Remembrance - Day 9 of 40

Today I shall be remembering Moma's daddy, a man with a true gift for music that I wish 

I had known better. I do so find Joy in singing, as did Moma, so it warms my heart 

knowing that he had a part in that Gift passed down thru her. 

.   .   .   .   .

I've long wished that I remembered this very dear woman's name. I didn't get her often 

during the 3 long, lonely months spent in the hospital here, 3 weeks after Tadd and I 

married, and just 8 short months after we'd moved to a whole new-to-me land, far away 

from all my family and friends.

But the days when I did? 

Her kind presence *deeply* soothed my weary and broken spirit. Unlike the usual tech 

who roughly bustled about in a very business-as-usual fashion (it must be quite the 

uncomfortably vulnerable task to be asked to wash patients' bodies day in and day out), 

this precious, elderly angel patiently hummed hymns as she gently bathed my body. I 

didn't realize it until just now... unlike most of the doctors who came into my room 

every day (it was a teaching hospital and I was a very rare case so there were a lot!), it 

felt like she had all of the time in the world for me with not a drop of desire to be 

anywhere else but there with me. I simply can't put into words what a true gift that was 

during one of the most excruciating and lonely times in my life.

See there? Remembering her tender loving care this morning still brings tears filled 

with profound gratitude.

There's not a doubt in my mind that she was "God with Skin" for me during that 

agonizing time, a softly sweet spirit sent to help shore up the bereft child inside my 

heart who felt so very lost, broken and alone.

Ah, yes. 

Grace indeed. 💙

(Smiling softly as I chose my mug 

before I drew this morning's names)

.   .   .   .   .

Adding a postscript... I'm only sharing all of my photos and stories here on my blog.  

My main concern is it would feel like too much pressure plus I don't want to lose my 

focus by getting too caught up in the "performance" of my intentional remembrance 

pilgrimage, if that makes sense.

Still, she adds with a soft smile, some stories feel like they are meant to be named and 

honored in a special way. Like this one. 

And I'm so glad I did!  The comments I received helped to deepen my gratitude for this

very kind woman and our time together so long ago.  One friend reminded me that she 

would have wanted to help ease my spirit and it was a blessing to her to try to do just 

that by softly humming while gently washing.  

Another friend's comment reminded me that Touch is one of my love languages and

what better way to love on a water baby than warm soapy water and hymns?   

True balm for the Body, Soul, Heart, and Spirit.

Blessed be.

.          *          .

Happy Birthday Tree Love

Lookie at the birthday love that arrived today's mail!! 

My dear artist sister-friend, 

who has been hearing me speak fondly of them for almost 9 years now, 

painted a picture of my beloved 4 Sisters for me! 

Plus! 

The Dogwood Twins are there too 

and, just like in real life, 

are standing a little ways from their big sisters, 

down on the right.

And!

It brought *such* delight 

to notice that all of their shadows 

are angel wings!

Her sweet thoughtfulness couldn't be more perfect! 

Blessed be. 

💕💕💕

#ABirthdayGiftIsNeverEverLate

.             *             .

Everyday Beauty :: Something in My Hand

There's something very healing for me about taking an almost daily, "everyday" type photo.

I'm finding that it gently affirms for me that it really is ok to show up in my own life, notice 

the goodness and beauty that is there, and, when it feels right, to share my picture. To my 

delight, this is becoming a welcomed, gentle practice encouraging and reminding me to name 

my place and claim my (rightful) space on this beautiful earth of ours that we all (((share))).

I've invited my goddaughters to join me in revisiting some photo prompts from last year and yesterday's invitation was "Something in your hand." In response, I shared this photo with 

the caption:

"Something in my hand (and in the background 

are my crutches, things that are in my hands a lot)."

As I continued to sit with my Grace (<-- my fond nickname for my Higher Power) mug filled 

with warm, soothing chai tea, I remembered something that I so loved in Brene Brown's Self-Compassion course with Kristin Neff.

