Just returned to New Orleans from a visit to Washington. My middle daughter (who lives down here with us) and I journeyed "home" together. It was a whirlwind week that included (amongst visits to friends and other family) my oldest daughter's 30th and my mom's 80th birthdays (two days apart) and a high school graduation party for my oldest granddaughter.
After reading over all the laments from my last post, (where I was remembering the first Christmas away from most of my children and how I was agonizing, during that time, over the work I do with Liberty House) I realize today, I'm feeling pretty "alright"!! As a matter of fact, many of my writings in this blog have been precipitated by strong feelings of homesickness or frustration about work or loneliness in general, and that just isn't the case today. I just wanted to set down some milestones and touch base with my other writing.
Let's see, where am I today? My work at Liberty House may be ending soon and while I have mixed feelings about that (more about that later), I see it as a sort of inevitability, and that makes that reality more palpable. I miss my kids at "home" like crazy, seeing them this past week (the four, no five, counting my beautiful daughter-in-heart, still living in Washington) was balm to my soul! However, recognizing how well they're doing and how strong and capable they are, even when I'm not "just down the block" allowed me a window, and time, to examine my own life from a different prospective. What I found was; it's OK for me to live here and them to live there! Imagine that!!! We do and will continue to miss each other like crazy, but we have and will survive. We will have interesting, engaging lives even with the umbilical cord cut. And, of course, we'll see each other and enjoy each other every time we can. Who knew it could be that simple????
One of the greatest blessings of this trip home was being invited to the home of my granddaughter and her family, for her graduation party. This young woman was the infant placed for adoption at birth by my second son and the birth mother. Wise beyond their years, these two young people knew they were not ready for parenthood at that moment and because of their shared love, sacrifice and courage, this amazing child was raised and loved, adored and guided by the most extraordinary couple.
I have been privileged to have had the opportunity to remain in contact over the intervening eighteen years with the (adopted) mom through letters, pictures, emails and now "in person" visits! We (my granddaughter and her mom) met for the first time in January when I went to Washington for a visit. Since then my son has had his own reunion with them and, during this trip home, my son and I were both honored to receive invitations to the graduation party at their home. It feels like a complete circle. What started (for us) in such pain and uncertainty, has become a source of great joy for our whole family. We truly have the beginnings of a real extended family. Again... WHO KNEW???
Now, about Liberty House and the work I do there. First and foremost; I love the children in my care! I love the mommas I have relationship with! I honestly can say I love my coworkers at the house. I especially love the mission and ministry that happens at Liberty House!! The success stories are the kinds of stuff movies are made of!!! What is becoming increasingly intolerable to me is the intrigue and duplicity of those who conduct the business of Liberty House. I'm not saying they do anything illegal, I'm saying they're probably not astute business managers in general and it seems to me, they haven't demonstrated good managerial techniques for the business end of Liberty House specifically!
We (my coworkers and I) work for a nonprofit. Implicit in that fact is the understanding that "monies are available when they are available." No one who works there doesn't understand that simple truth. Money in and of itself is not the cause of my discontent. What I can't fathom is why the "powers to be" jeopardize the work, the true heart and purpose of the mission of Liberty House, to provide the resident mothers and their children, who have been formerly homeless, abused, lost in the system, a jumping off place to begin a new way of life, in order to provide in-house child care for those moms. The salaries of the child care workers are about to drive Liberty House under. Yes, in an ideal world, a day care could/should pay for itself, of course! We all know that, but what we're talking about is this particular day care, in this particular environment! Liberty House is, first and foremost, available to the residence for the care of their children. These moms are largely unemployed, or at the very best under employed while going to school. They, in large, receive child care assistance, when and if they apply and when and if they qualify. We will take children from the community into the center when space is available, but the community surrounding Liberty House is as poor as the residents themselves! And who, from a more affluent circumstance, would readily bring their child to a child care situation in the heart of a neighborhood afflicted with such poverty of spirit as well as material things, if they didn't have too? Without the possibility of parents who can pay for services rendered, the ability of the house to turn the day care into a "pay for itself" entity is gone. Over the last few months, I have voiced my opinion often and loudly! To save the very valid and vital mission of Liberty House, the child care portion should close. The mommas need to find child care outside the house in any of the (many) near by, quality day care facilities.
People are beginning to listen. We (my teaching partners and I) will no doubt be closing those doors (to the child care portion of the house) and looking for other work by the end of the month. I know I will. It's sad not to be able to see the dream through, but at this stage, I'm not sure what "seeing it through" is supposed to look like. Who knows, maybe this is it and I'm just not recognizing what I'm seeing.
As always... more to be revealed
my
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Coming Home
When I was a kid, I started dozens of diaries. Always there was the intent of being a good,faithful writer and chronicle my life and times by writing everyday. Sadly, my good intentions always fell off at some point and I would just stop writing. Eventually, I'd find the long forgotten and mostly empty diary in a drawer or on the back of a shelf somewhere and it would taunt me to "start again." Of course I couldn't dream of starting again in that book! It was, of course, "ruined" by my failed attempt at habitual writing. I'd fondle leather bound diaries in book stores for weeks, dreaming about what kind of literary greatness I would gain (long after I was dead and buried) from the words I could write there. Eventually, I'd pick a more modest journal, or even a spiral bound school note book to begin writing because it would be less horrible if my habit of not being a faithful writer "ruined" yet another book. My conscience would just never let me buy a beautiful (and expensive) leather bound notebook. Incidently, John has given me several of those extraordinarily beautiful books, but sadly I have to admit, because of my fear of failure, they remain largely empty.
