It smelled of fresh paint. The sun was streaming in the tall windows - 7 on each side of the room. From my perch behind the microphone I could see blue sky, and I watched the trees dancing in the gentle summer breeze. It was, in short, one of the most precious experiences of my life, and even though the Sanctuary was empty, it was truly Spiritual. This afternoon, we went over to the Church - College Boy and I - to practice our music for tomorrow. My Son and I will be singing our first ever duet - He will take the lead.
I should have known that he would grow up to be a fine musician. When he was a toddler, he sang all of the time. We sang together at bath time, at bedtime, and all of the in between times. The amazing thing, is that even at a very early age - he could hold the melody line, while I sang a few notes of harmony. His favorite toy? A little electronic violin that would play 7 or 8 different tunes....the trick was that you had to move the "bow" over the electronic sensor in the correct rhythm, or it would just be a random series of notes. The labeling on the package read "for 8 years and up"......College Boy mastered it before his third birthday.
So tomorrow, he will raise his voice, and play his guitar - He will lead the music in our early service - in the House of God where I was raised by my parents.....the same House of God where I, in turn, raised my children. As we sang today - our voices rising and falling in harmony and synchronized breath - my minds eye offered up a vivid slide show. Me, standing in the choir loft at the same age College Boy is now, singing a duet with my Father, who was also an outstanding musician....Holding my baby boy, there in that very Sanctuary, as he was dedicated to the Lord...Watching him Process down the aisle in his little white choir robe with the big red collar - waving his Palm Branch (a more accurate description might be "bashing his friends in the head with his Palm Branch", but still.....). I saw him as a young teenager, standing tall and proud in front of the altar, as he received his Eagle Scout award....but most of all, I saw him floating in the Bathtub, singing his favorite songs - "You are my Sunshine", "Goodnight Ladies" (Do not ASK me how this song found it's way into a two year old's repertoire - I can not tell you, but he sang it with great enthusiasm....), and anything from The Jungle Book or Pete's Dragon.
As we practiced this afternoon, I felt the presence of my Fathers....the Earthly One, long gone to his reward, and the Heavenly One - who delights in the voices of His Children. Standing there on the podium, in my usual place - at the end, just to the left of the piano, I delighted in the voice of MY Child....of our voices together - just as they were so many years ago....the Same, yet different - separate voices, weaving notes and love together...fed by the music, the harmony and the Spirit.
Tomorrow, I will marvel at how my little boy has grown into this man...I will stand in awe of his talents....I will sing with my Son during Worship - knowing that I am blessed.....beyond measure.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Tale as Old as Time.....
"Handsome as my Daddy".....four little words, printed on a newborn tee - a gift, at today's Baby Shower. They were my undoing. For the shirt is intended for my as yet unborn great nephew - Charles. His Daddy? My much loved, much mourned late nephew - Chuck. I have no doubt that little Charles will be as handsome as his Daddy was - I am sure that he will also be as beautiful as his Peruvian Mother - Vanessa. I hope that he has her thick black hair and big brown eyes, I hope that he is healthy and robust, I hope that he comes gently into this hard world - but most of all, I hope that he bears the impish grin that was his Father's trademark.
Today was a testament of love and hope....It was a coming together of good Christian women - doing what they do best.....caring for those in need of succor. The shower was hosted by friends of my Sister In Law ( I am sure that they are also my Brother's friends, but in a situation such as this - a hen party and all, we will refer to them as Her friends). The table was piled high with gifts - front and center was a portrait of Chuck and Van on their second wedding day - the one in Peru. (As usual, he was sporting that grin....). The fragrance of friendship permeated the room and enveloped those of us who were relative strangers - Food spilled over from every corner, and abundant laughter laid the soundtrack. Occasional tears were shed and gazes were covered over with fleeting sadness, but we were bound together by the glue that comes from that mystical well of the Sacred Feminine.....that special place inside women that holds instinct, compassion, empathy, nurture......and strength..... strength to open present after present for a baby that was so very wanted by the Daddy that he will never know on this side of the veil - a Daddy that only learned of the creation of that precious baby on the Heavenly side of the veil.
I watched in awe and amazement, as I was reminded today, of the power of the Love of the Sisterhood - a tale as old as time.....Women, unconsciously calling on the special gifts of their spirits - weaving a healing, binding blanket of kindred love - the most ancient of spells - the tradition of caring for each other - a sharing of burden and sorrow....a tradition of digging deep and pulling forth a wellspring of hope for tomorrow, and gratitude for the blessings of the day. Today was a celebration of life anticipated - a remembrance of life lost.
Blessed be.......the tie that binds.
Today was a testament of love and hope....It was a coming together of good Christian women - doing what they do best.....caring for those in need of succor. The shower was hosted by friends of my Sister In Law ( I am sure that they are also my Brother's friends, but in a situation such as this - a hen party and all, we will refer to them as Her friends). The table was piled high with gifts - front and center was a portrait of Chuck and Van on their second wedding day - the one in Peru. (As usual, he was sporting that grin....). The fragrance of friendship permeated the room and enveloped those of us who were relative strangers - Food spilled over from every corner, and abundant laughter laid the soundtrack. Occasional tears were shed and gazes were covered over with fleeting sadness, but we were bound together by the glue that comes from that mystical well of the Sacred Feminine.....that special place inside women that holds instinct, compassion, empathy, nurture......and strength..... strength to open present after present for a baby that was so very wanted by the Daddy that he will never know on this side of the veil - a Daddy that only learned of the creation of that precious baby on the Heavenly side of the veil.
