The breeze, it is ablowing.....

              As Sunday naps go, it may have been short on quantity - but it was long on quality. I had to be back at the church for an afternoon meeting - I only had 30 minutes to devote to sleep, so I set the alarm on my phone, stretched out on the sofa and closed my eyes. I was exhausted....My friend's funeral was yesterday afternoon, later in the day we drove College Boy up the mountain and deposited him in his dorm (You KNOW how much I loved that....), and we didn't get home until quite late. Add to that today's earliest wake-up time of the week, and a Children's department that was busting at the seems with kids ( No lie....we had the highest attendance of  Children today of any Sunday in 8 years!), and I was toast.
         I slept hard for about 25 minutes, and then I started to wake up of my own accord - just prior to the ringing of the alarm....It wasn't an abrupt waking - it was one of those peaceful, little by little wakings - where your senses come to, one by one. First, I felt the warm breeze (yes - warm....on the 13th of January, how that is possible, I do not know!) from the open windows - gentle and lovely. Next - I smelled that smell....you know the one....The green grass, wet dirt, sun-kissed air dried laundry smell - the smell that never fails to simultaneously relax and invigorate me. I cracked one eye open, then the next and there before me, was a beautiful sunbeam - shining through the window - making the newly clean Den (A surprise gift from my Daughters!) glow. It is a rare occurrence, at this stage in my Mid Life Wifery, that the waking up is more pleasant than the sleeping (and let's face it....Sleep? Well these days it's just about my favorite thing) - but that is how it was today...those moments were golden.
              The alarm went off, I pushed it to silent, and laid there for a few minutes - reflecting on the last few days, and how all of our lives might benefit from the benefactor of my most worthy nap....an open window. In honor of  today's unseasonable warmth, I had decided to open all of the windows - hoping to rid the house of all lingering germs. In so doing - I left my house open to the delights of fresh air...it rid the house of all of the pent up, stuffy, stale old air, and replaced it with a soft, fragrant, clean, newness. How to transfer that, to a Wife at Mid Life? To achieve that opening of spirit...to let the pent up, the stuffy, the stale air out of my life, and fill it with a soft, clean newness? Here, at Mid Life.....when everything feels like it is changing, or ending, or stuck.....
      We had a guest minister today - a young man who is actually a member of our Church. He preached with passion and joy, extolling the virtues of unconditional love, of service to others...of daily Birth and Death, as we begin - over and over again, to live a life worthy of the One who showed us how to live....to be Plan A people in a Plan B world. For the record, I am not a jump up and down, shouting kind of Baptist.....I am a sit in your pew, and know all the words to all the songs, priesthood of the believer kind of Baptist....but today, this Man made me want to Shout....he made me feel that it is still possible to open the window of my spirit, releasing the old...the pent up...the stuffy.....still possible to fill it with radical vibrancy.....turning my Mid Life into New Life. Today, this Man's words were the breeze through the open window in my soul.....perhaps the trick to this Mid Life Wife slump is to look for the breeze, every day, and then open yourself to receive it, thereby creating a constant flux of renewal....a spiritual manifestation of that green grass, wet dirt, sun-kissed, air dried laundry smell....one that leaves you simultaneously relaxed and invigorated.....one that carries you from Mid Life to New Life.

Sharing and Bearing.....

