The ancient Greek philosopher Epictetus said, "We have two ears and one mouth so that we can listen twice as much as we speak." That statement is simply ... well ... it's simply profound. Just think how much better the world would be if more people actually listened more than they speak. My guess is there would be far less hate and much more love if we would all give it a try ... listening more and speaking less, that is. Heck, I'd be willing to bet my last cent that if everyone would commit to trying it for only a month, the changes that would take place would be truly phenomenal.
For my Facebook status last Sunday, I wrote these words ... "Sometimes life really is stranger than fiction. Spending the afternoon with Nate Phelps and his brother Mark as we filmed in front of Westboro Baptist Church and the Equality House definitely qualifies as one of those times." If you would have told me I would have ever in a million years been standing on the street right in front of the place where Fred Phelps first began his campaign of hate, I would have told you that you were seriously in need of finding a life-saving head doctor of your very own. And, as Sunday afternoon proved, I would have owed you a giant apology because you would have been absolutely correct in your prediction.
I had been fretting and stewing and worrying all day about the effect that returning to Westboro could possibly have on Nate and his brother Mark. I was especially concerned for Mark ... it's been 40 years since he stood on that street ... 40 years since he saw the house he grew up in ... 40 years since he and Nate walked the steps they took on Sunday together. When I first met Mark, I was struck by the physical differences between the two brothers ... Nate is a giant of a man (at least to a tiny person like me), while Mark is more diminutive in stature. However, when it comes to the size of their hearts and the goodness contained within them, I'd say they are pretty evenly matched ... they are without question two of the bravest, most courageous, giving, loving, compassionate men I've ever known. I couldn't help but marvel at their strength as they turned and looked at the place where they suffered so much pain, the place where they were severely beaten and abused year after year after year.
For all my fretting and stewing and worrying about Nate and Mark, I never once thought about how being in such close proximity to Westboro for the first time might affect me personally. The moment I stepped out of the car, a feeling of terror swept through me like none I can ever remember ... my palms were sweating, my heart was pounding and my stomach was churning. The guys couldn't see or hear me because they were already moving down the street in step with the camera, but I was whispering, "Please keep us safe ... please keep us safe ... please keep us safe." I didn't need the reinforcement of the vile and shameful signs that were posted in various places to remind me of the vitriolic hatred that resides on the other side of the fence ... I could feel it oozing from the building and crawling across the lawn, its icy tentacles trying desperately to wrap themselves around my heart and soul.
As I willed my legs to walk, I realized it wasn't the sight of Westboro or the various signs scattered about the property that terrified me, it was the silence of Westboro that caused the terror to engulf me. It was the silence that sliced through my heart like a knife, the silence that often accompanies child abuse. I closed my eyes as I thought about Nate and Mark being hit over and over and over again with the mattock handle their father used to beat them. "Did they scream out in pain?" I wondered. "Did they beg for mercy? Did they plead for their lives or did they pray that death would take them?" My ears pounded with the sounds of hatred that Fred Phelps spewed forth from the pulpit of the church ... my heart ached with the thought of him beating and beating and beating his children.
The ancient Greek philosopher Epictetus said, "We have two ears and one mouth so that we can listen twice as much as we speak." That statement is simply ... well ... it's simply profound, friends ... simply profound indeed.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Eyes to See
The last few days have been filled with non-stop activity, and I do mean non-stop ... in a good way, though, in a very good way. On Saturday, I was honored to speak for the first time with Nate Phelps, son of Fred Phelps who was the former pastor of the Westboro Baptist Church. We spoke at the Center for Spiritual Living for an event called God and Gays. Sunday, I stood in front of Westboro Baptist Church and Equality House in Topeka, Kansas, and watched as my son Brad and producer Jason filmed the incredibly powerful conversations that took place between Nate and his brother Mark as they shared stories of the abuse and terror that occurred within the walls of the "church" that was also their home. Yesterday began with a lengthy meeting with several producers from a television network about our documentary, followed by driving through torrential rain to reach an old abandoned church next to a cemetery where we spent several hours filming interviews with Mark and Nate. All three days were days I would never have imagined I would experience in my lifetime ... all three days gave all new meaning to the word surreal for me.
To try and relate all the poignant and touching moments of the last few days might well be impossible ... in fact, there were so many of those moments, I'm certain it will take my brain a while to process them. I fully intended to write about one of those moments in particular this evening, but ... but ... but ... I just spent the last three hours stretched out on my couch watching the Royals win game three of the ALCS in their seemingly unstoppable march toward the World Series. And now I'm way too tired to write about something so profound ... I'm struggling to keep my eyes open as I type. So tonight I'm going to bed, but I promise I'll write the post tomorrow I had intended to write tonight. But until then, I want to leave you with something you can ponder upon ... something you can mull over ... something you can chew on for a bit.
