Lost and Found

Ξ December 30th, 2011 | → 6 Comments | ∇ me, ramblings, sharing too much, Uncategorized |

Years ago I had a simple little sterling silver German Shepherd charm on a bracelet and lost it. Looked everywhere, and I do mean everywhere for that little guy. I felt silly praying for guidance to find it, but did anyhow. And then I still couldn’t find it. Then September 2004 had the stupid flood hit and my storage unit on Campbells Run Road got submerged under water for days. Problem was I could not even begin to think about it since I was busy throwing away most of my (now sopping wet with sewage water and ruined) possessions, mopping, bleaching, washing and generally trying not to freak the fuck out about no longer having a place to live. So yeah, probably was more like a week or two before I got to the storage facility since other priorities were on my mind.

The garage type door was barely half way on its way to open when BAM!, the stench hit. Sewage water that sits and festers? Not anywhere near a pleasant odor. I took a step back. Regrouped, if you will. Said a silent prayer for strength to get through another day of throwing possessions away. And repeated words I had been saying for days, “It is only stuff. I asked for Reilly and Ludo’s safety during this flood and I got it. My dogs are all I need. Thank you for their safety.”

I threw the door all the way open and backed up again, desperately hoping the fresh air would somehow mix with the awful smell and make it all better. After another strength gathering moment I stepped inside the tiny unit. Thick brown mud was on everything. Most items were unrecognizable as they sat under the disgusting substance. I was about to get overwhelmed and desperate not to lose my composure so I looked down at my feet. An inch in front of them sat a perfect, shiny little silver dog, surrounded by a tiny circle of clean cement.

How could a mud filled room possibly have a two inch perfect circle of clean cement on the floor? How could a totally brown room offer a pristine pup?

All I know is my dogs were safe and then up shows another dog I prayed for. I wholeheartedly believe in a higher being. Always have. Too many things like this happen to me for me to not believe. The timing of these tiny miracles is just the icing on the glorious cake.

[I linked to two old posts within this one. They contain the entire flood story, but are rather long posts. Just warning you!]

 

Rilke

Ξ December 17th, 2011 | → 6 Comments | ∇ mom, ramblings |

“I want to beg you, as much as I can, to be patient toward all that is unresolved in your heart; try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms or books that are written in a foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers; they cannot be given to you now because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. You will then gradually, without even noticing it perhaps, live along some day into the answer.”

~ Rilke

The above was something Mom gave me ages ago, a piece that never got framed, just got shoved in a box and moved around a bit. Even somehow survived the flood in 2004. Fortunately the print and mat are wrapped in plastic so the dust and dirt of the years doesn’t seem to have impacted the piece itself. I found it a week or two ago and have read it at least once daily. Considering that my dear Aunt Sue is dying and today I head to Florida for a few days to hang out with her for the last time, this BE PATIENT and LIVE THE QUESTIONS NOW is hitting pretty close to my heart. The heart that is breaking for my cousin Jane because she soon will know this awful feeling of not being able to pick up the phone and hear her Mom’s voice. That is the worst for me…to not have Mom at my fingertips, to see me calling and happily answer any silly little thing I needed or wanted to know; to not be in my corner always.

 

This photo was taken about 10 days before Mom died. Aunt Sue is the one with the gorgeous silver hair, behind Mom. Before Mom had chemo and the cancer really took over, the two resembled each other a lot.

Aunt Sue loves the Lord and has lived a very happy life with Him in her heart. I am told she is looking forward to no longer being in pain and having the pleasure of gazing upon His face. Her faith and strength thrill me. But dammit, I am selfish and want her wonderful self here. I want to be happy for her, but my heart hurts. It hurts so hard.

And yet there is also a huge hurt that goes deep down to my core because I really want to ask her to tell my Mom a few things. Mostly that I am sorry for not being a better daughter while I had the chance.

Fuck.