Choices

So... I've been looking for answers. I've prayed for answers, and sometimes God has given them, but I have a tendency to question His answers, which leaves me looking for answers all over again, and wondering why He doesn't answer... (Do you understand what I'm saying?) Perhaps I am pained at the answer. Quite honestly, He probably couldn't give an answer I like no matter what He said, and therein lies the real problem...

He asked what I needed again. I may or may not have said "answers" and the conversation turned to answers vs choices. Here I am, the ever indecisive, needing to make hard choices. Choices I don't want to make, but in life we are forced over and over again to look at the options before us and make choices. Even hard choices. Even choices we don't really like.

I've already made hard choices and followed through on them. Impossibly hard choices. That is why I am here in this little attic room. This year, if I want to move forward, there will be more choices. Some will be easy, and others will be hard. It is the hard choices that help us grow and make us strong.

I was looking for a word for this year. maybe it is "choices."

"Choice"

In the course of my bookcase moving adventure, I came across two souvenirs, a pair of spoons I brought home from the daycare several years ago. (I traded them for two I bought at Walmart.) It's the little things like this that keep me believing in God and His uncanny ability to answer when I am totally clueless. It's happened more than once in my life. Some folks call these coincidences, others call them "God Winks." Most times I say I felt God smile. I'm not sure what was going on with coincidences and God-winks back in 2018, but I know He was answering the cries of my heart.

January 4, 2018- 
So... I've been looking for answers. I've prayed for answers, and sometimes God has given them, but I have a tendency to question His answers, which leaves me looking for answers all over again, and wondering why He doesn't answer...

... He (the therapist) asked what I needed again. I may or may not have said "answers" and the conversation turned to answers vs choices. Here I am, the ever indecisive, needing to make hard choices. 

...  if I want to move forward, there will be more choices. Some will be easy, and others will be hard. It is the hard choices that help us grow and make us strong.

I was looking for a word for this year. maybe it is "choices."

January 8, 2018- 
"Because of Calvary, I am free to choose." Max Lucado, Grace for the Moment. 

It not so much about getting answers as making choices, and so I will practice choosing. (And quite honestly, I think God really is answering, even if He isn't answering in quite the way I'd expected.) 

January 9, 2018-
Today we got two little boxes of new spoons. (at work)Twelve individually wrapped spoons in each box...

 ... Do you know that on the back of each spoon the word "CHOICE" is engraved? It doesn't say choice on the box, and when I found them online it said nothing about choice...

Today I no longer question the choice I made. I did the right thing, agonizing though it was. Sometimes I still long for someone to wrap me in his arms, but I am wrapped in a love I didn't know existed prior to all the hard choices. Today I am able to love myself in a new and healthier way. My family and I are worth the cost of all I chose to leave behind. 

 

The Weekend

 It was a nice weekend. We celebrated Idris's birthday (which is really the 27th) with a party on Saturday afternoon. I made pizza for the guests and Hannah put together a fabulous cupcake shark. It was cold outside so we had a full house. I love that this child gets birthday songs in both English and Spanish. I also loved that he seemed to appreciate it more himself this year. (It was actually Bethany's birthday, but she was willing to share with her little nephew, and we sang the birthday song for both.)

Yesterday morning I met my friend Gail out in Sodus Point for one more walk along the shore. The sun was out and we collected a few bits of glass along the seaweed strewn sand and stones. When we got hungry, we drove down Lake Rd to Burnap's Farm Market for lunch. Theirs is a seasonal market and so they'll be closing down soon for the winter.

A bit farther down Lake Rd I turned off into the orchard and drove all the way through to Shepherd Rd where our farm sat like an old friend who looks mostly the same but has dyed her hair and wears an unrecognizable garment. I looked enough to see that Jon has cut down the apple trees on the property he owns and put up a fence. Kudos to him for facing down the farmer. Other than that I couldn't look much and found later that I hardly remembered the drive from there all the way back to Webster. It still aches but the memories of home are sweet.