You can't see with your eyes closed, friends ... not even what's right in front of you.
To try and relate all the poignant and touching moments of the last few days might well be impossible ... in fact, there were so many of those moments, I'm certain it will take my brain a while to process them. I fully intended to write about one of those moments in particular this evening, but ... but ... but ... I just spent the last three hours stretched out on my couch watching the Royals win game three of the ALCS in their seemingly unstoppable march toward the World Series. And now I'm way too tired to write about something so profound ... I'm struggling to keep my eyes open as I type. So tonight I'm going to bed, but I promise I'll write the post tomorrow I had intended to write tonight. But until then, I want to leave you with something you can ponder upon ... something you can mull over ... something you can chew on for a bit.
You can't see with your eyes closed, friends ... not even what's right in front of you.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Hello? Are You There?
It's hard for me to comprehend that so many folks not only read my posts but that so many of you take time from your busy lives to write and ask if I'm okay when I don't post for a few days. I'm truly humbled by your faithful readership and the depth of your concern for my well-being. Those of you who know me well know that quite often my lack of posting is a pretty good indicator that I'm ... fine ... and those of you who know me well know that fine means I'm really not fine at all. However, please let me assure you that's not the case this week ... concerning my lack of posting, that is. I'm speaking tomorrow for the first time with Nate Phelps, and I'm more nervous than I've ever been about speaking.
If you're in the KC area, come on by if you'd like. Feel free to bring along some sugar-free Jello and Cool Whip or a jar of peanut butter just in case I need a wee bit of nourishment. It may be next week before I have the chance to post again as we're doing a lot of filming over the weekend for the documentary. In the meantime, take care of each other ... smile at each other ... hug each other ... be kind ... be kind ... be kind ... to each other.
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If you're in the KC area, come on by if you'd like. Feel free to bring along some sugar-free Jello and Cool Whip or a jar of peanut butter just in case I need a wee bit of nourishment. It may be next week before I have the chance to post again as we're doing a lot of filming over the weekend for the documentary. In the meantime, take care of each other ... smile at each other ... hug each other ... be kind ... be kind ... be kind ... to each other.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Down the Hatch
For those of you who may be in doubt as to the truth of my granddaughter C.J.'s astounding level of intelligence (remember, she's only 2 1/2 years old), I'd like to offer up yet another example which validates my continued assertion that she is indeed a genius. When I visited Matt, Becca and C.J. last Christmas, my then not quite 2-year-old granddaughter became extremely interested in the pills I had to take each day along with the various pill boxes in which I kept them. She quickly associated my daily meds with the vitamin tablet she took each day and deemed my assortment of pills "Ghee's vitamins." Mind you it's been a full nine months since my visit last Christmas, but the first thing C.J. said when I placed my pill containers on the kitchen shelf was, "Ghee, those are your vitamins." The fact that she remembered that nine months later is amazing in and of itself, but it was what she announced to me a couple of days later that completely blew my mind.
Matt and Becca had already finished eating and left the table so it was just the two of us. Each time I opened up the compartment for my breakfast, lunch or dinner meds, C.J. would ask to see my vitamins. And then she counted how many were in the palm of my hand. And then at breakfast on my third day in Canada, she matter of factly said, "Ghee, you not take da bwack pill at breakfast, just da white ones and da lellow one and da blue and white one. You take da bwack pill at wunch and dinner but not at breakfast." Not only had she been counting the number of pills in my hand each time I took them, my granddaughter had noted which pills I take at each meal ... did I mention that she's only 2 1/2? And did I mention that she's a genius? Thinking that perhaps she only knew when I took the black pill because it looks so different from the other meds, I asked her what colors my lunch and dinner pills were ... and she told me. I was completely and utterly blown away ... completely, entirely, totally and utterly blown away. I had no idea that my little grandgal was paying such close attention to my medications ... I had no idea that my little grandgal was paying such close attention to me.
If you've been reading along with me over the last couple of years, you are well aware of my lack of enthusiasm concerning taking certain medications. For those of you who are new to my blog, please allow me to explain ... I refused to take antidepressants for a long time for far too many reasons to share in tonight's post. And the truth is that I still wrestle from time to time with having to take those particular medications ... again, for far too many reasons to share in tonight's post. But even as I type those words, I can hear the sweet voice of my precious little C.J. say each time we sat down for a meal ... "Ghee, take your vitamins now. Ghee!! It's time a take your vitamins!" Even my 2 1/2-year-old granddaughter recognized that it was important for me to take my meds ... out of the mouths of babes, eh?
