Forgive thyself

I have been known to talk too much, or too loud. But then again, I've also been told that people feel comfortable around me & talking to me. I've been told that when I say aloud to people that I know I do actually talk loud & fast ... that I really am just coming across as passionate and fun.

I've spent some time processing both angles.

I've learned recently during my "life review" how important it truly is to not worry so much about what other people think, say, or do. It is a hard, hard thing to work on and master.

I am always a work in progress.

I am sure that I not alone in this endeavor.

I've, also, been called an "interviewer", as well as an "interrogator".

I must admit that I know that I've been both, in good & bad ways. I've messed up more times than I like to think about. Foot-in-the-mouth type thing. Or lacking something called a "filter" when communicating to others.

I like to think of myself more along the terms of interested and curious.

So therefore, I tend to ask a lot of questions.

It is just my natural way, the way I was designed and made to function in the world.

I am truly listening and interested. Really!

Words like curiosity, intrigue, compassion, understanding, mercy, and love come to mind as I listen to others tell their Stories to me. I work really hard at not going to a place of judgment with everyone I meet.

But, of course I do at times - as I am only human after all.

I believe that everyone has a Story.

And that every Story is worth telling because I've learned that there are always lessons (some majorly profound!) to be learned from each & every single day of your Life. In every encounter, or event, or person whom who just "randomly" bump into.

The lessons just will never run out.

They are always for everyone present I truly believe. And although going through things can be pure torture while we go through them, it sure seems that in the end, it does all work out for the good of all.

Somehow, in some way.

If you've been following My Story along, as well as Ours, or if you know us on a more personal level, then I think you will know which neighborhood boys I am talking about, which Family.

For privacy reasons & out of my sense of loyalty, I'd prefer not to use any names.

As I've thought through the past few days and watched as this simple Story unfolded, words such as symbolism, metaphors, and analogies all have come to my mind & heart, but at this moment in time, I am not at a really good place of actually appreciating these words that I love so much.

I've learned through and because of my own Life experiences that I will eventually get there, in my own way, in my own timing.

For some of us, it just takes us a little bit longer to get there.

A few days ago, I woke up from a well-needed nap (I am playing "catch up" from Lyme disease messing with my melatonin levels!) to these 3 boys, plus our Luke, taking care of 2 baby birds that they found without their Mom (this is what I was told anyway).

Of course, I instantly knew what that meant, what it really meant; however, I just woke up & was still a little foggy from my nap.

I asked a bunch of questions, of course! Gave the appropriate advice to at least call the Humane Society, among other things.

The oldest boy nodded. I went about my Domestic Engineering chores , and just wasn't paying close enough attention to what was literally going on at my kitchen table.

Understandably so, I know, but still ...

The boys had realized that their new "friends", whom they had named, were very hungry & thirsty.

Naturally, of course.

Right underneath my nose, I essentially allowed them to feed the baby birds little pieces of bologna and water using a turkey baster.

Yes, this is called distraction and trying to multi-task (not very well I might add!) and dealing with other stressors.

As boys are, especially at these ages, all under the sweet age of 12 did was ... as any kid probably naturally would do ... was to sort of "overdo" it a little bit.

But that little mistake was not good by any means.

They, essentially, started giving them drops of water straight into their open, waiting, flapping beaks ... slowly - at first.

Until I heard, "What is wrong with him. I think he's dead?!" did I 'snap to' & go into my immediate, almost all-too-familiar, emergency-survival mode and realized the water had come out way too fast and they were drenched and shivering to death.

Literally.

I knew what the death of these birds could very possibly do to these kids, who were essentially, just redirecting their hurt & anger in a good way onto these poor birds, but was most interesting was how much it was actually paralleling their own lives, almost exactly.

The day prior, these boys' Mom had actually moved out of their home into her own apartment.

Well, my "first aid" training & skills kicked into gear.

Did I tell you that this was the day when it was in the 90's & we had our A/C on full blast?

Got them OUTSIDE fast ... I directed fast ... told 1 to get their nest that they had made, another to get a warm towel, put them close together. (Oh my!)

As anyone would've naturally done, I know.

But more importantly, I told them that they needed to talk to them because the birds recognized their Voices, and not mine. I knew that this would bring them comfort, all of us.

I did what came naturally to me, too, and that was to first pray inside over & over & over, especially when they kept saying, "Please don't die on us, please!"

I also grabbed my camera (to keep myself busy), as I love images to always go along with the Story being told.

Finally, both birds "perked" up from being in their natural environment.

I gave Thanks and moved on, however, I knew all too well, personally, about things like stress and the biology of trauma to know that this Story wasn't going to end well.

They were teeny tiny birds after all.

Plus, I knew that sometimes God does answer our most heartfelt prayers with a No, as soft and gently as it may come.

The boys took them home and got back to playing as kids do.

I went about my day. Life moves on. It just does.

The Show Must Go On, even when we really don't want it to or don't know how that will even look.

It just does. Has to. Will.

This afternoon I was informed by them that the 2nd bird had, also, finally died.

It didn't really surprise or shock me, as this is the exact same thing that happened to Matthew's first real pet of his very own, a bird, although we had Cally our black lab at the time. Unfortunately, Megan, who was 1 thought it would be a good idea to put brother's birdy into one of her barbie's dresser drawers because she figured he'd like it and have some fun! I'm sure his bizarre noises made her finally let him out ... to fly away for capture from us.

The next morning Matthew went into something called shock when he went to greet his friend & his friend wouldn't wake up.

He was 3 years old.

That was his first experience with death. And a funeral & burial.

As Life is and goes, as it always will.

It is called The Circle of Life.

Then years later, Jimmy - our cat - accidentally killed a different bird of ours. {Yeah, I didn't learn my lesson apparently!}

Accidents happen. Mistakes too.

As well as personal failures. Broken promises.

However, although this may not seem like that big of a deal to some, for me, Lori, I just can't help feeling awful about the whole darn thing even happening in the first place, all under my watch.

Especially, and most particularly, when they keep saying its "their" fault their birds died. One said, "I gave him too much bologna." Then the other, "No, it was my fault, not yours!" (Yikes, gulp!)

Yet, no matter how much I tell them where their friends are, or what good caretakers they were, or how it truly is my fault; not theirs, I don't think that this simple truth is sinking in. Not yet anyway.

Grief takes some time. It just does.

They will get there ... I know ... and so will I.

Forgiving oneself for simple mistakes that are made every day. Sometimes day after day after day.

One step forward, two steps back ... some days.

I've learned awhile ago to no longer "apologize" per se for who I am, or how I feel, or how I think to others because I learned that that never got me or anyone else to a good place at the end of the day.

But much more importantly, I no longer apologize to myself for these things about me. I learned this most recently how much this doesn't serve me. It hasn't been easy by any means.

I am still in a place of sadness, feeling sort of "bummed out". I just am a very emotional, sensitive person who wears my heart on my sleeve. I feel much more sad for them, more so than the birds.

For all of what they are going through in their lives ... more than the death of their bird friends.

I would "add" the pictures, but I'd rather not (too much negative energy! :), but instead I'd like this "video", "lyrics", "artist" to help me along in telling the story. I hope you get the deeper meaning behind it all.

Please remember to click the "Pause" button on my playlist before you hit play.

Thank you for reading along and especially for those of you 'out there' I know who have been praying not just for me, but also for this Family, these kids. I am deeply grateful and appreciative.