I am okay. Both inside and outside. I can make healthy choices, like going off medication that causes terrible itching (I scratched all day Saturday) and breaking a date with an old friend (I was invited by the father of the groom to a wedding) when I see that his choices aren't healthy for me or my family. God is still here with me, fighting for me, leading me, gathering me close when I start to wander, and always, always loving me. I am forever blessed.

Life is Weird

Spoons get scarce at work, especially when the afternoon snack is yogurt. Just imagine passing out snacks to 65 children and you'll be able to understand. Today we got two little boxes of new spoons. Twelve individually wrapped spoons in each box. I decided maybe they should go through the dishwasher before I pass them out for breakfast tomorrow. Do you know that on the back of each spoon the word "CHOICE" is engraved? It doesn't say choice on the box, and when I found them online it says nothing about choice...

I decided to try out a new support group at church tonight. One of the books they recommend reading is "Life's Healing Choices" by John Baker. ... Choices. I know I've kind of made myself super aware of the word, but this still feels a little uncanny.

Truth is Hard To Swallow

Forgive me a heavy post while I sort my thoughts...

My biggest regret in life is inadvertently teaching my children to tolerate and accept abuse. My greatest heartache is seeing the effects of my failure to teach them otherwise. I thought I was teaching them love and forgiveness. I somehow thought they would automatically and instinctively know what abuse looked like. I didn't realize they would come to view it as "normal." Instead of teaching them to choose healthy relationships, I modeled enabling, and I failed to protect them when they were abused. How often did I bite my tongue in order to avoid escalating a situation? How many times did I cover for him because of my own fear or embarrassment? How regularly did I tell myself "It isn't that bad" or "It could be worse"? Why didn't I realize how deep and long-lasting are the wounds of spiritual, emotional and mental abuse? How did I come to believe the lack of physical evidence equated the lack of actual abuse? How did I slip into focusing only on what was good in our family when in actuality so much was out of line?  The price is astronomical.

Today I have a divorce, but it took extenuating circumstances to get us here. I didn't arrive in this place without an incredible amount of inner conflict. It has been incredibly painful on every side. I have felt the crippling inability to respond, the suffocating agony of straddling disbelief and acceptance, and the fear of losing everything I loved including my relationship with my children. I have both kept silent and shared secrets, attempted to gloss over pain as well as expose it, and to be honest about our issues while not tearing down the other. It's an impossible balance and I fall multiple times on a daily basis. Sometimes I have a painfully difficult time getting up to try again.

When I walked away from my marriage, it was my desperate hope to set an better example for my children, but they were already grown. I finally saw a boundary that had to be enforced, even though there had been boundary crossings trampled long before. (Sometimes it takes my breath away when I realize the extent of what I have tolerated.) I am finally beginning to understand why outsiders are so furious with the "non offending" parent, even though I understand her place because I am her.

Where do I go from here? What can I do? It is impossible to travel back in time and do life over again, to make better past choices myself and set better past examples. I'm struggling to not make excuses for the younger me, while at the same time realizing that the younger Martha did the best she knew how to do. This is a painful process full of icky feeling emotions. My hands feel dirty but no matter how many times I wash them, I can't seem to get them entirely clean... And just when I feel utterly hopeless, God steps in to remind me that there is always hope with Him. I don't have to be an enabler. I can make better choices for the future. I can heal from codependence. I can be a better mom, grandmother, and friend.

Choose Wisely

I found Sunday morning's message intriguing, like God got together with Pastor Rob and told him all the things I've been thinking the few days previous... It was almost like he was talking about Martha. Well, he was. He was talking about Mary and Martha. There were many things he said that resonated with me, some of them simply words I'd been thinking on.

I posted this quote on Facebook and got a little backlash. "The life that you have is the life you have chosen."  One person sternly disagreed, another said it was how rumors got started, because I'd posted without context. I'd also mentioned I was still "chewing" on it. Recall that several months ago I wrote a series of blogs on choices...

