The Catch...

 

Though I was born and baptized into a devoutly Catholic family, I’ve studied and  practiced metaphysics most of my life and it’s served me well.  The Webster definition is: a division of philosophy that is concerned with the fundamental nature of reality and being and that includes ontology, cosmology, and often epistemology.

It’s not about faith, it’s about trying to understand the WHO that I am.  It’s about listening to the still small voice inside to guide me through life.  It’s about navigating obstacles and welcoming challenges for growth.  I’ve learned to pray directly to God, I’ve learned to speak to my guides and spirits on the other side and learned to apply those messages to grow and move forward in this life.

I’ve always been grateful for this guidance and use it daily to travel through any challenge and to help me understand “failure”.  That’s the trick of it, though, isn’t it?  There’s always a catch.  While Metaphysical Me trusts that I am always being guided, I’m still a human being and the Human me here on earth gets frustrated.

Life’s thrown me plenty of hurdles.  Recently, the hurdles have been huge, but I keep leaping them with faith that things will be better on the other side.  I believe that with all my heart and trust it to be the truth.  That annoying human that lives in my body is losing her patience.

In the last year, I’ve been in search of the right and perfect job.  I’ve had dozens of promising interviews and often thought I found it.  Every time it hasn’t come to fruition, some issue arises to answer the “Why not!?!” question.  Things didn’t work out because I needed to be available elsewhere for some reason.  When it’s clear on the other side, I feel better, but the frustration still lingers.  I’m certain that the winds are changing and Right and Perfect will reveal itself very soon.  The Catch is that I will never know when or where this gift will be delivered.  I just have to trust.

Meanwhile, one of my favorite metaphysical songs says “my words are prayers, be careful what you're saying. my words are prayers, and I am always praying”.  I sing this to my kids all the time when they speak negatively.  I believe it to be true.  I should take my own advice.

Last night, I was talking to my daughter and said that as soon as I have reliable income, our next household project is windows.  Our house was built in 1976 and the original windows are not efficient and need to be upgraded.  Less than 24 hours after I said this, the window literally fell out of my daughter’s room and landed on her bed.  I finagled it back – with the help of prayers and duct tape – and found a replacement company – with a coupon – walking distance from my house. 

While cursing the air and applying duct tape, my husband came through and told me not to worry.  So I won’t.  The guy comes tomorrow to measure and order new windows for the entire house.  However long it takes, it takes.  I trust that it will be right  it WILL be right.

I hope that the powers that be out there in the ethers, heard me WHOLE sentence about buying windows when I have steady income.  I have a lot of applications out there.  Send the right and perfect job my way, quickly.  Please.

And please, don’t add any catch.

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Just One More...

 

I’ve never been one of those people who cares about days.  Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries etc.  They’ve just never mattered much to me because I’m sappy enough/corny enough/whatever enough to believe that EVERY day that I wake to is special.

Obviously, if you are one of those folks who stretches your birthday out for a week or more, I respect that and will celebrate with you.  I’m not a monster!  I just don’t expect or need anything for myself. Perhaps it’s because my own birthday falls so close to Christmas that I don’t expect much.  Christmas itself is about spending time with people I love and not about gifts. Fortunately, I’m surrounded by people who love me enough to not let me be without celebration.  So I happily eat cake and open presents and enjoy the moments.  I’m grateful for that.

My husband accepted this about me – and may have even been grateful that I didn’t demand or expect gifts to represent his love.  He made me laugh, he held me up and supported me and honored the ME that I am.  He openly loved me and showed me that.  You can’t put a bow on what we had.

When he put a ring on my finger, all that mattered to both of us was that we be surrounded by the people we loved, with the food and music that we loved.  So, on September 1, 2001, that’s exactly what happened.  We had the best party, with the best people, the best food, and promised to do our best for one another.  People still talk about the party and I believe that we kept that promise.

We chose this date because we knew that Labor Day weekend would make it easier for people to share our day.  We understood that there may be conflicts between the stage and our anniversary but it’s never been an issue.  We celebrated every day.  Every day. Sometimes, there was a nice dinner.

He wasn’t here last September 1^st.  That would have been our 20^th Wedding anniversary.  The kids and I ate Cuban food in his honor.  I managed to get through it with minimal Kleenex. 

I realized that I still wear the ring he put on my finger every day.  I often wear HIS ring around my neck.  These things make me feel connected to him but I do understand that I will eventually have to take them off and put them away in a jewelry box. I will have to learn to stop referring to “my husband” and add a “late” in there.  I don’t like that.

So I know that anniversaries don’t come with candle topped cakes, but maybe - just this once – I want one.  For this, our 21^st Wedding Anniversary, I’d give anything to be able to blow out those candles and make a wish.  I’d wish for just one more day with the love of my life, my cheerleader, my anchor, the father of my children. My other half.

Just One More Day.