My Grandson

Today I learned that my future grandchild is going to be a boy! My daughter, Jen, had her 20th week ultrasound and lo and behold the little love positioned himself to show one and all he's a male!

Wow! When I had my children, back in the dark ages, we didn't have ultrasounds. We waited until the actual birth to discover the sex of our child. What a rush to hear your daughter tell you "Mom, it's a boy." I know my daughter really was hoping for a girl. She felt more comfortable with giving birth to a girl There would be a ready-made connection if it was a girl.

I'm not so sure. When I had my daughter, Jen, I was immediately filled with concern that I would screw her up. I had had my son. Hey, if I screwed him up I had a ready made excuse. "What do I know? I'm a female. Of course I would screw up a male!" But there was this beautiful, young, innocent, defenseless baby girl. She looked up at me with her gorgeous eyes, her shock of red hair, and it seemed she was looking deep into my soul. "Are you ready for me? Can you guide me in this world I've entered? What does it mean to be female? What does the world expect of me?" I literally trembled! And on that day she was born, alone in our little cubicle, I promised her I would allow her to be her. I would try not to be an interfering, controlling Mom. That I would try my best to remember she was my daughter and keep those boundaries.

Not sure how well I've done. I do know that I have this remarkable woman, bearing a very special boy, that I call my daughter. She is bright, courageous, loving and caring. How much credit I can take for that, I don't know. I do know that I influenced her. I know how much her Dad influenced her. I know that she was born from love. That her entry into this world was celebrated by so many. My parents, Art's parents, aunts, uncles, great-aunts, great-uncles, great-grand aunts and uncles. From the moment we knew she was growing inside me, she was surrounded by love and prayers.

Jen and Adam's child, their son, enjoys the same. All over this country from Massachusetts to California,his aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, grandparents, great uncles and aunts are rejoicing. A new life!

Isn't that the best gift we can give this child? To promise him that no matter what we love him. Bring it on, little one! We want to share in your joys and sorrows. We want to support you and your parents as you find your way in this world of ours. The bottom line is, it truly doesn't matter if the Yankees or Red Sox win the World Series (ok AG, take a deep breath!). What matters is you matter. Whoever you become, whatever you pursue, whatever mission you take on as yours, your family loves you.

My Grandson is a blessing. God has blessed my family once again. Not only with a new member but more importantly, with an opportunity to show love. To see the goodness in this world. To prepare the way. To examine our lives and decide again what is truly important. Love. Love. Love. Thank you little one. For showing us, as you will do countless times I'm sure, that when it comes down to it, it's what we do with the love we are given that matters most.

Sharing our Faith

I had the most wonderful faith experience today with my friend Trudy. We talked on the phone for over an hour in which time we covered a lot of territory. We hadn't talked since May when I went back to Massachusetts for the summer. Trudy celebrated her birthday last week. I had called her and dropped off a book on prayerful reflection to her house and today she called me to thank me.

Trudy and I come from totally different backgrounds. She is a true Southern belle; she has the accent, the poise, and she dresses beautifully every day. We have even laughed about how her underwear matches her outfit! I affectionately call her "Barbie". She has a different outfit for each occasion, just like Barbie!

What many don't know is that Trudy is a deeply spiritual woman who deals with a lifelong, chronic disease. It has hampered her life in many ways and presents obstacles in new ways every day. Trudy starts each day off with praying. She has much to teach me. I pray each day and try to live my prayer life the best I can. Trudy reflects, reads Scriptures and prays each morning to help her deal with whatever the day presents to her, both mentally and physically. That is why I gave her a book on reflection for her birthday.

I'm "cradle born Catholic" as they say here in the South. Trudy is Baptist. Continents apart most people think. But Trudy and I have spent many hours discussing our religion. I have made Catholicism less of a mystery to her, I hope, and she has shown me how Baptists honor God and especially Jesus.

So this morning, Trudy and I talked about our faith, our prayer life, and how we try each day to do God's will. Not your typical "catch up" call. We both, in our own way, are trying to fulfill whatever purpose we are meant to do. I truly believe each of us is born for a reason. I welcome other's viewpoints on their religious life. What I won't focus on is our differences! Our lives are too crammed full of issues and problems to focus on that. I'd rather focus on what we share. Our love of family, of God and trying to understand what are we to do at this moment in our lives.

I shared with Trudy what's happening in my family and she did the same with me. And we told each other we would pray for the needs of our families. I told her she had uplifted me. She offered a fresh look at situations in which I find myself; offered a different perspective and renewed my faith in myself and in the wisdom of God. That's a beautiful experience.

So don't discount people in your life who you think aren't like you. Trudy and I are not that different after all. We love our families and our God. And we each are trying to do the least harm and the most good we can. As Trudy said today, "I try to act so that others see more of God and less of me." Isn't that what our lives should be?

September's end

I couldn't let September go by without sharing a few thoughts. It's been very hot, humid and cloudy here in KY until yesterday. Now we're in sweaters and rubbing our arms. No sooner do we shut off the AC and we have to think about turning on the furnaces!!

Fall is a mixed bag for me. I like it but don't love it. I can enjoy those clear blue skies and the changing leaves, but not without a slight shudder at the thought of the cold that will soon be here.

