i didn’t know it would feel this way…
The last summer staffer to arrive at Arrah Wanna, my former home, called this week to say “hi” and let me know she was there. They’re all there now ~ some new faces to the staff, some familiar ones, some I don’t even know. But they’re all there. And I am not. For the past five summers (this would have been six), these kids have been part of my day-to-day routine…and this summer, they’re not. Yes, they’re still family. They’re still “my kids” and they will always be a part of my life. But, tonight, this week, right now, I really, really, really want them to be a part of my day-to-day world. I knew I’d miss them once June rolled around, but I didn’t know it would feel this way.
today…
rain clouds…waking up alone…a bit of dread…a bit of melancholy…a lot of tears…messed up plans…broken heart…more dread…more tears…my beautiful little girls…a couple of messages from my boys…a phone call from my beautiful soon-to-be college grad…$3.99 per gallon gas…great traffic on the road trip…the beach…more rain clouds…ocean mist…watching the waves…reading a just-for-fun book…hanging with the dog…sand castles and moats…watching my girls, hand-in-hand, in the water…more tears…campfire on the beach…a long walk…begging for a sign…dusting off the sand…heading to my favorite place on the beach…salt water taffy…fries and onion rings at gracie’s…walking under the bridge…a seagull nest with egg…frolicking seals…channel house hot tubs…fisherman’s boat…horrific return-trip traffic…phone call from my sister…dinner ready and waiting in the crock pot…making tomorrow’s sack lunches…giggly bedtime battle…sitting down for mindless tv…when harry met sally…my sign. happy birthday to me.
i miss the woods…
We (me and my girls and some friends) spent last night at the camp I used to live and work at near Mt. Hood. I’d forgotten how incredibly quiet it is here at night. I’d also not realized how much I am missing the woods these days. Maybe it’s my church’s series on Faith and the Environment right now: maybe it just being gone from here for about 8 months: maybe it is how the sound of the river speaks to my heart, or maybe it is a combination of all three….but I didn’t realize how much I was missing this place ~ its smells, its sounds (or lack thereof), its people, its location, its soul. Yes, this place has a soul. I feel it when I am here, and, apparently, I miss it when I am not. I spent awhile walking the river trail this morning, and now, I am sitting in a room, the door wide open, typing away and listening to the river rush by. It is running really high right now - a testament to the amount of rain fall and snow pack (although I doubt that is melting much yet) Oregon has had this season. It sounds beautiful. I can hear my daughters and their friends playing tether ball nearby, and my dog (okay, she’s camp’s dog) is meandering back and forth between them and me, much like she did all night between our two rooms, not knowing if she wants to be close to them or to me. That is testament to her love for all of us I guess. What a blessing she is. What a blessing this place is. Yeh, I miss the woods…
i am…
…the proud daughter of the veteran of three wars; an incredibly patriotic person; a person of a deep, deep, and abiding faith in Jesus; someone who cries every time The National Anthem is played (add an Olympic medal to that mix, and I blubber); someone who flies a flag on the 4th of July. I am also a Euro-American woman who watched the Rev. Jeremiah Wright’s NAACP speech, and read every word of the text of his speech to the Nat’l Press group. I am here to say as publicly as I know how to say it: I take NO issue with ANYTHING he said. Are his experiences my experiences? Of course not, and that is exactly why I would not DARE to speak to (or God forbid against) his experiences and opinions. Our upbringing, our stories, our lives could not BE any more different than they are, and until I have walked a mile in ANYBODY’s shoes, I have absolutely NO RIGHT to pass judgement on them in ANY way, shape, or form. I am beyond-discouraged at the outcry (especially the Euro-American outcry) over the Rev. Jeremiah Wright’s comments. If we (white America - - and, yes, I know folks of all ethnicities, skin colors, and cultures are speaking to this - - it is just that I am white, so I feel I can only speak to / from being white) are SO blind, SO self-centered, SO close-minded, and SO ignorant about the history of race relations (both past and present) in our country today, then I hold very, very little hope this evening for the future of race relations. And that is heart-breaking to me - - absolutely heart-breaking.
