Liars and Their Lying Lie Hole

Honesty is the best policy, as the saying goes. I have enough life know that this is so true. There is not much more that I can say than the truth always is the best policy.

I am a watcher of people. I think God has given me the gift of being able to see people for who they are.  I fear this is a blessing and a curse. I have been able to look into someone's eyes and see things there both good and bad and realize that life always goes on, even if those people aren't a part of it.

And today, as I make my way to work, using Siri to help me make this post, I am struck again by the tangled web that lies will leave in your life. Nothing is more complicated than trying to backtrack your way out of your own lies. This simplicity that truth brings into your life is worth the cost that it may have to tell. 

More times than I would like to count, my life has been challenged by someone who knows not how to tell the truth. And it is dealing with these challenges that my ability to see someone for who they are has been especially painful. Because I always want to see the good in everyone, even when the bad is very apparent.

Can I say I have never told a lie? Absolutely not. But I have found in myself the inability to stick with a lie. And have often corrected that lie as soon as it left my mouth.  One instance in particular telling the truth came at a great cost to me, but I still had to tell the truth. You can never keep up with lies because lies only multiply.

I tend to have great faith in those that I care for. I tend to believe in someone until they are proven to be wrong. For some reason, I have always felt that love deserved the truth. 

And, I have never failed to weep when lies were exposed.

Today, I press toward my goals, and I press alone. I am without that helpmeet that I longed for. And, that saddens me to the depths of my soul.

But, I would rather make this journey alone than make this journey in the Company of liars. I have been reflecting during my ride, reflecting on the great cost of dishonesty. I have been remembering, I have been reminiscing, and I have been counting the cost. 

And what a cost. What a cost it is.

The Key to Open Any Door

I know, I know, it has been way too long. To say I have been busy is a slight understatement. 

Since my last entry I have....

Quit my job

Started a new job

Restarted school

Moved into a duplex in a new city

Everything has been hectic but I have been enjoying the changes. It's the loneliness and empty rooms void of my children and memories that have been hard to take. But, I'm getting there. 

Slowly. 

About two weeks into my new position the office relocated. Granted, it relocated one building down, but it was still fraught with drama. 

My brand new office was once the waiting room. They came in and added a beautiful door with glass windows down either side (no hiding in my office and eating candy for me). And! I have my Very. Own. Bathroom. *insert gasps of outraged jealousy here*

As lovely as my office is, it was lacking one very important thing: a way to lock the door. 

Since I have become an independent woman, I have learned many things about myself. Among those things is the fact that I can do much more than I ever gave myself credit for. One of those credit lacking areas is being handy. 

I mean, I can and do read directions. And, I have put together several things with my shiny new pink took set. With that in mind, I drove to Lowes and purchased a lock to put on the door to my office. I mean, how hard could it possibly be?

I returned with said lock, and began the task of removing the old and adding the new. And, it was actually pretty easy. Maybe too easy. But, I did it and all was right with my little office world. For a time. 

It took about a week or so before I started having problems getting my door unlocked. I would put the key in, jiggle, remove the key. And repeat as many times as necessary to get desired results (the door unlocking). 

I would come in, key in hand, ready for battle. And, then I began the war, jab key in - attempt to twist in all directions - pull key out - repeat. 

Over and over and over. 

Until in one magical moment it would suddenly turn. 

My business office manager's husband used to be a contractor. He came in to place another lock on for us out of the kindness of his heart. While he was there, she asked him to look at my lock. Since it was the close of the day, I left them to look and I headed home. He had no luck. 

I came in the next morning to see how much better it was. I thrust my key in the lock and attempted to turn. Nothing.

I put the key in again, gentler this time and it felt like it would click. So, I gently rocked the key back and forth. 

And, miraculously it turned! I was stunned. Astonished. In awe. 

There is one thing I know to be true about myself, the more pressure I am under at any given time, the more likely I am to barrel through life like a bull in a china shop, my main concern being getting from point a to point b, no matter the casualties. 

I stood with my door open, my key in my hand, my eyes on the knob thinking. 

And breathing. 

And processing. 

And realizing. 

I walked around to my desk and sat down, took a deep cleansing breath, and began the list of things to do for the day....

