Cheese straws, and a slice of life.....

The phone rang at 1:45 A.M.....after the last few days, that is NOT something you want to hear. John and I sat up in terror, and he grabbed for the phone. We were so relieved when it was a misdialed call. On the downside, that pretty much did me in for sleeping. I dozed off and on, but gave up the ghost well before dawn, and put on the coffee... After I drink this cup, I will finish up the sourdough cinnamon rolls, and pack them away to take to my Brother and Sister In Law tomorrow....then I will start on some cheese straws I think, and maybe after that babiest girl and I will make some peppermint patties (recipe on my Pinterest...they are divine). Strange comfort food I know, but it's what sounds right to me...In my experience, in times of deep sorrow and grief, you may not be able to think about eating a ham sandwich, or chicken and vegatables, but you can always tolerate a cheese straw.....College Boy will be home later today, and I can not wait to have my arms around him - I have hated that he was so far away, grieving by himself, this first sudden loss of someone young and seemingly healthy - someone that you sat beside while eating Turkey and laughing... someone who was there, and now is not. It has been so hard watching the girls grapple with this same issue, and I have searched for words of explanation and comfort - words that feel woefully inadequate. I started putting out the Christmas yesterday...don't know why - I just woke up with a burning need to do so. I always start with the mantle in the den. First the Santas, then the fresh greens, then the lights.As I was pulling the Santas out of their storage box, I was transported to the first time I decorated a house for Christmas - my Childhood home, in the days before my Mother died...December 15, 1978....I was a teenager, but I had watched my Mother every year, as she carefully made arrangements, adorned candelabra's, and hung the mistletoe.... I was able to replicate her designs, almost to a tee. I was comforted to know that just days later, as the stretcher was pushed through the house to the waiting ambulance, she asked them to stop, so she could see the "Christmas". My Dad told me how proud she was of all that I had done, and how much it meant to her, to see it one last time. Yesterday, some 34 years later, I was once again decking the halls with my companions of sorrow and tears... The first Santa to be put in place is one that John bought me many years ago - It is a bust of Santa smoking his pipe. I fell in love with it, because it looks just like my Dad, when he donned the old red suit, year after year. Next, the trio of Santas that my Sister In Law painted for me in the early days of my marriage - she is so very talented, and I have always envied her abilities. Next, perhaps the most meaningful Santa of all. I bought it the Christmas I found out I was pregnant with College Boy. I was walking the flea market in our town, and was drawn to a booth, where a woman was selling her wares. She had a baby strapped to her back, and a toddler eating crackers and gnawing on a book  in a playpen. We struck up a conversation, as I looked at her Folk Art. (Folk Art is one of my greatest loves...) She was a college educated woman, determined to live her dream of staying at home with her Children. To help supplement her Husbands income, she sold her paintings on the weekends. I shared with her my happy news, and we talked at length about our common dream - to live a life focused on the raising of our children. She inspired me, and showed me that although it might be hard, it was possible, to have the luxury of being a stay at home Mom - and for many years, I walked this woman's path - selling paintings and beeswax candles at a weekend market, moonlighting at the Dinner Theatre, adding my little bit of money to the household - making up for the rest by learning to be frugal. Every time I look at that Santa, I am filled with gratitude for that chance encounter, and for the woman's advice and encouragement. After Folk Art Santa is in place, Celtic Santa follows, and then it is a free for all - until the mantle looks just right. Then, on to the angels in the Living Room, the Nativity in the Music room, the table and chandelier in the Dining Room, and back to the den - to put the lights on the tree - a task that needs finishing this morning (There may or may not have been some kitchen words involved with the stringing of the lights last night, causing me to leave them for later) - then everything will be ready to decorate the tree tonight, when all five of us are home. It is a strange juxtaposition, this.....the preparing of funeral food, and the decorating for Christmas. How to make sense of it? How to make it a life lesson that sticks for my kids? I want them to see that you have to keep on keeping on....that grief is a part of this life we lead, but that it doesn't have to define you....that none of us are promised tomorrow, so we make the best of today, and wake up - trying again. I want them to know, in their heart of hearts, that at the end of life - whenever that comes -  the things that will have mattered the most are not things, but relationships - family, and those in our circle that we love - the people that we helped, the lives that we touched, the laughter that we shared, the tears of compassion we cried.... I want them to know that life is like decorating for Christmas in the midst of sorrow and tragedy - finding the hope, in the presence of despair. Tomorrow will come - we will eat our cheese straws, and face each other with our sadness and inadequate words....it will be a day of spoken and unspoken prayer, of laying to rest our dreams for one we loved....a day for giving full reign to the grief that is ours. A day for family....a day to to look to the coming of the Christ Child - to embrace Christmas, and it's promise of hope and peace and light, made manifest in the darkness....a day for funeral food...cheese straws, and a slice of life.

Make it Not. Be. So.

As the sun rose on my third cup of coffee, it was apparent that Mother Nature was sharing in my grief....a fog so thick that what little I could see had a surreal, other worldly feel. The same feeling I had at 9:00 last night, 4:00 this morning, all afternoon, and right now as I sit at my desk in the kitchen. The house is momentarily empty - I am thankful for the quiet. Crackhouse Puppy is sitting by my feet, intuitively offering me comfort....every now and then, putting his head on my knee and whimpering - a fitting sound for this day. I was climbing into bed last night as the phone rang...my brother's voice on the other end. I have heard him sound like that only twice before - in 1991 when he made the call informing me of our Father's death, and then again in 1993 as 8 months pregnant with my first child I listened as he haltingly told of his teenage son's death. "Kelley"....he said last night, and in an instant I knew, and my mind screamed "Who.....who is it this time....?" My mind, my heart - not ready for any name that he might call - but as I fell to my knees, I could not accept the name he uttered..."Chuck....it's Chuck.....he's dead...." Never one to be at a loss for words, I was incapable of formed words...Surely not Chuck, my one remaining nephew - my Brother's one remaining Son....He's a newlywed - He sat, glowing with happiness at my Thanksgiving table not five days past...he and his beautiful bride just back from a second, delayed wedding ceremony in her native Peru...not Chuck who just last week made the same smiley face that has worked on me since he was a baby, and asked to take the remainder of the Chocolate Pie home...not Chuck whose last words to me were "I'll see you in a couple of weeks" - we had planned a holiday game night with a sleepover....not Chuck, who was my very first "little buddy". I was ten when my Brother and Sister In Law announced that they were expecting...I was so excited - I might finally get to hold a real live baby! When he was born, he was so perfect, so cuddly, and so mine! As he learned to walk, I was allowed to take him outside - we could bounce the ball, and swing. And when he came to visit my house, we would play ride a little pony down to town until my leg felt like it would break. As a two year old, he developed a love of hats that was something to behold. His best, most favorite hat was a "Billy Jack" hat - almost as big as he was...it is this picture - Chuck standing under the Christmas tree, clutching the Billy Jack hat tight on his head, that has been front and center in my mind today. He was a lover of sweets...I will never forget the Christmas, he must have been two or three, that my Mother outdid herself on the dessert course. She put out crystal platter after crystal platter of cookies and bars and little cakes....she leaned over to Chuck and asked which one he would like....he raised up on his knees in the chair, leaned over the table, reached his little arms out, spread the stubby fingers on both hands as far apart as he could and commanded...."MANY!" That precious little boy grew into a fine man, and he traveled the world - first in the military, and then with his civilian jobs. He was the best of both of his parents....my Sister In Law's gentle spirit, my Brothers sense of humor. True love came late to Chuck, and we were all overjoyed as he found and then wed his beloved.....a girl who is beautiful inside and out....a girl who is too soon a widow.  My Brother and Sister In Law have lost both of their precious boys, and for once....words fail me. I do not know how to express to them the depth of my grief, my pain borne of theirs, my willingness to do anything to make this not. be. so....but it is so....my first little buddy has joined his brother, his Grandparents, his Great Grandparents in that Sweet By and By...and no matter what I do, I can not clear my spirit of this internal fog - this sense of the surreal. No matter what I do, I can't stop shivering - no matter how many layers of clothing I put on, or how many blankets I cover myself in. No matter what I do, I can not ease my family's pain...No matter what I do, I can not make. it. not. be. so. With that in mind, I will "pull out the mat", as we say in our family....I will blanket us in prayer - calling each by name - I will beg a Godly covering - that peace which passeth all understanding. I will hold each one I love, close in my heart...I will pray sleep tonight for all who mourn...and in my grief, I will wish this was. not. so.....

