My dearest Uncle Tom

Such a patient, wise, and kind-hearted man 

who loved his family deeply. 

I shall miss him so. 

❤️

.            *              .

Being Seen :: Tears

I took this photo this morning before I got up to get in the shower. I had just written a note to

myself of all of my fears and then, as invited in our Being Seen e-course, I folded it up so that

all of my fears were tucked inside.  As Brene Brown has taught me to do, I then wrote a 

permission slip on a blue post-it note, taped it to the top of my fears and held it to my heart 

along with a sweet little red heart that was close by.

When I was in daily mass a short while later, a ritual that comforts, blesses, and soothes me, 

and on my way to communion, I accidentally tripped and fell back onto the chair behind me. 

I am permanently on crutches and pretty solid on them so it was startling for me, and three 

women from three different directions rushed to me to see if I was ok.

While grateful for their concern to be sure, I felt embarrassed and also annoyed and frustrated 

with myself. One kind-hearted woman sensed my discomfort and warmly shrugged it off with 

a "it just happens sometimes" which was such a gift.

Returning from communion and sitting in my seat, I was surprised to have tears well. I reminded myself that this was a safe space and there was at least 10 minutes before mass was over so 

it was ok to let them fall. (hmmm.... tears well as I type). I think if I had been alone, I might've 

sobbed (we are headed to Texas for a short visit with my family later this week and work has 

been so tough for four months now with a new supervisor.  The transition simply isn't going
well for me). 

I had planned some errands after mass but was still pretty shaken up so I came on home and 

laid down. Afterwards, I looked at this picture and was surprised to see that in reality? 

The tears were already right there . . .

. . . here.

.              *               .

Luminous March :: Heart

Entrusting Grandmother Oak 

with my weary heart 

after a tough day at work.  

Being held

and healed.

Blessed be. 

#embodiedterrain

.              *              .

Cultivating Enough :: Day 27 :: Presence

Today we said a much too early and very unexpected goodbye 

to a kind church friend. 

Practicing Presence has been:

gathering together, 

trading stories, 

eyes welling, 

fierce hugs, 

belly laughter, 

tissues dabbing, 

awkward standing, 

finding seats, 

unison praying, 

singing her favorites, 

benediction blessing, 

catching up, 

and sharing a potluck 

(both food and love). 

(Everyone brings what they are able, yes?) 

❤️

#cultivatingenough

.              *            .

Gentle Evening Abiding

Gently Abiding in

the sheltering presence of

my sweet friend named

Beary Star

as a wave of grief begins to wash over me.

Not too unexpected, really, 

my supervisor's last day was Thursday

so there are changes going on at work.

And my Moma died on Epiphany

nineteen years ago.

(How on earth can that be?)

May she rest in Peace.

.              *             .

Honoring My Ancestors

I'm taking Sacred Seasons: A Yearlong Journey Through the Celtic Wheel of the Year and, for whatever reasons, I've only managed to work my way thru every other season so far....  Perhaps next year I'll work thru the ones I'm not getting too this time around. I *love* the idea of staying with this process and circling back year after year (after year). Being both a cradle Catholic and a farmer's daughter, without my fully realizing it until recent years, the rhythm of the seasons calls to me *deeply*... like from my bone marrow. So, she says with a soft smile, I shall continue to show up when and how I am able, all while practicing trusting that it is Enough.

I *loved* our Samhain materials!!!! The Communion of Saints has always been an important concept to me and this season's reflections in particular have felt timely and so on point for me.  I'm also taking Honoring the Saints and Ancestors which expands further on November being a month of remembrance

Last week I made this photo collage for my altar space. Please allow me to introduce you to some of my ancestors... :)  Clockwise from the top left: Moma, Grandma D (Daddy's mom), Grandma P (hubby's grandmother who called me her own), and Grandma M (Moma's mom). So much about this gathering of spirits and the way they are circled speaks to me. Even tho we had some really *hard* differences and deep pain in our relationship, Moma was the biggest and best influence on me and the same clockwise direction is the order of the depth of closeness I feel for each woman. 

