Universal Lighting

Makeup is an art form of expression. A woman expresses her mood, her attitude, through the colors and depths of application. Whether she feels energized, alluring, fresh, sassy, depressed, mourning or Au natural, all can be recognized through the brush strokes of cosmetic paint. This is why some days take longer to get ready than others, but if the end result satisfies the dialogue within, then a ten minute late departure from home is well worth it.

Here is where the process becomes tricky. A mirror alone can only cause mental distress when offering a reflection larger than one would like to believe is true. Couple a mirror with less than adequate lighting, and public humiliation is sure to ensue. I will sacrifice pride for the sake of providing an example of such a situation.

As with any typical Sunday morning, I had not planned out an outfit for church. I had applied face makeup and eyebrows, feeling confident everything looked even and natural in my bathroom light. Eyes were left to be done until I decided what color clothes I would wear. Running late, which is SHOCKING for an Ashmore, I settled on a green cami and black skirt (OK, it was a slip, but I wore a slip under the slip and nothing slipped). Because I never venture out of the "natural" look, usually just mascara, I chose to show my spunky mood with green eyeshadow. By the end, I felt amazing! Teeth were brushed, Tina's Spicy Bean & Cheese burrito thrown in to purse and out the door I went.

For whatever reason, some legal thing I suppose, I never drive anywhere. Unless Christie is town, I am a back seat rider, which means no mirror. As we pull in to the church parking lot, I throw on some pale gloss, zip up the stilettos and walk with Given through the doors. As usual, everyone wanted to say hello to Miss Given, but cordially exchange greeting with me, although there always seemed to be a "look". I assumed people were looking at my nose ring, not in a judgemental manner, but because I haven't worn one in a long time. Still feeling confident, especially with my boots, I sauntered in to the foyer and headed for the bathroom.

The build up for when I'm about to check myself in the mirror starts before opening the door. A mental check list is made to save on time and appear less superfically prideful. There wouldn't be much work necessary, just tousle the hair, reapply the gloss and be on my way. Once inside, I turned to the mirror and the horror of what every one's reaction to my face was realized. In front of my eyes was an unrecognizable woman with an oil slick for a forehead, eyes that had been rubbed with fresh cow manure smeared in tar, connect the dots could easily be played on my skin and I did not color within the lines with the lip gloss. For this I blame the lighting industry! If lighting was universal around the world, this travesty would have never occurred. This is a conspiracy conjured up between the lighting and cosmetic industries and I, for one, will not sleep until this injustice is resolved... right after my nap.

Beautifully Broken

How badly I want to tell my story of how grateful I am to have never been fixed. Well, I have been fixed, but that procedure was necessary and covered by insurance and a story for another day. The fix eluded is the fix of insanity. I am beautifully broken, perfectly shattered in pieces. For 33 years I have tried to mold myself in to the world's normal and hide my eccentricity, but it wasn't until my body refused to hide the physical aspects of disease that I made a choice to never try to blend in again. I am a mental, emotional and physical mess, a recipe for disaster that I love because the end product is me.

My desire to share this evening, however, is overtaken by my throat, neck, chest and facial tics. These painful and embarrassing full body annoyances have been a part of life since childhood, but in the last two months taken charge of my days and nights. This new level of distraction is not a set back or discouragement, but does bring frustration and distraction. My impossible expectations are that much harder to achieve and in not reaching that peak of perfectionism, a meltdown looms and the physical anguish soars.

All of this rambling just to say that I need to unload the untold life in my head, but cannot accomplish it the way I planned. I want to share the excitement and intrigue I live each day inside my mind, and the life I have lived outside that most would never imagine.... just not right at this moment because the body and mind I love, sucks! We're working things out through negotiation, and since I'm a great talker, things are sure to be back on track within the day.

Uphill, both ways, in the dirt and wind...

The universal exaggeration for, "When I was your age", stories is the tall tale of walking to school in the snow, uphill both ways and missing a shoe. On this day, my trip was not to school, but to Rite Aid, and there was no snow on the ground, but desert dirt makes for just as difficult a travel, especially when the road is uphill both ways. Struggling through the last leg home, I received a supreme realization of the hurdles blocking my line to success.

By no fault of my own (DUI), I was required (refused transportation offers)to walk a mile to town to pick up some medications (sanity pills). Just as all the days before this, the typical Phelan breeze of 30+mph was in full force and showed no near future signs of relief. With Given in her stroller, the trek always bears an extra degree of difficulty, but with a new symptom of my illness materialized, I felt like an ox on a yoke plowing through with each step. On the way in to town, just as soon as stepping foot on the dirt road, I determined the wind pattern was blowing south and west. Though the wind was against me, little fight was necessary to move forward with ease and reach our destination.

Given and I enjoyed a lovely lunch at Maca Dada's (McDonald's, for you non-toddler owners), walked over to Stater Bros., enjoyed the scenery of natives, purchased some ingredients for dinner (Snickers and peanut-butter) and headed next door to complete the purpose of the trip by picking up my meds. One look outside and I knew, without fail, the wind had picked up and changed directions. The outlook was grim and my only chance for survival was prayer. Before stepping through the automatic doors of Rite Aid I spoke an audible request to God, "Please, God, you know how I feel and what I can handle. I'm tired, my heart hurts, I'm short of breath and my back is on fire. Quiet the wind until I arrive back home. Give me a testimony of how you stilled the sky for someone as small as myself. I will tell everyone of such act of love." With and amen said in the name of Jesus, I set foot outside and started home.

Patience has never been a virtue I exemplify and I had only reached the end of the parking lot before voicing my complaint over the lack of change in atmosphere. "God, my faith knows you can do anything, and will, so why have you not stopped this chaos? Now, let's do this together. One, two, three and STOP." Disappointment ran down my chapped face and anger boiled as I pushed the stroller up Phelan Road, vehicles of all size zoom past, creating a wind pocket the sun shade would catch and stop us in our tracks before punching my body with violent force. My breaking point had arrived. I was angry that no one slowed down to offer a ride, angry my body was against it's own self and angry that God was allowing me to unnecessarily suffer for no obvious reason. "God, you said all I had to do was ask, and you would answer!!" Just as I was about to explode with, "What the <explicative naughty word>. I'm <not so explicative word, but offensive to some>!!" the answer arrived, but not in the form I asked.

Barely able to walk two steps without tears (pity or pain, you decide), I turned off my Ipod to offer full attention to what He wanted me know. The earphones had been removed for less than a second before my lesson was clear and poignant:

No matter which turn you take in life, there is an inescapable uphill battle in waiting. Forces as strong as this wind will be against you in attempt to hold you back. Push through the pain and determine in yourself to reach the crest of path. Do not succumb to doubt, throwing a pity party on the side of the road while you wait to be rescued and carried to a more comfortable setting. Such an immature decision will leave you stranded and stagnant, never moving forward and eventually falling backward, losing sight of your goal."

I humbly acknowledged my fault in attitude and assessed my own failings of progression in life. Now that the great lesson was learned, I assumed God would halt the winds and allow me reprieve the remainder of the walk. So we all know what happens when we assume, and this was no exception:

"You say you cannot go on another step, but there is no truth in that. You have tremendous strength inside that was given to no one else, but you. The tools to succeed lay within your body, mind and soul, the choice to use them is up to you."

Leave it to God to ruin a perfect tantrum opportunity by turning it in to a parable of purpose. Probably best things happened this way so I didn't become known in town as the crazy, cursing, stroller lady of Phelan Road... though it does flow naturally off the tongue.