Snapshots of Thanks....

Coffee in my favorite mug, crackhouse Puppy at my feet.
Parades and breakfast casserole - that surely can't be beat.
Recipes checked, ingredients gathered -Cooked all morning long,
Hugs and laughter and broken dishes - Me, bursting forth in song.
Family here from near and far, favorite stories told,
Brothers, Sisters, Nieces, Nephews...how did we get so old?
The Pavilion tables - set and pretty, seems a carport no more -
 Due to lists and proper planning, only one trip to the store.
Turkey, ham, and sweet potatoes; cheese biscuits and baked rice,
Grandma's recipe for the old Egg Gravy, it turned out pretty nice!
Coffee, Spice Bars," Faux Baklava" , not one but two Chocolate Pies,
Our mission? We were out to prove, our stomachs larger than our eyes...
We sat around, al fresco dining, replete with food and love,
Aware once more, that all good gifts are sent from up above.
I felt the ancestors, one by one - they were with us, in this place.
I could feel the dear ones, and if I squinted, could see each precious face.
I'm Thankful for the Food, the laughter, and for the ties that bind
We gathered together, asked the Lord's blessings, for us, and all mankind.
Praise God From whom all blessings flow, they make a Firm Foundation.
I'm Thankful for my home and family, and for this hurting Nation.
The sun has set, and my Pavilion is now aglow with Happy Lights,
Dishes to do, and tables to clean on this Thanksgiving night of nights.
I'm feeling very grateful, for the goodness of this day
I'll have such happy memories, when upon my bed I lay...
For bounty and success and wealth, are not always found in Banks...
Now I am rich beyond compare, in these - my snapshots of Thanks.

Babiest Girl....Bringer of Joy....

I am not going to lie.....Babiest Girl was not in the plans. At least not that spring. I cried for DAYS when I found out I was expecting. I had a four year old and a one year old for goodness sakes, it was not the optimal time financially, and we lived in a two bedroom house. But, as often happens, we figured it all out (with a little divine intervention), and by the time of her birth, we were settled in our new (to us) three bedroom storybook cottage, anxiously awaiting her arrival . Her birth was quick and easy (thanks to the epidural - I didn't have one with the other two). When Baby Girl (who had spent the last 4 months shouting into my ever growing belly "my mommy...MY MOMMY!) laid eyes on 12 hour old Babiest Girl, she gasped and said with the greatest reverence, "Oh Mommy....her's a WHEETEE (translated:sweetie). And was she ever! Such a wonderful baby, and so very loved by all of us....A sweetie all the way around. So full of personality, so funny....and so laid back. She was the light of our lives...and still is, today. As she grew, it became apparent that she was smart....not just bright, but scary smart...off the charts smart. In Kindergarten, her favorite animal? An Echidna....I swear, I had to look it up! (You know...the egg laying Mammals that live in Australia...) More than one of her teachers have told me that she has the most inquisitive mind of any student that they have ever taught. She thrives in the scholastic environment, and she dreams of going to the High School of Math and Science...a boarding school, Lord Help Me! (The child has asked for a book on Quantum Physics.....for a little light reading!) But here's the weird thing (Even weirder than ME having a  Mathematically/ Scientifically gifted child)...to be so smart, she is so...normal. I have often said that it must be a wonderful thing, to be Babiest Girl. She is, and has always been, so comfortable in her own skin....so content, no matter her circumstance...so self assured....so kind. When she was in Elementary School, she had a little friend who suffered from a nervous condition that was so bad, it made it difficult for him to eat. Babiest Girl would sit next to him, and rub his back...murmuring to him that it was alright - encouraging him to take just one more bite....I have witnessed it on multiple occasions, and it never failed to bring me to tears. I can always count on Babiest girl to help, wherever she is needed. She is patient and loving...a girl with tremendous style.She has a thousand watt smile, and eyes that twinkle - like my Dad's. She isn't short....she's fun sized! Her beauty is ethereal and her sense of wonder is palpable. She loves to laugh, and she loves to play games. She makes jewelry like a pro, and gives the best head scratches in the history of mankind. Unbeknownst to her, I was watching  the other day, as she was standing in a wide open space - arms flung out to the side, head back, spinning around and around - her long hippie skirt flowing with her movement. Her joyful abandon in the moment was filled with her beautiful spirit - one that embraces us all. Today, on this day before Thanksgiving, I am Thankful for Babiest Girl....for the light that is her life....for the joy that she brings, wherever she goes.

Baby Girl....the LionHeart...

