When Did that happen?

When did the work I do become so unfulfilling that the minutes tick by painstakingly slow.

That 3 hours seems like a lifetime away.

Now what?

I cant wait to get my fingers in the dirt.  My garden has no rhyme or reason.  I just plant things and let them grow.  Its like my own personal jungle.  Last year, I had morning glorys climbing my porch, and my sister said it tried to trip her.  She swears it had a life of its own.  Ill admit, it covered my entire porch, and my porch aint small.  It very well could have been trying to suck her in.  Like Jumanji.

My garden always does well.  Vincent chastises me for my crooked rows,  says I need to slow down, Im too anxious to get a job finished.  But I have a secret.  I like  my garden a little chaotic.  It makes it more interesting.  Straight rows are boring.   And my plants dont seem to mind.  In fact, they produce better than most.

What can I say, my thumbs are green.

And when Im out there, breathing in the smell of earth, and holding the rich soil in my fingers, Im at peace.  This is something that brings me so much joy.  Talking to God is always easier when Im weeding and readying the flower beds for whatever I may decide to plant.   I can almost feel his hands on my shoulder, restoring my spirit with his joy, and peace.  Its a beautiful place to be.

Sarah

When my mom was born, they happened to be in France, which I found fascinating as I was growing up.  It made my mom seem so much more interesting and exotic.

In 1998, Bobby Ray Ball, my papa, a decorated soldier, had a heart attack, and died instantly.   This would be the most devestating loss of my life to that point, and I grieved that beloved man so deeply, it left me afraid of loss all together.  I never wanted to feel that kind of grief again. 

Since that period in my life, I have lost more close family members, 2 aunts, a granpa inlaw,  a few friends.  And I think I have come to a place of peace of sorts.  I understand that I cry for me, not for them. 

This year, as an early birthday gift, my mom brought me a green box.  I had givien my brother a pearl necklace to give to his girlfriend that weekend, and Mom said she felt like it was time that I got my first Sebruary gift.  

Inside of a lime green jewlery box was a sterling silver necklas, with a pendant, and set inside the pendant was a pearl.  There were also matching earings.  It was in its original box  Papa had given to my mimi, in 1961, after she had my mom.  Mom and mimi had both decided that nobody would appreciate it quite like I would. 

I was overwhelmed, because Ive read letters from them when he was in one place and she in another with the children, Ive seen the pictures,  and felt lucky to have 2 people who loved echother so much, be role models in my life.  

But now, here in  my antique green box, bought in France, I get to hold on to a small tangible  part of that love they shared for so many years. 

Now, that is something to cherish.

There was my Grandpa, by marriage.  But I never thought of him that way.  Of all the inlaws, he had always treated me like I was his granddaughter.  Hed loved me, and my children and I loved him so very much.  His skin was pasty, his hair long gone, from the chemo, and he was sleeping, his breath raspy and slow.  But he was breathing.  I said a prayer of thanks, and then Vincent and I flanked his sides, holding his hands, touching him and talking of the weather, his cows and goats, funny stories, and telling him what the kids were doing. 

When two of us could no longer take the pressure, two more family members were there, ready to hold his hands.  He was not alone once, in the 5 weeks he was hospitalized. 

That day, we were given a precious gift.  The Doctors said that he would be so drugged that he wouldnt be able to achknowledge us again.  None of wanted to see him hurting.  His organs were shutting down.  We accepted that.

But at 3  that afternoon, his eyes groggily opened, and he saw each of our 30 faces.  We all piled in the, completely ignoring the 2 people at a time rule.  The sight of all of us squeezing into that tiny hospital room must have been overwhelming.  The nurses looked in dissapproval.  We didnt care.  Grandpa knew he was really loved. 

I took my youngest son to see him after he passed, at the insisstance of Vincents family.  Little Vincent was old enough to know that he didnt want to go and I didnt make him.   I held Cody to my chest and spoke softly to him about Grandpa, and how he wasnt sick anymore, and he was living with Jesus, and we would soon see him again. 

And suddenly, Cody began to sob.  Not tears of a child, hurt, but real, heartwrenching sobs, loud, and uncontrolled, and that was what broke me.  All the emotions Id been holding in were freed by the complete honesty of myCody’s grief.

Its a kiowa tradition to cut your hair off when someone you love passes.  It symbolizes your pain, and as your hair grows back, it symbolizes your healing.  I cut my hair and put the braid in grandpas casket. 

I thank God that my sons knew their great grandpa.  He was precious to us all. 