The colors of my life today, are not a Monet Painting. They are more Chiaroscuro with startling slashes of  black and grey. Today, a 3-2-1 cake will not do.....it has been a Co-cola and Chocolate kind of day. I had just gotten back from taking Baby Girl to school....Babiest Girl was home with Strep Throat and ready to be awakened for her second dose of antibiotic. Before I could make it upstairs, I heard a sickening thud with a couple of secondary bounces. I threw the English Muffin I was getting ready to toast, and ran to the stairs, calling for Babiest Girl. She had fainted, and was locked in the bathroom. It was with great difficulty that I was able to get her to unlock the door - when I opened it, she was slouched on the floor, disoriented and only partially responsive - burning up, and soaked with sweat. I screamed to John to come...the thermometer showed that she had a fever, but not a high one. She was the color of putty, her lips were white, and she was having difficulty breathing. A tense trip to the ER followed, where she spent the day enjoying the hospitality of the good folks that serve our town. Blood tests, Cat scans and bags of IV fluid followed. Tonight she is home, but her blood pressure remains scary low. The diagnosis is dehydration coupled with the Strep - making for one sick cookie...tomorrow we will follow up with our Doc. The ER was so busy today, that she spent most of her stay in the hall - in the Bed B slot. From there, we had a window on the world, and while Babiest Girl rested, I rubbed her feet and marveled at the diversity of humanity.
      The lady to our right was desperately ill with double pneumonia, but I suspect there was an underlying condition, because she was the color of a delicate daffodil....yellowy, gold. her Husband sat at her feet - looking bored and put out.
     In the room across from us - the one that had been ours for a brief time, was an elderly woman with skin like old shoe leather, mouth agape and a stare that was fixed. Her two sons shared a dull, vacant look and wore clothes that were tattered and soiled with human waste. They spent a fair amount of their time standing in the hall - staring at us.
      To our left lay a young woman wearing a purple turban - alone and agitated.
 
  To her left was a lovely couple in their 60's. The woman was beautifully dressed and coiffed - the man ill but in good spirits - he seemed to be a regular, so I suspect a lingering illness....his socks were splendid - a funky khaki and white plaid...suggesting a person with a highly developed sense of fun.                               
    In a room, across from them was a woman in her 40's - also alone. She wore a perpetually worried face, and she paced the hall from time to time.                                                                                                

       After the woman to our right was admitted to the hospital, another woman took her place. She and her partner were very devoted to each other...they had identical haircuts and tans, and high blood pressure seemed to be the problem. 
      Then of course, there we were - Babiest girl pale and still, wearing last nights pj's, and me - no makeup - I hadn't even brushed my hair or teeth.
      Nurses, Doctors, Aides and Cleaning Attendants wove in and out - an intricate dance of caregiving - dispensing meds, and comfort - bad news and hope. In the midst of it all, my phone rang - it was a friend informing me that another friend lay above me - 4 floors up and to the right. Suddenly and without warning, this friend would be dead within hours - robbed of her life by a giant brain bleed. She leaves behind a husband, small children, and a host of grieving loved ones.
     The only bright spot of this day is that it was so full of trauma and drama, that I didn't have the time to worry about College Boy, who left the house at the crack of dawn for a skiing adventure with the Fellas. Within the hour, John should be home from work, and College Boy too (I hope). We will lean against each other, like horses exhausted from a race, taking comfort and finding the strength to make our way to our respective beds. When I close my eyes, I will fall asleep to the soundtrack of my day -the thud of Babiest Girl as she fell, the thump, drag step of the old man carrying his wife's pocketbook....the rumble of the wheels of the gurneys as they made their way up and down the halls, the laughter of the nurses - sharing the camaraderie of trenches, the moans of the lady with the back pain, drifting around the corner - the sound of my friend's tears, as they splashed on the floor....and this hymn, which has been in the back of my mind all day -"We are travelers on a journey, fellow pilgrims on the road. We are here to help each other walk the mile and bear the load. I will hold the Christlight for you, in the nighttime of your fear, I will hold my hand out to you, speak the peace you long to hear. I will weep when you are weeping, when you laugh I'll laugh with you, I will share your joy and sorrow till we've seen this journey through. When we sing to God in Heaven, we shall find such harmony - born of all we've known together, known of love and agony.".......keep singing friends - keep sharing and bearing, for the nighttime of fear is long.....

3-2-1....Blastoff!