One of the things that's nice about south central Kentucky is we don't get deep cold waves. We stay pretty moderate but we do get lots of clouds and those dreary days tend to weigh me down. So right now I am enjoying the last colors of my gardens and trying to keep up with the weeds. I swear they have orgies during the night because they are all back again when I return in the morning!

I've used this month to try to organize myself a bit more and re-evaluate groups and activities in which I participate. Not easy. I'm finding that I want to be with people who enjoy each other and focus on what's important. Values are becoming so important to me. What one says and does matters. And I want to be with those who are considerate of others and open to all. There are so many great organizations and groups to join that you can get "over" scheduled. A different activity each day is a real possibility. I love people so I usually just jump in and then decide later if I want to continue.

So I'm prioritizing my activities. I want to focus on those things that make life a bit easier for others. I'm blessed to be able to volunteer and join groups and so I want my time to be used wisely. And I also want time alone. Time to reflect. To analyze, so to speak, my progress towards my goals of helping others.

So that's what I've been doing for September. Looking inwards, preparing myself for the winter months ahead just as I prepare my garden beds for the winter. Doing lots of work inside so that come spring, I can bloom too!

My son is home!

This morning my husband Art returned to Kentucky from Duxbury, MA. Our son, A.G., drove him to Providence for his early morning flight. Art came in to see our son, who is home on leave from Sudan where he works for a non-profit agency. He's based out of Khartoum where he works on micro-economic projects inside the camps for IDPs...internally displaced people. In my terminology, refugees. But as my son tells me, you can't be a refugee when you're in your own country...thus, IDPs. He also now travels to Dafur to supervise the extension of his agency's services there since the President of Sudan kicked out 13 agencies after the warrant for his arrest for crimes against humanity was issued by the International Court. Need I say more? Heavy stuff.

The last 5 days have been wonderful ones for me. First my husband got here for a little R&R. It took the arrival of our son to pull him away from his travels and work load. Art, my husband, works in international sales and spends far too many hours in the office or out of the country as far as I'm concerned. But after nearly 35 years of this I should have learned to keep my mouth shut! I still complain and fight for every moment I get!

He arrived the night before our son flew in from Sudan for his home leave. It also coincided with our 37th wedding anniversary. So what a wonderful gift! The only part missing was our daughter Jen who had to return, last week, to Chicago with her husband to finish her 3rd year of law school at Northwestern.

When our son, A.G., got off the bus from Logan Airport, I watched my husband run to him and hug him. He wouldn't let go and A.G. looked at me, over his Dad's shoulder, as if to say, "What's up with this?" My husband, Art, was overwhelmed with emotion. I know it well. The joy of seeing your child, the relief to know he is safe, and the realization that he is a man putting himself in harm's way for others. I deal with this each and every day as I start my day in prayer for my children and their spouses. This is not to say my husband doesn't. He does. His day starts and ends in prayer. But usually it's me that faces the kids on the front line. He's trapped in his job. Or he allows himself to be trapped in his job. That's another topic all together!

Our son's wife, Patty, has started a new job in D.C. She too is working to support non-profits. She works for a company that distributes and coordinates funds for non-profits, as best I can gather, and she too will be traveling to far off places. So A.G. will leave this week to join his wife and bring their dog to her. For awhile they will live apart while he finishes his job and she starts her new one.

During the few days my husband was here, we got to spend time with our son and absorb all that he has become. His love for his family is as strong as ever, his sense of humor as sharp. There is a new depth to him. He is seeing human nature in a way I never have. He is seeing what the worst in us can do. He watches what the best in us can salvage. He is incensed by the subterfuge our country is engaging in with the political parties playing their games with people's lives and welfare. He is more and more disenchanted with the "American Way." What he sees is a nation afraid to move forward. Afraid that becoming diverse weakens us. What his life experience teaches him, is that people, no matter their color, want the best for their children. Carrying that goal in their hearts, they will rise above genocide, political suppression, gender bias, religious fanaticism. And yet here, the greatest and freest land on earth, we are arguing about granting health care for the poor! For him it's an oxymoron. You are the richest land on earth yet you won't share it with your own.

His reflections clear the air for me. It makes it much more simple. You either take care of your citizens or you don't. If that's black and white, so be it.

So many thoughts and feelings rushed through me this weekend. And as a background for our family gathering to celebrate AG and each other, we watched the senior Senator from Massachusetts, Ted Kennedy, pass away and be buried. Family. First and foremost. Taking care of each other and called to public service. To share the gifts, talents and treasure with those less fortunate.

So much to share and to reflect upon. For now, I take joy in the sound of my son upstairs packing to join his wife in DC. And to know that my son is home and safe. For that I thank God.

Ah...parents!

Tonight I spoke with my dear friend Roni who is with her parents in Akron. Her Dad at 87 is in intensive care battling pneumonia, Legionnaires. Her Mom is presenting with symptoms of early stages of Alzheimers. Back home in Bowling Green, sits her husband and son minding her mother-in-law, 95, who has come to live with them for 3 months after suffering a fall in her home in Florida and several weeks of hospitalization. Her husband and his brother are splitting the care of their Mom right now...three months with one and then three months with the other.

So think about this. Roni at 65 and Chuck at 64 have 3 out of 4 parents still alive! And while living their own lives, Chuck still working et al, and being on call for their 3 children and 5 grandchildren they are now caring for 3 aging parents.