Once I had the photo printed, it was interesting to me to notice how Grandma M's photo is the fuzziest and that is really fitting.  It wasn't a conscious choice at all,  it was just because I enlarged it the most. As a teen and into my twenties (and later), because she couldn't be for me like my other Grandma, I kinda discarded her.  That feels harsh and sad to say but it's the truth.

I love my little altar space with my photo, candle and sweet angel with the words on her dress reminding me "Angels are sent from above to ease our Sorrows, strengthen our Faith, and lighten our Hearts."  Each carefully chosen item reminds me the women in my family are all right here, still with me and loving me, some in ways that they never could while we were both on this side. (We can't give what we've never received)

My sense is this is the year for me to gently open to welcoming Grandma M back into my heart and practice gathering up and appreciating what she *was* able to give me. For instance, right after we discovered I had bone cancer in my left hip, 38 years ago next month, they kept me pretty drugged up on morphine and it was horrible. It was *this* Grandma, an LVN nurse, someone I didn't think ever really saw or knew me, who took one look at me in the hospital bed and said, "she shouldn't be acting like that." It was then that they backed off the medication and the awful drug trips stopped.

She was my advocate.

In recently looking thru an old, cheerful, multi-colored cookie tin of my Grandma D's that I keep especially cherished mementos in, I was surprised to find a letter from Grandma M. While it did surprise me she'd written a two page birthday letter to me (we lived in the same city), I was more struck by the fact that I had actually saved her letter. As I read her words, tears rose.... she was reaching out to me in love and offering her support.  What was even more amazing to me was she had written it before our family fell apart when my parents' divorced and my cancer was discovered 7 months later.  In my heart of hearts, I have no doubt that she was probably one of my most faithful pray-ers thru that very difficult time. Indeed, she so freely gave to me from what she had available to give.

As an aside, that seems to be my growing edge right now.... looking for and accepting the love that is there in what is being offered to me, even if in imperfect ways.  This is turning out to be a healing and achingly beautiful process.  We are all human after all and so anything any of us offers will be imperfect to some degree.

So I know that Grandma M is the one in particular that I am meant to walk this month of remembrance with. I also learned recently that St. Martin de Porres ministered to those on the fringes. I was sitting in daily Mass at the time and was moved to tears because I've often felt like I was on the fringes and I wonder if Grandma didn't feel that way, too.  So... she says with a twinkle, unlikely threesome that we are, we are journeying together this November. 

On Sunday I made this collage in honor of Grandma M. A special thanks to my new friend, Bev, for her gracious permission to use her beautiful photo on the top left of Mary quietly, faithfully watching over the candles and the intentions they were lit with. 

I don't have many photos of Grandma so I plan to do some asking... later. The one in my piece was taken the day of Grandpa's funeral and she is surrounded by grandchildren (I am in the peach colored dress). It warms my heart to see her feeling content in that moment with all of us (and all of her children outside of lens range) gathered around her. We are in the backyard and her big vegetable garden is behind us. She loved growing flowers, too, and I remember as a young child being so "b-o-r-e-d" as we walked all around her house so she could show Moma and us kids with great delight all of the different flowers she was growing in her *many* beds.

(How I wish I could walk with her today and really listen to and celebrate what made her heart sing).

So it feels time, with Mary watching and praying, and "Spirit between" us to "Gather Beyond Time" in Hope (my word for 2014) and Peace (this year's word) with me "warming up," practicing "mercy" (2013's word), and "softness at home" (in my heart).

The owl speaks to me of another wise one, awake and ever-watchful, even and most especially in the darkest of times. 

The beautiful trees in the lower right are some very special friends that, over the last 7 years, I have taken to see as my Guardian Angels. These 4 lovelies live on a little island in the middle of the small side street on my way to work and I've named them after the archangels. Michael is featured and you can see a part of Gabriel.  Even tho Raphael and Uriel aren't shown, I know they are there, still watching over us, too.

