Being In Contact

"Each contact with a human being is so rare, so precious, one should preserve it." ~ Anais Nin

It was not that long ago that I was struggling. Struggling to survive, to live, to be a mother. Today, I wake with the glowing of promises of hope of what each day will bring. Everyday I find something that surprises me. Moments that make me laugh. Events that sadden me and remind me I am here to love, forgive, have compassion and hope for all that touch my life.

This weekend Shawn, the kids and I traveled to see my sister. I wanted to give my daughter the opportunity to celebrate her 6th birthday with her cousin. They are only three weeks apart and rarely get a chance to see one another.

My sister is one of the most creative, sweet, amazing women I know. Her natural ability to be a mom never ceases to amaze me. I strive each and every day to be a fraction of the mother that she is.

This weekend my sister gave me an opportunity to cross off an item from my "bucket list". She took us ice skating. While it was not technically on ice, it was still on ice skates.

In high school I watched my sister glide on rollerblades with precision, ease, grace, and elegant movements. I sat on the chair in the living room struggling to stand in the heavy, bulky items that clung to my feet. They felt so out of place. Confined to my ankles leaving me wobbly and unable to even stand. My dream of learning to ice skate slowly diminishing with the reality that I could not even stand in rollerblades, let alone glide on the ice on a pair of dangerous pieces of metal.

Saturday I watched my daughter glide easily as though it were not her first time. She was all smiles. My son was holding tightly onto my sisters hand. He was more unsure, wobbly, clumsy, he is his mothers' son.

Finally I stood. A little girl near me gave words of encouragement. Telling me it isn't real ice, just slide my feet. How sweet this connection. Soon my son was holding my hand and the two of us were trying to walk like new born calves.

I am ready to try again. This time in a smaller pair of ice skates. Maybe I will even get to graduate to real ice!

Later that evening I received a phone call that reminded me where I was just a couple of years ago. How alone I felt. The thoughts that were so jumbled in my mind.

The voice I heard was not my own. The words were words that I had thought though. Those statements, I had made those statements before.

As my eyes filled with tears, my heart was sinking. How I wished I could take this moment and hold this woman close to me. To hold her hand and help her along the way. If I could take any of the pain and struggles just by listening to the voice on the other end, I would have.

This contact, this connection, humbled me and reminded me that we are always healing, changing, growing, and becoming the person we will be while seeing and loving the person we are. Sometimes we have to see the wounds and accept the fact that there will be scars. It doesn't mean those scars will disfigure us forever.

As I climbed back into bed I felt my husbands arms wrap around me. His breath touching my neck as he spoke. Always asking about how I am, what he can do. I have never met, nor been with someone who spends almost every waking moment thinking of someone other than himself. He inspires me to be better than what I am. His thoughtfulness for others is a constant encouragement for me to do the same.

So many human connections to reflect on from this weekend. Not one would I take away, but some I wish I could connect with more. There is never enough time in the day to express to all the people in your life how much they mean to you. Each time you connect with a person, even the same person, it is unique. That moment between you and that person will never be the same again. How do you preserve those amazing moments?

It's The Little Things

I reach under neath my chair and grab the canned fruit. The hard cylinder is grasped within my fingers. I hand the can over to my son who smiles and grabs it while leaving me his beloved woof. I tell him don't run, walk slowly. An okay from him and he is off.

Watching this tall little boy in footy pajamas with dog ears on the feet walking quickly from our seats to the front of the church, I giggled. He drops the can in the basket and off he goes, back to us.

Only after he is back in my arms do I realize, perhaps letting my little one attend Mass in his dog pajamas may offend someone. That little act of allowing a little boy be just a little boy could somehow result back to someone else as a sign of disrespect to the church.

Once Mass was over and we were walking across to the other side to gather my daughter who was sitting with her Nana, a gentleman comes by. He says, next Sunday I am wearing a pair of those!

As I sit with my son on the couch he grabs my hand and kisses it. Tells me he loves me. My husband and I both smile. My son is mimicking the actions of affection he sees Shawn show me. This delights me because I feel that he sees a small action and knows this is how we should treat a girl. My heart is warmed.

Sandra had told me this weekend, Mommy you are prettier than pretty. I reply, Sis you are prettier than pretty! Then hearing the echo of Logan telling his sister how pretty she is. My instinct tells me we are living a life lesson. Sharing, caring, and learning to accept, give and receive compliments.

