Imaginary Friends

Many real-live people  ... are nothing more than ... imaginary friends.

A little girl is sitting in a swing at the playground.  She is enthusiastically talking to the empty swing next to her.  "Mommy has a whole bunch of imaginary friends, too!  They all hang out in a place called Facebook."

Had to smile when that cartoon popped up one day last week.  It was couched in the midst of a stream of status posts from a variety of friends ... ballyhooing the quality  -- or lack thereof -- of their...  friends.

And I am wondering, do people really get on the internet ... to make friends?!?!  And, no, I am not talking about online dating.That's a totally different thing.  I am talking about  hold-my-hand-when-I-cry, celebrate-my-successes, honest-to-God ...  friends.

Lots of people I know, simply add people to their friends list ... because they receive a friend request.  It's absurd, really.  A virtual stranger ... sends you a friend request ... and you accept them as your friend ... and presto-chango ... a virtual stranger suddenly becomes a friend.  I think not.

Virtual strangers are nothing more than 21st century imaginary friends.

Even though I know the people I have on my Facebook "friends" list ... I don't presume that all of them are ... ahem ... my friends. Maybe that's where one gets into trouble ... when one begins to believe that everyone they meet ... or know ... or who wants to tag along with them .. is actually their friend.

Children have imaginary friends.  They are real to them.  They talk to them ... and sometimes, the imaginary friend talks back.  At least that's what the child believes.

Children don't pretend that their imaginary friends are actual people, though.  They are smart like that.

Guess some of us lose some of that smartness as we grow-up. It's not uncommon for some really bright ... but lonely adults ...  to allow themselves to believe that whoever is behind that picture is actually who they say they are .  And I think to myself ... didn't these people ever watch The Wizard of Oz?!?!

Traditional imaginary friends are viewed as abnormal in adults ... but are seen as totally acceptable in children.

I am not sure who Lawrence Kutner is ... or when he wrote this observation ... but I believe it sums it up quite well:

"Imaginary companions are an integral part of many children's lives. They provide comfort in times of stress, companionship when they're lonely, someone to boss around when they feel powerless, and someone to blame for the broken lamp in the living room. Most important, an imaginary companion is a tool young children use to help them make sense of the adult world."

Now try reading it again ... and replace "imaginary companions" with "online friends" ... and replace all references to "children" with "people" ...

Imaginary friends ... are a sign ... that a person needs help making sense of the adult world.  Imagine that!

Something is terribly wrong with a world where the ability to build relationships and make genuine friends is never developed ... where the most meaningful interactions take place in the solitary confines of your room --- online --- with real people pretending to be your friend OR pretend people trying to convince you they are real ....

I think maybe it's the children .. who never learned how to be a grown-up ... that fill up their life with imaginary friends ... on-and-off-line ... because it's easier & faster than actually getting down in the trenches of life with people and building real, lasting friendships.

Friendships are the basis for all good relationships.  If shallow, superficial friendship is all that's offered upfront ... there's not much hope for something wonderful ... to develop later.

I am a people gatherer.  I've been collecting people for as long as I can remember.

People fascinate me.  Each one is different.  Just like snowflakes.  And it's those differences ... mixed in with the things that are held in common that makes
each encounter dynamic. 

Dynamic encounters. Some are positive.  Some are negative.  All of them impact our lives in a million different ways.  I love that!

And each person has a unique personality.  Each personality is multifaceted.  Dimensional.  Sometimes layered.

It often takes a bit of time & effort to really get to know someone ... the genuine who-they-are ... because they have a "game" face ... and an "off-camera" face ... and some have put up a whole bunch of walls ... to protect themselves from the imaginary
friends of the world.

Being a challenge-driven person, that's the part that engages me.  The desire to get to know the REAL person in each individual I meet.  It's a gift of mine, I guess, to always see & respond to the goodness in someone.  Even when when it's buried really, really deep.

A curse, it can be as well.

Sometimes I see things there in a person's eyes ... in their heart ... that they have forgotten about themselves.  Or maybe it's something they have yet to discover.  Those are the ones that I find myself drawn to most of the time.  

The one who is so paralyzed by life, by circumstances, by failure, by disappointment, by fear and sometimes by success ... Just stuck right where they are ... overwhelmed ... overlooked by others ...  unable to see the potential within ... scared to death to believe in themselves ... that's the one that catches my attention ... every single time.

