Thinking out loud

Catching up on thanksgivings!

2011-11-12T15:09:00.003-05:00

It's amazing how quickly time can get away from a person. When I least expect it, I catch my breath and realize a whole week has passed, then just as quickly, a whole month turns into months turns into years. My grandmother, who was a very wise woman, always told me not to rush any single stage of my children's lives or my own because before I knew it - like a blink! - they would be past and gone and I'd be wishing for time to slow down. She was very right. I am a week behind on my thanksgivings, but I remember then, day for day, and so I will take the time now to catch them up.

I have been quite sad the past couple of days, with sinking spirits and low, weak energy. I am struggling with coming to terms with, for lack of a better word, disappointment. I am still processing the great disappointment I have suffered this past year with the ending of my marriage and the realization that the man I married was not the man I had come to know but someone else entirely. I am not anywhere near done the work I need to do to move on. I am still a long ways away from forgiveness. Slowly, in little pieces, I process what I can handle and otherwise keep my head down and keep moving through daily life. I am working through another disappointment. Newer. And I feel sore and tired. When you hold someone in great esteem and then discover that your ideal of them is not the reality of them, the disappointment can feel like the ground under your feet has suddenly started shifting and cracking and lurching away from what feels safe. So it is for me in the past year.

I share all this because I have learned that when the ground beneath my feet is unsteady and uncertain, working at turning the focus of my heart and my spirit and my energy toward those things that remain solid and steady and continue to bless me - those things will hold on and be the ever-present safety net that will not let me hit ground from which I cannot rise: my children, my mother, my brothers and sisters, my faith, and my undying hope that someday I will fully understand and accept the lessons that I am meant to learn. With that so much in my mind, I want to start catching up with my blessings: last Saturday and each day this past week.

Saturday, November 5: I slowly cleaned my house today. In bits and pieces spread out across the day, I worked little by little to pretty up the environment that I call home. I am grateful for all the pictures I have in my house - all over the house. They remind me of the life I have lived and the love that I have been able to give and have been so fortunate to have had in return. Pictures of my great-grandparents when they were young. And of my great-grandmother in the later years of her life - oh! how she could tell a story! Pictures of my grandparents on their honeymoon and later with my children. Pictures of my children: Daniel in his kindergarten graduation get-up, his lifelong friend Justin with his mischievous grin smiling behind him; Jacob swinging on a rope swing in New Zealand; Daniel and his beautiful wife, Tiggy smiling at one another; Jacob and Daniel when they were little, hugging one another; my brothers and sisters and me when we were little and all dressed up in our matching Easter outfits; my father with my two sisters at my cousin Carrie's wedding, smiling and so happy; my whole huge family and extended family at my niece, Jennifer's, wedding; Daniel and Jacob in May the weekend that Daniel graduated from UNC-W and Jacob graduated from Wake Forest (on the same day!!); my sweet little mama and Jacob at Jacob's UNC graduation in May of 2010; my friend Bobbi and me up at the "old house" at the foot of Roan Mountain; my friend Cindy and I sitting on a rock by the river across from her house in Tryon; one of my patients and her new baby and her husband and me, all grinning up at the camera just a short while after I delivered that baby into this world............ I have lots and lots of pictures. They are visual reminders that I am a very lucky woman. And I am grateful for that reminder. Not just in these days when I am not feeling so lucky, but always.

Sunday, November 6: I hiked up to the top of Elk Knob today with Dan. Elk Knob State Park is not far from where I live and I have been wanting to get up there and see if I could indeed make it to the top. I wore a knee brace, pulled tight, and did not try to rush it. There was an open understanding that it was okay for me to turn back whenever I wanted or needed. The trail is only 1.8 miles but it sure felt longer. (Yes, I am very out of shape). Baby came along for the hike, too, and was busy taking in all of the millions of smells that dogs process every second, even when they're moving. It was a beautiful day. And, when I reached the summit, I was absolutely elated!! It's pretty darn incredible up there. You can see Mount Rogers up in Virginia, Roan Mountain over in Tennessee, Grandfather Mountain, Mount Mitchell, and the South Mountains way off in the distance. The sign at the top said that on a clear day, you can see Pilot Mountain from up there, way down by Winston-Salem. I couldn't quite make it out, but an older gentleman up there said he thought he could. It was breathtaking. The hike down hurt a lot. My knee does not handle "down" very well. But it didn't give. And it saw me all the way back to the car. I was reminded of my younger years and all the time that Dan and I spent hiking the mountains, camping, backpacking, rock climbing. I am grateful for this old body and the way it saw me through today. And I am grateful for a friendship that has lasted through 33 years and has survived much loss (grandparents, then each a parent, friends), divorce and remarriage for each of us and each another divorce, financial hardships, and all the curve balls that life will slam at you from time-to-time. It is the mutual adoration for our two children that has kept our friendship intact and allowed us to forgive each other our short-comings and accept each other for who we are, as we are. I am deeply grateful for that.

Monday, November 7: I am limping today and sore from yesterday's hike. I have moved slowly all day, guarding each step and trying to stay mindful of how I put my foot down before I put weight on this messed up knee. I am very ready for sleep and think that I will not be up too late. My Baby-girl as I call her, the sweet lab mutt that I adopted 5 years ago, is very patient with my slow moving. She sits close to me and sighs. Her presence is a balm against the loneliness that I might feel where it not for her company. She is a warm and calm energy. I love her dearly. She sat by the bathtub while I soaked my swollen knee and watched me closely to assure herself that I was alright. I believe what they say about the healing power of animals. She heals me every day. My traveling companion and my sounding board, she never disagrees with all my rantings (though she sometimes closes her eyes and drifts off in boredom if I go on too long!). She was a blessing to my life when I moved to Virginia and found myself hours away from friends and family, in a place unknown, on my own. She has continued to be a blessing. Thank you, God, for sending her to me when I needed her.

Tuesday, November 8: I am worse today. I had a long talk with my mom and was trying so hard not to whine, but whine I did. At least for a little while. My mama only lets you whine for so long! The ache in my knee worked its way out and up into my hips and groin and into the big muscles of my body. I am feverish and feel like I am getting the flu. I know this will pass. It is just part of it. My mom and I talked for a long time about depression. In our talks, she helps me remember non-medicinal ways to fight it, beat it, work with it, manage. My mother is a very special woman. Especially when I am hurting, I am so grateful to just hear her voice. I am blessed by her wisdom, her love, and her example. Thank you, Mom, for that special Mom touch you have. Even over the phone, its healing power is one of the most powerful things I know in this life. I love you.

Wednesday, November 9: Home during lunch for a 30 minute nap and a nap at the end of the workday before supper. I am grateful for napping. I would not have survived nigh on 16 years in practice without that skill. I learned it when I was small, came to depend on it when I had babies, and trust it to see me through another 10 years or so of baby catching.

More later. I still have Thursday, Friday and today to go. I'll get there.

Peace all.

2011-11-12T15:07:00.001-05:00

http://www.reverbnation.com/c./a4/1525809/639158/Artist/639158/Artist/link

One Child

2011-11-04T18:30:00.001-04:00

This is One Child, a song that I wrote in the weeks that followed a mission trip I made to the Petrovsky orphanage in Russia. As I say in my introduction, I felt like what we had done was a good thing and a powerful thing but it seemed like such a small thing in a big and mean world. I wanted to do more. I wanted to bring a whole bunch of them home with me! I wanted to sell all my possessions and move in with them and be their mama. I wanted to really really really make a difference. In the end, as Mother Theresa said, "we can do no great things. Only small things with great love." We may never know how much of a difference we made for those children, but we can know that we loved and we tried and, if not for them, that will make a difference for us, in us, and so, the world changes ever so slightly. Ever so slightly, multiplied by a million ever-so-slightlies, can change the world. We just have to start...........

Peace to you.

PS - A big thank you to Jon Elion for his lead guitar and Lorna Roberts for her harmony vocals on this performance

I am crying out to heaven. I'm so tired of being scared.
I'm asking God to send me an angel.
Won't you send me someone who cares?
Everywhere I turn I see such sadness.
Still I have this hope I hold inside
That someone will want to make a difference
And they'll start with one child.

I am one child, can you feed me?
I am hungry and cold down in my bones.
I am one child, can you see me?
I am lonely and longing for a home.
Change the world. Be the turning of the tide.
But could you start with one child?

So many times I've been shattered
By an angry world I cannot control.
I try to hide the ways that I've been battered,
Such a heavy weight for a tiny soul.
I would give you all that I hold dear to me
Just to see the sweetness of your smile.
You could change my world this much is clear to me
But could you start with one child.

I am one child, can you teach me?
I am willing to learn and understand.
I am one child, can you reach me?
I dream I see you holding out your hand.
Change the world. Be the turning of the tide.
But could you start with one child?
Start with me - one child.

-----Yours truly, One Child, June 2008

2011-11-04T16:21:00.004-04:00

Thursday, November 3: On the occasion of the 105th anniversary of my grandfather's birth, I am grateful for the freckles that adorn my face and for the red tones in my hair, both of which I got from my grandfather. When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to hold me up to the mirror and smile at me smiling at her and she'd say, "Who do you look like? Where did you get that strawberry freckle face?" I was her favorite grandchild because of that strawberry blond hair and those gazillion freckles that light up my face. I grew up loving those freckles because my grandmother and grandfather loved them so. Years later, when my grandparents were gone, I would discover that my brothers and sisters and my cousins all had special, unique inherited gifts that my grandparents adored. We were all their "favorite" grandchild. My grandmother had that particularly wonderful gift of making a person feel extra special and extra loved.

I delivered a beautiful, healthy baby yesterday on my grandfather's birthday. And I felt proud to be his granddaughter. I am so grateful to have been loved so well.

Friday, November 4: I am grateful today for Friday afternoons and weekends off and the chance to have nowhere to go, to just be home with my sweet dog Baby and my strange but equally sweet, drooling cat Buster. Like Baby and Buster, I have become especially fond of naps. I am a skilled nap-taker. And I'm grateful this afternoon for the cloudy gray sky and the time to curl up under the covers and drift, unfettered, out into whatever world my mind chooses to create for me. It is good to recover. It is in my dreams that I fly, that I succeed, that I laugh with abandon, that I face my demons, that I battle and win, that I pray and sing and heal. And so, on this cloudy Friday afternoon, I am grateful for the chance to do just that.

Until later, peace all.

2011-11-03T00:52:00.006-04:00

I am a day late starting my annual November gratitudes. And it is late. So I will be brief, I think, though I never know once I get started writing how long I might be. Back in 2006, I packed up my whole house and all my belongings, left everything familiar, and moved to the Eastern Shore of Virginia to take a job there. I sent Jacob to college in that same week and faced, not only a whole new place, but an empty nest as well. During that first winter there, I was living in a great big old beautiful farm house, a half a mile out a dirt road, on a 200-acre soy bean farm. I loved it there, but was prone to bouts of intense homesickness and, of course, the depression that generally seeps into my bones and my psyche about this time of year and takes up residence until the spring chases it off with her flowers and green and warm. I was having a particularly difficult time that first winter on the Eastern Shore. During a conversation about my sinking spirits, my mother told me about an article she had read about gratitude and how life-changing, life-saving it can be. The writer of the article suggested starting and keeping a gratitude journal and writing daily notes on things that bring about gratitude - a particularly beautiful sunrise, a baby's laugh, a call from a friend - any little or big thing that draws that feeling forward. The writer said that we should all go looking for gratitude.

And so I began. And I worked at it. My gratitude journal from those days is here on my blog and has continued, in all sorts of forms, since then. It was a very powerful exercise and helped me tremendously through that first long winter up there in the middle of nowhere on the Eastern Shore. And it continued to help me through the many changes and trials and struggles and celebrations and losses of the next four years there and my first year back here in Boone. I am trying to live a life of gratitude. I am not always successful. I sometimes forget. I sometimes don't forget, I just sometimes would rather not do it. But when I focus on living a life of gratitude, I am amazed at how different life feels to me, how much happier it is, how much more sense it makes.

When I am driving in my car to work or driving back home, I try to remember to focus my mind on gratitude. When I am feeling sorry for myself, I do the same and, amazingly, I can stop that self-pity drain. When I am tired and aching and wanting to whine about the tough aspects of getting older, I think about how grateful I am to be as young as I am (in spirit!) and as healthy as I am, and the aches don't bother me quite so much. I know deeply that I have been tremendously blessed in this life. I sometimes just need to remember. If I forget for too long, there will generally come a trial or a crisis to remind me anew. If I let the activity of acknowledging all of my blessing slip, if I forget to say "thank you" for all that I have been given, if I get to complacent or lazy to just open up my eyes and see, my spirits will sink and sadness will likely take over. It is a daily, conscious process. And decision, too. And one that I try to respect. I am trying to live it.

So in celebration of Thanksgiving month, I would like to try to make a note, every day, of my blessings and my gratitudes. I did this last year and the year before on Facebook. I thought I'd do it smaller this year. And write it here.

In keeping in tradition with my unfortunate and lifelong lateness (yes, I will be late for my own funeral, I am sure), I am starting a day late. So here are two days worth:

November 1: Today I am grateful for the morning. Every day above ground is a good one. I am not much of a morning person. I am slow in the mornings and quiet. Not grumpy. Just not quite with it. But I am learning to appreciate mornings more. The older I get, the more I appreciate the turning slowly and that first blinking, yawning, sighing recognition of the light of the day coming in through the window. Another night is passed and here is another day, another chance, another hope. Nights are for dreaming without direction. Days are for dreaming with hope and intention. I am grateful for every morning, every day that I can begin again.

November 2: I have a sense of myself again. I kind of lost touch for awhile. A lot has changed in the past two years. And I just lost focus. I didn't lose me. I gained some new dimensions. It was like I was walking through a maze for awhile but the path has gotten easier and the ground more even and the way more familiar. I was very intensely introspective there for a time but my insides were so muddy and murky, it was mostly just like wallowing in the mud. I wasn't able to see myself from the outside. I couldn't get out of my own way! I am glad to have steadier footing again and to appreciate what I've just come through and how it has affected me, changed me, strengthened me, given me some wisdom. I am very grateful for that. I am grateful for my own strength and my own will to survive, not just as a living being, but as a living, caring, contributing, productive being. I have been blessed.

Peace and love and all that. Till later.

Ranford Almond - Where Have All the Average People Gone? [Tosco Music Pa...

2011-09-12T23:49:00.000-04:00

2011-01-12T19:47:00.003-05:00

This is for Margaret. But also for anybody else who might happen along and take an interest. I have songs posted on a ReverbNation page. Kind of like My Space but less confusing. You can find it at www.reverbnation.com/lisastevens. If you'd like, you can hear some songs there. I think I'm a much better songwriter than poet. But then, I guess the difference between the two is a thin veil. There is a song that I wrote for my son Jacob already posted, and I'll post a song I wrote for my Daniel this evening.

I haven't forgotten to write. I've just been hanging on. Sometimes my "hanging on" gets fouled up in my body and most I can manage is getting to work and getting home and the rest of the time I am sitting still, wondering where my energy went. Winter is especially a "hanging on" time for me. Double whammy these days - winter and heart-sickness. But it will get better. It always does.

I have so much in my head.

Peace all.

2010-09-23T01:13:00.002-04:00

I haven't written anything in a long time, though my brain has been very busy and I have lots of ideas and lots of things I want to write. In the coming weeks, I'll write more. I promise myself that. And I promise YOU, too! (All two of you!)

Life is good. I'm adjusting to a big change and loving it. I've been regrouping and reconnecting and reorganizing. I've been hanging on. I've been letting go. I've been singing aloud. I've been being quiet. I've been struggling to sleep. I've been greeting the dawn. (and those of you who know me know that greeting the dawn is NOT a common thing for a night owl like me!!).

I've been working at...... working at.......... hmmmmm......... I guess I've been working at living the life I thought was hanging in the upper branches and was too far out of reach. I've been stepping into a dream that I've had for more than fifteen years. I've been realizing that coming home is really and truly, and simply, stepping into the beautiful picture that you painted for yourself out of hope.

And I am here. And I am happy to be here. My husband joins me soon. His dream goes back even further than my own and is much more ethereal. I say a prayer every day that it will become solid so that it might hold him up and propel him forward into a world where he will thrive.

Peace all. I'll write soon, I promise.

Almost home...............

2010-04-01T12:46:00.005-04:00

For every slow, soft lob that comes your way - the ones that you can spot, take aim, and over the back fence for a home run - for each one of those, there are hundreds of fast balls and curve balls and those bizarre, twisting knuckle balls that'll come right at you so fast, you won't know whether to swing or duck or bunt or run or just, by God, throw down the damn bat and walk away from the game.

It's that way in baseball. It's that way in life. I get tired sometimes of swinging at the hard ones, trying to make a connection. I get tired sometimes of ducking the ones that are just coming too fast, the ones that leave you out of breath and grateful that you were quick enough to dodge another. And I get tired sometimes of running the bases, only to get tagged out trying to make it to home. Just when I think I'm going to make it, I'm diving in, I'm almost there..........

Is it okay to just sit the next inning or two out? Please? Could I just do something simple, like carry water to others and carry the bats and the balls back to the field house? Would it be okay if I just had one little bitty breather?

Ah. I didn't think so.

Peace all.

The power of music.........

2010-02-12T23:31:00.003-05:00

My new CD is finished. The recording, mixing, and mastering are done. Now on to the graphics and then, once I save the money, off it'll go to Oasis for duplication. I have listened to each song at least fifty times, probably more. Bruce Roberts, who produced the CD along with his wife Lorna, has been sending me the songs as mp3 files while they were in progress. I'd listen, make notes, send feedback, he'd make changes (or not) and send them back to me again. He sent me the final version last Monday, so I have listened and listened, making sure everything is just right, double listening for any errors, glitches, or otherwise. And I am happy and satisfied with the finished project.

And then I listened more. And I've continued to listen to it. Not because I want to hear myself, but because I want to hear the songs and hear their stories again, let them take me back to where they came from. Music is such an incredibly powerful thing. And for me, this music tells my own story - my thoughts, my feelings - it has the power to pick me up from where I am and transport me - setting me right down in the middle of all its history. I listen to this CD, its sixteen songs, and it takes me so many wonderful places and through so many different experiences and feelings: the edge of Linville Gorge in the early morning hours watching the sun rise; "the old house", Crystal's place up at the foot of Roan Mountain (where so many of the songs came to life); the windy coast of Ireland; the Mayan ruins of Guatemala; Russia and the orphanage there; the bedside of a praying, brave Guatemalan woman who changed my life; my father's hospital room; the backyard of the house I grew up in or at the kitchen table with my mom and dad; curled up in the big brown chair with my son, Jacob; sitting in the kitchen, listening to Daniel tell a story about Ashe County; Ashe County itself; Boone; a little cabin in the middle of the week in the middle of January at Smith Mountain Lake State Park (where I had the entire state park to myself and wrote two songs to keep from being spooked!!); the little back porch of my house in Morganton (probably the only house that will ever have been my own); sitting beside my friend Bobbi, with her expectant smile and her gentle way of coaxing a song out of me; gathered around Cindy's firepit............ it just goes on and on. Each one, with its story, its birth, its meaning inside my heart. I can't stop listening. They are my story. They are my heart.

My father always understood the power of music. He surrounded us with it as we were growing up. All kinds of music. And, just a few weeks before he died, when words befuddled him and he struggled to say what he meant, he found meaning and comfort in songs that he could hum, whistle, remember. In the hospital, he said to me, "I keep going back to the music. All those little notes and how they line up. There's a lot of love in those notes. You have to pay attention or those notes will just pass you by." I understood part of his message at the time, but not his whole message. Now I'm being to understand the whole of it. Because it isn't just the little notes that need our attention. And because it isn't just MY music that does that - all music does that. It holds love, sadness, joy, tenderness, fear, praise, thankfulness, happiness - you name it, and I'll bet you I can find you a song that holds it inside.

It is so powerful.

I miss my dad so much. He is with me; whenever I sing - ah! there he is! Oh but that I could sing all the day long.

I can't wait to share the CD with you.

Peace all.

The angel in the snow............

2010-01-30T17:30:00.000-05:00

My Blue...........

2010-01-12T22:04:00.003-05:00

My blue is back. I've been waiting for her, expecting her to show up on my door step. I'm a bit surprised she didn't show up weeks ago. But here she is, all decked out in her tears disguised as smiles and her weariness heavy as a wet winter coat. I am sad with her. And all I want to do is curl against her back and sleep until the chill is gone and the sun is too bright through the window pane.

Her company makes me homesick. I am so very homesick today. I am missing my North Carolina mountains and my North Carolina friends, and my North Carolina familiar. I want to go home. Home please. For so many years I was not sure where home was, but I know now. I understand where, and more accurately, who my home is. And I want my home to be all in one place. And I want to BE home. Blue's company makes me long for home because she sometimes can keep me from it.

I don't imagine this makes much sense to anyone who doesn't know Blue. Who hasn't kept her company, especially in the winter. I wrote in one of my songs about that. It's one of my favorite songs at this time of year. It goes:

"I know you'll find no reason in all I do and say.
Blame it on the winter - this need to sail away............"

Blame it on the winter is the name of the song. I guess I blame a lot on the winter. Poor Old Man, he's just doing his job. But Old Man Winter, he's the one that brought Blue a-callin'. He brings her to my house most every year.

I miss my home - my children, my mom, Bobbi and Steve, Cindy and Hannah and Dylan, the familiar road heading out of town with the view of Table Rock or the other with the view of Grandfather, the feeling of belonging.

