Press Next Before You Start

Pointing to the touch screen in front of me, the pharmacist said "You have to press next before you start." Really? Next is before the beginning? This is what we have come to. Not - "Live in the moment." "Seize the day." But rather, "ignore the moment, because it has passed and there is a line forming behind you and good God, NEXT is the only thing highlighted on the screen...What is taking you so long????"

Well...I thought I had to do something first, before I could move on. But, I don't. We don't. We can always live in the 'next' and miss the analogy that we are rushed and pressured and missing out - and frantic.

While I was waiting for the Pharmacist to come over and fill my prescription, I overheard him telling his boss that his house was in foreclosure, he was filing for bankruptcy and he was hoping to last here another two weeks before he had to move to California.

It had taken 4 hours out of a Monday for me to even get to the doctor. Waiting for his heart-wrenching paragraph to end was at least 2 minutes. A heart-rending eternity. Where should I look? Should I walk away?

I pretended not to listen. I like my pharmacist. He never judges me. He said "You have to press next before you start" as kindly as any person could. Nicer even than a person losing his home and moving out of state to survive could say something he probably had said 200,000 times. He calmly listed instructions for me which included "avoid heavy metals." He chuckled when I asked if listening to AC/DC would compromise my recovery. He meant vitamins. I would never have been able to chuckle if it was me losing my home - and my job.

If I hadn't overheard his confession to his boss, I would never have known that the life he knew was running away. I might have missed the poignancy of "next, preceeds first." I'm frantic about his next. And mine. And our city's. And, and, and...

How to change the order of the world, so that now is before next...Does anyone know?

Stop. Pray. Hide. Okay, maybe not hide.

Thanksgiving approaches. And prior to rescuing the world from an unconscious loss of time - comes the realization that: I am not losing my home, I have a large family coming over for Thanksgiving, and my life will be warm and comfortable and full of abundance. For this next moment - on Thursday - I WILL NOTICE - this.

With every ounce of control, I will try to avoid thinking of the next thing to do. "Next" will come after noticing that now has to be lived in anyway, no matter the "next."

Really, really, hard. Yeah. That'll never happen.

And is there anyway to save the pharmacists: home, job, security, future, and hope, without losing my now?

Karen

Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Mathew 6:27

A Moment to Rain Dance

How often do we take a moment to play? Not often enough, I think.

The Science of Laundry

I like work; it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours. I love to keep it by me; the idea of getting rid of it nearly breaks my heart. Jerome K. Jerome

Laundry multiplies like rabbits when left alone. It can debilitatingly overwhelm and mesmerize even the most organized, strong-willed person.

I can wash and dry clothes. I just can't remove them from my dryer. Several days later, I may remove the clothes, but I can't fold them or locate a convenient drawer for them.

With two toddlers, our house looks like a laundromat for wrinkled dwarves.

Twelve loads of laundry fits perfectly on our couch. Underneath twelve loads of laundry is a nice, peaceful place for an afternoon nap.

Sitting and looking at laundry only makes it grow -  into an overwhelming, depressing mockery of how perfect you - aren't.

I know that I am not alone. No one else who visits my house can do my laundry either.

Is there laundry in Heaven? No. Laundry came as a result of Eve and that blasted (*#@!) apple. I'll bet Adam just got a new fig leaf when his old one began to shrivel. Although, he probably did leave the old fig leaf on the floor next to the bed.

Heavy sigh. Our lives, like endless piles of laundry are paralleled in the silent resignation of a deep, heavy sigh. We must wash clothes, if we are ever to leave the laundry room. And at some point, we all want out of the house.

November, 2010

The toddlers are now teenagers! I thought I had laundry 10 years ago. Now, they do their own laundry, mostly, sort of. Interestingly, they too, cannot get past the obstacle of removing the clothes from the drier in a timely manner. The (!*@#**!) apple does not fall far from the tree. I hope the apples land in soft piles of clean laundry though, and very far away from any fig leaves.

Karen

One Lovely Blog Award

One-lovely-blog-award

Look what I got from http://unmotherlyinsights.com/ by way of: http://sometimesmeaningfulramblings.wordpress.com/ and I am more than happy to “pay it forward.”
Here are my recipients in "forward-ness."

My adored DeeDee and http://www.fiddledeedee.net/

Bring the Rain     http://audreycaroline.blogspot.com/   


Modern Mommy Moments http://modernmommymoments.blogspot.com/


And right back at my newly adored Debra: http://unmotherlyinsights.com/ 

Now for the rules for accepting this award…

1. Accept the award. Post it on your blog with the name of the person who has granted the award and his or her blog link.
2. Pay it forward to 15 other bloggers that you have newly discovered.

3. Contact those blog owners and let them know they’ve been chosen.

Also, please don’t feel obligated to accept the award. I like your blogs and wanted to share.

I NEED MORE BLOGS TO FOLLOW! ANY SUGGESTIONS??

   

Blood Shed

despite appearances we are all masterpieces in grace

everyone

despite appearances we are all someone's child

the person tailgating us at 70 mph

through the grocery store parking lot

calling at 6:30 pm to sell us anything we don't want

in extremes

murdering someone else's child

in cold blood

or by the slow beating down of their souls

through criticism

or constant neglect

We are all

a masterpiece broken

a masterpiece undiscovered

a masterpiece unworthy

a person impossible to forgive

yet still alive

with

grace

for us

for them

forever

forgiven

for our children

for someone else's

for blood

already shed

by

the only master

of peace

who despite appearances

is always

there

here

around

us.

11 years since the Columbine horror...complacency is more prevalent than sorrow for lives taken so suddenly back then. I'm sending Hannah off to the public school on the corner really, really soon. I hope. and pray. she'll come out.

Karen