Time unexplained, yet again

     Not so long ago, in a galaxy not so far away, there was not enough time. Not enough hours in the day, not enough days in the week, not enough weeks in the year, until it was all summed up in not enough years in a lifetime. Great studies were done in the search for better time management. Processes were created to help combat the growing problem that only seemed to multiply with each passing year. Experts were called in to investigate the issue and try to resolve the age old dilemma.

   

                  Still people kept running out of time.

Some of them literally did.

And when they fell back in time, they were shocked by what they had learned.

                          Time really did not exist.

    This sure made life a whole lot easier. Instead of worrying that there was not enough time to get something done, they would just do it until it was completed. Then move on to the next task or project that needed doing. This meant that sometimes more was accomplished, sometimes less was accomplished. But it was okay. There was always enough time for what needed to be done. The moment they began to understand that there was no such thing as time, they were no longer under any time restraints. It was incredibly liberating.

     I subscribe to this belief wholeheartedly. Anyone who has fallen out of time will say the same. There is plenty of time to do the things you need to do. That you are supposed to do. You should try not to worry about time, you can't run out of what doesn't exist. My 17 year old nephew just looks at me like I have six heads, and none of them are quite right. So I tried to explain it to him. 

     If you watch a pot filled with water on the stove, it will take longer to boil. No matter what the timer in the stove tells you.

    That is perception, he tells me. 

     Really, then how come I could run all the errands I had today, do the clean up that needed to be done, schedule details for an upcoming trip, work on my writing, pay bills, balance household accounts, check homework, make dinner and read a chapter from the book I picked up in the library before 5pm? Did I have more physical hours in the day than yesterday? Or did I just perceive that I had more time to do all of this?

     He asked me if I got everything done that I wanted to do. I told him nope, but some of what I wanted to do, didn't need to get done. So no sense in my driving myself crazy to do that stuff.

     He scratched his head. "Aunt Duck," he said. "Time is a constant and runs in a linear direction."

    I chuckled. I shook my head. I explained to him that if I believed that, I could only go forward and never stop to move back and relive the memories I had with loved ones or visit the moments that were profound. I could never capture the moment of the peace that I experienced when I first held my daughter. I would not be able to hold the hand of my grandmother as she drew slower and slower soft breaths. I could never stop where I was and just be there, for I would be forever propelled forward. Quite frankly, that would be a most depressing scenario and one that I hoped I would never have to live.

    I live without time. I can be in the past with the people I miss. I can go to the future with the people I will meet. I can be in the moment as long as I want to.  I know that the minutes and hours and days are fluid, unpredictable in their length and duration, but that there will be enough of them to do what needs to be done. They will be long enough for me to live and live fully. Sometimes I will be happy, sometimes I will be sad, and sometimes I will be angry, but there is enough life for all of these.  Some days will be quicker than others. But through it all, I can accomplish what needs to be done, without restraints.

     Luckily  for me, my days are not numbered. It is a great relief to not have this burden. If I knew how many days were in my life I would be worried that I might waste them and not give in to precious daydreaming and idle chatter. I might call in experts to control and manage and increase productivity instead of allowing what is supposed to happen to happen. 

    And we certainly could not have had this conversation. There simply would not be enough time.

     

I have been set on Fire!

   Call the fire department, have them put out the safety nets. There is no telling what I will do next now that I have been released from the fear of not living up to my own expectations! What? Where did this come from?

    This week I asked my religious education class to close their eyes and visualize the person I was about to describe. (If you read my previous post-please don't spoil the surprise for others.) They all closed their eyes (aren't 4th graders trusting?) and I described a person who was 7 feet tall, weighed 250lbs, very muscular and could bench press over 500lbs. This person could also run up and down flights of stairs, carrying armloads of stuff, sprint over long distances without becoming tired, then come home and put a new roof on the house. Then the guessing began. They guessed everyone from real sports figures to imaginary superheros. When they ran out of guesses I stood up and asked them why they did not recognize me?  The "Ah-ha" moment came for them (and me), when one little girl responded that it was because the description wasn't of me at all. I was their teacher and did not look like anything I described and she did not think I could do most of the stuff I said either. I did not need to be any of those things, or do that stuff to be a teacher. That stuff doesn't make me who I am. Just being me and doing what I can do was enough for them. Wow. What a defining moment for me. Who knew 4th graders were so smart? And who in their right mind put me in charge of teaching them?!?!

