Priorities

“ Aaaaaaaaaand, and, and, and, and, Mama, actually, actually, um, um, um, and, aaaaaaand . . . . I would like a Batman car, and a Batman castle, and a Batman plane and . . . “ His list is long. It’s so long. Little Camble, who is so big now, is standing in front of the sliding glass door trying to communicate to all of us how important it is for him to have these things in his possession. It’s dinner time, but he can’t be bothered to concentrate on his plate and has pushed himself away from the table and is pacing in front of the sliding glass door, gesturing with his arms extended and hands held low, palm side out and splayed wide, to try to create the effect he needs. He’s so worked up that it’s triggered his stammering and so my heart is melting, which his interpretations have confused for an opportunity that means maybe I might melt and cave into the whole “these things are going to make me happy” notion. “Please, please, please, please, please?“, he presses. I have to admit, I’m tempted.

Ben leans over to start to whisper in my ear, which kind of catches me off guard, because I was sinking into the moment. I’m a little startled when he is close to my ear. I feel his breath and it sends a little shiver down my back but I try to be still, and listen. “How are we going to try to explain priorities to the kid?”

I take a deep breath and slide down off of my bar stool and put myself in front of Camble, on my knees. I wait until he’s to a stopping point and then interrupt when I realize the procession is going to start all over again. “Honey, . . . “ I reach for his hands and he stops and looks down at my hands that are reaching for his. I see recognition for the situation in his eyes. As I am opening my hands and holding them under his, he gives me permission by placing his hands in mine. He looks at me and smiles, which is a trust we have established and it means that he is willing to cooperate and listen for all of about 4 seconds. I can see his eyes have already gone clear and glassy. He knows I’m going to try to impress something important on him and he starts to squirm and drop his head down over to meet his right shoulder. I don’t want to break his confidence, but I realize I’ve already been carried away in the moment. He doesn’t know what I’m about to say to him, but I do. I know it. It’s been inside of me all along and I wouldn’t listen to it until know. It’s the truth. It is my truth. This is the opportunity it was waiting for. It’s been weighing on my mind and heart lately. Heavy. I just haven't taken the time to stop and listen to it. It’s the beginning of a path that Camble gets to shape for himself, but it’s the end of a road of struggle I’ve been dredging through.

I’m on my knees, as much for the sake of my own enlightenment as I am for the purpose of trying to begin to relate it all to Camble. It’s late and the sun is giving it’s last burst of energy before it fades away, which always reflects off the side of our barn and into the house. In this moment, all of that light is coming in and pouring onto Camble as if it is being absorbed into it‘s last intended destination, turning his hair all aglow and bringing to light every fiber standing on end of his blue t-shirt and exposing every hair on his neck and cheek, providing a perfectly lit silhouette of the child that is standing before me, waiting. I am still holding his hands, it’s been less than a breath’s time.

Have I not given him enough of what really matters? What really matters. What matters the most. You have to speak it out loud. Is he feeling deprived? Oooooh . . .his hands . . . . These hands . . . Amy Sue was right. She was right. It happened so fast. There is no more baby pudge. It’s gone from his hands. Gone from my world. I took it for granted. My thumbs are feeling the bones through the top of his hands as if they are just directly under his skin now, with the slightest touch. That protective layer is gone. It was a blink. I’m here on my knees in front of my little boy and I swear just yesterday this was all a dream. Speak the words . . . .

“You have to decide what matters the most, baby. What makes you the happiest?” I’m saying it out loud to him, but know it was a message intended as much for my own ears.