Her eyes were blackened and swollen shut, as if she had been a few rounds with a prize fighter...her fingers were long and beautiful - like my Mothers'. Baby girl was born 8 weeks early, and the Doctor arrived yelling "How the hell did this happen?", stuck out his arms and caught her. Tiny and in distress, she was whisked away before I had time to count her toes, or smell her head, or hold her....hours later I was taken down to the NICU to see my little girl. For all of my life, the one thing I wanted above all others was a baby girl (No offense, College Boy),and there she was, so full of wires and tubes, I couldn't even hold her. Three days after her birth, my Appendix ruptured - I was back in the hospital and sicker than Baby Girl...she was ready to go home before I was, but they kept us both in the hospital, so we could leave together....and that is how we have been ever since...together. There has never been a sweeter infant than Baby Girl. We used to joke that she didn't cry, because she was afraid we would take her back to the hospital. She grew quickly, and smiled and laughed without reservation. She talked extremely early (And hasn't stopped since...she takes after her Dad!), and was talking in sentences before she was 15 months old. As she grew older, "time out", was of absolutely no use....she would carry on conversations with herself, sing little songs she made up, tell stories loudly enough to ensure her brother and I could hear.....She has my Grandfathers eyes - the only one of his Grands,Great Grands or Great Great Grands to be so lucky....the clearest, palest, most arresting blue - and huge. She is smart, funny, creative, imaginative, artistic, loving, opinionated (I have NO idea where she gets THAT from...) and beautiful - inside and out. She has a soft spot for the elderly....she loves small children...and they love her back. She has the strongest will of any person I have ever known, and is brave beyond measure. She has been called upon more times than I can count, to make use of that courage. School was a challenge for Baby Girl from the beginning, and in the 1st grade, we discovered that she had sustained damage from the trauma of her birth - she has an optic nerve disorder, and is legally blind in her left eye. Treatment was horrible for her - she was required to wear a patch on the bad eye during school, and then, at home the patch was switched to the good eye, which left her stumbling around and frustrated. Even at that young age, she was able to grasp how important it was for her to cooperate - how it would affect her whole life, if she couldn't see. I would get up early every day and draw on her patch - tie dye designs, flowers, butterflies, hearts - whatever she wanted. Kids can be cruel, and sadly, my girl discovered this at an early age...immediately, she was the object of teasing and name calling. She became withdrawn in public, and clung to me. My favorite Baby Girl story occurred just a few weeks into this process. It was Halloween, and there was to be a grand festival at our Charter School. Baby Girl dressed as Boo from Monsters Inc....I even drew Mike Wasowski on her eye patch. She would not leave my side, and spent most of the time with her face buried in the side of my skirt. I was working a game booth outside on the playground, and I suddenly realized there was no little body attached to me....I scanned the playground, and spotted her - just as she threw herself between a much older, much larger bully boy and a child with serious learning disabilities. She threw back her shoulders and stood as tall as her little body would let her and screamed "You leave him alone!" My little girl with her eye patch and her lions heart...She had her yearly Eye exam yesterday. When we started treatment, so many years ago, the Doctor said the best we could hope for was 20/60 eyesight with corrective lenses - yesterday, she tested 20/20 with her lenses. I am so proud of my tenacious girl - so loving, so strong, so determined.  So beautiful, so smart, so talented...she doesn't yet believe in her true worth....kids can still be cruel, and I have watched, heart broken as they try to chip away at her sense of self - for sport. But my girl still possesses the heart of a lion, and one day soon, she will be able to leave this place, and go forth and find her tribe. I long for the day when she sees herself as I see her...as the greatest of treasures....full of life and love and strength....my beautiful Baby Girl, the lionheart. Today, I am thankful for the gift of my first daughter...heart of my heart.

College Boy....

If I let him get two steps ahead of me, I couldn't catch him. College Boy must have been the fastest two year old that ever lived - I became adept at snatching up the collar of his shirt, or the waistband of his pants - what ever I could grab first...I developed a 6th sense about when he was getting ready to make a break for it! I am sitting here, anxiously awaiting the sounds of car doors closing - signaling his arrival,  which will mean the holidays may commence. Back in August, I wondered what this would feel like...wondered if I could survive until Thanksgiving. This is not the first time that he has been home since he left for school, but it will be the longest that he has been home since he gained his new name...."College Boy." Somehow, I feel as if I wasn't able to grasp a piece of his clothing - I let him get more than two steps ahead, and now, I can't catch him. In the minutes after he was born, to the amazement of all of the medical personnel in the room, he raised his head and looked towards the sun streaming in through the window...he has kept his face to the sun ever since. He inherited his Dad's happy heart...he didn't crawl - it wasn't fast enough to suit him. He would raise up on all fours, locate his desired destination, drop back down to the floor and roll, until he arrived...once he learned upright locomotion, he didn't walk, he pranced on his tippy toes - his entire being vibrating with excitement and enthusiasm. He learned how to keep a beat when he was just a couple of months old - he would bounce up and down in his car seat, keeping time to the music...any music. (I should have known then that he would grow up to be an impressive musician!) He could light up a room, and light up a heart (still can), in a New York Minute.  He was bright, inquisitive, competitive, funny, loving....he prayed every night for the planets - naming them, in order, no less....and although I have no idea what he prays for at night these days, I know that he is still all of those things. He is an artist, a poet, a leader, a faithful friend, an athlete, strong as an ox, a person of faith...he has a wonderful sense of humor, a gift for mimicry, and a love for animals. He is good big brother, and an amazing son, and I miss him more than mere words could ever convey....I miss my little buddy - the 3 year old who could name all of the dinosaurs....I miss the 8 year old who would sit on my lap and tell me all about his day....I miss the 11 year old who left bits and pieces of a vast collection of Bionicles all around the house, I miss the 14 year old who wanted me to mind my own beeswax, I miss the 16 year old who was so proud of his new found independence....I miss the music - of his guitar, and of his soul....but he is out there - face turned to the sun, looking in the direction of his bright and shiny future....and I am here, waiting for the closing of a car door - waiting for the moment when home feels like home again, and we are all once again together. I am Thankful today, for the gift of my Son - my priceless treasure - my College Boy.

I did....and I do.....

The countdown has begun. The 20 lb. Turkey is thawing in the fridge, the lists are made, I've doubled my sourdough starter to handle the extra baking, the house is getting fluffed and buffed (translate dusted and vacuumed), the girls new shabby chic bathroom is completed and ready to be revealed to College Boy when he gets home tomorrow (I hope the shock is not too great for his system)....Thanksgiving is here, within reach. Today, I based my Children's Sermon on a Chocolate Glazed Donut, and the old rhyme "As you go through you life, make this  your goal - Look at the Donut and not the hole." You  get the drift - don't focus on those things that you don't have, or the things that are bad or sad or make you mad...focus on the good, the blessings in your life (And boy, did I ever focus on that Donut after second service - I gobbled it down, and was Thankful, let me tell you!). In my preparation time, I thought alot about the donut theory...as it applied to Children, as it applied to the adult congregants....as it applied to me. If you boil my life down to it's very essence, there, at the center, is my family....those four people who mean more to me than life itself, and that family was started the day I met John. I was a few days late reporting to the Waterside Theatre to begin my contract. I needed to check in, to get my actors housing assignment and my rehearsal schedule. As I made my way backstage, I saw him....jet black hair, twinkling eyes, deep tan, short shorts and work boots - carrying a load of wood across the stage. I remember wondering if his first name started with "J". (A few years before, against my better judgement, I went with some friends to have our palms read, and Madame Day assured me that I would marry a man whose name started with the letter "J"). I had no rehearsals with the handsome boy, but was introduced to him a few days later at a Pizza Joint - his name did indeed start with the letter "J", and the rest, as they say, is history. Although, I was first attracted to his magnetic good looks and mischievous eyes (in all honestly, I'm sure it also had something to do with how fine he looked in those short shorts!), I soon came to know that John had the happiest heart of any person I had ever met - a balm to mine, which always seemed to beat with a lingering melancholy. 27 years have passed since that summer, and our lives together have been full...full of laughter and joy, full of sorrow and hard times. In the last four years, that happy heart of his has taken quite a beating, as life has dealt him - dealt us - blow after blow. It is a testimony to the quality of our love, that we have weathered it all....that we still laugh together, still work together for the common good of our family, still look forward to holding each other as we drift off to sleep....that we would do it all over again, given the choice. I am thankful today, for this good man...this man that can't close a cabinet door to save his life, this man that goes out of his way to help widows and children, this man who can still make me laugh, this man who no longer wears short shorts,this man that I have parented with, this man that I would share my last sip of Coke with...I am thankful that we chose each other, that we continue to choose each other - every day, for better for worse...for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health - cleaving unto each other,  just as we promised - so many years ago.

