The Appeal of Polygyny

Did you know that the mormons did not practise polygamy? No. It was polygyny. Polygamy only means plural spouse and there was deffinitley no plural husbands going around. Polygyny means plural wives. And that is what the mormons did. Okay there is your sociology lesson for the day.

My good friend is here from Calgary. I always love our visits whether it is me visiting her or her visiting me. One of the things that I enjoy so much is just how easy household chores become. We just work together so well all the while chatting and laughing. We decide what to eat, we make it together. We make sure that we each get rest. We look after eachother's children. It just flows without a lot of effort. I love it. In these moments I can understand the appeal of polygyny. Not that I want to share my husband. But I can believe that there were some women - plural wives of the same man - who were devasted and heartbroken to be split up.

I suppose it doesn't mean that will happen everytime. My own great-great-grandmother - Jeremiah Hatch's second wife of 3 (the first one died before he married my ancestress so she was 1 of 2 wives). Aurilla Bard Hadlock didn't seem to harbour any great affection for the other wife. When the practise of polygyny ended in Utah, she was outta there with her kids and didn't look back.

But right now, I have am filled up with talking about myself and about my friend and our children and our lives. My kitchen is spotless. Our children are playing happily together. And I understand the appeal...

Smells

Did you know that your olfactory sense is the only one of your senses that goes directly to the brain. For example the information you take in from your eye goes through the optic nerve and the information you take in with your ears likewise. But what you smell goes directly to your brain. That is why in an instant, a smell can bring to the surface sharp memories long forgotten.

Tonight when I went with Andrew to Kal beach for what has become our nightly ritual in this hot weather, there was the smell of woodsmoke in the air (must be a forest fire somewhere). It was a distinct smell - not the usual, easy-to-light cedar of campgrounds but a different kind of wood. Pine, maybe? Spruce? I don't know. But the smell instantly brought back to me my childhood in Prince George. Specifically weiner roasts in Fort George Park back when you used to be able to do that. And suddenly the whole panaorama of Fort George Park opened up in my minds eye - the water park, the white tire teeter totter that Doug and I loved to bounce each other on, the old fashioned fire truck sunk into concrete, the acres of green grass where we played touch football and the chain fences. All there in my mind, in an instant, standing up to my knees in lake water at Kal beach.

The smell of lake water brings back many layers of memory. The ocean was an exotic destination, much sought after but visited only rarely. Lakes were our family's playground in the summer. Bear Lake, Ness Lake, 6 Mile Lake, Jim Smith Lake, Wasa Lake, Lakelse. We spent many sunny days at the beach. So many hot evenings Dad got home from work, we grabbed a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken or Mom had the cooler packed with all the stuff for weiner roasts and we headed to the beach. I can remember those northern summer evenings that went on forever. I love the beach. I love the little escape from all the presses of daily life - the closeness of our family as we played together. And I love how it has continued into my own family. The beach is one place we still all play together. Mud fights at Jade Bay - I laugh as the mud Kaetlyn plopped on Dean's bald head slides down. We dive and cavort and rest and just be together.

Ah the memories of smells...

Another Night or Torture

Nevermind that it was 35 degrees yesterday and my house has East/West exposure (well actually this house as E/W and S/N exposure...). Okay, nevermind that it was 35 degrees and I live in a freaking glass house and it only cooled off to 17 degrees by 6am which means that for most of the night it was above 20 degrees...(see the last 24 hours http://www.theweathernetwork.com/weather/24h/pages/WJV.htm?CABC0312 ) Never mind the heat. Nevermind that I rode my bike into Vernon and then all over downtown handing out brochures and then home again in the heat of the day. Nevermind the physical exhaustion. I took Rhiannon down to Kal beach and swam at 10pm until we were deliciously cool. We came home and flopped into bed, happy and refreshed - read 2 chapter of James and the Giant Peach and we both fell quickly to sleep in our respective beds.

At 1:30 she woke me up, knocking on my door. She kept calling me - usually just as I was drifting into dreamland. Again and again and again until 3am when the sky was lightening and I threatened to sleep in the van in some shady spot far away from here.... Everyone was awake by then - Drew and Dean, too. Finally, she went back to sleep.

At 5:00am she is insisting that it is morning and she is getting up. At this point I am sleeping on the couch in hopes that Dean who has to work all day in the boiling sun will be able to get some sleep. There is some crying and yelling (on her part, although I felt like it) as I put her back to bed AGAIN! She slept then until 8am.

