Author: jeanniebruenning

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You can tell a lot….

My husband always says you can tell a lot about a man when you meet his wife. I’ve alway thought this was an interesting observation. It’s one that has never disappointed.

Some encounters can be scripted and without interruption, go according to script, word for word. Others are surprising, shining a new light on a side of a man not seen in his professional life. Some encounters are disappointing – but not surprising.

In the very recent political arena, this statement holds true for not only the candidate but also those who support him. I’ve stayed far away from politics these last two years and must say I’m better for it. I have just as much insight with no baggage. I fear those who have followed it’s every moment will take years to rid themselves of the muck they’ve allowed themselves to walk through. I follow the election like I watched American Idle; start watching 6 weeks before the finally and pick the winner.

This last weekend I heard a lot of “WHAT?” “Who are these people?” “Are they insane?” “That’s not how all men are!” coming from my husband as he scrolled through his phone. After two years of me rolling my eyes, putting my finger to my lips, and making the hand motions of a puppeteer shutting up her muppet, the one sided conversations ended with his comments.

I would like to think we’ve come a long way, but maybe that’s just in our heads.

Last week this was posted and it made me sad, because it shined a light on reality:

Imagine a woman who showed up (to a presidential debate) unprepared, sniffling like a coke addict and interrupting her opponent 70 times. Let’s further imagine that she’s had 5 kids by 3 men, was a repeated adulterer, had multiple bankruptcies, paid zero federal taxes and rooted for the housing crisis in which many thousands of families lost their homes. Wait…there’s more: she has never held any elected office in her life.      – Michelle Vitalione

You can tell a lot about a man when you meet his wife. You can tell more about a country when you meet the candidates running for election.

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It’s just what we do!

The text message read:

Morning. 

I received a private message from my friend in Colorado. Her body is shutting down and is calling hospice today. She asked if I would be able to come photograph them as a family during these last days. I want to make that happen if it’s possible.

Call me.

A few hours later our daughter Austyn was on a plane to CO and we had rearranged our schedules to help Dad take care of the two kids she was leaving behind on their last week of school.

I recall standing next to Austyn a few years ago after she had offered to take care of a situation for someone and they asked, “Why are you so nice?”

She looked at me, smiled, shrugged her shoulders, and said a-matter-of-factly, “That is what we do.”

Today, while Austyn was photographing this young family as they are most likely living the final days with their mommy, I stood in her place at my grandson’s award ceremony.

We had joke over the weekend that it must be difficult for teachers to come up with awards for every child. But that wasn’t the case when I walked into the room. All the K-3rd graders sat crossed legged on the floor watching as 14 of their classmates received recognition.

Liam receive an award for Integrity.

If you want to teach children to be kind, you have to be kind.

If you want to teach children how to  be forgiving, you have to be forgiving.

If you want to teach children how to love unconditionally, you have to love them unconditionally.

If you want to teach children to feel important, you have to show them how to love themselves.

If you want to teach children to respect authority, you can’t speak poorly of those in authority.

If you want to teach children integrity, you have to live it.

…after all, “that’s just what we do.”

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The Moxy Chick

Each year I find myself revisiting Proverbs 31. It’s been a proverb that I have loved and read since a teen. Back then, this Proverb was all about being the perfect wife – HA!- the perfect wife only exists when there is a perfect husband – HA!HA!

In my 30’s  it spoke to me on a new level. It became a guide on how to manage a crazy life and pretend that you have it all. Honey, only 30 year olds believe they can have it all. HA!HA!HA!

In my 40’s, Moxy started to shine a new light on the importance of building character, being a strong, courageous woman, and living without fear.

In my 50’s Moxy has become a good friend, a wise old woman who has hidden secrets that she reveals when she feels like it or when the reader is finally listening.

A few months ago I was going to start a study on her at our church, but one thing led to another and it was postponed until fall. Somewhere between writing the workbook and trying to figure out childcare for those attending the study, the idea of recording each week snuck in.

So here it is; Moxy, A Study of Proverbs 31. Twenty lessons on a woman who I adore. So pour yourself a drink, turn on your favorite background music, get comfy, and take a listen. She will not disappoint.

jeanniegb YouTube Channel:

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=jeanniegb+moxy 

 

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My Time Piece

There’s a clock on the wall in my bathroom that isn’t audible until 2:00 in the morning when it echoes in my ears. From my bed I can hear every second that passes in the early morning hours.

Time is such an interesting thing to me. On one hand it seems to be completely man made. Who came up with 24 hours in a day? Why is there 60 seconds in a minute? Who decided?

Then I consider the rotation of the moon, the spinning of earth, the seasons, and years; it’s impossible to think that we can control time at all. Clocks that hang on our walls or the numbers that flash on our phones aren’t controlling, they are just telling what time it is.

How often do we say, “If I only had a few more hours in my day…” Or “I need an extra day in the week.” Or “There just isn’t enough time!”

Such comments force one of two statements to be true: Either the universe is screwed up by rotating the moon around the earth and the earth around the sun, not mentioning all the other stuff that’s spinning around out there. OR we are doing things that we need not be doing. (I vote for the second one – I’ll let you tell God he’s a screw up!)

