Worthiness Part 2



Vignette Version
After a spontaneous decision to pick up and move across the country from the desert, we landed in a beautiful small town in Missouri.  As I start to unpack the relics of our old life, I open the kitchen window and feel the freshest breeze on my face.  My kids running around in the grass and laughing late in the afternoon on their first cool autumn day brings tears to my eyes.  They are safe and silly and I am content to build a new story for our family.

Kooky Poet Version
            Wine trickles into the glass    
            Foreman Grill, my savior again

            Round ‘em up
            Fill all the seats
            Cajole, Nag, Threaten

            Let’s talk about our day!
            Confused silence permeates
            Laughable moments & strange coincidences emerge
            Just a few more vegetables, please

            A little too full
            Content in the cleaning
            Hugging my partner in this controlled chaos

            Breathing in the slow comfort of the evening
            Letting contentedness fill the empty spaces
           
New Age Version
These tiny celestial beings constantly test my mettle.  They are doing the jobs they were sent to do.  Instructive, rather than judgmental, they insist that I learn how to care for them.  In doing so, I will find the humility and the divinity that comes from loving someone else so completely that you couldn’t imagine it any other way. 

My body, surrounded by an indigo flame, tells me that I’m making progress.  If I continue seeking lightness, I will more easily pull myself out of the muck when I stumble, slowly tipping the balance in favor of serenity.

Surreal / Fear & Loathing Version
            The beast is real, snarling and foaming at the mouth.
            “Back off!” I say
            Wielding my stern voice, homeschooling, cooking, and discipline.
            These are a mother’s only weapons, after all.
When I have the courage to look it in the face,
I see society’s expectations hiding in its eyes.
            When it roars, the children look to me.
            I leap to the front and shield us all from its fiery breath
            Seductive promises and traditions.
            It disappears in a puff of smoke to morph and rally
            And return another dark day.

Normal Version I Normally Give Other Normal People
Oh, me?  I have three kids, aged 8, 6 and 4.  We homeschool and love to cook and read and take walks.  I am a writer.  Sometimes I like to run.  We eat a Primal diet, which means no grains, very little sugar, and whole, unprocessed foods whenever possible.  It’s great.

Version I Tell When I’m Drunk
I am from Illinois, not originally, but it is where I had my first and last shot of Wild Turkey, where I lost my virginity, where I read and appreciated my first great novel, and where I met and married my husband. Essentially, I grew up there.  After a while we just needed to break away from everything we knew and start over in a new place.  We couldn’t take the traffic, potholes, commuting, shoveling snow, commercialism, etc.  So we moved to Arizona.  I was six months pregnant at the time and it all started out great.  Blah, blah, blah…three kids later, no job, unhappy, very few like-minded friends, desperate need to get out of the there, moved back to the Midwest and now we are waiting expectantly for our lives to be fabulous. 

Epic Tale Version
Once there was a young woman who went to give birth in the desert.  The only tools she had were a Master’s Degree in French and unrealistic expectations.  Despite this, she battled C-sections, post-partum depression, breastfeeding, body changes, a cooled-off marriage, and a bleak period of self-doubt to come out on top.  What adventure will she face next?

Hero’s Journey Version
I knew a woman once, a neighbor who didn’t over think things. She hosted friends for game nights, outdoor ladies’ retreats, wild let-loose parties, and relaxed back patio conversations on a regular basis.  For a while she was my hero.  I thought about all the things she was doing that I wished I could do.  It took me a few years to understand that while this neighbor was pretty fun and had a great family, I was actually my own hero. 

I am one of those heroes who starts out down on his luck and pushed around by life, like Peter Parker.  Then I face an unimaginable difficulty and instead of a radioactive spider, I am bitten by the insatiable desire to do the best I possibly can for my family.  It makes me a little mysterious, a little crazy, and very bold.  It gives me the strength to transform into a fearsome, mostly benevolent being.

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