Watching my children give eskimo kisses to the children of a friend. This is proof that I am indeed teaching them to build relationships, and how to love another. I am leading by example of what a friend is, even if they don't fully understand the situation that has led these children to our home on a school night.

Seeing the smile of a mom as I take pictures of her children with Santa, and then later emailing them to her, that brings me joy. When asked by my husband who was that you were taking pictures for, I shrug, I don't know, I reply. He smiles at me. I have brought him joy.

You see, it is the little things. Each being a gift. A lesson. Living your life simply means living for the moment. Living a full filling life that means living for the little things. My list could go on and on. The fact that I am able to sit down, write them out, and reflect brings me a peace and calm that I just love.

I want to live a  life centered around all these little things.

The Voices We Hear

As I sit with my iTouch in my hand scrolling through Facebook pages of people I know, or knew, or barely met I read their writings. I devour writings. I do the same with blogs, random blogs, blogs of friends, it doesn't seem to matter. While they lack the feeling of holding a book, lack the smell of the pages as I can flip through them, they hold something else. A momentary instant connection.

I began a status for my Facebook tonight on my little iTouch and realized quickly how long it was going to be. How much I seemed to have bottled up inside needing to be released, to be let out that I sat aside my iTouch and came into my Mother-In-Law's computer room and turned on her computer. It is here where I sit typing my thoughts and whirl wind of emotion out.

Earlier this week I had a therapy appointment. I love going to my therapy appointments. I get to ramble freely and without reservation. At one point in time my therapist said, "You over analyze, you over think, you have always had this problem."

He is right. I don't know how to stop it or how to detour it. It sometimes appears as wasted energy, however you can multitask when thinking. Perhaps then, not so much. I just need to learn to focus it.

For the past few months I have been reading and rereading some writings posted on a Facebook profile of a person I barely knew. Her writing flows like water, taking you threw cracks, over rocks, in between grass blades that are growing up at the edges. Bringing you to calming, cool pools where the current appears to stop before pulling you along for the journey yet again. All the while you keep thinking, I have read this once before, I know where this current is taking me, and then surprise! Your emotions are taken down a different path each time. Learning, discovering something new about yourself. Taking you out of your comfort zone and into something new, scary, or even sometimes warming and inviting.

At times I feel as though someone is sitting beside me as I read. I can almost feel a warmth, hear a laugh as I struggle with the tears. I do not want people reading this thinking I am crying because I am said or depressed. No, I am crying because I am touched with memories that I want to hold onto and must not grip. I need to open my hand and allow them to run threw my fingers like sand. I am emotional because I seem to have a hard time keeping my gaurd up lately. My walls of my little fortress barely seem to even be there. They have been replaced by carefully planted gardens, trees, something that still allows protection, but a path.

I read about beauty, beliefs, connections. When I close my eyes I can see this person, I can hear her voice as she had answered my questions so long ago when I was younger. When I was more afraid and lost.

You should live for today and love who you are. Take a chance and find out who that person is. That person should always be evolving, changing, developing, and becoming something new. The goal should be to always want to be more in tune with who you are, and who you are becoming.

We should never shun the conversation from the stranger that sits across from us in the waiting room at the doctors office, ignore the child in the store who wants to share with you their imaginary friend. You never know what a short sixty second conversation may do. How it can touch you, teach you, change you.

Sometimes we forget that we are all connected. We all hold the ability to touch another's heart, mind, or spirit.

"Changing the world is good for those who want their names in books. But being happy, that is for those who write their names in lives of others, and hold the hearts of others as the treasurers most dear." Orson Scott Card.

Logan's Sunday

It is no secret that I like my sleep. In fact I dread waking up, not that I do not like being awake, I just hate being woke up. Last night I had an awful night of sleeping. Bubba-Bird Dog was allowed in the house. I was trying to be caring to our beloved pet. He rarely comes inside but with the frost warning, I was concerned about his short hair and freezing outside.

By four in the morning I was ready to kill the dog. He would not stop whining. I kicked him outside and struggled to go back to sleep.

A couple hours later and Shawn is up and getting ready for church. My instinct is I am missing church for sleep. Sandra concurs so she can play. Then Logan wakes up.

"Mommy are you sleeping?"