I tend to spend a little more time with those people.  Sometimes I wind up investing too much time there.  Often there is no visible return. Sometimes I get hurt ... by real people who play the imaginary friend game.

Still, I play. Creatively.  Trying to help that person to find those lost or undiscovered things ... about themselves ... on their own.

 It's what I do.  Gathering people.

Down deep in my stocking on Christmas morning, I found this cute little bag ...of people.  See!  Even Santa knows my heart ... how cool is that??!!! 

Turns out these aren't ordinary people ...
they are worry people.  

Apparently when the Mayan Indians had worries, they would whisper those secret things to the worry people then they would place the little effigies under their pillows at night.

Seriously?!?.  The Mayan Indians had pillows?!?!  Ok.  Back to the legend ...

When they awoke, the worry people had taken their worries away.

Wow!  Tell my worries to a tiny bag of imaginary friends ... sleep on it ... and all will be right in my world.

That made me smile.  So with a little twist of my own, I decided to give it a whirl.

The MJ-whoodoo is to assign each of these little worry people to one of my friends. Then I take them out ... one by one ... and share the challenges, struggles & joys of the real-live, living-and-breathing friend ... I talk about each one ... outloud ... with their designated worry person ... and sometimes one of them answers. 

Then I gather all of those little worry people together ... sort of like a conference call ... or maybe it's a prayer conference ... and we take it all to MY imaginary friend.

Yep.  Based on clinical research, I am pretty sure that I am guilty of having one.  You see, in some cases children shared that they have an imaginary friend ... that they never actually visualize ... they simply feel His presence ...

That's my best friend, God, Creator of the Universe.  Guess maybe it's ok for Him to be their best friend, too.

So me and the worry people have a fairly regular pow-wow ... with God ... to talk about the challenges facing my friends.

He likes that ... when I pour out my heart to Him ... on behalf of the people who mean the most to me. He listens.  And sometimes He smiles.

It seems to be working, so far.

Yes.  I am a people gatherer.  And it is my passion in life to share as much encouragement, support & love as I possibly can ... to whoever is in need of those things.  That's how I roll.  Sometimes I find a friend in the process.  Lots of times , though, it's simply a dynamic encounter with a fun & interesting person that I know and care about a lot.  

Just because you like someone doesn't make you a friend.  Just because someone likes you doesn't make them a friend either.  Friendship is a slow process.  It involves fun ... troubles ... joy ... hurts ... happiness ... and lots of quality time.  And trust ... trust doesn't automatically come with a friend request.

It is not uncommon to be a friend to someone who is not a friend in return.  That's not always a bad thing.  And it works both ways.

In a world full of imaginary friends, how do you recognize a real friend?

A friend offers you a place where you are comfortable ... and you can be yourself.  That means it's ok for your warts & flaws to show themselves from time to time.  A friend offers you a place to drop off your worries. A friend celebrates your successes loudly & obnoxiously.  A friend holds your hand & cries with you when disappointment, hurts or failure rush in to overwhelm you.  A true friend offers you a safe place where you can let all the barriers and walls around your heart down .. a place to simply breathe ... it's hard work keeping all of those walls in place, after all.

Friends wander in-and-out, from time-to-time.  In my little bag ... just like in real life.

And even though I am not immune to the imaginary friends of the world ... it's the unseen presence of Him ... that helps me keep it all in perspective.

A handful of real friends ... a little bag full of worries ... that's about all I can handle on my own.  I leave the rest up to Him.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com
(c) February 2012

 

HELP WANTED!

In the last few days ... my garage door has started acting up.  Push the button ... and the door goes up ... push the button later ... and the door starts to go down ... then hangs up ... stuck somewhere along the track.

Not always in the same place, either.

It's been a long time since my remote clickers have worked.  They both stopped working at the same time ... so my guess it's not the batteries.  It's been annoying to always open and close the door from the wall button ... and not from the car ... but I've adjusted to that over time.

So it's now become a two- person job to close the garage door.  One to push the button ... and one to gently tug the door along ... so that it doesn't hang up ... on it's way down.

This morning, I forgot to open the garage door and back the car out before Jessi left.  So I was a little worried about what to do about closing the garage door ... when I got ready to go the places I need to go ... later.

Figured I should just go ahead and do it ... early ... and get the frustration over with ... then resign myself to the situation.

