Julia’s Story

Julia, my daughter wrote this blog, and published it on her blog spot and I share it here.  It is her perspective, her narrative.  I am blessed with fantastic children whom I love dearly.  We think we shield our children from the harsh things in life…..

Rejection http://faithlikesnow.blogspot.co.nz/

You want to know something? Every one has been rejected
and it hurts.
Two years ago my parents were fighting over me in court. Fighting is a harsh way to put it, but how else would I describe it? I ended up living with my Dad.Word around our family situation surely spread through out the church, and my Dad and I stopped going to church, because he was just really busy. What was stopping me from going though? I was afraid.
Afraid of the looks they might of given me, Afraid of going and having no one to talk too, afraid of being talked to. My own baptist church I grew up in, my community, my family. I do remember when I was at church, and whenever something had happened to someone else, if they were going through a disease, or in hospital, if their was a death the pastor would all ask us to close our eyes and pray. Every time we bowed our heads were we really bowing before Christ and asking for healing?I imagine my family would of been asked to be prayed for, That means a lot, but only till now I realized not one person from church had reached out to me, or my family. Not one person called and asked how I was, or if I was okay. Not even the pastor, who helps to lead us in our faith. It was like as if we had become strangers.
One morning me and dad had decided to go to church, then as we walked in we got our hello’s and how are you’s but after the service everyone had faded into their groups. Dad introduced himself in some conversations, but I stood their like a bus stop.  I had wondered what happened to the connections we had made with everybody.

And at that moment I felt rejection, Dad felt it as well, he looked at me and must of seen my sad eyes, then he exclaimed that we should get going. I still remember looking out the window well we were driving home, feeling so lost and so hurt and angry with God. I learn’t this year that it wasn’t God who rejected me, God had always stayed with me, it was a church and a church isn’t perfect because a church is filled with people and people aren’t perfect.
After all, they have been rejected too.

You want to know something amazing though? When you leave your church or when you leave a situation where you have felt like you have been ignored or not noticed you have to remember that at least God doesn’t think you’re imaginary.

Don’t rely on you’re church for the ” loaf of bread “, rely on God.

Dipping my toes

Recently I dipped my toes in the cyber world of online dating.  It was a brief paddle, trousers turned up to the ankles only. I sat for a few nights looking at familiar profiles, faces that have been there for a long time.

Pulling the plug

I almost had a poem as I drove home today, it was pretty dark really, fields of broken dreams, dredging up the past, kind of stuff.  I thought I would start by throwing a few words on a line and then I realised I didn’t have the energy.  Just too tired, physically, and emotionally for poetry right now. Don’t feel sorry for me please, I do that well enough for myself at times.

The phrase” pulling the plug” has been on my mind lately.  pulling the plug means different things to people.  I have been present when the plug has been pulled on life support machines.  it is not as dramatic as that really, no-one pulls the plug, just a simple turning off off a machine, the the mechanical noises stop, no more beeping, release sometimes happens quickly for some it takes time it is different for every one I have seen.

Tonight I don’t want to talk about that I have seen death up close and personal enough.  I am writing about different plug pulling here.  I was reflecting over the weekend, I feel a little lost at the moment,  job is possibly the biggest issue, nothing on the horizon, not sustainable anyway as for the moment I am stuck where I am for a number of reasons, unable to shift.  I used to boast about my flexibility, if I didn’t have teaching work then there was always cooking, building, milking, driving mowing lawns, you name it I have done it or would have done it. But alas no more.

Since 1988 I have been fighting a narrative of pain in my life due to a back injury.  I made concessions to it for a couple of years but came to a point where I just decided to do it anyway, my back would be sore regardless, I have carried on lifting etc over the years with very few concessions, unfortunately no more, lately the problems I have been having with my back have forced a radical rethink about my life.  It is not just pain but physical symptoms that I cannot live with.  Unfortunately there is at times when I think I cannot even teach anymore.  The prospect of being defined by disability just eats at me in a way that is consuming and terrifying for me.

