Haunting, hunting, hurting

Last night, my husband said the most amazing thing to me, in one of my "getting fewer but still appears once in an annoying while" moments of major depression mucky-muck. He took my hand and declared, "Honey, for everything that is haunting, hunting, or hurting you, I am here. Let me be here for you for all those things." Talk about a miracle statement. This from the guy who was just depicted as dashing younger man in our so-called "May-December" romance, featured in this week's edition of the Des Moines "Juice" publication (www.dmjuice.com--search with keyword May-December). Actually, I'd like to call it more like "May-August or September." Anyway, even in my momentary funk, I was instantly reminded of how blessed I am as "wife of Brandon", and what we said in this "Juice" article is so true, that love is not about age, but finding the "right person at the right time for the right reason." Thanks to Brandon for once again being the "right" that rights a million wrongs.

the floor is yours--tell it like you see it...

unimaginable devastation...

I sped past my usual newsstand on the way to work, peering over to discover today's headline...Iowa City family murdered. At that point, all I wanted to do was just keep on driving down the highway, all the way over to my daughter Dove in that same city, look at her face, hold her in my arms, and be reassured of the love we have for each other. What a horrific tragedy--simply put, there are really no words. It takes me back to the memory of when Dove was little; one morning while she was still sleeping, I awakened early and went to our apartment doorway to pick up the daily newspaper to find this headline...Algona family murder-suicide. NO--not in MY own idyllically-sheltered-from-the-world hometown, not THAT family--one of the wealthiest, most high-profile in the small town's history, not THOSE kids--whom I waited on during their holiday visits home when I worked at the Algona Public Library. How did the world get so crazy?

Being famous for my "penchant for sorrow" persona, I've been reading some "positive-thinking" stuff lately, including "The Little Book of Such and Such" books by sales guru Jeffrey Gitomer--www.gitomer.com. I like them; he says quit watching violent movies and the evening news--they're way too negative. And I do agree that optimism should be cultivated in life. But sometimes all we can do when we are hit with "bulldozer" news like today's unimaginable devastation is linger in the pain at least a moment, for it is undeniable reality at its most desperate and honest. Think of all the tiny and not-so-tiny heartaches that led up to that headline, the layers of complexity that rose and rose like a house of cards believing it could withstand the wind. And yet the wind came, a bloody wind that leaves behind an aftermath for all of us to respond to, and learn from; that somehow these cycles of unimaginable devastation can be tempered with sanity and grace.

the floor is yours--tell it like you see it...

from leading to led

I begin by revealing how radically I've been changed by my interactions with the 2 most important people in my life...my husband Brandon and my daughter Dove. They've carried tiny chisels and refined me into something much closer to a masterpiece than I ever could've achieved on my own. Dove's influence has led me to very pleasant obsessions with Project Runway, Sex and the City, and my latest fave, 30 Rock. And Brandon has encumbered me with the greatness of Jimi Hendrix, several Tao/Samurai books and movies, the Black Crowes (aka Sweet Crush Chris Robinson and the other guys), and a long-awaited reclamation of my right to what once was robbed me, the right to serious Led Zeppelin consumption. Artistic examples aside, my existence is infinitely better the more I cease resistance, and allow these 2 loved ones (and it's really 3 counting my best friend Karen) guide me and inform my choices. I remember nights when Dove was little when the two of us got home from work and I wisely just plopped down, looked at her adorable face and said, "Now what? You tell me!" whereby we proceeded to have the greatest of DIY evenings ruled by the navigating skills of my tiny teacher.

I think life is so chaotic that we're fools to try and control it as much as we do. We resort, when left to our own lethargic devices, to the same paths, the same smells, the same straws in the same cups of the same stimulation. At my age and stage, I truly am discovering the pleasure of finally shifting from leading to led.