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has made the right choice, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:41-42)

I'm still wrestling with choices.

Mother's Day

Many are the moments when I still find myself in disbelief at what has become of my family. Deep inside I know that it had been unraveling over the course of many years, I mean, I saw loose threads and frayed edges but I had no idea what was causing them. The fabric of our relationship had been damaged beyond repair, yet I kept trying to try the loose ends and patch holes. How was I to know the fabric itself was weak and rotted...

Another Mother's Day has come and gone. It was a beautiful day. Crisp and sunny. Cold and hot. I went out to breakfast with my friend Gail. The restaurant we intended to visit was overflowing, so we took a drive toward Williamson and each got a breakfast sandwich from a little donut shop on Route 104 before heading to her cottage on Lake Ontario. We spent the next few hours scouring the beach for bits of tumbled glass. We were not disappointed. It was a fabulous glass hunting day!

It was early afternoon when I headed back home. A few of my boys came over and we had a nice visit in the backyard before ordering a pizza. They packed a few pieces of furniture for one of them into the back of Ben's truck and headed out around 7 pm. I took Joe home to his apartment and returned home for a little bit of ice cream before heading upstairs. I had just climbed into bed when I heard a vehicle in the driveway and some voices. Soon I was being serenaded in song. "Happy Mother's Day to You..." It was Bethany and a few of my grands. So fun. I had a phone call from my faraway son in Florida. Only one of my children intentionally did not make contact. He's sending us a message. Or trying....

Forgiveness is a powerful tool and I used it many, many times. I used it when it was the right tool for the job, and I used it when I should have been using something much more powerful, but there was so much I didn't know... I can't go back and fix what was so very wrong. All I can do is make better choices today. One of those choices is to stand by the child who has decided to file a deposition against her dad. I stand firmly with her. Some thing are not okay and never will be okay. Today I have more information as to why we were disintegrating and I also have better information on how to respond. Forgiveness is still here, but it isn't the only tool in the box.

Free to Chose

"Because of Calvary, I am free to choose." Max Lucado, Grace for the Moment

Well, Wanda, I had some time to kill before my CoDA meeting tonight, so I stopped in Barnes and Noble to look for a book. I chose the expensive one with a soft leather-like cover, and  "easy-to-read comfort-size print." And when the cashier mentioned something about a free cookie in the cafe, I decided to buy a small coffee and inquire on the offer. ("Buy one get one free," the barista said, and so I chose 2 oatmeal raisin cookies.)

It not so much about getting answers as making choices, and so I will practice choosing. (And quite honestly, I think God really is answering, even if He isn't answering in quite the way I'd expected.)

Drawing a Blank

I must say that all too often I come to write and end up staring at a blank screen with an equally blank mind. It isn't that nothing is happening in my life or that I have nothing worthy of sharing, but recent events have left me not only tired but unsure how to put into words what I am thinking and feeling. Often the thoughts most forward in my mind remain unspoken. Such has been the case in recent weeks.

I still struggle with emotions that well up over the relational difficulties within our family. I miss the two small tornadoes that occasionally tore through our home and their little sister as well. I am sad when I stop to realize that I have basically missed the last six months of my granddaughter's life. Mostly I try not to think about it, but she will celebrate her first birthday in a little over two weeks and that leaves a painful lump in the back of my throat. It isn't that I don't try to reach out and it isn't that I haven't seen them at all, it is mostly that I am making an attempt to figure out where the line is. The line of backing off and reaching out can sometimes be difficult to see.