Today I was trying my best to get out of doing something ... something I know is important in my journey toward being okay and confident in who I am ... something that often takes every ounce of strength I have within me to do. I was trying my best to get out of doing that particular something when a friend reminded me that doing the something I didn't want to do is part of my prescription for helping me reach the place of "okayness." I'm sure my friend didn't know how deeply profound her words were ... words I haven't been able to shake from my mind since the moment she said them. I'm equally as sure that my little C.J. had no way of knowing that her insistence that I take my vitamins would resonate so strongly with me after I left.
"Ghee, take your vitamins ... Ghee, it's time a take your vitamins."
"It's part of the prescription, so you need to do it."
I think I get the message ... I think I do indeed.
Matt and Becca had already finished eating and left the table so it was just the two of us. Each time I opened up the compartment for my breakfast, lunch or dinner meds, C.J. would ask to see my vitamins. And then she counted how many were in the palm of my hand. And then at breakfast on my third day in Canada, she matter of factly said, "Ghee, you not take da bwack pill at breakfast, just da white ones and da lellow one and da blue and white one. You take da bwack pill at wunch and dinner but not at breakfast." Not only had she been counting the number of pills in my hand each time I took them, my granddaughter had noted which pills I take at each meal ... did I mention that she's only 2 1/2? And did I mention that she's a genius? Thinking that perhaps she only knew when I took the black pill because it looks so different from the other meds, I asked her what colors my lunch and dinner pills were ... and she told me. I was completely and utterly blown away ... completely, entirely, totally and utterly blown away. I had no idea that my little grandgal was paying such close attention to my medications ... I had no idea that my little grandgal was paying such close attention to me.
If you've been reading along with me over the last couple of years, you are well aware of my lack of enthusiasm concerning taking certain medications. For those of you who are new to my blog, please allow me to explain ... I refused to take antidepressants for a long time for far too many reasons to share in tonight's post. And the truth is that I still wrestle from time to time with having to take those particular medications ... again, for far too many reasons to share in tonight's post. But even as I type those words, I can hear the sweet voice of my precious little C.J. say each time we sat down for a meal ... "Ghee, take your vitamins now. Ghee!! It's time a take your vitamins!" Even my 2 1/2-year-old granddaughter recognized that it was important for me to take my meds ... out of the mouths of babes, eh?
Today I was trying my best to get out of doing something ... something I know is important in my journey toward being okay and confident in who I am ... something that often takes every ounce of strength I have within me to do. I was trying my best to get out of doing that particular something when a friend reminded me that doing the something I didn't want to do is part of my prescription for helping me reach the place of "okayness." I'm sure my friend didn't know how deeply profound her words were ... words I haven't been able to shake from my mind since the moment she said them. I'm equally as sure that my little C.J. had no way of knowing that her insistence that I take my vitamins would resonate so strongly with me after I left.
"Ghee, take your vitamins ... Ghee, it's time a take your vitamins."
"It's part of the prescription, so you need to do it."
I think I get the message ... I think I do indeed.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
It's Okay
Trying to choose my favorite moment with my granddaughters over the last couple of weeks is like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack ... there were simply too many adorable and funny and touching moments. Cute baby smiles from little Amelie or her tiny head resting on my shoulder or her chubby legs kicking like crazy when I changed her diaper or the sound of her hiccups when her tummy was full of milk ... those moments were so sweet and so precious that I couldn't possibly choose just one to claim as my favorite. Coraline and her hilarious snort laughing when I would tickle her or say something she deemed giggle worthy or the sound of her singing at the top of her lungs or her riding the runner bike or putting me in time out or swiping all my coins for her piggy bank or the feel of her hand in mine as we crossed a street or the smell of her hair when she snuggled close to me as I read book after book after book to her ... there's no way I could ever say one moment with her was better than any other because every second I spent with her was truly amazing.