No broken bones....

Today's Thankful Thing is a no brainer! On this day, I am exceedingly Thankful that no one was standing behind me as I entered the movie theatre. We were all so excited - we were mere minutes away from seeing Breaking Dawn, part two. (Do. not. hate....Do. not. judge. - I am not ashamed to admit that I have loved both the books and the films.The scarf, dark glasses and trench coat were just necessary parts of my wardrobe today!) The girls went ahead to get the seats - I followed  behind, as I had to make a pit stop - My bladder has shared space with three babies, after all - it can't be expected to be in prime working condition...the poor thing can barely make it through a movie that in any way involves the drinking of soda. In my desire to get into my seat so as not to miss any previews, I was moving along at a pretty clippy pace. Down the hall, 2nd theatre on the left....I went through the wide double archway and made an immediate right. The problem? The entry into the Theatre itself was to the left...to my right was a cement wall, camouflaged in inky black velvet - masquerading as a through way. I discovered this sad fact only after I did a face plant - right into the cement wall, and let me tell you, fluffy girl bounced...and yelped (OK - maybe wailed like a banshee might be a more accurate description, and at the risk of being guilty of TMI, it is a VERY good thing that I had emptied my bladder just moments before, so great was my degree of surprise). I can only imagine what I must have looked like - it's a shame, really, that it wasn't recorded. Had it been, I could have earned a record amount of Christmas Spending money, after the footage went viral, I won America's Funniest Home Video, and I became an instant celebrity after I guest starred on that MTV show Ridiculousness...... I am also thankful to report that no bones were broken, no teeth knocked out, and the only thing that appears to be bruised is my ego! After I steadied myself for a bit, I schlumped into the theatre, took my seat, and recounted my tale of woe to my female progeny.....whereupon they neither looked concerned or inquired as to my welfare...they were too busy waking the dead and shaking the seats with their laughter. I didn't have time to be indignant, because the lights dimmed, the screen flared to life, and we were transported into the wonderful world that is the cinema. The movie was so very well made - with the craziest twist I have ever witnessed - one that may or may not have caused me to throw my arms up in the air and yelp again - this time in disbelief! By movie's end, there was a wad of Kennedy girls - we were so entwined, half sitting on top of each other - it took us beyond the end of the credits to untangle ourselves and gain our feet....I walked out of the Theatre (with more care than I entered it!), Thankful that my daughters love the whole movie experience as much as I do - we always have the best time. And did you know, that Chick Fil A has already started serving their Christmas Peppermint Milkshake?! Today was an embarrassment of riches, I tell you.....a long awaited movie, time with my girls, Peppermint Milkshakes AND no broken bones.....when ya got it.....ya got it!

Silver Linings and Aches and Pains....

It was not my fault......I was in the Dollar Store, minding my own business, when I realized they were playing Christmas music...and not just any Christmas music, but "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" Christmas music....it's the first time in 34 years that it has caught me out in public unawares like that....you see - that is the song that I associate with my Mom's death. It was Christmas, my Freshman year in college, and I had attended my first Masqueraders Ball - a big bash thrown by the Theatre Honor Society - fancy clothes, nice dance floor....DISCO MUSIC!!(I was a Disco QUEEN, I tell you) Towards the end of the night, several students sang a short concert. I will never forget when a Freshman stepped out onto the floor, took the microphone and sang "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." She was so good, her voice so full of emotion....I was floored - and moved, and more than anything, I wanted to be able to sing just like that....The next day, her rendition was still on a loop in my head - the day my Sister came and rushed me to the Hospital to be with my Mom. All through the night as my Mom lay dying, that song was the soundtrack of her slowing breath, her moans of agony. Each year, when I hear that song for the first time, it brings that memory with it...crystalline - a moment frozen in time - that is how I happened to find myself shopping in the Dollar Tree this morning, pushing my little buggy, tears streaming down my face. (At least it wasn't that Damned "Christmas Shoe" song.....the first time I ever heard THAT one, I was driving the car, and had to pull over so as not to be a danger to myself or others, until the sobbing subsided!) Today, in the midst of my tears, it came to me that I was Thankful for the memory....for all my memories. None are quite so bad as that one, and most are wonderful....truly wonderful....Growing up in the best neighborhood in the world - catching fireflies after bathtime, all of us running around in our Summer PJ's, the Freedom of driving, My College years, the Summer I lived in Burnsville, my years of being a working actress, the Summer I met John, Our Wedding, the days my Children were born, watching my babies grow....good days, bad days, and all the in between days. I have been told more than once that I have a remarkable memory, and indeed, I sometimes embarrass myself by saying, "Hey, remember when we......", and no one else does. I see it as a gift of greatest worth - the ability to recall so clearly the momentous, the mundane - the silver linings, the aches and pains - sense memories of the colors of my days...such a comfort, to a Mid Life Wife.

Bookworm and proud....

It's all up there waiting for me.....clean sheets on the bed (600 thread count), favorite nightgown freshly laundered, the good winter blanket tucked in with hospital corners, and perhaps, most importantly....my book. The book du jour is The Order of the Phoenix.(I tend to read the whole Harry Potter series during times of high stress....I can't tell you how many times I have read them) After I'm done with the set, I have 2 or 3 other books waiting in the wings. Books have been my constant companion, and they inhabit my earliest memories...so today, and every day, I am Thankful for books - Thankful that I love to read. I have been transported to lands that I am quite certain I will never see, but I feel as though I have lived there.....I have been Queens, indentured servants, Doctors, Nurses, Presidents, an angst filled teenager yearning to become a vampire...I have been a college professor whose specialty is religious symolism, an adolescent wizard, a Princess Bride, a persecuted jew in hiding, a maiden in distress. Books have been my caretaker when I was sick, my friend when I was lonely, they have satisfied my yearning for adventure, they have broadened my mind and nurtured my soul. They ensure I never have to eat alone, and that I always have something to occupy my time. They have helped me pass countless hours with my children - hours filled with delight and wonder - on snow days, sick days, bedtime and anytime. They have been a bonding agent with my teenagers, as we discovered commonalities in books we read in tandem - they have allowed us to share the same language at a time when dialogue can be sparse between parent and child. They have provided a lexicon of family jokes (mostly at Johns expense, when he read that Omnivores Dilemma...and it turned him into a corn hating, meat bashing grump!) They have helped me raise my children, providing me with answers to my questions on every subject from weaning to symptom guides and charts, before the advent of Web M.D. In most of the rooms in my house, you will find a Bible and a Dictionary....my two favorite books.What better vacation for mind, body and soul than that which begins "Once upon a time...."? It doesn't have to end with "Happily Ever After", buts it's nice when it does......even if only in books......I had an elementary teacher that used to deride students for being a bookworm....would say scathingly, "You better get your nose out of that book, or it will get stuck there....".....To my way of thinking, no matter where you are - if you have a good book, you are never stuck! And now, off to the clean sheets, the favorite nightgown.... Hogwarts awaits! (Now where DID I put my glasses....?)

