Sabbatical Reflections: Soulo Survival

Soulo Survival (The 30-day Plank Challenge is below*)

Two years ago when I started my self-induced writing sabbatical, I was ecstatic. Health issues combined with department down-sizing and nail-biting consolidations in my 7-year job helped me to walk away from a scheduled work-day life breathing a sigh of relief.

After 20 years of career I was free to plan my days, however I pleased. I could sleep in until 7:00 a.m. for health renewal, or not. I could muse and clean-up from weekend happenings, or not. My days were open and free, and that pleased me just fine. I was embarking on a new, solo, experiment. Kind of like taking on the 30-day Plank Challenge, seeing IF I would daily plank, just because, with no accountability partner.

Freedom comes with constraints, too. For 2 years I've awakened, only because I choose to. Each morning, I stir, to the same four walls. It is a self-thing. By this I mean I motivate myself to accomplish goals that no one but my husband sees. It takes boldness to be alone. Especially in a striving, education-actualizing community. It takes courage to have zero.daily.identity... besides: housewife.

Answering someone's question: "What is your job?" with a dejecting, "I stay at home" is anything but an ego booster.

Patchy gray hairs stingingly punctuate that not only am I home, but that my grown children are long gone, and miles away, too. I have no children or grandchildren at my side. I have a very empty nest, and after 2 years this soulo experiment has an L-shaped bulls-eye forming in the middle of my forehead whispering: Loser.

It's like washing my cast iron pans with hot water only. I want to add dish soap to clean up the residue. But my daughter says soap isn't needed because it takes away the skillet's seasoning. Can only hot water with a little elbow grease fully remove germs and bacteria? Do the pans really produce more palatable, seasoned food? (Cast iron does add iron to simmering meals, which is a great thing!)

The big question is, can being just a housewife really be enough, or do I need to "soap-up" the title?

We'll see if more reflections develop. I'm free to blog, or not to blog. That freedom is either tres bon refreshing or stifling.

Sow your seed in the morning, and at evening let not your hands be idle,

for you do not know which will succeed, whether this or that, 

or whether both will do equally well (Ecclesiastes 11:6).

*The 30 Day Plank Challenge will send your core strength through the roof! Yes, all you have to do is HOLD the position shown above, nothing else! It looks pretty easy, but it isn't!

Day 1 - 20 seconds
Day 2 - 20 seconds
Day 3 - 30 seconds
Day 4 - 30 seconds
Day 5 - 40 seconds
Day 6 - REST
Day 7 - 45 seconds
Day 8 - 45 seconds
Day 9 - 60 seconds
Day 10 - 60 seconds
Day 11 - 60 seconds
Day 12 - 90 seconds
Day 13 - REST
Day 14 - 90 seconds
Day 15 - 90 seconds
Day 16 - 120 seconds
Day 17 - 120 seconds
Day 18 - 150 seconds
Day 19 - REST
Day 20 - 150 seconds
Day 21 - 150 seconds
Day 22 - 180 seconds
Day 23 - 180 seconds
Day 24 - 210 seconds
Day 25 - 210 seconds
Day 26 - REST
Day 27 - 240 seconds
Day 28 - 240 seconds
Day 29 - 270 seconds
Day 30 - PLANK FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE!!

Benefits of Plank Exercise:

*It strengthens your lower back
*It develops your core muscles – which include the abs, back, hips and the butt.
*Helps you to avoid injuries and encourage good posture
*Can be done anywhere
*Develops your abdominals by targeting the rectus abdominis

Dreams: Strawberry Fields

Dreams are incredibly fanciful. Floating in and out of one particular fuzzy happening and then to another. At one moment riding in a vehicle to the airport; the next taking no steps, but somehow arriving to a door. Perusing valuable garage sale items, and then rescuing a crawling girl who has fallen down a flight of stairs. And, during one riveting night's sleep, achieving the pinnacle aspiration of chatting with Icon Paul McCartney and Beloved Billy Graham. Experiencing The Beatles' stupor-sounding lyrics from the song, Strawberry Fields Forever: ♫Nothing is real. And nothing to get hung about.♫ Or floating on a Magic Carpet Ride (Steppenwolf).

"Strawberry Fields" fuzz, captured by our 3-year-old

Feelings are attached to dreams. Fears, happiness, heart desires, vulnerabilities, stresses. Sometimes dreams even come true. They might actually prenote or punctuate reality, about a future occurrence. In a slumbered state, the spirit somehow conveys deep information. A dream about a baby boy, bringing joy and warmth, 9 months later becomes reality.