It boggles the mind, doesn't it? But that's the reality of the so called baby boomers today. We are caring for our kids' kids and their great-grandparents. Talk about the rubber band generation!!

So how do you deal with the emotions that roil inside of you when you are faced with this incredible task? Who do you cut off first? That sounds cruel but let's face it....something has to give. Do you focus on your parents who raised you, supported you, helped you with your own kids? Or do you look to the future and decide that you have to focus on your grandkids and be there for your own kids?

I don't have any good answers. Both of my parents are gone. My Dad to cancer just months after placing my Mom in a nursing home with Alzheimers. Mom spent 9 years on that ward. I watched her slip away from me and all my siblings. I'm not sure where she went for the years it took her body to finally acquiesce to letting this life go. But I stood vigil while it happened.

What's easier on a child, adult though they may be? To have a parent be "with you" until old age finally eases them into the next life, or to have them leave before their time in your eyes?

All I know is that I am witnessing my friend be swamped with decision-making and feeling overwhelmed by 3 aging parents depending on her.

Is it possible that one can live too long? I think so. What happens to families that have postponed dealing with those God-awful decisions that have to be made about final instructions, plans of what to do if Mom/Dad lives so long they can't take care of themselves? It can rip families apart. We've all seen it.

So tonight I speak with my Mom and Dad, wherever their spirits are, and I tell them how I love them. How I hope that if they had lived longer I would have cared for them in the right manner. That my brothers, sister, and I would have made the right decisions. And I admit to them my relief, that they are at peace and I never had to deal with what my wonderful friend Roni is facing.

Ah, parents. Mine, yours, ours. We came from parents, we are parents, and our children become parents. Do we parent ourselves as well as our kids? Do they parent us? Or is it that it's one continous cycle, where we are children, adults, parents, and children again? All I know is that whatever stage we are, we need to love and be loved.

Reflections of a Grey June

Well, today's the last day of June and I must say I'm not sorry to see it go.  I've been back home on the South Shore of Boston for nearly a month now and have had only 4 days of sun!!  And once again this morning it's misty and grey.

I don't mind misty and grey.  In fact, sometimes it's a welcomed relief from heat and sun.  You can curl up with a great book on a misty day and lose yourself in some historical novel or the latest best seller.  And a misty day is a perfect excuse to pull out my card making supplies and go crazy making cards.  Or sometimes I pull out the sewing machine and get to work on some project that "just has to be done" even though it's been sitting in the closet for months!  But enough is enough!!  Bring on the sun, please.

I think my mood today is a bit misty and grey too.  I've been watching my daughter and her husband rush hither and yon this summer.  She's doing her 2nd year summer associate job at a Boston law firm and he's traveling with his career.  Both are focused and seem to have endless energy.  I feel like a run down battery next to them!

I've reflected lately on my "career".  Or lack thereof.  It's like that line of most forms you fill out:  "Occupation".  It still irks me to write in "homemaker."  It's not that I'm ashamed of it.  It's just so nebulous.  Homemaker.  What is that?  

I did focus totally on making a home.  That's not easy.  How do you quantify it?  I never clocked in or out.  I wasn't salaried.  Never had a yearly evaluation.  I can just see that.  Facing my husband and kids.  "So, let's see.  What were your goals this past year?  Did you make your forecast?  I don't see any numbers here.  How can we determine your profit or loss?"  I've lived in so many apartments and houses I've lost count.  Actually, I haven't!  I've moved 13 times in 37 years.  I've lived in 4 apartments, 2 rented homes in England, and owned 6 homes.  

Hey, now that I see it in print I'm feeling pretty good about myself.  I made all these places a home for myself and my family.  I painted, papered, sewed window treatments, accessorized, cooked countless meals, cleaned, laundered and got the family rolling.  Add to that my working part time some of those years and full time during other years.

I can feel that mist burning off and the grey is lifting from my spirit.  I've had one great and successful career.  Now I just have to come up with a better term than "homemaker".  Domestic Designer?  Family Coach?   Any ideas?

A Day of Warmth

Saturday I spent the day with my sister, sister-in-law, daughter and niece on Nantucket.  My niece is there for two weeks taking an intensive oil painting class.  We took the high speed ferry down and had such a great day.  The sun came out, the air was sparkling, but most of all the five of us shared a day of the warmth deep friendship brings.

It was a "girls" day all the way.  We shopped, we ate, we strolled the streets.  Not sure if guys have days like this but I love them.  There's something about being with other women who share your values and interests that opens the heart.  I find that I can laugh at myself more easily within the embrace of friendship.  We share our souls with each other.  That's a blessing that heals so many hurts.

It was also a blessing because it was generational.  My daughter and niece see things differently than myself, my sister and sister-in-law.  Not in our values, but in the perception of life due to the stage they're in.   They are at the cusp of their futures, we are either in the midst of it all or exiting .  There is more behind us than ahead of us.  That has colored my thoughts a lot recently.  My daughter teases me that I'm "doom & gloom" or in my "when I'm dead and gone" phase and that may be so.  But to me it's a wealth of reflections and insights that I gladly welcome.  I expect to live a long life but part of living that life is embracing where I am in that journey.

