Making it Right

I love to watch Mike Holmes work ... and teach. He's a Canadian general contractor who started his foray into show business with a home renovation show called "Holmes on Homes" - then "Holmes Inspection" and now "Holmes Makes it Right." His motto has always been, "Make it Right." His dad taught him that if you do something right the first time in home construction, you'll never have to do it again - and his shows are all about folks who are suffering from some contractors' decisions NOT to make it right the first time: to cut corners, to take shortcuts, to slap things together. So, Mike comes in and (pun of puns) makes it right. Most of the time, he makes it better than expected.

He never expected to have the success he has had. Yet every day, he receives hundreds of emails from people who have had a raw deal from the "bad and the ugly" - respectively described by him as the ones who mean well but don't know enough, and the ones that are out to bilk the home-owner. 

"Doctor In Surgery" courtesy of taoty at
www.freedigitalimages.net

I was thinking of Mike today because my daughter injured her knee (dislocated patella) on November 30, 2012. After seeing a doctor who referred her to an orthopedic surgeon, and after conservative treatment for 2 months via physiotherapy, an MRI revealed what we suspected from day one: torn ligaments beneath the patella and chronic ligament laxity. What that means is surgery - and soon.

Today she got her surgery date: April 4th (perhaps sooner if there's a cancellation), and a pre-surgery clinic scheduled for March 21st. 

The surgeon will be shortening those three stretched ligaments under the kneecap. However, he will also be doing some structural changes while he's in there. He is going to change the focal point of her knee by removing a tendon at one end and re-attaching it to the top of the shin-bone , because the knee has always been in a valgus presentation. In layman's terms, she's knock-kneed - always has been. Once that minor deformity is corrected, it will make it less likely for her to re-dislocate that knee.

After the surgery, and more physiotherapy, if the other knee is posing a problem with the new stance, he'll schedule surgery on the other knee and shift the focal point to match. 

It's quite possibly a long haul for her over the next little while, with time for healing and rebuilding muscle strength. However, the doctor is "making it right" ... and sometimes, that takes time.

Starting with the right foundation is crucial to ending up with a strong house... and starting with the right stance will not only keep her from re-injuring her knee, it will teach her to walk straight, and might even gain her an inch or two in height. It will also reduce her back problems. 

She may quail at the thought of the infirmity that lies ahead. We'll be here for her while she's going through it, confident that she'll end up an even better "her" than she thought possible.

As in construction, so in life - whether bum knees or a tired soul.

An Almost Everything Week

So I guess those of you who read this blog know that my daughter dislocated her kneecap on November 30, 2012, and that she's been attending physiotherapy while being monitored by an orthopedic surgeon.

When she went to see him in January after five weeks off work, the knee hadn't come along as quickly in healing as the specialist had thought. We asked why he didn't order an MRI. "These soft-tissue injuries generally settle on their own," he replied. "In all my years of doing this, I've only seen one situation where the patellar dislocation was hiding a deeper issue in the underlying ligaments, and the patient needed surgery to correct it. Besides, we only have one MRI machine for the whole Island. When you see me again in three weeks," he turned to her and spoke directly, "if you are not smiling when you do, I'll order the MRI." 

On February 5, she wasn't smiling. He ordered the MRI. "When the hospital calls you with a date, ask to be put on the cancellation list," he advised her.  "In the wintertime, with people in the country not wanting to chance the road when there are 'a few flakes' and the forecast is nasty; it shouldn't take long."

It took a few days to get the paperwork in place. She called the hospital herself after waiting almost a week. "Oh yes," they said. Your date is June 19th." 

(Gulp). She immediately asked to be put on the cancellation list. They obliged! 

Then we began noticing how often we had storms on the weekend this year. When it wasn't the weekend, it was a civic holiday. We prayed. "A storm, just a little one, to discourage someone from making the trip? Please?" (Was this me, the one who HATES winter, praying for a STORM??) Yet, we'd seen her hobble from room to room. We knew she was going to need surgery. We knew in our guts, "The sooner the better." That was this past Monday - the civic holiday when it was storming and the Island shut down for hours.

