That "Beautiful Thing"

      It's been one of "those" weeks. If you've followed my writing for any length of time, you know exactly what I mean - one of those "knock you to your knees" flare-up weeks.  You know that old saying "weak as water?" Well that would be an understatement. Lord have mercy what a difference a week or even a few days can make! Last weekend I was running on "love" with adequate energy for  all that was planned for our Mother's Day festivities. I did what those of us do who deal with fibromylagia or other such illnesses that produce chronic fatigue, pain and flare-ups. I  put my engine in high gear and plowed through the weekend trying to make the most of every moment. Then come Monday, "it" happened... the "crash and burn" part of the cycle. I've experienced this thousands of times over the past fifteen years, but I am never quite ready. This one was a "doozie" as they say down South.

     As I looked in the mirror tonight at myself, I had to laugh. I wondered who that pale-faced, puffy-eyed creature was! She didn't look anything like that lovely bright-eyed woman that graced my latest profile picture on Facebook posted from Mother's Day. It wasn't just the absence of make-up and perfectly styled hair. No, it was the absence of energy, strength, vitality and well... "health." There was a time on one of these kinds of days, where after seeing myself in the mirror, I would walk away in tears, depressed and discouraged. Usually, I would try to "put on a good face" just in case someone showed up at my door or perhaps just to make me  feel better - emotionally anyway. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't because I would feel weaker physically after all the effort and would simply curl up on the sofa, keeping company with the folks on TV until I fell asleep. They couldn't see how I looked and I was too fatigued at that point to care.

     Shaking my southern upbringing on a day like this was "tougher than a two-dollar steak" for a very long time for me. Southern belles pride themselves on big beautiful hair, manicured nails and we have a way of being "dressed to the nines" even when working in the yard! Lounging around in pj's or sweatpants, no make-up and bedhead is just not in a southern belle's DNA. To this day, my own mother rarely ever heads to the kitchen after waking up, until she has brushed up her hair, gotten dressed and "presentable." There's something about illness though, that becomes a great equalizer and common denominator for us all. Priorities change in a hurry! I was reading about a study today from Baylor University that said 9 out of 10 Americans pray for healing. It didn't say those that were religious or non, those of certain faiths or not - just 9 out of 10 prayed for healing. It just isn't natural to give in to being sick! Talk about being in our DNA... the fight for health is part of who we are as human beings. NO ONE enjoys being sick or feeling poorly. Yes, priorities change from things that seemed so important or "proper" before an illness becomes a part of one's life. 

     It took me awhile to "get it..." shifting to a different mindset about myself and life. I had spent so many years convinced that my value was wrapped up in all the things I could do and be. During a time when I was flat on my back due to illness and could no longer run in circles like the energizer bunny, I felt worthless and of little value. In addition, I felt that my beauty was  reflected in what I saw in the mirror. If outer beauty wasn't there on certain days, then I didn't feel beautiful. It wasn't until someone close to my heart said something to me. We were reflecting on a day when I had to be at the hospital for eye surgery. He had volunteered to pick me up and drive me there the morning of my surgery. I couldn't wear make-up, couldn't style my hair, couldn't even put on perfume or lip gloss. My friend had never seen me like this! I was embarrassed and wouldn't even look him in the eye. I wore sunglasses even in the waiting area of the hospital. Months later we reflected on the day. He is the kind of person that makes a woman feel beautiful. He often comments on my pictures, or writings etc. On this particular day of our conversation, he had sent me a note and told me I had that "beautiful thing" going on. It was at that moment I felt the courage to tell him how I had felt that day at the hospital. He told me he had seen me at my best and at my worst, and in it all, I had always had that "beautiful thing" going on.

     As I looked at my reflection in the mirror tonight, I remembered what that sweet man said to me those years ago. While the mirror this evening didn't reflect the expected perception of "beauty" or even of health, the fact that I had the courage to look beyond what I saw in the mirror did reflect a beauty deeper than what a piece of painted glass could detect. I now have the freedom to not to give in to a desire to put on make-up even though my body needs rest. I have the good sense to realize that my health and strength matter more than specks of dirt on my floor or dirty dishes in my kitchen sink. My physical well-being means more than a writing quota or financial goal. Some things matter and some things don't. 