So part of the joy of the day was watching that next generation share thoughts with each other. And to relish their ease and enjoyment of spending time with their mothers and aunts.  So many women I know do not have an easy relationship with their daughters.  And yet many others do.  What makes the difference?  What enables a woman to be able to be authentic with her daughter or niece?  I think for me it's acknowledging them as the full person they are right now and the wonderful potential I see in them.  To be interested in their dreams, their challenges, their life.  To treat them with respect and honor them as the wonderful individuals they are becoming. And to share with them who I am.  Not who I think a mother should be or an aunt should be, but as I am, warts and all.  That's why I can laugh at myself with them because they can call me on my idiosyncrasies.  Like my mouth moving whenever I listen to someone talk to me.  Or my inability to pronounce names correctly.  That's when I remind them that: "when I'm dead and gone you'll laugh about that and remember me."  It actually makes me feel valued.  At least they'll have memories of me!!

I was blessed to have some aunts and a step-grandmother who respected me and honored me as I grew into womanhood.  My Mom did in many ways as well.  They held me to a standard that sometimes chafed.  Yet they listened to me.  They offered their opinions to me.  They took the time to make me feel valued.  What a great gift.

So my wonderful day in Nantucket evoked lots of warm feelings.  Of belonging, of mattering, of sharing in the lives of four of the women of my life.  All the warmth that day was not of the sun.

Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day.  This was always a very big day in my hometown.  We had a parade and it covered all the area cemeteries where the parade would stop, a speech was made, flags were posted,  and Taps played.  I marched in it when I was in 3rd grade, I think.  I was a Bluebird.  That's the beginning group of Campfire Girls.  For me, at that time, it was just a fun experience.  I knew we were honoring our War dead but it had no real meaning for me.

How different it is for me today!  I now reflect on my father's Army service in the European theatre of WWII, my father-in-law's Naval service in the Pacific during WWII, my high school friends' service in Vietnam, and my friends' sons' and daughters' service in the Gulf War and in Iraq and Afghanistan.

As an adult, I can now realize a lot that I didn't as a young kid.  I can now see what costs the War took on my Dad.  He never talked about his experiences while we were growing up.  And I think that was the norm for that generation.  What they had seen and experienced couldn't be put into words, really.  They were home at last and wondering why they made it and so many didn't.  There are now so many articles about PTA, post traumatic syndrome, that the public understands more about war's cost than we did before.  But for me as a kid, I never knew what Dad suffered.  It was only in my adult years that I came to understand how war had affected him and changed him.  It was a surprise and a great honor for us to learn after our father's death, that he had won 5 Bronze Stars.  But it also brought sadness to my heart to realize that he had seen 5 major battles in his time in Europe and therefore so much death and horror.

I know he spoke to me about the Warsaw Ghetto since he was with the first American troops to enter Warsaw.  He was always angry that the Yanks had to wait outside Warsaw while the Russians were given the first entry.  And how appalled he was with what he found.  That and the death camp he liberated.  

Yet these conversations were brief and rare.  And they only occurred after many years had gone by.  My father-in-law is the same.  It's only in recent years that he talks about his experiences in the Pacific Ocean.  The horrible typhoon that his ship went through along with so many others in his fleet.  His being on watch while ships were sinking.  His conversation with a Captain of a ship within his fleet who told him they were going down.  And how years later, on a cruise with my Mother-in-law, he met the wife of that very Captain!!  There are no coincidences!!!  Dad K also wondered often in his life, why he survived when so many didn't.  Mom K always told him that Our Lady was protecting him to bring him to her.

Perhaps these men, who witnessed so much at such a young age, can only now reflect verbally about what those years meant and did.  With the passage of years comes wisdom hopefully.  I know for my Dad it also brought self-forgiveness.  The "survivor guilt" was finally let go.  They served honestly for a cause that needed to be won.  Freedom.  The right to live life as best you can without tyranny.  And so in their later years, each man saw the honor of what they did as well as the reality of what happened to them.  

As a mother, I never saw my son go off to war.  I was blessed in that.  My friend, Roni, saw her son go off to Iraq twice.  I saw her worry, her pain, and her incredible faith tested.  Today, war is immediate for all of us.  The media brings it into our home as it is happening.  So what is better?  To know what is going on today or to not have explicit visions daily but only what your mind can imagine as it was in WWII?  Both are horrible realities.  I can only imagine what price mothers and fathers all over our country paid as they sent sons and daughters off to all the wars. 

So here's the conclusion I've come to.  All of us pay a price whenever our country engages in War.  It's not just the soldiers who have to do the job.  It's everyone of us.  Either on the front lines or supporting from back home.  Every soldier's life has to matter to all of us.  Because without their presence, we wouldn't have what we do, here, in the USA.  War is a reality.  No one wants it.  But history shows it's always present.  We need to understand what we are fighting for and speak for or against it according to our conscience.  But we all have the responsibility to support our brave men and women.

This Memorial Day I remember all who have given their lives throughout our Nation's history.  May we always honor them as they so richly deserve.  And to my Dad, I thank you not only for the sacrifice you made in your 20's but for the long years of pain you suffered because of that service.  Be at peace forever more Dad.

The Loss of a Friend

I lost a friend yesterday.  I got the call early this morning.  Pam, my neighbor and friend, had died suddenly yesterday of a heart attack.  She was in Lexington, KY visiting an Aunt and Uncle and collapsed while leaving a hotel to take her Uncle to a late lunch.

