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Anger at Self

Almost August. My last two months are full of eustress* and distress: a family wedding, reunions, trips, plans broken, lack of rain, putting a manuscript together, grass in flowerbeds, on and on. I am angry. Did you know stress can steal just about everything, even the good times with good people? Not a hint of a breeze as I own this. However, stress cannot steal my stories/testimonies. For this, I am thankful. I was a counselor for years, so I automatically ask myself, And what’s under your anger? What’s the real deal? the feeling under the anger? SAD. I’m sad. Not at anyone else. At myself. I kept adding to my load this summer. I did it to myself. As a result, I experience strained and kno

Holding the Tension

We wait to hear the outcome of surgery. Tension. The grandboy’s appendix must be removed, but surgery (any kind) has risk. None of us speak of that. How grateful I am that we cannot feel two emotions at one time. One is enough. Zipadeedoodah. We think a thought. Then zip! We automatically choose an emotion to go with that thought. Zip! We experience the one emotion. No time to name it! Zip! A gesture or action happens in a nano second. Zip! No slow motion, no slow emotions. Lickety split. Zipadeedoodah. I’m not talking about resolving anything. Just holding the tension between two opposites, two possibilities. The boy in the pre-op room is known for saying, “Wait…wait for it…wait for it….” H


The mulch pile had turned as black as the delta. We were trying to beat the heat, so we were up early, moving mulch to flowerbeds. My husband’s laughter sounded childlike as he turned the tractor over to me. I wish I could say I was happy about that. For me, it was just doing what had to be done to get the yard back in shape. What was on my mind? The heat, a computer problem, needing to write my Monday blog, wanting to add two more poems to a manuscript, a granddaughter. My feelings? Concern and worry. That’s how it goes when I let my mind wander wildly. How could the morning have gone better? I could have used the three words in a short prayer that I learned last weekend: Help! Thanks! Wow!

Instructions on How to Not Give Up

More than the garden phlox growing rotund heads, more than the display of bright red canna tongues shoving their way upward toward sky, it’s the greens of trees in my yard that take me over. Oh my! They do not give up. Last week’s straight winds broke limbs and whammed branches to the ground. It took days to clean the yard from the littered aftermath. And yesterday the redbud split! What do I do when life splits me open? Shock and sadness, but then, what? When I get slammed with cancer, divorce, or debt, what then? How do I not give up? I kept pondering it and talking with husband and friends about it. Eventually, I wrote it down. Today, I’m sharing it with you. It may not help you as much a

Like Pollen

Last evening. I saw the truth. No words. Just feelings. Just behaviors. But big enough for me to recognize it. I knew, after my husband left, that I could have said, “I want to go too,” but I was involved in putting a poem together. I didn’t want to stop doing what I was doing. Down the road he went. It was too late. And I still had a few weeds to pull in the poem. But later, I saw it. My feelings and behavior made it undeniable. What I remember this morning is the taste of my feelings. Like pollen falling, yellow, fine and powdery. It did not make me happy or sad. It was familiar. I was aware. When he returned home three hours later from helping a friend process bee honey, I was involved in

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