To Be Human

I am no goddess
Just a flesh & blood mortal,
Skin clad muscle and bone
Struggling since a too early birth
To be human.
To walk some way
Other
Than the clear trod paths of beasts.

Crouched low,
Under the tangling thicket of my
Desires
And urges,
The patterns that come so naturally,
Ancient memory
Imprinted into
Every crease of my palm...

Here in the close space
Between what is & what is not,
Between reality & all that is false,
This narrow way
Where a soul is birthed,
(Is this not the way all life emerges?  A bursting, a response,
To restrictive pressure
Giving way just enough to allow
Progress?)
Here, the horizon is wider
Than I could have possibly imagined...

A sureness beyond my control
It is not magic I seek
No power over the current
No conjuring-
What could I dream up this untamed
This majestic
This wondrous?

My only longing here in this place,
One breath to the next-
Oh! Do I dare to?
Come ever closer
See ever clearer
Apprehend this Beauty,
Attain a humble understanding?

These bones crush to dust...
And I cry tears of joy at the absurdity.
I am no goddess,
But to be human,
To be human.

That is glory enough.

Mama

I have been waiting since the day my sweet Cub was born to hear him say "mama".  And now, right before he turns two, he is saying it.  "Maaa-muh!", when he wants me to come attend to something.  "Mama?", when he wakes in the night, making sure I am still there in the dark and quiet or that he is really awake and not dreaming.  "Mama, Mama, MA-Muh" when he just wants to hear the way it sounds and hear me say "Yes baby?" to make him smile.  Mama.  I like my new name.  I like knowing that this is who I am to this dear little boy.  Whatever a mama is, that is who I am to him.  That is how he knows me.  I am the one who feeds him, plays with him, talks to him, holds him.  The first face in the morning the warmth and comfort throughout the night.  The one who makes toys out of pots and pans and whatever else is lying around.  The one who stands over the stove and squats down to listen and lifts up to kiss away tears.  The one who makes him take his medicine and sit through face scrubbings and nail clippings and hair brushing.  The one whom he will one day break free from because he will know that, really, we are never apart.  The one who shows him that love is a link as I hold him, standing next to Daddy and all our arms go twining around each other.  Mama.  Mama.  Mama.  Yes baby, that is me.

Bear Good Fruit

I love life and I am pro-life and will stand with anybody and proclaim that message and hold out hope.  Joined in with 40 Days for Life, a movement started by the Catholic church and committed to coming out this morning to pray in front of the abortion mills in my town.  I got there at 9am, me and Cub.  We were there for about an hour.  I prayed, with others there, for a couple as they pulled in before the mill opened.  The woman never lifted her head.  Her boyfriend sits in the driver's side coolly smoking a cigarette, smoke and rock music drift from his slightly rolled down window.  Shortly after they arrive, a family with another group, Cities for Life arrives.  The mother sets up her loud speaker and in the sweetest, clearest, most loving and truthful words, pleads with the mother to change her mind.  15-20 minutes go by.  The mill opens.  The couple get out of their car and go inside.  Once, the mama looks over to us...then walks through the door her boyfriend holds open for her, into the place her baby is scheduled to die.  Minutes later her boyfriend walks out.  Leaving her there, he gets into his car and as he speeds out of the parking lot he yells "GOD DOESN'T EXIST."

My heart brims with tears that somehow won't fall from my eyes as I watch a mother and father taking their young daughter into the clinic.  Her child...their grandchild...dying for inconvenience or embarrassment or the hope of a career...young girls literally bounding like colts as if this is a game and they are at play; older women stone faced and stone hearted, walking determinedly to offer up their children to death.  They do not seem to know that this freezing, this hardness, will not just leave them...not even after it is done; men passive and uncaring as their sons and daughters are ripped from the bodies of the women they claim to love...it is such madness.

