Tag Archives: excitement

The Pianist …

was in the mood to play.  This has been one of those rare spaces of time that I live for.  Moments that move me past my everyday life and touch the very core of that which makes me who I am.  A time when emotions show themselves and then are pushed aside as the sheer joy of  music fills my spirit.  Before tonight, I didn’t realize how low my Spirit was feeling.  Putting on a smile for the onlookers is easy.  Those who don’t know what they are looking at take it at face value.  I had begun to almost believe it as well.  Until tonight.

I got all jazzed up and found that I was only going through the motions at the employee Christmas party.  Afterward, however, was the turning point of the evening.  I stopped by the house of two of my dearest friends. There was laughter, friendship and camaraderie that one can only get from those they are closest to.  And then the offer came.  The offer to listen as he played the piano.  After the first song, I simply burst into tears and was moved so deeply as they ran, unashamedly,  down my face.  It was as if the notes on the page weren’t there at all, such was the depth of the music.  I found myself feeling freed of every negative thought that was swirling in my mind.  The profoundness of the notes were so moving that my Spirit had no choice but to open itself, becoming released from burdens and sadness that I had not really, until then, been aware were there.

I felt transcended; removed from time and space .  There was nothing in my world at that moment but the musician and the music he made; his hands flying over the keys, the sound touching me intimately,  stimulating every cell in my body.  I felt awakened and content; calmness and exhilaration blending to become an emotion of its own.  Thoughts that had filled my head for days and weeks were swept away, leaving nothing but the serenity of hearing such brilliance being played in my presence.

It is hard to explain what the sound of a piano does to me.  It makes me feel breathless and full of something so wonderful that the world can’t touch. I consider myself immensely blessed to have a piano man in my life; and am thankful beyond what I have the capacity to relay in mere words that he plays for me.  I suppose it isn’t really for me, but for himself, but I like to think it’s for me because he knows I love it so.  Thank you, my friend, for sharing your gift with me.  I am richer now than I was only a few hours ago because you took me somewhere so ethereal that even my vivid and encompassing imagination has a hard time comprehending it.

Even as I write this post, the rain is beginning to fall.  I can now say, without reservation or hesitation that this has, without a doubt, been the best evening I’ve had in a very long time.

flowersfornini

Isaiah 55:12 ~ You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.

Birthdays …

the good, the bad and the indifferent.  Birthdays have always been a very cool thing to me, whether it is mine or someone else’s, I just feel happy.  Most of the time.  This year, my birthday came and went. There was cake and ice-cream, family, friends, co-workers; all the usual birthday suspects.  It was different, though.  This month started out with a fairly serious facial injury and mid-way through, adding insult (and injury) to injury, I fairly seriously injured my shoulder and cracked a couple of ribs.   Now it is no secret to the people who know me well that my mind, in the best of times, is a scary place to be.  During the worst of times, I walk around with a bio-hazard sign flashing above my head.

But, as I so often do, digress.  I can chalk part of it up to the end of October, that which I both long for and dread.  I have a love/hate relationship with that month and it nearly always makes me high.  November, however, is a month of coming to terms with the oncoming winter, saying goodbye to the leaves, hello to the bare sentries of winter and getting ready to be cold more often than not.  And my birthday is this month and that always makes me feel extremely special.  That was not to be this year.  With each new event, there were melancholic thoughts of days past, days that I didn’t care that much for when they were the present.  I thought much of my late husband and felt guilty, at times, that I was ready to let him be at peace and begin the process of getting on with my solitary (as that is how I like it) life.

I don’t discount the many blessings of the last year.  That would be wrong on so many levels.  The blessings have been numerous and I am thankful for each one.  Blessings sometimes get lost in the fray of life, though. I have family suffering from the loss of a loved one, dear friends that I am unable to account for and dealing with turning 45.  Any of these would be like turning a page during normal times, but when they all happen at once, well, it weighs on the mind.

Did it make my birthday less happy?  Yes.  Life has a way of doing what it wants.  That doesn’t mean that I can’t be happy today, or tomorrow or the next day.  It doesn’t mean that I am beyond hope.  Unhappiness is a part of living and if there is anyone who has lived their entire life saying they have never experienced it, then you have seen, up close and personal, a liar.