What do you say when a friend is taken so suddenly?  We were not bosom buddies.  We were living on the same street.  She moved in a year after me.  I remember the day, because it was right after Christmas, and I took a tray of sandwiches and desserts to her.  Easy for me.  We had had a Christmas reception/open house for my son and his new wife so that our friends here in Bowling Green, KY could meet them.  They had married in Bolivia and so we wanted to introduce our new daughter to all our friends here.  So it was no effort on my part at all to bring her some food.

I remember her thankful smile and her bewilderment that befalls all of us who are in the midst of a move.

Pam and I started walking in the morning together but her schedule and my sleeping late! soon curtailed that.  She joined the Newcomers Club that I was active in, and she made friends left and right.  Pam loved books so the book groups within the Newcomers soon had her presence.  Pretty soon she was Co-Chair and kept all the paperwork straight for our monthly Book Discussion Group.  She also joined our Volunteer Group at the Kentucky Museum Library on Western Kentucky University's campus.  She couldn't meet as easily on Wednesdays as some of us could, and so she switched to Tuesdays on her own and worked tirelessly on special collections, old children books, architectural drawings etc.

She became involved with the Hobson House at Riverview which is a beautiful Victorian Home here in Bowling Green that was started just as the Civil War broke out.

Pam had just joined my evening Book Group I belong to, at my urging.  Pam was the type of reader that absorbed so much and then very quietly shared her insights.  She was such a counterpart to me.  I'm jumping in, running my mouth off, always quick with an observation.  Pam sat back, urged others to share, and then dropped a pearl of wisdom into the pool of our thoughts.  I loved her for that.  I envied her surety.  I admired her quiet convictions.

Last Monday night we went to the Words and Wine group I urged her to join.  She had participated at my house the month before.  We drove up to the hostess's house and Pam stopped to stare at the house.  Her eyes misted over.  She told me it was a replica of the house she had  grown up in.  And it reminded her of all she missed: her parents, the life she had lived in her home in Lexington.  Once again, she shared her insights on our book, Mr. Pip.  She had loved it and was full of questions about how we had felt.  That was the Pam I grew to know and love.  "Oh, Mary Lou....."  that's how so many of our conversations began.

We talked about our gardening, our kids.  We kidded each other about who was away more from our homes: me with my summers in Massachusetts or her heading back to Lexington or Indiana to visit family.  And we acknowledged to each other how blessed we were to be able to go see family.

I'm still numb to the fact that this woman who I saw once or twice a month is gone.  I do not have the depth of loss that so many people here in town have.  But a loss is a loss, is it not?  A vibrant, young woman has left so many.  As one woman said to me when I called her with the news: "She has left a huge hole."  

Pam, my friend, thank you for all you gave me and all you were.  If you have taught me anything, it's to be authentic.  Stay true to who I am.  Don't waste time on matters that don't matter.  Cherish life.  For you have shown that it is fragile and brief and we have an obligation to make it count.  I will miss you.

Creativity in the Garden

Yesterday I spent most of the day in the company of several women from our Newcomer's Club. We went to a wonderfully creative garden shop, The Garden Patch, in a neighboring town.  the owner has antiques and rummage sale finds scattered around her garden shop grounds filled with plants, flowers and all sorts of items.  You step onto her acreage and your mind spins with the possibilities of being creative in the garden.

Our group gathered various plants and flowers and made container pots for our yards and then settled down for a picnic.  What companionship!!  I spent time with a new member, Karen, who's just moved here from home back in Indiana.  What a difficult move for her.  She and her husband had their retirement home all built awaiting them.  A log cabin deep in the countryside.  And they had to sell it and leave all that was familiar to them in order for him to keep his job.  Karen also had to leave her mother behind.  She had been giving care to her Mom part time and sorely misses those moments.  Our table talked about all the moves we have made and how each one presents its own difficulties.  Yet each one also presents unique moments of opportunity.

I made my first move away from home 30 years ago!  I thought my life was over.  Quite dramatic I was.  I sobbed.  How could I leave my parents, my siblings, my life long friends???  How could I shuffle off to Buffalo??  I had two little ones, 2.5 yr old son and a 4 month old daughter!  I needed my Mom.  How would I care for those two without family and friends to offer support??  Curses on my husband's wonderful career opportunity.

Well I have an older brother who often extends his wisdom to his younger siblings.  And he told me I really had to give my husband a chance at this opportunity since he had stayed around my family for the 7 years we had been married.  So give him 7 years and come home.  So I rubbed my eyes dry, sniffed, and grudgingly told my husband I would go but just for 7 years!

Thirty years later I am still living predominately out of state.  We do have a small condo back home and I get there for the summers.  But for 30 years I have lived in 3 different states and in England.

Each move is a wrench.  Each move is another step away from my home state.  Each move is like digging up a plant and dumping it into a container until you can dig a proper hole for it in your garden.

Yet, I do settle into the new garden and I have flourished and bloomed.  In fact, I think I wouldn't be the person I am today if I hadn't moved away and discovered how to establish my own root system.

So I felt Karen's pain but also know that she too will find a way to settle into the patch of the world in which she now finds herself.  Losses force us to examine what remains.  Loss of the known home, family and support network, pushes us to look within and find out what strength is there that we can call upon.  Like the plant that goes without water for awhile, it will draw from deep in the soil to replenish itself.  Yet water must come or else it will die.  So reaching out to others is necessary to help one discover nourishment.

