We'd been down in the sunny south for three months, off and on for Richard, consistently for me. There was an opening in the work schedule on the PT boat at the World war II Museum, when Richard's every day full-time attendance was thought to be discretionary. It was time to return to our rural roots for doctors' appointments and to finally paint the kitchen, which had been our winter doldrums plan all along.
When we got home to the holler, we had some surprises. Richard drove into the driveway and released our big bear of a Great Pyrenees back onto her patrol grounds, which she very enthusiastically ran through, banishing the several months build-up of beasties and ghoulies. He then unpacked his Bronco II, happily carrying his gear through the living room, down the hall, and into his office and our bedroom. It was so nice for him to be back in our familiar surroundings, until he entered the kitchen where he stepped into "squish."
The drain pan under the washing machine had clearly overflowed onto the kitchen floor. How could this have happened with us out of town, and knowing that no laundry was left washing as Richard had headed out the door? He looked high and low for the source of the swill, but couldn't find any obvious offenders. He even ran the washer, sure that the metal-clad hose must have burst, but found nothing. He called me with this news; now we were both mystified. He swabbed the deck, and decided to start the paint prep.
I had planned to have friends over to supper, but since the washer and dryer were now pulled to the middle of the kitchen, this clearly wasn't going to happen until the laundry closet was complete. I arrived the day after Richard, while he was at doctors' appointments for himself and Gypsy. My assignment was to remove all the items from the shelves over the washer and dryer. I happily puttered about rearranging our pantry cupboard and pitching lots of stale stuff, so as to make room for the overflow grocery items that had ended up in to laundry closet. I know, the board of health would have been appalled that we stored spaghetti next to stain remover, but that's recently remedied.
Upon his return from town, Richard began peeling off wall covering, and washing down walls. The next day, we agreed that I would clean up the mess while he went after more painting supplies. This is when it got really interesting. As I swept the floor, I saw some dark spots. I put my hand down and realized that the darkening was caused by wet wood. Not only this, but the floor was mushy. Richard's plan to paint the kitchen was now turned into one of his "infinite regression of steps" projects.
Before he can paint the kitchen, he has to paint the laundry closet. Before he can paint the ceiling and walls of the laundry closet, he has to rebuild the floor. Before he can rebuild the floor, he has to remove the soggy spots. Meanwhile, the PT boat builders are calling him back to duty. What's a woman to do when the "war effort" calls? Wherever this project stands, I'll release my Richard right after his last doctor's appointment on Thursday. As long as I have a working stove and sink, the painting can be put off.
On the up side of these surprises, I discovered that the leak was from a rubber washer that had become brittle...a cheap, easy fix. And the orchid that my daughter's family had given me four years ago, had not only survived my absence, but had once again begun to bloom.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Lilting Laughter and Lies
Laughter is something with different bents,
Depending on the message that is sent.
Just as tears are shed for many reasons,
Laughs are the signs of many seasons.
I know a woman who laughs at tragedy
She is simply built this way, you see.
It embarrasses her at funerals and such;
People may think she's been drinking too much.
My grandma and I laughed a lot, at many things
We often got baudy, when our stories took wings.
We could laugh at our diseases and laugh at death;
This was usually at her specific request.
This caused her to blush with embarrassment only when
We were caught in the act by my mother or her men.
I learned from this to choose carefully
Those, with whom, I let my emotions fly free.
There is sincere laughter that tends to heal;
There is also laughter that, as a weapon, we wield.
We must retrain our souls' ability to discern
The meanings behind signs of emotion we've learned.
A smile or a laugh can be meant to disarm,
Leading us to falsely believe we are meant no harm.
About the crying of tears, the same can be said;
Politicians and famous folks I've come to dread.
Laughter can be couched as friendship, when in fact,
It is a coward's way of launching an attack.
By opening souls with a show of shared mirth,
Many an hate-filled crowd has been given birth.
A smile may be used as a way to get close,
And find the weaknesses to exploit the most.
A tearful approach can soften the heart,
To use another's compassion,and rip them apart.
A sincere, sweet smile is not the same as a smirk;
The former is practiced by babies, the latter by jerks.
A smile or a tear when someone looks in our eyes
Helps us see if the emotion looks like truth or lies.
A laugh can be lilting, like that of a child,
Or a hearty admission that our plans have gone wild.
To laugh at another is often done to inflict pain;
This is not the way I wish new friendships to gain.
