What's in a Name?


"Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort
of feeling safe with a person -
having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words,
but pouring them all right out,
just as they are, chaff and grain together;
certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them,
keep what is worth keeping,
then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.
Dinah Craik, A Life for a Life, 1859

[Note from ME: When I started writing this blog I tried to protect the identity of people I was writing about. It's one thing for me to spill my guts and something else again to write about people who may or may not want to be mentioned - at least by name. So I've given most of the people of whom I write a pseudonym. Nothing too highly veiled. If you know me you probably know who I'm writing about. For some reason that I can no longer even recall, I chose to refer to the main man in my life, my SO (significant other), my main squeeze, my paramour as "Sweetie. "
Personally I like it. But I wonder if makes people think he is kind of girly. For the record, my man is not a girly man. He does use a little more hair spray than I do, but this is only because he wants his hair to stay neatly coiffed, not flip out in all directions like mine. Perhaps I should have given him a more manly fake name like "Studmuffin" or Ranger (of Janet Evanovich book fame).
I could refer to him in writing as I do in person - Jackson. Or I could go back to when we first met and call him Capt. Jack.

But what is in a name? A sweetie by any other name is still as sweet. I've asked him what he wants to be called, and his silly response is always the same, "don't call me late for dinner." On that note I'll stick with Sweetie, until something else strikes my fancy. [Photo: A man and his new weed-wacker. Does it get any better than that?]
Now on to the point of this post:
What I failed to say in my previous message was how supportive Sweetie was throughout the week my family was visiting. He and I have a pretty tight connection, but he hasn't spent enough time with my extended family to know them well. Last week, I think, went a long way in including Sweetie to the craziness I call family. Perhaps now he'll have a better idea why it is so important to me to settle someday in the NW. I even think maybe, if it's possible, having family visit helps him to "get" me better.

When Sweetie and I hooked up we pledged our lives to each other, but we didn't say much about our extended families. To me it was a given - kind of all or nothing. You want me, you get some dysfunctional baggage, and vice versa. I'd moved OUT of my dad's house for the 2nd time in my life, not really expecting to ever be invited back in. But here I am. Here we are. Sweetie convinced me to come back, that we could do this Dad thing together.

About the time we moved in my love was stricken by some pretty serious health issues and laid off from his job. Although both could be looked at as negatives, Sweetie used the opportunity to do what he always wanted to do, become a life coach.

As he learned about relationships in general, we learned a lot about our relationship in particular. Our partnership, plus my Dad, plus my sister, plus 2 couch-peeing cats, plus a car that periodically broke down, plus a couple depressive episodes, plus death, plus a really crappy economy and job market. As we learned, we grew. He grew. I grew. And like two trees on opposite sides of the street stretching towards the light, our branches intertwined, while our roots held us firmly in one spot.

I'm really proud of this man I call Sweetie. Sometimes I don't think he gives himself enough credit. Perhaps by the standards by which society judges a person's manhood and by his own bar, which is often set pretty high, he has fallen short of the mark. Is a man's job what he's all about?

Would I like for him to have a job? Sure.

But not as a measure of his worth. I'd like to see him outside this house, out in the world, touching other lives the way he's touched mine. If he could get paid for that hoorah. Mainly he's got too much to offer to sit in this house and while away the hours.

Has he tried to get a job? Sure.

Unfortunately he's got the same strikes against him that many people are facing in today's job market - his age and his years of experience to name just a couple. The same things that once made him a good employee are the things that work against him now. Is younger better or just cheaper?

The day is going to come when this man of mine is going to either find employment or win the lotto. Until that day comes, he's taken the high road. Once the school year begins anew he will go back to volunteering for Junior Achievement. It's no small feat to don a wizard costume and go into a middle or high school class and speak of dreams, integrity, and ethics to kids who have already given up on dreams and have no idea what personal integrity even means.

Recently Sweetie became a Guardian ad Litem (GAL). In a child protective system full of lawyers, foster parents, social workers, judges, doctors and teachers, a GAL stands up for and speaks for the child. It's all confidential, but I watch as Sweetie pours over case studies and listens to case managers tell stories of kids who, through little fault of their own, have never really had a chance to be kids.


After a week of hearing children sounds in our house I suggested we "get" a baby to play with. My love glanced at the stack of notebooks on his desk and said we could adopt. As he said that I realized that each of "his" kids has a story. A story contained in a three ring binder and maybe a small satchel that they carry from foster home to foster home. Some of them might be considered "lost" causes. Some may still be helpable. All of them will turn 18 one day and age out of a system that is crowded, under-equipped and underfunded.

In the mean time there is a man I know who takes his volunteer job seriously. Even when the odds are against him and the child he works has little to believe in this man will do what he does best. He'll care. He'll be present. He'll listen.

When life is too much for me to handle and I need a refuge from the storm I've discovered there is a place I can go where I'll never be turned away. All I have to do is walk into my Sweetie's office and close the door. He looks up from his computer and smiles; then he folds his hands and waits. Waits for whatever it is I have to say. Sometimes he'll hand me a tissue from across the desk. Mostly he just listens. And when I'm finished with whatever rant I'm, he stands up, closes the distance between us and holds me in his arms.

There are probably a million other things I could call this man. But for now Sweetie is as Sweetie does.

I am blessed.

Merry ME

Comments

Anonymous said…
I am just catching up. Great blogs the last five days - they make me cry. I miss you. I love you. lg
PS Sweetie is a quiet dear.
Anonymous said…
If ever you want to know what Agape Love looks like; watch Mary. She is breath taking in giving of herself. Every dream and wish I've had for a loving relationship is part and parcel of who she is. Thank You Mary for the blessing you are. xxxx - swee-tee!

Popular posts from this blog

An Easter Miracle

Holy Moly

Book Review