When I know I am loved

February 18, 2008

When I know I am loved:  I am seen.  I am heard.  I am understood.  I am accepted.  I am considered.  I am supported.  I am comforted.  When my loved one sees that I am happy.  When he sees that I need a rest.  When he looks into my eyes and sees who I am.  When he hears that I am scared.  When he hears that I have something to say.  When he hears that I am quiet.When he understands that I just want to be held.  When he gets that I am hurt.  When he knows that I want more.  When he knows that I shouldn’t be doing something but he gets why I need to and is ok with it.  When I want to yell, cry, swear, run away or go within my sanctuary and allows it without any effort to stop me or control me.  When he sees that I am tired, or hungry or just need a cup of tea, without asking he provides for me.  And in doing so he feels good.  When my dreams, plans, wishes or desires may seem out of reach, he does all he can to help me in my own process to obtain these things.  When he respects my cycles, moods, time lines.  When I just need to be agreed with, validated, he does. 

Happy Thanksgiving

November 21, 2007

pumpkin.jpgHosting Thanksgiving Dinner has been my joy for over ten years now in my family. I enjoy doing this immensely. Don’t get me wrong it is a tremendous amount of time, energy, money (I can barely afford) spent and emotions run high and low. All in all, I would not trade this holiday with any of my three sisters, for anything. I’m not sure what exactly it is about Thanksgiving that puts me in the spirit of things. Possibly it is the gestalt of the smells or the colors of fall that surround the table or the twinkling candles that is the bulk of my decorating. I, like everyone, have my fair share of memories, good and bad that make for a challenging holiday. I opt for the traditional Thanksgiving. The turkey, the yams, cranberries, rolls, chestnut stuffing (all from scratch). And of course, the Felliniesque parade of extended family, with all its warts. We all call each other the week before to make sure who is still speaking to whom. The oldest sister of course takes it upon herself to aide in bringing the younger sisters in patching up any miscommunications that have risen among the rest of us. And we dutifully listen because we must put our petty misgivings behind us because after all it is the holidays for god’s sake. In this day and age, there are little or no traditions left. Blended families, generation; baby boomers the original revolutionaries, generation x, the spawn of the revolutionaries, generation y, generation milenniums, and of course my generation the ones that got caught in between all of these. The ones that did not get a name. Much like the generation that my mom got caught up in, that would be the poor bastards that were born in the thirty’s. But I digress…So anywhoo, my point is that traditions have been lost on most of us, and I do my best to bring them back during the holidays. It brings me back to a place that my mom and dad (sort of ) tried so hard to raise me with. It brings me back to a comfort zone. Something we can all do with a little more of throughout the year. So from me to you, a very happy Thanksgiving.

Till You Wise Up

November 5, 2007

SunriseWhen I met my boy he was five years old. His seventh birthday is in a couple of days. He is the light in my heart. I walked into the classroom on my first day of being his one on one paraeducator. He has autism. He had been labeled with severe behavioral issues. When I was introduced to him, I looked at him and his eyes met mine with the biggest brightest smile and I was hooked. My life would never be the same again. The job did not go very well as the teacher and other two aides were not well trained in behavior managment and I had to be the one who blew the whisltle. I began working at home with him and his mom. At the time, I began working with him he had no language, was not potty trained and did have severe temper tantrums that kept him from being able to show how very bright he was, in an academic environment. After working with him a short time, he was speaking seven word sentences, was potty trained and his temper tantrums all but ceased. He no longer ran into the street into oncoming traffic. He never, ever ran from me. His relationship with his mom blossomed into a loving, kind, and nurturing beautiful thing. This thing that he and I had was born out of mutual love, honesty, respect and admiration. We no longer “work” together. We do however have a friendship now. My husband and adult daughter think of him as part of our loving family. His mom’s strength of character and love for him and us allows us to be his second family. She is a truly phenomenal woman. She has overcome just about every obstacle this world has to throw at a person. Her generosity of heart and spirit is admirable and much appreciated. I have much to learn from her and her son. I am looking forward to seeing both of them at his birthday party. I wonder if he knows how he has enriched my life. I bet he does.