A Possibilitarian...

The girls are wanting a bathroom re-do. They figure since College Boy lives elsewhere now, they are due a girlie bathroom for the first time in their lives, and I tend to agree. Shabby Chic is the desired theme, and we have been planning for weeks. Since we are working on a shoestring budget (and by shoestring, I mean non-existent), we are scavenging in closets, and storage bins, and trying to think outside the box. They have agreed on a yet to be purchased Shower Curtain (very shabby, very chic) at that bastion of French good taste.....Target. (Come on now, say it with me using your best French accent - it's fun, I promise). The girls found a really cool, somewhat sophisticated fabric at our local yard goods outlet in the $1.00 bin, and I will use that to make a new curtain for the window. An old Cottage-y style shelf  purchased at a yard sale, and some pottery and lace, and we are mostly good to go - still looking for an old bird-cage and a few nik-naks, but other than that, we've just about gathered all we need. (I am still longing for the lamp we saw the other day in an antique store made out of an old blue mason jar...I may have to break bad and spend the $15.00, because it would be fabulous on their vanity). Today after school, we were looking for some inspiration for artwork for the walls, so we googled one of our favorite boutique artists - Kelly Rae Roberts. Her art is whimsical - part Victorian, part new age-y feel good stuff, part edgy, and just the thing to give us some ideas for a project. As we scrolled down Google images, my eye was snagged by a print that said "I am a Possibilitarian". Babiest girl and I said "I LOVE that", at just the same time. The more I thought about it, the more I decided that I was indeed a Possibilitarian, and that became my Thankful Thing for today. I can see the possibilities in most everything. An old beat up house with nasty carpet and hideous wallpaper, a piece of discarded furniture on the side of the street,a carport, a broken necklace, a stained tee shirt....these are things that can be fluffed and buffed, repainted, restrung or tie dyed.....and more often than not, I can also see the possibilities in situations that might be bad, or scary, or sad. It is, I think, a trait inherited from my Father, who was a Possibilitarian thru and thru. It is this very thing that has pulled me through more times than I can count. I am thankful that I can look past the tired, the beat up, the ugly, the old, the scary and see the possibility. And now, it's back upstairs for me - I need to finish putting the clothes in my "new" dresser - bought at a yard sale(Way past it's prime), sanded and restained - beautiful detail and classic lines brought back to life, with a pinch of elbow grease and a dash of possibility.

Talons, and Wings and Beaks....oh MY!

Babiest girl is working on her Silver award for Girl Scouts - so on this, the 12th day of the Month of Gratitude, I am thankful for my quick reflexes. It started out happily enough - a trip to a neighboring town with Babiest Girls Award Partner and her Dad - the girls are lifelong friends, and I can barely remember a time when we did not know this family. Excitement was in the air, for this was the day we were purchasing the Chickens! The Silver Award is the second highest Award in Girl Scouts, and these two girls have been planning and working for months. The project? They  will raise Chickens (Not the baby kind....more like the teenager kind) until they are laying well, and then give the Chickens, the coop, the fencing for the yard and a detailed care guide (written by the girls) to a halfway house here in our town, providing the residents with a fresh and mostly free source of protein (the eggs, not the chickens themselves), with the added bonus of giving them something to care for. And best of all, we will be raising the Chickens here...at our house! Babiest Girl has been delirious with excitement - raising Chickens is a dream come true for her, and I must admit - I was really digging the idea. I mean, we make our own laundry detergent, I bake our bread, I drive a car that has a bumper sticker that reads "Hippie Chicks Rule"....I had some pretty groovy visions of living the pastoral city life, with Chickens softly clucking, and fresh eggs free for the gathering. Spirits were high as we pulled into the parking lot of the Feed and Seed.....and then, it hit me. Chickens are really just great big birds....have I mentioned that I have an Avian Fear rooted in Childhood Trauma? My sister, 10 years my senior had this bird....a nasty blue parakeet named Tweetie (How clever...I mean, really!). She would take the predator out of his cage, stroke his plumage, and instruct him to "Find Kelley". He would zoom around the house until he found my hiding place, where I was bleeding fear, and he would fly into my face and peck at me until my Mother came running. The happiest day of my young life was the morning we found that feathered monster dead in his cage, belly up, feet pointing to the heavens. It is proof of my great love for College Boy that I allowed the same Sister to give him birds (that's right - plural) for his Birthday one year.... That didn't go too well.... but I digress. As we perused the Chickens available for purchase, I was mesmerized by their feet....they have....well, Talons.....gigantic ones. And wings....with quite a large span.....and......Beaks - the better to peck you with. In my heart, I started pulling for the little green and bluish ones - they didn't look quite so menacing, but as luck would have it, they were adolescent Roosters - we, of course, needed hens. Which is how we came to purchase the reddish ones - with the biggest talons of all. Being the selfless Mother that I am, when it came time to select the birds, I let the girls stand right up by the coops, so THEY could have a good look, and select just the right Hens....I stayed back a little...I know....I'm a giver. The salesman opened the door, to grab the first one, and to everyone's surprise (But mostly to mine), a chicken literally flew the coop and headed straight for my head....I mean, what do I have?! Some kind of aura that says to birds....OVER HERE....PECK THIS ONE'S EYE'S OUT?! But I was ready, with my best duck and cover move....the old reflexes still in working order.The two girls laughingly sprang into action, and chased down the offending creature. Babiest Girl's Award partner cradled the beast to her chest and murmured "There, there...you're OK". Well....I'm glad the dadgummed Chicken was OK, because I sure wasn't. I excused myself with a vague, "Oh, I want to go inside and buy some apples" - leaving the others to get the Dear little things settled into the cage for the ride back to my house......MY HOUSE?! Holy Cow, what was I thinking? I peered into the cage as it was being loaded into the car, and made my inventory, making a clear assessment of the danger I had placed my family in. Talons.....Check. Big Flappy Wings.....Check. Beaks.....wait a minute......these babies have had their beaks shaved down....hooty hoo! That's one in my favor.....but hold on....what's that you say? The beaks will grow back?....great. As we pulled into the driveway, the girls decided that the most pressing task at hand was naming the little darlings...So, as the Dad set to installing the heat light in the coop, the girls sat on a bale of hay inside the fencing, with the Chickens clucking and scratching in the dirt at their feet. My request for the first name was instantly honored, so the prettiest of the three was named Abigail (a nice, friendly name with the hopes that her disposition will match)....Baby Girl joined us in the yard as soon as we got home, and she claimed the honor, as the oldest sister, of naming the next one.....Falcon - due to the size of her TALONS.....Babiest girl and her partner named the third......Kesha......just because. Kesha appears to have significant suicidal tendencies, coupled with a dumb streak a mile long. Just as I was starting to relax a bit(I was standing OUTSIDE of the fencing, after all) - feeling as if my pastoral daydreams might actually be within reach (as long as somebody else takes care of the birds....), Kesha flew into the deer netting that we strung over the fencing, and found the only spot large enough for her massive wings and razor sharp tallons to emerge.....right where I was standing, and for the second time in less than an hour, I once again marveled that my reflexes were that of a 10 year old, that my voice was in prime screeching condition, and that my knees are not really as bad as I thought, because they hauled my fluffy carcass swiftly away from Kesha.....the Kamikaze Chicken. The bird was caught, adjustments were made to the netting, and as of this moment, our little flock are snug in their coop - nesting away - oblivious to the havoc they have wreaked on my last nerve......as for me - let me just say, that there is not enough Coca Cola and Chocolate in the world to soothe THIS kind of stress.....but I rest secure in the knowledge that my reflexes remain top notch.....something to be thankful for, indeed.