My kids have discovered I Love Lucy. They are astonished to find that comedy was not invented in Y2K...that something from the "old days" could be so funny (They really should know this already...they live with me, and I am a riot, I'm sure - and, coincidentaly, I am also from the old days)....Tonight, just like many nights of my own childhood, we ate our supper around the TV (John was working late - he does NOT like eating in front of the TV unless it involves football....), laughing at the antics of Ricky, Lucy, Fred and Ethel. How wonderful - that laughter can bridge situations, limitations, generations. Tonight's episode was the one where Tennessee Ernie Ford comes to visit Cousin Lucy, and they spend the whole episode trying to get him to go back home, without hurting his feelings. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we as a society, in this day and age, showed so much concern for one anothers' feelings - made such a concerted effort to be kind...In other news on the home front, the Kennedy women have started our diet....ummm...I mean "lifestyle change". For the sake of my health (and my vanity.....there...I said it), I have really got to get with it! We began on Saturday, and preparatory to the big day, we had been pinning recipes to Pinterest like mad...Baby girl found one that to my way of thinking was ENTIRELY to good to be true....it's Chocolate Cake - 0 Weight Watchers points, and less than 30 calories....yeah - right. It's called 3-2-1 cake, and contains only 3 ingredients. Yesterday (Sunday), I was having the second day diet...ummm..."lifestyle change" joneses....I was doing OK going without Coke, because I was throwing back seltzer water (cherry flavored) like a dessert nomad at the well - but let's be frank - I NEEDED chocolate. My fingers flew over the keys, as I pulled up my Pinterest and found the Cake recipe - and before any of my family could blink, fat girl had put on her shoes, grabbed up her purse and was out the door. I believe that everybody else in my fair city has found the same recipe, because I had to go to 3 - count 'em - three grocery stores - to find one of the very common ingredients. Once back at home, in a lathering desperation, I made the cakes...and the heavens opened, and the angels sang, and all was once again right with my world! Now, I do not want this to turn into a recipe blog, but I would be a poor excuse for a friend if I did not share this (for those of you who have not yet pinned it to your Pinterest board, or worse yet - for those of you who have yet to become a slave to this InterWeb phenomenon). So grab your pens, and write this one down:
                                                                  3-2-1-CAKE!
1 box Angel Food Cake Mix (This is what all of the grocery stores were out of!)
1 box any other Cake Mix (I got Dark Chocolate Fudge)
                                             Mix these two together, until well incorporated - you shouldn't be able to tell that there were separate cake mixes. Then, when you are ready for a treat.................
Take 3 Tbl. of the mix and put it in a mug or glass ramekin (If you give the mug a light spray with PAM, it makes clean up easier) add 2 Tbl. water, stir, and microwave for 1 minute....get it? 3-2-1? Then, open the door, and be blessed by the miracle of CHOCOLATE CAKE....and I mean GOOD Chocolate Cake. It is the perfect serving size, and when paired with a cup of Decaf coffee makes a fabulous ending to your day! It is so easy, I am going to mix up a batch for College Boy to take with him, when he goes back to school on Saturday (Don't ask....I can't talk about it...it has been SO nice having him home.) - and he can have hot Chocolate Cake whenever he wants! I also have this terrific grinder that I got on a whim from Trader Joe's before Christmas. It looks like Pepper, but it contains Coarse sugar, dark chocolate and coffee beans, and has 0 calories for a 1/4 tsp. I didn't put nearly that much on each little cake - and it added a fun crunch. With the promise of this little treat each day, I think it will make it easier for me to stay on track - let's hope so anyway. I will keep you apprised of my success, or lack thereof, and I will pass along any new "lifestyle change" recipes that are too good to keep to myself......3-2-1....blastoff!

Bonfires and Symphony's....

...and so, out with the old and in with the new! It's been a lazy, grey New Years Day....John had to work, College Boy slept the day away, Baby girl had friends over, Babiest girl was retrieved from a friends house - and I decided not to wash my hair - because it smells like bonfire, and that smell makes me smile. You see, John and I actually went to a New Years Eve party last night - one that involved good music, grilled oysters, lots of new people to meet, and of course, the aforementioned bonfire. As always, meeting new people makes me nervous, but I had my kissy red leather gloves to give me courage - and I surprised myself by having a really good time. It reminded me of days long ago, when John and I were a couple, and time stretched before us in an unbroken road of whatever we wanted to do - a time before kids. Once College Boy came, we didn't get out much - and that trend has continued for almost 20 years....once, we went for over two years without going out alone - we were raising the kids with no help - no Grandparents to rely on for overnights, or drop in babysitting, and most times if we paid a babysitter, there was no money left to do anything else. Days - weeks, would go by in a blur back then. John was always working, and as a stay at home Mom, I had my hands full with 3 kids under 5. To keep my spirits up and to offer myself encouragement on a daily basis - I would cut out quotes or poems from magazines, and put them on the refrigerator door....some cute, some cheesy, some profound...but they served their purpose. They became my own silent, unfailing, ever present cheering section....because Lord knows, with all of those kids, I used the refrigerator nonstop - all day long! Five years ago, when we moved out of that dear little cottage and into our current home, John begged me not to put all of the "stuff" up on our new Stainless Steele Side by Side Fridgedare, and feeling magnanimous, I agreed. I couldn't bear to part with all of my magnets, pictures, postcards and clippings, so I put them in a Zip Lock bag, and shoved them in the back of the hall China Closet.....where I found them a couple of days ago, when, in the throes of a rare spurt of organizational energy, I cleaned out said closet. Finding that bag, was like a reunion of long lost best friends - I laughed and I cried as I examined each piece - remembering where I got each item, how much I had loved them - how they were all so intricately connected to the halcyon days of child rearing....the wonder years.....the last, largest piece to leave the bag was an art postcard with one of my favorite poems on it. It speaks to me as clearly as it did the day I got it - it's words masterfully laying out the life I would like to live...and so, on this first day of the year of our Lord - 2013, I give you these words, so beautifully crafted, in the hopes that you will find encouragement in them.....
                                                   