"Yes, are you sleeping?"

"Yes."

"Logan, do you want to go to church?"

"Yes Mommy, I want to go to church."

So a sleepy Mommy, a sad Sandra, and a sweet little Logan go to Mass with Shawn.

Logan is interested in the alter boys today. More correctly he saw an alter girl and was distraught.

"Mommy, why can't it be a boy?"

I immediately point out that of course it can be a boy and tell him to wait for the other helpers, that he will see that one is indeed a boy.

Shawn of course takes this moment of opportunity to try and make me squirm. Insinuating that perhaps Logan will become a priest. While sitting there in Mass I reply to him that there is no way I am at all prepared for my son to become a priest. I am completely and totally prepared with him joining the military, but not the priesthood.

Later on the way home Shawn makes the comment that he believes Logan was being more like his Mommy this morning in seeing a sexist thing occurring. My son only saw girls helping and became immediately perplexed on why a boy couldn't. I think Shawn is right, my three year old is listening a little to much to Mommy during the election year.

Sandra cried randomly today while at church, her brother tried hard too cheer her up. Giving her  hugs and telling her not to cry. Matter of fact he said "Don't cry sissy," so loud that I am sure half the congregation thinks I took her out prior and not checked Logan's diaper but spanked my five year old.

Off and on all day my little man was being super good. He constantly was telling one of us that he loved us, thank you, helping, or playing on his own amazingly. He even wore big boy underwear most of the day.

Even my little girl noticed that her baby brother is no longer a baby and was slightly distraught. She had asked me at one point in time if her baby brother would not need her when he grew up. I told her he will always need his big sister, even if he becomes taller than her. She was happy with this answer and promptly told Logan he will always need her with which  he replied, "Yes sissy!"

My little man is just that, a little man. Logan's Sunday was sweet as I had to come to the terms and realization that he is growing just a little bit each and every day. I am always so proud and encouraging of my daughter to become independent and strong. Watching her grow and hit milestones always brings smiles to my face. Now my baby boy, he appears to be a different story. Today though I realize that this Momma needs to let go so he can grow from my baby boy to my little man.

The Butterfly

"We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty." ~Maya Angelou

We often admire the butterfly, the colors, designs, the beauty of which this amazing art of nature flutters through the air bouncing onto flower tops, landing and taking off again in ease. Rarely do we remember that is not how the butterfly began.

The butterfly goes through a complete metamorphosis. First an egg is laid on a plant, a caterpillar emerges and eats and eat and eats. It will split and shed its skin about four to five times, growing up to 100 times its original size. Once full grown it will finally stop eating and become a chrysalis. Special cells growing rapidly becoming legs, wings, eyes and other parts of the beautiful butterfly. Finally the amazing butterfly emerges. This adult butterfly mates, lays eggs and the cycle begins again.

As I have read over some of my past blogs, I realize how cold and distant so many of them sound. I am shocked and amazed at how close I came to losing myself completely.

Two weeks ago today I my married my best friend. There was a constant fear at the surface of going through this again. Losing my name and my independence. I had gained so much in the past year. What was I thinking to gamble it all away on a hope or a dream?

That day I was surrounded by my fairies, my family, my friends, and more importantly my husband. I was not alone in any step along the way. It was amazing to see how supportive my two closest female friends were with everything. Reassuring, fun, and encouraging. They both knew my deepest fear, and knew that it wasn't going to be something to truly worry about. 

If you have read through my blogs to this point then you will remember the story of the fairy looking for her wings. I was given this gift from a friend the night before my wedding, it was a picture of a fairy and she had this written on her "Worthy". Underneath it read, "As she took the journey back to her wings, she embraced the truth, that she was worthy and that she was enough, just as she was, imperfections and all."

How completely perfect, this ending and this beginning. All of which was summed up on this picture. Worthy.

My wedding day was not extremely hectic, nor overly stressful. Pictures were fun, the ceremony went well, and dinner was amazing. Our cake was perfect with our little farm animals, windmill and sunflowers. My bouquets of wheat and yucca plant pods combined with a little bit of color of flowers. This wedding was truly symbolic of who I am, correction who we are. It was an example of not only us as a couple but as a family. 