"Kingdom of Cold" courtesy of Evgeni Dinev at
www.FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Two days later, (this past Wednesday) with freezing rain and snow forecast for later in the day, she and her father went for a few errands. She got a temporary handicapped permit so that it would be easier for us to park and get in and out of places while she was recuperating. She paid her insurance premiums for her work's health care plan. 

Then, when they got back home, there was a message waiting on the voice mail. "This is radiology calling. Can you come in for 3 pm?" Her heart sank; it had been left over an hour prior to her return. 

Forty-five minutes later, the phone rang. "Are you still interested in that 3 pm appointment?"

OH yeah. With bells on! 

She managed quite well, and soon afterward we were laughing and joking over how quick it all was and how the promised storm held off until we were home!

I also started deepening my understanding of how ironic and quirky God's sense of humor is - using the things I hate most about winter to our benefit, and after all the complaining I'd been doing this year about the cold! Oh, He's a witty One. ;)

Anyway, the next morning, Thursday, she called the surgeon's office. "Can I get an appointment? I just got my MRI yesterday afternoon." They booked one for March 8. Wow - about 2 weeks, not bad!

Yesterday morning, Friday, she got yet another call. "This is Dr. ____'s office. We have the results of your MRI. The doctor wants to see you as soon as possible. Can you come in today at 11:15 to discuss?" 

A quick exam to confirm the MRI findings was all that he needed ... and so he told her what the results were. Without getting all technical, when she dislocated her kneecap, (this happened three times after the initial injury, all within a week and a half of it!) three ligaments were stretched permanently and were now too lax, making the knee unstable and more prone to dislocating again. Those ligaments, every time she re-injured, got frayed against the back of her kneecap, which runs along a vertical trench-like groove, like a taut rope fraying against a length of wood. 

This needed to be repaired by shortening the now too-long ligaments and securing with screws. 

Surgery.

"While I'm in there, I'd like to shift the focal point of your knee because it's off-center," he told her. This involves operating on the tendon that goes from the bottom of the kneecap to the top of the shin-bone, separating it from the shin-bone and re-attaching it more toward the center of her stance. What this will do is correct that knock-knee problem she's had since she was a baby and prevent her from hurting it again. 

Once all her (and our) questions were answered, he wrote the requisition for surgery. Right on the requisition, he wrote, "Place on cancellation list." 

Before she even got a surgery date.

Of course, they'll send her information in the mail with her "if not before" date and instructions for pre-surgery... yes. But usually she'd have to wait for that information and THEN call to be put on the cancellation list. 

We got the impression he was trying to bump her to the front of the line. Just an impression, you understand. Perhaps he was feeling a little guilty that he'd waited so long? that she was the one exception in the last 20 years that he hadn't counted on?  Perhaps.

We're just so glad that the wheels are moving, that this will be over sooner rather than later, and that things can get back to normal and she might even be better than before she hurt herself! 

Was it only a month ago that someone (who shall remain nameless) turned to me at the kitchen table and said that he was not convinced that God cared about us? 

Hmmm.

That same person turned to me last night and said, "You know, I think I'll start a gratitude journal. I forget so easily."

*happy sigh....*

A Nothing Day

Today is another "snow day" - we might have about three a year where I live (in the Maritimes of Canada). This is the second one in a couple of weeks, timed (conveniently) to land on a weekend and give us a little longer to enjoy time with family and friends.

It's one of those kinds of days I used to call "a nothing day." Nothing gets done, nothing is open, nothing much happens. 

"Fireplace" - a photo by adamr at|
www.FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Yet I need - especially in winter - "a nothing day" once in a while. It's a time to think, dream, reflect. It's an opportunity to spend quality time with spouse, children, friends. The slow-cooker is doing a roast; I'll soon be starting a batch of home-made bread and rolls to combat the inevitable, "oh-I-forgot-to-get-bread" (or whatever you invariably run out of when there's a storm). It's so relaxing for me ... baking ... and I don't get much of a chance to do it anymore.  I find myself looking forward to it - as long as it's a "want-to" rather than a "have-to" thing. Making bread is therapeutic for me. I do it from scratch because there's something about feeling the dough between my fingers and watching it respond to my touch ... that ignites a creative spark in me.

