Reverie… reminiscence… Not sure which it is, but I’ve finally found a moment to think, to ponder, to muse. (Why is it always so late at night…?) It’s been a year, or rather half a year, but what a time it has been so far this year, 2013. Following a year of training for a marathon (yes, I completed a marathon, thank you very much) and then several half-marathons (the total is 8 so far…) and three productions (Anna in the Tropics, Rabbit Hole, Nickel and Dimed), I’m now sitting here listening to a fascinating song and recalling the past few months.
I celebrated another birthday. Maybe that’s why I’m reflecting, taking stock. Or maybe it’s because of Alan Rickman. Or maybe Pinterest.
Ok, so I was scrolling through Pinterest, the Geek section, and I came across this video of Alan Rickman talking about Snape. Being the Potter fan that I am, I clicked on the video and found myself watching and re-watching this beautifully poignant revelation of the man, Severus Snape by the man who was Snape for ten years. And of course, as I watched the video, I also heard this haunting song in the background. It was all a lovely combination that created the moment where I had to reflect… and write.
The song from this video tends to sum up this year so far. It has been a season of tornados… Much has happened; much beyond my control, it seems.
I confess, I hate not having control. (Who doesn’t?) That’s much of life, though, so I keep adjusting to that norm. I’m reminded of Snape. He was tightly wound, controlled in his actions and words, but still at the mercy of much that was beyond his control. Lily controlled him, or rather his love for her controlled him. (My heart hurts when I think of their story.) Dumbledore controlled him. Voldemort tried to control him. Harry even controlled him, in a way. Is that it? We try to be in control, but we’re not really? My life is not my own… Nevertheless I live, yet not I…
But back to the reverie.
I became a grandma this year… to six babies! Six! I’ll never get to meet them, though… this side of heaven. My daughter and son-in-law adopted six embryos earlier this year. They were older embryos, ones no one wanted, frozen and left, abandoned. My daughter and son-in-law were given choices in their selection of embryos. They had the option to choose others who were younger, with a better chance of viability, but after much prayer and consideration and discussion, they chose the older ones, the abandoned ones, the ones no one wanted. It was a hard decision and one they knew wouldn’t easily be understood by others, but they chose those babies. They signed the paperwork and with that became parents to six embryos, six baby Ruffners. Two died during the thawing process. Four were implanted. We all prayed for life. We wanted babies to hold and cuddle and cherish, but God chose otherwise. He called them home to Him. I am happy to say I have babies in heaven, but I’m also heartbroken to not have babies to hold. I know my heartbreak isn’t the same as my daughter’s. She’s borne the brunt of the process, and what a process it has been. And that has been painful as well… knowing my baby girl was hurting… and I couldn’t do anything… except pray and thank God for His Grace to provide for and carry us through this season.
It has been a season of tornados…
After all the running (read walk/jogging…) and training for long distance events and then to switch to theater productions… It has been almost like whiplash, the wind whipping me back and forth. To go from early morning workouts and finding relief from the stress of work and life suddenly to late nights and taking that stress and channeling it into my characters and internalizing it all. I’ve been feeling a little beaten up.
Understand… I love performing. I love becoming those characters, living their lives, and in an sense losing myself in them. The hard part is coming back out after it’s all said and done. After the costumes are put away, I have to become… me… again. I go back to being me and I pick up the pieces of this life… much like picking up after a tornado. It has torn me up, making me into someone else and then it’s gone… leaving me to find… me… again. Yes, I did say I love it… masochistically you might say… but I do love it.
So, here I am… mid-year… looking back, but also looking forward…I don’t think this season has fully passed. It’s ok, though. I know my life is not my own. I know I have much that lies ahead. I have babies in heaven. I have babies here as well. I have miles to go… I have miles to go.
All Things Elda 