First, we did a review of the oldest part of our brain, our amygdala or reptilian brain, which, 

when triggered, automatically throws us into Fight, Flight or Freeze mode. They talked about 

how this part of our brain is the easiest to trigger and how it sees our self-criticism as a threat 

to our self-concept. (!!!) While self-criticism is actually a misguided (and unhelpful) attempt to protect us - it wants us to do good but beats us up as a way to try to help - our brain sees our 

self-criticism as an attack and tries to protect us from it(us) using Fight, Flee or Freeze!!

(wow.) 

I'd never thought about how self-criticism could be one of my (old) brain's way of Fight-ing 

what it sees as a problem - "You're doing that all wrong and people won't like you!! You better 

shape up *now*!!" It's simply my reptilian brain, or what I've come to see as the voice of the 

little girl who still lives inside my heart (so I want to use great care in how I refer to this part of 

my brain because she's simply doing the best she can and wants to help me, too) trying to keep 

me safe. Her methods aren't real effective, but still very well intentioned from her very young 

stance.

Pausing here for a moment to place my hand over my heart, close my eyes, and take in a deep 

breath. I want to honor for myself that this is very valuable and crucial info in my continued 

healing of the expectations (both inner and outer) placed on my young girl self to caretake my 

family at a very young (way too young) age.

They then talked about how we also have a Mammalian brain and, because mammal's babies 

are born helpless and need their mother's care for for a very long time, this part of our brain's automatic responses are Tend and Befriend.

Yay!!!!! :)

I *love* this so much and find so much Hope in it.

I had a Psychology professor who used to say All. The. Time. "When the emotions are high, 

the brain doesn't work." He'd always follow it with something like "we have to wait for our 

emotions to come back down before we can access our brain again."

While it felt deeply wise at the time, I didn't fully understand what he was trying to convey. I 

realize now that this fits in perfectly with what Brene and Kristin were talking about. When we 

are being taken over by our emotions and/or lost in our storyline (so when our reptilian brain is 

front and center), we *can't* access the wise part of our brain until we can find a little space 

from the Fight, Flight or Freeze response.

Yes.

And

so I'm not broken.

Here's the wonderful news: Kristin said there are ways that we *can* access our Mammalian 

system even when our sweet mind can't and/or isn't ready go there (and boy-oh-boy, do I know 

this one!).

Yay!!!!

Three things that "trigger" our Tend and Befriend responses are:

1. Physical warmth

    The example was given that a warm compress is more soothing than a cold one.

2. Gentle Touch 

    Kristin said not to underestimate the power of touch 

3. Soothing Vocalization 

    She said "tone is everything!" and also that the *universal* vocalization, 

    meaning across cultures, for compassion is "awwww." (!!!)

So, if we are stuck in strong emotion and/or our head's storyline, doing one or all 3 of these 

can help call our mammalian brain back online.

I'm sharing all of this, first because I love it *So. Much* (can ya tell?, she asks with a playful, 

twinkly grin).

And also because, while I always knew that holding a warm beverage was soothing (and the 

shape of the mug matters a lot for me!), after posting my photo yesterday morning, it occurred 

to me that holding and drinking a warm cup of tea is really about Tending and Befriending 

myself and practicing self-compassion thru warmth and gentle touch, all while taking exquisite 

self-care.

So is putting my hand over my heart. As an aside, one of the exercises they had us do was to 

close our eyes and spend some time trying out different comforting gestures to find what is 

most soothing for us because the same one won't work for everyone.

And so is taking 5 (or more!) deep breaths!

Isn't all of this about trying to make a little space while also Tending and Befriending?

Yes.

Smiling softly, fondly, warmly, thinking of that story of the tribe that encircles members that 

have lost their way and are acting out and the community bring them back home to themselves 

by singing their song to them. So rather than ditch or throw away a part of themselves, they 

love them back home.

