Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Reaching Out To Accept Grace


It's interesting what happens when you take the camera out to play. I had been working outside, doing some trimming up of dead things and putting more plants in pots to give us a little more cheer here while winter is still upon us and I saw the moon coming up and decided to take her picture. I wanted to get something like this


with the moon rising up over the house and the dead branches of the pecan trees reaching out for it but when I downloaded (uploaded?) my pictures onto the computer I found that I'd taken one that made the moon and the branches look like a smile. That's the one at the top of the post. A happy little moon-face, right?
Life is funny.
And yeah, go ahead and quote me on that one.

I spent some great, good time with Pam today. I offered to go with her to get her mammogram because dammit, no one should go to those things alone. Not to go into the room with her, of course, but just to ride there with her so she could have someone to talk to and then to sit in the waiting room while she was getting smushed. Afterwards, we went back to her sweet, light-filled house and she made me lunch and I wondered when the last time it was that someone made me a meal that I didn't pay them for. She served me on her pretty blue and white plates and made mint tea in her pretty blue and white tea pot and we drank it out of pretty blue and white cups with matching saucers. There were real yellow tulips on the table and the house felt peaceful and she told me stories of raising her son on her own and of her mama and her daddy and we talked and talked. Pam is one of those people who says things like, "Once, when I was in Finland..."
I wonder what it's like to live a life like that. She has sung all over the world and yet, at heart, she is a woman who has found her sanctuary in her snug house now that her son is grown and she is retired from teaching. One of the ladies at the Women's Clinic recognized her from a class. "Hello, Ms. Laws," she said, and Pam said, "Were you one of my puppies?"
"Yes m'am," the girl answered and I thought about the fact that not only has Pam sung all over the world, she has touched the lives of thousands of kids in her classes. She taught English and Jazz History (I think) and I'm sure the people who took her classes came away knowing far more about far more subjects than just English and Jazz. She's that kind of person and I know she was that kind of teacher.

And even though I certainly have never taught a class or sung for anyone (okay, that's a lie but a long story that I may tell another day) we both agreed that our grandsons are the most important part of our lives. We nod in agreement when the other describes what it's like to have our grandsons put their arms around us or let their bodies sag against ours, seeking comfort.

I felt bad when I left her house because she wouldn't even let me take my plate into the kitchen, five steps away. I'm not used to that sort of thing. I am used to chopping and stirring and cooking and then cleaning up. I'm used to putting the plates on the table. It's hard for me to be a guest, to accept with grace another's grace to me.

I don't know how to do it. It's easier for me to muck out the chicken coop than it is for me to allow someone else to make me a lunch. Isn't that odd?

So after I came home I put on my overalls and went out and worked in the yard and I remembered how important it is for me to do that. I thought about how Pam and I had talked about Autism and Asberger's Syndrome and how, when I got into my car to leave there was, quite amazingly, an interview with Temple Grandin, perhaps the most noted of all American Asberger's Syndrome people on NPR and I wondered if that's what I have. It is, as she said on the interview, such a broad spectrum of a diagnosis and maybe, just maybe, I've had it all my life. It's possible.

And so what if I do have it? Blah-di-blah. Ain't nothing going to change. I'll still have a hard time with social interactions. I'll still find my greatest comfort in the dirt. And here I am, fifty-five years old and just starting to figure this shit out. Shit like how my brain works and how maybe I have a form of Autism.

Or maybe I'm just an old lady whose genes dictate that she gets her hands dirty and grows camellias and takes care of chickens and babies, who has a hard time accepting the grace of the people she loves.

I don't know.

The moon doesn't care. She rises and makes a smiley face above me or looks disdainful, depending on how I frame her.

Well. Whatever. I know I can't and do not want to give up interactions with people whom I love. Who make me think. Who care for me. I can't spend my entire life here, huddled in Lloyd with my yard and my chickens. Because not only do those people care for me. I care for them.
And I know they enrich my life.

It's hard, forcing myself beyond boundaries. I do it here on this blog.

And the moon shines down on us all, smiling as we try to figure it out.

I doubt I ever will figure it out. But I sure did enjoy that lunch. I surely did appreciate those tulips.

I may not understand myself but I know grace when I see it. And I saw and experienced it today.

I know that. I do.

18 comments:

  1. One day, I would really like to have lunch with you.

    And, if you insist, I will let you cook :)

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  2. I LOVE the happy little moon face! That is fantastic! I like how one side of the happy face is sort of hidden behind the tree, like its peeking out.

    Good for you for letting someone take care of you for a change. It is important for you and for the other person. People like to give. They do. It's one of the ways they show they're appreciation. (and not because they have to, but because it's fun and fulfilling to!)

    Well, keep walking and thinking, and may grace go with you.
    xo pf

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  3. I was thinking the other day about how I can't decide whether I like it better when I go to people's houses and they serve me like Pam did you, or when I jump right in and make the roux and chop the vegetables and do the dishes, acting as their sous chef. Usually with friendships it starts with the service and moves to the "You're no longer a guest - help yourself!" - and I think what I really like is a space where I feel comfortable (and having a space where I make others - of all ages/gender/class/ethnicity - comfortable) and where we flow with how we feel that day. I like being the kind of person invited when nobody has showered all weekend but they have a big pot of gumbo to share, or for a fancy party. And sometimes I like making a big deal about spoiling others, and sometimes we huddle together in the kitchen and I dole out tasks.

    It's all a gift, whichever way it is, this friendship and nourishment.