I have a plan to deal with it, one last shot with a different surgeon I will see what they have to say, I hope for an answer, but if not then it will be plan b.  Plan b is not, don’t think it for one second giving up.  I have pulled the plug on physical work, indeed if I get any worse it may be full-time work that I cannot cope with but I will not be defined by that which I cannot do.  I have been defined by what the world (and at times myself) sees as failure, a broken marriage, broken relationships a constant battle for employment but I am not ready to pull the plug on that which I know to be true.

I am a father,writer, poet,mentor and friend.  these things I hold to and have not failed at.  The rest well it hurts at time, tears have been close for a while, I think a function of tiredness and pain and change, not much I can do right now about those narratives.

I am grateful for those friends and family who have and continue to support me. You can shake me if I am too morbid  (or buy me wine or coffee), encourage me to have fun, don’t let me lift stupid things and understand me if I can’t or don’t do the physical things I used to do, I am not an invalid yet, I can’t walk very far,(I can cycle), I wont last the evening dancing and I am not up to concreting or digging holes anymore, but hopefully with what is left I can still support my friends and look after my family.

Well that is my day done, to those of you still up, sleep well, laugh loudly, and love abundantly.

Paul

Sieg Heil, a cause for concern?

Values, what are they today? I am applying for teaching positions at the moment. The last vacancy I applied for came back to me asking what qualities would I bring to the position.  Iwas a  little surprised at first, partly I think as a result of being a little overwhelmed by a big week with some emotional and physical challenges in it. 

I wonder what they are thinking?

The other day my daughter mused as to what it might be like if we knew what people were actually thinking about.  Now as an “old man”

Scones, Soup, Sherry and Flora

Knights-Castille, Bushells Tea, Sweet-Peas these were a few of her favourite things.   Today I reflected on the passing of my mum, 

The truth will set you free (or me anyway)

I recently wrote about prison walls not needing to be made of stone to keep someone incarcerated.  I lived a life in incarceration for many many years, largely based on some fictional representation of myself that I established as a narrative in my life.  I have blogged at length about the reasons for that, largely fear driven and I realise habitual.

This too shall pass…

Thus was the sage advice from my sister last week and she is so right.  Unfortunately this too  is still current and whilst  the knowledge that it shall pass is comforting it just seems too far away.  I haven’t posted for a while,but the muse is upon me and if I want to call myself a writer (and I do) then I should write.  I have been deeply angry on a number of levels, for a variety of reasons and whilst have felt the urge to write I was somewhat concerned with the vitriol that was rolling in my head, I didn’t want to write because I had nothing good to say, however there it is, I may still be angry in a week or a month, shall I remain silent for that length of time, those that know me will instantly recognise that as a rhetorical question!

So something positive in amongst this well a couple of things, I celebrate my children, and my nephew who lives with me, that is I am proud of them. Not because of any particular achievement at all but because they are living their lives with passion, and that is absolutely awesome and is comfort to me, so that is one extraordinarily good thing.

The second thing that has occurred is a bit more surprising, those who know me well will tell you that I have a quick mind, a quick  tongue and could even be accused of having a sardonic wit.  Being truly sardonic is an artform to me, it rates well above mere sarcasm, which any amatuer can achieve.  Over the past few weeks I have been presented with golden opportunities to practice the dark art of sardonicism, however I have resisted these opportunities and largely persisted with the firm, (and rather terse) response.  Not as fruitful perhaps as other approaches but more respectful, especially when dealing with minions who have no ability to reply, firstly there is no real challenge in it, a bit like shooting ducks on the water really, secondly it can be extremely hurtful and I don’t want to hurt nobody as Bob Dylan sings.

One of the struggles I am having is around work at the moment.  I have only had one paid day in the last month.  Whist not quite desperate I do need to get some soon, I don’t want to rely on state assistance.  However I will do what I need to do to house, feed and clothe my kin and kith.  But my need to work is deeper than a need to provide, it strikes at my psyche which is a huge difference for me.  Whilst I am an adequate house person, I really find being a stay at home single parent a kind of suffocating, suppurating, scab, that eats at me like some form of gangrene, I feel myself slowly dying a little bit at a time.  However that needs some examination.