Pushed the button ... and the door slowly rose ... about 1/4 way up ... and then it stopped ... stuck ... high enough to crawl under ... but too low to drive under.

That was just swell!

So I stood there pushing the button ... over and over ... as if it was going to magically "fix" itself.  That's what you do ... when you don't know what else to do ... isn't it?!?!

Just keep pushing the button.

Finally, I walked over and tried to examine both sides to see WHAT was obstructing the movement.  Whatever it is ... it's beyond me.  So I grabbed the door in the middle ... and pushed it up ... didn't budge ... pushed it down ... didn't budge. 

Seems you have to have someone manning the button ... when you are pushing & pulling ... imagine that.

So now I'm thinking .... this is worse than not being able to close the garage door when I leave ... because now ... I simply can't leave.

Once again, I grabbed the garage door ... and just shook it ... and speaking outloud as if there was anyone to hear me ... I said ...

I CAN'T DO THIS BY MYSELF !!!

I had to smile ... because I imagined myself looking just like Snoopy ... shaking his fist ... shouting ... "Curse you, Red Baron!"

Not much else I could do at that moment, so I headed back in the house to have another cup of coffee.  Passing the button, I couldn't resist ... taking a jab at it.

I punched it.  And presto, the door glided open!

The sunshine came pouring in ... along with the laughter ... and the whisper, "Of course you can't, MJ!"

I backed the car out ... and I laughed, too.  At myself.

Everything in my house needs "fixing".  The top on my car is held together by duct tape.  There's nothing about my life that isn't "broken" ... right now.  The very foundation crumbled beneath my feet earlier this week.

And I started thinking about how long I've been standing here ... pushing the button ... waiting for something to happen ... on it's own ... because I don't really know what else to do ... on my own.

I wish this story ended ... as so many of mine do ... with me saying that now the garage door works just fine ... push the button ... it goes up ... push the button ... it goes down.

But ... it doesn't.

I had to shake ... rattle ... and tug ... at a dozen different stops ... then run over to push the button ... to gain another inch or so of progress ... but eventually, I did get the door shut.

It would have certainly been easier ... if someone else had been here ... to help me out.

So as I face the new year ... here's what I know ...

A whole lot of things need a-fixin .... some things need to be replaced ... and others discarded ... not to mention that it's time for a whole bunch of stuff that's new ...

... and I can't do much about any of it ... by myself. 

It will be fun & interesting to see who shows up to help ... sure hope they're patient ... and have a sense of humor ... cuz God knows it's going to be an adventure ... helping MJ. 

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) january 2012



Jingle ... Jingle ... Jolly ...

When I was about 14, my family lived in Little Rock. My cousins lived in Cabot.  All of us were about the same age.  

That Christmas, my cousin, Jerry Neal ... I know he likes to be called "Jerry" now ... but back then he was always "Jerry Neal" ... anyway, he received two goats.  And I'm pretty sure that was what he asked for, too.  He couldn't wait to tell us all about them when we gathered for dinner around my Aunt Julia's table. 

One goat was a boy ... and one goat was a girl.   They had been delivered the day before ... I believe.  He was so excited! 

It's been a long time ago ... so I don't remember what he named that boy goat.  The girl goat ... well, he proudly announced he had named HER ... "MaryJane".

Now ... THAT ... was special. 

My younger brother, Beau, couldn't resist ... "Why in the world did you name your goat, MaryJane?", he asked.

"Well, cuz she was so stubborn ... we couldn't get her to come off the truck.  We pulled her.  We pushed her. We did everything we knew how to do.  She just sat down & refused to budge. Stubborn.  So I named her MaryJane."

Thus the nickname "Nanny Goat" was born.

Not in the family was I affectionately known as "Nanny Goat", mind you ... but to the world at large.  You see, once again, Beau couldn't resist.  He shared the story with everyone ...

He found it ... delightul. 

I did have scrawny, spindly legs ... very goatish ... so somehow it just stuck.

For over 30 years, I have smiled at the story ... because, truth is, I am very stubborn ... yet I have always viewed it as something, well, less than flattering. 

Until today .... that is ...

... when a friend sent me this video.

I was totally unprepared for the impact.  Even though she knew me in high school, she was not in the group that would have ever heard the story ... so it was totally random. 

Funny how life goes. 