     I had already begun a journey of self-examination over the last week. Just what was it that defined me? My physical abilities? What I did for a job? My parental status or the fact that I own a bird? How about where I live or what I drive or what my income is? You bet ya, all of those things. They say who I am...or at least who I am at the moment. Well, maybe who I want to be?

Out my office window

     Someone once told me that they had to find themselves. I told them to get a road map. So here I am, map spread out on the desk, figuring out just where the heck I am. Physically the map indicates that I am just outside of Chicago, under several inches of snow and ice and muck, planted somewhere between several major expressways that could possibly take me to someplace that has less of the cold crap hanging off all the trees and covering all the rooftops.

     Okay, the snow is pretty to look at. Enjoy the picture from out my window. Now can we get rid of it? I promise, I will post pretty pictures of warmer stuff!

     So geographically, I have knowledge of where I am. Good, I hate to be lost. It might mean I would have to ask for directions. But what about the rest of the definition? What makes me who I am? According to the 4th graders, part of it is my physical looks and ability.  I am sure that part of the equation is where I live, what I drive and what I earn. Heck, a sane person would live somewhere warmer. Like Alaska.

     Maybe a bigger part of me is what I can offer, even indirectly, and who I will become. Whoa, that is heavy. Think I will take a breather and go shovel the drive. Or at least try and shovel the drive. Did I mention that the white stuff covering the ground is heavy? Or that the metal snow shovel is heavy without any snow in it?

     An easier version for me to swallow is that I am who I was created to be, who I have been and who I will become. I was created from pure love. There is no expectation that I will be great, wealthy or even mildly intelligent. What a relief! I think I am going to like the new bible study that we are about to embark upon.  

     As I look at, Life, the Universe and Everything, I discover that who I am and who I once was are one and the same, just different. I still have that odd sense of humor that sometimes makes people take a step back and check for the exits. I still like to turn up my favorite song and sing along at the top of my lungs, albeit off key. But once upon a time I did this all by myself. Now I can embarrass the dickens out of a ten year old!

    I grudgingly admit that I just can't climb stairs the way I used to. I still need recognize the probability that this will get worse over time. I have a limp that goes from barely noticeable to incredibly horrible, causing people to think that I am drunk as I weave my way down the street. (You will know if I am really drunk - that is when I will let myself to be propelled between two other people.) I can still help others, but sometimes it is by letting them do something for me, allowing them to feel better about themselves. Thank you to one of my favorite bloggers - Wheelchair Kamikaze for putting this into words for me.
   
     In my last post, I noted that I was trying to learn to accept help from others. I knew this Lent goal would be difficult for me with my super-size Ego. I suspected that I would have to evaluate who I really was. I did not know I would have to give up so much of what I thought I had to be to achieve this goal. And I had no clue that I would have to be HONEST WITH MYSELF. Fortunately, honest with the general public does not seem to be a requirement. No, I did not know once I started on my journey, that it would gain so much momentum in such a short amount of time. If I had any sense, I would probably be frightened. Don't worry, I lack that prized element.

    I think I mentioned before that being released from the fear of not living up to my own expectations has been incredibly liberating. At the top of the blog, to be specific. As I release myself from the bonds of my pride (the before mentioned EGO) I suddenly feel dizzy with the prospects. I am unafraid to be an advocate, whether it of banishing homework or promoting disability awareness. I don't feel the need to temper what I say or what I believe because it may not appeal to everyone. That is okay. I feel unrestrained to the tethers that have been holding me back for fear that others might think me weak when I cannot carry "stuff" down the stairs. I no longer listen to the inner voice that I am a lesser person because I don't have the physical ability to do what I did once upon a time. Having a disability that has grown strikingly obvious is no longer stifling. Can it actually be a blessing?

     Somehow fears of what will happen on the road of life and what every-body thinks about me have become less important than sharing my experiences (and opinions). As I open up myself to the possibilities, I hope that some of what I try to convey rubs off on others. Or at least makes them laugh a little. Okay, I still have visions of myself being broadcast on TV to share this astounding news with the whole world! I am working on it. Even between the minutes of my day to day life, when I find time to write this blog.

   
 
 

Can I help you? Well actually....