The Heart of a Band Geek.....

Just as I thought I could not take another step up ANOTHER big hill, I heard them....the rap tap tap of the Marching Band Cadence. I am happy to report that the heart of a band geek still beats in my chest, because up the hill I went. I was rewarded with the most beautiful sight - a massive college marching band, resplendent in Black and Gold, dancing in line as they were getting ready to begin their trek to the stadium. I looked at my watch, and a tear escaped my eye as I realized that at that moment, the man who put the love of all things Marching Band in my heart was being laid to rest. "Uncle Dave" was my Band director; the man who fought for me, when as a young girl I decided to play the Trumpet....a place where no girl had dared to go, in my little town. He pushed, he prodded, he tutored, and did not rest until I sat in the First chair of  the Trumpet section. He taught me to bear merciless teasing with grace and a stiff upper lip, and he may be responsible in part, for my ability to comeback in almost any situation with a snappy rejoinder. He let me into the all male world of "Jazz Band", and glared down any fella who dared question my right to be there. He taught me the beauty of proper musical phrasing, and how to play a jazz riff. I loved him with all my heart....he was the first person to look at my grey hair last year and say, "For the love of heaven, put some color on that hair - you're making me feel old!" He was 94 when he passed away a few weeks ago, and it was hard to find myself absent from the service that honored his life, yesterday...but he would have been the first one to tell me to go, and be with my family....to drive up the mountain and see College Boy, and the football game....and the Band. So that is how I found myself laboring up countless Hills....I mean, seriously....WHO puts the Football Stadium at the Highest Point on a Campus FULL of  steep inclines? All this is to say.....Yesterday was day four of my foul mood. In the days since I last wrote (on day ONE of my foul mood), I have tried to dutifully post my daily Thankful Thing, but everything I wrote was morose, or angry, or just generally dark and unpleasant, so I made good and proper use of the delete button. It should speak volumes that yesterday, as we drove up the Mountain, the prospect of seeing College Boy, even if just for the day, did NOTHING to improve my funk.....even SEEING him brought no improvement.  (Which could explain why I really was less than impressed with my first foray into "tailgaiting", but it's probably best not to go there.....). So there I was gasping for breath like a shore stranded fish, holding my back with one hand and my knee with another, laboring up that dadgummed hill....when I had my first truly Thankful Thought in several days....I was Thankful for Uncle Dave....for the love and time and care he invested in my life - for the music he shared with me, and thousands of others in his long career as a Band Teacher. With the drum cadence ringing in my ears, I felt the slightest lifting of "the. foul. mood." As we entered the Stadium (Finally! I mean - just how far do they expect old worn out people to climb and walk before collapsing?!), we left College Boy in the student section, and went to find our seats. The weather was perfect - sunny and mostly warm (Although, let me whine a little here - for the first quarter of the game I thought we would be blinded for life, due to the fact that the sun was directly in our eyes - but I'm SURE that I handled it with no complaining or drama....whatsoever.....) and there, in those less than comfortable stadium bleachers I found my second Thankful Thing of the day...Two little guys - one long and lean, the other, short and round - about 8 or 9 years old, were sitting in front of us. Each time a song they liked was played - either by the band or over the loudspeaker, these boys were up on their feet, dancing with such joy, such abandon, such a lack of concern for what anybody thought, that my bad mood was banished...as surely as a dementor is vaporized by a Patronus! (OK, yes, I am reading Harry Potter again...). Just like that - it was gone. These little guys were so full of life, so ebullient, that it was contagious - and I was Thankful (and vastly entertained... I mean those fellas had some moves!). Behind us, was a group of about 7 or 8 people in their mid 20's. They arrived loaded down with contraband mini bottles (tequilla, I think), and apparently they had already polished off the much larger cousin of those mini bottles, prior to their arrival. They were a contentious lot, and did a lot of arguing - especially the husband and wife....midway through the second half, there was a little drama, when two of the ladies indulged in a little girl on girl display of affection, and some of their party was offended....including one of the participants husbands! More drinking, drama, and huffing off to the bathroom ensued (By the folks behind us, not by me - just wanted to be clear!)....whereupon I experienced my Third Thankful Thing of the day.....I was TRULY Thankful that not a one of them threw up on any of us sitting in front of them, and I was REALLY Thankful when they left sometime in the fourth quarter. More Thanks as we were leaving the Stadium, and I realized that the hike to the little Mexican Restaurant we planned on having dinner in, down on the Main Drag, was mostly downhill! After an amazing and really reasonably priced meal, it was time for hugs and goodbyes as we dropped College Boy off at his dorm (Once we rescued our Car from the tailgating lot.....which was over in east Jerusalem!). More thanks at Bedtime, for being able to lay these old bones in a prone position. Today - I am thankful for the lifting of THE MOOD....I feel much more like myself....thanks be unto God, and I face tomorrow, thankful that the Band Geek in me still lives, marching along to the Cadence of my days. 

A Rare Occurrence....

It's a good thing that I don't get in a mood like this very often! I guess that can be my Thankful Thing for today...."I am thankful that it is a rare occurrence to find myself in such a dark mood" - there, I said it. The problem is, I'm not quite sure what caused it...I mean, I should be pretty jolly. My candidate won, I get to see College Boy in two days time, my kitchen is clean....all good things. But I am in such a foul mood that I can hardly stand myself, and as I have snapped at each member of my household at least once, I'm sure they feel the same. Maybe it is because, as my friend Dasch says, Mercury is in Retrograde. Maybe it is because I got a woefully limited amount of sleep last night, or maybe it has something to do with the flashes of hatred I have seen today - all bandied about in the name of being " the only true Christians". My favorite quote of the day, found on a page that a FaceBook friend had commented on (it appeared on the right hand scrolly down thingy and I should have KNOWN better - I should NOT have clicked on it....when WILL I learn?) came at the end of a particularly long, rambling and poorly written comment - where the writer extolled her many virtues, which of course allowed her to fully know the will of God. She closed by saying, "Well, it's time to load up on Ammo and Faith...." It's actually a clever little tag...in it's own repulsive way. And there have been other jabs....all day long - each one taking a little bite out of my serenity, pushing every one of my buttons, and taking a jackhammer to my last nerve. And the saddest thing is, with all of this sanctimonious posturing, I did not read one comment that questioned the obscene amount of money spent on the campaigns... plural.... meaning on both sides. Not one comment that derided the Pacs for their fear based advertising, that only fueled the absurd claims made in the days leading up to the election, and on this, the day after. I despair, not for our country tonight, but for her citizens...For the absolutism that has permeated such a large segment of our population...on both sides. I feel discouraged - how do I balance this out for my Children? Help them to reject the sting of those who would have them feel damned for wanting civil equality for all people. How do I remind them that no single group has dibs on being the only one in the right....there is no Monopoly on God among people of faith, as I see it...as I want THEM to see it. I TOLD you I was in a dark place. The best thing to come out of this day? Bedtime, which is.....right about now. I hope to wake up refreshed and renewed, so that I can get about the business of plugging along....and maybe, just maybe, my Thankful Thing for tomorrow will be that I will not allow myself to read or write another Political rant..........nah.