But to be among those who still have pure hearts,
And to share in the laughter that, from pure joy, starts;
To hold someone in tears and absorb some of their pain,
And to be with them as their spirits soar again;
To smile in the eyes of one without anger or jealousy,
And to feel this positive energy flowing back to me;
This is the form of friendship that I seek,
Affirmation that is given without having to speak.
Depending on the message that is sent.
Just as tears are shed for many reasons,
Laughs are the signs of many seasons.
I know a woman who laughs at tragedy
She is simply built this way, you see.
It embarrasses her at funerals and such;
People may think she's been drinking too much.
My grandma and I laughed a lot, at many things
We often got baudy, when our stories took wings.
We could laugh at our diseases and laugh at death;
This was usually at her specific request.
This caused her to blush with embarrassment only when
We were caught in the act by my mother or her men.
I learned from this to choose carefully
Those, with whom, I let my emotions fly free.
There is sincere laughter that tends to heal;
There is also laughter that, as a weapon, we wield.
We must retrain our souls' ability to discern
The meanings behind signs of emotion we've learned.
A smile or a laugh can be meant to disarm,
Leading us to falsely believe we are meant no harm.
About the crying of tears, the same can be said;
Politicians and famous folks I've come to dread.
Laughter can be couched as friendship, when in fact,
It is a coward's way of launching an attack.
By opening souls with a show of shared mirth,
Many an hate-filled crowd has been given birth.
A smile may be used as a way to get close,
And find the weaknesses to exploit the most.
A tearful approach can soften the heart,
To use another's compassion,and rip them apart.
A sincere, sweet smile is not the same as a smirk;
The former is practiced by babies, the latter by jerks.
A smile or a tear when someone looks in our eyes
Helps us see if the emotion looks like truth or lies.
A laugh can be lilting, like that of a child,
Or a hearty admission that our plans have gone wild.
To laugh at another is often done to inflict pain;
This is not the way I wish new friendships to gain.
But to be among those who still have pure hearts,
And to share in the laughter that, from pure joy, starts;
To hold someone in tears and absorb some of their pain,
And to be with them as their spirits soar again;
To smile in the eyes of one without anger or jealousy,
And to feel this positive energy flowing back to me;
This is the form of friendship that I seek,
Affirmation that is given without having to speak.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Why I Cry
The less I cuss and fuss, the more I cry;
This may not be the same if I was a guy.
I shed tears of joy, of anger, of pain
Then I can begin to think straight again.
I cry because of how awesome all of life is made to be,
And because of the many blessings that have been given to me.
I cry because the of the passion that wells up in my soul,
When it becomes more powerful than my human heart can hold.
I cry when my grandchild wears her first prom dress,
And when my grandson wants to show me he's done his best.
I cry when a granddaughter plays piano and sax music for me,
And when another creates a dance program for me and my man to see.
I cry when I see people hurting others, and I cannot do anything.
I cry when I'm in the place of my birth and hear the church bells ring.
I cry when I see babies held gently by their fathers and mothers,
And I cry grieving for the pain of so many of our sisters and brothers.
I cry tears of joy when my daughter and son and their families come to call.
I cry wondering what made me so special that this manna, to me, should fall.
I cry also when I hurt because I cannot see The Creator's plan,
Especially when I fear the loss of those who love me as I am.
As Frank McCort's mother said to him, "Your bladder is close to your eyes,"
I cry because, in crisis, my grandma asked, "Do you want to laugh or cry?"
She seemed to know that laughter didn't clear out all the passion,
So I make no apologies for releasing this extra passionate ration.
This may not be the same if I was a guy.
I shed tears of joy, of anger, of pain
Then I can begin to think straight again.
I cry because of how awesome all of life is made to be,
And because of the many blessings that have been given to me.
I cry because the of the passion that wells up in my soul,
When it becomes more powerful than my human heart can hold.
I cry when my grandchild wears her first prom dress,
And when my grandson wants to show me he's done his best.
I cry when a granddaughter plays piano and sax music for me,
And when another creates a dance program for me and my man to see.
I cry when I see people hurting others, and I cannot do anything.
I cry when I'm in the place of my birth and hear the church bells ring.
I cry when I see babies held gently by their fathers and mothers,
And I cry grieving for the pain of so many of our sisters and brothers.
I cry tears of joy when my daughter and son and their families come to call.
I cry wondering what made me so special that this manna, to me, should fall.
I cry also when I hurt because I cannot see The Creator's plan,
Especially when I fear the loss of those who love me as I am.