missing “the days”…
I usually deal with change really well, often embracing it, asking it in for tea, sitting down with it and becoming very-well acquainted in a relatively short amount of time. I guess that is the fancy way of saying it doesn’t take me long to get comfortable with “new and different”. I moved to McMinnville just six months ago, and, just yesterday while driving around, I realized that I feel as though I’ve been here and part of here for a long, long time. A lot of that has to do with my amazing church and the amazing people there that go out of their ways to make me feel welcomed, loved, appreciated and cared for. A lot of it is the community here - it is a community made up of people that, for the most part, seems to truly care about each other. I like it here, and I am glad we moved here. I feel at home here, and I feel good about making a home here for my family. The change involving moving here has been good…and welcome. There are some other changes that I am struggling with. My kids, and my camp kids, are getting older and moving away, graduating, getting married, studying abroad, and doing all those other things that grown up kids do. But I don’t like it - any of it. I miss the days of piles of kids piling around my house, or my camp, and I miss being privvy to all the details of all aspects of their world (or at least all the aspects that they allowed me to be privvy to). Yes, those were “the days” for me….and I miss them, both “the days” and the kids. I miss their faces. I miss their voices. I miss their hugs. I just miss them. And I think I fear that the missing is going to become the rule as opposed to the exception. As they continue to grow older, they will continue to change, mature, move, graduate, marry, travel, etc., etc., etc. I just wonder how much I’ll actually get to be privvy to as time goes by. And I already miss them so much now, how will I even tolerate missing them more? I guess I’ll find out…
friends are friends forever ~~ but i need her now…
I had one of those “once in a lifetime” kind of friends in my best friend, Shauna. I am still sad and angry that that “lifetime” turned out to be relatively short. I was reminded of all those feelings recently upon hearing someone speak about walking with a friend at the end of that friend’s lifetime. For me, the sadness, anger, and confusion that death brings, would come right alongside this incredible feeling of unexplainable gratefulness that I’d ever even had such an extraordinary person in my life in the first place. It was the oddest, oddest thing I’ve ever moved through. I remember so clearly the literal wave of emotion that overtook me when I left Shauna’s side for the last time. I walked out of that room knowing that I would never see her again in this life; that the words we’d shared, the sentiments we expressed, and the love we had for each other, would never ever ever again, in this life, be spoken of together, friend-to-friend. It was so FINAL….and I was so inconsolable. I do not like final. I do not like not having choices. I do not like being hopeless. And, at Shaua’s bedside that day, I was hopeless. I was not void of hope for Shauna - I have a firm faith in the belief that this life is not all that there is. I was hopeless for me; hopeless for ever sharing that kind of relationship with another human being again; hopeless for future moments which would certainly been shared with Shauna; hopeless for a peace and a knowledge of who I would turn to when the waves came crashing down; hopeless for a best friend - a true, true, true best friend, in the true, true, truest sense of the word. I cannot even begin to describe how much I miss my friend these days. If I could describe it, it would sound selfish and self-centered…because it is. I miss my friend. I miss her so much right now. Always, but especially right now. My worst bedside fears are coming true…I am hopeless about where to turn for what I know would have been given by Shauna without me ever having to articulate a need for it. If she were here, she would instinctually know what I need. I should be thankful - and I am - that I had that friendship for even a short amount of time. It’s just that when you know how incredibly awesome and special something is, it makes it all the harder to not have it when you really need it. And I really need it right now.
it was like someone took the soul out of the air…
I am watching CNN and they are reviewing some of the notes they’ve received in response to their special on the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. A viewer said that he remembered sitting in a coffee shop, being served by his regular waitress, Miss Mary, when a gentleman came running in off the street saying, “They done shot the King.” This viewer said that Miss Mary started to cry - a cry that he still hears today; a cry, this viewer said “could only be cried by the granddaughter of a slave.” Another viewer said he remembered walking out into the streets of Memphis and, “it was like someone took the soul out of the air.” I was almost seven years old when Dr. King was murdered. I lived a pretty sheltered young life - my father was in the Air Force and, by that time, he was an Officer and we were living at (the then called) SAC (Strategic Air Command) Headquarters in Omaha, Nebraska (Offutt Air Force Base - where dubya was taken underground during the September 11th attacks). Outside of a few transitional months, all of my first almost-ten years of life were spent living on Air Force bases. It is a very sheltered world on a military base - I went to school on the base. We shopped on the base. Our doctors, hospital, dentists, church (we called it Chapel) all were on the base. We did go off the base, and, in Omaha especially, I got to see a lot of things “off base”, the Harlem Globetrotters and the College World Series to name two. But, looking back now, I know how incredibly sheltered my life was. I was certainly old enough to remember when Dr. King was killed…but I don’t. I wish I did ~ I feel badly that I don’t. When push comes to shove, how many national events in my lifetime can really be described as taking the “soul out of the air”? There are many national events I remember ~ the Olympic hostages, the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion, and the September 11 terrorist attacks to name just a few. But, and I mean no disrespect at all, I am not sure that any of those events (maybe 9-11) took our collective soul away. I am not African American, but I am raising African American daughters. I imagine many felt like the dream died that day in Memphis forty years ago…and our nation certainly has given many reason to still believe that today. For the sake of my daughters ~ for the sake of us all ~ it is up to us all to make sure we keep that dream alive. The soul of our nation, and the soul of all her people, should demand no less.