As I was writing this post, I didn't even want to turn on the TV, at least not to watch any shows. So, I turned it on, and muted it, and put it on the "Fireplace Channel." Even if there is no fireplace in our living room, the continual do-loop of video showing a crackling fire does give a rather warm ambiance to the space, an air of peace and civility, and of a refuge in an otherwise cold and harsh atmosphere. At some point during the day, I will probably listen to some André Gagnon - like his Neiges (perfect for a winter's respite, you can even hear the wind howling outside). 

The silence, the absence of hustle and bustle, the ability to do what I want when I want to do it, these all recharge my inner batteries and nourish my inner me. Everyone needs that mental / spiritual break. I was going to say "once in a while" but ... I think it's more "on a regular basis" ...

I guess I'll watch the fire a little longer ... and then go start making some dough.

Kith and Kin

Yesterday, there was a cryptic phone message on our voice mail from my mother, saying that my brother was in their local hospital with "double pneumonia." Since he also suffers from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) this could be very serious indeed. 

I resolved to phone the hospital to see how he was doing, since a trip at this time of year would not be feasible ... unless it really were serious, in which case I would go. 

This morning I phoned and spoke to his nurse. I was not listed as "next of kin," she told me, and therefore she was not allowed to discuss his diagnosis. She then proceeded to only give me general information. I was able - because I knew how - to pry enough information as I needed to reassure myself as to his condition. 

The bottom line is that he was admitted FIVE DAYS AGO with shortness of breath (not yet diagnosed). The general feeling is that he has some sort of flu, but that his fever is gone and he has good days and bad days - much like he was before - only he does cough at night and this is distressing for him. 

I mentioned to the nurse that I may be calling again to check on his condition in a couple of days. She warned me that someone else might not give me as much information as she did. 

Ouch.

I am very relieved that his condition is not as grave as my mother made it sound. However, the fact that she waited four days before telling me, that I wasn't even listed as an approved family member, and that she used such alarmist tactics to get me to re-establish contact with her, leaves me with a rather sour taste in my mouth. 

Family ties vs friendships : some people are lucky
enough to have both.
Photo courtesy of photostock at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Over the last four years, my definition of "family" has evolved into the kind that allows me to not be around people who make me feel like I'm "less than." 

These days, my "family" is those who build me up, those who value me as a person and who don't judge me or manipulate me.  

Just today, I started thinking of the expression, "kith and kin" - and I was curious as to the difference between the two. So, I consulted Professor Google. Kin refers to blood ties (genetic markers) one has with one's family of origin, or with one's siblings or children (possibly cousins, aunts, uncles, etc.) It implies warm feelings; the word "kinship" speaks of a heart affinity. (Some folks aren't lucky enough to have that with all of their family members; if you do, be VERY grateful!!!) 

However, the word kith refers to one's friends and neighbors, and comes from (depending on the source you read) the Old English or the Germanic root words for "knowing" or "to be known". Kith are the people who know you, who love you, whom you love - not because you HAVE to (i.e., because they are your relatives) but because you WANT to. 

I am grateful to have been blessed with kith. Friends - not acquaintances, but real true friends, those who really do care and about whom I care. Deeply. People who choose my company rather than feeling obliged to spend time with me. People who depend on me (not in a clingy way but who know that they can come to me if they need someone to talk to) and on whom - I have learned - I can depend. 

That is a marvelous feeling. 

I want to pass that feeling on to the people in my life. I want my children to feel that kinship with their parents; I want my friends to consider me to be 'kith' to them. I want to surround myself and my loved ones with that sense  of safety, the one where you don't feel you have to be on your guard around someone because you know that both people are going to handle each other's hearts with the respect and consideration they deserve. 

And that feeling of being safe, of being with 'kith' ... is a priceless commodity.

Goodbye - again.

I must have been about 11 years old the first time it happened. A schoolmate with whom I was very close at that time, left in the middle of the school year. Her mother was moving to a province very far away. 

