I am trying out a new thing. The blog. I have to say that I have done my blog homework. You see, I am the type that wants to be sure of what I am getting into. So, to prep for 'the blog' I have visited all of my friends blogs... and even visited some of my friends, friends blogs... you know, just to see how everyone else views the mission of blogging. Whew! Ya'all have alot to blog about! I have come to the conclusion that the blog is an expression of a pinpoint moment. When done properly, it should take the reader to a momentary reprieve of their oh so familiar life. Goodness knows, I could use a reprieve from life OFTEN. Let this thought alone motivate you to blog more frequently. When you do so, I get the reprieve from life, I am a happy woman, and life is good.
This blogging moment is courtesy of the encouragement I received from my good friend Peggy. She says I should blog, as I always have something to say. By the way...she doesn't claim that what I have to say is anything worth reading...
Thursday, April 30, 2009
School is now in session!
School is now in session!
The house is amazingly quiet...
I wonder how their day is going. Old friends, new friends...teachers and books...RECESS and LUNCH!
The morning began early. My alotted one cup-a-joe is wearing off, then again, did it ever truly kick in?
Yes, there are a ca-zillion things I could be doing. And a ca-zillion more things I should be doing.
Instead I wait... and check the clock to see if it has supernaturally jumped to the time of their return.
Then the house will not be so quiet!
The house is amazingly quiet...
I wonder how their day is going. Old friends, new friends...teachers and books...RECESS and LUNCH!
The morning began early. My alotted one cup-a-joe is wearing off, then again, did it ever truly kick in?
Yes, there are a ca-zillion things I could be doing. And a ca-zillion more things I should be doing.
Instead I wait... and check the clock to see if it has supernaturally jumped to the time of their return.
Then the house will not be so quiet!
On this day I am thinking of him. The one person who has known me, as a peer, the longest. I was one year, seven months and 14 days (give or take the alotted time in the '60's for mom's and newborns to be released from the hospital) old when I first met him. I can't say that I recall the exact moment I laid eyes on him. Come on! I was just a baby myself! But I do have a knowledge of him as far back as I can remember. Childhood photo's can actually bring me to a few moments, that although distant, I can touch in in the recesses of my mind.
There is one memory, a vivid childhood dream... We lived in an old house, that actually divided between floors into a two family living space. Our family, just the four of us then, lived on the bottom floor. There were large heavy wooden doors that slid on rollers to close...no hinges.
I woke in the night, myself in my bed and he in his crib, with an overwhelming sense of danger and fear. I saw a big, white, polar bear curled up sleeping under his crib. Yes, the dream was vivid, I can still feel it! No telling what sparked my two year old imagination to go there!
So you see, it began early on for me, this kind of 'protective awareness' that he was one to watch over. I would imagine that all older siblings feel this way.
Of course the years go by, and time takes us from playmates to the opposite sides of the fence. Our poor parents. Siblings can have such love/hate relationships! On the one hand we annoyed the living daylights out of each other. On the other hand...NO body could inflict bodily harm upon him, accept me, of course. I was ready to take on the entire block if they were against him, and on occasion, I did!
But, it's funny how growing up changes the whole scheme of things. Our paths growing farther apart and following such seperate courses. Nothing is more painful than the moment you have no way to protect, your hands tied, forced to sit back and watch from the sidelines.
So, on this day I think of him. All grown up. With his own beautiful family. And I remember the days of his childhood...our childhood...and am grateful for us. Life may take us down different paths, but it can't take away the memories of the heart.
Happy Birthday, S.E.B.
There is one memory, a vivid childhood dream... We lived in an old house, that actually divided between floors into a two family living space. Our family, just the four of us then, lived on the bottom floor. There were large heavy wooden doors that slid on rollers to close...no hinges.
I woke in the night, myself in my bed and he in his crib, with an overwhelming sense of danger and fear. I saw a big, white, polar bear curled up sleeping under his crib. Yes, the dream was vivid, I can still feel it! No telling what sparked my two year old imagination to go there!
So you see, it began early on for me, this kind of 'protective awareness' that he was one to watch over. I would imagine that all older siblings feel this way.