A little Less than Zen....

I am feeling a little less than Zen. As I sit here with a large Sonic coke in one hand, and some Hersheys Chocolate drops in the other, my daily Thankful Thing for the Month of Gratitude is somewhat elusive. I've put it off for most of the day, but I am now firmly ensconced in the den, laptop open and CNN blaring. (Every now and then, because my blood pressure isn't high enough, I switch over to Fox News - I switch back right quick, because I don't want to do permanent damage to my health... aww c'mon and laugh - you KNOW that was funny.) The wafting aroma from the lasagna in the crock pot is doing little to dispel my anxiety.(And for all you food purists, don't be hating on my Crock Pot Lasagna....it is SO good - and SO easy!) It is election day, and the polls will soon begin to close. I could just give it a quick "I'm thankful that I live in a country that allows us the freedom to cast our vote as we will...", and I am - I truly am. But I have rather strong feelings about one of the candidates - and I'm not talking about the warm fuzzy kind. So to calm myself, I am trying to remember what a friend said  yesterday. She has spent a fair amount of time living abroad, and said with admirable passion, "It doesn't matter who wins or looses - we will still be living in the best place on Earth. There is not a person in any part of the globe that doesn't want what we have here." And I know, deep in my heart that she is right. Even with the divisive political polarities, The women's rights issues (Which are so very important to me...I have daughters, for Pete's sake!), Health Care, Economic woes....I have only to look a few feet around me to know that no matter which candidate wins this Presidential election, being in the "Bottom 47%", still puts me in the top 5 % when viewed with a worldwide lens. I have a TV bringing me all this angst producing news coverage (AND a laptop, should I desire to switch over to the pony express known as FaceBook), a blanket on my lap (and a thermostat on the wall, should I break down and turn it on), Lamps of every shape and size, a daughter sitting beside me, working on her Geometry - which she is learning in her Public School, Food in both Fridge and Pantry, Appliances of every description, Furnishings, Art, Cars in the drive, Beds, Bathrooms, Coats, Shoes....Practical things, beautiful things.....all belonging to just one family. We live in a place where we can overthrow the Government every four years, if we so choose - and we do it without bloodshed (Although, there have been times in the last month when I wasn't so certain that I would be able to contain myself....!). So today, I give thanks - in this month of Gratitude - that I live in the greatest place on Earth..far from perfect though it may be. I am thankful for Sonic Cokes and good Chocolate, for hot Lasagna, blankets and a warm Crackhouse Puppy on my feet....for CNN, NBC, and even for Fox News....for candidates I support and candidates that I don't - and perhaps most of all, I am thankful  that it is my Daughter that has the Geometry homework, and not me!

Daddy.....

My Father wanted to be an actor. He was even offered a scholarship to study at the then prestigious Pasadena Playhouse after High School. My Grandmother put the big Kabosh on that, and my Father dutifully set about fulfilling his Mothers wish that he become a Minister. Not that my Dad didn't have the calling - I feel certain that he did, for he was a tender Minister, and a powerful Preacher. But he had a talent that couldn't be denied - that undefinable "certain something" - a charisma that made him perfect for the stage. He could sing like an angel, and was handsome too - he could have been a movie star...He also had quite the sense of humor, and a reputation for spirited hijinks. Dad would have been tickled pink to know that when we took College Boy on a tour of  his Alma Matter, College Boy became somewhat of an instant celebrity the minute it became known that he was the Grandson of "The guy who put the cow in the Bell Tower, and tied the bell to it's collar...." We were even approached by the Dean of Students at lunch, and begged to recount the tale - mind you, this Bell Tower incident occurred in the 1930's, which would officially make my Dad a legend! If my Mother was not in the room, you could get my Dad to admit that his service in the Philippines during the war as an Army Chaplain, was the time of his life. He was a member of the elite U.S. Army choir, and performed all over the world - including a private concert for Dwight D. Eisenhower. After the war, he Pastored the First Baptist Church in Mineral Wells, Texas, where he went with his good friend, a man named Bill Pawley, to buy an engagement ring for his girl....who was his girl? Elizabeth Taylor, that's who!
  My Dad was that rarity among men - he had a gift for nurture, and became a wonderful caregiver for my Mom when she fell ill. Due to the high medical bills, Dad never had two nickels to rub together, but he was rich in friends, and he never met a stranger. He was truly ahead of his time, for he cared not for race or creed - people of all colors and religions - educated and illiterate knew that my Dad saw them as they were....God's children, all. He couldn't abide the sanctimonious, the self righteous, and the "uppity."He smelled like Cigars,Halls cough drops, and English Leather - a smell I loved more than any other - a smell more comforting than any other. He loved Children, and one of the greatest sorrows of my life is that he didn't live to see my babies. For a Preacher, he could be mighty irreverent, and he loved a good "colorful" joke, and told a great story. His beautiful eyes crinkled when he smiled, and his laughter still rings in my ears. He taught me how to iron a man's shirt, and put a crease in a pair of trousers that even the dry cleaners would envy. He bought me my first legal beer, and became my best friend. He brokered the reconciliation of my Husband and my future Father In Law, and when I faltered at the back of the Church, changing my mind about walking down the aisle he said lovingly, "If You don't marry that boy, YOU go and HE stays"....tough love at it's best! He was solid and dependable - his word was his bond, and I would give anything to see him shake his head at me in that way he had...one that spoke volumes of his Love and pride....would give anything to hear him call me his "baby doll".....would give anything to hold his hand, to hear him sing, to hear one of his stories....I am Thankful that the old adage proved true....that Children learn by example - because I could not have had a better example of how to live a life, than that set by my Father.He faced adversity with a smile, and life with enthusiasm. I am grateful that his blood flows in my veins - that his laughter lives in my soul, and that his life guides my way.

My Mama.....

