Monday, April 4, 2011

Ah, Boloney {another word for mindless, pointless rambling}!




I'm standing in the doorway in a Funk. Have been stuck here for a few days now {maybe weeks}. Not sure if I'm going out of the door, leaving the Funk behind or if I'm hesitating on this threshold, trying not to go all the way in. Whichever it is, I wish I'd let go of the doorknob and get myself out of the doorway.



Work has been difficult lately. Sadness and despondency are rampant and hope and forward thinking seem impossible for people to grasp. I try and express mounds of gratitude for my life but still the weight of it all sticks to me. I need a lint roller to use before I leave the office and go home.



All this has sort of got me stuck on choices/decisions. Do I make a choice to decide or do I make a decision to choose? And what, really, is the difference? All I know is I'm a different person today than yesterday or years ago and, surprisingly, I recognize that. And I've learned that the good changes have to do with choices to think positively and with gratitude. But I don't always remember those choices being conscious ones.



What I mean is, I don't remember a specific moment when I said, "Hey, Night, this is Day. See you later. I'm here to stay." So when Night {aka Funk} returns for a season {or for a moment or a day or a week or disguised as a doorway}, I'm wondering what decision I made that gave Night the indication I wanted to get reacquainted. And, why, oh why, did I think this earth life would be easy and so eagerly agree to it? I fight so many demons that I wonder at my choices. So you're probably sitting there with crossed eyes wondering what in the heck I'm talking about and feeling very confident that everything I've written is just a bunch of boloney. I have only one thing to say about that {at least something that shares the same sound} . . .




Tyler got to spend some time at my house Saturday. He was helping me find something to eat in the fridge and saw Grampa's package of bologna. I used to like bologna when I was little. Mom even made pizza with little bologna triangles on it. Then I got pregnant with Nathan and every time I opened a package of the stuff to make Alan's lunch, I had to swallow gags. Haven't been able to stand bologna since then.



At any rate, Tyler evidently didn't recognize it as something familiar - or enticing - and so he asked me what that was {heavy emphasis on 'that'}. Just answering him that it was bologna was not satisfactory and he asked again, "What's bologna?" So I expanded my answer.



"They take hot dogs and run them over with steam rollers and then cut it into circles and call it bologna!"



"Really?" Tyler asks, wide-eyed.



"Yup!" Grandma responds with all the honesty and sincerity I can muster {that's 'muster' not 'mustard' which is usually associated with bologna}; trying hard not to crack a smile.

At that random moment, I'm reminded of how much I love my life. I love that I'm going to have a whole dozen grandkids by fall because they keep me on my toes and remind me why I had children in the first place. Maybe this doorway is just a transition point and I'm having a hard time believing I am where I am. I should worry less about the choices/decisions I made that ultimately led me here and put my effort into choosing/deciding appropriately today so I can enjoy more of this good life tomorrow.



"Goodbye Night. This is Day and I'm back. And that's no boloney!"

1 comment:

  1. You are going to have a whole dozen grandkids by fall? That's right, Krisy is pregnant. I used to like bologna but something changed inside me. I guess I got older. Had to take bologna and hot dogs away from the kids because it made them hyper. Not part of the diet any more. Love your blog and your analogies. Being clever isn't part of my "wisehoodness". Love you.

    ReplyDelete