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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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Light

December is the month of major holidays for many. Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa.

Next week winter solstice marks our shortest span of daylight.

Each observance centers on the glow cast by joy and hope and longings for true peace.

The wonder that a newborn child brings in a chaotic world.

Light that pierces the shadows, the veil of night that wraps around us at this time of year.

Some of us hover at the edge, trying to refocus our eyes towards the star.

Others wander. stumble lost, haphazardly in the darkness, clutching unlit candles.

Some dance, faces lifted, rejoice in bright sun.

May you find light to warm and bless you today.

May you find your way home.

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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The Waiting Game

To me, waiting for someone to contact me, grits my teeth like nothing else.

Waiting for A to call and give me the information needed for a writing project.

Waiting for the long line in front of me to disappear so I can purchase my few grocery items and scramble on home.

Waiting for family members to be ready to discuss with me the quarks of past relationship stumbles and fails – and finding resolution.

True, I can text. Leave a voice mail. Even sit down and write a letter on paper and mail it to the person for whom I’m waiting.

But then I’m still waiting for their response, similar to staring at the whirligig icon that says the computer is loading – still loading – slowly.

Sometimes this inactivity feels like being a chess piece that can’t move until a master hand picks me up and sets me on a new square.

But who is that master hand?

A rescuer? I’m not waiting for Prince Charming to show up riding a really cool white horse and presenting me with a magical saddlebag of answers to all of my current challenges.

At one point in my life, I was anticipating he would appear.

Need I tell you how unhealthy that was? My 20-something years were underscored with the current Mr. Sort of Right scripted as the one who could plug up the empty space inside me.

Major mistake.

We human beings aren’t Prince – or Princess – Charming. Eventually the initial euphoria rubs off – and the human being emerges – and that is when love can really begin, with patience and waiting.

I believe in God wholly and that there is timing involved in how some events play out.

I also believe in using my heart, brain and legs to keep moving forward.

I am devising rules for keeping sane while waiting for that call, that visit or being messaged.

I will focus on other aspects of my life while keeping my cell phone charged.

I will find other ways to employ my frustrated energies. Maybe a project or a long walk or reading the novel sitting unopened on my night stand.

I will call someone I haven’t spoken with for a long time – even if they’re not A. Sometimes catching up with B and C is the better choice.

The list of alternatives for not playing the waiting game goes on.

Wishing you a day of not gritting your teeth and uncovering the answers you need without endless waiting!

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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What’s Cooking

Someone texted me this morning with a flirty "what's cooking, good looking,"

Now, I admit those words got my pulse going just a bit faster. Being called good looking isn’t a bad thing to hear once in awhile.

I wondered who was sending the message, The phone number wasn't in my contacts so I dashed off "Who are you?"

"LOL. its Ralph!" he responded.

Well, the only Ralph I know is my aloe vera plant. Yes, I name my indoor plants. Just for kicks. I don't spend time talking to them or playing cd's to them. And "Ralph" the aloe vera is not technologically equipped.

However -- just to be sure -- I went to the living room and checked. Nope. No cell phone in the planter.

So I sent mystery texter another message. "Sorry. You have the wrong number."

And that was it. Silence from Ralph the texter. Silence from Ralph the aloe vera.

Maybe some day I'll get a "what's cooking" text meant for me.:D Have a great day!

#texting #flirting #plants

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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Moving Skills

Moving is a skill that I’ve gotten to be highly proficient at since departing from Iowa in 2012.

Counting the home I left behind there, I’ve switched residences nine times. That’s a lot of packing up and lugging – and each time it gives me a great cardio workout. Especially when lugging boxes piled with books.

This latest shift involves my sharing a house with one other person, a high-octane dog and a laid-back cat.

The room I occupy is spacious – even so, I’m still feshing over what to bring here from my storage unit and what to leave there. Decisions aren’t easily made. My roommate is the long-time occupant here and her belongings generously overflow the cupboards and storage areas.

Which leaves space at a premium.

So what do I need to define this newest phase of my life.

Change up the color scheme?

Sensibly (?) keep using what I already have?

I’m still resolving what to do about the household goods that I’ve kept packed away anticipating a move to an apartment of my own.

Yeah, that’s the bittersweet root I chew on. The reality, here in my city, is apartments have a turnover rate of less than one percent. So the available stock is quickly snapped up, which leaves the rest of us to search out Craigslist for available rooms to rent.

Don’t get me wrong. There are many advantages to being here, including proximity to my day job and urban amenities.

An important focus is finding ways to define this fresh phase of my life. During my stay at a women’s shelter, my decorating scheme evolved around an apple green quilt given to me.

