life as we (presently) know it

One of these days I'm going to read "Great Expectations" just so that I can feel like I have the right to use that marvelous opening line to describe my own life.

11/19/11

The holidays have descended and everything is so completely upside down and backwards. I am thankful for so much, even in this mire of sadness. I am thankful for every day, every good hour. Thankful for work. For the things that make me smile, and for the things that make me feel awful to the core. I'm thankful for every feeling in my heart.

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The mess in my (two) house(s) is inexplicable, given the fact that I've had nothing to do all day. I had plenty of time to clean at least one of them, or at least one room in one of them, or at least pick up the laundry or sweep the candy wrappers off the table that I've been sitting at all day, or at least the part of the day I didn't spend lying in bed watching crap on TV. I went to the store to order about 200 prints from my stash of about 500 camp photos, went to my friend's kid's carwash, and then went home and did absolutely nothing.

My friend Kristi, whom I work with - my loud and somewhat obnoxious but above all huge-hearted, wise and motherly friend - told me while scrubbing a hubcap that I need to start doing those things that are so hard to think about, much less do. Before any of those things can be thought about and acted on, the hardest thing of all needs to be done - I need to accept the reality that is moving ever closer, every day. Slowly, surely, inevitably.

I don't regret anything about my relationship with my mom, except for 1) the fact that I spent this day doing nothing, being nothing, accomplishing nothing, which she would definitely frown upon, and 2) it is, I'm told, going to end so much sooner than I'd thought. But that's typical human hubris, planning on having your mom around for as long as you need her.

11/21/11

Even in the best of times, since childhood, the holidays have been a source of depression to me. I don't know why. I have a great family, wonderful friends, a roof over my head, too much food on my table. My profession feeds so many of my passions. I have every blessing I could ask for. When I heard the news about my mom, I thought, this will be the worst holiday season ever. What a self-indulgent (and thankfully, fleeting) thought!

Lately every time a Christmas song comes on in a store or on the radio, I feel instantly brighter - I don't feel the trepidation that typically looms when holiday cheer is shoved in my face. And I've been wondering why, even going so far as to shove back the good feelings because now is not the time for those. But it IS the time for those feelings. I can't promise it will be, but there really is no reason that this shouldn't be a really festive Christmas.

Today I told my students I would be on leave from Thanksgiving until the end of Christmas break. I told them that my mom was very sick and might not get better, so I had to stay home and help take care of her. I would miss them and I expected only the best behavior and the highest quality work while they worked with a sub. My student, Q, whose grandfather just passed away a month or so ago and was out for days grieving that tremendous loss, raised his hand.

Q: "Do you want to borrow some crutches?"

Me: "Crutches?"

Q: "When my grandpa was sick, he had crutches. I could let you borrow them. For your mom."

Those moments in a teacher's life when you just want to sweep the kid up and hug him and cry your eyes out.

I listened to my voicemail two nights ago - I have a really bad habit of letting them pile up because when I see a missed call, I just call the person back without checking my messages - and realized quickly that what was run-of-the-mill or even annoying to me mere weeks ago is now one of the greatest treasures I have: voicemails from my mom, in which she sounds energetic, eager to hear from me, and healthy.

Yesterday was a Good Day. She was on her second day of a two-day break from radiation therapy and she was happy and alert. I read her a letter from her good friend, Jane, and an article about Norman Cousins, who in the 1980s researched the biochemistry of human emotions, and the correlation between a positive attitude and recovery from serious illness.

I talked to my friend Laurie, with whom I work closely, and said, "I am praying nonstop. But I don't expect a miracle."

She thought about that for a moment and said, "I think you have to, though."

And ... we do, don't we? Another of my coworkers, Tim, had emailed me Philippians 4:6 several days ago. "Don't worry about anything; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God."

I reflected on my previous thoughts about inevitability. Came to two conclusions: Death (and taxes) are a certainty for all of us, at some point in our lives; it's still our obligation to live life fully (and pay those damned taxes), and give life to the relationships we have been gifted with. Also, even if Norman Cousins was the biggest quack to ever spout off about the importance of a good attitude (let me make clear that I do not think he is a quack) - there is no downside to an attitude adjustment that opens the mind to greater possibilities and eliminates negativity based on, well, the lack of a need for it.

I'm not saying there won't be dark days. I'm just saying we shouldn't keep the windows shut when the sun wants to shine in.