A week or so ago my son got beaten up in a bar. Drunk and an instigator, he chose the wrong female to harass and someone knocked his lights out. I understand he woke up in the hospital and couldn't even remember what happened. This is the son who sets a fatherly example for my three small grandchildren. This is the son who only a few years ago sat by the bedside of his dying grandfather and read scripture. This is the son who lead the junior high youth group at church just four years ago. I love him to death and I am heartbroken by the choices he is making. He wants me to be proud of the man he has become... I can be impressed by his landscaping skills, enthralled with his cooking, and touched by his love for his children, but I am afraid that the man he hopes to be is fading into what should have been instead. Where is the son who made me proud? What has happened to my boy?

My mom has spent the last week and a half at Rachel's house so that James and I could have some down time and recover from his recent surgery. I have to say that giving my brain a rest from the responsibility of caring for Mom has been much appreciated. Next week Priscilla will come to stay here at our house with Mom while James and I take some time away from home. Our initial thought of traveling up the coast of Maine to Nova Scotia is not feasible at this time, so we will be spending some time instead hidden away at a Bed and Breakfast in the Finger Lakes. We're planning on taking some fishing poles along. Maybe I will finally get a start on that plan to love fishing.

Crossing Over

It was an entirely emotional weekend. Unexpected tears flowed randomly throughout. Mostly I am sad, both for my friend and her family, and for the brokenness that always comes with the passing of someone dear. I've heard in the past that if our loved one is in heaven, then we are sad for ourselves, but I believe there is a deeper pain. As another preacher said, "We weren't created with a file folder for death." When our people die, a piece of us goes along with them; all our conversations, our memories together, our sense of connection... Tears are the healing balm.

As I sat in the funeral home waiting for the service to begin, I was touched on the shoulder. I turned to see a man standing next to me. "Hi, Lady," he said. I had to stand up to recognize the pastor of my previous church fellowship, the one I left when I moved off the farm and away from The Cabinetmaker. As neighbor of my friend, he had been asked to lead the service. The presence of both him and his wife, as well as our conversation following, opened a whole other torrent of emotion.

My ex husband and our separation came up in conversation. "Would you consider reconciliation? (with the Cabinetmaker)," they asked me, to which I answered, "What exactly does 'reconciliation' mean?" I have not been the one hiding these past two years. I have absolutely nothing from which to hide. There is no shame in my leaving, no shame in filing for a divorce. I have never sat down and talked with these people about our situation and it has been nearly 8 years since I moved. "I'm always available to talk," said the pastor's wife... except she's about 10 years too late. She'd have gotten a much reserved conversation years back. Today she'd get an earful and I'm not sure either one of us is ready for that.

I've learned a lot of things about church and organized religion these past ten years. I've also learned a lot about the love of God, His ability to care for me and my family, a lot about protecting women and children, and a lot about standing my ground and guarding my heart. I am sickened by the atrocities hidden behind church doors, the secrets kept, and the fingers pointed. I haven't lost my faith, instead it has deepened in a way I never thought possible. Gone are the trite sayings and flippant responses. Gone are judgement and condemnation (if I ever held that to start) and in their place is more love, more acceptance, and more room for those whose choices I don't understand.
  

Cindy. Cindy had a heart of gold. She was far from perfect, but she knew she was loved by her creator and trusted that her cancer and subsequent passing would glorify God. Her prayers were for her friends and family, myself included. Her prayers are being answered. I know that. God isn't finished with her at all. She may not be here in body, but she will remain in spirit for many years to come.

* Pictures from my walk at Webster Park last week.

Eating Out and Moving Day

Last night James and I finally made our way down to Canandaigua to eat at the Rheinblick German Restaurant. In spite of the rainy weather we had a very nice evening together. After a quick hug from the hostess we were shown to our table by the lovely Miss M. It is so hard to decide what to order when dining out. After much deliberation I chose the Kassler Rippchen (otherwise known as pork chops and sauerkraut) and James the Wiener Schnitzel. Mmmmm, yummy! We almost left without dessert but when the smiling hostess came out to show us the choices, we couldn't resist; Heidi’s Käsekuchen and Linzer Torte. A wonderful evening in a beautiful place. Thank you, Gudl!

