Frankly

Whimsy and Hugs!

I couldn't tell you if this will be super short, kinda lengthy, or just fair to middlin' (as my gramma would say.)  The only image you will see is the one above. Here is one of my few glimpses back to another dimension, another lifetime, another me. This is just one precious corner of my other home, the one I left to move here with my mom after Daddy died. I cannot believe that was in 2007. My mom called about eleven o'clock the August night after I left off staying with her.... about a week after the funeral. I heard her voice and registered her words, "I cannot, will not, live here alone." She was crying, and this bird flew to her nest... I can count the number of times I have been back. I made one attempt to keep this house mine as I decorated and entertained a doll club from up there while my son stayed with my mom all night. He and I laughed that we had originally agreed we would take turns and stay with Mom for two weeks and then go home two.... I took my turn first, and then it was his birthday, so I took his.... then mine... then he uh.... never took his turn.  At first, I stopped by that house on my way from school on golden Autumn afternoons.... and I went in to sit there, to briefly shut my eyes there in a few minutes of comfort before coming on to Mom's. Please don't read this wrong. My life was good. Mom made this house sparkle and shine, and she made it fun and easy to live here. 

Where am I going? Well, Monday as we prepared for -27 temperatures and -38 wind chills, my son gave me a frantic call. Long story short, we learned the house up north a mile, my old Sweetheart "home," had been ransacked, vandalized, burglarized, and left with doors kicked in and windows wide open where "they" had tossed out valuables. Interior of the home is now the aftermath of every single drawer, box, cabinet, attic, closet, and basement thrown wildly, broken... destroyed. 

We are in the middle of law officials, people in custody, whether permanent or temporary, and utter chaos. This morning saw another invasion, a 911 call, a very minimal return of 6 items... I don't think it is wise to give more detail, but I can dip into my own personal chaos just a minute. And then I will let you go.

Friends, you can imagine. I feel simply overwhelmed. I am sad: so many special treasures gone. I feel guilty: was 12 years not enough time to get my life in order? I am mad as hell: who does this kind of thing? I am afraid: Are we ever safe in our homes? I am tired: God knows, I didn't seem to have the energy to care for anything before the work involved was magnified like this. I am  worried: My son has less joy than I had dreamed and wished and prayed for his life already... You get the idea.

I am an optimist and "relentlessly cheerful" (my son's loving sarcasm today)... but I kind of feel like I've imagined Katie Scarlett O'Hara when she rounded that hill and found Tara in ruins and her Mama dead. It is such a stark chill to realize with a shiver that you actually have no one to run to and hear them say... "I got this." I don't have a husband, and yes, I am blessed to have comfort in God... but I am being honest here... and I'm talking earthly rock... A while back I felt better about my son's health and was just caught up in things. Perhaps the heavenly message for many years has been to mentally dismiss "things." I certainly realize their low priority vs. people or even pets. But these things we collect in our lifetime represent events, feelings, eras, and loved ones. It just feels inexplicable and the more I "wrap my head around" what just happened, the worse I feel... 

I will not let myself get too far gone from joy, from hope, from beauty... but here in this Oatmeal and Whimsy place, I just feel like pouring out some pain this morning... Thank you, dear friends for "getting this."