     People ask me all the time "Is there anything I can do for you?" I hear it everywhere from the helpful store clerks to my friends and family. I often wonder, is it because I look lost? Is it because I look like I could use some help? Do I look unable to take care of myself? Do they really mean it, or are they just trying to be nice? My typical answer is "No thanks, I am good." Even if it is not always true. Why? Probably because I secretly suspect that most folks are just being nice. They don't really want to help, but social norms say they should offer their assistance, so they do and inside hope that no one will say yes. Well, except the store clerks, they are trying to sell you something. The other part of me likes to think I am totally self reliant and can do it all myself.
     So I asked myself, what would happen if I said yes? I know, I am a deviant.
     I started my experiment at the local grocery store. When the grocery bagger asked if I needed help with my groceries - I said "SURE. Meet me at the door and I will pick you up. Then we can unload at my house. I promise to bring you back to the store afterward."
     I got a couple of chuckles, and one of those smiles you give to people that are not all there. So I knew that no one was going to come home with me to unload the car. I was only half serious anyway. I did not really think they were going to let store employees come to my house. Though I really would like help getting the groceries out of my car, through the back door and into my house. It is only a short distance and two steps, but generally takes about twenty trips. By the time I get the stuff in the door, I am too pooped to put it away.
     I noticed on my last trip to the grocery store I was asked if I needed help taking my groceries out to my car. No, not really, I have this cart here, especially designed for hauling all the stuff I bought out to my car. They are getting wise to me. Guess it is my own tough luck since I don't want to sacrifice the ease of shopping in the middle of the week while everyone is at work or school just to get a little unloading help.
     I expanded my experiment. Then next time I was asked if I needed a little help, I was at my daughter's school. I had just come in the front door and needed to drop off a paper at the office, up a flight of stairs. Not having a good day with my right leg, I hesitated at the base of the stairs and a voice asked me if they could be of assistance. I said yes (although it nearly killed me). I had a paper that needed to go up to the office, but did not think I was up to using the stairs. The gentleman said, "Oh, I could run that up, no problem." He took my paperwork, and I thanked him. Task accomplished. No struggling with my leg. I got the distinct impression that the gentleman was not put out in the least by helping me.
    I tried this experiment a number of times. During a tough week, a friend of mine asked if there was anything she could do for me. Jokingly I said she could could cook dinner for me. The next day she dropped off a wonderful soup. Outside my daughter's classroom, right before the Valentine party, I dropped all the stuff I was carrying. A student offered to help pick it up and carry it in and I accepted. As I watched her march proudly in the room carrying most of the load, I felt as if it did her more good than me. And so the story repeated.
     My conclusion was that generally, people were sincere when they asked if they could help. No one seemed the least bit annoyed, and most actually gave the appearance of enjoying helping others. Was it me? Was I the one who was not sincere? This required some deep soul searching and more experimenting. I made a point when offering assistance, to pay attention to my reaction the times someone accepted my offer.
     Was I irritated? Nope, I enjoyed helping others. As a matter of fact, the things I could do to aid others gave me great joy. I suspected that I already knew this, but it was good to have confirmation. So just what was my problem???

     You guessed it (maybe the picture gave it away). MY EGO. The part of me that said "You can do it yourself, you don't need help. You are self sufficient."

I

    I have always told people that my Ego is about six and a half feet tall and weighs two hundred pounds. For the first time I really looked at my Ego, and was surprised to find that it really was over six feet tall and weighed closer to three hundred pounds. Moreover, it was getting in the way of me accepting the kind and sincere offers of others. Offers I do sometimes need. I have a sneaking suspicion that I am not alone. After all, I was often turned down when I offered to assist in my experiment.

I

     How was I going to address this issue? One day at a time, one offer at a time. I have decided that in addition to giving up swearing for Lent (the part of my vocabulary that is strong enough to give great satisfaction), I would also give up turning down offered help when I need it.  Probably sounds like not much of a sacrifice in this season of recognizing our sins and trying to better ourselves as we strive to grow closer to God. Offering and giving help I find easy. Accepting the charity of others is not so easy. That is the pride of my Ego speaking, one of the sins I regularly indulge in. My self proclaimed self sufficiency is not an easy thing for me to give up.
     I will probably need a lot of help. So if you hear me shouting "Aw, Shucky Darns" please don't giggle. And if you come across me lying in the parking lot because I tripped over my own feet - again - and I turn down your offer to help me get up, it is because I really can get up myself. I actually do find it harder to get up with assistance. It is a balance thing.
     However, if I refuse your aid in getting down a long flight of stairs while carrying an armload of stuff, remind me of my goal by gently saying, "No, you are right, you don't need help. After all, it's probably easier to fall down the stairs and scatter all that crap. And everyone could use the entertainment." My Ego will probably cringe, but it can afford to lose a little weight.