November is nearly over and the round of Christmas parties, Band concerts, Christmas plays and a thousand other things that I will be trying hard to find a place to fit will present themselves, (at the last minute, always at the last minute), and at the same time, working diligently to keep my sanity (a fine line at best).  While it is true that I’m closer to fifty than I was only a couple of days ago, that is the furthest thing on my mind.  I am happier now than I have ever been.  Free, so to speak, with a daughter in college and myself on my own.  But there are times, as everyone knows, when it would be nice just to have someone put their arms around me, saying nothing as I cry until the tears were gone.  There is nothing wrong with that.  It is not a sign of weakness, but proof of humanness; it is life.  It can be, at times discouraging, but in that moment that we find ourselves, unless we make it our mission, will not last forever.  I am already looking forward to doing it better and with more enthusiasm in the next year; whatever “it” may be.  I am a survivor and no matter what comes at me, I can depend on the Jesus to which I cling to lift me when my wings are too broken to fly on my own.  I am truly, humbly, honorable and indescribably blessed and that, I don’t want to forget.

Looking at the here and now can sometimes be overwhelming … but the here and now will be the there and then tomorrow, so don’t let it break you.  Let it get you down, cry when you need to, throw things if it suits you (my favorite thing to do in a crisis), but at the end of the day, realize that our life, our thoughts, our fears are part of what makes us who we are and without them, we wouldn’t really be anyone in particular, but like everyone else.  I like being different, even when it’s painful.  Though I have many regrets, there isn’t anything I would change because if I were to change them, my ability to relate and empathize would become obsolete.  An easy life is no challenge, but rising above the odds and making the best of the worst situations takes us to a whole new level.  It is my goal to serve my Lord and be the best that I can be for Him.   Be encouraged, my friends, for nothing lasts forever.  Nothing.

Lightning over Big Moccasin

Psalms 28:7 ~ The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart is trusted in Him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will praise him.

A Moment of Truth

Today was a learning experience for me; a day of growth, both emotionally and spiritually.  Everyone has them from time to time, often when they don’t really understand what just happened.  Before a couple of weeks ago, I’m not sure I would have understood what happened.   I have, after all, spent the biggest part of my life up to now battling, and more often than not, losing to, my insecurities.  As a child I hid behind the shelter that my younger, more athletic, attention-seeking sister provided.  She was bigger than life and the focus and attention was always on her, leaving me to bask in obscurity … feverishly hoping that in obscurity I would remain.  But … God has a way of putting me in situations that far, far, far exceed my comfort zone and at a precise moment of His choosing, he gives me a choice; live or die.

My childhood faded to teenager, with even more reasons to be insecure.  The more I tried to fit in, the further out of the loop I became until I felt like a party of one … even in the midst of a crowd.  As my teens rolled into early twenties, it seemed that the insecurity consumed me.  I became a slave to the words of other people, whether they were actually meant for me or not.  Every criticism threatened to cause me to simply collapse into myself, not unlike an exploding star.  I became easy prey for someone to take advantage of.  And they did.  And I did nothing.  I felt so powerless.  I was dying.  I had chosen to die.

I suppose it is apt that this blog contain some remnants of Jim as this, had he lived, would have been our thirteenth anniversary.  I met Jim unexpectedly and the moment I looked into his eyes, I knew something was about to change.  I was so broken when we met, and in my mind, beyond redemption.  I had lost my way, my vision, myself and most importantly, I had lost my faith.  Through the next ten years, he chipped away at the insecurity, pushing me to look inside myself and face demons that haunted me … he damaged the high wall I had built and allowed light to shine into paralyzed places in my heart.  He helped me to find enough of myself to build on.  I realize with certainty that I was stronger when he died than I was on the day I married him; his encouragement, faith and devotion instrumental in coming to that realization.

Now, back to today … without a bit of insight into why it was such a turning point, the accomplishment would really have meant nothing to anyone but me.  And so it happened … an older man that I came into contact with today was harsh, with a harsh tone and harsh words.  I immediately felt myself closing off at the possibility of a confrontation and began wondering what kind of terrible home life he must have to be this way… but this time, a little voice inside me said “I thought you were going to work on not doing that anymore”.  And, after a momentary feeling of shock at the confidence (a state of being I struggle with) that I had the power to change, I felt a lock slide open.  As though a mist had been lifted, I saw him not as someone with a difficult home life, but only someone who was different than me.  Someone who had a personality diametric to my own and not simply out to hurt my feelings.  I looked at him differently, as a human being with thoughts and imaginings of his own and I no longer felt the need to ball up and cry.  I smiled at him and conversed regularly in the face of his demonstrative behavior and he smiled back.  He was not out to get me, didn’t hate me and had no idea that he had the power to hurt me; he was just an old man being all he knew to be.  And I didn’t internalize it this time.  The insecurity that sometimes threatens to suffocate me took a serious hit.