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  4. I too miss the thought of having a lunch at a friend's house or my own. Everyone seems to prefer going out so I too suggest the same. I really enjoy having people over for dinner, having parties and such....but lunch with a friend. You are so sweet to go with your friend to the Mamo....I have had to go every 6 months for the past two years due to extremely teeny tiny calcification way, way back on my chest wall. Ridiculous.....they have to take 4 to 6 digital x-rays and I am always saying a mantra of peace, calm and I am fine...a friends hand afterward would be lovely...I have never thought to ask my love or a friend...I just do it...but the thought of...is a loving gesture. You seem like an amazing woman...I am so glad I found your blog.

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  5. You think you have Asperger's???

    I never would have thought that. But I guess, who knows? People are different online, I suppose.

    You remind me of my mother so, Mary. She had a hard time having the energy for friendships, and while she understood people so well, she didn't always manage them so well.

    And she was totally agorophobic about going anywhere. Driving new places worried her. Leaving the house.

    But the Enneagram explained her really well, with no fears of autism. She was a number 5, without doubt.

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  6. My sister has Asperger's. I would be very surprised if you have it, because while you may have trouble interacting with people, you seem to be very very able to imagine what might be going on in their hearts and minds. (I meant that as a good thing - I hope it came out like that.) Perhaps the answer is in something else.

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  7. I think sometimes making a nice little wall of self sufficiency around us gives a comfortable illusion, like we won't or can't get hurt. That we are in control. Alot of it is about control because it feels like the opposite of being vulnerable. Of being, possibly, a victim.
    I get you. Tears springing to my eyes get you.

    I'm glad you experienced grace today.

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  8. i read your post, and it reminded me of an enlightening quote from a brilliant recluse with whom i am aquainted:

    'life is funny'.

    xo, ms moon.

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  9. SJ- I probably would insist.

    Ms. Fleur- Thank-you, sweetie.

    Nola- All true.

    Mwa- But what if my "special gift" is knowing what is going on in other people's hearts to the point where it's neurotic and unhealthy? Oh. You're probably right. I'm just looking for an explanation of my insanity.

    Deb- You're right about that wall.

    Adrienne- I love you, honey.

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  10. Oh lordie, me too, to all of it. I read your post hours ago and have now compulsively sped read as much of Dr. Grandin's work as I could spare time for, almost forgot to comment! My family is rife with visual thinkers and asperbergers and quirky fears and wonky brain chemistry. My kids are aspies, very hard to fit into the mainstream education system! In trying to help them, I think I've begun to understand me a little more. Boy have I been clueless most of my life!

    I loved your post and the mind expanding journey it took me on and the pictures you gave me in my head. I have an image of you there at lunch trying to figure out why you can't stop analyzing and recording it and cherishing it to just let it come. I have a very very hard time relaxing whenever I am not doing, talking, reading or thinking. It is a lovely gift to have friends so interesting and lovely as Pam and you and so many others to share it all with.

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  11. Oh, I love your moon smile face with funky hair branches.
    Glad you had such a lovely lunch.
    Good for you for letting someone take care of you in that way.

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  12. Ms. Moon,
    I think the main thing is to recognize grace and you do. You are doing just fine.

    Love, SB.

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  13. I think we are similar in many ways, you and I, and I don't think that I have anything wrong other than trying to figure out how to navigate a life that is often very hard and very scary around people who may or may not be what they seem to be. I think it is a carryover from a younger life where NOTHING was as it seemed, people or life at all, and often there were many reasons to be afraid. And yet here we are, you and I and countless others who DO force ourselves outside our comfort zone, who make ourselves leave the house because there is such great joy and beauty to it all, too. That's my take, whatever it's worth. Or maybe I am trying to figure out my own insanity, too.

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  14. Love this ramble through your day and it's story of grace shared by friends over lunch and tea. You shared your grace with Pam by being there for her at the mamo. She shined that light back on you by bringing you to her abode to break bread. All wrapped up in the silver shine of the moon. =o)
    x0 N2

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  15. So many of us were separated at birth, I think

    and now the bloggy verse reunites us

    luv ya Ms. Moon

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  16. Mel- Dr. Grandin has written several books. I would think they would be reading you would like to do.
    She talks a lot about her childhood and how aspergers kids need to helped to find their way into the special place they can find in the world which definitely needs them. Also, if you haven't read it, I would think that Look Me In The Eye by John Elder Robison would interest you too.
    Bless you, darlin'.

    Bethany- Cool picture, huh?

    Ms. Bastard- I'm trying.

    Kori- I just hate that the older I get, the weirder I get.

    N2- It was a ramble, wasn't it? I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thank-you.

    Michelle- Bloggy verse. Yes. Love you too.

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  17. Ms. Moon,

    Every time I visit your blog I love it more & more. My sons are both Aspies. Temple Grandin is my hero. I am at least, what we call around here "half-assed aspie", if not fully. And you are right, so what? We like our quiet, solitary pursuits, we are awkward as hell, and get quickly overwhelmed socially and sensorily by too much noise, touch, light, we fall deep, deep, deep into our own particular interests. It's a struggle to stay organized and productive, and not to give in to all the anxiety. But amidst all that we have amazing brains, and a perspective on life that I wouldn't trade for anything.

    And it is indeed a spectrum. My son E is particularly sensitive to the feelings and perceived thoughts of others...he just doesn't know quite what to do with that information, so his insight causes him extra stress, instead of allowing him to be socially adept. And both of my boys are full of imagination & creativity, which some may tell you is impossible for Aspies.

    So you very well, could be Aspie...or not. And like you said, it doesn't change anything. It is nice to know. I spent my whole life feeling bad about my oddities, & confused about the highs and lows of my particular skill set, now I feel like I am allowed to be who I am, and especially for my sons...they are AMAZING, and ain't nobody going to say different!

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  18. Also, you have written before about your Prosopagnosia? This can be a common co-morbid for people on the autistic spectrum, like my son L, who also has it.

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.