Well that was then and this is now. Thanks to PCs, the ease of typing verses hand writing and unlimited Internet storage, I'm not beginning writing here today with my traditional "it's been such a long time since I've written" or "Today I begin again" or whatever. Today I am typing here, free from the worry of either buying a new "book" or starting again in an "old" one. Today, I did not agonize over the cost, style, paper or whatever, of a new journal. Today, I'm free from the guilt of having "ruined" yet another perfectly innocent journal, who's only fault was to have had the bad luck to have been purchased by me!
Or, I'm full of all of the above old feelings and just telling youu that I'm not, in order to begin again in a different way.... who knows, who cares!!! Meanwhile,back at the ranch....
Today I'm going to catch you up, my dear anonymous reader, about the past few months. I left off, in this saga of changes, growth, laughter and love, just before the holidays started in earnest. What surprised me most about the season was just how much I missed everything familiar. I missed my family more than I thought possible. I missed "the way we always do it" in everything from decorating, eating and gathering together. St. Lucy's Day, Em woke us up with candles and music. It was so sweet and unexpected. I assume she misses "the way we always do it" just as much as I do, but she has dived into her life down here so effectively it doesn't show so much! She doesn't wear her emotions on her sleeve the way I do. She' an example to me, for sure!
Christmas day was so different. Not bad, just different. It was the three of us, John, Emmy and myself for Christmas morning. Only three names on the tree round this year. We gently and leisurely opened gifts and completely enjoyed the morning. It was so very different from the mayhem that has characterized every other Christmas morning of my life. We had friends over for brunch, talked to everyone back home via the phone, took a walk in the park, and finally went to a movie.
It was an altogether lovely day and I enjoyed every second of it, and yet because of it's very uniqueness, I found myself sort of watching the day unfold, somehow apart from myself an observer rather than a participant. Sounds weird as I write it, but that's the best I can do to describe how I felt. Next year we hope to travel at Christmas to see the kids and family. Don't know if that's the answer to this "apart-ness" I feel but it will be wonderful to bask in the noise and confusion, laughter and love, that marks our times together!
Em and I did travel north to spend a couple weeks with everyone in mid January. It was an incredible vacation. One of the first I actually felt I'd done everything and seen everyone I'd set out to accomplish and see. We stayed at Missy's most of the time. When we weren't at Missy's, we were at Arron and Jac's.
During the visit, a couple of startling (for me anyway) revelations came to me. Once while driving out to Pouslbo, basking in the glory of the Pacific Northwest on one of those startlingly beautiful winter days, rugged snow covered mountains on every side, sunlight dancing off the pristine, blue waters beside me, forests so dense and green you can't penetrate them with your eyes, let alone with your person, and a sky so brilliantly blue it almost hurt my eyes to look at it, I surprised myself by thinking "I can see this anytime I'm passing this way."
I really expected to be pining away for those vistas, but instead I just enjoyed them. Another time, while visiting with friends, I realized life goes on. Once I was so intricately involved in the same things they are still involved with, but now I'm not. I'm an interested observer at best. These insights or revelations really cemented for me, my life is in New Orleans now. And,along with my life in New Orleans, came new involvements with people and ideas in which my dear old friends could only be "interested observers." It was a bittersweet, but certainly necessary, understanding, a line of demarcation maybe.
The absolute best thing that happened while I was in Washington, was meeting my granddaughter and her mother, my cherished friend, for the first time after having an eighteen year relationship through letters. My son relinquished custody of his daughter at birth. She was adopted by a most extraordinary couple and raised in the most loving, nurturing environment I could have ever hoped for her. Her (my granddaughter's) mother became my friend over the years as she faithfully maintained contact with me through letters and pictures. I watched this beautifuul young woman grow up because of her mothers generous nature and loving heart.
On the last Saturday of my visit, the three of us met at a little restaurant on Bainbridge. We spent hours talking laughing and getting to know one another. This first meeting was everything I could have ever hoped for. My only (tiny) sadness about our meeting was not knowing when I'll get to see them again. A wonderful evolution my connection to them is; my son and the birth mother have now sought to establish their own connection with these wonderful women. I see a time, probably somewhere way far off in the future, where we might occasionally gather together. Don't know how or when or even under what circumstance, but all things are possible,
I've started working at a Non-profit, transitional housing, residence for women and children who have been formerly homeless. I teach the youngest children. It's challenging, rewarding, frustrating, insightful, scary and glorious all swirling around together. The child care director and I are the only women white women working in the house (or residents for that matter). Being daily in this all black environment has been a tremendous education for me! Prejudices, stereotypes and preconceived notions are being examined and culled from my mind daily. Some I didn't even know existed!! I tell you honestly, color, age, economic "strata," and religious and deeply entrenched cultural beliefs are mighty barriers between we mere motals.
I'm definatly not the first person to realize and wish, if only there were more opportunities for people to come together and get to know each other, out of mutual need or benefit, tremendous strides could be made in minimizing the differences we hold out in front of ourselves like a barrier or wrap around ourselves like protective cloaks.