God can especially speak through dreams. Well, unless, just the evening before, we've eaten an entire greasy pizza! (By the way, outdoor activity absorbs vitamin D which encourages dreaming.) But, yes, when walls are removed. When spirits are vulnerable and open. When we are uninterrupted. It is uncanny and almost spooky. We prayerfully seek wisdom or confirmation for a particular life-direction, and a dream awakens and inspires. Tres bon Strawberry Fields sometimes parallel real life.

“In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams" (Acts 2:17).

Visions: Kangaroos Eat Worms, Not Chocolate

Kangaroos Don't Like Chocolate

Johnny is quite Depp in the movie, Chocolat. The actor believably interacts with an imaginary kangaroo, chatting about chocolate, bugs, and he even takes on a pretend worm-eating challenge. It is winsome (although the entire movie might include some slightly questionable ideas). Johnny's character clearly demonstrates in the kangaroo scene that two can play the imagination game as he creatively enters into a young girl's roo-world.

Imagination and visions are strenuous exercises. They fuel thinking and open windows into the soul. As silver hair sets up home in my bouffant, do I dare to think that the Creator of my mind would want me to imagine? Nothing transcendent, but just a smidge?

Should I step back and be guarded? Lost in the middle? Does a little daydreaming, pushing the bounds (or bonds), remove the comfort of security? Is it safe to dream? In color, even? Kangaroos ardently prefer worms to tres bon chocolate, and pre-21st-Century white-shirt corporate America risk-takers believed...

...no one strenuously objects to beige.

White shirts were safe; beige was acceptably bold and dreaming. Today, in the dress-shirt world, we have colorful reality.

“In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions, your old men will dream dreams" (Acts 2:17).

The Heart: 2 Tickers & 1 Tea Time

My heart says of you, 'Seek his face!'...

Heart Ticker #1:  On a recent amusement park visit, a Mom and Dad with three young children are in a quandary at the elephant ride. Each young child must be accompanied by an adult. He (and none of his family) will be able to ride the longed-for, colorful, flying elephants because of too few adults. My husband observes as the poor little 3-year-old breaks into tears.

This sounds odd, but my wife is riding one of the elephants, solo. She would be glad to accompany your little boy, my husband says.

The family energetically agrees. It leads to my ride with a stranger. I let him choose the red elephant, although the purple one was my preference. I follow his lead and gladly enjoy his red elephant world. I let him press and release the magic flight button for us both. I say, Up, up, up! and then Down, down, down!

I learn his name, Tate, and that he recently had his third birthday. That is all as we enjoy his little world. We fly in circles on red Dumbo, and Tate presses the lever to go up, up, up and down, down, down.

Heart Ticker #2:  My youngest grandson is a bulldog physically. To wrestle a diaper onto his in-motion body takes courage and strength. Each evening he enjoys his bath-time by reaching for everything in sight. When he daringly stands, it is time for the towel-dry cycle. Maybe he can air dry and go naked tonight? Nnnaaa! The battle is on.

We head to his bedroom for the Sumo diaper wrestle. Tonight's strategy is to distract, be fast, and voila! I haul him to the rocker, take a few deep breaths, and successfully set one towel-dried, diapered and pj'd 10-month-old onto my welcoming lap.

He is finally somewhat still as I reach for the book Baby's Colors. On this particular long-distance visit, four evenings in a row I read this same book to him. Tonight when he sees the book, before I even begin to read, he turns to me with a delighted look on his face. As page one is opened, using expressive, high-pitched baby talk I read aloud, Baby!Sees!Red!!!

Again he turns to me, eyes wide, and his entire body giggles. With each page, he eagerly reacts the same as I enter into his exciting little world of red, yellow, blue, green, orange and pink.

Teapot Time:  I drink tea all day long, every day. It is no exception during my visits with long-distance grandchildren. My pot of tea steeps throughout the day. My grandson knows this and recently maximized on the idea with a thrift store purchase of a Fisher Price teapot with two tea cups. As he tips the pot, the realistic sound of pouring tea occurs. "DeDe, outside... tea!!"

A 3 1/2-year-old wants company and enters into my big adult world of tea time. He knows my love for it and draws me outside with him to the front porch step. Never mind that pretend tea time lasts only mere minutes. I embrace it. Then bug searching time begins. That's alright.

"DeDe, ...outside... tea!"

