IWSG: February 4, 2015 ~ A Touch of Grace

It's a good day!

It's the first Wednesday 
of the month ~ 
the day when members of the
Insecure Writer's Support Group
share their writing struggles
and offer their encouragement
and support to other members.




To visit the IWSG, click here.

To become a member of the IWSG, click here.

Our wonderful co-hosts who are stepping up to help 
IWSG founder Alex J. Cavanaugh today are
Gwen Gardner, Dolorah, Sarah Foster, and M. Pax.
Visit them, thank them, and follow them (if you haven't yet).


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Have you ever retreated under the covers 
with a microwaved teddy bear
and huddled in the warm comforting dark?

January dealt me some bear-hugging days,
as obstacle after obstacle 
thwarted my writing schedule.
It would be easy to give up.

Don't Give Up  

wikimedia

Sunday, the 31st, had me in frustrated tears 
before the start of the Super Bowl.

I admit, I was emotional
as I confronted a rite of passage
and wondered how
I had reached it so fast;
but, I was also determined
to get it done before kickoff.

Rite of Passage

With resolve and the Ever-Patient there to support me,

I headed onto the Internet highway

only to flame out on the latest barricade.

We're sorry ..., We're sorry ...,

After rejecting my name three times,

the website locked me out.

Okay, I know my name ~
I've been using it for thirty years!

What is it with me and computers?

Help Just a Phone Call Away

"Pour yourself some coffee,

put the phone on speaker,

and be prepared to wait 
on hold for a long time,"

the Ever-Patient cheerfully offered,

as he headed out for work 

Monday morning.

"But I bet they tell you 

to go to the Aurora office."

I hate it when he's right.

Have you ever gone to your local

Social Security office?

There must have been a hundred people

filling the chairs, hugging the walls,

and spilling into the hallway,

all clutching their numbered tickets and waiting:  

bored, resigned, or impatient.

A hundred minutes crawled by

before I heard the magic words:  

"A256 go to Window 14."

"The Social Security Help Desk told me 

the name on my Social Security card

is not my legal name,"

I explain during my first interview.

"So I can't access online services

or sign up for Medicare.

But this is my name!"

I hand the problem card

to the woman behind the window.

Google

Security questions.

Type, type, typing.

No answers,

only the instruction

to go back and wait 

for my name to be called.

I wait more long minutes

before hearing 

"M. Louise Barbour,

go to Window 19."

My name!

The name on my card!

Maybe spotting that bench 

when I turned into the parking lot

was a touch of grace from above!

The kind man behind Window 19

sent his fingers flying over his keyboard,

enrolling me in Medicare

and setting up my online account lickety split!

Bench???

Yup, this one: 

I danced out to the parking lot.

At first I hadn't recognized where I was
as I drove into the parking lot hours earlier.
The street was dirt in October 1982,
and the transmission towers 
had marched through open fields.  

But the transmission towers
slammed me
this morning,
and I suddenly realized
that it had to be near
~
that bench 
that shot my life
off in an unexpected direction
decades ago.

Did you ever have a powerful premonition,

a gut-kick feeling of WRONG so strong

that it catapulted you into a fast run?

I did as I waited on that bench in late 1982 

for an appointment to view a condo I hoped to rent.

"I may be late," the owner had told me.

"Please wait, because I might get stuck

in rush hour traffic."

He was, and I waited.

But the longer I waited, 

the more uneasy I got.

I looked at those branching sidewalks,
with a growing sense of dread 
and a solidifying conviction 
that I was at an important fork in my road.

I knew that if I stayed,
if I met that owner,
I'd rent that condo,
and head down the wrong fork.

The more I struggled with the thought 
of bailing on my appointment,
the more panic billowed inside me.
I had to get out of there ~ NOW!
I could feel a door swinging shut.

I fled.

That owner was so pissed 
when I called him later that evening
and told him I couldn't rent his condo.
He had arrived just minutes after I ditched.

A few days later I rented an apartment
miles and miles away in Denver.

And then I met the Ever-Patient 
at the bus stop by my new apartment complex.
He had just moved into it too.

After I left the 
Social Security office,
I crossed the street
and sat on the bench.

It was cold
in the shade of
the surrounding trees,
as I sat and 
remembered 
choosing
on this bench
a lifetime ago.

Honeymoon 1984

If I hadn't left, 
my path and Terry's
would never
have crossed.

A warm feeling of grace
washed over me
in the cold shade.

It's okay to have an occasional
bear-hugging day,
as long as pull yourself together
and confront the obstacles 
life throws at you.

Things have a way of working out
when you listen to that voice inside you.

My inner voice is saying
You can do this!
Things will calm down,
and you will write 
on that schedule you mapped out.
Don't give up! 

Happy writing everyone!