                                              My Symphony....by William Henry Channing
     To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury and refinement rather than fashion.
     To be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich.
     To study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly.
     To listen to stars and birds and babes and sages with an open heart.
     To bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never.
     In a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the commonplace.
     This is to be my symphony.

a raging Celtic brood....

The glorious Celtic music coming from my living room is doing little to dispel my gloom.....I am privy to an impressive practice session with College Boy on guitar and his former teacher/mentor on harp. Normally, Celtic music stirs my Irish Blood - leaving me feeling simultaneously empowered and relaxed - today it only serves to remind me of dreams long dead and far off lands that I will never see.....It started on Christmas Afternoon - a sense of malaise and melancholy. At first I attributed it to how sick I have been (Nasty little upper respiratory bug, that still has me sounding like I belong in a TB ward), we had a lovely Christmas, all of us together, so that couldn't be it.....I still can't put my finger on the "why", but that vague sense of sadness has become a full blown case of the blues. Yesterday, I took desperate measures and declared a Pajama Day with a Harry Potter marathon....that ALWAYS makes me feel better - until yesterday. Baby Girl and Babiest Girl were scheduled to help deliver Mobile Meals today, with some folks from Church.When I awoke this morning, and Baby Girl was too sick to go, I thought "That's just what I need - getting out and doing something for someone else....I'll take Baby Girls' place". I was paired with an older woman that I have long admired - she took the drivers seat - I became the navigator....I glanced over our route sheet - well done, with detailed directions. The more closely I read, the more uneasy I became - for on our list were people I knew....parents of kids I grew up with - one, a parent of a boy that I dated in High School. Some of the folks were still in their homes - homes I had ridden my bike to... others were in small, ramshackle apartments. Back in my car after all of the deliveries were made, I gave in to the tears that had been threatening for the last 2 hours..."That will be us....John and me" - I said, over and over in my brain until it became the cadence of my tears. Once home, I cleared the kitchen table for lunch, and that is how I found myself staring down into a picture of a green sea, cradled by an azure sky - the cover of John's Men's Journal (I don't know.....is this somehow the male equivalent of Southern Living?)...there, in the middle of the water, resting on a gossamer bar of sand, was a sea plane...and sitting on the wing, gazing soulfully out towards the horizon, was such a specimen of man flesh that it momentarily roused me from my self centered well of woe.Unfortunately, the headline above this photo read "Climbing Mount Impossible"....and those three words sent me right back into the well. Because some days (and these days especially) that is exactly how I feel.... Climbing Mount Impossible - with a fiscal cliff on one side, and general mayhem on the other...and today, in my state of blue, I see my Mount Impossible ending with me sitting in a ramshackle apartment, waiting by the door for the knock that will signal that some nice stranger has brought my lunch, in a styrofoam to go box....one that is mushy and smells strongly of institutional canned food. Call me Debbie Downer, and I will answer, cause today.....that's just where I am - in a raging Celtic brood - morose as any Irish poet....On the up side, my mood has an outstanding soundtrack, emanating live from the next room, and I take hope from the fact that as I type, I am tapping my feet to the mesmerizing Celtic rhythm... directly to my right, in my oven, is tonight's dinner -  two wonderful looking Quiche Lorraine's, made with eggs from my very own back yard (The Chickens have turned into such wonderful layers, that I have forgiven them for any resemblance they might bear to birds....). In my pocket book, on the hook by the back door, is a gift certificate for a massage at my favorite day spa - a gift from some  friends (and in the words of one of the givers - "you look like you could use it!" - he was being kind...what I really look like I could use is a week at an extreme makeover show, or several days in one of those hyperbaric oxygen chambers), and while I surely do not have a pocket full of sunshine at the moment, my coat pocket does hold the most beautiful pair of red leather gloves with kissy red bows - a gift from another friend. I will eat my supper.....I will clean the kitchen...I will kiss all three kids goodnight, and I will go to bed and read (Harry Potter) until I fall asleep (These days, it is usually less than ten minutes!), and I will hope that my Irish Blood will take a turn for the happier - because, to quote another Southern Irish lass....."Tomorrow IS another day".......

