I love to write, and, as the youngest child of two columnists and the admiring sibling of several other writers, I really enjoy sharing thoughts about life in short snippets - columns, essays, and, in college a few years ago, journals (when an education major). I kept diaries in high school, and switched to journals as an adult. With the advent of e mail several years ago, I now save my e mails to closest family and friends as my ongoing "journal," and like the freedom and ease with which we all seem to write, respond, and write some more!
The title of my site came from this: after two spinal surgeries, I found myself dependent upon a cane all the time, but, needing to use a wheelchair for any lengthy visits, i.e. shopping at a large mall or store, going to museums, concerts, etc.. I realized during the early days how sitting lower than the rest of a fast-moving world gave me a different view - yes, both literally and figuratively. I saw how shoppers didn't seem to see me, as they almost t-boned me in store aisles. I also saw sweetness and kindness where others reached beyond their own needs to see to mine.
I felt lower, as well. I felt, well, disabled, and I wasn't willing, at first, to accept that as ME. It wasn't a biased opinion of my status, but was, rather, born of hope - that I would be able to overcome this dragging, tired, painful body's inability to do all I did before surgery number one.
Before that time, I was independent, physically and emotionally, and the realization that I am permanently disabled due to an omission in the first surgery, was difficult to grasp, and accept.
At this time, I started to write about this journey of mine, and was encouraged by my older son to write a blog. Based upon a recent purchase of a wheelchair, at that time, I chose to call this "From Where I Sit," although I hope to overcome my disability some more - although it is more than 1.5 years since the second surgery.
I also started loving the world I saw, from this "height" enough to photograph nature, my pets, my grandchildren, back yard, the lake near my home, and so many other beautiful people and scenes. One camera broke when I dropped it, and my husband bought me another for Christmas, and that was such an enormous gift - it gave me a purpose and an outlet - however, I had trouble managing the cane, the camera, etc., while I sought out subjects to capture my viewfinder and my heart.
I realized, soon, that many opportunities presented themselves by driving myself around, looking for the beauty I'd never see if I chose to stay home in a pity party with no other guests. Soon, friends and family got used to me with my ever-present camera, and they joined in, calling me to say that the ice boaters were on the lake, or that the great blue heron was on the dock by the bog! I'd get my camera, my cane, and either go out in the car, or wait for that caller/chauffeur to come for me (it's fun when others get involved....art in all its forms is a contagious joy). I started sending photos to local papers, and enjoyed knowing others might appreciate my "eye" for the natural, fun or amazing world we live in.
So, join me and share the beauty and the hope of moving past what stands still, and catching up, in whatever conveyances it takes to do so. After all, from where I sit, "life is what happens while you're busy making other plans," and life is good.

I can't wait to see what you do with this Blog! I'm glad you are doing it!
ReplyDeleteLove
Ken
Thanks, Ken. I appreciate your support, and I will be doing more...tomorrow's another day! Love, Mom
ReplyDeleteAll the local and city television news shows covered a news item this morning about a man who abducted his child, an infant girl, and then confessed that he threw her body off the very high Driscoll Bridge - that bridge that has, in the past, carried me to the "Jersey shore," so many times.
ReplyDeleteMy heart is breaking, as I do the "watch/don't watch" commentary in my mind. I want to know what might have ever caused this man to act this way, yet I don't ever want to know what evil like this looks like, sounds like, IS like...for I will always carry a corner of longing in the fiber of my being, in my smile, in my tears, in my heart and in all I do, for a little boy named Andy, who died in an accident, at age 4-1/2. His parents - us - never saw the danger coming, didn't imagine that play would turn to tragedy in that grey, January day, in 1976. They cry, and, yet, were powerless to reverse that tragedy.
How can - how WILL - this man live with what he says he has done? At what moment can he have changed his mind, sought help, returned to his car, this precious life in his hands, and not done what he did?
Our minister once told us that we should ask God for forgiveness for our sins, and, if we only said that we were TRULY repentant, then he would hear us, and we would be forgiven, as his children, but in human form.
We asked our minister what to do if we could NOT forgive someone, and he said to ask God to forgive him.
I hope God can forgive this man, who, otherwise would be a wandering, empty soul, a mere vessel without any substance. I can't imagine such a life, when life is meant to be cherished with all our being, and with all the gifts that God gives us.
Even as we struggle, sometimes, with pain, worry, fear, we are complex beings with the ability to make choices, and there are so many available to us. I can only pray, today, that, while the God I trust and pray to can forgive this man, and that the infant daughter he threw away never knew his choice - and never knew she never had a choice. May she rest in peace, with God's - her forever father.