Saturday, August 29, 2009

Sunday Scribblings - Poetry

I do not consider myself a poet but I do love poetry. This one of my favorite poems, poets and styles. Nature inspires her work and that is what inpires me. I thought I'd use her poem and answer her, in her style.

The Summer Day

by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean--

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

With your one wild and precious life?

My answer to Mary

by Tammy

God made the world

He made the forest, and the cedar tree.

He made the river.

The river, I watch

the one that flows through the forest with urgency,

the one that rushes over rocks without looking back.

Now it rests in shaded pools with rippled breath.

Now it's ripples join the spray, rushing away.

I know exactly what prayer is.

I do know how to find him, how to listen

for his voice, how to speak of my fears,

how to be still and trusting, how to find him in nature,

which is what I do each day.

I'll tell you, this is all I know to do.

Everything must die and too soon.

I'll tell you what I plan to do

with my one special life and blessings,

I'll live.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Three Word Wednesday - Fracture, Noise,Vanish

He remembered me as the grandmother who calls him TK. Because I am the only one who cannot call him Tuni, it just doesn't fit for me. Tuni Kitkawu is his first and middle Native American name meaning young blood. His daddy is a Mi-Wuk dancer with long black hair and TK is the blonde blue eyed version, of his daddy's culture.

I had not seen him for a few months when he had arrived at my door that day. Time is longer in toddler years but he ran to me hugging my torso. He saw the walker that he had grown up riding and then heard my voice yelling out "TK." He new that the grandma that he called on the phone, spoke funny and called him TK was me in the flesh. Last I had seen him he was a typical 3yr old with charm. This 3 1/2 yr old was very different.

The new TK was inquisitive and always asked why, no matter how many answers he received. He had better manners than his own parents and if they told him no he obeyed. He would ask for things in the third person like "Tuni likes juice" and we replied "would you like some?"Tuni came back with "yes, thank you." Watching him with his mom was so special for me because she was so affectionate with him. It made me see the cycle of robotic affection had been broken and it flourished in that family. I was so moved by just watching them.

There was a fracture in previous generations in my family that kept emotions inside. There were thank you hugs, goodbye hugs and visiting relative forced hugs. Jess and TK's love was much deeper and part of me still craves that. I knew I wanted more affection as a kid but never knew how to get it. Sadly, I tried hard to be more affectionate with my own kids but I would forget in the business of life. Happily I'm now a witness to such strong love that it brought tears just to watch. I told my daughter what an excellent job she had done in finding the balance of being affectionate and firm. He was a delightful child to be around and that was not what I expected.

I'm writing this particular visit in my journal because of one moment in time that I will never forget. It was early evening and the house was full of noise. Dave cooking, Jess was watching a movie and I was in my recliner just relaxing. When TK came up from behind me asking "watcha doin gramy?" "not much TK " I replied. He then crawled into the crook of my arm and body while looking into my eyes silently. In that moment TK was no longer there as I gazed into my mother's eyes. She took the back of her hand and gently caressed the side of my face. She spoke through TK' s eyes telling me she was sorry for my pain but that it will be okay. After an I love you she vanished as TK bent over to kiss me without a word. He squirmed off of my lap to see what grampy was cooking. 3yr olds don't do that with their hands or get that look.

My mom died suddenly of the benz, while scuba diving, at 44. What a special way to let me know she's watching and loving me still.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Sunday Scribblings - Adult

Click if you want to read
When this article was printed in 1996 I was a single mom facing death. Preparing my girls to live without a mom was a horrible fact of life. I had little time and help to make how to videos because they needed survival skills that had not yet been taught, now. I made it my mission to give them a crash course on daily living. Many of the things I taught them they learned by doing because of my limitations. They could clean, make out checks, laundry, grocery shop, pump gas, banking and cooking all while entering puberty.

This was a scary, frustrating and hard time for all three of us. As the time kept passing and with me still living I added help. We had a yard guy, housekeeper and a very good neighbor to help take away some of their responsibilities and mine. In high school I bought our first home and the kids were allowed to be kids. We traveled with my 401K money and made it work.

I always said if these girls don't kill me, ALS doesn't stand a chance. Hormones flowed through our home like flood waters. I'm happy to say we all three survived ALS but not without collateral damage.

My girls both are adults now and one has a child. I see what growing up under the cloud of ALS has changed who they have become. They have anger toward me at the lost innocence of their childhood but I know it's anger at ALS. They are terrified of losing anyone they love and their own mortality. They want me close but I moved two hours away for us all. They are my caregivers when they visit but by choice. I think in a way they miss what we had. They are adults now and I'm beginning to see myself in them as they struggle through. Fragile but not living in a fantasy world. I think they will be okay. I'm sorry my babies but mamas sticking around. ;)

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Fantasy Dinner Party for Sunday Scribblings

The rules are:- you can invite anyone, living or dead- you have a table that seats eight, but as you are one, you can invite seven people- you have to explain why you'd invite them.

My first choice as a dinner guest would be Jesus. I would love to get a few answers, like is there more and if so what? Which religion is closest to the truth and did I chose to live this life? The real show stopper, is this hell? lol

What dinner party would be complete without an opposing view and fellow ALS sufferer, Stephen Hawking. The debate with Jesus over the universe would be mind blowing. I'd also like his secret of surviving 40 years with ALS. Jesus might have a say in that too.

Another interesting choice would be Abe Lincoln. I'd like some answers on how he would tackle the mess we have made in our country. What would Abe do?

I'd have to sit Colin Powell across from Abe to hear some innovative solutions that together they could come up with. Of course Jesus and Stephen would probably jump in at some point. They could not help themselves I'm sure. lol

Mother Teresa would definitely be there to keep things from getting heated. I'd like to ask her what kept her going and how she felt when it was coming to an end. What would she do differently knowing what she now knows to be true.

Mary Oliver would be there to read her beautiful poetry over dessert on the veranda. I'd ask her endless questions on her writing process.

Last on my list would be Brad Pit. Why? Just to look at as I take in all the interesting conversations. Kind of like a center piece that just sits quietly and smiles.

Bonus if you share your menu:

Seared sea scallops to start

Roasted lamb with potato fondant and grilled vegetables. Jesus...dah!

Creme' Brulee for dessert