Tiffin Times...

“Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.”

By Paul Boese

As I made the drive from Columbus to Tiffin for the next stop on my book signing for Life through the Eyes of a Hurricane: Doggie-Dog! my insides twirled and twisted with anticipation and apprehension.

Tiffin, Ohio is my place of origin, my growing up location- the space where I learned to walk and talk as well as ride a bike and drive a car. I was cultured to maneuver the back roads shared by tractors and combines and sought comfort in the fragrance of cow manure and the harvest of corn or soy beans. I knew the calm and reassurance of attending a one building school, Hopewell-Loudon therefore I graduated with most folks I shared Kindergarten memories.

On the other hand, it was also the scene of torment and distress throughout childhood and where as an adult I envisioned the face of my abuser/s ‘round every corner. Anxiety and uneasiness were part of every encounter as hyper-vigilance served as armor.

I’ve acknowledged shrill and valiantly; however that forgiveness is a powerful gesture. As a result of those actions toward once despised individuals, I embarked upon this event with affection, acceptance and approval preparing the homecoming proper for a queen.

Paper and Ink was host to the book signing equipped with a reporter from the local newspaper, the Advertiser Tribune. Being surrounded by family, childhood and college friends I possessed a protective covering although unnecessary as I have learned to embrace my past with the awareness it has made me the human being I am today. So I applaud all those people; good, bad or indifferent and extend a hand of thanks since my life is filled with magnificence and joy.

“What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now!”

By Anonymous

"G" is for Gift...

A to Z Challenge...

ABC's of My Life~

…the gift of understanding-




This is a follow up to the letter “D” for Dad. Some of you recommended forgiveness which has already been appropriated to him. However, through forgiveness and knowing bits and pieces of what his life entailed, I’ve been presented with another gift just as powerful--the gift of understanding.


My sister, Dawn, Dad and me.

My father- my one and only. The glaring facts are that he was an abusive alcoholic who beat my mother frequently and rode the proverbial revolving door in and out of our lives. When he wasn’t making us wait for hours on end for his presence for the ‘weekly visitations’, he would take my sister and I to some fun places; the lake for boating and fishing expeditions, the Silver Tavern Bar for hamburgers and greasy French fries in a plastic yellow basket, while the grownups drank Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, and who could forget visiting Orville, Ohio, my Dad’s childhood home in addition to the place where the infamous coach Bobby Knight was an old friend. The famed amusement park Cedar Point was an annual stopover with thrills and chills imparted to all.

Again, I say, he is my father and don’t we have lessons to be learned from those that came before us? That being said, I search for meaning and answers to my father’s existence which takes me back to his death. Just as he lived his life alone, he also died alone. He was found in his darkened apartment by the city police when no one had seen or heard from him in days. He was slumped in his worn reclining chair one foot from his big screen TV given that his eyesight had failed him and blaring from the box was ESPN, a direct result of hearing gone bad. His false teeth were located beneath the chair side table that held his magnifying glass and an old photo of my sister and I of all things. A path to the door was vacant of all furniture and remnants that clearly were swept aside as the goal of the medical examiner was to recover the body of what was once my Dad.

About a month before his death~

Days later when plans were executed according to his will; no funeral home, no visitation, no service, no nothing, therefore there was naught a task to do but peruse through what was deemed to be the treasures of his life. My sister and I hesitantly opened cabinets and drawers at an arm’s length to create distance from what, I’m not sure. As each carton was unfastened, a flood of memories descended upon us taking us through tears and laughter in a single moment. We filtered through faded pictures of family members both known and unknown.

These artifacts were suddenly the ashes of the burnt out dreams scattered to the wind of my father’s life including a write up in the sports section of the Fostoria Tribune that announced Robert Currier to be one of only two four-year varsity lettermen football players in the history of Fostoria High School, and interestingly enough, to this day there are only seven such individuals with this distinct honor.


He was a shining star in his own right that led to a college scholarship to Ohio University to play the sport he loved. He was deserving of the accolades placed at his feet although those were severed two years short by his draft into the Korean War.

We analyzed the dull and dingy trinkets such as his Varsity ‘O’ pin and the carefully engraved diamond cuff links welcoming him to the Ohio University football program, plus odds and ends that would become the puzzle pieces to his life which would lead to an understanding of my own.