I'd lost my grandfather at 7 years old, and that was really tough too. But losing a friend's company, knowing that they were still out there somewhere but prevented from that regular contact ... was almost worse than losing someone to the grim reaper. 

The sense of loss was incredible. I am not a person who makes friends easily, even less so when I was a child. She was my only friend. And she left. 

As I grew older, this was a pattern that repeated with various people and for various reasons. Often. So often, in fact, that I became afraid to make friends with someone new, because I absolutely KNEW that I would have to say goodbye to them; they ALWAYS left. Or they were so far away that it was just as though they were gone from my life. Keeping in touch was really difficult; I'd write and they wouldn't write back.

Loneliness was a frequent companion. Grief too.

Abandonment. Whether intentional or not, whether permanent or not, it hurts. 

A few years ago, a family moved to our province and started attending our church. And I tried not to like them. I really did. I knew - given the nature of the work that brought them here - that they would eventually leave.

However ... I couldn't help myself. Their dedication to being real in their faith, and their love of worship were akin to ours; their positive attitudes were something I wanted to emulate. I found myself wanting to be with them, watching them interact with each other, and cheering them on in their successes and their vision for the ministry of which they and we were a part. I grew to love them - to consider them friends.

Girl Looking Unhappy
Image courtesy of Stuart Miles (royalty-free
under certain restrictions) at
freedigitalphotos.net

And now ... all too soon, the time has come to let go - again - and say goodbye.  The job that brought them here ... naturally ... is leading them away from here.

When I first heard, a little over 24 hours ago, that this was going to happen, I felt as though someone had kicked me in the gut... that overwhelmed, breathless feeling of betrayal that quickly leads to nausea. Then it migrated into a profound sadness that stays even in the midst of laughter over other things. It's like this deep and guilty wound, scabbed over on the outside, but never quite healed on the inside, that someone punches (hard) every time a loved one leaves, either through death or distance. 

Guilty, because I am fighting the thought that I "should" be happy for my friends - and all I can think of is how much I will miss them, how things won't be the same without them. Selfish? yes. 

But it's allowed. I'm allowed to feel this way because that's how I feel. Simple as that. The fact that I have learned to feel what I feel and let it happen instead of stuffing it down inside, helps me to heal a little more than I would have if I'd lived (once more, like so many other times) in denial. 

The reality is, I really AM going to miss these wonderful people. It would be easier if I could even be angry at them - dismiss them. I can't. I need to work through the stages of the grief I know is normal and natural for me to experience. 

It's okay. It's hard - very hard - but it's okay. 

I guess I'll just have to make the best of the time that's left to us.

Storm Stayed

This morning, of all mornings when I would have loved to have slept in, I was awake at 5:30. I awoke to the low moan of winter outside our window, rising occasionally into a whistle.

I hate winter. I've made no secret of it. I hate everything about it - except for the fact that it doesn't last all year long where I live. I detest the cold, the wind, the snow, EVERY winter sport or activity, the ice on the windshields, the shoveling, the slippery roads, the ice underfoot, the slush, the slow traffic, the lack of greenery, the short daylight hours, the bulky clothing and ... did I mention the cold? Uggh!! 

"An Old Mountain Shelter Covered with Snow"
Image courtesy of Michal Marcol at www.freedigitalphotos.net

I've learned to survive, of course. I'm Canadian after all. We accommodate. ;) 

I've even learned to find things for which to be grateful in the midst of all this "white stuff" - which technically ... is quite dirty and not something I would want to melt and drink! 

I can be grateful for a warm, safe home, when so many must sleep in dumpsters and on park benches even in this weather. I can be grateful that (for example, today, when there's a blizzard raging outside) all of my loved ones are accounted for, and most are sleeping late! I am pleased that the power is not out - at least not yet - and that even if it does go out, we live in an area that usually can get it going fairly quickly. I can be glad that we knew that this storm was coming and that we had time to stock up on groceries, batteries, and the like. I can be thankful that hubby did my laundry yesterday, that we are on the city water and sewer systems (so we don't have to use a commode anymore!) and that in the fall of 2011, we paid someone to come in and spray-foam (insulate) our furnace room. And finally, I can be very grateful that storms don't last forever. 