Today we are once again downsizing our family. Where have the years gone? Could it really be almost ten years since we dropped our eldest son off at college? We have watched our collection of children dwindle from seven down to three, and now two. Nathan has packed up his things and moved into an apartment with his buddies, Max, Roman, and Matt. It is a nice place not too far from church and these are good guys. I'm sure they will be fine as they face new challanges in the days to come. More prayers rising heavenward and a little less laundry for me... uh, maybe.

Winds of Change

Blog posts have become much more sporadic this month. It could be because I'm working more or it could be because there is much on my mind that I haven't been able to turn into written words. More than likely it's both.

My children are growing up and life is changing. I'm not quite sure how the little ones, who once clung to my legs with their noses against my knees, turned into adults so quickly. My house, which once had nary a quiet corner, is often quiet for days on end. It's hard to believe I once had to lock myself in my car out in the driveway for just a half hour of solitude. Actually, it's kind of funny to think about now... Once upon a time we stacked three sets of bunk beds in a bedroom, and a few years later we gave up our own bedroom and moved downstairs just to give our kids enough room to sleep and none of them had a bedroom of their own. Everyone shared. Now the bedrooms are almost empty...

More change is coming. I'm not sure how or exactly when, and I will share eventually, but it is coming. Family is an interesting thing. We start life as part of a group that shrinks and swells with the years. Thirty-four years ago James was officially added to my parent's family as we broke off onto our own. Through the years we added children of our own and as they "broke away" they also made our family grow. We have three wonderful daughters in law and a wonderful son in law as well. In the past nearly eight years we've been blessed to see our family grow as grandchildren were added, and we've also bid tearful goodbyes to cherished family members like my parents. It's the ebb and flow of time...

Change often makes me feel apprehensive, whether it's a child making adult life choices or James and I making a decision regarding employment or whether or not to move. Change can be good and, very often, so is accepting the changes that life brings, even when they make us slightly uncomfortable. We're never held responsible for inevitable change, only how we respond to it and therein lies the real challenge.

Tulips and Easter Eggs

It was a good and productive day. While I was out running errands I came across some beautiful bunches of tulips. I don't typically buy myself flowers, but, as Betsy would say, "they jumped into my cart." I couldn't help but think of Linda whose pink tulips looked so pretty a few weeks ago. My color choices were red or yellow and I picked up a fresh yellow spring bouquet and enjoyed it all the way through Wegman's and home to my kitchen table.

Once my groceries were put away, I headed outside to do a bit of spring cleaning. I raked out one of my garden boxes and cleaned sticks and leaves out of an over grown used to be flower garden. And then... then I went on an Easter Egg hunt, in my backyard. I collected a whole bagful of "treasures" only the "bunnies" in this case were named Sofie and Jasmine. Blech! (Sorry, no pictures...)

Tomorrow we are going to have dinner with my sister Priscilla.

What Makes a House A Home?

This spring we embark on a new adventure, one that none of us look forward to. It involves a childhood home, an elderly mom, a lot of big decisions, and the end of an era. There are sure to be tears involved, because not one of us can look at the house without seeing Dad everywhere, and none of us can let it go without feeling a stab of grief for Mom, who is no longer really able to make the tough choices or do the physical labor involved in the task.
This has been home for our entire lives and part of it will always be. The memories are there, held inside the walls of a tiny house on Mohawk Street, floating through the yards, both front and back, and spreading out into the streets where we played with our friends as children. For fifty-five years it has been "The Plotzker's House" and for nearly thirty years we've called it "Grandma and Grandpa's." I find it difficult to imagine it with any other name.
I listened to my mother's cousin speak at his father's memorial service last week. He talked of cleaning out his parent's house and it struck me how this is most often a job left to the children. There was a certain comfort in knowing we are not alone. We will sort through belongings with love and tenderness, make repairs with utmost respect, and grieve the loss. Part of me is ready to let go and another part is already trying to hold on.
I must remember the gift and surrender it back to the One who gives all things, knowing He is near. How much better to offer it back with open hands than to struggle to hold on to what already belongs to Him.