feelings, woe, woe, woe, feelings…
Grief is such an odd thing. I used to apply it only to death, but I’ve learned that grief is really a process that applies to a lot of life’s situations. We all experience loss in our lives ~ it may take on many forms, but remain, nonetheless, a loss. I am grieving the loss of many, many things this evening. I think I’ve been trying to grieve for these things for some time now, but haven’t allowed myself to just simply feel what it is that I am feeling. That’s what feelings are ~ that’s what feelings need. They need to be felt. I fear I’ve been in a rush to move through the process, in order to avoid the deep pain. But, first, I must feel the pain ~ I must be okay with that. I must admit that this Sucks, with a capital “S”, and I must allow myself to just feel the wave of emotions that grieving these losses brings. Then, and only then, will I be able to move on. And, as sad as this makes me, it is time to move on. So, tonight begins the hard work of just accepting the feelings as they come ~ whenever that is, and whatever form they take ~ and allowing myself to just experience them for what they are. Did I mention the capital “S”? Yeh, this just Sucks.
sink or swim or maybe just float…
Rick wrote a blog today that a comment of mine apparently prompted (http://rickdancer.com/news/2008/03/29/the-secret-to-staying-afloat#comment-86). His blog reminded me of something amazing I witnessed at camp one time (before I lived there), down by the river (no van) when the salmon were spawning. First of all, just the fact that the salmon spawn in the manner that they do is amazingly spiritual to me ~ I think it’s that whole “returning to from whence they came” (yes, bad grammar, I know…) instinct thing. Just to think about it is amazing, but when you actually see it, well, it takes on a whole new meaning, which is exactly what it did for me one day almost six years ago. I had traveled up to camp (in the foothills of Mt. Hood) from Southern Oregon, where I was living at the time, for a meeting. Considering the travel time (5+ hours) and the mid-morning start time for the meeting, I had arrived at camp the night before, so I had some time to kill that morning. I walked down to the banks of the river near the fire circle ~ there was some heartache in my life at that time so, naturally, I was drawn back to that place that had been a comfort and solace to me in my youth. It was a beautiful early September morning and I decided to sit out on “my” rock for a time of silent prayer. While I sat on that rock in quiet meditation, I heard a splashing near my feet. I tried very hard to ignore it ~ silent anything is very hard for me, so when I feel committed to it, I really try to honor it. I wanted to remain on that rock, eyes closed, heart open, and ears listening for God. But all I kept hearing was that splashing. Finally, I had to look. It was a salmon ~ a big salmon! ~ right there at my feet, in the water, trying incredibly hard to navigate upstream against a current that was literally tearing her up. There were huge chunks of her skin (scales?) missing, and she just looked old, tired, and worn. I could sooooo relate. I was instantly mesmerized. I watched in silence as she held her own against the current, occasionally even making some head way, only to lose any ground gained when she would stop fighting long enough to attempt to regain her strength. It was truly a “one step forward / two steps back” kind of a thing. She would push and fight, moving forward inch-by-unnoticeable inch, and then, swoosh, be swept five or six feet back downstream when her energy gave out. Occasionally, she would turn and swim downstream, full force with the current for about ten or fifteen feet. She would then turn on a dime, and plow back up against the water, and back near my feet, finally surpassing my rock by six or so inches after her third or fourth try. I stood up and cheered - literally. I found myself pulling for this fish with all my heart! When I stood and glanced upstream in the direction she was heading, I saw smooth, calm, clear, still waters just a few short feet away. ”She is soooooo close!” I remember thinking. Smooth sailing (no pun intended) was just ahead and she was so close to rest, so close to a respite from her struggles. That little pool of water may have even been her spawning ground - her destination! She was so close, but she didn’t know it. But beyond that, she didn’t care - she continued to swim; she continued to fight that current; she continued to work. Instinctually, she knew what the task at hand was, and she knew her pre-destined role was to complete that task. As I continued to watch her work, I found myself wanting to reach into the current, pick her up, and gently place her just five feet upstream into the calm waters. I actually even tried a couple of times, but I fell woefully short, and I am sure I looked woefully ridiculous even trying! It wasn’t long before I found myself wondering if God feels like that when we, His children, are struggling against the current. Does He see the still waters just upstream, and long to pick us up and gently place us there where we can find some rest? I believe He does ~~ but more than that, I believe He sees and understands that He cannot (or rather maybe I should say “should not”) do for us what it is that we are destined to do for ourselves, for in our doing, do we not become who we were created to be and do we not accomplish what it is that we were created to accomplish? I saw myself in that fish that day. I felt the force of the current pushing me backwards, tearing at my flesh, keeping me from my purpose. I felt God’s presence watching over me, cheering me on, and longing to help. I sensed the closeness of the still, calm waters. I couldn’t see them yet, but I knew they were nearby ~~ and they were. And, I need to remember now that they are nearby once again. Some days I’ll need to swim upstream, against the current, and on others, I’ll need to do as Rick suggested and just float. But either way, I need to remember from whence I came ~ the heart of my God. When I return there, all is as it supposed to be.
i can do all things…
With Duke out, this is now my favorite part of the Madness this year…..http://sports.espn.go.com/ncb/ncaatourney08/columns/story?columnist=whelliston_kyle&id=3319896&lpos=spotlight&lid=tab1pos1