Tuesday, May 10, 2016

And just like that...

... my space is smiling and the shroud of winter is gone.  It is filled with joy and promise!

I have seen the forsythia planted for my 2nd Dad, my father-in-law Mike bloom like a beautiful explosion of sunny yellow.  It was gloomy and cold and we even had snow flurries but the yellow burst through the solemn skies of grey and clouds to shout that the winter was on its way out.

Today my bleeding hearts are lifting their beautiful pink and red heads up to see the bright sun against a crystal, sparking blue sky.  They are among the first shoots out of the ground announcing spring's arrival and they are tall and proud now with beautiful blooms.

My redbud tree is full and glorious.  This year seems to proclaim that it is a fixture of lush, bright pink blossoming in the yard remarking that new growth is here.

The violets that I scavenged from my Grandmother's yard so many years ago, and dropped into the ground hoping for a legacy, are all over my space in little patches of white and purple firmly claiming their own legacy in my home and providing new plants for me to share with sorority daughters who knew the purple violet to be their signature bloom.

My pussywillow trees, the ones I paid $5 at the hardware store and hoped and prayed would give me fuzzy little feet growing from branches are full and proud.

The allium bulbs, the spring beauty bulbs, are all up and out.  The crocus have long come and gone and in their place are the hosta plants and phlox springing up.  The peonies seem to grow INCHES each day!

The grass is green and lush and is ready for cutting already.

My wind chime is singing in the cool breeze of early May, filling me with deep tones that announce more patio days to come when the tune will softly play a song to nap to on the patio couch.

My mother's lilies of the valley are up and tiny blossoms promise a legacy from the house I grew up in that I work so hard to continue here.  Each year for the last 10 years since I planted the few and prayed over them, asking Mom to continue her legacy, they have struggled to stay.  This year looks good.

The heady scent of the lilacs can be drawn in from the front porch 126 feet away like a sweet blanket that hovers over the front yard.  Soon I will cut blooms and bring that smell inside to fill the house with the love of my space.

And soon we will hang the string lights shaped like hot air balloons all over the yard stretching from tree to tree and plant the pots for the patio and yard.

Soon there will be movies on the back of the garage in the moon light with piƱon wood burning in the chimnea or music to sing to as we share pitchers of sangria or a cold beer from the cooler on the deck.

Rowing season is open and I am dedicated to giving it to myself this year, improving and enjoying it. The last two summers have been emotionally dedicated to tough situations now behind me.  I want to truly enjoy this sport I love.

It was easy and hard this winter...  easy that it was a tolerable weather season and we were blessed to travel more than once to warmer climates.  Easy in sharing evenings in front of the fire with the pups and bottles of wine loving each other watching movies and being peaceful.

Hard in missing two pups that have left us in the last 18 months and feeling their love still here, their presence no longer a part of the physical group.  Their spirits always around as they sit up on the shelf now in a different form.

But I am so very grateful.  This is my very favorite time of year.  Rebirth.  Renewal.  Reconnection.  And I will breathe in every day the sweet air of the flowers, the blooming trees, the grass beneath my feet.  Their sleep is over as is mine.  Time to rejoice in the beauty of spring.

Here we go <3



















Sunday, May 8, 2016

Happy birthday and Happy Mother's Day Mom...

Happy birthday Mom, and Happy Mother's Day...

You were born on Mother's Day.  Well over 80 years ago.

A twist of irony for a woman who never wanted kids and said if she HAD to have them she would sit them on a fence and throw rocks at them.  And you did to your oldest ...

Ours was not an easy journey.  I never quite knew what I did to merit the treatment I got, the pain I endured.  And for whatever reason, the last year has been a painful journey of recall -- like ripping a scab off a wound and exposing it to hot water.  The realization that I endured being the daughter of a narcissistic mother.  One who had no reservation in the verbal and emotional abuse that created a litany of scars that like their physical counterparts, never quite disappear and will come back into view in the light at times.  Someone who had no compunction putting themselves entirely ahead of the daughter who desired only your approval of her...or anything she did.  A mother who told her daughter that she had made up her mind when she was an infant that she would never tell her she was attractive, or pretty, or anything of the like so that her daughter would not develop an ego.  And there was so much more...

For genetic reasons we never had children.  But I was secretly happy for that so many times because I was mortified that I would pass on the behavior that I knew to be maternal, what I thought a mother was.   Or what I knew one to be.  And in another twist of irony, got another version of you via marriage.  I wondered if I had stolen a candy bar in another life and this was some form of karmic retribution.

Little did I realize that it was setting the stage for me to know precisely what to be when a mother was needed...one that was not by birth.

I never realized that I would be a mother to SO many amazing young women despite never having given birth myself.  I would be honored and privileged to be a professor at a woman's university and at another university be a sorority mom for 15 years.

I would go on to sit for hours and dry tears, hug hard and not let go, to laugh until it hurt.  I would have to deliver news that their actions would come back to haunt them and they had to make changes.    And they were pissed.  There were those times that I would be honored to deliver praise.  I would be the one to tell them to stand tall and never let anyone tell them that they were anything but stunning and beautiful and bright and intelligent.  I would have to hold in tears and my own sobs listening to some of their stories that ripped the heart right out of my chest...and then cry all the way home knowing I could not fix what they were enduring.  They had to live their own lives and learn through pain.  But I could be there for them, like no one had been for me.

