I drove Jimmy Jam's kids back to his ex in Fowlerville this after noon. I call him Jimmy Jam because he is always in a jam. He called at 7:30 this morning needing to go to the store. Last week while he was in court the judge asked him what it was going to take to get him to stop driving. I guess the $600.00+ in fines added to the thousands he already owes was enough to get him to stop. For a minute anyway; but as always the pain wears off with Jimmy Jam and eventually his thinking lulls him into the false belief that it will be different this time. Jimmy Jam baffles me.
In the shower this morning getting ready for church I was contemplating the lessons I learn from whatever is presented to me in a given day. In the midst of this my brain is spinning on how I'm gonna ride my bike, go to yoga, and spend time with the two teenagers under my roof that could care less, plus homework. My mind focuses in on yoga. I love yoga. I love pretzles as well, but I don't eat them any more because I'm gluten free, so it stands to reason that the next best thing is twisting myself into one every Wed. and Sun. The only thing I dislike about yoga class is my ex-boyfriend shows up when he is in the mood for some self inflicted punishment. His lack of flexibility is a direct reflection of where he is mentally and spiritually. I throw up in my mouth a little bit everytime I see him. I especially hate when he tries to talk to me. Last week before class he approached me and stuck out his hand as if I would shake it. Just seven days prior I told him it wasn't neccessary for him to check up on me. I pretended like he wasn't there. He left class. This is what I mean by self inflicted punishment. He tells all our mutual friends that he misses me. He believes this. It's been roughly 18 months since he broke up with me. That was the most loving thing he did for me during the course of our time together. I mean that. It set me free to really love someone someday.
I start thinking about all the people I know who are coupled. I have very few good examples. My loneliness diminshes. One example is Josh and Marnie.
At first glance one might think that this is just your average "Bald guy marrying Barbie" photo. Not too long before this photo was taken Josh was told he had six months to live. If you look closely at the photo you can see the scar on the side of his head where surgeons removed a stage 4 glioblastoma. Look even closer and you can see that what one might mistake as cake in this photo, is actually nothing but love. He stayed alive for 6 years on one bite alone. This is what love does. It gives life. They could see the end from the beginning but they were in it together. There is something sacred in the cry of a young widow beating her fists in her lap, begging God to bring back the love of her life. Perhaps the tears of true love are holy. I've seen them one other time in my life.
Her name was Grace and although she was confined to a wheel chair, she did her name justice. I used to work in a nursing home. Grace was one of my patients. She was always very composed and dignified; that is until her husband would come to see her. Everyday around the same time he would come to visit, and find Grace primping in the bathroom like a teenage girl getting ready for prom. I was in the room one day when he showed up. Her countenance melted like butter as he reached down in his eagerness to embrace her. They burned for each other. You could feel the heat coming off them I swear. Her husband was leaving one day as I was approaching the next room. He glanced my way and bowed his head a bit like a gentleman does. He was crying. Holy. "I hate leaving her here" he said everytime someone was near enough to hear him as he left. Grace was 50. She had Mutiple Sclerosis.
Someone told me yesterday that maybe inspite of my circumstances I have it pretty good. I am becoming more and more aware of this with each day that passes. I still tend to look at life through the lenses of what I don't have though. I don't have someone laying next to me at night that doesn't love me. I've grown to prefer that over the alternative. I'm grateful for what I don't have today. I'm still not entirely sure what love entails exactly. You don't survive the life I've lived without things getting warped, but I recognize it when I see it. I'm convinced it is not a noun.
On the way home from Fowlwerville I thought about Jimmy Jam. Jimmy Jam doesn't talk much about the break up. I think the pain got great enough for him to be grateful for what he doesn't have. I thought about what he lost. I don't know the whole story, but from what I know, I don't think it was love. I can't wrap my mind around love looking like that. Now, if he will just stop driving...
The pretzles were good in Yoga today. Thank God.
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