Jeremiah was a bull-frog

“Just an old-fashioned love song;” “One is the loneliest number;” The ink is black, the page is white;” “Jeremiah was a bull-frog”.

Hubby got a new CD of old songs recently. Three Dog Night. Songs from my heyday. Funny how a few lines of an old song can take you back to that time. A time of being young and fit, footloose and fancy-free. An entire lifetime ahead of me. Hmm, well I guess I’ve used up a lot of that life.

Has it passed me by? Or, have I really lived it? Have I enjoyed the good times? Have I learned through the challenges? Or I have just gone from one day to another? One event to another? One item on the calendar to another? Just trying to get through it, just trying to make it through another week, another day, another hour?

At 17 I enjoyed life. Yes, it had its challenges. I had my problems – some seemed insurmountable. But many new experiences awaited me. Life was exciting!

Over 30 years of marriage; three children, one son-in-law, three grandchildren, and other additions to our extended family; friends coming and going and staying; a variety of jobs – paid and volunteer; a parade of vehicles – new and used, cars, trucks, tractors and lawn-mowers; and a vast array of experiences, challenges, joys and obstacles are testament to the fact that my life has been anything but boring!

Right. So, why should it change now? After all, I’m not as old as my mother. Yes, we are related and chances are that I may have some of the same problems as she does – when I reach her age, if I reach her age. But, for now, I’m still mobile, have 20/20 vision – with my contact lenses, my hearing is good – maybe a bit selective, have nearly all my teeth, and my hair is the same colour as it was when I was 17 – okay, maybe with a little help…

Come to think of it I’m fairly footloose and fancy-free as well. My children are all grown-up and basically self-sufficient and on their own. I’ve trained my husband to take care of himself as well. I have a job I love and enough hobbies and things I want to do to last several life-times. Each one is sure to bring its own challenges, learning and joys.

So, I guess the choice is up to me. I can wonder how long I’ve got left to do the things I want to do. I can worry about my health and mobility. I can wallow in the gloomy possibilities.

Or, I can take a lesson from my mum. I can try to face every day with a smile and look for the laughs in the day. I can help others. And, when people ask, “How are you?” I can smile and say, “Happy and thankful.”

Because, in the end, who you are is not defined by your age, health, mobility or mind function, but by your spirit.

Let’s journey together.

© Denise Budd Rumble 2009

Moving mother and memories…

Over two years ago my mum moved from her house of over 4o years to an apartment complex. It was a difficult transition, not only for my mum, but for me and my siblings. We sorted and organized and cleaned and sorted and threw out and sorted and kept and tossed and… You get the idea. It was long and it was painful.

This fall my mum decided that it was time to leave her two-bedroom apartment and move to a one-bedroom suite in a retirement residence. Once again we sorted and organized and tossed and kept and…

“What’s this?” I asked my sister. “Didn’t we throw this out the last time?”

I held up a thin, worn blanket. A blanket that once wrapped precious items bought in England and given in love. A blanket that kept those things safe from breaking as we traveled the ocean to all the promise and adventure of our new chosen home, Canada.

Karen looked over from the box she was opening. “I’m sure we did,” she answered. “Oh my goodness! Come here, Denise.”

There in the box was a pile of material we had found in the attic of the house. It had not survived being stored in the attic very well and the decision had been made to throw it out. But, here it was again. Obviously Mum had reversed the decision and washed and kept the material. Mum had made most of our clothes and, as many of her generation, hesitated to throw anything away. We found bits and pieces of various shapes and sizes.

“That’s from my Grade 8 graduation dress!”

“Mum made that dress for me the summer I met my future husband.”

“Do you remember this dress of Mum’s? She wore it to death.”

I held up a jar.  “And what are we going to do with these? Do you think Mum will do any more sewing?”

To others it was a jar of buttons. To our mum it was a jar full of memories – a little white button off one of her baby’s knitted jackets, knitted by her mum – a fancy gold button from a smart navy blazer – a button from a favourite dress long gone – and many more.

Tears filled our eyes as we looked around. These were not just our mum’s memories, but ours as well. Blankets, buttons, books, tablecloths, fabric, furniture and more – each filled pages and chapters of our lives.