I watched in awe and amazement, as I was reminded today, of the power of the Love of the Sisterhood - a tale as old as time.....Women, unconsciously calling on the special gifts of their spirits - weaving a healing, binding blanket of kindred love - the most ancient of spells - the tradition of caring for each other - a sharing of burden and sorrow....a tradition of digging deep and pulling forth a wellspring of hope for tomorrow, and gratitude for the blessings of the day. Today was a celebration of life anticipated - a remembrance of life lost.
Blessed be.......the tie that binds.
Monday, July 15, 2013
All Quigley Down Under.....
It didn't hurt that he looked like Russel Crowe.....with a pony tail.....and a cool Celtic-y, tribal tattoo inside his Right forearm.....He was also great with kids, and an incredibly talented musician...a Total package that provided me with the best time I've had in a long time...at the Library, no less!
We stumbled upon this flyer last week, announcing a Didgeridoo workshop, on Monday July 15th. Babiest girl has had a fixation with the Didgeridoo for years, (Remember, this is the child whose favorite animal in Kindergarten was the Echidna....)so we decided to have a girls night out, Baby Girl, Babiest Girl and Me, and registered for the free workshop.We arrived at the appointed hour, and took our seats on the 2nd of two rows....Most of the participants were young children (a few of their parents joined us on the back row), and we were feeling a little out of place in the Children's Story Room......until "Quigley Down Under" walked into the room, strapped a bracelet made of bells around his ankle, sat on a Drum Box and blew into his instrument....you know.....the Didgeridoo. Now, let me insert right here, that I was fully prepared to be slightly bored - I mean, how interesting can a tubular instrument with no slides, no keys, no strings be? Just a long series of Johnny One Note, right?
How wrong I was.....First the drone started - then the split tones, and finally the rhythm and percussive force of his breath.... I was done for! (Like I said.....he looked like Russel Crowe!) It was pure electricity (The music, I mean.....I am a married woman, after all - AND, I was in the company of my daughters!). It was all I could do to stay in my seat - My feet and spirit wanted to dance - to join in the primal, rich, wanton beat. It sounded like Primordial Ooze, and campfire on a starry night, and antiquity. This was music to be heard with ear, heart and soul - and it spoke to the Wild Celtic Ancestors that reside in my person. It was pure, and organic, and liberating.
Sadly, this was not a long concert - it was a workshop, after all, and before we knew it, we were lining up to get our "student instruments" - a piece of pvc pipe, and a strip of masking tape (to ensure the sanitation of the "mouthpiece" - otherwise known as one end of the pipe). I am proud to say, that the Kennedy girls were the star pupils. I may have had an unfair advantage, because playing the Didgeridoo requires the same mouth positioning and breath as the Trumpet - which I played for most of my school years.) We laughed and laughed as we tried to coax "The. Sound." from the PVC, and giggled with pleasure and embarrassment, when we were asked to demonstrate our superior sounds to the group. The hour ended all too soon, and we were loathe to leave. We made of ourselves vocal Didgeridoos, droning the tunes and rhythms as we exited the Library, hand in hand - our high spirits leaking out, and made audible. What an amazing adventure, tucked into a little quiet corner, of our bland little town....On this out-of-the-ordinary Monday night, we Kennedy women will sleep with a smile on our lips, an aboriginal song in our hearts, and this unanswered question in our brains...."Where DOES one buy a Didgeridoo download"?!
We stumbled upon this flyer last week, announcing a Didgeridoo workshop, on Monday July 15th. Babiest girl has had a fixation with the Didgeridoo for years, (Remember, this is the child whose favorite animal in Kindergarten was the Echidna....)so we decided to have a girls night out, Baby Girl, Babiest Girl and Me, and registered for the free workshop.We arrived at the appointed hour, and took our seats on the 2nd of two rows....Most of the participants were young children (a few of their parents joined us on the back row), and we were feeling a little out of place in the Children's Story Room......until "Quigley Down Under" walked into the room, strapped a bracelet made of bells around his ankle, sat on a Drum Box and blew into his instrument....you know.....the Didgeridoo. Now, let me insert right here, that I was fully prepared to be slightly bored - I mean, how interesting can a tubular instrument with no slides, no keys, no strings be? Just a long series of Johnny One Note, right?
How wrong I was.....First the drone started - then the split tones, and finally the rhythm and percussive force of his breath.... I was done for! (Like I said.....he looked like Russel Crowe!) It was pure electricity (The music, I mean.....I am a married woman, after all - AND, I was in the company of my daughters!). It was all I could do to stay in my seat - My feet and spirit wanted to dance - to join in the primal, rich, wanton beat. It sounded like Primordial Ooze, and campfire on a starry night, and antiquity. This was music to be heard with ear, heart and soul - and it spoke to the Wild Celtic Ancestors that reside in my person. It was pure, and organic, and liberating.
Sadly, this was not a long concert - it was a workshop, after all, and before we knew it, we were lining up to get our "student instruments" - a piece of pvc pipe, and a strip of masking tape (to ensure the sanitation of the "mouthpiece" - otherwise known as one end of the pipe). I am proud to say, that the Kennedy girls were the star pupils. I may have had an unfair advantage, because playing the Didgeridoo requires the same mouth positioning and breath as the Trumpet - which I played for most of my school years.) We laughed and laughed as we tried to coax "The. Sound." from the PVC, and giggled with pleasure and embarrassment, when we were asked to demonstrate our superior sounds to the group. The hour ended all too soon, and we were loathe to leave. We made of ourselves vocal Didgeridoos, droning the tunes and rhythms as we exited the Library, hand in hand - our high spirits leaking out, and made audible. What an amazing adventure, tucked into a little quiet corner, of our bland little town....On this out-of-the-ordinary Monday night, we Kennedy women will sleep with a smile on our lips, an aboriginal song in our hearts, and this unanswered question in our brains...."Where DOES one buy a Didgeridoo download"?!
