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Soul Tired

1 Jan

I suppose I should write something profound and holiday spirited, after all this is the first day of the new year.  But I tell you the truth, my soul is exhausted which makes for a significant roadblock to meandering philosophical terrain.

I am home and gratefully receiving a time of rest.  Last night, for new year’s eve, I had the beautiful opportunity to get cozy on the couch and fall asleep at 7:30p.m. (pacific time).  Earlier in the day Brian, Esther and I had an outing along the coast–they on roller-skates and I on my Raleigh Twenty.  Today Esther, the dog Piper, and I had a long coastal walk on the sands of The Strand and Salt Creek beach while Brian surfed San Onofre.  Yesterday and today I have been busy in the kitchen enjoying the freedom to cook without a time constraint, though our pangs of hunger were slightly dictating the direction of each meal.  Both days I have been leisurely popping p-nut M&M’s in my mouth which have followed my, vegetable/whole grain rich, meals very well.  And now as I attempt to write an engaging piece of prose, my daughter sits beside me as my husband and our two dogs relax on the floor finding solace in the comforting tones of Henry Mancini’s Peter Gunn.

Aaahh, what a life…what a nice break from the running I have been doing since May of 2013 (and well before).  And though my heart and mind are thinking of a hundred different people (friends/family) I’d like to connect with, or pieces of garments I would like to sew, or sweet treats to make, I am resigned to the fact that this rest is most necessary.  In fact, so much so, that I recognize the folly that would ensue should I not completely and properly receive this gift of a respite.  For Brian, Esther and I are most definitely in agreement in regard to our current status–grief is a heavy to burden to carry, and as result we are soul tired.

Being in a ‘soul tired’ state means I don’t have much to offer right now.  Not much by way of conversation.  Not much by way of inspiration.  Not much by way of supplication.  Just not much.  I’m giving myself (ourselves) one year…

One year to indulge the weight of grief.  One year to just sit and be.  One year to receive a bit more than I give.  One year of staying at home and being quiet (in my free time of course).  And so, even though we have the celebration of a new year upon us, for me, we are mid year.  Mid grief.  Mid loss.  A “Happy New Year” will have to wait–at least the celebration of it.  Our gifts and celebratory actions are found in the solitude of the love we share with each other.  The hope and complete understanding of Heaven and the knowledge Cole has made it into Home-Base before us.  We just have to rest here a bit, and endure the weight, until our souls become more accustomed to the heavy load.

An anecdotal story:

Esther wears a “military dog-tag” necklace in honor of her brother.  They are not his U.S. Marine tags (though we have them in our possession), it is a special edition made for her in honor of him.  While in the produce section of Costco the other day, the kind-hearted employee asked, “for whom do you wear the dog tag?”  To which she replied, “my brother.”  His response was precious, “Very good!  Let us keep him in prayer and bring him home safe.”

Esther and I looked at each other and concurred, “he has indeed made it safely home.”

…now how about them oranges?!

Disney World

The Bent 3

 

All Dried Up

12 May

My last post was written in an attempt to convey the fact that I feel as if I am running on borrowed time.  Not the type of “borrowed time” that means short on life, but more the type of situation where there are so many things happening, nay converging, that when I get a moment I feel as if it’s borrowed from a future still pending.  In my own estimation, I fell short of success in conveying that concept…not only did I not take the proper initiative to dissect where I was coming from, but the thought itself is an abstract and abstracts are hard for me to process.  Hence the lazy output of my previous writing.  To be plain, my last post is downright boring.  A cop out at best.  I thank you for reading through it, and I especially thank those of you who, with loving hearts, were able to decipher through my blasé code and find the real Rivka in the mix.  You are my kindred spirits!

So I have some catching up to do…

First, the excitement of the day:  My husband, my daughter, and I are heading to France in June.  Brian (hubby) has been asked to play music at a festival in Biarritz, FR called, “Wheels and Waves.”  He is also being recruited to that country to have an art show at a gallery in the same town, galerie 13 avril de biarritz.  When he was asked to participate he said, “yes, but my wife must come along too.”  So Brian and I are having an all expenses paid trip to France, and we decided we needed our daughter to be party to the endeavor as she is fluent in the language and we are not.  Well simultaneous to the french connection came an offer from Japan.  Again, my beloved said, “I will go but not without my wife.”  So we return from France only to turn around and three days later take off for Japan.  Only this time, Esther will not be with us as she only knows how to eat Japanese, not speak it!

Which brings me to the second item of ‘new and exciting’ in the Bent (but not broken) world of Rivka B.  Upon our return from Japan, two days after our return to be exact, I will be starting a new job.  A full time job.  And though I am not quite yet at liberty to discuss the details of the position, or the employer, I am very much looking forward to this new opportunity, challenge, endeavor, direction.  I assure you, more to come on this subject later…like mid-summer, later!