Let’s journey together.

© 2009 Denise Budd Rumble

On a roller coaster at Christmas time

Christmas is a time for a multitude of things, but something folks don’t talk about much is the overwhelming emotion that accompanies this celebration. For me it’s quite like a roller coaster.

As I’m cleaning today I listen to my radio. The station is playing only Christmas music. I love that. You see, I love Christmas time. I’m one of those people who wish it were Christmas all year.

My mood has been up and down like a yo-yo today. Okay, maybe being menopausal and moody isn’t a surprise to anyone, but it seems like every few minutes, or every half hour, I’m up and then down and then dancing and then eyes filling with tears. It just occurred to me that I’m being messed with…by my radio station!

“Jingle bells, jingle bells…” happy, happy.

“I’ll be home for Christmas, you can count on me…” memories, nostalgia.

“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus…” mental pictures, story ideas.

“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock…” snapping fingers, dancing around the living room – see, I am getting exercise today.

“I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…” no problem there. We had a snowstorm yesterday. School buses cancelled, roads closed, snow, snow and more snow! “…just like the ones I used to know…” Hmm, not quite. No amount of snow will bring my dad back to celebrate Christmas with us, just one more time.

Why is it that Christmas evokes such emotion? From strangers wishing you “Merry Christmas” – okay, maybe “Happy Holidays” – to some gnarly brute stealing the parking spot that you’d been waiting patiently for! From teary-eyed parents watching their kids on Santa’s knee to parents screaming at whiny kids to quit asking for every toy they see. Emotions are flying all over the place.

No wonder I’m so exhausted after shopping. My emotions undergo a strenuous exercise there! Happy, sad, impatient, surprised, frustrated, angry. And when hubby happily greets me at the door, obviously having missed me, all I can say is,  “I need a cuppa and some time alone! Did you even think about starting supper?” Hmm, he probably thinks I was alone all day…

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble

Conversation…with my four-year-old granddaughter

“Grammie! Mummy, Grammie’s here!”

Before I can undo my coat my granddaughter runs at me, arms outstretched.

“Grammie!”

I squat down and catch her as she throws herself at me.

“Grammie, I’m so happy to see you!”

“I’m so happy to see you, too!”

Little arms squeeze my neck. Smiling brown eyes look into mine. “I love you so much, Grammie.”

“I love you so much, too.”

“Are you going to sleep at my house?”

”Yes, I’m going to sleep at your house for three nights.”

A few minutes later and she’s perched on my knee, her arm wrapped behind my neck. “Can we play tomorrow?”

“We sure can.”

“And colour a picture?”

“Sure, we can do that.”

“Maybe we can go for a walk outside?”

“I’d like that. I brought my walking shoes, just in case.”

The voice of authority intrudes on our plans. “Okay, time for bed.”

“Not yet, Mummy.”

“Yes, now. I let you stay up late to see Grammie, but now you have to go to bed.” Mummy is insistent.

“Can Grammie read me a story first?”

“A story?”

“Come on, Mummy. Just one story?” I add my plea.

My daughter looks at me and pulls a face. “Okay, just one story”.

My granddaughter and I look at each other and laugh. “Thanks, Mummy,” we answer.

My daughter joins us on the couch and I open the book.

“Once upon a time…”

Once upon a time everything was right with the world and they lived happily ever after.

And it is. At least for these few precious moments.

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble

Conversations…

The Oxford Dictionary defines “conversation” as “an informal spoken exchange between two or more people”.

Most of us engage in conversation every day of our lives. We chat and yak, gossip and converse. We debate and parley, visit and talk. We hold gabfests and discussions.  We confabulate, dialogue and chitchat. We talk out of both sides of our mouths. And, some people never stop talking!

You would think with all the words we spew that there would be a lot of communication going on. But, is there? Do the words bounce around, like a pinball, after they leave our mouths? Or are they gratefully caught and examined? Do we carefully catch the precious words that come our way from those that love us? Do we listen and hear? Do we turn the words this way and that and get the real meaning sent to us via those sounds? Do I?

As a baby-boomer with years of exercising my ears I have no excuse. I should be a good listener.