Of course the years go by, and time takes us from playmates to the opposite sides of the fence. Our poor parents. Siblings can have such love/hate relationships! On the one hand we annoyed the living daylights out of each other. On the other hand...NO body could inflict bodily harm upon him, accept me, of course. I was ready to take on the entire block if they were against him, and on occasion, I did!
But, it's funny how growing up changes the whole scheme of things. Our paths growing farther apart and following such seperate courses. Nothing is more painful than the moment you have no way to protect, your hands tied, forced to sit back and watch from the sidelines.
So, on this day I think of him. All grown up. With his own beautiful family. And I remember the days of his childhood...our childhood...and am grateful for us. Life may take us down different paths, but it can't take away the memories of the heart.
Happy Birthday, S.E.B.
As I posted new pic's on 'the space' I had to pause yet again.
They were picture's that my oldest had taken with a disposable camera on her recent mission trip to Mexico. This was her fourth trip south of the border...
When she went the first year she was only 14. While I knew the experience would be life changing, I had no idea just how much so. This year, our 2nd born Lydia, made the trek as well. I have to admit that it didn't matter one iota that we had seen Hannah go, and we as parents lived to tell about it. Nope. I wanted to pack myself in the largest duffle and go along! You will all be happy to know that I refrained, much to the delight of BOTH girls!
In looking at the previously mentioned photo's there were several things that stood out. For one, when did she get such an eye? There was something different in the way she chose to photograph.
For you see, we are a bit behind the times and don't own a digital camera. (You may insert your *gasp* here.) We frequently purchase disposable ones for upcoming events, trips, festivities! There are mongo bunches of pic's snapped at the hands of my children. They gradually go from the 'oops, I didn't mean to push the button' ...on, to the famous... 'I didn't know my thumb was in the way!' Or, how about the ones with the subject of the photo only in a quarter of the shot? Yes, you are right in assuming that Hannah should be, and is, beyond those fun photography stages. (Really, you are, baby girl.) But that wasn't it. There was something different in these beauties....
As I looked them over for the next few moments, I saw it. I don't know why I hadn't recognized it to begin with. It was there, in plain sight. Written on the dusty, unpaved roads that both human beings and livestock traverse. I caught it again, where she captured the desperation of a people that must search for their next meal along side hogs at the local dump. It was present in the 'down time' and casual moments. It overflowed from her own face, as she embraced the village children.
It was her heart. The biggest extension of her core being. And it made me proud.
Ultimately, I do realize that they are here to be shared, to go out and change the world, make their mark...
And the fact that I have a small part to play in that...PRICELESS!
They were picture's that my oldest had taken with a disposable camera on her recent mission trip to Mexico. This was her fourth trip south of the border...
When she went the first year she was only 14. While I knew the experience would be life changing, I had no idea just how much so. This year, our 2nd born Lydia, made the trek as well. I have to admit that it didn't matter one iota that we had seen Hannah go, and we as parents lived to tell about it. Nope. I wanted to pack myself in the largest duffle and go along! You will all be happy to know that I refrained, much to the delight of BOTH girls!
In looking at the previously mentioned photo's there were several things that stood out. For one, when did she get such an eye? There was something different in the way she chose to photograph.
For you see, we are a bit behind the times and don't own a digital camera. (You may insert your *gasp* here.) We frequently purchase disposable ones for upcoming events, trips, festivities! There are mongo bunches of pic's snapped at the hands of my children. They gradually go from the 'oops, I didn't mean to push the button' ...on, to the famous... 'I didn't know my thumb was in the way!' Or, how about the ones with the subject of the photo only in a quarter of the shot? Yes, you are right in assuming that Hannah should be, and is, beyond those fun photography stages. (Really, you are, baby girl.) But that wasn't it. There was something different in these beauties....
As I looked them over for the next few moments, I saw it. I don't know why I hadn't recognized it to begin with. It was there, in plain sight. Written on the dusty, unpaved roads that both human beings and livestock traverse. I caught it again, where she captured the desperation of a people that must search for their next meal along side hogs at the local dump. It was present in the 'down time' and casual moments. It overflowed from her own face, as she embraced the village children.