A car is coming, slows before it reaches the driveway as the same mother on the loud speaker walks over to ask the mama driving if she will take a minute to talk before going in.  I go around to the passenger side.  the young lady in the seat tells me she is here to support her sister.  "We are Christians.  We prayed, but we don't know what to do."  I tell her about my experience.  "Your sister is already a mama.  The only choices for her now are to have her baby and raise it, to have her baby and give it up or to kill her child today.  Whatever her choice, she will live with it for the rest of her life.  This will not just make it 'go away'.  And the baby she is carrying, that is not just her baby that she will kill.  That is your niece or nephew.  Your father's grandchild...I know how she feels right now.  Here's my number.  Don't do this.  I'm praying for you.  If you do go in, there is hope and healing after,  but I hope you don't need it."  They drive on into the parking lot.  They sit there for a long time.  Then the doors open and they go in.  My heart sinks...but I know there is always hope.  I keep praying.  We all do.  An hour later she comes out.  Smiling and waving at the "religious nutbags" on the sidewalk, bouncing for joy in her seat.  SHE CHOSE LIFE!

A tree is known by its fruit.  I have never seen a mother leaving the mill with joy after an abortion.  There is no joy in death.  The mamas and dads that choose life experience the relief that comes when a decision is made as well as the joy of knowing they have chosen the good.  Right action comes from right belief.   Love life, protect life, CHOOSE LIFE!

Throw Me a Lifeline

This post is a formal and heartfelt apology to every mother and child I ever judged before I became a mom.  I would like to say, with greatest sincerity "I am sorry, so very sorry. And moreover, I. Was. Wrong.  To every mother whom I judged as being inadequate for not disciplining (and by disciplining I mean "tanning the hide" of) her tired, tearful and yes, even, raging toddler. For every inner scoff at the oft given reason/apology for behavior I found unacceptable "He's tired.  She missed her nap.  He's probably just hungry."  For every irritated face scrunch to exaggerate my displeasure over the noisy tot at the next table over in the restaurant.  For every policing stare given to mothers whose children were not properly strapped into the seat of the shopping cart, but riding shotgun in the place that the GROCERIES are supposed to go.  For everytime I thought that every baby was supposed to like every adult and tolerate being handled whether they liked it or not.  Because they were babies, dang it.  For every parent whom I thought, in my abject ignorance, had failed to show their kids just WHO was BOSS, thereby making my very important life more pleasant...again I say I am sorry and I was WRONG.  I was wrong to think that my experience at the grocery store or the restaurant was any more important than yours.  If I had taken the time to notice, I would have seen that my displeasure (misplaced and obtrusive) probably made a difficult situation more difficult and made you focus on how you APPEARED and what total strangers were thinking of you and your child, instead of the need of the moment...your child's distress and the best way to handle it.  It never occured to me as I sat in the restaurant that as a single woman, I could go out to eat anytime I pleased, but that for you and your family, eating out was an orchestrated event. Just making it to the table was a feat of coordination, pacification, timing, patience and planning.  It never occurred to me that maybe my condescending attitude was ruining YOUR dining experience. To all the moms who let their kids ride shotgun in the grocery cart...YOU WERE DOING THE RIGHT THING.  If that is the only place your child would sit, without crying, or pulling everything off the shelves, if that is what it took to gain 10 peaceful minutes in which to get your groceries or just 10 minutes of down time while you walked the aisles with no fire to put out, then yeah, you did the right thing.  And I salute you for doing it despite my condemning glare.  Instructions on that stupid seat flap thingy (which never stays down anyway) be hanged.