I got a chance to escape and walk around outside the other day after animal chores. I started in one place, after chores, and picked a weed here and there and meandered my way about until I ended up at the garden, in front of one of the sections of mint. I was happy to be there, in that moment, with the air full of the fragrance of mint. I had woken up that same morning with love towards all of mankind and a good nature, but slowly my troubles starting creeping in and by the time I went out to do chores I was cranky and irritated and I even shouted out a dare as I was putting on my boots, “Okay, Lord, let’s see what the heck you have for me today.” It’s funny how your expectations are so easily lived up to. My intentions of that statement were no secret, certainly not to God. Needless to say, I had a disaster of a time feeding the animals. By the time I was done with it all I had to accept that I had made a real mess out of the whole circumstance. I decided to go ahead and laugh at myself . . .my rotten, awful self. I’d asked for all of the trouble and been blessed with what I deserved. “Okay, okay . . . I get it. I’ll try again.” I quieted myself and opened my heart up to listen and standing there, breathing in the mint, I felt compelled to reach out and run my hand over the top of it. It’s already shot up almost two feet, the edges are tinged purple and how fuzzy it felt under my hand. I was breathing, deep. I realized I could breathe. Wow. A breath; a real, deep breath is such a blessing in my world these dayz. As I was breathing I gave gratitude for the air that filled my lungs. I gave gratitude for the blood that coursed through my veins. I admired the mint and gave my time over to consider it’s existence. And I realized the mint’s existence isn’t even dependant on my consideration. As much importance as I’d like to give myself. The mint is exactly as it is intended to be. It doesn’t ask anybody for permission. It’s indifferent to my plans for it. It disregards my criticism and methods of undermining it’s growth and won’t adhere to any intentions I have for it. Just like asking a bird to stop flying. It says, “No, I simply can not do that. I will do what was intended for me.” It is a bird. It is mint. Unless I make every effort to annihilate, destroy and completely eradicate it from existing entirely, it will live and propagate here or there or where ever and continue it’s intended purpose. And if I did that, what would that say about me? It’s the nature of the beast. I wish I could be as impermeable to people and their self serving intentions as mint is. I believe that’s what matters.

Some people can’t stand mint. You mention it and they balk, “MINT! Awful stuff. It takes over! It’s sooooo invasive. Horrible.” You can see the disgust and repulsion all about them as if you’ve just casually asked them to become friends with an axe murderer and they need to make sure and set you straight on the issue. At this point in my life, I’ve come to realize that I have a few things I find equally repulsive and struggle to tolerate. I don’t take the time to admire them so much, but I am learning to accept that just as I believe no garden would be complete without at least a little patch of mint, neither would our lives be complete without a few of those behaviors I don't care for. I have tried to have more empathy for these things because I understand they drive a force in me that clearly creates a model of something I don’t ever want to participate in. It’s the fear of becoming that which I despise. Which, is still despising, and I am working at getting beyond that. I think of all of the yuck these things have caused and then, I don’t want to think about it anymore. I want to think about who I want to be and focus on the good and ignore the bad. Sometimes the sour, nasty yuck is there to help us appreciate the sweetness of the good, the honey. I believe that’s what matters.

Like this particular morning, though, sometimes I find myself in some scrape or another, completely screwing things up in a terrible fashion and then having to work backwards to dig myself out of the spot I’ve managed to get myself into. Only then do I have a clear focus and perspective of what it is I need to work towards. Sometimes I can envision what that is. Sometimes I discover it’s just in me and has to get out. Sometimes I don’t even know exactly what my good could possibly be. Sometimes the only direction I have to start from is a point of exactly what I don’t want or where I don’t want to be and work my way going directly in the opposite direction of whatever that is. Sometimes, running . . .screaming. It makes me think of my Dad teaching me how to shoot his pistol. He’d be very serious, I would be holding a pistol gripped in both hands and pointed at the ground until he completed his instructions, “Don’t shoot towards Gramma and Grampas' trailer. Don’t shoot too high on the bank. Don’t shoot down the roads. Don’t shoot any of Grammas' flowers. Don‘t shoot your brother.” And, naturally, I would wonder . . . Geez, could you just tell me exactly what I can shoot at instead. I’m a little girl. Father, I am just a dumb sheep. I’m counting on you telling me what to do here. How am I going to be successful with those kinds of directions? It was my job to find my own direction though. Following the path that is intended for who I am. Some of us, religiously, go about that whole thing the hard way. Working from one direction or another, eventually finding and discovering the good. I believe that’s what matters.

