Barking Backwards

Mr. MacDonald seemed so old when I was a young fourteen just starting high school. But as I reflect back, I realize that he was probably the age I am now. He taught my freshman English class and he loved poetry.   The first poem we studied was:

“The old dog barked backwards without getting up, I can remember when he was a pup.

He spent so much time on that little poem.  I think it was two solid lesson days spent on dissecting it and discussing its hidden meanings.   It made such an impact that of the many fascinating things I learned in my high school years this little poem remains in my memory.

I’ve been feeling a bit like that old dog lately.   I’ve spent much time this summer healing my injuries from the car accident and healing requires stillness.  The longer the healing process took, the more I realized that the stillness has been good for my healing heart as well.   

Perhaps all the times this past year or so when God told me ‘no’ when I signed up for some activity it was with good reason.  The number of times plans just didn’t work out for various reasons cannot be coincidental.   And the fun outings I did have were all the more special – with family and friends and each memorable in its own way.    I suspect that God knew I needed some stillness in my life to help my healing heart. 

I remember when I saw my oncologist a few months after Robert passed away.   She said it had been obvious to her how deeply we loved each other.  I shared with her that another acquaintance had mentioned how much she admired the care  and kindness with which we treated each other.   My doctor smiled sadly and said that the one problem with finding your soul mate is how much it hurts to lose them.   

If I had known this simple fact of loss earlier in life, would it have deterred me from finding my soul mate?  I think not.   I’ve always felt that living life with an open heart is so much more pleasant than a closed one.  Sure – you feel pain that others do not- but your joy is great.

My doctor’s comments helped me to understand that the depth of the unspeakable pain I was enduring was a reflection of the love we had shared.   I know that my heart is still healing.  My wonderful cousin pointed that out to me last year and it holds true today.   Healing takes more time than you expect.  And stillness.   Restful, quiet times set amongst the busier moments.   I may be barking backwards just a bit longer.  Although, I am starting to remember being a pup.  

Random Mondays

The song ‘Rainy days and Mondays get me down’ flitters across my thoughts.   I woke before my alarm and the brain cells were already humming with how to craft a narrative for work.  Perhaps it is just best to start work early and bank those hours to take off at a later day.   But I still have a few moments before I begin…enough time to make a special breakfast.   Why should that be reserved for Sundays?

I scanned the refrigerator for possible ingredients – bread, leftover fat-free ricotta cheese and cream cheese, half a can of sugar free cherry pie filling.   That pasta dish a week or so ago was great with the ricotta.  I had tried my sister’s French toast recipe and loved it.  Hmmm, oh yes, the leftover fat-free half and half from the chowder I made this weekend.  I hope Bea enjoyed the dish I brought her.  And eggs.  Of course, breakfast casserole.   I turn the oven to 350 and start cutting bread cubes.  Layer them into the dish and spread ricotta and cream cheese on the top.  Pour out the pie filling.  Top with more bread.  Pour on the beaten eggs and half-and-half with the spices.  It took less time than the oven pre-heat.  Place into oven and head to home office. 

Catch up on the email and start drafting that narrative.   The buzzer goes off.  Isn’t it funny how just about anything you create can be baked at 350 for 30 minutes or so?  I serve up a plate and indulge in a decadent breakfast at my desk.  And I confess it is a jammie morning.  Snuggled into a luxuriously soft sweater atop them.   Fresh mug of tea.  

The randomness of it makes it all the sweeter.  And I contemplate what I should do after work.   Should I take a steak out of the freezer and serve with baked potato for supper?   I do have those fresh asparagus I picked up at the market.  And lemon to drizzle over.  And I think some home-cooked squash from Thanksgiving is nestled in that freezer bin.   Why yes it is.  A feast day on a random Monday.  No need to get down. 

Modest Expectations

I used to have expectations.  Some were underlying assumptions of what life would be or how people would behave.  Some were more demanding expectations of how people would interact with me.  The last few years have taught me to let go of expectations.  

Some of my past great expectations were that although I’d experienced numerous quirky health issues I wouldn’t face anything really scary like cancer.  I just knew that I would retire in a few years and my husband and I would spend many contented years together in retirement.  After all, my husband was so healthy there was just no way something like cancer would dare attack his body. 

After having been proved wrong in these greater areas I have come to examine the smaller day-to-day expectations.  We all have them.  We expect someone to call us or say something that is not said.  We quietly expect people in our lives to behave certain ways all the time.  As a widow you find yourself in the unusual situation where truly people can’t do or say the ‘right’ thing for you.  Your emotions are on a roller coaster and most of the people in your life simply can’t understand the ride.  They will try and they will fail.  Sometimes they will get it right.  It is far better to seek acceptance.  My husband used to say:  ‘it is what it is.’

My suggestion is that we have much more modest expectations of the people around us and ourselves.  I by no means suggest that we live quiet lives of desperation.  I rely on the graces of God to provide for me.  I live in hope.  I just no longer get concerned if a person doesn’t call me.  I can always reach out to them.  And if someone says the wrong thing, I forgive unintended hurts more readily.  I realize that other people are struggling with their own failed great expectations.  And I always remember to be gentle with myself.  I am on a constantly changing journey in this life.  I don’t know what the future will hold but I trust it will be good.  Yet I know that I won’t have the long-term energy to be joyful unless I carry modest expectations.