It was her heart. The biggest extension of her core being. And it made me proud.
Ultimately, I do realize that they are here to be shared, to go out and change the world, make their mark...
And the fact that I have a small part to play in that...PRICELESS!
The Apache Trail
When I first found out that we would be making the trip to Phoenix I had mixed thoughts…
First, (and I truly am ashamed I asked this) Phoenix? What is in Phoenix? Isn't it just unbearably hot and sandy?
And secondly, I think I'll do a Google search and see what's out there. (By the way, I LOVE the Google search. You can find just about ANYthing with a good Google!)
My search results led to all sorts of tourist points in the greater Phoenix area, one of which piqued my attention. It was a scenic drive on the Apache Trail with 5 miles of gravel road…hmmmm…sounded like an adventure! It boasted of mountain views and rugged beauty. Now, I'm all about mountain views. It all began in my youth when my first minstrel crush sang about "Rocky Mountain High" and "Aspenglow"…Yes, I was crazy about John Denver. You can laugh all you want and it doesn't change a thing. His songs spoke of places I felt I somehow knew. What was rather interesting is that I was a land-locked Midwestern kid…and the kind of places he sang about I had only seen in photographs. At the time I decided I would grow up, sing rock and roll for a living, with that living I would BUY one of those mountains to perch on forever. I digress…
I printed off all I could find about the scenic trail and tucked it in my carry-on thinking it would make for a good conference break. And as fortune would have it, we decided to take our first day in town to investigate. We began the drive stopping at every point of interest. Cactus here…mountains there…
All of a sudden we realized that we had better get a move on as the shadows were taking over. If we were going to make it to Roosevelt Lake and the rest of the drive, we would have to hustle. Not to mention the 5 mile gravel road… in the mountains!
As the lake appeared on the horizon we found a quick pull off and grabbed the camera. It was perfect! Just enough light to catch the lake in the background, and treat of all treats? The full moon was rising directly over the lake. It was amazing! We enjoyed the moment and then realized we had a gravel road to tackle…and it was almost dark! There was no way we were going to turn back, we had come too far, and it was only a 5 mile road of gravel.
As we began the trail we were encouraged by the sight of a mileage sign. You know the type…so many miles to the next major metropolis. HA! The road began to narrow, and talk about gravel and washboard! It was wild. Every once in a while we would be passed by a motorist giving us the belief that the end must be in sight. We drove some time before realizing the maps reference to 5 miles of unpaved road didn't tell the whole story. There was another 17 miles after the first 5 of the scenic Apache Trail!!!
Yes, it was truly an adventure…a dark, bumpy, dusty, adventure. On occasion we stopped, turned off the lights, stepping out of the car to look up. The stars were brilliant. The night was void of any hint of mankind. Upon turning a corner the moon would peek over the mountaintops. Its brilliance would light up the entire valley below. We vowed to come back the next morning to see it all in sunlight…
So, an adventure was had. It was priceless! Thank You Google!
By the way… We took lots of pictures so we could share them with you! Check out the 'Apache Trail' and 'Phoenix' albums on "myspace"…
First, (and I truly am ashamed I asked this) Phoenix? What is in Phoenix? Isn't it just unbearably hot and sandy?
And secondly, I think I'll do a Google search and see what's out there. (By the way, I LOVE the Google search. You can find just about ANYthing with a good Google!)
My search results led to all sorts of tourist points in the greater Phoenix area, one of which piqued my attention. It was a scenic drive on the Apache Trail with 5 miles of gravel road…hmmmm…sounded like an adventure! It boasted of mountain views and rugged beauty. Now, I'm all about mountain views. It all began in my youth when my first minstrel crush sang about "Rocky Mountain High" and "Aspenglow"…Yes, I was crazy about John Denver. You can laugh all you want and it doesn't change a thing. His songs spoke of places I felt I somehow knew. What was rather interesting is that I was a land-locked Midwestern kid…and the kind of places he sang about I had only seen in photographs. At the time I decided I would grow up, sing rock and roll for a living, with that living I would BUY one of those mountains to perch on forever. I digress…
I printed off all I could find about the scenic trail and tucked it in my carry-on thinking it would make for a good conference break. And as fortune would have it, we decided to take our first day in town to investigate. We began the drive stopping at every point of interest. Cactus here…mountains there…
All of a sudden we realized that we had better get a move on as the shadows were taking over. If we were going to make it to Roosevelt Lake and the rest of the drive, we would have to hustle. Not to mention the 5 mile gravel road… in the mountains!
