A Wish for Peace

The last few months of 2023 were rather a shitstorm, both personally in terms of my health and in terms of world affairs.  The October 7 Hamas attack and the devastation in Gaza that followed has been heartbreaking.  Explaining it and discussing it with my idealistic and hopeful 8th grade history students has been extraordinarily hard.  My own reserves are spent thanks to my deteriorating hip and the ways in which I am disabled by it.  As a woman who thrives on her independence, I have not handled the waiting with any kind of patience or dignity.  Even as I understand that anger will not help, I yield to my fury more than I should.  When I found this lovely tag among my Christmas wrapping collection, it spoke to me on so many levels. 

As I continue to play a waiting game for my hip replacement and prepare to return to school next week, this tag will be my mantra and a reminder to control what I can control and to be the master of my anger, not mastered by it.  

Alchemy For Peace

Each year’s Christmas tree is a beauty all its own.  The magic of twinkling lights on a tree bejeweled with ornaments that tell the story of my life is never lost on me. I welcome the light it brings in December’s darkness.   

The world is a hard place right now and for me the tree is a reminder to be grateful for the many blessings in my life.  Tonight it seems especially lovely and my heart is grateful. I hope that this bit of holiday joy can be a beacon for more peace in a world that badly needs it.  

Gratitude Journal: Finally, Some Really Good News

Today, I saw the surgeon to see if he would provide the hip replacement treatment I desperately need.  JT accompanied me for the appointment.  More than anyone else, he has seen the ways in which I’ve been increasingly disabled by my hip.  A 23 year old being the up-close witness to my pain and sadness in the last three months is not an easy journey.  He has been an absolute rock for me and it’s not an exaggeration to write that I wouldn’t have gotten here without him.   He’s not the only person in my support network - far from it - and I am incredibly lucky on that front.  But he has had to rescue me from myself over and over again since the pain became unbearable in August.  As my mobility has faltered, he has filled the gap. 

We came to today's appointment a united bundle of nerves, arriving early, tense with anxiety and each of us with an eczema breakout.  I was convinced that the surgeon would move the goal post for surgery, demanding that I lose even more weight (I've lost 30 pounds in just under 3 months). But we needn’t have worried.  From the outset, the Physician’s Assistant was clear: you’re getting the hip.  The surgeon popped in and asked for more x-rays and within the half hour I had my pre-surgery packet and a promise that the scheduler would be in touch within the week.  There is a wait list but surgery will happen toward the end of  January.

 I am incredibly grateful to arrive at this point.  I couldn’t have gotten here without JT,  my sister, the pain management doctor I was lucky enough to find, and so many of my friends who cheered me on when I felt like my prospects were bleak.  At supper last night, JT poured us each a finger of bourbon and we drank a cheer to my new hip. I thanked him for all he has done to get me here; he reminded me that I had been by his side in 2022, when things were hard for him.  We’re a team, he said.  Tonight, we’re a team that feels both grateful and unstoppable.

December 1: Christmas Cactus

At the close of my visit to California after my father’s passing in February, I brought home some clippings from my Dad’s Christmas cactus, a beautiful plant that he had been growing for years.  The cactus spent the Summer and Fall outside under my watchful eye.  I was pleased as the transplants took hold and began to grow.  The plant is the recipient of a lot of attention; I talk to it as if my dad can hear me.  In the cold weather, it’s come inside and sits front and center to soak up the Winter sunlight.  

I didn’t expect any flowers this year but that is exactly what has happened.  

In my mind, these bright blooms can only have one source, the green thumb of my dad reaching through the great beyond.  Each morning I say hello to him and the blooms.  I think that my early-rising Dad would appreciate a morning greeting as dawn emerges.  And that I feel his spirit as the day begins is a lovely gift from this precious plant.  

Gratitude Journal: Christmas Cactus

I cling to my daily gratitude practice like the lifeline it is while I live with my painful hip and the food restriction said hip requires.  There is a hand-lettered note on my nightstand reminding me to find grace.  At the end of each day, I meditate and identify that grace.  

Pain and anxiety about my hip are my constant companion and some days, grace feels like a mighty small antidote.  But I cling to it….it’s not small unless I make it small.  Lately, a daily measure of grace can be found in my Christmas cactus.  A pretty little plant is growing from the two stalks I took from my dad’s enormous cactus.  My plant got its start in February, after my dad’s passing.  When I see it, I am reminded of him.  That it is flourishing is a source of such comfort and joy to me, and I am grateful for it on a daily basis.

