Inspiration | Words For Hire

Help! – Not Just a Beatles Song

December 15, 2008 by Karen Swim

Image by KarolusLinus via Flickr

Written by Karen D. Swim

Help, I need somebody,
Help, not just anybody,
Help, you know I need someone, help. *

Last year at Christmas, one of my best friends was going through a rough time. She was going through a divorce, her husband sued her for alimony, she was paying a mortgage and a lease and was recovering from major surgery. Yet, she remained grounded in her faith and characteristically upbeat.

I longed to be there for her but could only offer comfort and friendship by phone. During this time, her family traveled to be with her and her children during the holidays. Her father, stepmother, brother, wife and brand new baby filled the house with love and warmth. I was thankful she was not alone but also knew the financial strain of having guests. She never shared the depth of her problems with her family and while she enjoyed their company she felt horrible for not being able to buy them gifts and prepare a nice holiday meal. Toward the end of their two-week stay she was forced to confess her struggles and her family asked “Why didn’t you ask for help?”

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody’s help in any way.*

Last week, James wrote a hard-hitting post about this very subject. It touched a deep chord as I questioned my own prideful determination to handle my problems alone. When my friend shared that she had no money and could not even buy groceries, her family gladly wrote her a check. She was so grateful for the love and help and the reminder that “we have not because we ask not.”

My friend, more sister than friend and is often a mirror of my own weaknesses. We are both tireless cheerleaders happy to lend an ear or hand but seldom asking for one in return. I am here to tell you sometimes the cheerleader needs a rally too. I read James’ post and cried for everyone (including myself) who has suffered in silence too embarrassed or proud to ask for help.

I have gotten better about receiving when offered but asking takes it to a new level that still frankly makes me uncomfortable. I am actively working on change (greatly aided by this big fat public declaration).

I know that right now there may be those reading this with unmet needs. You are not alone. Most people have good hearts and are happy to lend a hand when asked. Yes, there may be those who see you in a different light or a small few who simply will not care. That is their issue and not yours. Many more will gladly step up to the plate with help and solutions, if only you will ask.

But now these days are gone, I’m not so self assured,
Now I find I’ve changed my mind and opened up the doors.*

For those who may not have a need today, I encourage you to reach out to someone you believe may need help. That simple kindness can be the best gift you give this holiday season.

Have you ever suffered in silence? What kept you silent? Please feel free to share your own thoughts, observations, stories or song lyrics. All are welcomed. 🙂

*”Help”, Lyrics by Paul McCartney, John Lennon, Sony /ATV Tunes LLC, Sony Beatles Ltd

Waiting for the Train

November 24, 2008 by Karen Swim

Image by Klaas De Buysser via Flickr

Written by Karen D. Swim

I walked from my husband’s hospital room out into the hallway. I had become a familiar fixture and the staff welcomed me as one of their own. I had been given access to the fresh linens and the staff lounge. I would chat with the nurses while microwaving tea or share a laugh as I grabbed linen to change my husband’s bed. On this day, as I headed out into the familiar sterility, an older woman caught my eye. She was about 5 feet 4 inches tall with salt and pepper colored hair. She was wearing a hospital gown and slippers and held a black handbag firmly on her arm. It was a bag that more aptly could be described as a pocketbook. A relic from years gone by when women wore hats on their heads and stockings on their legs.

She made her way toward me and I saw the twinkle that remained in her aging eyes. She gently touched my hand and asked, “Do you know when the train is coming?” Momentarily confused, I then realized the poor old dear had dementia. “No, I’m not sure when the train is coming, but why don’t we wait over here?” I commented as I tried gently leading her back to her room. She smiled and began to tell me how she was traveling to see her daughter. I linked arms with her as we made our way toward her room listening to her tales.

Her mind remained in a time long past but her dignity was ever present. In her hospital gown with her purse firmly in her grip, I could tell that she was truly a lady. Her held remained held high as she waited joyfully in a hospital hallway that had become her railway station.

I am not sure why I recall this story today but all these years later I can still see the twinkle in her eye. As I now pass through a season of aging with my own family members, I am filled with hope that our minds may fade but the essence of who we are is never lost. The twinkle in our eyes, the joy in our hearts is not dimmed by time. In this season of the year when we pause to reflect and give thanks, for this I am truly thankful.

Have you had to deal with aging issues? Any tips to share with those that may be enduring this season of life with parents, relatives? Feel free to share on topic or off. All discussion is welcomed. Hang out and strike up a conversation with me or anyone else. The doors are always open for you and that cushy chair has your name on it. 🙂

Trick or Treat?

October 31, 2008 by Karen Swim

Image via Wikipedia

Written by Karen D. Swim

I awakened in the middle of the night, my cheeks wet with tears. I wiped away the tears and felt the crushing weight of grief. The grief was, however not mine but Nikki’s. Ah Nikki, so that’s her name! I had toyed with other names but last night she emphatically declared that Nikki would be her name.

All week I have pushed away my fears and anxieites about National Novel Writing Month. Yesterday, realizing that I was two days away, my characters fought to be given life. They are demaning that I get to know them so that I may tell their stories.

Nikki made me feel her loss at a time of day when I could not push her away and tend to other business. She tapped an old experience and forced my heart to feel her pain. My challenge is to tell her story so that you feel it too.

For years I have written for others. I have cloaked myself in their words and adopted their voices. I have written their words uncredited, a shadow in the background as they made the rounds as published author. I enjoyed birthing their vision. When my part was done, I silently retreated ready for my next role and costume change.

I had my own stories but feared I had lost my own voice. I reasoned there was no time for the foolish dreams of writing a book. I had to earn a living. I had responsibilities. There was always someone needing something from me. Where would I find the time?