     Maybe your body is no longer in perfect shape, your emotions are frazzled, your face pale. Perhaps you have days like I've had this week where it requires energy to simply get dressed or prepare something to eat. This could be from illness, from stress or just from the wear and tear of the years. It might even be that you are in fairly good shape physically, but your responsibilities are heavy on your shoulders. You are pulled at from so many directions that there is no way for you to meet every single responsibility to every person in your life; you "see" inadequacies of some sort when you look in the mirror. Perhaps "guilt" distorts that reflection as well. My suggestion is this. Go to your mirror and close your eyes. That's right... close your eyes and "see what you see!" Think of the loveliest thing in your life. Maybe it is the kiss of a child that adores you - not because of what you do for them but because of what you are to them - you are Mama or Daddy! Perhaps your thoughts go to the smile on your spouse's lips after you've said something that makes their heart jump. That long day at the office or the plant, at home or in the community depleted every ounce of energy in their body, yet in an instant your words of love, appreciation, respect or humor melted it all away. That smile is proof of your beauty or handsomeness! Whether your loveliest thought is the sunset that you watched earlier from the back porch of the house you bought, built or care for, or of the "good morning" spoken to your neighbor when you went to the mailbox; whether it is the warm embrace of a parent who is proud you're their son or daughter, not because of all that you do for them but "just because," realize that what you are "seeing" is beautiful, handsome... breathtaking! Each of us have that "beautiful thing" going on - not because of how we look, what we can or can't accomplish but for what is only "seen" with the heart.  

House of Mirrors

*Editor's Note: As much as I enjoy laughter, levity and encouragement in my writing, sometimes transparent commentary is what the "doctor orders" most. Today is one of those days!  I hope my reflective thoughts resonate and even "hit a nerve" with us all to the point we  are motivated to a positive course of action and interaction...    

     Last night I got a double dose of reality. The movie "We Were Soldiers" starring Mel Gibson was playing late night. Restless and unable to sleep, I thought watching a few minutes of an old movie would help but was I ever wrong. This was not the movie to lull me to sleep. Oh I've tuned in to action movies before and fallen asleep because I wasn't really following the plot anyway, but this one was different. It wasn't just a mindless "shoot 'em up" movie, it was history in its rawest form. If you've never seen it, I recommend you dig it out of archives somewhere and watch it. It is riveting, heart-wrenching and sobering.

     I watched the story unfold of the men who were carried off to the Vietnam War; not really fighting for their flag or their country, but because they were ordered by their government to fight someone else's battle. Ultimately, they fought for each other, to survive and return to the wives and children waiting behind. With the finale' of the story, came a release of tears that had been pent up in the recesses of my emotions somewhere - hidden behind frustration, disgust and even a bit of anger.  For the last couple of years, I've followed the news closely through riots against the police, through social and moral cage matches between church and state, through the political "follies," protests and debates; through campus unrest, "coddling" of students and media hoopla. It has been the biggest "comedy of errors" in modern time in my opinion - almost like walking into a house of mirrors where nothing is as it seems, everything is a false perception, and reality is lost in a maze of  distortion. We have no idea who we are as individuals or as a country anymore all while the "carnival masters" stand outside the house laughing.

     Watching the re-enactment of those young men who died in the 7th Calvary in Vietnam, and seeing the sterile way our government informed their loved ones that they would not be coming home, caused me to wonder even more about so many things. How have we come to such a place in America and in our world where our biggest fear is who uses what restroom; our greatest enemy is the one whose speech differs from our own, and whose ideas "color outside the lines" of our neat little picture? We demand diversity and acceptance, all while shutting down speakers, protesting politicians, and coddling "traumatized" college students who can't handle a name written in chalk on a sidewalk. We stomp on our greatest symbol of freedom and sacrifice, and wave another country's flag in place of the one we trample, burn, spit on and wipe our butts with. A grilled cheese sandwich is deemed "racist," a person is fired for their faith, another is rewarded for theirs. We want freedom of religion, freedom of expression and freedom of choice, but want to deny others the same freedoms. Right and wrong are subjective, truth is relative and reality is in the eyes of the beholder it seems. A person can claim a different skin color, gender, or even age simply by how they feel and no one can refute the law of physics, biology, genealogy or science. We are criticized for wanting borders to protect our country, while we build constant walls of intolerance of those who think or speak or worship differently than we do. We are afraid of being ourselves, and even more afraid of being different. While all the political correctness nonsense ignites flames of division and disillusionment, all sensibility, reason and common sense is lost and the world is going to "hell in a hand basket." People are dying, terrorism is mushrooming, freedoms are being stripped one by one, economies are collapsing - all while we stay wrapped around the axles about who eats pork, who marries whom, whose candidate deserves our vote and who has monuments dedicated to historical figures. We want to change our textbooks, law books and ledger books to create a "virtual reality" that matches the current narrative instead of learning from those very documents. If a person erases all memory of where they've been. they have no idea where they are and will never arrive at where they need to be.