What is it that I gauge my success on? I would say, primarily my loving relationships. Measured in kisses and hugs. I am blessed with people that I genuinely love, admire and respect and they see me for who I am, warts and all, and even love me on the dayz when I’m not such a picnic to be around. I’ve tried to do my best to reciprocate those blessings. Best gets a little better all of the time. Bear with me. My circle seems to get smaller and smaller through the years though. It’s been painful. It’s also been necessary. I get my heart set on the most positive outcome sometimes though. Sometimes friends aren’t forever. If you look past all of the excuses you’ve made for the cool, secretive behavior you’re left with not such a great candidate in the friend department. Everybody has their own motivations and ambitions, which might involve stepping on you. You’ve just served as their very own personal benchmark. I don’t see it until it’s way too late. Ben saw it coming and when I get uneasy and upset about it he just reminds me how mean women are to each other, how great it is to be a guy, and smiles with, “Jealousy is the ultimate form of flattery, right.“ It isn’t a game for me though. I end up feeling dooped and disappointed. I second guess myself and want to believe I'm being delusional, but I'm not. I don’t appreciate the underlying aggression or being made fun of. I discover what I have confided has been twisted and betrayed and just used as more material and it makes me want to dedicate to a life of practicing strict self preservation. But, that’s not the nature of this beast. I feel even more fortunate for the good relationships I have. I tell the kidz (as they are sitting, facing each other, holding hands and exchanging devotions) that it’s easy to be angry when you feel you’ve been wronged, especially by someone you’ve loved. It’s easy to do back what has been done to you. It’s so easy. I'm guilty, I know. Physically, I’ve asked the kidz to take five minutes and turn their hearts around for each other today, in hopes that later in life they will mentally ask it of themselves to practice devotion instead of participating in their hurt and anger when someone is taking advantage of their good nature or being hostile towards them. Consider we are all capable of the same behavior at times. I am trying to mind my own teachings. Love. Give love because it is in you to give. Just put it out there and remove all of the expectations. I have five of my primary relationships going on directly in front of me that need me to focus on them before anybody else in this world. I have to focus on what I have to offer them. That circle gets smaller, but stronger. I believe that’s what matters.

Life is a blessing. I am so thankful. So undeserving. I was given the blessing of life and everyday I wake up with gratitude for being. Then, my mind is racing through all of the burdens and obligations that may or may not be managed in order to determine whether or not I may or may not have the possibility of experiencing happiness and joy. I’ve gone to bed the night before weighing it all out, listing it, compartmentalizing it, reminding myself to be reminded of all of these circumstances that need my consideration. Whatever it all is, it's ridiculous. I don’t want circumstances to determine the quality of my life. I shouldn’t have to pay to be alive. Going completely off the grid isn’t a fair option for my family to have to accept either, even though it’s where I continually lean. It’s like taking your rifle scope and turning it from 9 to 3, 9 to 3, 9 to 3, blurry, magnified . . . What is it I am really trying to focus on here? Because all the while I’m inciting my truths and absolutes : It’s the moments, This too shall pass, You are loved, You love well, You need to serve, Silence your mind to the silliness, Don’t compromise, You can’t fix everything for everybody, Get your priorities straight, Life is more important than circumstances and bad friends. Do I forget that? How can I be pulled away from my absolutes and truths? I don’t think I am so much as they just get jumbled in with all of the other gobbled-e-gook and it gets hard to sort. I do best when I can walk away, calm down, find a place, stop, open my heart and let my body be still. Then I will hear my truth. I believe that’s what matters.

