I CAN'T SLEEP! 12-30-2012

This is a somewhat progressive blog. Feel FREE to begin by clicking to my first post: Boologging Begins

This is almost it for 2012! My husband and I have just one New Year's Eve party to go! This final 2012 Deo Volente entry finds me reminiscing about my blogging experience and the holidays. Blogging began in October, with a 2-month commitment, as this non-writer-who-writes began a new adventure with a Halloween post. We traversed to trains and horses; through family ups, downs, and all-arounds.

Thank you for joining me as I perilously waded through my rude 6-year-old phase, figuratively stomping in mud puddles, kissing slimy frogs, and chewing strangers' nasty gum.

I bared my... soldered... soul [pronounced soddered]. Oooh... the adjective solder is perfect! It means to join, mend, repair. My first inclination was to self-deprecate and write "my silly soul." My husband corrects me when I self-deprecate. The word deprecate is close to the spelling of depreciate... and their meanings are similar. Last summer's family historical memoir-writing soldered me to generations before, and I feel connected.

Two months of blogged reactions to my heritage have created a positive "SYNTHETIC HAPPINESS" (see the definition in the right column). For me, it has been therapeutic and more beneficial than spending hours and hours with a skilled therapist.

 

Christmas 2012 is history. Two cherished Christmas photos are in this post to help share the following heart-warming Tale of Two Manger Scenes. The first manger scene is in Neighbor Joe's front yard. I planned this shot long before my grandson ever arrived. I never imagined it would be such an enchanting experience...

... It is dusk, with gentle snow flurries. We are babysitting our little guy, with only one more visit day remaining, and daylight is quickly slipping away. I need to get THE shot: Jeff, it is so beautiful outside. We must get that manger scene picture at Joe's, today and now!

We quickly don warm coats and shoes. Our front steps are snowy, so we cautiously proceed, holding hands. Will the pictures be as good as I had hoped? Photographer Jeff snaps the pictures as we carefully wipe snow off baby Jesus. I love it!
 

This second manger scene picture has a totally different story. My grandson was drawn to this manger scene rather than being led to it... it was hidden in my bedroom... basically for nostalgic purposes... for me. It is an olive wood manger scene from Jerusalem that Mom gifted to me 25 years ago, and he discovered it. He returned to my darkened room every day, two or three times a day to hold the figures, knock them over, and play...I love that he chose to love that sentimental manger scene. See the train he added? Surely there was a train in Jesus' manger!

This unexpected manger scene experience captivates... and mesmerizes me... as it embraces my topic of free-will and choice. Hidden, intentional, chosen Synthetic Happiness is immeasurably rewarding. I'm so glad that my grandson found synthetic happiness as he was repeatedly drawn to my bedroom, to his great-grandma's hidden manger scene.

I wonder how many past opportunities for Synthetic Happiness I have missed because I wasn't brave enough to enter the dark unknown? My most beneficial Synthetic Happiness experiences have actually occurred in the early morning hours, when insomnia overtakes me, which is a perfect segue to the topic of sleep. I don't sleep well! Prior to cancer, I slept like a baby. Since cancer surgery with chemo and hormone-reducing medication, sleeping has been, let's say, challenging... and forget naps.

 

These past couple of months have become disturbingly worse sleep-wise. I toss, and turn, and toss. Even when I do sleep, only light dreams occur. I think of my dear Dad during those sleepless nights. I know he slept poorly, and I hypothesize that he had many, many restless nights of fitful sleep and thought TOO much.

Dad didn't have the benefits of good old Dr. Oz. Earlier this year Dr. Oz shared that light in the bedroom negatively affects melatonin. For people who have insomnia, even the alarm clock's light can hinder a restful night's sleep. I haven't forgotten that tidbit, and finally after months of worsening sleep, I fitfully experimented. That experiment has helped a little. I slept deeply two nights in a row, but now it is random. I can occasionally take Benadryl, and alcohol might work for a better night's sleep, but I will not do that. I do, however, have two suggestions, and I will share them as I move to close this blog.

In my post titled "12-12-12" a man ends up a bond slave in jail because of continued, negligent, poor choices. My choices and the way I exercise free-will help to determine how my "race" will finish. So, 2 months ago, similar to a race horse, I began circling the track to rehearse and research the intriguing question: To whom am I a bond slave: some thing, some one... or Christ?

