Tag Archives: value

Discontent

Within our Torah community, discontent is something we often discuss.  It’s pervasive in this day and age, and likely always has been.

We see it played out in the exodus story – the people complaining about their meal delivery plan not being as diverse as what they had available to them in bondage.  Rather than continuing to celebrate their freedom from bondage, rather than being thankful for the daily food they were delivered, rather than being in awe of the historic event they participated in, they instead obsessed upon that discontent of temporary gastrointestinal displeasure.

Always looking for something to make us feel better, why are we not satisfied with ‘enough’.  When is it ‘enough’?

Why do I feel like the dining set I’ve had for 20 years needs to be replaced?  It’s sturdy, it expands to seat extra people, it’s scratches and worn finish could easily be covered over.  What creates that desire to have more, to replace what already exists?  It seems so easy to justify whatever we perceive as our desires – and that self-justification and subsequent acquisition only temporarily lulls that lusty appetite for more.

I could dive into the psychological manipulations of the marketing gurus from decades past, or the social manipulations being currently driven by mass data mining and artificial intelligence.  But it goes back much farther than that.

The desire to have what is perceived to be better than our current holdings, our current space, our current position, this drive to have what was not ours, it’s making us miserable.  And it seems our species is entrenched with it as part of our genetic make-up.  It seems we’ve always been looking for more.

This discontent has upset the entire global structure and clouds our perception of how life should truly operate.  We think we can improve upon every natural thing, but instead corruption and destruction lies in our wake.   Our self-importance and striving to improve our lots are threatening to wipe out important species, and draining our natural resources.

Where does it stop?  How do we turn this gluttonous belly of society into a functional form?

What is your discontent?  How can you accept your place, your space, your allotment in life and embrace contentment?

Are you out of line?  Am I?

Sober and Scribbled Pictures

I can’t really describe this funk that settled upon me since leaving the hospital.

Deflated.  Perhaps.

I relayed to My Love that I’d painted this perfect little picture of the moments I’d share with the new family and how those would feel.  But the reality is that reality happens.

Boom.

Pow.

Scribble, scribble.

Other people are living in the picture, and other needs and feelings and goings on are happening.

My picture got scribbled upon.  Oh poor, poor, pitiful me.

Yeah.  It’s like that.  I’m processing it, preparing to put the hurt aside, but I’m allowing the feelings to marinate just a bit first.  I’ll not share them, you see.  So before I tightly contain and seal them up, I need to feel them – that way they won’t fester and become some ugly wound.

We’re the family members who reside farthest, so I had it in my mind that we’d have a good portion of touch time before we parted.  But those who live close angled in for their firsts at the same time and mommy and daddy got a bit overwhelmed.  Time for everyone to go.

But those who live close will be able to resume quickly, where we’ll need to parcel out time and funds from our schedules and pocketbooks to make another run.

No blame there.  It just is what it is.  Reality.

Not what I’d had in mind, silly me.

So I’m oozing emotions today.

On the bright side of those funny little emotes, I saw the man who is my son stand tall and proud this past week.  I saw his capable hands change a diaper, saw his jaw set firm with concern for his wife’s well-being, and saw his compassion flesh out as a bright shining thing.  I saw his impatience as well, the niggling little allowance of we intruders.  He’s fully entered his own now, and that – that there – that makes this mom proud.

Painful as it may be.

 

A Growing Family

Due to increased risk to mommy and baby, our pregnant daughter-in-law will be induced this week – three weeks early – bringing a new granddaughter into our world.

The thought of that perfect little parcel of cells opening her mouth wide and gulping her first breath exhilarates me.

I’ve always loved kids.  Kids and animals.  Put me in a room full of faces and bodies and I’ll find a corner from which to observe and the small bodies will gravitate to me.

Conversations with kids are so easy and natural – innocent and information hungry questions, simple requests, and bonding extraordinaire.  Pure enjoyment of pets comes without the hassle of overtones and inflections and nuances.

Adding instant grandchildren has been so easy for me.  Build a quick addition to my ‘heart and soul house’ and put their name on the wall.  Instant family.  Instant love.  Equal rights.  Easy-peasey.

This is a first though – a challenge to my stance.  A seed.  The added room to the ‘heart and soul house’ is more like a new tree.  It’s been growing, a part of me already – not quite the same as something I’ve built.  Suddenly I’m aware of those carefully saved treasures, little snippets of papers to show progress through the years; memories captured – boxed and saved books from my childhood, special items from my son’s childhood; simple little cards and writings I’ve protected dutifully through the years.  Suddenly all of these things make perfect sense.  Their space-taking has full value now – these are the physical representations, the accouterments of the new room, the outgrowth finally seen for its worth.

And now my logical mind wrests with the knowledge that what I’ve always said, what I’ve always thought, what I’ve always lived, is not quite true.  I’ve fooled myself.

Blood is thicker than water.  It is.  There’s a surge of feelings that cannot simply be constructed with imported family.

But there is the choice, free choice, true choice to build family, to add them honestly and truly to your heart.