It melts me every time, and I respond. My grandson's heart seeks my face and he joins my tea time. I'm there. On the front step. Sipping tea with him, and then I watch and help him as he searches for roly polys and ants.

...Your face, Lord, I will seek (Psalm 27:4,7-8). 
And then, won't God, too, intuitively help me to uncover those most intriguing bugs?

This parallel sounds overly simplistic as I shift thoughts to ask: Do I initiate time with God and attempt to enter into His big world? or, Does my little world of endless requests take over? What partnering image ["teapot"] emerges for mutual "tea time" with THE One who loves and knows me better than any one ever could?

Guidance: How Do Ants Find Their Way Home Through City Sidewalks?

How do ants find their way home through city sidewalks? Is the morning sun able to peek through so many neck-cracking, sky-high buildings? Do carefree butterflies really fly into subways, like in the movie You've Got Mail? If a pedestrian falls in the city and no one sees, does one really fall? And the biggest question of all, is there a sure-fire way to see the tree [Chicago's Union Station Amtrak entrance] through a forest of sky scrapers and thousands of moving cars and pedestrians?

My photo, captured during a previous Downtown visit

I am lost. On Downtown Chicago's Madison Street. 8:45 a.m. Confused. Perplexed. Tethered to what feels like a 1,000-pound weight. This small-suburb-raised-girl has already made a few wrong decisions, losing precious time and energy lugging an ultra annoying but fortunately wheeled suitcase. People are everywhere, but no friendly face is in sight. Amtrak train #101 departs at 9:25 a.m. Time is ticking with about 30 minutes to spare.

Regrettably, my natural, first response is to feel keenly alone. Tears want to escape, but I stop the flow. Crying is unproductive. I move past natural to powerful... THINK!! No passersby will even look me in the eye, so I don't want to trust their directions. I need an assured, undeterred helper.

Despite feeling vulnerable and inordinately helpless, after taking a few deep breaths, like a jeopardized police person instinctively draws for a protecting pistol... I retrieve my trusty cell phone. I am only beginning to somewhat maximize its benefits and prayerfully ask: Who or what is available for certain direction, familiar with Downtown Chicago streets, and Amtrak in particular? I have no cushion time for backtrack lugging an elephant.

• My cell's Citymaps app? No (uncertain how to use it).
• My husband? No. 
• My children? No. 
• A friend? No, but how about....

... my city-savvy, home-base-employed, Big Brother Brian who lives just a block away in a high-rise. YES!! However, factoring in Brian's busy and bustling mile-high elevator, which leisurely cranks to his sky-high floor, and minimal cell waves... We are, at best, 15 precious minutes apart, possibly more. Thus, cell-phone ~to~ land-line communication will have to do. Oh, I pray he answers.

I fumble-finger, hunt-and-peck, to and through my cell phone's People list. I speed dial (probably not the "sexy" term these days) my selected Contact, and ring, ring, ring. Is he in the shower? 

By this time, with a distracted mind and noticeably glazed eyes, I am a sitting duck. The most vulnerable, biggest loser is in Chi-Town. It's amazing that no one has nabbed my purse. Hello, says the warm, non-stranger at the other end of the line. 

His voice is calming and familiar. I reply, Hi, Brian! 

How are you, Sis?

Isn't my brother's leading question inviting? He is begging for my helpless answer and receives an immediate and heavy earful. I respond, Fi.... actually I'm NOT fine. My voice begins to crack but holds steady... I'm lost in Downtown Chicago with a time-crunch 9:25 train to catch!!! Help!!!

If time wasn't a factor, Brian could in-person rescue this damsel in distress. Instead, he utilizes his computer as we communicate through the saving air waves. He asks for my street coordinates and works from there. We chat, only sparingly, about grandchildren and an upcoming birth as he on-line studies the city block layout. He says that he, too, and many are confused by the multi-block Union Station. The entrance to Amtrak in particular is foreign because he never travels it. 

With the help of computer technology, over the next fleeting minutes, Brian guides me, step-by-step, to and through my Amtrak destination, with mere minutes to spare. I thank him, and because of noise levels, with ever-gratitude, conclude our conversation. 

By this time, I am profusely sweating from the 5k workout. I head down the long, noisy walkway to Train #101. Amtrak security yells at still-lost me (glad they're not into tackling elderly DeDe's). They point to a passenger holding area. 

I arrive to elusive Train #101's crowded holding tank, admittedly not using the streamline method, but the steadiest. I do arrive, on time for my train, safe and tolerably oriented.