In slow motion. 

And I realized that I had not only learned the secret to unlockingy office, I had been given the key to unlock any door. 

And that key is knowing how much pressure it takes to turn the key in the lock. With that simple lesson I was able to sit down and instead of bull-rushing through all the issues I had been facing, I was able to sit down and calmly seek solutions. I was able to listen and also hear what was going on all around me. And, I was able to push through some problems that needed a firm hand, yet also gently turn other situations with a patient hand. 

As I pushed the key into my lock this morning, I also unlocked a peace that comes from knowing you have unlocked the door to your tomorrow and I walked through the door with a smile. 

I left the office at 4:58 this afternoon and shut and locked my office door, satisfied with my accomplishments. 

Kiss the BooBoo

It seems like a million years ago since my children were little. I miss those days. They were so sweet. I know for a fact I was blessed after observing other children over the years. Now, they weren't perfect, mind you, but they were really good babies. 

If only life were as simple as it was then. You could explain things to them easier because they were blank slates waiting for input. They wanted boundaries and guidelines. And, I am so thankful they had them. 

I do miss those simple days when they would come up to me with a hand stretched out, tears running down their faces and all it took was a kiss from Mama to make it all better. 

Ethan was so afraid to go to school when he started because he said, "I will miss you cause you won't be there." So, one of the routines we got into was me kissing the palm of his hand and then I would close his fingers over the spot and tell him "when the missing gets really bad, you will have a kiss from me to make it better." And, just that little gesture made such a difference. 

But, they are not babies anymore. Unfortunately, a kiss doesn't fix the hurts of grown up lives. Oh, how I wish it did. If only I could kiss broken hearts and make them all better. If only I could mend the hurt with my arms. 

Even when I made the hurt happen. 

One of the hardest growing up lessons I ever had to learn was that my parents were human. I can still feel the way that made me feel. 

I hate my own children have ever hurt at my hand, from my actions. Nothing is as bitter as disappointment and sometimes that bitter taste never leaves the palate and it provides a seasoning for every interaction that follows if we allow it to. 

When you are wounded by the one who you trust as much as a parent it will throw you in a tailspin. How can this paragon of virtue and love fail? 

When my children were small and they would come in from school with hurt feelings or pride I would put my arms around them and we would talk about what had happened. And throughout the years I could hear those conversations echoed back to me as they spoke of situations. 

I cannot imagine what it would have been like if they had come in hurt, looking to me for love and I would have pushed them away. What if they had come to me crying and bruised and instead of a kiss I would have scolded them, pushed them away and left them to deal with their pain? Not to say we did not talk about how and why they were hurt and why they should not go there again it do whatever again or be around whoever again. 

But, when they came to me broken, I was there to love them in spite of the cause. 

And, today in their grown up lives if I saw one of them standing on the edge of a cliff, dangerously close to falling in, I would reach out and draw them closer, not push them farther away and possibly risk losing them forever. 

I have been lost lately. Scrambling around. Hurt and disoriented. And, I have made mistakes and I have failed. But, my love for those babies goes on even though they are no longer babies. I hope that they never forget my love. 

A Place to Call Home

We are having a crisis at our house. It is like a magnitude 9 earthquake has come to South Georgia and we are feeling the aftershocks as I type.

One of the decisions Bobby and I made years ago was that we wanted our kids to have a "hometown" to call their own. 

You see, both of us had grown up "Newspaper Brats" which means, like Army Brats, we loaded up an moved every two or three years. This was what we were accustomed to. 

I can't speak for him, but one of the things that happened in my family because of this is WE became our home. What I mean is, wherever we were together, that was our home. Home wasn't so much identified with the walls that surrounded us, but by the love of the people within. 

I have put our house on the market. This was a hard decision that I truly have fought not to make. But, it is time. 

We have lived in this house for 15 years next month. This is by FAR the longest I have ever been in one residence. And, I love this little house. I loved it the first time I peeked in the front door. 

So many memories are there. My heart squeezes to think of the memories fading as the pictures in my mind grow dimmer. 

And, it hurts. 

But, it's just walls. 

I told my daughter last night I think we may have done them a disservice. I think in their minds home is a building. 