However, reality is, those are stolen moments in my life. Literally. Like my morning in the garden. I’ll be spinning circles, accomplishing nothing, and the longing is so huge I can’t shove it down or push it away. Then it occurs to me that I am the one not allowing myself to listen to that desire for solitude, and I am the one convincing myself how I can’t afford the time and I am the one saying everyone will suffer and I am also the one that I am robbing from. Well, if I’m the banker . . . . One morning I had finally given in and decided to steal that moment of solitude, and I snuck out the back door and walked around the patio to the deck to find a spot at the big table and sit in the sun. I scoot my chair back and put my feet up on the table and my hands behind my head and close my eyes and try to breathe. It was a spring morning that was warm and wonderful and it made all things seem eternally possible. Right before I reached the table I saw Ben spy me out of the corner of my eye. He was inside still and gathering up his breakfast plate to come and hang out with me. I tried to be understanding but I wasn’t interested in sharing my stolen time. He can’t sit still during the day. I used to be the funny one. Now, I’ve slowly evolved to the serious, calm one ~ a.k.a. very, very tired ~ and he’s turned into the fun, entertaining guy. I don’t get his sense of humor sometimes and I think that just encourages him even more. I’m sitting with my arms behind my head, soaking up the sun, trying to avoid the ploys for conversation. Then I hear a little “He, he” here and a satisfied chuckle there and finally I open my eyes to see that Ben has found the spray bottle on the table we had for the seedlings and is employing it to spray the cats. He’s also baiting them in with scraps of his breakfast. He had to make enough noise to make me pay attention and once I became aware, well . . . the game was on. He was on full attack mode. He was so tickled with himself and I just shook my head at him. He is who he is though. I can see now, after all of these years, how grateful I am that he never compromised who he was. He goes to the store and buys garbage syrup when he’s had enough of my “hippy crap”. He’s taught all of the kidz how to use “stinkin’ bastard” appropriately. He’s also shown me how to get over myself and my ridiculous ideals and expectations and appreciate what it really means to love somebody and respect who they are. We all deserve that consideration. I believe that’s what matters.

We still have some incredible differences though. If we can, we save our arguing for after the kidz have gone to bed. By that time, whatever the issue was, it has compounded exponentially for me and Ben generally wants to just ask a lot of off the topic questions, make a lot of jokes to try to get me to laugh (which he translates to he’s off the hook), and pretend it never happened. I interpret this as placing no importance on the issue. I place a lot of seriousness on getting things resolved. I lose a lot of sleep in these circumstances because Ben just hops into bed, settles down and falls asleep and won't wake up, no matter how upset I get. So, I’ve had to resort to charade style antics of “performing” my point with exaggerated gestures and elevated voice inflections and whatever works to express all I have to get out and keep him entertained enough he’s still engaged in the conversation. When this doesn’t work, I resort to all out warfare and attack his past girlfriends, point out moral discrepancies and insult his character. There is always that “do not cross” line and sometimes I deliberately SET IT ON FIRE. We were never going to do this in the beginning of our marriage. We started out together not knowing where we wanted to go, only knowing what we didn’t want to become and failure was not an option for either of us. Whew. Easy enough. Who knew what that actually meant about us or our relationship? We agreed to “for better or worse” with our sights set on a future full of whatever wonderful possibilities we would make up as we went along. One night, I was trying to take the high road in our discussion, and things were still getting heated. It was like I was holding that pistol again and trying to refrain myself from shooting at this, that, and all of the good stuff but still prove my point. I went on and on and finally Ben sat up and I could see the white flag in his eyes. He’d had enough. He looked at me with absolute sincerity and said, “Tammy, you’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. If I hurt you, I’m sorry. You are just a better person than I am. . . It’s just who you are naturally. You are a better person than I am. I’m trying. Give me a little credit, please. I’m trying.” I was silent. I was shocked. I was letting myself, for a split second, believe the parts I wanted to believe about what he’d just said. I’d played by the rules, I had guessed all of the numbers right, I was the big winner!!! I started to feel like maybe I’d won the million dollar lottery. Where is the value in this windfall? It's just a tragedy. Nobody benefits. Then, when the second folded, and I saw his eyes again and I heard the plea in his voice, I understood I didn’t deserve to win anything. The last thing he saw before he went to sleep were my eyes filling with the possibilities of what it might mean if he believed I was the “better person.” He didn’t get to witness my decline from the gloating big time winner to the shame of being sorry I hadn’t let the whole thing go entirely. I waited until he was really asleep and I came back, sat beside him on the floor, laid my hand on his back and choked and sobbed thru an uncomprehendable whisper to him that I wasn’t better. I had no right to try to define his life experiences. Especially if it came at the cost of him thinking he wasn’t good. I knew he was good. I knew we were both good. I believe that matters.