Peace y'all. Keep the back porch light on and a fire in the stove. I'll be home before too much longer. Until then, my friend Blue will keep me company. And Scott will do his best to keep me warm.

It's always something..........

2010-01-10T11:03:00.003-05:00

That was my status update on Facebook last night. "It's always something......." And it's true, isn't it? No matter how smooth the waters, no matter how easy the course, something always happens to rock the boat just a little, sometimes a lot, and sometimes even turn it over and send you out into cold water! This week it's the septic system at the house - too much water in the ground and the drainfield and now the freeze - certainly not things I can control, but there you have it. The thing is not working right. So I have to try to remember not to flush. Do you know how hard that is? Unless it's already a habit, you will find yourself, more often than not, flushing. And then, "Oh man!! I wasn't supposed to........" and then you sweat bullets for a little while, hoping it'll go down anyway! I'll be glad to see the sun and feel some warmth in the air. I think that'll be the only thing that'll actually cure the situation!

The other "something" is whatever it is that's making that horrible sound under my left foot in the car. It's kind of a grindy, scraping kind of sound. Brake? Wheel bearings? Strut? CV joint? Who the hell knows?! (My guess is that it's the brake doing something that it shouldn't though the man of the house [hence the auto expert] says there is plenty of brake shoe and the rotor is not wearing so it's not the brake?). The car has been in the shop more times in the past six months than it has since I bought it, new, in 2003! I shouldn't complain. She's been a great great car. She's got 170,000 miles on her and I've driven her hard! I kind of wish the trips to the shop could have been a little bit more spread out over the past seven years instead of the past seven months! I guess I'll have to take her back in. It's too blasted cold to work on her in the driveway!

You know, the thing is, in the winter time - "it's always something" seems to happen more and it is way more difficult to make light of it. I was talking to Jacob about this very thing early this morning when I called him. We were talking about Seasonal Affective Disorder (which I capitalize because I have a lot of respect for it and because then when you write SAD, folks know what you mean). I have it. Scott has it. Jacob's pretty sure he has it. I think, in actuality, most all of us have it to some degree. It's because our natural instinct right now is to hibernate. To put on a big layer of body fat and to hunker down and be still. That goes all the way back to our days in caves when body fat and hunkering down is what kept us alive. So it's our bodies natural instinct but life is in conflict. So we have to go and do and work and have Christmas and New Year's and all that stuff. When, really, what we want to do internally, is sit still, sleep more, and come out when the sun is warm again. There are a lot of people that just absolutely love the winter - when someone says that to me, I just think "you ain't right!" - and they just truck right along, happy and energetic. I think maybe that's where the "sad" part of SAD comes in for those of us who can't quite perk up to that level. We have so much to be grateful for, we live in warm houses, our cars have heaters, we have good food, we can go to the Y and work out, so why do we feel so blue, so lazy, so damn tired?! They say it's lack of sunlight. I think it's lack of warmth, too.

So when you got this SAD thing going on, it makes all these pain-in-the-butt kind of stuff harder to take. "It's always something" becomes "it's always something, damn it, and I can't take it any more!". Granted, those feelings pass, but it sure can bring out the grumpier side of a person. I know I get quite a bit grumpier in the winter.

I will be so glad to see the spring. (I know, I know - it's only the 10th of January! it's awfull early to be longing for the spring already! February is going to be particularly long this year!!). In my mind's eye, I see a picture of myself in the spring, emerging from a muddy, damp cave, squinting up at the sun, eyes trying hard to adjust to the light, looking around and seeing green and thinking - "Ahhhhhhhh!".

Peace to you. And thanks for listening to my whining!

The Long Wait............

2010-01-06T01:15:00.005-05:00

It's a little after one in the morning. I am at the hospital, waiting on a baby. It's a major part of my life - this waiting. I realized this evening that I've spent a large part of the past fifteen years doing just this - waiting patiently. Sometimes, like tonight, the mom has had some pain medicine and is mostly sleeping through labor, so I am waiting in my little home-away-from-home. Sometimes I wait out at the nurses' station with the nurses, hanging out, telling stories. Lots of times, I wait in the room with the mom and the folks she's asked to be with her. I have learned that my role in that room is a fluid thing and moves in whatever direction the mother and the baby dictate. Sometimes it is an active role, coaching, talking, soothing, coaxing, encouraging mom to sit or stand or turn or walk. Sometimes I just sit quietly, listening, watching, waiting......

I've learned a lot being a midwife. When I think about it, from that perspective, I always feel a bit humbled. Because it's taught me so much. For example, it's from that sitting quietly - just listening, watching, being present - that I've learned the gift of "being with". My friend Cindy told me once that my greatest gift to her as a friend was my ability to just "be with" her in her stuggles - her grief, her heartache, her fear; not trying to change it, not trying to direct it or make it go away, but just being there with it. I learned that from being a midwife. I know that I cannot take the pain away. I can't really even relieve it that much. But I can be there with it, be there with the mom, be the presence that says "let it happen", "trust yourself", "you'll be alright after awhile."

I've learned a lot of patience. One of the things that midwifery has taught me, through experience, is that when I get in a rush and I try to make things happen faster, I generally end up wishing I'd just let things alone to happen on their own time and not mine! And I've found that to be true in my life as well. Trying to hurry things up and make them happen faster, or pass faster, or get done faster - you lose something in that and sometimes you make things a lot harder. So I've learned this great patience as a midwife. And it's overflowed into so many areas of my life. I think about how much I've enjoyed (and continue to enjoy) watching my boys become the people they've become (are becoming). Watching their spirits unfold and take flight. I've tried not to hurry it. Sometimes I worried (and I guess I always will worry for them in the ways that mothers worry - do they have enough to eat? are they happy in their relationships? will they find careers and jobs in which they are happy and fulfilled?), but I didn't try to change the process. I've tried to be patient and let it happen - and they are both such amazing people!!All of the waiting for these little babies I've done has taught me to be alright with the wait. It's worth it.

This patience - it's like the patience of old age, but even more so. I think it's made me patient in a way that's even deeper than that. I find that I am patient about most things. Not only patient, but glad to be so. I can flow with things much easier now than I could even five or ten years ago. Because I do it all the time. Almost every day, I wait and let things happen, and encourage other people to do the same.

It is a miraculous thing watching a baby being born, guiding a baby into this world with your own hands. It really is one of the coolest things I know. I've delivered just under 1500 babies now. Those are just the ones I delivered with my own two hands. There are many more that I took care of in labor that had to be delivered by cesarean. And before I became a midwife, I witnessed many many births in the seven years that I worked as a labor and delivery nurse. It thrills me still! Every time. It is just such a wonderful thing to witness - a new life beginning. And from that, I have learned how amazing we all are. Unique. And perfect in our own way. At the beginning, we are all incredibly beautiful. I haven't seen a single one yet that I didn't think was beautiful.

I know that it is an incredible blessing to love your life's work. I am intensely grateful for that gift. I'm like anybody - I can whine and complain sometimes; I get overly tired and can be pretty bitchy about it; it takes me longer and longer to recover from those all-night waits; and my back complains more now about the work it has to do keeping me up. There are women that I see that frustrate me and some that drive me a little crazy (though less now than even a year ago). I am glad that I chose this path. Even when I am at the hospital at almost 2 in the morning, waiting again, instead of sleeping warm in my own bed. I am still glad I chose this path.

I am missing Daniel and Jacob today. I wish they lived closer and that I could see them every couple of days instead of every couple of months. I am missing my father, too, especially yesterday and today. I miss the sound of his laughter. So I turn to the patience that all these mamas and babies have taught me and rely on its comfort. Soon I'll be in company with my sons and it'll be sweet and warm and fun, as always. And when my time here on this earth is done, my father will be waiting patiently for me on the other side. Time is so very short. I have learned to savor every minute. (The women I take care of in labor would tell me unprintable things if I asked them to savor every minute of labor!).

Savor it. Be grateful for it. It is a beautiful thing.

Peace.

2009-10-29T21:37:00.002-04:00

I am learning. I am grateful for the surprise - that I still have so much to learn. About simple things like love and faith. About conflict, resolution, and acceptance. About how the past can still sometimes haunt the present. About how much tenderness a heart can hold and how that tenderness can be a healing thing in a sick world. About how sick the world really is. About how little and how much one small person - me or anyone else - can do to help. About how long the road really is to home.

I sometimes wish I didn't have to learn so much. But I'm thinking the alternative would be worse. Either I'd be closed-minded or dead! So I am grateful for the learning. Even when it is painful.

I am here. In the scheme of things, it does matter.

Peace.

Changes..........

2009-08-12T10:31:00.004-04:00

It has been such a long time since I wrote anything for my blog. It's been a busy, intense time. A busy and intense year, full of change and joy and laughter and grief and love and tenderness and tears.

I fell in love last summer - a love that kind of snuck up on me in the guise of a dear friend and then with one kiss, tender and true, late one evening after a rain, out in my drive, my world turned upside down. I'd never been kissed like that before, not ever. It happened that very moment. I had been teetering on an edge, unsure, insecure, defiant. But with that kiss - I fell!! I think, now, the better way to say it is that it turned my world right side up. Set it right. From that moment, I have felt a wonderful sense of peace in this love. He is just right for me. We are just right for each other.

And so I have found myself, after many years alone (even in relationships, I have remained alone, apart), sharing my life and all its many facets. I find myself opening, becoming, changing. It is a strange and wonderful process. It is amazing and sometimes quite challenging. It is, I think, love at its best.

In January, my father was diagnosed with two large, malignant brain tumors. In four short weeks, he was gone from us. He died without pain, with great faith and trust in what lay beyond. From the time he was a very small child until the day he died, my father never doubted that God would take care of him. God's care was as natural and real to my father as breathing. And so, in his last days, we all were witness to that continued faith and God's continued care. My father walked a very holy path that we were able to share with him only for a brief time and then watch him as he left us to follow it on, smiling and certain.

He left us many gifts. His death in itself gave us the gift of our renewed love for one another. Jay, Karen, Eric, and Emily - my brothers and sisters who share my history from its start. My children, who know me like and love me like no one else. My nieces and nephews and the way they are like my brothers and sisters and yet they are their own. And my sweet little mom - we saw her strength and dignity in those days. We always knew in some part of us she possessed such as this but never had we seen her demonstrate that grace, dignity and strength so clearly, so exquisitely. And my Scott - the tenderness of his soul like a balm for me and my family. He reached out and offered all that he had - his kind heart, his strong hand, and his steady shoulders.

I am so grateful for all that we felt and shared. I am so grateful for the way my eyes were opened and my heart was touched. I am so grateful for the family I've been given.

There are days when I miss my father so intensely that I don't want to do anything at all. I want to be immobile. I want to be alone and I want to grieve. I wrote a song for my father in the weeks after he was diagnosed with the tumors. I play it often - it connects me to him. My music comes from my father, handed down to me, a great inheritance. Sometimes when I play his song, though, I am filled with regret. I wish I could have played it for him. I spent the night at the hospital with him the last night of his life. It was a long night. My guitar was in my car and I could have played it for him. I was afraid that the hospital folks wouldn't like the disruption. Maybe it might have soothed him more than my touch or my voice.............

Life is too short for regrets such as these and I know my father would agree. I think perhaps I may take my guitar out to his grave one evening when I am home for a visit and play it for him there. There's a bench and a tall cherry tree there. And wind chimes. I think he would have liked that.

My son Jacob spent three months in New Zealand this spring. It was the longest separation of our lives together so far. It was a long three months. I became obsessed with checking my email!! And I cherished every email I got from him. What a great adventure! Oh to be that young and that brave again!

My son Daniel fell in love, too! I have watched his heart heal and his courage and confidence return. She adores him! And he adores her! And they both need that. We all need someone in our lives to adore us!! I think that should become mandatory somehow!

Scott and I got married in May. I never thought I'd ever do it again. I had long since come to the conclusion that I was destined to remain single for the duration but......... there he was with this great big love for me and when I realized I was not afraid to accept it - then I knew it was the right thing to do. I love him and I love the man he is - I mean the man he really is - because that man is a good man, honest and simple. He gives me great joy.

In the past few weeks I have started having full-blown, internally combusting, send-me-to-the-moon-like-a-rocket hot flashes! Oh!! I forgot!! You're supposed to call them power surges!! And power surges is about the best description for them!! They are very impressive, these things. Indescribable. I won't even try. They make me want to laugh and cry at the same time. I have always been cold! Always. I've always been the one in the group who complained about the air conditioning being too cold! Now, I keep wondering who turned the air conditioning off!! Every time I get a power surge and find myself quickly covered in a fine sweat, I feel like I could run a mile! Or maybe it feels like I just did! Wouldn't it be great if those power surges could do the same thing for you as running a mile?! I wouldn't have to be on this diet I'm on!!

I've been anticipating this time coming. I've been a little fearful, a little anxious. It's an intimidating prospect, ya know? Like "Hold on!! Here you go! Everything's getting ready to change and there's nothing you can do about it!!" My family doctor told me that this is BIG!! REALLY BIG!! HUGE!! Seriously, she used those words! She asked me if I remembered what it was like when it all got started and said it was even bigger than that! I told her to PLEASE not tell me that again because I went completely nuts when it all started!! "But!", she said, "Now you have wisdom!"

Tell you the truth, that was not much of a comfort. I don't feel so wise. I think of the wisdom that my mother has or that my grandmother had or, especially, that my great-grandmother had (she lived to 95!!). I don't have that yet!! I haven't had enough time! But there's no putting the brakes on life! No matter what or how we try - life keeps on coming at us!

But I know this for certain - I am a strong woman! I got that from my mom just as sure as I got her fair skin, brown eyes, and small hands! I have more strength than many. I'll be okay. This is a part of the way life moves through us. And so I am grateful for this as well.

Life moves through us, ever-changing. Hold me close to your heart and I will do the same for you. Peace comes.

And, I suppose, wisdom will come as well.

Yuck..........

2009-03-26T13:42:00.002-04:00

I've got a cold. I feel yucky. I hate colds. Especially when it's supposed to be spring outside and time to be out enjoying the sun. Oh, and when it's rainy and cold and nasty and you can't get outside in the sun that's supposed to be there but isn't so you can't let the sun bake the bad germs out of your body! It wasted no time. I felt it starting before I went to bed on Tuesday night. I had to get up and go to the hospital at one in the morning (which I'm sure didn't help any with fighting it off) and sneezed for the next three hours. Woke up yesterday with my head stuffed up and by suppertime, it was in my chest and in my bones.

Yeah, yeah! I know, I know. I'm whining! (Daggum right, I'm whining!! I feel like hell!!).

Jacob left on Sunday to start his big adventure. Picked up Jamie in Asheville and headed for Boulder. They made it to Boulder in good time and with no major ordeals along the way. They're heading out today for Mohab, Utah for a couple of days and then on to San Fransisco. They fly out a week from today for New Zealand. $700.oo, a backpack, and a guide book, best friend from high school, and a return plane ticket in three months! What more could a 21-year-old want?!

Oh, to be 21 again and off on an adventure like that. To be able to see the world with eyes like his, instead of eyes a little more clouded with fear. I am not near as fearful as so many people I know, but I am more fearful than I let on most of the time, and definitely more fearful than my children. I think maybe becoming a parent does that to you. That all of a sudden, once you become a parent, the world suddenly becomes this place where danger is everywhere. You know what I mean? It takes awhile to get that stuff reeled in and tamed down - guess it happens gradually as your kids get older and you worry less about EVERYTHING and get into more specific worries. You're hoping all along that your kids have taken over worrying about a lot of that stuff, so you don't have to, but then again, it kind of always stays there in the backround somewhere, ready to leap out when you least expect it!

Daniel was telling me last week about a friend of his in Wilmington who just returned from a long trek around the country by way of train-hopping and hitch-hiking. Daniel said some of his stories were pretty wild, though I didn't hear any of the wild stories so my imagination took over and created them for me. What I imagined is probably not anything like what the young man really experienced! But, after we got off the phone, I was thinking about when I was young and not afraid of such things. I remember hitch-hiking here and there. Sometimes people creeped me out a little but I was never afraid like I would be now. Too many movies and too many news broadcasts, I guess.

I made Jacob promise me that he would not hitch-hike back to Boulder from San Fransisco when he comes back from New Zealand. I'm going to buy him a plane ticket. And his girlfriend, Tasha, is going to fly out to Boulder to meet him and drive back with him, so I don't have to worry about him making that trip from Boulder by himself. Out of all the things that I can get to worrying about, this was one I could do something about so I asked and he said, "Okay."

I'll take that.

I'm going home to nurse my cold. I love Vicks Vapor Rub.

Peace. Stay safe from all the germs!

You alright, Chickabee?

2009-03-16T13:25:00.006-04:00

I have learned so much in the past few weeks. I've learned a lot about myself and I've learned a lot about the people that I love the most - my sons, my brothers and sisters, my closest friends, Scott, and my mom and dad. I have learned, more than anything, how incredibly lucky I am.

But I've learned that it's not just luck but a lot of hard work, too. I think about how much time and energy and love and patience and forgiveness my mom and dad invested into my life and the lives of my brothers and sisters. They worked so hard for us........ it humbles me when I think about it. It touches my very center and stirs such feelings of gratitude and tenderness.

Time is so short. Time with each other is so precious.

My brothers and sisters and I stood in a small group, leaning on one another, trembling with grief, and said good-bye to the man who was the center of us, the leader of our tribe, the head of our team. I would have fallen apart without my brothers and sisters. Our lifetime of love and affection was the glue that held us together. The words we shared with one another, the words we shared with the big community of my father's friends and colleagues, the way we were able to speak about him....... I will never forget those days, hours, minutes.

My sons let me hug them a million times. Over and over again, they opened up their arms and let me step inside. Their love for me and their love for their grandfather held me steady, gave me great strength, reminded me of what a gift they are to me and to the world. Reminded me of how the circle comes around and you begin to understand the love your parents have for you when you have children of your own.

My three closest friends drove such a long way for me. To just be there with me, for me. When I stepped up into the pulpit to speak at my father's funeral, my heart was racing and my spirit ached so intensely, I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to go on. There were so many people there. I looked out and saw Bobbi and Steve there, smiling, sending me the courage to continue - and so I did. The time I spent with Cindy the following evening helped me to know that everything was going to be okay - that despite this great big huge hole that's happened in my life, some things will always be the same. That continuing on in life - as we have to do!! - is okay. Thank you, my friends.

Scott never wavered. Never backed away from the sadness. Never questioned. Just loved. Loved me, loved my mom, loved my brothers and sisters, my sister-in-laws. It was amazing to see. He just opened up his heart; offered his shoulder, his smile, his hand. I've never been loved like that before. I watched him give so much, without holding anything back. Even now, I am touched by the very memory of it. I will hold on to that forever.

And my mom....... my mom showed such grace and beauty. There is no way to write it into a blog or anywhere else - but it is forever written on my heart and the hearts of my brothers and sisters, my kids, my nieces and nephews - all of us who were there. When we were overwhelmed by the immensity of our loss, she gave us grace, peace, and direction. I would like to have even a small part of that grace she has.

When I was still living in Morganton, whenever I was sad or blue or sick or struggling, my friend Bobbi would call me up to check on me. She'd always say, "You alright, Chickabee?".

I wanted you to know that I'm alright. Full. Sad. Tender. Happy. Humbled. Grateful. Full of love.

Peace all.

What a smile!!

2009-03-06T08:16:00.000-05:00

This is my dad and his beautiful smile.

My dad...........

2009-02-28T22:35:00.002-05:00

Romer Stevens, Jr.
May 19, 1928 - February 28, 2009

He loved me all my life. Even when I was a wild, out-of-control teenager, he loved me even then. Even in the midst of my hardest times, there has always been a part of me that knew that I would somehow pull through, that I was going to be alright - that came from my dad. And, even now, when it feels like something is broken inside of me, I know that I'm going to be alright.

When you love someone as much as I love my father, there really never is a good-bye. He is and always will be right here with me, in me, part of me. When I sing, when I listen to a beautiful piece of music, when I look into the eyes of my brothers and sisters and my nieces and nephews - there he is!

Love is a precious thing. I am so very grateful to have been loved so well and to have had the chance to love like that in return.

Go with God, Dad. I love you. I love. Thank you.

Peace all.

Go With God................

2009-02-22T23:29:00.003-05:00

Day by day, you slip away
Down a path that I can't follow,
On a journey you alone must make.
And I believe you walk with peace,
But I want to hold you tightly
Letting go makes my spirit ache.

I know that sorrow this deep
Only comes from love deeper still
You have loved me well.

I can't imagine life without you.
I don't know how to let go with grace.
But you walk a path now that's holy
And the light of love is shining on your face
So go with God.

I had a dream, your soul was free
And I could see you flying
With wings that held the colors of the rainbow.
Your voice was strong and raised in song
And it rolled across the valley
And it wrapped itself around me
And soothed my soul.

And when I woke with the sunrise
I could see your colors in the dawn.
I could hear your song.

And I can't imagine life without you.
I don't know how to let go with grace.
But you walk a path now that's holy
And the light of love is shining on your face.
So go with God.
-----Yours truly, Go With God

For my dear, sweet, loving father. February 20, 2009. I love you, Dad.

Peace.

Haunted.........

2009-02-19T10:49:00.004-05:00

How do you go about getting someone to leave you alone? It's a hard thing to do when it's a hard person. Particularly if they are determined to NOT leave you alone but to keep poking at you. Not often, but just often enough to keep the sore place from healing over. Little pokes. "Just being nice." But it's not nice - you know what I mean?

I've tried asking....... that obviously didn't work. I put blocks up in my email program. I moved and didn't leave a forwarding address. But mail comes to me anyway. In a small community, it doesn't matter if the address line is empty - the mail will find you.