338. A childhood home
339. Lots of happy memories.

What Are You Doing Here?

 "What are you doing here?" That's what they ask when they see me in the Penfield Dunkin instead of Webster. "Are you here all the time?" and I tell them I transferred because I wasn't getting enough hours at the other location. My hours had been slashed from 37 1/2 a week down to less than 20, and sometimes closer to 10. It wasn't sustainable. No matter how much I liked the customers and the location, I couldn't stay there. I smile every time one of my old customers comes in. It's nice to know I was making a difference.

Of course, there are cantankerous customers... Like my "not so" favorite one who never fails to tell my coworkers how bad I am at the job and shouldn't be working there. LOL! I'm not sure what her problem is, and although she causes my blood pressure to rise slightly so that I avoid her if at all possible, I still find her grouchy, grudge bearing, grumpiness somewhat amusing in a sad sort of way. 

And then there is Penfield Dunkin's own regular "no so easy to get along with" everyday customer. Today she returned to the counter and informed me she wanted "two shots." Her normal order is an easy extra large with cream, but she'd already taken that to her table. I hadn't a clue what she was talking about. "Two shots of espresso?" I asked her, and she rolled her eyes as if I was the stupidest thing on two legs, mumbled something almost incoherent, and turned to one of my coworkers. Ha ha! She wanted two creams in a separate cup, but it could have been "two shots" of anything. We certainly have plenty of choices.

Yesterday was my birthday. I went out to breakfast with my friend Ruth, and in the afternoon my kids threw me a fabulous party complete with Rueben sandwiches and cake. Such fun! I'm still counting down and had a wonderful cake to show it. Ha ha!

It's a Tought Job but Somebody's Gotta Do It.

Kitchen work was easier than being a baby teacher. I liked working in the kitchen. It wasn't so hard on my heart.

After spending the summer at home, today my little friend Hannah returned to the daycare. I saw her come in and hurried to say hello, but my time was cut short by a new baby coming in right behind her. Later, when I was given a chance to use the bathroom, I stopped to see how she was adjusting to the Waddler Room. We had just enough time and interaction for her memory to be stirred. Like her cousin Olivia last week, Hannah suddenly realized that I still loved and remembered her and she cried when I had to leave. Traitor is not too strong a word for what I feel. Ugh.

My Infant Room is filling up quickly. Today I had three, tomorrow I will be at capacity with four. The numbers will fluctuate depending on the day but four babies is the maximum for  one infant teacher. It was a day filled with snuggles and puke. On the babies, on the floor, and on me. I'm wearing it like a badge and wiping it off the best I can. Ha ha! These babies, at least so far, appear to be better sleepers than the former group. I'm taking the good along with the hard.

In other news, I'm still growing, learning, and letting go, although I'm not always entirely certain how to do all of that. It's the letting go/hanging on that cause me angst. I can do either one if I only know which one I'm supposed to be doing. Let's just say not all of my children and grandchildren appear to want a close relationship at this particular moment. They have their own lives and make their own choices, and that is okay. As much as it stings sometimes, I can give them that privilege. I can let go and entrust them to the One who knows all things. I am okay. They have returned before, they may return again...

Being Responsible

Caring for an aging parent is full of  guesswork. Being responsible for the health and well being of one who isn't quite who they used to be is stressful. She's not quite a child and yet not the mom I once knew. I am still the child in her eyes, and yet I must be the adult. I must take the reins.

Matches... We use them to light the wood stove, keep them for candles, and occasionally use them in the lavatory. It has become apparent that they must not be left where Mom can get them. They must be kept out of sight. Blah. A new stress. She tried to light a candle and dropped the burning match two or three times. I was watching. Now I know there is a new danger and I find it frightening.