Neither one of us has brought that night up again. I don’t know if he ever heard me or could decipher my intentions. Some things just come into your life to drive the point home. We ended up having a stranger wreck in our ditch a few weeks ago. I had been waiting for Ben to get home so I could finally get in the shower and try to find peace. I was completely spent. There was nothing left in my being to give to anybody. The prospect of a shower was all I could hope for. I came out of the bathroom and kept hearing something that I couldn't place. It was an engine of some sort, but nothing I could place. I went to the window to look up and see if there was a helicopter and instead I saw a pickup spinning out, with the two driver side tires barely on the edge of the road and the passenger tires completely buried at the end of our ditch. “Ben, somebody’s stuck in our ditch. Do you need me to get your tow straps?” Very calmly, already assessing the situation, he said, “Huh. Hold on. Let me go see.” Our neighbor, Luis, was already parked down there with the truck. He’s handy to have around when you’re in a pinch, or not. He’s just a good guy. Ben started to walk down and check it out and I ran to the barn and got the straps. I ran them to the porch and left them, knowing he’d have to come back for them and the Excursion both if he needed to use them. I wanted to run down and make sure the guy wasn’t hurt. I arrived on the scene and could see the guy was shook up, but I could tell he wasn’t hurt and between the three of them I wasn’t going to be any help. Too much testosterone for this girl. I headed back to the house and I started to see where he had ridden in and almost out of the whole ditch and all of the damage he’d actually done to it. The fence was fine. The mailbox was still there. I’d already seen that he wasn’t hurt. So, basically everything that really mattered was fine. Everything that matters is fine! That should have been the end of it. But I started to get angry about all of the work we’d already done to repair the ditch and now all of the work we were going to have to do to clean it up and fix somebody else‘s mistake. I didn’t want to be angry. All of a sudden Ben was standing beside me and I was aware that my hands were on my hips. “Look at this mess!! He actually rode the whole ditch. See that there. He almost pulled out of it there but then sunk in deep and then came out of it and ended up sucked back in down there, making that whole mess. Look at all of that mess. He didn‘t even say he was sorry. Who‘s going to clean this up?” I must have been expecting an apology. It just soured everything. I soured everything. Ben just excluded my anger and didn’t let it influence or distract him from the task at hand. He said, “He needs a pull. I think I can get him alright. I need to use your Excursion.” and he walked away from me. I could tell he was disappointed in me. Everything about him humbled me. He left me there to sort it out and hopefully come to a better understanding and take a different position. Somebody needed help and Ben was going to do what he always does. When it really matters, he is the fairest person I’ve ever met. Without consideration to how anything will benefit him. I waited in the driveway and Ben got him out and then they both circled back and came back to the house. I calmed myself and just stayed quiet and followed Ben’s lead. The guy thanked us both and apologized and said he’d like to make it up to us somehow. The kidz were coming out of the house to see what was going on and he started taking things out of his truck and asking if he could give them to the kidz. They lit up at the exciting idea of presents. They had just walked out of the house and somebody was trying to hand them gifts. That’s like a movie scene or something, not their world. That doesn’t happen except for birthdays around here. Ben stepped in and let the guy know, “You don’t owe us anything. It could just as easily have been me. Just pass the favor along.” The things he was wanting to share were things he had intended for his own children anyways. Ben pulled the kidz aside and explained, “Hey guyz. He feels badly right now. If you take those things from him you would be taking advantage of him because he’s in a bad situation. It wouldn’t be fair. I want you to understand that. Helping people is important and you should do it because it’s the right thing to do. You shouldn’t expect them to try to pay you for it.” They handed everything back and came back to us and we held them all close to us and I truly felt like, standing there together, we were a part of something very special. Being present in that moment was a gift I will treasure always. I don’t know if I had ever thought more highly of Ben then at that moment. I believe that’s what matters.