As the lake appeared on the horizon we found a quick pull off and grabbed the camera. It was perfect! Just enough light to catch the lake in the background, and treat of all treats? The full moon was rising directly over the lake. It was amazing! We enjoyed the moment and then realized we had a gravel road to tackle…and it was almost dark! There was no way we were going to turn back, we had come too far, and it was only a 5 mile road of gravel.
As we began the trail we were encouraged by the sight of a mileage sign. You know the type…so many miles to the next major metropolis. HA! The road began to narrow, and talk about gravel and washboard! It was wild. Every once in a while we would be passed by a motorist giving us the belief that the end must be in sight. We drove some time before realizing the maps reference to 5 miles of unpaved road didn't tell the whole story. There was another 17 miles after the first 5 of the scenic Apache Trail!!!
Yes, it was truly an adventure…a dark, bumpy, dusty, adventure. On occasion we stopped, turned off the lights, stepping out of the car to look up. The stars were brilliant. The night was void of any hint of mankind. Upon turning a corner the moon would peek over the mountaintops. Its brilliance would light up the entire valley below. We vowed to come back the next morning to see it all in sunlight…
So, an adventure was had. It was priceless! Thank You Google!
By the way… We took lots of pictures so we could share them with you! Check out the 'Apache Trail' and 'Phoenix' albums on "myspace"…
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Shaking the Funk!
So what is it about me? Why do I have moments when I am concerned about my ability to stand toe-to-toe with the next person? Why, as a 40+ year old woman do I even care? I can be breezing through life in a casual way, when all of a sudden; out of nowhere that makes any sense, BLAM! I am in a place of insecurity and woundedness...
I tell myself it's really not so important that anyone finds my thoughts of value, or relativity. Not in the whole scheme of things anyway.
Maybe it's the gray sky talking…you know how the weather can on occasion dictate how we feel. Maybe it's just my melancholy, right-brained tendencies whispering loudly in my ear. We artsy types…we're oh so emotionally charged.
Either way, I don't care for it, this feeling of inadequacy. It's like I am a totally different self, standing outside of the self I usually am. Confused yet? Makes two of us! All I know is that I can not, will not, allow myself to stay here indefinitely.
All of us walk into moments of feeling 'less than'…it's what we do with those moments that matters. My plan? Even now you should be hearing a sound…although not very loud, it's there…it's me…shaking off the funk. I am willing myself to powerful, valuable, creative thoughts.
And the next time you see me…well, we're going to look at one another knowingly, acknowledging that I have moved on to a more rosy disposition...=)
I tell myself it's really not so important that anyone finds my thoughts of value, or relativity. Not in the whole scheme of things anyway.
Maybe it's the gray sky talking…you know how the weather can on occasion dictate how we feel. Maybe it's just my melancholy, right-brained tendencies whispering loudly in my ear. We artsy types…we're oh so emotionally charged.
Either way, I don't care for it, this feeling of inadequacy. It's like I am a totally different self, standing outside of the self I usually am. Confused yet? Makes two of us! All I know is that I can not, will not, allow myself to stay here indefinitely.
All of us walk into moments of feeling 'less than'…it's what we do with those moments that matters. My plan? Even now you should be hearing a sound…although not very loud, it's there…it's me…shaking off the funk. I am willing myself to powerful, valuable, creative thoughts.
And the next time you see me…well, we're going to look at one another knowingly, acknowledging that I have moved on to a more rosy disposition...=)
It Feels Like...
I have recently achieved a deeply rooted desire…My husband and I bought our first home. If I may put it into terms that will help you understand…we have signed on the dotted line (in what seemed like blood) to pay for this house, even if it takes us until the Messiah returns! It has all been rather surreal. We waited a long time to be able to do such a thing. Many of our friends began the home buying process decades ago. But, then again, that seems to be how it goes on occasion…I'm always a newbie of some sort.
