The Top Half of the Rainbow

Have you ever been so caught up in the business of life that you forget about the beauty of life? I find myself in "go" mode all too often; I have a schedule to keep, laundry to do, reports to type, house to clean, kids to run here and there, etc. I know the old adage, stop and smell the roses, but I never seem to take it to heart or apply it.

Autumn is my favorite time of year, mostly because I love that the colder weather is on its way and the heat and humidity of summer will be all but a memory. The landscape will turn every shade of - well - really the upper portion of the rainbow! I pondered this thought on my way to get the children from school today as I drove down the back country roads here in Massachusetts. Most of the roads that I travel don't even have a yellow line to follow; it looks more like a long-winding driveway. Cars on either side of the road give each other the courtesy of "moving over" so both vehicles can fit at one time. The road to school is winding and sloping with some breathtaking overlooks, farms, valleys and hills, all lined with every kind of tree - oak, maple, dogwood, pine, birch, pear and on and on. The leaves are now bursting with the first portion of the rainbow. You know, ROY G. BIV - red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. I see the brilliant reds aflame against the tall pines, orange and yellows line the winding country road. The familiar New England rock walls - home for many a furry animal like the squirrel and chipmunk frame the road's edge; even the pine trees seem to be jealous of the brilliance of the other trees and their needles turn a pale yellow as if to say, "I can be beautiful too and I am capable of changing as well." It's a great mantra, don't you think? As I wind around and try to pay attention to the road ahead I am showered with a cascade of yellow and red leaves raining down from above, the wind whipping up and scattering them afar. It's almost breathtaking. I can even picture the scene painted in a white winter wonderland - the contrast of the white of snow against the green of the tall pines.

It's almost as if I am suddenly awakened from some sort of slumber; like I am finally reaching the plateau and can take a breath and look out at my surroundings and be content. I see now why there are so many great poets and writers who originate from New England. The beauty alone is enough to stir even the numbest of minds. I am now reading "Walden" by Henry David Thoreau, published in 1854. Thoreau was born in Concord, here in Massachusetts and his book Walden was written describing Thoreau's experiences over the course of two years when he left for a cabin, which he built near Walden Pond, out amongst the woods and I am sure rocky landscape and owned by his friend and confidant Ralph Waldo Emerson. Though I haven't reached the end yet, a quote for which I know well and written towards the conclusion of the book says this, "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away." 'Tis true' say the Irish. My last blog talked about being ourselves and not allowing ourselves to get caught up in what everyone else expects us to be or expects us to do or say. We all DO march to the beat of a different drummer. We don't always need to march in parade formation - we have the option of marching our own half-time show. Okay, okay, I was in the high school marching band for four years, what do you want?

Being yourself!

I think this will be a difficult blog to post, but I have been mulling it over for a long time now and whenever I do that, I usually wind up writing it down. In some ways, as I have stated in other posts, this move was a great blessing; a starting over if you will. It's not that I left for the greener grass on the other side, but moving your entire life 300+ miles away IS a starting over and yes, you DO leave the bad AND the good behind. It's no secret that I had many, many struggles before the move to New England. I struggled with the small rancher we lived in. It was a nice home and we had three of the six children in that house, but it never was "home" and I am not sure any other place besides Audubon will ever be "home." I am, however, closer to where my soul connects - Maine. Two hours is far better than eight hours. And then there is the school. My three older children go to a very small Traditional Catholic school here, taught by the good Sisters and Brothers of the Slaves of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I admire greatly the work that they do for our children. I am thankful we live close by and that Our Lord has provided the means for our children to attend. I am equally as thankful for the public school Kindergarten that my two younger boys attend. Even two years' ago I would have SHUDDERED at the very thought of sending ANY of my children to public school; even a half day kindergarten, but it is amazing where life leads you if you only learn to shed some of the fear that binds you to a single mind frame. My two Kindergartners have a wonderful teacher and aide. The school is equally as good. I have no reservations whatsoever in dropping them off each morning and sending them off to class.

I realize now after months of reflection (and by the way - getting AWAY from your given situation that is causing you so much stress REALLY helps clear the air!) I finally came to the conclusion that I was bound by fear! I was afraid of everything! "In time we hate that which we often fear." ~ William Shakespeare. All too often I hear so many in religious circles proclaiming with certainty that their children are so much better off at home; protected from the world and the things OF the world which might corrupt them, but what I have learned is that the world is not such a scary place after all; that what is LIVED OUT at home is what is important; that constant prayer for our children and spouse and extended family is the best bet we have, not to mention trying to live a good example. I may not be perfect - far from it as a matter of fact, but I get up each day and try. I and my husband do what we think is best and so far, so good. Once a person lets go of the fear that keeps them paralyzed there is a certain freedom that envelopes the soul.

I don't have to prove to anyone, anything. I know my heart. I know my soul. Only God and my patron saints know what I truly long for and strive towards. My outward person is only a glimpse of who I am. I have really, really learned to be myself. I live for what God wants for me and our family - I am not worried about what others need me to be. Others can dictate what they want me to be, want me to wear, what to say, how to live, but I must be true to myself, for I know me better than the average person on the street! God knows me better than I even know myself. I am now comfortable in my own skin. I am comfortable knowing I am trying my best; albeit there are times when I fall short and fail, yes even everyday, but I get up trying again. I do not pretend to know what is best for anyone else, for my mission is what has been entrusted to ME - my family - my mission is to safely guide them through the rough waters (pronounced "wooders") of life. What counts is what is in our soul. No one else can tell me whether there is a "blotch" a "stain" or a "major spillage" on my soul or in my heart except my confessor.

As I stated several times before in my blog, it feels good to be free - truly free from an isolated world that tucks you away from everyone and anything that might "taint" you. Some of you reading this have NO CLUE what I am referring to; others know all too well. I have it set in my very being that I will NOT let others into my world, who have a predetermined idea of what MUST be and what they EXPECT me to be. I have reverence and respect for the "suggestions" of those who are clearly in a place of authority in the hierarchy - but I do not want to pretend to be someone I am not to please others. It's just this resolution that I have made long before moving north. It seems there are people on all sides telling me what I "should" and "should not" do; what "they" think is best for me. I am getting stronger each and every day and while other people can have an "opinion" of what they think I should or should not do - it does not equal what it is I MUST do. Getting back to the inner person is a goal I have for my forties. I won't be swept along by the current. I am determined to swim against it, and there is nothing wrong under the sun about that.

I am learning to let go and let God. I am striving to accomplish great things - things that appear small in the eyes of others, but big to me. I started my own transcription company last year and with the move I kind of put it on the back burner. Now I have resurrected it and am blasting the world of medicine with my brochures. I don't long to be the richest; to have the biggest house or the best clothes, heck my mother-in-law and I went to the Salvation Army Thrift Shop the other day. I got a ton of stuff and you know what? I was proud of my armful O'stuff that I brought home! I would LOVE to feel the blanket of accomplishment around me and know that "I" made it with the help of some heavenly helpers ;)

Maybe it's age. I don't know. Maybe it's life experience? We all can only do the best we know how to do with the deck we've been handed. We cannot collapse into an excuse that we had a "rough" childhood or that life dealt us a "bad hand." We must rise above and decide to change the path for our children. I don't want my children to see me cower to the will of others just to make friends. There comes a point in one's life when you don't "need" friends. You "have" friends and those are the folks who stick by you through thick and thin, through the ebbs and flows of life and who understand what is truly inside your soul. Everyone else can get their own pot to piss in.