As Frank McCort's mother said to him, "Your bladder is close to your eyes,"
I cry because, in crisis, my grandma asked, "Do you want to laugh or cry?"
She seemed to know that laughter didn't clear out all the passion,
So I make no apologies for releasing this extra passionate ration.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Best Deaths
A friend I've not met called me today,
As her beloved father near death's door lay
She knows what he wants and she believes in The Light,
But she still wonders what actions would be right.
There are few things as sad as feeling alone
As we send our loved ones to their Eternal Home.
We want to be there for their final breath,
But these moments put our faith to a great test.
How do we remain happy as we say our final good-bye,
Without showing our grief, no matter how we try
To be joyful because they are released from pain,
Knowing we'll never hold their bodies again?
The face, the voice, the laugh, the smells
That said homecoming, within us dwell.
We know that it simply won't be the same
If we never have their physical bodies again.
The best way to handle death, that I have found,
Is to gather with family and friends all around,
To celebrate our memories as we say good-bye
Instead of waiting for eulogies after they die.
As her beloved father near death's door lay
She knows what he wants and she believes in The Light,
But she still wonders what actions would be right.
There are few things as sad as feeling alone
As we send our loved ones to their Eternal Home.
We want to be there for their final breath,
But these moments put our faith to a great test.
How do we remain happy as we say our final good-bye,
Without showing our grief, no matter how we try
To be joyful because they are released from pain,
Knowing we'll never hold their bodies again?
The face, the voice, the laugh, the smells
That said homecoming, within us dwell.
We know that it simply won't be the same
If we never have their physical bodies again.
The best way to handle death, that I have found,
Is to gather with family and friends all around,
To celebrate our memories as we say good-bye
Instead of waiting for eulogies after they die.
Gift of Grace
We're back in Coker Creek, my man and me.
Our dog is as thrilled as she can be,
To be back to guarding every acre and tree.
Inside and cozy, I loved the smell of home.
I knew that I wouldn't, for long, be alone
My prince had reassured me of this by phone.
He had laid in a fire, yet to be lit;
I decided that I'd rather wait for it,
When we could together by the hearth sit.
There's now snow on the ground, as is fitting,
And much downed timber for collecting and splitting.
I could, by the fire, sit with some knitting.
But neither sitting nor knitting are my gifts.
Snow is not on my "favorite things" lists,
And I dread the thought of emergency air lifts.
Richard has already, twice, gone into town;
He's not afraid of the snow on the ground.
Except for emergencies, his thinking is sound.
I live in fear that we'll, while snowbound, die.
When roads are frozen, ambulances take to the sky,
But the patient's spouse is left on stand-by.
I'm also afraid of being alone in the dark,
And while children may think icy ground a lark,
I don't consider winter a walk in the park.
I was raised on fairy tales where princesses were served,
And anything they wished for, they richly deserved;
But my life in reality has thrown me a curve.
My prince is the servant I have, to date,
I fear wearing him out at a rapid rate.
I'd hate for him to look at a more useful mate.
Down south, I'm usually not frozen in place;
His museum work goes on at a steady pace
To live in both places is a gift of Grace.
Our dog is as thrilled as she can be,
To be back to guarding every acre and tree.
Inside and cozy, I loved the smell of home.
I knew that I wouldn't, for long, be alone
My prince had reassured me of this by phone.
He had laid in a fire, yet to be lit;
I decided that I'd rather wait for it,
When we could together by the hearth sit.
There's now snow on the ground, as is fitting,
And much downed timber for collecting and splitting.
I could, by the fire, sit with some knitting.
But neither sitting nor knitting are my gifts.
Snow is not on my "favorite things" lists,
And I dread the thought of emergency air lifts.
Richard has already, twice, gone into town;
He's not afraid of the snow on the ground.
Except for emergencies, his thinking is sound.
I live in fear that we'll, while snowbound, die.
When roads are frozen, ambulances take to the sky,
But the patient's spouse is left on stand-by.
I'm also afraid of being alone in the dark,
And while children may think icy ground a lark,
I don't consider winter a walk in the park.
I was raised on fairy tales where princesses were served,
And anything they wished for, they richly deserved;
But my life in reality has thrown me a curve.
My prince is the servant I have, to date,
I fear wearing him out at a rapid rate.
I'd hate for him to look at a more useful mate.