Like Bob Dylan's song insightfully says, ¯You've gotta serve somebody.¯  My eyes and mental faculties need to be alert, for everyone's sake. I FREELY choose my caring and loving Groomer (Jesus Christ), and intuitive Rider (The Holy Spirit), and my insightfully Good Trainer (God). I train, but my free-will cannot be compared to a train, riding on a track! From time to time I do run on a race track the Deo Volente.

Let's return to my tips to having a good night's sleep:

First: The more closely I conform to the true image of God, Jesus Christ, the freer I become and the more peace I have.

Second: Look at the selfie directly above (I used a tri-pod) and see the other attempt that helps a little. It is an EYE MASK! Maybe the mask AND a memory foam mattress will improve things. We'll soon see.

Another thing for which I am grateful: Real freedom, which I find in obedience and servant hood to my Savior Jesus Christ. This 2012, 2-month blog is now closing, with my one and only somewhat lengthy Bible verse dramatically captured in this picture randomly posted on Facebook. If Ron reads this, thanks for a perfect pictorial finale...

Do you give the horse his strength
or clothe his neck with a flowing mane?
...He laughs at fear, afraid of nothing;
...In frenzied excitement he eats up the ground;
he cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds (Job 39:19 & 24).

 

Good night, sleep tight, and Happy New Year... Deo Volente!

The Train, The Train 11-28-2012

This is a somehwhat progressive blog. Feel FREE to begin by clicking to my first post: Boologging Begins


I have ingested, digested, and re-gested the article I briefly mentioned in November’s "Free-Fall" post. The author compares people and their FREE wills to trains on tracks. If a moving train stays on its track, all is well; but if it strays from its track, it creates calamity and disaster.

 

Even though, for writing purposes, I mercilessly diss trains, I actually have a fondness for riding in them. For our 34th anniversary, my husband and I rode the train together from Chicago to STL. The quaint charm of the train and its amenities made that 5-hour trek comfortable and quite productive as we were each able to use our laptop computers. We flew past many nostalgic sites, including Illinois State University, where eons ago, following a beginning-of-the-schoolyear Chi Alpha activity, I met Jeff. We had our first date, and for 8 months we were close to inseparable until summer break. We married 11 months after our first date.

It seems appropriate to take this anniversary train trip with him, past our old stomping grounds, and remind myself that I am one of the lucky ones. As an adult child of an alcoholic I could have married an alcoholic or become one. 

 

The train quickly moves along, but an unplanned delay is imminent. Our stomachs begin to gurgle. Carry-on Rice Krispie treats and nuts prolong our need for solid food, but eventually I chuckle: Jeff, my stomach is speaking to me; let’s stretch our legs and check out the prices in the food car.

We stumble through one car and then another, arriving to the food car’s line for questionable, not-so-gourmet, $7.00, micro-waved "scary burgers." To stall our hunger, we reluctantly split one.

Our train suddenly applies its breaks, screeching slowly to a strained halt. Naturally, I'm a little jolted and ask: Jeff, what do you think is wrong? 

My concerns are relieved as the conductor announces we must move out of the way for a northbound, oncoming train. I have no fear as our monstrous train awkwardly and noisily moves in reverse, and then maneuvers forward, safely onto a side track. We wait for the other train to zip past, and then our train noisily and clunkily re-maneuvers back to the main track to continue southbound to STL, after a 30-minute delay.

During my confusing childhood I wish a conductor could have given me play-by-plays during screeching times and hours-long, night-time disruptions. I needed reasons for the chaos, and as an adult I searched for answers. I have come full-circle and see that it was after my parents' ebb-and-flow, fairy-tale-like, first 14 years of marriage; immediately after birthing child number 6, as Dad was nearing his vulnerable 40s...the volcano erupted. That is when our uninvited "guest" arrived (I was just 6 and my younger sibs were aged 5, 2, and newborn) and stayed for 11 unending years. It seemed like a lifetime.

Swinging back to the train ride, we appreciate our freedom to roam, but we are glad the ride is only temporary. The end-of-the-line, St. Louis stop is our anticipated destination as we eagerly change transportation modes… to our maneuverable Toyota Corolla. We enthusiastically stop for a reasonable Wendy's burger and then we, full-speed ahead, gallop home.

