The Unexpected Life

Not all disabilities are visible. Currently an intense montage of photos of returned US service members diagnosed with PTSD staring at themselves in the mirror is making its way around FB. What we see, the actual image of the person, shows a put together, functioning individual, reintegrating into the society they’ve volunteered to defend. But what these men and women see in the mirror (and so do we) is someone with a gun pointed at their own forehead ready to pull the trigger or downing a bottle of liquor or any other number of horrific things. You see, these men and women, who apparently have fought through their own corner of Hell and came through the other side looking like the same individual who left simply mere months before is not. That before person disappeared somewhere in the quagmire of their service to our nation, their service to us. Continue reading →

As a rule I do not watch or read anything related to Nicholas Sparks. Frankly, his stories leave me nauseated. Quite simply, life (and love) do not work in the “real” world as they do in Mr. Sparks’ plot lines: male and female, one of them undoubtedly broken and, therefore, ridiculously vulnerable, fall in love; some sort of achingly sweet romance, then one of them dies, or at least someone dies. Someone ALWAYS dies. (Why does someone always die, Mr. Sparks? Why? Why?????)

I broke my own rule the other night. Why? I was bored; I was lonely; I’d canceled cable, and now have Apple TV. I’d seen everything else that seemed even remotely tolerable. I‘m out of excuses; so, I’ll just confess that I watched one of Mr. Sparks’ latest cinematic efforts at convincing us that love is not effort, choice, or action but simply a force of nature. And I wasn’t disappointed; nope, I got exactly what I’d expected – 2 hours, give or take a few minutes, of starry-eyed, star-crossed lovers. As the inevitable tragic ending faded into the credits, and I was wiping the tears from my eyes, (Just because it nauseates me does not render me immune. I’m a girl. What can I say?), I began to wonder how damaging Mr. Sparks’ view of love could be to “real” world relationships.

I think it comes down to our expectations of people and how “romantic” movies alter those expectations. What do I believe that a man should be and do? What do men in this world believe that women – that I – should be and do? Please understand, I completely comprehend that Mr. Sparks is not the sole delinquent liable for our skewed perspectives on relationships standards, but he and his ilk certainly contribute to them. It’s time to get things straight, to know what is reasonable, what is responsible when we consider someone else’s role in our lives. Continue reading →

“Auntie Rachael, Auntie Rachael!!! We need you!” Auz’s panicked shouts rang in my ears.

I dropped the book I was reading and jumped up. I was babysitting the nephews at my brother’s house, and the boys were swimming. From my vantage point I could see them as well as hear them. Quick scan: both little heads bobbed above the surface, all four eyes wide and staring at me, no obvious blood. Quick analysis: we were good. I could breathe again.

Then the ultimate word that strikes frantic fear in every responsible adult’s heart when children are submerged in water: “HELP!, Auntie Rachael, HELP!”

(Seriously, kid, ‘help’???? I can see you from here. You are NOT drowning. Do NOT shout that word. I will drop over dead from a heart attack, then where will you be????) Continue reading →

“Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that,” Martin Luther King, Jr.,  penned in his book Strength to Love, published in 1963. Over the last several days this quote has flowed across the internet. Perhaps it is intended to bring comfort to the citizens of Charleston or to all of us who feel so inadequately helpless in the aftermath of the June 17^th shootings in a building that should have been sacred, should have been safe, should have been immune from the terrors we face on the streets outside our houses of worship. But that day, hate forced its way inside and darkened forever the light of a place of holy sanctuary. And this is to be Dylann Roof’s legacy – hate in the Holy City. Continue reading →

I turned forty last month. No fanfare, no party, no banners. Nope, just a quiet celebratory lunch with a close friend, coffee time later with another friend, weekend barbecue with the family. This year, in acknowledgement of the close of a decade and the beginning of another, my mother graciously agreed to crack open the family recipe box to make my favorite cake – apple with cream cheese frosting, saved for only the most appropriate of occasions.