At the YWCA, I purchased a blue toned comforter and decorated around that color theme. It seemed especially fitting when fighting through what I called my caterpillar stage of anxiety and depression. Living the blues. (Cue the guitar)

But I’m past caterpillaring now. Maybe not completely, however I am determined to claim my space and express this more determined bright side of me.

So the answer is red. Brilliant bright reds. Some accents of gold and black. And I’m not done yet in figuring things out but transporting my lamp table here and purchasing a comforter for $13 from GoodWill have made a grand difference in feeling at home.

Yesterday I rescued the silverware set given to me while at the YWCA and wrestled each knife, fork and spoon from the original packaging. The manufacturer was clearly intent on making sure no one stole the pieces from the store – however, it would have been nice to have a way to free the set without all the shredding and grumbling (mine).

Each piece is freed now and the plastic “silver” ware is tossed. I’m feeling more civilized, eating off real plates and creating a home for myself. A single room isn’t every one’s ideal, I realize, but it works for me.

It’s grand to feel brighter and more vibrant and hopeful. About what life is bringing and the goals I am setting for myself.

#moving #blues #apartments

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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Dear Past

Dear Past, This message is my way of putting you on notice. While I treasure many bits and pieces of you -- I don't want to live in you. I know that sounds weird. I am a historian and genealogist -- and those attributes call for living in the past in a certain sense. What I am trying to say is -- I adore browsing through the photograph album I created for myself a few years ago. I grin, roll my eyes, sigh a bit at the varied images. And feel tugs of sadness. But I don't want to relive you. Much as I wish I could go back and alter the times when I screwed up and failed my family and myself. Can't do it. What I can do is forgive myself -- and ask for others to pardon me -- and to hopefully recall the times of closeness, disconnections and joy with clarity and charity. All are part of the mosaic of my life. So Past -- you need to be past tense. Today is pretty darned wonderful in many ways -- and I'm looking forward to meeting Future and seeing what happens there. So stop by briefly sometimes, Past, but Today and Future are where I live. Take care! (C) Mary Louise Van Dyke. All rights reserved.

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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Yo Humor?

Yo Sense of Humor!

Where’ve you been? It has been a few days since you've popped by to see what’s shakin.

I keep wondering about you -- and about the snorts (no -- I don’t mean THAT kind) you give me when we’re talking free and easy.

On the other end of the spectrum -- as a non-java drinker I’m not splattering coffee all over my laptop from your droll sense of wordplay.

However, perhaps you'll show up tomorrow -- and inspire me into a really good laughing my ass off.

Although seriously even if I guffaw my ass off, somehow it always manages to stay intact, reminding me that there's a few pounds that need shaking off.

Is laughing considered a form of weight control, I wonder? Anyway, I miss you. Please visit soon!

mlvd

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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I recently received the results of a DNA test and was amazed -- and not so surprised -- by the results. My ancestors were evidently very efficient at birthing young 'uns.

I have at least 596 fourth cousins who have also taken the test.Goodness only knows how many haven't -- yet! Imagine if we all gathered for a family reunion! Would we discover traits in common with each other such as looking at life through eyes rimmed with green? Or debating what we consider the perfect drink? Beer? Wine? Coffee? Tea?

My ethnic roots are primarily planted in Western Europe and Ireland/Great Britain. Germany, France, Switzerland and Ireland and England and Scotland). Not Italy which seems strange with my penchant for pasta as the perfect comfort food!

The tests show I have a smattering of Scandinavian (is that why I madly adore snow?) and the Iberian Peninsula (Spain and Portugal with a possible ancient link to North Africa).

Oh and there's a wee peppering of Finland/Northwest Russia. Think reindeer!

Ironically, those countries' inhabitants haven't always gotten along -- fighting wars and struggling to hammer out peace accords in the past. And here I am -- thanks to my ancestors -- a walking genetic European Union. No br-exiting allowed.

The quest for discovering the genetic side of me is intriguing.

However knowing these facts doesn't replace the current family connections. The need for quality time with loved ones!

Today I am more rooted in the world community.

#DNA test #genealogy #family

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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While waiting for the library to open today, I observed a curious 6 year old who appeared fascinated with the two outside drops for library materials. His investigation got underway with prying open the metal door and peeking inside. An older woman, arms loaded with books, asked him to "help" her with returning her reads. He smiled and cranked open the door. He asked me what each drop was for. One was for adults, I said and spelled out the letters. The other, I said, was just for people his size to return books and DVD's. That seemed to make sense . We both peered into the drops and I told him that the books/materials plunge into a box. "Then what happens?" he asked. "Then the librarian (page) comes and checks the books in so more children and adults can check them out." Oh. That explanation satisfied him and he ran over to his parent to share the exciting news with them. I went my way, smiling.

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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Measuring a relationship

How do you measure the relationship between you and another person?