My son wanting to be with "His Shawn" all through out pictures. Smiling in them from ear to ear. My daughter wanting to dance with her "Daddy Shawn". The four of us dancing together as a family. I playing in the wishing well with the children while Shawn played a good host and talked to our guests. Allowing each of us to be in our comfort zone and yet be able to meet back together again. 

It was later though when we were looking at our photographs that were taken that I realized exactly what all that meant. 

I see in his eyes the way he looks at me. As though I am that butterfly, I am that fairy who has found her wings and knows how to fly. The center of his world, the one that warms his heart.  He loves me unconditionally, just the way I am. I am worthy.

I see how happy I am. The way my smile comes so naturally. The ease at which I allow his arms to come around me. I have no hesitation about him leading the way, because I know he is going to not walk in front of my but beside me. Hand in hand through out life. There is no one that I know would be able to look at these pictures and say, "no these two do not really love each other". There is so much love and mutual respect that I have had so many people comment on it.

It is not just the way he looks at me, it is the way he touches me. Holds my hand, moves my hair behind my ear, places my check inside his hand. All of that is love, compassion, intimacy, it is enagua.

It's the smiles and the laughter of our children as they run to him. Excited to see him come home. To be near him. To talk with him. How he grins, and is ready to talk to them about their days. It is the hard moments when we have to give them back. How we both feel a little lost, unsure and sad about not having them in our home.  

I look back at these pictures, and each time tears begin to form. They slowly flow from my eyes and down my cheeks. It is not because I am sad, but because I am relieved. I am free. I may have changed my label, but the ring on my finger was placed there not as bondage but as a reminder of our continued connection to one another.  

"Do you Shawn take Desiree to be your wife, to be her constant friend, her partner in life, and her true love? To love her without reservation, honor and respect her, protect her from harm, comfort her in times of distress, and to grow with her in mind and spirit?

Even our hand picked vows could not have been a more explanation of how our relationship is.  We are first and foremost the others constant friend. Our love for one another has no reservation, no limitation.  We are equals on the playing field of intelligence. Constantly encouraging one another to grow. Spiritually we may be at different ends, but our deeper respect for one another keeps it growing, mending, changing us. Strengthening one another. At times challenging the other but never to change ones mind but to rather allow to grow and become more. Ultimately for us to become more one. 

Those photos shows me how much Shawn is the center of my world, he and my kids. My love and understanding and patience is never ending for them. They are my family. My life, my love. They show that I am the center of his world, I and the kids.

When I see how he looks at me, I become slightly bashful and fearful that this is a fairy tale come true and that I will lose this. Then he puts his arms around me and all fears slide away like rain drops off of grass. To have him place his hands on my arms and to say if you ever need to know how beautiful you are, all you have to do is to see yourself through my eyes, my eyes alone. I melt, relax, and realize that he speaks of the truth form the heart. 

I am now worthy, I have my wings, and my marriage has allowed me to fly. 

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." ~Lao Tzu


To my dearest husband, 
Thank you for giving me strength, accepting my courage, taking me as I am, and showing me my beauty. For allowing me to have our day of celebration to be taken in a church of god, and then into my realm of spirituality of a corn field.
You are truly an amazing man that I am so lucky to have by my side.  

To Jeannie and Kristin and my family thank you for seeing all of this and knowing that we weren't rushing things, that we had indeed made the right choice, for there is no other choice in this fairys story but to follow her heart so her wings my flutter.

Obama and the Catholic Church...

I have never, I mean NEVER walked out of Mass before. At least not before today. Even though I am not a theist I still enjoy attending Mass. Going to Mass at the local Catholic Church here on a very consistent basis for roughly a year now I have a safe place to meditate. There is a beauty I see in the routine of Mass. There is a reason of why everything is placed the way it is. From pulpit to prayer. Each has a place, a perfect harmony.

I do not believe in the whole Jesus as the son of God and savor bit. So how is it that I find Mass to be a special time for me, my spouse, and my kids? Easy. You can learn about love and compassion from any story, fiction or nonfiction. The key is to listen, to be open minded, and still think for yourself. I am not saying that those who believe are only doing so because of social pressures. I am saying that I am not going to join an organized religion because that is what is socially acceptable where I live. 

No, when it comes to matters of spirituality you must listen to your reason and your gut. Your instinct will point the way. You just have to be willing to listen and learn. I have had many interesting discussions with Atheists and their spirituality. There is a distinct difference in spirituality and religion. One Atheist actually tells me that her spirituality and calm lies within her work and study of science. The molecular level brings peace and calm to her mind. Makes her want to go and do good deeds and make the world a better place.

