Another day, another story!
I get up very early on my better days. Preferably about five am. I like to have the quiet of the morning to simply be in the presence of the Divine to the best of my busy brain ability, to at least appreciate the simple moments as the night becomes dawn becoming day. A precious time of the morning. I wake up at that speed and always get creative work accomplished that otherwise is eaten up with the business of to-do lists if I rise as late as eight. Or even seven. To that end I woke just at dawn this morning. I made coffee. Had lit candles in my office and was headed to watch the light outside my window. Then Mama's bedroom door opens and her dog runs out. Ok, fine. Let Duncan out with plans of hustling back to bed. But then Mama comes out dressed like all - Top of the Morning to you!
My mother is not an early riser. This is a well known fact of life. We grew up knowing not to wake her and not to talk to her until she had her coffee because she could be ill in the morning in a mean spirited kind of way. Which is fine with me and sister because we don't want to talk in the morning either. I told Miss Top of the Morning who informed me she had been awake most of the night so she just decided that she was going to get up for awhile and then maybe go back to sleep that I had to go say my prayers. What the translation of this is in everyday language is - Don't talk to me. Don't think about talking to me. Don't make any noise. And don't even THINK ABOUT turning on that television. Then I go up to my office with the candles lit to be all saintly and stuff. Then I sit down to be all thankful for things and realize one of the most thankful things I have to be thankful for is that my Mama is alive and I can sit on the porch with her and have coffee and see the birds. So I get up and go back down stairs and say hey, Mama do you want to sit on the porch and see the birds? And she says Ok. So I make her coffee and go out to the porch.
She says she sure wishes she had a rocking chair on the porch. I tell her we need to get her one of those for the porch. She likes the camp rocking chair that her niece bought her except you can't walk around it. I told her we will take it to the football game if she wants to go. She sits in the chair. The rescue dog Kevin must say good morning which tangles the other dog on the leash. We untangle and sit down dividing dogs among us and look at the birds.
In four.two seconds Mama tells me there is a vine growing that needs to be cut out of a tree. I tell her it would be nice if we could just look at the trees and not start working on my to-do list yet this morning. She says ok. We look at the trees. I tell her how nice and quiet it is. She says yes, I like the quiet. But I kinda get the feeling she is sick of it. It must get a little too quiet while I am at work. I know she misses her corner and her house of fifty years and her neighbors.
Well, the trees are turning and in a few weeks it will look like the Smokies up here. It will be so pretty. She asks me if that is a tree down my hill that just fell over. I tell her yes. She asked me if azaleas grow up here and I tell her I just don't know for sure but I thought I saw some once. She says they sure would be pretty down there if someone could set some out. Of course they would have to put a bunch of big rocks down there to hold the dirt up so it didn't go over the cliff. Yes, I tell her. Maybe someone could do that. She asks me then if Rye grass will grow in the yard if some is thrown out. If there is anything out there for it to hang onto. I tell her there is dirt out there for it to hang onto. That rye grass can find purchase. She said it sure would look better to see some green. That rye grass is really green and she likes green. We happen to be looking out over acres and miles of green as far as the eye can see. She says she likes the light green of rye grass. We sit for a minute looking at all the green that is not rye grass green.
Mama asks me if I got my birthday card from Cousin Deb. I tell her I did not and ask her if she sent it to the house or the po. She says the house. Then she says she does not trust that mailbox. That my birthday card should have come last week. I tell her I just do not know. Then she tells me she has not gotten her bill from Dillards and she should have and I need to call and make sure they have the new address. I tell her it is not seven o'clock and maybe we should just look at the birds and not start on my to-do list. She says ok.
Then the dogs get jealous and cause a problem and need to be petted. And we talk about old dogs and missing Titan and she talks about her little dog that loved her and got ran over and then she is very sad about that. This happened when we were teen-agers. I told her we should just be thankful we have had some really good dogs. She said yes, including my german shepherd that got hit by car when I was a kid and that was just tragic and begins to recount his last hour. I tell her she has now gone from my to-do list to dead dogs. She laughs a little bit and says she will just think of something nice to talk about. We try to go back to the birds.
A hummingbird shows up and that is a happy thing because we thought they were all gone and the feeders had run dry and I thought I had sent them to their doom by running out of sugar when they needed it most. But I found a little and put feeders out full and so at least the stragglers might survive. We identified a blue bird and a dove and heard a crow. It was peaceful for a minute and then Mama said she sure was worried about North Korea. I said, yes everyone is but if he is crazy and sends a missile we will blow up all of North Korea and it will be tragic so let's not talk about it for just a little bit. She said she just wanted to call someone and ask them if they remembered what MacArthur said.
