Tears cleanse the soul

There is something about an afternoon thunderstorm that is exhilarating. It restores life to the atmosphere. The day starts out still, with heat and humidity as thick as wool. The pressure soon begins to build. You can see the black clouds in the distance, and know it’s time to take cover. The lighting flashes, you hear the thunder and the downpour begins. All the energy is released, and the air is left pure and refreshed.

It can be the same with our tears. We have been given the ability to cry for a reason, it is the overflow valve for when our heart cannot handle the pressure. It may be in times of sadness or times of joy. Tears can bring renewal to our souls.

When my oldest daughter was born, I did not cry, but my sister did. The emotions during the birth of a child can be the most intense you will ever experience. There is nervousness, excitement, tension and anxiety, all climaxing in joy. When the event was over, my sister was sobbing. She cried for the next twelve hours. All the energy of that amazing event had built up, and needed a release.

I, have cried more in the last few years than I have cried my entire life. The tears seem to be waiting for any opportunity to slip out. I use to think being overly emotional was a sign of weakness. That may be true, but now I look at it as restoring the life to my spirit. It has a purifying effect on a heavy, thick heart. Tears were made to cleanse your soul.

A car doesn’t make a person

If you drive a flashy car, it can mean a few things. First, you may have a large payment; second, you might desire attention; and lastly, it's possible you are overcompensating. I am not talking about a classic car that may be well deserved. I am talking about a flashy car. The big canary-yellow Hummer with chrome wheels and tinted windows (please skip this part if you own that car).

My dad had the opposite philosophy. He would always say, “Any man can get attention driving a flashy car, but only a special few will get noticed in a clunker.” If a woman turns her head to look at you in a dilapidated Dodge Dart, you know she is either taking pity on you or that you got it goin’ on!

My parents tried to teach me this philosophy as a teenager. I was responsible for purchasing my first vehicle, and boy did I find a diamond in the rough. It was a 1976 AMC Matador. She was white with a blue top. I say she, because you have to name a car with this much personality, and her name was “Maddie”. We were born the same year. She had four doors, three of which actually worked. She was incontinent, always leaking some type of fluid. She ate tires and was an excessive drinker of petroleum products. Yet, I was proud she was mine.

As with most first cars, she taught me much. I learned how to drive, how to be responsible and how to be independent. I also realized just how many of my friends cared about appearances. The few who were willing to set aside their pride and ride with me, usually did it out of desperation. And you can be guaranteed they ducked their heads whenever a cute specimen of the opposite sex was nearby. Despite my age, I knew that if you didn’t like me because of the car I drove, I probably wouldn’t want to be your friend anyway.

Even though I am much older now I still prefer the vehicles I can name. The one’s with quirks and defects, much like myself. There are others like me. Those who can afford more, yet they purposely buy the clunker: the rusty, personality-filled hunk of metal. Like my father, they want you to know that they will not fit into the mold. They are rebels. They are confident in themselves, and understand that a car will never make a person.

Change is not impossible

There are habits so deeply ingrained in each of us that it would be easier to alter the course of the Colorado River than reshape our lives. Unfortunately, these changes must come in order for us to grow and to be true to ourselves.

I have experienced many changes in the last few years, but my biggest battle has been with myself. Adversity brings out weaknesses, and I have realized that I am riddled with inadequacy. Each quality is permanently attached and will require invasive surgery to fully remove. If I survive going under my own knife I will live up to my full potential. I hope it’s worth the risk!

The majority of people, want to change but only accomplish it for a fleeting moment. Some have no desire to change, but often need it the most. And then there are the extraordinary few who are determined and have the tenacity not only to transform themselves, but to hold on to their newfound strength.

Sometimes it is easier to put on a performance. It’s simpler than exposing your most fragile limitations. Change starts with reflection, continues with dedication and persists with diligence. It will be a tedious process, but not an impossible one.

Let them shine

My dad would always tell me, “You just let him think it was his idea.” He was referring to my husband and the decisions we have made along the way. No matter what our age, we all need to feel that we excel at something. It’s easy to cripple people’s efforts by shooting down their ideas. As my family knows I am a good aim. This attitude has handicapped those around me. It can slowly steal their dignity...

So how do you instill power in others? By letting them emit light! By trusting that they will make the right choice, that they have the ability to succeed. I see in my husband and children more than just good qualities; I see excellence, waiting to shine. The sad part is that I can be a dark shadow that never allows their brightness through. The better choice would be to reflect the rays and allow all to benefit from their glow.

My dad let others shine. He genuinely believed in their chance of success. No matter how crazy the idea was, he led you to believe you could do it. He talked of others’ accomplishments, not his own. He could discern your strengths and help you put them into practice.