So today I am a slug. I blob. I had deep thoughts stirring in my brain I wanted to share on my blog but I can hardly string two sentences together. My fingers and toes are the size of sausages. My house desperately needs cleaning and my best friend is taking the all night bus to be here first thing tomorrow morning.... It is not a day I can slack off.

So my plan? Turn on good music and work like a tired maniac all morning and then sleep in the afternoon. Rhiannon has a violin lesson this afternoon at 4pm at the music school which means a bike ride in the stifling heat of the late afternoon and a big hill. Can I do it? Well, that remains to be seen.

This is Andrea with fingers and toes the size of sausages, and who is finding it impossible to sit up straight for any amount of time, signing off. I am sure there are several spelling/gramatical errors. My apologies... (as my head droops and hits the keyboard...) I'll correct them after my nap...

New Family Members of the Feline Variety

Well, of course Sheeba can never be replaced. We still miss her black, soft, silky affection. But this is not a place where we are prepared to live without a cat. When Sheeba went missing, we were already in the midst of looking for another outdoor cat to help Tigger with the incredible rodent population. We ended up getting a grey female kitten from the same farm we got Tigger - although no relation to Tigger - guarnateed to be a mouser. She is Andrew's kitten and her name is Delila. Or DillyDilly.

Then a week after that, we went to the SPCA (where we got Sheeba) in search of another black kitten or young cat. There was a huge litter of 10 black kittens. Rhiannon picked out the blackest one. She has a sweet scrunched up face. Rhiannon named her Coppelia (and no, that wasn't my idea... I wanted to name her Brita) We've had them for a couple of weeks now. They were both 8 weeks old when we got them.

So, here they are...


This is Coppelia




















Here they are wrapped up together on Kaetlyn's bed...













And here is Delila - doesn't she look like a lean, mean mouse-killing machine here? If I was a mouse, I'd be afraid...

Blessed - The Legacy of Love

I am home from 4 days of camping with my homeschooling group. It is the middle of the afternoon and I am about to fall into the soft, clean coolness of my bed. But before I do, my heart is so full, I want to express it. I just camped with 10 other amazing women and their children. I am covered in mosquito bites; I got maybe 15 minutes of sleeping between the late, late night talk of boys and school and Rhiannon vomitting twice and being freezing last night but I am so recharged. I am happy and at peace. I am full.

It was camping days of nothing and of everything. We ate together, played and talked together - all kinds of things from metaphysics to homeschooling to how children learn to read to how boys are treated in the school system and in our culture to mosquitos to religion. I sat on the beach covered in deet. My children played. Rhiannon played in big groups and small groups. She played with the girls and she played with the boys. Andrew connected with girls and boys younger than him of all different ages. He rode his bike; he went for walks; he went to the store; he ran around screaming and chasing. He sat on the beach with his friends and he fit in perfectly. Kaetlyn came after her exams on Wednesday and she connected with another older sister who also goes to school. We just fit in. And it was so easy. Perhaps it was not so easy for others but it was easy for me.

I feel such acceptance and understanding in this group of women. I am so grateful for them in my life. Amongst them I feel more often than anywhere else that I am seen for who I am - all the complexities of me. I feel like it is ok to be me. So I come home tired and mosquito bitten with vomit on sleeping bags and my soul is full to the brim. I am filled up with validation and encouragement and acceptance. I know that my children are okay. That my family is okay. That we are doing all right. That I have something to contribute that is worthwhile and something to receive that I really need. And feeling so accepted and validated and valued myself, I look at my children and I see how wonderful and beautiful and incredible they are. I am refreshed in my efforts with them. My energy is renewed. In fact, I am renewed and hopeful about many things. I feel more detirmined to do my bit for the environment, to speak up about local produce, to support local agriculture, to eat better, to be better... What a gift.

As my 41st birthday nears and another year has gone past I see what a magic has been in my life this year. It started with the bike hike with my sisters around Salt Spring Island - another wonderful connecting - and it ends here with another camping trip with my soul sisters. I have spent a lot of my life feeling isolated and alone. No more. I have worked hard at finding a real community for myself and my family and I feel so blessed, so very grateful to have found it - to be a part of it - to feel it around me and under me, supporting me and accepting my support.