There will be many who read this that will have no understanding of such emotions as insecurity and the lack of confidence that is evident here; those of you who are self-assured and confident and have been since the beginning.  There are some, though, and those are the ones I write to, that will.  I found out today that I do have the power to control my emotions to some extent by searching for what I didn’t see before.  The humanness of us all.  What an intoxicating feeling to know that there is still more to learn about myself and,  gloriously exciting, how anxious I am to learn it.  I am thankful, as always, to a loving God who shows me what I need to know to be useful in the places He intends to send me.  I wait with bated breath to see what comes next …

Isaiah 42:3 ~ A bruised reed shall He not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench: he shall bring forth judgment to truth

A squirrel’s tale

Tonight, my sister called me to regale me with a tale that still has me nearly hysterical with laughter.  To the best of my ability I will try to relate the story, as told to me, so that my readers may roll around in hysterics as well.

 

For the first time all week, the house was quiet.

My niece and cousin, Taylor and Emily, were sitting around the living room and Sophie was, for the moment, feeling better than she had in the last couple of days.  I haven’t felt so great myself this last week, so a momentarily calm respite was a welcomed time and a bit of relaxation was, as far as I was concerned, in order.

Leaving the girls in the other room, I walked into the dining room to look out on the back yard and gaze into the sky, wondering if it would be another rainy evening.  As it usually does, my gaze wandered to the pool; the clear water, blue like the tiled lining, was still and inviting.  The leaves in the trees trembled slightly in the light breeze and birds flew here and there as though playing tag.  It looked to be a wonderful time to sit down and just chill out for a while.

As I turned to go back and join the others, something caught my eye.  I blinked, because at first glance, I didn’t believe what I was seeing.  In an instant, the serenity that had been within my grasp was gone.

There, in the calm waters of the pool, was a squirrel and it wasn’t moving a muscle.

Having, as I said, felt less than stellar the last couple of days, I immediately felt a wave of squeamish nausea.

I could not face the thought of fishing a dead squirrel out of the swimming pool.

Without hesitation, I started calling the people I knew who could handle this situation with ease.

Any other time, they would be driving me bats, calling, texting, questioning… but on this night, it was as though they had all been transported elsewhere and there was no answer to any of my calls.

So, as a last resort, I called my husband at work to demand he come home immediately and get that thing out of the pool.  He was less than excited about the whole incident and frankly told me that he wasn’t going to leave work to get the squirrel out of the pool; but that someone had to do it.

He was even kind enough to tell me where I could find a pair of gloves.

Jerk.

I was on the verge of requesting to speak to the man who works with him to see if HE would come and help me.

But I didn’t.

I wanted desperately to scream, stomp and throw the phone into the pool with the dead squirrel.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I did what could likely be the dumbest thing I have done all year.

Turning back into the living room, I addressed Taylor, Emily and Sophie.  I told them calmly and concisely what was up and what they needed to do.  My niece promptly retrieved the gloves, donned them and was ready for action.

We went outside as a unit, myself, Sophie, Taylor and Emily.

As the two brave girls walked toward the pool, Emily shrieked “It’s moving!”.

Everyone sprang into action.

Taylor, wearing the heavy gloves, stood near Emily as they prepared to move what was now the nearly dead squirrel out of the pool.

Almost like a movie, the events that unfolded reminded me of a song that Ray Stevens sang about a rogue squirrel in a Mississippi church.  The squirrel was, as we say in East Tennessee, playing possum.

Not only was it not dead, it was very much alive.

It jumped out of the pool and the two brave girls turned into stomping, dancing, flapping, screaming, squealing babies.  The dog, a dachshund of all things, began chasing the squirrel around and around the pool.  The girls continued their dance of terror as Sophie began screaming for me to not let the dog kill the squirrel.

She didn’t seem to mind that the squirrel was dead when it was dead, but once it showed it had plenty of life, it became an issue.

So there I stood with two half-grown girls freaking out, a five-year old freaking out and a dog trying her very best to catch that blasted squirrel, who by now was also freaking out.

After several rounds in and around the pool, the squirrel finally realizing it had a brain in that walnut sized head, jumped upon the deck railing that encloses the pool and made his way into the back yard and out of sight.  After the adrenaline waned and everyone had calmed down enough to go back inside, I made a decision.  Since Sophie was feeling better and there were two babysitters on the premises, my mind was made up.  I had to get out of the house.  So, I left the three of them watching a movie and am now on my way to Wal-Mart.

If I can only get my hands on some cream horns, nobody will get hurt.

* I laughed so hard when my sister told me this, as a matter of fact, I am still laughing.  While I realize this post is not about photography, or encouragement or even greeting cards but laughter and camaraderie among a bunch of girls, I felt it was important to relate it.  Laughter is, after all, one of the very best medicines.  Enjoy the post and laugh out loud if you feel like it.