Monday, July 1, 2013
Faces of Adventure and Blessing...
It has been quite a week. I sent baby AND babiest girl thousands of miles away - to a tropical paradise to do the Lords' work.... It was Vacation Bible School, I celebrated 25 years of wedded bliss, I hiked 2.7 miles on a mountain trail full of felled trees, roots, hills and boulders to scale....I hit the 45 pound lost mark, AND I crossed my legs.....did you get that last one? I crossed my legs.... for the first time in YEARS! (I will not again mention the wretched hair butchering I received at the hands of the befuddled beauty school student). That's alot of big things to pack into 8 days...Which is, at first, what I attributed "that feeling" to. For the entirety of my life, I have gotten "those feelings". My sister has them....my Mother had them too. It's a Celtic thing, I think.....that ability to "know" when something bad is going to happen...a "knowing" when bad things are happening miles away, at that very moment....sometimes knowing exactly what is going to happen, minutes, even hours before they do....it used to freak me out, as a child - take for example the Sunday afternoon when the phone rang - as it was ringing I said to my Mother - "Dad has been in a terrible wreck"....my Mom answered the phone, and the police officer on the other end of the line repeated those very words...or the time when, newly married, I woke from a dead sleep screaming "Oh no....we have to help them....the accident, the accident".....only to have a moment of silence followed by one crash, then another, then another. John and I jumped out of bed, ran outside, and saw a scene of carnage and mangled metal. We spent the next hour putting blankets on the injured, and holding car doors, while firemen used the jaws of life to free a dead man.....All of this is to say, that I NEVER take "Those feelings" for granted.
They started the day before we put the girls on the plane. They continued - day and night - while singing Moses songs at VBS, while hiking in the Mountains, as I cooked 55 chicken breasts for Soft Taco Night - waking or sleeping, they were never very far away. I am sure "these feelings" were responsible for my loosing 5 pounds in the same number of days - I couldn't eat. When they would hit - I would pray...calling each family member by name - praying a hedge of protection around each and every one....I prayed more this past week I think, than I have in the last year....Yesterday, as we got in the car - College Boy, John and I - to head for Raleigh to pick the girls up, I prayed once more for safety for this last leg of our time apart. At the Airport, as I searched the faces of the departing passengers, I felt the most immense relief - such a surge of love and thanksgiving as I saw one, then the other.....the faces of my beautiful daughters - exhausted faces - bug bitten and joyous....faces that bore the mark of adventure and blessing. As we embraced - all five Kennedys together and whole, I breathed a sigh of relief and a breath of a prayer....."Thank You".
Bags were gathered, goodbyes were said, Waffle House was visited, bellies and hearts were filled. We found ourselves on the highway - pointed for home....at 2:00 in the morning. I checked my watch - should be home by 3:30. Once there, if I hugged the kids, and let the dog out, I figured I could be in bed by 3:45.....a.m. We chattered and laughed for the first 10 minutes of the drive, but one by one, each child quieted, and soon the car was filled with the soft, regular breathing of sleeping teenagers. John and I talked for a bit more, listened to music....and then, the struggle began. You know.....that fighting with your body - the one where your body says "I've been awake for almost 24 hours....I. Must. Sleep.", and you reply "No...not quite yet....we have to stay awake a little longer". Despite my best efforts, my head started to nod......for 30 miles or so, I would fall asleep, then startle myself awake - and repeat the same phrase "How are you doing honey?"....His reply? "Tired.....". We were within shooting range of home......just a few miles left on the highway before we could turn onto the exit ramp leading to our little town. And then it happened. I nodded off again.....and so did John. We awoke at the same instant - to a car speeding down the edge of the grassy median....I am amazed by our calm....by Johns steady hand at the wheel, as he slowed the car and guided the car back onto the highway.....silence.....I stated the obvious...."You ran off the road"......."I know", he replied.
We woke in the comfort of our bed this morning at 11:15. John looked at me...."We almost died". "I know", I replied. For us, this could have been a repeat tragedy. Years ago, Johns oldest Sister died, when their Mother fell asleep at the wheel - 3 year old John was thrown onto the highway , out the back window of the VW bug - his middle sister and Mother seriously injured. I recalled my week
long petition for a hedge of protection - for a divine covering.....my Celtic Feeling of impending doom....little did I know that the danger would be on the happy side of the week, as we were all reunited. Thanks be to God, for the Guardian Angels that were with us last night, for John's calm and steady hand, for disaster averted....I am humbled and heartened by the knowledge of Prayer heard and answered. As we sit down to our supper tonight - each precious face will be that much more so.....each laugh will sound brighter, the food will taste a little better....the prayer of blessing on our lips will be that much more heartfelt.....Thanks be to God.
They started the day before we put the girls on the plane. They continued - day and night - while singing Moses songs at VBS, while hiking in the Mountains, as I cooked 55 chicken breasts for Soft Taco Night - waking or sleeping, they were never very far away. I am sure "these feelings" were responsible for my loosing 5 pounds in the same number of days - I couldn't eat. When they would hit - I would pray...calling each family member by name - praying a hedge of protection around each and every one....I prayed more this past week I think, than I have in the last year....Yesterday, as we got in the car - College Boy, John and I - to head for Raleigh to pick the girls up, I prayed once more for safety for this last leg of our time apart. At the Airport, as I searched the faces of the departing passengers, I felt the most immense relief - such a surge of love and thanksgiving as I saw one, then the other.....the faces of my beautiful daughters - exhausted faces - bug bitten and joyous....faces that bore the mark of adventure and blessing. As we embraced - all five Kennedys together and whole, I breathed a sigh of relief and a breath of a prayer....."Thank You".