It's like being haunted. And I want to be free of this ghost. Or at least free enough that I don't feel fear and anxiety every time I open up my mailbox (on line or at the post office). He doesn't understand what happens to me....... or maybe he does. If he really is a nice guy, is it so much to ask to just be left alone? Like really left alone. Like forever leave me alone!! I don't know anymore. I thought about asking. But the reaction of my physical body to even the thought of that is sooo strong. Probably not a good idea. I'd be liable to barf on my shoes. Or pee myself.

It's like being haunted.

If anyone out there knows a good exorcist, send him on down to Willis Wharf.

It's just like being haunted.

Peace.

A Sweet Valentines Story......

2009-02-15T06:02:00.002-05:00

My younger brother Eric called my mom yesterday afternoon to tell her he was on the way to her house. He said, "I'm going to call you when I pull in the driveway and you have to go upstairs and wait until I tell you to come back down." And so he did, and she went upstairs as she was asked. A bit later, he called up the stairs and told her she could come down again. My brother had gotten my father up and walked him into the kitchen and had him sitting up at the kitchen table with a dozen red roses and a Valentine's Day card for my mom, from my dad. My mom was very touched. She said she thought my dad was more surprised than she was! My dad had forgotten that it was Valentine's Day. The cancer has taken away much of his memory, especially of recent things. He always got my mom something special, and so, by way of my sweet little brother, he did again.

I come from a lot of love. Happy Valentine's Day!

Peace.

My Eternal Appalachian Home

2009-02-10T21:27:00.002-05:00

My Eternal Appalachian Home

High up above these mountains,
where time stands still
in the silence of snow.
I will float on in notes.

My melody will meld
with that of the forest
and become a deafening roar
that rolls down the valley below.

And the rhododendrons
will turn in bloom to listen
and the giant oaks,
that strain against valley floors
to catch a glimpse of the sun,
will chime in unison with my song.

The pines will weep
tears of tar and joy,
and the hemlocks
and other evergreens,
steadfast in their own schedule,
will hold my note
when it becomes but a winter whisper.

And as the clouds roll in
to make islands of these mountains
and the silence of snow
sings it’s own song

I will float on in notes.
Held above the hills
gathering like a flock
waiting for springs warmth
to fill the valleys with music,
a millennia of melodies
-----Daniel Perry, My Eternal Appalachian Home, February 2009

This is a poem that my son Daniel wrote. I think it's incredibly beautiful. I'm going to print it out and hang it up on my refrigerator, like I did when he was little and still at home with me. When I read it, I feel close to him. And I feel the pull of those mountains that are so much a part of the people that we are.

Peace all. Love to my folks. Love to my mountains and all the folks there that I miss so much.

A Father's Special Way

2009-02-09T10:10:00.005-05:00

I like to think back now and then to days when I was small.
When I bring back memories, so many good times I recall.
I always see your smiling face, watching me as I'd grow
And as I look ahead in life, I know your love will never go.

I thank you for the love you've given since the first day of my life.
I thank you for the freedom when my restless heart took flight.
But, most of all, I thank you for the music in my soul.
It warms my heart like sunshine when my days are dark and cold.
And when my soul starts singing just to chase my blues away,
I feel your hand still holdin' mine in a father's special way.

I think of Christmas mornins when you played ole Santa Claus.
Of all my hardest struggles when you loved me just because.
I know I wasn't easy with all my growin' pains
But nothing seems important now to this love that I have gained.

I thank you for the love you've given since the first day of my life.
I thank you for the freedom when my restless heart took flight.
But, most of all, I thank you for the music in my soul.
It warms my heart like sunshine when my days are dark and cold.
And when my soul starts singing just to chase my fear away,
I feel your hand still holdin' mine in a father's special way.

I'm gettin' older now with children of my own.
I know that I'll be good for them with the parents that I have known.
And when my heart feels heavy or I think my life's all wrong,
I simply think of you and Mom and with strength I carry on.

I thank you for the love you've given since the first day of my life.
I thank you for the freedom when my restless heart took flight.
But, most of all, I thank you for the music in my soul.
It warms my heart like sunshine when my days are dark and cold.
And when my soul starts singing just to chase my fear away,
I feel your hand still holdin' mine in a father's special way.

Your hand is always holdin' mine in a father's special way.

-----Yours truly, A Father's Special Way, circa 1987

This is a song that I wrote for my dad when my son Daniel was just a little fellow. Jacob wasn't even here yet! (I've revised the words some from its original version). I remember singing this at my church on Father's Day when my parents were visiting. I had a tape of it that I gave to my dad for Father's Day, and I remember how honored I was that I could sing it to him at my little country church in the mountains.

Peace.

"I keep going back to the music......."

2009-02-09T09:49:00.002-05:00

"I keep going back to the music. All those notes. I keep thinking about all those notes and how they line up. How they work together. It's important to pay attention. You've got to pay attention to all those little notes because if you don't pay attention, they'll pass you by. (Big sigh). There's a lot of love in those notes. A lot of love........"
-----My father, the weekend he was diagnosed with cancer

My father.......

2009-02-03T15:53:00.002-05:00

My father has been diagnosed with cancer in his brain. Two large tumors. They believe that the tumors will probably take him from us soon. Not much time to prepare, but time enough only to love. Time enough only to understand how precious every minute has become.

My father is a beautiful, loving man. Kind. Happy. Open. He's never known a stranger. And so he remains. There are blessings to be found, even in the midst of this sadness that feels so heavy in my heart. He has no pain. And so he is, and we are, spared the agony that so many must endure. He has a hard time processing things now and an even harder time keeping things in his mind. That change came about so quickly. He was a bit forgetful and then suddenly, a part of his mind disconnected from the others. And so he is not anxious or worried or disheartened. All weekend in the hospital, he smiled at everyone who came in the door. He thanked every single person he came in contact with - from the neurologist and the oncologists to the housekeeping folks and the guy who brought his lunch. He looked at each person, sought out their eyes, and when he made eye contact he smiled broadly, said "how are you doing today?", and thanked them for their help. If they were within reach, he touched them. That's my dad.

That's where so much of me comes from.

I don't know how I will do this part of life. I'm not sure how it goes. Do you know what I mean? I know that I am strong and I'm pretty sure I'm going to get through this and we'll all be alright. But I just don't know HOW. I am surrounded by so much love, it's almost as if I could pull it up over me and wrap myself inside of it, like a blanket. I think of how many people don't have that. I am so incredibly lucky. I am so grateful. Gratitude is filling me up these past few days. I was grateful for the beautiful warm day on Sunday. I was grateful for my brothers and sisters and the way we all agreed on my father's care and supported my mom in her decisions. No fighting. A united family. And gratitude spills over into my spirit and rolls down my cheeks in glittering tears. I am so grateful for all these years that I've had with my dad, many I thought I wouldn't. I am so grateful to have celebrated my dad's eightieth birthday with him.

When I had to leave on Sunday to come back to the Eastern Shore, I thought that my heart was going to break open. There are no words for how I felt. I know my mom understood because she felt that way so many times when she had to leave her own mom and dad in New Jersey and pull out of the driveway to head back to North Carolina. My mom's understanding helped me. I couldn't speak as we turned onto US 1. Scott drove. He didn't speak. He didn't make me speak. He just held my hand and listened to the songs I played on the car stereo - one of the ways I cry. And I was so grateful for that warm hand to hold. And the ability to cry in my strange way of crying - singing songs that speak for me.

In the days ahead, the tears of gratitude will be sweet grace, and angels will be all around me and my family, and especially my father. The angels know him well. He is one of them.

Peace all.

PS - If you can, hug your father today with love and intention. If you can't, hug your kid instead. And if you can't do either - hug a complete stranger in honor of the people who brought you into this world.

New bumper stickers for my car

2009-01-10T14:53:00.001-05:00

Surviving the Winter......

2009-01-10T12:00:00.005-05:00

Ah, it's that time of year again! Here we go! It's the start of a week of celebrating and connecting and laughing and singing and playing and eating and sleeping late....... it's how I survive the winter. I'll explain:

Twelve or thirteen years ago, I decided that what my winter needed was some kind of event to mark that I was half way through the winter, to celebrate winter's passing, to ease the weariness and the post-holiday let-down, to give me a little boost before wading into the muck and deep and dark of the longest month of the year - February. I struggle through winter most years. And by the time February comes around I am so weary of the winter. I am tired of hibernating, I am tired of cold, I am tired of dark evenings and I am especially tired of that winter blue, which is the heaviest blue of all.

So I started having this annual "event" back in about 1996. The first couple of years it was very small. Mostly a small group of women friends, we got together for an evening party and danced and ate and sang and talked and laughed and drank a bit too much! In essence, we had a blast! Then I bought my house in Morganton. It is a great house and it has a lot of room. So sometime around 1998 or 1999, the party started its metamorphosis into a weekend long event.

I go to a music school every summer called the Swannanoa Gathering. This past summer was my 12th or 13th year!! There's a whole group of us, all singer-songwriters, who attend the Gathering every summer. It's like a cross between a family reunion, a summer camp, and a huge week-long jam session, with a couple of classes with some of our heroes thrown in for good measure. The Swannanoa Gathering changed my entire life. Really it did. (But that is a whole 'nother story!!) After my first year or two at the Gathering, I decided I didn't want to go a whole year without seeing my friends there, my partners in crime again. So I started inviting all of them to the winter get-together. The music soon took over the event and became its focus!

So next weekend is THE weekend. The Annual Surviving the Winter Party. Tim's coming from Minnesota (I haven't heard from Karl yet), Jon from Rhode Island and Phyllis from South Carolina. JC from Charlotte and Mary Gordon from Charlottesville. Mike from Roanoke, Greg from Salem, Allen from Asheville. And of course Daniel and Jacob will both be there. Bobbi and Steve are coming. So it's a celebration with everything I love right there with me! Only thing missing is my folks!! My sons, my best friends, good food, good fun and music music music!

Celebrations, however, start tonight. Jacob is 21 tomorrow. Tonight he's having a huge triple keg party! I've been invited! (Hell yes I'm going!! Think I'd miss this!) I haven't been to a college keg party in........... let's just say it's been a long time. Tomorrow all my brothers and sisters and a bunch of the nieces and nephews are getting together to celebrate January birthdays (Jacob's, mine, Tim's). I'm off on Monday and will head back to the Eastern Shore then. I only work two days and then I'm off again! (I sure do love vacation days!). Tim from Minnesota and Phyllis from South Carolina will be here Thursday, the rest of the crowd Friday.

For all you folks on the Eastern Shore, we're doing a concert at the Blarney Stone on Friday night, the 16th. Come on out! If you like original music, you'll love this group of friends! It's a way to celebrate! It's a way to Survive the Winter. And you can come and celebrate anything you want. I'm celebrating the reunion of a group of folks I love deeply! And we all need something to celebrate before we head into February! It'll make you smile!

Hope to see you there!

Peace.

New Years Resolutions - again!!

2009-01-08T10:22:00.006-05:00

I made the obligatory list of New Year's Resolutions again this year. But with much more good intention than in years past. I mean, I really want to do these things! Really I do! It's just that.......

So eight days into the New Year I'll give you a current scoring on how I'm doing:

1. Drink more water. Score - fair. I've had water every day so far this new year. Just not a lot of it on most days as is my intent. But better than no water at all.

2. Drink only one Diet Dr. Pepper a day. Score - ah well, not so good. I'll admit it. I'm addicted to 'em. They are my main source of caffeine. And I just love the fizz and the taste and the little Diet Dr. Pepper buzz. So I had one day so far I had none, two days I had only one and the other days I had the two I'd cut back to last year........ I'll just keep trying.

3. Walk. Score - zippo. But it's been raining and stuff. (I know I know!! Excuses excuses!)

4. Talk to my kids every day. Score - good but I want it to be great. I waiver between wanting to talk to them every day and not wanting to intrude on their lives. It's funny - they never ever seem to mind when I call. And if they're busy, they either talk quickly or they let me speak to their voice mail. So I'm not sure why I worry about it. I like talking to them every day. They like talking to me every day. So as the old/new saying goes - just do it!

5. Play out (do more gigs). Score - good. Scott and I played at First Wednesday last night. I had such anxiety beforehand. Driving the short distance from Willis Wharf to the Great Machipongo Clam Shack - I just felt like I was going to puke! It was terrible. Scott's presence and smiling face helped so much. I just stepped into a small circle of light with him in it and asked for a bubble of protection from any bad feelings that might be sent our way. And you know - like my friend Cindy always told me - if you need it, you got to ask the universe for it and the universe will provide! And it did! (I asked God. Thanks, Sir.) So we played and it felt good once I got started and got past the nerves. I knew at some point in time I would have to confront those feelings and those demons and, in the end, the worst of the demons left before I ever sang and the biggest of the demons got very small and quiet then left. So I will try to keep this resolution and just get out there and play. Sing. Play with Scott. Play with Hungar's Creek Bluegrass band sometimes. Play solo. Stop being afraid.

6. Do the Upper Room daily devotional thing. Score - less than fair but not a complete failure! I didn't get the book until Sunday. So I did five days worth in one day. Now I'm a couple of days behind again. I'll get there. Or at least I think I will.

7. Fast from sunrise till sundown on Thursdays. Score - we've only had two Thursdays so far in 2009; the first was the 1st and a holiday you know so no fasting that day, and then today, I literally just forgot and ate a big breakfast which is another New Year's resolution!! Crap!! I can be such a ditz sometimes! New Year's resolutions are tough on those of us with perimenopausal brains. Guess I'll need to put a note on my front door or on the kitchen counter to remind myself that I'm planning on fasting on Thursdays. It's a spiritual exercise and one to remind me of what I have and others have not - just in case you were wondering.

8. Write - more songs, more poetry, journal, blog!! Score - well, that depends. I'm not sure if it counts if I write only in my own head. I've got at least six songs going on in there right now and a couple of poems. I think probably I need to count it when it makes it to the outside world! This whole part of a song came to me last night when I was trying to go to sleep. Just started forming its little self inside my brain and taking shape right there before my tired eyes. And I still remember it this morning. So I'd best get to work on it with a guitar in hand!! This is the first time I've written anything on the blog this year - not so swift on that score. And my journal (s) are out and waiting patiently. Just need to........ you know the drill - laundry, supper, dishes, play some tunes, practice the banjo, practice the mandolin, knit........... I forget. Or I just run out of time!

My other New Year's resolutions either have components not applicable yet (like planting lots of flowers in my yard this spring and summer) or are too soon to tell (like go visit my parents at least once a month and call them at least once, if not twice, a week - the calling I've got a superior rating on so far and I'm headed to Raleigh this weekend so..... so far, so good!).

And the resolutions about my diet - learn how to eat breakfast, eat more grains and fruits and vegetables, yada yada - I'll just have to take that a little at a time. (Yes, yada yada is actually one of my many New Year's Resolutions!)

9. I think the softest New Year's Resolution I made and probably the easiest and then maybe the hardest is to love Scott with a love that just flows......... Score so far - 100%. He makes it easy. He is a source of great joy to me. And when I am in the center of my peace, he is there, too. It's my greatest hope for 2009 that we continue to just flow - strong, steady, easy.

Peace.

The beauty of broken things........

2008-12-10T11:50:00.004-05:00

The sky deepens in shimmering colors of gold and burgundy.
Reflected on the water, the colors look like pieces of broken glass.
And I am reminded again of the beauty of broken things.

So much is broken,
But there is grace and beauty in broken things.

A bird circles slowly above,
One small wing bent down and under,
Unable to stretch into the wind and catch the swirl
Of the warm currents.

She is like an old woman making her way down a long hall
Legs unable to respond to the whispering command, "Go".
She weaves and falters and weaves again,
A dance no longer controlled.

And so the bird dances.
Around and around she goes
Unable to turn sharp or dive.
But the circles she carves are graceful,
Touching,
Simple and right
As though the hand of God himself is painting her path.

She cannot fly like before.
But neither can she stop trying.
She flies above the colors of broken glass
In the early morning light

And I see the beauty of broken things.

Morning people.......

2008-12-09T22:17:00.004-05:00

Surprisingly, I am becoming a morning person. Well, at least, a little tiny part of me is becoming a morning person. I wake up early every day these days, most often while it is still dark. I watch out through the sliding glass door in my room as the sun rises out over the marsh. It is a beautiful site. I slipped out early the other morning and took this picture, shivering in the chilly air. The colors are so extraordinary - the purples and the pinks, the deep blues and the soft then bright yellows, oranges, and golds.

The colors are reflected in the waters of the marsh and at sunrise, the marsh is incredibly quiet. The water birds have not yet begun their daily raucous routines. It is a time of intense peace. I have been watching it most everyday. I often go back to sleep, if there's time, once the sun is up and the sky has turned its normal grey-blue. I dose and dream. My dreams are different these days. Still more likely to be strange than reasonable, but not so intense as before. Not so woven with emotion - just collections of weird and random thoughts and pictures. I have woken recently laughing just as frequently as I've woken with tears on my cheeks.

I have thought a lot about Garland Perry in the past few weeks. My children's great-grandfather, his name was the name we gave my son Daniel as a middle name. He used to go to bed before the sun was even set, while it was still light outside and then was up in the wee hours of the morning, well before sunrise. He was well up in his eighties and said that when a man had lived as long as he had, he should be grateful for every sunrise he got to witness. And Mr. Perry didn't intend to miss a single sunrise if he could help it.

I am not near so old as Mr. Perry, but well into the second half of my life. Well into this time they call middle age. As each year passes, I understand more about what Mr. Perry was talking about. I appreciate the sunrise. I am grateful that I get to see it. I am especially grateful for the particularly beautiful sunrises that I get to witness from my bedroom now that I have moved to this wonderful house in Willis Wharf. I don't even have to get out from under the covers. I only have to turn just so and then open my eyes. And there she is.

What a gift!

Peace.

Home again..........

2008-12-02T11:08:00.004-05:00

It was a wonderful long weekend in Carolina. Very full, of course, with family and friends and traveling from one end of the state to the other. I got to see both my boys - that was the most important part of the whole weekend - just seeing them with my own two eyes and wrapping my arms around them and being physically close to them. I do quite well most of the time with my missing them. I miss them something awful. Sometimes it feels like an ache. Sometimes it feels like a heaviness. Sometimes it feels like a sorrow inside. Most days, it just feels like I've lost something essential. You know the feeling? Like when you've set your keys down somewhere and you can't find them. You know they're there somewhere but you just can't put your hands on them! That kind of feeling!

The entire family was there for Thanksgiving dinner, save one nephew who is in drug treatment and another nephew who seriously needs to be. The latter was there but wasn't really there at all. He was in a drug-induced place where we couldn't really reach him and he couldn't really reach us. It made me incredibly sad. And angry, too, that he would bring the chill of that place into my brother's warm house and into our loving family's presence. He is very very sick - the better part of me understands that. But another part of me can't understand how he could be in company with us like that.

We ate until we were stuffed! And then, of course, ate some more! After dinner, we got out banjos, guitar, and mandolin and played music in the little den. My youngest nephew, Timothy, played his piano recital piece. Then he and his brothers recited their Bible verses they've memorized for the Christmas program at their church. My niece Alex and I sang "Puff the Magic Dragon" - a song I have known my entire life. Daniel sang "Wagon Wheel" and played the mandolin, Jacob played rhythm guitar and Scott played banjo. I sang the harmony vocals. And I got that almost perfect "life is good" feeling. It was an almost perfect Thanksgiving. (see paragraph above for explanation of the 'almost').

Saturday morning, Scott and I headed up to the mountains. He'd never seen the North Carolina mountains before, and the closer we got, the more excited I got about showing him the part of the world I consider home and also that I consider among the most beautiful in the world. (I haven't seen a lot of the world - but of all the places I've seen, none has been more beautiful than the North Carolina mountains, with the possible exception of Ireland). We drove through Morganton and I took him by and showed him my old house. It's for sale. I almost cried. I wish I was rich. I'd buy it back tomorrow. I loved that house dearly.

It was rainy and foggy the whole two days we were there, but we had a wonderful time. We stayed with Bobbi and Steve. Scott fell in love with the whole area around Old Fort. And I figured he would, but then you never know! It was great to just be with Bobbi and Steve again. Just to be there. Like the feelings I have about my children and my parents - I miss Bobbi and Steve that much, too. Sometimes, on Friday afternoons, I want to just get in my car and take off. If I leave right from work (on time) and drive right there, I can be there by one in the morning. That's not so late!!

Back home last night, tired and sore from the long drive but full and happy, too. It was good to crawl into my bed and snuggle down under the comforter. Baby was particularly happy to be home. My cats were nowhere to be found last night or this morning, though Jericho showed up just as I was pulling out to head to work. Old girl, I was sure glad to see her! I slept well, deep and solid, only waking twice to slip out into the chilly air to visit the bathroom. Back at work today and prepared for another week of work.

Thankful. For so many things.......... for Daniel's quick wit and sweet spirit and pure heart; for Jacob's ease with himself and others and his good heart; for my father and mother's love for me and each other and my brothers and sisters; for Scott's company on another long drive down to Carolina and back with no arguing!!! no tension!!! just ease! for Bobbi, Steve, and Crystal and our enduring friendship; for safe travels; for Baby's quiet company in the back seat; for the knowledge that I am wealthy beyond measure because I am so richly blessed with the things that matter the most.

Peace.

Family ties............