I recognize the difference now, as I contemplate that these hands, these arms, these eyes, will caress an outgrowth of my cells, my parts, my pieces.  My mom’s parts and pieces – my dad’s parts and pieces.  Suddenly the generational puzzle will fit another piece into place.

Those family that have been added as fully formed units formed from other generational parts are still my family – they have their own true familial space, because my heart constructs very authentic room additions on the ‘heart and soul house’.  For better or for worse.

So to my daughter-in-law who brought me instant grandchildren:  Dear love, you are my tribe – your kids are my tribe.  I’m Grandma no matter the result of your vows – the heart rooms are already built, and I’m a master constructor, and an equal opportunity sort of gal.  Please understand that I never got the same start with your babes that is now available with their cousin-to-be.  Bear with me as I bond, as I relish in the glow of new feelings.  Hang in there Hon – there’s no devaluation in store.  We’re adding, not subtracting, love for one more.  You are my daughter, and I love you and what you’ve added to our family.

And to my daughter-in-law who carries the unborn child of my son, my cells, the inheritor of my past:  Dear love, bear with me as I run the gamut of emotions, as I try to give you space to bond.  For my hands want to reach out and intertwine with this new little semblance of my son.  My mind wants to erase the mistakes I made as a mom and embrace the opportunities of being a grandma that is there from day one, with the hindsight and knowledge to share.  I’ll do my best not to smother you all with my needs.  Know that as this little one resides in room number six of the ‘heart-and-soul’ home – it’s the first room of its type, it’s special and will always be, something I have no skill to construct.  A room only God can produce.  I love you, dear daughter, and love what you give to my son.

Bubbe T

aka Grandma Trish

 

 

Late Summer Fling

blues 2 yellow on blue dreamy sweet blue on blue heart felt trio

 

I talked with the Hebrew Priest today and he brought home the point that Creation is good.

Almighty created with purpose and it is our special advantage to be able to enjoy the beauty of Almighty’s creation, to feel the effects of a scene that renders us speechless.

Today,  I was finally able to get what I wanted from my new camera – a reproduction of the beauty I witnessed – Creation.

 

Cultural Days: Bittersweet Pages

Today marks the cultural page turn – from 48 to 49… meaning that I’ll begin telling myself that I’m 50 now.

It’s a bittersweet change, a journey-marking and emotion-stirring sort of transition.

I love who I’ve become.  It’s been a long hard journey, but I feel it’s come full circle now – I found the girl I lost a long, long time ago.

A woman now, but with a girlish joy, a girlish energy, a girlish view of life – with a firm foundation of reality and knowledge.

Oh, I don’t know it all – hell no I don’t!

But what I do know gives me courage.

It gives me strength and fortitude.

And I can now look in the mirror and say “I love you, you beautiful bad-ass you!”

That took a long time, and I just realized today that it’s real.

Sadly, I’m now the number my grandmother reached, never to count another.

Did she ever reach a satisfaction point?

Was she ever able to look at the mirror and love those eyes looking back?

I’m only two years from the number my mother last counted.

I don’t know that she had the satisfaction of self-acceptance either.

This anchors me, holds me firmly on my feet.

I think of their end – to feel as young as I feel, yet to have lived as much as I have lived now.  To realize how precious life is – I mean, we finally really get that at this age!  Then to be done?

Finished.

No knowledge, no history to follow.

Missed opportunities, missed grand-kids, missed great grand-kids…

That rocks my world a bit.  It makes their absence seem off-balance, skewed and unreal.

I know that I’m 90% likely to exceed this year by 20 or 40 (yes, I’ll take the positive view) years.  I’m thankful for what I have and what possibilities exist…

And I’m so happy with where I am, where we are, my spouse and I – where our kids are, and what our lives are about.

More importantly, I’m so thankful to Almighty that I’ve been allowed the opportunity to see today.  We really never truly know if we’ll see tomorrow…

Sigh.

There you have it – it’s bittersweet…

But there’s more — I’ll share the “cherry on top” moment for the day:

Moving slowly this morning, just a little worn from four hours of road time yesterday, topped by a 5K mud dash for a fundraiser, I was feeling pretty good about myself.  I’d accomplished a physical feat that I had been unsure of, and I had met new people and enjoyed myself thoroughly.

lozilu profile

I took my sweet time, finally taking time to run through the edits and uploads for my niece’s bridal shower pictures.  Much later than my usual time, I was ready to eat breakfast and get outside to monitor the poor, neglected garden.

I was in such a hurry to get outside, I decided to take my yogurt/granola out with me and eat it as I walked through the garden.

There I was, granola bowl in hand, rounding the corner of the garage, noticing that there was a strange chair peeking out from behind the camper.

As I continued my approach, the accompanying bistro style table with colorful flower mosaic tile and second chair came into view!

I have to admit, the smile on my face was the biggest I’ve had, and the tears that streamed down my face were pure joy.

I slowly set my bowl down and admired his choice, feeling the sudden rush of contentment that comes from someone just knowing me so well.

Yes, I feel pretty good, pretty grounded about the number fifty.