tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25715580068106479722024-03-05T14:33:37.831-08:00Four Angels Momma (most days)Living a fulfilling, crazy, and chaotic life with one husband(28 years), four teenage daughters, a large menagerie of furry and feathered family members, and a very unwelcome chronic illness.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.comBlogger315125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-39827690423614913862015-01-10T16:41:00.003-08:002015-01-10T16:42:28.212-08:00Adrenaline<br />
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If I didn't look up then I would not have looked out on to the Pacific, and I would not have just noticed the Grey whale that spouted in front of my home and caused me to run outside with my husband not far behind me as I yelled "WHOOOOO-HOOO" at the top of my lungs. I would not have chuckled when my husband told me that I yelled so loud that I frightened the whale away. I would not have stood there for fifteen minutes, eyes firmly glued upon the water, feet firmly planted on the bluff, adrenaline pulsing wildly throughout my entire body. I would not have followed that whale with my eyes as it lazily swam underneath the pier, leaving me with a ferociously beating heart and an unexpected adrenaline rush.<br />
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What might you have missed today that would have left you feeling <i style="font-weight: bold;">alive</i>?Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-20551231363042951032014-07-26T18:47:00.000-07:002014-07-26T18:47:07.893-07:00A Writer's Soul <br />
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The humidity is staggering today as I sit confined to my bedroom, one of the only places in our home that actually has air-conditioning. You have been on my mind a lot, lately. Yes, YOU. My lovely, intelligent, sensitive, dynamic, unique blog readers, especially the ones who have stuck with me during my unplanned, unannounced, fade-into-the-ethers blog hiatus. I love you for sending me private notes, for continuing to check in on my blog, for knowing what I mean when I discuss my "Angel Daughters" in other places on social media. I adore you for cajoling me, for gently poking at me, and for not forgetting about me. I am not exactly sure why, but something shut down inside of me about a year ago. I began to seriously lose/doubt my writing voice and it started to frighten me…A lot. I believe that I was born with a "writer's soul" meaning that it feels very natural for me to paint my life in words and for most of my twenties and thirties, I kept that portion of my soul buried deep within my life of domesticated, wedded, maternal, Orange County lifestyle bliss. I put everything, and I mean <b>everything,</b> into raising my Angel daughters and maintaining a lovely marriage, family and home, but there was definitely a price to be paid for all of that loveliness because when the roles began to shift and I was not needed as much, I did not have a place to turn my attentions to. I am not at all saying that I would choose a different path if I could go back to those decades when being a wife and mother was more than enough. I am not even saying that in retrospect, I would have done very much differently because the product of all that I put in is a very successful husband who still loves me deeply after almost thirty years of marriage as much as I do him, and four incredible daughters who really are angels in so many ways. <b><i>But</i></b>, the thing about being in my early(very early) fifties now, is that I do have the luxury of hindsight and reexamination and reconsideration which is forcing me to take inventory as to what worked and what did not work so well. And one of the things that might not have worked quite so well for me is what I gave up as an individual and as a soul on a singular journey alongside a tribe of other souls whom I adore with all my heart. It really is not so much about what I gave up because what I gave up in some areas, <b>I gained in other areas tenfold</b>. It is much more about the things that I did not do for myself. I allowed myself to get lost in the mix of the lives that surrounded mine(and this includes those outside of my immediate family) in a way that caused me to forget who <b><i>I</i></b> am, who I was before I became a devoted wife and mother. I immersed myself so deeply, so fervently into who I always knew that I wanted to be, that I lost track of my own spirit and the things that called out to me as a singular person. I lost hold of those other things that define who we are and what we should explore in order to still remain relevant to ourselves. I completely ignored my writer's soul when I should have taken the time to nurture that part of myself. I dismissed my own needs as a separate entity when there was someone or something else that seemed more worthy(or more needy) of my time and attention. I allowed the voices of those around me to drown out that of my own. I allowed myself to wilt as they blossomed. <i>None of this was intentional on anybody's part.</i> It just happened. I am not placing the blame for this on anyone, including myself. Self-blame would only continue the pattern and that is something that I do not wish to continue. I will acknowledge the fact that I became who I am, who I was, because I did not have a proper role model. My own mother would tell you that she was a "stay-at-home" mother meaning that she stayed at home when my brother and I were in school, and then mysteriously disappeared on the days when we were actually at home. She would flit around with her friends going shopping or to lunch, never doing anything much of substance. Or she would send us to camp during the summers, much to my protest…Anything to get us "out of her hair". It felt like outright rejection to me and although I cannot speak for my brother, I do believe that the effect was even more profound for him than it was for me. Even my father, who did take the time to show me affection and attention when he was around, often made me feel insignificant by spending so much time away from our family by going on "business trips" and also by pursuing women outside of his marriage to my mother. He was a very strong father figure but he was(is) also extremely expert at compartmentalizing the different aspects of his life which is something that I realized and understood at an unusually young age. My earliest memory of this was when I was around eight years old and my dad would bring my brother and I into his office once in a while. He had a lovely secretary named Jennifer who I was also particularly smitten with. She was young and beautiful and smiled at my brother and I a whole lot when we would go in to visit. And even though she was seemingly wonderful, I would get a very strange sensation in the pit of my stomach when she would greet us, for I somehow knew that it wasn't just the fact that my brother and I were exceptionally adorable children that caused her to be so Popsicle-sweet. She was trying to impress my father. And as I look back now through much older and wiser eyes, I understand that Jennifer's focus was on my dad and not what pinchable cheeks my little brother had. I liked her and I felt abject contempt for her all at the same time. It is sad that an eight year old child was placed in a position that caused so much ambivalence at such an early age. It is sad that my parental role models taught me more about how I would behave as an adult not through their positive behaviors, but through the selfish behaviors that I would most adamantly try to avoid as an adult, wife and mother. I became just about everything that my parents, most especially my mother, were not. Extensibly, I worked very hard to encompass the qualities that my parents lacked the most, so that I would be a good wife, mother, daughter, granddaughter, sister, aunt and friend. I would include my daughters in my social activities. I would spend summers participating in outings <b>along with</b> my children. I would be <b>present </b>and not just pretend that I was. These were the most mindful years of my life. And yet, like my parents who successfully failed both my brother and me, I ended up failing someone very important too. <i>Myself</i>.<br />
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I am entering my fifty-third year of life as of about two weeks ago. Even at fifty-two years old, I know that I still have so many lessons to learn, only during this second half of my life(give or take a few) I believe that the lessons will be meant to be more about fine-tuning myself. My parents are getting not just older, but old, and with their progressing years they are becoming more like abhorrent teenagers who are definitely <b>not</b> as cute as they used to be. They are teaching me to be much more self-protective and much, much more forgiving…to myself. I can no longer languish in the self-serving nature of the expectations that they have set for me without also allowing myself to expect a certain level of respect and honor for me, their only child. I am, I have been, and I will continue to be a good daughter, step-daughter, wife, mother, daughter-in-law, friend, etc. <i>as long as</i> there is the balance of reciprocation in these relationships. I am not even requiring that the reciprocation be equal, just present. There will be a lot for me to muddle through as I decide where, when and how the boundaries will establish and reestablish themselves, time and time again. And if someone wants to be <b>exceedingly</b> angry with me for no valid or apparent reason I will no longer beg for their forgiveness. I will only forgive myself for not being the person that they would like to try to make me into. I will float above the guilt that I used to drown in. I will let them do them, and I will do me.<br />
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I will say it here as it will force me to be much more accountable from now on out. I am going back to exploring my writer's soul. Writing brings me clarity and balance and peace. Seeing my own words reflected back at me on a page allows me to feel validated in a way that nothing else does. It makes me feel heard and uninterrupted. I cannot be cut short by spasmodic breaks in my train of thought when I write. And because I am also a good listener, certain people cannot resist the temptation to take advantage of the spotlight that I seem to provide when they inadvertently interrupt what I might be saying out loud. Writing allows me to be heard without constant fits and starts that cause me to give up trying. One of my goals is to write a book. In order to accomplish this, I will have to honor the part of myself that is a writer. I will need to become more authentic about how I present my own story and if there are certain people who are a part of my story who might not like or appreciate what I have to write about them, then that will have to become a part of their life-lesson, no longer mine. Maybe it would have done them some good to have behaved better, kinder, more thoughtfully, or more respectfully. My story is about me, not about them. We are all adults here.<br />
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*If anyone has any suggestions about how to get started in a regular writing routine, please do share them with me! I would love some feedback about this as a fledgling writer whose wings are still quite wet!<br />
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And now, a few photos of the Four Angel's Momma family to catch everyone up a bit! I promise more in the near future. I hope that everyone is well!<br />
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So happy together. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angel Daughter Number Three and my beloved Angel Husband, Mark.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angel Daughter Number Two and her sweet boyfriend, Justin. AD4 is holding their puppy Layla Rose.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angel Daughter Number One enjoying her 27th Birthday in June!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angel Daughter Number Four is still dancing her heart out!</td></tr>
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<br />Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-89254553165303532872013-10-07T21:10:00.000-07:002013-10-07T21:10:56.406-07:00As We Grow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Another summer has made its way through the ever-quickening calendar of my life and I am taking some time to reflect upon the moments that still remain ethereally suspended within my mind and soul. It is strange for me this year. Strange because the important string of Jewish holidays, Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish new year), Yom Kippur (a time for atonement and forgiveness), Sukkot (the Feast of the Tabernacles) and Simchat Torah (the joyous celebration of the Torah, the Five Books of Moses, and the rejoicing over the completion and new beginning of the weekly Torah readings) all essentially took place at the end of summer, when they typically occur in early autumn. Sitting here with all of these significant holidays now in the past is making me feel as if I missed something and I am not quite sure what it is. A good comparison might be if Christmas was to fall on Thanksgiving this year (which Chanukah will) and then when December twenty-fifth rolled around, the day was treated as just another day in winter, Santa sunning his tootsies in the Bahamas, Rudolph using his vacation time to visit with his cousins in the Alps ...It would leave you feeling quite a bit discombobulated, like you forgot something important even though everything on your list was already done. Still, all is as it should be whether it feels like it or not. Autumn has arrived, summer has passed (although the heat is still in the process of wearing out its welcome!), and all of my Angel Daughters are busy living their own lives while I am still trying to figure out where it is that I fit in. There are so many things that nobody ever teaches us about being a mother, but I have found that one of the most poignant things is how to start up where we left off, after the children are mostly raised up.<br />
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And so, when the weather is permissive and not too hot or humid, I spend some time outside in our garden raising up flowers and plants and tomatoes and pumpkins.<br />
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And caterpillars who feast upon the Milkweed that Mark so lovingly planted for me this year. The caterpillars who then, so much like my own daughters, spend some time suspended safely and freely in the Chrysalis stage. <br />
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Impermanent and changing seemingly before my eyes, into beings that I can sometimes barely recognize but that I know oh so well.<br />
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Until, there they are, fluttering with perfectly formed wings before me. Flitting past my face every now and again as I stand outside watching, observing, hoping, praying and daydreaming. More beautiful and vibrant than ever before but ready to fly off on their own leaving me to wonder how it all happened. <i>When</i> it all happened. And yet I <b>know</b> because if I shut my eyes tightly, I can go back to the so many moments in between, when it all happened and I can remember...<br />
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Back in June, Mark and I planted five varieties of tomatoes in clay pots on our patio. We have done this before with fairly mixed results. Last summer, we had no success as the plants succumbed to a fungus that overtook the tender leaves and prevented the flowers from budding into fruit. This year, I decided to do a bit of research in order to discover some more disease resistant varieties and Mark made sure to nourish them with Miracle Grow every week. I expended some of my restlessness gently removing any sick looking leaves off of each plant daily. We have been well-rewarded for our attention to the smaller things, this year.<br />
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Other than this four inch Jurassic looking pest known as the Tomato Hornworm or the Tobacco Hornworm(the ones that I discovered on our plants were Tobacco Hornworms, <b>YUCK!!!</b>), we ended up with bushels and bushels of wonderful, organic tomatoes this year. At first, I thought these caterpillars were just another possible variety of butterfly <b>but</b> upon closer inspection and a quick check on the Internet, we discovered that these little beasts were out to completely ravage our tomato plants and so they had to <b>go</b>! I truly hate to kill anything but these little monsters would have killed our tomato plants and so Mark took care of the dirty work for me. Yet another reason why I completely adore my husband. Still, I did spend quite some time watching and photographing these little dudes as I had never seen one before and I found them quite fascinating in a gross sort of way. And after eradicating these little buggers(I found two of them on the same plant), we were rewarded with healthy, bountiful tomato plants which have provided us with delicious tomatoes every single night for over a month now. Regardless of what we are having for dinner each night, I slice up a melange of several tomatoes and we enjoy them. We have also shared them with our neighbors(I had to leave them a note saying that if they <i style="font-weight: bold;">did not</i> want anymore tomatoes, to please let me know!), my doctors and our friends. Quite the fabulous treat fresh tomatoes are! To me, they taste like sunshine.<br />
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A couple of months ago, we also planted one pumpkin plant just to see what might happen. The vine wrapped around our yard with elephant ear sized leaves and the bees did their jobs pollinating the flowers as they grew. We had several pumpkins that began to grow but did not survive for a variety of reasons, but then, there was this one which proudly sits curing on our patio right now. I will post another photo of it off of the vine soon. The color is a vibrant orange and the size is very nice.(12.8 pounds!) It makes me happy just knowing that it came from our garden. There is another one that is doing quite well on the vine right now but I do not think that it will be ready for Halloween. That is okay because Thanksgiving will be coming up soon enough and it tickles me to watch it grow and mature. I am finding that gardening and taking care of our seven pets as well as the wild birds and squirrels, helps to fill the void of not being as needed by my Angel Daughters quite so much anymore. And although the gardening is a fairly new interest that has only evolved over the past several years, it is a satisfying way for Mark and I to spend some time together, enjoying the ocean, working side by side, and producing something that we can enjoy and share with each other and with others. Funny how our neighbors smile just a little bit brighter when they greet us since we have been sharing our tomatoes with them. Such a simple thing and yet, it really is all about the simple things, isn't it?<br />
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The Angels are all doing quite well since I last posted back in June. I did not set out to take such a long hiatus from blogging. It's just that every time I thought about it or sat down to begin writing, I seemed to draw a blank. Writing has always been one of my favorite ways to work out my own thoughts so it has been disconcerting for me to not be able to express myself through the written word and through this blog which I consider my little corner of the world. This is something that I feel like I need to explore more because in the future, I would love to be able to complete a book that I would eventually be able to share. Sometimes I feel as if the words become "stuck" and my mind tends to freeze when I sit down to write. To me, it feels like fear, yet I am not sure what I am fearful of. This is one of the things that I hope to work on in the coming year. Maybe there is a <i><a href="https://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-91/The-7-Chakras-for-Beginners.html">chakra</a> </i>or something that is blocked within my soul. I do know that the physical feeling occurs right in the center of my heart and extends down into the upper left side of my stomach. It is an anxious sensation and once it hits, I have a difficult time moving past it. Most of the time, I just go on to something else because it feels futile when I do not understand its origination to begin with. I always feel much <i>lighter</i> after writing. It is kind of like putting the words into a helium balloon and just setting them free into the universe. It is a very positive experience for me and yet, <b>this stagnating fear</b>... Definitely something worth exploring but I don't even know how or where to begin. Anybody else dealing with this kind of thing? I would love to know what you might wrestle with and how you manage to move past the fear. Please feel free to share in the comments or email me if you have had any success in this area. It really helps to hear from others who have been through, or might be going through the same thing.<br />
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In the photo above, my dad is standing in for Angel Daughter Number Four which is why he is squatting down. It is his sense of humor which I cannot apologize for because I definitely inherited it. I <b>get</b> him but I can always spot the poor individuals who just don't. They usually aren't sure if he is kidding or being serious. Then they look over at me. The blank stares tend to give it away. Sometimes I try to explain but it is usually futile because, well, he is my dad, and it is sort of hard to explain...<br />
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At the end of August, Angel Daughter Number Three began a new leg on the journey of her life. Earlier in the year, she completed her AA degree from the local community college and was accepted to a University which is nine hours away in order to complete her Bachelor's degree. This is something that I knew was coming for a long time, but still, having one of my children farther than a simple one or two hour car ride away has been an adjustment. Especially <i>this</i> daughter because she has always preferred to stick closer to the nest which I also enjoyed. I do know that this is the right time and the right place for her to spread her wings in order to fly a bit further from home. The knowing does make it a bit easier, but I do miss the heck out of her. Not only is she my daughter, but over the past couple of years, our relationship has also very naturally metamorphosed into a dear friendship which I love. AD3 has gone through a lot over the past few years, but she has used those experiences to grow and mature and transform into an incredible young woman. Obviously, we all grow and transform at different rates which is part of what made it so special to witness AD3's transition from adolescent to young adult. She has done so with grace and beauty. <br />