Yes. 

♥

.             *             .

Luminous March :: Heart

Entrusting Grandmother Oak 

with my weary heart 

after a tough day at work.  

Being held

and healed.

Blessed be. 

#embodiedterrain

.              *              .

Abiding and Basking in Grandma's Love

Today's candlelight and toast 

are accompanied by 

tea in a mug 

that once belonged to hubby's dear grandma. 

Abiding (and basking) this morning 

in the treasured knowledge that, 

from the moment of our first hug, 

she considered me one of her own 

and I took deep delight in calling her mine as well. 

All in the presence of Grace. 

Always Grace. 

❤️

.             *           .

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 :: Skin

My hand to my heart

.         *         .

Sweet hubby's hand.

.             *             .

Everyday Beauty :: My Anchor, Sebastian

Sebastian – my treasured friend and ever-faithful companion. He was given to me by Moma on my sweet 16th birthday in the midst of my fight with bone cancer in my left hip. From that day on he slept with me every night, went with me on every hospital visit for chemo and surgery, every trip out of town to see doctors, and on fun trips with family, too. He has seen it all, catching both my tears and fears and comforting me with his ever present hug. He was my anchor and my rock and is as real as the Velveteen Rabbit.

Sebastian was a gift in another deeply comforting way. My relationship with my Moma was particularly rocky when she gave him to me. In time, I found that I could love him when I couldn't love her and I could let her love me thru him, too.

Several years back, when I noticed he was getting torn, I worried he might fall apart so I tucked him up on a special shelf in my closet in our bedroom. Smiling softly because when the closet door is open, I can see him, still watching over me (and loving me) from his perch of honor.

Interesting side note:  as is par for May for me, I'm feeling pretty tender right now. As soon as I got him down to take a photo of him with me this afternoon, the tears started to prick (as they are now). Yes, he is a very good friend, my safe anchor in the storms indeed. 

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

When I shared my photo and words above in a group, someone made the comment, "He is a holy container for dreams, prayer, hopes and fears." Love that so much!  Yes.

.           *           .

Touch - April Love 2015

Feeding my sweet baby nephew.

(What a lovely surprise to find this 

photo taken by hubby)

.         *          .

My Superpower - April Love 2015

My superpower is using my Love Languages,

Words of Affirmation and Touch,

to write from my heart.

(one of my most very favorite things to do)

.          *          .

Holy Week - Praying in Color

So as I committed to walking this week's readings and praying with them, I found that the words that were shimmering for me were the ones that pointed to first Jesus' love and patience for those around him and then the love shown to him. About mid-week, the phrases "where is the love?" and Mister Rogers "Look for the helpers" (when there is so much tragedy around that it can be overwhelming) became welcomed companions as I read these difficult readings.

Once we finished our "Praying in Color" circles, we were invited to come up with a story using the words that we were drawn to from this week's readings. Here is my "story":

When troubled and wondering "where is the love?," remain near, tethered to the one who cares deeply for you. Like a shepherd who tends her beloved sheep, she will wash your weary body, and raise and soothe your tired spirit. Follow her . . . She can be trusted.

.           *            .

Happy Valentine's Day Love

Beautiful, deep pink lovelies from hubby this year.

He continues to touch my heart

by keeping his promise to me,

made 28 years ago,

that I would always have roses on Valentine's Day. 

Blessed be. 

.             *             .

Imbolc Mandala Prayer Collage

So Saturday I rested

(and rested).

I also played with my Mandala Prayer Collage, 

a part of the Imbolc mini-retreat in my new Celtic-based e-course, Sacred Seasons.

I am *so* looking forward to the year-long rhythm of following 

and honoring the seasons within a community!

It speaks deeply to my farmer's daughter, 

cradle Catholic heart.