Maybe time was never meant to be controlled. Maybe it was meant to be appreciated, respected, and cherished. Maybe each second that ticks by on the clock is a second of life, and breath, and love, and not a reminder of all that has to be finished, or started, or achieved.

Maybe the tick, tick, tick at two o’clock from the bathroom wall is there to remind me that I’m just a tick in this world and I can either enjoy it or try to control it.

I wonder why I can’t hear the ticking of the clock at six am, or noon, or when I’m getting ready for bed. Perhaps because there are too many other wonderful sound like the birds, or music, or voices, or life.

At two am there’s just me… and my thoughts… and the ticking of the clock that reminds me that time cannot be controlled, nor should it be attempted. Rather it should be cherished, appreciated, and respected.

I need to fill my time wisely. I need to get rid of the things in my life that steal this precious commodity from me. I may not be able to control time, but I do have the power to decide how I will spend it. If we truly believed that each tick is life, and breath, and love, then how I choose to use it would be different. It wouldn’t be waisted like loose change tossed in a bowl. Rather it would be cherished, protected, and admired like a precious gem handed down through generations.

Tick… tick… tick… there are only so many ticks in a day. Each one is a precious as the next. Together they create a life time. There isn’t one that should be waisted. None should ever be used for anything other than life, breath, and love.

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But they said…

My recent surgery to remove a large barnacle and two malfunctioning organs (details in the link below) gave me cause to seek out some advise, and there was a lot of it.

I asked those who had this procedure what I should expect. There was advise on medication, recovery, and the highly debatable – estrogen. Some said it was too risky, others said it was the best thing I could do, yet others said not to have the surgery at all.

I did my best to be a good patient and took all the meds prescribed. But one by one my body made it clear it wasn’t happy with any of them. So I heard the words, “You better stop taking it,” several times. And to my surprise, I didn’t really need any of them. The intelligence of our bodies is amazing if we shut up long enough to listen.

When it came to hormones, I had come to the decision that I would take estrogen from the beginning to avoid any shock the removal of such organs might have. BUT I wanted an exit plan, I would get off of it as soon as possible. I made it through four doses of that little blue pill before I decided the tingling hands and my brain feeling like a rubix cube might not be worth it.

When the words, “Stop taking it,” were heard once again, I wanted to do cartwheels.

“I’m not afraid of all the terrible things they said I would experience,” I said. “I got to go through it sometime.”

“There are some hidden benefits to taking estrogen,” my doctor assured, “but there are alternatives that we will discuss on Thursday.”

So all day Monday I waited…they said I would go plunging into menopause right away. I was ready. I would take it on, full force, head on, I was ready!

They said I would winkle up like a prune. So I googled skin care oils and was amazed at all the health benefits found in Olive Oil and wondered why we don’t bath in the stuff.

They said the hot flashes could be an inferno and the night sweats would not be sweet.

They also said the I would loose all my desire to crochet (or sex, which ever you prefer).

“Please God, don’t take that away,” I said.

“OK,” I heard HIM say. “Don’t worry.”

I didn’t worry, but I did wait for the title wave of menopausal symptoms to consume me.

Day four, I was the same old me.

Day five, I waited…after all, they all said it would happen!

Day six, “Hey, I still think you’re cute!” I told my husband. “I’m glad,” he said.

Day seven came and so did the one week check up. My doctor and I sat in his office as he asked questions and answered mine. Finally I had to ask, “So… when are all those terrible side effects they said I would experience happen?”

He tilted his head a bit and shifted in his chair, “You’ve not had any?” he asked.

“No, not since I stopped taking the Estrogen.”

He looked at his clipboard and then back at me, “Well then, I guess it won’t be an issue for you…”

I know he kept talking, but I don’t know what he said because all I could hear was all they said and once again I wanted to do cartwheels.

We finished the exam and I met Jeff in the lobby. Once outside, I leaned up against the railing, looking at the beautiful clear blue sky and listening to the birds. The trees were in bloom and the parking lot was shadowed by pink flowers. Jeff thought I was tired, but I was exploding inside.

“You know all the things they said I would go through?” I said.

“Yeah?” he said pretending he knew what I was talking about.

“The Doctor asked me if I’ve had any symptoms, you know, hot flashes, night sweats, insomnia. I said no. He said I most likely won’t!”

“Really?”

“I can’t believe it, everything they said, everything I was prepared to tackle, he said won’t happen.” I began it giggle and I’ve been giggling ever since; we’re now two and a half weeks later and yes, I still giggle.

What they said was important, because it came from their experience. These things really happened to real people. But what I’ve learned is that someone else’s experience does not have to be mine.

Looking back…I think something happened when I said, “I’m not afraid.”  And I can’t help but wonder if it’s one of the reasons HE said, “OK. Don’t worry.”

 

Related blogs:

Barnacles, Ovaries and Miracles:  http://wp.me/pEozB-s0

Crocheting (or sex, which ever you prefer): http://wp.me/pEozB-s9