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She needed to drive her car up to school, so the rest of us(minus AD2 because she had to be in Las Vegas for a business convention) all flew up to help her get settled in. <br />
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We brought the boyfriends who are also the brothers. I still get such a kick out of that. AD3's boyfriend was also turning twenty one that weekend, so we had a lot to celebrate! I took this photo after mostly everything was unloaded into AD3's dorm room. Everybody was hot and tired but they all did a great job. The really nice thing about her dorm room is that she has her own bathroom! No trekking down the hallway in the middle of the night or taking showers in those stinky little stalls with who knows what kind of yuck on the floor! She has three dorm mates who she shares a kitchen and a living area with, but it is a very nice setup. Even the furniture that the school supplies is cute!<br />
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There was lots of love...<br />
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And lots of sisterly giggles. Lots of climbing up brick walls...<br />
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Hugs with daddy...<br />
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Smooches with the boyfriends;)<br />
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And of course, tears...<br />
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But mainly there was love and joy and lots of <i>I'll see you soons</i> which are all a part of the journey. All part of taking flight. All a part of our family history. <br />
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Our neighbors have half-jokingly decided that the Coastal Commission should declare our front yard a butterfly sanctuary as there have never, ever been so many butterflies metamorphosing on these bluffs before and our neighbors have lived here for twenty years plus. Maybe it's the extra attention and love and care that Mark and I have directed into making our home an even more extraordinary and magical place. Maybe it is the tomatoes and the roses and the pumpkins and the squirrels and the birds who are always welcome. But it's definitely the butterflies. The human ones who have transitioned into lovely winged angels who flew through the past twenty six years of our lives but still return for a good meal, a loving hug and some family history, past, present and future. Or, maybe it is the Monarchs who I have been told will also return from year to year, to feast upon the imprinted cellular memory of the actual Milkweed that they adore, to suspend themselves in time as they transition from caterpillar to chrysalis to butterfly and then deposit their eggs to begin the magical process over and over and over again. <br />
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Ah, the tender, lingering sweetness of it all. <br />
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<br />Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-89245808669567363252013-06-10T16:37:00.000-07:002013-06-10T16:37:24.670-07:00The Ties That Bind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is June. June is the month of my oldest daughter's birthday. June brings summer and June Gloom and eventually, July, which is the month of my birthday and my brother's birthday and some unexplained and mostly unexplored anxiety which I do believe that I must take some time to understand this year. My favorite grandmother passed away on my birthday several years ago, but I do not believe that that has anything at all to do with my "July anxiety" because it seemed to have started well before her death. Sometimes, I think that my grandma's passing on my birthday was sort of a Universal pox on my irrational anxiety. Like "Here. If you are going to be all weird about your birthday and stuff, we will add something else, something more concrete that will make it even more burdensome for you." Or, "You really aren't that important, Debra, so do not believe that other people celebrating the fact that you are still here to be celebrated means anything more than that you are just another year older." Silly, I know. And the interesting thing is that I <b>love</b> life, I really do. And I understand that in order to continue having a life to love, I must also have birthdays to grow older on. Like my grandmother always told me, if you want to live, you have to get old. And it isn't necessarily the growing older part of my birthday that bothers me. I do not mind that at all. There are many benefits to growing older and wiser and more comfortable in one's own skin. But while I am contemplating this, I must ask if there is anyone else out there who shares in this birthday anxiety? I witness other people getting very excited about their own birthdays and I do, too, but it makes me wonder where my own apprehension might have come from.<br />
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So here we all are in the month of June. Angel Daughter Number One will be turning twenty-six at the end of this month which is almost hard for me to fathom as in my own mind, she is still a very young woman. Truthfully, I am finally coming to the conclusion that this child of mine is finished being a child. This has been a somewhat difficult concept for me to grasp as she has always been so easy to mother which makes it even easier for me to continue doing so.(She is a pretty good sport about it.) But she does not really need me to do that part of the job anymore. I mean, I know that she will always <i>need</i> me to be her momma, but as far as the unasked-for advice, etc., etc., I would rather not sound like the adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons. I am learning to back off. I am learning that when she needs me, she will come to me. I am learning that AD1 is pretty much cooked. I definitely cannot complain. Look at my girl, she is self-assured, considerate, compassionate and beautiful. As her momma, there is nothing that I could wish for her to be that she is not already in the process of achieving. It is a little bit frightening to know that I am on my way out of a job that I have so loved doing for twenty-six years, but this is the truth whether I want it to happen or not so I might as well enjoy the process.<br />
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So I move on to Angel Daughter Number Two...My wild child, per say. The one who can cause my heart to pound wildly in the middle of the night without logical reason, but just because <i>I know</i>. And yet, she always seems to figure her way out of the dilemmas that are sometimes self-created and sometimes, not. This child is twenty-three years old and although she will tell you that she has been "on her own" since she was eighteen, that is <i style="font-weight: bold;">so not true</i>. She flies freely under the very watchful eyes of her parents and her extremely proud, extremely supportive grandfather even when she sometimes flaps her wings like a wayward bird whose wings have been temporarily clipped by her own impulsive actions from time to time. I cannot say that this one is fully cooked yet, but I do have to watch the way that I respond to the manner in which she approaches the world. It it very different, not bad, just different and unusual. She is, after all, a creative soul and creative souls can have a very different way of approaching life. AD2 is a free-spirit who views the world from a distinctive and much further elevated perch.(If she can get there, it is definitely worth the effort of the climb!) I often find myself observing this child in the way that I would view a very beautiful, rare bird that loves the idea of self-survivial but needs the security of others to occasionally feather her nest(and fill her refrigerator). She wants, so badly, to do things on her own, but she just isn't as ready as she sometimes believes that she is.(Sir, I was <i>born</i> ready!) It is all good, though. I <b>know</b> that AD2 is absolutely capable of amazing things, things that other twenty-three year olds could not even imagine achieving. Being her momma is something that I know that I was meant to do, so I will do it in whatever way she needs me to for however long it takes. Nothing could make me prouder or happier.<br />
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Angel Daughter Number Three just completed her AA degree from a community college, received her first "A" in math, ever, and will be moving on to attend a college that is nine hours away in August to complete her Bachelor's Degree in Psychology.(Just like her momma:)) In some ways, AD3 is our late bloomer, but she is also very thorough in making sure that she is comfortable with one step in life before she moves on to the next one. It is going to be very difficult when she leaves, I am fully aware of that and I know that I will come down with another case of "empty-nest syndrome" when she goes. She has been dating Zach for a couple of months now. He is the brother of AD1's boyfriend, Matt. They fell pretty fast and quick when they met and have been inseparable ever since. I'm not exactly sure how the Universe is going to work this one out come August, but it is all part of the major scheme so I am confident that if they want it to work, it will. Mark and I both really like Matt and Zach so if things are somehow meant to be, we would not complain. Life has a funny way of working things out, so we shall see what happens in the future.</div>
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Angel Daughter Number Four...What can I say about this little bundle of teenage energy. She is like a whirlwind of enthusiasm and kinetic chatter that bounces from moment to moment, place to place, leaving people smiling from ear to ear in her path. And although she is in the midst of her final year as a teenager, she is finally now going through a somewhat rebellious stage. I should have known that it was coming. It is normal and healthy and necessary. I was just sort of hoping that we could just skip that portion of the process with this mostly happy, mostly agreeable little soul. AD4 is still dancing up a storm, going to college, and working while also keeping up with her full social calendar. Her ability to bring people joy through the art of dance is mesmerizing and I am so proud of her confidence and skill. I only hope that she takes full advantage of the natural ability that has been given to her so that she does not look back with any regret. She truly is <i>that </i>good.</div>
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The love of my life. This man whom I have spent the past thirty-three years of my life with. We have been together since we were freshmen in college and have been married for almost twenty-nine years. We continue to build a life together that is both joy filled and upbeat. Yes, we definitely share in the difficulties that being alive throws at everyone, but we choose to deal with them in a way that allows us to keep the bright side mostly in tact. We try to remember that we are always in this together and we do our very best to work as a team. Most importantly, we remain deeply in love with one another and that is something that sustains us through even the heaviest of storms.<br />
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Even as we watch our four children walking into their own futures, we steadfastly remain two people who will share in ours together and in that, we both find deep comfort.<br />
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The pelicans have been returning to San Clemente, and with them, another season has passed and another June has arrived. Watching my children leave and return and leave and return and then, eventually leave without returning alone, has been a process for me. It has been a process filled with the bittersweet proclivity of both transformation and also, displacement. I am excited about what is to come for them, but I am scared about where it will leave me in my newest phase of life. Who will I be when I am no longer known as my children's mother? Where will my own purpose lie when the most important job that I could ever conceive of in my life is mostly finished? How do I discover who I will now become? I have so much to learn and for the first time in my entire life, I am feeling a little bit lost. I always knew what would come next...College, job and marriage, children...Now, I am just not that sure. I've never had a role model to guide me. No other woman to look to as an example of how it is all done gracefully, at least not one whom I know personally. It's a bit disconcerting. I know that I can rely on the support, love and encouragement of my husband and our daughters. I know that they will cheer me on in whatever direction I choose to fly. But where do I even begin...I have most of the tools, but I still need a compass, and a map, and a GPS, for that matter.<br />
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Happy June!<br />
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<br />Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-63801798904884665562013-04-10T21:07:00.000-07:002013-04-10T21:07:37.179-07:00In Spite of it All<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think that my last post might have left the impression that I am in a bad place which could not be much farther from the truth of my life. I might have been too close to the actual moment when I wrote that particular blog post, but the inner turmoil that accompanied the experience lasted for a fairly short time, most especially after I decided to post what I wrote instead of hiding it away someplace which is what I have done in the past. My mother is who she is and I am who I am. I accepted this a very long time ago. I try not to fight the facts. I try to get along with her except when I just can't. And I try very hard not to burden myself with guilty feelings that are mostly invalid. My relationship with my mother is a constant work in progress and I know that if I do not figure it out during this lifetime, I will most certainly have to deal with it again at some other time in some other place and that is something that I just cannot put myself through if at all avoidable. I have also come to the conclusion that it does not help my body to heal when I try to shove the emotions that my mother often elicits in me back down into my gut because they almost certainly rise back up to my heart after a period of time and this is when I seem to become depressed for no apparent reason. Then I must dig and dig until I unearth the issue that is really bothering me when acknowledging it right away might have actually made things so much less complicated. And complicated it will always be. If it's not one thing, it's your mother...<br />
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My life is really good. I have been forced to face some pretty tough stuff this time around, but really, who hasn't? We all have our own <b>stuff, </b>some of it harder than the rest, but it is ours to learn from. If we can accept the lessons, if we can notice when the same issues seem to reappear, if we can absorb the knowledge <i>in spite of</i> the frustration and the pain, then, and only then, do I believe that we get to move on. I want to move on. I want to grow and transform and evolve. I try to pay attention so that I can do this. When the same lesson seems to reappear in varying forms, over and over again, I believe that there is more to be learned from it. I do not say to myself, "Oh no, not again." That would be futile and quite a waste of time.(Albeit, quite tempting!) I do often wonder, "Why this time?" and then I try to figure out another piece of the equation. I also know that I <b>cannot </b>change my mother. I know that the likelihood of my teaching her anything carries fairly dismal odds. And sometimes I have to think that maybe this is more about my mother, at this point, than it is about myself. Maybe I have <b>gotten</b> some of it. Maybe she has not. When we are placed in certain relationships throughout our lives, especially one like the parent/child relationship which is one of the closest physical bonds that there is, the job is both to teach and to learn. Lord knows how much my own four daughters have already taught me over the course of the past twenty-five years. If these same lessons keep appearing and reappearing with my own mother, maybe it is because at seventy-one years old, she still has something very important to learn and I am just the teacher. For now, I am at peace. It is very easy for me to love my mother from afar. Mother's Day is coming up which will, once again, open up all sorts of windows and doors and cracks in my walls but I am allowing myself a breather. I check in with her by text a couple of times a week which helps to alleviate any sense of obligation on my part. Mark writes out and mails her check at the end of every month. I am not dwelling. I am not beating myself up. I am not allowing this to eat away at me from the inside out.(Thank you, dear Angella, for bringing to light the cat eating my turtle's leg meaning from my dream. It makes <b>so</b> much sense to me now!) I am enjoying my husband and our girls and my father which is far more important to me than the parts of my life that have not yet worked out the way that I would like for them to.<br />
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A couple of weeks ago, we went out to Palm Springs to celebrate my dad's seventy-fourth birthday. I am glad that he is not seventy-three anymore. My grandfather died when he was seventy-three and for some reason, my father was burdened by the thought that he would pass away at that age, as well. He obviously had a <b>major scare </b>not too long ago, but he is still here. We are all more than grateful for that. I know that I can no longer pretend that my dad is always going to be here, but at least I know that he is here with us for now. <b>That</b> is something worth celebrating.<br />
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Even though he still bites...Just cannot help himself!<br />
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Angel Daughter Number Three and Angel Daughter Number Four took the opportunity to have an impromptu dance with their grandfather in the middle of the bowling alley. It's how they roll, and face it, the man <i style="font-weight: bold;">loves</i> to be surrounded by beautiful women.<br />
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Angel Daughter Number One is such a gorgeous young woman now. She brought her boyfriend Matt out to Palm Springs to celebrate with us. We really like him. He is a very bright young man who comes from a lovely family. He is working on his doctorate right now so the next year is going to be pretty hellish for him but if they survive this year together, who knows what might happen:) Matt has a younger brother, Zach, who may or may not be dating AD3 right now! They met at Mathew's family seder which we attended, and they took a liking to one another right away. It's only too bad that there aren't two more brothers in their family. I'm just saying...<br />
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We had dinner at Arnold Palmer's restaurant in Palm Springs. Lots of golf memorabilia and good food. No Arnold, though.<br />
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My husband is my rock and my touchstone. He keeps me grounded. He knows when I need to be left alone and when I need to be spoiled a little bit. He makes me breakfast in bed almost everyday of the week.(oatmeal and orange juice with my vitamins on the side) I guess after thirty-three years together, we know each other pretty well. Sometimes he worries about wrinkles and thinning hair(his, not mine), but I really do not mind one bit. I think he is the most handsome guy alive and I've met Rob Lowe up close and in person;) I would still go home with my man <b>every single time</b>. My life is good, not perfect, but good. And <b>that</b> is exactly how I like it.<br />
<br />Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-87902293809801235932013-04-01T15:26:00.004-07:002013-04-01T15:26:52.947-07:00Exodus<br />
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I've taken a step toward healing my soul, once again, but in doing so I have also set off a barrage of very troublesome dreams from which I wake up thanking God that they were not real. And although I know where I should stand on this and I know that I am standing on the precisely correct mountaintop, I have taken a step back down from this very same vantage point many, many times before heading right back to where I just came. You know that story, one step up and two steps back...Hence the nightmarish dreams. Sometimes I wake up and I am arguing with my mother and what ultimately wakes me is the sound of my own voice projecting out loud that I need for her to just <b>leave me alone. </b>The last real life conversation that I had with her about three weeks ago, ended with me firmly explaining that while I <b>would</b> be giving her the $1803.00 that she needs to fix her teeth this time(on top of the monthly amount that we send her to help pay for her rent), I was not at all happy about it and that I will <b>never</b> be happy about having to do something which stems from someone not taking personal responsibility for their own life, especially when it ends up costing my family a large sum of money. My point being, it seems, that it is perfectly fine when your crappy decisions end up costing you money that should never have had to be spent(although I do not believe that is very cool, either, but so be it), but when those crappy decisions that I had nothing to do with, end up costing me money, I have every right to tell you so and then some. I am tired. I am tired from having spent most of my life mothering my very own mother. I am tired of her ranting and her immaturity and her selfishness and her "poor me" attitude and her betrayal and her "it's never my fault" and her expectations which come with no <b>self</b>-expectation and her guilt and her lack of shame. (This includes her nutty husband.) Last night, I dreamt that I was driving along serenely on a beautiful day, until I got to a spot in the road where there was a sudden, major rush of water and I had to jamb on my brakes within inches so as not to be swept away. I had pets in the car(big surprise there) and my cat decided to eat one of my turtles legs.(I do not own a turtle.) It was pure chaos and panic that sent me into a place of subconscious weirdness and left me feeling very troubled when I woke up. I do understand the psychological catalyst for these dreams which can make them even more frustrating because the understanding in no way prevents them from occurring. It can be maddening at times.<br />