2008-11-28T17:57:00.007-05:00

My nephew Luke, my younger brother Eric and his wife Tina, and my beautiful niece Alex. One of my favorites things about spending time with my brother Eric and his family is that they all enjoy each other so much. When you're with them, the happiness that comes from that just radiates outward and seeps into your heart and you find yourself just smiling, all the time. It was a Happy Thanksgiving. Good food, good fun, lots of love, and some good old homemade, bluegrass music thrown in for good measure. Add the sweet sound of a little girl's voice singing "Puff the Magic Dragon" with her Aunt Lisa - seems to me that it just doesn't get any better than that.

Hope Thanksgiving was just as good for everyone.

I have a lot to be thankful for - and I know it. Life is good. And family ties are a precious gift that hold us fast when the world around us is going crazy.

Peace.

Jacob and me

2008-11-28T10:48:00.004-05:00

This is a picture of my son Jacob and me at the Cafe Luna in Raleigh during the annual Stevens' family night at the Opera. We were on our way to see "La Boheme", my mom's favorite opera. We had a great time!

Thanksgiving

2008-11-24T11:36:00.011-05:00

If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, "Thank you", that would suffice.
-----Meister Eckhart

I whisper in the night, "Thank you".
I sing in the morning, "Thank you".
I love and I say, "Thank you".
I feel and I cry, "Thank you."
I see the world around me in all its beauty and all its struggle and I pray always, "Thank you."

Peace.

John Denver

2008-10-12T13:10:00.003-04:00

A woman named Kathleen posted a comment on one of my posts from earlier this morning. I went to her blog and spent some time there and was reminded that today was the anniversary of the day John Denver died in a plane crash. I still remember that day. My friend Katy called me to tell me the news. In high school, Katy spent hours and hours listening to me play the guitar (badly) and sing. Most of the songs I sang back in high school were John Denver's. I learned to play the guitar by playing his music.

The very first time I played in public - at fourteen!! - I played at the Sunshine Festival on NC State's campus. I was scared to death and microphone shy so I just played and sang. I didn't speak a word until just before the last song and I said, "I guess you know by now that I like John Denver." I'd played only his songs.

His music introduced me to songwriting. His music introduced me to the joy of singing from the heart. His music introduced me to my greatest muses: love, longing, Mother Nature, friendship, and music herself.

Here is a You Tube video of John Denver from 1976 - the year before I graduated from high school! (Check out the shirt!) I loved John Denver best in his early days when he was goofy and unafraid of being different. Because I was different, too.

I was a horrible teenager. I gave my parents hell!! My mother has always said she doesn't know how any of us would have survived my adolescence without that guitar!! I understood then and continue to understand how my guitar saved me. And because I have always understood how much my guitar saved me, this has always been my favorite John Denver song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_52ob3uVI4

Peace. And thank you, Kathleen from Pennasylvania for reminding me. My memories have been so full today.

My Baby........

2008-10-12T08:52:00.004-04:00

Is this not a face that would melt your heart?

This is Baby.

She's one of the most loving dogs I've ever known. She adores me and thinks I hung the moon!

She's a great friend, too.

Not much of a guard dog - not a mean bone in her body - but she lets me know if there are strangers about (especially strange cats!).

My view of the world...........

2008-10-12T07:52:00.004-04:00

This is my view of the world these days. This is the view from the little deck upstairs on the back of my house, right outside my bedroom. This is what I see every morning when the sun calls me awake. It's very beautiful, especially in the early morning when the sun is rising. I'm on the seaside now, and the sun rises right out my window.

I feel so peaceful here.

I wish it for everyone. Here's peace to ya!

Smart woman......

2008-10-10T14:03:00.003-04:00

From the brilliant mind of Eleanor Roosevelt:

"Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people."

"I can not believe that war is the best solution. No one won the last war, and no one will win the next war."

"In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility."

"It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness."

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

"Probably the happiest period in life most frequently is in middle age, when the eager passions of youth are cooled, and the infirmities of age not yet begun; as we see that the shadows, which are at morning and evening so large, almost entirely disappear at midday."

"Sometimes I wonder if we shall ever grow up in our politics and say definite things which mean something, or whether we shall always go on using generalities to which everyone can subscribe, and which mean very little."

"You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with courage and with the best that you have to give."

"When will our consciences grow so tender that we will act to prevent human misery rather than avenge it? "

IT

2008-10-10T11:14:00.004-04:00

I said, "Take this from me.
It's too heavy to carry
And I don't want the burden of it anymore.
It has weighed me down for so long.
Please, take it from me.
It changes me, it ages me,
It takes away my grace and my peace.
I fail myself because of it.
It does me no good.
It does you no good.
Please, take it from me.
I can hear the cracks it makes.
I can feel the shudder it sends up my spine.
It clings to me like beggar lice from the field.
I hate it. I hate the feeling it brings.
It is cold. It eats up my joy.
Don't you understand?!
Please take it from me.
I don't want it anymore."

I cried and I pleaded.
And then I simply asked,
"Why won't you take it from me?"

And you said, "I cannot take it if you won't let it go."

2008-10-10T11:12:00.001-04:00

"Wisdom doesn't necessarily come with age. Sometimes age just shows up all by itself. "
-----Tom Wilson

Ethan.........

2008-10-10T10:54:00.001-04:00

I absolutely love this video! It's been around for a long time and I'm sure a lot of you have seen it. It's been viewed 19,000,000 times! I go watch it ever so often to just feel good!

Here's to the sheer joy of laughter!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cXXm696UbKY

2008-10-07T13:58:00.004-04:00

Dave Loggins put it into words a whole lot better than I think I could:

"Now this drifter's world goes 'round and 'round and I doubt if it's ever gonna stop.

But of all the dreams I've lost and found and all that I ain't got,

I still need to cling to somebody I can sing to."

That sure is the truth of it.

Peace.

Heckling........

2008-10-05T13:18:00.003-04:00

I played at the 8th Annual Shore Made Festival yesterday. Scott and Clark were my back-up band. We practiced a lot before the Festival, especially Scott and I, as playing folk music on a banjo is not always easy! Scott's a great banjo player, and I knew he'd get it all! And he did! We were all excited about the day and being there and performing as a trio. We did pretty good. We had a couple of glitches here and there but, all in all, we were pleased with our performance. They called us to the stage 15 minutes early, so it was kind of a mad dash there in the last few minutes before we started. I enjoy playing with Scott and Clark so much. It's so much more fun than playing by myself!! And they add so much to my music.

I got heckled for the first time - ever. Even when I played at fourteen and fifteen and I pretty much sucked and I played in front of other teenagers - I never got heckled. And then, at nineteen and twenty and twenty-one, when I played with my friend Patti O'Conner all those times in bars, singing folks songs to drunks - I never got heckled. So yesterday's heckler was a big shock to me. He came down to the front of the stage and yelled at me, raising his arms up over his head and shaking his fists. He had a little boy with him, maybe three years old, his nephew, who copied him and shook his fists, too. I wondered if he even thought about what he was teaching that little boy.

It wasn't about the music. It was a personal thing. It was an act of anger. It was an act of spite, meant to degrade me and make me feel bad. It was meant to do nothing else but make me feel bad. And it worked. I think I could have played anything and he would have done the same thing. The son-in-law of an ex-boyfriend, he was just looking for a reason. Why? Hell, I don't know!! To listen to him, he was yelling at me because of the choice of my last song. But someone else sang it earlier in the day, and I didn't see him heckle that man. And if it was because it was a song that his wife sang - because it was "her song"- if she had been performing, I wouldn't have sung it. Hell! Around here you have to ask permission to sing anything else except your own songs. Like somebody owns the music or something. I don't get it. I don't get it at all. Scott and I just played that song in church last week. We didn't play it to hurt anybody or slight anybody. We played it because we love the song and the three of us play it well together. Period. That's the reason. What is wrong with that? I don't get it. I don't get it at all.

At first, I was mad as hell. It happened during the last song. And I came off the stage and I was so angry, had he gotten close to me, I would have slammed him with my guitar. I wanted to slap him across the face as hard as I could. Or punch him in the stomach. I was so angry. He came back behind the stage and threw out a couple more remarks, but Scott and Clark stood on either side of me and told him, without saying much, to back off. I think a part of me is still mad but not as mad as I was yesterday.

Mostly, it was just a huge disappointment. I've had several experiences now, here on the Eastern Shore, where my music has been invaded - by anger, by hate, by spite, by sadness, by jealousy, by pride. My music has always been a place that I could crawl into and feel a sense of myself unbroken, a sense of my spirit protected - and that sense of un-brokenness and protection has given me the ability to share my music, and therefore a part of myself and my spirit, with other people. Even when the songs I sing are immensely sorrowful, there has always been that part of my spirit that felt wrapped up by the music. These experiences here make me want to not do it anymore.

But, singing is as much a part of me as breathing. Like my sister Emily, music is one of my earliest memories. Music is my oldest friend. I cannot imagine a life apart from singing. I don't know what I'd do without that solace in my life.

So I'll just go on. And in time, the intensity of the experience will mellow. And the memory of it will become separated from the meaning of it and the history behind it. And it will become simply: the memory of the first time I got heckled. For now, though............

Let go. Let God. Get on with life. Get good. Grab the world by the tail and hang on for the ride. It's a rough and rocky place and there are people who come at you sometimes with a mean spirit. But, in the end, this world is what we got. And the next bit of beauty is just right around the bend.

Peace.

I'm so excited.....

2008-10-02T16:06:00.002-04:00

I've got DSL!! I have finally moved into the modern age of computer technology at home! I can hardly believe that my old computer can move that fast. I was skeptical. I was figuring that I'd pay the extra bucks to get DSL and my computer would still move at glacial speed. I was wrong! It moves at a speed somewhere between moving-car speed and maybe a jet-ski-like speed. It's great. It actually stays connected!

I hope I get email. I've gotten out of touch with my email buddies since I moved to the Eastern Shore because trying to connect and stay connected with dial-up became a painful process. No more! So to anybody out there who might want someone to converse with by way of email, I'd love to converse!

So be expecting a bit more consistency with my blog! I can get to it, stay with it, and actually add pictures and stuff without it taking up an entire evening and a chunk of what little sanity I still have intact!

Peace.

Politics.....

2008-10-02T11:19:00.006-04:00

I've been trying to keep my political cards close to my chest so as not to offend anyone I might offend by having my own feelings about things and people and choices and all. I haven't wanted anyone to lose sleep over who I might vote for. I talk politics a little with my banjo teacher Bates and his lovely wife, Jody. I see them as being wise and connected to the bigger picture and cool, in the way an almost 50-year-old hippie-wannabe would see folks like Jody and Bates as cool. They are cool. So I don't mind hearing what they have to say about the politics at hand. It either reaffirms what I'm thinking to date OR it makes me think a little harder about what I'm thinking to date, depending. I talk with my son Daniel about politics, too. He's more actively involved and on top of things than I am. I believe everything he tells me because he's my kid and he's a good one. I don't mind leaning in the same direction as he leans being I figure he gets his leanings from his mom.

I talk a little bit of politics with my boss, Dr. Scott. Mostly we rib each other, but in a good way. He likes to poke fun at what he thinks are my obvious "bleeding heart liberal Democratic" tendencies. One of the ways he likes to tease me the most is to tell me that I sound like a Republican! I'm not a Republican, by the way. I am a registered Democrat. But let me tell you the story of how I got that way:

I registered to vote for the first time in 1979 as Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan were getting ready to run against one another. In North Carolina, you can't vote in the primaries as an Independent - you either have to be a Democrat or a Republican. So I was trying to decide how to register. I'd taken a poli-sci class and learned about our country's political parties in college, but, basically, I pretty much had no clue what it all meant. My father is a Republican. My mother is a Democrat. At that point in my life (I was 20), I kind of aligned myself a little bit more with my dad, for some reason. I think mostly because he loves music and is a huge procrastinator like me. So I was thinking I would register as a Republican - to be like my dad. I mean, that's not such a bad reason, right? Think of how many other people have done that........

The night before I was going to register, we had a little get together at our house. I was living with several other people in a big old house outside of Boone. So we were having this get-together and I was telling a friend of mine - Lee Carter - about how excited I was about registering to vote the next day. So he asked me how I was going to register. And I told him I was going to register as a Republican (I didn't go into any of the explanation about my dad and all......I was afraid I'd sound like a kid and Lee was older and intimidating). He looked me right in the eye and said, "Hell girl! You don't make enough money to be a Republican!!". So I registered as a Democrat. I was afraid I'd have to show proof of income or something!

That's no joke. That really happened.

I was incredibly bummed out when Jimmy Carter lost his bid that next year for re-election. I liked Jimmy Carter. I thought he was a good president - in the way that a 20-year-old, non-TV-watching, mountain-climbing, vegetarian, hippie-chick, bartender/cook/waitress thinks someone is a good president. By the way he presented himself. I mean, I liked the things he seemed to believe in and wanted to try to do.

As the years have gone by, I've been glad I registered the way I did. Had I registered as a Republican, I'd have probably jumped ship a long time ago and switched sides anyway. I was so bummed out after the whole Jimmy Carter thing that I didn't vote again for awhile. I became apathetic, like a lot of Americans. During the last election, I got pretty riled up. And I kept after my patients to "go vote, go vote". I asked a local elections board official to send somebody to stand in front of my office and register folks coming in and out. I was working in a county in western North Carolina that had been particularly hard hit by the economic dysfunction of the country. Supported almost entirely by the furniture industry, our county had seen massive lay-offs over the previous two-years. A huge number of folks in the county were unemployed. And almost all of our patients were on Medicaid. It was a mess. The county was a mess. The people in the county were a mess. And anger was rampant. My boss was angry. The office manager was angry. Almost all of the patients were angry and confrontational.

The county overwhelmingly voted for "four more years". I was so stunned, I almost had decided to give up voting again. Daniel had the same feeling. He couldn't believe his vote didn't change the outcome of the election.

I have decided that I will vote. And I'm an Obama supporter. I will be glad to explain why to anybody who wants to ask me why. My reasons, you will find, are not so much politically based as they are based on my own personal feelings about all sorts of different things. I don't apologize for them. They are my feelings and I have good strong reasons for them. At least in my own mind I do.

Plus I just can't seem to bring myself to vote for Sarah Palin as vice-president. I know, I know - it's a presidential election BUT I think now it's becoming about more than just who we elect as president. All of sudden, the country is becoming fully aware of the implications and the ramifications of who the vice-president is going to be. I'm thinking John McCain might have made a really huge mistake. That's just my own opinion. My own thinking out loud. Having Sarah Palin for vice-president would certainly give us four good years of laughs. It's already started and sometimes it's funnier than hell!! But I think about what would happen if......... and it's an "if", I realize that but - just think - IF some madman takes John McCain out (or a heart attack or melanoma or a car wreck), as smart and as strong as she is, I don't think Sarah could keep us all together. Look at the division that's already occured! I don't think she could do it. And, more than any other time in my short life, I believe we're in a time where we all need to be together.

Reminds me of a song from the sixties! I swear I should have been a hippie!

Enough on politics. Peace to ya!

Things that matter.......

2008-09-15T13:07:00.009-04:00

It's amazing sometimes how profound things can come to you in small ways. How big realizations sometimes are actually the smallest of things. My mind has been working in fits and starts lately - sometimes so overly active I can hardly stand it, and other times in a dreamy, sleepy haze. It's funny to me that I've had some startling revelations in those dreamy, hazy hours.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the things that really matter. In the end, does anything really matter at all? In this crazy world, in the frenzy of this life-long dance, are there things that matter the most? Should I be focusing on those things? Should I be setting aside my worries about all those other things that might not matter at all?

I'm realizing that the answers to those questions - for me - are "yes", "yes", "yes" and "yes"!! I catch myself some days, worrying about things that seem so big to me and so important - those are days when my mind is most likely working too hard and spinning like a top on a slick surface. When I slow down, breath deep, wipe away the tears of anxiety, and let go - let myself drift - I see how small they are sometimes, or I see that I am not connecting to what is most important.

So what is important? I've been learning, and will continue to learn I'm sure - that "things" are not very important at all. "Possessions" can be lost so quickly. My most powerful lesson in this regard came when I lost my house in Morganton. I actually didn't lose it. I had to sell it to keep from losing it. It was my first house. I worked my ass off to save the down payment, to pay the second mortgage off in two years, to paint and fix and claim that house as my own. In the end, I had to sell her and let her go. It hurt. And I grieved over that for a long time - but, in the end, I still have shelter. I still have a home. I am still the person that I've always been.

I've squandered a small fortune in the past ten years on "things". I wish I hadn't but I did. I am seeing that the THINGS that are important are minimal - it is the love of family that is important; the ties that bind, the links that stay no matter the time, the conflict - those that you love because they are your history, part of the blood that pulses through you and keeps you alive.

I see, too, that it is the strength and sheer power of faith and hope that can sustain us through trial after trial after trial. The love we have for God, the love we have for one another, the love God has for us. We hold it dear, carry it like a shield, and are brave enough to continue on.

The ability to share the sweetness of laughter and the salt-water relief of tears are incredibly vital - if you doubt that, sit down and talk for awhile with someone who has lost the ability to cry! it's a dreadful thing to lose.

The sound of music is important. Music matters - the notes that touch the very soul then resonate and vibrate inside long after the notes have faded and silence or chatter have taken their place. Where would I be without my music? Where would any of us be? Almost all of us have it - and if we don't, someone should help us find it, it is so important, music is. Rap, pop, opera, funk, punk, rock, bop, jazz, reggae, folk, fast, slow, full, sparse - it doesn't matter the type really - we are all called and touched by some form of it. We are all followed by an ongoing soundtrack. It rings in us. It defines us in ways that nothing else can.

Having someone in your life with whom you are truly and powerfully connected - ah!! that's something worth fighting for, something worth seeking. I've learned that it doesn't have to be a lover or a sweetheart (though the touch of a lover or the kiss of a sweetheart reaches a part of the heart that only the lover can). What is important is the connection - strong, true, right, powerful - a dear friend, a beloved child, a cherished sister or brother - those connections will hold you up when darkness comes. Those connections will sit at your side and never leave. Those connections carry a part of your very essence that will continue on long after you're gone.

By way of the things that matter, I am learning how beautiful the world can be. I remember the wonderful years when my children were small, when I saw the world through their eyes, when I saw the world again with the eyes of a child. And it was so beautiful, so amazing, so full of wonder. I am seeing the world in that way again in recent months. Seeing so many beautiful things. I have been spending a lot of time with a man who has a sweet, gentle, tender spirit. I watch him watching the world. I see the look of wonder on his face when he looks at the world as a child would. I follow his gaze and then follow his example, and the beauty is so clear and evident to me. It is such a joy to see and feel beauty like that again - hummingbirds and butterflies and my cat stalking a bug in the grass; the invisible movement of the Spirit through one person to another when the choir sings; the pink and purple glow that precedes the sunrise and follows the sunset.

I think being able to SEE like that - I think that matters, too. While the candidates roar and rage about one another, spouting out about how good, the one and bad, the other; when the economy continues to crash and burn; when murder and suicide attack right down the street and lay claim to someone I might have just seen yesterday; when drugs and alcohol eat away at the lives of people that I love and I am powerless to stop the decimation - oh, I believe, in my childlike heart, that being able to smile at the sweetness in the brown eyes of my dog Baby or marvel at the rush of joy I feel slipping my hand inside another's; I believe seeing and feeling the little pieces of beauty and grace all around - those things matter. Those things will save us somehow.

Peace.

2008-09-02T15:22:00.006-04:00

Fall

Fall Fall

Fall

Fall is coming....... in the early morning breeze, I can feel autumn whispering into the back of my neck and across the skin of my shoulders. The time is already changing and darkness is coming on earlier. While the colors are not changing yet in the marsh, there are different flowers blooming in my garden now, and the summer flowers are fading. The kids returned to school today - a new year, a new start, time advancing ahead of us with our children in tow.

I feel a pull toward the mountains as the fall comes on. I don't believe I will ever grow away from that pull, no matter how far I go or how long I stay away. The change in the air calls me back to the mountains. Fall days were always my happiest - the days I thought the most beautiful.

The geese are coming over the marsh every day. Most days, I hear them both morning and evening. I am amazed and thrilled that I am again in their flight path. They flew over my house every evening in Morganton, fall and spring, on their way. And now they are here, flying over every day. I don't know as they are on their way anywhere. Maybe they live here year-round? Like the folks from New Jersey, they've decided to stay? I guess I'll have to wait for winter to see if they are stay-heres.

On the Eastern Shore, there are two kinds of folks - "been heres" and "come heres". I suppose the geese would officially be "come heres", which makes me feel much better about being a "come here" myself. (And nobody has to worry about me messing up a golf course!!) For all their trouble, the geese do sing a beautiful song - one that I never have tired of.

I am very happy these days. Not happy-la-la-happy. Not goofy-giggly-happy (though I can get to gigglin' pretty good here lately!). Mostly at-peace-in-the-bone-content-in-my-own-skin-happy. Peace in the bone. Sounds like a song coming on.

Peace in the bone to ya.

If You Stay........

2008-09-01T16:02:00.004-04:00

I posted the lyrics to this song in the lyrics of the day section. It took me days to find out who wrote it. The link below is a video of Heidi Talbot singing it.

I hope it'll work. If it doesn't and you have the time and the inclination, you can paste this link into your browser and try to get the video that way or just google Heidi Talbot and it'll come up.

I think this is a beautiful song. I stumbled upon it accidentally. And have listened to it a hundred times since.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=haFgm3IhNm0

Pure joy.......

2008-08-05T17:46:00.002-04:00

Even when I am scared to death, singing is pure joy to me. I have been so very blessed to have my old guitar and my voice (even when it does shake!!) and a longing to share my heart with the world through my music. This is from the Swannanoa Gathering last year. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hlf_qU7RXQ

Peace to you.