It was quiet for just a minute. Then Mama said, I just want to say one thing about Hitler.
And just like that I decided it was time to go to work.
Wishing you peace this morning in your neck of the woods.
Easter is upon us and up on this hill today the wind whispers, All Is Well. The chimes ring out resurrection. Spring, renewal and all the promise that resides there. I haven't been plugged into the season very well this year. Preoccupations and responsibility. Normally, Easter is one of my favorite times of year for just that promise of new life that springs eternal. The year, I've let the burden of other things weigh heavy on my soul and heart.
A few years ago (how many now) I wrote a daily devotional during lent and posted it on the internet. I've been so blessed by all those who have read it year after year and wrote to me to share that they did so. You crazy people. Oh, how I love you. The thing is, there was nothing special about it. Just a daily email that was life in action. All the messy places. Just simply walking out the day and at the close of day - reflecting. Maybe that's not what I'm doing enough of these days. Pausing to reflect. Ok, I'm certain of it. I rush from morning into evening and then to crashing into bed full of the crazy that is my life.
Granted. This thing I do. Count my blessings. I pause for just that long. And the smile of all the littles, their words, and photos. The Adorables growing now into gorgeous, young women, the little wild wolf pack rambunctious and keeping me on my toes while laughing.
America Mystic is coming to fruition, finally, oh, finally! But still it arrives in due season. Not the book it used to be in rewrite after rewrite. Not the book it used to be anymore than I am the woman I once was. Death and Resurrection. We bear our crosses which sometimes feels like crucifixion. It's not.
I watched a flock of birds this morning in the early hours. All else was sleeping in the house. My mother, my cousin, the dogs, the cat. All was quiet but me, the porch, the birds in flight. Then I noticed, they landed in a tree, paused, took flight again, a little ways, another tree. Coming after them were other birds that reached the tree and paused just after others had taken flight. They moved that way while. I have many trees. I watched them. A tree, flight, a tree, flight. It went on this way. Then I realized one of two things maybe both. I know nothing of birdology so I can make things up as they occur to me which suits me find.
The birds in the first group landed to allow the stranglers to catch up, gain their strength, stay with the flock. Eventually, I felt certain they would arrive together in the fold that waited for them. Some great community of kindred spirits and feathered fellows.
Or, they were just showing me, God showing me, that in flight over those passages of deeper valley's pausing was a righteous thing to do. The pause to gather strength. To rest to realign their focus, their purpose, their destination.
I pray that we each pause this Easter weekend to realize just how far we've come across mountain, valley, distant shores. To realign our purpose with all that is Divine and lives and moves within us. For every sacred moment, illuminated hour.
Together we continue. We've come this far and our journey sacred. In the midst of all of it, there is the power of renewal.
And, so, we begin again.
God bless and keep the faith.
Embrace the cup of communion and pass it on.
I popped over to visit the little wolf pack last night after working and they immediately went for their shoes. It's the universal sign for - I'm going with you. When small grandchildren look at me with big eyes and say, Can I go with you? Can I spend the night with you? as they are putting on the second shoes I have a hard time saying, no. But I did draw the line at the big kids which means I'm too tired to working on potty training issues tonight.
Five minutes later I am driving away and on the way home with two happy kids in the backseat. Except they then begin to fight. The kind of No, you're not, yes I am, no you're not that is designed to drive parents and even grandparents insane. It's the old Stop touching me conversation that can take place for over a thousand miles without a child seemingly taking a breath in between.
Except last night I was too tired to deal with a seven year old and four year old having an eternal argument over imaginary lines. Instead I said -
LOOK! None of that matters! It doesn't matter! All that matters is that right now we are driving down the road. Just the three of us. We are in this car and it's winter and the trees are bare. The moon is out and it is 32 degrees and here we are in this present moment, in this car, on this road, driving through the woods to Zaza's house. And, we all love each other very, much. This is our reality. This is this moment that we are living in. This is our now.
Then there was a contemplative silence from the backseat. No more fighting. I turned on Joe Cocker for the rest of the journey.
Then we had hot chocolate and movies and coloring.
Being a Zaza, a Pawpaw, a Nana or Boo - It's what you make it. The way you make it. I figure these moments where things are not just the same old, same old stoptouchingyourbrother moments will make for better memories. Or at least for stranger stories. And, I can roll with that.
Thanks so much for reading, liking and sharing with friends.