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For now, I am taking a break from my mother. I have put her into time-out. The rational, loving, compassionate, wouldn't hurt a fly part of me regularly tromps on my own conscience for this reminding me that I am the only biological child that she has left in this world and how terrible it is for a mother to not be able to have an ongoing relationship with her only daughter. I have used this particular excuse for the past five plus years since my brother died and it often works sending me back into the pit of relationship/boundary hell that I have grown far too accustomed to over the entire course of my life. The other rational, logical, self-protective part of me who has had it up to here and then some, says <b>no more</b>. I do not want to be swept away in a sudden flash flood of someone else's drama, albeit my own mother's. <b>I do not want to drown. I do not want my cat to eat my turtle's leg.</b> There is this thing about divorce that has always bothered me and although my dad reminded me when I was growing up that <b>nothing in life is fair</b>, this one truly seems particularly lopsided. When two people(or a good 55-60% of the married population depending upon where you find your data) decide to get divorced and there are children involved, those two people get to make a fairly clean break of it once all of the finances and emotional bullshit are completely hacked up, but <b>the children are the children for life</b>. So, as my dad has no more responsibility toward my mother than he does for a stranger on the street (They have been divorced for over 30+ years), I am stuck with her for life. Yup, not fair. And yet, how does one completely wall themselves off from the person who gave them life? I have allowed my mother to be a huge part of my daughters' lives. Not only that, I encouraged it. I wanted a mother and my children were a very good distraction for her mostly selfish behaviors. I offered my daughters up as the sacrificial lambs in hopes that it would make something within her <i>click</i> and she would magically become the mother that I always needed her to be. She was a much better grandmother than she ever was a mother which is why I have put up with a good portion of the BS over the years. My girls love her and she loves them and I think that is a very good thing. Heck, <b>I love her. </b>But I do not like her, not now anyway and I have a physically visceral response to having to deal with her. It is unhealthy. It borders on self-abuse because I know that my blood pressure is going to spike and my breathing is going to become shallow whenever I speak to her but she <b>expects</b> me to even though I have told her this. In other words, it was good for me, doesn't matter how it was for you. I do know that when I wall myself off from my mother, I suffer from far less depression. I live in a much calmer space. I treat myself better. My mother does not even know where we live at this point because for a long time, our beach home was only our second home and it felt good to have a place where I could conceivably hide from reality for a bit. She nagged and bugged me about it, and now, I just do not want to tell her. This probably has something to do with the defiant little child in me, but it also brings me some satisfaction and allows me to feel as if there is a physical boundary that she cannot cross.(Although her husband tauntingly told Mark that they found out where we live, so who knows.) Mark did tell them that <b>if</b> they do show up at our gate, we will <b>not</b> be allowing them in.<br />
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A couple of nights ago began the holiday of Passover which celebrates the exodus of the Jews from slavery in Egypt. Under the leadership of Moses, the Jewish people were finally led across a miraculously parted sea and through the desert to the land of milk, honey and freedom from the oppression which they had lived with for far, far too long. Moses never actually entered Israel. He and the generations of slaves who traveled upon this journey along with him, had to remain in the desert until all of the slave generations had passed on. God did not want His people to bring the mentality of slavery along with them into freedom because that would mean that they would never truly be freed from the shackles of oppression that were still very much alive inside of their own minds. He wanted His people to have a fresh start. He wanted them not only to be physically free, but mentally and spiritually free, as well. Sometimes, I tell Mark that I do not believe that I will truly be free from the guilt and the expectations and the obligations that I feel for my mother until she indeed, passes away. <b>This is in no way a wish for my mother to die</b>. I know that regardless of everything, I will be very sad when that day does arrive for many complicated reasons, and as I said before, I do love her. I also know that so much of her behavior is dictated by the relationship that she had with her own mother (There I go making excuses again, but it is true) and that she is probably incapable of changing during this lifetime which is also why I have cut her so much slack. But in so many ways, in order for me to be free from the suffocating oppression that I often feel from my mother, I must also be willing to make an exodus with which I can better exist. I have been working on this for most of my life. I do not know whether our earthly relationship will end in a more peaceful place or if my exodus will remain incomplete. What I do know is that my mother <b>takes</b> far too much out of me and that each time we have a falling out of sorts, she chips away a little bit more of the part of me that is reluctant to construct a permanent wall. <br />
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I sit here, contemplating Moses' exodus from Egypt. I consider my people's <b>need</b> to break away from the confines of Pharaoh's harsh rule and as I do, I look out at the massive expanse of ocean which sits just below my home. I think about the gated entry and my mysterious address and all that I have subconsciously and consciously done to free myself from the unrealistic demands that my own mother has placed upon me throughout the years and I wonder, if not now, then when? If not now, then when will I allow myself to journey away from the chains which have bound me to a woman who is all expectation and so little give. When will it be enough? When do <b>I</b> choose to allow myself to be freed from the demands and commands that cause me so much pain despite whether or not I am speaking to my mother or not at any given moment? When will I allow myself some peace? And how? How do I allow myself to keep a firm boundary in place while still holding tight to the commandment which commands that I <i style="font-weight: bold;">honor</i> my parent? And what does honor entail? The financial piece of things will, more than likely, remain unless Mark and I experience our own financial hardship because we always agreed that we would see to it that all of our parents would always have a roof over their heads and food on their tables <b>but</b> that never included their medical or dental bills so that line has already been crossed. Too many lines have been crossed. I often wonder if God will somehow allow me to cross my own desert back to a place of health <b>if</b> I learn to honor myself or, if like Moses, I will be destined to die just outside of the land of milk and honey in order to allow future generations to live more freely. I have so many questions and very few answers.<br />
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My prayer for you during this Passover/Easter season is that whatever exodus you might be working on, that you will do so with both guidance and clarity. That you will be led by both internal and external longings which will sooner, than later, bring you to a place of strong serenity and peace. May you find strength, growth and renewal upon your journey and to my Jewish friends who figuratively are sitting with me around the seder table this year, may I say, next year in Jerusalem. I believe I have found new meaning in that phrase this year. And to that may we all say, <b><i>Amen.</i></b>Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-30654151595945791122013-03-03T22:15:00.000-08:002013-03-03T22:15:31.838-08:00A Tribute For my Brother<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Is it by accident or by fate that we end up where we are, sometimes getting lost in the possibilities of the roads that we have not taken along the way. Thinking back to when, to where, to how we have come to settle upon the small plot of earth which we inhabit now, it is not always clear. What brought us here to this place that we consider home? The seemingly small or large life events that moved us to the point at which we now reside could have been earth shattering, or, they could have barely made a quiet rumble underneath the soles of our feet. I know that the string of events which led us to this point on a bluff overlooking the Pacific ocean was part my own spiritual earthquake, so to speak. They say that you should <b>never</b> make any life changes or major purchases or important decisions following the death of a loved one but we did, and by doing so, we followed our someday dreams to the place that we now call home. </div>
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We were led here by the very sudden passing of my younger brother. My only sibling. The only other person in the world who knew the punchline of my childhood anecdotes and jokes. The sudden end of my brother's life was like the abrupt ending of a long conversation that was only just beginning. Stunted, hastily cut short, truncated by an early exit. It made us think. A lot. It made us wonder if "someday" was too presumptuous and too far away in pursuing some of our dreams with a major one being a home near the beach. And so, we did the one thing that we were told not to do in the months following my brother's death. We decided that it was time to purchase another home near the beach. We dove in head first without doing a lot of thinking(we might have <i>thought </i>ourselves out of it) or searching. We opened the gate which led to the front yard of this place and knew that we had found <i style="font-weight: bold;">it</i>. Over the course of the past five years, I slowly began spending more and more of my time here. I didn't want to leave. We had a beautiful, large home that our daughters had spent over a decade of their lives growing up in, but after my brother died, it no longer felt like home to me. Something about the peaceful call of the ocean was drawing me away from there. I needed to be here. </div>
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We never purchased this place as an intended full-time home. I'm not sure why that was, and honestly, I do not really dwell on it. With all of our children and pets, it is not really as large as what we have become used to over the years, but we do know that as our youngest two Angel Daughters get ready to fly off on their own, we will have more space than we need in the future. We sold our large home last summer after our youngest daughter graduated from high school, and moved everyone down here for good. I can feel my brother's presence, support and encouragement for our decision. He has a favorite light upstairs that he has become quite adept at turning on and off at very appropriate moments and he visits us quite often even though he was never here in life. I know that if he were physically here, he would definitely approve, yet I also know that if he were still here, we would probably be living someplace else. It's one of those odd juxtapositions in life that needed a certain number of events to occur in order for the equation to work out as it did. Would I prefer to have my brother still here and for us to live someplace else? Absolutely. Am I glad that his death lit a spark under our spirits which allowed us to make the choice that we did? Absolutely, which is why I believe that there really are no absolutes in life, strangely so. </div>
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Just after the five year yahrzeit(anniversary) of my brother's death a couple of weeks ago, Mark and I were in the car and it suddenly came over me that it was time to visit my brother's gravesite for the first time since his funeral. I have considered going many, many times over the course of the past five years, but obviously, something(or many somethings) were holding me back from doing so because the thought would come and then just as quickly, go. Mark said it was probably because I was not ready. Maybe it was because my heart was still too tender, maybe it was because I knew what had(or had not) been inscribed upon his very simple tombstone. The thought of my brother only being remembered as a "Beloved Husband and Father" and nothing else, is something that still stings me to the core, but I know very differently. The sting is becoming easier to tolerate. We located Rob's gravesite and placed three stones on top of his tombstone. One for me, one for Mark, and one for our girls. In Judaism, we place stones on the graves of our loved ones instead of flowers. This is something that has been done for centuries as it is a constant way to keep building a memorial to the person that is more permanent than flowers. When we arrived, there were no rocks on my brother's tombstone which seemed to break my heart more than anything. It was the five year anniversary of his death and my sister-in-law had not bothered to bring his children to pay their respects. Ouch. I do know that others have been there in the interim since his burial and it is my belief that other mourners sometimes remove stones from other graves(as completely tacky and disrespectful as that is) because the cemetery does not leave loose stones just lying around on the grass. It is customary to bring your own rocks, and not everyone thinks about that so whose going to tell if they "borrow" a stone from someone else's grave. That being said, it struck me hard to view my brother's stoneless tombstone. I knelt down to clean some of the dirt and bird poop from his headstone and then I looked up towards the sky and laughed through my tears. Right above Rob's tombstone, there is a large tree with branches that hang directly over his site. Something tells me that bird poop is not an unusual occurrence in this part of the cemetery. I know that it will be much easier for me to return to the cemetery in the future and although I do not believe that it is where Robert's soul resides, it is where his body remains at rest and therefore, I will go back. Robert Mark Sherman was my little brother and the sharer of my history. He became a brother to my husband. He was a son. He was the most beloved uncle to my four daughters. He was a storyteller and a comedian, oh what a comedian! He could have me laughing until I could no longer catch my breath. He was a loyal friend. He wanted to make the world a better place by assisting the downtrodden. He was a brilliant attorney who made very average grades in high school but when it came to passing the State Bar exam, he did so with flying colors on his very first try. He was so much to so many. His life was cut way too short by a failing heart which may or may not have been broken beyond what he could tolerate any longer. </div>
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I often think about my brother when I gaze out at the rolling Pacific ocean, but most especially at night when the skies are clear and the stars are at their brightest. Something about the constellation Orion brings me to immediate thoughts of my brother because I believe, that for some reason, he is probably viewing it too, just from a different angle in the universe. I am home, for now, and he is home, for now, and somehow I believe that someday we will see one another again in a different place. And if nothing else positive came out of his sudden passing, I do hope that he knows that because of our sad loss, we learned to take the "somedays" more seriously in the now and that the love that we had and still have for his beautiful life was something which led us home.</div>
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<br />Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-23795273248192416672013-02-26T17:24:00.000-08:002013-02-26T17:24:22.571-08:00L'Chaim<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So last I left you, life was moving along in a much better direction. My dad was healing from his sudden heart attack/quadruple bypass surgery and I was feeling much more hopeful about his prognosis. Life was feeling much less chaotic but I think I needed to take some time to draw a breath from thinking. A good long breath. I did not fully realize it at the time but I have always known it, this blog is a place for me to contemplate and to sort out my thoughts in a very concrete way. Putting my words down in a place that felt comfortable and safe was a way for me to decompress and yet, I felt overwhelmed by trying to make sense of things after my dad's brush with mortality. The words felt extremely jumbled and frankly, the thoughts that came along with them were very, very, very frightening. I did not want to be in the here and now. I did not want to be in <i>that</i> moment. I wanted to be six or eight or ten months down the line at a time when the outcome would be much clearer and so, I shut down for a while without knowing that I was going to do so. I realized about a week or so ago, that not living in the moment was slowly beginning to wear upon my soul. Being in the past or in the future felt like a safer place to be, temporarily, for the sake of self-preservation and sanity, but eventually, we all need to come back to where we are. <b>Here</b>. And so, I made a conscious decision to return to the moment. I talked to my husband, Mark, about it. Because sometimes when we say the words out loud to someone who is willing to really listen, they seem to become unclouded and more understandable to ourselves. And with those conversations, thoughts of writing began to slowly seep back into the forefront of my mind and this blog began to whisper out to me in a very healthy way. For a while, I was receiving emails from some of my blogging friends asking me how I was doing and when I might be writing again. Some people even <i>requested</i> for me to write again. If you were one of those lovely people, thank you so much. My deepest gratitude is with you. Each note brought me closer to coming back. Each friendly reminder of <i>you</i> made me understand that this is not only about me. It is also about <i>us</i>, coming together to make sense of the world. Supporting one another with nothing more than words and kindness. And to those of you who sent me silent prayers of concern, I felt those also. I stored them inside of my heart knowing that you, too, would be here once I returned and it helped me to find my way back. Every kindness was a part of the compass. So <i>here</i> I am.<br />
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It is only fair to begin by sharing some of what has been over the course of the past several months so that I can get to where is now. My four Angel Daughters are all doing well as they continue to evolve and grow into the incredible young women that they are. I cannot even tell you how very lucky I feel to be their momma. They are kind, loving, bright, unique, compassionate, beautiful, creative, effervescent souls finding their way in the world experiencing both the bumps and the beauty of the road.<br />
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Angel Daughter Number One is twenty-five years old now.(actually closer to twenty-six!) It is sometimes difficult for me to remember that she truly is a self-sufficient young woman, and not my child to shelter from the world. I am learning. She is pretty good about being Angel Daughter Number "One" and allowing me to "practice" on her. I know that there are times when she still rolls her eyes at me but for the most part, she humors me by letting me have my say and then politely expresses her own thoughts on things. She is doing her very best to achieve her dreams as she auditions frequently for commercials(receiving many, many callbacks!) while subsidizing her income as a tour guide at Universal Studios, working for a catering company which caters mainly to the very rich and very famous in Los Angeles, Christmas caroling throughout the holidays(Which is where we were when the photo above was taken, she was on break.), volunteering as a Big Sister to a sweet teenage girl, and taking classes to continue her theatrical education. She recently completed some spots for MGM, Kia and Comcast. Her goal for 2013 is to book a national television commercial. I <b>know</b> that she can do it! I will let you know when and where to watch it once she has fulfilled this goal.<br />
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Angel Daughter Number Two celebrated her twenty-third birthday in early January. We took her to a Tappan house with some of her friends, our family, and my mother and step-father to celebrate. January starts the "Birthday" season for our family as my three youngest daughters have birthdays in January, February, and March, consecutively. My dad's birthday is then in April, we don't have any in May, and then AD1's birthday is in June. It is nice because there is always someone to celebrate! AD2 is living in Los Angeles now, trying to find work as a photographer which is a highly competitive field. She is working on figuring out her place in the world, and we all know that it is not always an easy place to be. It is difficult to watch her struggle but I know that she will eventually find her way. It is just going to take her some time. Her work has already been featured in some top magazines and she recently completed a shoot for one of the gossip magazines with one of the "Teen Moms". She just returned from a huge fashion industry conference in Las Vegas where she made some very good contacts. I think her biggest issue is that she still needs guidance but is not always willing to take it. I guess the one thing that can be said for doing it "her way" is that she will gain a lot of wisdom in the process. She is surrounded by loving people who are more than willing to guide her, trouble is, that she can be very stubborn at times. She likes to have the ability to make her own mistakes. So, her father, grandfather, and I support her in whatever ways that we feel comfortable doing and then, we give her the leverage to make her own mistakes so that she understands that they are her own. She is such a delightful, charming, and talented young lady and people really take to her. She is a Capricorn whose mascot is the goat. Goats like to climb to the top of the mountain where the view is the very best and the air is fresh and clean. Like goats, Capricorns like to climb to the top of their chosen field so that they can reap the lofty benefits of success. AD2 <b>has</b> the tenaciousness to succeed in her chosen field. She just needs to learn from the fact that she can benefit from the mistakes that others have made before her. If not, life is going to sting just a little bit more than it might actually have to. It is really up to her and I will be here to catch her no matter how many bumps and bruises that she takes along the way.<br />
