http://youtu.be/-H_BwyiwbB4

My oldest son is the guy in this commercial.  He made it over a year ago and it just now is playing in my area.  So wild to see his face pop up during the Caps game or during the morning news.
He's finally gotten himself a couple of jobs and can get by financially on his own.  All he needs now is persistence, patience, and a big break.

     The last few years I've come to appreciate that my New Year resolutions fail because they are proclamations of what I am going to attempt to do all by myself, in my own strength. They last about a flat minute. 
       This year, I've asked God to show me where He desires me to go with Him.  The answer appears to be this:  Do the work.  No matter my mood or my feelings or circumstances, show up and do the work:  the work of prayer, of care for my family and friends, of doing what has to be done to manage my health and my home and my gifts.
        In the place of my usual overzealous pounce on a list of resolutions that I quickly lose steam over, I feel a budding of inner strength and peace.  We will make progress this year, God and I together.

Blur and whirl of days.  I've been putting one foot in front of the other and dragging myself back to bible study.  I took a break after daddy died; I just didn't want to be around people.  I'm an old curmudgeon, I think. 
Coming back to daily study after a hiatus has been like coming out of the shade into the sunshine.  It was pleasant enough in the shade, but I hadn't realized that I had gotten chilled there.  Beth Moore's study, Inheritance warmed me all the way to the core and CBS study of Luke is reminding me of how I want to Live and not just exist.  The miracle of God's word is that it brings just what we need when we need it, if I read it.

My blog is like a lot of other things in my life, only halfway invested in.  I start something and then I loose steam for various reasons and find myself back in my own little corner.

I had lunch with my son today.  He's created a mess with his car insurance; ignoring the notices that said it was time to pay up.  My husband told him a million times that he would pay it for him and yet...my son ignored it.  So the DMV will take his license and his tags if he doesn't have insurance and my husband said he was done offering his help.  Enter Mom, me, pushover queen.  I got on the phone and paid the insurance and arranged for the form that has to done because I can't have him loose his car and then his job.

He wants to live at home so he will have money to "have fun".  I told him that the prodigal son returned home when he was ready to accept the life his father had for him.  Not because he wanted to have more "fun".

I know my son is an addict; whether to drugs or alcohol.  And at the moment, being high on substances is how he wants to live.  Day by day and bit by bit I am letting go of my hopes for him.  I am letting go of my addiction to "helping" him. 

These two ladies walking on the beach are two of my daddy's three sisters.  My brother and I ran into them one Saturday many years ago as he and I were walking on the pier.  We spotted them and stopped to talk.  I snapped this picture as they walked off toward their cottage.

 

The woman on the right is Aunt Iris.  She died in November 2009 at the age of 83.  She was, in my mind, a true southern lady.  She dressed well, spoke beautifully and had a passion for the beach.  I didn't know her very well although she occasionally would stop by the house and visit with my daddy.

Aunt Iris, daddy and Uncle J

The other is my Aunt Mary.  For many years her family called her Pee Wee because of her stature.  She is a tiny little dynamo with a bawdy sense of humour.   Her husband died of tuberculosis when she was pregnant with their third child.  She worked long hours and never dated.   When all of her children were on their own, she met a urologist who courted and married her.  She announced that she was no longer Pee Wee:  she was Mary.  Her new husband promised her she'd never have to work again.  They traveled regularly in their Winnebago and had the time of their lives.

In recent years, Aunt Mary developed ovarian cancer.  She lost her beautiful white hair and wears lovely hats that coordinate with her cane, which she uses because of the intense pain in her hip.  At 84, she still drives; a frightening thing to witness.  On Tuesday morning, July 5, she had gotten in her car to drive herself someplace, sending her 91 year old husband into the house out of the oppressive heat.  An hour later, he happened to look out the kitchen window and he spied her sitting in the car struggling to open the door.  No one is sure if she ever left the yard or not.  Her keys were in her lap; her things on the seat beside her.  She had suffered a massive stroke.

I talked with my Uncle J on the phone today to ask him how my aunt is doing.  His voice was thick with tears as he said: "She can't move her whole right side.  She can't speak and you know, Mary always has something she wants to say and it just hurts me to think she can't say what she wants to say.  I've been thinking about the ten of us and when Mary goes, I'll be all that's left.  Who will I call?  I always call Mary when I can't remember how a thing goes or who somebody is."

It feels like sorrow is just rolling over my daddy's family.  Then Aunt Mary's granddaughter, who was due in mid-August with her first child , Aunt Mary's first great-grandchild, had complications and was induced.  She gave birth last night to a tiny, but healthy, baby girl. 

Someone coming and someone going. 




 

Daddy's memorial

Somewhere I read:  A mother is only as happy as her unhappiest child.  I'm finding that phrase to be true in my own life.  I'm trying hard to enjoy my home and family and friends, but always there is a film-sometimes darker than others-a film of sorrow, worry, and grief.  I think it must be like this when you've lost a child to death; always part of you unavailable for life.

I think it is important for me to be thankful that my son is alive.  Every day that he is alive I can have hope that God will pull him from the abyss of addiction that he dwells in.

I had a phone call from my oldest son whose living in California trying to "make it" as an actor.  He asked me to pray for him that he would get some money or acting work.  I don't know whether to be happy or sad over that request.  He's made it clear that he isn't buying into Jesus and he isn't 100 percent on God.  I think that he thinks that he can live off of my faith as a kind of insurance policy.   Asking me to pray doesn't take any commitment on his part and who knows, maybe God will answer.
I recognize in my son the idea that God can't possibly help me do what I want to do for ME-God only helps people accomplish things that are noble and good.  This idea has kept me from pursuing many of my own interests, even though I don't do anything noble or good in their stead.   I refuse to live abundantly because how I want to spend my time seems frivolous.

I think I better pray for both of us to accept God's blessings and encouragement.