Watching the lively little goats ... joyfully frolic ... the tears streamed down my face.  Seems like pretty much ... everything ... makes me cry lately. And it dawned on me ... that quite possibly there was more to the naming of that little goat ... than just the "stubborn" story ...

It's a little late, I know ... still ...

Thank you, Jerry Neal, for seeing me ... exactly this way!
 
Jingle ... jingle ... jingle ... all the way ...

As stories go ...

I am a little baffled by the whole "Elf on the Shelf" phenomena. 

"The Elf on the Shelf – A Christmas Tradition is the very special tool that helps Santa know who to put on the Naughty and Nice list."

That's exactly what it says on the "About Us" page for the Elf On the Shelf. 

Somehow I don't like the idea that Santa's elves aren't really REAL until they are adopted by some family ... with the specific purpose of spying ... and tattling ... on everyone in the house.

Not really my idea of a special Christmas tradition.

But that's just me.

I am pretty sure that some of those "original" elves have been hanging around my house since I was about 3 years old ... they came along with gifts to my brothers & me from my Aunt Merthyne. 

A big fan of Santa Claus, she was ... probably they were close friends. She would have never sent elves to spy on us in his name!

I had forgotten about those elves ... until this year ... when I found them tucked into a special holiday wreath from many years ago along with a host of other sweet favorites she sent over the years.

Davey and the First Christmas ... now that's a treasured tradition ... it's always been my Mother's favorite.  There haven't been many Christmas' in over 50 years that she hasn't read this story to some loved ones ... young or young-at-heart.

How cool to find the story being shared this way ... not sure if the book is even still in print.  Our copy is well worn & fragile. 

Enjoy!

... and for the tomboy that was MJ ... there was the Wonderful Window ... it came in a cool little box with cut-outs & things.  And it still warms my heart when the "wonderful" window POPS UP as you turn the pages ... 

The angel came in with a smile on his face.

And both he and Katie got down on their knees,

Praying, "Lord, could you spare

one

small

miracle--

please?"

No elf on the shelf for me ... I'm sticking with Davey ... and Katie ... as stories go ... their's are more in keeping with what Christmas means ... to me.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) December 2011

A Christmas Conundrum ...

My cell phone charger ... the one that plugs into the wall ... broke recently.  So I've been depending on the one in my car to keep me powered-up ... connected to the world.

What that means is ... fairly frequently in the last week or so, I have gone out into the garage and started the car ... for no other reason than to charge up my little phone battery.

Not sure why my Solara has to be turned on for the charger to work ... my Sebring would charge my phone without even having the key in the ignition.

Technology.  Blows my mind.

So I start the car & leave it running for many minutes at a time.  I generally leave the door between the laundry room & the garage open ... mostly so I don't forget that the car is out there ... running. 

Wandering in and out ... it occurred to me ... that ... yeah, I could do that ... start up the car & hang out in the garage ... if the despair was ever that great. 

So easy ... no wonder so many have done that very thing ...

Despair, though, has never really been a reality to me. So no need to worry on my account.  Really.  I promise.

Not sure why I wrote that ... but I've known for days that I was going to open my next blog with it.  Guess maybe it has something to do with the malaise ... of the season ...

Everything ... everywhere ... is all tricked out with tinsel ... and lights ... offering up the pretense of shiny and new.  And it starts earlier and earlier each year.

Somewhere in the midst of the glitz ... the glitter ... the giving ... the getting .... Christmas has lost it's meaning ... as the world continues to lose it's joy.

And hurting people ... empty & lonely ... hopeless people ... hang out in their garages ... with the engine running ... listening to music ... about peace & love ... meaningless words in the context of their lives.

I love Christmas.  Always have.  So these past years that I haven't been able to find even the teeniest bit of the ho-ho in my heart ... it's taken an amazing amount of fortitude to
go-through-the-motions ...

... rushing through as quickly as possible ... focusing on the promise of a Happy New Year.

Delight yourself in the Lord; and He will give you the desires of your heart.
Psalm 37:4  

It was a few days after Christmas ... when that verse arrived in the mail ... in a note of encouragement ... from a very good friend ... at exactly the moment that life as I knew it ... came to an end.

Over the next few months it kept appearing ... in an email ... on a sign ... in a book ... on a plaque thingy ... a constant reminder that God was in the midst ... of the devastation ... then later ... in the reclaiming ... of myself.