Instead of living his dream of that of a shining football celebrity, my Father went off to war and came back a broken man with shattered ideals disguised in a bottle with the anger of an iron fist and razor-sharp words. What was directed toward his family was really anger at the world beyond his control.


No, that doesn’t excuse his actions nor does it make the events orchestrated by him right, but it’s justification of the fight in me labeled competitiveness and why athletics come easy for me. It’s validation for me why I no longer need to hold onto the self-blame I instigated trying to make my dad happy if only I would have been a more perfect daughter.


What's more, it does provide me with understanding to the window of a man’s soul who wanted more from his life, but received much less.

"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you."

 

by Lewis B. Smedes

...a difficult lesson...

Did you imagine I was missing in action?


Actually, in a number of ways, I have gone astray.

I’d be denying you ‘truth’ if I said anything else other than it was a hard week. No, not ‘life and death’ difficult, but one of those weeks where you know that there is something to be learned and with happening after happening you think, ‘Geesch, what is it I’m just not getting?’ kind of thing. Yes, it’s been one of THOSE weeks!

I am thorough. I am conscientious. I am dependable. I am meticulous. I dot my i’s and cross my t’s. Basically said, I am a self-proclaimed AND therapist noted ‘perfectionist’ and in today’s modern psychological babble; anal-retentive.

There, you have it, although if you are acquainted with me, it’s not fresh innovating news but it is startling, even to me after all these years, how it heaves my world into a tizzy.

At work we have a new program for developing IEP’s and it has been anything BUT Easi-as it is so wrongly named. It requires valuable time and of course in the realm of education, time is indeed precious. I want to teach kids! NOT expend countless hours at the computer ful-filling obligations of paperwork.

Anyway, short version being—I was presented with two notebook sheets of errors necessitating immediate corrections as well conduct meetings with parents, blah, blah, blah…very time consuming. I was mad at myself; just livid! Already, a multitude of tasks to perform: progress reports due, scheduled meetings, blogs to be read; will my blog friends think less of me if I haven’t visited their homes and read their thoughts? Nor have I even written anything in days and I haven’t responded to my friends’ e-mails, especially those experiencing hardships, extending a hand in need.

How will I make that time up with my family? This was all on Wednesday-thoughts of inadequacies permeated my mind while the usual sense of ‘calm’ I hold closely was G-O-N-E!

So to add insult to injury? Our neighbor parked his SUV on the street at the end of our drive and in pulling out to go to work, what did I do?

Yep, you guessed it! I ran right into the side of his vehicle. He’ll need a new door. We’ll need a new bumper, light and side panel.

Punishing myself at the ‘accident’, my husband’s rants and raves didn’t help out. Although my son tried to sprinkle humor on the situation when he remarked, ‘Nee Nee, if we’d been on TV you would have been ‘bleeped’…thank you Nicholas, NOT what I needed to hear!

Move forward to Friday. I met with a parent to inform her of a mistake I’d made and needing to correct it; very difficult to acknowledge and feeling horrible; I sought a hole to creep into.

However, prior to the meeting, as I sat contemplating my words to this parent, a thought perched on my shoulder and slapped me in the head…

I am a human. I make mistakes. I will continue to make errors. No one was hurt and no one died as a result of my inadequacies during this stretch of time. ( I wish I was convinced as I wrote this...)

Forgiveness is a powerful gift; you have heard me articulate that before. Although I learned a more powerful lesson--the ability to forgive youself is even more fundamental.

I’m not there yet, as I’m still ‘wishing’ I hadn’t accomplished the faults, desiring to turn back the clock. However, I suppose God has special ventures for me this week; humility, being humbled and forgiving myself, perhaps loosening the grip of perfectionism; HAH, good luck with that one!

I anticipated a strenuous week with my extensive TO-DO list, but it appears even more daunting then I originally thought. I presume I’ll come proficient in admitting my defectiveness.

…prayers and thoughts appreciated~

"My imperfections and failures are as much a blessing from God

as my successes and my talents and I lay them both at his feet.”

by Mahatma Ghandi

On this day...

On this day of your life, Tracy, we believe God wants you to know ... that letting go makes you wealthier~

Wealth is never measured by what you have, but by what you can give away. You are rich with money when you can afford to donate. You are rich with love when you can give love freely. You are rich with God when you can behold your enemy with compassion.