Put Back Together Again

Today is an anniversary for me of a miracle. On May 13, 2001, I broke both my tibial plateaux. (see archives for May - Grateful). The year after that accident was a very difficult one as I struggled to realize what this meant to the rest of my life. My left tibial plateau was only cracked and healed perfectly (although there is still a screw in there somewhere that I can feel once in a while...). My right tibial plateau was crushed, my cartlidge (sp?) demolished and jagged pieces of my tibial plateau pushed down into my tibia. (This is a picture of a tibial plateau. Your tibia is your shin bone. The tibial plateau is the flat part at your knee where it meets up with your femur from your thigh. The small bone is the fibula.) My surgeon didn't know what to do. He sent me to a knee specialist in Calgary at the Foothills Hospital. That was very discouraging. He told me that there was nothing to be done to fix my knee. He asked me if I could work and look after my family and of course, I could (you can do those things from a wheel chair!). And that was that.

In the meantime, my tibial plateau was depressed by .8 cm. on the one side. Every step was painful and my leg below the knee veered out by 23 degrees. I couldn't walk long distances; I couldn't run; even dancing was painful. With all of my x-rays and cat scans in hand, right after Calgary, I went tearfully to my physio therapist, Kees Husken. This was the first time he had seen all my x-rays (because Surgeons don't cooperate very well with phyios). He looked at them all and explained to me why all their ideas wouldn't work. Then he told me about a rare procedure. A tibial plateau transplant.... I took all the information to my surgeon. Of course, he knew about it... (I still don't know why he didn't recommend it). He referred me for the procedure. The procedure is only done in Toronto by the Dr Gross out of Mt Sianai Hospital. He pioneered the procedure and every Dr who does it anywhere in the world, learned from him.

This procedure involves someone who has died and donated their body for organ transplants. Then it has to match for sex and height and build. Donors have to be clean living and under the age of 30. Then, within a week of death, a piece of their tibial plateau is cut out and my damaged piece of plateau is cut out. Hers is put in. Her cartlidge is sewn over top. Normally people have to wait years for a match. I got a call within months of being referred (before they even had all my paper work). This little piece of bone acts as a template for my own bone to grow into. I would have to be non-weightbearing for 1 year while my bone did this amazing thing...

On June 17, 2002 - only a year and a month after my original injury, Dr Gross transplanted someone's tibial plateau into my knee. He is a very kind man and I will always be grateful to him and his social worker who took the time to talk to me and get to know me. My procedure was actually televised to a confrence on cartlidge transplantation happening in Toronto... I had flown alone to Toronto. Friends of Dean's who had never met me came to visit me. I was in the hospital for 9 days until the agonizing flight home and the year of my recovery began (but that is another story for another post sometime). I am so grateful to be a Canadian. Our medical system may have its problems but it worked for me when it really mattered. I can walk again because of my physio-therapist and Dr. Gross. I will never forget them for believing in my life and understanding the importance of mobility to even a 35 year old woman. Everytime I dance, as I slowly re-learn how to jog and run, as I skip with my dance class, as go for long hikes, I remember the miracle. Thank you!

Beautiful Dancers

Tonight was the dance recital for my little dance class. They were beautiful. It was an amazing performance and I was so proud of them. And it was truly in 'creative movement' style. In class we have spent lots of time doing free dancing - listening to music, thinking about it, interpretting it. And our recital was just like that. I let them pick what character they wanted to be and then Bozenka and I created the story (mostly Bozenka - I just came up with the outline) from the characters they chose (1 princess, 1 tiger and 5 fairies). I spent many hours coming up with the music and getting it all burned onto one CD. Today I was at the school from 12:30 on, setting it up and decorating. Two of the moms, my friends, came and helped me 'magic-ify' the room. It was beautiful. I brought lamps from home to get rid of the gross overhead lighting and make it feel more like a stage. Bozenka came and read the story. It was so magical. They danced out a whole story - a total of 9 dances - it took about 30 minutes. My 7 little dancers were magificent. They improvised on the spot.

My philosophy about dance is that dancing for most is a natural out-pouring. And young children don't need someone to tell them what to do or how to dance. Left to their own creativity, they made an amazing dance. For me to tell them to do what they did naturally, it would have taken months of rehearsals and all the fun would have been out of it. I feel so priviledged to have been a small part of their dancing.