Fah who For-aze, Dah who Dor-aze....

Somehow, just like in the Grinch, Christmas has managed to arrive - despite all of our human tragedies and woes...even though the lights on my Tree don't give me the shivers this year, and the Christmas cookies don't go down quite so easily ( some would argue that this might just possibly be a good thing, given the size of my ever expanding rear end....). The presents are wrapped, the baking is done, and the Christ Child is ever ready to be born in a manger. Soon, the soup will be simmering in the crockpot - awaiting our most beloved Christmas tradition - It was a fluke,really...born out of desperation. The Christmas of 1998, I was great with child...like, Biblically....like, miserably....Babiest girl was a few short weeks away - we had just moved into our storybook cottage - all 1200 feet of it (bear that figure in mind, so you can be properly astonished when you hear how many house guests I received!). Faced with the imminent arrival of  John's Mom and Dad, his Sister, her husband and their 2 teenage daughters - I was somewhat panicked, and believe it or not, my main concern was NOT where to put everybody. ( In Law's in our bedroom, John on Den sofa, Me on recliner, College Boy and Baby girl in his room, Sister In Law and her gang in Baby Girl's room - easy peezy lemon squeezy, as long as you don't dwell on the fact that there were only 2 very small bathrooms!) My main concern was how to feed everybody for a WEEK! I was a stay at home Mom, and most times it was a challenge to stretch the budget just to feed ourselves - much less at Christmas, when I was pregnant  and for 6 extra people for 7 days....Lots of casseroles, and a cheap cut of Roast - slow cooked for Christmas Day, but what to do for Christmas Eve? It needed to be special, but it had to be cheap....SOUP! Soup is cheap - but not very special....unless.....what if you paired it with a story.....the greatest story ever told?! So on that first Christmas Eve, all snug in our cottage - after Christmas Eve service, and a ride by the tallest ever decorated Christmas Tree (our second favorite Christmas tradition), I lit every candle in the house, squeezed 10 people around my dining room table - and served up the Christmas Story....Crackers, Cheese, Fruit and Nuts - to symbolize the traveling food that Mary and Joseph might have eaten on the long, uncomfortable journey to Bethlehem.....Soup to represent the warmth and safety of the dark little stable......and cookies to represent the sweetness of Jesus' birth. That year, the soup was Potato, this year - Chicken and Tortellini... it changes from year to year - depending on our taste - but the thing that never changes is the feeling we get - as the candlelight flickers on each dear face, as the Story is retold.....as our personal story unfolds and our laughter fills the air.....the feeling that we are blessed beyond measure - to have each other,  to have food to eat and a home in which to eat it - to be able to share it with what ever guests might be at our table, to celebrate the birth of a baby - Emmanuel - God with us....that is the true gift - the gift that changeth not. "For unto you is born this day, in the City of David - a savior which is Christ the Lord......".....My Christmas wish for you this day is that you will be filled with the "peace which passeth all understanding" - no matter your life struggles....that in whatever direction you journey, you are filled with the knowledge that you do not journey alone.....that you find warmth and safety in the presence of those you love.....and that you find the sweetness of the season as you sit down to your dinner tonight.....that you wake in the morning, singing along with Cindy Lou Who...."Fah who For-aze, Dah who Dor-aze, Welcome Christmas, Christmas Day....".....God bless us, everyone.......

