Daily Grace, Presence

Dysregulation Station

May 18, 2024
(I think I am a little too proud of this rhyme… Dysregulation Station! Dysregulation might be a new word for you; it was for me. Verywell Mind defines emotional dysregulation as an “inability to control or regulate one’s emotional responses which can lead to significant…changes in mood.” For me this week, I found myself dysregulated with a notable dip in my mood after an unsettling conversation. I’m sure we’ve all experienced those! Which means that all of us, at one time or another, have punched a ticket on a train heading for dysregulation station. And there! I used my rhyme again!)

 

An old photo I took one day when stopped at a railroad crossing. A circus train would certainly seem like it could make a stop at “Dysregulation Station.” Photo circa 2015.

Earlier this week, a hummingbird flew into my front picture window and laid still, dazed on the ground. I watched him for a while. It is a strange thing, to see a hummingbird almost motionless. He occasionally whirred his wings but wasn’t able to take flight.

It didn’t look good for him.

But in the time that it took for me to find my phone and Google “how to help a bird that flew into a window,” it disappeared. No predators around. Fat Cat was snoring happily on the couch. So I’m going to take it as a good omen.

I hate that birds fly into windows so often. I have beautiful big picture windows. Years ago I bought some of those decals that supposedly help birds avoid them. Maybe they worked for a time, but the windows are big and they don’t last forever.

When I saw the hummingbird there, I confess that I prayed one of those prayers that is kind of a begging one. I don’t usually do those. Because if God already knows everything I need, there is no need to strive to appease Her or kowtow to Her with lengthy words and pleas. She’s happy if we hang out. So that’s my prayer time usually, just chilling with the Divine, mostly in silence, trying not to think at all. But when I saw that little hummingbird? I spoke up and challenged the Almighty a little. I apparently had a little attitude about that situation. Continue Reading…

Presence, Security

Sometimes I Mess Up

May 11, 2024
…so I’m grateful for people who know how to fix my mistakes. And who do it kindly and without blame.

My splinter did not come from boards like these. But just looking at them made my finger hurt again. Image by wal_172619 from Pixabay

Because this week?

I made a couple of doozies.

I’ll just tell you about one of them here, though.

Two days after our unexpected May snowfall, I headed out for a run. But before I could get to my favorite running path, I had to walk up our street past the weeds.

There are a lot of weeds these days.

I hadn’t planned to weed. Remember? My plan was to run. But I often say things to myself like, “I will only pull ten weeds! And that will be helpful. If I pulled ten weeds a day, how much progress I would make in a year’s time!” Also, the ground was beautifully, tantalizingly wet after that glorious May rain and snow. The weeds were basically begging to be pulled. 

Except when I was grabbing weeds that circled around the electric pole up at the corner, I got a little too close to it, and it bit me, leaving a splinter about an inch long sticking out of my right index finger.

I did not want to go all the way back to the house for the tweezers after this unfortunate encounter with the electric pole. I was heading out for a run, after all. I wasn’t even supposed to be pulling that many weeds. Ten was the goal. Just ten. (But they had been coming up so easily! It was hard to stop!) Then I noticed poor Biscuit, resting in the middle of our deserted street, apparently having given up on the idea that we would ever make it past the corner, that he would get to go on any kind of outing at all. So I looked at the splinter, reached out with my left hand, and yanked at it, which ended up being a very bad idea, since it broke off basically under the left side of my nailbed.

Not my best decision ever.

I went for my run anyway, and thought I would just soak my finger with a little Epsom salts when I got home, and probably it would be OK. Continue Reading…