In the light of the third anniversary of my friend Beth's passing, I am pondering that question. There are times when we are closer -- and times of being disconnected from those people who are bright lights to us.

Times where the confidences flow swift and sure because there's so much you want to say. Other times when silence presses down like a humid day and stifles the tentatively spoken thoughts.

Times where hanging out in the same room feels further apart than being emotionally and mentally connected via social media.

Times of misunderstanding and grumbled words snapped out in moments of exhaustion -- and times of loving, "I'm here for you", "let's get together today for coffee/tea" thoughts delivered at just the right moment!

Friends, family members are individuals you carry with you as you trudge through through a dozen "have to' get done's" day.Even when the connection between you seems to dim and fray, the cord of caring is still hanging in there.

You carry their pain in your heart. You hope that they find their way over the huge boulders. You cheer them on to reach their goal line. You joy with them and you want the best for them.

And you love them. That's all. So simple. You love.

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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Finding family past history in bibles

I unexpectedly got in touch with my inner historical child today through an unexpected encounter with an old Bible.

I grew up loving stories about my grandma's growing up on a homestead in Alberta and the family using Sears catalog pages for toilet paper and Gram and her next-in-line sister, Meryle, perched on back of a horse to reach the local, one-room schoolhouse.

My great grandmother wrote down the names of each new daughter in the family Bible.

Another family Bible -- now long vanished -- played a role in showing where a 4x-great grandfather came from. Evidently, he never shared any details of his family or past with his wife and children and their children. Whatever had happened to divide them -- he grimly stuck to his resolution to say nothing.

Except, in the family Bible. After his death, one of his descendants leafed through grandfather's old Bible. And there she discovered he'd written down that he hailed from Pennsylvania. The lines for writing his mother and father's names were blank.

I was reminded of those stories today while riding the bus today. An older man sat down next to me much to my surprise. There were vacant seats to be had -- however, he said he had something I might like to see.

Now, I don't know why he picked me. I wasn't wearing a t-shirt marked with "History is the cat’s whiskers!"

But I was glad he perched next to me. His treasure was a vintage Bible -- leather bound, brass fittings. The original owner had signed his name and the year 1860. Gilt-edged pages still shone, the lithograph colored illustrations of King David and the Apostles still intact. The spine was in maladjusted shape, but the new possessor said he planned to get the Bible restored.

1860. My 4x-great grandfather was still alive then and the westward movement was taking place with folks travelling to Oregon and California in covered wagons to homestead. On the national front, the debates over slavery and electing a new president raged. Women including my grandmother's English-born grandma, using wood stoves, wash tubs and "sad" irons to care for their families and homes.

This Bible -- and the ones owned by my great grandmother and 4x great grandfather -- feature the elegant handwriting of the past. The recording -- or not -- of family lineage. Stories found in the Bible probably provided the only entertainment allowed on the Sabbath days. Showing mute, small evidences of who these original owners were, like the delicate dried flower found in my great grandmother's Bible.

Treasures indeed.

#family history #bible

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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Shaking off inflammatory learned behaviors

When I was a kid, I behaved like a kid. Ornery when dealing with what I thought of as in-my-face siblings. Shriveling internally when getting called names by some classmates who specialized in bullying. Ducking behind behind the covers of a book when life just got too overwhelming – which it seemed to do on a regular basis.

From those situations, emerged what I call “learned behaviors.”

You know, those flaming automated responses that crop up. Such as sputtering “Shut up!” (or worse) when discussing how much firewood I was allowed to use on a recent camp out. My next-in-line-to-me sibling was in charge of fire operations.

I stalked back to my tent. Brooded, growled and chewed over what I wanted to say. Versus how I should behave especially with younger family members watching. I located him later and scraped out an apology for the heated words. But not for how I felt about his assertion of being da boss. That – that part of him will never change so I need to accept that reality.

A few weeks ago my boss micro-managed a project. I understood they wanted a certain result – okay. However, the way they communicated their expectations, left me feeling like a first grader who’s struggling to figure out what C - A - T spells.

I’m still trying to figure out a pleasant and professional way to shape my response to that situation. One with using my “I” words versus the more inflammatory “you” words.

Yeah. Good luck to me on that one.

And of course there are other situations that trigger the learned behaviors of earlier adult years. For example, sharing a meal with a 20-something offspring – and wanting to spill out reams of parenting advice on how they could shape their lives into my image of success.

“My” or “their” image? Hmm. I bit back the words that hovered on the tip of my tongue. Told myself, “hey, cupcake, this isn’t your life.” It’s tough. But all those lovely “how-to’s” and “you should do’s” need to be shared sparingly. Sometimes not at all, unless the object of my concern looks at me and says, “Mom, what do you think?”

Basically, shaping the responses that keep the doors of communication open calls for a lot of thinking.