While we are embarking upon our 5th month in the new house, there are many things to do… I have walls that desperately need a new coat of paint, and even a bit of patching. It would be a grand step forward to just hang some wall décor! I have 4 rooms with boxes that need to be unpacked, and put away. Taming down the previous owners landscaping is a definite must. There is every form of plant life running amuck in my little patch of sod…how does a soul manage said piece of sod? (Short of spending 40 hours a week doing so, anyway? >=I )
Lest I give you the impression that I am second guessing our purchase, I can assure you that the move was greatly needed. We are a family of seven people…five of which are adult sized…and two large dogs. We had lived the previous six years in a much smaller, three bedroom house…
When we began renting it, we were elated! Even though renting isn't buying, we were thankful to be in a house and NOT an apartment, or, duplex! There was a fenced in backyard for the kids, a fireplace for chilly evenings, and three very necessary bathrooms… But, it wasn't OUR home, the place where the kids could pose in front of the mantle for posterity. There wasn't a freedom to remove certain design flaws or make any type of statement that said "Lisa lives here"…
You know, I actually drove past the old house a few days ago to drop my daughter off at her friends. As I rolled past I had a moment of regret. Now maybe that's a strong word, and not as accurate as it should be, but it does come close. For a quick, hot, second, I missed the place…the way the rain sounded on the roof, the familiarity of it all.
And isn't that often how life is? We strive and aspire to new adventures and places! We work so hard to arrive at what we believe is what we want, and then… well, we find ourselves in the midst of getting what we chased after. All of a sudden the newness of our achievement can offset us. We start to look back over our shoulder as we remember… and we wonder if we will ever feel comfortable in our new surroundings.
The sun rises on the front side of our new home. We have three cape-cod style windows that catch the light as it bursts over the neighborhood rooftops. When that happens, our loft and family room below are lit up with the most glorious shade of amber. This morning as I scooped up an armful of delightfully pungent family laundry, I rushed thru the light, toward the washing machine in the basement. Tossing the detergent and fabric softener into the appropriate dispensers and slamming down the machine door I turned to race up the stairs to throw on the coffee when… I felt a familiar place. I looked around at the toys scattered on the stairs, my husbands grass cutting tennis shoes and socks, textbooks left out after homework, and that amazing, amber, light…
Don't quite know when it happened, but it feels like home!
While we are embarking upon our 5th month in the new house, there are many things to do… I have walls that desperately need a new coat of paint, and even a bit of patching. It would be a grand step forward to just hang some wall décor! I have 4 rooms with boxes that need to be unpacked, and put away. Taming down the previous owners landscaping is a definite must. There is every form of plant life running amuck in my little patch of sod…how does a soul manage said piece of sod? (Short of spending 40 hours a week doing so, anyway? >=I )
Lest I give you the impression that I am second guessing our purchase, I can assure you that the move was greatly needed. We are a family of seven people…five of which are adult sized…and two large dogs. We had lived the previous six years in a much smaller, three bedroom house…
When we began renting it, we were elated! Even though renting isn't buying, we were thankful to be in a house and NOT an apartment, or, duplex! There was a fenced in backyard for the kids, a fireplace for chilly evenings, and three very necessary bathrooms… But, it wasn't OUR home, the place where the kids could pose in front of the mantle for posterity. There wasn't a freedom to remove certain design flaws or make any type of statement that said "Lisa lives here"…
You know, I actually drove past the old house a few days ago to drop my daughter off at her friends. As I rolled past I had a moment of regret. Now maybe that's a strong word, and not as accurate as it should be, but it does come close. For a quick, hot, second, I missed the place…the way the rain sounded on the roof, the familiarity of it all.
And isn't that often how life is? We strive and aspire to new adventures and places! We work so hard to arrive at what we believe is what we want, and then… well, we find ourselves in the midst of getting what we chased after. All of a sudden the newness of our achievement can offset us. We start to look back over our shoulder as we remember… and we wonder if we will ever feel comfortable in our new surroundings.
