Crying
I've felt like crying for most of the day.
A few tears have leaked out, but mostly I've just had that feeling I get when the flood gates are about to be opened and I'm not sure if they will ever close.
I wanted to cried around midnight when I called Weneki to say happy birthday. She wasn't home, so I left a birthday song on her voice mail. I usually cry on Weneki's birthday. I cry joyful tears at the memory of the day she was born. I cry missing her tears. I cry tears of pride when I think of all she's been through in her lifetime, and how, even when it hasn't been easy, she's risen to the top like sweet cream on fresh milk.
I wanted to cry as 64 year old Diane Nyad climbed out of the water after swimming 103 miles from Cuba to Key West. Not so much for her success, but for the her triumph after several failures. All those "not this times" spurred her on and made her try that much harder. Truth be told, I felt like crying because I've never let myself dream large dreams. I don't even know what I'd dream if I took of my I can't filter.
I felt angry tears welling up when I asked my son a seemingly (to me) simple question and got attitude and a answer one might give a 2 year old who's just asked the same question 50 times - slowly, mouthing every syllable.
Then when Sweetie asked me a seemingly simple question I barked at him. I hate it when I do that and it made me want to cry remorseful tears.
Tears of frustration welled up when I began a sewing project and there was just not enough fabric, no matter how I laid the pieces out. I'm making stuffed animals for a good friend whose husband died recently. I get sad every time I think of her life without him. But I love seeing his favorite clothes being turned into something kids can cuddle when they think of their grandpa. I really do not want to screw this project up.
My heart felt heavy and tears began to trickle down my face as I listened to news reports of the possibility of military action in Syria. Oh God, not again, I cried.
After all those near boo hoo fests, the words to an Alabama song, hit me hardest: She had her freedom, but she'd rather be bound to a man who wouldn't let her down. I remember a time in my life when that's all I wanted, a man who wouldn't let me down. I'm lucky to have found one I trust to be here with and for me. It breaks my heart to be told that's not enough.
Sometimes I just feel weepy. Good thing I've learned that my tears, like afternoon rain showers in Florida, are to be expected. They come. They wash away the ick, cleanse my soul and leave little pear shaped prisms of color to see through.
Merry ME
A few tears have leaked out, but mostly I've just had that feeling I get when the flood gates are about to be opened and I'm not sure if they will ever close.
I wanted to cried around midnight when I called Weneki to say happy birthday. She wasn't home, so I left a birthday song on her voice mail. I usually cry on Weneki's birthday. I cry joyful tears at the memory of the day she was born. I cry missing her tears. I cry tears of pride when I think of all she's been through in her lifetime, and how, even when it hasn't been easy, she's risen to the top like sweet cream on fresh milk.
I wanted to cry as 64 year old Diane Nyad climbed out of the water after swimming 103 miles from Cuba to Key West. Not so much for her success, but for the her triumph after several failures. All those "not this times" spurred her on and made her try that much harder. Truth be told, I felt like crying because I've never let myself dream large dreams. I don't even know what I'd dream if I took of my I can't filter.
I felt angry tears welling up when I asked my son a seemingly (to me) simple question and got attitude and a answer one might give a 2 year old who's just asked the same question 50 times - slowly, mouthing every syllable.
Then when Sweetie asked me a seemingly simple question I barked at him. I hate it when I do that and it made me want to cry remorseful tears.
Tears of frustration welled up when I began a sewing project and there was just not enough fabric, no matter how I laid the pieces out. I'm making stuffed animals for a good friend whose husband died recently. I get sad every time I think of her life without him. But I love seeing his favorite clothes being turned into something kids can cuddle when they think of their grandpa. I really do not want to screw this project up.
My heart felt heavy and tears began to trickle down my face as I listened to news reports of the possibility of military action in Syria. Oh God, not again, I cried.
After all those near boo hoo fests, the words to an Alabama song, hit me hardest: She had her freedom, but she'd rather be bound to a man who wouldn't let her down. I remember a time in my life when that's all I wanted, a man who wouldn't let me down. I'm lucky to have found one I trust to be here with and for me. It breaks my heart to be told that's not enough.
Sometimes I just feel weepy. Good thing I've learned that my tears, like afternoon rain showers in Florida, are to be expected. They come. They wash away the ick, cleanse my soul and leave little pear shaped prisms of color to see through.
“There is an ancient tribal proverb I once heard in India.
It says that before we can see properly we must first shed our tears to clear the way.”
Libba Bray
Merry ME
Comments
(hugs) and (more hugs).
I tried to leave an answer yesterday, and my computer erased the comment! What I wanted to say was... "how lovely to hear and feel God's voice in your heart and soul like that. it is always incredible when that happens.
When people dream of someone to care for their baby or their aging parent, they dream of someone like you. How lucky for those of us who found you.
It is always hardest to see ourselves clearly, but many see you clearly, and we all know what a wonderful, special person you are.
You my bejeweled friend/sister, are the whipped, luscious topping on a ooey, gooey, cake. :)
You are soooo loved!
xoxoxoxo