Now that I am a mom, I know much better.  My tot is rude.  He doesn't smile at everyone and loudly protests being held  when he doesn't wish it.  He spares no one's feelings.  Imagine that.  That said, he is a very sweet child, UNLESS, he is tired or he has missed his nap or he is hungry.  And I find myself saying this a lot...I know, I know .  I have no time to try and show him just who is boss.  I am too busy being the boss, which means being patient when I'm out of patience, taking care of his needs when I have needs of my own and looking for peaceable solutions that keep us both sane.  Nope, no time for power games.  When my face is hot from embarrassment because Cub is tuning up for a big cry and yanking up my shirt IN THE CHECK-OUT LINE, because he is tired and hungry and wants to nurse RIGHT NOW, and I can't decide if I should pay with cash or fumble around for the debit card and end up pulling out the credit card because "OH MY GOSH, WHERE IS MY DEBIT CARD?!!"  And the teen-aged cashier and the lady behind me in heels and a savvy pant suit just.can't. relate...I remember being like them. I remember only having to be concerned with myself.  Now I am not judging them, nor would I want to trade places with them.  But it does remind me...to stay humble.  Some days I am just hanging on for dear life.  And I know other moms are too.  I still try to make eye contact with mamas with, shall we say, difficult, children.  But it's not so that I can ice them with my stare and make them conform.  It's so I can throw them a life-line...tell them how beautiful their little one is and what a wonderful job they are doing.  I don't expect that the world will stop for me and Cub, shift to accommodate our needs.  But, the world shouldn't expect moms, dads, kids to accommodate it though.  I realize that now.  And, I dare say, I am a better person for it.  Certainly a better mom.

Perfect

Drifted through the afternoon with Cub sleeping in the crook of my arm.  "A Day Without Rain" echoed through the rooms of our home whilst the winter sunset streamed the colors of rosewater, golden pearl and periwinkle, finally fading to indigo.  It is so warm here, like spring, windy and rainy.  I was so worried about how brutal the winter might be.  Worrying is so useless I am beginning to see.  Hope your week was beautiful.  Hope your weekend is bright.

v'Dodi Li

Scrabbling for you

In the dust

The dirt under my nails

The scrape of shifting pebbles

Solid

Falling away as quickly as I perceive them

Looking for the Light

Yet here I am

In the coolness

The darkness

Of the earth

I have to laugh

How have you intoxicated me so?

Just near enough to drive me mad

With greater longing

I would not

Cannot give you up

I tremble

I whine

I groan

in desperation

And then a spark, a flash,

You shine there, just there in my periphery,

So close that

I shake my fist in confidence

And dance in exaltation

I trace your footprint on the path

And then fall back bewildered and lonely

Straining to find the direction of Your Voice

But echoes bounce and it is hard to tell

I move forward inexorably though

This heavy search, the longing is enough sometimes

Because it reminds me

How could I desire you this much

If you were never there?

My tears fall like sparkling diamonds

Will they  make a worthy diadem?

My Heart is Dancing

Fall and winter have always been my favorite times of year.  I am made for cooler weather.  I love the deep and quietly fading beauty of autumn and the austerity and stillness of winter.  It makes me feel more alive and this year is no different.  Each day I spend so much time drinking in the view, watching the panoramic spectacle of the leaves changing colors outside my window.  The sun is coming down, to the ground, in wiggling droplets, through the woods behind my house, no longer buoyed up by the thick, green leaves of summer.  My garden bed is spent.  Only the leafless stalks remain in the cool, wet dirt.

I go out everyday with Cub, trying not to waste these last days that are warm enough for playing in the park or strolling down sidewalks window shopping or weekend hayrides.  As night comes quicker and cooler...we are making our peace and saying goodbye to our sweet summer together.  Goodbye to the heat and sweat and buzzing bees and wasps and hot kiss of sun on face and arms and the nape of the neck.  Goodbye long days and waiting for tomatoes and watering the flowers.  Goodbye to sunny weekend trips and time spent at the lake and summer weddings and parties.

This time last year, I held Cub in my arms, nearly all the time.  Now he wriggles down and walks proudly and boldly wherever he wants to go.  I have to laugh!  It seems that time moves forward slowly, but the backward glance is the blink of an eye.  In the blink of an eye the still time of the year has come again.  I am eagerly anticipating the gifts that await; mornings spent with my family sipping hot chocolate, maybe a snow or two for sledding down our hill, the oven hot and steady, baking love in the shape of cookies while care simmers on the stovetop in my beef stew.  Drawing close under blankets as we read stories together under the inky black of winter night, all a-shimmering with icy stars.  Joy, joy everywhere.  I pray we are all less sick this winter.  I give thanks for the family and friends that give my life purpose.  My heart is dancing, what about yours?