I have many friends who are very strong in their faith, and some friends who are very strong in their lack of faith in a God. I try to stay in the middle. Respect those who believe while standing my own personal ground.

I personally see where organized religion of any kind has hindered the growth of civilization. Governments being ran by religious laws that infringe on human rights. Keeping our knowledge and ability to help our fellow humans by limiting stem cell research for one example. Many states do not allow a mother to donate the umbilical cord for stem cell research. My mind cannot comprehend the issue of allowing that. That does not encourage me to have an abortion, rather it encourages me to bring more hope to the world in addition to raising a child who will hopefully be compassionate and loving. 

On the flip side I see where many people need to have a faith in a higher being or power. Some truly do need to have an outside strength to encourage them. Many organized religions have soup kitchens, a community pantry, run homeless shelters and more. Perhaps it is this common ideal is what brings groups of people together to encourage them to help one another. 

It is when the blending of religion and politics take place that I struggle. I have always on some level been drawn to the Catholic Church. One of the main things I love and have always pointed out to my Protestant friends is that the Catholic Church rarely if ever brings political conversation into the sermon of Mass. Items of discussion in a printed church bulletin? Yes. Having Father preach about what to think or how to vote in regards to political items, rarely. This of course comparing to my experiences in a Catholic Church setting versus a Protestant Church setting. Some of you may doubt my experience of either, but I have attended church services more often than you think. 

So with harvest in full swing it has been roughly a month since attending Mass. This morning we were able to attend. I walked out.

After readings, a couple of hymns, Father says we are to listen to a homily from the Bishop. The tape began, and my stomach began to turn. 

The Catholic Church is doing a "Fortnight for Freedom" June 21st to July 4th. Believing that their religious liberties are being infringed upon with the recent Obama Care requirements. 

"As a community of faith, we must commit ourselves to prayer and fasting that wisdom and justice may prevail and religious liberty may be restored. Without God, we can do nothing; with God nothing is impossible." ~Rev. John B. Brungardt is quoted on the Catholic Diocese of Dodge City's website.

There is also a "Rally for Religious Freedom" on June 29th in Topeka stating that the "why" of it as being "The federal government has taken the unprecedented step of requiring religious individuals and institutions to pay for products and procedures that violate their religious beliefs.  Catholic schools, hospitals, and charities are not exempt — they will either have to provide their employees with coverage of immoral products, including abortion-inducing drugs, or they may have to shut down.  Our country’s 200 year tradition of religious freedom hangs in the balance.  Join people of faith across the nation who will be rallying for religious freedom."

Constitutionally speaking, I feel the Catholic Church may have an argument against the Obama Administration. Personally speaking, I feel the way the Catholic Church is getting the word out is inappropriate. It has been explained to me that there is no Sunday school for young children through the Catholic Church because those children are too young to be thrown into the mix of the religious beliefs beyond God and Jesus loves you. The children are a part of the congregation and therefore should be a part of the service as well.

My children do not need to hear of the political crap between the church and the government. They are far to young to have to explain "abortion-inducing drugs" too. Placing informational items in the written bulletin, sending out letters to members, or even holding special information meetings to explain why or how this is affecting the Catholic Community is a much better way in my personal opinion.

As far as attending Mass, that is going to be put on hold for at least a week or two. I will use the nearby cornfield for meditation as the corn is growing like crazy! My normal excitement over an election year is gone. I am anxiously awaiting to hear the decision of the Supreme Court in regards to the first arguments of the Obama Care plan.

Perhaps I am not taking my own advice about being open minded and listening. Perhaps walking out today was a bad decision. Ultimately though I was trying to conserve the love I have of the routine and typical message I receive from the Catholic Church. That message of loving one another and loving yourself. 

The Sound of Thought

"A picture of many colors proclaims images of many thoughts." ~ Donna A. Favors

Tonight I feel tired, distant, a little 'lost'. Far from upset or depressed. I believe I am just listening to my thoughts. Shawn looks worried, wondering. My verbal communication skills leave a lot to be desired at times. Without knowing how to express to him out loud what is going on in my mind, it is hard to reassure him all is well.

Tomorrow we get the kids back. I am excited.

