To Be Broken Hearted

Two nights ago, I had a strange dream that has since caused me to ponder.

I dreamt I was in bed, awake, and alone.  There was a Sponge Bob shaped balloon (just the shape no face) at the foot of the bed.  I was really missing Dad Ries, I miss his wisdom, I miss his good heart, I miss his love, and I was so sad.  Suddenly I asked the walls, “Dad, are you here?” He wasn’t, but I grabbed the balloon and just held it and wept holding that balloon so tight. It was a complete release. I never knew I could cry so hard. I knew it was a dream and marveled at that kind of release in wonder. I gave myself permission to break down, and in my dream, I wept torrential tears.

When I woke, I knew everything was going to be okay, and I had an odd peace. I felt good, energized, refilled, satisfied. Yesterday, I didn’t worry, or have sad feelings. I didn’t question my relationships, or my insecurities as a human being. I didn’t think about the way the world is turning, or the huge amounts of hate dividing the country. I didn’t feel the frustration of a house that won’t sell or wish for progress or to have neighboring friends nearer to where I am, for something fun. I didn’t worry about my place in this new season called empty nesting, where people I love have left home on one end, and are leaving this world on the other.  I didn’t fear the unknown. I just enjoyed the day as I pondered the phrase, “broken heart.”

I remember being told by Dad, in my younger years of mothering, that there were times I would have “a broken heart.”  My thought was, me? Never.  I used to think, “weak” was a good synonym for broken heart, but that isn’t so. Many times, I’ve known a broken heart.  To have a broken heart means to be an active mother, sweetheart, or friend. To have a broken heart means to know love, trust, or compassion. To have a broken heart means to challenge yourself beyond what you see.  To have a broken heart means to feel and feel deeply.  There’s no weakness in any of that, only living, loving, and learning those wisdoms that come with all those experiences involved, the greatest being to allow yourself to be broken hearted with the understanding that broken hearts mend, if we choose not to tarry too long.

To be broken hearted, is simply to be. Sometimes, to simply be is okay.

To have a broken heart is to friend the broken heart of another, and that is just what makes the broken hearted...

 whole.

Copyright 2016 Lori Ries All Rights Reserved.

Dealing with Dissension

The 2016 political climate is one of true mire. It's hateful really, and is perhaps in the history of my life, the most hateful race I've ever seen. Usually there's political mud slinging or dirt digging, and we're used to that, but this year, more than I've ever seen, parties are truly trying to crucify their opposing rivals, both sides being extreme and both sides being unduly crooked.

I was telling my husband how the world has seemed to shift so suddenly. Just since leaving Tigard six years ago, marijuana became legalized, the sanctity of marriage changed, respect for life has become void, a third gender has been named, abortion has become promoted, with fetal beings sold to science without conscience. Belief in God became unsound, and visions from media an unsightly mess as trucks mow down people and public gatherings around the world end in blood. Popularity overcame accountability and responsibility is judged based on political correctness. Law and order are challenged with the deaths of police. It's all just so strange. When did the world shift and who turned their heads to miss the beginning of the end of values, of freedom, of fidelity?

As I contemplate the visions that disrupt my sleep at night, I can so clearly see the warning of prophets coming to pass in my own day. It's wondrous and scary, and telling all at once feeling the widening gap between what I've been taught and have learned is right vs society's new rules of life. I wonder just how bad it's going to get, and if I am strong enough to handle the demons as I watch others I love continue to fall prey, swayed by the outside influences forgetting all.

It is my generation, that has long enjoyed a time of peace.  Is peacetime passing and is the world entering a new age of unrest, a new war, a new normal as people force their agenda and beliefs on others? How do we get through the day of dissension, where division is prominent, and future uncertain? More than this generation has ever known, faith, whatever that means for us individually, is going to show it's vast significance. The time is here, when man will need to be spiritually self reliant to face the days that are here and ahead. (See Mark 4: 3-20)

In a study of hypnotism, my psychology teacher told me that I could never be hypnotized. When I asked why, he told me I was too much of a realist. That my mind is too strong to let go of what is real to be submissive to the wills of another. I'm too alert. In today's world, we need be alert, awake, and aware. How important it is that we stand for truth and right. Isaiah warned: "Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!"

