Thursday, April 26, 2012
Just A Garter Snake
I've always bought into its philosophy, so much so, that it had immediately spilled over into my live on less, or my back-to-the-land dreams that I've carried within me for, I dunno, ever.
But as I weeded and planted yesterday I thought about Scotty. His behavior has been ornery at best, last week Dr. Mandy asked me to think about any issues that might've arisen lately as traumatized children don't just reasonably say, "Well this _____ happened so now I'm gonna cry about it."
The reality is something happens, they stew about it, simmering inside, and then explode, leaving the parent forgetting about the initial possible cause, but as I thought, the light bulb went on, an oh yeah moment, as I remembered Scotty's tears over losing Pastor Chris a month ago,
And now he's acting out. I shoulda seen it coming, but I got bogged down in everything else.
People come and go in everyone's lives, a normal turn of events, but in traumatized kids, in those who have huge abandonment and rejection issues, it is magnetized a thousand times. Even the end of the school year can post grief challenges in younger children, having to say good-bye to their very awesome teachers.
Fortunately, in our family's case, the teacher turnover is almost nil, my kids will see their old teachers again and again, both in school or out in the community, it's a huge blessing for us. Ms Carr's husband identified yesterday's snake as a garter snake.
"I can't even see it in the picture," Yolie'd told me, both of us knowing she hadn't wanted to really look for it in the first place. Her family's still dealing with the loss of Ella.
Martin had earlier mispronounced it as, "Just a garden snake, Mom, it's OK." I pointed out that just because it was in the garden, didn't make it a garden snake. It might have rattles in the garden ya know.
We're not ones who kill snakes, so I was happy to hear that the one we'd let slither off was harmless.
Last night I finally left our property for the first time since church on Sunday, I drug myself out to church on Wednesday night to hear bang-up teachings by my Pastor Tony. Really, really good stuff about being in the midst of a storm, a place I'd seemed to have dropped anchor for about the last ten years it seems.
If I never ever left our property, if I could have groceries delivered, unless it was beach time or a Braves game, I'd be happy as a clam here always wallowing in my gardens, well-fed from the land, happy in my work, and feeling as if I'm not contributing to the massive damage done to our planet by excess driving, fast food pigging out, mindless glazed-brain shopping, or whatever else it is that amuses folks.