When Bad Things Happen

*******
You are constantly given proof,
You are always invited to believe,
You are eternally being supported in that,
                       You Are Amazing!

Connect with Love
                                                                                                                                      everything else is distraction

What a difference a day makes!

In becoming the person you were meant to be in this life, bad things will happen to you. What else will coax you from your carefully maintained comfort zone of limiting possibilities?
So what’s really happening when baaaaad things happen?
Upon reflection, I would have to admit that five years ago I was pretty high on myself.  I felt sure of and satisfied with my life and rather proud of my accomplishments; creative, active, big thinking problem solver, go to person, answer lady, whatever it takes (so said my Ex) big time doer, never sick, etc., there was always something going on, something that I needed to do. I always wore the most intriguing outfits and was fairly certain that I was personally responsible for a few trends. “You’re where you should be all the time and when you’re not you’re with…..”
Well, then I became ill.
For the next two months I lived in my office scouring the internet and printing out pages of reports and findings on suspecting causes.
Doctor after doctor and no one could tell me why or give a cause for “my condition” other than anxiety. So of course I was prescribed medication. Once on impulse I thanked a doctor for his insight because I could feel his growing frustration and impatience with me, and because I so needed at least a feeling of something constructive to come of this latest consultation.  He seemed pleased with himself and very condescendingly sent me on my way, sure of his victory over my presentation.  Just Imagine, feeling the worst you’ve ever felt and the only action available to you was to alleviate the stress in the person you rely upon to help you.  It was clear to me that I would have to find my way to the answers through my own efforts.

What you need is always there for you

On a day that I shall never forget, with one particular specialist, I answered yes to a question all doctors ask during consultation. Until then each time I’d answered, “No.”  The question was, “Do you have a headache?”
Driving home from yet another perplexed doctor, I wondered, after 3 months into my investigation of my illness, and so many visits to doctors and emergency rooms what was different this time? Why had I answered yes? I started going backward with all of the details of that day. Everything was unremarkable except for how uncharacteristically, I had closed the windows of my car leaving only the sunroof open because it was chilly from the night before when it rained. No air, all windows open is my usual. Was there anything else about the car? Yes there was. The engine had recently been replaced. Just then an ethereal suggestion coming slowly into consciousness hinted, “Could carbon monoxide be involved?”

Once at home I immediately I called my general practitioner’s office. I spoke to the nurse and told her I needed to the doctor to know about my suspicions regarding carbon monoxide. She called back minutes later to ask if I meant to say carbon dioxide. Really?  I started to cry. I had never been so completely frustrated or felt so entirely lost, alone, and desperate. I fell to the floor and prayed, “Please help me. Down here no one seems to know anything!” Then an instruction was given to me, a concise, authoritative, directive,  “Take the carbon monoxide detector from the wall and place it in the car.” I was stunned for a moment. Then I followed through placing the meter in the driver’s seat, I closed the windows, started the engine, got out of the car, and closed the door. After 10 minutes waiting on my porch, I returned to the car to get the meter reading which registered a very high level of carbon monoxide. I was being poisoned by my car’s exhaust fumes!
Stress slipped away and I felt a warm comforting Presence all around me. I didn’t want to stray from it so I continued to lie there enjoying the most amazing sense of security and love and acceptance. I could have been taken away on a breeze. My prayer was answered and I felt safe for the first time in months.

Recovery from this kind injury takes a long time and patient, consistent self-care. What a challenge it is for a previously impatient me!

I am different now.  I can’t do-it-all these days but with Grace I’ve learned, in exchange, that when I allow others to do for me I get to experience the beautiful gift of connection existing between us all. People seem to gravitate to the opportunity to experience that connection, to express the Love! Amazing!
For a take-charge personality the biggest challenge has been a simple one; to allow others. Though it continues to be my first response, I just don’t get a charge out of reacting in that way anymore. My good fortune has been that I’ve established some incredible bonds as well as rid myself of a couple of fair-weather-friends (after so many years, who knew, though they have always been rather difficult.) Because of my illness I know some of what’s been missing. And each day I discover more, i.e. my love of writing!

So could it be that the bad things that happen are just an invitation to experience your life from a different perspective, to see what becomes of you? And perhaps it’s all part of the grand design anyway, in revealing the wonder of you, your self, your most precious and amazing gift!
Wow!

** During this most difficult time of my life, a long-forgotten memory emerged.  Following my inspiration I started writing what I could remember.  As recollections unfolded the title was changed several times but it was clear in the end that this was my story.

With much love and gratitude,

Char

Two Little Girls by Charon Dianehttp://booklocker.com/books/4718.html

This is a 50-page novelette about the most extraordinary experience of my childhood which took place in pre-civil-rights era Virginia.  It was written with love and deep appreciation for my family.  It might well have been entitled , “The Gift”.

Be good, be you be well!

Love,

Char

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Hello world!

Well finally, after 5 years of dealing with my “condition” I feel both the strength and motivation, enough so that I can invest the time marketing my book, my novelette, Two Little Girls.

I hear that this is when the real work begins.  After all, the words came pouring out of me and in less than two weeks I had written a book!

It all started in 2010 with an unexpected visit to my home.  I was living alone in the  old family house.  The youngest member of my family of 12, recently reduced by the passing of its three most elder members; my maternal aunt, my father and then my mother.  Visiting today was the only remaining relative of my parents’ generation, a generation that thought it polite and necessary to “come calling” on extended family.

I remember that whenever he came to call, he brought something special with the bond that existed between them.  A world seemed to form around the three of them built upon their recollections and bursts of laughter that would not be contained.  They were almost childlike, one out-doing the other with what they remembered of the past.  I enjoyed seeing them this way.  I can think of nothing to provoke such abandonment of parental restraint as Simon’s visits.  But today he’d come to visit with me.  I was thrust into connecting with him as one adult to another.

It was odd as we two sat in Mother’s living room as I cannot remember anything  passing between us beyond a smile and, in those days, what was considered acceptable, brief admonishment for what could be expected from a child for simply being one.    It wasn’t long before he told me the news that my grandparent’s farm had been sold to a developer.  The house, the barn, the smokehouse, everything was gone.

I couldn’t move.  I never thought that it would be destroyed; perhaps renovated beyond recognition but not that it wouldn’t be there in some form for me to visit whenever I chose to do so.

Instantly it seemed the earth around me fell away and I was standing on a small bit looking out with no point of reference.  In an attempt to hold on to what I remember, a story evolved to include all that remained with me of my grandparents farm in Virginia.

Two Little Girls by Charon Diane

http://booklocker.com/books/4718.html