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We celebrated Angel Daughter Number Four's nineteenth birthday in the beginning of February. Hard to believe that this is her last year of being a "teenager" and my last year of being the mom of a teenager! I have been doing this for so long that I can hardly remember what it was like before we entered the years of changing/raging hormones, first loves, and the battles for independence. I actually think that it will be quite a relief to know that all four of my girls have made it safely past the teenage years once AD4 hits twenty. I have loved something about every stage of parenting so far, but I must admit that being the momma of four teenage daughters at once, managed to bring out a few more grey hairs than I was prepared for. I suppose that is the price that I have paid for enjoying the joys of having a large family. I would not change the experience for anything in the world. Anyway, AD4 is still dancing her way into people's hearts, going to community college(for now), teaching dance classes to little ones through teens, and transforming into a beautiful young woman.<br />
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Angel Daughter Number Three will be twenty-one in March. In some ways, I think I have seen the biggest changes in her over the course of the past year. She is attending community college but will have completed her AA degree in the spring. We are waiting to hear from several universities that she applied to so that she can complete her Bachelors degree in the next couple of years. Everyday she comes home and asks whether or not anything has arrived for her in the mail so I know that she is ready. She has worked at the same jewelry store for the past four years. It has become like a second little family to her and she has learned so much from working there. It took her a long time to heal after the break-up between her and her boyfriend of two and a half years, but she has evolved into a much more self-assured and confident young lady since then. She is getting ready to choose a university and then move out of our home which for some reason, will be the most difficult one for me so far. I am very excited for her. AD3 does not do anything unless she is ready to do it and so, I know that the time for her to leave the nest is growing quite near. Still, there is something very bittersweet about knowing that one of my youngest Angels will soon be spreading her wings. However, in my heart, I know that she will soar.<br />
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Since I was last here, not only have we celebrated birthdays, but we have also celebrated births. This gorgeous little man is Hudson. He is the grandson of one of my oldest and dearest friends, Donna. I have known Donna since I was twelve and her husband, Keith, since I was sixteen. When Mark and I moved to California many moons ago, we never thought that we would get the chance to raise our children together as we had planned to do as kids. That was until Donna and Keith decided to move their family out to Las Vegas over a decade ago! Since then, we have made a point of it to get together as often as possible. We have shared births and deaths. With each passing year, our friendship becomes even more important to me. Donna has four grandbabies now and I consider each one to be my grand-neice or grand-nephew. Her children are my nieces and nephews and my daughters are her nieces. Chosen family. I am very blessed to have them.</div>
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These were taken at Disneyland celebrating Scarlett's second birthday. Aubri is the oldest. She is such a bright little girl and I love her so much. Little Scarlett is Hudson's older sister.<br />
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Scarlett adores all of my girls. Angel Daughter Number Three says that she is not a huge fan of small children, but look at her with Scarlett. She is absolutely smitten!<br />
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Scarlett and AD2. Can you just see the love between them? It makes me so happy to see my children interacting with Donna's grand babies. We have come so far together.<br />
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Last month, Mark and I took the girls to their second Springsteen concert. For those of you who are Springsteen fans, you might recognize Little Steven, Bruce's second hand man. For those of you who watched the HBO series, The Sopranos, you might know him as Silvio Dante. We just know him as <b>awesome</b>! We made a donation to his organization which raises money for music programs in school and in return, we received floor tickets to a couple of Springsteen concerts. We cannot wait for them to come around again so that we can see them for the 22nd time!!! BRUUUUUUUCE!!!!<br />
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Sorry, I lost my mind for a moment there. While we were waiting for the concert to begin, we ran into this gorgeous hunk of a man, I mean, Rob Lowe. He was standing right behind AD4 and I looked at her and mouthed the words, "Rob Lowe is standing right behind you!" AD4 yelled out, "Who???" and again I mouthed, "<i>Rob Lowe" </i>to which she turned around to look at him and her mouth dropped. She then said to me, "I don't know who Rob Lowe is, but <i>he sure is handsome</i>!" I must admit that he was a really nice guy. Very down-to-earth and very friendly. When Mark introduced him to our four daughters, he slapped him on the back and wished him good luck.<br />
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Rob's younger brother, Chad Lowe, was also at the concert. At one point when we were chatting with them, Mark asked Chad if he was also in the acting business. He chuckled and said yes. We later found out that he has been the winner of a Grammy and that he is a regular on the TV series, Pretty Little Liars"! Boy, did we feel silly. I do not think that Chad was insulted at all because he ended up hanging out with Mark and I for most of the concert. He was even nicer than Rob. Rob wandered off for a major part of the show and so Chad just stuck with us. There was nothing pretentious about him. He told us about his newborn baby daughter and his three year girl. We had a great time just hanging out with another serious Bruce fan.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE!!!!</b></span></div>
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The man is sixty-two years old and he <b>crowd surfs</b>!! He <b style="font-size: x-large;">crowd surfs!</b> Enough said...</div>
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The love of my life with the loves of our lives.<br />
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This is Angel Daughter Number One and her boyfriend, Matt. We met him for the first time a couple of weeks ago and he definitely seems like a keeper. They went to college together but never dated when they were there. They reconnected recently and began dating several months ago. He is going to be completing his internship for his PHD over the course of the next year and then he will be a doctor. Not an MD, but a PHD which is even better because they do not have the crazy hours! I am rooting for them. They make a very sweet couple. As long as my Angels are happy, I am happy:)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Becca-Lynn October 21, 1998-December 29, 2012</td></tr>
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And finally, very sadly, I said good-bye to my beloved fourteen year old best friend, Becca, at the end of December. She was doing well until she wasn't and she began to go downhill very quickly towards the end. It was one of the hardest and saddest decisions that I have ever had to make, but she went very peacefully in our home, on her own bed. We had a vet come to our house so that Becca would not have to experience the stress of being brought to the vet's office which she hated. The vet was extremely gentle and Becca fell asleep looking into my eyes. She was such an amazing dog and a very loyal friend and companion. She stood by me at times when I might have withered away without her love. I am so grateful for the time that we had together and I will miss her for the rest of my life. <br />
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These are some of the moments which have passed during my absence. Life is always filled with moments that make us want to run away and moments that make us want to stay for awhile. It is up to us to remain present during all of these times because they are all valuable. They are all teaching moments, and they truly are all we have in the end. <br />
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Thank you for sticking with me and for spending the time to walk for awhile on this road along side of me. I look forward to reconnecting with you and to catching up with the many moments that I have missed in your lives. There is a time for everything in our lives, and for me, it is time to return to the moment. To the now, to here, to life. L'Chaim.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-41248589583088478702012-11-15T20:56:00.003-08:002012-11-16T21:21:14.032-08:00I am Safe<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO56sKovqTOQfGFj-OaNp8LLCJ-CIvZTkLq8DZ6Lff3gqbxXJj6mEIJ6OGXi1FDvv_aytTHZQOzxsSP2AEDoR4eIJ0MNPAM3v0O59I3uBu6JAVChyphenhyphen69Fi3FU7pOQXvvjImQv0yRcrt6ZM/s1600/IMG_6830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO56sKovqTOQfGFj-OaNp8LLCJ-CIvZTkLq8DZ6Lff3gqbxXJj6mEIJ6OGXi1FDvv_aytTHZQOzxsSP2AEDoR4eIJ0MNPAM3v0O59I3uBu6JAVChyphenhyphen69Fi3FU7pOQXvvjImQv0yRcrt6ZM/s640/IMG_6830.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
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*sunset over the Pacific, November 14, 2012</div>
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<span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;">I am feeling strangely ensconced within a deep cocoon of security today, as if I am being gently cradled in a place where I am safe and warm and nothing amiss can touch me or the ones that I love. This is a feeling that I welcome. I am allowing it to wash over my soul like a soothing stream of warmth. It emanates from my heart, it radiates outward. I feel it everywhere as it lavishes from the bottom of my toes to the top of my head. I am not at all sure what brought this on as today is just an ordinary day but I so badly want to hold onto this feeling. I want to somehow transmit it to the people that I love. To you. And yet, after the past couple of months that I have had, I do know that discourse often bubbles like a thermal geyser just below the grounds surface, ready to erupt without a moments notice. I am no pollyanna. I readily acknowledge that even as I sit here bathed in a </span><span style="font-size: small;">soothingly soft blanket of comfort that there is trouble in the world and sadness and pain but in this moment, I am feeling shielded from that, and I am grateful, so grateful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Happy one week until Thanksgiving. May you, too, </span><i style="font-size: medium;">feel</i><span style="font-size: small;"> the blessings in your life.</span></div>
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Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-47674486456817516052012-11-11T16:20:00.000-08:002012-11-11T16:20:31.567-08:00All is Well<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
*You might want to grab a cup of coffee because this is a long one:)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSakHPJUj1du-leHpZQV0TGdNIqmbC2wrAjzd3uEYlcZW31mN8dKPfk0CxG3cyX1Pw7rzQruSa8hRy7snk5swWcm2ibIQdvxNWt0bpcj4LCy5oi6n_MB3eZ-hdkLJaKrjcg_XU7iBKyxc/s1600/267795_4200729650983_540714339_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSakHPJUj1du-leHpZQV0TGdNIqmbC2wrAjzd3uEYlcZW31mN8dKPfk0CxG3cyX1Pw7rzQruSa8hRy7snk5swWcm2ibIQdvxNWt0bpcj4LCy5oi6n_MB3eZ-hdkLJaKrjcg_XU7iBKyxc/s640/267795_4200729650983_540714339_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
So I was just reading a blog in which the "writer" proselytized that the reason that Hurricane Sandy wreaked havoc over sixteen states across the East Coast is because, wait for it, wait for it...the people who reside in those sixteen states somehow<b> deserved</b> to be bashed by a megastorm of epic proportions. According to this woman(who is raising eight children with epic stupidity and bigotry), it is the fault of the <b>gays</b> and the damn <b>liberals </b>and the <b>Obama supporters</b> and the <b>non-Christians</b> and anyone else who might not agree with her- I mean-<i>the only</i> religious doctrine that should exist in this country. I am mostly non-political. I believe that gay people should have the same rights as straight people. I actually supported neither candidate in this past election. I am moderately liberal on some issues and moderately conservative on others. I have been married to the same man, with whom I have birthed four daughters, for over twenty-eight years. I am Jewish. I am a born and bred New Yorker who has raised her children(quite well, I might add) for their entire lives on the West Coast of this great nation. Which is why, if I were to follow the <b><i>logic </i></b>according to the "gospel" of this woman and others like her, God probably decided to track me down in Southern California to create a little Hurricane Sandy in the lives of the people who are closest to me? Since He was already ticked off enough to completely batter the worlds of countless East Coasters(many of whom are God-loving Christians like herself) why not do a bit of picking and choosing on the West Coast at the same time just to prove that <b>we</b>(the people who do not believe what she believes) have also so offended God that He is going to pummel us all into subservient submission(to heck with free-will). I am losing patience with this idiotic line of thinking. My mother-in-law sent me a fictional book to read several months ago that meandered down this same, exact road and as much as I love her, I nearly conducted a good, old-fashioned book burning ceremony in my own backyard. I forgave her for truly believing the bull-shit that was written inside of that book as anything but fiction, but this particular blogger who took it upon herself to tell hurting people that Hurricane Sandy came crashing down on them because <b>GOD IS ANGRY AT THEM </b>made my heart sink down into the pits of my stomach. Yes, there is a lot of hurtful crap that is written on the Internet and yes, this woman has the right to believe anything that she darn-well pleases, but to use her blog as an instrument of hate, to stick her proverbial tongue out at the poor people who were so devastated in the path of this monstrous storm while saying "Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!" <b>gross, just gross</b>. So, to stand in unity with my East Coast friends and family members(incidentally this includes my mother-in-law who lives on the Jersey Shore) I am posting a sampling of the crap sandwich which has been dealt out to our family over the course of the past five weeks with a bit of a different perspective on crap sandwiches.<br />
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Anyone who reads my blog on a regular basis probably already knows that my dad, my touchstone, recently suffered a heart attack which was followed by quadruple bypass surgery. My dad has made many strides in his recovery and is doing so much better now. His recovery, and <b>not </b>the episode which led up to it, is what I attribute to God. As I explained in my previous post, I believe that my father was given a second chance at life because his work on this earth is not yet complete. That being said, I do not believe that my father's heart attack was <i>caused</i> by God. Heart attacks are acts of nature, just as hurricanes or earthquakes or tornadoes are. <br />
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The heart attack seemed to just be the tipping point for us. The vehicle in the photograph above used to belong to Angel Daughter Number Two. I say that it <b>used to belong to her, </b>because some brainless schmuck chose to get behind the wheel of a car <b>drunk, </b>and then proceeded to plow into the front of my daughter's car head-on, very late one night a couple of weeks ago. She sensed him coming but it was too late. He hit her in such a way that her car uncontrollably spun around a full 360 degrees deploying the airbags and leaving her stunned and in pain as she tried to put together the pieces of what had just happened. From out of nowhere, a young man on a bicycle ran to her aid helping her out of the vehicle and retrieving her cellphone from inside so that she could call for help. When AD2's boyfriend arrived on the scene, the driver admitted to him that he had been drinking. The drunk remained on the scene for several minutes until AD2 noticed him limping across the road and then, out of sight, leaving nothing but his vehicle behind. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRt3hH-HGekgUZnyFlgD0yq_t_209bLIkxyQcNtk1rJwxDkxAGcgrOcIvuhfoEARH9NT6E1Yj4uYCzbKjDvT3Fb8NmC-kM8QQLfd2NtEJvZikICghEqbGDQt56mL8iC06XMXcwTIQZOD0/s1600/IMG_6380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRt3hH-HGekgUZnyFlgD0yq_t_209bLIkxyQcNtk1rJwxDkxAGcgrOcIvuhfoEARH9NT6E1Yj4uYCzbKjDvT3Fb8NmC-kM8QQLfd2NtEJvZikICghEqbGDQt56mL8iC06XMXcwTIQZOD0/s640/IMG_6380.jpg" width="550" /></a></div>
That was the same week that I arrived home after spending eight days out in Palm Springs. Mark met me out there(two hours away from home) for the weekend after my dad was released from ICU leaving our two youngest Angel Daughters in charge of the farm. On Saturday night, Angel Daughter Number Four called and mentioned that our dog, Micah, was limping after she had taken him to play with her boyfriend's dogs for the afternoon. When we spoke to her on Sunday, she said he was still limping but seemed to be doing better so we didn't think too much about it. When I arrived home at around 10:30 Sunday night, the dog was not limping. He was <b>dragging</b> his leg behind him and yelping anytime that we touched it to look at it. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*Notice my suitcase still yet to be unpacked in the background.</td></tr>
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By Tuesday, Micah was in surgery to replace his torn ACL with metal pins.</div>
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And somewhere in the midst of all of this, my husband managed to fracture his wrist in two places.</div>
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And you know what my mantra was for the entire time that all of this was taking place? <b>It can always be worse.</b> There was nothing facetious about this. No sarcasm. No blaming God. No believing that the Lord had been particularly harsh on my family as a way to "punish" us for my gay-loving, non-Christian, Jewish, moderately liberal, moderately conservative views. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIcQTE2ORor3IeYLVU_Vt4fQ-k9McIl-uXOBQ8H7ycD640oSuAjmD4h7HPtbnewmnVHUFfkEsOBXeUaJykDhHVlQJvgRYANPuQzpg4UR1gGJ7ltftydCoZZU3J-rsWouT43nvUmfaqTJQ/s1600/IMG_6535.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIcQTE2ORor3IeYLVU_Vt4fQ-k9McIl-uXOBQ8H7ycD640oSuAjmD4h7HPtbnewmnVHUFfkEsOBXeUaJykDhHVlQJvgRYANPuQzpg4UR1gGJ7ltftydCoZZU3J-rsWouT43nvUmfaqTJQ/s640/IMG_6535.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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It was my choice and my belief to focus on where I <i style="font-weight: bold;">know</i> God is in all of this. It is for the same reason that I know that God did not bring Hurricane Sandy down on the lives of all of the people who live in the sixteen states that were affected by such a mega force of nature to punish them. Because no matter how bad things might seem, <b>they can always be worse. </b>And no matter how difficult the storms that we must face might seem at the time that they are happening, there are always angels, even human beings with invisible wings or bicycles who will swoop in to help or to rescue or to lend a hand. No, crazy woman who had the audacity to write that God used the tragedy of a megastorm to punish whomever happened to reside in its way, God <b>did not </b>create the hurricane in order to express His anger. </div>
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A hurricane is an act of nature.</div>
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A heart attack is an act of nature.</div>
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A broken wrist or a torn ACL, both acts of nature.</div>
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A drunk driver barreling down the road without concern for anyone but his own need to get where he is going impaired out of his mind, that is an unfortunate and evil act of free-will.</div>
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But a surgeon who can repair a badly damaged heart and save a life, </div>
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millions of people coming together to support those who were traumatized and damaged and devastated by a storm,</div>
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people putting their own lives at risk with barely a thought for their own safety in order to rescue others,</div>
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a veterinary surgeon who can replace the ACL of a dog with staples and pins so that he can run again,</div>
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a stranger on a bicycle who stops in the middle of the night to come to the aid of someone else's daughter,</div>
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<i style="font-weight: bold;">that</i> <b>is where God is.</b></div>
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The photo above is of AD2 and Micah, now. They are both still dealing with the after effects of what they have been through, but they are healing and safe and alive. The little red car in the photo is AD2's new Prius Hybrid. The insurance company declared her other car totaled after the accident and sent her a check almost immediately. There is an investigator assigned to her case and he is going to find the driver of the vehicle that could have killed my daughter. Things can definitely always be worse.</div>
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Through it all, there are always wonderful moments intertwined with the difficult ones. Here are just a few. These are the moments that remind me of where God is in the mix.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimj_diuaMKGph5PLZdC5pTzB2LWzRvWWJJ00lmzZ0LygqH2ayW_7Ava1JSLvZx_48Rhx44P6uqONpkXins49EU9mPjkqqcv0KHCxad04Js43F0_uINoiut152r0o1qTjxiPa_Drn4u3DE/s1600/IMG_6038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="604" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimj_diuaMKGph5PLZdC5pTzB2LWzRvWWJJ00lmzZ0LygqH2ayW_7Ava1JSLvZx_48Rhx44P6uqONpkXins49EU9mPjkqqcv0KHCxad04Js43F0_uINoiut152r0o1qTjxiPa_Drn4u3DE/s640/IMG_6038.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Angel Daughter Number Four, our tiny dancer, asked me to come observe as she taught some dance classes. As I sat there observing, several of the parents who were also observing their own students began talking about what an incredible teacher AD4 is. They did not realize that I was there to watch her and that I am her momma. I just sat there and smiled.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEIHiHAVWlsgpyAEIuxRrvkgNpgbYyShYolZWuyES82tkVUPgwCHJJITDsuE-YETXu5mA-mnXXuAO1QBMaQPs7vB_7A-4KjVR_JEzMNDRkgvxTGzU7Tbgc6hF3vuXStR2VGIBfgmH4roY/s1600/IMG_6448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEIHiHAVWlsgpyAEIuxRrvkgNpgbYyShYolZWuyES82tkVUPgwCHJJITDsuE-YETXu5mA-mnXXuAO1QBMaQPs7vB_7A-4KjVR_JEzMNDRkgvxTGzU7Tbgc6hF3vuXStR2VGIBfgmH4roY/s640/IMG_6448.jpg" width="508" /></a></div>
