There is no “news” in this post, so if all you wanted is the latest news, you can stop reading now. These are personal observations.
Some might say it’s raining cats and dogs. It’s a dark, dreary, wet and sometimes gusty day—but much celebrated in these parts.
As I watch wave after wave of winter storms roll through, I can almost hear the desert’s sighs of relief as long-denied moisture saturates its parched skin. Unfortunately, I also hear the squeals of glee from myriad weed seeds as they anticipate their imminent hatching. Oh joy.
In the desert we take the rain any way we can get it; the good with the bad. It makes for muddy walks, and the trash service called to inform customers if they live on an unpaved road they might not get their usual pickup.
The Internet was up and down like a yo-yo this morning—but in a few days we’ll be over it.
You may have heard that Southern California is also getting these storms —finally—and the snowpack is greatly improved and that, to me, is an indicator that the Light is indeed winning and things are turning around.
I’ve witnessed the extreme polarity of the energies of late, in many ways. The tug of dark and Light is palpable as the Shift is in progress. It feels frantic and tumultuous but calmer today, as though the rain is a release.
There have been oddities like missing my green light twiceon the way to work the other day because four—count ‘em—FOUR fire trucks over five minutes or so interrupted the traffic, as well as a fire supervisor’s pickup. In this little place that is astounding. I didn’t think we even HAD four ladders.
Moments later on the freeway there were several vehicles on the shoulder with a police cruiser and a rollover in the ditch. No emergency vehicles. They were all headed in the opposite direction.
The next day another fire truck delayed my light at the same time. Perhaps these episodes were meant to get me to slow down. Things have been hectic of late.
I heard staff hours at the store would be cut dramatically; that after the holidays and inventory they’re scarce as hen’s teeth. But mine haven’t been cut—yet. I was rather hoping I might have been released as just “seasonal help”, but I’ll go with it, however it works out.
I’ve had my “difficult” people this past week or two, both at the store and online, but also some remarkable ones.
A very tall lady came to the fitting rooms the other day to try on a number of items and shared that she was going to Washington DC the next day. She looked right at me (or through me) and said, “I appreciate all you do.” I thanked her and was taken aback when she returned for round two and repeated those very words before she left—as though she wanted to make sure I got ‘the message’.
But what was it? Did she mean she understood how hectic retail can be, especially at this time of year, and appreciated the cheerful service? Or was it intended in a broader sense? I had to wonder if she was more than just a customer.
I chose to assume she meant “all” I do, as in the blogging, etc. as well as my customer service at the store. Perhaps she was an angel sent to lift me up. Angel or not, she certainly did.
Yesterday a quiet, middle-aged woman tried on her selections and when she was finished she thanked me, looked into my eyes very intently, then hoisted her purse up to her chest and said, “I’m going to give you a New Year’s present.” She pulled out a CD like it was a $100 bill and said she had been to the concert with thousands of other people and knew she had to share.
The CD is brand new in cellophane, entitled, “The Invitation”, narrated by Lee Strobel, who is unknown to me. With a quick glance I could see it had religious content, and she was so pleased to have passed this treasure on to someone she believed would appreciate it and I thanked her sincerely as I was truly touched.
I will definitely listen with an open mind because I appreciate the gesture so much. I have no idea why she chose me. I wish I did. Do I look like that much of a train wreck that perfect strangers feel I need a leg up, lol? Perhaps there are more messages for me on the CD.
Best of all this week, hubby returned from his holiday mission in Calgary; a “twelve days of Christmas” he’ll never forget when his seriously ailing father rallied when all his kids came home to see him, but declined a couple of days later and they whisked him off to hospital again.
Hospital is where he belonged but he believed he was about to die and wanted to spend his last days at home. He is stabilized but still on the ward, fretting for release and his return home is open-ended. Dad will not get better, they say, but miracles happen every day.
I let him know that it’s his choice when to go, and that if he chooses to go soon he will be in a marvelous place to watch what is about to unfold.