Bags were gathered, goodbyes were said, Waffle House was visited, bellies and hearts were filled. We found ourselves on the highway - pointed for home....at 2:00 in the morning. I checked my watch - should be home by 3:30. Once there, if I hugged the kids, and let the dog out, I figured I could be in bed by 3:45.....a.m. We chattered and laughed for the first 10 minutes of the drive, but one by one, each child quieted, and soon the car was filled with the soft, regular breathing of sleeping teenagers. John and I talked for a bit more, listened to music....and then, the struggle began. You know.....that fighting with your body - the one where your body says "I've been awake for almost 24 hours....I. Must. Sleep.", and you reply "No...not quite yet....we have to stay awake a little longer". Despite my best efforts, my head started to nod......for 30 miles or so, I would fall asleep, then startle myself awake - and repeat the same phrase "How are you doing honey?"....His reply? "Tired.....". We were within shooting range of home......just a few miles left on the highway before we could turn onto the exit ramp leading to our little town. And then it happened. I nodded off again.....and so did John. We awoke at the same instant - to a car speeding down the edge of the grassy median....I am amazed by our calm....by Johns steady hand at the wheel, as he slowed the car and guided the car back onto the highway.....silence.....I stated the obvious...."You ran off the road"......."I know", he replied.
We woke in the comfort of our bed this morning at 11:15. John looked at me...."We almost died". "I know", I replied. For us, this could have been a repeat tragedy. Years ago, Johns oldest Sister died, when their Mother fell asleep at the wheel - 3 year old John was thrown onto the highway , out the back window of the VW bug - his middle sister and Mother seriously injured. I recalled my week
long petition for a hedge of protection - for a divine covering.....my Celtic Feeling of impending doom....little did I know that the danger would be on the happy side of the week, as we were all reunited. Thanks be to God, for the Guardian Angels that were with us last night, for John's calm and steady hand, for disaster averted....I am humbled and heartened by the knowledge of Prayer heard and answered. As we sit down to our supper tonight - each precious face will be that much more so.....each laugh will sound brighter, the food will taste a little better....the prayer of blessing on our lips will be that much more heartfelt.....Thanks be to God.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Shorn....like a sheep.
It started out as such a nice little day.....the day after Vacation Bible School ended....the 6th day without my girls (meaning that I am on the home stretch, with only 3days remaining until they are back on American soil, in my arms, in their own beds). It was a day in which I was beholden to no one.....John working early and late, College Boy laboring away at his summer job....what should I do? Sleep?!? That was the activity of choice - until the mosquito bite on my foot was itching so fiercely that it woke me up - at 5:45. As I was scratching like a mad man, my mind drifted to Costa Rica....and mosquitoes, and the Malaria medication that we did NOT give our girls, on the advice of our Dr. and the US Government....and what if the girls have mosquito bites, and it was from the one mosquito that had flown from the East Coast of that country to the West...with the sole purpose of infecting my daughters.....I pulled myself together after a couple of cups of coffee - enjoyed predawn in the Pavillion (you know....my converted Car Port). Since my dear friend sleep had eluded me, might as well start the day....First up - Pedicure. Long overdue Pedicure. I was the first customer at my preferred salon, and got "the new girl". She was fabulous! Pleasant and funny, she gave me a great pedicure with a kissy pinky red polish. Then, on my way back to the car, I took a short cut through Belks - and there before me, in all their glory, was an amazing pair of RED cowboy boots....on sale....big sale.....for a price that I could afford (translate, put on my Belks Card). My blog tonight was SUPPOSED to be dedicated to the sublime perfection of my new boots (Now resting in a place of honor in my closet - purchased to celebrate hitting the 45 pound lost mark). If only I could end the story there.....
I was on a Red Boot High, when I got to the car...why not go for the whole shebang, I thought to myself....lets get the hair cut too! Now - I am loathe to admit - that I am a haircut cheapskate.(Much to the everlasting dismay of my niece, who is a very accomplished hair stylist, and who would gladly cut my hair for free, I am sure, if she didn't live half way across the State). If Great Clips is not running their 5.99 special, then I just take myself over to the beauty school by Hobby Lobby. It's not like my hairstyle is complicated - blunt cut, straight across, with long layers - finished out with a trim to the bangs. While I was waiting in the beauty school lobby for my name to be called, I picked up the US Weekly laying on the table, and was quickly engrossed in the "Who wore it Best" feature. This might explain why I did not immediately look up, when I heard a voice going down the line - "This you name? This you name?".....I looked up, and saw a woman - disheveled, less than clean, and of indeterminate origin, smiling and waving a card in my face "This you name?" For the briefest of instants, I contemplated saying "Nope...not me". Instead, I returned her smile and said "Yes, I am Kelley"........if only I had gone with the first instinct......To say that her English was broken, would be an understatement, and for the next hour the only phrase I understood was "You want me fix gray?" I assured her that I myself would be taking care of the gray, with the help of Miss Clarol, later on, in the privacy of my own room. I relaxed as she used the good smelling shampoo on my hair - to give credit where credit is due, she did a great job on the hair washing. I gave clear, instructions - with Hand gestures too, I might add - telling her how I wanted my hair cut....trimmed really - holding my thumb and forefinger about an inch and a half apart. An industrious student, she was at work in a flash, clipping here - clipping there....my back was to the mirror, and I became caught up in the goings on - the beauty school is a busy place, you know.
