Four Years

Still missing  you.

Always.

Feel you sometimes.

Dream of you too.

I see signs

reminders of your nearness. 

I used to say

come back, come back.

No miracle here 

but the

miracle of hope.  

Long to hold you,

a mother's wish,

to be near you, 

my strong and tender son,

wrapped in those long generous arms. 

As I wrapped  you at birth. 

Hearing the husky laughter in your chest 

in my ear.

The thoughtful way

you asked me how I am. 

Mama,  you say. 

Smile, listen, joke, encourage. 

Your ability to love each of us

as if we were the only one. 

The energy

vibrancy

insight with life.

World  wise.

You knew.

How so young did you know so old?

Aching for my beautiful wise son

 to help me along the way

on this mystery road.

What would you be telling me now 

to strengthen me? 

Love. 

So full of love. 

Your very best legacy.

Living for the living. 

You would want that. 

This world lost its illusions and charms

but love never fails. 

It is always the hunger

Always the food.

Always gives strength for the journey. 

My life is about waiting now. 

Waiting for reunion day.

God is giving the strength

day by day

to live in a world without you

knowing I will be in a world with you

on that day.

And we live deeper now

where the pain and poignancy meet hope. 

You started all of that. 

Mother's Day Gift

If she weren't my daughter, I would choose her as a friend. 

Mother's Day Photo Attempts

adjusting hair

not looking at camera

model stance

can't see dad

dad scratches chin

giving up and isn't that hilarious

stranger passing by succeeds

one more please for good measure

just the guys --with too many bags

mama and daughter...ahhh. I did it!

three generation fail. 

sweet grandbabies try one more time for their mama and nana.
release. 

All Over My House

Roses. All over my house.

One of those things that make me really, really happy. 

In this harvest, I collected 50 roses from my 18 varied rose bushes.  

I put them all in vases, and scattered them in every room, and even made some to give away.

I am excited thinking of at least 3 more months of this. 

I love growing organic veggies, but roses are in a category alone. They just take my breath away. 

A timely gift from nature coming so closely around Mother's Day and the anniversary of Joey's death. Surely a God who can create these lovely things can also do everything else He promises. It's so clear and simple. Love and comfort come in all kinds of ways. 

The grass withers, the flower falls, but the word of our God stands forever.
Isaiah 40:8

Happy Mother's Day to Me

Jaime~Joey~JoAnne

From my body born.

I love my three babies. Love. Them. Completely.

Motherhood has been both the sweetest and most aching part of my life's journey.

I miss my beautiful boy who is in Heaven; I last saw him around Mother's Day four years ago.  

We laughed together at a poolside breakfast on Mother's Day in Oahu 2008. A moment of bliss.

My memories are precious pieces of a short life. Dancing at a special wedding so long ago.

Walking me down the aisle at his sister's wedding years later.

There is an invisible cord that connects us and I refuse to say goodbye to him--only hello.

At the same time, I am so thankful for the two beautiful girls who continue to share my life here. My loving husband, too, who is also responsible for these beautiful children.

Thank God for His tender mercies and the deep comfort they provide.

They are my privileged place in life.

Hurt and deep comfort, both living inside my broken open mother's heart.

Life is such a strange brew of joy and sorrow, parallel tracks of good and bad, smooth and rocky pathways that cannot be avoided.

Mother's Day is a reminder that I don't get everything I want in this life.

Despite my tears, I have hope.  

There is a place where there is only comfort, joy, and good;

a place where there are no more tears.

 I look there.

I am resolute in awaiting that good day

when we will all be

together

again.

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

Revelation 21:4 

Middle School Orchestra Ambivalence

Isabel waves to her friends. She's a little embarrassed by the whole orchestra thing.  I keep saying she should be proud. Not many people can play a violin.

Getting serious now. There's work to be done.  

Oops, distracted. Focus, Izzy.

Everyone in position and waiting for their teacher/conductor to take her place. I have nothing but admiration and gratitude for middle school music teachers. They are like the monks who kept learning alive during the Dark Ages.

Watching intently. Starting to lose herself in the music...

There it is. Beautiful music out of angst-y middle schoolers. Success.  

Such concentration pays off. It's lovely.

Yo-Yo Ma would be proud. I certainly am. I am so hoping she stays with it.

Grief Is...

May has begun. Like a shadow going over the moon, our rekindled grief darkens our hearts, brings a deep pain in the chest, and an intensified longing ache for one who isn't here. Anniversary reaction has become a fact and an immovable object these past four years. I came across this poem today and am sharing it here because it expresses a lot of what I feel when I am too weighed down to find my own words. It's by Alice Wistler.


Grief is laughing with your children and wishing for the absent one to make the circle
complete.

Grief is crying in your car at stoplights.

Grief some days makes you brutally honest; other days, grief muzzles you.

Grief reconstructs your heart.

Grief is sadness, hope, smiles and tears rolled tightly like a snowball.