Home again.......

2008-08-04T11:28:00.004-04:00

I am home from the Swannanoa Gathering and back to my sweet house in Willis Wharf. This was my thirteenth Swannanoa Gathering. In those thirteen years, I've only gotten homesick twice. In the summer of 2004, Jacob went backpacking in the Sierra Nevada mountains in California and was gone for a month. He was 16. It was the longest I'd ever been away from him in our lives together. I was very homesick that summer at Swannanoa and ready to leave before the week was out. I was ready to be home so that he would be home!

The second time it happened was this past week. The intense part of it was short-lived and came on the fifth day (no matter where I roam, I always get a pull toward home on the fifth day away. I don't know!? I don't understand it either!). But during the whole week I was there, I had a longing for home - my home here on the Eastern Shore. It feels good to say it like that - "MY home here on the Eastern Shore". The transition has finally happened. It was a long time in coming. I didn't think I'd ever feel like this was home.

I arrived home yesterday afternoon to find beautiful canna lilies blooming in the garden. The site of the water, the marsh, the birds, the sun and those canna lilies just took my breath away. My yard had been freshly mowed and the garden trimmed. All the birdfeeders had been filled. The floors were swept clean. The plants had all been watered. There was a bouquet of fresh cut flowers on my kitchen table and another bouquet of white roses in my room. Two pounds of steamed shrimp were waiting in the refrigerator. And a sweetheart of a man was there to greet me, just grinning, eyes sparkling.

I keep pinching myself, wondering, "Is this is real??!".

I walked out to the flower garden this morning and leaned in to smell the canna lilies. Then I promptly sneezed full force! I do believe it's real.

My friends at Swannanoa tell me that I look disgustingly happy! And they all joined in on the celebration that "Yes, I am!". We sang and played and laughed and giggled and talked and shared meals together. And I was surrounded by such a feeling of peace and happiness. Joy. Love. Contentment. Satisfaction. And I've started four new songs (not just one!! FOUR!!) giving me wonderful new insight and confidence - that I don't have to be miserable to write good music. Sometimes the sweet things in life can be just as strong a muse.

Life is good.

Peace all.

The Big Move.....

2008-07-21T12:06:00.003-04:00

I moved - again. I survived it, despite the heat and the trips back and forth from Homeplace to Willis Wharf that seemed like they would never end. Despite the incredibly sore muscles (there's not a one in my body that doesn't ache!!) and completely worn out back!! My piano survived the move in the back of my friend Drury's truck. And Baby, Jericho, and Buster (the cat who used to live in a tree but now lives under the porch) all survived the move as well. It's been years now since Buster and Jericho lived with neighbors nearby - and Baby never has.

I am in a new/old house, in a new community, with new neighbors and a new outlook on life. I have air conditioning!! In the blazing heat and humidity of this summer, I am completely enthralled with my new air conditioning! This is my third summer here on the Eastern Shore and the first time I've had air conditioning!

The very best thing about the new house is the view. Soon, I'll post a picture of the view. It is so beautiful. I am on Parting Creek. The water rises and falls quite dramatically with the tides. And so there is a rhythm to my life. A very slow pulse that I can feel and see. An ongoing cycle. Something so soothing and so powerful at the same time. I feel its pull. I can sense the coming in and the going out before I know for certain which is happening. The cycle of the tides somehow connects with my own inner cycles of rising and falling, coming in and going out.

Sitting on my back porch, I have seen cranes, gulls, ospry, ducks, geese, herons, and hummingbirds. I have heard sounds - bird songs and night calls - that I don't recognize yet. But I can sit out on the porch in the dark or wander down in the back yard at night, and there is not a frightened bone in my body. I've only been there a few weeks and already I am at home.

I find myself tasting a sweetness in life these days. A sweetness I haven't known before. Is it middle age and the blessed and elusive wisdom that comes with it? Is it peace come stealing slow? Is it God here with me? Is it the breath of angels? Is it the tide? Is it love?

It is all of that and more............

Peace.

Can You Love Me at All?

2008-07-01T10:14:00.003-04:00

You came to me on a rainy night with all your hopes and all your dreams.
We talked of life and all we'd lost, all the heartache that we had seen.
You said you're not afraid of losing.
You're not afraid to dive right in
But, for me, it's deep dark water and I can't swim.

Can you hear my voice singing?
Can you hear my heart call?
Can you hear the fear inside me?
Can you hear me at all?

You touched my face with a gentle hand and you asked for more than a kiss.
And the fighter that I hold inside, she stepped right up and raised her fists.
Well, for you, it may be easy to give yourself right from the start
But, for me, it's not that simple - it's my heart.

Can you fight through my defenses?
Can you fight through my walls?
Can you fight for all my goodness?
Can you fight for me at all?

I would ask you for your patience with this wild heart of mine.
I don't believe that I am broken - I need time.

Can you love me through my winters?
Can you love me when I fall?
Can you love me through my anger?
Can you love me at all?

Will you love me through my winters?
Will you love me when I fall?
Will you love me when I'm angry?
Will you love me at all?
-----Yours truly, Can You Love Me at All?

Quote......

2008-06-28T04:50:00.001-04:00

"A lot of people are afraid of heights. Not me, I'm afraid of widths."
------Steven Wright

Made me chuckle. I have to face a lot of scary widths in my line of work!
Peace.

Harvest.............

2008-06-26T09:37:00.007-04:00

They're harvesting the winter wheat out at the farm these days. There's a coat of fine, golden dust on everything in my house. I hear the sound of that big machine in the mornings before work and in the evenings when I come home.

I was watching the combine making its way up and down the fields as the sun was starting to set. The farmer harvests the way I mow that big old yard, changing directions sometimes, and working one side of the road for awhile, then crossing over and working the other side, then back across - a change of scenery, I guess. I was thinking that there's probably something pretty zen about driving that combine up and down those fields. In a big kind of way. You know what I mean? Like the way painting a wall is zen - just on a huge scale. I hadn't thought about mowing the yard as being a zen type of experience before. Mostly, I think of it as hard work!! Especially in this blasted heat! But, now that I'm getting ready to move away from the farm and the big yard, I'm thinking that it's not so bad. In the way that such things are not so bad. Hard work, yes. Physically demanding, yes. (It's a really big yard!). But, in doing that work, there's a place that the mind can go and be rested.

I wonder if the farmer has to try not to fall asleep! Or if he drifts off into another place as he goes up and down and back and forth across those fields. I think I'd like that job. Maybe just for a season, just to see what it would be like.

I'm going to miss the wheat fields. They were a beautiful sight this winter. In the midst of all the cold air, blue blue skies, and bare trees, there were these deep green fields of winter wheat. I had a daily reminder that spring was not far away. And then this summer, they have turned a glowing, burnt gold. When I drive out the road to the Homeplace, it seems like that burnt gold stretches for miles. Even though I can see the road and the trees and the edges of the fields, it still seems like they go on for miles. Ever hear Sting's song "Fields of Gold"?

"You'll remember me when the west wind moves among the fields of barley.
You"ll forget the sun in his jealous sky when we walk in fields of gold."

Back to work now. Charts to do and then packing, packing, and more packing. It is my ability to daydream while doing other tasks that saves me!!

Peace.

In honor of Ireland.......

2008-06-24T10:22:00.003-04:00

My son Jacob is leaving for Ireland today. He'll be tooling around the countryside there for the next nine days! I can't wait to swap tales with him. He'll be travelling to many of the same places that I visited on my first trip there. Ireland is just one of those places that gets into the blood of some of us and never leaves......... I've a feeling it'll do the same to Jacob. The following is a short piece I wrote during my first trip to Ireland. In the Song Lyrics of the Day section is a song that I wrote after my second trip. I'm posting these in honor of Jacob's trip. And him, too! Peace.

3 July 2001 - Ring of Kerry - Ireland

There is a sense of belonging for me here - like coming home, like I have been here before and have been gone away for a long time. As if I have memories from another childhood of running along the edges of the hills here, watching the sea, chasing the breeze.

The color of Ireland will always be for me - green. Green and stone. Green that lends a brightness to the air and a soft, cool place to rest my eyes. My eyes have learned a hundred new shades of green in just a few short days. But I will close my eyes back home and see those greens again - and I will open my eyes and see them new in my own hills. The colors of stone cross the green, bringing a sense of order across the wild. Like the stone fences of Ireland and Wales, the greys and the greens touch one another but they do not blend.

The taste of Ireland will, of course, be the taste of Guiness Stout in a pint glass. Guiness and potatoes. Potatoes in every form. Potatoes cooked in a thick hot soup with leeks and parsley; potatotes fried crisp with just a lingering hint of fish; potatoes boiled with white skins peeling or red skins split; potatoes with gravy seasoned with savory. I will taste the wind of Ireland whenever I put a potato on my tongue and remember the damp, cool air and the rocking Irish sea as I crossed over from Wales to Dublin.

The smell of Ireland will be the smell of my grandmother's kitchen from my childhood memory - the smell that greeted me each time I opened the door to my room in Killarney. How that smell crossed an ocean and thirty-five years is nothing less than a miracle. The sweet sticky smell of beer splashed against old wood and the smell of burning peat in a small, shady low-built house. Ireland will be the smell of the woods after a rain, the smell of leaves washed clean, the smell of water on grass and trees - the smell of green. How can green smell? In Ireland, it does! You walk down the street in the countryside and you can smell the green on all sides of yourself.

And what about the feel of Ireland? What does my skin tell me to remember of this place? Ireland will be the feel of a cool night's breeze blowing across my shoulder as it comes through the curtain and across to my bed. Ireland will be the scratchy feel of wool against my neck, wool that is warm against a chill. Ireland will be the feel of my hair blown in all directions by wind off the sea; the soft kiss of a rain that is not quite falling. Ireland will be the feel of a song rising from my belly up through my throat - the song I can't hold back. How can I keep from singing? And Ireland will be the feel of fingers against damp stone worn smooth by time. If I hold a stone in my hand and let my fingers feel its smooth underside, I will be back in Ireland again. Over and over I could rub until I rubbed it away before I would lose the memory of touching stone and trees and wood and water in Ireland.

And, lastly, what will be the sound of Ireland in the place where I store my memories? The sound of Ireland will be the sound of feet tapping on wooden floors and fingers rapping on tabletops; the sound of voices all talking and laughing at once, rising together in a chorus that carries the lilt of contentment; the sound of voices joining together in song and reverent ceremony at closing time in a little neighborhood pub in Dublin. The sound of the fiddle and pipes or the mournful call of the low whistle; the sound of a breath drawn in quickly at the sight of something so lovely that I know I'll not ever be able to express that loveliness to another; and the sound of a quiet, peaceful sigh that says, "I am happy to be alive." Any time now that I hear that sound - the sound of a contented sigh carrying a smile with it - I will remember walking the streets of Killarney or driving the highways above the sea, and I will remember how it was to be in the hills of Ireland with a song in my throat, a smile on my face, and happiness in the doorway of my heart.

Good news......

2008-06-09T11:18:00.003-04:00

Laurie's staying! Laurie joined our practice last year, right after finishing midwifery school. Our practice is a tough practice - lots of difficult patients, lots of high risk patients, lots of blatant misuse and downright abuse of the system.......... the perfect set-up for burn-out. I can understand the draw of a midwifery practice where folks actually care about what's happening with their own bodies and with their babies...... but she's decided to hang in with us! I am so happy about that. I like Laurie so much - as a person, as a midwife. And I am relieved, too, that all the things I was worrying about are not going to take place!!

So what is it they say about worry being a waste of energy?!

More good news - it's supposed to cool off into the high 80's by Wednesday. Maybe I'll actually get some sleep (as opposed to that sweat-drenched, feverish, restless, weird-dream-filled thing that I've been going through instead of really sleep-sleeping!). Living on the Eastern Shore without air conditioning has made me appreciate the "cooler" days.

My father is 80, my mother is 76. They are both holding their own and doing a fine job of it. I am more grateful for that than anything else these days. They are my cornerstone. They are a huge part of what makes me, me.

Life is good.

Is it pretending or is it coping......

2008-06-08T22:12:00.003-04:00

"Every day I am an actress, with a smiling face I play my part......."

Is it acting or is it coping? I've been thinking about that a lot lately. Bruce Jackson, a doctor that I've known for many years, recently commited suicide. He was new to Boone when I first became a nurse, some 20 years ago. He was very patient with me and took the time to help me learn. He called me into the birthing room on my last day of orientation and told me that I was going to deliver my first baby. I was getting ready to start night shift, and, if a nurse is going to unexpectedly need to catch a baby, night shift is the most likely place for that to happen. He wanted me to catch my first baby with a doc standing right there, talking me through it. He put his hands right on top of mine and showed me how to help ease the baby out. I remember the exhillaration! When the baby came out, a big splash of amniotic fluid came out behind it (as it usually does) and he looked at me with a huge grin and said, "Uh oh! You know what that means!? Once you get your feet all wet, you're addicted." And he was right. I was. That was 20 years ago. My hands still do exactly what he showed me. 1200 babies later, I still remember that very first one.

A couple of years ago, Dr. Jackson asked me if I wanted to start my own practice in Boone. I had been laid off and was working as a nurse - back in the same hospital where I started, doing night shift again like a new-bee. Returning to Boone as a nurse-midwife has been a dream of mine for many years. Since before I even went to graduate school. I jumped at the chance. But things did not go well for us. Dr. Jackson had changed a lot. He had a lot of anger sometimes. It was a side of him I didn't know existed, and it troubled me greatly. We couldn't make it work. So I closed my practice and several months later, after Jacob had graduated, I moved here to the Eastern Shore.

Dr. Jackson was a very good actor. At least in a public sense. I don't know about his personal life. I only know that he struggled with one relationship after another, personally and professionally. I wonder if everyone else was as stunned as I was by his suicide. I had no idea that his soul was that troubled. Should I have known? Should he have acted his part so well?

When people struggle with the darkness of depression, is it wrong for them to smile and live "normally" outside of themselves? Are they acting or are they coping? In my own battles with depression and sadness, I know I have acted well. As a single mom, I acted well for the benefit of my children. They often knew when sadness was sitting on my shoulder, but they, too, learned to act as though she wasn't there. I always knew when Jacob knew my sadness was hanging around again, though. He stayed closer to me, touched me more, and tried to make me laugh. When I couldn't laugh, he worked hard (and always succeeded) at making me proud.

We were acting, maybe, probably - okay, we were. But we were coping. More often than not, I don't acknowledge it as acting - I see it as my way of coping with the heavy weight of Sadness. Moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other, interacting with the rest of the world, smiling -pretending or not - that always seemed to lighten the burden of her.

I have thought about Dr. Jackson every day since I heard about his death. Not obsessively, but persistently. I see his face. I hear his way of speaking. And I keep wondering how a person can act that well? Can carry that much rage and hide it? Though bits of it leaked out, I don't think many of us knew he had that much rage inside. And only rage, it seems to me, could motivate such an act. I wonder how he could hurt his children so. And his mother. And his brothers and sisters. I have been praying and praying and praying.

I reach out my hands. It took me such a long time to learn that one simple thing. Just to reach out my hands when times are tough. I wish that Dr. Jackson could have done the same thing.

Peace to you. Peace to Dr. Jackson's family. In time, I know. Peace to them, too.

Oh, I miss my children.......

2008-06-06T23:08:00.003-04:00

There are some days that I miss my children so much I can hardly breathe. I ache from the inside out. Hearing their voices on the phone is just not the same as being in their company, watching their expressive faces as they talk, reaching out my hand and feeling their warmth...... I know that this is part of life. That children grow and become adult and go off to seek lives of their own making. I know that, at some point in time, I will adjust to this empty nest bit. I wonder if I will always have days, though, that I miss them like this today, this aching.

I keep wondering when it's going to get easier. In her wisdom, my friend Bobbi pointed out to me last weekend that my children were with me for a long time. Does that mean that it'll be eighteen years before this gets better?!

In my defense, I would have to say that I've spent most of the past year and a half trying to adjust to too many things at one time - a new job, a new community, a new culture...... At times, it was so overwhelming that I just had to compartmentalize and focus on one thing at a time. Primarily, that's been my job since that's the whole reason I'm here in the middle of nowhere and five hours away from the nearest family member and eight hours away from my closest friends! I think I've come to grips with that, for the most part, and realized I'll probably continue to long for my mountains until I'm there again.

I am incredibly proud of my sons. They're both doing so well in school and making their way forward in the world. They're both good men. Good-hearted, gentle souls. I wouldn't want them to NOT be flying free now. Guess I just wish they'd fly home more often. Life is just too damn busy.

I went to church with my parents last Sunday when I was home for the weekend. My five-year-old niece, Alex, went with us. She is an incredibly beautiful child, as is her brother, Luke. She sat on my lap through most of the second half of the service. She snuggled against me, and I soaked up her warmth. I could have stayed there in that church pew all afternoon, just holding her, listening to her happy chatter, let her fall asleep there if she wanted to - I'd have held her all afternoon. It was so sweet. Gave me a vision of things that might come in the future, when the boys are older and maybe ready to settle down. I think they both want to be dads at some point down the road. That'll make me a grammy.

I think I'll make a cool grammy.

Maybe that'll be when I stop missing my children so much..... 'cause I'll be missing my grandchildren? Is that how it works? Probably not. I think maybe I'll just have to move down the street from them!! Or maybe just in the same neighborhood!

Peace everyone. Peace to my boys.

In defense of opera...........

2008-06-03T14:29:00.005-04:00

We had our annual Stevens family "Night at the Opera." We had a blast. We saw Madama Butterfly, touted as the "world's favorite opera". My son Jacob and I were both excited about seeing Madama Butterfly. We were wondering if our respective votes would change for our own favorite operas.

The production was well done. Staging was excellent. The set was beautiful. At one point, I leaned over and asked Jacob if he thought the tree on stage was a real tree. It certainly looked real. There were tearful moments in the second act, especially the end of the first scene when Butterfly stands peering out through the screen - all night - watching for her beloved to come. The woman who sang Butterfly's part was a tiny woman (especially for an opera singer!) and fit the part well. The woman singing the part of Suzuki, Butterfly's trusted servant, had an absolutely beautiful voice - even better than the two leads! I loved hearing her singing. All in all, the whole event was great, and I'm so glad we all got to go.

I didn't change my vote for my favorite, though. My favorite opera is still Tosca. Jacob's vote didn't change, either. His remains La Boheme. La Boheme runs a very close second to Tosca in my book.

We had a glorious Italian dinner at Cafe Luna before the opera. Shared a couple of bottles of fine wine around the table. Not a lot of wine, mind you, just the right amount. Had us all feeling warm and mellow - the right mood for a night at the opera. We all had our dress-up clothes on. I'm starting to worry now that someone is going to notice soon that I only have one dress-up dress (since I've worn it a couple of years now in a row!!). There were thirteen of us at the table together. My mother and father (my dad just celebrated his 80th birthday on May 19th and my mom, her 76th birthday was Monday!), my sister Karen and her daughter Jennifer (now 25!!), my brother Jay and his wife Patience (or Patey as we call her), my sister Emily, my younger brother Eric and his wife Tina, Tina's mom Sally, Patey's dad Dave, my son Jacob and me.

It's a cool thing we do every year. How many families get to do something like this? I mean - think about it. We're just an average, middle-class, baby boomer family. Two folks married 55 years now and five kids - three girls, two boys. We aren't rich or high society. We were just raised by a man who has a dear love for opera. And he's passed that down. Once a year, we all put on our fancy clothes and high heels, and we have dinner at the Cafe Luna, a very nice upscale Italian restaurant in downtown Raleigh, then we take the shuttle over to the Arts Center and see the opera. How cool is that? I've come to love this tradition. So has my son Jacob - he saw his first opera at 16! My dad buys the tickets in November, so we plan it months ahead of time.

If you get a chance, go SEE an opera. They are wonderful to listen to when you can WATCH them at the same time. You'll develop a whole new respect and sense of enjoyment for the experience. It is absolutely amazing what people are able to do with the human voice. It is a gift. It is an art.

Chao!

One Child......

2008-05-18T10:30:00.007-04:00

You raise your voices to the Heavens
You look for a way to change the world.
You search high and low to find some answer
You call out to God to be heard.

The tears that you cry are precious
You get weary from all the things you've tried.
If you could change the world this minute
Could you start with one child?

I am one child - can you feed me?
I am hungry and cold down in my bones.
I am one child - can you see me?
I am lonely and longing for a home.
Change the world - be the turning of the tide
But could you start with one child?

So many times I've been shattered
By an angry world I cannot control.
I try to hide the ways that I've been battered
Such a heavy weight for a tiny soul.

I would give you all that I hold dear to me
Just to see the sweetness of your smile.
You can change the world - this much is clear to me,
But could you start with one child?

I am one child - can you teach me?
I am willing to learn and understand.
I am one child - can you reach me?
I am saved by the love within your hands.
Change the world - be the turning of the tide.
But could you start with one child?
Could you start please with one child?
-----Yours truly, One Child

This is a third draft and now has music outside of my head and in the guitar!

Dedicated to the orphaned children of Russia, China, Africa, America, Guatemala, Honduras....... of the world. Dedicated also to all the folks who try so hard to help them.
Peace to you.

The beauty of children......

2008-05-16T16:46:00.005-04:00

They are a window into a place of beauty, of tenderness, of sweetness and light. They are the songs of the world before the world has gone crazy. They are resilence and strength mixed with innocence and blind faith.

They are close to Heaven. They still hear the whispers of angels.