     While we stand on the side lines arguing about who's right and who's wrong, the ones truly "in the trenches" much like those soldiers in my movie, fight on for freedom. The movie adequately depicted how far removed we still are from those who truly do make a difference in our world. The soldiers'  deaths were acknowledged with nothing more than a Western Union telegram delivered by a yellow cab. When the battle was over, their lives and sacrifice were a media story that was descended upon by a plane load of hungry reporters anxious for a sensational headline. You would think we would've learned something from the Vietnam era, but we keep repeating the same mistakes. We fight battles we can't win, offer help that isn't appreciated, spend money that bankrupts our nation and ignore the ones who gave the most for the ones who expect it all. Our vets are homeless, sick and in poverty, but instead of caring for them, we care for those who want to use the system. We reward troublemakers and criminals, rioters and illegals, while belittling our protectors in blue and putting our firefighters in unnecessary harms way. We cow down to the corrupt politicians who ignore the voice of the people and criticize those who are willing to stand up for "we the people" all because they don't fit our mold. Our leaders argue with each other and we tear each other apart on the world's stage while our enemies watch us fight to the death and they don't have to lift one finger to defeat us.

     I'm not sure exactly when we walked into this house of mirrors, but I think it is time we shatter the distortions around us. We aren't those strange faces in the mirror. In fact, if we looked at each other instead of the images our leaders and the media place before us, we might see our own reflection in the faces of one other. We all want the same things really. We want to care for our families, pursue our dreams, have means of providing, walk in health, live in safety and feel protected.  We want to be free to worship or play or speak in the way we feel best. We want to live and love and enjoy the simple pleasures of living in this great nation of ours. It's time that we take a good long look - not in the mirrors of distortion but the mirrors of truth. Until we see ourselves in the eyes of another, we will never see them through the eyes of truth and compassion. Our greatest enemies are not those without, but those within. If we desire to save our world from tyranny and terrorism, from death and destruction, we must save ourselves from "ourselves" first.

     

    

"God's Touch For Mothers" - A Mother's Day Prayer

It is special occasions such as Mother's Day that opens the floodgate of my memories pouring them over me like a southern rainstorm on a blistering summer day. Today I pulled out a poem I had written a few years ago for the mother of a dear friend of mine. I've always felt a kindred spirit with her. She and I both had faced adversity as young mothers. I understood what she faced being left alone to care for a child. Actually, she had three children and  gave more than her ALL to care for them and raise them. Even when she was blessed with a loving companion later on, she still took on a labor of love when he became crippled due to devastating disease in his body. Now in her seventies and long after her children are grown and gone, she still cares for her companion lovingly and tirelessly.  Fortunately, her son lives nearby who is God's touch to her when she needs it most. We are kindred spirits in that regard also as my son Joshua has truly been God's touch to me, always being there and honoring me, caring for me and helping me when I need it most. I can't imagine life without God's touch, God's gift to me in my exceptional brown-eyed, big hearted young man.

Tonight I am also feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love for the example my mother and her mother have given me in what it means to be a mother. I don't think I would've managed one year of being a single mom without the example and instruction I had received growing up from my Mom and Maw Maw.  They too, are God's touch to me and I love and admire them more than words can adequately express! 

All mothers - single, married or widowed know what it's like to give more than our ALL. We understand what it's like to be tired but refusing to quit, to be weary but never consider giving up.  Somehow we find strength that is bigger than us, and at the very moment that we feel our knees buckling under us, God's touch comes to us in the gentlest of ways. One look in our children's eyes, one hug or one touch infuses us with a joy that causes any hardship to pale in comparison! This prayer poem comes from my heart to each and every mother this Mother's Day! YOU are true heroes!!!!!

From The Heart,
Starla