The glue that keeps me together

Last night I was floating in my little corner by myself.  Yes, my corner frequently moves.  Last night, nearly at sunset, I decided to put my headphones on and float in the pool for awhile.  I was meditating on a quote I had heard earlier by Marjorie Pay Hinckley.  She was the beloved wife of President Gordon B Hinckley, prophet of the church Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints. She said, " The only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it. You either have to laugh or cry. I prefer to laugh. Crying gives me a headache. "  As I sat there floating, listening to music, the tears flowed whether I wanted them to or not. I have the same philosophy of life as sweet Sister Hinckley. But unfortunately for me, it seems that my body is weak and the tears cannot be stopped. Sometimes it seems the pressures, struggles, heartaches, and other difficulties that life likes to throw at me, weigh my body down and seem to squeeze the tears from my eyes no matter how hard I fight to keep them back.  I even find myself at times feeling guilty for the joy and happiness and laughter and sense of humor that I have in spite of the pain and sadness I have inside. But there is a glue of sorts that holds my body intact. No matter how week I feel, no matter how my arms may hang down, and my back may be bent,  there is inside of me the spirit or soul that cannot be bent. She stands inside of me and she has the power and strength of Hercules as she stands, arms outstretched, head held high, and holds my body up for me. She is the product of all the teachings and examples of my ancestors before me. Inside of me she yells, she does not whisper,  but she shouts and tells me that we do not quit. That she will stand and she will hold me no matter what, for she cannot be broken. She is the product of a wonderful mother, grandmother, aunts, and a father, who all showed her that there's no dishonor until one gives up.  No matter what stones, hills, or jagged peaks may be placed in our way, the spirit inside of me moves me forward, gives me encouragement, and tells me I need not be ashamed because of circumstances that I did not choose. Dignity is not lost in doing our best. It's only lost when we admit defeat. I wish my physical body we're as strong as the spirit that resides within it. But I am grateful for her nagging little voice to remind me that I am a Storer, an Empey, a Christensen, and a pioneer.  Life is difficult, and it is my greatest desire to win the fight. And sometimes, even that powerful spirit that holds me together like the glue and mortar of a solid brick wall needs to rest. Sometimes she says its okay to cry and suffer a headache or two but it's also okay to be happy in spite of the daily battles to fight. I'm grateful for my little corner where I can contemplate, recharge, and sometimes take over and hold my own self up so my spirit can take a rest.  We all have such spirits inside of us. If only we would listen to their voices and help them keep us glued together.  And so she allows me a moment now and then to grieve the loss of those people in my life who I have loved so dearly and are no longer here.  Some have been taken to the other side of the veil.  Some have chosen to follow paths that lead them away, and sadly some just leave with no explanation. I long to be with them all again some day.  But in the mean time, my spirit will not bend, give up, nor be broken.  She will continue to remind of those people in my life who did not leave.  She will continue to bear me up and burn bright inside of me and let hope shine out through my eyes.

Reinventing myself

A friend told me I needed to discover what made me happy.   In her observation it seemed that I had always based whether or not I was happy on the happiness of others.  If my children were happy,  I was happy.  If my husband was happy,  I was happy.  If my friends, employer, family and everyone else was happy, I was happy and I would kill myself to make sure all those other people were happy until I had no idea what made me happy.  So, in the immortal music of Rogers and Hamerstein, I found my own little corner and my own little chair and I learned I can be whatever I want to be.  I ended up painting the living room.  The color made me content. I've missed blogging.  I have to find my new muse.  And I will, hopefully soon.  But for now I have at least found comfort in my own little corner, in my own little chair and I can discover what I want to be.