I was driving the other day in a particularly affluent suburb of New Orleans. (Mind you, I work in Central City, which is exactly the opposite of affluent!) I happened to pass an elementary school just as school was letting out for the day. All the beautiful, innocent cherubs in their darling school uniforms were being met by beautifully coiffed and dressed mommas and being placed in car seats and harnessed into safety belts, inside massive SUV's, parked at the curb. Suddenly I was struck with the terrible understanding that these beautiful children and their beautiful mommas were nearly oblivious to the poverty and needs of the women and children I work with daily. And the opposite was true as well! The women and children from the residence don't have a clue how it might ever be possible for them to live a life similar to that tiny vignette I was watching. There will most likely be no private schools for their children, no SUVs, or no home in the suburbs. The worst part is, neither group harbored any ill will toward the other. They are all just living their lives as best they know how. I was heart sick and overwhelmed with the realization of how much work there is to do if our culture, our world really, will ever get to a place where we regard our fellow human beings with less suspicion and envy and more compassion and respect.
I do know it starts with one person reaching out to another person. One person laying down their own cultural prejudices and lifting up a attitude of acceptance and respect.
We human being have so much work to do....
in hope
my
Well that was then and this is now. Thanks to PCs, the ease of typing verses hand writing and unlimited Internet storage, I'm not beginning writing here today with my traditional "it's been such a long time since I've written" or "Today I begin again" or whatever. Today I am typing here, free from the worry of either buying a new "book" or starting again in an "old" one. Today, I did not agonize over the cost, style, paper or whatever, of a new journal. Today, I'm free from the guilt of having "ruined" yet another perfectly innocent journal, who's only fault was to have had the bad luck to have been purchased by me!
Or, I'm full of all of the above old feelings and just telling youu that I'm not, in order to begin again in a different way.... who knows, who cares!!! Meanwhile,back at the ranch....
Today I'm going to catch you up, my dear anonymous reader, about the past few months. I left off, in this saga of changes, growth, laughter and love, just before the holidays started in earnest. What surprised me most about the season was just how much I missed everything familiar. I missed my family more than I thought possible. I missed "the way we always do it" in everything from decorating, eating and gathering together. St. Lucy's Day, Em woke us up with candles and music. It was so sweet and unexpected. I assume she misses "the way we always do it" just as much as I do, but she has dived into her life down here so effectively it doesn't show so much! She doesn't wear her emotions on her sleeve the way I do. She' an example to me, for sure!
Christmas day was so different. Not bad, just different. It was the three of us, John, Emmy and myself for Christmas morning. Only three names on the tree round this year. We gently and leisurely opened gifts and completely enjoyed the morning. It was so very different from the mayhem that has characterized every other Christmas morning of my life. We had friends over for brunch, talked to everyone back home via the phone, took a walk in the park, and finally went to a movie.
It was an altogether lovely day and I enjoyed every second of it, and yet because of it's very uniqueness, I found myself sort of watching the day unfold, somehow apart from myself an observer rather than a participant. Sounds weird as I write it, but that's the best I can do to describe how I felt. Next year we hope to travel at Christmas to see the kids and family. Don't know if that's the answer to this "apart-ness" I feel but it will be wonderful to bask in the noise and confusion, laughter and love, that marks our times together!
Em and I did travel north to spend a couple weeks with everyone in mid January. It was an incredible vacation. One of the first I actually felt I'd done everything and seen everyone I'd set out to accomplish and see. We stayed at Missy's most of the time. When we weren't at Missy's, we were at Arron and Jac's.
During the visit, a couple of startling (for me anyway) revelations came to me. Once while driving out to Pouslbo, basking in the glory of the Pacific Northwest on one of those startlingly beautiful winter days, rugged snow covered mountains on every side, sunlight dancing off the pristine, blue waters beside me, forests so dense and green you can't penetrate them with your eyes, let alone with your person, and a sky so brilliantly blue it almost hurt my eyes to look at it, I surprised myself by thinking "I can see this anytime I'm passing this way."
I really expected to be pining away for those vistas, but instead I just enjoyed them. Another time, while visiting with friends, I realized life goes on. Once I was so intricately involved in the same things they are still involved with, but now I'm not. I'm an interested observer at best. These insights or revelations really cemented for me, my life is in New Orleans now. And,along with my life in New Orleans, came new involvements with people and ideas in which my dear old friends could only be "interested observers." It was a bittersweet, but certainly necessary, understanding, a line of demarcation maybe.
The absolute best thing that happened while I was in Washington, was meeting my granddaughter and her mother, my cherished friend, for the first time after having an eighteen year relationship through letters. My son relinquished custody of his daughter at birth. She was adopted by a most extraordinary couple and raised in the most loving, nurturing environment I could have ever hoped for her. Her (my granddaughter's) mother became my friend over the years as she faithfully maintained contact with me through letters and pictures. I watched this beautifuul young woman grow up because of her mothers generous nature and loving heart.