Liberty and Justice.... for whom?

"Food insufficiency".....Why do these things always happen to me when I am driving? I don't know if it was the low grade fever I was sporting, or just my opinions, too long held in check in regards to the swirling debates focused on the events of the last few days, that caused me to start raging into the emptiness of my vehicle.  The offending reporter on NPR was talking about the BackPack Program in schools, of which I am a great supporter. Over and over again, she kept using the phrase "Food insufficiency" , when what she really meant was hunger. And that.....did me in. The BackPack Program has been set up to combat H.U.N.G.E.R....in children.....in the United States of America - and using antiseptic phraseology does not change the facts....it only makes it seem more removed - more clinical - less visceral. Which brings me around to what was really bothering me....once you wade through the arguments of Gun Freedoms/reforms,  the God's vengeance camp vs. the God is Love camp, and the myriad Mental Health issues, there are, to my way of thinking giant elephants in our collective rooms in regards to the Connecticut massacre that no one is addressing. For those of you who don't know me well - let me introduce myself. I am not a friend of the NRA. I do not question your right to own a rifle to hunt with - as long as you eat what you kill, or use your kill to feed someone else. I do not question your right to own a handgun to protect home and hearth. I do believe that your right to carry concealed weapons infringes on my right to have a sense of  peace and personal security (which for me does NOT include a gun)- my right to know when there is a weapon in my presence. I believe that there is no reason on earth for anyone to own an assault rifle - the true and original weapon of mass destruction. If you are a person who believes that God sent this massacre as a punishment for any of the multiple reasons that I have seen bandied about - I do not know your God - this God that would seek vengeance against little children. I have yet to see any mention of the problem that goes back to the "Food Insufficiency"....that we, as a society, have become afraid of, or too lazy, or too inured , to take a stance....to call a spade a spade (I know - that phrase might be politically offensive, but it is the only one I can think of that really fits) That said, you may want to stop reading now - if you don't, I warned you - because here comes my two cents...... I am of the opinion that we have become a society that is unwilling to call out the bullies, wherever they may be - to enact swift and substantial punitive consequences - to have a zero tolerance policy - to say what we mean, and to mean what we say . We have become a society that is in many ways completely and totally immune to violence - we allow our young children to play video games and watch movies and TV shows that are rife with gun play and gore. Each time they play or view, their young minds (already unable to completely find a clear line between fact and fantasy, because of the limitations of their growing brains) find it a little less scary, a little more exciting, a little more normal - more acceptable...the "lives" of those killed while gaming become nothing more than points on a tote board....chipping away at the much touted "sanctity" of human life....distilling it to nothing more than killing for sport, or worse, glory. I do not believe everyone deserves a trophy - I believe that it not only gives our children a sense of entitlement, it sets them up for disappointment and an inability to cope with the "real world". I believe that we have a health care system that is corrupt and broken and that extends to mental health...especially mental health. I believe that parenting is too often viewed as a hobby, to be put aside when it becomes too messy and time consuming, and not as a sacred responsibility. I believe that we are laughable if we, as a society, have come to believe that we can "Keep God Out" by enacting a little bit of  mortal legislation - yet I also believe - quite strongly- in the separation of Church and State...."Render unto God that which is God's....render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's." I believe that we have become a society that refers to Childhood Hunger as "Food Insufficiency", thereby removing the unpleasant images that the word HUNGER conjures up...making it more P.C.....more palatable....like the "mechanical soft" pablum that Nursing Homes give to their patients that have difficulty swallowing. I believe that we have lost sight of personal responsibility when it comes to how we spend our "free will" - In our zeal to be right, we have lost sight of the true freedoms our country was founded upon,(of which Religious Freedom was front and center, and that included the right to have no religion if that is what one so desired) and the call to work for the greater good.... I believe that there is no one solution to the problems that we face as a people.....but I know that each part of the collective solution has to begin with putting aside our respective agendas, rolling up our sleeves and trying to be a part of the solution, instead of screaming about the ways in which we feel we have been slighted....to really MEAN that Pledge of Allegiance that so many folks are so riled up about....you know.....the one that ends "With Liberty and Justice for ALL".....