A snapshot in time
I can't even...
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For weeks, I've been blocked when it comes to writing. Instead of spending time at my computer, I’ve been working on any and all house or sewing projects that I could find. No joke, I've spent hours sewing aprons, painting our decks and railings, helping Rick build trellises, and working in the garden with an atypical fervor. I finish one project only to look for the next. Poor Rick.
But finally, last week, I could see myself in the birds-eye view, “the fixer.” I've spent my life fixing. There was always so much to fix. I don't even like a new house because there's nothing to change or repair. I can see that I've spent the last few months with a paintbrush in my hand, fixing what I have the power to change. Those hours were calm, productive, and sweet, blocking some realities that are feeling insurmountable.
I can't even…
This week, I had my monthly scheduled meeting with
, my Substack whisperer. We met on Zoom. I had informed her before our call that I wasn't writing. We first discussed the most important topics: her recent engagement, as well as my grandchild. When she finally asked me what was up, I didn’t get five words out without choking up. I cried through the following few minutes as I explained my sadness, my fears, and my anger.This compassionate and gifted woman listened with concern and genuine care, responding in true whisperer fashion. She suggested that for a few posts, I write not to lead or heal others but instead to provide a snapshot of this time (an idea about writing that she received from her sister), to be used perhaps by me later or maybe for others. In other words, just putting on the page what's transpiring.
Here's my snapshot(s). And I can't even…
One day, I will look back at the days just before my granddaughter's birth, remembering the mix of anticipation and heavenly joy coupled with anxiety, fear, and utter disappointment. The world has turned upside down just months before her arrival. Each and every day, the media assaults my last nerve with yet another story of hatred, fear, contempt, and a denial of what I believe to be true about my fellow man. It's been a test, to be sure, of my determination and strength. I can't even…
The moment my granddaughter began her journey to earth, I knew. I heard her speaking to me in a dream. A few hours after waking, I realized that the voice I had heard in my dream was my grandchild's. This belief, while it may not stand the test of any critic or disbeliever, is a truth I hold dear. I knew that day that she was letting me know she was on her way. And it wasn't too many months later that my belief was confirmed. Amy was pregnant, and it was indeed a girl. The anticipation of her arrival filled me with a joy that I can't even…
My stomach churns each day as I learn of yet another desecration of the American spirit, the laws governing our country being ripped to shreds. I find myself turning my face from all American memorabilia, flags especially, thinking, "This flag no longer represents my America." It's been massacred by MAGA, turned into a fabric I don’t recognize or support, and I can't even…
I turn 70 only months after my sweet girl arrives. The thought of a grandchild has always been a lovely dream to me, but a reality I haven't spent a great deal of time thinking about. I never questioned my children about whether or when they might want to have children. I embraced my two children. There was a time I didn't know if my conceiving was even possible, as it took me quite some time. Because of that experience, a grandchild would be the icing on the cake. I'm about to find out how sweet that icing is. I can't even…
Having made a career as a court reporter for 20 years, the judicial system holds a dear place in my heart. While I never for one second thought the system was flawless, actually quite the opposite, I still always understood the crucial influence it had on our country. When we eliminate the checks and balances, as the current administration is working hard to do, we open ourselves to utter chaos, which is just the start. From there, I can't even…
There is a truth that we all work hard to forget, which is that, short of loving, nurturing, encouraging, and sheltering those we love, we are at a complete loss to protect them from the harsh realities that life at times offers. Deep breath. I can't even…
I grew up believing that I lived in a country that was open to all, a blessed blend of nationalities finding common ground when other humans in the world had somehow forgotten the golden rule and determined that they were somehow superior to all other human beings. Now, the United States is becoming the country that people need to flee. I can't even…
Last week, my son-in-law, Michael, was gifted a book from his friends about preparing for the birth of a child. With the end of Amy's school year and MIchael's work schedule finally slowing down, they were finally able to settle into quiet days awaiting their child. Reading in bed for hours and preparing food when hungry sounded so sweet. I can't even…
Days later, I received a call from Amy, in tears. Among the many great tips the book offered, one was deciding ahead of time what your wishes are if the baby dies. My throat closed immediately, and while I'd have loved nothing more than to rage against the author of the book, I instead worked to release the grip that the muscles around my throat had engaged so that I could encourage and do my best to calm my daughter. I gave one of my better narratives about childbirth. And then I hung up and fell to pieces. I can't even…
A suggestion for future authors of 'get-ready-for-baby' books: if you're going to suggest making plans for the baby's possible demise, you might want to add a warning label to the front of the book, advising readers to read chapter 23 during the first trimester, when the baby's viability is still uncertain. And under no circumstances should parents read chapter 23 one week before the due date when that baby has become family. I can't even…
Jordan and Brooke arrived this week to wait with us until Amy’s labor begins when we will all travel to be with Amy and Michael. Listening to their quiet conversations and the constant laughter that erupts numerous times throughout each day calms my soul. I can’t even…
Three days and counting. Thank you all for your support and messages across all fronts. I can’t even…
Oh, Sue, I love this so much! I think it's incredibly valuable to share these snapshots, giving us, your readers, insight into "what's working ya."
Beautiful writing. ❤️💕 beautiful post. I too speak with spirits... mostly animals, but my mother too. She visits me. 🌈💗 grateful for her love eternal.