The Spandex Curse

Sunday morning, needing to breathe some fresh air, I stopped at a tiny coffee shop here in Magnolia where they make my favorite decaf latte with almond milk drink.

The coffee shop, located in a deserted looking minuscule strip mall, has a male barista and a barbershop feel. Beside the male barista, a man in his 40s or 50s, two other gentlemen were occupying the small space, one on a stool to my left and another paying for his order.  All three laughing. The laughter and under the breath later on giggles were coming and going like a tidal wave and I smiled, happy to see them having a good time. I ordered my coffee, paid and waited. Picking his own coffee the man by the registered left for few seconds then returned, taking a seat on a stool next to the other, all three still giggling. One of them kindly let me in on the humorous secret.

“He just got caught staring at a guy in spandex.” Another wave of laughter.

“You wonder sometimes if people look in the mirror before they leave their house and think: sure, I look alright!” The other one, who got caught staring, now facing the wall, head bowed low and away from me, as if ashamed by his misfortune, spoke.

‘He’s still recovering.” The first man clarified to me, while everyone else kept laughing, me among them. The victim turned around and continued.

“And he was not in good shape…more laughter…I mean he was fat…in spandex.” The poor guy still looked terrified but what he’d witnessed that day and we joined him in laughter.

“I’ve had few such recoveries myself,” I replied, now holding my coffee.

“Have a good day.” I wished them still giggling and left them behind to their recovery ward and medicine. I love the way men talk. Simple, to the point and always with a touch of humor.

Have a great day:)

God Bless:)

Homelessness of the heart

The heart, fatigued and aging, is always on a journey. She starts full of such light but her innocence has been beaten out by shrewd beasts pretending to be her friends. Promises were made to her only to be broken, and the pattern repeated enough times that she hardened and no longer ventures out to the pastures. For a time sheer anger filled her every corner, as a result, she only lashed out. At other times she received kindness and a soft caress and she melted within and without. She loved back and gave herself gladly for it was worth it, but despite the good life and love, she knew someone was missing. Most everyone else called it something, but to her, it was someone. This, someone, was hard to understand or see, its presence was only felt when she took the time, but most days she was busy giving. She often finds herself homeless, even if for a short period of time, or longer. It’s the rejection that builds the lines of sadness and its the acceptance that builds the wrinkles of life, but despite it all, this someone is who she really longs for, a presence beyond her wisdom and time, someone she heard of from so many voices but there’s still a verdict out for what she really thinks of this someone, yet, it’s the someone she longs for because only that someone understands her potential. At times, the heart rests, fully content within her existence, she wants nothing, she needs nothing, she just is. And that someone is always close by in such moments, so she rests and listens. Maybe today she’ll finally meet someone. If not, she’s still happy, even if tired. -Carmen McKnight

The bubble, or the marshmallow as Chet calls it, is getting to us all. The claustrophobia, the lack of fresh air and the stuffiness are not elements a human being was created to thrive in. This environment is digging out of me an issue still unresolved.

This struggle has been unbeknown to me until earlier this year when my heart divulged, as a result of prayers and contemplation, what’s been hidden very deep within the layers of the soal and once exposed the tear glands shed years of struggled emotions. I’ve felt homeless within my own home and heart for many years. As a result, I’ve operated out of an orphaned spirit for years. While young, I had the strength to pretend otherwise. Age brings a whole lot out of the canister.

Let me explain.

I was told, while young and growing, that the home in which I lived was not mine and I could be kicked out anytime I stepped out of line. Now please remember this, I have forgiven my father, there are some old wounds that still need healing but all in all a lot has been healed already and life is good.

When a child grows up with the notion that there is no place in this world for them a complex called the orphan’s heart sets in and with time builds strong roots. When a heart does not have a home, as I suspect most people feel that, it always stays busy searching. That’s actually good.  Searching means moving and movement is life and life-giving and one day the answer or part of the answer will reach those who search. It was the man, in its weakness that hurt us and it’s man in its strength that helps us heal. God built both of these men from the ground up, man chose, consequences followed. So what was once torn down it can be built up twice as strong.

Thanksgiving is a holiday celebrated in the heart of a home, as it should be. But some may feel like you’re intruding like you’re a foreigner like you don’t belong. But we always belong, maybe not in that home, but there is always a home for everyone.

As I’m walking my road towards growth I keep on asking myself which wolf will it win? Lie or Truth? The answer is The one I feed.  

There is nothing weird about a struggle, it simply means we’re all human beings and the growth process within has not ended yet.

Gob Bless:)

 

P.S When happy, I don’t feel the need to write blogs. It’s as if those moments of happiness are so personal writing about them would only taint and diminish their value. But hardships and trials trigger my creative juices so much that I begin a downloading process of imaginative and heartfelt moments who, by some odd impulse, I need to share. I’m sharing this with you when I’d rather keep it private. Weird.

 

 

 

Our world and its influence on us

As you can see from the pictures below, we’re living in a bubble during the following renovations months.IMG_3392IMG_3485-1E2F020C0-7348-405B-BDA7-3606DA812B47

Due to asbestos and lead findings in the windows seals, the whole building, along with all the windows, has been fully wrapped in a protective white plastic sheet. At least it’s not black:) Even though it’s suffocating and unpleasant at least is a temporary inconvenience. In comparison to other people’s lives who have been ripped apart by all sorts of tragedies, this inconvenience is minuscule. So I’m greatful.

I find myself outdoors taking daily walks and on such walks, sometimes, I bond with neighbors. This morning I was talking to a retired female who used to work for the Post Office and lived in Seattle, where she was also born, most of her life. There were a few years back in the old days spent in Canada when she used to be married to her first husband, who happened to be a Canadian. She liked living there, mostly but found herself frustrated over a few of the socialistic perks, specifically health care. While talking about this and that she turned the conversation towards the politics. I understood the temptation since we just had mid-term elections on the 6th of November. I could swear that suddenly I was talking to my in-laws. She used the same terminologies and verbiage, the same quotes and so on. The thing is, my in-laws and this woman never met, to my knowledge, yet her words were eerily similar if not verbatim to those of my-in-laws when it came to her political point of view. I walked away knowing such verbiage was learned from TV news reports or newspaper articles, which reminded me how powerful the media is in shaping people’s minds. And that gives me a lot to ponder on regarding my personal thoughts and beliefs which I constantly evaluate and re-evaluate and change when needed because inevitably our world has an influence on us.

On a personal note, I have a part-time job now and it feels fantastic to get back into the swing of things. I’ve joined a book club as well and being part of the community around me is good not only for the soul but for the body as well. Small steps, giant accomplishments:)

Chet’s B-day, yesterday, was a happy event celebrated in the intimacy of our family:) Next week we’ll be celebrating my beautiful girl Meleah’s B-day:) I can’t believe she’s turning twenty-two years old. Time sure flies when you’re having fun, or even when you’re not having fun:)))

Merrill moved in about three months ago and we’re complete again, even if a little cozy in the small apartment. I would much rather have it this way.

Happy with our lives, thankful to God for health, peace, and love. I hope you’re doing well. (For the Lyme sufferers or all other autoimmune disease sufferers, keep on fighting because there is light at the end of the dark and most days unbearably painful season you find yourself in now. Psalm 23 rescued me.)

God bless:)

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