.            *             .

A Daddy's Love

In the arms of my Daddy.

Saying good-bye at the airport, he's holding me as I cry

while patting me and speaking the soothing words

he knows to say.

While it sometimes feels like he's trying to stop me 

because I'm "too big" once again

(and there is probably a piece of that in there

as my emotions are much deeper than 

he knows how to care for and tend),

this morning I realize 

that it may just be 

that he's trying to help get me buttoned back up 

so that I can leave him

and head home.

(tears)

.            *            .

My Daddy flies in this afternoon for a visit with his girlfriend, Brenda.  While hubby and I usually fly back annually, this is his first trip over in 12 years.  He turns 75 in December, so part of me is very aware that this may be his last trip here.  

In preparation, I've been quite busy over the last few months physically getting ready by cleaning, tidying, and letting go of things and our house feels so good.  Last night in our writing group without fully realizing it, I was emotionally and spiritually preparing by writing the piece below.  Our prompt was:  "From memory or imagination, write about a fragment."  As I read it to our group, I was surprised by the tears that arose... well, perhaps not really.  Tweaking it just a bit, tears arise again this morning.

.            *             .

With a flourish she adds the final swirls of the billowy chocolate frosting on the rich, Devils food cake and steps back for a moment to admire her work.  She loves to bake and these last touches are her favorite part. 

Smoothing a stray strand out of her eyes, she thinks to herself, “maybe a fragment is enough.”  She’s made the last 20 of her father’s 75 birthday cakes and, deep down, she knows that he does love her.  Maybe it’s not to the depth she’d like and perhaps it isn’t to the extent that he loves her other siblings (or is it a simple matter of “able to show?”), but he’s always hugged her warmly when they greet after being apart.

Absent mindedly licking the sweet icing off of the side of her hand, she remembers the day in the airport many years ago, one of the few times she’s ever seen her father cry, and it was as he was saying, “I really want to get out to see you again, sis.”  Remembering that “sis” is his fond name for his girls, she smiles softly and, in the moment, she knows in her heart that, in his own, imperfect way, he does love her.

Can that fragment be enough?  Gathering the measuring cups and spoons into the now empty white, glass mixing bowl, she reminds herself that this might be the last time he ever comes this way.  Can she let what slice of love she has glimpsed over the years, be Enough?

She sure hopes so and she knows that only time shall tell.

.             *             .

Grateful for your witness.

Your warm thoughts, love and prayers 

over the next 5 days would be most welcome.

.            *             .

August Break 2015 :: Breakfast

Woke up with an upset tummy this morning 

so starting slow with saltines and water, 

with a little hope and love tucked in.

.            *           .

Witness

Witnessing and breathing 

through a rough spot at work. 

.             *              .

Soothing

This afternoon I closed my office door 

so I could work in Peace and quiet 

(Dorothy, we aren't on vacation anymore). 

So grateful that as I did so, 

I remembered I could stop 

(just for a minute!), 

place my hand over my heart, 

close my eyes, 

and take in 5 Deep Breaths.  

Smiling softly because 

this is why we practice, yes?

Yes. ❤️

Note to self:  it was also helpful to listen to soft, soothing music that I have on my phone.

.              *              .

    

Everyday Beauty :: Water

Catching some of today's happy tears.

.            *            .

Everyday Beauty :: A Moment of Joy

Quiet time spent writing 

and remembering 

my Moma 

on Mother's Day 

in the gentle presence 

of one of my favorite 

Grandmother tree companions. 

We had a pretty rough go,

she and I.

But with time

and a whole lot of Grace,

it is good to remember her fondly

and to quietly celebrate 

what she was able to give to me,

18 years after her passing.

.            *              .

One Self care Move ~ Standing in My Light

So, as you may already know, I've been having a difficult time at work for a long while now. Thursday night, hoping I might find some insightful wisdom to hold on to, I picked up a book that has been helpful in the past and started flipping thru dog-eared pages. I stopped when I happened to find (or did they find me?) some starred and underlined words (ah, so they've spoken to me before).

