Finding Old Photos

I wanted to add a different "old" photo to my Facebook page, so I pulled out a sack (yes, sack not photo album...I am not that organized) and was digging through photos of me and my family from "way back". There is something both wonderful and fearful to see the years peeled away and there you are...infant, 3 with new tricycle, 5 with family in a different state, or dress-up-night with your sister, on vacation with your Mom. Now that both parents are long gone and adding many others in the photos as well have died, it brings a real sense of progression of time.

Who bears witness to my life? To whom am I bearing witness? I think of course of my immediate family: Gretchen, Ilsa and Craig. I mark their days with love and keep in my heart the sharing of their feelings, ideas, dreams and pains. I also see this in the lives of my sisters and nieces as well as my former brother-in-law-but-still-friend.

It is not only family to whom I bear witness. I am a keeper of memories for my friends. I treasure the moments that I call to mind of laughter, tears, fear and joy...they are the hallmarks of life well lived.

I wonder if others realize how very import a role "witness bearer" is to the people integrated into our lives. Do YOU think about the fact your life will really only be marked by in all eternity by the memories and stories shared by your family and friends? We can publish great works, or paint great pictures or act in great theater or create new technology, but the essence of who we are as people is not defined nor described by these sorts of things. Who we are as people can only be realized by the people we touch everyday; touch emotionally, physically, spiritually, intellectually.

Keep your heart open to bear witness to the lives of the people brought into your life. It is a sacred gift given you to hold this memory and share it with others so those to whom you are bearing witness will always live on in the hearts/minds of others.

the dreaded BUDGET!

Well, I have done it. I sat down, pulled out the bills and auto-withdraw info and my estimated income per 2 week period and MADE A BUDGET. I had to laugh at myself...seems on paper I could loan Bill Gates some change if he wanted!

Why is it that money seems to just fly out of my hand? I know a good deal of the reason is I use it. Use it for: dinner with my family and friends (to stay connected over dinner is awesome and that cannot be labeled with a price), helping out my girls and the PSIL (this is Platinum Son In Law), Books (cannot have too many books), Coffee at Starbucks 2 or 3 times on the weekend (necessary for the drive b/w campuses with my hospital work), donate to charities ($10 to $25 here and there), extra change in the collection buckets at different stores... again...a drip to a gush of money leaves my hands.

My new plan (always good to have a plan) is to track where my money is spent by writing it down in my purse and transferring it to an Excel spread sheet! I am going to be more mindful of where it goes and how. I need to tithe again and put money in savings for "in case". This is all beginning with my pay check on Friday...first of the year. I will let you know how this goes!

Tuesday and COLD

Well, looking out the window behind the computer screen I see snow and I swear I can see the air as it is so cold it has significant mass/density. The dogs provide some of the steam from breaths as they run up and down the fence line barking at the squirrels. The squirrels, who find life safer running across the power lines, just flick a tail now and then at the dogs...pisses off the dogs to say the least!

Started a new book last night. I have run out novels and switched to the more scholarly works I have accumulated but never got around to reading ( this is my time to "get around to" all sorts of things I have put aside). The book focuses on the nature of Suffering. Being that my profession is immersed in the relief of suffering by the patients and families I serve, this is highly applicable to me. It is very thought provoking.

What I have realized is that suffering happens every day to some degree in all people. I considered the fact that everyday we are placed in positions where things are not as we want them to be: living with a devastating illness or self or loved one, being separated from ones we care for, not being able to find a parking place near the store we need to visit, loosing a sock in the wash AGAIN!...they all add up to suffering on some level.

Now, one would want to qualify that some suffering is greater than others... holocaust survivors certainly suffered more than the man who has 6 over due movies at the local Blockbuster, but that may not be the case. Suffering is an individual journey and experience. Too many details play into the fabric of what suffering means to the person.

I will face my own suffering with a new heart and the sufferings of those I come in contact with. I will see with new eyes how each person may suffer and do what I can to alleviate that suffering if only for a moment with nothing more than an authentic smile.

As I sit listening to love songs I realize I am a "hopeful romantic". My heart urns for a lover. As I have grown older (but not Old), "lover" has taken on a new meaning. In my 20s a lover was one who burned through my body and soul with the heat of molten rock. He would touch me and it would burn to my soul; I would touch him and melt into him. This lover of my youth consumed me.

As I look for a lover now, I realize I do not wish to be consumed in this fire, but to be a part of the fuel that allows for a slow burn. I hunger for a lover who sees me as I am in my entirety; body, mind and soul. A lover that is half of the fire, half of the cool breeze that follows, half of my heart. It does not mean I feel "un-whole", but I seek now a balance where once I longed only for the extremes. I believe I will find this man, maybe I have already and he is simply not seen yet in this light. My heart has never lied to me even when it led me down the rockiest paths. I believe that love is all around me and this lover, this partner, this other half, is still in my future.

I made a decision to try to blog/journal every day...I seem to be here a second time in a few days so I am on a good run. Every day is probably a little over zealous, but at least it is a goal on which to focus. So thoughts for today; it is the last day of the year, last day of the first decade of the 21st century, the last day of December, the last evening before we mark the New Day, New Year, New Decade.

So, what's so good about new? New tries to make us think it is better than Old. We are told on all media that New is superior, cutting-edge, fresh, desirable; we can quickly forget the value of Old. Old is the sweater that wraps me in warmth even with the hole at the bottom where the dog grabbed it thinking we were playing tug-of-war; she is now buried in the backyard under the flowering willow. Old is seeing my face in the photos of my mother, who too has found a place in the next life. Old is a friend who remembers when I weighed what my drivers' licenses says.

As this New approaches, I vow to never forget the value of Old. Old is keeper of the stories of what my life has been and is. Can I ever leave behind my footprints on the sands of the life I have lived? No, when I look back I see the Old Days (they are not necessarily the fodder for romantic reminiscence), days that are the product for which I traded that day lived. I search the Old to find strength for the New. The Old is keeper of my lessons, my dreams when they morphed into a different direction. Old remembers my heart when it was young and innocent and that memory helps me hold innocence with great reverence and joy. Old helps me look for the New in each day, not to trade Old for New, but to add New to the Old.

Old is NOT bad baggage as some would like to think when looking back. Baggage is part of living, the difference is when we let Old be our holder of lessons, the baggage can be laid down. Old keeps an eye on the baggage, just in case we try to pick it up again or worse, trade the old baggage for new baggage just like it!

So here on the eve on the New Year, I choose to celebrate Old. I am looking out the window where the Old dog is buried, smiling back at Old photos, taking stock of the Old stories that will find a metamorphosis as time tools the details. I celebrate the promise of New but I will keep Old close at hand.