Homeschooling with SelfDesign

This year has been a most awesome year for us in homeschooling. This would be my 8th year homeschooling and I think I have finally got it right. (I homeschooled Erin and Kaetlyn for 4 years and this is mine and Andrew's 4th). I have tried many different approaches and found different kinds of support and it has never really fit very well. Or I have just done my own thing but then I have been left alone with my own doubts and sporadic impuses. And always, no matter where I was registered or not registered over the years, there was never really support for me. But I have had awesome support this year. The support I have received from my Learning Consultant has enabled me to better support Andrew. He has made important connections with other kids like him in the'village' and found great adult mentors, too. He is a transformed boy. It has been good for Rhiannon, too but it has been more dramatic for Andrew. I find the Observing for Learning (O4L) reporting process very meaningful and it really helps me find a balance of discipline while still allowing the natural flow of learning to go on. Sometimes I just get so caught up in daily life and I tend to focus on the future, it has been really useful to reflect on what has been going on. And it has been useful when I am afraid nothing is going on, too... I could not say enough good things about SelfDesign. They have just opened up for enrolment to the general public today. Following is their message. If you haven't already checked out SelfDesign, I highly recommend it.


About SelfDesign Learning Community

• The purpose and praxis of SelfDesign – We exist as a independent community (in the eyes of the ministry, a certified group 1 school) to support the emergent, holistic learning of children ages 5 – 14 years. We advocate the rights of learners to design their own learning plans, which becomes a child’s curriculum for the year. Our work is aligned with many noted holistic educators, academics and philosophers and the insights on multiple intelligences pioneered by Harvard professor Howard Gardner. Our praxis of supporting emergent learning and our Village of Conversations are unique in the province.

We do not, and will not, coerce a child to learn. We are convinced that a curriculum that emerges from interest and meaning is 'real' for each child.

The Ministry of Education has constructed its rules and regulations around educators teaching children to meet prescribed learning outcomes. We are focused on learning, on a child's natural enthusiasm to understand his or her world. Our position is that children learning naturally will, over time, achieve and exceed the criteria set by the Ministry about what it means to be an educated person. Our consistent and regular Observing for Learning allows us to prove that our learners achieve equivalent or better results than children in 'taught' environments. Our Learning Consultants work with the learner and family to support the learner's plan.

Many endorsements of SelfDesign may be found on our website Our program has historically served the independent learner, many of whom naturally tend to 'think outside the box'. Children who ask bigger questions and children who have a deep sense of purpose and interest.

If families are interested in learning more about our program or if you wish to enrol, please visit www.selfdesign.org

Spider Bite

Well, on Friday sometime during my feverish work on the Inner World School brochure, a bloodthirsty spider feasted on my bum. Yes, I have a collection of spider bites on my rear end. A rather large and sore collection. It must have bit me 4 - 6 (can't quite see well enough to count...) times all in the same place. My glands in my hip joint on the same side of my body swelled up to about the size of a squishy golf ball. Now the glands in my neck on the same side are also swollen so that my right ear hurts as well. Today it is just barely getting to the itchy stage but hurts to be itched. I've been applying tea tree oil and aloe vera gel. I don't really know if it is helping or not. So there you have it. What a place to get a spider bite!

Things That Make Me Smile

Today was a smiley day. The thing that made me smile the most was playing with this. This week I bought myself something I have wanted for a looooong time. I first saw one of these 'trail bikes' when Kaetlyn was Rhiannon's size and I thought how fun that would be.... and then she was too big. And then I thought it would be fun to do with Andrew.... and then he got to big. So this week before Rhiannon got any bigger and as a reward for all that window washing, I bought myself one of these. Mine is midnight blue to match my bike (only I couldn't find a picture of a blue one). Today Rhiannon and I went for a long (well, way longer than she could have done on her own) bike ride. She was so absolutely enthusiastic about the whole experience. She couldn't believe how far she had ridden. And she pedals and it really does help going up hills. We rode all the way to Kal Lake Store (no idea how far that is - 5 minute car ride?) to get some buns for supper. It smelled so good out and the lake was beautiful and dramatic with waves lashing the shore as we spun on by and we were both so happy. I was right. It really is a lot of fun! I highly recommend it. We are going to be using that a lot! No more bus rides for us!

Here is another thing that made me laugh today. While in Kal Lake Store, I went up to the dairy cooler to get some whipping cream. As I came up to the cooler there was a woman about my age standing in front of me. Just as I came up, she let out a looong, loud, unmistakable sound. Yup, she passed wind. And then startled and embarrassed to know that I was right there, she jumped and ran out of the store. I laughed about that one all the way home. Why are we so embarrassed about natural bodily functions?

It was a happy day, a lighthearted day. And this song was going through my head... A song is a wonderful kind of thing, so lift up your voice and sing. Just start a glad tune let it float let it ring and lift up your voice and sing...