I must say there was one thing my little Boo said to me multiple times during my stay that totally melted my heart every single time she said it ... "It's okay, Ghee." Whether I was truly in pain because she had just done a full body slam on my lower back or I was pretending to be hurt when her imaginary dragon Tick had breathed fire on my neck ... whether I really was tearing up from the sadness of knowing my time with her was far too short or I was fake crying when we played princess stuff ... not a word, friends, not one word about me playing princess stuff ... true pain or pretend, real tears or fake, Coraline would pat me and hug me and say, "It's okay, Ghee." Though I am certain that her desire to comfort or console me was genuine, it didn't mean that she stopped jumping on my back or Tick ceased his fire-breathing shenanigans or my sadness of only seeing her for a few days disappeared or I was released from all things princess. What her sweet pats and hugs and "It's okay, Ghee" words did do was make me wish with all my might that my darling Coraline would never have to experience pain or hurt or sadness or loneliness ... it made me wish that she would forever be okay.
By the time I got home last night, I was bone tired; in fact, I was so tired when my flight departed from Edmonton in the early morning hours that I promptly fell asleep after the plane was airborne ... yep, you read that correctly, I slept on the plane and the guy sitting next to me woke me up when we landed. Ollie and Julie were extremely happy to see me, so much so that they were content to hit the sack with me much earlier than we normally do and sleep in way past the time we normally rise. Today was spent doing all the stuff you have to do when you return home after a lengthy time away ... unpacking, mowing the yard, going through a big stack of mail, paying bills and doing laundry. While those aren't things I usually enjoy doing, today I was thankful for things to keep both my body and my mind busy so I didn't spend a good portion of my day crying like I did yesterday. Every time that ache of missing my granddaughters started creeping through my heart, I would whisper the words, "It's okay, Ghee ... it's okay."
Stepping away from the daily routine of life from time to time is good for the soul ... it's often a time of reevaluating what is important and what really matters most, at least it is for me anyway. Sometimes that's a difficult thing to do ... stepping away, reevaluating, taking an honest look at where I am or why I am or who I am or how I am. I've done a lot of thinking and contemplating over the last couple of weeks (when I wasn't swaying and singing to baby Amelie or playing princess stuff with Coraline) ... a whole, whole, whole lot, and I'm sure that some of my ponderings will eventually make their way into a future post or two or twenty. But for tonight ... for tonight, I think I'll just remind myself of the wise words of an extra-special two-year-old ...
"It's okay, Ghee ... it's okay."
I must say there was one thing my little Boo said to me multiple times during my stay that totally melted my heart every single time she said it ... "It's okay, Ghee." Whether I was truly in pain because she had just done a full body slam on my lower back or I was pretending to be hurt when her imaginary dragon Tick had breathed fire on my neck ... whether I really was tearing up from the sadness of knowing my time with her was far too short or I was fake crying when we played princess stuff ... not a word, friends, not one word about me playing princess stuff ... true pain or pretend, real tears or fake, Coraline would pat me and hug me and say, "It's okay, Ghee." Though I am certain that her desire to comfort or console me was genuine, it didn't mean that she stopped jumping on my back or Tick ceased his fire-breathing shenanigans or my sadness of only seeing her for a few days disappeared or I was released from all things princess. What her sweet pats and hugs and "It's okay, Ghee" words did do was make me wish with all my might that my darling Coraline would never have to experience pain or hurt or sadness or loneliness ... it made me wish that she would forever be okay.
By the time I got home last night, I was bone tired; in fact, I was so tired when my flight departed from Edmonton in the early morning hours that I promptly fell asleep after the plane was airborne ... yep, you read that correctly, I slept on the plane and the guy sitting next to me woke me up when we landed. Ollie and Julie were extremely happy to see me, so much so that they were content to hit the sack with me much earlier than we normally do and sleep in way past the time we normally rise. Today was spent doing all the stuff you have to do when you return home after a lengthy time away ... unpacking, mowing the yard, going through a big stack of mail, paying bills and doing laundry. While those aren't things I usually enjoy doing, today I was thankful for things to keep both my body and my mind busy so I didn't spend a good portion of my day crying like I did yesterday. Every time that ache of missing my granddaughters started creeping through my heart, I would whisper the words, "It's okay, Ghee ... it's okay."
Stepping away from the daily routine of life from time to time is good for the soul ... it's often a time of reevaluating what is important and what really matters most, at least it is for me anyway. Sometimes that's a difficult thing to do ... stepping away, reevaluating, taking an honest look at where I am or why I am or who I am or how I am. I've done a lot of thinking and contemplating over the last couple of weeks (when I wasn't swaying and singing to baby Amelie or playing princess stuff with Coraline) ... a whole, whole, whole lot, and I'm sure that some of my ponderings will eventually make their way into a future post or two or twenty. But for tonight ... for tonight, I think I'll just remind myself of the wise words of an extra-special two-year-old ...
"It's okay, Ghee ... it's okay."