On the last Saturday of my visit, the three of us met at a little restaurant on Bainbridge. We spent hours talking laughing and getting to know one another. This first meeting was everything I could have ever hoped for. My only (tiny) sadness about our meeting was not knowing when I'll get to see them again. A wonderful evolution my connection to them is; my son and the birth mother have now sought to establish their own connection with these wonderful women. I see a time, probably somewhere way far off in the future, where we might occasionally gather together. Don't know how or when or even under what circumstance, but all things are possible,
I've started working at a Non-profit, transitional housing, residence for women and children who have been formerly homeless. I teach the youngest children. It's challenging, rewarding, frustrating, insightful, scary and glorious all swirling around together. The child care director and I are the only women white women working in the house (or residents for that matter). Being daily in this all black environment has been a tremendous education for me! Prejudices, stereotypes and preconceived notions are being examined and culled from my mind daily. Some I didn't even know existed!! I tell you honestly, color, age, economic "strata," and religious and deeply entrenched cultural beliefs are mighty barriers between we mere motals.
I'm definatly not the first person to realize and wish, if only there were more opportunities for people to come together and get to know each other, out of mutual need or benefit, tremendous strides could be made in minimizing the differences we hold out in front of ourselves like a barrier or wrap around ourselves like protective cloaks.
I was driving the other day in a particularly affluent suburb of New Orleans. (Mind you, I work in Central City, which is exactly the opposite of affluent!) I happened to pass an elementary school just as school was letting out for the day. All the beautiful, innocent cherubs in their darling school uniforms were being met by beautifully coiffed and dressed mommas and being placed in car seats and harnessed into safety belts, inside massive SUV's, parked at the curb. Suddenly I was struck with the terrible understanding that these beautiful children and their beautiful mommas were nearly oblivious to the poverty and needs of the women and children I work with daily. And the opposite was true as well! The women and children from the residence don't have a clue how it might ever be possible for them to live a life similar to that tiny vignette I was watching. There will most likely be no private schools for their children, no SUVs, or no home in the suburbs. The worst part is, neither group harbored any ill will toward the other. They are all just living their lives as best they know how. I was heart sick and overwhelmed with the realization of how much work there is to do if our culture, our world really, will ever get to a place where we regard our fellow human beings with less suspicion and envy and more compassion and respect.
I do know it starts with one person reaching out to another person. One person laying down their own cultural prejudices and lifting up a attitude of acceptance and respect.
We human being have so much work to do....
in hope
my
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Adjustments
Today I sold a chair to a neighbor. Not only did she buy the chair, but she commissioned me to paint some other wooden furniture she already has. This "being an artist" thing sometimes takes me by surprise. I never know when the label will overtake some perfectly ordinary moment in my day. It's one thing to enjoy what I do, hobby or otherwise, but it's quite another layer to call myself "artist" and then risk putting my my work out there, being vulnerable to the critique of the world. I don't think it's false modesty to wonder whether or not any piece of work I'm offering is worthy of someone else's notice. I think it may be human nature. Well, it's certainly mine, and I'm human! I wonder if there's a magic moment, in the life of an artist, when they suddenly realize they have become absolutely sure of the quality of their work and the esteem with which the public will receive it, and so they are no longer reluctant to "put it out there"? Just a wonderment, no answer forthcoming or necessary.
Yesterday, John and I and some friends walked to a horse racing track about three miles from our house. It was a lovely afternoon and we thought it might be fun to go watch the horses race. It was all of the above! I'm struck over and over at how close everything is here, and how willing we are to walk. We walk to the park several times a week, we walk to the grocery store, we walk to friends homes, it's even possible to walk to church, but I'd have to get up earlier and (for now) that's not something I'm willing to do! ;-)
I started a job last week! Not a big thing, but something that will be, or at least holds the potential to be, very rewarding. A friend of mine is the director of a small child care center, at a women's and children's homeless shelter, and she has asked me to come offer some art projects for the children, possibly involving the mom's as well at some point. I'll also be part of the child care team, but bringing art into these young peoples lives is really what draws me. I read a book many years ago, by Julia Cameron, called "The Artist Way." As much as such a thing is possible, the book changed my life! I hope to pass on at least some of the wisdom and vision of Cameron to these children.
There have been days lately, when Pt. Orchard and our lives there, seem so far away, like a story I knew once. Other days, a smell or a sound will trigger such vivid memories of our life and times there, our family and friends left behind, that it's all I can do not to drop to my knees weeping over the loss. It's definitely a difficult and sometimes weird balancing act, psychically. One night recently, we were walking in the French Quarter leaving a pub, after having just listened to a friends band playing there. I found myself smiling somewhat smuggly (inwardly) over the fact that I live here and most of the people passing by were "just" tourists. Most any other day, usually while attempting to drive somewhere, anywhere, I find myself so frustrated at having to learn a whole new series of routes to get anywhere! I just want to go "home" and drive those very familiar roads again, resting in the confident knowledge I know where everything is and how to get there.
When I was a kid, we moved all the time. But, as an adult and mother, I wanted something different for my kids, so we pretty much stayed put, moving only to different homes within Kitsap Co. I absolutely hated all those childhood moves!! (Thirteen different schools before the 9th grade) Now, hindsight being such as it is, I recognize those moves gave me a "gift" of sorts. Moving often forced me to adapt, quickly! I became very adept at finding my niche, my circle of friends, and making some kind of order in each new environment. Now, I wonder if it's been so long since I was the "new kid" that I've lost that gift? Well, I guess it can't be completely lost because I am adapting, I am finding my niche and my circle of friends, it just seems so much more tramatic now that it did when I was younger. Maybe I just spend to much time inside my head or typing here.