Again!

A couple of evenings this week, my friend K and her family have had supper at my house.  Their own kitchen is being renovated while K is 8 months pregnant and their toddler is busy being a two year old.  Supper seemed like the least I could do to help out.  I’ve enjoyed having them.  

The fact is, I am utterly charmed by two year old D.  She is every inch the two year old and I had forgotten just how much joy and wonder is part of a two year old’s existence.  On Wednesday, D had a fidget toy that made a quirky sound and she was enchanted and excited by it, handing me the toy and waiting with joyful anticipation for me to stretch it out to make its sound, at which point she would laugh and laugh and then demand, “again!”  We played the game again and again because that level of delight in such a small act is not be taken lightly.  It’s a lesson in what matters, taught by a two year old who seemed to instinctively know what my sometimes weary and anxious 56 year old soul needed.  

We should all be so lucky.

Gratitude Journal: The Growing Season

Since my dad’s passing in February, I’ve made it a daily habit to thank the universe for something good before I tuck in and fall asleep for the night.  It’s a good and worthwhile habit and a welcome addition to the other ways I thank the universe for the grace I find.  Acknowledging gratitude is a tried and true way for me to find peace, which I find to be a necessary step on the way toward happiness.  Over the years, the habit has kept me from being overwhelmed when sadness lingers.   

I often find gratitude in the things I spy in the natural world.  In May and June, when the weather is splendid and the world is filled with new blooms, it’s not a hard search.  There’s the bright impatiens that greet me on the front porch every day.  

Or the zinnia seedlings and canna bulbs I planted on the back deck, seeming to grow larger every day.  

As this year’s growing season takes hold, I miss my dad a great deal.  But I sense his spirit in these flowers I planted and I am grateful for his presence.

Monthly Gratitude: Roxy Music's "More Than This"

This month’s gratitude is a shout out to my favorite song: “More Than This” by Roxy Music.  The song was first recorded in 1982 and released on the Avalon album.  I don’t remember where I first heard it - though it was probably on KROQ radio in LA - but I do remember that I liked it straight away.  Over the years, the song has become my very favorite.  I play it when I’m happy and when I’m sad; when I’m celebrating or feel especially grateful to the universe.  I play it just because. 

At first, the song served as a way to mark a particular moment of joy:  getting my first teaching job while in grad school; when I moved into my first house; finding out that I was pregnant; celebrating the birth of that baby; getting my job in New Jersey; moving into Sassafras House on Second Street; falling in love; doing something from my bucket list.  “More Than This” has been there for so many happy parts of my life. 

In the last few years, this song of which I never tire has become less about a particular celebration and more of a reminder to appreciate the here and now, imperfect though it may be.  I listen to “More Than This” a great deal; in some patches of time, I listen to it every day. *I know every chord of the song, the way it begins and closes, the way the notes rise and fall.  The long bridge of instrumental music at the end of the recording, a sound that reminds me of the grace I experience in this life.  I never tire of the song nor its reminder that life, as well as its trials and joys, are fleeting.  There is nothing to be gained from wishing time away and everything to be gained by embracing - and loving - what we do have.  After all, as the song reminds me, “there is nothing more than this.”

Gratitude: Playing Hearts

I love to play games - especially card games - and during Christmas in California there were a lot of opportunities to play.  I enjoyed all of it but I especially enjoyed playing Hearts on Christmas Eve. 

I spent most of my tween years resenting my kid status and remember being allowed to play Hearts with the adults with great fondness.  Seated at the table with my grandparents and parents made me feel like I was being taken seriously, the singular goal of my adolescence.  My Dad is a fiend at the game and, as I recall, he would “shoot the moon” with frequency; that he was often successful impressed me then.   

On Christmas Eve, my nephew C dealt out a game of Hearts and I played with him and my Mom and Dad.  True to my memory (and his history), Dad smoothly shot the moon on the first hand.  He did it the deadly certainty I remember from all those years ago.  My Mom saw it coming but, like the rest of us, she was powerless to stop it.  C was impressed and that was fun to see.  I haven’t played Hearts with my Dad for years but this game brought it all back.  It was one of the nicest hours I spent during my holiday and I am so grateful that C dealt me in.