Finished at last, and chattering away in her approximation of English - my student turned me to face the mirror. You know those tears that fall immediately and unbidden from your eyes when you least expect them? Yep.....I had them, for instead of a nicely trimmed, just above shoulder length, layered bob - I was now the mortified owner of an ear length 70's shag cut. "You no like?", she said, as her instructor came rushing over. "I'm sure it's a very nice cut", I stammered, " It's just really short". The instructor picked up the comb, and off she went - "Let me see your shears.....oh these are awful - too tight(whatever that means) - you need new ones...." On and on the admonishments came, and with each word - she cut and cut - I am assuming in an attempt to "even things up".....So it is that my nice little day came to an abrupt end. I am shorn....like a sheep.....like a sheep whose shepherd had really rusty clippers, and was, perhaps blindfolded at the time of the shearing. In an attempt to look on the bright side, it was a lot easier to color my hair, after supper....and thrifty too.....I barely even used half of the hair dye.....I could share....any takers?
I was on a Red Boot High, when I got to the car...why not go for the whole shebang, I thought to myself....lets get the hair cut too! Now - I am loathe to admit - that I am a haircut cheapskate.(Much to the everlasting dismay of my niece, who is a very accomplished hair stylist, and who would gladly cut my hair for free, I am sure, if she didn't live half way across the State). If Great Clips is not running their 5.99 special, then I just take myself over to the beauty school by Hobby Lobby. It's not like my hairstyle is complicated - blunt cut, straight across, with long layers - finished out with a trim to the bangs. While I was waiting in the beauty school lobby for my name to be called, I picked up the US Weekly laying on the table, and was quickly engrossed in the "Who wore it Best" feature. This might explain why I did not immediately look up, when I heard a voice going down the line - "This you name? This you name?".....I looked up, and saw a woman - disheveled, less than clean, and of indeterminate origin, smiling and waving a card in my face "This you name?" For the briefest of instants, I contemplated saying "Nope...not me". Instead, I returned her smile and said "Yes, I am Kelley"........if only I had gone with the first instinct......To say that her English was broken, would be an understatement, and for the next hour the only phrase I understood was "You want me fix gray?" I assured her that I myself would be taking care of the gray, with the help of Miss Clarol, later on, in the privacy of my own room. I relaxed as she used the good smelling shampoo on my hair - to give credit where credit is due, she did a great job on the hair washing. I gave clear, instructions - with Hand gestures too, I might add - telling her how I wanted my hair cut....trimmed really - holding my thumb and forefinger about an inch and a half apart. An industrious student, she was at work in a flash, clipping here - clipping there....my back was to the mirror, and I became caught up in the goings on - the beauty school is a busy place, you know.
Finished at last, and chattering away in her approximation of English - my student turned me to face the mirror. You know those tears that fall immediately and unbidden from your eyes when you least expect them? Yep.....I had them, for instead of a nicely trimmed, just above shoulder length, layered bob - I was now the mortified owner of an ear length 70's shag cut. "You no like?", she said, as her instructor came rushing over. "I'm sure it's a very nice cut", I stammered, " It's just really short". The instructor picked up the comb, and off she went - "Let me see your shears.....oh these are awful - too tight(whatever that means) - you need new ones...." On and on the admonishments came, and with each word - she cut and cut - I am assuming in an attempt to "even things up".....So it is that my nice little day came to an abrupt end. I am shorn....like a sheep.....like a sheep whose shepherd had really rusty clippers, and was, perhaps blindfolded at the time of the shearing. In an attempt to look on the bright side, it was a lot easier to color my hair, after supper....and thrifty too.....I barely even used half of the hair dye.....I could share....any takers?
Friday, June 21, 2013
A Mother on the Edge
Sleep eludes me...for days, it has been the same, but tonight (this Morning - what do you call that in between time?) - it is particularly bad. I stay prone until the thoughts in my head drive me up and out. In 24 hours, I will put my girls on a plane to Costa Rica for an 8 day mission trip....in a foreign country....on a plane....to go far away....did I mention the plane? To Central America? I have employed all manner of thoughts and inner monologues, trying to keep the demon panic at bay. I remind myself that they will be with trusted adults....that they have each other, to lean on....that they are facing the adventure of a lifetime, in the service of our Lord.....That it is only Costa Rica. I remind myself of my friend, who has sent her son to India for the summer - facing it with such calm and good grace, just like she faces everything else (WHY can't I be THAT kind of person?). Instead, I fight to breathe - struggle to relax my body enough to draw a deep breath. My stomach appears to be refusing most food (which is super good for the diet, btw), and my mind....is in hyperdrive.
This morning, as I stared into the dark, I was telling myself that my own Mother(the worlds foremost nervous Nellie) survived my big High School trip....I was the same age as baby Girl - a rising senior. I had earned a place in the National Tournament for NFL(speech and debate). I, along with 2 teachers and a couple of other school mates who had also slogged their way into the tourney, would be "up, up and away" - flying cross country to Seattle, Washington. OH, my Mother was in a state (who do you think I get my anxiety from?!). My Mother HATED planes, and in the 70's it was not a common thing for folks to up and travel "half way around the world", but my Father insisted, and off I went, with beautiful new clothes, and the coolest, highest pair of elephant platform shoes you have ever seen! What adventures were had! Flying over the Rockies took my breath away (What little I had left.... for upon takeoff, I immediately joined my Mother in her dislike of flying). I will never forget the feel of the Pacific Northwest air, as it hit my face as we walked across the tarmac after descending the long roll up staircase from the tin bucket with wings (yes, it was THAT long ago - before they had fancy accordion tunnels that lead to the plane). The air was cool and heavy...it tasted green, and exotic....not at all like North Carolina air. My body felt hyper charged, and as I stepped off of the plane, I remember feeling myself grow up a little more - felt myself mystically propelled towards freedom, and autonomy....
