Thursday, December 18, 2008

A Blog Hiatus Explained

Until late last night we had no internet connection. It was like Gilligan's Island around here, as primitive as can be. Nothing but a 13-inch television with a fuzzy picture that changed every time you moved the small length of coaxial cable hanging loose from it, serving as a makeshift antenna. If I had coconuts I would have tried to build a radio but there were no coconuts to be had. Stranded in a snowstorm watching fuzzy Doppler images of Arctic Blast 2008. They upgraded it from Stormwatch. The old title had lost its dramatic punch. Imagine my relief when the UPS man brought the modem on Wednesday night. I could fulfill my obligations to Stephanie and the blog audience, and end the deafening silence at blog central.

In other news (you see how destructive exposure to too much Storm Watch coverage can be) there is plenty of other news, but I am hesitant to report it. The blog is at a crossroads. Since its inception it has been Marie Watch 2008, and now that is problematical. Part confessional, part plea, part argument, the blog has exposed nearly every detail of our lives, losses, fears and hopes, and for a newly rejoined tentatively married couple that would be an enormous risk. Previously the blog audience has warned me off poker, Duck football or sex, so I would have to choose my blog topics carefully, and I'm not that consistently good a story teller.

If Marie and I are to find happiness or harmony together, or merely survive the storms and difficulties we face, I have to respect our privacy. I can't air my grievances here; I can't toss my fears on the water like bread for waterfowl at the park. It's a poor food that destroys the wings of hope.

She and I are at a terrible crossroads. Our bliss lasted one day. All through the stresses and challenges of moving day we were patient and tender with each other. I didn't finish unloading until eleven Saturday night, and we were blessed by God, because the storm didn't start until the next morning. I drove the truck back clutching the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip but made it back to the Beaverton U-Haul yard without incident.

In the three days since all the old hurts have emerged, all the old fears and insecurities, and there were confessions and vengeances and grievances and sorrows. It wouldn't do to tell my side of the story here, or plead one case on these pages and another in our desperate strained two a.m. conversations. It will have to be enough to say there have been betrayals and failings and turnings apart, and everyone is in pain. Everyone is covered with shame and doubt, hurting within and without, and forgiveness and reconciliation seem like a distant and improbable hope.

I love Marie. I want to be with her, and with her alone, for all of my remaining days. I want to love and comfort her and honor her, but my behavior and my choices haven't always done so, and neither have hers. We are troubled, hurting people, and I'm not sure if we can forgive or accept each other. The bond is not broken but the tender fabric of intimacy and trust has been rent, and something so beautiful and so fragile is not easily repaired. Perhaps it can never be. Love is not possible without trust, assurance, and forgiveness. You have to feel absolute freedom to believe in one another, to know the other's heart. Our hearts our guarded now. A cold wind of uncertainty scalds our skin.

There's a negotiation so delicate here I can't possibly retrace it on these pages. It would endanger the last hope we have to say anything more, and I'm not sure the details would interest anyone. Besides, I'm not a good enough writer to put words to this kind of searing regret and hurt. My poor prayers are not enough: I have $6 in my checking account, and Marie has an ultrasound on Christmas Eve. The realities of life don't wait for anyone. You can't pretty up the truth or explain it away.

2 comments:

Gretchen said...

Dale Dale. Let the past be the past you have got to learn to move on. I think it is seriously time for a professional counselor. I am hoping and praying that your insurance covers it. Go now! You can have a blog without giving all details. On a bad day just ask for prayer your readers will appreciate that and you will have peole praying for you, always a good thing.

Gretchen said...

I'm guessing your new place must be really close to our office since we are so close to the High School, stop by. The store closes at 5:00pm but you will usually find Doug's car in the parking lot much later, if it is there go to the back door and knock loudly. (the door bell doesn't always work)

This is the Way the Transformation Begins


"Some men see things as they are and say why? I dream things that never were and say "Why not?"
George Bernard Shaw, Robert F. Kennedy


This is the way the transformation begins.
It begins in me.
It begins now.
It begins with small incremental changes and shifts in attitude
it begins with positive action
failing forward
and suddenly I start looking at the world and my place in it in a new way. I speak differently and dress differently and project a different energy, and the world opens up like a glorious pink azalea bush, eight feet tall and blooming like mad.


photo by Kajo123 from the website flickr.com

Good morning!

An engineer builds a bridge and every bolt and weld has to be exactly right; every measure has to be perfect, or the bridge collapses or fails to take its place. Fantastically detailed blueprints have to be laid out. Impact statements have to be filed, sediment has to be studied, years of effort, months of planning, and a man-made marvel rises in the sky. Park somewhere and take a good look at a bridge, and think of all the skill and knowledge and hard honest work it took to create it. Consider how a few thousand years ago we were living in caves.

It is not so with a dream. Some people are remarkable dreamers and dreams spring whole from them, or they can leap up from bed and pages of creative genius flow out of their pen, intricate and perfect. Most of us though are baby dreamers, new at it and tentative to the trust the power of what we wish for.

Start the dream! Whether you want to go to nursing school or college or learn to play the guitar, take a first step, now, even in the wrong direction. Don't wait for the blueprint to come to you, the environmental impact statement, the permits and the 200-page budget and legislative dream approval. Rough it out, sketch it on a napkin, tell a friend, and take action. Your dream begins the moment you step out in first moment of believing, and the result can touch a thousand souls. Listen to Jim Valvano: never give up, never surrender. Believe in the audacity of action and your fantastic potential for change and new opportunity.

The Hawthorne Bridge at sunrise, Portland Oregon. Photo by Joe Collver, from flickr.com
Genuine happiness and success start with an attitude of abundance

Make it a daily practice to begin your day with five minutes of thankfulness. You can even do it in your car on the way to work. Do it in your own way, whether it's thoughtful reflection or a prayer or singing out loud, but focus on your rich, amazing, abundant life.

Feeling grumpy or resentful or worried instead of thankful? Change direction! Consider the incredible gifts you have--mind, body, spirit, senses, your family, your friends, your clothes, your car, and the breakfast you enjoyed this morning. By the standards of 99% of the world, Americans are incredibly, amazingly rich. You truly have no idea how richly blessed you are until you start thinking about it. Even the heart that beats within you and the lungs that breathe your air are an intricate and amazing miracle.

Some of my favorite movies are ones that feature a once-defeated character waking up to an absolutely new day: "It's A Wonderful Life," the various versions of Dicken's "Christmas Carol" and "Groundhog Day." How exhilarating it is for George Bailey to wake up and realize his life isn't over, it's just beginning, and that today truly is a brand new day.


"It's a Wonderful Life"

"It's a Wonderful Life"
George returns home to everything he ever wanted.