Today, To My Dismay

 

Today, To My Dismay

I wore my hair, face, and clothes 

Again, because there are no 

MEN in the town I live in,

Much to my chagrin.

SEARCHING TO & FRO

 

I climbed every mountain,

Searched every valley,

Examined every nook and cranny,

Interrogated my Pop and Granny,

Inspected shelves high and low,

Blew both to and fro,

Connected all the spots,

Crossed my tees and dots,

But for the life of me, can NOT

Understand WHY I am not 

High and mighty, but instead 

Am flighty, spitey, and senseless.

Have I misplaced my Spidey Senses?

Built obstructions and offenses?

Please give a yay or nay, but don’t 

Say I don’t play well with others.

If I had my druthers, they’d cross 

THEIR tees and dot THEIR I’s,

Desist with their why’s, sighs, and 

Lies I so despise.

Still, tell them I’m so sorry.

It’s how I deal with worry 

That I’m wrong.  I always go

Along though faint and not 

Strong.

So if you find my bong,

Please tell it that I miss it;

That I won’t resist or diss it.

I need it to come home

So I’m not alone

We’ll get high and then 

When we’re there 

Where the air is thin,

We’ll have climbed every 

Mountain all over again.

For My Future Husband...

Is there room in my life for you?
Is there room in your life for me?
You know I don't come to you pristine, newly minted, or shiny and new.
I have felt hurt and caused hurt, I have been broken by the random and the cruel - and by my own choices.
My body has been ravaged, charting atrocities visited on it by plague and progress.
Yet you love it - even desire it - all the same.
You don't love what I once was; you love me now, scars and all.
Of this much I am certain: where our lives intersect
There's a special space; a pocket of air, a sea of calm, a place of rest
That quickens the war-torn and restores its vigor.
You've fixed your circle on me:
Rounding out my sharp angles and smoothing the rough edges,
Like a balm against chafing.
Like sand against the edges of glass.
All without any intention of "fixing" me.

In answer to this gift, I will fight my baser self to love you back, with honor and devotion. I know myself; know this will surely be a struggle.
But I am committed to it.
And in the giving and receiving, I will be transformed into the beauty visible to your heart's eye.
Thank you. Bless you. I love you.

Self-pity or The Green-Eyed Monster?

I don't have time to write much today.  I just wanted to 'fess up that, after my lofty musings of last Friday, I'm now back in the thick of all-too-human emotions.  I found out last night that a friend of mine, who totaled his new and fully loaded SUV while driving drunk, has just bought himself a brand new one.  Meanwhile, my car is sicker than I am.  And she looks more beat up than I do.  I haven't exactly provided her with regular facials (I don't wash her very often, and she sits under a sap tree), her sides have some wrinkles from a few years ago (when I opted to keep the insurance money rather than get her the Botox she rightly deserved), and lastly, her face is broken due to a little fender bender I got us into last week.  To add to her and my worries, she's VERY old (1999; practically a "classic" in today's world).  But she's "Old Money" - an Infiniti gal - and her parts are extremely expensive relative to her Blue Blood (Blue Book value). 

But enough about HER.  My question is this:  Am I wallowing in self-pity or have I been bitten by the green-eyed monster?  Am I actually jealous of someone's new car just 36 hours before I have a scheduled double mastectomy?  If so, I need the surgeons to perform an "Attitude Adjustment" while they cut, prod, and do what it is surgeons do. At a minimum, I need to write up a gratitude list of all I'm thankful for...a list which most definitely includes my trusty, dusty, and rusty car.  Even if she IS thirsty all the time, and refuses to drink water!

THIS battle...AGAIN???

"Women who are diagnosed with breast cancer at its earliest stages have a 93 percent rate of surviving for at least five years, according to the American Cancer Society. The survival rate drops to 81 percent once the disease has progressed to Stage II. If the breast cancer was at Stage III when it was discovered, the survival rate drops to 67 percent. Women with Stage IV breast cancer have a 15 percent survival rate. The American Cancer Society notes that every woman's situation is different and that new treatments are continuing to improve survival rates among women with breast cancer."

Thank you, Jesus, for bringing that little pea-sized pellet to my attention so early.  I'm ready to war against this disease again, and I hope I learn something this time that will prove useful to others heading down the same path.  I thank you also for the brilliant team of doctors you have assembled for me - even as I must depend on government assistance for their services.  These men (the last time, in Dallas, you provided me with a gifted team of women) are truly a "dream team."   Knowing 3 members of this team will be diligently working on me for 6-7 hours next Wednesday confirms Your Presence in all things.  I thank You that I am truly in the palm of Your hand - the safest, calmest, and most protected place I could hope to be.  Thank You for giving me a spirit of power, love, and a sound mind.  Anxious fear never comes from You, and though it tries to infect me with a vigorous and continual onslaught, I have only to praise You to obtain a blessed and calming reprieve.  I know that you inhabit the praises of Your people, and I am proud to count myself as one of Yours.  Please give me the guidance and supernatural strength to glorify You throughout this process.... let my words be Your words, and my steps those You have chosen in building a path for me.  Lastly, Lord, I ask You to fill in for me where I fall short on this journey.  For, even though my goals are high and spiritual, I am still bound by an earthly body of flesh and bone.  And even though I want to resist the desires of my flesh, I am sad to be losing some very important (to me!) parts of that flesh.  You alone can turn my mourning into dancing; You can bring addition from what is taken away; joy from loss and grief.  After all, I'm just a girl - and a flawed one at that - but You see me as so much more.  You've adopted me, justified me, cleansed me, and turned me into a much-beloved Royal Daughter.  You gave up SO much more on the cross than what I am reluctantly parting with - and You did so willingly and absolutely!  Thank you for turning me into a Princess the moment I chose You, despite what You know about me.  For you have known me from my mother's womb, even before the foundations of the earth.  Still my fast-beating heart, Lord, and help me keep my focus on You.  Amen and amen.

I'm Stumped

Where or where did my creativity go? 

The Days of Wine and Roses with my phone

The Days of Wine and Roses are definitely O-V-E-R between my iPhone (w/AT&T) and me.  I was so taken in the beginning with its glitz, the bells and whistles, the fact that it knew so much about me -- even the way it FELT in my hands.  Not to mention it always looked good and lasted forever (I was a Palm Centro/Sprint girl at the time; maybe that explains the initial mind-blowing infatuation). Now I'd just be happy if he followed through on TEN PERCENT of those puerile pillow promises.