Muddy pits.....

I used to love Mondays, but they are becoming a bit of a chore to get through. I see a theme in blogworld....there's a bit of quiet desperation out there. I was certainly there today. Physical stuff going on aplenty. Let's not be quiet. Let's keep praying for each other.

She's ranting again....

I took my brother to a cell phone store yesterday in the next town over.....a very "tony" town...very satisfied with itself. High average annual income, and most of the folks will be happy to let you know that they are doing very well, thank you. I once talked to a fireman who works for that city, and he was laughing because when they go into houses....we're talking HUGE houses...a lot of the rooms aren't furnished. Then, the owners treat the city employees like they are beneath them. What a sham. Or a shame. Both, I think.

When will this craziness end? I am in the WRONG place. I'm from the midwest, where you drive a car til it stops dead in the road and you don't give a flip how old it is or how it looks. Does it get you there? If so, it's good enough. Here I am in the Metroplex...with some of the most materialistic people in the nation. I looked around at all the people in this cell phone shop. They were so freakin' concerned because their stupid phone wasn't taking a stupid picture. I'm thinking of our soldiers in Iraq. They're fighting for us? I'm so sorry. Can you tell I'm disgusted? I was really disgusted because in order to park in a handicapped area for my brother, I had to park 3 stores down, and he had to navigate an incline. Yeah, we could have taken the wheelchair, but the freakin' store wasn't even set up for a wheelchair. It was too small.
Apparently, you should NOT shop in Southlake, Texas if you have the AUDACITY to be disabled! They DON'T want to see you! All the handicapped parking places were in odd places....and you have to go down to the end of the street to get to them. It is apparent that they only put in the minimum of what they were required to, by law.

So, anyway, I'm navigating my brother up this inclined sidewalk, and we get in the store. There is one place to sit, and someone is in it. They have a sign-in sheet. A WHAT??!!! A sign-in sheet. Unbelievable. Anyway, I help him over to the counter, after they deigned to wait upon us, and he tells them his problem. His signal is very bad and calls keep dropping.

Now, he has to have a cell phone with him in case he falls or needs help. We're looking into a life line, but the cell phone is the best bet right now. They tell him he needs a software update. Actually, they keep talking to ME...not him. This is nothing new....we should be used to it by now. But, why should we get used to stupid? I avoid eye contact. I really want to tell them that he is physically disabled, not mentally----and then they start talking LOUDLY to him as if he is deaf, as well. Oy.

I was feeling invisible a few days ago.
Can you just imagine how the disabled feel?

Sean's got some good stuff going on at his website.

Ah, yes...those "Footprints".......

I went to a tinnitus support meeting last night. I really didn't want to, it being a holiday weekend, and such. But that still, quiet...NAGGING voice urged me to collect myself and go anyway. I'm glad I did. We had some new recruits that were really suffering, and one woman is exactly where I was a year ago. Her daughter had brought her in from Burleson...they made the trip because she was so agitated by the noises in her head. She has 2 or 3 noises, like me. The leader of the group and I were able to do a lot in the way of encouragement, I think, and I made a date to meet this gal midway between our cities to give her some books and CDs that might help her.
This morning I was reflecting on the past year after a few weird dreams about it last night. For some reason that story about "Footprints" popped into my head. I thought about how relevant that story, if overused, is in my life, and I'm sure, yours. I started a dialogue with our Big Daddy, unbeknownst to my conscious mind, and here's what transpired:
Me: "Lord, I see those footprints. Sometimes there is only one set...sometimes there are two."
Father: "Child, the times there was only one set are the times that I carried you."
Me, knowing how our Father wipes away our transgressions: "Thank you, Lord...for helping me. But, Father...I see sometimes that it looks as if the footprints have been swept away...I see no prints, just swirls and ridges in the sand!"
Father: "Ah, yes, my beloved child. Those are the many times I had to drag you through something!"
And, so it was.

Mom, Joanie, Nana-- July 1, 1932-November 15, 1997 "June Cleaver with an attitude"