Grief makes you search past the stars and the moon for Heaven.

Grief strips you of everything you were pretending to be.

Grief gives you new priorities.

Grief opens hidden treasures from deep with in your soul.

Grief allows you to empathize more deeply with others who ache.

Grief makes you unapologetically bold.

Grief is a daily companion, best dealt with by admitting you do walk with it, even after all these years.

Grief is the price of love.

Gardening as a Metaphor for Life

Lovely White Azaleas

"The only success is faithfulness" ~ Mother Teresa

Gardening is one of the great joys of my new life in Virginia. I want to be outside today, up to my elbows in dirt and worms, digging and weeding, but it suddenly turned too cold and I am a wimp. With my fingers crossed for tomorrow, I am planning new plantings. This year so far I am growing my favorite vegetables-tomatoes, zucchini, summer squash, salsa peppers, asparagus;  and my favorite herbs--basil, cilantro, chives, lavender; and strawberries, apples, peaches, hybrid roses and assorted bulb flowers. The cilantro I planted last summer is finally full and bountiful and I am going to make some dressing out of a bunch of it today. My husband cut a bouquet of  Double Delight roses, yesterday, the first of the season, all mottled pink and white like a tye-dye petticoat. My gorgeous tulips are shriveled and gone for this year, but we just planted 20 big white azaleas, all along the edges of our "Chapel of the Pines" in the forest. Perhaps some bright Spring day, one of my grandchildren will be married in that beautiful tree alley, surrounded by the soothing sound of leaves hushing in tall trees and clouds of huge white azaleas lining the path. But that potential romantic outcome requires me to plan ahead and plant now. 

It is interesting to note how much of our garden labor is for future enjoyment. Everything we sow in Spring, awaits the Summer or Fall, or even the next Spring, to be richly enjoyed. In the case of asparagus, it's a three year wait to get a small harvest. Our newly planted azaleas are in season now, but they won't really be show-y till next April, and they won't reach their true height or glory for several years. The same with my new crape myrtle tree. I love the full-grown ones, but mine won't  look sensational, with colorful bark and radiant white flowers for several years to come. Gardening requires the utmost patience and a long look to the future. 

My life is like that too. Building a marriage with Joe, raising responsible, loving children ( and grandchildren), building my faith--all require relentless, sometimes laborious, sowing and cultivating, all in the hopes that there will be a bountiful harvest in the future. It is even more true with our Joey in Heaven,  now far away, for whose sake I am forsaking all the temporary lures of this life to fully trust Jesus. I am planting my seeds in the world to come. Patience, perseverance, endurance, long-suffering...these are my words now.  They are urging me to plan for a Springtime unforeseen and unimagined, beauty for ashes in a Garden unsurpassed. 

Galatians 6:9 Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.

The Power of Female Friendships...

...to get you through life. She says it all.

When Tragedy Strikes

Does lightning strike twice? Apparently so. Yesterday a well-known family in our community got into a terrible car accident on their way home from vacation. Five of them are in the hospital, and their 16 year old son, James, passed away at the scene.  This same family lost a child to a drowning accident less than a year ago. With Charlie's death, they openly grieved through a family blog and on facebook, as well as allowing the local newspaper to print some of their heartwrenching journal pages. Their faith has been an anchor. Now a fresh wave of grief is upon them, on top of injuries, hospitalization, a world that they were slowly navigating has been turned irrevocably upside-down.

I know it's a tragic world, but sometimes the depth of the sorrow, loss and pain leave me stunned COLD. Shocked. Aching.   "Again?", I say. There is always more pain to be dealt out than I can imagine. I force myself to sync back into what I know of God to make any sense of the situation. I try to integrate it with the answers I've found the past few years. The question of how He allows it is always there. The answer that this world is under a curse of pain is also always there.

Post-bereavement,  I look at tragedy with a wider lens. I wonder about it from two vantage points--the earthly and the heavenly. When something like this happens, I easily see the shock waves on earth. In relative terms, the physical injuries are the easy part.  I pray for strength that this group of precious people may not sink under the emotional weight of multiple shattered dreams. I pray for mercy, strength and courage for  the difficult recovery that lies ahead.  I pray for support to surround this marriage so that it will resolve to carry on when so much has been lost, for the sake of all that remains. I see a father who may be riddled with toxic guilt and pray for the peace that passes understanding. These people will need to be carried on a stretcher of grace and compassion for a very long time, so that in that paradoxical world of spiritual economics, they can lose and still come out ahead.

From the heavenly perspective, I wonder how it unrolled yesterday. Was there an all points bulletin issued by an archangel that said, "Urgent. Angel army required". Did they promptly report for duty, with some being assigned the task of escorting James to Paradise, some tending the injured at the scene, some helping this poor afflicted father just to continue to breathe? Did little Charlie, eager with anticipation, stand at the gates and wait for James to arrive? Perhaps he wrapped his big brother in a hug and said, "I am so glad you are here with me. Our family really will be okay. Our Father has sent reinforcements. He will enable them to use even this for His glory. We will wait for them all here, and when they come, they will see, too." Did James, now filled with joy and wonder at his new surroundings, smile in agreement and note that his little brother radiated beauty and wisdom?  How does it work on that side of things, the invisible side? I hope it's something like that.