An incident occurred earlier in the school year that shook my very soul, rocked my world (read here) to say the very least. Being verbally raped by a colleague disturbed me beyond belief and it skewed my views of my entire world, more than ever my teaching that was once my sacred domain; that encounter robbed me of every ounce of confidence and assuredness I possessed replaced by fearfulness, deep sadness, and self-loathing. I entered a world of hiding, avoidance and self-destruction. (another writing)

Fast forward to today…my bags packed with a plethora of healing gear; my writing, reading, support of cherished friends and my loving husband, self-scrutinizing, etc…I’ve been blanketed with forgiveness. I am now able to talk with this individual. My heart no longer soars into my throat when I spot her in the vicinity, I can acknowledge her with a shadowed salutation and even engage in conversation at a more comfortable level linking eyes.

She’s no longer dressed with the veil of evil spirit she wore months ago and regardless of how she may view the connection between us, I for one, am wealthy beyond gold. Forgiving is not forgetting, but the truest gift I could bestow upon myself is regarding my enemy with compassion. Merry Christmas to me!

What wealth will you seek out this day, this week before Christmas?



A moment of clarity...

Did you ever have one of those moments of crystal-clear clarity? Thanks to a quote placed on Kenju’s blog, http://imagineomit.blogspot.com/ I was blessed this morning with one of those precise moments in time that was inititated with the appraisal of these words:

 “We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person.”

Yesterday my family, whom I have not seen in two and a half years met halfway between Ohio and North Carolina in Beckley, West Virginia to exchange Nicholas so he could spend time with his family in Ohio.  Time, distance and busy lives keep us apart physically but emotionally I had forever perceived myself as the stranger.  There are a plethora of reasons but basically my mother and sister for whatever reasons needed each other more than they needed me.

 I was the youngest of five children and my mother was the product of a gentle soul and a fragile psyche compounded by three husbands who used her as their punching bag in every sense of the word. The domestic violence she encountered occurred behind slammed doors unlike today where it appears commonplace in the media.

However, at a young age the realization that I was on my own led me to reach out to the first of many surrogate mothers such as my PE teacher and Coach, Mrs. Stephenson, or Mrs. Houck my music and choir teacher. My cluster of friends in athletics, choir, yearbook and the overabundance of activities to keep me away from home became my sisters; titles none was aware they held.

Life happened, as life often does. I went searching for my purpose of being out of the state of Ohio; Florida and North Carolina and experienced my share of personal moments of trauma, growth and understanding independent of my family. I was blessed with a wonderful husband and an adoring son while meanwhile, my sister Dawn became a Mama Bear fiercely protecting her cubs at all costs and trudging through a day to day existence as a teacher giving of herself to others.

My mom is eighty-two and continues to golf, read, volunteer and work; awarded top employee of the year. She travels and is active in her church. She has a heart of gold and is filled with compassion. I believe she has made amends with her choices in life and finally realizes she did the best she knew how to do enduring the circumstances she was subjected to; I’m proud of the person she has become.

I’m a true believer that things happen for a reason and the planets line up specifically with one purpose in mind, basically God presents circumstances in our lives for us to continue to learn and grow. My mother and sister are NOT the same people they were when I was growing up; just as I’m not the same person. But it is with this love and empathy we continue to love the changed people in our lives.

I’m not only extremely joyful my sister and my mom are my family, but I’ve learned to love them; with all their perceived flaws and alleged faults because I’ve learned to love me—with all my short-comings and imperfections.



William Somerset Maugham, writer (1874-1965)

On this day, God wants you to know....

... that it's okay to ask for help. Sometimes we get overwhelmed with the details and complexities of our lives. Sometimes we need some help to get untangled, to gain a new perspective. Ask for help. Help may come in human or divine form. It may be seen or unseen. Ask, and ye shall receive.

This feature is one I can access on a daily basis on Facebook, although I don’t, just when I’m bored enough or curious as to what God would say to me if I felt so inclined. This morning was one of those occasions when I was curious and this message appeared. Ummm… was my response because if you know anything about me it’s that I take a great deal of pride in my independence. I rarely ask for help, and once in a blue moon if ever, do I allow others to catch a glimpse of the times I am overwhelmed with details and complexities of my life. This blog has been helpful in that area to which I agreed to include unvoiced thoughts, feelings and truths. I am attempting to open up my heart, to allow others the deepest parts to be searched, known and heard. Knowingly, this takes a great deal of trust, I realize; something I’ve never been very good at in this life of mine.