I lay in bed and remind myself of the greatness of that adventure, and smile into the dark at the memory - knowing that my girls must be facing just such excitement....my predawn smile starts to fade, as I delve further into the memory of "my great adventure"...as I recall the snakebite I received - actually not one, but three! We had travelled to an island (on the smallest, rockingest boat you have ever seen, over incredibly turbulent waters - I spent the majority of the voyage - all of 30 minutes, laying on the floor - certain that this bout of motion sickness would be fatal) - for a true Pacific Northwest, Native American feast - wood plank roasted salmon with all of the fixins....The island was replete with Indian Maidens and Totem Poles....and walking trails....and snakes. As my comrades and I stopped for a rest from hiking the trails, we all plopped down on the ground, to take in the amazing view. I plopped on a snake....one bite to the hand, two to the back...as the viper slithered away, we only saw it's tail, and had no way of knowing WHAT kind of snake it was...the panic that ensued is legendary - needless to say, THAT is an evening I still haven't forgotten.(You can relax - it turned out to be a nonpoisonous snake). A few days later, I fell victim to Food Poisoning that was so intense, I hallucinated - called my bedridden Mother, to tell her I was dying, and wandered away from the hotel - burning with fever - alone, in a strange city. The culprit? The steak that was served at the closing banquet....so many kids became ill, that it made the National News....where my Mother heard it from Walter Cronkites own lips....I was rescued by a waitress in the diner across the street from the hotel, who called the front desk, which sent a bellboy to retrieve me.
Still weak and unwell, we boarded the plane a couple of days later for our return flight, only to have the engine break free from it's moorings as we taxied the runway....causing us to disembark, take a horrifying walk back to the airport, miss our connection in Chicago, spend the night in the seediest hotel imaginable (Think Dark lighting and tons of crushed red velvet), and arrive home a day late, in clothes that we had been wearing for 48 hours.....An adventure of a lifetime, for sure....but perhaps not the best memory to soothe a Mother on the Edge.
So I pray the same prayer that my Mother must have prayed, for myself and all of the kids facing the adventure of a lifetime.......God before me, God behind me.....God above me, God bellow me...God to my left, and God to my right....God within me....surround my children with safety and love, and bring them home, full of your Good Grace.....
This morning, as I stared into the dark, I was telling myself that my own Mother(the worlds foremost nervous Nellie) survived my big High School trip....I was the same age as baby Girl - a rising senior. I had earned a place in the National Tournament for NFL(speech and debate). I, along with 2 teachers and a couple of other school mates who had also slogged their way into the tourney, would be "up, up and away" - flying cross country to Seattle, Washington. OH, my Mother was in a state (who do you think I get my anxiety from?!). My Mother HATED planes, and in the 70's it was not a common thing for folks to up and travel "half way around the world", but my Father insisted, and off I went, with beautiful new clothes, and the coolest, highest pair of elephant platform shoes you have ever seen! What adventures were had! Flying over the Rockies took my breath away (What little I had left.... for upon takeoff, I immediately joined my Mother in her dislike of flying). I will never forget the feel of the Pacific Northwest air, as it hit my face as we walked across the tarmac after descending the long roll up staircase from the tin bucket with wings (yes, it was THAT long ago - before they had fancy accordion tunnels that lead to the plane). The air was cool and heavy...it tasted green, and exotic....not at all like North Carolina air. My body felt hyper charged, and as I stepped off of the plane, I remember feeling myself grow up a little more - felt myself mystically propelled towards freedom, and autonomy....
I lay in bed and remind myself of the greatness of that adventure, and smile into the dark at the memory - knowing that my girls must be facing just such excitement....my predawn smile starts to fade, as I delve further into the memory of "my great adventure"...as I recall the snakebite I received - actually not one, but three! We had travelled to an island (on the smallest, rockingest boat you have ever seen, over incredibly turbulent waters - I spent the majority of the voyage - all of 30 minutes, laying on the floor - certain that this bout of motion sickness would be fatal) - for a true Pacific Northwest, Native American feast - wood plank roasted salmon with all of the fixins....The island was replete with Indian Maidens and Totem Poles....and walking trails....and snakes. As my comrades and I stopped for a rest from hiking the trails, we all plopped down on the ground, to take in the amazing view. I plopped on a snake....one bite to the hand, two to the back...as the viper slithered away, we only saw it's tail, and had no way of knowing WHAT kind of snake it was...the panic that ensued is legendary - needless to say, THAT is an evening I still haven't forgotten.(You can relax - it turned out to be a nonpoisonous snake). A few days later, I fell victim to Food Poisoning that was so intense, I hallucinated - called my bedridden Mother, to tell her I was dying, and wandered away from the hotel - burning with fever - alone, in a strange city. The culprit? The steak that was served at the closing banquet....so many kids became ill, that it made the National News....where my Mother heard it from Walter Cronkites own lips....I was rescued by a waitress in the diner across the street from the hotel, who called the front desk, which sent a bellboy to retrieve me.
Still weak and unwell, we boarded the plane a couple of days later for our return flight, only to have the engine break free from it's moorings as we taxied the runway....causing us to disembark, take a horrifying walk back to the airport, miss our connection in Chicago, spend the night in the seediest hotel imaginable (Think Dark lighting and tons of crushed red velvet), and arrive home a day late, in clothes that we had been wearing for 48 hours.....An adventure of a lifetime, for sure....but perhaps not the best memory to soothe a Mother on the Edge.