Tonight we're having dinner with friends, we'll laugh together, swap more of our life stories with one another, reveal a bit more or our "tender under bellys" and grow that much closer in the process. We're streghtening our friendshp foundations, while we individuually and occassionally collectively, make our way into the lives we've chosen. They're adjusting, I'm adjusting, who could ask for more?
Namaste'
my
Yesterday, John and I and some friends walked to a horse racing track about three miles from our house. It was a lovely afternoon and we thought it might be fun to go watch the horses race. It was all of the above! I'm struck over and over at how close everything is here, and how willing we are to walk. We walk to the park several times a week, we walk to the grocery store, we walk to friends homes, it's even possible to walk to church, but I'd have to get up earlier and (for now) that's not something I'm willing to do! ;-)
I started a job last week! Not a big thing, but something that will be, or at least holds the potential to be, very rewarding. A friend of mine is the director of a small child care center, at a women's and children's homeless shelter, and she has asked me to come offer some art projects for the children, possibly involving the mom's as well at some point. I'll also be part of the child care team, but bringing art into these young peoples lives is really what draws me. I read a book many years ago, by Julia Cameron, called "The Artist Way." As much as such a thing is possible, the book changed my life! I hope to pass on at least some of the wisdom and vision of Cameron to these children.
There have been days lately, when Pt. Orchard and our lives there, seem so far away, like a story I knew once. Other days, a smell or a sound will trigger such vivid memories of our life and times there, our family and friends left behind, that it's all I can do not to drop to my knees weeping over the loss. It's definitely a difficult and sometimes weird balancing act, psychically. One night recently, we were walking in the French Quarter leaving a pub, after having just listened to a friends band playing there. I found myself smiling somewhat smuggly (inwardly) over the fact that I live here and most of the people passing by were "just" tourists. Most any other day, usually while attempting to drive somewhere, anywhere, I find myself so frustrated at having to learn a whole new series of routes to get anywhere! I just want to go "home" and drive those very familiar roads again, resting in the confident knowledge I know where everything is and how to get there.
When I was a kid, we moved all the time. But, as an adult and mother, I wanted something different for my kids, so we pretty much stayed put, moving only to different homes within Kitsap Co. I absolutely hated all those childhood moves!! (Thirteen different schools before the 9th grade) Now, hindsight being such as it is, I recognize those moves gave me a "gift" of sorts. Moving often forced me to adapt, quickly! I became very adept at finding my niche, my circle of friends, and making some kind of order in each new environment. Now, I wonder if it's been so long since I was the "new kid" that I've lost that gift? Well, I guess it can't be completely lost because I am adapting, I am finding my niche and my circle of friends, it just seems so much more tramatic now that it did when I was younger. Maybe I just spend to much time inside my head or typing here.
Tonight we're having dinner with friends, we'll laugh together, swap more of our life stories with one another, reveal a bit more or our "tender under bellys" and grow that much closer in the process. We're streghtening our friendshp foundations, while we individuually and occassionally collectively, make our way into the lives we've chosen. They're adjusting, I'm adjusting, who could ask for more?
Namaste'
my
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Sweet Time
I haven't taken any time lately to sit down and organize my thoughts here. I miss writing to myself, to my few readers, and especially to my devoted husband, who is my most honest, loving, supportive, reader. One reason for the lack of posts is the calm in my life right now. No great obstacles to recognize and overcome, no overwhelming sense of loss to deal with and no pressing commitments to juggle. I noted to no one in particular the other day, since moving to New Orleans, I haven't been late for anything! That's a real divergence from my former life where I felt late, slightly behind, all the time!! I have this growing, wonderful sense of freedom from the "have to's" and the "must do's." It's a pretty addictive way of approaching life, I like it!
I'm walking a lot more, 3 to 6 miles a day. I'm "reading" a lot more too. Listening to books on tape while I walk, must count as some kind of reading(right?). And, most fun of all, I'm getting lots of chairs ready for a craft fair at the end of Nov. If I'm lucky enough to get a space in this particular one, I believe it will help turn the tide from a sale here and there, to a true business with chairs moving out as fast as I can get them painted.
There was a major milestone in the life of my family recently. I hesitate to write about it here, because of privacy issues, but since so few people frequent this blog, and I won't use names, I think it will be OK. My oldest granddaughter, daughter of my second son, turned 18! I know most of us(all?) parents/grandparents feel the rush of time most exquisitely when we watch how rapidly the children in our lives grow from infant to adult. This is such a common phenomenon, you'd think we'd grow immune to its sting, but that seems not to be the case. I'm a curious mixture of proud, sad, excited, and scared over this milestone birthday.
In wisdom beyond their teenaged years, my son and his then girlfriend, made the heart wrenchingly hard decision to relinquish custody of their daughter at birth. They knew they were not ready to become parents. What began in pain, has grown into an extraordinary relationship between myself and the adoptive parents. The faithfulness of my granddaughters adoptive mother to maintain contact with me, through letters and pictures, all these years, is one of the purest blessings of my life! I've actually thought, from time to time, that it's probably she I look most forward to meeting, even more than my granddaughter! Ironic! She is a devoted mother, strong and selfless and I admire everything about her. A time in my life I referred to, in the moment, as the darkest hour, has become a joy filled situation, surrounded with love shared for a precious child, recently turned woman, all due to the commitment, compassion and grace of this woman, this perfect, gift from God, the mother of my granddaughter.