For the month of November, I will selfishly carve out time every day to write my words and tell my story. I am both terrified and exhilarated. I am gripped with doubts daily – what if I run out of words, what if I really suck, what if the story is no good, what if the story is good and I can’t tell it. Today, on the eve of my writing challenge I lay those doubts to rest. I am committed to this time of focusing on my voice and my words. I am less concerned about the end result than I am with simply showing up for me everyday.

I may not have a best selling novel at the end of November but I am certain that I will have a better me. The draft of my story as a writer will have more words, more experiences and I’m sure growth.

Today, as much of the world dresses up in costume and engages in treats and trickery, I am chasing away the ghosts and gremlins that yell “Boo” in the night. My treat is not a sugary confection wrapped in pretty paper but the knowledge that I am taking on a challenge not because I have to but simply because I want to do it..just for me.

We all have those things that we want to do, right? The list of longed for goals that we tuck in a drawer rationalizing them away as silly fantasies or fun dreams that maybe, could, will happen someday. Today, give yourself a treat. Pull out that list and make time for one thing for yourself. They are only silly someday dreams when they are “out there” in the ether unattended to and undone. Chase away your own ghosts and goblins and take action on your behalf. Life does not have to be one long serious pursuit. Your desires and dreams are not silly, they are important because they are uniquely yours.

So, how about it, will you join me in treating yourself? Trick or treat? What’s your choice?

Keeping Your Head In a Mad, Mad World

October 28, 2008 by Karen Swim

Image via Wikipedia

Yesterday, as I took a break from work to gaze out the window the line of Rudyard Kipling‘s poem, If ran through my mind: “If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs..” Lately, my thoughts often turn to words of the past. Unlike so much of our grab and go culture, the words of yesteryear continue to resonate with relevancy and timeless wisdom. If was written in 1865 but seems so appropriate for these times.

If you can keep your head...when stocks are falling and experts are predicting disaster

when all about you are losing theirs…as panic and fear displace reason and focused intent

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you…standing steadfast in your beliefs and uncompromising on your values…But make allowance for their doubting too…because listening to others is a virtue of great leadership. No man knows it all and the input of others provides perspective, a gut check to ensure the path you have chosen is the right decision.

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,…you can achieve your dreams and have a life of meaning, purpose and balance. IF…

Wishing you all the best today!

Karen

IF – Rudyard Kipling

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
‘ Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

A Verse of Hope

October 21, 2008 by Karen Swim

Image by Swamibu via Flickr

Written by Karen D. Swim

I awakened this morning to darkness. Momentarily confused without the morning light to guide me, I got up and padded to the window. I peered out into the darkness silently willing the dawn to break. I gave thanks for the day as I carefully stepped through the darkened house to prepare for the day. I stopped for a moment to breathe in the peaceful stillness. I wanted to hold on to that feeling of calm serenity for as long as possible.

A few short hours later that peace was challenged as I read about the man who hung an effigy of US Presidential candidate, Barack Obama from his front yard lynching tree, the newscaster beaten in her home, and the mother gunned down while walking her daughter to school. My heart lurched and I clutched that peace close as I prayed for those with such hatred in their heart. As I wondered about the state of our world and what I could do to make a difference, I stumbled across this poem.

O Me! O Life! —by Walt Whitman

“O Me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.”

My heart regained hope as I clung to the answer – I am here and I can contribute a verse. In this world filled with negativity, I can write words that inspire and uplift. In my encounters with people today, I can allow my smile and cheery greeting to be a love song. I can listen to those forgotten, hug those in need of affection, speak up on behalf of injustice, offer water to the thirsty. I am here and I can contribute a verse.

How are you feeling today? What verse will you write?

How Santa Busted My Recession Blues

October 17, 2008 by Karen Swim

Written by Karen D. Swim

One evening last week, I sat on my couch debating whether to make the trek to gather the mail. After all, it had been a long day and it would simply sit untouched anyway. As I was debating, the news hummed in the background with an incessant procession of bad news. I rubbed my neck and decided the fresh air would be good.

I walked quickly inhaling the brisk fall air, enjoying the crisp breeze on my cheeks. I reached the bank of mailboxes and saw an unfamiliar face. “Hello,” I called out cheerily. The man looked up and returned with a warm and hearty “Good Evening!” He looked to be in his lte 60’s with nearly white hair. Although older, he had a physically imposing presence softened by ruddy cheeks and a twinkle in his eye reminiscent of Santa Claus.

“How are you this evening?” I asked. “I am wonderful and so blessed!” “My box was at the opposite end and we were now facing one another. I looked up with a wide grin, “I love hearing that!” “Oh yes, everyone asks me how I can be so happy with all of the bad things that are happening but I tell them none of that stuff matters.” We chatted as we gathered our and then walked toward one another meeting in the middle on the sidewalk.

“For most of my life I could not walk. I’m in my sixties now. The technology finally caught up and I had an operation a few months ago. I have a cane in the car but slowly but surely I need it less and less. I may move a little slow but I can walk. The economy, gas prices, none of this stuff matters, I can walk!” With tears in his eyes he warned me that he was going to hug me and grabbed me in a hug.

He then stepped back and with a tear in his eye declared “You’re a nice lady and I knew I just had to tell you that!”

We exchanged names and cheery good-byes. He walked to his car and I practically skipped off into the night air. He said his name was Paul, but it sure felt like a visit with Santa.

I have thought of Paul often and always with a smile. Whenever I am feeling the strain of long days, or too much exposure to bad news, I hear the words “I can walk!” The memory of “Santa Paul” reminds me of what is truly important.

Do you have a special memory that never fails to lift your mood? Or perhaps it’s a favorite place, quote or joke? Let’s talk about it in the comments. 🙂