reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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ponder life. [chicken marsala monday]

ponderinglife WITH EYES jpeg copymy poppo would sit in the chair and gaze out at the lake behind their house.  in the house before that, he would sit out on the lanai and gaze at the pool.  in previous houses, he had chairs or his workbench, where he would sit or stand and gaze, clearly thinking, thinking, thinking.

now, when you’ve gotten to 91, there’s plenty to think about, many memories, many stages of life, many ways the world has changed.  my poppo was a POW in world war II, escaping and coming back at a time that PTSD had little to no attention given to it.  the atrocities he had experienced were his alone to process, with the help of my sweet momma, if he felt that he could burden her with it.  my parents lost a child, a little girl named barbara lynn, who would be my oldest sister – even older than my sister sharyn! – while my dad was still missing in action, a little person, a part of him, he never met.  i know that as they established themselves as a family, there were challenges that befell them, joys that they cherished, times of much sorrow, small moments and large moments of laughter and goodness.  plenty to think about.

i always wondered what my poppo was thinking about, quietly sitting or puttering.  sometimes i would ask, but other times i would respect his quiet-ness. now that i am getting older, i find myself spending time quietly thinking.  memories, moments, decisions, good things, sad things, questions, things that make me cringe, things that make me laugh aloud.  i think about what’s coming up…what is planned, what will remain a mystery. i wonder.  i give thanks.  i pray.  pondering is a good thing.  it’s necessary.

each time now when i sit outside or inside curled in a chair and find myself just staring off into space, i can’t help but think about my daddy.  and i kind of feel him right there, quietly staring with me. pondering.

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CHICKEN MARSALA MONDAY – ON OUR SITE

pondering life is a very useful thing to do. ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

 

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chicken marsala monday

whenyouarelost WITH EYES jpeg copyevery child’s mom’s nightmare is that instant you realize, even momentarily, that your child is lost, that you cannot see him or her.  in the midst of department store racks, in a playground, on a sidewalk of a city’s busy street…you turn around for the briefest of moments and you turn back and your child is no longer right there.  just the mere thought of it makes my breath uneven and my pulse race.

feeling lost can elicit the same emotions.  lost-ness is disorienting and scary; it makes you want to run; it makes you freeze, your breath shallow.

i remember someone once saying to me that when you are lost to go back to where you were when you got lost.   not so easy when you are out in the country on some back roads, but i don’t think they were talking about being literally lost.  it was more figuratively.

i think that, in general, lost-ness begets action – sometimes any action, just to not feel the displacement.  it’s unnerving.  so you try to ignore it, you try to do anything to distract yourself.

the only way to go back to where you were when you got lost is to get quiet.  to sit still.  to go inward and slowly breathe.  to realize you are human and fallible and vulnerable and that the earth is continuing to spin and, as my sweet momma used to say, “this too shall pass.”  lost is also on the path to something.

when i was little i used to travel with my poppo and my big brother in an old lilco van that they bought, converted to a camper and painted pale pink (the paint must have been on sale.)  her (the pink camper) name was lily, although i can’t remember how they spelled it.  they would travel all over upstate new york with her.  there was this one time i recall vividly.  i was probably somewhere around 6 years old.  i don’t remember the adventures we had after we drove upstate.  what i do remember is that lily was breaking down and i could hear my dad and brother talking about it.  we got off the main road and traveled down some country roads.  she sputtered and died on the side of the road.  not only were we lost (in my opinion) but we were sitting on the side of the road, unable to move.  my dad and brother got out of the van and opened the engine hood.  then they sat quietly on the white-painted-front bumper for a few minutes.  my ingenious poppo got some wire-clippers out of an ever-present toolchest and he and my brother cut a few pieces of a barbed wire fence that ran the perimeter of a farm field alongside the gully next to the shoulder.  using those pieces of barbed wire, with some rube goldberg kind of fix, in what seemed like an eternity but was probably only an hour or two, my dad and brother got that pink camper running again.  soon we were back on the road, heading home.  and – the best part – we actually got there.  home.

lost doesn’t have to be a bad thing.  it doesn’t have to be a six-year-old’s-version of the-end-of-the-world.  it’s an opportunity.  to sit quietly.  to look closely at a situation.  to address it.  and to move on.  home is waiting.  in our hearts, in our minds.  it may look different after a time of lost-ness, but it’s there.

STOP. SIT STILL. CHICKEN MARSALA MONDAY – ON OUR SITE

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stop. sit still. LEGGINGS

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sit still BEACH TOWEL

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sit still RECT PILLOW

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read DAVID’S thoughts on today’s CHICKEN MARSALA

SOMETIMES WHEN YOU ARE LOST…©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood