Category: Observations

Get after it!

So many things: see the patients, document, turn in that report, submit that referral, submit that blog post, spend time with your spouse, spend time with your family, exercise, eat right, take your medicine, make time to go to the doctor, buy groceries, put up groceries, cook groceries, clean your house, wash/dry/put up your clothes, clean out the litter box, feed the cats, sleep, take a shower, actually shave your legs, cut the grass, pay the bills, hair appointments, brush your teeth, pluck that damn chin hair, clean out your car, wash your car, clean out that closet, get a dress for the thing on Saturday, check on your friends, go to Pilates, cook a casserole for the thing at church, Aunt Edna is coming for supper Thursday night so grab a lasagna to pop in the oven and finally…smile and wave boys, smile and wave!

(This may or may not be an accurate depiction of me some days!😂)

Are you feeling the pinch of that time crunch? Are you struggling to figure it all out? Have you figured out how to make your 32 hour long to-do list fit neatly into the 24 hours you were given? So many days I have to punt tasks to the next day and whisper to myself in that exasperated little voice “you did your best” or “eh, I’ll get to it tomorrow”. But I often wonder, did I? Did I really do my best? Is this all there is to life; harried tasks, frazzled nerves, frizzy graying hair and increasing wrinkles?

Quite some time ago I read an article on a website depicting how Robert Owen, a Welsh Industrialist and social reformer in the 19th century, was credited with the birth of work/life balance, or at least a very rudimentary version of the concept. The article said that he advocated for shorter hours of work, improved living conditions and more nutritionally sound meals each day that would hopefully improve productivity in the mills and factories. Don’t ask me to cite the article because I can’t. I read it some time last year. I can barely remember details from last week much less what specific article I read last year. So you can chalk this up to weird facts that got stuck in my brain. LOL!!!

I would think that modern day work/life balance suggests that to be a healthy, well rounded member of society…and content…we must balance our rest, work and play time as equally as possible. Eight hours for work; eight hours for leisure; eight hours for rest. That sounds amazing doesn’t it??

If it were only that easy!

If I really dissect my day and try to give myself a score: I definitely work for 8 hours because I enjoy getting paid and paying my bills. We also do fairly well getting in our 8 hours of sleep, going to bed and getting up on a set schedule…so yeah, I’m doing okay there as well. But then there are those 8 hours for leisure. Am I getting that? (Typing paused, blank stare ensued that went all the way to outer space and suggested that no one was home, came back to reality–started typing again.) When the typing paused (LOL!) I realized that even when I sat on the back porch in a rocker, I often ruminated on next steps for a case at work, or a project I needed to accomplish at home. Well damn. THAT’s not true leisure! So maybe my leisure time is what I need to work on the most. I definitely get my work and sleep hours in. But leisure? Why is Leisure so difficult? I’d be willing to bet it is a point of struggle for most of us.

(Our lovely red rockers! And btw, do you recognize that mug?!)

I Googled ‘leisure’ and after listing the definition, Google provided some example sentences depicting “free time to do something enjoyable”. Ironically, one of the example sentences used the phrase “writers with enough leisure to practice their art”. I audibly snorted! Point taken. I hear ya Google. I’m obviously a writer with NOT enough ‘leisure’ to practice my art. LOL! I mean, jeeze, have you seen how many blog posts happened in 2018 vs now? Basically crickets. LOL!!!

Anyhoo, as you sip your next few cups of coffee, (because trust me it will take that long) take some time to reflect. How are you doing with your work/life balance? Are you going to bed early enough? Are you using your time wisely at work so you can be done in a reasonable amount of time? Are you being intentional setting up your leisure time? Let me hear from you! Hopefully you scored better than me! ~Paula

Why A 50 Year Old Woman Don’t Give A Damn

Picture, if you will, the next few scenarios I am about to share that, as of late, have become extremely commonplace in my daily walk. Scenarios that I have to laugh about and make light or I might punch someone in the titty one day. I encourage you to continue reading at your leisure but also to turn around NOW if you scare easily. If you’re a lady under 50, I recommend you take notes. If you’re a lady over 50…use this as comfort in knowing that you’re not alone. Hopefully some giggles erupt over some of the crap that is our penance to Aunt Flo for finally getting rid of her for good and WITHOUT being due to a pregnancy. LOL!!!

{Sending out a round of celebratory high fives as we have finally arrived!}

My day began something like this. While walking back to the bedroom this morning to try and remember why I had originally walked to the kitchen, I sneezed unexpectedly and tweaked the back that had JUST started feeling a little better from a lake weekend where we spent two nights in an unfamiliar bed, all while starting to sweat profusely in a room that is clearly 68 degrees, per the thermostat. Sound familiar?

Just the thought of that moment had me shaking my head in disbelief, but it reminded me of the other day while I was talking to my husband about a new hangout spot we had built in our back yard. I was trying to tell him that I wanted a new set of “things” for which I could not think of the English word to save my life. A new sitting spot where the two new “things” would be almost facing each other with a small table in between to put drinks while sharing a delightful conversation or a hearty laugh. Chairs! I wanted a new set of CHAIRS! I could verbalize that I found them on Amazon at a great price, they could be delivered the same week and they were comfy because I had sat in one several times at the salon where my daughter works. But I could NOT think of the word CHAIR! What is wrong with my brain?! I am a writer and the main thing that makes a writer a writer is the use of words! And I couldn’t think of a basic, everyday, mundane word such as CHAIR. LOL! Well, guess what. I’m going to turn this into an infomercial and say “But wait…there’s more!”

If you’re happy and you know it, thank your meds! ~ Quote by Maxine, created by John Wagner and copyright owned by Hallmark Licensing, LLC

All of my friends and family know that I have been a long time fan of Hallmark movies; watched them every Saturday and Sunday morning before the rest of the household woke up since 2018 and occasionally during a week night if we don’t sit outside on our back porch after work. But now, when I sit in the recliner, that magic recliner dust, to which all 50-and-aboves become allergic, kicks in and the Hallmark starts watching me. My how quickly those roles reverse! {smh}

To allow this story more time to unfold, I can say that most of you know I’m a Hospice Social Worker and have been for a lot of years now, which keeps me in my car the majority of the day driving from patient to patient. Once I’m inside the patient’s home, I typically sit some more. Nowadays, if there is more than a 45 minute drive between patients, my left hip, which I now refer to as “my old lady hip”, IS GOING to start doing this thing where it feels inflamed or pinched and the only thing that will make it stop is to stand up and stop stressing it out by sitting on it too long. Is this what my sweet little southern Grandmama who used to drive a tractor to rake hay every summer and fried the BEST fried chicken this side of the Mississippi used to call “the bursitis”?! Did I finally come of age and earn my BURSITIS and is this my BURSITIS ACTING UP?!? Damn. LOL!!!

And for the love of all that is Holy and good, please don’t create a minor inconvenience for me…I will literally blow up inside…internally combust…and even though I have a very experienced, professional-grade poker face and can bite my tongue with the best of them…just don’t. This is to protect your feelings, not mine. Mine can’t be hurt any longer because I don’t have any. (It is currently in question as to whether menopause or all of these years as a social worker stole said feelings. The jury is still out, but what I can tell you though is that they…for certain…ain’t there! LOL!!!) So help me, help you…and just don’t. =)

This would be a good place to also insert “zero tolerance for dumb”. But that could be a whole post to itself, so let me NOT go down that rabbit hole today.

I now cry if the hubby doesn’t snuggle with me before falling asleep…is he mad at me…is he rethinking his choice to marry me…does my breath stink…are my hairy legs grossing him out. Yet, starts sweating the second hubby snuggles; sad to mad in a tenth of a second. Dammmittttt. (To be clear, not mad at him of course…just the stupidity of this whole situation. LOL!)

Seriously.

I know.

I can’t even stand myself some days. LOLOLOL!!!

And finally, we can’t leave out the fact that oftentimes I wake up in the middle of the night with my elbow KILLING ME and fingers and hand hurting; yet my fingers and hand are strangely numb at the same time. All because I chose to sleep on my belly with my elbow bent at too severe of an angle. Heaven forbid you should bend a bendy thing and rest your head on it for a while expecting no consequences other than some comfy sleep, because there are definitely consequences other than comfy sleep. (Insert millionth eye roll in this spot.)

Good times folks! Good times.

So this is me. This is my life now. LOL!!! I don’t even know if my RBF is really RBF anymore. It might need to be changed to RMF. Resting Menopause Face! (Insert sinister giggling in this spot.)

This my friend, is an excellent depiction of “Why a 50 Year Old Woman Don’t Give A Damn”. She is tired, she hates dumb and dumb is everywhere, she is dealing with aches and pains that have comical origins, gets hot for no apparent reason other than her hormones think she should sweat like a man digging ditches by hand in south Florida in the middle of August…RIGHT NOW…not later. Right now. She simply no longer has the energy to filter what comes out of her mouth because of ALL THE THINGS. LOL!!!

Shaking my head as I sit here and sip my coffee and think the next post should be written in honor of all the men who live with us, don’t kill us and never lock us up in the shed for some peace…though they consider it daily! Cuz, man! Truth be told, y’all are the real MVP’s! Coffee cups all over raised to you guys! Right ladies?!?

~paula

Are You Having a Cookout?

{Our view of the back yard from the porch}

The weekend was finally upon us. The ever cherished, elusive, long awaited Friday afternoon had finally arrived. I made it through my work day in time to get back into town for a scheduled grocery pick up. Patient visits completed for the week, phone calls placed tying up all of the loose ends, community resource referrals made…even found a moment to stop for a pee break…you know…the typical Home Health and Hospice Social Worker day. As I sat in spot #21 staring off into space trying to shake off the week, the young man arrived with my gabillion dollar prize…two weeks worth of groceries. Pleasantries swapped, bar codes scanned, agreed upon car door opened and groceries piled into the car. Magic! The next comment got my attention. “Are you having a cook out?” I said “we are” with a smile on my face. It’s a very common question when we check out.

Love the life you live, live the life you love. ~Bob Marley

A fairly common assumption was made from the looks of what was actually a very common grocery list that happens literally every time I get paid. Meats, charcoal and beer. I mean there are veggies, snacks, toiletries and other household items, but why wouldn’t every single cashier or grocery pick up worker not assume we are having a cookout? This young man had no idea we buy this stuff every two weeks; had no idea that we cook that much meat on the grill each week. He had no idea we have a “cookout” numerous days per week. I have often said “every night is a Friday night at the Cox House”. And that’s basically the truth. We love hanging out on the back porch with a beer and a cigar, something yummy on the grill or in the smoker. It’s simply what we do. It can be just the two of us, part of the family, the whole family or just a friend or two. If it’s what we love, why not do it several days a week?

{The red rocking chairs where you can find my behind OFTEN}

The Bob Marley quote came to my mind. “Love the life you live, live the life you love.” I smiled inwardly and mouthed, “We’re doing it Bob, we’re doing it.” I definitely whispered it though so the grocery pick up guy wouldn’t think I had lost it. Ha!

What are the signs you’re ‘loving the life you live and living the life you love’? Are you? We definitely work to live around here; we don’t live to work. There’s definitely a difference. What are your thoughts? I think you should grab a cup of coffee…or a cigar… and see what you figure out for yourself. I challenge you to make some changes if you need to. I did. Life is too short folks! =)

~paula

Evolution

“Ev-o-lu-tion (noun) – the gradual development of something, especially from a simple to a more complex form”

Note: I originally began writing this post August 3, 2019. The first sentence quotes “it has been months” but has now actually been a few years. The evolution that was already in motion when I constructed that first sentence in August, 2019 is now much more pronounced and complete.

It has been months since I’ve felt the need to write and share and pour over this laptop. My grief journey pushed me to create Coffee with Paula; later, my grief journey, after much work, eased and I found a way to begin living again.

There are significant changes that have happened since my last post in 2018, lets take a moment to get up to speed. Our world experienced a pandemic and went into a cocoon while so very many of our loved ones died by the thousands. I learned to ride a motorcycle, no longer attend the same church, lost my Dad to Covid, divorced and remarried, gained an awesome bonus son with my new marriage and a precious bonus daughter with the marriage of my son, helped manage the care of an aunt with Lewy Body Dementia until she passed and last but not least, learned to enjoy a cigar and trips to the lake. So many changes in just a few short years.

(Photo from 2/23/2020; Lady Priscilla, my persnickety beauty)

(Photo from 7/4/2021; our backyard wedding and celebratory smoke after the vows)

(Our backyard wedding on the 4th of July was a grand celebration; but exactly two months to the day, before my trike riding, Black & Mild smoking, 2nd Amendment supporting, Marine Corps Dad passed from Covid.)

Though many changes; many things are still the same. I’m still a grieving daughter at times. I am still a hospice and home health social worker. I still love my children more than life. I still love spending time with my family over a good meal and laughter, singing, sipping coffee, listening to the waves crash onto a white sanded beach while the breeze tangles my hair, reading and writing. And though the landscape has a new look, I’m still a loving wife.

(Photo from 7/10/2023; our Second Anniversary Trip at the lake)

For a couple of months now, I’ve had Coffee with Paula on my mind and wanted to revisit my old friend, my old companion, my old confidante. I’ve been reminded of the hours spent laughing or crying while reminiscing through the words that flowed into the keyboard. Coffee with Paula was my avenue for change; was also an avenue for change in others going through similar grief journeys. I want to continue being an avenue of change and of help. I commented in “What I See Now” published on October 7, 2018… “I want so badly to help others who grieve silently by grieving out loud through my blog.” With 23 years of hospice and home health social work under my belt, years of knowledge gained through continuing education/work experience and wisdom gained from personal life experience, I would like Coffee with Paula to be a continued avenue for help and for change but with expanded topics. Maybe topics such as life in general and learning to cope with all the “things”. I fully believe in the effective art of journaling and will definitely have things to say about THAT as well while we spend time together over coffee.

But, the pro AND the con of Coffee with Paula’s rebirth: I’m still the same crazy woman who uses humor to cope with life as it flies at me fast some days; so the crazy stories and ill-timed humor will still plague this blog. Ha! Giggling with anticipation at this continued evolution and anxiously wondering where it will take us as I sip yet another cup of coffee this morning. ~paula

Marriage and Term Limits

I have said a couple times lately that I think the fine institution of marriage needs term limits; like at year 15, you both could yell “SWAP”. Ha! What that vision would include is that somewhere during year 12 when you fantasize about pinching their nose clean off their face because they continue to leave their crap all over the house for you to clean, you could just tell yourself, “don’t do it, just a few more short years”. Ha! (I feel the need to insert “just kidding” right here. Hopefully that wasn’t necessary, but either way, just wanted to be on the safe side. Ha!)

I do have something on my mind though about this very topic. Picture this. You’re sitting at your desk when a new co-worker comes around to meet you. The both of you hit it off nicely and after a week or so of brief office chit chat, you go for a quick lunch one day. After several quick lunch dates that go fairly well, you decide to go out for dinner and a movie one Friday night. It gets to where you start noticing increased heart rate; a little excitement when you see this new interest round the corner to your office or when you see their name pop up on your phone; you feel your cheeks blush with certain eye contact or simple touches and just the thought of a kiss makes you giddy with anticipation. You begin hanging out more and more, determine that you are now going steady and get to the moment of saying those precious three little words, “I love you.” After that, you are attached to the person…feelings of possessiveness come into play, they are yours…your special person. You feel safety when you’re with them and seek them out while in a crowd. You’re just naturally drawn to them.

Typically the next step would include meeting the families, later getting engaged and finally marriage…Lord willing and the Creeks don’t rise. Right? So which part is the love part? All those mushy feelings or the part where you say “I love you”…which to me signifies that you will love them or continue the act of loving them for an undetermined amount of time? With this comes the question of today…is love a noun or a verb?

I’ve come to realize that we have a very skewed view of love when we see love as the noun…those mushy feelings if you will. Let me just tell you, feelings come and go as quick as Aunt Sally’s Homemade Banana Pudding or Uncle Fred’s Scratch and Win Lotto money. (insert eye roll)

Marriages have been thrown away for the sheer fact that one or both spouses don’t feel like they love the other any more. If love is a feeling, then yes, you probably don’t love them anymore. If love is an action (verb), you can choose whether you do or not. I think real change happens in a failing marriage when you come to view love as an action and not a feeling. You can make that choice to “act” all day long, but feelings, you have no control over; they come and go with the wind.

When we vow to love someone for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part, do we really know what we are promising? I’ve posed the question before…if we knew what til death do us part meant for us as a couple, would we still walk that aisle?

As a hospice Social Worker, my eyes are wide open as to what that phrasing means. We are saying that we will love our spouse until they take their final breath; that we will wipe their behind when they are unable to do so themselves; that we will make difficult decisions about nursing home placement; that we will spend some lonely years when the kids move out to live their own dream; that we will possibly lose our ability to help our mate when they experience a decline in health because we ourselves are experiencing a decline in health; we may look at each other from one wheelchair to another and chuckle at the fine situation you both find yourselves in this time.

Of course, all of this time from the aisle of the church to a spouse’s final breath is riddled with bad but also with much good. Funny memories are created from eating Ramen Noodles and dented-can-mystery-meat from the clearance bin because diapers and formula are super expensive; moments spent on the back porch after the babies are down for the night; sweet moments spent on the couch under a cozy blanket while you watch television…or while the television watches you cuddle and smooch; moments of pride as you see your children grow and chase their own dreams; grandbabies being born…just so many good times also.

I find myself back to the difficult question of how can one couple make it to the final breath and some make it only to ten years and a divorce attorney? I’ve decided it’s all in your perspective. You can make that choice to love or you can hit the road the moment the mushy feelings flee the scene. But I can assure you, the next relationship you run to will entail all of those same feelings initially but they too will finally dissipate. How many times do we change partners to chase those feel good mushy lovey dovey feelings that accompany new love? How many is enough?

Sipping some delicious warm soothing “muddy water” as a friend recently called it and thinking to myself that after 26 years of marriage…and no term limits…I might better view love as an action because those mushy feelings have been g-g-g-gone for a minute now. Ha! ~paula

For Whom Do You Sing Harmony?

I adore singing in the choir. I have some of my most carefree moments of each week…goofing, laughing, singing, harmonizing and practicing with my fellow choir members…who just happen to be some of my closest friends.

I sing alto, as did my sweet little mama. She managed to teach me that I would love choir…or else. Ha!

During my early years in choir, she was my choir director. Let me just tell you, when your mama was the choir director…you sang in the choir. Needless to say, I can’t say I always had a passion for singing or harmony, but it is now as much a part of who I am as my skin color, eye color, hair color and my facial features. I LOVE TO SING.

But to say I love to sing, is not really the full picture of what I love about this topic. I do sing pretty much all day long…in between patients, on the way to church, in the shower, while I listen to music on the beach… I even have to school myself NOT to hum while I’m in a conversation with someone because it could be construed as inattentiveness to what is being said. I have it bad. Ha! But the truth of what I love about singing is the harmony.

When I sing to the radio, I’m full on harmonizing. I sing alto in the choir which is primarily harmony. I feel a little disappointed when the alto line has to sing the melody and the sopranos have to bust out the harmony.

Sidenote: I realized recently that Sopranos don’t typically like to sing harmony either…so music writers…stop that. Ha! On second thought, maybe you should keep doing that occasionally so we are forced out of our comfort zones more often. But that’s a whole other topic.

Google depicts harmony as a noun that is: 1- the combination of simultaneously sounded musical notes to produce chords and chord progressions that have a pleasing effect. 2- agreement or concord. Synonyms: accord, agreement, peace, peacefulness, amicability, friendship, fellowship, cooperation, understanding, unity, rapport, like-mindedness. Basically, in music, harmony is a note that compliments the main note, the melody.

As you have gotten to know me…you knew I wouldn’t be able to let this go, right? You knew I would have to take this a step further. I couldn’t just let the definition of harmony be the end, right? There are so many life lessons all wrapped up into this one little topic. (#deepthinkerprobs)

I think that in life, we have to be the harmony to our fellow man’s melody.

As a Social Worker, I must be the harmony to my patient’s melody as I work along side them as they make decisions. I absolutely can not be the melody for my patient or families. They are the melody. I am the harmony. I accompany them as they make decisions they will live with for the rest of their lives. They are the lead. I provide necessary accompaniment.

As a wife, I must be the harmony to my husband’s melody. In this day and age it is frowned upon to say this, but he has the task of leading and I have the task of accompanying him as he accomplishes that task. Do I always play perfect harmony with him? Like, a big hell no to that. He makes me angry and crazy and absolutely nuts at times and I purposely turn that harmony right into a ‘dissonant’ chord. (Fellow music folks, do you see what I did there? Ha!) But luckily, dissonant chords are a ‘thing’ also. When a dissonant chord resolves itself into beautiful harmony again, life is good, right? That means kissing, folks. And kissing is good, right? Ha!

Moving right along. As a mother, I must be the harmony to my children’s ambitions in life. They have so many decisions to make along the way. I can’t run their lives for them. As much as we want to stop them from making the same mistakes we made, they have to live their life on their own. We can educate…harmonize, if you will…but we have to let them be their own melody. At the end of the day, they are the ones who have to lie their head down on their own pillow at night and live with their own thoughts. Not us. We live with our own thoughts.

I should probably revisit my earlier comment “we have to be the harmony to our fellow man’s melody”. What does that really mean? If we are always the harmony for others, when do we get to be our own melody? Almost always would be the answer. If everyone learned to compliment other’s melodies, there would always be someone available to be your harmony as well.

“Your true character is most accurately measured by how you treat those who can do nothing for you.” – Mother Teresa

Just sipping some Vanilla Bean Crème Brûlée Coffee and thinking about puttin’ on a kitchen concert. Where’s my spatula mic??? I’m about to bust out some major harmony…whose gonna tackle the melody for me??? ~paula

Vanilla Bean Crème Brûlée

img_3120I got a snap from a good friend of mine that she left a surprise on my desk at work and it would be waiting on me the next morning. I, of course…since I hardly have the ability to be serious…suggested that I was hoping it might be a certain singer & song writer who I currently crush on pretty hard. But I mean, how would they have gotten Ashley McBryde to agree to come to my office and just sit on my desk and await my arrival until the next morning? Nope, that couldn’t be it. (But seriously, her lyrical ability that literally makes you question whether or not you are the one in the song coupled with her mesmerizing vocals…and amazing tats…who wouldn’t crush on all of that!)

But I digress. (Clears throat and gets back on task.) What was awaiting my arrival this morning was a bag of Vanilla Bean Crème Brûlée, Ground Coffee by Archer Farms. This coffee is described as “Sweet vanilla and burnt sugar flavors with a light body”. I wouldn’t have been able to come up with that choice of words if my very life depended on it. I didn’t actually read that description until I had already tasted the coffee which was preceded by me smelling the coffee as it brewed. Man. All I could think to describe the coffee was “damn”. Ha! See what I mean? The level of delight experienced by my happy little taste buds decreased my literary skills by about 37.9%. I went sort of neanderthal…just grunted “damn” and kept slurping. Ha! But that description was spot on! Delicious!

So delicious that I even took a picture of the moment and decided there was something that should be said for good friends and thoughtful gestures. It just needed to be shared.

My mind considered the Random Acts of Kindness movement that was so prevalent for a while. I definitely hopped aboard the proverbial band wagon and dished out a few little unsuspecting niceties. They definitely made my heart smile as I hoped it did for the recipients of my kindness. I just wish the movement had truly swept the nation and made a lasting impression. You know, reached every single corner of the entire globe…nice people everywhere…waiting, watching, ready to pounce with a nice gesture the moment the opportunity presented. This would have resulted in so much sugar dripping from every street corner that you wouldn’t have been able to breathe. Ha! Not likely though, right?

Nice gestures and sweet friends are only two tiny pieces of the enormous puzzle that make this life pleasant. There are a lot of things that make life lovely and pleasant and worth it. Closing your eyes as you get lost in a slow kiss, refreshing rain showers enjoyed while rocking on the back porch, the first sip of morning coffee, slipping under clean sheets with freshly shaved legs, the first long drag of a cigarette while you stress smoke, a long icy chug of a 20oz Mountain Dew straight from the cooler, the aromas that waft from your mama’s kitchen, watching and hearing the waves crash onto the beach while the breeze blows your hair, your teeth squishing into the juicy sweetness of a summer  sun ripened watermelon, listening to babies belly laugh with no inhibition, kicking your shoes and socks off and plopping down on the couch after you come in from work. Aaaaaah! I could literally go on for hours of all the nice little things in life. Things that are often overlooked, discounted…taken for granted…but can’t be bought.

My pastor used the word content recently in a sermon and communicated how we should learn to be a little more content in life; stop wanting so much stuff. The word content is so integral in making or breaking our perspective on how life is treating us. If we only look at the things that are missing; your car isn’t as cool as your neighbor’s, you don’t have enough money for that new house, can’t find your second fuzzy sock, your television is broke; we will miss out on so much of the “good stuff”.

Sipping my new favorite coffee tonight which was such an unexpected sweet gesture and learning how to be content in life…looking for the good in everyday situations. What did you enjoy about your day? You had to have something you could consider “nice”. What makes you content? ~paula

 

 

Haiku! Bless You! I Didn’t Sneeze.

I have always secretly loved a good Haiku. You know…5-7-5? I’m not so much in love with reading Haikus as I am with writing Haikus. I come up with these little suckers in my mind if I’m bored or if I see something funny or if I’m especially impressed with something or if I’m especially annoyed with something. I do this pretty much all the time. I have never once written one down nor have I ever shared this with anyone. Some things are better left unsaid. (Ha!) But seriously, the more I write, the more I realize I am definitely a literary geek…and I’m okay with that…so I decided to get a few of these on paper. Hope you enjoy!

HAIKU

To write a Haiku.

Lines 1-2-3, 5-7-5.

Syllable counts, rock!

>>>————>

<————<<<

COCKROACH

Oh cockroach, oh roach.

I ate you when I was three.

Your legs were crunchy.

>>>————>

<————<<<

BEACH

Waves, larger than life.

Your sound clears all of my thoughts.

Breeze, therapeutic.

>>>————>

<————<<<

CAT LITTER

Thank God for your help.

But I hate your smelliness.

These cats gotta go.

>>>————>

<————<<<

HALLMARK CHANNEL

You let me space out.

Love will always win on here.

No stress for my brain.

>>>————>

<————<<<

SKITTLES

So sweet in my mouth.

I love colors of rainbow.

Happy when with you.

>>>————>

<————<<<

GIRLS

We smell super sweet.

“The taste of cherry chapstick”

Katy Perry likes.

>>>————>

<————<<<

COFFEE

Warm deliciousness.

Trickling into my throat.

Keeping me happy.

>>>————>

<————<<<

DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY

You make me so sick.

I wish you would go to hell.

You make me so sick.

>>>————>

<————<<<

TO KISS

You can close your eyes.

Passion and fiery desire.

Never kiss too fast.

>>>————>

<————<<<

CHRISTMAS

Lights that sparkle bright.

Children’s smiles are everywhere.

Family gathers.

>>>————>

<————<<<

MY HOUSE

It never stayed clean.

Minimalist lifestyle now.

Keep the clutter gone.

>>>————>

<————<<<

WEINER DOGS

They love to burrow.

Quirky personalities.

Annoying but great!

>>>————>

<————<<<

MUSIC

I can’t live without.

It speaks deeply to my soul.

I get that from Mom.

>>>————>

<————<<<

TELL IT LIKE IT IS

I speak my own mind.

Can I use cuss words sometimes?

I get that from Dad.

>>>————>

<————<<<

KETO

Bake, bake, bake bacon.

Omelettes and yumminess.

Shrinking fat rolls now.

>>>————>

<————<<<

MARRIAGE

Can be wonderful.

Can be very annoying.

Make me a sammich.

>>>————>

<————<<<

RAIN

Rain cleanses my thoughts.

I am a pluviophile.

Rain showers are nice.

>>>————>

<————<<<

Sipping coffee and assuming this attempt to entertain myself has you guys pretty bored right about now. (Ha!) But writing Haikus is totally mind clearing. I encourage you to try. ~paula

When You Just Need a Minute

If there is anything that I’ve learned through this stupid grief journey is that sometimes I just need a minute. A minute to breathe, a minute to think about my sweet little mama, a minute to think about what things would be like if Cancer hadn’t reared it’s ugly head, a minute to think about all I wish I could tell her, a minute to just feel the pain, a minute to rip off the peel-n-stick smile I use daily and just cry.

Often lately, I’ve noticed that I wish I had the capability to wiggle my nose and instantly be on the beach for whatever time necessary to clear my head and then wiggle my nose to get me back home. I’m pretty sure I just had an epiphany while typing that sentence. It ain’t rocket science, move to the beach, Paula! (The beach is my most loved place on the earth because I think so clearly there…incase you didn’t know.)

But truly, there are a million instances during this thing called life that require us to regroup, reevaluate, redetermine who we are and who we want to be; you know, take a minute to “settle down” when something turns our world upside down.

So many things can manifest our own personal definition of “world upside down”. To one, the loss of a parent; to another, the loss of a job; an unexpected pregnancy; a car accident leaving one debilitated in some way; a house fire; a spousal affair. I could keep this list flowing for ten hours and still have more things to list. So many things have the ability to rock us to the core.

Why? Why are we so easily knocked on our behinds when things go wrong? I think we go along in life and constantly have these ideas and notions that are our own personal goals in life. We so easily let the words slip from our mouths that we want God’s will to be done, yet we keep making plans and arrangements on our own. We have ideas about what our lives should look like, what our kids’ lives should look like, how our neighbors’ lives should be looking. Goodness. For the most part, we can’t control anything and we just have to figure out how to deal with our new situation; even when it doesn’t fit into our well thought out plans.

I’m not saying that when bad things happen it’s because God wanted them to happen or He wanted us to have a less perfect life than we wanted to have, or even that He wanted to give us a wake up call. I’m just saying that this life isn’t ours. It is supposed to be His. He will not place you in situations that He doesn’t have the ability to walk you through.

When our children make decisions we hate. When our spouses make decisions we can’t tolerate. When things happen that are big, that you just can’t seem to accept, what are we to do?

The most simple thing to do is just take a minute to realize, the world hasn’t actually stopped turning. You are indeed still breathing. You do actually still have the ability to feel true joy, it just might be a minute before you can notice. There is very little in this life that is truly the end of the world.

When my sweet little Mama took her final breath, my heart stopped along with her’s. The problem was, mine started back again. For those few minutes directly afterward, my world was quite literally spinning out of control and I couldn’t catch my breath or have a coherent thought. I saw talking all around me but could only hear the screaming inside my head. I had held it together for so very long and the screaming inside my head was the tears and gut wrenching heart ache that had been waiting for the moment I would finally allow them out. The revelation came…I didn’t have to be strong anymore. When that realization hit my mind and soul, to say I absolutely lost my shit, is quite the understatement. I let a million loud, rushing tears go and it was not pretty to say the least. A solid year’s worth of withheld tears and despair flooded out of my weary and exhausted body. I could hold them back not a second more.

Who knows what all happened after that. Those immediate days following are such a blur to me now. I just know that I was surrounded by so much love and concern and tenderness from friends and family. I’m certain my little mama was orchestrating it all to make certain we were cared for during a time she tried so desperately to prepare us for, because she knew she couldn’t be there to physically help us herself.

What I do remember was the overwhelming need for time to stand still for just a minute. I NEEDED A MINUTE! And I was angry that no one was giving me that minute. I needed that minute to get my mind wrapped around what had occurred but there was no minute to be had. Time marched and I sort of just flowed with it. Had no choice.

But what I was being taught during that time was that there is an amazing God who was still on His throne, who kept His arms around me the whole time and never allowed me to slip under the currents for more than I needed to be under. He didn’t give me more than I could bear…with His help. THAT’s the key. He will not give us more than we can bear…with His help.

There is such a valid lesson in this for every aspect of life. Our kids don’t always choose for themselves the things that we want them to choose. They make downright stupid decisions sometimes; as do our spouses; as do we. Our spouses aren’t always capable of meeting the standard we think is required. Promotions at work don’t always happen when we think they should. Life gets messy! But God is always on His throne…no matter what rocked your little world to the core.

So take your minute when you need it. But don’t stay there. You have to get back to “keepin’ on”. You have to figure out how to keep moving and growing. I saw on a church sign one time, “If God brought you to it, He’ll bring you through it.” Right? Right.

Sipping coffee tonight and being so very thankful for parents who taught me that nothing that happens to make our life messy or troubled or rocked-to-the-core is the end of the world. Nothing. ~paula

Mr. Man at the Rest Area

The other day I was working my way through the work day when I realized I probably just attended a Divine appointment.