Halloween 2012. Angel Daughter Number Three dressed up as one of the characters from the movie The Nightmare Before Christmas. Once she got the full face make-up done, she looked amazing!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kxtjFh70bTy8k9gKcjC2Aueyq4nwkyWXtU2iNo3wttT3a4aXdkverK4uWif0wSBzzmmBoVk2v1Cfa_zsFdsgQkpLWZ7_4q0TKAT4k7SjIr2fguUHbML-O5gUWMoNJ-LyMnAU-azXyIM/s1600/DSC_3945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kxtjFh70bTy8k9gKcjC2Aueyq4nwkyWXtU2iNo3wttT3a4aXdkverK4uWif0wSBzzmmBoVk2v1Cfa_zsFdsgQkpLWZ7_4q0TKAT4k7SjIr2fguUHbML-O5gUWMoNJ-LyMnAU-azXyIM/s640/DSC_3945.jpg" width="432" /></a></div>
Angel Daughter Number One likes to ham it up for me when I have the camera because she knows that it will make me go away faster. That being said, I adore this child.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg35O0yhk2ySBQNwpc-hSVfQZdm3HNDorx28bI4TG-sMsLZq47re9YYIIGAhjVjcTvV8-0ORFTBNpBVL7fO5u1DoGpomqMP-XU_zZFRm6WhAG1AlH3-TcMP8wo4GKUb4D_jOFA2eQ3WMAQ/s1600/DSC_3777+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg35O0yhk2ySBQNwpc-hSVfQZdm3HNDorx28bI4TG-sMsLZq47re9YYIIGAhjVjcTvV8-0ORFTBNpBVL7fO5u1DoGpomqMP-XU_zZFRm6WhAG1AlH3-TcMP8wo4GKUb4D_jOFA2eQ3WMAQ/s640/DSC_3777+2.jpg" width="482" /></a></div>
Angel Daughter Number Two did a photo shoot at our house last weekend. It was so much fun to watch her work. Our house was buzzing with energy as the make-up artist, stylist, models and their boyfriends busily worked together to create some gorgeous images.<br />
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I will definitely post some of the finished products here soon. Such a fantastic group of young people. Watching AD2 orchestrate everything made me a very proud momma.<br />
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Last week, we had a Disney Day as a family. I think this photo pretty much sums up what kind of a day that was. It is not as often as I would like that we can get together for an entire day to be together as a family now, but when we do, I am nothing but grateful.<br />
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My prayers go out to the many people who were affected by Hurricane Sandy. May you find strength in each other. May you find healing in the rebuilding of your lives, and may you find peace in the moments that remind you that things can always be worse. Oh yes, they can.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-48983845896332615762012-10-22T21:17:00.000-07:002012-10-23T14:35:04.181-07:00Second Chances<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad and I</td></tr>
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Can I write candidly about this without completely hurting someone's feelings? The heart can be a very delicate organ at times like these. I am not sure that I can but I will try to anyway. It is, after all, as much of a part of my story as anyone else's. As I sat there staring down at the hands that had just held my father's temporarily non-beating heart, all I could think about was second chances. Second..thump-thump..chances. Second..thump-thump..chances. Second..thump-thump..chances. The heart surgeon's words were little more than rubbery sounding background noises as my own heart beat wildly against the words "second chances" and my eyes focused on those hands. Something tells me that I could pick that doctor out of a lineup based solely upon the appearance of his long, lean fingers. His gold wedding band slightly embedded in the skin of his ring finger, his short well-manicured nails. But his face, probably not his face. I was not paying any attention to his face or even his words, for that matter. It was his hands that captured my full attention and all I was capable of doing in that moment was memorizing them, not necessarily on purpose, but because they had held something that I was born out of, something that has held me since the moment I was even considered. My father's heart newly quadruply bypassed and cleared of as much plaque as humanly possible and then placed gingerly back inside of his chest to hopefully, <b>prayerfully</b> beat for another day. Second chances.<br />
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Almost two weeks ago, my dad suffered a "minor" heart attack. A heart attack, ironically, that ended up saving his life because when the doctors performed an angiogram they discovered that my father needed to have quadruple bypass surgery in order for his heart to continue pumping. At first, I was numb, and then I was scared to death that I might lose him but finally, I prayed. I pleaded, I bargained, I rationalized, I cajoled, I bartered until <b>finally</b>, something quieted the voice inside of my busy, whirling mind demanding that I <b>stop</b>. And when I stopped, when I took a breath, when I listened, I heard a voice, presumably what I immediately assumed was The voice of God and that voice calmly yet firmly said, "If I wanted to take him now, Debra, he would no longer be here." It was in that moment that I knew that my dad was being given a second chance. It was then that I began to believe that he would make it through the very difficult surgery and recovery. But it was also then that I understood that beyond all of that, there would be no guarantees. It might not have been my father's time <b>but </b>a second chance will definitely require some significant lifestyle changes. One of his doctors straight out told me that if my father does not change his ways, he <b>will</b> die. I appreciate people who do not skirt around the truth. I am a sensitive soul but surprisingly tough as nails and I do not like surprises, especially since my little brother dropped dead on us only four short years ago without any warning. <br />
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Here is where things get somewhat dicey. My father was released from the hospital yesterday and although he is regaining his physical strength daily, he still will not speak to anyone on the telephone. This includes me. I am not sure if this is a rational or an irrational decision for he is back to running his business via email but he has absolutely no desire to speak to or see anybody right now. My step-mother texted me to tell me that my father is repeating the words, "NO VISITORS" like a mantra.(insinuating that this also includes me) This does not surprise me because when I arrived at the ICU to spend some time with my dad the day after his surgery, there was a handwritten note next to his room number on the checkin sheet that specifically stated that "only wife and sister-in-law" were allowed to visit him. Sister-in-law...Not wife and daughter, but wife and sister-in-law. They did end up letting me in after speaking with my dad's nurse but I will not even venture to guess what the hell that was about. And my step-mother, whom I have known since I was sixteen years old and who readily admits that she has been with my father for over forty years(which would have made me ten and my brother four and my father a very married man), professes to love me. I am too exhausted to even try to muddle through the feelings of another woman who somehow believes that a close relationship between her husband and his daughter somehow diminishes a man's ability to love his wife, first and foremost. I have lived out that story for my entire life with my own mother and frankly, it truly bores the hell out of me now. My dad lives two hours away from me and unlike the first eight days of this episode, I cannot completely drop my own life and spend my days waiting around in a hotel room for the couple of hours that I can spend with my father each day. Of course, immediately after his heart attack and surgery and for the days until he was placed into the transitional care unit, there was no place else on earth that I would have even considered being, but I cannot continually put my own life on hold. So, I wait. And pray more. And I will email him later because I know that he will respond to that, however briefly. And then, in a week or so, Mark and I will take the drive out to Palm Springs whether he likes it or not because truthfully, it isn't really all about him, or my step-mother, or what he says that he does not want because I am his daughter, his only child. I know the possibility that we could have lost him was real. I know that the possibility that we could still lose him is also real but getting a bit more remote with every passing day. I do not know what his plans are but I have some very nagging feelings in the center of my gut about that.<br />
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This is about second chances. This is about decisions and beliefs and choices. He can stay after living what he has been through, or, he can go...soon. I think I already know what God's feelings about that are. I know what my feelings are. Mark's feelings. All of our Angel Daughter's feelings. I still need my father. In my heart, I am still a small child who believes that her daddy will always be the strong, brilliant, vibrant man who has all of the answers.(well, most of them, anyway) But I am also a woman who knows that second chances come with both responsibility and a price. So here we stand. No bullshit, I will stand by my father in whatever he decides. I will not nag him, berate him, badger him or judge him. I will only hope and continue my conversation with God because sometimes, that is the only thing that is within our power to do.<br />
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I hope that you are all well and that life is good:) I have some catching up to do and I promise to update again very, very soon. Thank you for checking in on us and for sticking with me.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-75662015239295734292012-09-19T21:48:00.000-07:002012-09-19T21:48:45.654-07:00Reconnect, Repair, Renew<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">Rosh Hashanah literally means "the head of the year". In Jewish tradition, Rosh Hashanah marks the completion of the creation of the world and is looked upon as a time to begin anew, to forgive and to be forgiven. It is now 5773 according to the Jewish calendar which follows the lunar calendar(our regular calendar follows the solar cycle) and even if you do not believe that the world has only existed for 5773 years, this is a time for great self-evaluation and contemplation. It is a time of gratitude for God and a time of deep introspection and study. It is a time for celebration and a time to ask for forgiveness(from God, from ourselves, from others). It is a time of prayer and a time of Tzedakah(charity). It is the time when it is said that God opens up the book of life in order to determine who shall live and who shall die. It is a time when we are expected to repent, to return to God, and to return to our highest selves. It is a time for second chances(or third, or fourth, or even ninety-ninth) as long as we take responsibility for our own actions. It is not a time for feeling guilty about our past indiscretions but rather a time to <b><i>right</i></b> our own wrongs. And as daunting as all of this might seem, it is really a gift because when done correctly, the days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur(the ten days known as "The days of Awe") may not only be spiritually cleansing but also emotionally healing for ourselves and for others, as well.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, Times, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">As I sit here contemplating the year that has been, the "me" that has been, the "we" that has been over the course of the past year, it feels a little bit odd if not somewhat mis-placed because this Rosh Hashanah somehow snuck up on me. I can definitely blame this on so many things. The fact that I turned 50 this past summer, the fact that our youngest Angel Daughter turned eighteen and graduated from high school, that our oldest turned twenty-five, the fact that our devoted and beloved rabbi(our rabbi for well-over twenty plus years) passed away, the fact that it has been unusually and repressively hot and humid for the past two months making it feel as if no time has passed at all. And yet, here it is. Here I am.</span></span><br />
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As I watched a train passing below our home on the tracks that skirt the shoreline of the coast on the evening of the first day of the new year, I thought about how quickly things, life-cycle events, days, weeks, years can pass before we even realize that they are upon us.<br />
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There are times when we do not even feel the changes as they happen, and then suddenly, here they are, right in front of our eyes as if they magically appeared out of nowhere, blazingly obvious in both sight and sound but leaving us feeling somewhat dumbfounded by their unexpected arrival. <br />
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And yet, we knew that they were coming. Barrelling down the tracks like a well-timed train, slowing down for nothing. <br />
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As I consider the things that I must do in order to become a better person, I intend on using the next week or so to look within and to dig as deeply as my courage will allow in order to come to terms with the things that will make me a finer human being. What can I do to make the lives of those who I love and care about just a little bit better each day? Are my actions aligned with my core values on a daily basis? Are there things that I could work on in order to become a more productive and positive individual? It is said that on Rosh Hashanah, the world goes back to the moment of creation and begins anew. I like to believe that we all have that chance, too.<br />
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May I take this moment to ask for forgiveness of anyone whom I may have hurt overtly or unintentionally over the course of this past year. May I find forgiveness in my heart for those who have hurt me, either intentionally or without knowing, and may I find a way to leave any hurt behind. May I do better, be kinder and love harder than I ever have before. May I always remember to show gratitude for God and for all of the wonderful people that He has so graciously surrounded me with. <br />
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L'shanah tovah to everyone. Happy new year. May God inscribe and seal you and all of the people who you love in The Book of Life for another good and sweet year. And may it be a good one for all of you...From my lips to God's ears.<br />
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<br />Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-34707851358570269122012-09-02T18:19:00.000-07:002012-09-02T18:19:51.216-07:00Thawing Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am good. I have not melted, nor imploded, nor run off to some exotic island in the South Pacific where life is absolutely perfect and there are handsome, young, sun-kissed natives fulfilling my every frivolous desire. And although for the past three or so weeks, I have spent most of my time in what I call my "mom cave"(our air-conditioned bedroom which has been the only tolerable space in our home because people in San Clemente do not believe in installing central air) yesterday and today have been much nicer days with much less heat and humidity. Yes friends, global warming has finally made its way to the west coast which means that <i>no place </i>is safe from the clutches of intolerable heat anymore. We are all doomed to a life filled with cases of deodorant, indoor activities and whining. Build a bunker that has air conditioning and stock it with lots of canned goods.<br />
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As I sit here thinking about where the summer has gone and how I am actually very glad that it <i>is</i> almost gone, I am also a bit sad about how quickly the time just whizzes by. My girls are no longer children. Our pets are getting older, especially my beloved dog Becca who is now living with kidney failure at the age of nearly fourteen. My parents are both in their seventies. I just turned 50. Life happens whether we decide to participate in it or not and quite honestly, for the past four years since my brother died, I have felt as if time stood frozen solid in too many aspects. The clock kept ticking but I somehow became ensconced in the shock and the pain and the grief of losing someone who was such an important presence in my life since the time that I was four years old. And then, so many people betrayed me....<i style="font-weight: bold;">so many people</i>. People who I truly believed cared about me and loved me. And the bite from those betrayals, the bone-crushing throb that occurs after the jaws clamp down on an unsuspecting heart, it can come up at times when I am least expecting it. A word, a smell, a story, a picture and my heart begins aching again...thumping, thumping, thumping. Betrayal is one of the few things in life that we cannot do anything to prevent. We go into relationships trusting that others are not going to use those relationships to bring pain and sadness into our lives. It happens, though. And along with the death of my brother, my only sibling, these people turned on me as if I was somehow to blame for the loss or as if I was <b>only the sister, </b>which somehow meant that the loss should have been less for me? My mother, my "step-father", my "step-brother" Marc, his wife Sheri, their son my "nephew" Eric and his now wife, Rachel. And almost worst of all in such a deeply hurtful way that makes me feel nothing but sorrow when I think of what my brother must have had to live with, my sister-in-law Allyson. Naming names and taking numbers now but I am not exactly sure why I have reached this point at this particular time. I suppose all things come with time. <br />
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I am at a point in my life in which I want to heal. I am <i style="font-weight: bold;">craving</i> healing. My brother would want me to. My husband and my daughters and my father want me to. My friends want me to. My therapist who is really just a friend who I pay by the hour, wants me to. And although I am not really sure where to begin, this unrelenting heat that we have been experiencing is beginning to thaw my soul. I am taking small steps towards reaching out to the world again. Small, little baby steps toward not believing that anyone I allow in will someday betray me. I know that that is not true, that people will inevitably betray me, I just need to begin to believe it again. The wound runs so terribly deep. I have to remind myself that the individuals who thought little of betraying me were individuals who were presented into my life by <b>other</b> people. My mother's marital family of choice, <b>not mine</b>. My brother's wife of choice, <b>never mine.</b> I accepted these people as my own. I did not have to. I could have kept a polite distance. They became my childrens' people, too. Maybe that is part of what hurts so much. Hurt me, but <i style="font-weight: bold;">stay away </i>from my children. I must always remember that they were someone else's people. So, as another autumn comes into view, I am thinking about what is next. I am actually calling the people who say, "Give me a call, sometime!", and I am opening myself up to the possibilities. I am feeling restless which I think might be a very good sign. I am no longer comfortable just cocooning into a place that feels safe, a place where <i style="font-weight: bold;">they</i> cannot hurt me. I want my heart to thaw.<br />
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If you are still reading at this point and you do not think that I am seriously broken, thank you. Would you mind saying a prayer, or, if you are not the praying type, sending a bit of good energy out into the Universe for me? And I will do the same for you because when it comes down to it, we are all really just souls journeying through this world in order to find our way to love. It is as simple as that.<br />
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I am good. Truly, I am.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-12887685648690178152012-08-07T21:58:00.000-07:002012-08-07T21:58:52.414-07:00Instamoments<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDyEwVNqNbg00POLN1mBnNiIqHli4sK6GWIQErHc8HBa6S5LvUkhQDlHr14DahJc-VuKyy782jlb_C9XRhbUISwBG_pTc0JCpyVidCoGEW6832VF9_QA9L1NFrwAlwhGXP4pHfkh1Ob0w/s1600/625510_3828573267718_1751066715_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDyEwVNqNbg00POLN1mBnNiIqHli4sK6GWIQErHc8HBa6S5LvUkhQDlHr14DahJc-VuKyy782jlb_C9XRhbUISwBG_pTc0JCpyVidCoGEW6832VF9_QA9L1NFrwAlwhGXP4pHfkh1Ob0w/s400/625510_3828573267718_1751066715_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angel Daughter Number Four with a smile almost as large as her own.</td></tr>
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When I was in High School, my father set up a darkroom for me in the recesses of our haunted basement, handed me a Nikon camera(always our family camera of choice), and told me "Go to it, Kid." Equipped with my telephoto lens, I set out to photograph one of my favorite species at the time. High School football players. Having dated several of them, they didn't think anything of having me hang around the perimeter of the field while shooting random photos. When I realized that there was a premium amongst players and their families for action photos of football players doing what they do, I began charging sixty cents a print and developing the photos in our basement. I was always torn between doing what I loved and spending time in that dark, dank basement that I swear was built upon some ancient burial plot, but that is a different story for a different day. I would run down the stairs and straight into my darkroom where I would promptly slam the door behind me.(as if doors keep creepy things from going through walls) I can still smell the pungent odor of developer that permeated the air in my little, dimly-lit space. I used to get lost in the creative work of darkness and negatives and paper dipped in liquids. It was almost other-worldly for me as I waited for seemingly nothing to appear into something. <br />
