All three of my children have musical talent ... Meghann is an amazing singer; Brad is a beast on the guitar; and Matt can sing and play the viola and guitar. My house was always filled with music when they lived at home, either from their blasting CD players or from their own performances. I've often wondered where their musical gifts came from because their father and I certainly don't possess the music genes that we could have passed down to them. My dad was a good singer, and my ex's mother is a good piano player ... perhaps those particular music genes skipped a generation and landed in my kids. I remember a few of the artists my kiddos liked ... Elton John, Whitney Houston, Jennifer Knapp, DC Talk ... but I especially remember when my Brad went through what we affectionately termed his MJ phase. You see, there was a time when Brad listened to Michael Jackson almost nonstop ... and he wore leather pants and danced, too ... sorry, Bradley, but you know it's true. And I must admit, when I heard the MJ music blasting from Brad's room so often, I found myself singing along and ... dare I say it ... dancing in the kitchen as I cooked dinner.
I know some of you probably have very strong opinions concerning Mr. Jackson and the controversy that surrounded his actions ... and let me say ... so do I. But, there is no denying the fact that he was a musical genius and one of history's greatest entertainers. And the lyrics to some of his songs are really quite moving and inspirational, and deserve to be appreciated for simply that ... they are wonderful, incredible, phenomenal lyrics. One of his songs in particular has been running through my mind since I saw the doctor last Wednesday evening, because of one of the pieces of homework she gave me. I've never liked doing homework, by the way, and I most certainly do not in any way, shape, form or fashion enjoy doing most of what this new doctor asks me to do. One of this week's assignments has proven to be especially difficult for me to follow through on, even more so than a couple from the prior week that I still haven't completed yet.
And here's the thing ... all I'm supposed to do is look at myself in the mirror and say some things out loud. Yep, that's it ... look in the mirror and say a handful of words out loud ... and it may well be one of the hardest, most painful tasks anyone has ever asked me to perform. I've tried over and over and over, and I haven't been able to do it yet ... and I have to "report" when I see her on Wednesday evening. It's crazy, I know ... it's not like there's anyone in my house to hear me or see me, unless, of course, you count Julie and Ollie. I would say they don't care, but they have been sitting in the hallway with their heads cocked to one side watching me lean on the bathroom sink and look in the mirror ... my poor dogs probably think I've finally gone off the deep end for sure. And even though my furry friends are the only ones watching and listening, I still cannot speak the lines the doctor requested me to speak ... I simply cannot. What I do say as I stand gazing into my own blue eyes staring back at me is this ... Well, God ... here I stand again, here I stand trying this again and failing miserably ... am I ever going to be able to do this ... really, God, am I? Am I ever going to feel normal again ... really, God, am I? And even as the words leave my lips, I hear the words of the Michael Jackson song ringing in my ears ... and I think ... I should go face the mirror and try again ... I should go try again.
"I'm starting with the man in the mirror
I'm asking him to change his ways
And no message could have been any clearer
If you wanna make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself and then make a change."
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