Today I am distracted. This afternoon I could hear the wind blowing by the open window of my bedroom. Every time I closed my eyes to try and nap all I could picture where the wheat fields. They are turning colors and harvest is approaching. This also means that soon the corn will be growing.

There is something to be said about watching the wheat dance in the wind. Cornfields don't dance like the wheat. It looks like waves in the sea moving about. You can close your eyes and hear it move. Soft, delicate, crashing of steams. The closest thing I can compare it to is taking my hair and placing it in-between my finger tips next to my ear as I move my fingers back and forth.

Calming, soothing sounds of thought.

I cannot help but to reflect on the words of Mahatma Gandhi, "Always aim at complete harmony of thought and word and deed. Always aim at purifying your thoughts and everything will be well."

There are life events that are adding stress right now. Nothing major nor devastating, just collectively stressful and worrisome. Perhaps my constant image of the wheat dancing is a technique my mind has developed to help me meditate and relax. Remind me that seasons are changing, people grow old, and while we plant we must also harvest.

It is complete harmony.

Tonight I am ready to sleep. Sleep without fear of nightmares or ghosts. Just of dancing wheat.

It Has Been A Year

It has been a year since I committed myself to the mental ward of St. Catherine's. This milestone has came with many emotions. I never dreamed it would bring on so many thoughts, or impact me the way it has.

There are still days when I sit and wonder if the diagnosis was right. Where my mind won't shut off and the internal struggle becomes overwhelming.

Honestly though, not as much, not as tensely, not with as much pressure or passion. I look at pictures of me now, and I think wow, who is that? I don't recognize the smiles, the sheer gleam of happiness that I see. I am heavier than last year. The weight gain bothers me but not enough to keep me from looking at the photos. At least briefly. I still have issues with photos and mirrors. Some day I will be able to look in a mirror. For now though I am still appreciating the inner portions of who I am. I am learning that my mind is beautiful. I am a good mom who loves her children. More importantly, I have given smiles to those who have needed it. I am spreading good in a world where that is hard to find at times.

While I was in the hospital I had taken my little green god of war. He was popular among the patients and comforting to me. On the day one of the fellow patients was leaving to go to another place, he had to show his family my god of war. Smiling he presented the green stuffed animal telling the story of this object and how he wanted to read these books. I had impacted this fellow man in a positive way. Giving him something to smile about, to look forward to.

The other patient I became close to had many voices to deal with in his own head. The day I was suppose to be released he threatened to break my frog I had made out of melty beads. He asked me what would you do if I broke this?

Seeing my frog in his hands, I became nervous but soon realized the truth. He was not going to break it, he was upset I was leaving. So I said, I would think you needed to break something. Puzzled he looked at me and said, you wouldn't be mad? No, I wouldn't be mad. Break it if you need to.

He gave me the frog.

These two people impacted my recovery, my recognition of my issues, my life, what I wanted to be, who I was. I shall never forget them even if I couldn't tell you their names.

Shawn believes that everything happens for a reason. That we are who we are because of the people in our lives. How they help mold us, change us, the experiences we have because of them.

A friend I care about tremendously commented to me that he does not need to be tied down, to have to have someone in order to be complete.

I think that for me, it is somewhere in the middle. When I was born I was suppose to be a certain person. Born with certain personality traits, talents, weaknesses. That said, I do not need someone to complete me, rather everyone in my life has helped complete me.

I could not imagine where I would be today after the past two years if it wasn't for certain people in my life. They helped keep the muddy waters from turning into a hurricane swallowing the shores of my home whole.

Yet, Shawn is constantly reminding me that it has been I who has made it through. That everyone else was just there watching from the shore. Perhaps throwing out life rafts from time to time. I think he gives me way too much credit.

So as this year is now moving on, and I have been off all of my medications since October and I have held a job this entire time! The anxiety is there, but low and manageable. The kids and I are adjusting to the new routine, and I am making my new house a home. The walls are covered with pictures of those that I love, and I feel safe once again.

Reflections of Mass

It had been awhile since attending Mass. The holidays aggravate me and make it tough for me to go with an open mind. This hinders my own spiritual fulfillment. No point in going if I cannot meditate.

We went to Mass, the Sunday after New Years. Two large Christmas trees are surrounding the cross and ‘Jesus’. Beautiful trees, red ribbon, gold ornaments, lights, a smaller tree sitting in front next to a manager in front of the pews.