But, I say nay nay. Home is too big to be contained within walls made by man. 

Home is wherever we are together. Home is where someone who loves you no matter what you have or have not done waits with arms open. Home is where you feel wrapped up in unconditional love. 

Maybe it was I who was done a disservice. If I had thought of home as a building I would have long ago gotten over the loss. Home would for me now lies on Rocky Pond Rd. where the two people who loved me no matter what I did or didn't do lay in final rest. But, yet I can still feel home inside of me. 

Home. 

To my precious, sweet children. My, how I love you both. You are the best of everything I have ever done. I am so proud of you. And I know this is hard because it is hard for me. But, know this and never doubt it. Wherever we are, wherever we are, that is home. Because home is a feeling, not an address. If we limit what we feel for each other to where we get our mail, we have placed boundaries on a love that knows no bounds. And, I learned from my own home that what we have cannot be contained. Not even the hands of death can take away your home when you carry it with you. I will always be with you. Always. Even when I'm gone. 

You can always, always come home. 

In the Absence of Hope

Once upon a time there was a little girl who had big dreams. 

And then, she grew up. 

Life. 

Did you realize LIFE is a four letter word? Doesn't mean it always has bad connotations, but in life bad things can and do happen. 

As the Beatles so wisely sang all those years ago, "You may say I'm a dreamer, But I'm not the only one." Or, as Hamlet struggled with the question of whether with all the problems life was worth continuing or if facing the unknown of death were a better choice. "To sleep, perchance to dream."

We all are born with the ability to dream, to imagine how things could be, to long for circumstances, and to work toward those dreams becoming a reality. Everyone has the chance to at least see some of their dreams come to pass. And, this fulfillment of the hope of the dream causes us to dare to dream again. 

You may say I'm a dreamer. 

I don't think I would say I live with my head in the clouds. My feet are firmly planted on the ground, but I still dream. I still look ahead at all the possibilities and I still believe good things can and will come. 

I have had so many of my dreams dashed on the rocky shores of life. But, some have survived. Some have filled my life with joy and contentment. Some have brought me more happiness than I ever imagined possible. 

Life. 

Contained within those mere four letters is power. And possibility. Hope. And despair. Joy. And grief. 

Life. 

Every single day we rise with an armload of possibilities. We may spend each day in predictable sameness, or we may discover amazing moments every single day. 

Once upon a time there was a little girl who had big dreams. 

Dreams of love, happiness, stability, and warmth. 

And then, she grew up. 

And life happened. 

Standing on the rocky shores of life, gazing at the amass of dashed and broken dreams, she feels a heaviness in her heart. 

That heaviness is called hopelessness. 

It is a weight that will crush and destroy without a second thought. It takes and never gives back. It blocks the sunshine, banishes growth, and obliterates happiness. 

And, as I have lain awake looking into the darkness, searching for my dreams, it has visited me, taunting me with the memory of past dreams that met their death. 

And covering me with the suffocating knowledge of....LIFE

Life happens every day. It continues to happen even when yours is finished. 

And it continues to offer choices. And the chance to dream. 

So, I close my eyes today against the power of hopelessness, and behind my closed lids I see the light of promise. 

I refuse to stop. 

Once upon a time there was a not so young lady who had big dreams. 

And life happened. And dreams died. 

So she rose in the early dawn surrounded by the stench of their deaths and planted.....

She planted dreams on the shores of hopelessness. 

And on those rocky shores some of those planted dreams died before they ever had a chance to sprout. 

And yet, if she looks closely, she see buds springing forth. She sees dreams rising amongst the ruins of yesterday. 

And she smiles. 

Heart Damage

There are few things more painful than a broken heart. When it is thoroughly broken, even when it gets put back together, it is never the same. 

And, you go along with this malformed heart, trying to function as you always have functioned before. 

One day, you look up and you think maybe you can trust the voice of your heart again because the voice sounds just as it always has. 

You do not hear the distortion because you are too familiar with the sound of its brokenness. 

You think, why not trust again? Why not listen? 

