In Six Words

Sometimes I find my heart on someone else's page. It's like coming face to face with a stranger I know so well; it's like having someone else introduce me to myself.

Check out this excerpt from Signs of Life, by Natalie Taylor. She has me thinking in six-word increments.

~~~

I decide to wander through Borders bookstore for a while. I find a book called, "Not Quite What I Was Planning."

Smith magazine invited its subscribers to submit their own six-word memoirs. The book was inspired by an Ernest Hemingway Line: "Baby shoes: for sale, never worn." Hemingway proved that an entire story could be told in six words.

The book is amazing. It's funny and sad. I want to meet all of the people behind the quips.

"I'm ten and have an attitude."

"I still make coffee for two."

"Accidentally killed cat. Fear anything delicate."

One of my personal favorites: "Birth, childhood, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence, adolescence."

Of course I think about my life in six words. What would it be? What six words would summarize the insanity of the last year of my life, let alone the first twenty-four?

What first comes to mind is "Single widowed mother trying to recover."

But then, I reason, if I only had six words, would I choose the word widow? Would I allow that word to make up my identity? Just a half-dozen words to describe everything I've been through - would widow make the team?

If I wanted to be as descriptive as possible, then certainly widow does explain a lot.

I am a widow, at least in title.

But after reading through some more six-word memoirs, I decide that if I only had six words, I wouldn't take widow.

"The female version of Indiana Jones."

That's not mine, that's an entry on p. 29. It's brilliant. I want to be friends with that girl. Maybe she's a widow too and she just decided that her adventurous spirit was more important than her marital status.

O The Places

It's graduation season. PreK, Kindergarten, High School, College, Grad School - graduates left and right.

Borders, Barnes & Noble, independent bookstores and probably Hallmark are selling their annual boost of this Dr. Seuss classic, Oh, the Places You'll Go!

I'm a fan of Dr. Seuss. And this book is indeed a classic, well versed and well gifted for such an occasion.

We have multiple copies.

I read it to the boys again recently, their bedtime story of choice.

A few of my favorite excerpts...

You have brains in your head.

You have feet in your shoes

You can steer yourself

any direction you choose.

You're on your own. And you know what you know.

And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.

You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care.

About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."

With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,

you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street.

And you may not find any

you'll want to go down.

In that case, of course,

you'll head straight out of town.

It's opener there

in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen

and frequently do

to people as brainy

and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen,

don't worry. Don't stew.

Just go right along.

You'll start happening too.

You won't lag behind, because you'll have the speed.

You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead.

Wherever you fly, you'll be the best of the best.

Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.

Except when you don't

Because, sometimes, you won't.

I'm sorry to say so

but, sadly, it's true

that Hang-ups and Bang-ups

can happen to you.

You will come to a place where the streets are not marked.

Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked.

A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin!

Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in?

How much can you lose? How much can you win?

And IF you go in, should you turn left or right...

or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite?

Or go around back and sneak in from behind?

Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find,

for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

I'm afraid that sometimes

you'll play lonely games too.

Games you can't win

'cause you'll play against you.

All Alone!

Whether you like it or not,

Alone will be something

you'll be quite a lot.

And when you're alone, there's a very good chance

you'll meet things that scare you right out of your pants.

There are some, down the road between hither and yon,

that can scare you so much you won't want to go on.

Stop right there. Tyler was stuck on this page. He really didn't want to turn the next. He needed to think on this page, this stanza, this illustration. The things between hither and yon, the things that will scare you right out of your pants.

Even as I pushed him further, he kept flipping back to this page.

Things that will scare you. He was stuck.

Eventually, we finished the book, with my gentle prodding.

You'll get mixed up, of course,

as you already know.

You'll get mixed up

with many strange birds as you go.

So be sure when you step.

Step with care and great tact

and remember that Life's

a Great Balancing Act.

Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.

And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed?

Yes! You will, indeed!

(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)

And as I kissed him good night, he flipped back to that page. He lingered.

I whispered to him the seeds he and I have been sewing into his heart, "Be strong a courageous, kiddo. The Lord your God is with you wherever you go. Lie down and sleep in peace, for God will keep you safe."

"Good night, Mommy."

"Good night, sweet boy."

I'm pretty sure we both fell asleep thinking of that page.

The Gift of Weeping

When God heard them,

he was very angry;

he rejected Israel completely.

He gave his people over to the sword;

he was very angry with his inheritance.

Fire consumed their young men,

and their maidens had no wedding songs;

their priests were put to the sword,

and their widows could not weep.

~ Psalm 78

His wrath rained on Israel because they continued to turn from God, they questioned his faithfulness, and they forgot his greatness.

The worst of all things happened to them.

This psalm looks at the various hardships for different groups of people,

and I read that the widow could not weep.

That was the worst that could happen to her:

she could not weep.

This impacts me profoundly.

Weeping is a gift.

It cleanses.

It renews.

It quiets.

It strengthens.

It releases.

The worst is when a widow is unable to weep.

Not when she chooses not to, not when she has reasons to smile, but when she wishes for the cleansing release of weeping, and it will not come.

Weeping is a gift.

Ears, Noses, Throats, and Strength

I took Tucker to an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist last week. The poor kid has something going on in there that makes him have to breathe through his mouth at all times, perpetuates a constant runny nose, makes him snore, and doesn't allow him to chew with his mouth closed (since he can't close his mouth and breathe simultaneously).

We need to get to the bottom of this. Off to a specialist.

As we sat with the nurse before the doctor came in, she asked us all the typical questions that accompany such a visit.

Many of them involve family history.

Has anyone in your family experienced sleep apnea?

Has anyone had chronic tonsil infections?

Has anyone had tonsils/adenoids removed?

Has anyone...

Has anyone...

Has anyone...

So many of these were true of Robb.

And I found myself saying, "His dad did... Well, his dad was... His dad had..."

His dad. And past tense.

All of this makes it sound alarmingly like I am single by choice, like 'his dad' wasn't my husband, like we were perhaps abandoned by a man who didn't care.

And I am committed to honoring my husband's name for the rest of my days. The words may be hard to say, but I will not welcome assumptions.

"I'm sorry - I need to tell you this before we go any further. My husband died two days before Christmas. Tucker is built just like his daddy, and many of these questions pertain to my husband. I'm answering as well as I can, but some of them... well, I just don't know all the answers. I wish he were here to answer with me."

She put down her pen.

"Oh... oh, my. He died? Just recently? As in, this past Christmas?"

"Yes. As in, five months ago."

Her face went white. Her eyes filled with tears.

She said, "I'm sorry... I just don't know what to say. I don't know what to do with this. You are so, so... so strong."

I don't really know what to say when people comment on my strength. I don't feel very strong; I simply feel present. I don't feel like I can handle this, but I don't feel like I have a choice.

My children need me. I have no choice but to be strong.

But here sat this nurse, making eye contact with a woman who was vertical, dressed, speaking on behalf of her children and deceased husband, making conversation, and not moled away in her home.

And I imagine that in that instant, she thought of her husband, her children, what on earth she would do if she were in my shoes... and then she thought I was a picture of strength.

Maybe I am. But only by the grace of God.

Really, I have a little boy with some breathing issues, and I need answers. I need help. And I have to do what I have to do.

The same thought process leads me to call a plumber, pump my gas, register for PreK and Kindergarten, put the laundry away, and put cereal on the table every morning.

Because I just have to do what I have to do.

And for the boys who need me, I'll do everything. And anything.