Here it is, Christmas, once again.  Early on I started having twinges ... tingles ... and I thought to myself ... how awesome it was to be feeling expectant ... and hopeful ... again ... finally ...

This was the year I would begin to re-discover Christmas.  Ho! Ho! Ho!

I even told a few people that ... who are close to me.  Jinx.

Like the unexpected snowfall a few weeks ago ... things just started happening ... things that were designed to keep me from finding ... Christmas.

Stumbling along ... I keep putting my little Jesus ... back in his manger. 
And Jessi keeps re-arranging the angels.  Somehow we are maintaining ...

Hopeful.  Tentative ... but hopeful.

I allowed myself to open every single box of Christmas decorations ... to unwrap ... and enjoy each special ornament ... arrangement ... bow ... dish ...  book .. Santa .. elf ... angel ... lavishing myself with the joys of Christmas' past.


Lavish.  Such a decadent word.  And I wonder, is that a bad thing?  Guess it depends on the context.  I'm not sure.

And then there was the anticipation of the giving of my gifts. 

Even during the dark years, I have always enjoyed the gift giving.  You see, each gift is a personal communication between me & the one I am gifting.  All year I gather up things ... as I find them ... with a special person in mind.  I am not want to just go out in a shopping frenzy ... to check off names on my list ...

It's simply not my style.

My family refuses to share their wish lists with me ... it's been that way for years & years ... because they say they'd prefer to have the unique treasure that is
always found in a MJ gift. 

This year has been no different.  I have been bringing them out in little batches ... and wrapping my gifts.  I have to do it that way because Jessi sneaks & peeks.

Putting the special things in boxes or bags ... wrapping up a little piece of me along with each one ... always makes me happy. 

So you see, even with the early onslaughts, I have been hanging on to my Christmas tingle ... as best I can ...

Then like a snowball to the back of the head ... came the assault ...

... since Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Christ,

why do you buy gifts for other people? 

It was hurled in the midst of a lengthy Facebook conversation that started with "Happy Holidays" vs "Merry Christmas" ... and it totally blindsided me.

A snowball, afterall ... is made from snowflakes ... each one individual & unique ... clumped together clumsily ... and packed down into a hard-hitting zinger.  I guess it had never crossed my mind that ... crowd psychology ... applied to snowflakes. 

There it was ... a suckerpunch ... from someone who claims to "know" me ... and my heart ... someone who has been receiving my gifts ... my time ... my resources ... my opportunities ... my encouragement ... my home & family ... my love ... bits & pieces of me ... for a very, very long time.

Oh well ... Wal-Mart GUARANTEES more Christmas for your money ... this year.  So I guess that explains it.  Surely if it's plastered all over Wal-Mart ... than it must be true ... Christmas is simply something you toss in your cart along with shampoo, light bulbs and a carton of milk.

And if a gift is truly nothing more than an obligatory expression of something to someone who may or may not really be important ... by all means, share a little more of nothing this Christmas ... Wal-Mart will gladly take your money.

Sure ... I deserved that ...

Really quickly ... my best friend, God, Creator of the Universe weighed in ...

Delight yourself in the Lord; and He will give you the desires of your heart.
Psalm 37:4 

There it was again ... my personal message of encouragement ... randomly posted on the wall of someone who is an acquaintance ... who doesn't know me well enough to be a friend.

In keeping with my personal tradition of the last few years, I made a simple list of three things for Santa.  All of my "wants" are intangible ... and undefined ... by design.  Each year thus far, my gifts have been received no later than New Year's Eve.

Just like snowflakes ... each has been rare, unique & genuine.  And because I don't know where they will come from ... or how they will be packaged ... it has allowed me to experience a little bit of Christmas magic ... as my heart has been healing.

A glimmer of hope, a special wish & something wonderfully unexpected.  That's what I put on my list ... last nite.  By 10 a.m. this morning ... two out of the three had already materialized.

What's up with that?!?!  I wondered.  So I posed the question.

You're not asking BIG enough, MJ.  It's time for you to ask for the BIG things.

That's the answer I got back.  Loud and clear.  So I pondered on that as I was driving about.  What would be BIG enough?

... the desires of your heart ...

Immediately I was humbled.  There's no way I can ask for the desires of my heart.  I am totally unworthy ... and honestly, I have no idea what are the desires of my heart.  I told Him that.  He laughed a little ... He finds me so amusing.