He had a unique and intimate relationship with each of his children and grandchildren.   They were devestted by his loss, but there was no unfinished business, no words left to say.

He took his last breath knowing his legacy would live on, and that he had truly loved and been loved as completely as a man could have been. 

His daughter said to him, ” Daddy, we will be okay.” And that was all he needed to hear, before he went Home.

And I had that moment.  A momewnt of realization, where I looked around the room, and saw the faces, and knew, we would be ok.  This pain will get better.  You’ll experience more loss, but “This too shall pass”. Your hair will grow back, and youll transition into acceptance. 

Your heart will heal.  And in that moment, I could see the beauty of the moment.  2 grown men holding the work worn hands of a man, fervently praying that he will feel no more pain.

Sisters with wrapped around one another, sharing childhood memories.

And cutting a wedding shower cake in the family waiting room, because the bride to be  wouldnt attend her own shower, refusing to leave her grandpas side, if just to watch him sleep.

I have been blessed, or cursed as you may see it, with the ability to feel other’s emotions.  My Spirit is sensitive and when I see family, a friend, or even someone who is not a friend but maybe just an aquanintance, in pain, I literally, physically feel it with them.   And I go through a mourning or grief for them.  

I’m not vain enough to think that I am the only person afflicted with this.  I think every conscience, has this same curse or blessing as you may see it.  We call it empathy or Love.  I just think we feel it on different levels. 

But I seem to take mine to lengths beyond what may be reasonable.     I cry for people’s pain.   I reach out and try to make up for the pain of others, giving what Id need if the situation was reversed.  

So when I experience something heartbreaking and I don’t get the same sort of kindness, I feel jipped. 

That is the selfish side of Sarah.  The one I’m ashamed of.  The one that rages, and hurts, because I feel unappreciated.  

In this way, I am weak. 

Because the caring that I give should be unselfish.  I should  mirror that  of Jesus.

It has taken years for me to acknowledge this. 

It has caused  problems between loved ones and myself that have taken years to mend. 

It has caused problems between me and my second family. 

So this is my prayer. 

I pray that the Father will forgive me. 

I pray that those I’ve hurt and confused will forgive me. 

I think my second Mom has been hurt the most by this.  She just doesnt understand what I need from her.

 I love her.  She raised a wonderful, beautiful boy, and gave me a magnificent man 

For that alone, she deserves my adoration. 

But also, I love her because she and I are alike in many ways.   And we share an unfathomable love for these men of ours.

She isn’t just my second mama, but my sister in Christ. 

This revelation has been  slow in  coming.   I now understand that my traditions and  blessing (or curse as the case may be) are mine and any expectations I place on others are unfair.

Its not anyone’s fault but my own, for not recognizing that my Spirit is sensitive, and not recognizing that  everybody empathizes in a different way.

Sarah Nicole

So, I listened  to my voicemail with half an ear, deleting here and there, until I  hear an accoustic guitar, playing  “You are My Sunshine”.  It was a beautiful gift.  My baby brother Justin, does things like that, but on that particuliar morning I needed the lift, and at the tender words, ” I love you sister” I had to supress a couple of tears.   God has blessed me with a beautifuly dysfunctional, exceptionally quirky, loving, adorable family, and I find myself so grateful at times, that I simply cant breathe.  They actually, literally take my breath away.  

Thank you Father.

My place of business is blocking all non business related sites.  That includes MSN, Yahoo, youtube, myspace and facebook. 

Now, ill never have any friends.  This is a bad thing.

I have been doing some deep soul searching, and have come to realize that I completely internalize my anxiety.  It churns in me until I make myself physically ill.  Then it turns into heartburn and headaches. 

There are days when all I want to do is read.  Escape into an adventure, or investigate a murder.  Fiction is better than reality. 

I am a delightful person, unless you make one of the 3 fatal mistakes.

1. talk shit about me or someone I love while your in my friend circle.  I will kick you outa my circle faster than you can say boobies.

2. Eat the last zebra cake. Thats a serious offense.

3. dont do your part in the relationship.

Any of these 3 things will put you on my naughty list, and then, all bets are off, and you should beware.  Im a bitch when your on my nauhty list.

Dont leave your electronics at my house.  I just might take them apart with my swiss army knfe to see how they work.

I am a wife, and a  mother,  and everything else can wait. 

Mostly Im writing this because all the fun sites are blocked.  

Motherhood calls.  Ill write more later.

I have ventured out of the Myspace blog, and into the world of wordpress. 

This is a good thing.  It means Im an adult. 

Sarah