Worry

So, I am a person with very tight shoulders. I carry all my worry there. And really, I have been realizing lately, I worry a lot. Not that I think that I speak of my worries a lot to others but mostly I carry it all inside - and in my shoulders. I worry about my family. I worry for my husband and our relationship. I worry for my daughters, for my son, for how well I do as a parent. I worry. I worry about Erin going to Montreal. I worry about how she is going to get there and how she will live when she is there. I worry. I have just been realizing how very much I actually do worry. Maybe it is because I am such a strong person and I always find a way to make it work for myself and I worry for my husband and my children that they will give up too early and I want to do it for them but know that I can't. And so I worry more...

So anyways, my good friend Bozenka and I worked on the summer brochure for the Inner World School until late in the night. Then I had to drive her the 45 minutes out to her house. On the quiet way home after midnight in the dark, I was concentrating on breathing deeply and letting go of all the worry and strain that was pressing on me and trusting that everything is as it needs to be and my family has their own lessons to learn and they are strong and they will figure it out in their own way and in their own time. I don't have to be strong for everyone. I can't anyways... I was focussing on loving myself and really letting that in and sweep over my shoulders and down my back.

Then I felt hands lightly on my shoulders and a voice said, "you have no need of this" and I knew it meant all the worry and stress I have taken on myself. I knew that I was loved and that I was in hands far bigger than my own and that Dean, Erin, Kaetlyn, Drew and Rhiannon were also in these hands and indeed, "the world is unfolding as it should". Because there is no other way. And I cried. I drove along highway 97, crying and releasing all that worry that serves no purpose but to weigh me down and contaminate my relationships. It was a wonderful drive!

And Rhiannon has slept through the last 2 nights! Now that was a good sleep!

Graduation

Today my friend graduated from UBC Okanagan (I'm sorry but UBC-O just sounds like part of an Old McDonald song or 'An old black dog sat on the back porch and ...'). I went to watch her receive her degree. I was so proud of her and many times tears were in my eyes and on my cheeks. I never attended my own graduation. I finished my last class August 19 and the grad ceremonies at UVic were not until November. By then I was living half a continent away in Winnipeg. So today, I walked through the auditorium with her, too, in spirit.

My friend looked so radient, so happy, so proud of her accomplishment. And I know what an accomplishment it was for her - the determination and the will. I have known her since a lifetime ago when I was 17 and we were both living in PG. I left PG a couple of years later but our paths crossed again here in the Okanagan. I feel that she is my soul sister - we have a connection like family - always there somewhere in the backgrounds of each other lives, able to confide in each other what is real in our lives. We have worked together in many different capacities and although our personalities are very different (like completely opposite) we always work well together because we have such respect for each other. She has been a real gift in my life. A sister and friend, working for the same goals whose faithfulness I know I can trust. I admire her and it was such a priviledge to be there today and share in this wonderful celebration with her and bask a little in her glow. Wow... It brings tears to my eyes still to remember the pure glow on her face as she walked through the auditorium. She DID it! Congratulations!

Rhiannon drew this picture for me today. This is an angry elephant. He is angry because he is hungry. The thing on his back is a chair for someone to sit in and the little happy face is someone waiting to jump into the chair as he goes by.

Still no Sheeba. We are slowly adjusting to life without her. A week ago, if I were typing on the computer like this she would be laying across the back of the computer chair like a fur blanket - flattened out. I saw a black cat today when I was getting dirt for my garden - I knew right away it was not her; it was not a sleek, black cat - more fluffy and bigger. But I called out anyways... It just ran away... I think an owl got her but there is still a little spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, somehow she is out there still and could come home to us...

I had a loooong nap yesterday afternoon and then stayed up cleaning the house, etc. until 1am. Rhiannon woke up twice while I was still awake and was settled before I went to sleep. I got 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep! What a treat. I had so much more energy today. What a difference that makes! I got my house clean and got a lot done in my gardens.

Blob

I am soooo tired. I feel like a jelly fish, a blob, a carcas. Rhiannon has been torturing me at night, waking up 3 - 4 times. Today I am at wits end. I don't do tired well... I have a really hard time making myself DO anything. This morning I started having fantasies about taking the back seat out of the van and sleeping there... where I couldn't hear her calling me...calling me....calling me... It has just been too many days of tiredness. I am tired of being tired....

Sheeba, Oh, Sheeba Where Are You?

Sheeba, Shebitsyba, Shebooba, the silly softy, the meow machine, Sheeba the great bird hunter and mouse killer, where have you gone? Have you become an owl dinner? coyote lunch? Have you been hit by a car? got lost chasing a bird? Rhiannon wants to know, if you are in cat heaven, could you still come visit us. I tell her that you could only come in her dreams. She dreamed of you last night...