It takes a quiet confidence to believe in others. It’s not thinking that others will always make the right decision. It’s trusting that, even if they don’t, it’s a chance worth taking. I don’t succeed at every endeavor, but I learn from my failures. Instead of trying to prevent others from making mistakes or achieving success, help them find their power. Believe in them, trust their instincts and bestow honor upon them. You will soon be warmed by the light that rises on the horizon.

The past should rest in peace

Just like water flowing downhill, life must travel in a forward direction. It may curve from left to right and dig a few deep holes, but it will keep moving. When it stops it becomes stagnant and loses its appealing attributes. No one wants to drink water from a moss-covered, murky mud hole.

You should never forget where you come from, but living in the past will only cause you to lose your appealing attributes. Remembering your past should be brief and temporary, like stopping in for a spot of tea with your old self, listening to the words of wisdom that you’ve already learned. If we prolong the visit, the past will become like the friend who crashes on our couch. After days of lazing around and never showering, this can become quite offensive.

I know firsthand that it’s easy to have regrets. Maybe it’s for many large, bad choices, or dozens of small ones. But prolonged looking back, and living those regrets every day is a cop-out! It prevents you from experiencing the present. You won't feel today and the emotions it brings. You will never be able to stay in the moment. Your life will become aimless, your direction will be backwards and stagnation will set in. Living in the past allows your heart to be numb to the present. You are so consumed by the should have, could have, would have, that you miss the now.

So if this is your tendency, I recommend having a funeral for the past. Write down all your regrets and mistakes, all the hurts that have been inflicted. Find a box and bury them. Mourn the past, shed as many tears as required, wail and moan about how bad your life has been up until now. From time to time, you may even want to stop by the grave and leave flowers. But whatever you do, don’t dig it back up, because the past should rest in peace.

Wisdom

Wisdom is not the inability to make mistakes, it’s the ability to learn from them. I make stupid mistakes every day of my life. Sometimes they cost me money, sometimes they cost me time and sometimes they cost me dignity. I am actually proud and willing to tell you how dumb I can be. I recently had to tell my oldest daughter just how good her mother was at making mistakes. She was having a bad day and had gotten into trouble for hurting her little brother. In the course of her discipline she told me that she felt like she was always making mistakes and couldn’t do anything right. At that point, I had to spill the beans about my own inadequacy.

I am not sure if telling her about of all my bad choices made her feel any better, but I wanted her to understand that no one is going to make all the right decisions. Sometimes, because our heart leads us astray or because we have false information or because we have not weighed all the evidence or because emotions get the best of us, we do really dumb things. And unfortunately, we may have to live with the consequences for years to come. If we are not making mistakes, we are not growing, we are not learning, we are not gaining wisdom.

If I gave you a choice of being slapped in the face or living with a lifelong chronic condition, which one would you choose? The slap in the face is painful and embarrassing, but the pain will quickly fade. It’s the same when we make a blunder. No one wants to be told they have done something wrong or wasted time, money or energy. It hurts! It’s embarrassing! But if you feel the pain, if you let it sting and accept the fact that you are NOT perfect, you can learn from it, and the pain will quickly fade. The other choice is to ignore the mistake, pretend it wasn’t your fault and repeat it again in the future. This will provide you with a lifelong condition of chronic suffering.

When you own up to your bad choices or errors in judgment, you are on the road to becoming truly wise. There will be no need to repeat the mistake over and over. Instead, you learn from it: “Wow, that was stupid, but I’m sure glad I got it out of my system. Don’t need to do that ever again.” Choosing to own up is a road less traveled, but one that is much more enjoyable. There is a fine line between wisdom and stupidity, and there is actually only one key difference: a truly wise person will learn from their mistakes; a stupid person will repeat theirs.

Brothers are invaluable

My brother is the opposite of my sister. We were only fourteen months apart, and from the day I arrived on the scene there was animosity. We have never had the same perspective on life. He was a carefree jokester; I was a serious worrywart. Most of my memories involve us not getting along. He teased, I cried.

Once again, in my perfect world I would have had the best big brother. He would have fought my battles, been a refuge from the storm, and had my best interests at heart. My brother had the opposite view. He would regularly make fun of my many inadequacies. When we were in high school, he liked to tell people that I was a lesbian (not popular at the time), or, better yet, that I had AIDS. He did his brotherly duty and made sure no guy in school would date me.

But despite our conflicts, my brother taught me much. He prepared me for the real world. I learned not to take myself so seriously. He knew how to keep me humble. We compromised to solve our differences and sometimes agreed to disagree. Somehow I always knew he loved me and that his tough exterior was only a facade to protect his tender heart.

He was much like my dad, in that people were naturally drawn to him. He is still charismatic and a carefree jokester, while I remain the serious worrywart. As we aged, we chose different paths and these have led us farther apart. But even now, he is often in my thoughts. The first time I had seen him in many years was for my dad’s funeral. He is a man now, but I see the little boy who shaped my life. His tough exterior is still a façade, and his impact on my life has had far-reaching effects. He is invaluable.