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I suppose that my father instilled the love of photography in me and then, into Angel Daughter Number Two. When I was a child, he was always chasing me around to pose for one picture or another. It seemed kind of annoying at the time. Not too many children like to stand still for as long as it takes to snap a few photos(especially my own, STILL!), but it did not take long for me to realize the benefit of having many childhood/family photos and I quickly learned to appreciate the keepsaking of a memory.<br />
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Digital cameras did not come along until my Angel Daughters were a bit older and so, most of their childhood photos are on paper which definitely has its benefits. I have boxes upon boxes upon boxes of their childhood photos and sometimes we go through them, giggling, oohing and ahhhing, or just passing them back and forth quietly misty-eyed from the moments that went by way too fast. I am glad for those printed photos. I cherish each and every single one of them. They are the first things that I would grab if God forbid, there was an emergency. But I am also glad now for the capability to shoot seemingly frivolous digital photos of colorful, homegrown tomatoes because I might not have if I was shooting with film and there is something to be said for snapping a picture just because the beauty of the moment moves you. Lately, I have been playing around with Instagram and I love it. It allows me to take a picture on a moments whim and then tweak it or not which I am doing less and less of, the tweaking I mean. I always have my phone with me which almost allows me to feel secure enough <i>not</i> to always lug my heavier Nikon along. I did say <i style="font-weight: bold;">almost, </i>family.<br />
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Here are some photos that I took with my camera which also happens to also be a communication device. Small details...<br />
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Angel Daughter Number Three getting ready to leave for work in the wonderful shirt that she made with her own little hands in Sewing class. I love that she is learning to create clothing with her hands.(One of Angella's recent posts reminded me of how precious this will someday be.) Yesterday AD3 made an adorable pair of shorts that I will take a picture of her wearing the next time she puts them on. She is such a fashion maven!<br />
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An instashot of Angel Daughter Number Two and me. Since her arms are longer than mine, she got to hold the camera, I mean phone, I mean...Oh, whatever.<br />
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Louis, the adorable marmalade kitty and my nighttime cuddle buddy. I am going to be sad if Angel Daughter Number Two really decides to take him back. Just saying...After all, I am almost an empty-nester these days.<br />
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This is the main drag through our little town and I never <b>really</b> looked at it until the day that I took this picture. This sort of epitomizes the feel of what it is like to live in San Clemente. Palm trees, sunshine and ocean on the horizon no matter where you look. Heaven.</div>
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Our front yard. That is the city of Dana Point is in the distance, another wonderful costal town down here in Southern California.</div>
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Baby roses in a Jadite pitcher on our kitchen table. Another one of the simple things that can elevate life to the extraordinary. It's all in the details, my friends.<br />
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Sunsplash on our faces. Angel Daughter Number Four, my sunshine, and her momma.</div>
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Recently, I fell in love with succulents and when I found some that blossom in colors, I was hooked for good. This one kind of reminds me of the man-eating plant from Little Shop of Horrors. Good thing it is actually really small.<br />
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Angel Daughter Number One and her momma. I <i>love</i> her smile. Once again, she is the one holding the camera because, well you know.<br />
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Callie is our only female feline which is why the three males fight.(and yes, they are all spayed and neutered. I guess they still somehow <b>know</b> what they should be doing if they could.) She causes so much trouble and doesn't even realize it. I suppose it does not matter the species. Women have been causing men to battle since the beginning of time.<br />
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Happy, happy, or as my husband says, happy wife, happy life!<br />
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And finally, Micah, our handsome boy. Those eyes allow him to get away with quite a bit sometimes.<br />
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Interestingly enough, I have been thinking about purchasing a film camera to play around with aside from my digital cameras and my iPhone. AD2 has been encouraging me to do this. There is something about the <i>process </i>of shooting with film. Although we do not have the room for a darkroom right now, there might be room for one in the future.(Hopefully, the next one won't come with any uninvited guests.) Something about feeling like my girls are now grown-ups is also causing me to feel more generous with not only my words, but also my photo-taking moments. It is like I am looking for something to nurture that begins within and then metamorphoses its way out into the world for others to share. A standalone body of work that is not breathing, per say. I am starting to believe, really believe, that indulging ourselves with the things which make us feel good and useful and like we are utilizing the gifts that we were given is not only important, but necessary. Very, very necessary. And maybe not so indulgent after all.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-3498629748492503552012-08-04T17:14:00.000-07:002012-08-04T17:14:22.542-07:00The Essence of a Found Hometown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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San Clemente, California. A patriotic little enclave in Southern California which has captured my heart and nourishes my spirit in a way that no other place ever has. Living here has been like coming home after wandering through, for much of my life. When I think about finally arriving here via a very long and winding road beginning with my original birthplace of Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan, it feels as if we were meant to end up here, that we were somehow led here, and yet, it is a place that spent very little time on my radar during our first twenty-three years here in Southern California. Mark and I have always lived with the feeling that we are being <i>guided</i>. We always seem to end up in the right place at the right time. And so, as we get ready to complete the packing and the moving from our Ladera house which has been home for almost twelve years, it is a good thing to know that we are not only moving, but coming <i>home.</i> <br />
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This beach is known as T-Street. It is very popular with locals and tourists, alike. The beach is fairly flat and there are playgrounds for the children which makes it a fantastic spot for families. We really like taking our pup, Micah, for walks along the San Clemente Beach Trail which spans approximately five miles long but allows you to pop on or off at various spots along the way.<br />
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I really enjoy bringing my camera with me whenever we go for a walk because the subjects down here are endless!<br />
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There is a restaurant at the foot of the pier that offers a gorgeous view of the Pacific and incredible sunsets. Care to join me for lunch?<br />
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When this lifeguard came bounding down the pier with a very purposeful look in his eyes, I asked him how his day was going. He told me that he was getting very tired because he had made nine rescues that day! Sheesh! I told him that he would sleep very well that night.<br />
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The older gentleman to the right was fishing with his son and grandson. I noticed them because the grandson was being very sweet and gentle with his grandfather.<br />
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How incredibly lucky these two souls are to have each other. Grandparents are extremely important in the lives of their grandchildren. I see this relationship between my four daughters and their grandparents. I have always encouraged my girls to spend time with their grandparents. I have always said that my mother makes a much better grandmother than she ever did a mother. I am very glad for that as my girls deserve to be treated like they are the most wonderful things since sliced challah;)<br />
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We are so lucky to be able to watch the flocks of Pelicans flying over our bluff during the summer months. They are the most magnificent birds with huge wingspans and beautifully graceful flight. This was the first time that we got to observe a Pelican up close. He was hanging out at the end of the pier where people like to drop their fishing lines into the ocean. It has become a learned behavior for them to beg for food but it is very important <b>not</b> to feed them because they are only supposed to eat certain things. They are very good at pretending that they are starving to death so that someone will toss them a hand-out. Quite an amazing adapted trait these birds have learned! It is actually against the law to feed them but most people do not know that. This guy just hung around staring at everyone with that "I'm cute and hungry" look in his eyes. Stinker!<br />
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These bungalows are perched just above the beach overlooking the ocean. I have never been inside of them, but I would imagine that the views alone, are the reason that people would stay here.<br />
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Some of the older architecture in our neighborhood is stunning. I spotted this beautiful gate on this stucco home when Mark and I were taking Micah and Becca for a walk the other day. There is always something wonderful to discover when we go out for walks;<br />
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Like the Neighborhood Watch for the Bird Sanctuary.<br />
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Or the constant color that makes San Clemente so vibrant and breathtaking.<br />
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Thank you for joining me on my little tour of this beautiful town. It is definitely a place that is worth visiting and who knows? Maybe, just maybe, you will find out that it is destined to end up being your hometown, too;)Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-20414090415878629312012-07-28T21:42:00.000-07:002012-07-28T21:42:15.351-07:00Summer Breeze Makes me Feel Fine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sweet days of summer the Jasmine's in bloom<br />
July is dressed up and playing her tune.<br />
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For me, July is a month of dichotomies. My birthday, my brother's should be birthday. Busy days during which my Angel Daughters used to be off from school and ready for play. Quiet days during which I spend time daydreaming about what should come next for me. I am at a precipice in my life. Standing between the end of what once was, teetering on the edge of what soon will be. And the scary thing is I cannot, for the life of me, seem to hear my own voice. I am not exactly sure where and when I became so good at squelching my own voice. How far back does this go? Would I even recognize it now if I did, indeed, hear it?<br />
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The end of July used to mark the halfway point between play days and back-to-school supplies. Fresh crayons and pristine packages of neatly stacked, college-ruled notebook paper. Thick Crayola markers in colors that outlined the pictures of life throughout my days. Newly sharpened pencils and new classrooms to explore. And children. Lots and lots of children. My children.<br />
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July is quickly coming to an end as the dog days of summer melt hazily into the month of August. I look at my children through different eyes now and although their colors are still incredibly young and vibrant, I am longing for a reason to purchase the Crayola eight pack of thick markers, a Hello Kitty lunchbox and a back to school outfit or two for each one of my girls.<br />
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Angel Daughter Number Four's recent graduation from High School brought with it a newfound longing, a straining, to hear the sound of my own voice. To receive an epiphany or that booming voice of God or even the tinkling of whisper-soft angel voices. Hell, even the mechanical female voice from a GPS system would be <b>something</b> at this point. But I am having trouble deciphering it all, hearing it all, making sense of it all.<br />
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Because between Angel Daughter Number One and Angel Daughter Number Four, were also Angel Daughters Number Two and Three and I was a very busy, very fulfilled, very satisfied momma.<br />
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Mark and I raised them, but a lot of the raising was up to me because they were the future that I knew would be when I closed my own sleepy child eyes at night. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. And then I went to college, found the perfect man for me within two months of arriving there, graduated, married, moved to California from New York and before we knew it, they came. One childhood dream after another, after another, after another. And I suppose that somewhere along the path of raising our girls, I got very, very busy and became very, very immersed in the job of doing what I had always dreamed of growing up to do and other voices became louder than my own. Until somewhere along the way, I forgot to think about what I would be good at doing not only when <i style="font-weight: bold;">I</i> grew up, but also, when <i style="font-weight: bold;">they </i>grew up and I somehow lost track of the sound of my own voice. <br />
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Around our Ladera home in which we spent the final eleven years of our children's growing years, there was jasmine that we planted along our fence line that bloomed every summer and smelled like heaven. Recently, we sold that home to another family and we are now in escrow and we are putting that home into boxes because we are living in our ocean home which was never really supposed to be our "primary" home. Yet with the girls moving up and out and on, Mark and I decided that our Ladera home was much too large for the size of our dwindling household and, well, not on the beach which is where we now feel most at home. And as we move away from the aroma of summer jasmine down to a place that carries the essence of sea spray and honeysuckle and saltwater, I am experiencing this deep-seated beseeching need to hear my own voice again. To find my own words. To discover, for myself, what comes after jasmine. And even though I know for sure that my children will always be my own, not only is it time for them to find their own way in this world, but it is also time for me to once again, find mine.<br />
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And I come home from a hard day's work<br />
And you're waitin' there<br />
Not a care in the world.<br />
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See the smile awaitin' in the kitchen<br />
Through cookin' and the plates for two<br />
Feel the arms that reach out to hold me<br />
In the evening when the day's through<br />
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Summer breeze makes me feel fine<br />
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind<br />
Summer breeze makes me feel fine<br />
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind<br />
-Seals and Crofts<br />
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<br />Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-16244221981564133112012-07-12T22:20:00.001-07:002012-07-12T22:20:38.897-07:00Booming Voices and What Comes Next?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Standing in front of the railroad tracks that are down at the beach near my home, I often take the moment or two in which I am forced to stop in my own tracks to feel the absolute force of the passing train and then I think about God or my children or my husband and sometimes rarely, about myself, and I pray. I do not usually use any formal version of prayer but more of a conversational tone with God asking Him to watch over, to guide, to consider, and most importantly, to protect. I never ask for anything tangible. No cars or cash prizes or anything that my husband and I do not earn. No, to me there are much, much more important reasons to talk to God and I would never want to waste His time with stuff. That is what Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy or our Fairy Godmothers are for, cash prizes, shiny new cars and stuff. I do not often get any answers but there are times when I walk away feeling heard, even acknowledged and yet, how would I even know whether or not I was actually acknowledged. It isn't as if God really speaks out loud in a booming voice.(At least to me, He doesn't. Now Moses might have been a very different story.)<br />
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A decade ago on July 9, I turned 40 years old which means that I am now 50.(Glad that I did the math for you?) So many things have happened over the past decade since that wonderful surprise party that Mark threw for me for my fortieth birthday. We have had four daughters graduate from High School and so far, one from college with honors. We celebrated with great joy as each of our youngest three daughters became Bat Mitzvahs and young women in the eyes of our congregation. My beloved grandmother passed away on my birthday at the strong age of ninety one years old and I lost my younger brother, my only sibling, at the far too young age of forty one years young, to sudden heart failure and heart ache. I(temporarily) lost my beautiful nieces to a woman who is supposed to care for them based upon <b>their </b>best interests. We made our way through the terrible maze of the family court system with my sister-in-law and we found out just how many rights that I <b>do not have</b> as the only living sibling of a dead brother/father. We found a loop-hole in the law that saved us from salt in a gaping wound and left my SIL wondering whether or not it was honestly worth over $100,000 to hold a grudge against people who she supposedly cared for at some point in time. I watched as my parents mourned the death of their only son in very different ways. We made a drastic life-altering change in homes, moving down to the beach where my soul can really breathe. We hunted for sea glass as I hunted for peace. I faced the reality that this illness may never again, head back into remission and I came to terms with that. My family struggled as they came to terms with the same illness. I watched as my daughters acted in commercials and danced, created photographic brilliance for magazines and created beautiful pieces of clothing from almost nothing. I sat back and whispered prayers for my daughters as they experienced break-ups, heart ache and independence. We traveled and stayed put. I lost some friends on purpose and gently let some go when our friendships no longer served either one of us. I made some wonderful connections with the most unlikely of individuals. I kept myself sane with the assistance of my therapist who is really just a friend that I pay to listen to me while I work out my own stuff. I helped two babies leave the nest while almost dreading the day when the next two must take off too. I clung tightly to my oldest friend and shared in the joy of her amazing grandbabies! My marriage became an even more valuable entity in my life and my husband, an even better best friend. So much has happened during the decade between my fortieth and fiftieth years and truthfully I cannot say that this has been the best ten years of my life. I readily admit that the last decade has been hard, very, very hard. I mean, raising four teenage daughters at one time was a feat in itself, but now I know and I recognize the "stages" as they do surely come and the blows are definitely much softer. I have experienced some of the worst that there is(and some of the best) and I have come out stronger on the other side. I also know what I now must do as I enter into the next decade of my life. No more hiding behind my jobs as a wife and a mother, although those are the two most important jobs that I could ever hold in any lifetime and they will <b>always</b> be <b>my</b> jobs. But there is some clarity and freedom in knowing that I have accomplished the job of being a good mother which is something that I wanted to do, <i>craved</i> doing, since the day that I could first push my first baby doll around in a toy stroller. And although the past decade of that job has been the toughest, there is no place else that I would rather have been because I got to do it with the most incredible husband and the most wonderful children. Maybe these fantastic people are the biggest answers to my conversations with God. Maybe they are living, breathing, <b>booming voice</b> examples as to how God feels about me and maybe, just maybe, the language that God uses with me is just a different language than what I might expect. <br />
