I can do this, I want to do this, I have to do this, this is something I really, really want to do. Everything in me wants to do this…so yes, I will do this. I'm here, I'm in the right place and there's nothing to stop me. I don't have to go anywhere. I don't have anything more pressing to do. I have plenty of time, in fact as far as time is concerned there is suddenly a whole lot more of it than there has been in many, many years. So, let's do this. It will be fine, everything is fine, everything is okay, this is a good thing. Get back on that proverbial horse and start riding. Jump on that bike and keep on going. Oh come on, there are more sayings but I'm not going to quote them all.
The situation I'm in is demanding the use of those sayings because I was thrown off the horse, and when I was thrown off the horse I rolled down a mountain. I was going to say hill, but it was a mountain. I was on top of that huge mountain and it was so high there was snow surrounding us in the middle of summer (that's some tall mountain- right?) Just me, my horse and the mountain. I love that mountain top, but the way down that mountain, I didn't love- not so much. I've spent the last 27 years climbing that mountain. There have been some small slips, a few tumbles, but never a fall far enough down to take me off that mountain. Tell me, what mountain climbers don't run into a few obstacles here and there and make a few slips, always hoping they never take that huge fall that repels them off the mountain entirely. Well, as I said, I've been climbing this mountain for 27 years and then… even though there were indicators that things weren't quite right with the climb, I never let myself think about falling off the horse and down the mountain. Horse, mountains, climbing, falling, what in the world am I talking about.
I know that if you know me at this moment in time you most likely are understanding each and every metaphor I'm making. I was thrown off the horse (the normalcy of my entire life) and down the mountain (my life connected to my husband's for 27 years). Now here I am at the bottom of that mountain and I'm no longer allowed to climb it ever again- in fact- that mountain has disappeared leaving only an echo of its memory that it existed. I could pretend it's still there, but if I do I'll keep wanting to climb on something that is no longer viable, no longer life sustaining. My climbing would only be trying to live in the memories. I need to get back on my horse, and I need to start up the new mountain of my life (Mount Matt-Dor). I can and will carry a huge backpack- similar to a certain Nanny's carpetbag, and a certain Doctor's police box, containing a lot of room filled with memories of Mount Jer-Dor, but it will still be a new mountain to climb.
Now, before I veered off on this strange, strange tangent, I was somewhere else and I have to jump back to the why of this day's writing and get off the proverbial tale onto reality's path.
I can do this, I want to do this… remember, that's what I said earlier. But, I couldn't do it even though I wanted desperately to do so.
I sat down at Jerry's scroll saw. I had time (as previously expounded on) and there was something special I wanted to work on, something I'd started before Jerry passed, before I was thrown off the mountain. I'd spent time creating the pattern, choosing the wood, sanding the wood, taping the wood, putting the pattern on the wood, drilling all the many little holes into the wood and I had actually scroll sawed out the numbers -2022- ALL before Jerry was gone, and I was thrown violently off my proverbial horse.
What was I scroll sawing? A small ornament/refrigerator magnet (it had the potential to be either) wood cutting of two beautiful service dogs born at the Service Dog Project in Ipswich MA. I enjoyed scroll sawing things for their annual Dog Fest for them to sell or give away as they chose to do. My hope was always for them to sell them to make money to use towards their non-profit Service Dog organization, but if giving them away endeared anyone else to help them it just didn't matter where those scroll saw cuttings went or to whom. Last year I did nothing- Jerry was in rehab/hospitals etc and I just didn't have time. This year with him having returned home in April, I thought I'd have time- I was heartbreakingly wrong.
Back to the present- or rather the past, but just a few days ago- I sat down at Jerry's scroll saw (it will always be his, always) and I took out a scroll saw blade and I roughed up the top and bottom edges as needed, then I put it in the clamps setting it just right. Then I took up the little SDP Dog Fest cutting I'd started already and then…. I couldn't… I just could NOT put that cutting to the blade… I tried… but then I was crying too hard to do anything but cry.
Every single thing to do with scroll sawing was taught to me by Jerry, everything! He was talking about getting back out to the garage and doing some scroll sawing- only days before he died! I was so overcome by the sharp arrow of pain stuck in my chest, that pain of the purest grief, that I could do nothing but push myself away from the scroll saw and succumb to the huge tidal wave of agony surrounding me. I praise God that this grief was a tidal wave, and not a storm, because it washed over me dragging me through an ocean of tears and then pushed me up onto the sandy shore of respite where I grasped for the phone and called my sister Beth. I needed to touch base with one of several emotional life support human angels in my life and she answered this particular call.
I tried to get on the horse. The horse let me back on easily enough and I even felt rather comfortable in the familiar saddle, feet in the old worn stirrups, hands gripping the leather reins of my life, and but then as my lifelong companion took the first real step forward I yanked back so hard on those reins she had no choice but to rear up and throw me off once again. Only this time, I didn't have too far to go, this new mountain isn't very tall yet. I accidentally fell into my carpet bag, police box and let myself be surrounded by the memories of my old mountain but only for a little while- at least in some ways it was a little while, time is very strange in that bag and box of memories.
I was told by my sister angel, Beth that it wasn't time for me to try and go to that particular place, that my new mountain wasn't quite ready for it (no, she didn't quite say that, but you know what I mean). I wasn't ready to begin scroll sawing yet, not now, but I will be some day. I don't know when, I may have to get thrown off my horse a few more times who knows, but I won't give up riding, I won't give up ascending the new mountain of my life. The wreckage left from my tumble off Mount Jer-Dor is still too new, the wounds still healing, being torn open and resewn over and over. It won't always be like this and I know that, and I thank God that I have HIM to keep on healing me! He sends me human angels when I need them. If you're reading this, you might just be one of my human angels and if you are, thank you, and God bless you! I might be calling/messaging you one day in distress and I know you'll be there ready to give me the healing and love, the help only a human angel can give.
Praise God for His amazing love! All glory to Him for His uplifting joy! As I continue to live this life of mine, I pray He is with me in every storm, in every tidal wave, in every joy, and every moment I am alive, may I serve Him, and may His will be done, always! All through JESUS CHRIST MY LORD now and forever!!!!!!! Amen!
No comments:
Post a Comment