These children gave me a gift. In a foreign land, they opened the windows of themselves, so that I might see - beauty at its truest. In the countryside of Russia, in a small orphanage, abandoned by their parents, they showed pure generosity and random kindness. These were part of their nature, part of their cores, their souls. They were generous and kind without effort or pretense.

They are amazing.

Peace.

Coming soon.....

2008-05-16T10:21:00.002-04:00

Pictures and reflections from my trip to Russia. I haven't been able to work my computer from home - it's refused to be cooperative! I'm picking up my pictures today from the drug store and had a picture CD made so that I can retrieve pictures on another computer! I have some beautiful pictures of the children and look forward to sharing them. My thoughts have been detained in Russia. I can't seem to stop thinking about the kids........

It's been a busy week. I'm on call all weekend, with lots of babies due to make their grand entrances, so I have a feeling I may be at the hospital a good part of the weekend. I can write from there.

Peace all.

2008-05-16T10:20:00.000-04:00

Home......

2008-05-12T16:16:00.003-04:00

Back home. Back to work today. It seems almost surreal to me. Like I have been displaced somehow. I can still hear the children's voices and see their faces in my mind's eye. I hear their names - Vanya, Volve, Sasha, Rudic, Ira, Sonya, Velara, Dema....... I can still feel their warm hugs and picture their smiles. They all had beautiful smiles.

It's hard to believe that just the day before yesterday I was still in Russia. Today I am back at Shore Memorial Hospital. I have already brought two new Americans into this world - a boy and a girl. Two children who will never have to worry about spending any part of their lives in an orphanage. Who will probably always know hot, running water and plenty of meat in their diets. Who will be warm. Who will have more than they need.

We do have poverty here in this country, that is the truth of the matter. Somehow it seems to stay hidden behind some great curtain. You have to get behind it to really see it. In Russia, it is everywhere. Russia is gray. Russia is so old and seems so tired. A huge, sighing country.

I worry more about what will happen to this country when the world starts to collapse. We are a country of spoiled brats. We grow up, even the poorest of us, taking everything for granted. When the days come (and they will come sooner than we all expect) of rationing water and electricity and gasoline, when we all have to stop going, going, going - when we have to learn to conserve, when we are all drowning under the mountains of garbage we create - we will not know how to deal with it, no way. In so many other countries - countries like Russia - going without is a way of life, it is no big deal, it is just the way it is. But for us here in America..... we will completely fall apart and we will be the adult equivalents of children having temper-tantrums because they can't have what they want - angry, violent, selfish, bitter. It's a scary thought. It was in my mind the whole time I was in Russia.

These children demonstrated something to me so clearly. I do not NEED anything more. I don't. I have all that I need plus way more. The task that is now in front of me is to learn to stop wasting, to stop wanting, to stop thinking I need, and to cherish all that I have. These children do it. Their generosity was so genuine. They would make something and immediately give it away, without really even thinking about it. With a sweet smile. With a warm heart. It was so powerful.

Peace.

Are you a hippie?

2008-05-12T13:45:00.006-04:00

According to Merriam-Webster's Dictionary........

Main Entry: hip·pie
Variant(s): hip·py \ˈhi-pē\
Function: noun
Plural: hippies
Date: 1965

Definition: a usually young person who rejects the mores of established society (as by dressing unconventionally or favoring communal living) and advocates a nonviolent ethic;
broadly : a long-haired unconventionally dressed young person.

Yup, I guess I'd fit the definition. At least I think I would. Or at least I used to.......

I travelled across the world to serve on a mission team in an orphanage in Russia. The first day we were there, on the way back from lunch, one of our Russian interpreters asked me, "Did you used to be a hippie?"

The last day we were there, just as we were leaving, the regional director said to me, "I want to ask you a question that I've wanted to ask you all week. I hope this is not rude. But, do you know the American movie Forrest Gump?"

"Yes," I said, and smiled - I figured I already knew what was coming.

"You know the girl in this movie?"

"Yes, Ginny," I said.

"Yes, Ginny. Did you used to be like her?"

I guess the "used to be" part must have something to do with the part of the definition that includes the word "young". I guess you could call me an old hippie but I think I'd rather say I "used to be a hippie" rather than that I'm an "old hippie"!

I got a big kick out of it. All the way across the world, and still the hippie in me is recognizable! And I don't smoke pot, wear beads, or smell like patchouli! I don't know what part of me shines the hippiness through, but I think it's pretty groovy that it does.

Peace man!

From Russia with Love.....

2008-05-09T14:54:00.002-04:00

It has been a long, amazing week. I met the most wonderful group of children, very pure and loving, offering smiles once shyness was overcome. I watched several young men pick up a guitar for the first time and take right to it. I watched God at work.

We had no heat, no hot water. We had to scoop water from a bucket into the toilets to make them work. We walked and walked. We ate good food and wonderful chocolate. We did a lot of laughing. We cried a lot, too. We worked long hours back at the "house" at night, getting things ready for each day at the orphanage with the kids.

We are all exhausted. We are all full. We are all grateful. And, truth be told, we all received so much more from the children than we gave. Their generosity was so sincere. I am glad I have been here.

I sure am ready to get home!
Love and peace.

It's almost time.....

2008-05-02T15:45:00.002-04:00

I am journey proud!! I'm ready to go. Ready for the adventure. Ready for the work.
We leave Franktown tomorrow, bright and early in the morning. We'll be in Moscow mid-day Sunday (Russia time) - 4:00 am our time. By supper time Sunday (Russia time), we'll be at Petrovsky and see the place where we'll spend the week. I've seen pictures but haven't been able to paint them into my mind. My mind says, "You'll just have to wait and see for yourself, and then you'll never forget!"

I'm ready.

There's no computers or cell phone service where I'm going, though I've heard there's an Internet cafe-type place that I can visit on Friday afternoon back in Moscow. I hope I'll get to do that. I think it'd be cool to write a blog from Russia.

I'm sure my journal will be full. I'm looking forward to writing it all down.

Peace and love each and all. Keep up the prayers and blessings and know that I appreciate all of them.

My hands.........

2008-05-02T11:48:00.003-04:00

These are my hands. They're good hands. They are my mother's hands and her mother's hands, and my grandmother's mother's hands - passed down to me from generations of women who used their hands to take care of the sick, the sad, the lonely, the child, the mother.

These hands are my hands. They have delivered over 1200 babies. They have played all the songs that I have in my heart. They have played music that has sustained me through all the difficult times.

They have fed my family and soothed my children and expressed my love to other people.

These are my hands. They're good hands.

Peace and harmony to each of you.

A word about grace.......

2008-04-29T16:11:00.003-04:00

"The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn't have been complete without you."
----- Frederick Buechner

Isn't that way cool?

Amazing Grace.......

2008-04-28T21:49:00.003-04:00

I had an incredible experience this weekend - one of those life-changing experiences. It was so amazing that I don't even know how to describe it or explain it. I only know that I am different now. I only know that much sadness has been lifted from my spirit. I only know that I was witness to such kindness, tender care, love, and faith that I understand at the very deepest level of my being that I have seen Grace. Amazing Grace.

I will not preach. I will not try to force the experience on anyone else. I will not try to make you understand it. I will only tell you that God is good. Life is good. I feel peaceful for the first time in a very long time. And that's why I moved to the Eastern Shore!! To find peace. I felt so strongly when I made the decision to come here that this might be a place where I could find peace. And I was right.

And I haven't even gone to Russia yet!! Imagine what I'll experience there!! I can hardly wait. I am so ready for the trip now - so prepared. I guess I needed this weekend a whole lot more than I thought. It's hard to shine a light for others when you're carrying so much sadness and shame inside yourself. I needed to find some wings. And a wonderful, loving community of people held them out to me and said, "Here, girl. Fly!!"

So fly I will.

Gratitude is a wonderful thing. It will change your life - it's changing mine - every day!! (and I'm about as stubborn as any mule you'll ever find!). Thank you all.
Peace.

The things we do for love..........

2008-04-24T08:33:00.002-04:00

I was at the church last night, working with a handful of folks on the Children's Hope Chest Mission team, packing up the suitcases we'll be taking with us on the trip to Russia next Saturday - we've packed 22 so far, 18 more to go. All of the checked bags will be filled with all of the things we're taking to the kids in the orphanages. It's amazing to see all the things that we have to take. And even more amazing to see it being packed!!

While we were packing, one of the women there was ribbing her husband about how long it was taking him to do a task she'd given him to do. It was actually pretty funny, and he took it well. He looked at me and said, "See what I have to put up with?!" My normal response would have been something smart-assed like "Reason # 915 not to get married!" But I didn't say that last night. I just laughed, too. I actually like being around the two of them. I think they have a good marriage and make a good team. Of course, I only see the outside and you never know what things might really be like, but, I really do think they have a lot of love there. And it got me to thinking about the things we do for love. And I've been thinking about that all day. I've been thinking about the thousands of stories I've heard as I've sat quietly and listened to my patients. It never ceases to amaze me the stuff folks get themselves into.

I was telling a friend of mine earlier today that I am a penultimate voyeur. I am always watching. I love to watch! People fascinate me. People's relationships fascinate me. I have found that watching is easier and a helluvalot more entertaining than trying to do it myself. (That's my excuse for today, anyway). But, by watching, I think you do learn. Sometimes you learn things that prove to be incredibly valuable. Sometimes you learn things that'll only get you deeper in trouble in the end!

It seems that so much of the trouble I see stems out of this search for love thing. Sexual love, platonic love, family love. But then, too, comes much good.

This is just for starters. The things we do for love:
We abdicate, adore, anger and agonize. We bite, bitch, beg, borrow, bicker, and berate. We conquer, chastize, chase, captivate and coerce. We demand, demean, degrade, and dictate, but we also delight and dedicate our whole heart sometimes. We examine things in detail and extract great joy out of small things. We fuss and fight and forgive and forget. We gyrate, gesticulate, gawk, and gaze in wonder. We hold, help, and seek harmony, but we also harbor resentment and pass down hate (hate and love are brother and sister, sometimes twin faces on opposite sides of the coin). We idealize and idolize and internalize. We justify and jeopordize and juxtapose our own spirit with another. We kick and kill and kiss and keep the secrets of our loved ones close to our chest, guarding them with our very lives. We lie, lay, languish, and long. We make war not peace. We make love not minding about morality, mortality or mystery. We neglect: ourselves, our health, our children, our wallets, our bodies, our minds. We pursue passion purposefully without preparing properly. We pray. We preach. We project and protect. We quiet, quake, and quicken at the sound of our lover's voice. We rescue, respect, redeem, and rejoice. We screw and screw and screw (even if we don't want to! because it's required somehow. I find this to be particularly true with young women - they give it up, give it out, hand it over - not even knowing that what they are offering is more precious than gold and as unretrieveable as a soul lost at sea). We sacrifice, satisfy, and soothe. We sing the songs of our souls. We tantalize, traumatize, and tempt. We touch. We trust. We teach. And we thirst for more touch. We understand and underestimate. We unclothe and undermine. We value, victimize and vindicate. We worship, want, whine, win, and whither our dreams for another. We x-ray events and experiences and we turn X-rated if all our examinations of our PG-13 existence find us still seeking that mysterious "thing" that we seem to seek so intensely. We yearn. We become zealous or overzealous or zealousless, if we can just figure out if we're coming or going; if we have it or not; if we've found it or lost it or are still somewhere on the road in-between.

I am amazed at what people do for love (or sex or connection) - myself included. Though the watcher that I am, I am still quite guilty of many amazing and dramatic blunders.

I suppose it is part of the human condition - this need for love, sex, acceptance, intimacy, entanglement. Seems like sometimes we've made a mess of it. But then, at other times, when I am with those people and couples that challenge my jaded way of thinking - then I see the beauty in the midst of the madness. There are lots of folks I know really - that show me that beautiful side - my mom and dad (55 years married and still counting), Jody and Bates, Kristen and Charles, Laura and Bill, Bobbi and Steve, Laurie and Clark, Tom and Virginia, my brother Eric and his wife Tina, my friend Jon and his wife Kathy (though I've never met Kathy, I know that Jon loves her - it's as plain as the expression on his face when he talks about her!! one of my favorite things about spending time with Jon is seeing that expression when it comes). My son Daniel and his girlfriend Emily - they are still young, yes, and they have their share of arguements and bickering, yes, but there is something very beautiful in their relationship with one another - something that shines through.

So I will close with this thought (a line from one of my songs): "I would say, in my defense, that I have learned love can go wrong. It can wear you down, it can make no sense, but, in the end, love has made me strong".

Love has made me the person that I am. I have had the great privilege to have lived a life, so far, surrounded by love - friends, family, my kids; lovers and strangers, too, each in their way have shown me love and kindness, tenderness and mercy. And so, while sometimes I long for love (or intimacy or sex or touch or tenderness), I see that I do have it. And the longing is soothed. I might not ever have that one true great partner - but I sure do have lots of love.
Peace.

So many things.......

2008-04-18T23:45:00.002-04:00

There are just so many things all occuring at the same time. It's hard to even sort out how I feel about all of them, let alone how to write about them. I'll leave at, "Life's a bitch sometimes." That's probably the best summation of all.

It was an absolutely gorgeous day today. I had to force myself to go back to work after lunch. A quick trip to the post office and I was caught up in a heady dose of spring fever and had to draw on every bit of my inmost sense of responsibility to go back inside and work! I wanted to go play - at something!! Anything!! "JUST LET ME OUT!!" The word is that it's supposed to be beautiful again tomorrow and up in the 80's. Then rainy on Sunday but warm. First job of the day tomorrow (if I get to be home and not at the hospital catching babies!!) is to open all the windows and let the fresh warm air in!

There are new windows in the house and more being installed tomorrow and Sunday. (The guys are coming at 8 - so much for sleeping in, even if I don't have to catch babies!!). The new windows are great - no propping them up with sticks, no hoping the screens don't fall out! Just unlatch and lift. It's like........ modern!

Two more weeks till I head to Russia. I went by the church today to pick up one of the guitars that's been donated for us to take over and leave at the orphanage. I wanted to get to know it a little before the trip, let my fingers get used to it. I also wanted to see how much room there was in the case to cram clothes in, rolled up as small as they can get, as the guitar is my carry-on and my carry-on is where my clothes are supposed to be. Kristen and Charles were working away, packing all the things for us to take to the kids. It is an overwhelming, heart-warming site - seeing all those things that people donated. Blankets, crafts, kites, softball bats and gloves and balls, soccer balls, hats, mittens, notebooks, back packs!! The list goes on! Kristen said they were saving room in the checked bags for my clothes and Thelma's (Thelma's carrying on the other guitar), so I don't need to panic about making room for clothes. Thank God! I was having all these visions of having to open the guitar case (a soft case) at the security check and all my underwear flying out!! I don't mind wearing the same pair of jeans for a week, but I will have a clean pair of underwear for everyday!! Hey!! a girl can only limit so much!!

Jacob is well. Daniel turned 24 on Wednesday. I can't believe I have a 24-year-old child! I am praying every day that my knee will carry me through this trip! It's still a mess yet, whatever I did to it. I discovered on Wednesday that I now have to wear glasses when I watch a movie. Bummer. This getting older thing....... man! I'm not liking it a whole lot!

My heart is continually longing for home - in whatever way I can find it. The mountains of North Carolina, the sound of my father's voice singing opera in the shower, the sight of my mother's hands working her knitting needles, the smile on Bobbi's face, Steve's sweet and quiet way, Jacob's full body hugs (he's one of the best huggers in the entire world), Daniel's expressive face and his wonderful playing and singing (in his way that is all his!), the wind through the trees in my front yard, the prayers that Alex prays at church, my friends there. I find myself wondering if I'm ever gonna find the place where I truly belong. And it distresses me sometimes because I often feel like I should have already found it. But may "it" is everywhere. Maybe the most important place to belong is here within my own self and then everywhere I am or go?

If it weren't for family and friends helping me out with this trip, I'd not be able to go, even with a scholarship from the church! I am learning to feel better about reaching out. I'm not Chicken Little anymore and I don't have to do it all myself. I am learning lots of things by making this trip - and I haven't even left yet!!

I'd best get some sleep while there's sleep to be gotten! I'm anticipating the beep-beep-beep at any minute!

Get out in the beautiful day tomorrow so that if I miss it, you can tell me about it.
Peace.

Oh, blessed spring

2008-04-10T14:28:00.003-04:00

There are some days too beautiful for words. After days of grey and drizzle and rain and fog and mist and cold, I awoke to a thick mist hovering over all the fields this morning. All I could see from my window was fields covered with mist. Coffee cup in hand, I crawled back under the comforter and drifted back to sleep - wandering out into that mist in my dreams. Now there is a beautiful warm day, clear skies, and a bright sun. Everything has come alive with the green of it. I have all of the windows open. New windows!! at least in the downstairs of the house. The new upstairs windows will be put in this weekend and maybe even the new kitchen windows. The warm air is seeping in. My bones feel better. I don't want to go anywhere!! (I 've got taxes to go pick up and errands to run and doctors to see). I want to go out and lie down in the grass next to the flowers and be still and get warm.

Today is a day too beautiful for words. But, you know me, I'm going to try to find them anyway.

Peace.

Little stacks of scrap paper.......

2008-04-08T22:09:00.004-04:00

I had quite a weekend this past weekend. One that ran the whole gamut of female-maternal-family emotions. It was like a roller coaster that you can't get off! Up and down. Worried then relieved. Sad then happy. Filled then strangely empty. Certain then confused. I'll start at the start.....

My kids' dad called me at about 5:30 on Wednesday, just as I was heading out the door for a combination open mic/going away party for Michelle, a woman who had moved here about the same time I did. She is a wonderfully funny, intelligent, talented woman. Younger than me, way prettier, and a great stand-up comedienne. She was leaving Friday to move to Chapel Hill, ready for the world and gainful employment! Dan (my kids' dad) called to tell me that my son Jacob was in the Emergency Room in Chapel Hill with a possible appendicitis. This started a series of phone calls back and forth between my son and me, his dad and me, my other son and me, my parents and me, my sister and me, the ER and me...... on it went until well after midnight. He did not have appendicitis after all. He had acute pancreatitis and was one sick and miserable young man.

I worked Thursday (and it got so busy and some intense and sad things happened there) until 3 (but didn't finish up until after 4), rushed home, threw stuff together to head south, cleaned up the house (one of my obsessions about travelling - you HAVE to leave a clean house), and hit the road just before six. It was, of course, raining. And proceeded to rain for the next 5 hours of driving. I talked to my son, intermittently during the drive, but he was doped up to the hilt and sometimes didn't make much sense! Drove straight to the hospital in Chapel Hill and got there a little after 11. Getting into the hospital to see him was a trip!! They took my driver's license and scanned it into a computer, took my picture like a mug shot!!!, and then plastered a sticker on my chest with said mug shot on it. I wasn't expecting to find him in Critical Care. This unnerved me.

I had little sleep the night before, worked my ass off all day, then drove five hours. I was pretty beat. I had one of those mysterious three beer hangovers, too. One you don't expect but get anyway. Jacob was not a happy camper when I arrived. He was upset about the lack of information he'd been given, unhappy about not being able to eat, tired from being in the ER for - get this all you long-wait-in-the-ER complainers - 12 hours!! (He wasn't even in a room during that time! He wasn't even behind a curtain! He was on a stretcher at the nurses' station!! The nurse himself told me that!). And he still felt like crap. He fell asleep awhile after I got there and after we'd talked to his nurse and got some information about what was happening. He was very anxious about missing classes (that how he is). And, like I said, he still felt like crap. I sat by his bed and watched him sleep and wondered at how so much time has gone by so damn fast. I thought, too, about how beautiful my children are - both of them - to look at, to know. I still can't believe I had anything to do with that!! I can hardly believe I'm their mom!

So bottom line, he's much better now. He was released Friday evening. He had nothing by mouth for two days, then they gave him liquids at lunch, then a cup of ice cream, then for supper macaroni and cheese, boiled carrots, and garlic bread (my God!! it's an epidemic!! this hospital food thing!). No pain thirty minutes later and he was booted out the door! From critical care to the front door to WALK back to campus! And discharge instructions?!! These were his discharge instructions in their entirety - "if you have pain, fever, or vomiting, come back to the ER." That was it!! TODOS! Nothing else. Not even "see your doctor next week." Lord, what were they thinking!! And, to top it all off, THIS is one of North Carolina's premier medical centers!! Yeah, right! Makes me very proud of our little hospital here on the Eastern Shore.

So that's my rant on that. I was furious. I was frustrated. I was scared for him. (I was not there when they discharged him - I would have asked a lot of questions. He's 20. He just wanted out!).

I realized, during the experience, that the letting go has already occured. I know that probably doesn't make much sense but, to me, it does. I mean, I'm still working on letting go. Moms hold on a bit longer (though his dad is a holder-on-er, too). But my son has moved further out than I had let myself understand. And it was an emotional thing for me. I mean....... I really DO have an empty nest now. It's permanent. It's not that I didn't know it before. I just didn't KNOW it before.

I drove from Raleigh back up to Emporia on Saturday (halfway home) to meet with the rest of the mission team making the trip to Russia. There are 20 of us going. There are 11 going to the orphanage in Chentsy and 9 going to the orphanage in Petrovsky. I'm on the Petrovsky team. Four of us on the team live on the Eastern Shore, four live in Danville, and one lives near DC. So it was the first time we'd had the chance to meet each other face-to-face. It went well, I think. It ought to be an incredibly neat experience, sharing this time and this work with this group of people. I'm looking forward to it. We met at a United Methodist Church in Emporia. A group of the women from that church fixed a luncheon for us. And they had pens and pencils on the table for us, and note paper for us to write on, and a stapler and other office supplies. I got a kick out of watching them get our lunch ready and appreciated their warmth and hospitality. But there was something about those little stacks of scrap paper that just moved me so, almost to tears. It was so thoughtful.