Now we all of a sudden, find ourselves nearing the time when we might all meet and establish a whole new kind of relationship. Recently the birth mother, myself and my son have reconnected, and soon the birth mother hopes to initiate contact with the child she bore and her family. It's swirling around us now, this energy of something wonderful, yet scary, approaching. Personally, I'm very content to just bask in that energy right now. Let the changes happen in a very deliberate and non-hurried manner. This set of circumstances has been a source of joy to me for eighteen years, and I'm just not in a hurry to see it change.
You, my faithful readers, can be sure there will be more stories to tell, this adventure, and all of it's inter connected chapters, has barely just begun. It's time to go paint a bit on a chair and then take a walk. I love these times of my life. Sweet time!
I'm walking a lot more, 3 to 6 miles a day. I'm "reading" a lot more too. Listening to books on tape while I walk, must count as some kind of reading(right?). And, most fun of all, I'm getting lots of chairs ready for a craft fair at the end of Nov. If I'm lucky enough to get a space in this particular one, I believe it will help turn the tide from a sale here and there, to a true business with chairs moving out as fast as I can get them painted.
There was a major milestone in the life of my family recently. I hesitate to write about it here, because of privacy issues, but since so few people frequent this blog, and I won't use names, I think it will be OK. My oldest granddaughter, daughter of my second son, turned 18! I know most of us(all?) parents/grandparents feel the rush of time most exquisitely when we watch how rapidly the children in our lives grow from infant to adult. This is such a common phenomenon, you'd think we'd grow immune to its sting, but that seems not to be the case. I'm a curious mixture of proud, sad, excited, and scared over this milestone birthday.
In wisdom beyond their teenaged years, my son and his then girlfriend, made the heart wrenchingly hard decision to relinquish custody of their daughter at birth. They knew they were not ready to become parents. What began in pain, has grown into an extraordinary relationship between myself and the adoptive parents. The faithfulness of my granddaughters adoptive mother to maintain contact with me, through letters and pictures, all these years, is one of the purest blessings of my life! I've actually thought, from time to time, that it's probably she I look most forward to meeting, even more than my granddaughter! Ironic! She is a devoted mother, strong and selfless and I admire everything about her. A time in my life I referred to, in the moment, as the darkest hour, has become a joy filled situation, surrounded with love shared for a precious child, recently turned woman, all due to the commitment, compassion and grace of this woman, this perfect, gift from God, the mother of my granddaughter.
Now we all of a sudden, find ourselves nearing the time when we might all meet and establish a whole new kind of relationship. Recently the birth mother, myself and my son have reconnected, and soon the birth mother hopes to initiate contact with the child she bore and her family. It's swirling around us now, this energy of something wonderful, yet scary, approaching. Personally, I'm very content to just bask in that energy right now. Let the changes happen in a very deliberate and non-hurried manner. This set of circumstances has been a source of joy to me for eighteen years, and I'm just not in a hurry to see it change.
You, my faithful readers, can be sure there will be more stories to tell, this adventure, and all of it's inter connected chapters, has barely just begun. It's time to go paint a bit on a chair and then take a walk. I love these times of my life. Sweet time!
Friday, October 23, 2009
Just Wondering (... or maybe wandering?)
Last night Em and I went to a fund raising dinner at the Presbyterian Church. As fund raisers go, it must have been wildly successful!! Hundreds of people (literally) filled the social hall, during the hour we were there, and they continued to serve for a total of four hours. The tally of meals served was figured out, in part, by the number of Styrofoam "to go" boxes that were used to dish up the meals. At the last count, I heard, over a thousand meals had been served! I certainly admire the enthusiasm, planning and promotional abilities of the fund raising committee!
For me personally the evening was so hard. Em's been volunteering at the church for a couple of months now and has learned the names and faces of many of the members. I attend worship services there sporadically, and have gained only a very limited knowledge of names and faces of anyone. Sitting in that packed hall, even with Em at my side, I felt very alone. I ate my barely warm spaghetti dinner, with it's wilted salad and stale cookie dessert, and just felt exceedingly sorry for myself.
It's hard for me to write that truth. "Feeling Sorry" for oneself was not an acceptable state of behavior at any time during my childhood years. First, it was unlikely to draw even the slightest sympathy or attention, so it was a complete exercise in futility. Moreover, if someone actually did take notice, the attention my "pity party" might bring down on me would be the most unwelcome kind. Teasing and disdain were the only predictable outcomes of that particular self indulgence, I can remember.
The crazy thing is; it's not as if I don't know the remedy for my own malaise. I do! It's as simple as following Emmy's wonderful example and jumping into the mix of people and life and energy swirling around Lakeview Presbyterian Church. I could join clubs and go to meetings, show up for book studies and work parties and soon I'd be in the thick of things and all my troubles would fade away! Right? Mostly right?? a little right??? almost right.... ?..