I have been beyond humbled to be a part of their weddings.  To be included in showers, bachelorette parties, to hold their newborn babies.  To attempt to provide loving words when relationships failed.  To be a mother when they had one of their own that mimicked your behavior and they felt alone and heartbroken.  To sometimes just share time with them.

One of those beautiful young women will wear my veil in her wedding shortly.  Every time I think of that day coming when I will put it in her hair and her love in asking to wear it, I shed tears.  Happy tears.  I want to know that I have been there for her and that she is carrying a legacy that fills my heart since I do not have my own birth children.  This was an honor I never dreamed I'd experience.

And yet somehow, I feel that you have been playing a role in some of this from Heaven lately, knowing and seeing the pain I have felt.

In the last year, as I struggled with painful memories gurgling to the surface, a childhood friend reconnected.  I have no idea how it came out but we shared memories and realized we shared much of the same pain and many similar situations, though she had it much worse.   And though I felt a bit validated that I was not alone, it was still a dull ache in my heart.  I struggled profoundly with a number of things that floated in my mind and made me wonder why you did and said the things you did.  Was I that horrible a child to have?

The universe has a way of doing things that are perfect timing.  Magical if you pay attention.  And if you acknowledge them, well, life-changing at times.

Cue in my friend Kathy from Ohio that out of the blue told me to read the book The Shack.  Now know that I have never MET Kathy but since we are in puppy rescue we have formed a special bond via technology. You know that though I think, Mom don't you? Because I think somehow you set up some pretty mystical cool things in the last couple of weeks...

I bought the book Kath suggested, not even reading what it was about.  Tucked it in my tote back to take on the plane for my girls' weekend in Sedona last weekend.  Sedona has a magic all its own and yet the book and weekend never connected in my head.  I started reading it on the plane.  It is about a man's encounter with God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit.  Way cool because though I kicked organized religion to the curb several years back, I am still deeply spiritual.  Got to a stopping point and the plane landed and it was time to drive north to the condo.

Relaxing and hiking and we ran into two young guys who were at the end of our hike on Sunday.  Chatted and laughed a bit with them on the end of the walk and waved farewell.

And the next day ran into them at the Grand Canyon as we walked the South Rim.  Serendipitous, no?

As we walked toward the lodge to have lunch, the four of us, one of the guys said to me out of the blue "Have you read the book The Shack?"  (cue Twilight Zone music here...)  And as I recovered myself I told him that I was reading it on the plane but not finished.

We briefly talked about the section where I had stopped and what we both liked up until then.  And then he commented "Wait until the judgment chair chapter."  I asked him to say more and boldly shared with him that this was a year that I had been struggling with my mother's treatment of me and I didn't quite know how to put my broken heart to rest, mentioned that I hoped this weekend gave insight.  He only said that when I was done I would feel better and love my mother in a new way and forgive her like I didn't think I could.  I asked how he thought this would happen but he would not tell me anything more and conversation then moved to what the soup of the day was in the restaurant.

Finished with our hike, we bid farewell to Matt and Morey and drove back to Sedona where rainbows seemed to be everywhere among the red rocks.  Was that you?  It was Uncle Dick's birthday the day before and I know he sent that one on that day after we toasted him with a giant margarita :)

The next morning, we got on our planes and headed home.  As the flight attendant came down the aisle for service she looked down, tapped my book and said, "I've read it 4 times and cried every time.  You will not be the same afterward."  As she moved past me, the 80-something lady across the aisle looked at what I was reading and said "I've read that book a number of times.  It is so moving."

The messages were billboards at that point.  Neon signs.

I arrived at the chapter about The Judgment Chair.  I decided if I was going to bawl, flight 169 was not the best spot so I put it away and anticipated cuddling in bed with the pups to finish since the hubs was in Orlando.

Though I am not yet finished with the book, the chapter about The Judgment Chair was read twice.  It is humbling, moving, insightful, spiritual...  It did make me cry.  And I do hope I am never the same again, in a great way.

I will not question the chain of events or the book being a parable, or meeting random guys on a hike or any of it.  I'll take it.

My pal Deb calls these God winks.  This one was huge.

Matt was right Mom, I love you like I didn't think I could before.  And I recall and love the times of gardening and sewing and bargain shopping and calling you for cooking advice.  And I am so very grateful for YOU.  You have given me many gifts to become who I am today.  Though it took a book, a hike, and a few other things to understand it.

And this pathway that started with Kathy telling me to get a book was one of them, that I am certain of.  I will finish this week, I can't wait.

I love you to the moon and back.  I am so grateful for you and this latest gift.  I am grateful that you are still listening.  I am grateful for all that you do from your perch above.  I miss you and am happy that I am blessed to pass along the love I have to those I am supposed to.  I am profoundly grateful for the healing and fulfillment.

Happy Mother's Day Momma and Happy Birthday.  I was the one who got the best gift in you and what I was to learn to be a mother to so many.  It must have worked because I got my own Mother's Day text today from one of my special girls...  "Happy Mother's Day to the strongest, smartest, most beautiful and kick ass mom a girl can have...I  love you <3"  and there were other reaches out to fill my heart.  I  know the fur kids love me but this was special...and somehow I am the person I am with you in my life.  And I choose to make that a good thing.