So I pray the same prayer that my Mother must have prayed, for myself and all of the kids facing the adventure of a lifetime.......God before me, God behind me.....God above me, God bellow me...God to my left, and God to my right....God within me....surround my children with safety and love, and bring them home, full of your Good Grace.....
Friday, May 24, 2013
RUMINATIONS ON A MORNING AT THE MALL....
I had a coupon. And the flyer showed a sale, plus - a shirt on the cover that I thought I might like. I woke up bright and early and said -"Today's the day". You see - Friday is my day off and NONE of my clothes fit. I have some really old items that I have pulled out of boxes, but none of them are summer things...you get the picture. I pulled on some jeans (you don't even want to know how I keep them up!), an ancient black embroidered peasant blouse, my red walking sandals and over to the next town I went (Seeing as how the flyer was for JCPennys, and we lost our Pennys last year) - to the BIG mall.. Going to the mall has lost it's luster for me over the years - Fat lady clothes are ugly - nothing ever fits - everything is so expensive - I could go on, but I will spare you. Today, however, in light of my 30 pound weight loss, I figured I might snag SOMETHING...and as previously stated, I had a coupon! I pulled into the parking lot, excited about my mall time - all by myself! No Forever 21 or Claires or PacSun for me - nope, just stores I wanted to go in.....just me!
I entered the dressing room, loaded for bear. They, of course, did NOT have the shirt featured on the cover of the sale flyer - but I found a number of suitable options. Amazingly....everything fit...or was too big! Doing the happy dance, I reached for the next to last item. Just as I had it halfway over my head, the lady in the dressing room next to mine put her cell phone on speaker. From her one sided conversation I had already surmised that she was talking to her one true love, and that they were headed out of town for the weekend.I can only hope that in her fervor, she didn't realize she had pushed the speaker button - because what transpired next had no place in the Fat Ladies dressing room at the JC Penneys! (Or in ANY dressing room for that matter!) The boyfriend on the other end of the phone proceeded to explain to my dressing room neighbor - in excruciating detail,(And, unfortunately and inadvertently to me and everybody else within shouting distance) - just how many ways till Sunday he was going to take care of her....you know....in the carnal, pornographic kind of way...Let me just say, that I'm not sure I have ever even heard of some of the things he was suggesting - there I stood, hands over my head - pretty green shirt halfway on - frozen to the spot. What to do?! Should I speak up, and let her know that her steamy little confab was going out on the open airwaves?! Should I run out of the dressing room (after I finished putting the green shirt on) and get a salesclerk to attend to the problem? NO - I did what any 52 year old red blooded American woman would do....I sat down on the little bench, rocked back and forth with both hands over my mouth, and shook with laughter - silent, so as not to disturb the mood! Lord have MERCY, what a hoot I had - and, if truth be told, I also got an education on the current sexual practices of today's young couples!
I was dying to catch a glimpse of the woman who could inspire such passion from a disembodied male voice, but it was not to be. I left the dressing room, used my coupon, made my purchases (I bought the green shirt, and will always remember the circumstances under which I tried it on - every time I wear it!), and journeyed deep into retail heaven. In one store, out the next...I discovered that I am really between sizes - and celebrated the victory of three and one half sizes smaller! I went into Dillards, and tried things on that weren't even on sale - just for fun! After a couple of hours, my dogs were barking, and my stomach was rumbling - so I meandered up to the food court. As the escalator made it's way to the top, I suddenly realized that I might be in trouble. Sbarro's pizza? Nope.....Subway.....Nope. That Baked Potato place that I love.....nope. Let's just say that a Mall Food Court is not exactly Atkins friendly! I solved the problem by walking past all of the places handing out chicken samples (None of whom would sell me just the meat without the rice and noodles at a lesser charge), and taking a couple from each place (Heck - they offered, I just accepted). And there you have it - a yummy protein filled lunch on the go - at no charge! A few sips from the water fountain, and I was once again pounding the pavement. Headed for the Belks, I passed a kiosk that sells those insanely priced flat irons. This is of note, because in all of the times that I have walked past this little place in the last 10 years, never once has anyone given me any notice. Not even when I stopped to look at the product. Today, a young foreign man said "lookin' good lady - let me give you a free hairdo.....do you use flat iron? Hey lady....." I smiled and said "Thanks, no...." and he pursued me "aww, c'mon....." "No - really - I don't want a free hairdo, but thanks." As I continued walking, I thought back to the perfume counter at Dillards, and the make up counter - and in every store I went in today....people were anxious to help me, WANTED to wait on me. In the last few years, I have had to practically BEG salespeople to help me when I was looking for a certain item, or had a question, or even wanted to pay.....and with that realization, I got mad. Because the difference between today, and all of the other times can be tallied in pounds - 30 of them. And as I started to stew, it occurred to me that things had changed in other places too....my butcher at the Teeter no longer calls me Dearie. Last week, he called me the pretty chicken lady ( I know....I buy WAY too much chicken), and one of the teenaged cashiers commented yesterday -"Hey, cool necklace". A nice complement, unless you factor in how many times I have worn that same necklace in her line over the last two years, and she never took note. In my insular world, it never occurred to me that I was invisible - or worse: visible and ignored....and here's the kicker...I'm still fat....I'm just not nearly So fat....evidently, as discriminatory practices go - there must be levels...you know - "would one of you please step off the scales" fat, stuffed sausage fat, pleasantly fat, and so on.....My anger was tempered by the feel of the bags in my hand - proof positive of my progress. It reminded me that I am not responsible for other peoples views - I can't change anyone but me....and I am changing - day by day, minute by minute. Today I passed up Baskin Robbins Ice Cream, The Cookie Shop, and the big Candy Store. Today, I looped the mall not once but three times (three floors), and didn't even breathe hard. Today, I overheard the phone call of a lifetime. Today, I bought some cute clothes that should tide me over until, pray God, I loose the next 30 pounds. As I walked back to my car, I did so with visions of my next visit to the mall...when I might just not even have to shop in the Fat Lady Department (God willing). The sky was a bright Carolina Blue, the temperature was perfect, and the wind (which is my favorite thing) was whipping - I rode home with all the windows down....it's a good thing I didn't take that cute fella up on his offer of the free hairdo.....I would have ruined it, in my breezy abandon!
