Tag: Dreams

New Dreams For Old Folks: AKA What are We Gonna Do Now?

“I am old now…” like Orual in C. S. Lewis’ “Til We Have Faces. And like Orual, I have “this lean carrion that still has to be washed and fed and have clothes hung about it daily with so many changes,” well not so lean. Perhaps one of my new dreams is to get back into some better health. My old roommate from 1978 sent me photos from the “good old days”. I was trim, pretty and had all of my original teeth. I was even pretty athletic, maybe I can get back to that “lean carrion.”

One of my first dreams was to get married and have a big family. I wrote about wanting lots of kids, running around with animals, laughter, baking and fun. I wanted to raise them with a knowledge of the Lord so when they were adults they would chose His way. Most of that dream came true. The reality, though, was a little different than what I had imagined. But I did it…and I did it to the best of my ability with the tools I had. The regrets I have, I can live with.

My second dream was to get a house for my kids, especially after our lives exploded by divorce. I was obsessed for years, I was determined to find a place of our own one day, at least for the kids who were still with me. I was a regular on Redfin, scouring the site for houses I could afford. It took years to build my credit, and income to get to a place where I could buy. And finally, a couple years ago, thanks to my Mom and Dad, I had the new house, but before I knew it, the kids were all grown.

Some of them still live with me and enjoy this beautiful home…and I am grateful for the time I have left with these adult kids. Sometimes they will even hang out with me, like when a couple of the kids went to Paint Night with me or when one introduced me to a cool Irish pub in Berkeley last March. A couple even came with me to Vegas to see Barry Manilow back in 2023. Even though I see them daily and hang out sometimes, I feel a little like an outcast. They are into their own lives now, which is perfectly natural. But, nonetheless, I do think I may be suffering from a little post-maternal depression. It’s tough letting these guys go.

I am grateful though and glad that they like to hang out with each other. They are each others homies, well some of them are. There was a time when THEY were my homies (literally), they were my best buds and I hung out with them all the time. They were even my “Get Out of Social Events Free” card. Handy when you’re an introvert with social anxiety. They did everything I did, pretty much. Then they grew up. I’m not their homie anymore. That part of the dream of raising a big family is over. Boy, it seemed to go by fast.

Now, what am I gonna do? I have to work for a while longer…but soon I will retire. My imagination has withered, I can’t think of anything to do. Probably because most of the folks I hung out with for the past 35 years are otherwise engaged. All of the things I’ve wanted the past three decades had to do with the kids. And, now, poof! They don’t need me anymore.

But…what did C.S. Lewis purportedly say, according to that beacon of reliability, the Internet, “You are never too old to set a new goal or to dream a new dream.” I guess the Shoelady needs to find a new dream and a new goal.

I guess I could continue writing. I’ve had some success with my little screenplays. I could still do that. Writing is tough though, I spend a lot of time wrestling the self-doubt demons. I am determined to sell at least one story to Woman’s World Magazine. Si, se puede!

I should also probably be more active and get into better shape like those old 1978 photos, sans the beer. Especially if I am going to do the next thing.

I’ve had this dream of traveling around the world. Inspired by a photo taken of me by my friend on our Alaskan Cruise. “Shoelady Shoots the World” is the idea. Since I don’t drive freeways or fly, this world tour will be trains, boats and taxis. It’s a great idea, right? But I’m afraid I’ve become somewhat of an agoraphobe. I’m getting very comfortable in my room with my own library, my spa-like tub and my washing machine unit. I don’t even need to go downstairs and try to mix with the cool kids. Me and Columbo are having a good time up here.

But, then I remember the trip to Rome in 1996, my mother was pushing 67 (my age when I retire) and she was awesome. Running here and there, from the Coliseum, to the Catacombs along cobblestone streets and even chasing down the Pope in his Popemobile. I could do that, well maybe not chase down the Pope. I don’t have to resign myself to who knows how many years of Columbo reruns and self-pity parties. Come on, Donna. Dream better, dream wider, dream bigger.

My co-worker, who is a year older than I and wants to retire about the same time, was recently telling me about some trips he and his wife have booked. He even mentioned that they may plan a Christmas Markets trip to Europe. I googled the markets….oh my, cool weather, holiday lights, baked goods and hot chocolate smack dab in the middle of Europe. Europe, a place I’ve wanted to revisit when I’d have more time. Cathedrals, libraries, art museums…what’s not to love? Could I do that? That’s certainly new dream material, right?? Maybe my World Tour will take shape. After Europe, then Asia…Istanbul, the Holy Land, maybe India, Australia…my imagination can go wild.