Over the years I have heard the words of my mum and dad, brother and sister, aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents and they have heard mine. Sunday school teachers, ministers, club leaders and schoolteachers have commanded my attention, my questions and my answers. Friend and foe have assaulted my ears and I theirs. And then there are those I’ve worked with, strangers I’ve conversed with and others who have eavesdropped or just happened to be within listening distance of my spiels.

I’ve spoken words of anger and frustration and softly uttered words of love, encouragement, hope and comfort to my spouse and children. Now grandchildren await my words.

There are conversations I would like to change; others I would like to delete. But, we have no chance to call back our words. We must live with what we’ve said.

So, what words will I speak today? What conversations will I participate in? And how will I treat the words that are flung at me?

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble

What was the change?

It’s hard to believe but this newest change is almost two months old! The change I embrace is my new grandson.

He is bright eyed, indicating extreme intelligence and quick wit. He is attentive and alert. And, of course, he is so beautiful. Come to think of it he’s just like his Grammie.

This is a change that makes one feel good inside. I love holding him. He is so small, so fragile, so dependent. His hair and skin is so soft, and he smells good – brand new. Rocking him fills me with peace, with contentment. He reminds me that God still does miracles.

And so I rock slowly and breathe deeply. I close my eyes and savour the tranquility and joy.

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble

A Change To Embrace

There are some changes one just has to embrace—there is no choice. Another recent change in my life is a prime example of this. Some of you in midlife will be able to relate.

This change involved pain. And, the pain affected more than one person.

This change was messy and noisy.

For the change to be successful it needed several others to chip in and help. It had the potential to be a life and death situation.

This change had been coming for some time, so you’d think we would have been ready for it. But, no we weren’t really and it left us scrambling.

This change has affected numerous people. For many of us our lives will never be the same. For some of us we have no choice but to embrace this change. The choice has been made for us.

So, I guess I will embrace this change as happily as I can. Another change on the journey.

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble

Hurrah, It's a Long Weekend!

It’s Labour Day weekend in Ontario this weekend. Oh, no! Not that kind of labour. At least, I don’t think there will be a baby boom this Monday.

Basically nowadays, it’s a long weekend, Monday off work-the last “hurrah”, so to speak, before back to the regular routine of work and school. I hope I can enjoy it.

Last night I slept terribly, kept awake by almost continuous waves of hot flashes and itchy back, and arms, and legs, and feet. And, yes, I do shower regularly. So, today I’m tired and headachy and just don’t feel like getting ready and going to work and doing my errands and…. Well, you know how it is, bed just sounds like the place to be this morning.

So, I guess I’ll just drag myself through this day and dream of the long weekend-the last of the summer…

Blue summer skies
Floating wispy clouds
Gentle sweet smelling breezes
My own familiar porch
No work, no stress
No discomfort
Soft pillows
A good book to read
Fresh fruit and vegetables
Sweet ice tea
Warm and comfy
Meals prepared and served
All housework done to perfection
All laundry done-even the ironing
All bills paid
Bank account overflowing
Uninterrupted dreamless sleep

Oh, I’m sorry, I must have drifted off. What was I saying…?
I remember, it’s a long weekend this weekend. An extra day to relax
or play
or visit
or get ready for school
or work at home
or just plain sit and be.
Don’t you just love it?

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble

A Peaceful Respite

I’m at peace today.

It’s a welcome respite from hot flash attacks and parental concerns. A cease-fire in the midst of midlife battle—the battle for my sanity, my minutes, my equilibrium.

I celebrate this peace today—a mind clear from fog, anxiety and memory relapse. No call from sad parent or troubled child disturbs this tranquility.

I take in the beauty of an endless canvas; myriad shades of white and gray and blue swirled into sky by the Master Artist. I breathe in the warm August air and smell the lateness of the summer. Song of bumblebee and twittering goldfinch add to my peace of mind. Grass, rich in colour and nourished to the full tickles my toes. Refreshing cool water quenches my summer thirst.

As if in a dream I float through this day—peaceful, light, grateful, blessed.

Let’s journey together.

© 2008 Denise Budd Rumble