"In Memory"
For a friend.
My best to you~ as always.
You say you want
Diamonds on a ring of gold
You say you want
Your story to remain untold
But all the promises we make
From the cradle to the grave
When all I want is you
You say youll give me
A highway with no one on it
Treasure just to look upon it
All the riches in the night
You say youll give me
Eyes in a moon of blindness
A river in a time of dryness
A harbour in the tempest
But all the promises we make
From the cradle to the grave
When all I want is you
You say you want
Your love to work out right
To last with me through the night
You say you want
Diamonds on a ring of gold
Your story to remain untold
Your love not to grow cold
All the promises we break
From the cradle to the grave
When all I want is you
You...all I want is...
You...all I want is...
You...all I want is...
You...
-U2
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Sanctum Sanctorum
"Holy of holies" -or- "A very private place"
I've told one person about this blog...and I didn't give the address.
Not yet anyway~
We all need a private place.
When my kids were small- a private place seemed like an impossible dream.
They even mangaged to scribble in my journals. Nothing was sacred- nothing off limits.
Sticky finger prints on all the doorknobs, smudges on my clothes, marker drawings on the walls when I wasn't looking...my tupperware drawer was in a constant state of upheaval, and every corner of the house showed evidence of the little folks who lived there.
And, to be honest, I'm a good Mom...but a lousy housewife. I'd rather read a book to my kids, or make a project than do laundry or vaccume. It showed- and I don't apologize for that.
The work in the house always got done- but being available to my kids was at the top of my list...and having some amount of privacy really wasn't.
But it is now. Or being able to share What I want to share- with Who- When- or Where. Is this a sign of selfishness in my older age?
I don't suppose it really is.
Tonight I'm taking dinner for a family whose 33 year old daughter is fighting for her life due to a rare form of cancer. The daughter is so sick she's unable to handle visitors...even her own kids. She lays in dark room with tubes and monitors hooked up to her- with virtually no privacy at all- but totally alone with her thoughts.
I can imagine, to a degree, what she's thinking about...life, and death- especially death- as it looms large in her mind, lungs, and leg. Death, or the substance of it is present in her body. I can not, however, imagine how she copes with those thoughts, or with the hopes and dreams she had for the future that seem to be crashing down around her.
Death might lead us to a very private place- to the holiest of holies afterall. Are any of us ready for that? To go alone- into the unknown?
Suddenly I have the strongest urge to go hug my kids...
I've told one person about this blog...and I didn't give the address.
Not yet anyway~
We all need a private place.
When my kids were small- a private place seemed like an impossible dream.
They even mangaged to scribble in my journals. Nothing was sacred- nothing off limits.
Sticky finger prints on all the doorknobs, smudges on my clothes, marker drawings on the walls when I wasn't looking...my tupperware drawer was in a constant state of upheaval, and every corner of the house showed evidence of the little folks who lived there.
And, to be honest, I'm a good Mom...but a lousy housewife. I'd rather read a book to my kids, or make a project than do laundry or vaccume. It showed- and I don't apologize for that.
The work in the house always got done- but being available to my kids was at the top of my list...and having some amount of privacy really wasn't.
But it is now. Or being able to share What I want to share- with Who- When- or Where. Is this a sign of selfishness in my older age?
I don't suppose it really is.
Tonight I'm taking dinner for a family whose 33 year old daughter is fighting for her life due to a rare form of cancer. The daughter is so sick she's unable to handle visitors...even her own kids. She lays in dark room with tubes and monitors hooked up to her- with virtually no privacy at all- but totally alone with her thoughts.
I can imagine, to a degree, what she's thinking about...life, and death- especially death- as it looms large in her mind, lungs, and leg. Death, or the substance of it is present in her body. I can not, however, imagine how she copes with those thoughts, or with the hopes and dreams she had for the future that seem to be crashing down around her.
Death might lead us to a very private place- to the holiest of holies afterall. Are any of us ready for that? To go alone- into the unknown?
Suddenly I have the strongest urge to go hug my kids...
Monday, June 25, 2007
Facta Non Verba
"Deeds, not words"- (12th Field Artillery Regiment motto)
Tonight I'm supposed to be writing thank you notes...to people I've never met, for donations
they made in honor of a very sick little girl. I am the Public Relations Coordinator for this little girls fundraiser- and a host of responsibilities come along with such a job.
It's interesting that most of my "deeds" actually center on "words". Creating letters, making brochures, fliers, and hand-outs for any and every event to raise money for this baby's transplant- a triple organ transplant at that.
It's not a thank-less job...the look on her Grandmothers face every time I see her is worth more than gold in my heart. I am blessed to have healthy kids- who will in all likelyhood live to be old people with Grandchildren of their own. This baby will be lucky if she lives at all.
This blog is about doing things that matter. It's about becoming a better person, about the journey I'm on to become the best possible version of myself.
I'm learning Latin. I'm reading books on intimacy and mid-life awakenings. I'm studying the long relationships of my life- the ones I've been in for 20 years or longer. What do those relationships say about me?
That I'm real. I'm real flawed. I'm real flawed, but I do my best...usually.
I say yes to passion, and I say yes to security...sometimes those things do not go hand in hand.
I love deeply and wide- but I'm not a touchy feely kind of person. I look fluffy on the outside- but I'm totally practical on the inside. Form MUST follow function. I have no use for cutesy stuff, unelss it's a cow of some sort. I hate to iron anything. I love letters in the mail. I think kids should have structure and discipline, and I think they need goof-off time too...and I think Adults are no different.
At least I'm not.
Time for me to write some more thank you notes~
Tonight I'm supposed to be writing thank you notes...to people I've never met, for donations
they made in honor of a very sick little girl. I am the Public Relations Coordinator for this little girls fundraiser- and a host of responsibilities come along with such a job.
It's interesting that most of my "deeds" actually center on "words". Creating letters, making brochures, fliers, and hand-outs for any and every event to raise money for this baby's transplant- a triple organ transplant at that.
It's not a thank-less job...the look on her Grandmothers face every time I see her is worth more than gold in my heart. I am blessed to have healthy kids- who will in all likelyhood live to be old people with Grandchildren of their own. This baby will be lucky if she lives at all.
This blog is about doing things that matter. It's about becoming a better person, about the journey I'm on to become the best possible version of myself.
I'm learning Latin. I'm reading books on intimacy and mid-life awakenings. I'm studying the long relationships of my life- the ones I've been in for 20 years or longer. What do those relationships say about me?
That I'm real. I'm real flawed. I'm real flawed, but I do my best...usually.
I say yes to passion, and I say yes to security...sometimes those things do not go hand in hand.
I love deeply and wide- but I'm not a touchy feely kind of person. I look fluffy on the outside- but I'm totally practical on the inside. Form MUST follow function. I have no use for cutesy stuff, unelss it's a cow of some sort. I hate to iron anything. I love letters in the mail. I think kids should have structure and discipline, and I think they need goof-off time too...and I think Adults are no different.
At least I'm not.
Time for me to write some more thank you notes~
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