My friends here in Bowling Green, KY feed my soul.  They are like plant food.  They share, they enable me to establish roots here.  When I'm stressed, they step in and hold me up.  They are the gardeners of my soul along with my family back home in Massachusetts and all my friends that enrich my life.  My garden is full of creative women who have mastered the knack of replanting themselves!

The Company of Women

Today I returned to my faith group after being away for two weeks.  What a remarkable group of women.  

We have been reading Joyce Rupp's book May I Have This Dance?  and I am always so grateful for the insights of these women who share their faith.

Today we were discussing "June" in the book and how we seek God.  We were sharing our thoughts about what drew us to seek God and how we often don't think about God seeking us.  I am always conscious of when I deliberately seek out God.  What I came away with today was all the ways I seek Him/Her without realizing it.  How there's so much more to seeking God then just praying to Him/Her.

Jan is one of our members and she so often has such words of wisdom.  Today she inspired so many of us with her reflection on how her meditation went at the end of the chapter.  The author asks the reader to meditate on your home of the heart.  To build that home, to put certain items into it.  Jan talked of how her home was made of glass, had a fireplace in it before the author even suggested it!  And then she spoke words that reverberated throughout many of us:  "My home is at the top of the mountain where I can view the Great Divide."  It was a simple statement of fact for Jan.  She loves the mountains; feels close to God in them and so for her it was natural to find herself there.  What struck so many of us was her choice of words "The Great Divide."  See!  I put them in caps!

What animated discussion we had.  Many of us envy her (in the best way possible!) of her being able to see the Great Divide.  Yet Jan was amazed at all we read into it.

Now I live by symbols.  I love them.  They affirm me; guide me; comfort me.  So I visualized immediately the symbolism of the words.  Jan could gaze upon the point in her life where all that came before explained all that came after.  She had reached that point in her spiritual life perhaps, where she had crossed that Great Divide.  The questions have been mostly answered.  Some may linger, but her God has led her to a point where she can gaze out with clear eyes and full heart.  The questions don't matter as much as the knowledge that there are answers...and they will come because God is with her.

What a momentous moment for Jan!!  What inspiration for us who are still climbing up that mountain range never sure when we'll find that Great Divide we can cross over.  And what strength for those of us who are on the lip of that Great Divide and hovering over placing our foot down on the other side.

Women's Faith groups are such incredible melting pots of life experiences, reflections and questions.  I have grown so much through my participation in them.  I can share with these women from all over the country who happen to be right here, right now, my inner fears, thoughts and convictions.  They listen.  They share their similar experiences and all the time God moves between us.  Sometimes with a sigh in the ear, sometimes with a nudge in the ribs, sometimes with an outright laugh.  And many times with a consoling arm around the shoulders as a weight is lifted off one's soul and placed on the table before us.

Today I give thanks to these women who walk next to me.  They lead me, they counsel me, they comfort me and most of all they believe in me.  What empowerment.  What grace. What a blessing.

To the Ocean

The rain is coming down in sheets.  So no work in the yard today.  Which is actually a good thing since I have to pack to leave for Florida in the morning.  I'm so blessed!  I get to go to the sunshine state and walk the beach, listen to the waves, swim, read, eat, and basically veg out!

There's something about being by the ocean that renews me.  I suspect having grown up in a seaside state, MA, the ocean is in my blood.  All I know is that when I see that vast body of water, the waves lapping the shore, the sea gulls wheeling in the sky, my heart quickens and I smile.

My world becomes very small when viewed next to the massive expanse of water.  The ebb and flow of the tides, the myriad of sea life, from the fish to the smallest mollusk, puts everything into perspective for me.

I never go to the beach without thinking of the story/parable that some Saint used to explain the mystery of God and eternal life.  He told of the child who digs a hole in the sand and tries to fill it up with the ocean.  No hole dug on the beach can hold the totality of the sea.  So too is the infinite love of God for us...it's unending.  We cannot comprehend the immensity of God's love.  So while I walk on the beach, I grin when I see a child or cluster of children, busily digging away and slowly carrying up one pail after another of water to pour in the hole.  Or how about the kids who spend their entire day building that waterside fort, barricading the castle with rocks and walls to fend off the encroaching tide?  How industrious they are!  And it seems all for naught.  The tide will wipe out that castle.  The hole will absorb that pail of water.  So why do they try?  Because they can!  Because they just might hold it back.  Children engage in challenges everyday.  They pit themselves against forces they can't comprehend.  And they learn from each and every challenge.

So I'll walk the beach, I'll collect stones that call to me, I'll watch the seagulls wheel about, and I'll meditate.  I'll reflect on the great privilege it is to be near the ocean again.  I'll give thanks for the grace I'm given to enjoy it.  I'll dwell on the ebb and flow of love in my life, on the challenges I've faced since last I was at the sea and contemplate on the ones lying ahead.  And I'll frolick by the ocean as I did as a child.  And maybe I'll even build a sand castle of my own!

Nesting Birds

Today, while cleaning up in the kitchen, I looked out the window and saw a female cardinal frantically tugging at a bare branch on my butterfly bush.  I must have watched her for a good 5 minutes.  She tried tugging one way.  Then she shifted and tried tugging another way.  Nothing.  Then she hopped down to the ground, walked around a little, flew back up and landed on the same branch (really just a twig I forgot to clip off!) and tried the tugging again.  She went through this routine at least 5 times!  And never got a piece of the twig/branch to come off so that she could take it to her nest.