The sun rises on the front side of our new home. We have three cape-cod style windows that catch the light as it bursts over the neighborhood rooftops. When that happens, our loft and family room below are lit up with the most glorious shade of amber. This morning as I scooped up an armful of delightfully pungent family laundry, I rushed thru the light, toward the washing machine in the basement. Tossing the detergent and fabric softener into the appropriate dispensers and slamming down the machine door I turned to race up the stairs to throw on the coffee when… I felt a familiar place. I looked around at the toys scattered on the stairs, my husbands grass cutting tennis shoes and socks, textbooks left out after homework, and that amazing, amber, light…
Don't quite know when it happened, but it feels like home!
'Tis the Gift...
I often have to ask myself…”was I brought into this world at the wrong time? Did the big guy make a mistake?” I long for a moment to pause from the bustle of life in the 21st century. As a child I loved helping my grandmother with the daily, most mundane tasks. Rising early, pulling on the adult sized coveralls and feeding the cattle, was satisfactory. I would stare down at the pasture where the animals grazed, and wonder if any human foot had ever touched that exact spot. Lunch would be prepared for my grandfather and distant cousins that were out in fields harvesting and plowing…freshly fried chicken, home-made noodles rolled out by hand, and the best, always saved for last, pie! It was a pleasure to take the dust cloth and lemony fresh Pledge to every piece of woodwork in the old farm house. Even though the day was not even close to being half done, I looked forward to it lasting as long as possible.
Daily life on the farm was magical! I look back at that time, and I wonder, how in the world have I come to this fast-paced, barely-able-to-breath-mad-dash-to-the-finish-line, life I live today? Now, before you feel the need to tell me that I am remembering the past thru a child’s eyes, let me assure you that I do realize the back breaking lifestyle of a farming family. It was, and is today, full of hard work and undeniable stress. I guess it’s not the farming I miss…it’s the ability to take the simplest pieces of our daily life, and giving them the honor they deserve.
The lyrics to the old Shaker hymn “Tis the Gift to be Simple” have been rolling thru my mind all morning long. Oh to be simple…to embrace simplicity. That is the lesson for me today. As I switch over the laundered bedding from washer to dryer, as I take care of my five year old and his needs, as I roll out the homemade noodles (my Grandmother’s recipe) rush to get my hair trimmed, help with homework, prepare dinner, load the family up for mid-week services…as I go thru the daily buzz of our family of seven’s life…I will take pause.
I will inhale the fragrance of the clean bedding, I will with gladness engage in a five year olds conversation, and I will relish the feel of the flour and egg on my hands…remembering that life in the simplest form, is a gift.
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ‘tis the gift to be free,
‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain’d
To bow and to bend we shan’t be asham’d,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.
(Elder Joseph Brackett Jr., 1848)
Daily life on the farm was magical! I look back at that time, and I wonder, how in the world have I come to this fast-paced, barely-able-to-breath-mad-dash-to-the-finish-line, life I live today? Now, before you feel the need to tell me that I am remembering the past thru a child’s eyes, let me assure you that I do realize the back breaking lifestyle of a farming family. It was, and is today, full of hard work and undeniable stress. I guess it’s not the farming I miss…it’s the ability to take the simplest pieces of our daily life, and giving them the honor they deserve.
The lyrics to the old Shaker hymn “Tis the Gift to be Simple” have been rolling thru my mind all morning long. Oh to be simple…to embrace simplicity. That is the lesson for me today. As I switch over the laundered bedding from washer to dryer, as I take care of my five year old and his needs, as I roll out the homemade noodles (my Grandmother’s recipe) rush to get my hair trimmed, help with homework, prepare dinner, load the family up for mid-week services…as I go thru the daily buzz of our family of seven’s life…I will take pause.
I will inhale the fragrance of the clean bedding, I will with gladness engage in a five year olds conversation, and I will relish the feel of the flour and egg on my hands…remembering that life in the simplest form, is a gift.
‘Tis the gift to be simple, ‘tis the gift to be free,
‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain’d
To bow and to bend we shan’t be asham’d,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.
(Elder Joseph Brackett Jr., 1848)
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