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

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............

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.

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..........

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..........

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?

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!!

This is my dad and his beautiful smile.