That last point is good to remember when I've been hit with the blizzards of life, too - when body-blow after body-blow happens and I feel overwhelmed. "This too shall pass." Or, "The storm doesn't stay." 

At times in my past, I had a tendency to get storm-stayed and lose my way, refusing to emerge from my hiding place. When events would transpire that were distressing for me, I'd hunker down. And these occurrences would pile up! After a while, I'd expect to get those emotional hay-makers, and would interpret everything that happened, not at face value, but by attributing the motive that "they're out to get me." Even the good things were tainted with bitterness. I'd mistrust any good that anyone did for me, wondering what they wanted in return. I'd deflect any kind words, thinking that those who complimented me or were kind to me didn't really mean it, that it was just the polite thing to do ... or that they felt sorry for me. 

When I started to heal on the inside, I started to realize that for decades, in response to years of physical and emotional abuse, I had created an emotional atmosphere within myself that was conducive to many of the negative things I was experiencing, or that I perceived to be happening. Since I expected bad things to happen, that's all I saw, which only deepened my belief that I was somehow under a curse. 

In a sense, I was under a curse. I was stayed - stuck, detained - in the "What next?" mentality, a real "storm magnet." However, as I became more and more free from the effects of those childhood experiences, my self-esteem became more balanced and I was able to find my own identity, and not the one that was tied up in what others thought about me, or how they might want to hurt me. 

In time, and with a great deal of repetition and reinforcement of the "new Judy," I actually began to believe statements like, "Today is a good day, unless I make other plans." And, "Don't let a bad moment turn into a bad day." As I did, and I started to get to know myself and like myself, I dared to believe that others could like me too. It's a process, of course. Part of it is realizing that there are going to be people who won't like me, no matter how hard I try to impress them... and that I don't need to keep chasing after them. It's okay to let go. It's okay to be me and not feel I have to apologize for it. 

I'm still learning those lessons.

So now, when those kinds of storms happen - and they do occasionally - I remind myself that it's okay to protect myself from them, but that they don't last, and I don't need to be stayed by storms beyond the "all clear." And I can remember that, as George of the Jungle said in the 1997 movie, "Something good always happen after."

Barely recognizable

A couple of people I know have recently lost a LOT of weight. 

Of course it happened gradually, but after a while folks started to notice. "Wow, you really look great!" people said to them, especially those who hadn't seen them for a while. They flushed with pleasure and showed off the new clothes they'd been able to buy. Or they just said, "Thank you," and grinned to themselves. 

Photo Weight Loss courtesy of luigi diamanti at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Occasionally, someone who hadn't seen them since their "before" picture would say to them, "I almost didn't recognize you!" More smiles. 

Few people would argue that when someone who's overweight loses weight, there are so many health benefits that it would be ludicrous to criticize someone for not being overweight anymore. Or to try to twist that person's arm into overeating again. 

Weight loss is an easily visible transformation. The results are measurable, and those who care about the person who has succeeded in taking off weight would no more do or say anything to jeopardize their success than they would try to drive full speed into a concrete wall! 

Yet when the change is internal, that's often the first thing that happens. People are used to relating to someone in a certain way - and when that person changes, it can be hard for them to adjust. They may react in any number of ways: anger, sadness, fear, or a combination of those ... and more. What is excellent news for the person who's changed on the inside to mature or grow, become more free of fear, of resentment, of anger ... is often NOT good news for those who still see the changed individual as the same old person they used to know. Not that he or she hasn't changed. It's that the people around him or her are actually living in denial, not wanting to admit there's been a change. Or, they see the change but they really don't like it. Like the old drinking buddies of the alcoholic who's in recovery, they just want to go back to the "way things used to be." 

First, the person usually looks the same. The automatic assumption is that the person therefore IS the same ... and that the "change" he or she claims to have experienced either won't last or is somehow suspect, perhaps a veiled personal attack against family and/or friends from that former lifestyle. This leads to some inevitable boundary issues, and may actually lead to the end of certain relationships.

Second, and maybe more importantly, admitting that there has been a change, or saying that it is a good thing, would be the same as admitting that their own lives might need to be changed. In a lot of cases, people just don't want to examine their core beliefs, their attitudes, or their behavior that closely. 