My heart broke this morning, as I watched a Gentleman in our congregation struggle with his grief on this, All Saints Day(observed). He recently lost his wife, and her name was read today, along with all of the others of our number who went on to their reward in the past year - those who from their labors rest. Inevitably, my thoughts turned to my parents - gone too soon and for so long. It is only fitting on this day of remembrance, that I choose my Parents as my "Thankful Thing". I think it best, if I give each Parent their own day, so today.....I start with Mama, who has been gone from me for almost 2/3's of my life. My Mother was an amazing woman -a strong willed, outspoken woman ahead of her time - a broken woman. I came to my parents late in life - Mama was mortified to find herself expecting at 39 - old in that day and time. When I was just a few months old, my Mother was diagnosed with Breast cancer. After her mastectomy, she was told to go home and find someone to raise her baby - she was given just a few months to live. I can see how she must have been, like in a movie - so spirited and beautiful....so mutilated and terrified. But in her inimitable fashion, Mama did not lay down and die - rather she began the fight of her life. My Mother came from a long line of Baptist Ministers, was in fact, married to one...her faith suddenly became real to her - grew feet and muscle and backbone. She lived 6 months, 12months - delighting in proving her Doctors wrong. Over the next 18 years, she would be in remission only a few times - and then, for only a few months. All told she had 3 bouts of breast cancer, 2 mastectomies, lung cancer, twice; bone cancer - which crippled her when I was 15, and then - cruelest of all - stomach cancer which robbed her of her ability to eat anything other than red jello....to this day, I can not abide red jello.
   You would think with all of this suffering, the house I grew up in would have been a gloomy, depressing place to live. You would think that my Mothers body, which bore the marks of the surgeons wrath - which was grotesque in a way, would have been repulsive. You might think that we were a family so wounded and without hope that we were unable to function...but if  you were to think that, you would be so wrong. If my Mother received a bad report from the Doctor - if a new spot of cancer was found, or more surgery was needed,she would go home and turn off all of the lights. There would be no music, no TV, no talking. She sat in the dark drinking Buttermilk, and wallowing in pity, fear and doubt. She stared out the kitchen window, seeing the unseen - paralyzed with the reality of her life. The next morning, the lights would be on, the music would play, the laughter would flow, and Mama's smile would once again light up all of our lives. She got about the business of living, because she and her God had once again faced down the specter of death. The mastectomies left giant, gaunt hollows in my Mothers chest. These hollows cushioned my head, as if they had been carved out for just that purpose, and when she hugged me, I could get so much closer to her than my friends could get to their Mothers. Just like the Velveteen Rabbit, the beauty of my Mothers body came from how much she was loved. We went about the ordinary tasks of our days feeling blessed that we had been given another day together. Every night I was lulled to sleep by the sound of my Parents praying together - always the same prayer...."Most Gracious Heavenly Father, let me live to see my Kelley grown", "Let Dot live to raise our girl...." My Mother was a wonderful listener, a good wife and Mother, a treasured friend, an artist, president of the PTA, an encourager, a woman whose arms never tired of giving hugs and snuggling up in bed, a good cook, a virtuous woman and a terrible and very loud singer of hymns. My Mother was.......everything, and when she died, 3 months after I entered college, my world crumbled. Wounded, fragile, frightened - those words don't even begin to describe how I was in the months and years that followed.
   On Mothers Day, in my family, we had the same ritual each year. My Father would purchase a white orchid for my Mother to wear, as her Mother had passed away. My Mother would take her clippers to our beautiful red rose bush, and fashion a corsage for me, and a boutonniere for my Father, signifying that we had living Mothers. The year I was 13, my Mama was in desperate straights physically, and every movement she made was an effort borne of agony.  On this particular Saturday before Mothers Day,she sat with the red roses in front of her, slumped over the kitchen table....she heard me come in, and raised her head. She looked at me with a look of such love, that I can still feel it today and said - "I wish we had a pink rosebush, cause Mama's half dead!" The truth of the matter is, my Mother was never more alive than at that moment; bent, broken, mutilated and hurting - for she was a living testament to the grace and goodness of the Lord, to the power of walking fully in faith and hope. Thanks be to God, for the gift of my Mother.

Beautiful Sleeping Children....

Here is a universal truth about Fall Festival.....after all of the days of preparation leading up to the 31st, and clean-up on the 1st, it is usually somewhere around the 3rd or 4th of November before I come back to my senses, and can find my way out of the fog of exhaustion. This is my excuse for waiting until the 3rd day of November to start my "Gratitude Month" blogging. On FaceBook, there has been a tradition among my friends to post a Thankful Thing a day during this month as we head towards Thanksgiving, so I thought I would expand on that, and extend it to my blog. I lay in bed this morning, not wanting to leave the warm nest of blankets, even after John had gotten up and left his side of the blankets ajar (letting cold air in....). I burrowed down deeper, and thought about gratitude...about the act of giving Thanks. What is the thing I am MOST thankful for? Can I narrow it down to one thing? At that particular moment, I was grateful for many things...The extra blanket I put on the bed night before last (we keep the house a tad bit chilly), the smell of coffee coming up from the kitchen, the knowledge that I had 2 loaves of freshly baked Pumkin Bread with streusel topping waiting to be eaten for breakfast - made in honor of the College Boys arrival home for the weekend. Ahhh...there's a thankful thing - I could get up and open each door, and find a sleeping child behind every one. How beautiful it is to watch your children sleeping - even if they are growndy up, or nearly so....and that is how I found my happy thought this morning.....the thing for which I am most Thankful today. I am  Profoundly and forever beholding to the One who granted the desire of my heart....the desire to have Children....the desire to become a Mother. As a young Actress/singer, fully invested in furthering my career, I had developed a finely tuned sense of self....self absorption, that is....Me, Me, Me....how was MY audition, MY performance, MY voice......After I married, my career path changed, but I still wore that sense of self....I am sad, I am worried, I don't feel well....Although I have always prided myself on being a pretty low maintenance kind of gal, there was still that constant personal focus on self. In my first pregnancy, the trend continued....I am so sick, I am scared of labor, MY feet are so swollen, did MY heart just skip a beat....Determined to experience the "joys" of a natural birth, I labored in great agony to bring my first born into the world - the labor was short but grueling (although not nearly as bad as the second time.....), and I pushed FOREVER...College Boys elbow was stuck, and he eventually tore me from stem to stern internally, as he made his way into the world. As he took his first breath, the nurse wiped his face with a receiving blanket, and handed him to me....this moment is captured both on film, and in my sense memory - it is the moment my world turned on it's axis, and righted itself. College Boy looked into my eyes as if to say, "oh, There you are", and the searing intensity of that instant recognition, soul to soul, changed me in a profound and permanent way. In that moment, I was made anew, and I became.....a Mother. It has been, and continues to be, the single most rewarding thing I have ever done - the thing that brings me the greatest joy, the deepest sense of purpose, the thing that defines me.....the thing that makes every struggle, every setback, every bit of humdrum dailyness worthwhile. Several months ago, my Aunt told me that I had wasted my life, with my "little job", and my barely existent bank account...with my days that are more struggle than ease....It made me cry then - it makes me cry now, but through the sting of those harsh words - the humiliation and pain, I can see that she was wrong....I have only to look at the faces of my beautiful sleeping children to know....because I am a Mother, and for that, I give thanks.