While she's beating her head against an immovable object, mourning doves are picking up stray twigs from the garden bed and flying merrily back and forth from their nest sprucing it up.  Black birds are bomb diving into the newly cut lawn looking for the stray worm.  The male cardinal is zooming back and forth, obviously fed up with his mate's attempt at housekeeping. And a lone yellow finch loops-to-loop right by her and she never notices!!

Ah, the persistence of the female.  You can be told "it'll never work" and you refuse to believe it.  You just know you're right.  In fact, you'll be damned if you aren't right.  Meanwhile, the world goes merrily on its way and look what you're missing.  You never got that flash of yellow as the finch glories in the air shafts.  Your staid relative, the mourning dove is showing you how it's done but you just won't quit.

So when do you know when to quit?  When does your admirable perseverance become stubbornness or worse, blindness?  When is enough, enough?

I often think of this when I meet others who share their stories with me.  I'm so amazed at the tenacity of men and women, who, all evidence to the contrary, hang in there.  They just don't give up.  And you have to wonder, are they better for having not given up?

Isn't there a time when you have to realistically look at your situation and admit, it's just not going the way you meant it to?  Or the way it's suppose to go?

That poor female cardinal this morning.  I wanted to go out, rip that twig off the bush and put it in her mouth myself!  Yet if I had, she would have flown off the moment the door opened.  I could have put it down on the soil for her, but would she have known it was meant for her?  Would she even return?  More likely she'd have flown to another yard and looked for building materials in someone else's garden.

Aren't we blessed to have such lessons given to us from nature every day?  When will I know that my tugging and tugging at an issue/problem is enough?  More food for thought.

Ruminations on a ruined recipe

Have you ever worked really hard on making a recipe and then discover it's absolutely the worse thing you ever cooked?  Well it happened to me again last night.

My evening book group met at my house last night.  We were to discuss The Zookeeper's Wife and since it's a true war story from WWII taking place in Warsaw, Poland I decided to fix my sister-in-law's famous Polish kielbasa appetizer.  So I called her, bought the ingredients and happily sliced and boiled away!  Well, it turned out to taste like cooked boots!!  Which I pointed out to my friends, is what many did eat during the war.  What I had done wrong, as my Polish friend Joey told me, was used smoked kielbasa not fresh!  Smoked kielbasa is already cooked and only requires re-heating for 6 minutes or so.  Fresh kielbasa needs to be cooked much longer.  This recipe required boiling kielbasa in beer and brown sugar until it thickened.  Took nearly 2 hours!!  So when I say it tasted like boots, you know what I mean!

However, once more, it was an opportunity for me to learn from a mistake.  And why does it seem people have become so wary of admitting mistakes??  As a child, and granted that's awhile ago, making mistakes was accepted.  Many times with a severe talking to but also with the admonition that "Now you'll do it differently, won't you?"  I have to be thankful in hindsight, that the folks that guided me through childhood, my parents, my great-aunts, my great-grandmother, my Gramps and his wife Jerry, always talked about my mistakes with me.  So it became okay to make a mistake.  Of course, the serious ones you never forget!

Yet today I observe that many try to dodge a mistake.  It's someone else or something caused one to act mistakenly.  What a lost opportunity.  Does it stem from us?  Did we come to expect that our children would be better than us?  I have to reflect on my own kids.  Did I allow them to make mistakes and not feel ashamed?  Did I use that moment to show them that reflection on actions can often educate you?  I hope so.

Oh, and by the way, my friends were just that about my dismal attempt to offer Polish food at our book discussion.  They gamely chewed and chewed and chewed until we finally agreed it was absolutely awful!!  But friends are great that way...their reactions set the tone for one to acknowledge a mistake.  I could laugh at myself and my misguided attempt at setting the tone for our discussion.  We had a great discussion about the courage exemplified in The Zookeeper's Wife and an honest appraisal about how we would have acted in those circumstances.  How refreshing to sit with friends and honestly appraise one's reactions.  And what a blessing to have friends that laugh with you and not just at you!!  So another lesson learned even at this "midage"!!.

Good Friday thoughts

Well today is Good Friday.  And we have had terrific thunderstorms and tornadoes here in Southcentral KY.  This week has been hard, weatherwise.

As I listened to the weather radio bleat out its loud buzz, and I saw the dark clouds roll in I wondered what it was like for all near Golgotha as the sky darkened and thunder rolled as Jesus was crucified.

How nervous they must have been.  No weather alerts to let them know it was a cold front rolling in on top of warm, moist air.  Just the wrath of God as predicted.  How emotionally exhausted some must have been.  Especially his mother.  I reflected on her today.  She stood by and saw her worse fears realized.  Her son led as a criminal to a hill and nailed to a cross to hang until he died.  I can't imagine anything worse.  How did she keep from wailing and rushing to throw herself upon his torturers?  Could I witness my child's death and not rail against them?

My children are adults now but they are still my children.  My flesh and blood.  How to explain what lies in a mother's heart no matter how old her child?  I have a son working relief work in Sudan and following his calling.  My daughter is in law school in Chicago, hoping to go into school law and help those who need equal education as our laws state.  Both have chosen areas that require self sacrifice.  How did they come to these paths?  What experiences in their childhood led them to go far from home to pursue a dream?