After the meeting, I drove back to Raleigh and scrubbed myself up to go out to the Arts Center with my mom and dad for an evening of Italian Opera. The North Carolina Opera company put on the performance. Their orchestra is amazing. The soloists were outstanding. They sang my mother's favorite aria, my father's favorite aria, and my favorite aria. I was sitting there in between my mom and dad, looking from one to the other, and listening to that incredibly beautiful music. And I was thinking about how ill my son had been and how blessedly quick his recovery was coming. And I was thinking about my mom and dad and how precious every moment I have with them has become. And I was thinking about going to Russia and meeting these kids in the orphanage and trying to be a disciple (me - little me, who I thought had so little to offer - I'm going to be able to try to be a good disciple), and then I got to thinking about those little stacks of scrap paper. Then it started. That crying thing. That MOM crying thing. I cried those tears that moms cry. You know, the ones you cry without letting anyone see you crying them. The ones that are made of silver and gold and pure love. The ones that the angels catch before they ever touch the ground. The ones that come from inside your heart not inside your eyes.

I spent several hours with Jacob on Sunday. He's still very tired. Still a little leary of any hint of pain. (It's horrible pain, that pancreatitis stuff). He's a little pale and he's lost weight (and he was already slender!). But he's going to be alright, and that's what matters. That was the hardest leaving to drive home that I've had since I've lived here on the Eastern Shore. I just wanted to stay for awhile longer. Hang out with him. Have a couple more good meals at my mother's table. Sleep in my mom's sewing room, and feel that wonderful relief from the homesickness that I get so often.

Baby, my sweet dog, kept me good company. It was almost like she knew some kind of something was happening. Every little bit, she'd lean her nose up between the two front seats and nudge me just a little. Just letting me know that she adores me no matter what. Dogs are cool that way. They know when you need some extra loving.

I've been battling with my computer for days now and I'm coming to appreciate why some people smash their computers into small pieces with sledge hammers. I had visions of doing just that last night as I was headed to bed. Could imagine the whole scene with great delight. Fortunately for the computer, I cannot afford a new computer or even a computer repair right now, so my computer is safe. (But just for now, you piece of junk!).

Enough of my ramblings for now. Best try to get this onto the blog. Wish me luck. If you see me out running the road with a sledge hammer in my hands and a wild look in my eyes, you'll know what happened!

Peace, each and everyone. It is a long journey - this road to peace. I hope to run into you along the way.

One of Jacob's poems.....

2008-04-02T13:41:00.001-04:00

Boating

They are looking down through the glass-bottom boats of heaven
Ignoring the echoing sounds of serenity,
The people and peace of paradise.

They are staring downward with content, longing
To pass the time before forever.
They are hoping to find answers in what they watch,

They are drifting through the fields of Elysium,
Oblivious to the oblivion that surrounds them,
Focusing instead on Earth below,

Just as the rest of us, us still on Earth
Often find ourselves gazing skyward,
Our eyes directed towards the heavens above.
-----Jacob Perry

Recording.....

2008-03-31T14:39:00.004-04:00

I went into the studio last Thursday and recorded two more songs. Fred is so easy to work with and the whole process just becomes fun and exciting! I'm always a little stiff when I first get started and sometimes my fingers go in the wrong direction on the guitar or my timing is off or my voice is just a little bit off kilter. But, usually, once I get going and get warmed up and get a good dose of Fred's enthusiasm and encouragement, I get better and sound better and play better. Neither of the two songs that I recorded on Thursday was easy. The challenge of the first was to sing it with as much expression as possible so as to highlight the vocals and the lyrics and pull away from the monotony of the guitar part (adding other instruments will do that even more so, but I really wanted my voice to be able to do it the most). The challenge of the second song was to keep the timing on the guitar and the action of my fingers (which strings were picked in which order) consistent and right on it.

Fred made me a rough mix of each of the songs and I think I met both challenges. I'll have to listen through another twenty times or so to be sure. He also made me a rough mix of the three songs that my son Daniel played the bass and djimbe on. They sound so great!! Especially the djimbe!! And his timing with both the bass and the djimbe is so in sync with mine! I had to call him up and play the CD over the phone for him! I think it'll be a really good record when we get it done. I decided to take my time on it. Do a little at a time so as to spread out the cost and the energy; to really think through all the songs and get a vision for each one. I'm hoping it'll be a 2008 release!! But we'll see.

I am very tired today and over-worked and sleep-deprived. I am looking forward to getting off work this evening, heading to the grocery store for a six-pack of cold beer and the fixins for chicken and rice, then home to unwind and decompress. Work has been so busy. And a bit crazy, too.

It'll be good to crawl into my bed tonight. I was very cold early this morning when I got to go to sleep for a couple of hours. I'm putting the extra quilt back on the bed tonight and filling up the hot water bottle, too! Make myself a nest and crawl in.

Only five more weeks until I head to Russia. I'm getting very excited. A little nervous, too, but mostly getting the start of that wonderful feeling I once heard Maya Angelou call "journey proud."

Peace.

Living at the Zoo......

2008-03-28T11:14:00.007-04:00

My house has turned into a zoo. A zoo that I have little control over. I don't know how it happened. I was quite IN control for the longest time but, without my conscious awareness that it was happening, I lost control. I'm pretty sure that the control of the house now lays in the paws of Pete the bitch-from-hell cat (formerly known as Pete the crippled cat - I stopped calling him that because I thought it unfair to label him in such a way that his infirmity defined him and also because his infirmity doesn't seem to slow him down in the least. It certainly hasn't lessened his bitching). Now I've had cats since I left home and dropped out of college at 19. When I moved into my first house (an old mountain house that cost $125 a month to rent), I got my first cat. My dad and my brothers are allergic to cats, so I never had cats when I was growing up. But now I've had quite a few over the past 30 years: Roosevelt, the mighty hunter and master at the art of drooling - pure white, long-haired, green-eyed and very very loving; Frank, Mr. Lazy himself, who spent most of his time hanging out in my potted plants or attempting to turn over the trash can; Earl, the deaf, white cat, very sweet but very stupid (or mildly retarded, we were never quite sure); Moses, an orange and white tabby cat, sweet, calm, lazy, and prone to being attacked by my neighbors' Chow (which is what finally got him in the end); Dixie, a calico who lived in a tree most of the time, she was a tiny little cat and terrified of my dog, who couldn't stand cats and couldn't be bothered with them; Burl, another white cat, he was not hearing impaired and he was a vicious fighter with other cats on the mountain where we lived; Harris and Simko, two brother cats, both kind of weird; Chuckie, another pure white cat and short-haired, Chuckie mysteriously disappeared when my kids went to the beach for a week with their dad (Chuckie was spending the summer with the kids at their dad's house), Chuckie was a riot, loved to play, loved to cuddle, loved to imagine himself in all sorts of attack scenarios (I know this because he attacked most anything, even things that nobody else could see except Chuckie); Pearl, another long-haired white cat, (yes, there was a theme there for awhile with the white cats - I love white cats - Earl, Burl, Pearl, and Chuckie would have been Merle except my kids would not allow it) Pearl was cross-eyed and had nystagmus and was very very strange (she kind of creeped me out), she went to visit with my neighbors one sunny day and moved in; and the old cat...... I can't believe I can't remember his name........ NOPE! I can't remember his name, but he was an old old old cat, nineteen or something, that one of my patients talked me into adopting, he was the first cat I ever had that drove me crazy (Pete being the second), I'd had cats for twenty-five years by then and had never had one destroy my furniture before! he destroyed my couch (it was an expensive couch and I hate that couch because it dumps me out into the floor when I sit on it but still!! I didn't want it ruined!!?), so I gave him to my friend Bobbi and she kept him until he disappeared up the mountain one day, the way old cats and dogs will do sometimes.

Jericho the old cat, a calico, and I have shared our living space together now for 15 years. She has moved with me many times in that fifteen years: from Raleigh location #1 to Raleigh location #2 to Morganton location #1 to Morganton location #2 to Morganton location #3 to the Eastern Shore of Virginia. I worried about this last move and about how she might fair. She actually did quite well, and I can see a spring in her step again. I think she likes living at the farm. She seems to be in good health and she's gotten a helluvalot nicer in the past year (she's been known to bite or claw suddenly and without provacation - I haven't seen her do that in more than a year). She's not all that friendly with her housemates (meaning Pete the bitch-from-hell cat or Baby the low-man-on-the-totem-pole/black lab. ) She gets along alright with Buster the cat-who-lives-in-the-tree, if and when Buster comes down out of the tree. Jericho and Buster both know the secret entrance into the root cellar through the maze of pipes under the house. Pete hasn't figured it out yet or maybe he just can't jump from where the pipes come through the wall down to the floor of the root cellar so therefore doesn't utilize that route into the root cellar which then leads up to the back porch. I looked out the window on the kitchen door the other evening and Buster the cat-who-lives-in-the-tree and Jericho the old cat were curled up together on the dog bed on the back porch. It was a sweet site. I guess they've decided to team up in defense of Pete the bitch-from-hell-cat.

So about this Pete the bitch-from-hell cat? I've never had a cat that bitches at me as much as Pete does. He actually SCREAMS at me. I've had demanding cats before, that pester you and whine whine whine when they don't get their way. But I've never had one that SCREAMED at me before. Example - Pete'll be outside, where he has been remanded much of the time these days because he's such a pain in the ass and he's as bad as Jericho about NOT using the litter box but using the area AROUND the litter box instead. Pete recently ruined one of my good suitcases (one from the set of luggage that I saved an entire summer to buy). So he'll be outside and not too happy about being outside. And he'll whine whine whine at the back door. Sometimes he'll come all the way around the house, crying this mournful pitiful, "nobody-knows-the-troubles-I've-seen" kind of cry - a cross between a Siamese and a Malamute in heat (I know I'm mixing my metaphors here, but - you get the picture, right?). So he'll be crying and crying ..... But when I finally feel sorry for him and go to open the door and let him in - he SCREAMS at me. And he continues to scream at me for the next "however long you want to drag this out" length of time until he seemingly gets everything he wants: fresh food in the bowl (EVEN IF he just ate outside), fresh water in the bowl (even if there's already fresh water in the bowl - "snap to, you worthless human, I want my own fresh water"), the chance to harrass Jericho the old cat by obnoxiously ramming his nose up her backside repeatedly until she rises to the challenge and hisses at him so that he can swat her a couple of times and show her he IS, in fact, bigger even if he does have a non-functioning back leg, useless and unworkable back claws, and, in reality, fear of the old cat herself. He STILL has to try to make some point. Then he screams some more until I pick him up, put him down, pick him up and scratch his neck, put him down, and pick him up again. Then he'll generally bitch some more until I either sling him out the front door or inadvertently turn my back on his bitching long enough that he can sneak up behind me and sink his front claws into my calf at least halfway to the bone if not all the way! He is, by far, the single-most bitching-est cat I've ever met - bar none, not even a Siamese!!

We have a whole complex system for feeding everybody so that everybody gets something to eat but that fighting and arguing are limited and so the dog actually eats the dog food and not the cat food (because if she eats the cat food - her favorite - then the whole crazy process has to start over again!). I have to feed Jericho on the back porch, Pete in the kitchen, and Buster on the front porch. Baby has to stay in my presence the entire time until all cat food has been consumed by cats, then Pete has to go out the back door, Jericho has to come in but be out of the kitchen, Buster is left to fend for himself and generally ends up back in the tree as Pete will make a beeline for the front yard as soon as suppertime is over. Then Baby gets to eat. Then I get to eat. And nothing that I am eating is sacred! Oh, no!! That would be asking too much. I had a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup on the kitchen table the other day, still steaming, and went upstairs to answer the phone. When I ventured back in the kitchen, I found Baby with her front paws up on the table and half of my soup already down her gullet!! (Her gullet was blistered, I'm sure! And it served her right! She got kicked out of the house for the rest of the evening!).

Then we have the whole bedtime ritual........!! I'll save that for another time. Trust me that it is a fiasco as well!

It's a zoo at my house! It's crazy! It's a full time job. It's the nuttiest way to live ever. And it's making me crazy. This cute sweet fiesty little orange and white tabby cat, who survived being run over by a truck, who came back from near death and learned to walk again - that sweet cat that I fell in love with - he has disappeared into the world of testosterone and aggression, and has changed the whole peaceful nature of our home. He's turned into an obnoxious, mouthy, pain in the ass, sorry excuse for a house pet. I KNOW I KNOW!! OFF WITH HIS BULLOCKS - THAT'LL FIX HIM!! We'll see. I'm not convinced that is the entire solution but I'm trying to save up the money to have it done. His original owner (servant) (adopted as he was by the cat not the other way around) was supposed to have had this done before the cat ever ventured into my house. But then the truck accident happened and then the rest of the stuff happened and so I'm stuck with a cat who seriously needs his bullocks removed and a vet that charges more than I can afford just now.

But it won't be LONG!! I keep telling Pete that! "If you don't stop bitching at me like this and if you continue to refuse to let Buster come down out of the tree (I have literally watched Pete lay at the foot of the tree ALL DAY just to keep Buster up there), if you keep molesting the old lady cat (spayed since kittenhood), and eating the dog's food (when she is forbidden to eat yours!!) then I'm gonna have to take you in and OFF THEY GO!! Snip, snip!! I mean it, Pete!!" He generally responds by cussing me out with cat curse words. If you've ever been cussed out by someone in a foreign language - where you don't know the exact words by the general meaning is clear - then you know what it's like to be cussed out by Pete!

It's a zoo. Come watch sometime. I'm sure you'll be quite entertained!
Peace.

2008-03-28T10:12:00.002-04:00

I've seen this expression on my cat's face. Anyone who owns a cat has probably seen this expression before - in some context.

As my friend Katy so aptly put it, "You gotta remember this........ Dogs think they're humans. But Cats, cats think they're God."

Blistering Obsessions

2008-03-26T13:07:00.006-04:00

I watched you holding hands and the little voice, the dark voice,

Whispered behind me, "You don't deserve that. Look! Yes, look! THAT you will not have. THAT?! Oh no no, you don't deserve that."

I looked over my shoulder in indignation and rage at the demon with his whispering, crushing voice

But I had to hide the fear in my eyes.

I wanted my children. I became like a child, calling for its mother,

A mother calling for her child.

I longed for the sense of a complete self, the whole person that I felt in my children's presence

And in the good job I did as their mother

Or even when I didn't, oh how they held me up anyway.

I wanted to discover you and open myself to you.

I wanted to hold your hand and be the painter of stars in your eyes.

I dreamed a thousand different dreams of you and me, holding hands.

But the hand you hold is a hand you dream is softer and sweeter than my own.

You didn't see my hand held out. You didn't see me.

I am the invisible, the unconsidered.

You walked on without a notice of my hands, hoping for touch.

When the voice whispers and the calamity of doubt crawls in,

Slipping into the space between my secret desires and my deepest fears,

I long for the familiar - the soft head of a child against my shoulder,

Soothing my soul, wanting nothing more than that.

I am a normal human, I guess, to want what I know is sweet.

But more often now, I am a woman with passion and love in limbo,

Watching hands being held and hearts dancing in sparks.

Longing like a child for its mother, a mother for her child.

Friends.......

2008-03-20T14:46:00.003-04:00

I know the wonderful gift of friendship. I've been lucky. Life's twists and turns have put many good, strong, loving, kind, gentle friends in my path. I've been extra-fortunate, in that, two of my closest friends are my children. I know not everyone can say that.

And I have great friends through my music community. Friends I count as some of the most dear folks in the world - the guys who help me keep believing that there are good men in this world!

But I've been especially lucky to have had so many fine women add grace to my life.

I talked with my oldest friend Katy last night for about an hour. I woke her up when I called. I had just watched a wonderful film and I felt the strongest need to tell her about it. Despite that long conversation, I never did get around to telling her about the fim. We talked about work, my kids, music, God, cats, food, and the coming of Spring. We've been friends since high school. We have a lot of common history. Our friendship has weathered time, distance, children, marriages, divorces, failed relationships, unemployment, near bankruptcy, illnesses, and the emotional upheavals that accompany all those things. Still the friendship lives on. Still I know she's always there. I know I can call her anytime, even wake her up, and she'll be right there to listen.

I also talked to my friend Bobbi for a long while last night. I told her the whole movie! She listened to every detail. She listened to me go on and on about it. She told me about all the goings-on at work and home and with friends there in the mountains. We hadn't talked in a couple of days so we had to catch up, ya know! We talked for awhile about "good men". She has one. We have that discussion a lot. I was telling her about a conversation I had with Laurie (one of my newest friends and my partner-in-crime at work) about the collapse of a relationship. Laurie was telling me that I "deserved" a wonderful, strong, loving man. I told Laurie I "deserved" to be single!! Bobbi hates it when I talk like that. She loves me and would like for me to find what she has. I understand her feelings. There have been so many things that I've learned and experienced and discovered that I've wanted her to experience, too. That's what friends do. They want good and wonderful things for each other.

When I was driving home from North Carolina on Sunday night, I called my friend Cindy in Tryon. She's running for County Commissioner there! And she just became a grandmother!! So we had a lot to catch up on. I love to listen to Cindy talk. She has more passion about life and all its intricacies than anyone I've ever known. I always hang up feeling filled up. That's another thing that friends do - they fill each other up.

On Monday night, I went to Kelly's Pub to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day with two new friends, Michele and Theresa - the Ya-Ya Sisterhood reinvented!! We had a blast. We giggled and laughed and bitched and moaned and compared notes on all sorts of things. We did a lot of smiling! My face was sore from smiling so much! That's another things that friends do - they bring out the smiles in ya! And the laughter! And the tears and the anger, too, because they're a safe place to cry and a safe place to rage.

I loved this picture because I know, way down deep in my soul, that I will have friends like this. Friends who will know me when I'm old and who will still make me laugh, make me smile, let me cry, let me be myself - warts and all.

They say you got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. I think I'll just hang out with my friends and let the frogs sing in the trees. When the right frog comes along, the women in my life will let me know it. They haven't been wrong yet!

Peace and friendship to ya!

Travelling mercies..............

2008-03-15T18:54:00.002-04:00

Does travelling have one "l" or two? Guess I could look it up. Oh!! I just remembered a very cool invention called spell check!! I spelled it correctly.

Jacob got stuck in Colorado today. I was on my way to Raleigh to visit my parents and planned to pick him up at the Raleigh-Durham Airport at 3:30 this afternoon. He missed his flight this morning and was stranded, almost hysterical with exhaustion and frustration. Between the two of us and the wonders of modern technology (i.e. cell phones), we got him onto a flight tomorrow. He should be back in Raleigh at 2, which will still give us some time to spend together before I have to head back to Virginia.

It's a bad feeling when your child (and I don't care how old they get - they're ever your child) is stranded and bewildered and there's nothing you can do for him or her other than to talk, listen, let the curse words fly free, keep answering the phone, and keep saying, "it'll be alright". I'll be glad when he's back. I'll be glad when I can see his face.

My trip was very uneventful except for the events unfolding on his trip. My drive was smooth, traffic was not too bad, and my folks are both doing alright.

I've got to go get some lasagna. More later......

Memory

2008-03-11T17:57:00.003-04:00

I had a cool memory today. My friends Fred and Laura have introduced me to the web site http://www.pandora.com/. If you've never checked it out - I HIGHLY recommend it. It's the coolest website I've ever visited. I am addicted! I've heard so much great music, and I've been introduced to artists that I've never heard before. Go check it out!! It's amazing!

I wanted to share this site with a friend of mine who works here at the hospital. He and I had a discussion back in January about how hard it was to find good music on the radio these days. About how much trash there was out there plus you have to listen to all that yacking, which drives me insane. So I wrote down the link and some artist recommendations to kind of get him started and took them down to my friend. It was cool - he hadn't ever heard of the site either, so I actually got to introduce it to somebody else!! He got to telling me about an AM radio station that he used to listen when he was working in Kentucky. It was out of a university and was kind of a cross between a student-run station and an NPR station. He talked about how much great music he heard on that station when he could catch just right and tune it in.

And this memory came to my mind so clearly and so powerfully, it was like yesterday.......

It was at Christmas time in 1978. I had just finished my third semester at Appalachian State University and promptly dropped out, much to the profound dismay and disgust of my hard-working parents. My father's rule was our college experience was a one-shot deal and if you quit - that was it, his duty was done and we were on our own. And he meant on our own!! We were welcome to come home to visit but not to live. My father always meant what he said. Always. Six years later, when I returned to college, it was on my own dollar and I found myself wishing I could have had the benefit of foresight.........

I had just dropped out of school and was working at the ski slope on Beech Mountain. I was not quite 20. My father bought me a car!! I was floored. I was so surprised. He certainly saved me from a lot of struggle!! He told me that if I was going to drop out of school and work full-time I was going to need a car. It was his seeing-me-off-into-adulthood gift. It was a 1966 Volkswagon Beetle. It had a six-volt battery, dim headlights, and the automatic defrost was opening the window! Somtimes the windshields wipers worked, sometimes they did not. I loved that car. I had that car for 3 1/2 years. I drove the hell out of it!! I drove it everywhere!! It could go anywhere in the snow. It could go miles and miles on a gallon of gas. It had 135,000 miles on it when I got it, and I put another 135,000 miles on it before an obnoxious rich kid in his dad's station wagon pulled out in front of me on Highway 221 and totalled it. I cried for days. I grieved over the loss of that car.