Down south, I'm usually not frozen in place;
His museum work goes on at a steady pace
To live in both places is a gift of Grace.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Bullies and Blessings
I used to think that it was important to protect oneself
From the different religious views that defined "someone else".
Now, I know that what is really important for us to do
Is to look for common examples of faith in me and you.
I'm so tired of making apologies for that which I am;
We can kill each other or accept both as part of The Creator's plan.
Which one will it be for you? You will have to choose one;
I'm tired of being the one about which many "People of God" make fun.
You think you are so funny because many others laugh;
Am not a child of which your Bible says, "Don't bring to wrath"?
But, if I am a child of your God, why do you think that, at best,
Your God would give me no self in which to feel that I am blessed?
I'm fairly sure that if I am beaten, you will portray me,
As one your God would have said was never meant to be.
But you still insist you are one of which your God approves as "thee",
And you should inflict your truths on all who you deign to see.
It may be that, in Eternity, the first shall be the least,
But my hope is this, that in the Eternal Loving plan for peace,
There will be no more who, their piety increase
By taking unfair advantage of any plant, person, or beast.
From the different religious views that defined "someone else".
Now, I know that what is really important for us to do
Is to look for common examples of faith in me and you.
I'm so tired of making apologies for that which I am;
We can kill each other or accept both as part of The Creator's plan.
Which one will it be for you? You will have to choose one;
I'm tired of being the one about which many "People of God" make fun.
You think you are so funny because many others laugh;
Am not a child of which your Bible says, "Don't bring to wrath"?
But, if I am a child of your God, why do you think that, at best,
Your God would give me no self in which to feel that I am blessed?
I'm fairly sure that if I am beaten, you will portray me,
As one your God would have said was never meant to be.
But you still insist you are one of which your God approves as "thee",
And you should inflict your truths on all who you deign to see.
It may be that, in Eternity, the first shall be the least,
But my hope is this, that in the Eternal Loving plan for peace,
There will be no more who, their piety increase
By taking unfair advantage of any plant, person, or beast.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Relay Race to Life in the Light
When we are called upon to minister to those who are ill or otherwise vulnerable, we must be absolutely sure that we are closely tied to those who walk in The Light. It is very easy to slip from a position of service to a position of earthly power, especially with the challenges to our human hearts that come with absorbing the pain of others.
Even Jesus felt power flow from him as he was contacted to heal the afflictions of others. Even Jesus had to take extended breaks from these drains on his power in order to renew himself and his Divine Spirit of Wholeness. Even Jesus felt the need to stay in physical communion with other devout People of The Word who walked with him in the Light of The Spirit.
Jesus was asked to walk his sinless walk on earth for only thirty-three years, only three of them in public ministry. Why do we think that we can continue our faith journey alone, with no human support network, while living in the public eye for our whole adult lives? We get ourselves and others in trouble by attempting to set others on permanent pedestals. We then use all sorts of energy boosters, energy diminishers, and other substitutes for solidarity in The Spirit. We also set up a false sense of servants and saviors.
Addictions are all attempts to secure a sense of solidarity with the society's preferred status quo of release from responsibility (the ability to honestly respond rather than react).
No human was never meant to be in a permanent position of power. We are all meant to minister to each other and the rest of creation as a group, with the baton of leadership passing from one servant to another, as the race is run. The finish line is eternal communion with all of creation and The Creator in the Light of the Spirit of Wholeness.
Even Jesus felt power flow from him as he was contacted to heal the afflictions of others. Even Jesus had to take extended breaks from these drains on his power in order to renew himself and his Divine Spirit of Wholeness. Even Jesus felt the need to stay in physical communion with other devout People of The Word who walked with him in the Light of The Spirit.
Jesus was asked to walk his sinless walk on earth for only thirty-three years, only three of them in public ministry. Why do we think that we can continue our faith journey alone, with no human support network, while living in the public eye for our whole adult lives? We get ourselves and others in trouble by attempting to set others on permanent pedestals. We then use all sorts of energy boosters, energy diminishers, and other substitutes for solidarity in The Spirit. We also set up a false sense of servants and saviors.
Addictions are all attempts to secure a sense of solidarity with the society's preferred status quo of release from responsibility (the ability to honestly respond rather than react).
No human was never meant to be in a permanent position of power. We are all meant to minister to each other and the rest of creation as a group, with the baton of leadership passing from one servant to another, as the race is run. The finish line is eternal communion with all of creation and The Creator in the Light of the Spirit of Wholeness.
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