I pray my sisters will understand when I don't always treat Mom like an adult. I pray that I will respond properly as situations arise, even though I fail a thousand times. I pray that God will give me the strength I need to finish the task before me, the wisdom to make wise choices, and grace to accept His forgiveness when I fail repeatedly and to forgive myself as well.

Loud and Quiet

I woke this morning to the sound of children talking at the end of my bed. It is my assump- tion they were more interested in the cat by my feet than their grandmother, but my waking up did mean breakfast and I think they were happy about that too. Cereal choices were limited today, and since I didn't think they would appreciate full size old-fashioned Shredded Wheat biscuits, I gave them each a small bowl of Wegmans Honey Nut Squares. When their daddy got up he made scrambled eggs and cheese and bacon quesadillas.

My sister Priscilla stopped for a visit and a cup of coffee this morning. I drank green tea, but opted for a cup o' Joe late this afternoon. I've done well making the transition from coffee to tea and don't find myself craving those multiple cups of coffee every day, in fact, I find I actually prefer tea most of the time. At 1 pm I met My Darling at the bank and we went to Moe's for lunch.

Tonight the house is quiet aside from "Spiderman" on the television and my dad playing guitar and harmonica on the computer. His music is soothing and brings back a flood of memories. It's comforting to have him near.

I've set up a lunch date for next Tuesday with an old friend of my mom, and I'm hoping for a visit with my Aunt Barb too, maybe Monday. I'm not sure where this next phase of life will take me, and am uncertain as to whether to seek out new children to babysit. Perhaps getting kids on and off the school bus is more my speed right now. God knows and I'm not in any big hurry to run out ahead of His plan.

Halfway There and Cup of Coffee

I can hardly believe tomorrow will have us halfway through another week. Then again, perhaps I should not consider it halfway until tomorrow evening is upon us. I guess this might depend on whether or not I am in a hurry for the week to pass. I suppose there is no hurry and I should instead purpose to enjoy each day as it comes. (Do you think I'm tired?)

Last night, upon throwing back the covers and crawling into bed, I decided that rather than toss, turn, and flop around all night long with little to no sleep, it might be wise to take some Benadryl to counteract the sleepless nights and drowsy days that accompany spring allergies. I am pleased to report that, although wiping the sleep from my eyes this morning was not effortless, I did have a wonderful night's sleep. I took a nap today, in order to continue my accumulation of beauty rest, and plan on another night of blissful sleep tonight.

I am thoroughly enjoying each and every cup of coffee consumed during my wakeful daytime hours and not feeling guilty at their consumption in the least. I have begun a new adventure in the area of eating which requires me to be "stomach hungry" before sitting down to eat. It is mostly tricky at supper time and often means we eat closer to 7
pm rather than six. I am not allowed to continue eating until I am full, rather just until "satisfied". It is an interestingly sensible prospect. No counting calories, no restrictive diets, no yucky concoctions, just normal, healthy eating and wise choices. And you know, I'm finding if I only eat when I'm truly hungry, I'm going to need a much smaller grocery cart. I have a friend who lost 40 pounds doing this and she looks great! (See here)

Cliffhangers

My son went camping in the Adirondack Mountains. I found this on Facebook yesterday with the caption "Sorry, Mom." He is a funny guy...

Life feels a little like a "cliffhanger" at the moment. Some recent topics at CoDA meeting lately were willingness, choices, and decisions... They go along with that eleventh step.

"Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out."

I'm fairly certain a piece of Step 9 is wrapped up in not only those topics, but Step 11 as well. Making amends. A willingness to apply a soothing salve to those I may have knowingly or unknowingly had a part in wounding. I am finally ready for Step 11 which involves not only knowing what to do, but having the strength to do it. (A few prayers to that end would be appreciated.) I find it interesting that he (the counselor) stopped asking me what I need. Maybe he thinks I finally figured it out...