One last tres bon question ends this guidance blog: As long as unemployment drags on and free time permits... How many scary experiences to and from Chicago-land will it take to block direction-impaired DeDe from visiting her beloved family and grandchildren? My tentative answer is: How many ants are on Chicago's "mad" Madison Street? Who knows.

Lost / stranded reflections from this TOO, autrovert, direction-impaired, vulnerable traveler...

We spend precious hours fearing the inevitable
It would be wise to use that time adoring our families,

cherishing our friends, and living our lives

(Maya Angelou).

Guide me in your truth and teach me, 

for YOU ARE GOD MY SAVIOR,  [an every-day rescuer for the vulnerable]

and my hope is in you ALL DAY LONG  [emphases mine]

(Psalm 25:5).

Be Still. I Will Retrieve That Parasol

A long-distance trip to visit my only daughter and her two adorable boys is perfectly timed to overlap with Mother's Day, AND it teaches me a fundamental and important trust concept. 

It seems that most of my daughter visits are extended stays, for one intriguing reason or another. This time is no exception. A lengthy stay includes attending a Mother/Daughter banquet, for the second time ever, with Daughter "Rachel."

Stay-Day 9 is the evening of the banquet. After handling dirty diapers, slimy worms, and all things baby and boy, we enjoy having a girly estrogen event for which to prettify. Rachel chooses flowy and heels, with an up-do. I choose sparkle and flats, with a down-do. Rachel inherited intrinsic style and fashion flare; I diplomatically dabble. After her 4-year degree, she wanted, and we chose to invest in a year of cosmetology school for her. Some would think the money was wasted because she now shies away from being a beautician. I see it as a prep school investment that continues to pay back, in hair cuts for me.

My daughter has always been unusually timely, even now with two little crumb-snappers. Is it the nature of my obsessive genes, or is it nurture? As we timely arrive and prepare to shut the car doors, ominous nearby skies compel Rachel to reach for her just-in-case umbrella. My trusty cell phone weather app indicates a conclusive zero percent chance of rain, until 10 pm. I am the queen of just-in-case, but uncharacteristically say: "You don't need that umbrella. According to my phone, it won't rain."

Rachel gives me the look: "Oh sure, Mom. I believe you! Look at the dark clouds!"

She wisely chooses her battles and knows that after 9 vagabond days as well as one irrational Pseudo-DeDe mishap, Mom has earned a well-deserved control-fix. So, Rachel hesitantly leaves the umbrella in the car. I reassure her that no matter what: "If it's raining when the banquet is over, come floods or high water, I will retrieve the protective umbrella for us."

Would you guess it? A downpour of rain arrives just before dessert time and I'm squirming. It is a monsoon that we later learn floods the building's basement. I jokingly whisper: "Don't forget, Rach. No rain... 'til 10:00 p.m. Crazy!"

Dry skies expectations are waning, and I'm nervous. Being dressed up and drenched sounds unpleasant. Fortunately, 45 minutes of entertaining game-watching and a message distract all of our unsettled minds, for enriching focus. As the banquet closes and chatting time subsides, so does the storm. We stroll to the car under calm skies. Dessert-time moments of umbrella-regret were unnecessarily experienced. Retrieving the just-in-case parasol wasn't needed after all, but it was reachable. 

Our M/D banquet table-setting, princess-themed
"He raises the poor from the dust
 and lifts the needy from the ash heap;
 he seats them with princes
[or princesses??]..." (I Samuel 2:8).

In my day-to-day world I squirm, about looming changes as well as regrets about the past. God's Word repeatedly reminds me: Don't wallow in regrets and "if onlys." 
BE STILL to experience God's extreme magnificence. Especially when expectations wane. Focus on the GoOD things, which are like succulent, tres bon desserts. 

A simple Mother/Daughter banquet reinforces that I need to chill and refrain from putting God in a box. Flexibility will help me to fully engage in a season of character-defining instability:

I [God] will retrieve that parasol, IF you need it.

In other words, God has us conditionally covered... (conditionally meaning as we acknowledge our dependence on His saving Son, John 3:16 & I Samuel 2:8). Every day... no matter what, when, who, or how... no downpour at departure time or downpour. Tangible purpose or not. Nearby grandchildren or not. Dreams realized... feeling settled, safe and validated... or not. 

I will T.R.U.S.T.

These rambling ideas, as well as the next, are either deep or flighty-as-fairy-tales: Isn't it curious to see our soul's substance when deprived of the superfluous, fortified castle?  

Daughter Artwork

Mom's Artwork, Embellished

Mom Memories