Afraid of Something for Far Too Long

My son is in wrestling for the second year.  It is a group of K-5th graders in a very short 4-week introductory session.  It gives the kids an idea of what wrestling is about, gives parents an inexpensive activity for the kids to try and find out if there really is interest. Last year my daughter also participated but chose not to this year.  We are hoping for dance lessons.

During a wrestling game called "Sharks" boys are grouped by height in rows of 7 - 10 boys.  The smallest starts the game wrestling the next boy in line.  Whoever gets the first take down wins and takes on the next in line.  There was a boy (I will call him John) who had been hurt during one of the matches, he is probably one of the older kids.  I did not see how he was injured.  I only saw John fighting with himself to hold back the tears.  One of the other boys (Mikey) reached out to comfort him, but was slugged for his efforts.  This surprised me.

My previous interactions with John had been only positive.  During practice they often ask the parents to help out.  I try to watch what they are learning closely so that I can help during practice and later at home with my son.  John had been unexpectedly polite when I was helping them learn some of the moves they were practicing.  I thought "what a good kid".

When John slugged him, Mikey appeared a little hurt by John's response, but seemed to put it behind him.  Mikey even tried to get another friend to see if John would accept comfort, but his attempts were shaken off as well.

Why refuse to accept comfort?

It was during wrestling practice that I was reminded of something from my childhood.

When I was a kid, my school had a swimming pool.  Everyone had swimming as part of the Phy.Ed. curriculum.  I even had swimming lessons outside of school days.  There was one day during a free-swim period that I dove in.  It was too shallow for me to have been diving or my technique was off.  Whatever it was, I hit my head and found myself disoriented on the bottom of the pool for a moment or two.  The memory does not include me breathing in any water or having to be pulled out by someone else.  As I recall, I shook it off, got out of the water and continued through the rest of the swim time.  To this day though I avoid putting my head underwater if I can.  I still adore swimming but cannot get past the fear and panic that overwhelms me when underwater.

It was some time after this incident that I was standing in line to dive into the deep end with a group of classmates.  We had to dive.  I was scared.  I knew how to swim.  I knew how to dive.  I just remember standing there wanting to run away or cry.  I may have been crying, but I do not recall.  A friend reached out to comfort me.  Instead of opening up, accepting the comfort, and confessing my fear, I pushed her away.  I did not want anyone to know I was afraid.

Watching John and Mikey interact made me wonder if I could have let go of my fear all those years ago if I had just confessed it to someone else.  Naming something and saying it out loud to someone usually is the very thing needed to move past it, get over it, and live a full life.

Hands

These hands are beautiful hands and have done beautiful things. They have held newborn babies and touched the cheek of death. They have played compositions and planted tiny seeds. They have painted and sculpted and designed and written. They are strong hands. They have wrestled goats and raised up men. They have hauled lumber and soothed pain. I look at them now full of lines and scars, full of life, and I wonder. I wonder what you see. Do you see these hands and what they have done, where they have been, or instead perhaps you see what I see when I gaze at the mirror, the rest of me. The parts and pieces I try to hide. Do you see what I have done or do you see who I seem to be or who I am.

As I listen to waves crash against the shore and cool air brushes my cheek, I remember. I dream. That these hands are again being held gently as the sun sets and we gaze out at the world. I feel soft and delicate as we dream together of things that we hope will one day be. Together in our Eden surrounded by life, overcoming the past. Our hands together with one purpose pursuing our future. Hands covered in earth and life.

These hands with jagged nails and callouses. Hands with cracks and compulsions. They have kneaded bread and pulled weeds. They have entered data and drawn butterflies. They have done so much and still have so much to do.


These hands are strong and beautiful hands and I am beautiful because of them.

A few of my favorite thing

I love parties. I love getting dressed up and fixing my home to appear perfect. I love spending days getting ready, and laying out all my favorite dishes, and inviting everyone I know and getting them all together to have a good time. I love fancy! I love friends and family nearby. The first big party I had was when I lived in a 4-plex apartment in South Minneapolis, and had over 60 people come over. I had musical performers, and a dj for dancing in the basement. I had an amazing spread of foods that I had prepared and purchased some great glass pieces for the occasion. It is now a party I have every year about the same time, and the collection of gowns I have from those events now fills my trunk and makes my nieces ask to play dress-up almost the minute they step into my house. It is one of the few occasions I wear make up. (The Olympic ice dancing was just on and I was wishing I had the funds to find something like the gorgeous red dress worn by one of the skaters.) The party has scaled down through the years, but besides the collection of gowns, I have photos, and menus, and lists, and...

I enjoy art. I like taking discovered objects and using them to create shapes. I like using windows or clothes instead of canvas. I love color, and variety, and making people think. I have a degree in graphic design, and I love interesting ads and printed work that makes me stop. Lately I have been all about photography. Except for the "quilt" I am painting for my husband and I to use in our room. I have stacks of artwork, and photos in boxes and bins and cupboards all over my home, and just a few on the walls. I also have bins of paints, and wires, and shiny objects, and...

I treasure physical memories. Those things that remind me of the event. The pamphlet from the play. A note I wrote to my hubby. The first suit and tie my baby boy wore for Easter. The sweetest shirt my baby girl wore her first summer. The school photos from my step son, his artwork, his event programs. Photos and cards received at Christmas and birthdays. Lists, colored sheets, ideas for someday, and...

As a family we love books, and movies, and music, and stuffed animals, and cars. When I tried sorting through the kids room, I came across things I did not want them to give up, and things they did not want to give up, not much actually left their room, or the book shelves, or the movie shelves, or...

Sorting through my home has brought all of these loves back to the front of my mind. I am reminded of what I once enjoyed most, and what I used to be, and who I try to be, and who I thought I would be. In it all I found a bin full of Animaniacs memorabilia and stuffed monkeys. I found a bag of rocks, next to a box of rocks, with a few other rocks nearby. I discovered several bins full of framed photos and several bins full of art and craft supplies. I even found bins that had unopened mail from the many times I needed the house to appear neat, and stuffed things in corners and cupboards and then never saw them again - until now. I have cupboards full of items I do not use, of things I had forgotten about. My china hutch was stuffed full of pretty things, most of which I had found at garage sales or thrift stores. Eclectic assortments of lovely shinny things that I really do not need, nor do I have any strong memory attached to them, but I still try to use them at parties...

There are two ideas I am currently trying to implement in my life. One idea - the simplicity of keeping only what you truly love and treasure - is fueled by a blog called "Simple Mom" and the other idea - debt freedom and financial stability - is from the Financial Peace University CDs with Dave Ramsey. I am implementing both right now. I am trying to make a little money by selling all the stuff that I really do not need or want in my life. Getting rid of things to make time for what I really love. I am trying to do this, but I keep being caught up in the past, and looking in these bins, I'm torn between wanting to remember, and wanting to have less. How many of these things will anyone care about besides me? Could these things be as easily categorized, and remembered with a journal or scrapbook page? I would love to have the time to pause and think these things over with every bin, but I really need to get most of the stuff out for this sale I am holding, this weekend - eeek.

It all leads to the overwhelming fact that I like things. I have so many things, that I have been tangled in the past these last few weeks, and unable to focus on the present.


I really was hoping for something more inspired to blog about the last two weeks. Something to make all of you come back again, but this is me after all. I attack with intensity and then pick up something new, and forget what the last thing was, until I discover it in a box, in the back of my closet.