I entered the dressing room, loaded for bear. They, of course, did NOT have the shirt featured on the cover of the sale flyer - but I found a number of suitable options. Amazingly....everything fit...or was too big! Doing the happy dance, I reached for the next to last item. Just as I had it halfway over my head, the lady in the dressing room next to mine put her cell phone on speaker. From her one sided conversation I had already surmised that she was talking to her one true love, and that they were headed out of town for the weekend.I can only hope that in her fervor, she didn't realize she had pushed the speaker button - because what transpired next had no place in the Fat Ladies dressing room at the JC Penneys! (Or in ANY dressing room for that matter!) The boyfriend on the other end of the phone proceeded to explain to my dressing room neighbor - in excruciating detail,(And, unfortunately and inadvertently to me and everybody else within shouting distance) - just how many ways till Sunday he was going to take care of her....you know....in the carnal, pornographic kind of way...Let me just say, that I'm not sure I have ever even heard of some of the things he was suggesting - there I stood, hands over my head - pretty green shirt halfway on - frozen to the spot. What to do?! Should I speak up, and let her know that her steamy little confab was going out on the open airwaves?! Should I run out of the dressing room (after I finished putting the green shirt on) and get a salesclerk to attend to the problem? NO - I did what any 52 year old red blooded American woman would do....I sat down on the little bench, rocked back and forth with both hands over my mouth, and shook with laughter - silent, so as not to disturb the mood! Lord have MERCY, what a hoot I had - and, if truth be told, I also got an education on the current sexual practices of today's young couples!
I was dying to catch a glimpse of the woman who could inspire such passion from a disembodied male voice, but it was not to be. I left the dressing room, used my coupon, made my purchases (I bought the green shirt, and will always remember the circumstances under which I tried it on - every time I wear it!), and journeyed deep into retail heaven. In one store, out the next...I discovered that I am really between sizes - and celebrated the victory of three and one half sizes smaller! I went into Dillards, and tried things on that weren't even on sale - just for fun! After a couple of hours, my dogs were barking, and my stomach was rumbling - so I meandered up to the food court. As the escalator made it's way to the top, I suddenly realized that I might be in trouble. Sbarro's pizza? Nope.....Subway.....Nope. That Baked Potato place that I love.....nope. Let's just say that a Mall Food Court is not exactly Atkins friendly! I solved the problem by walking past all of the places handing out chicken samples (None of whom would sell me just the meat without the rice and noodles at a lesser charge), and taking a couple from each place (Heck - they offered, I just accepted). And there you have it - a yummy protein filled lunch on the go - at no charge! A few sips from the water fountain, and I was once again pounding the pavement. Headed for the Belks, I passed a kiosk that sells those insanely priced flat irons. This is of note, because in all of the times that I have walked past this little place in the last 10 years, never once has anyone given me any notice. Not even when I stopped to look at the product. Today, a young foreign man said "lookin' good lady - let me give you a free hairdo.....do you use flat iron? Hey lady....." I smiled and said "Thanks, no...." and he pursued me "aww, c'mon....." "No - really - I don't want a free hairdo, but thanks." As I continued walking, I thought back to the perfume counter at Dillards, and the make up counter - and in every store I went in today....people were anxious to help me, WANTED to wait on me. In the last few years, I have had to practically BEG salespeople to help me when I was looking for a certain item, or had a question, or even wanted to pay.....and with that realization, I got mad. Because the difference between today, and all of the other times can be tallied in pounds - 30 of them. And as I started to stew, it occurred to me that things had changed in other places too....my butcher at the Teeter no longer calls me Dearie. Last week, he called me the pretty chicken lady ( I know....I buy WAY too much chicken), and one of the teenaged cashiers commented yesterday -"Hey, cool necklace". A nice complement, unless you factor in how many times I have worn that same necklace in her line over the last two years, and she never took note. In my insular world, it never occurred to me that I was invisible - or worse: visible and ignored....and here's the kicker...I'm still fat....I'm just not nearly So fat....evidently, as discriminatory practices go - there must be levels...you know - "would one of you please step off the scales" fat, stuffed sausage fat, pleasantly fat, and so on.....My anger was tempered by the feel of the bags in my hand - proof positive of my progress. It reminded me that I am not responsible for other peoples views - I can't change anyone but me....and I am changing - day by day, minute by minute. Today I passed up Baskin Robbins Ice Cream, The Cookie Shop, and the big Candy Store. Today, I looped the mall not once but three times (three floors), and didn't even breathe hard. Today, I overheard the phone call of a lifetime. Today, I bought some cute clothes that should tide me over until, pray God, I loose the next 30 pounds. As I walked back to my car, I did so with visions of my next visit to the mall...when I might just not even have to shop in the Fat Lady Department (God willing). The sky was a bright Carolina Blue, the temperature was perfect, and the wind (which is my favorite thing) was whipping - I rode home with all the windows down....it's a good thing I didn't take that cute fella up on his offer of the free hairdo.....I would have ruined it, in my breezy abandon!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)