Crumbs in the Light Lead to Love in the Dark

Crumbs. I wiped up the kitchen in the bright light. Flipped the switch and went to bed. Crawled into bed to find my love in the dark mess of covers. It’s a mid-summer night and the evening light is still fading. My husband is already asleep, so I get up quietly and pad softly into the kitchen for a drink of water.

The little night light on the sink casts its shadows across the countertop displaying the crumbs and streaks I missed when wiping up earlier. Funny, the big bright light overhead didn’t show me those crumbs or streaks.

Sometimes the dim light, the shadowed light reveals the hidden dirt in our lives. We go through life feeling we are always under scrutiny and under the big spot light but the hidden truth of our lives usually reveals itself when the light is dim in the local bar or bedroom.

Still, both dark and light are our true selves, just aspects of the inner being that learns and shares on different stages. The big stage is where we are most viewed, displaying ourselves as strong, beautiful, confident, helpful, motivated, supportive.

Behind the curtain we display our weaknesses, our fears and worthlessness. We become the self that has doubts and questions, who lacks confidence. Yet the common denominator is light.

Bright light versus dim. Light is there showing us who we are, allowing us to shine or to fade. It doesn’t care. You have the ability to be anything you want regardless of the brightness or dimness of the light. No matter what we display in the brightness or the shadow, we are that.

We claim both realms and love both realms. Without this dichotomy we are false, one sided, lacking discernment and compassion. The dim light links us to those who are also in the shadows. It helps us understand their pain. It teaches us about comfort and softness.

Subtle light and shadows give us interesting perspectives, like the crumbs on the counter. Crumbs in the light, may lead to love in the dark. . .  but also love in the light.

Embrace the light in all its forms. What you don’t see in the brightness, will show up in the shadow.

  

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Christmas Lights Sleep

Scary Scenarios

4 a.m. Awake. Stomach tight. Mind mulling over scary scenarios. Money needs, family illnesses.
I’ve been laid off and need a job. Unemployment running out in a week. Daughter sick. Mom getting older. Can’t buy Christmas gifts. My friends lost their jobs and now looking too.

Christmas stories by Rose Marie

Shifting and turning. Can’t sleep anymore. Husband rolls over and asks, “What’s wrong?” I tell him my concerns. He holds me and says not to worry, just find two things to be grateful for and go back to sleep. I sigh, “Okay.” I get up, pad into the warm living room and turn on the Christmas tree. Small, sweet, and full of white light.

Invoking God

I say a little prayer of thanks for the light, for our home, and for my husband who provides. I gently close my eyes so the lights become blurred and focus in on the entirety of the white light. . . maybe that’s how God sees us, all these individual little lights that blend into one big, bright light.

Christmas stories by Rose Marie

Meandering into the kitchen, I plug in the other Christmas lights.  Muted reds, greens, yellows, and blues shining through the boughs of holly and streamers of poinsettias. Warm, calm, and full of color.

Christmas stories by Rose Marie

Another prayer of thanks goes out for the Christmas lights, for my friends, my dog, my family and the new babies on their way.

Feeling better, I venture into the den and switch on the overhead strings of lights. . . some white, some multi-colored. They cast a soft spread of color onto the Christmas cactus, ribbons and stockings.

Thank you Christmas lights

Again I pray. Thanks for my relationship with God, the goodness and generosity in others, the incredible wealth I have because I can open my heart and love others.

5:30 a.m. Awake. Stomach calm. Mind peacefully quiet. I am truly blessed.
I make my way back to the bed, snuggle up to my husband.
Inspired gratitude. Sleep.

Blessings, Rose Marie

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Affairs give Awareness

The first time I became aware, I was pointing a gun at my husband’s balls.  256px-Handgun_Tritium_Night_Sights

The day before I had caught him with another woman and was so upset and distraught I could not sleep the whole night.  I kept going over and over and over the scenario, the feeling of loss, inadequacy, lack of love, total unworthiness. I thought  that perhaps I should just die. I had taken my little daughter to a friend’s house, as I knew I could not be around her without upsetting her life too.

About 6 a.m., I had no reprieve in my emotional agony. I wandered around the house and eventually outside. We lived in a remote mountain home on a knoll with a lovely view of the mountains and our pond, the murmuring sound of the bold creek in the background. No other houses in view. Alone. That’s how I felt. Alone, abandoned, wretched, worthless. I tried to bring myself out of the despair, but it was too late, too dark. I thought about driving off somewhere, so I got in my car, but I was dressed in my night clothes and didn’t want to go back inside to change. Then I suddenly remembered that I had a handgun under my front seat. My neighbor had given it to me a while back when I told him I was traveling back and forth to Atlanta to see my mother and other family ever since we adopted our little girl. He wanted me to have the gun for safety on the road. I learned how to use it, but never really practiced.

But that morning I got the gun out. I had a macabre fascination with it, I wondered what it would be like to die, especially to die by my own hand. I was pretty delirious after not sleeping and I took the safety off the gun and wondered if I could pull the trigger easily with one hand or if I needed to steady the gun and use two hands. 

I used both hands, squeezed the trigger, and shot the gun off into the forest behind the house.

Within minutes my naked husband came running outside, screaming, “Oh my god, oh no!”

When he saw me still alive he kept repeating the “Oh my god, oh no!” Then he asked what I was doing. I don’t think I answered. He asked me to give him the gun and I just looked at him and then at the gun.  I felt nothing and then I lifted the gun and pointed it at him.  Here’s this man that betrayed me, for the second time in 3 years. Put me through hell, swore he’d never betray me again, and even adopted a child with me. Then lied to me for months. He kept asking me to give him the gun. I was afraid he might shoot and kill me, so I said no. Then I heard him begging me, pleading with me to stop. I dropped the aim of the gun to his balls. He immediately dropped to his knees and swore, begging me not to shoot.

Then it happened . . . the hilarity of the situation. I was more aware and in control while I was totally not in control of my own emotions. I saw him clearly, a man who had a problem, a man who could not tell the truth. I suddenly realized it was not me with all the problems. I had a choice.  He was pitiful in my eyes. He was not worth shooting.

Inside a strange sense of  hilarity was rising, a smile was about to grace my face, I handed him the gun and told him he was not worth it. He grabbed the gun, swore again, and raced inside to call our therapist. He immediately tried to have me committed to a psychiatric ward, but luckily my therapist was very smart and intuitive and had my husband put me on the phone. My therapist asked me some questions about what I felt and if I wanted to kill myself, or commit suicide. I told him no, but admitted I briefly had contemplated the idea given my depression and despair. He asked us to come see him first thing. After I got off the phone I felt lighter and clearer than I had in months. I felt like laughing but couldn’t quite get the chuckles out, as it felt disrespectful,  like laughing at a funeral. 

My husband tried to berate me and I just walked away from him. I knew we were done and still had pain in my heart, but my own self worth had started to heal. Once my husband was in the shower, I went outside on our deck and scanned the magnificent view, and then it happened. I started laughing and crying at the same time. The excruciating pain of his affair and my reaction to it had brought me a new awareness about myself.  But that was just the beginning. . .

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