Monday, April 11, 2016

The Daughters

Four daughters so much alike
Hating the similarities
Laying claim to the differences

Mom observes.

Four daughters in conflict
Erupting like passive volcanoes
After years of smoldering

Mom expects it.

Four daughters each on their own journey
Sure footed on the path of life
Unaware of the sinkholes,
Certain of their destinations

Mom prays.

Four daughters
Adult women all
Birthing Babies, reading books,
Drinking too much wine

Mom rests in it..

Epilogue: I wrote this while sitting on the beach, vacationing together, watching conflict play out. It was a difficult time, but alas, time passes. This from 2011, now in 2016, all is well in the sister world.
Best friends
texting buddies
shared motherhood

This Mom thanks God.

Friday, August 14, 2015

Home for Sale!

My home at 1202 Fairview Avenue, Wilmington, Delaware 19809 is on the market to be sold.

It is NOT a House, as the Realtors would have you believe, as they try to have you empty it out for selling to a potential buyer.
"Remove personal effects" they say. " De-personalize the feel so others can envision themselves in your house", is the way they try to convince you to pack up your memories into cardboard boxes. Like throwing fine china into a dishwasher, as if there is no meaning to its fine quality and special-ness.
Box after box, out those memories and treasures go.

Into the garage for now, onto Craig's List to sell later, or perhaps we should donate them to Goodwill for other people to enjoy. Perhaps. Or , how about this? " I KEEP EVERYTHING! " screams my emotional, sentimental brain.

This is not a random house, I repeat. This is My Home.

See those rooms? My children lived in them, we had dinners together, we cooked meals, we ran after dogs and cats and grandchildren here. I even once had a white parakeet named Jude who flew the cuckoos nest, so to speak :-) .
I rearranged furniture a thousand times in these very neat rooms.

This room? The one we cannot call an official bedroom due to lack of a closet? It was a nursery, a single daughter's bedroom, a guest room and a son's hangout! My grandchildren painted the walls and ran upstairs to play with the toys here.

My life changed from that of a being a Pastor's Wife, Mother and Married Matriarch to one who endured painfully an unwanted Divorce, raising kids alone as a Single Mother, finding and maintaining a Full Time Job while raising wounded teens,  to becoming a  Blessed Grammy of 13 grandchildren in the last 19 years. NINETEEN years I have lived in this place, in this quiet suburb.

We have planted and cut down a Maple tree in that same amount of time! My Oak tree is bigger than any house on the street and it wasn't even here in 1996!

So it goes.

Selling the Home that I once thought would be my forever place to live.
I liked my neighbors and my knowledge of street activities and noises. I liked that the airplanes flew in certain patterns across the skies on their way to Philly airport, and the barges moaned their foghorns loudly as they lazied up the Delaware River in the fog. I liked that neighbors down the street knew me by my dog's names and not necessarily by mine; or even by my teenager's experimentation's with living,  not judging but calling hello to me as I ran by.

My house is not selling. Nobody wants my Home. 'Detaching' is the name of the plan .

Some days I feel fine about this, since I love my HOME and especially like sitting on the porches and watching the birds as they frenzy around feeding on mosquitoes and locust.

It's pretty satisfying to feed squirrels now that my son doesn't eat all the peanut butter anymore ! Who will feed them when I am gone?
On other days I get really angry, thinking  how I could rearrange my life so that staying here was more affordable and reasonable.

The thing is, I KNOW in my head that God Himself walks before me and beside me and behind me . I KNOW He has  all of this figured out and as of today, because He is God, and I am not, has allowed this waiting time to continue. I also KNOW that the right buyer is there , waiting to make this Home into their own. Maybe they don't even know it exists, and I do!
(well that thought just cheered me up actually)

It's just that I thought I was a Planner, an organized, self sufficient detail kind of gal. I do NOT like surprises and I abhor taking risks because it is too scary. The last big risk I took was getting married instead of finishing college. [It's ok, no need to comment][ I DO have a sense of humor, as God does!]

So here I sit, jumping up and out as potential buyer upon potential buyer traipses through my Home, tells the realtor it is "too much work" to buy and "not updated enough" for their taste.

My dog Louie and I have gone to the dog park, sat in our respective cages, and disappeared faster than the carpet can be shaken, to return and discover a canceled visit or negative comment.

We are not complaining!
We are just weary.
We need someone to tell us it will be fine and in a few months all the questions will be answered.

Or not?
Nice talking to you, Blogspot, whom I have missed.
See you next time.

Thursday, January 1, 2015

A year later....

Happy New Year!

I see that my last blog post was written a year ago last month , and really, I am surprised that so many words can stay bottled up for so long.

This blogspot has been eluding me, and for some strange reason I located it this week, deciding it was time to write again. I talk all the time in my head, but rarely do the thoughts escape onto the keyboard. (it used to be paper, but that will probably be the next extinct item).

Last year I found an idea on Pinterest that gave me pause-"I can do this one!, " thought I.  First of all, I hate crafty things, and secondly, I am not that great on follow through...or has nobody noticed? 

It consisted of making a jar of blessings acquired and noted throughout the year, as a testimony to God's faithfulness and exercise of gratitude. I decided that should I follow through on this exercise, I would document it, and praise God for His gifts to me all year.

I did write my papers of thanks through the year, God did faithfully grant me blessings and gifts, and I am acknowledging it here, January 1, 2015. 
As a Grammy to many grands, one of my heart's desires is to always be showing them the path of faithfulness of following and loving the Lord God. It has been a road not unlike parenting- you walk on it and wonder if it is even making any difference. You often fail, but trust God to keep you up and on that path , by His grace.

Ethan lives the closest to me, so I tend to see him more often than some of the others, and he is often watching Grammy's antics.He knew about the blessing can because it was always in the same spot by the coffee, and always had a pen and tablet next to it for notations as needed. We'd talked about my goal and he even reminded me on occasion to write something down. 

Well, coincidentally(or,as we Christians often say, providentially! ) Ethan stayed with me last night while mom went out with her friend.

This morning was the great reveal! Opening of the Blessing can(It was a pretty jar on Pinterest, but I used an old Peaberry Coffee can from Traders Joe!)

We were ready! " Sit next to me so I can read them too,"  says the boy. 

So we alternated the readings and were reminded of all the little moments in life that pile up and become bigger moments and then a full year! 

A couple of the notes I didn't even remember writing!! and they were in my handwriting.

Occasionally a different handwriting appeared....
Those were particularly noted in my Grammy brain as lessons given and clearly received!

There were some moments that, as time moves on, will be more cemented in my mind  than others, as these two:

and there were ordinary events I remembered to be grateful for, one lesson I need to continue learning....

But as Ethan and Grammy shuffled through the pile of notes and notations, perhaps the paper slip that meant the most to me personally, was the one I had NO IDEA was in the can. It had been slipped inside by a little boy who was learning the secret of happy living through our blessing can:

2014 was a good year, after all.
Shall we thank God?