If you are already in cat heaven, we want you to know how much we loved you. If you are wandering, find a way home, we love you. We want to see you playing in the cardboard house that Rhiannon decorated for you; we want to hear your insistent squawk in the morning as soon as we get up, hungry for your cat kibble. We want to see you wrestling and playing tag with Jodi and curled up asleep with Tigger like one huge orange and black cat. We loved having you, Sheeba. You were a kind, loving and playful cat. Jodi and Tigger will miss their playmate and we will miss your warm, black silkiness. What a sorrow that animals never live as long as their owners. Sad that all of you that is left here is your litter box and black hairs in the places you liked to curl up. 2 years was a short time. We would have liked to have had you longer. Thank you for the time we did have. Sheeba, oh Sheeba, where have you gone?

Trying Too Hard

Dean has left for Revelstoke where they are playing this week end. But before he left, he had some windows to do this morning so I went with him to get them all done quickly and we are really quick together. We did one house in 20 minutes... But on the second house, the home of two local professionals, they had this film often found on high-end homes. Slightly mirrored/tinted stuff that coats the outside of the window. It is supposed to decrease the heat from the sun. They had it EVERYWHERE. C'mon people, the sun is never going to reach the windows underneath your huge deck!...

Anways, the film on the windows always makes it harder to get the windows streak free. I was working very hard at getting them streak free. Usually, the harder you press with the squeegee, the less streaks (or none) you have. (there's another window washing tip - many people try a squeegee and then give up and hire a window washer...) I was pressing as hard as I could - even using two hands but to no avail. My triceps are still burning from the effort... I was having more and more streaks. Then for some reason, I had the idea to try the opposite. I just lightly pressed on the squeegee and drew it across the window. Magic. No streaks. Perfect windows. So as I washed window after window on this beautiful home, I considered how life is like that... sometimes the harder we try, the harder we make it for ourselves. Sometimes when we let go, things fall into place. Like people trying to have a baby who finally give up and get pregnant. Or with parenting when you try so hard and it is a struggle and then you relax and 'just be' with your kids and it all works...

So there is my tip for the day - don't try too hard!

How could they bug you? You are the oldest....

Rhiannon is sitting on my lap having sadly come indoors. The boy next door who she loves to play with is suddenly bugging her. You see, 2 other boys are visiting and together they now make a gang of boys. She was looking very sad and disappointed. They were chasing her with water guns and spraying her. I cuddled her on my lap and explained that I had 3 brothers and they bugged me all the time. That is just the way it goes with boys sometimes... And she looks up at me and says, "But you were the oldest, how could they bug YOU?" Yes, indeed, how did that ever happen?

Fight for Me

I was thinking today about my relationship. It is slowly recovering from Dean's 10-day-tour-3-day-notice thing. But I realized that I want him to show me something - some emotion - some passion....SOMETHING. I want him to fight for me. Like if this was the wild west, I would want him to duel somebody for me (well at least be willing to....) Perhaps this is rather an immature thing and it is deffinitely dramatic, yes?

But my husband is not a fighter. He is a stayer. He has staying power. Somehow, through everything (and there has been no shortage of 'things' - from the challenges of being a step-parent to 3 children to broken legs) he stays. He stays and he stays and he stays. Sometimes I must drive him near to distraction but he stays. And it is not that it is only me that he won't fight for, he is just not the fighting kind. He is the kind who lets things be, who lets them go by. I know this way we balance each other - I put fight into him and he helps me let things be sometimes...

I realized that sometimes I push and push, hoping to get him to 'fight' for me - to declare himself. I want him to say it, "No, I'll never leave you, you are the most wonderful woman in the world". But he doesn't say it. He would think that silly and dramatic and 'over-the-top' and unnecessary. But he stays. And I don't think my pushing is such a good thing to do. Sometimes while doing it, I wonder why I am doing it? I can see that I am poking at him but I never really understood why. I got it today. I want that dramatic declaration... I need to recognize that he does it without words. I know that it is not easy to be my spouse. I have this drive to examine myself and my life - its an irrestistible drive that is behind all I do. I want REAL. I want to be the REAL me and I want my life to reflect ME and what I believe. I am always searching inside myself. My mind is always working on me - rolling things over, twisting them about - until I 'get it'.

So I am very grateful to my wonderful friends who say those dramatic things to me - who tell me how wonderful I am. It truly feeds my soul. Perhaps I can stop pushing and poking my husband. Wow, wouldn't he like that!