I wanted to be stuck in that moment, connected to that energy that was almost humming around us. Sometimes everything just comes together beautifully. For a moment. Set aside my intentions, ideals, expectations, attitude and the ability to manage and facilitate and overcome the potential for disaster. Sometimes I can relax and absorb it all and rest easy, appreciating that there is nothing better to be had than that exact moment. Don’t let this slip away unnoticed. Be grateful. Soak it up, like the sunshine. Working backwards or forwards doesn’t matter and I can grasp that trying to orchestrate it all or force it’s wonderfulness to last would be wrong. It is what it is. It is as it is intended to be. It's probably all been said and done before. You just have to draw what you need and put it together in a way that works for you. I appreciate my blessings and my heart aches too, because they help me appreciate the sweetness of my blessings that much more. I am done making myself less to avoid masked aggression and appease other peoples' insecurities. Other peoples' insecurities are their problem, I have mine to own and worry about too. I believe we are all capable and talented and I wish for everyone to find their paths to their good and to be able to pursue them whole heartedly with all of their passion and the love and support of their own strong circle. However big or small that circle may be. Being grateful for the people in our lives who see us for who we are and who we are moving towards becoming is crucial. Sometimes you encounter people who won't appreciate who you are at all. Listen to your instincts and intuitions and do what you need to do to be healthy. Learn to let go. I hope you can take the time to walk away, go to the garden, hide in the garage, apply your whole body and soul to working as hard as you can, or find some place that works in order for you to find that space within where you can focus and experience communion and you’re heart is open and you can hear your truth and let it set you on your path. Even with trying to maintain that perspective, I get a little lost sometimes. Who are we kidding? Warts and all, remember, that’s me. I don't care about appearances. I'm not fashionable. I am not perfect. I try to be humble about my accomplishments and I shine my shoes with Ben’s dirty socks sometimes. I have given myself the liberty to not chase dirt and I completely ignore the laundry for weeks. So what? I make mistakes and get shaken up and off track and find myself in my own proverbial ditches every now and again. I appreciate the fortune I’ve found in being able to count on someone who is kind and considerate and offers of himself and won’t judge or be hostile when I don’t serve to benefit his ideals or expectations. He just offers me his hand and tries to pull me back to good. The good we’ve found. The who. That’s what matters the most. That’s what makes me the happiest.

Ben and I have been married for 15 years this summer. We’ve been together for almost 19 years. Longer than we haven’t. I’ve grown up with him. I married my best friend. We haven’t always been the best of friends to each other. We’ve had our own walks and our walk together and I believe we've had to experience all we’ve had to experience to get us to where we are today. Right now. We both have a lot to offer because of those experiences. Some things I wouldn’t want to re-live, but I know the importance of not wishing any of it away, nitty-gritty and all. I love his fun spirit. I love his integrity. I love that he finds his Jesus time when he's running his chain saw. I love him. I celebrate the life we’ve created and been blessed with and I am so lucky to get to know him and our children. I look forward to our families future. I hope my children grow up to be grateful for the love and safety of the environment we’ve tried to make possible for them to explore their own world from. I look forward to sharing and to the little moments where it all makes sense. I wish you a million of those too.

With Love -

Tammy

“ . . . Hunger only for a world of truth . . .” ~ Tracy Chapman