The particular memory I had today was about the night I drove home to the mountains in that new-old car. I was only in Raleigh at my parents for two days because it was Christmas time and I was working at the ski slope - a busy time at the ski slopes. My mother made me a rust-colored wool poncho that year for Christmas with a hood on it and a big pocket on the front. Very hippie-ish, I loved it. I thought I looked very cool in that poncho (plus it was very warm which I would soon learn was quite important in that little VW for all parts of your body except for your feet - which tended to cook). So I loaded up my stuff and put on my new poncho and headed back to the mountains. It was the first of hundreds of drives I would make, alone, and then later alone with my children, between Raleigh and Boone over the next 15 years. It was that night that I started to realize how much I love to travel. Short distances or long distances, places known or unknown, it doesn't matter to me - I just like the adventure.

When I was coming up the mountain from Wilkesboro to Deep Gap, I got a radio station on that little AM radio that was being broadcast out of Ohio or Kentucky or Missouri - somewhere in that part of the country. It was coming a LONG way!! It was a folkie station and they were playing some great music. Some I'd never heard before, some that was as familiar as the songs I played myself on my beat-up Yamaha classical guitar. It was an absolutely crystal clear night. The stars were blazing over head. They were breath-taking. And I remember, more than anything, that I was filled with the great gift, the great sense of "possibility". I felt like I could do anything, go anywhere, be whoever I decided to be. And there was no hurry in making the decision. Not then. I had time and youth and that lingering adolescent sense of immortality that would stay with me until I became a parent myself!

I remember coming across the mountain and looking back over my shoulder and down into the valley below. The sight left me breathless, overwhelmed, in love with my new home - the beautiful western North Carolina mountains. And the music - that clear, lovely music from the heartland of America - my own personal soundtrack - folk music as ever and always.

I hadn't thought about that night for many years. It was a wonderful, small gift my mind gave to me today. Left me smiling, with an inside smile that's lasted all afternoon.

Pretty cool, huh?
Peace.

Spring Peepers.......

2008-03-09T13:02:00.003-04:00

Have you heard them? I was driving over to my friend Laura's house on Thursday night and had the windows rolled down. I stopped at a stop sign on a back country road and heard the spring peepers singing with all their might. It was the first time I've heard them this year. They sounded ecstatic! They sounded like they were drunk with love and springtime. They sounded like they were overwhelmed with gratitude. They sounded free. They sounded happy.

The joyous singing of the spring peepers and the haunting, ethereal song of the whippoorwill are two parts of nature's symphony I look forward to every year. They are the precursor to spring. They sing her welcome back. I have listened for them now for many years. When I lived in the mountains and the foothills of North Carolina, the singing of the peepers could be almost deafening while the whippoorwill's cry could almost be missed in the spring if one's ear wasn't listening carefully or if one wasn't up late into the night when she was most likely to sing her lonesome song.

Poor little peepers - they came out last Thursday - on a gloriously warm day. The sun had been shining all day, warming the fields and the trees. I walked three and a half miles on Thursday, around the entire perimeter of the fields at the Homeplace farm where I live. (I know how far it is because I subsequently drove my car around the entire perimeter of the fields to measure the distance. No, it's not a SUV - it's a Mazda. My car did not appreciate this much, but my dog Baby thought it was the grandest car ride she'd ever had. She got to stand between the two front seats the entire way round, tongue hanging out, grinning and panting with sheer joy, tail beating the back seat furiously!). Thursday was such a beautiful day. I felt renewed, revived, like I was coming out of a long, heavy sleep or recovering from a long, drawn-out illness. Friday, the cold returned with a roaring wind and sheets of rain. Poor little peepers! I wonder if THEY wonder why they must go through this every year. It's amazing. The peepers and the daffodils - they come out and wave and dance about, praising the coming of Spring. But then Old Man Winter always has to have the last word, and he generally gives everybody a little smack with his chilly fingers, just to remind us all (peepers, daffodils, and me, too) that he is in charge until he decides otherwise.

Just between you and me, though, Spring kissed me awake on Thursday morning. I felt the wisp of her breath across my brow and her sweet kiss on my cheeks, each side, as if in greeting. She is coming soon to stay.

I am grateful for the song of the little spring peepers. It means Spring is coming soon.

Peace.

Eve Marie Carson

2008-03-07T20:51:00.003-05:00

Eve Marie Carson was killed this week in Chapel Hill. She was murdered, shot in the right temple and left in the middle of the street. She was the student body president of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She was a brilliant young woman - a young woman who was destined to be a light in this dark world, to be a gift to all those who knew her. Her light has been put out, the gift she was has been taken away from the rest of us in the world.

I never knew her, but I am moved to tears at the loss of her. It is so senseless. It is so frightening. The world is so damn crazy. Is there no place or no one that is safe anymore? It is beyond anything that I can comprehend.

I think about her parents and I can hardly breathe. How do parents survive a loss like this?

I think about my son Jacob, a sophmore at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I think about how he and all the other students at Carolina must feel, the impact this has on their lives, their ability to feel safe in the world around them.

I have been praying all day. I have thought about this beautiful young woman all day. There is nothing else I can do but pray. Pray and hope. Hope and pray. I lift up this young woman and her mother and her father. Her family and her friends. I lift up all the students at Carolina. I lift up the young woman at Auburn who was also murdered this week, also shot to death. And I lift up her family, friends, and fellow students.

I hold them up to the light of God and pray for protection from violence, for all of us.

I pray for my son Jacob, too. That God will keep him safe.

The long sleep...................

2008-03-05T13:54:00.002-05:00

I went home yesterday afternoon with a bizarre episode of pain that radiated from the middle of my back down through my hips and from just below my belly button down to my thighs. It felt like my insides were going to explode. Being the compulsive nurse that I am, a myriad of things ran through my mind - kidney stone, a twisted ovary, appendicitis, pyleonephritis, colon cancer (I have a serious cancer paranoia), a rupturing ovarian cyst........ the list could go on, but I'll spare you. More than anything, I just wanted to get home and soak in the bath tub. Hot water is my cure-all for everything. That helped a little, but not enough. I figured if I could go to sleep, the pain would magically resolve itself while I was sleeping. And, of course, it did.

The interesting thing was that I went to sleep about a quarter till 6 and slept until 7:15 this morning. I was awakened at about 2:30 by thunder booms and lightening and realized that my dog Baby and Pete the cat were both outside in the middle of the big storm. So I got up to let them in. Baby came right in, but Pete was unwilling to come out from under the corner bush into the rain.

I slept a long time. I don't know why I slept so long. As folks always say, I must have needed it. I don't know why I needed that much sleep. I'm still sleepy today. I feel like I could go back to sleep right now and sleep until tomorrow.

Must be the last lingering vestige of winter hibernation. My body must be holding on.

Personally, I'm ready for spring and working in the garden and walking around the fields as the sun is setting and building a fire in the chiminea to sit beside at night.

This yawning thing, though!! I have yawned and yawned and yawned. Like a new baby or a new puppy. Nap time, I guess.

Peace.

Amazing picture

2008-03-03T16:11:00.001-05:00

I thought this was just amazing.

Daniel and Emily

2008-03-01T09:53:00.003-05:00

Daniel and Emily are coming to visit today! I'm so excited - I can't sit still! I've been cleaning and fixing things up and getting things ready.

It's a big event!

It's a mom thing, I guess, this cleaning every inch of every surface! And a middle-aged thing, too, this becoming such a big event! And a living-in-the-middle-of-nowhere, far-removed-from-family-and-friends thing, too! I can't wait!!!

This is my son, Daniel. Looks like me, don't you think? And this is his sweet girlfriend, Emily. She looks like me, too! She's a red head, so I liked her immediately. She's fair and freckled and she loves my son - so she's GOT to be a good woman!! In all sincerity, she is a good woman - smart, sweet, patient. I took this picture the weekend of the Surviving the Winter party. She spent the weekend surrounded by "the boys" - Daniel, Jacob, Sam, and Eric. And she was right there in the middle of things, not about to be overwhelmed by all the testosterone!

So I'd best get back to work. Dishes need washing and I'm determined to get the kitchen floor mopped if it kills me!! (I hate mopping!!). I've got to make a run to the recycling place and then on to the grocery store to get the stuff to make one of Daniel's favorite meals.

We're going into the studio tomorrow. Daniel's going to play bass, djimbe, and maybe even the mandolin on several of the songs I've already gotten recorded. I can't wait!

So celebrate the day with me! One of my soul mate's is coming to his mama's house for a visit. We'll be playing music and eating good food and talking talking talking! We'll be having a few Guniness, too, I'm sure, to toast the occasion.

Peace and love to you all.

2008-02-28T10:54:00.003-05:00

"Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside sombody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you, too."
-----Frederick Buechner

I'm alright, Chickabee.....

2008-02-28T09:38:00.003-05:00

It's been too late getting home. And you know how I am about calling late. Are you alright, too? The weekend's coming. Then I can hear your voice and tell you about my week and hear all about yours. It's amazing how just the talking across a long distance wire can close the miles between me on the Eastern Shore and you, there in the beautiful mountains.

This working for a living is a hard road sometimes, ain't it?! And my mind is so full that I can't hardly slow it down to sleep. You know how I can get when I get a thing or a song or a person in (on) my mind. But don't worry about me, my friend. If there was anything needin' worryin' over, you'd be the first to know.

Love,
the little thunderstorm

My Own Private Obsession

2008-02-27T01:18:00.004-05:00

In the dazzling dance of my own mind
You have become my own private obsession.
Sometimes tiny and fragile, like a bird
Caught inside the small screened porch.
I move from corner to corner
Trying not to frighten
Wanting to set you free
To see you soar up and out of sight
To hear you singing with joy and relief.
Sometimes you are as beautiful as a spring dawn
New and full of hope eternal, hope renewed
Asking only for eyes to gaze at you
Awe-struck and silent.
I gaze and I gaze and you are
More beautiful the longer I stare at the turns
of your hills and valleys,
your Life-worn face.
Sometimes you are the fleeting glimpse,
The corner-of-the-eye,
The slight of hand.
Here then gone then back again.
I don't know what to do with you.
I hide you inside the arch of my back,
The catch of my breath,
Or the ache of my skin.
You, my own quiet obsession,
My stranger, my mystery.
My lover once-removed.
Distant cousin to loneliness.
Obsessed as the obsessor.
Obsessed like me.

I send this to you (no! not him! no! not her!!You!)

2008-02-26T16:33:00.001-05:00

"Hope is the thing with feathers-- That perches in the soul-- And sings the tune without the words-- And never stops--at all."
-----Emily Dickenson

Age.......

2008-02-26T10:25:00.004-05:00

"Age only matters if you're a cheese." Helen Hayes

Or a whine. Oh, sorry, I mean WINE.

I was watching one of the docs here at the big house (the hospital) reading a stock analysis on the computer in the call room. He was right up, nose-to-nose with the computer. He, literally, almost had his forehead pressed against the computer glass. And I laughed and told him to put on his glasses! This lead to a brief discussion about the ways that age affects us. The most obvious and common being in the eyes. And around the eyes, too!

I had just had a very similiar discussion with one of the nurses because I was trying to read something in small print and just couldn't do it! I was saying the same thing to myself that I said to the doc - wear your glasses! I mean, for goodness sake, just put the things on! I don't wear my glasses like I ought to. They drive me crazy. And I'm constantly taking them off, putting them on, taking them off. And I refuse!!!! absolutely refuse!!! to wear one of those chains around my neck! We started talking about the things that change with age. We talked about failing eyesight and aching hips and knees; short-term memory loss and diminished stamina; decreasing appetite but increasing weight (especially around the middle); less tolerance to hot and cold; different patterns of sleeping and dreaming. It all starts to change - and just when you finally have gotten used to it!

But there are other things that come with age in which I'm finding great comfort and some peacefulness. I actually like the gray hair. I don't have much yet, and maybe it'll be different if I start to go completely white - but I like each one I have already. I feel like I've earned them - like I could name each one after a trial or tribulation, a lost love, a broken friendship, a fight with a brother or sister or parent or child, a long night of worry, or a morning of hope. I think there is wisdom coming to me now, in little bits. There are things that I know I've learned, mistakes that I won't make again. For me, there is great comfort in that. I feel less need as time goes on. Less need. What a gift! Less need.

I am sometimes taken aback by the wrinkles around my eyes and around my mouth. Between my eyebrows, too! But I see the traces of many smiles, many moments filled with laughter, moments of deep concentration, and moments filled with tears. My friend Cindy's mom Lilian has one of the most beautiful faces I've ever seen - lined with the years of her life, surrounded by a halo of pure white hair. I love her face. I like my own wrinkles, even when they startle me, because they tell my story, outright.

The greatest thing about this aging stuff, though, has been the way it makes me appreciate so many things in my life. The older I get, the more grateful I become. The older I get, the more beauty I see in this world. Things become more dear, because, I think, the realization starts to sink in that nothing is forever. That we are all just tiny, simple snippets of time and energy in a complex world that has gone on for longer than our minds can understand. And will go on when we are gone from here. Life becomes so precious. Love becomes so tender, so cherished. I feel such a deep and profound gratitude for the love that weaves through my life - my parents, my children, my sisters and brothers, my wonderful friends who have saved my life. And the love that flows through the music in my life - my own personal soundtrack, constant, pure, sung and unsung, heard and unheard.

I think that I will be a fine wine. That I will continue to mellow with age and sweeten with time.

Plus I like, so much more, to think of myself as a beautiful golden chardonnay or a deep purple merlot than a hunk of bleu!! Don't you?

Peace peace and more peace.

Placed on my heart............

2008-02-25T15:28:00.002-05:00

I have heard people say before, "God placed you on my heart." I never really understood that before. But now I understand it clearly because it has happened to me. God has placed you on my heart. And you are constant in my thoughts. I think about you almost without stopping, like I do my own children or my parents or my closest friends.

But in a different way. I think about you and I think about the sadness that surrounds you. I see it in your countenance and I hear it, just the slightest tinge, in your voice. And I want to wrap my heart around it and ease it for you, or just take it and carry it for you.

I don't even know you well at all. I know almost nothing about you. You are a stranger in my heart, and yet God has placed you there for a reason. I don't even know what to do with these feelings. How do I reach out to someone who is a stranger? How do I cross the gap, continuing to appear normal and like I know what I am doing when I don't have the slightest idea what I am doing? How do I know what I can do to offer you compassion, comfort, love?

I know now that God has done this to me before - I just didn't realize it. There have been women I've seen in my practice, who I've grown especially close to, who stayed on my mind, who I worried about and thought about all the time and wanted to give them all the love that I can muster - all the love that a stranger can offer to another. It is a strange thing. And there have been friends of my children with whom I've wanted to do that same thing - take them in, hold them close, love them without ceasing, ease some of the sadness that circles around them like a halo, an aura, a moat.

Is it my own sadness that connects with yours? Are we kindred spirits? Does that part of me recognize that part of you?

I don't know the answer. I only know that God has placed you on my heart. I see your face whenever I close my eyes. I look for you everywhere I go, just to have the chance to offer you a smile. I lie awake in the night and wonder what I am supposed to do, if anything.

This morning, a small answer came to me as I sipped coffee in the early morning chill - I need to pray. And so I did. Paul told us to pray without ceasing. Perhaps that is a way to love without ceasing. Perhaps that is a way to love. I pray for you.

I send a wish to you - through magic and spirit - that you might know that there is a person here in this world, a stranger, who prays for you, and loves you without understanding why, it is just there. And it asks nothing in return, there is nothing you need to do. It just is.

Peace.

Dear Eliza.....

2008-02-21T00:04:00.005-05:00

I am sending you this medal, dear Eliza.

They have cited me for bravery in the field.

And, oh I so believed I fight for freedom

I carried my truth like a shield.

But I've seen my brothers die, Eliza,

By hands that held our babes before the war

And I hear their mothers cry as I lay sleeping

And I don't want this medal anymore.

Can you hear the sound, Eliza?

Of the sad goose leading winter home.

I button up my coat and I hang my head down low

With the greatest kind of sorrow I have known.

I am sending you my heart, dear Eliza.

It's as broken as the man that holds it in.

And, though I make it home to your sweet love,

I don't think I'll be using it again.

There is so much I have lost, my own Eliza.

I've forgotten all the beauty in your sweet face.

Will we ever know the cost that we are paying

When we forget the ways of mercy and Heaven's grace?

Can you hear the sound, Eliza?

Of the mourning dove crying in the dawn.

There is nothing I believe but that freedom is not free

And there will not be a war that can be won.

There is nothing I believe but that freedom is not free

And there will not be a war that can be won.

-----Yours truly, Dear Eliza

I've just recently gotten this song recorded in the studio. It'll be on my next CD which, hopefully, will be out by the time autumn rolls around again.

Peace.

Talk about a face!!!

2008-02-20T22:23:00.002-05:00

What a face!! My friend Laura sent an email today with Ozzy's picture attached. He needs a new home. If any of you readers (all four of ya!!) know anybody that might be interested, you can send me an email at folksinger@esva.net and I'll forward it on to Laura.

I told Laura I sure did wish that I owned my own house 'cause I take him right on in!! Baby would love to have a dog roommate. Jericho and Pete and Buster the cat who lives in the tree would not like it at all, but then, cats don't seem to like much of anything except to boss their humans around and to outwardly break as many rules as they can.

What a face this guy has!

2008-02-20T20:52:00.003-05:00

Midnights in winter, the glowing fire
Lights up your face in orange and gold.
I see your sweet smile shine through the darkness
Its line is etched in my memory
So I'd know you by heart.

Mornings in April, sharing our secrets.
We'd walk until the morning was gone.
We were like children, laughing for hours.
The joy you gave me lives on and on
'Cause I know you by heart.

I still hear your voice on warm summer nights
Whispering like the wind.

You left in autumn, the leaves were turning
I walked down roads of orange and gold.
I saw your sweet smile.
I heard your laughter.
You're still here beside me everyday
'Cause I know you by heart.
-----Diane Scanlon and Eve Nelson, I Know You By Heart

I am listening to Eva Cassidy. She was amazing. You can hear her soul in her voice.
She gives me peace.
Peace.

Juggling....

2008-02-20T13:38:00.026-05:00

Seems like I have spent a lot of my life's time juggling....... work, kids, family, budgets, school, more school, and then more school, fun, home, house, yard, dogs, cats, bills, faith, love, intimacy, solitude, friendships, sleep, no sleep, taxes, reading, knitting, thinking, praying, listening, talking, singing, writing, learning, grieving, mother, daughter, sister, wife, ex-wife, holding on, letting go........

I've made a mess of things, more than once. I'm sure there are more messes to come before all is said and done. I've had egg on my face (and everywhere else!) more times than I'd like to think. But I'm persistent! No one could rightly accuse me of giving up or of being a quitter! (Well, someone did recently but that was a situation that needed quitting. I was just the one who was brave enough to do it.)

Life is a juggling act. It can be a blur and a mess - but it is also an awesome thing to watch, an art form all in itself. A beautiful dance. An unending series of lessons learned and balls dropped and picked up again. Sometimes, when the balls are all in the air, and my head is spinning, and the exquisite timing hits its stride and I am doing it and doing it well - I wonder at the dazzling speed of it all and wish that I could stop the juggling act in midair, just so that I might hold each thing, solitary and precious, only if just for a little longer.

Time flies.

Peace.

I'm gonna survive

2008-02-16T13:52:00.003-05:00

After five days of the nastiest bug I've had in a long long time, I've decided I'm gonna survive! I woke this morning with no fever, no chills, and a headache that's settled down to a dull throb - a headache I'm used to rather than the pounding, screaming headace that I had that had me convinced I surely had meningitis. I feel so much better today. I am back on call this afternoon and even got a little housework done (though I still haven't gotten around to mopping the kitchen floor - my least favorite of all housekeeping tasks!).

I woke up Thursday morning to a blanket of snow surrounding my house. My house sits a half mile out a sandy dirt road, with fields of winter wheat all around it. The winter wheat is up now and is as green as the fields of Ireland. An absolutely beautiful color to see in the middle of winter! The snow wasn't as noticeable in the fields because the winter wheat is starting to get thicker and taller now. It looked like the only snow that had fallen was in my big yard. Like I was on some kind of island. It was so lovely. I wish I'd have had the time and the energy to take a picture. As it was, I covered my shivering and aching body in warm clothes, donned hat and mittens, and headed down the road and across the Bay to give a deposition.

Depositions in malpractice cases are a nasty business, any way you look at it. It doesn't matter whose side you're on or even if the case has nothing to do with you or your practice - somewhere in the course of things, someone will try to make you out to be a liar, a sorry excuse for a practitioner, or both. I was not in a good frame of mind anyway. They kept me there two and a half hours, and, as I expected, the opposing counsel did try to make me out to be a liar and a lousy practitioner. I guess feeling like crap worked to my advantage because I did not put up with that kind of crap and gave it right back to him. Funny thing about the whole deal is - there is NO reason that I would lie about anything to benefit the person this lawsuit is against! Not i my wildest dreams, not in a hundred years.

I came home from the experience, nauseated, aching, cold to the bone and crawled into my nest. I slept until well past dark. I got up for a little while and tried to eat but my tummy was having none of it! I went back to bed and slept for another twelve hours.

My friend Michele made me a big pot of homemade chicken noodle soup yesterday. It had six different herbs in it from her own back yard. She said she blessed each one as she added it to the pot. It fixed me. Such kindness in the midst of things is better than any medicine I could have taken. And each soothing mouthful of that soup calmed my inside.

Today I am much much better. I'm gonna survive after all. I'm back on call this afternoon and even managed to get some housework done.

Better get back to work now. Chin up! It pays the rent!
Peace. Stay well.