I do like riding in trains, every so often, but comparing spirited-me to an actual train on a track, a train track, or even being a passenger on a train, doesn’t feel right. I bristle at the idea of being inflexible and trapped, and I prefer to not be likened to a cold, hard, inanimate object. A train doesn’t live, breathe, or think. It has absolutely no FREE-will and is clueless. It can only run on preset tracks, has no soul, and runs on stinky diesel fuel. Nope, I will embrace my spirited-self.

The author’s idea of a track does, however, pique my interest. I embrace purpose, and mission, and competition…so I’m warming into comparing my free-will to a living, breathing, spirited animal…an animal that runs on a track…

Another thing for which I am grateful: Holiday lights.

I love the Christmas season, and it feels great to have November's writings posted. We are half-way around the track heading to the Sunday December 30th finish line! December 2nd's post bubbles with a story... Deo Volente.

Singing in the Rain! 11-21-2012



This is a somewhat progressive blog. Feel FREE to begin by clicking to my first post: Boologging Begins



Happy Thanksgiving! It is a delicious time of year, and we've already started eating mega-spreads of food. My childhood Thanksgivings were always food-filled, with oyster dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, and once-a-year pumpkin pie...I would end up like the turkey...stuffed and taking a long nap! My enchanting Mom strived to make Thanksgivings family-filled. This year, we will gather as a small family unit, making a memory with our grown son at his home.

As I shared in October's "Boo-logging Begins" I do write a lot, but I'm not a writer. I have journals dating back 15 years stored in my bedroom. Sometimes I'm tempted to pitch them, because the babble, babble and yada, yada seem insignificant. In one especially intense entry I felt disillusioned by the circumstances of life; I felt betrayed by my journals and was close to burning all of those dusty books. Yet, something stopped me; I couldn't discard them because it would feel like I was cutting out my heart. I guess my husband or children will have to enjoy a blazing bonfire one day in my memory.

A few sentimental entries are in my old and cherished journals, and today I have an inclination to share one of them, from a few years ago. My husband and I were unexpectedly caught, half-way through one of our walks, in a sudden downpour. Bolts of lightning traveled horizontally above us, and some of them were too close for comfort. Jeff, we have to get to the boat house. I'm scared and don't feel safe walking with lightning so close!!

We sprint to the boat house and stay there just briefly, until the lightning lessens. We are cold, and frustrated, not looking forward to our 30-minute walk back to the car. It is a prime opportunity to begin blaming each other for our predicament: It's your fault we're caught in this thunderstorm. I told you it was going to rain! Good thing I brought an umbrella, just in case.

Rather than finding blame (why is it that petulance feels so...satisfying) we "bridle" our tongues to intentionally turn lemons into lemonade. It is apparent the downpour isn't going to be over soon, so we make the best of it. It is scary at first (because of sporadic lightning) and our teeth are chattering, but crazy Jeff says, Let's go for it, and I hesitantly cooperate.

We continue our walk and it magically morphs into a positive, Singing-in-the-Rain experience. For 30 minutes we walk arm-in-arm holding each other as close as possible under our small umbrella’s protection, with our steps mostly in sync, attempting to keep each other warm and relatively dry. We enjoy our FREE entertainment, listening to the pelts of rain hitting our shared umbrella. Who cares if our feet are soaked... it's only water!! Just make sure the camera stays dry. One of us who is a little obssessive just happened to bring a baggie to protect the camera. Just sayin'...

Why the wingo couldn't I (in my childhood)...have reacted differently, reaching out to my five siblings, using humor or something to lighten the atmosphere of our alcoholic home and turn lemons into lemonade??? Instead, I lived in my autrovert bubble. An aspiring writer's blog is at: elainesperfectstorm.blogspot.com   

Jeff and I were on a mission, walking together to safely reach our dry destination. Dare-devil Jeff faced the electrifying elements, and at opportune times I couldn't help but, Gene Kelly-like, skip and sing in the rain! We created a treasured journal entry...and now it is galloping through the blogosphere.  *A video clip from"Singing in the Rain is just a click away*

Another thing for which I am thankful: #8  Free SURPRISES at our nearby walking trail.

My "SWAMP Thang" post will be Sunday, November 25th (just one month before Christmas).... Deo Volente!