This quote is one of those "lighthouse in the storm" types for me, gently providing a guiding light for a way to "be" with it all, including my deep disappointment at some uninstigated-by-me distance in a relationship I have long cherished. I typed it out yesterday morning and have been reading thru it over and over (and over), and each time I do, I get a little stronger in my sense of self (and worthiness) (and Enough-ness).

It brought a soft smile to realize this quote is all about practicing "Standing in My Light" for me .... it's a gentle example of *how* to stand right where I am (as best I can in each moment) rather than, as Brene Brown says, hustling for someone else's approval.

The words are from "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff at Work" by Richard Carlson and the title of this particular essay is "Accept the Fact that There's Almost Always Going to be Somebody Mad at You."

"And when you know it's inevitable, 

your gut reaction to the disappointment 

is going to be much more peaceful. 

…you'll maintain your bearings and remain 

compassionate. You'll understand that there's 

simply nothing you can do -- other than your best. 

You didn't intend for it to happen, and you did 

everything you knew …, yet it happened. 

And it will happen again. It's time to let it go. 

And in letting go, you will find peace.

(My word for this year is Peace and what a lovely new way to practice)

♥

I hesitate to say this too loudly so this is me whispering....

It seems my friend at work made a small movement back towards me yesterday. While a bit stunned (I just found the lighthouse-for-me quote above 2 days ago and was starting to settle in with it!), it was very nice to have the unexpected surprise of a couple of light-hearted moments with him again. And, for the first time in months, he actually met my gaze with a teensy bit of a genuine smile.

One *very* important self-care move for me is, as best I can, to stay in today (and under my skin) and try not get too caught up in what might or might not happen on Monday (and forever after).

Another act of self-care is to name it here.... to help me remember.

Blessed be.

.              *             .

Where I Stand

"Where I stand. Admiring my new shoes before sitting down to lunch."
(These are the words I paired with my photo when sharing it on Instagram a week ago.)

This is actually a much bigger deal than it looks. Because of complications from bone cancer in my left hip 37 years ago, my left leg is 8" shorter than my right and my crutches are permanent. So when I stand, while my right foot sits flat on the floor, my left foot is up on my tippy toe. "The way I come" makes buying shoes tricky and something I *really* struggle with... My first thought at the prospect is "I *hate* buying shoes" and it's probably been 5 years since I last found some I liked and therefore kept. 

So. To find a new pair of shoes that I actually like and think they're going to work out because they aren't bending uncomfortably over my left toes (yay!), is a *very* big deal for me.

And this is the part where I say thru tears that it's not just about the shoes and trying to get some that fit right. It's also about the big grief in how my body is so different now . . . from what she used to be (and from what I would want). Having had 30+ surgeries on my left leg alone and with most of my femur removed, it's not the prettiest of legs ever. 

I became aware several years back that, feeling my body had betrayed me, I had basically moved out of "her," taking up residence in my head and heart. Coming back down into the full part of me has been something I've played with.... not an easy prospect to consider when you've been "gone" for more than 30 years and one that needs to be taken slowly, care-filled-ly and ever-so-tenderly. 

Tears well again as I add, my body could've given up on me a long time ago, having had several opportunities (she and I have been thru a lot together) but "she" never did, even when I moved out.

There was a time, she adds quietly, when, very briefly, I considered amputation. But in the end, just as I couldn't do it when my cancer was discovered ("If I'm dying in 6 months, I'm taking my leg with me!" I defiantly said at 15), I couldn't do it when I was fighting such a big infection 10 years later. (This was 3 weeks after we were married (almost) 27 years ago and I had been in the hospital for 3 months with another *huge* infection). 

I have loved Liz Lamoreux's mirror meditation so much.  I first learned about it in her original Water Your Soul e-course and it's been good to come back home to that practice thru selfies.  (Fyi - she isn't currently running that e-course right now but she also talks about mirror meditation in her book, Inner Excavation.)

