gratitude - to family and friends
Whenever I go home, my dad loves to shower me with boundless generousity. Often it is almost laughably silly - he will literally hand me the change in his pocket or the lone Hershey Kiss he finds in the pantry - but I learned long ago that to this goofy generousity is a sacred and meaningful thing. To accept his generousity is to accept his love. It means more to him than I will ever know. I used to feel guilty and spoiled about it, but my mom has since fiercely forbidden my protests -- "Indulge it," she says. "It's our way of making sure you know you're loved."
As if I could ever doubt that?
This trip my dad's curious generousity manifested itself in many ways. The most noteable of these was him taking me grocery shopping and later sneaking MORE secret groceries he bought for me into my basket. I already felt overwhelmed by the generousity he showed me the first time around, but to uncover a mango, brownie mix, and gourmet spaghetti sauce was almost too much. Just as I found these, my dad also walked into the room and told me he'd gotten my oil changed (!!!), and that my car had needed a new air filter which he'd promptly replaced. Not only did he save me money by doing this, but also tons of time... which is precious. I cannot remotely fathom how it is that the man is so thoughtful.
My mother too must be acknowledged here. She, as you know, is sick and therefore cannot take me shopping, but she makes herself feel included by talking to me and making lists. She acts extremely bossy and demands I list everything I could ever need, ruthlessly going through groceries, toiletries, school supplies, anything. She also researches everything on the Internet to try to find things I ought to look up. But beyond the material stuff, she also displays her love in a different way, with a warm and nurturing understanding that makes me feel at home.
When I come home now, my mother encourages long, hot showers. It used to be I got yelled at if I was in there for more than 5 minutes, but now she wants me to try out such and such a body wash and dry myself with a fluffy towel underneath the heat lamps. She urges me to lotion my skin before bed, to eat something warm and delicious if I can find it, to go to bed early and sleep in late in soft, comfortable sheets. When I am reading, if she leaves her stronghold she brings me unneccessary blankets and pillows. She also brings me warm laundry to snuggle.
She frequently says things like, "You must be tired" or "I know you have a lot to do." She then tries her best to let me unwind (although she loves to dish out chores.) She knows without being told when I am tired, heartbroken, weary, or sick -- and she respects that. She doesn't ask me questions, but she will hold me if I need it, or allow me to make nests of blankets and pillows near her and not even speak. She will show me sympathy without being asked for me. She will also frequently tell me that she loves me.
It touches me more than I can say -- no one else on the planet treats me this way.
My mother will also frequently offer me the kind of weird sweet compliments that only mothers like to give. "The line formed by your cheekbones and your ears is perfect", she told me when explaining why she liked my hair in a ponytail. Mostly the reason I'm growing my hair out is laziness, but a bit of it DOES have to do with her -- you see, because she is sick her hair is brittle and unfortunately thin. She naturally sees my hair as the pinnacle of beauty because it is exactly the opposite of hers - still finely stranded, but strong and obnoxiously THICK like you would not believe. She doesn't have the options that I do. She says she likes my hair longer because the way it curls about the nape of my neck gives me "balance" or something, somehow compensating for my height and the width of my shoulders and other garbage. Really, however, I think she just likes it when there is LOTS of it. It makes me happy to hear her babble about how beautiful my hair has gotten whenever I see her, not because it's NOT ridiculously unruly, dark, and generally flattened from sleeping, but because I know that it makes her feel her closer to me in some roundabout fashion. She told me that with my hair uncut and unhilighted (it has been ages since we've done either) I look like a senora -- this is the first time she has ever observed any Spanish in me. Maybe it helped that I had my hair tied back and I was wearing my grandmother's earrings.
Anyway, all of this is probably meaningless babble to me. I am just expressing it now because I am going crazy with gratitude and I need somewhere to share it. I feel slightly bad about the fact it may make some people in jealous, but I think everybody's friends and family have small idiosyncracies that would mean the world to them too if they just learned to accept them. I could name a million things friends do that have a similar effect like the habits of my parents, but I am writing about my parents now because their generousity is the most extreme. Beyond experiences (music and invitations), people in general do not give me things. My parents are a huge, bewildering exception. I am never sure how to respond to the giving of gifts.
Heh, do you think it's possible for a heart to burst from feeling overly thankful? Sometimes the way I feel around my family and friends makes my heart physically ache with gratitude. It's like I somehow HAVE to give that goodness back or my heart will literally break... but I don't know how! I can never return it to the extent it was given to me! If I were to reimburse all of you in cash for what you've done for me, I would still be in debt long after I died... but I could never did it. It's way beyond something as stupid and worthless as cash.
It sounds corny when I say that just seeing some of you makes me feel the same way I feel when I encounter a rainbow, but it's true. It's also amazing. The feeling imparted to me, for example, by a smile from Misty or a hug from Mike, is almost indistinguishable from the feeling of praying on the river banks and suddenly being startled by the awareness of a great blue heron standing silently beside me. Awe, wonder, reverence, gratitude, love, kinship, joy -- these feelings attack me in a united front. I am simultaneously disarmed and made invincible. To hear Myrna's voice on the phone is like having a tiger swallowtail land on my nose... to receive an unasked for message from Kat is like jumping in a damn good puddle of mud. All of these things are obscenely amazing. And now I am just rambling.