I loved the instruction to work within a circle *and* to use only one magazine, both exercises meant to nudge me to intentionally prioritize.  It was a very good and timely lesson for me to practice discerning and listening for Enough.  Knowing in my *bones* that I'm ready for some attention to what is growing inside of me, I chose a February magazine thinking it would probably have a lot of spring-like pictures, especially budding flowers.

I found the just-beginning-to-bloom tulips first ~ yay, they're pink (my favorite)! ~ and knew they would probably be a central part of my collage.  I so love the photos of both little girls in front of the white, airy windows on either side.  The fresh flowers bring a comforting sigh of relief and Touch is one of my love languages.  As I played with what to put in my circle, I found I needed ... *craved,* really .... all of the white space.  Smiling because, at one point, I tried coloring in the left-hand side with a green colored pencil.  Right after I finished I knew that it needed to go so I erased it.

I'm hungry... so hungry! ... for a new rhythm.  An ease-ier, peace-filled, spacious rhythm that isn't centered all-consumingly on work and things that need to be done here at home.  I ache for a rhythm that is clean and simple, naturally beautiful.  I also knew I wanted to gently surround myself ~ creating a safe container ~ with a brown border, the color of earth rich in vital nutrients necessary for new seeds and tender, spring plants.  It's my sense that it's a visual way of reminding myself to stay within, tending my own heart and life, a poignant way to remember that it's ok to have some things remain private, secret, and sacred.

So as I've learned with soul collage:

I am the one who is touch (and needs touch)

I am the one who's life is a new rhythm

I am the one who is beautiful pink blossoms, patiently awaiting her time to bloom

     (it'll be here before I know it)

I am the one who is naturally beautiful, a lovely pink flower

I am the one who sits, and speaks, and reads, and studies, and learns, and rests, 

     and grows, and dreams in front of the freshness of an airy white window

I am the one who is clean and simple.

And lookie here how much better and more at peace I feel:

Truly I am blessed

And deeply grateful.

.          *          .

Thankful Tuesday

Today I am thankful for:

1.  Gift of being an auntie to my sweet girls. 

2.  Quiet moments sprinkled in here and there at their combined birthday party.  Like the time my Mollie Grace was playing with her new toys and everyone else had moved to another room.  I happily joined her on the floor.  

3.  A smooth day at work yesterday including a peaceful interaction with a co-worker I've been struggling with a lot lately.

4.  Safe spaces to share my words and my heart.

5.  Receiving kind, honoring words back letting me know I've been seen, heard and am cherished.  (Words of Affirmation really is so clearly one of my love languages)

6.  A lazy morning and being able to still be tucked up in warm, soft blankets on a chilly morning.  (Touch is clearly my other love language)

7.  A new cheerful granny heart crochet pattern with a daisy in the center.  The one I made last night delights me every single time I look at it.

8.  Being able to record cooking shows and watching them at my leisure (and! being able to skip thru the ads).

9.  Sunlight beginning to peek thru our bedroom window this morning.

10. Heater keeping us warm and a long-time, mindful reminder that I am not alone.

11. Reading about St. Brigid on her feast day, Feb. 1.

12. Lovely old and new online connections.

13. A warm mug of Cafe Express Chai Latte Tea.  I make it with a little milk so it's creamier and yummy.

14. Your presence here.  

.             *             .

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. 

.             *             .

InstaAdvent 7 :: Love

My goddaughter and me,

4 years ago.

(She's the one

who's sharing

the InstaAdvent 

photo adventure

with me)

.          *          .

Thankful Tuesday

Today I am thankful for:

1.  Heartwarming visit with a kind friend via Hangout.

2.  Feeling heard and loved, exactly where I am.

3.  Gentle reminders that Enough can be practiced even here.

4.  Making a point to catch rest in the snippets available.

5.  Blessed calmness descending

6.  A perfectly gorgeous Fall afternoon

7.  Silly snapchats with a dear sister.

8.  Relaxation that comes from focused work.

9.  Being willing to do something and then not having to.

10.  Discovery of a surprise being sent my way.

11. Healing balm that is quiet time.

12. Writing my way home.

.             *              .