There was a poem from one of my devotionals that was timely when I was just about to start working full time (about 12 years ago). I had to put my youngest into after school care and manage the after school activities of the other five kids who were still school age. I was terrified, but it was a great opportunity, and a stepping stone to providing for my family.

“Step out on the waves

          that would crush you!

       Step out in the storm

          that would hush you!

       And you will find,

          As you touch the crest

       You feared so much,

          And walked on its breast,

       There was One walking there,

          The whole night through,

       Walking, watching,

          Waiting — FOR YOU!”

Dare I ride that wave again? Dare I dream of going to places I’ve wanted to see for decades? Dare I trust the Lord to guide continually, even in this endeavor, this new dream, this new goal?

What say you? (heehee a little LOTR reference) 🙂

So to be sure of what to desire in the future, I will cling to Psalm 37:4: “Delight yourself in the Lord; and He will give you the desires of your heart.” I will each day try my best to delight in Him, in prayer, in Bible reading and in trying to work out this faith in my daily life. As a co-worker, as a “mom/roommate”, as a woman stepping out onto another wave. The pastor in a recent sermon recounted a time where he called out to the Lord in prayer: “God, I want more of You. I don’t know what I’m looking for, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just need Your Presence here.” Although he recounts this as his point of conversion, I like the prayer as I enter a new season of my life. I want more of Him…I want to delight in Him…and then He will reveal to me the true desires of my heart. Amen.

Images generated in Canva AI. Canva AI is too much fun.

Are You My Identity?

AreYouMyIdentity

Below is an excerpt from my self-published book, The Plight of the Hare & Other Stories From the Shoe. This blog was first written in 2009.

Here I am on the cusp of 50, and I am having an identity crisis like one of my 15 year olds. It is rather humorous and pathetically sad, and slightly terrifying.

I am newly divorced and for the past two decades, I pretty much conformed myself to my husband, his business (a business I liked), his wishes for our family and “subjugated” anything that was purely me to these pursuits. I don’t regret this time of my life, and we did have many things and thoughts in common. Nevertheless, as I face a single life, I am mystified as to who I really am. I am like the baby bird that went from one thing to another asking the profound and longing question, “Are you my mother?”

As I look for direction in my new life, I look back to the days before love and marriage, and try to remember the passions that were truly my own. As a perpetual people-pleaser, it’s hard to distinguish what I really like from what was either popular at the time, popular with the folks I was hanging out with or limited what things my overly active conscience deemed permissible. You see, I looked to those around me for existence confirmation, validation and acceptance. But as those influences diminished, I learned there were certain things I knew for sure that were from me, just me.

I remember my love for languages and cultures which was born in my heart in the sixth grade. After I got saved in 1979, my whole life soon revolved around my church, and that love was reinvigorated by the scores of missionary stories I read. When I got my English degree back in the ’80’s, I intended to go overseas to teach English. Maybe I should pursue that again. I had even started the certificate at Cal, but couldn’t finish because of the demands at home were very high. There were still at least nine under the same roof. They needed a little supervision, and I remembered my first and foremost responsibility. In an old (1991) journal, I copied a little poem:

This is my mission field; the kitchen sink, where countless plates and glasses clink.

While mundane tasks involve my hands, I pray for those in distant lands.

This is my mission field; a child’s heart where endless thoughts and actions start,

For in that heart through word and deed I plant and water sacred seed.

Marcia Baldon

I remember my job as a construction secretary in 1979. I worked on a job site in Redwood City. The radio was set to a local country western station – KLOK – by decree of the cigar-smoking, Andy Devine-cloned superintendent named Andy, and there I fell in love with Willie and Waylon, and Merle and Marty. I got myself some cowboy boots and I was set. “I was country when country wasn’t cool…” well, really, I was going country when it was getting popular. So this city-born country girl started gazing at plans and dreamed of building a home of her own. I taught myself how to read blueprints, and I also crudely drew a floor plan for an off the grid house on Mt. Rose in Nevada. I don’t know where the Mt. Rose idea came from, but the seeds of working in the construction industry were germinated in that little job site trailer. Over the years, I would add to my knowledge of the construction business. Maybe I’ll go get my construction management certificate and stay in this industry.

Finally, I remember I liked to write. I began writing back in elementary school for fun, I even bound my own book titled “Suzanne and the Pig”. Don’t know what became of it, never hit any best seller lists. I wrote poetry in high school; however, I was easily discouraged as you can see from this poem:

Tired of the same old words,

Tired of the same old verbs,

Wishin’ for the capacity beyond my control

To create poems true and bold.

Dreaming does no good,

Nor hoping that I could,

The energy does not exist

To dedicate my heart to this.