I’d rather (NOT) be staked to an anthill after all

The first leg of the 2011 Family Vacation began this morning, uneventfully, at around 7:30 am.  The trip over the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina, well into the muggy depths of South Carolina and into the swampy terrain in South Georgia went at a fairly fast pace.  There was a good bit of traffic and actual congestion in some places, but the Indie certified driver I was following changed lanes at the speed of light with very little use of that little stick on the steering wheel that makes either the left or right back light blink, depending on which way you are swerving… i mean merging.  Not far from Savannah, we decided, as I was begging for food, to stop for lunch at Burger King®.  I was in the mood for a hamburger and didn’t really care where it came from.  My family, willing to accommodate me as I think they were close to collapse from hunger themselves, were just as happy to be at Burger King®  as I was.  After eating my junior whopper without ketchup and what onion rings Sophie didn’t steal from me, I hurried outside to photograph one of my favorite things… Spanish Moss.  It was hanging from the branches of the huge trees like the tresses of some long ago princess, blowing in the hot breeze of a South Georgia Summer, but unperturbed by the heat or the wind, it was just there and it was beautiful.  I managed to get several shots with my Pentax, but being an avid droidographer as well, (a phrase used by a fellow tweep, @Curt Fleenor), I wanted to get some shots on my motodroid.  There were several  large trees all with an ample amount of the lovely moss hanging, in places, nearly to the ground.  As it was a public place with an access road passing by, I wanted to be certain that I wasn’t in the road.  It is hard for me to concentrate on anything other than the subject once I get started photographing something and being ran over by a passing car was not on my list of things to do today.  Between the access road and the Burger King® parking lot, there was a lovely little patch of grassy-looking flowers with some shrubs in the middle.  It looked like the perfect oasis to stand while I scouted the best vantage point for the droiding shoot.  I stepped into the grassy mound which seemed to sink under my feet.  I remember thinking it reminded me of a bog-like area at the top of Sammy’s Hill near my home.  Before the thought was complete in my mind, I felt this intense burning sensation.  I looked down and, much to my horror, I could not see my feet or, two inches above my ankles, my legs.  They were red with FIRE ANTS.  Now, such beating, jumping and swiping you have never seen.  I had heard of fire ants and their ability to cover their intended victim quickly, but had never, first hand, experienced anything like this.  I counted, once I was certain all the ants were off my person, 72 bites on my feet an ankles.  Now while that number seems really high, at least to me, it is important to remember that the ants were on my person no longer than ten seconds.  The other important thing to remember and one I am trying not to find fascinating, is that there were hundreds of them.  It was appalling, frightening, horrifying and completely, totally enthralling that they could do what they did in so little time.  As completely befuddling as it was to my parents and, if I have to say it, to myself, I consider it a rite of passage that I was deep in the Southern recesses of Georgia where the Spanish Moss grows, photographing a beautiful thing of nature and was attacked by fire ants.  It may seem lame that it was in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant and it may make some folks roll their eyes and think that my sister was right and that I am a dork.  I don’t deny it anymore than I deny getting a real taste of Savannah was a cool experience, even if it did require benadryl to thwart a potentially severe allergic reaction.  While I’ve never had a severe reaction to an insect bite, I’ve never been bitten by so many at the same time.  I’m sure the patrons of the restaurant thought I was having a seizure, but no one came to see if I were dying.  After the initial OMStars! moment, I found it to be pretty neat.  I have decided, however, that this experience has taught me two things.  First, it turns out that, after all is said and done, I actually would prefer to go to WalMart than be staked to an anthill.  While I hope not to be devoured by an alligator or attacked by a rogue dolphin while in Florida, I do hope for some more interesting, fascinating and OMStars moments in my otherwise boring life.  I could just have easily been in the wilds of Africa or deep in the Rain Forest for all the excitement I felt at this small, though painful, event.  Who knew that being staked to  (well, actually just stepping on, but staked to sounds more profound) an anthill could make me feel so proud to be a photographer.  I guess there are some things that are only to be understood by a photographer’s heart. And second on the list of things this experience taught me… it was so worth it to get shots of the moss that so fascinates me.  So it was, in the end, since I didn’t have an anaphylactic reaction and die, a quite remarkable experience and as I said, well worth the pain of a few hundred biting, stinging, itch-inducing, burning-sensation causing, ants.  With such an experience on the first day, well before our destination was reached, I can hardly contain my excited expectations of what I will experience tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.  I love being a photographer, even when it hurts.  Tomorrow is a new day and I can’t wait to see what awaits…