Having faith

Today was Senator Ted Kennedy's funeral. I wasn't a supporter of the senator, but I always admired his fierceness in fighting for what he believed in. Listening to his children talk about him was beyond moving, and I was surprised to feel the hot tears running down my cheeks as I listened to them speak of their memories of him.

My own mother is approaching the end of her life, and I thought it was interesting that Kennedy's funeral was held at Mission Church. My parents brought me to that particular church once, many years ago. I couldn't have been older than 9 or 10 at the time, but I remember snippets of it.

I've always admired people, of any religion, who have such unshakable faith. My parents have that unwavering faith. Yes, it sometimes bordered on the fanatical at times, in my opinion, but they always took comfort in it. God and Catholicism is the foundation of their lives. It's the epicenter of their existence, above anything else. And although I haven't adopted the same zeal in which they practice their faith, I do admire them for it.

The night they took my brothers and I to Mission Church, a famous healing priest was there. A man who had the gift to perform miracles. The church was filled almost to the rafters with believers, and those who wanted to be healed...of their physical ailments, their sins...whatever they felt it was that was causing them suffering.

We had to sit in the balcony, body to body with those around us. It was hot and stuffy, and I was on the edge of sleep at any given moment. But some things about that night and that church and the reason we were there always stayed with me.

At the front of the church, before the altar, were large columns. Hanging from those columns, from floor to massive ceiling, were crutches and canes and walking sticks. There were wheelchairs and walkers on the floor around them. I'd never seen such a thing. I asked my mother what they were for, and she told me they had belonged to people who'd been healed by this priest.

I also remember people proceeding up to the altar, and the priest touching them on the forehead and mumbling some words, although we were too far away to hear what was said. Some of them passed out right on the floor. In minutes, there were half a dozen or so church-goers lying there, out cold, and other people crying and returning to their seats. I had no idea what was happening.

What I came to understand years later was that my mother wanted to be healed. She'd been to several such events over the years at different Catholic churches. She believed in these miracles, and always had hope that God would ease her pain one day. She didn't suffer from any physical ailments, but from mental and emotional illnesses that have plagued her since she was young. She wanted to be freed from her pain. When she wasn't healed, she would become depressed.

I never understood that. She is the most faithful woman I have ever known. Why would God feel that she was not worthy of being healed?

Of course, I know we, as Catholics, believe that God has a plan for all of us, although we may have yet to know what it is. But I always felt her pain when she returned home with the same mental anguish she left with, and no ease of her burden. And it made me angry.

Now, as her days on this earth slowly close, and as sad as I am to know that she will soon be gone, I know that her burden will be finally lifted. And I can't help but feel grateful for that.

Confidence...or lack thereof

I woke up today feeling fantastic. The sun was out, and it felt great on my skin. The weight is coming off steadily, and I went for a walk down on the beach, and was again amazed at the beauty of this place. I felt really good about life and myself.

Tonight, I am just the opposite. I feel insecure, and I hate that. I see beautiful, stunning women out there, and I feel fat and unattractive. I really hate that. It's very unlike me. And it bites.

Is this just a woman thing? Do we all compare ourselves to each other? I think so, to a point. But I've always been confident in myself, and not unhappy with my physical appearance. I like my good skin and my curves, and I like having a nice smile.

But tonight, I feel.....I don't even know what word to insert here, or what adjective to use. I don't like to use insecure, because I am not normally an insecure person. I like me.

I think, as women, we all have moments of weakness like this now and then, where we look at someone else and think...why can't we all look that good, or be that healthy, or have a waist that small? Imagine all the cool clothes we could fit into! lol

Ah well. We are who we are. All shapes and sizes. And no doubt, beautiful people have their own insecurities. Yeah, I'll cling to that raft for a while. lol

And now I'll stop whining. :)

Choices and beauty

I'm going to take the next 15 minutes and do what's in my nature.

I'm not much for self-help CD's, unless they actually DO help someone, but I've been listening to one of my husband's for a while now...a little here, a little there...and to my own surprise, I have found it helpful. In fact, that first line comes from something I've been listening to.

I've been thinking a lot lately about choice. We've all heard the saying that everything happens for a reason. And I've read a train of thought that the universe unfolds exactly how it's supposed to, which would mean that all of our choices, both good and bad, selfish or righteous, result in exactly what was destined to happen in the big picture anyway. So that makes me wonder...was my mother destined to have cancer? Was it already preordained that my daughter make the choices she's making? Are my brothers' fates already written on some cosmic slab?

I don't completely understand that myself, but I have always believed that everything happens for a reason. What that reason is, is always the question. And the answer is....in this life, we will never know.

The calm, deep voice on the CD I've been listening to says that we need to stop wanting more; stop needing things we don't need; stop this drive to succeed and find peace in what we have. He says all of our desires, if they are truly destined to happen, will come to us exactly when they're supposed to. But that goes against everything we're taught from the cradle through the grave. We are taught that we MUST have the drive to succeed, to be the best, to have more, to do more and to want more.

Personally, I made a big choice a few years ago. My choice was to be a happy person. I may still need to work on it more, but I can FEEL happiness in myself, and that's something. And being happy IS a choice. You can choose to be miserable, or you can choose to rise above it.

The only constant in life is change. Life will always bring a new beginning after a painful end. Choose to embrace it, or choose to dwell in remourse. We can choose to have faith that we will get through difficult events or we can choose to believe we are destined for unhappiness. How would you rather spend your time?

As we go through this life, I believe that in embracing everything that is placed our doormat, whether it be something beautiful and unexpected, or another hard mountain that must be climbed, we can always come out better and stronger.

Sure, I know that sometimes this is easier said than done, and it is. You have to work at it. But it's so worth it. Choose happiness, choose optimism, choose to see beauty in everything. Life will be so much sweeter.

Speaking of beauty, we all see beauty in different ways. Some people see the beauty in a piece of artwork, or in a bed of flowers, or a full moon, or in another person's physical appearance. We see beauty in a lover's touch, or in a child's smile. It's different for everyone. And I think it might be a good idea to actually pay attention to what we consider beautiful. So today, I took a ride with my husband.

I saw the beauty in a horse farm not far from us. They were cutting the hay, and birds rose up from it in alarm as we passed. Horses were grazing in front of the big barn, and behind the barn was a river, as blue as sapphires. It's probably the prettiest place I know of in this town.

We passed a car on that road, with a white dog sticking its head out the window, the wind blowing his fur wildly, and a huge smile on his hairy face. I couldn't help but smile seeing his enjoyment.

In another local community, as we drove around the quiet maze of roads, we saw what looked at first like a small dog on the side of the road. It was actually a coyote pup. We slowed as we came next to it, out in broad daylight, the sun shining off its brown coat, and he just stood there, looking at us, before he scooted off into the tall grass and trees near the road.

We passed an open field filled with yellow and purple flowers, and I had the urge to stop and take off my shoes and just walk among them. Sound a little overdramatic, does it? The feeling was there. What I saw was beautiful and I wanted to be in that beauty.

We drove out near the ocean close to home, where there is a home there, overlooking the big blue, that I really love. It's smallish, compared to some of the homes there, but every time I pass it, I can't help but stare at it's wide farmer's porch, and its gray weathered shingles, and the baskets of flowers hanging all around it. It looks...perfect. Beautiful. To me. :)