The day began as a typical day would in the world of Home Health and Hospice Social Work. I finished up documentation from the day before, faxed last minute details regarding an inpatient rehab stay for a patient that was no longer improving at home, discussed a case with our Occupational Therapist and made arrangements to retrieve items ordered to increase a patient’s independence at home, reviewed a case that had possible caregiver breakdown; all while sipping cold but yummy coffee like a boss! (Wait, if I was a boss, someone might have heated it up for me. Ha!) Four patients awaited my arrival and I was ready to get on the road to see them.

With the length of time in the office and all of the coffee sipped, I knew to potty before I left because one thing for sure was that a bladder was not designed to hold an entire pot of coffee for very long. So. All tasks completed…it was time to hit the road.

I put all of my Social Work paraphernalia in the car, walked around to the driver’s seat but noticed just how disgusting my ride looked. The mud from south Alabama dirt roads after rain was accompanied by the routine road filth that builds up week after week. My guess was that the thick layer of filth on the outside of my car had to be effecting my gas mileage by now. So the next stop was the 5 minute automated car wash.

Finally the work day was back underway as my sparkling ride veered into traffic and cruised toward the first destination; music, of course, set just right. After numerous miles were made and several sets completed of the travel concert that was a constant while in the car, the first destination was getting close. It then became evident that another potty break was necessary. Damn coffee slowing my roll again!

In perfect timing, I noticed a blue rectangular suggestion beside the 4-lane that a Rest Area neared. I traveled the distance, whipped into the parking spot, shut off the engine, jumped out, locked up and sprinted through the rain that had begun to drizzle with the expectation to dash in and dash out.

Wrong.

That was when Mr. Man at the Rest Area (MMRA) entered my day.

Brief pleasantries were exchanged as I entered and walked past the man behind the counter. When I walked to exit the rest area though, I mentioned that I hoped the rain would stop soon because I had many miles to accomplish before the work day was done. He commented, “I know what you mean. By the way, can I ask you a question?”

With that small question, my inner spirit cringed such a deep cringe that the professional poker face I own almost let me down. I didn’t have time for a long conversation. I didn’t want to answer any long nursing questions. (I wear scrubs and sometimes get the most in-depth nursing questions before I can get the phrase out of my mouth “I’m not a nurse, I’m a Social Worker.”) I just didn’t have time. I had patients. But with my most interested upbeat voice and accepting facial expression, I exclaimed, “certainly”.

MMRA proceeded to ask if I was a nurse, to which I explained, I was a Social Worker for a local Home Health and Hospice. This prompted MMRA to share of his grandmother who passed last year, his grief journey through the last few months and that their family used a competitor of ours who he thought did a wonderful job taking care of his beloved grandmother. I assured him that there are several wonderful hospice agencies in the area who mostly employ the same general types of people; ones who are compassionate, have a deep rooted love for all people as well as the genuine desire to help their fellow man. MMRA voiced agreement that it must be true.

But as we chatted further, I’m not certain that he ever truly asked the specific question for which he stopped me; I was fairly certain he wasn’t going to just ask if I was a nurse.

He mentioned studying to be a youth pastor, driving the church van and that he wanted to share God’s love anytime he could. He voiced that he knew I must be a Christian due to my caring nature, which I confirmed. He later mentioned that it’s easy to say we’re Christians but it’s hard to truly act like one; to which I firmly agreed.

He talked of an aunt that retired within the last few years from an agency where I used to work. I reveled in an it’s a small world moment as I shared that I remembered her very well and had actually just driven by her home within the last two weeks working in an area that was not typical for my work day. How strange that I would run into the nephew of this lady after I had just passed her house in an area that I hadn’t been for over five years. Crazy.

Chatter died down and I really had to get to my four patients so I bid farewell and headed to my car. All I could think to myself was why in the world did that conversation happen? I had always been a firm believer that things happened for a reason; this random conversation would be no different.

Maybe MMRA needed a moment to honor his beloved Grandmother with shared memories to a complete stranger? Maybe MMRA needed to affirm his faith and his decision to become a youth pastor by sharing that with a complete stranger? Maybe MMRA knew deep down this complete stranger needed a reminder that being a Christian is more than just singing in the choir and doing churchy things; that it’s more about a relationship with a Heavenly Father, sharing God’s love to the world and making certain you are walking in His will? MMRA’s comment, “sometimes you’re the only Bible a person will ever see” played over and over. The reality sank in deeply; Paula does not always look like a Bible; Paula does not even look like a Bible most of the time.

Sipping coffee this morning and wondering if Mr. Man at the Rest Area knew he had an impact on my heart with that random…or maybe not as random as I’d like to think…conversation. ~paula