In some ways, I think I’m making progress. Although I’d better be careful about saying that too loudly or life (karma?) will bonk me royally over the head.

My mother and I have survived nearly two years of life together under the same roof. Because her health issues, she needs quiet and simplicity. I am learning to clamp down on my tendency to overly explain myself. Inserting pauses that allow her to gather her thoughts. Knowing when to fill in the words she is struggling to say – and when to voice solutions that work for her.

So, I’m working to scrap off the old triggers and examine more thoughtfully what is happening between me and others. One event at a time.

#family #relationships #behaviors

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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Shaking off

Dear Sense of Humor, It has been a few days since you've visited me. How are you doing? I keep thinking about you -- and about the snorts you give me. Fortunately since I don't drink coffee -- I can't say that I've snorted all over my screen lately, thereby keeping my keyboard in a state of de-javanation. However, there's always tomorrow -- and perhaps you'll show up then -- and give me a really good roflmao -- although seriously even if I laugh my ass off, somehow it always manages to stay close behind me, reminding me that there's a few pounds that need shaking off. Is laughing considered a form of weight control, I wonder? Anyway, I miss you. Please visit soon! mlvd

#humor

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 7 years ago

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On this Memorial Day we honor those who died fighting for us in war. Capt Abraham Van Dyke of New York was imprisoned on a British ship following the Battle of Fort Washington during the Revolutionary War. Conditions there were horrific with hundreds dying of disease and neglect. Blankets not to be had even though it was winter time. Food scarce and foul.

The Captain refused an offer of freedom because he would not take his liberty if the men of his company remained behind imprisoned. Many soldiers of the New York militia (like him) had been forced to flee their homes in New York City when the British took control there.

He died on board the prison ship, March 1777, possibly of smallpox. Most of his fellow prisoners also perished with only about 800 surviving to see freedom. Abraham's wife and young daughter, living as refugees, also passed away that year. Only an infant son survived and was raised by his brother, Nicholas Van Dyke and his wife Charlotte of Delaware.

Abraham’s story is only one of the many who died in wartime conditions far from home.

To them -- may we remember

#Memorial Day #America #New York #military

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 8 years ago

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Stepping back in time -- sometimes I wish oh I wish I could put my life on replay!

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 8 years ago

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This painting by Haskell Coffin speaks to me -- remembering the younger woman inside me who was Juliet-like.

That dream-filled girl -- so desperately in love. So prone to letting everything else in life -- studies, friendships, any future goals -- crash because only love and one person mattered.

I shed tears for her. She didn't realize that love ranges beyond that initial fireworks stage -- and can be better. Richer, fueled by growth and life and friendships and faith in the unseen force that created life, hope for the future.

I believe that real, two hearts can entwine and weather life together, love exists even though it hasn't occurred for me. Someday? Perhaps.

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 8 years ago

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Differing views on life

Right now I am deeply grateful for the varied glimpses of life I've experienced and observed, based on living in different locations around the United States, and being a reporter who covered a wide spectrum of topics. Including the controversial subjects of religion and politics.

Reporting city council meetings brought me face to face with good folks on all sides presenting their cases on why city leaders must approve certain actions. You want disagreement? You'll find it in the council chambers!

Sitting in varied religious places of worship where I focused on the elements we held in common. Whether in a Christian church, or mosque, or in a synagouge, beauty, prayer, reflections on the sacred writings are taking place. Along with little ones who are squirming to get free of parents and go run!

Yes illegal actions must be challenged. Stopped. Corrected.

Yes people's rights as human beings must be affirmed and re-affirmed.

Certainly differences exist between us human beings. We all have differing views on life based on our experience, genetics, and views on life.

I writhe with frustration when these disagreements are played up to the max -- possibly fueled by misinformation. No bridges of understanding allowed for. People saying "either you agree with me or you're wrong wrong wrong!"

I can only speak for myself. My choice is to focus on we hold in common -- and to show respect even when I don't agree with the other person's conclusions.

Peace be with you.

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freshstartinmiddleyears-blog · 8 years ago

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For Londoners

For you in London, today is the day

life shifts

Tessaracts with the speed of light

You cling to this "Cannot be happening"

As you open the door

See the person who stands there

Sorry etched in shadowed eyes

Stumbling words poring out that mean nothing

Nothing!

But your heart quivers breaks rhythm

Beating thoughts of nights together

And this morning's you saying pick up a gallon of milk while you're at the store

And. All. Oh God all you wanted to say tonight

But tonight the supper already fixed will become rubbish fill

The comforter on the bed stay smooth

But there won't be any comfort Not tonight. Maybe never again

As you plunge into the pit of unreality

Heaped on your heart.by those stumbling words

Of "I am sorry to say this. . . "

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