6-27-78

My godfather was an author, and he encouraged my writing, but I don’t think I seriously thought of doing it until I read a book my ex bought for me “Maybe You Should Write a Book”. Maybe I should, I could stay home with the kids and generate an income. I did pray a Gideon prayer in 2006 that if I was to write, I’d need to get published within the year. And I did…twice. But I’ve yet to receive a book contract…I can’t even get an agent to email me back a rejection notice.

So I look back at the expanse of my past life and ask “Will the real Donna please stand up?” Is she the country music loving pseudo-architect, the internationally traveling English teacher or the best-selling “best thing since Bombeck” writer? Actually, each and every one of these parts is a facet of who I truly am: the identities of the past, the present and the future: best-selling writer, mother of ten great kids, and future wife of knight in shining armor, and builder of dreams.

Thank You, Susan Boyle

Commemorating the 15th Anniversary of Susan’s BGT performance. I wrote this blog post in 2015.

On behalf of the 99% of people who watched your stunning performance on Britain’s Got Talent in 2009, let me extend a heartfelt and enthusiastic “thank you”. In your debut performance, you didn’t just sing a song or dream a dream; you, in your ordinary manner, stood before the world and sang in a way that still shakes the ground on which we middle-aged folks live.

For those of us of “a certain age” who go about our daily, invisible lives, working and caring for children or spouses or older parents, for those of us whose dreams may have been sidelined, shelved or even forgotten, you stood up there and proved to the audience and to the world that, in fact, that our dreams can be resurrected, reshaped or redefined. Your performance coincided with the beginning of my column, and watching you sing encouraged me to keep writing even though I just entered my 50’s.

You, with the courage of a Daniel, stood up there and sang a song of unrequited love…and unrequited life. Many of us around your age live unrequited lives. Many of us are like what Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote in “The Voiceless”: Alas for those that never sing, But die with all their music in them. You shook us awake and reminded us that there is still music in us. You encouraged us with your “cheeky” grinned personality, to keep dreaming and start realizing those dreams. You reminded us that there is still a lot of life out there to live.

Thank you for having the guts to go in front of the world and sing. Thank you for singing that poignant song that reverberates into all of our beings. Thank you for being a great singer.  We can all relate to you because you are one of us regular people sans the voice. We are happy for you and your success. Now, you are not only like Elaine Paige, but you also were able to sing with her. How cool is that!

Thank you, again, Susan.

Added note for 2024: We still have time to realize those dreams that have been buried for so long. Or even discover new dreams. Anne Lamott chides us: “You’re going to feel like hell if you wake up someday and you never wrote the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves of your heart: your stories, memories, visions and songs — your truth, your version of things — in your own voice. That’s really all you have to offer us,and that’s also why you were born.” 

Lord willing, you can do this and so can I.

Commemorating the 15th Anniversary of Susan’s BGT performance. I wrote this blog post in 2015.

On behalf of the 99% of people who watched your stunning performance on Britain’s Got Talent in 2009, let me extend a heartfelt and enthusiastic “thank you”. In your debut performance, you didn’t just sing a song or dream a dream; you, in your ordinary manner, stood before the world and sang in a way that still shakes the ground on which we middle-aged folks live.

For those of us of “a certain age” who go about our daily, invisible lives, working and caring for children or spouses or older parents, for those of us whose dreams may have been sidelined, shelved or even forgotten, you stood up there and proved to the audience and to the world that, in fact, that our dreams can be resurrected, reshaped or redefined. Your performance coincided with the beginning of my column, and watching you sing encouraged me to keep writing even though I just entered my 50’s.

You, with the courage of a Daniel, stood up there and sang a song of unrequited love…and unrequited life. Many of us around your age live unrequited lives. Many of us are like what Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote in “The Voiceless”: Alas for those that never sing, But die with all their music in them. You shook us awake and reminded us that there is still music in us. You encouraged us with your “cheeky” grinned personality, to keep dreaming and start realizing those dreams. You reminded us that there is still a lot of life out there to live.

Thank you for having the guts to go in front of the world and sing. Thank you for singing that poignant song that reverberates into all of our beings. Thank you for being a great singer.  We can all relate to you because you are one of us regular people sans the voice. We are happy for you and your success. Now, you are not only like Elaine Paige, but you also were able to sing with her. How cool is that!

Thank you, again, Susan.

Added note for 2024: We still have time to realize those dreams that have been buried for so long. Or even discover new dreams. Anne Lamott chides us: “You’re going to feel like hell if you wake up someday and you never wrote the stuff that is tugging on the sleeves of your heart: your stories, memories, visions and songs — your truth, your version of things — in your own voice. That’s really all you have to offer us,and that’s also why you were born.” 

Lord willing, you can do this and so can I.