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Birthdays are a contemplative time for me and this one certainly more so than 99.9% of the forty nine others that I have been lucky enough to celebrate. For some reason though, 50 feels like an achievement to me. I feel like having lived for a half of a century gives me some credibility that I was not as secure in before and now, I can own it all. From the wonderful to the not so wonderful, there is a strength of will that has developed in me throughout the course of my years and I feel very centered in that strength. I am not at all sure where the next ten years of my life will lead, but I do know this. It is time for me to learn more about who I am as a woman, as an individual and as a student of life. I am not used to being in the forefront of my own life so the vantage point from here is a little bit scary, but I do know that it is time. It is time for me to face the possibilities with strength and fortitude. Maybe the difficulties which seemed to come one after the other after the other over the course of my forties were meant to set me up with a new kind of steadiness for the decade to come. I do know that we are never immune from the painful or the difficult or the formidable but maybe now, things won't take the same toll on me as they once did. I am looking forward to this next phase of my life. And maybe the next time that the train speeds past me down at the beach, I will converse with God a little bit more about myself. I will ask Him, "What next?" And maybe, being more familiar with the language that He has shared with me for most of my life, it will be easier to <i>hear </i>the answers and I will feel confident in what will come next.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-24118396254669226462012-07-05T21:54:00.000-07:002012-07-05T21:54:28.972-07:00How we Cope<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Most of the time I prefer paper when I read. There is something very grounding about the feel of a page, the scent of newsprint as the page turns, the sound of a book softly landing upon a hard surface when I am ready to head back out into the world after a few delicious hours away of being lost in someone else's words. Someone else's world. And yet, I gave in and purchased a Kindle...and then a Nook. I blame this on the fact that I am addicted to the written word and that I had to give up reading for most of the years that I was raising my four Angel Daughters. Sure I read books that were relevant to parenting and the developmental stages of childhood, but reading for the sheer pleasure of it was something that I just no longer had the time to do.(That, and keeping my eyes open to get to the end of a page was virtually impossible.) Once I realized that I was free to read at my own leisure again, I could not stop myself from filling my mind with all of the knowledge that I had been starved of for so many years. It began with reading blogs online which were easy to digest in small snippets of time(You are all such wonderful writers) and then it became books. And more books, mostly in hardcover. Heavy and impractical for someone whose purse is filled to the brim with other accoutrements, I needed to find another way to bring my friends with me. I travel heavy. You never know what you might need. So when the Kindle first appeared on the market, I gave in to the medium of the electronic page. It has taken me awhile to become used to reading books on something electronic but there are some things that I love about it. First off, having the backlight means that I can read at any time of the day or night without disturbing Mark with a book light. Second, and almost more importantly in the scheme of my life, electronic readers mean that I can easily read a book with a cat nestled contently upon my lap. With one finger, I can turn a page without disturbing my furry feline and anyone who owns a cat understands how important this really is. This morning as I was reading, Angel Daughter Number Two's cat Louis, who has taken up temporary residency(I have heard this one before from this particular child) in our house crawled up on to my chest as I was lying in bed reading. Louis is staying with us while AD2 finds a new place to live and since she is unsure about location, job, country, etc., we all think that it is best for him to remain in a stable* environment.(*Stable meaning unchanging <i>or</i> possibly that we already have four cats, two dogs and two birds. Either one works in this instance.) Louis spent the first two years of his life in an animal shelter which could not have been easy on him. He has developed some nervous habits over the past couple of months which I believe might have been caused by AD2's breakup with her longtime boyfriend. Louis began systematically pulling his own fur out while cleaning himself five or six times a day. My heart truly broke when I realized what he was doing to himself. Animals are quite sensitive and many are also empathic meaning that if their owners are in distress, so are they. I do not think that I have ever witnessed such a strong example of how empathetic animals can be until I saw all of the bare spots on Louis' body. He looked a bit like a cat with a mohawk down the center of his back. It hurt my heart to consider the confusion that he must have been experiencing while AD2 and her boyfriend hashed and rehashed the same issues that they have been dealing with for the past eight-plus years culminating in complete instability for a cat who has only known such. I mean, it is one thing for the stupid humans to be exposing themselves to the same nastiness for year, after year, after year, but to do so to someone who has no choice as to environment is not only insensitive but also, unfair. And yes, I love and adore my daughter more than anything in this world but I am growing quite weary of the stupid human tricks.<br />
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Last week I went to the dentist for my twice-yearly cleaning. Nothing life-altering or particularly significant in the typical life. We have been going to the same dentist for well over twenty years and in some ways, he and his wife feel like family now. We have been through babies and children and graduations together. He takes care of my entire family and has done so since before some of my girls were even born. That being said, when he looked at my teeth, he sighed and looked at me with so much empathy in his eyes that it almost made me cry. "So, Debra, what has been causing you so much stress in your life lately?" I may or may not have looked at him, at this point, as if he had just glanced deep down into the seat of my soul, into a very private place that I am pretty good at keeping from the light of day. A very vulnerably naked feeling. I hemmed and hawed a bit until I realized that he was not buying what I had to say and admitted that the past six or so months since I had last been in to see him, had not been particularly easy for me. And he showed me what I have been doing to my teeth. My own teeth. I have always been a "grinder" meaning that I grind my teeth throughout most of the day, but I always swore that I have never ground my teeth at night.(Denial?) He called me on that. What I managed to do over the course of the past six months since I was last in to his office is grind my teeth so viscously and so aggressively that I now have two lose teeth in my mouth. Strong, rooted, healthy teeth that will eventually fall out <i>if</i> I do not put a stop to this. He explained to me that during the day if we grind, we can only put about sixty pounds of pressure on our teeth because we would stop ourselves from biting any harder at that point. At night, when we are in and out of very deep sleep cycles, studies have shown that we can actually put <b>nine hundred pounds of pressure</b> on our teeth without even knowing that we are doing it. And the more times that someone wakes up and falls back to sleep again, the more times that that person will go in to the very deepest cycle of sleep which is when the hardest grinding will take place. I am a terrible sleeper. There are times when I just cannot get my mind to stop chattering at me. My dentist told me that I would need to get a hard night guard(most people have soft ones) because he believes that I would continue to bite through a night guard until I bit through it anyway. If the night guard does not work(I used to hide my retainer from myself in the middle of the night as a teenager), there are other much more drastic measures that we could take in order to preserve my teeth, none of them fun or particularly appealing. And here is the thing, I <i>want</i> very badly to stop grinding my teeth, but I can't. It is a physical compulsion that I have used to somehow relieve stress for as long as I can remember, but <b>never</b> to the point that I was doing any real damage to myself. Even though it hurts and it is harmful to my teeth, I am still compelled to<br />
grind. I think that this is something that you might only understand if you, too, are a teeth-grinder but there is something about causing myself temporary pain that helps to relieve the psychic pain that is sometimes driving me batty mentally. It is not that I want to hurt myself, it's just that the stress that can sometimes be overwhelming, needs a place to go. I cannot ship my mother off to some far-away desert island. I cannot control how other people perceive situations and how they should best be handled. I cannot change anyone and so, like Louis, I have devised a way to keep myself from combusting from stress. Obviously I have some very healthy outlets for excess stress too, like reading and enjoying my family and gazing out at the ocean, etc., but apparently not enough.<br />
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Louis is doing much better now. His fur is growing back in quite nicely and he rolls around on his back and lets me pet his chubby belly with a smile on his face. In some ways, his bald patches serve as a visual reminder that I too might need to allow people to scratch my proverbial belly. That maybe, just maybe, it is time for me to open myself up to new relationships that not only serve someone else, but also fulfill a need in my own soul. I've never been very good at that which is why I probably grind the hell out of my own teeth but as Louis's fur grows back in, it might just be time for me to explore some<br />
healthy outlets and relationships of my own. There is nothing like having your dentist look through you like an x-ray while telling you that you are physically damaging your own body to serve as a wake-up call for what will hopefully be only the second half of your life. On Monday, I will be turning 50 years old. <i style="font-weight: bold;">50</i>. It is definitely time for me to enter the next half of my life with more self-care and less stress. I would say that it is quite possibly time for me to begin traveling lighter in oh so many more ways than one.<br />
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*Lots and lots happening in the Four Angel's world which I hope to write about soon. I fried the hard-drive on my laptop and I am waiting for all of my photos to restore so until then, most of the photos on my blog will be from my cellphone.(like the ones above) AD4 graduated from High School and AD1 celebrated her 25th birthday! Happy Birthday, baby girl!!! Life <b>is</b> good and quite busy.<br />
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<br />Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-44798989887774536372012-06-22T15:31:00.002-07:002012-06-22T15:31:40.975-07:00Oh Happy Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Angel Daughter Number Four graduated from High School yesterday. So many mixed emotions are flowing through my heart. I might need a drink. Oh happy, happy day....Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-83985238897741968452012-06-13T22:00:00.000-07:002012-06-13T22:00:47.534-07:00Senior Prom, Sunshine and Standards<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You are my sunshine,</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">my golden sunshine.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You make me happy,</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">when skies are grey.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You'll never know dear,</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">how much I love you.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Please don't take</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">my sunshine</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">away.</span><br />
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I have been singing this song to my youngest Angel Daughter since the very day that she was born and as she got older, she began singing it to me, as well. Maybe it was because this child was born with a particularly sunshiny disposition.(She sparkles when she smiles.) With each one of my girls, I have special songs, sayings, or inside giggles that only we share with one another which has created very special bonds in the relationships within our relationships. This actually makes quite a bit of sense when I think about it as every positive relationship in our lives contain special nuances that make each singular relationship unique. It isn't really something that we set out to do. When a bond is created, it is something that simply just seems to happen. It is kind of like when a cricket rubs it's legs together to create a unique song. Each relationship fosters it's own distinctive music. Each relationship is extraordinary. That is the way it is meant to be when done well.<br />
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Angel Daughter Number Four attended her Senior Prom last weekend. I cannot believe that we have now experienced four of these momentous occasions. I carry within my heart, memories of each one of these very beautiful days all very different while my feelings were so much the same with each one. Another step closer to graduation. Another step closer toward growth and independence. Another view of my daughters as women. Senior Prom does this. It makes you look at your child through a very grown-up lens because, well, they look so grown up in their formal dresses and suits. It can be a very sobering experience for a parent who really does not feel much older than the day that their child was born(all of us), but who is suddenly standing there wondering when <i>their baby</i> grew up. Sunrise, sunset...<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hugs...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Gratitude...(look at those shoes!)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Laughter...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Posing...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">More laughter...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And her favorite guy in the world.</span><br />
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As we followed the girls up the very steep hill to take pictures, my husband trailed protectively behind our daughter to make sure that she didn't fall back on those crazy heels. When she chose the gorgeous Ralph Lauren sequined navy gown to wear to her prom, I was very impressed as were the saleswomen who sold it to us. Angel Daughter Number Four is obviously an individual who honors personal style and this gown was a bit more <i>refined</i> than what I expected her to select. We found it only a few days before prom, and the saleswomen almost had tears in their eyes. They told me about the "apron"(meaning the sides were cut out like a full-length apron with a bib on top <b>but</b> nothing underneath) dresses that some girls were picking out which left absolutely little to the imagination.(They said that they had sold hundreds!) They told me about the <b>proud </b>parents who came in with their daughters and with tears in their own eyes, stood there and told their barely dressed daughters with breasts lifted up way past decency how<i style="font-weight: bold;"> beautiful</i> they looked and what a perfect choice they had made. I am not at all sure where these parents expect their daughters to go from there, but that would not have made it past me or my husband. So, when AD4 came home with the very trendy spike-covered heels the next day, to wear with her gown, I was pleased as punch. Pleased to know that she was still being true to her own individual style and pleased to know that she would look like the beautiful eighteen year old young lady that she is. <br />
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As I watched her walk gingerly up the hill under the safe guidance of her father's hand ready to catch her at any moment if she stumbled, I thought about how this is one of the many ways in which I see him as a father. This is how our girls <i>see </i>him. As a protective force, always ready to catch them if they begin to stumble.<br />
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Soon after we arrived at the top of the hill, we noticed a stray piece of thread that was hanging off of the hem of AD4's gown. When Mark leaned down to detach the stray piece of string from her dress, AD4 giggled through one of her sparkling, sunshiny smiles as her friends looked on and my heart caught in my throat. <b>This</b> is one of the moments that I will carry in my heart's memory when I recall the Senior Prom of our youngest Angel Daughter. My man, their father, who continues to set a wonderful, shining example of how a man should treat a woman, this is what they should wait for. I pray, with all of my heart, that <i style="font-weight: bold;">this</i> is something that they will look for in the husbands that they will someday choose for themselves. I hope that along with all of the lessons that have stuck and unstuck and sort of stuck up until this time, this <b>one</b>, this very important ideal, will hold a standard to which all of our daughters will strive for. Wait for it, girls. There <b>are</b> men out there who know <b>how</b> to be a man. Settle for <b>nothing less</b>. It is what you <b><i>each</i></b> deserve.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-9258362580098266272012-06-07T16:54:00.000-07:002012-08-15T16:43:06.683-07:00Universal Studios, Hollywood, Tour Guides and Why we All Need More<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We finally made the trek up to the magical land of Hollywood(over two hours with Los Angeles traffic) so that we could go on Angel Daughter Number One's Universal Studios tram tour of the famed back lots. Little did I know when I was a small child of eight years old visiting Universal Studios, Hollywood with my family from back home in New York, that I would someday have a daughter who would work as a tour guide at the studios. Back then, I watched in awe as Alfred Hitchcock stood on the set of a movie that he was filming and stopped to wave at our tram. Forget the fact that I did not really understand who Alfred Hitchcock was. He <b>smiled</b> at my brother and I which really impressed the tour guide at the time because he said that Alfred Hitchcock NEVER smiled at anyone. Funny how that left such an indelible impression upon my young, still-developing brain. As I intently listened to my daughter's spiel over the intercoms on our recent tour, my "Alfred Hitchcock" memory came flooding to the frontal most lobes of my mind and seemed as clear as if it had happened only yesterday. And yet, here I was, with the family that Mark and I created, feeling as if that moment could have happened in a totally different lifetime. Maybe in some ways, it really did...Who knows?<br />
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The lovely tour guide did turn the camera around on us which was very cute. I'm not exactly sure if all of those puzzled looking folks behind us realized that we were her family, or just a crazed bunch of tourists who really wanted to sit in the front rows. There were another two full cars behind ours, as well. Lucky for us, we do have our connections.<br />
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Not that there is any kind of family resemblance or anything that might tip people off to the possibility of nepotism.<br />
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AD1 puts on a very entertaining tour filled with corny jokes and lots of interesting information. It was very impressive that she was able to talk for OVER AN HOUR without a full script in front of her. Our other three Angel Daughters loved going through Whoville which is where The Grinch Who Stole Christmas was filmed.<br />
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Even California natives enjoy being consummate tourists when their own sister is the tour guide!(or when they get to go through the actual Whoville!)<br />
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AD1 used computerized controls to set certain exhibits into motion during the tour. She used her special powers to strategically time it so that the shark from the movie Jaws would pop up out of the water just in time to scare the bejesus out of us. Meet Bruce. Bruce is one of the mechanical sharks that was used in the movie. When he suddenly pops up out of the water and lunges at you, he seems real. <b>Very, very real. </b>Fun stuff!</div>
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As AD1 sat and talked to Mark and I, the other angels decided to ride Jurassic Park. I watched as rider after rider came down the hill to huge splashes. Most of them got soaking wet. Then, there were my girls. Not only had they strategically placed themselves in the middle of the car, but they were all covered in yellow plastic schmattas which they had purchased in the gift shop on the way in to the ride so they shouldn't get drenched. They were prepared!<br />
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There was <b>no way</b> that they were going to get wet! They even ducked down and held each other as they descended down the watery mountain.<br />
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Making sure that the coast was clear of any impending droplets, they began to emerge from their safe little bubble.<br />
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Necessary primping ensued...<br />
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And then, at that moment they realized. Why in the world aren't we wet???<br />
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All of that planning for the onslaught of a water-logged soaking, and not a single drop touched their precious plastic garbage bag poncho covered bodies.<br />
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Such is the day in the life of a Jewish American Princess. I don't know what else to say about that.<br />
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Except, that my insane children got me to agree to ride on The Mummy! Try to ignore that lady in the second row. Instead, please direct your attention to the man sitting next to her who looks like he is about to embark on a lovely Sunday ride. Honestly, I just do not know sometimes...<br />
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On the way up to Hollywood, we were treated to some sights that can only be witnessed in Southern California so I thought that I would share a couple of them with you. This is the famous Capitol Records building. There is a blinking light at the top of the building that blinks out the word "Hollywood" in Morse code. It has done so since the building was completed in 1956. The entire building is round and is meant to look like a record player.(Remember those old dinosaurs?)<br />
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And then there is this Ferrari which lists for approximately $390,000 but that is only if you can get one. The demand for them is so high that people are willing to pay an extra $100,000 just to jump the waiting list. Um, yeah. It's a car. Good to know that there are some folks out there who have much more to worry about than paying this months mortgage. Just thought I would share...<br />
