and then it subsides and I move forward again knowing that there is NOTHING that can ever change that Oct 4th will come every year and every year it will mean the same thing,

 she's gone.

If she were here I would embrace her and thank her over and over for everything she meant to me and all the times I forgot to tell her that.

I would tell her how much her unselfishness meant to me and how everyday I seek to fall in the shadow of her legacy, how when it comes to being blessed with a rich and abundant life in all that matters she gave it all to me and then some.

I would fall into her lap and let her just comfort me because I know she would understand me now, understand my pain and my heart. We could talk about the strength it takes to walk my path instead of the weakness that others seem to continually point out. She would make me feel special again, that special feeling only she could give. She would make whats happening ok.

Mom's die, I know that, I even get it, but it doesn't make it easier ever.

Can someone sew up my pain please? How do you make this better?