In Search of Our Beloved Community

Middle school kids have loads of loud energy and my normal school life is a loud affair.  Often, the end of the day school day finds me in search of some stillness and quiet.  But the pandemic has rather reversed that calculation and so music provides company as I work.  I listen to many types of music but reserve a soft spot for the songs and artists who feed my soul.  U2 is on that list.

There is a U2 song, “One,” that I have always loved.  It’s a sad song, about a break-up, I suspect, but there is a line that recurs in the chorus about love and humanity that doesn’t feel broken or lost or hurt.  To me, it feels like a mantra of hope: “we get to carry each other.”

Not “have to.”  

Not “must.”  

Not “should.”  

But “get to.”  I’ve thought of that line so much over the years but especially this year, when the pandemic has meant that so much feels uncertain and different; even at times careening out of control.  When I’ve felt powerless in the face of it all, I’ve reminded myself to find the strength to carry someone else.

Martin Luther King Day is always a chance to remind myself of what matters, what’s truly important, and how we must all do our part for justice in the beloved community.  I think Dr. King believed that we must carry each other; and that we get to do so it is an honor as much as it is a duty. 

Hope, Fear and Everything in Between

I can’t be the only person who felt that the past few days have been 96 hours of time filled with a historical and political significance greater than such a small amount of hours can rightfully contain.  As long as I’ve taught, I’ve explained to my students that political time is different than regular time, in that significant political events can happen suddenly and that the conflagration and reverberation of them can consume our attention for far longer than the moment lasted.  At the same time, a hard month or a year can feel interminable as you live through it though as historical time such days can often amount to less than a hill of beans.

Both of these things are true, though rarely at once.  And then along comes January 2021 to shake all that what we think we know.  Today I remind myself that there are some things - important things - that we do know.  

Some - perhaps many - of the January 6 Insurgents were bent on ugly violence toward a democratically elected government.  They call themselves patriots even as they fly the flag of a racist - and failed - rebellion.  That is not patriotism.

Donald Trump, a man who won the Electoral College without winning the popular vote, deluded himself into believing that meant something.  After a lifetime of self-absorption he never once considered anything, least of all an oath to uphold the Constitution, more important than his own desires.  Our democracy will pay a price for this far longer than he will govern.

Courage, in the form of some members of Congress and their staffs, some Capitol Hill police officers, and some of our leaders, can inspire.

Other so-called leaders inspire only contempt as they wickedly flee the sinking ship that is the Trump Administration.  Worse yet are those who defend it, hopeful that their own ambitions can find fruition in what remains of the Trump coalition.  Shame on them.  

Cultivating democracy is hard work but the work of us all, undertaken with hope and sustained through our effort and engagement, even as that is hard.  Especially when it is difficult.  President-elect Biden says we can do hard things and we can.  Indeed, we must.

Sending Out 2020

I won’t be the only person who is glad to say goodbye to this year.  I almost wrote dumpster fire of a year because, of course, it has been that.  At that same time, so many people lost their lives in this year of years and it seems callow to dismiss the passage of this time when so many people and families have lost someone for whom time truly has passed forever.  I am profoundly grateful for my blessings in this year and I hope that I will always be able to see that light in the darkness that is 2020.

As 2020 fades into 2021, I am glad of so very much: My family and friends and our ability to laugh together; the blessings of jobs that put food on our table and give us a chance to make the world better than we found it; the harbor of walks in the woods and stacks of good books to be read.  I am incredibly grateful to be here as 2020 fades into 2021.  With that gratitude is a brightly burning hope that 2021 brings us more of the things that make life good: steady, kind, and measured leadership; the promise of science and a vaccine; and enough laughter and good will to see us through the hard times.  For all the storm that 2020 has been, I have hope that this nation and this world will safely steer into a safer harbor for 2021.  And so, as I have done so many times, I live in hope for us all as we say hello to a new year.

Front Porch in June

Thanks to my splendid assortment of house plants, the front porch is practically a rain forest this month; each corner filled with happy plants.

T gave me a new flagpole and now that it’s installed, it’s a decided improvement, with a spinning piece that keeps the flag from tangling up in the wind.

The June flag looks nice against the blue sky, a happy reminder to breath and enjoy the day.

There are plenty of flowers and plants to keep me company when I sit on the porch each morning with my book.