While I did abandon my body, she has never abandoned me. Instead she has simply, quietly, faithfully been waiting for me to come "home" to her. It's moments like these that bring home for me that fact that I believe she continues to patiently wait for (and with) me.  And, as they usually are, not far away are Mama Grace and Auntie Mercy, Enough, Hope, and now Peace blessing, tending and loving this reunion back into to being as well.

Perhaps I'm ready to go a little deeper by "looking (back) with love" at my sweet leg who has been thru so much? 

Ah, yes. 

Perhaps indeed.... 

♥

(grateful for your witness)

.             *             .

The Truth on My Face

Work has been hard for a good, long while now. It surprises me to see how the "hard" is *so* evident on my face in the top left photo. I took it this morning before starting my car to drive to work. Looking at that one this evening brings tears. This feels really important and holy ... it's me *deeply,* tenderly witnessing me. ♥

(hasn't always been that way)

The top right and bottom left were my taking a breath and a moment to eat during my lunch break.

I did smile for the bottom right-hand photo - I was on my way home! - and I've been trying to tell myself that it doesn't count. But it does ... and there was something so soothing for me to see myself smiling softy, too. Kind of like a reassurance that I am right here with me amidst the hard, even when I sometimes forget.

.           *           .

Please See, Listen and Hear (and Value) Me

Don't worry!
You'll find I'm a real laid back boss.
Are you making this harder than it has to be?

.     .     *     .     .

Do you see me?

Are you listening?
Do you hear me?

My 10-1/2 years of experience is significant.
My eye for detail is of value.
*Especially* in a CPA firm.
We are entrusted with folks' financial information.
We want to be professional, internally and externally.

In written communication?
I've got this down in spades.

I want to be someone folks enjoy working with.
("I think," says this very real introvert on crutches)
And a lot of days I am.
But, gracious!!
There are days when I really struggle with working with others,
especially in person.

Days like today.

.     .     *     .     .

When he first started, he took refuge in my office saying
"This is my safe space" and "Nobody can find me here."
As I started training him, I told him "I'm not going to offer a lot of opinions,
I'm going to let you form your own.  You are certainly welcome
to ask me anything you want."

He was grateful.

Early on, he said to me "I'm sure you have a job here for as long as you want."

And underneath it all,
(I'm not even sure I can put it into words yet)
I feel like I've fallen off that pedestal a little bit
(part of me fears it's really "a lot")
and I'm uncertain what to do about that.
(Am I actually thinking I want back up there?)
(Who are you answering to, precious one?)

It's also like I'm not allowed to feel my very real and valid frustrations and anger.
He wants to move on to "it's over," all easy breezy.
(As if it were that simple)
And maybe it is .... for him.
(never has been for me)

It's like he's way too interested in it not being a "thang,"
that he doesn't listen to what would be helpful.
(and, yes, you just might have to pick thru the details a little bit)
(maybe that's what he thinks he's doing?)

What it feels like is happening is he shuts down instead.
Being so hyper-sensitive, I sense it
(and I so wouldn't want to impose
*or* be too big)
so I get all weird
and shut down.

.     .     *     .     .

Right now, I'm just too weary.
I've been working a couple 5-1/2 hour days a week
(at least)
and it's just too much.

Sure, the extra money has been nice.
But at what cost, honey?
Do we really need it that much?
No.

And I think my soul is longing for more.
For an intentional, meaning-filled life outside of work.

I miss writing my heart out on a regular basis.

Hmmmm.... guess it was starting to become very clear to me
that it was time to leave my online group two years ago now.
I still wanted to give it another month
just to be sure.
It was a big thing to consider leaving after all,
very painful and heartbreaking.
Still, it was the right decision for me.

It's been tough to cobble together a new community.
Something I long (and sometimes ache) for
- that connection I need
(and am wired for) -
in other places.