What's stopping me? Of course I know it's me, I'm stopping me, but why? The folks I've met are friendly, the friends I've made are loving and supportive. Is it too much work? Am I afraid (remember recess in the second grade?) no one will "pick me"? Is this reluctance a symptom of burnout from being so hyper involved at home? "All of the above? -- None of the above?" It's like I'm holding back, waiting for something outside myself to propel me forward. After all the work I've done over the last couple of decades, facing and properly containing the trauma and demons who would haunt me, learning to take personal responsibility for my life and times, recognizing no one is a victim (for long) who doesn't chose to remain a victim, why can't I stir my limbs and heart and get moving into this community (or another!)? Why do I feel such helplessness at this particular juncture of my life?
You, my dear anonymous reader, may have noticed some distinct mood changes woven through my writing. I see it too. I live inside this swirling mass of confusion, insecurity and hope, and it's as confusing to me as it may be to you! I seem to have a real "Love - Hate" relationship going on with my own life! Is that even normal? What will I be when I grow up? Will I grow up?
Writing here helps. I not sure why, but it helps. There's a particularly annoying voice, coming from some deep, dark crevice of my mind, which keeps offering (rather cynically, I might point out) "you are definitely a woman with too much time on your hands!" I don't agree. I'm a woman with just the right amount of time on my hands! Time, sweet time.... all things in good time.
thanks for listening,
my
For me personally the evening was so hard. Em's been volunteering at the church for a couple of months now and has learned the names and faces of many of the members. I attend worship services there sporadically, and have gained only a very limited knowledge of names and faces of anyone. Sitting in that packed hall, even with Em at my side, I felt very alone. I ate my barely warm spaghetti dinner, with it's wilted salad and stale cookie dessert, and just felt exceedingly sorry for myself.
It's hard for me to write that truth. "Feeling Sorry" for oneself was not an acceptable state of behavior at any time during my childhood years. First, it was unlikely to draw even the slightest sympathy or attention, so it was a complete exercise in futility. Moreover, if someone actually did take notice, the attention my "pity party" might bring down on me would be the most unwelcome kind. Teasing and disdain were the only predictable outcomes of that particular self indulgence, I can remember.
The crazy thing is; it's not as if I don't know the remedy for my own malaise. I do! It's as simple as following Emmy's wonderful example and jumping into the mix of people and life and energy swirling around Lakeview Presbyterian Church. I could join clubs and go to meetings, show up for book studies and work parties and soon I'd be in the thick of things and all my troubles would fade away! Right? Mostly right?? a little right??? almost right.... ?..
What's stopping me? Of course I know it's me, I'm stopping me, but why? The folks I've met are friendly, the friends I've made are loving and supportive. Is it too much work? Am I afraid (remember recess in the second grade?) no one will "pick me"? Is this reluctance a symptom of burnout from being so hyper involved at home? "All of the above? -- None of the above?" It's like I'm holding back, waiting for something outside myself to propel me forward. After all the work I've done over the last couple of decades, facing and properly containing the trauma and demons who would haunt me, learning to take personal responsibility for my life and times, recognizing no one is a victim (for long) who doesn't chose to remain a victim, why can't I stir my limbs and heart and get moving into this community (or another!)? Why do I feel such helplessness at this particular juncture of my life?
You, my dear anonymous reader, may have noticed some distinct mood changes woven through my writing. I see it too. I live inside this swirling mass of confusion, insecurity and hope, and it's as confusing to me as it may be to you! I seem to have a real "Love - Hate" relationship going on with my own life! Is that even normal? What will I be when I grow up? Will I grow up?
Writing here helps. I not sure why, but it helps. There's a particularly annoying voice, coming from some deep, dark crevice of my mind, which keeps offering (rather cynically, I might point out) "you are definitely a woman with too much time on your hands!" I don't agree. I'm a woman with just the right amount of time on my hands! Time, sweet time.... all things in good time.
thanks for listening,
my
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
What if?
Some days I'm tempted to fall in love with this place. It's so exotic. Last evening, for about two hours, a tremendous thunder and lightening shower rolled over us, accompanied by torrential rains. Toward the end of the storm, I'd planned to take Emmy to a friends house, a couple of miles from our own. We found, much to our amazement, that many of the road ways we'd normally use were completely flooded! I'm not talking a little standing water, there was feet of water over the roadways!! I saw (and it was featured on the news this morning) a small pickup truck, submerged up to the drivers window stuck in the small hollow of roadway under an overpass!! We had to re-chart our course to find the high ground roads (mind you, when you live in a below sea level community "high ground" is a relative term) to get us where we needed to be.
Actually I was very proud, not only did we find our way, without loss of life or limb (or hurting John's Jag!), but then I got back home again safe and sound, as well. What an adventure! All the elements of a Steven King novel; A Dark and Stormy Night, lighting flashes that lit up the whole sky, followed by thunder that actually shook the house. The rain was coming down so hard it was flying at the windows of the house, and later the car, sideways. The fastest setting of the windshield wipers couldn't keep up! What a night! I'm thinking I must not have lost all my pioneer spirit after all!
Not to long before we moved down here, I was going through a "memory box" and found, much to my surprise, a short essay I'd written, probably when I was in about the third grade. We moved a lot when I was a kid, by my reckoning, 7 or 8 different schools before the 10th grade, when mom and dad finally settled us in Bremerton to stay. Not many souvenirs of my childhood survived all that transporting from one place to another. I did save a Shirley Temple doll, given to me when I was about 8, and then because I could do it myself, I saved lots of memorabilia from high school. There's not much else, so how this single sheet of notebook paper, laboriously and carefully hand written (and not very neatly I might point out) survived I can't even guess. I didn't find it with a folder of old school work, just a folded up piece of paper at the bottom of a box. What a precious gift.