When I was young, I dreamt of going no farther than the next town from my parents.  I saw myself teaching and living in a cape surrounded by a white picket fence covered in rambling roses.  How romantic, right?  Yet that was my dream.

I did teach but never got the town next to my parents, nor the picket fence.  I ended up moving from my home state and living in 3 different states and 1 country overseas.  

It helped mold me and offered lots of opportunities for me to discover myself that I may never had known if I stayed back "home."

So Mary watched her only child walk to his death in quiet certitude.  Her heart had to have called out to her God to keep her strong.  And don't we all do that?  We find the ways to keep us centered and strong despite what life hands us.

Maybe Jesus's example of certitude and trust is what we need to hold onto most.  That we are never truly alone.  When you have faith in something it carries you through everything.  Whatever that something may be.  So I know, that despite distance my heart is always connected to my children's hearts and that as I feel their presence each day of my life, they feel mine and are strengthened by it.  

Chocolate for Lent

Today we finished up our lenten reading: Chocolate for Lent.  it was a great book to do during Lent.  Based on the movie Chocolat, we reflected on our need to judge others, to avoid those who are "different" (whatever that may mean for us) and our inability to sometimes just be.  The characters illustrated various stages of despair and/or control.  So lots came out about how as you grow older you hope that you become stronger in the sense of who you are and not as dependent on the approval of others.

That's a tough one for me.  I thrive on the approval of others.  Maybe more than most people and I'm not sure why.  I have definitely improved yet I still become dismayed when I sense that someone doesn't approve of me.  Even if I have no desire to be friends with them!!  How crazy is that?

What drives us to see approval?  And why do some people seem able to go through life not affected by what others think of them?  I envy them.

I can waste hours mulling over and stewing over someone slighting me or even worse, speaking against me!  And yet if I know my intentions were good, what does it matter?

Will I ever "grow up" about that?  Will it get better?

Reflections on Plam Sunday in a garden

The work in the garden continues.  Although the severe thunderstorms and tornado watch early this evening cut into my time!  I would have been there earlier but today was Palm Sunday so we were at Mass.  I must say I still chafe under that long reading!  But then, I reflected on what it was telling me.  Here was this man who contrary to his times, actually gave himself to others.  Think about it.  Everyone but the Romans are poor.  Nobody cares about them.  The only way to get ahead is to collaborate.  And you know where that's going to get you with your neighbors.  Yet, Jesus comes along, preaches a new gospel...God loves you????  the same God that wreaked vengeance on anyone who crossed him in the Old Testament?  Who is this guy?  He gives up home and possessions and asks others to do the same.  And he gets these fishermen to go along with him.  Must be pretty dumb guys, right?  And who takes care of him and his groupies?  A bunch of women of course!  Notorious Mary Magdalene, and a few others who go unnamed (of course they are only property in those days).  So I thought about the unnamed woman with the alabaster jar in today's reading.  She shows up, breaks open this very expensive jar of oil that was worth a year's wages, and anoints Jesus.  Gutsy lady.  Jesus tells her she will be remembered forever.  Yet we can't name her.   We know the name of every Tom, Dick and Harry that ever met or talked with Jesus.  We have a woman who ministers to him in a way deserving of his being the Son of God and we have no name.  I know.  Put it into contextual meaning.  No woman had a name in those days.  They were all pieces of property.  And many woman today are in the same position.  So today as I worked in my garden, I reflected on the fact that women still to do the anointing.  We minister, we nurture.  And most of our names will never be known.  But we know.

So I give thanks to all the women who minister without our knowing their name.  I call you sister.

Ah...my aching back!

Worked in my garden again today.  The bee balm has taken over everything!  So I am ripping away a ton.  I can tell I'm getting older because my lower back is killing me.  For two years I've had back pain and I keep telling myself it's all part of the aging process but I have to say it stinks!!  Anyways, how great it was to work in the soil.  Nature carries so many blessings.  I watched the fat worms scurry today.  I disturbed their dark solitude with my spade and let the sunshine pour in.  How traumatic for them.  Thanks to them the garden soil received nurtrients and my irises will bloom with great color this spring.

Gorgeous day today but due for rain tomorrow and a drop in temps so that we may even get snow on Monday!  The beauty of Kentucky...wait long enough and the weather will do a tail spin.

We had terrific thunderstorms here last night.  Got my supplies into the closet under the stairs since we had a tornado watch.  Made me feel a bit like Harry Potter!  Despite living in tornado alley, I just love the spring here.  The blooms come earlier than up north and it lifts my spirits so to see the daffodils bobbing their heads at me.

Gardening is such a joy for me.  To get down close to the earth reconnects me in some way.  It's as if I hold energy in its purest form when I dig down into the soil and hold the dirt in my hands.  Clearing the way for my flowers to bloom is so therapeutic.

I really got into gardening when my kids grew up and moved away.  I guess nurturing plants took the place of the day to day nurturing of my kids.

I wonder if other mothers felt that way too?

First Blog

Well, here it is, my first blog!  I'm excited to just write about the things that fascinate me and what makes my day.  I love my gardening, my cardmaking, hearing from my kids and spending time meditating on how blessed I am.

Right now, I'm working on ideas for cards and waiting for a major thunderstorm system to pass through our area.

Until later!