Trust

I'm needing a gentle reminder today.

In a move of thought-filled self-care and wanting to lean into and honor both of my love languages, Words of Affirmation and Touch, I took this selfie.

I suffered from earaches as a young girl and I remember lying on the couch with my head in Moma's lap so she could pour the warmed medicine in my ear.  She would then gently move my earlobe around so the oil would be evenly distributed. 

 

Lying there for a while (probably as instructed) she would then stroke my hair and ear and I still remember how so-o-o-o-o-othing it all felt. 

 

(Ah, so it would seem that Touch has been a love language of mine for a very long time.)

 

As a way to recapture some of that special one-on-one time with my Moma, I intentionally placed the "Trust" in my selfie over the hair on my brow.

Smiling softly as I imagine her (and many other beloveds) stroking me right there with patient reassurance and whispering:

"Trust, sweet one.

Just trust."

.            *            .

A Love Letter to Debbie Jo

(me, 4 years old)

Dearest Debbie Jo,

Yes, wee one,
still alive and well,
and watching from
inside my heart . . .

She's gone.

And I *know*
it scratches at
some tender,
broken places.

(How on earth could it not?)

But this time?
It's different.

I know, my love.
It's hard to believe,
when the feelings
and the memories
are so present.
Big, yet *almost*
imperceptible.

But it really is
.  .  .  true  .  .  .

I, the woman,
Debbie Grace
am here now,
 .   .  too   .   .

You are no longer
.  .  .  alone .  .  .
That precious child,
.  .  abandoned  .  .
by her beloved Moma
at a time when you
so desperately needed her.

It *was* devastating,
no doubt about that.
But that all happened
a lifetime ago.
(dropping to a whisper)
It's over now, my sweet.

So cry the tears,
bottled up for years,
aching, *needing* to be shed.
This is how healing spreads.

And when you are ready,
as best you can,
come back
.  .  (((home)))  .  .
to *this* moment.

Intentionally take the time
to look around and see.
Nesting in the safety of the
warm, encircling sea.

I am here
Mama Grace is here
Auntie Mercy is here
And, lookie right over there ...
Sisters, Enough and Hope,
are keeping watch, too

Gently wrap yourself
in our tender care,
watching as each one
joins her love with
that of all of the other
so-honored-to-be-yours mothers.

Moma, who can
now love you as
she yearns towards you
from her perch in heaven.

All of your grandmothers . . .
by blood,
by marriage
and by heart.

Trust that we all
love you very much.

Raise your weeping eyes
and look to us,
listening and receiving
our crucial words of
blessed affirmation.

As I gently
cup your face,
close your eyes
and lean in,
trusting each one's hand
covers mine
as we
. . . . . all . . . . .
send love and healing
to those deepest,
aching scars.

You're ok, Little One.

And this wave of grief?
It will pass.
Just like all of the others have.

I promise.

All my love,
Debbie Grace
who is still trustin' in Mama Grace, Auntie Mercy, Enough, and now Hope

.           *           .

Standing in the Light of Truth

This month's practice in Hand to Heart of intentionally setting down tired, old stories that no longer serve us has been and continues to be meaningful and timely for me.

Today I need to set down the story that the way I was as a child and teen (and beyond), both with myself and the world around me, was shameful and that I "should" be deeply ashamed . . . still (and forever).

The wise words I need to hear, tenderly whispered into my heart, are "You did the very best you possibly could, dear girl. Quite remarkably well in fact, given the limited, sometimes primitive (and at times non-existent) tools, skills, knowledge, and support you had at the time. I'm so proud of you for making more self-nurturing choices and responses today. I honor how you are learning to see, hear, and love the little girl of your past and so touched by how you are gently taking her hand, inviting her to walk with you and finding a way of thriving . . . together."

(tears)

.               *              .