I didn't. Until I did.

That is, I had to get to the place where I was desperate enough to look for help. Anyone who needs help won't seek help unless he or she feels there is no other alternative. Everyone seems to want to do it on his or her own.

Adjusting to that kind of reaction from people from my "old life" was a stretch for me. I guess I naively thought that if I was happier with the new me, then everyone would be. I hadn't counted on folks feeling threatened by it. Or denying it even happened. Or being weirded out by my insistence on rigorous honesty.

Just like I needed to be my own motivational coach, I need to be my own cheerleading squad. To myself, I'm barely recognizable compared to my "before" profile when I look into my spiritual mirror. To the ones who know me well, they can see and rejoice in the difference too. However, very few appreciate the transformation, so most of the motivation to keep it up, and the recognition for milestones already reached, has to come from within. 

For now.

Growing up is no longer optional

The nature of my job will soon be changing.

Oh, it's been changing all along - and I understand how that is. Change is inevitable. Yet there is a part of me that has to be dragged, kicking and screaming, into change.  How much kicking and screaming there is depends greatly on how close the change gets to the foundations, the core values of my life - in this case my work life. 

This particular change is pretty fundamental, and it's been difficult for me to accept that it's on the way. In fact, I've lost sleep over the fear of the repercussions that I could experience. Thankfully, by applying the Serenity Prayer to this situation and adjusting a couple of things in my life, I've started to accept it.

And accept it I must; there is nothing I can do to change what someone else has decided, someone with a lot more clout than I have. 

I don't need to share just how my position will change in specifics. Suffice to say, though, that it involves taking a much more "hands-on" approach to my work. This scares the beejeebers out of me, since ultimately it will involve taking more direct responsibility for the effects that my work will have on the end user. Up until now, there's always been this layer of protection, almost like a cloak of invisibility, surrounding what I do. Part of the reason I wanted the job in the first place was because of this warm, comforting cloak. 

And now ... I must deal with the fact that it will be removed. 

These reservations having been stated, I must also say that if - today - I was still as stunted and dysfunctional as I was four years ago, I might have had to be forced into psychiatric care over this issue. For this, I can be grateful. 

I can also be thankful that my employer has done everything possible to ease the transition and provide the support I (and several others) will need. I cannot fault my superiors for the steps they have taken to lessen the impact on our jobs, given the decisions made at higher levels than they themselves hold.

What it comes down to is my own reaction. Am I going to stay stuck in my own fears, or am I going to face them and walk through them, asking for help when I need it? I guess what I am really encouraging myself to do is to continue to grow up. To trust that if the higher-ups have made the wrong decision, they will realize this and take steps to correct it. Who knows? they just might be right ... is it really my place to judge?

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles at
freedigitalphotos.net

Before 2009, I was under the illusion that while growing older was inevitable, growing up was optional. Even well after I started my journey of inner healing, I liked to think that I started to mature on the inside because I chose to - but the fact is that it was never optional if I was ever to find any kind of happiness. That I hid from it so long didn't change that fact. 

Growing up - maturing, taking more responsibility for my own actions - was essential for my own good, my own sanity. It still is. 

This is just the next natural phase. I have the feeling that a year from now, I will look back on this experience and view it as a positive step in my own growth as a person. Worrying about how it will all play out is a waste of my energies. 

So, just for today, and for as many todays as I need to, I choose to accept what I cannot change, and just continue to make a difference in my little cubicle.

Soup for the spirit

EASY MINESTRONE (wheat-free)

One tetra box of chicken stock
1 cooked boneless chicken breast, diced
2 and 1/2 to 3 cups water (3 if using celery)
1 minced onion
1/4 diced turnip
1 stalk celery, diced fine (optional)
3 diced carrots
2 medium potatoes, diced
1 to 2 Tbsp summer savory
1/2 tsp pepper
1/2 to 2/3 can (5.5 oz) your favorite tomato paste
1/4 tsp ground ginger

Soup in the process of cooking vegetables.
It's so good on a wintry day.