Part of it is me and the fact that I've given my all to work in the last 1-1/2 years.
Our new major software upgrade and "let's look at all of our procedures while we're at it"
has been pretty intense and all-consuming.
Unlike most folks in the office, it's literally touched
every. single. keystroke. I make.
Lots of my procedures have been reworked as well.

It's like I'm just now waking up from all of that and looking around.
And I want more.
I need more.

(So what that tells me is, even if my supervisor had never left back in July
- right as I was beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel
and starting to breathe easier -
I would still probably be feeling some of what I'm feeling right now.)

This is all good, my darlin'.
Hard.
But good.

So perhaps I'm not as "off" and out of step as I feel?

Maybe these feelings and nudges are important?

Could very well be.

Mama Grace, Auntie Mercy, Enough, Hope and now Peace, please be with me and guide me?

Always, Baby.

Blessed be.

P.S. - Where do you think the nudges are coming from?

.          *           .

Thankful Tuesday

Today I am thankful for:

1.  Quiet time this morning in the company of angels, candlelight, and a warm cup of chai tea in a special, peach-colored mug.  (It was one of Tadd's grandmother's and seeing it always brings a warm smile and fond thoughts of her.)

2.  Forgotten, comforting quote given to me by a dear, wise one resurfacing and how just reading it thru a couple of times steeps me in the same blessed assurance that it always used to:  

 

           "And remember, you do not walk alone. You are surrounded by a cloud

            of witnesses, family members and friends, some who have gone before

            you, all of whom have a stake in your partnership. Your happiness is
            important to them. They are your cheering section. Count on them to
            walk with you, and trust the One who has brought you across rivers of
            grief, through forests of gladness to your present pilgrimage."

                                             ~ wise source regretfully unknown

3.  Heartfelt, deeply affirming response from a dear friend.

4.  Leftovers in the fridge means I didn't have to figure out dinner tonight.

5.  New blossoming friendship that inspires me.

6.  More blessed quiet time this evening .... well, with the exception of soft hubby snores.

7.  Sending our sweet little one a picture of me smiling and holding up 4 fingers in honor of her 4th birthday yesterday and her mama reporting back that my girlie LOVED it.  

8.  Having enough money to pay our bills and for the little extras here and there, too.

9.  My "short day" at work falling on a day that I unexpectedly found myself feeling very tender and quite small.

10.  A lovely new, favorite quote:  

              "Tender," she said again.  "Tender is kind and gentle.  

                It's also sore like the skin around an injury."  

                                            ~ Breanna Yovanoff

11.  This touching video, entitled "With Scars Comes Strength."  I am deeply touched and inspired by her wisdom and her fresh insight on our scars.... "they (represent) something that hasn't killed me" and "every scar I'm completely proud of and have earned.  My body is like a visual journal."

Wow!!

12.  Knowing gratitude can help gently shift things and practicing it.

So, friend, what are you thankful for?

.          *          .

Touchstone

I

This cheerful little heart sits on my desk at work.

Sometimes 

(like today),

when I need a reminder that

all is well,

I hold her as I work. 

 She is good, reassuring company. 

.             *             .

What If . . .

What if . . . 

rather than it was just as it was meant to be

rather than my being "too big" one more time

What if . . .

no matter how much I ached

and longed

and hoped 

~ for more ~

(did she ache, and long, and hope, too?)

What if . . .

given her own history

she simply had no more to give

What if . . .

given my history 

it was hard to understand that,
once again,

it truly wasn't personal

What if . . .

it was all that it *could* be

just as it was

Can holiness, 

~ wholeness ~

be found

in the midst of 

human imperfection

What if . . .

in time,

the rough edges will smooth and soften

and a peace,

~ a blessed assurance, ~

will bathe,

and bind

and heal

Blessing both of our broken hearts.

~ May it be so ~

(and may she rest in peace)

Good-bye, sweet Faye.

I love you.

(tears)

.         *          .

Long Week

It was a long week, 

emotionally, 

for me. 

Yesterday afternoon 

there were tears. 

Just wanting to honor 

and witness the truth. 

My truth.

(your presence

is welcome, too)

.               *               .