Therefore, I must say publicly that the beginning of this school year has been anything but good. In fact, it has been downright miserable which I attribute a great deal of it to the significant event that took place back in June before last school year ended (see post: Safely Wrapped in a Cocoon?) As much as I’ve tried to deal with this happening, it’s still lingering in my thoughts and every cell of my being. I no longer feel safe in my environment and find myself second guessing my every move and what’s more, the motive of each person. I thought I’d cast aside those feelings and beliefs, so surprise me when they are there just as prevalent as when it happened.

In fact, the event has somewhat immobilized me to act and react to teachers and their needs and expectations of me which I hadn’t recognized and I find myself questioning my abilities. Virtually, I feel as if I’ve lost the trust of my administrator and colleagues and I don’t know how to get that safe feeling back. I’ve considered moving schools which is always up for possibility; however, this is not the time of year to do that. I’ve even looked at other employment possibilities but don’t want to react so abruptly. But what does come to mind is, I did nothing wrong and I won’t give her the satisfaction of a departure and allow her to have that kind of power over me.

My head also travels to a book I am reading titled, ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ by Elizabeth Gilbert. It’s taken me awhile to muddle through this book, not because it’s difficult reading, but because I have a strong desire to understand how the reading applies to me. One story (#60) in particular did and I’ll sum it up as this: Liz was talking about her painful divorce to a group of people at the Ashram in India and someone asked her if she was going to allow her ex-husband to dictate the rest of her life as well as continue to be a strong force in her life. She referred to the situation as unresolved; an open wound that never goes away, to which she declared, ‘one of these days, this is just going to have to end!’

This is where I am with this person and that exact circumstance which sounds well and good when I am safely within my home, however when I am at school that’s a different story. It grates on me that she greets me in this lovely way and asks about me as if she truly cares about me. Really? Is she that insensitive? Does she honestly think she can berate me in front of colleagues and my admin. and I will forgive and forget?

However, for a plethora of reasons, I know I do need to forgive and forget, but remain unsure of the procedure; do I write a letter explaining myself and my feelings which I am much better at than doing it in person? Do I talk with her although I am not very good in face to face confrontation? Or do I just ask God for help? By the way, I’m soliciting help in asking your suggestion, since God did say, it was okay to ask for help~

Safely Wrapped in a Cocoon?

"Forgiveness is God's invention for coming to terms with a world in which, despite their best intentions, people are unfair to each other and hurt each other deeply.”-Lewis B. Smedes

Six Fridays ago I had an encounter with a colleague that equivocated to verbal rape complete with a finger in my face for emphasis; it shook me to my very core, every cell of my being. If the disparage wasn’t bad enough, she carried out this act in front of my team and my principal. I can finally outwardly admit my humility and embarrassment, as well as the deep jolt it has had on my ‘person.’ The accusations ignited the formation of a thick cocoon to protect ‘me’ against additional damage as I developed a distrust of myself and a suspicion in the integrity of others regarding their opinion of me…could I trust what they were saying to me or their belief in me? I withdrew from those I trust and life as I knew it: I stopped exercising, caring about my work, interacting with others and I discontinued writing. I became a distant observer in life; even on my sacred beach vacation I was hesitant to allow myself to feel the true joy and peace within the moments.

My natural personality is to believe in the goodness of others, therefore this deprecation resulted in skepticism of people mainly those whom I call friends within my work circle. Like it or not, I care about what people think of me and desire their respect mostly in the realm of my occupation. I’ve always thought of myself as an exceptional teacher but that was wiped away with ‘words’ so it was agonizing to begin a new year on wobbly ground. I felt vulnerable and fragile.

While I can’t declare healing by any means, nor publicly vow forgiveness I know that will be necessary to move forward within my world. I also know forgiveness doesn’t equal forgetting and there will no doubt be cautiousness in my escape once the cocoon has been shed. I’ve instigated the process by writing and sharing both my thoughts and feelings with words so they can be dispensed into the wind. But I’m not omnipotent to affirm ending results, just that I will move forward armed with a protective sheath. I resolve to hover with wounded wings and welcome eventual flight without faltering.