Put the stock and water in a large (4L) pot with the chicken, onion, and turnip (and celery if you wish) and bring to boil. Lower heat to medium and boil uncovered for 30 to 40 minutes. 

Add carrots, potatoes, summer savory and pepper and continue boiling for another 20 to 30 minutes to meld the flavors together. 

Then add tomato paste and ginger, bring to the boil and reduce heat. Simmer for about 2 to 4 minutes, stirring frequently so the broth won't stick to the pot. The soup will be thick, something like the consistency of mulligatawny (or perhaps Irish Stew). However, the taste is like minestrone - without the seeds. Serve alone or with garlic bread.

When I awoke this morning and looked outside to see a snowstorm in progress, I knew today would be a "soup day." I'd seen ingredients last night in the fridge, so I decided to put my creative cap on at around 11:30 this morning. The result was a delicious minestrone-chicken-vegetable soup that stuck to our ribs and hit that "it's cold outside, let's hunker down" spot. My impromptu recipe appears above. It turned out better than I thought it would with no recipe to guide me.

One of the bonuses to soup in the winter is the way it helps with the humidity level inside the house, easing coughs and getting rid of that annoying prickling feeling inside the nostrils. 

A nice thick soup is "comfort food" too. It warms the insides. 

When the cold winds of discouragement whip all around me, when I just want to pull the covers up around my head and tune the world out, that's when I look for a good helping of soup for the spirit. I start to remember all the good things, all the miracles that have happened in my life, all the blessings I've been given. I surround myself with wholesome, hearty helpings of wonderful, uplifting music and the caring company of true friends. These things feed my spirit - they make me feel warm and cared for inside, grateful for even the smallest things and even more grateful for the big things. 

I let that simmer. I linger over the good feelings they give me. I dwell on those great experiences and as I do, more bubble up to the surface. And when the "soup" is just right, when the goodness of those gifts lends flavor to all the other things in my life which might be somewhat bland, I allow myself the joy of letting it feed my innermost being. 

It's okay. That's what soup for the spirit is for. 

The New Normal

I remember a time, not long ago, when I had to think about every reaction I had before I could decide whether to go for it or not. Something would happen and rather than "doing what came naturally," I would need to pass it through a filter, one that said, "Is this something over which I have any control? If it isn't, I need to let go of it!!" 

It felt awkward. I wasn't used to living like this. However, eventually I got to see some positive results, which motivated me to keep doing it. And, in some cases, the new behavior patters slowly superseded the old ones and I didn't have to think or be intentional about my responses to things. 

Responding instead of reacting started being the "new normal."  Then I started not even noticing that I was doing anything differently than before - unless someone else called attention to it. 

That's what happened yesterday. I forget most of the details, but there was a situation at home where someone wanted to discuss something that was quite uncomfortable for me because it involved me expressing an opinion I knew would not be well-received, risking losing my cool and saying something I would regret. In the past I would have clammed up, not said anything, let someone else speak for me, or I would have held it all in and then exploded, leaving emotional wreckage behind. 

However, that's not what happened. I made it clear that I didn't want to discuss the topic, but I realized that this was NOT something I could wriggle out of!! So ... I let my feelings be known in a respectful way, and I didn't fly off the handle doing it. I listened, accepted what I needed to, spoke my mind and then let the rest go. I didn't lash out, I didn't shoot a biting, sarcastic remark out there and stalk off, and I did navigate the conversation without hurting anyone's feelings or working myself into a lather. 

I got through it and then I forgot it. Just like that.

The next day, I heard about a conversation that an observer in the situation had with my hubby about how much I had changed in the last few years. She then started to outline the way I would have reacted and behaved before I started on my journey of inner healing. 

Her observations really kind of floored me ... not because they weren't true - they were - but because I'd come to expect the way I responded to the situation as "the new normal." It had become part of me to the point where I didn't have to think through every moment, every remark. 

That is encouraging. It gives me hope ... because I see how far I have left to go in this journey ... that someday I will look around at emotionally lush pastures and sunny skies, able to accept and to give help from and to those who need it and from whom I need to receive it. 

It'll probably take a while. Yet - I'll get there. . . one day at a time.