The last day of school is Friday and I am looking forward to at least a few days of rest before I start to work on my summer projects.  I’m tired and in need of some rest.  This porch soothes my tired mind and I will be glad to idle away the hours out here.

Fairy Garden Move In Season

Over the past couple of weeks I have added some daily joy to my life by setting up my fairy garden.  Now the move-in is complete.

These little houses and small details bring me such satisfaction.

For Christmas, I got a new apple house occupied by rabbits.  

So far they are of the sort that don’t eat my garden.  I am charmed by the tiny details, like the teeter-totter and the apple bench.

In the evening, the solar lights on some of the houses glow in the darkness of the backyard and remind me to be grateful for the small daily blessings that make life just a little sweeter.

Easter

Easter is my most favorite cooking holiday and pandemic or not, I was ready.  

There was ham, mac & cheese, potato casserole, Spring salad, hot rolls, deviled eggs, and bread & butter pickles.  For dessert, I made lemon cakelets in the shape of bunnies. 

We had a delicious supper and ate with the windows open so that we could hear the birds chirping.  All the leftovers fit in the fridge for a second meal later this week.  Last year, JT wasn’t home for Easter and I missed him.  This year, circumstances being what they are, he is home. We are well and very aware of all the blessings in our lives.  This year, that feels like an abundance  and I can't help but think that there is a lesson in that reality.  Happy Easter, y'all!

Report from the Homefront: Work from Home Rookie edition

The first few days of shelter in place expectations found me on Spring Break and, in theory, I was on vacation.  But it was already abundantly clear that we would not be returning to regular classes on March 30 and so I was working every day, in my usual dual capacity, as both a 7th grade history teacher and a school administrator.  Sorting out the logistics of teaching my classes from home and helping to make plans for the rest of the school to run remotely meant busy days.

Despite the work that clearly needed doing, I was in need of a break. So I decided that I would fully embrace the work from home advantage and spend my days in my pajamas.

Take that, pandemic!

By day 3, I was morose and filled with despair.  It became abundantly clear that while I had no choice but to be the-work-from-home-type, I was not the work-from-home-in-your pajamas type.  T, who has worked from home for more than 5 years and has the pajama collection to prove it, made the diagnosis: working from home in your nightgown is not for you, she suggested, while backing away from my piteous glare.

That was during the first week of this nonsense.  Here at the end of week 4, I’ve recognized how much I like routines and so I’ve made new ones to reflect current stay-at-home conditions.  During the weekdays, I set an alarm for 7 am, shower, get dressed in actual clothes (though not shoes), and then come downstairs to get to work in my study.  I take a break to eat breakfast, style my hair, and brush my teeth before classes begin.  Basically, I’ve inserted routines into my home life, where I hadn’t needed them before.  

Happily, though I sometimes feel the jitters of being housebound, I love Sassafras House.  I enjoy working in my brightly lit and newly well-organized study.  Spring and our growing ability to be outside certainly helps.  Being aware of my multiple blessings helps even more.  I may not be able to work in pajamas but my flip flop collection is really earning its keep.  And that’s happy!

Report from the Homefront: Searching for Grace

I had a lot of plans for Spring Break, most of which involved some time away from school and schoolwork.  Then, on March 12, the world turned upside down and so did my plans.  I spent most of Spring Break alternately fretting about the pandemic and planning to teach remotely.  Most days I did both at the same time.  

I was in front of the computer for hours and a little too prone to refreshing news feeds so that by the end of week one, having failed to pace my worries, I was close too overwhelmed.  It didn’t help that I’d gone into the Break at full speed, knowing that a break was ahead.

I was ready for some at-home time though I wasn’t quite ready for the only-at-home time that the month of March delivered.  Daily, I thought about things to write for my blog.  My digital journal is littered with more than a half-dozen half finished posts.  The truth is that I spent so much time in front of my screen planning lessons for school that when the work was done, I retreated to the sofa with a good book.  Day by day, I fell behind.

The more time that passed, the easier it became to dodge this blog.  Plus, it was easier to post on Instagram.  But this blog has seen me through many of life’s anxieties and it seems short-sighted to tap out now, when I know that a few years from now, I will welcome every record of this time.

So today I am renewing my commitment to post writings to this blog.  In the coming days, I will fill in the details of the time since my last post, on March 23.  And I will remind myself, daily, to look for the grace that can be found when I pause and look for it.