I assured him he will not be judged, and that while all of us have made poor choices and have regrets about things we’ve said and done, we did the best we could under the circumstances. I told him there’s nothing to worry about, that he will be just fine with the angels, and so will all of us.
My husband has been through two family transitions with me, but never his own other than our dog two years ago, so this is a learning experience for him.
We two noted some magical shifts as events unfolded. Dad is often a “grumpy old man” and Mum has vented her frustration every time I’ve been with them or spoken with her. But at this point, it’s like the mortality aspect of their relationship hit her right between the eyes for the very first time.
She can’t sleep or even sit still for five minutes because she is full of anxiety about her life-long partner’s condition. He’s taking over a dozen different medications which have to be managed with complete accuracy all day long so they don’t cause lethal interactions. That’s Mum’s job, and she’s skating on thin ice herself.
We Skyped once via iPad over the holidays and I was astonished to see Mum reach out and stroke Dad’s head. She is a kind-hearted, generous, affectionate woman, but has never made a gesture like that toward her spouse as long as I’ve known them.
I also hear that the patient is always cold, and while they have had separate rooms for many years, Mum crawled in bed with him to spoon to keep him warm. What a different outlook she has now. It’s unfortunate that it takes a finite life to get us to overlook our differences and value each other; to realize what matters.
It was certainly a different Christmas for me this year. My mother didn’t fly down and my sister-in-law didn’t either as she decided this year she had better spend the holidays with her parents in Calgary since she has been here in the Valley of the Sun for the past several as she wasn’t on the best terms with Dad either. There are no accidents.
Since I was working a lot this year, hubby did all the decorating, a small tree, lights on the roof—everything but the baking. We pared down all of that to just enough to make it festive and have some goodies to offer company and sustain our traditions. And it was perfect.
It was the first time in 23 years that I was without my hubby for Christmas and New Years. But I had Mica, and my Canuck cousins and close neighbours came for Xmas dinner, so it was okay. Dad said it was the best Christmas they’d ever had, and that’s the way everyone wanted it, including me.
There were times over the holidays that as I watched people buying Christmas decorations or goodies I wondered if this will be the last Christmas as we know it.
Perhaps because it is such a special tradition with a lot of positive aspects, many of us will continue for a time to do as we always have done, and Christmas will fade away gradually. Or not at all; or will morph into something meaningful in a different way. I imagine that once the truth about our reality is known, some may stop the religious holiday celebrations cold turkey.
It wasn’t much of a ‘holiday’ for the family in Calgary. My husband and his sister completed the estate paperwork that Dad had begun and had it duly executed, put all the folks’ bills on autopay, arranged with Veterans’ Affairs for various facets of home care, shoveled still-falling snow (I was so envious!) a few times in one day, and moved the beds and PC down to the rec room so Mum and Dad wouldn’t have to negotiate so many stairs.
Hubby also put a hose and sprayer on the laundry tub so they could wash their hair down there next to the bathroom. They did everything they could to make life easier.
Despite all that, my other half didn’t forget me. I got the usual holiday treats imported from Canada, along with Habitant pea soup and he brought a supply of his favourites, too; Old Dutch BBQ potato chips and Quaker oatmeal muffin mix.
Funny how we appreciate things (and people) so much more when scarcity is involved.
We all have our challenges, and it’s easier to forget the pain when the blessings rain down occasionally. I’m having a glorious day off on a stormy day in the desert, drinking “vats”of Christmas tea, as my other half refers to it, eating Timbits and writing.
Later, weather permitting, Mica and I will venture out to do the misty mountain hop through the puddles. It doesn’t get much better than this—for now.
I hadn’t intended this post would be so long, but there it is.
I hope everyone out there in the blogosphere enjoys blessings in their life as they slog through the “soul-stretching” obstacles on the way to Shangri-la, remembering that it’s always darkest before the dawn. It’s going to be a helluva year.
Carry on, possums. Much love, BP.