Over the last few years I have learned to receive His love ... to allow myself to feel His delight in me.  It's been a salve to my hurts.  And with a nudge, He reminded me to look at my list again ... from this year ... and the last couple of years ...

Somewhere along the way, I have learned how to ask ... for what He wants to give me.

"Delight" in the Lord ... that's what the message says.  And in an instant I realized  .. that's it ... to delight myself in the Lord ... IS ... the desire of my heart.

A Christmas conundrum.  A riddle where the beginning and the ending are the same ... something like ... Alpha and Omega ... yeah, yeah ... I may be a little slow ... but I get it!

There's still a bit of time left ... for me to find Christmas ... this year.  I'm asking BIG now.  And He's delighted.

Merry Christmas.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) December 2011

Shell Game ...

It's a plastic tube ... with a bunch of sea shells in it ... there's some bits & pieces of colored coral ... for good measure.  I found it ... somewhere in the house ... while de-cluttering. 

A souvenir ... most likely ... a reminder ... of life ... at the beach.  So I tossed it casually into the box of things I was going to sell on ebay a month or so ago.

Took the picture ... posted it ... along with the assorted items of the day ... the week ... the month.  It has been amusing to me ... what things actually ... SELL ... on ebay. 

Jessi wandered in ... poking through the box of stuff that I was trying to send to a new home ... quickly, she grabbed up the tube of shells saying,

"You can't put that on ebay!  It's Abbi's!"

I shook my head.  I was pretty sure it wasn't Abbi's.  I haven't been into any of her stuff ... most of it is buried three rows deep in the garage ... behind the collections of things that came over from Aunt Julia's last year.

Agitated.  Emphatic.  She took the little tube of shells ... shook it ... and stomped down the stairs with it.   Later I noticed that she had put it in the top of a box of things I was setting aside for Abbi to go through next time she visited ... things she could decide to claim as treasures or relinquish forever.

Not too much time passed before Abbi breezed through for a quick visit.  She rummaged through the box of things ... picked out a couple of items ... and left the rest.  Now of these were "special" things ... just random stuff that had been surfacing in the de-cluttering process.

I noticed that she had returned the plastic tube full of shells to the box. 

"Jessi says that's yours," I told her. 

She looked puzzled & shook her head, "Nope.  Not mine"

"She was very adamant about it," I went on.  "It is important to her.  She rescued it from the ebay box and put it in your box." 

Abbi said no it wasn't hers ... she hadn't ever seen it before ... and she really didn't need  or want ... a "retail" package of shells.

She has plenty of shells ... of her own.

We both smiled ... at Jessi and her ways.  Of course, we didn't get it.  We don't see things like Jessi.

So I took the items that weren't important back to  the ebay pile.  And once again, Jessi calmly ... but firmly ... retrieved the tube of shells.  She did it without me knowing it.  Next thing I knew, the tube of shells were back in Abbi's box ... waiting for her next visit.

For a couple of weeks, we played the shell game ... Jessi and I.  I'd take them upstairs.  She'd bring them downstairs.  I'd take them back upstairs.  Once I listed them again ... I put them in the closet with the other items that were waiting to be purchased.

"Where's Abbi's kaleidoscope?"  Jessi asked one evening.

Puzzled, I said I didn't know what she was talking about or where to look for it.  And I was totally floored by the word ... kaleidoscope.

"Abbi's kaleidoscope ... WHERE IS IT?!?"  Jessi demanded.  "It's not in the box."

Looking around, I realized she was looking in the upstairs box I bring things to before I listed them on ebay.  Again, I said, "I haven't seen a kaleidoscope.  I don't know what you are talking about, Jessi."

Frustrated, she said, "Mom.  It's Abbi's kaleidoscope.  I made it for her.  She has to have it.  It's important."

Then it dawned on me.  The plastic tube of shells ... it was a kaleidoscope.  Jessi made it for Abbi.  It was plain as day to her ... what it was ...

It was me ... who didn't SEE it ... the same way Jessi saw it.

Heading into the closet, I brought it out.  "Is this it?"  I asked.

 "Yes!  It's Abbi's kaleidoscope.  I made it for her ... with shells from the beach ... she loves the beach, Mom ..."  that's what Jessi said, and then ... "See ... when you turn it, Mom ... everything changes ... and then it looks different."

Together we placed the kaleidoscope in Abbi's box ... awaiting her next visit. 