I haven't, of course, touched on the most obvious source of my gratitude of all. You may have noticed this glaring omission. Who completes me and makes me whole? Who is my very life lived for and with? That is an entire entry of itself, an exploration of the joy of my faith... Maybe someday soon I will write it. Maybe I will find myself unable to explain. Even here I have resorted to poetic metaphors because I cannot find the words... but I feel I do not need them.
I'm unspeakably sleepy.
Thank you, everyone...
As if I could ever doubt that?
This trip my dad's curious generousity manifested itself in many ways. The most noteable of these was him taking me grocery shopping and later sneaking MORE secret groceries he bought for me into my basket. I already felt overwhelmed by the generousity he showed me the first time around, but to uncover a mango, brownie mix, and gourmet spaghetti sauce was almost too much. Just as I found these, my dad also walked into the room and told me he'd gotten my oil changed (!!!), and that my car had needed a new air filter which he'd promptly replaced. Not only did he save me money by doing this, but also tons of time... which is precious. I cannot remotely fathom how it is that the man is so thoughtful.
My mother too must be acknowledged here. She, as you know, is sick and therefore cannot take me shopping, but she makes herself feel included by talking to me and making lists. She acts extremely bossy and demands I list everything I could ever need, ruthlessly going through groceries, toiletries, school supplies, anything. She also researches everything on the Internet to try to find things I ought to look up. But beyond the material stuff, she also displays her love in a different way, with a warm and nurturing understanding that makes me feel at home.
When I come home now, my mother encourages long, hot showers. It used to be I got yelled at if I was in there for more than 5 minutes, but now she wants me to try out such and such a body wash and dry myself with a fluffy towel underneath the heat lamps. She urges me to lotion my skin before bed, to eat something warm and delicious if I can find it, to go to bed early and sleep in late in soft, comfortable sheets. When I am reading, if she leaves her stronghold she brings me unneccessary blankets and pillows. She also brings me warm laundry to snuggle.
She frequently says things like, "You must be tired" or "I know you have a lot to do." She then tries her best to let me unwind (although she loves to dish out chores.) She knows without being told when I am tired, heartbroken, weary, or sick -- and she respects that. She doesn't ask me questions, but she will hold me if I need it, or allow me to make nests of blankets and pillows near her and not even speak. She will show me sympathy without being asked for me. She will also frequently tell me that she loves me.
It touches me more than I can say -- no one else on the planet treats me this way.
My mother will also frequently offer me the kind of weird sweet compliments that only mothers like to give. "The line formed by your cheekbones and your ears is perfect", she told me when explaining why she liked my hair in a ponytail. Mostly the reason I'm growing my hair out is laziness, but a bit of it DOES have to do with her -- you see, because she is sick her hair is brittle and unfortunately thin. She naturally sees my hair as the pinnacle of beauty because it is exactly the opposite of hers - still finely stranded, but strong and obnoxiously THICK like you would not believe. She doesn't have the options that I do. She says she likes my hair longer because the way it curls about the nape of my neck gives me "balance" or something, somehow compensating for my height and the width of my shoulders and other garbage. Really, however, I think she just likes it when there is LOTS of it. It makes me happy to hear her babble about how beautiful my hair has gotten whenever I see her, not because it's NOT ridiculously unruly, dark, and generally flattened from sleeping, but because I know that it makes her feel her closer to me in some roundabout fashion. She told me that with my hair uncut and unhilighted (it has been ages since we've done either) I look like a senora -- this is the first time she has ever observed any Spanish in me. Maybe it helped that I had my hair tied back and I was wearing my grandmother's earrings.
Anyway, all of this is probably meaningless babble to me. I am just expressing it now because I am going crazy with gratitude and I need somewhere to share it. I feel slightly bad about the fact it may make some people in jealous, but I think everybody's friends and family have small idiosyncracies that would mean the world to them too if they just learned to accept them. I could name a million things friends do that have a similar effect like the habits of my parents, but I am writing about my parents now because their generousity is the most extreme. Beyond experiences (music and invitations), people in general do not give me things. My parents are a huge, bewildering exception. I am never sure how to respond to the giving of gifts.
Heh, do you think it's possible for a heart to burst from feeling overly thankful? Sometimes the way I feel around my family and friends makes my heart physically ache with gratitude. It's like I somehow HAVE to give that goodness back or my heart will literally break... but I don't know how! I can never return it to the extent it was given to me! If I were to reimburse all of you in cash for what you've done for me, I would still be in debt long after I died... but I could never did it. It's way beyond something as stupid and worthless as cash.
It sounds corny when I say that just seeing some of you makes me feel the same way I feel when I encounter a rainbow, but it's true. It's also amazing. The feeling imparted to me, for example, by a smile from Misty or a hug from Mike, is almost indistinguishable from the feeling of praying on the river banks and suddenly being startled by the awareness of a great blue heron standing silently beside me. Awe, wonder, reverence, gratitude, love, kinship, joy -- these feelings attack me in a united front. I am simultaneously disarmed and made invincible. To hear Myrna's voice on the phone is like having a tiger swallowtail land on my nose... to receive an unasked for message from Kat is like jumping in a damn good puddle of mud. All of these things are obscenely amazing. And now I am just rambling.
I haven't, of course, touched on the most obvious source of my gratitude of all. You may have noticed this glaring omission. Who completes me and makes me whole? Who is my very life lived for and with? That is an entire entry of itself, an exploration of the joy of my faith... Maybe someday soon I will write it. Maybe I will find myself unable to explain. Even here I have resorted to poetic metaphors because I cannot find the words... but I feel I do not need them.
I'm unspeakably sleepy.
Thank you, everyone...