Where the world is in commotion, are we in motion? As I ponder today's vastly changing world, I hear Neil Anderson's voice. "Beware of the evil behind the smiling eyes."

Personal commentary, no sharing please.
Copyright 2016 Lori Ries All rights reserved.

In Focus

Ayn Rand said, "Words are a lens to focus one's mind."
I realized something this morning. When one struggles with writing as a noun, one should turn it on it's head and think of writing as a verb, and just write.

When my father in law passed, two and a half months ago, I feel I officially joined the empty nesters club. I felt myself being prepared for the start of losing parents a couple years ago, but in truth, you're never really prepared. Not for hip bone loss. I've lost a number of family members from that next generation. The number of living aunts and uncles, I knew in girlhood, are now far less, and it feels strange.

I'm trying to figure out this new stage of life. While I thought loss would be just another transformation, a change to adjust to, I never knew how loss could make one disjointed, confused, and even lost feeling. No matter how much faith you have or how strong you think you are, loss is hard.  Because it's so hard, my physician gave me added medication to my Midlife Welcome gift pack. I now laugh when I think back remembering telling my husband, "I don't mind the idea of growing old one day. When I do, I'll do so naturally and gracefully." I'd always been a Donna Reed fan. Everything is beautiful, organized, naturally lovely, right? In home and family, I fast learned the Donna Reed image was unreachable fiction. So how about aging? The romantics of two people growing old together has to be real, right?  Secretly, I wondered how and when the transformation occurred, while I admired and looked up to my seasoned lady friends. My grandmother donned white locks. I'm now a grandmother so how and when does hair go white; at 70? 80? Scientifically, I found the question fascinating.

New medications tainted my equilibrium, they also left me nearly sedated, and though it brought me to caring about very little, I cared that I couldn't think and barely functioned. The medication was shelved by my doctor. Loss still tampered with my blood pressure and we worked to balance out new meds, while doing a study to learn if the change in my health is stress related (so many deaths and life change at once, and that being too much) or life-stress related, where these kinds of stresses don't change because it's mid-life happenings and this is now the new normal. Medication balanced, and BP back in the 120's with "complete rest and withdraw from activity" I had my brain back. At one point during my nighttime routine, I glanced up into my reflection and saw white.

Dad Ries once told me, "Aging is not for the faint of heart."
People don't age gracefully. I'm convinced that in having a small taste of how people age, they must dig in their heels and raise their mitts like me. No one welcomes the kind of loss that breaks you. No one welcomes meds that slow your ability and thinking. No one welcomes the frustration of feeling twenty inside, but being told you can't work out and have to slow down to take care of your vital organs. No one had ever said that to me before and I hated it. Add "low salt diet" to those words and in a matter of days you feel you've aged twenty years. Again, I hated it. But there you are: mid-life empty nester like so many before you.
You try to figure out what that means and what this new normal will be like, and how you'll break free of the shackling you feel. You know something is different and don't know what is happening to you, or know how it happened to you, or when that change occurred, but you feel it in your bones and you just want it to go away and have your energy and vigor returned. And as soon as the doctor says go, you move, and you get active because you don't ever want your doctor to tell you that you have to stop moving again. And last, you ask yourself what personal progress means for you now, and ponder what is next, grateful for it all.

Marie Curie once said, "I was taught the way of progress is neither swift nor easy."
Aging is not for the faint of heart because of the fight; a fight for youth, for health, and for fullness of life.

When I was told by my doctor that I couldn't work out, I was told I could punch a punching bag.
Though I'm just returning to my weights, That punching bag continues to feel good.

A woman I sincerely admire is Eleanor Roosevelt. "A woman is like a tea bag----you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water."
That about sums it up. Life isn't all easy street. Were that so, we'd have no purpose in being here. We're given trials, that we might overcome. Strength is the outcome, much like muscles broken down in a challenging workout to ultimately grow. We have power in prayer, in scripture, and in faith. But sometimes trial means you have to be personally strong, too.
When the physical war is on, women know how to fight.
The white is hidden beneath bold blonde.