You listen in spite of the reasoning from you still functioning common sense and you don't hear the warning blow from your mind, don't see the safety gates go down. You barrel onto the tracks thinking you are on the way to those long ago stored dreams collecting dust on the rickety shelves of your damaged heart. 

Thinking all is safe you step right into the path of danger. 

When the heart is damaged repeatedly it may still function. It may beat and sustain life. But your quality of life may never be the same. 

At some point you need to look to other sources like a proverbial medication to slow any more possible damage, you need to follow the advice on prevention you have been provided and you need to take care. 

The damaged heart can not only slow you down, it affects every part of your body. 

The heart damaged by repeated blows will do no less. And as the scars add up how could you expect it to function? The feelings become seared and compassion wanes. 

And you wake up one day numb to the world around you and the pain you felt, the brokenness causing it to barely function.  

Today, it is my hope that I will remember the state I'm in and take care in the future to prevent any further damage. 

The View from the Bottom

Have you ever really looked at people? Not at their beauty or their clothes, have you ever really LOOKED at someone? Looked in their face to gauge the pain that furrows their forehead. Stared into their eyes and into the murky shadows of uncertainty. Gazed at their mouth and the sadness that brackets lips that were made to smile.

Have you once today stopped to consider how someone else is holding it all together? Did you pay attention to the tightness in their voice, the stiffness in their gate, the lack of luster in their countenance?

I am going to take a gamble here and answer for you.

No, you did none of those things.

Because you had work today, or you had a day to do nothing, or you were off having fun, or you were busy with school work.....etc.

We have become a society of avoidance. We don't want to be confronted with something that may make us uncomfortable. We don't want to be confronted with it because if it is exposed to us by the bright lights of reality we may have to actually do something to help someone else in need.

So, today I am going to give you a dose of reality. I am going to force you to look into the mirror into your own eyes that have become empty and devoid of compassion. And, I am going to do that by asking you to read what follows as if it were happening to you.
********
I am out of options. I am seriously, totally out of options. Not because I have not looked for options, but because I literally have nothing left. I. Have. Nothing. Left.

Nothing.

My house, gone. My family, gone. I have no food. No where to sleep tonight. No hope of finding any place, because I have no one to turn to.

I will eat out of a dumpster tonight because if I don't, I won't eat. I will sleep wherever I can find a place to sleep. I will wake up tomorrow and nothing about my situation will have changed, so I will start the day over with no options, no hope.

And here, in this place, all those things that once seemed so vile seem like a means of survival. Because where I am, if I pay the price, it is not with money. It is with what I do have left.

It doesn't matter when you have nothing to lose. Nothing matters when nothing is all you have.
********
These are just words. There is no way to evoke that true sense of desperation until you are truly desperate.

And I have never been truly desperate. But, today I felt the depths of desperation from someone who landed face first on the bottom. And the feeling that gripped my heart was overwhelming and devastating. My heart literally broke. Tears fell, and turned to sobs and I felt for the first time in my life complete desperation.

I realized how far my head has been stuck in the sand. My problems are trivial and unimportant compared to someone facing the bottom of the bottom. And I swim around in this big pond full of other bottom feeders, looking for some dirt to suck up and spew out about other people and their circumstances when in reality our own black and selfish hearts are the cushion that breaks the fall when those we have dismissed and ignored hit the proverbial bottom.

By taking my eyes off my own worthless issues and looking into someones action before my reaction to the possibility of being exposed to their problems caused me to look away I FELT.

And, it hurt. It hurt so very bad. It hurt to know where this person went to escape desperation, and it hurt to know that they had reached that point and they were offered no refuge, no help from anyone who passed their way.

Back in the day, we cared about each other. Back in the day, we cared about more than ourselves.

This person will lay down tonight with hope. But, I am afraid there is no hope for this black-hearted generation that has encapsulated themselves in self preservation at the cost of compassion.

I'm not talking about those people who CHOOSE not to make any effort to better themselves or provide for their own needs, yet sit with their hands out saying, "Give me." That is another topic for another time.

I am talking about someone who has been kicked over and over and over and yet makes an effort to rise up and continue on over and over and over. Until one day they are just unable to get back up on their own.

So as you sit in your cozy house tonight with your belly full and your conscience seared, remember......

And, look. Really, really look.