I find the trees to be both odd and yet pretty. Strange mix of symbols in a building of worship based on the Christian faith.

My arms feel empty and alone. The two children whom are normally in the pews with me are not with me today. I know they would have been in awe over these decorations. Sandra would have loved the readings about the star leading people to the little baby Jesus. My heart aches. Something is missing; I do not feel whole.

I watch the little boy in front of me, impatiently grabbing his mom’s shirt.  I can almost feel Logan next to me, Sandra holding my hand.

Beyond the missing feeling of my children not being at my side two other things have happened at mass. One, my irritation with a brochure sends me into a small tangent on birth control and abortion. The second, Shawn made a public announcement.

For now, I am skipping my tangent. This blog is not about my stance on birth control or the mix of politics and religion. It is about my inner feelings in regards to my life. How I feel about my family, the loved ones in my life. What is going through my mind about what directly affects me.

The public announcement was not one of verbal communication. It was an action. Shawn has moved in with the children and I. To the majority of the people reading this, I know this may not seem like a big deal. To us, it is. Shawn was not comfortable of the idea of living with us without us being married. His faith resides with the Catholic Church. He is no longer able to take communion.

If you are Catholic, you know how important, intertwined taking communion is with your faith. If you are not Catholic, none of this is making sense to you.

The Holy Eucharist is viewed as one of the most important of the seven sacraments. It is here theists receive what they view as the blood and body of their savior. Communion is intimate, personal connection. As Pope John Paul II had said, “The Eucharist builds the Church. It deepens unity with the Church, more fully assimilating us into Christ.”

Catholics have specified rules, guidelines put into place in order to take communion. Shawn no longer meets these guidelines. He is living in what the church views as sin. This is a sin that keeps him from taking the Body of Christ, the Eucharist.

The moment where the congregation joins in taking in this symbolic ritual had arrived. I stand to walk to the end of the pew to allow those near me to move past and go towards the front to partake in this ritual. Shawn stays next to me. He motions for me to sit back down. I am perplexed and confused. He is not taking communion.

This moment is significant in two ways. One, he has truly decided and is okay with living with me without being married; at least in the short term. Two, he has announced this through actions to those around us.

Yes, there are other reasons for not taking communion. This is a small community though and those who noticed will have a good idea of why he did not participate. Publically he announced this commitment to his peers.

So while I had empty arms from the absence of my children, my heart was warmed by the actions of my partner. I am also feeling incredibly guilty that I am a cause of his inability to take communion. No, I do not believe in God or the rituals that make his faith. I do respect and love him though. I only hope that this is not a hard sacrifice he will regret. Perhaps in the short term sacrifice is worth the long-term outcome.

Puzzles

Closing my eyes I run my fingertips over the surface; little bumps and crevices teasing my senses as it grazes over the top of the pieces. I can feel where each piece begins, ends, connects, and where some are still missing.

This puzzle sitting unfinished on my dining room table reminds me of my life, the changes, the picture, and the pieces still missing.

Most people will put the border of a puzzle together first. This serves as the building block, a foundation. Then by starting with one particular portion of the puzzle you separate out the pieces that are more likely to fit together. Eventually all your pieces are put together and make a picture.

Right now I feel so overwhelmed by the unfinished pieces, the colors, I have lost sight of the pieces that are already put together. Tonight I am taking the time to appreciate the pieces that are starting to make an amazing painting.

Each piece is unique, special just to it. Cut to form and fit perfectly with those around it.  If I were to open my eyes I know I would see the emergence of frogs. On a closer, more detailed level, I would see the lines and curves that make up each piece.

I am not sure if we are all pieces to a puzzle bigger than ourselves, or if we are a puzzle that we are putting the pieces to. Either way I do not believe that puzzle is ever truly finished, nor do we find all the pieces that are suppose to fit.

It is not about the puzzle you see. It is about finding the pieces.

Here I sit, enjoying the pieces around me. Including the one that I have yet to figure out where to put it in the big puzzle. That piece is me. No matter what, the picture is astounding, and the puzzle is an amazing complex one.

Peaceful, relaxed, grateful. I am not sure what else to say. Other than here is to the pieces that make our life whole, and to the whole of our life that make the pieces uniquely our own.