I have spent hours thinking about that kaleidoscope.  And how out-of-focus I allow myself to get at times. I have looked at it from every angle ... and on the bottom ... are Jessi's initials ... "JS" ... to be sure that no one else at the workshop claimed her handiwork.

On days when I have been here by myself, I have picked up that simple tube of shells & coral.  I have turned it ... shook it up ... pondered the bits & pieces ... the fragments of the beach ... which in our house ... will always be reminders ... of other things ... memories of a past life ...

And it occurs to me, that maybe I have been trying too hard to make all of my puzzle pieces fit into a new picture ... somehow.  Instead of collecting them in one place ... and letting them ebb & flow ... on their own .. in response to what life is showing me ... at any given time.

Once I asked for a NEW puzzle ... and Abbi made me one.    She wrote the words ... describing the pieces of me ... that I was wanting to hang on to ... on little slips of paper ... and embedded them in a crystal ball of glitter.

It was cool and insightful ... the perfect gift for my healing heart.

And here ... in the little plastic tube ... was Jessi's attempt ... to do the same for Abbi. 

Abbi came this week.  She left with the kaleidoscope ... that her sister made for her ... full of love & pieces of the beach. 

The pieces will shift around ... each time she picks it up ... and it will never look the same twice.  The pieces all belong inside, though ... they are what make up the kaleidoscope ...in the first place ...  making it vital & precious.

Without all of the bits & pieces ... the fragments ... brightly colored coral ... along with the plain, unadorned shells ... it would have no meaning.

Jessi is right.  It is important.  She teaches me things ... fresh & new ... when she demands that I see things through her eyes ... all of the time.

Today,  when I picked up Jessi's boyfriend to join us for parade watching & a Thanksgiving feast with family later ... he was asking about how Jessi was doing after her medical procedure this week. 

Bless his heart.  He has been so worried.  Is there a chance she will die?!?! He had asked last week.  I assured him there was no chance of anything like that.  Then yesterday when she showed up with some humongous safety glasses on ... underneath her regular glasses ... he almost lost it.

"Is she blind?!?"  he asked urgently. 

I had to smile ... because she is most definitely ... NOT blind!

Neither one of us have a clue where she got those safety glasses ... she thought they were a cool touch to her "rock star" outfit for the talent show. 

This morning, we talked about how there was nothing wrong with her ... it was just a pro-active procedure ... but that there was a little bit of soreness & tenderness ... and that he should be patient with her for a few days.

He became very quiet ... as we drove along ... gazing reflectively out the window.  Then he turned to me and said, "You know, MaryJane, when things are healing ... it has to hurt some, too.  That's how you know it's healing."

Jessi's not blind.  She sees things we don't see.  And Donald ... well, at times I am positive that he is the wisest man I have ever met.

Today ... things hurt ... that's how I know there is healing.

... there's a time for everyone

if they only learn

that the twisting kaleidoscope

moves us all in turn ...

~ Can You Feel The Love Tonite - Elton John

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) November 2011

A Thought ~ early 1970s

Here's another thing I went looking for ... in the last week.  It's a poem I wrote when I was in the 9th or 10th grade ... can't remember now what reminded me of this poem ... but I discovered a whole box of "early writings" ... that I knew was lurking around in a closet ... untouched for who knows how long ...  can't wait to spend a little time in that box ... it's gonna be full of memories ...

A Thought

by MaryJane Rogers

i have a thought

running through my mind ...

i just can't remember what it is.

that's strange ... 'cause

elephants aren't supposed to forget.

i tried tying a string around my finger but ...

a little bird flew by and stole it

for its nest.

then i tried writing a note on my hand but ...

but when you don't have a pen

it's hard to make any kind of impression.

so now i guess i'll take my butterfly net

and go searching through my brain

for my wisp of a thought.

it's playing hide-n-seek with me

OH! NO!

tag you're it!

look ... over there ... i spy

amid the cobwebs.

HEY! YOU! 

take 2 giant steps ... 1 baby step ... 2 more giant steps

ITHinkiLoveEyOU!

~ I should note here that the poem was typed on what would now be an ancient IBM Selectric typewriter .... non-correcting ... the model that had interchangeable type font balls.  It's on yellow "draft" paper that was flimsier than regular paper ... it's what your put your ideas on BEFORE you actually typed an original.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) November 2011