Third, but not last, as result of many, many (would it be too redundant to include about a thousand more “many’s?”), circumstances and prayers (“prayers” should be in caps for emphasis!), our Bent family is graduating from the ministry we were called to thirteen years ago.  Yep, 13 years ago my husband and I knew without a doubt we were called to start an outreach ministry called, the Hotrod Church for Sinners (hotrodchurch.com).  It has been, what I like to call, a catalyst ministry–a first step, if you will, toward a life of faith (we have also  been blessed with several people who utilize it for their additional steps of faith as well).  We have met in the same pizza/bar restaurant since its inception–free of charge.  And have reached out to the people in society who feel, for whatever reason, unrecognized by the traditional church.  The ministry has become so much more than that.  It has been an extension of our family.  It is funny, I was briefly looking through the photos taken at the hospital while my son was in ICU (from the brain tumor surgery) and I thought to myself, “what a diverse and colorful bunch of people we had supporting us, what a beautiful ‘family of friends’ we have been given–many as result of the Hotrod Church.”  Now I like to joke (often), that the sinner part of the title is held by ‘yours truly’, though that part of the name came about more as a nod to the fact that we all know we are sinners and therefore don’t need to be told.  At any rate, our last service in our little pizza restaurant will be Sunday, May 26.  We are secure in the ending of this chapter, and we are excited for the next set of adventures our Lord in Heaven has for us…watch out homelessness, Brian’s got you on his radar! 🙂

Lastly (for now), is the present condition of my (our) son Cole.  The good news, he is successfully living on his own.  In fact, I will be surprised if he ever decides to come back home.  This, in and of itself, is very positive, and I have to keep reminding myself of this truth.  You see it is very difficult for my maternal eye to not fixate upon the things that aren’t so great–because it is in my nature to want to “fix” these things.  Cole’s dependency upon narcotics and the cocktail of medications he receives, greatly disturbs my soul.  Every day, I wait with anticipation to hear from him…when I do, I am thankful to have another day of assurance that he is alive.  I have come to realize that this is my lot, the lot of being the mother.  I will never have the ability to see my son through any other eyes than the maternal vision which was handed me at the time of his birth.  I will always want the closest thing to perfection when evaluating his health and welfare.  I will always utilize my critical eye with his circumstance because I am hoping for the best, most fulfilling life for my son.  But what I have realized is that my maternal eye, and all that the concept encompasses, is not necessarily what he considers as “best.”  And to that epiphany, I am learning to yield.  So I am reminded, moment by moment, that he is making it…his way.  And for today, that is a good and healthy place for him to be.  It is his process, and I will take part as I am allowed, the challenge being not to take over! 😉

Well I will close within this theme.  After all, it is Mother’s Day in the U.S.A.  And though I had hoped to be given a quiver of 10, I have been blessed with my two natural born, who just by themselves make the quiver seem quite full!  Yet in addition to the two, I have been blessed with many nieces and nephews (some of them technically cousins), young ladies who consider me a parental role model, children of longtime friends who humor me with their approval, and a  few stragglers still grasping for any loving handout that comes their way…all of which bless my soul to play a part in their lives.  Moreover, who make me realize that if my quiver of ten had in fact been given me, I would lack the capacity of mind for the dozens more I have been given in their stead.

P.s. I am sharing a piece of Hotrod Church history with the following video clip, including the fact our son is playing the drums while he was on leave from his military assignment…obviously pre-surgery.

…peace out and peace be with you…

The Time Warp

7 May

I have had the song, “Time Warp” swirling around in my head all day long.  You know the song, from the movie, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”  So then of course I had to recap, via Google search, the actors who portrayed the fictional characters from the cult classic.  But really, all of the info I just now shared is irrelevant to the subject at hand.  Though my sharing it does give one insight into the nuttiness with which I constantly live…inside myself!

The real reason I have the song stuck in my head is that I feel as if I am living in a time warp.  I honestly cannot keep track of time.  It seems to fly by me without so much as leaving a note.  My son moved into his own apartment February 1st, it is only the beginning of May, yet it feels like he moved out only a few days ago.  Then at other times it seems longer.

My little brother married his fiance this past weekend.  The wedding plans have been on all of the family radar for the past 9 months, and just like that, it’s over.  We spent the entire weekend together down in San Diego, all of us crazies piled into the same hotel (minus my son), and yet the festivities flew by.

My mom came into town last Monday, visiting from Nicaragua where she now lives.  I can’t believe all that we were able to “do” while she was here, and yet today I could hardly remember what those activities were…my husband helped pin a few down.  She left us this afternoon, our time together is over (for now).

As I travel within this warped space in time, I find myself struggling to catch a breath.  My cousin comes into town this coming weekend for a visit.  My sister flies into town the weekend after.  I will travel north a few days after that.  My sister will then return in the beginning of June to cover for us as we head out of the country visiting two continents for a month on business.  Yes, I did write one month.  And upon our return from that excursion I will begin a new full time job.  How is all of this even possible?, I find myself asking.  And how do I ensure I do not miss one wink of the experiences within all of the travel opportunities/familial visits?

I don’t have the answer to my question…not today anyway, for I am still reeling over the fact the wedding has passed.  Which is probably why The Time Warp is playing over and over again in my mind.  Especially the line which repeats, “let’s do the time warp again.”

It’s just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right, put your hand’s on your hips…

P.s. What ever happened to Peter Hinwood aka Rocky Horror?!P.s.s I’ve opted to not post the link to the video of the song…purposefully! 😉

 

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