People ask me what I do and I describe myself as a writer who teaches for a living.  Blog writing is one form that I express myself in however I am also a poet,, except that I am not writing poetry at the moment, does that make me an ex poet?  One who has a hundred or so poems to his name,I have more blog posts than poems!  Alas I know what is wrong with me, it is not writers block per se as I am able to produce poetry if asked however it is a matter of the heart,  however that will be my next blog post.  I fear that I have lost my ability to love people outside of my immediate family.  More on that later.  For now I am ready to try to sleep.

Take care and live well,

Paul

Maybe just maybe

So the billboard read,” Maybe just maybe Jesus is kinder than you think”

Of Biltong, Roast Beef and, life

 

My son turned 20 last week.  It seems a significant milestone, similar to 21 in many ways I guess.  Not that 21 actually means much these days really.  I saw him for a brief time on the day however on Saturday we had a family celebration. As I often do on birthday occasions I asked him what he wanted for dinner, I said a roast would be good and he said beef please.  We stopped at Elite Meats in Hamilton.  It is a specialist South African butchery in Hamilton, https://www.facebook.com/elitemeats.hamilton?fref=ts.  They have great beef there and I love the Biltong.  Luck was in they had a special on Biltong, I looked at the roasts, none were big enough we were feeding 12 and my teenage boys know how to eat these days,so I asked them for a bigger piece. No trouble, soon they were back, 2.3 kgs of prime topside, not too much external fat, but a lovely marbling through the meat.  Thirty eight dollars for the Biltong and the roast.  I estimate the total cost of the birthday dinner was around $60.00, divide by, 12 $5.00 per head, not too expensive really.

I was reflecting on the fact that it was good to celebrate milestones and thought about how much I had spent and realised that there have been weeks when that was the sum total of the money I had to spend on groceries. I don’t regret spending the money for an instant.  A good time was had by all.  My next oldest son is exploring joining the military, at this stage he is a bit gung ho and we talk about the realities of military life including active service and the fact that even today so people lose their lives on active service.  That if he joins the military he may never come home alive.  A somewhat sobering thought, however death lurks everywhere.  He is keen on farming, possibly more dangerous than being in the army on current rates.

The reality is that we do our best to protect our children yet there is no way we can completely protect them.   At times I am rather glad that I don’t know some of the things my children get up to.  I have faced death and injury over the years, from electrocution to violent offenders.  For a while it seems to sharpen your existence, set a bit of urgency in your world and a determination to live a different life.  I am not sure that the reality of that is so in my life.  But this I know, should something happen to my children in the near future, will I regret spending $60.00 on a family celebration?  Not likely.

Right now I feel as though I am on a treadmill journey of an indeterminable length, condemned to living vicariously through the lives of my children.   Time I guess will tell on that matter.  I do know that I have never felt as worn out emotionally and physically as I do right now.  I don’t think I am particularly unfit (although I can do better) I managed a 28 k trail ride the other day with not too much effort.  It is just that everything seems to bloody ache, my joints, my back, and above all else my brain. I am indeed in need of a holiday!

Some things will change in the next few weeks that may alleviate some of that.  Full time sole- parenting is a busy job and I am 51 and I know I need to get back to the gym. So although I feel often trapped, and not seeming to have a life of my own  (voice in the back ground daaaad) (louder voice, will you leave me alone I am on the toilet!).  I could be worse much worse.  I have five fantastic children, two who live with me, a fantastic nephew who also lives with me.  Three independent children, and three cool grand-children.  I am privileged to have some other cool kids in my life right now as well.  They keep me young and real.

I had a job interview the other day and one of the questions I was asked was do I have a sense of humour?  Fortunately I am able to laugh at myself (most of the time), not take myself too seriously (most of the time) and generally have hope.  Hope is a little short in supply right now but laughter seems plentiful.  Sometimes we have to be thankful for what we have, not that which we lack,  I am thankful right now, for my children, for my true friends and family.  Family is not determined by blood. It is those people who know and love you in the truth of your existence, good and not so good.

Live well, laugh often and love freely.

Paul