This little essay was evidently an assignment to write about; "What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?" In it, I proudly proclaimed to the world (or probably just to my teacher) "I want to be a scientist or an astronaut when I grow up!" Now, I can almost remember writing the paper, and I perfectly remember the feelings! What did you want to be when you grew up? Did any of you out there ever want to be a scientist or astronaut or a pioneer or a cowboy? I sure did! Each and every one one appealed to me at some time or another! Not to mention owner of horses, lots and lots of horses! I'm not sure what I intended to do with all my herds of horses in the future, but I know I wanted to own lots of them!
I'm not sure when the dreams faded or changed for me, but my grown up self recognizes living as we do in a world filled with modern conveniences, I wouldn't know how to do my life any other way. Does that mean it was the right choice to find new goals or did I make this reality the right choice? I often say to friends "I'd never change a single moment of my life, because each and every step got me to where I am today, and this is where I absolutely want to be!!
Don't you admire those few people we know who, whether from strength of resolve or blind luck, never gave up on their childhood dreams? People who didn't let the well intentioned "leaders" in their young lives point them in other directions "for their own good!" They became a cowboy or a fireman. For the rest of us, we (generally) do the best we know how to do with the tools at hand. And, maybe we had to let go of one thing in order to catch hold of something else. Perhaps leaving those childhood dreams behind is a normal and necessary part of growing up for most of us.
A happy thought: No matter the reasons we've changed direction, good or bad, lazy or resilient, smart move or a "forever" regret, I'm pretty sure the child's dreams still lingers in each of our souls. We certainly could revisit them anytime we'd like. We could try on those old wishes and examine what once were our goals, see if they might still fit, remember what drew us to them in the first place, revel in our once fearless hearts. Who knows what would happen? Some days, you might find my inner child in charge of the writing here. A little one, freed from the responsibilities of her adult caretaker for a few minutes, and allowed dream and share to her hearts content. I wish I could give her more time!
blessings,
my
Actually I was very proud, not only did we find our way, without loss of life or limb (or hurting John's Jag!), but then I got back home again safe and sound, as well. What an adventure! All the elements of a Steven King novel; A Dark and Stormy Night, lighting flashes that lit up the whole sky, followed by thunder that actually shook the house. The rain was coming down so hard it was flying at the windows of the house, and later the car, sideways. The fastest setting of the windshield wipers couldn't keep up! What a night! I'm thinking I must not have lost all my pioneer spirit after all!
Not to long before we moved down here, I was going through a "memory box" and found, much to my surprise, a short essay I'd written, probably when I was in about the third grade. We moved a lot when I was a kid, by my reckoning, 7 or 8 different schools before the 10th grade, when mom and dad finally settled us in Bremerton to stay. Not many souvenirs of my childhood survived all that transporting from one place to another. I did save a Shirley Temple doll, given to me when I was about 8, and then because I could do it myself, I saved lots of memorabilia from high school. There's not much else, so how this single sheet of notebook paper, laboriously and carefully hand written (and not very neatly I might point out) survived I can't even guess. I didn't find it with a folder of old school work, just a folded up piece of paper at the bottom of a box. What a precious gift.
This little essay was evidently an assignment to write about; "What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?" In it, I proudly proclaimed to the world (or probably just to my teacher) "I want to be a scientist or an astronaut when I grow up!" Now, I can almost remember writing the paper, and I perfectly remember the feelings! What did you want to be when you grew up? Did any of you out there ever want to be a scientist or astronaut or a pioneer or a cowboy? I sure did! Each and every one one appealed to me at some time or another! Not to mention owner of horses, lots and lots of horses! I'm not sure what I intended to do with all my herds of horses in the future, but I know I wanted to own lots of them!
I'm not sure when the dreams faded or changed for me, but my grown up self recognizes living as we do in a world filled with modern conveniences, I wouldn't know how to do my life any other way. Does that mean it was the right choice to find new goals or did I make this reality the right choice? I often say to friends "I'd never change a single moment of my life, because each and every step got me to where I am today, and this is where I absolutely want to be!!
Don't you admire those few people we know who, whether from strength of resolve or blind luck, never gave up on their childhood dreams? People who didn't let the well intentioned "leaders" in their young lives point them in other directions "for their own good!" They became a cowboy or a fireman. For the rest of us, we (generally) do the best we know how to do with the tools at hand. And, maybe we had to let go of one thing in order to catch hold of something else. Perhaps leaving those childhood dreams behind is a normal and necessary part of growing up for most of us.
A happy thought: No matter the reasons we've changed direction, good or bad, lazy or resilient, smart move or a "forever" regret, I'm pretty sure the child's dreams still lingers in each of our souls. We certainly could revisit them anytime we'd like. We could try on those old wishes and examine what once were our goals, see if they might still fit, remember what drew us to them in the first place, revel in our once fearless hearts. Who knows what would happen? Some days, you might find my inner child in charge of the writing here. A little one, freed from the responsibilities of her adult caretaker for a few minutes, and allowed dream and share to her hearts content. I wish I could give her more time!
blessings,
my
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