This life is an enormous messy hands-on test of faith, hope and love. My son called it "a raw glorious mess." We are all in for it, and none of us will escape unscathed. Yet even in the worst messes, I have seen that our God is like a quiet nurse, present, guiding, easing, touching, lifting, gentle. I have experienced that. He is not a traffic cop with a megaphone directing traffic, handing out tickets. He quietly gets in the mess with us. He wallows in the pain there with us.  He gently tends the wounded. He bandages and applies ointments. He resets the broken places.  He takes His time. He raises us up through the wreckage. He shines His light over it all. We have to wipe the blood out of our eyes to see Him, sometimes we have to call out in our blindness, but when we do, we see He is there. I have faith that He will help this family through the unspeakable, as He has helped me, because He is our help in time of need. Lightning not only strikes twice, it strikes countless times... every day, everywhere. Thankfully, when it strikes, it brings the light with it.

In honor of James Normile

Our Family

I finally got our Thanksgiving pictures from our friend Crystal. I decided not to wait for a special occasion to put up the photo. Isn't it special enough that we have one another, that we have this day, that we share this journey together? Life changes quickly and is not in our control. I want to carpe diem this moment and thank God for it. My family gives me so much strength, purpose, and love and they mean everything to me. The baby isn't ours, by the way. She belongs to the photographer. :)

Blooming Farm Update

Welcome to my front porch.
On the doors, golden forsythia wreathes set off the yellow kalanchoe plants in the urns. The yellow is sunshine in a pot and healthier than prozac. Take a little walk with me to see what's in bloom. 

This forest goes on for acres behind the house. It will be a solid wall of green in a few weeks, but I am enjoying the lacy delicacy of the leaves right now.

A tapestry of brilliant reds, golds, greens and pinks. 

It's especially beautiful near sunset with all the dappled light shining through. 

The trees look like so many straight sticks right now, but soon we won't be able to see the sky through the leaves. 

The pond creatures are beginning to emerge, with turtles lining the banks to sun themselves. 

Near the bottom of the picture is the grandkids' swimming hole with a rope swing. It's like a big city pool, only much muddier and full of creatures!

These 4 weeping willow trees have all grown up from one fallen trunk. It's really beautiful and a nice symbol for our family. Even when something looks broken, new life can spring from it. I think of us all when I see it. 

This other willow tree by the shed is our Joey tree. It's got a missing branch, a gaping gash going all the way down one side. This tree is also thriving in spite of losing a big part of its self. 

The open field in front of our house is emerald. The marsh on the left is growing new cattails. 

But the show-offs right now are the bulbs. They have been grabbing the glory for several weeks. Oh my, these daffodils are gorgeous with the light behind them. 

I have a dozen pots of bulbs in the front, and another half dozen in the back of the house. I also have them at the entrance to our driveway and under the birdhouse. 

So beautiful--just overflowing. 

These saturated colors make me smile.

A princess. 

So beautiful  next to the steps and the rock walkway as the sun goes down.   

Peek-a-boo!

Out next to the barn, we have this old Coke machine that someone dumped in the forest  many years ago. (Grrr.) But we got a group of guys together and they dragged it out. It's all rusty and deteriorating and yet so gorgeous with the red tulips in it. The bucket on the ground next to it was found in a trash heap in the forest., too.  Flowers + recycled junk = beauty. 

The afternoon light on the tulips. 

And again from another angle, that also shows the cool side of the  house porch way beyond,  with all the rocking chairs, and the wishing well between the house and the barn. 

Glorious!

The screen porch is a new addition and I can't wait to furnish it. I am looking for comfy daybeds and a game table and shelves stuffed with snacks and board games and magazines and sparkling lights around the whole perimeter. This is my summer home.

Another view of the screen porch. So roomy!

The mosquitoes are quiet right now, but we will be ready for them when they descend. 

One more peek at the screen porch from the house porch with the wishing well in between. 

From a distance, on the right side of the barn and screen porch, you can see the garden too. I've got it all planted with flowers and veggies. Organic, too, but more about that later!

Back to the house. Our new black driveway is made up of recycled asphalt left over from one of the major road re-paves in our town. I love it next to our black and white trim and  the stone walkway. Country living means no concrete driveways.

The center of the circular driveway has a little island planted all in yellow. In the summer I am hoping for a beautiful display of hybrid roses, including one to climb up the little tower. This is one of my favorite spots for sitting and staring. 

Back to the front door across the way. We spend a lot of time doing this. Back and forth. 

And more daffodils. My camera can't resist them.