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Life is pretty good in the Four Angel's Momma household. There have been a lot of changes, but mostly for the best. Spiritually, I am feeling much more connected these days. Interesting how that happens when we do not really expect it. Sometimes I think that we are going along, just going along, as God, our angels, the Universe, whomever, remains quietly in the background observing but not really intervening. Then suddenly, like a parent who has stepped back to allow for more independence and growth, God just knows when we need <i style="font-weight: bold;">more</i>. I <b><i>needed </i>more</b>. I needed <b>more</b> from my family, my husband and my children. I needed more from <b>myself</b>, I needed more from some sources that I understand that I will never get it from and that is okay, but mostly, I needed more from God. And maybe, just maybe, there are times in our lives when we are too shut down or shut into ourselves to hear the subtle messages which quite possibly, are always there, sort of like the lights blinking out the word "Hollywood" in Morse code from atop the Capital Record's building, or the Whos on the tiny speck in Whoville. I really do not know. What I do know, is that I am receiving more these days, and that I am trying my very best to make sense of the blinking-light messages that I am receiving more and more of with each new passing day. My soul is open to it all.<br />
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<br />Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-86477318289151959422012-05-28T15:13:00.000-07:002012-05-28T15:13:25.671-07:00Being Grateful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our hometown is San Clemente, CA where we share our streets with a lot of very vibrant, very young Marines. These eager young people come here from all over the country, training to be strong warriors for our nation and yet, so many of them have the baby faces of kids, barely out of high school. In the heart of our hometown there is a small downtown area which houses several small barber shops and if you were to pass by one of these shops on any given day, you would see the faces of these young people, bodies draped with smocks while receiving touch-ups on their short, military regulated style haircuts. It never, ever fails to strike me that most of these individuals are <i>just</i> kids. Just young people who are the same ages as my four girls who are 18, 20, 22, and 24. It is quite sobering to consider the strength of character and courage that is must take to leave your home, leave your family and friends, leave your childhood dog, to embark upon a journey which most certainly <b>will</b> place you within harm's way. And yet, these young men and women do this <b>voluntarily</b>. There is a lot that can be said for teenagers these days. Too many television shows about being pregnant and 16. Too many kids leading undirected, floundering lives because of parents who do not care enough to be home when their child arrives home from school at the end of the day. Too many material advantages. But, when you live in an area in which there is a strong military presence, you get to witness another side of things. You get to see young people, teenagers really, bearing the countenance of something much more stoic and noble because they are representing this great country and even at their very young ages, they understand the responsibility that comes along with that. </div>
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Mark and I often see our young Marines down at the local Denny's or IHOP. Most recently, we encountered four young men getting out of a taxicab to go eat a meal at the local IHOP and it struck me that these guys were willing to spring for a taxi in order to enjoy a meal that most likely, reminded them of something that they might do in their own hometowns. As Mark opened my car door so that I could hop in, he pulled some money out of his pocket and then followed these young men back inside. I watched as Mark put his hand on one of the young men's shoulders and talked to the group for a moment. I then observed as prideful smiles came over their faces and they backed up a bit in sort of a thank you, but no thank you sort of way. A bit of discussion ensued and finally, I watched as Mark slipped the money into one of the young men's palms. We drove away knowing that we had just taken care of the sons of four families of whom we were very grateful to for sharing them with this great nation. It was the very least that we could do. Living in this town, this is something that we get the great opportunity to do quite often and it is our honor, a very big honor.</div>
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As we go through this Memorial Day enjoying family, friends and good times, I hope that more people will take the time to stop and remember the young people who are serving our country. They are the sons and daughters of brave families who cherish them enough to allow them to become warriors so that we can all feel safer. If you have the opportunity to buy a meal for a member of our armed services, do it. If not, think about making a donation to an organization that supports these courageous individuals. It is up to all of us to make these young men and women feel appreciated and supported. And next time you encounter a member of our armed services in a grocery store or an airport, say thank you and watch as they take your appreciation in. It will mean as much to you as it does to them.<br />
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Happy Memorial Day, friends.</div>Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-46652740548806809842012-05-18T17:15:00.002-07:002012-05-18T17:15:50.265-07:00Smiling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sometimes it isn't only what is in the forefront that might make you smile. It's what lies a few feet beyond that really makes you giggle.<br />
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This weekend, remember to keep your eyes open to it all.<br />
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Hugs and love,<br />
DebDebrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-83235611190895264062012-05-02T16:20:00.000-07:002012-05-02T16:20:36.351-07:00Levity, Lessons and Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For those of you who have been visiting my little blog spot in Etherland for awhile, you might actually recognize the man in the lobster shirt with the Shitzu on his head. For anyone else who might have just happened by while innocently looking up information on Shitzus first off, I apologize. The dog likes it up there, he really does. Second, allow me to introduce my father and my dog-brother. No, I was not adopted(although my dog-brother was) and yes, my daughters think that I am just as much of a nut as their grandfather is only when he does things the girls think that they are much, much funnier than when I do them. Pop-Pop gets all the laughs and I mostly get the eye-rolls.(Must be a generational thing, I am looking forward to my future grandchildren.)<br />
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When my father and my step-mom first adopted this little guy, his name was <i>Augustus </i>or <i>Auggie</i> for short. Very befitting for a Shitzu residing in Palm Springs. After a few days, they realized that he was more like a battering-ram on four short legs than a sophisticated little dumpling so they started calling him <b>Rambo</b>. And as incongruous as the name Rambo and those beautiful eyelashes are, the name really suits him. He follows our father around like an enormous watchdog would, barking at anything that he perceives as danger. He recently received a new sister named Lizzie. She is a wire-haired Dachshund. She might need some doggie Prozac. She makes Rambo look very, very calm. <b>Very calm.</b><br />
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But of course, then there is my human family. This includes both my children <i>and,</i><br />
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<b>their grandfather, my father.</b><br />
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There is a sign that I have hanging up in our mountain house. It says, "My family tree is full of nuts." This is not a figure of speech in my case. <br />
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Over the course of the past several years, I have boiled most of those nuts down to the good kind because unfortunately, I also have my share of the <b>other </b>kind. The kind that will constantly give you indigestion and heartburn all the while expecting a pass-go pass for forgiveness. Which is something that I do: forgive. Sadly, forgiveness cannot always include a free pass on forgetting which is something that they also expect without repercussions. They seem to confuse the two, and up until fairly recently, I had a difficult time with the concept as well. I not only forgave the abhorrent behavior but tried my best to forget about it, too. But I think that this is just one of the many lessons that I am here to learn and for the most part, it is a good one for me because I am getting it. I can forgive <i>without </i>trying to forget. It is actually quite important to remember. It breaks my heart <b>more</b> to move ahead in these stale relationships that cause me more pain than pleasure. I think it is time for someone other than myself to put actual effort in to learning from life and then using those lessons to improve upon how the behaviors might adversely affect somebody else. Patterns are very difficult to break, but if everyone involved continues dancing the same dance, then nothing will ever change. Nothing will ever improve. Nothing will be learned. And nothing will be gained.<br />
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So, I am learning to embrace the "nuts" who are willing to grow along with me, while distancing myself from the ones who leave a horribly bitter taste in my soul. I mean, I enjoy pecans. Walnuts, not so much. So instead of continuing to add walnuts to my brownies, I might add some extra pecans. Makes sense, yes?<br />
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A couple of weeks ago, we went out to Palm Springs to spend the weekend with my dad for his birthday. Living two hours away from each other is hard and although we speak on the phone almost everyday, we do not get to see each other nearly enough. <br />
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We all arrived on different days and at different times, but everyone made it and we had a really nice trip. My dad can make me laugh harder than anyone else in this world. Not only that, he is as intelligent and as big-hearted as a man can be. He mentors my daughters as if they are his own and motivates them to do things that Mark and I could never convince them of.(Once again, that generational thing.) Would you believe me if I told you that he has several projects going on right now, one being that he is seriously considering opening up a college in China??? Who does that? Who even believes that they are capable of doing that? This man's mind is never, ever at rest. Lordy, lordy...<br />
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Angel Daughter Number Two and Joshua drove out to join us on Saturday and stayed with my dad and Rita. The rest of us stayed at the beautiful La Quinta resort across the street from their house. We like it there and we can bring our thirteen year old pup, Becca, so it works out perfectly. Becca is getting to the point in her life(and mine) where I do not feel comfortable leaving her with anybody else so we just set her up in the backseat and take her along. Makes me happy, happy.<br />
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The girls adore their grandma Rita so much. Twenty-five years ago when our oldest Angel Daughter was born, my step-mom felt like she was too young to be called "grandma" so the girls all called her Rita. Now, she <b>loves</b> it because when she goes out with them, people think that she is their mother. She now readily admits that she <i style="font-weight: bold;">is</i> their grandmother and qvells(Yiddish for "bubbles over with joy") when people don't believe it. Too, too cute! The girls absolutely <b>love</b> going into Rita's closet and coming out with all sorts of goodies that she doesn't wear anymore. How many grandmothers can claim that?<br />
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<b>Three generations</b>. <b>This</b> is what makes me happy.<br />
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I had to share a photo of a Palm Springs traffic-jam. When Mark pulled up behind this golf-cart, I couldn't resist snapping some photos. Yup, life is hard in my father's neighborhood.<br />
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On our way home from Palm Springs, I am always fascinated by the miles and miles of desert covered in windmills which seem to magically sprout up from the mostly baron land. Leave it up to human ingenuity to take advantage of a natural resource that cannot be seen(the wind), and utilize it to create power for thousands and thousands of homes. Something from what seems to be nothing. There is so much beauty in the thought of that.<br />
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Update:<br />
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I am grateful to everyone who follows my blog either silently(I <i>can</i> feel your presence but don't be shy, say hello sometime:)), or those of you who have become my dear friends. Thank you for all of the comments and e-mails and phone calls(Hi Nessie!) that you left for me after my previous post. At first, I considered not writing anything at all about what I was going through, but then I decided that it was important for me to be authentic about my life when I write here because that is <i>why</i> I write here. Life is messy sometimes and that goes for <b>every </b>life. The object is to learn from both the wonderful times <i>and</i> the messy ones. Things are better now. I was able to verbalize the truth about what I was really going through over the course of the past four plus years since Robert's death, culminating in a pretty bad depression during the past few months or so to my husband, Mark. In doing so, I have also come to terms with something that was pretty damn hard to admit. I have been in a pretty big hole for awhile now. I did not write much about the court case seeking visitation with my nieces after it ended a few months ago. I thought that I would be able to handle the verdict regardless of what it was. I thought that if a judge told me that I have no rights to my deceased brother's children, that I could accept it and move right along with my life. I thought that I had properly grieved for my brother. The truth is that what I should have known is that that was a bunch of crap. I didn't consider that I would actually have to grieve the loss of my two nieces in the event that the court case did not end in my favor. Unexpected feelings sucked me into a place of isolation which in turn, caused my physical pain levels to soar, which in turn spiraled my entire body into a flare. My family, not really understanding what I was going through, made some major assumptions because those assumptions would have actually been much easier to deal with than depression, especially because I have never been seriously depressed before. I am a very happy person and even though I have difficult days, essentially, I snap out of it very quickly. I don't think they knew what to do with me. They did what they thought they needed to do and for that, I love them. <br />
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I am feeling much better now because I was able to acknowledge and in turn, got Mark to understand that what I was going through was <b>profound</b> sadness. I have taken some steps toward healing but this will take some time. There is no time table for grief. There are still some things that I feel that I have to do before I can move ahead such as visit my brother's gravesite for the first time since the day of his funeral. I know that his soul is often with me, but I can no longer use that as an excuse for not visiting the place where his body will forever remain. I have been examining the reasons that I have stayed away and it is now time for me to go whether alone or with my husband. I am not sure what I will feel after doing this, but it is something that I must do. It is only right.<br />
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So here I sit, in a place of acceptance, forgiveness and contemplation and I am doing okay. I am proud of myself for being a strong woman just as my grandmothers and great-grandmothers were. There is a very tough gene residing someplace within my body and I am pretty sure that this gene has been inherited by my four beautiful daughters. I mean, I may not agree with the <b><i>way</i></b> that they went about doing things, but I admire them for doing <b>something</b>. I admire them for being proactive. I admire them for not giving up on their momma. It is an odd feeling knowing that one's own children are turning into adults right before their eyes and it is new territory for all of us. If I have taught my girls nothing else, at least I know that there is one thing that I have taught them for sure, to lean on one another and to stick together when life gets messy. Because it is so much easier to clean things up when you share the job with someone else whose motives are in line with your own.<br />
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Wishing you peace, my friends.<br />
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<br />Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com6San Clemente, CA, USA33.4269728 -117.611992533.373964300000004 -117.6909565 33.4799813 -117.5330285tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2571558006810647972.post-26239560608033891632012-04-15T15:59:00.000-07:002012-04-15T15:59:43.029-07:00Coming up for More than Just AirJust a few photos that were taken over the past month and a brief explanation as to where I have been hiding. Even in the midst of mostly joy, life can be very messy and sometimes we must spend some time trying to clean it up. More about that later...<br />
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Angel Daughter Number Three turned 20 on the first day of spring. She is becoming such a beautiful and mature young woman with such a great head on her shoulders. I am prouder of this child than I can even express. She has been through some rough times but instead of becoming jaded and delving inward, she reached out and in doing so, has shown a level of maturity beyond her two decades. I can only see her life getting better and better as she continues to grow into the lovely woman that she is. <br />
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My oldest and my youngest. There are six years between these two(with two other sisters in between) and sometimes, it is as if they grew up in different worlds. We often talk about the differences in the things that AD1 was allowed to do when she was AD4s age at various points in time, and there are some huge differences! That being said, they are both wonderful girls with so much to offer the world.<br />
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I am such a lucky momma.<br />
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And Mark is such a lucky dad...<br />
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Okay, so my 20 year old is a little bit taller than I am. She is also wearing heels that double the difference!<br />
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Angel Daughter Number Two congratulating her little sister after her dance competition in Long Beach. It has been a great season!<br />
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So here it all is in a nutshell:<br />
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On March 26th a very unexpected crap-storm came flying at me from what seemed to me to be out of nowhere. Actually, it did come out of nowhere for me because I had not been privy to the conversations which were taking place over the course of a couple of months. It blew in from the mouths of those I love and trust most in this world, forcing me to stand mostly on my own, confused, frightened and in immense pain. I felt like a cornered animal who was being forced to explain fangs and claws and venom while trying to protect myself. Chronic illness, chronic pain, and chronic fatigue are symptoms that I am forced to live with because of an illness that will more than likely be a part of me until the final day of my life, but they are also enemies of the people who I love. Aside from the life that this illness has attempted to take away from me, it has also robbed my husband and my daughters of the very vibrant person I was before the focus of my days became staving off the constant pain and lethargy, trying desperately to conserve the minimal reserve of energy that I am left with after fighting a daily, hourly, momentary battle with something that even I, myself, do not fully understand. I understand their frustration. I am sensitive to it and do my best to remain cheerful and positive in the face of the physicality of feeling like hell much of the time. But having lived with this mysterious illness throughout some of my younger twenties and then again, after a long remission, for the past decade during my forties, my acceptance of what <i>is </i>apparently appears to be complacency to my husband and daughters. I readily admit that it is often easier to give in to the physical pull to remain inactive physically so that I can be emotionally present for the people who are so important to me, yet it is difficult for them to comprehend what it is like to live with constant, chronic, nagging, sometimes severe physical pain. I get that. I do not dwell on it too much which sometimes creates a false veneer over the truth of what I go through. Maybe this makes it harder to comprehend? I forgive them for their chosen approach. I know that it came from a place of worry and concern. I do, however, wish that things had been handled very differently. Feeling ambushed is an extremely lonely and helpless feeling, especially when the individuals who were helping to fuel the charge knew <b>nothing</b> about me personally and had a huge financial gain as their main interest. This is the one part that I am having trouble not resenting. Strangers should never, ever have been involved. I think that we have reached a point of understanding. I am making some changes in my medications which might enable me to feel less sleepy during the day(under my doctor's care). I am also increasing my activity levels so that I can better keep up with these five, <b>very </b>energetic, <b>very</b> healthy people who I love so much. I may or may not choose to write more about this in the future. It has been extremely painful for me. If I do, it will be to inform and assist others who might be in the same sort of position that my family and I are in. Having a family member who is chronically ill is not an easy thing to cope with, but being that family member is <b>always</b> worse. Please be gentle with those you love, but also be gentle with yourself.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05328458241519464529noreply@blogger.com11