You must understand – this cake is decadently dangerous with approximately 1000 calories per whiff, and that’s before you take a bite. I eat one sliver then leave the rest in Tucson with my family to decimate as they choose.   (Hey, in the epic Battle of the Scale in my family we play for keeps. In other words, I don’t “keep” the cake anywhere realistically in arm’s reach in my normal life.) It really is an enormous sacrifice for my mother to make this cake. It sits on the counter seducing you to destruction with its Siren’s song floating melodically throughout the house and across the patios. Honestly, the cake might be a teensy bit evil (Exorcism has not been ruled out. Just kidding.  Pretty sure God himself would eat this cake). But I digress… Continue reading →

Sometimes it just isn’t about you (or me). I’d love to say that I know this down through the toes of my running socks to the tips of my hair each and every day from the moment I wake up until I drop into bed at night. But then I’d be lying to you, and you know what a terrible liar I am; it’s that guilt thing innate to Southern women.

Recently I took a little road trip that hadn’t exactly gone my way, and on the drive home I threw myself a bit of a pity party (I am sooo not proud of this.). Tears flowing, sobs gasping, and all that nonsense. As, I’ve said before, I am not a pretty crier. Thank heavens I hadn’t bothered with make-up because not all the tissues in Arizona would’ve cleaned up that mess. (Normally, this Southern girl lives by the axiom that a well brought up lady only leaves the house without lipstick when she’s on her way to the gym or some such activity; but, hey, 8 hours alone in a car – who cared what I looked like?) Continue reading →

I’d just fallen asleep the other night when a little voice whispered, “Auntie Rachael, Auntie Rachael, are you still awake?”

It took me a moment, but I flutter-kicked my way back to the surface of consciousness, remembering that I was nestled into the soft mattress of my brother’s guest room and that just across the loft two little boys (my nephews) lay sleeping – or at least supposed to be sleeping. I rolled over as I sat up, and there stood Auz at the side of the bed. He’s 11 but appears more to be a smallish 9. I’m really, really praying that at some point he’ll hit that same growth spurt that transformed his father, my brother, into the imposing man that he is. On the plus side, Auz’s mom is quite tall; so, it could happen. Unfortunately, however, our genetic family tree stubbornly refuses to shed those leaves that left me just a smidge under 5’0” and my sister at 5’2” (when she’s wearing heels), and believe me, that chickie is always in heels. And I’ll just go ahead and admit that I love the heels, too, especially ones with a hint of sparkle. Continue reading →

This last weekend came and passed as so many do, quietly, unobtrusively, gliding away almost before I’d realized it had begun. I’m at that stage in life where one day blends beautifully into another, and you have to stare intently at each day to separate the brushstrokes that determine the conclusion of each day. (The Impressionists always were my favorite painters.) Continue reading →

Brave…the word conjures images of Delta Force, Combat Controllers, SEALs, firemen or any other person who spends their life putting it all on the line for someone else. I think of people who have seen (without the politician’s rose-colored glasses) then stood unwavering against the worst humanity has to offer and made it through to the other side, crawling if need be, but still in tact -for the most part – still recognizable, still fragile with humanity.

I look at my brother and my sister-in-law, both lifers in the Air Force. I look at my best friends from college, both lifers in the Navy. I see the spark of fervor in their eyes that hints at that deep-rooted patriotism and determination, a spark that no act of cowardice by an enemy combatant will ever extinguish. I know brave when I see it; I live my life surrounded by it.

But these are “big” braves. What about the humble, small acts of bravery intertwined with the American, everyday life? The child terrified of public speaking who makes her first class presentation, or the mother who gives birth to what will be a seriously ill micro-preemie knowing that her baby simply is not viable but chooses to carry that precious baby, hold her, love her, then let her go? Or the woman who lives with a terminal illness and still goes about her life with a smile? Or the husband who forgives adultery and betrayal? Continue reading →

The phrase “unconditional love” runs through my mind for the thousandth time as I lie awake in a much-too-expensive Hollywood, California, hotel room. I stare at the boxed ceiling as those two words are whispered to my soul time and time again.  Is that really what I’m doing here?  Am I here because I am trying to love unconditionally?

You see, a year ago I made a promise to a friend I’ve known 2/3 of my life, a friend I love down to the tips of my desperately-needing-a-pedicure toes. I promised I’d show for his California event and even stay at this very hotel.  However, we had a disagreement two weeks ago, a disagreement about fundamental beliefs to be sure, but still only a disagreement. Love does not mean I have to approve of everything you do or vice-versa, no?   However, the upshot is that I’m not sure I’m even wanted or welcomed here anymore, and my friend’s not talking (Probably a good sign I should’ve stayed home.) But a promise is a promise, and love is love. Love is Love. Continue reading →