Report from the Home Front: Hope and Love edition

A week into Spring Break, a week I have spent safely at home working on school materials and trying to relax, it feels like time is working in a whole new way.  On the one hand, the days are strangely similar.  On the other, nothing feels the same.

T and I had tickets to see the Indigo Girls live this coming Saturday.  The concert was postponed and instead we watched them live on-line last night.  They played and answered questions and at one point more than 60k people were watching.  It felt like a community of the hopeful and with the music still whirling about my head, I am grateful for the break in anxiety.

When I feel my fear mounting, I count my blessings and I am grateful that I have work to which I can attend.  And then I limit the amount of news that I read or listen to and pick up a book.  I don’t need any more panic in my landscape.

I’ve done most of the work to turn my craft table into a desk for me to manage remote learning when school resumes on March 30.  I’ve made lesson plans to get things up and running.  I've made supper for my family each night and we've eaten together, which is very nice.  Next week, I’ll practice the remote learning lessons in earnest, getting my videos, digital assignments, and screencasts together.  So far, those activities and chirping birds has helped to sooth my jangled nerves.  In times like this, that feels like enough.

Hope y’all are well and taking time to tell your people you love them.       

That’s Happy, What Else?

Several women that I know have had babies this Spring and as I’ve bought tiny little sets of pretty clothes for the new mamas, I’ve added a book from my vast collection of children’s books to their gifts.  This has been a way to share some lovely stories as well as a way to thin my collection, which fills two enormous plastic bins and is far more than I can use when my grandma days arrive (several years from now, if you’re reading this, JT!).  It's also been a treat to look through these familiar books.

Reading is one of my greatest pleasures in life.  So it should be no surprise that as a mama, reading books to a small child was one of my great joys.  I read to JT every night for years, reading books until he drifted off to sleep.  I stopped when I could be sure that he would read to himself at night.  The stories that we read, especially those that we read over and over, served as the very foundation of both his world and mine.  

As he got older, I read to him to slow the evening into sleep and to set him up for a lifetime of imagination.  When I look book at all of those books, I see a philosophy of life coming in to view.  The stories we loved the most were the books that valued unconditional love and taking pleasure in the natural world.  They celebrated shared laughter and joy in the every day.  Some of them served as mantras for the living of the rest of our lives, as did a lovely book called Tell Me Something Happy Before I Go to Sleep.

In this story, a big brother bunny named Willoughby settles his little sister Willa to sleep by reminding her of the happy things she will find when she wakes up in the morning.  Willa, eager to stay awake, responds to each happy thing (her chicken slippers, her sailor suit, her breakfast, and her toys) by saying, “That’s happy.  What else?”

Toddler JT loved this book, with its sweet pictures and gentle reminder that there was happiness to be found in the every day things and practices that made up our lives.  Saying “that’s happy” became a part of our lives, one part reminder to enjoy the here and now and one part reminder that happiness is not finite; there is always more to be found.

On this Mother’s Day, we are apart as JT finishes up his first year of college, and I can’t help but think of this story and Willa’s chant.  In a few weeks, he will be home again and I will be so glad to give him a hug and hear the sound of him in the house.  I’m looking forward to that happy moment, confident that more happiness is around the corner.

That’s happy!

On Gratitude

It’s quiet this morning, as I drink my coffee and plan out the day.’s pre-Thanksgiving cooking  JT is home and asleep; when I slipped downstairs, both cats were in bed with him.  Like me, they are glad to have him home.  With his return, we’ve all slipped back into our old routines.  Later this morning, JT will wake up and come downstairs to step out onto the porch in his pajamas to assess the running conditions.  He’ll go out for run in the familiar streets and parks of our town.  Then he’ll shower and bring the laundry downstairs.  He’ll grab a snack before he goes off to see A, like he’s done countless times in the last few years.

Moments like these used to form the core of my days.  Now, they seem both familiar and special, as we make the transition to college-kid-home-for-break mode.  So much is the same and yet so much is different.

I feel a surge of gratitude for the all the seemingly small blessings of this life: a healthy and happy child, a partner to love, a warm and cozy house to call home, the blessings of Thanksgiving supper we’ll enjoy together. tomorrow  There are so many more blessings, large and small, for which I am grateful on this day.  So I count each one, thankful beyond measure for the grace I have received.