Saturday, October 4, 2014
May There Always Be
So I'm sitting in the airport in Edmonton trying my best to stop crying. There is one good thing about being weepy when I go through customs, though ... the agents give me tissues and don't ask me very many questions. I've found that most people are really pretty nice when they know someone's heart is breaking. All I can think about this morning is my little Coraline waking up and wanting to know where her Ghee is and little Amelie missing my singing and swaying when her tummy hurts. Geez ... the older those kiddos get, the harder these goodbyes will be.
Matt and Becca spend a ton of time reading and singing to their girls, and they have, as many parents of young children do, certain routines they follow when it's naptime or bedtime. I've got a bunch of notes jotted down to help me remember some of the funny, sweet, tender and downright hilarious things I'll share in the coming days, but without question one of my favorites involved Coraline's naptime.
Just in case I hadn't already picked up on the required things that accompanied her naptime ritual, she filled me in again on the day Matt and Becca went to Calgary and Boo and I spent the day together. Making sure she had her special blanket, her book of choice had been read, she was tucked in the right way, her back was sufficiently scratched, Violet was playing soft music, the ladybug was displaying purple stars, and the song ... the extra special song had been sung. Each time I put her to bed while I was there, I couldn't help but think of her Daddy when he was a little boy ... sniffle, sniffle, sniffle.
The naptime song is May There Always Be Sunshine ... with a whole bunch of additional Coraline-selected May There Always Be ... mom, dad, puppies, blue skies, Amelie .... and Ghee ... she always said, "may there always be Ghee." Someday, when she's all grown up, I'm going to tell my sweet baby girl that Ghee is here because of her ... there is Ghee because there is Coraline.
Time to get on the plane ... tears and all.
Matt and Becca spend a ton of time reading and singing to their girls, and they have, as many parents of young children do, certain routines they follow when it's naptime or bedtime. I've got a bunch of notes jotted down to help me remember some of the funny, sweet, tender and downright hilarious things I'll share in the coming days, but without question one of my favorites involved Coraline's naptime.
Just in case I hadn't already picked up on the required things that accompanied her naptime ritual, she filled me in again on the day Matt and Becca went to Calgary and Boo and I spent the day together. Making sure she had her special blanket, her book of choice had been read, she was tucked in the right way, her back was sufficiently scratched, Violet was playing soft music, the ladybug was displaying purple stars, and the song ... the extra special song had been sung. Each time I put her to bed while I was there, I couldn't help but think of her Daddy when he was a little boy ... sniffle, sniffle, sniffle.
The naptime song is May There Always Be Sunshine ... with a whole bunch of additional Coraline-selected May There Always Be ... mom, dad, puppies, blue skies, Amelie .... and Ghee ... she always said, "may there always be Ghee." Someday, when she's all grown up, I'm going to tell my sweet baby girl that Ghee is here because of her ... there is Ghee because there is Coraline.
Time to get on the plane ... tears and all.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
For the First Time in Forever
Before you even think it, I'm well aware that my previous entry was about the lesson I learned from the lyrics of a song from the Disney movie Frozen and that the title of this post is also the title of a song from the same movie. I may be old, but I haven't quite lost all my marbles just yet. I have, however, heard my sweet granddaughter C.J. belting out the words to both of those songs several times each day for the last eight days, and I did watch the movie with her (and maybe a few YouTube clips, too), so that's why I've got Frozen and its music stuck inside my brain. And because I'm in Canada ... everyone knows Canada and Frozen just seem to go together ... duh.
I got an email from someone yesterday asking me why I haven't blogged on this trip to Canada like I did during my two previous visits, and I couldn't help but chuckle when I read it. Obviously, the person who wrote to ask me about my lack of blogging over the last eight days has completely forgotten what life in a house with a toddler and 10-week-old baby is like ... busy, busy, busy. As I've helped my son and daughter-in-law feed and bathe and rock and jostle and read to and play with and entertain my two granddaughters since I've been here, I've found myself wondering how in the world I ever managed to take care of my three kiddos on my own. I think perhaps that the parenting of young children is proof that God gives us the strength we need at exactly the time we need it, eh? I've had a ton of "for the first time in forever" moments since I've been here in Canada visiting Matt, Becca, Coraline and Amelie ... moments I can only hope I will remember for as long as I live. But today two of those moments brought memories crashing into my mind and tears welling up in my eyes ... one moment with Coraline and one with Amelie.
Following a morning of train rides and visiting Matt at the university, reading Little Red Riding Hood and taking a long nap (Boo, not me!), Coraline and I went for a chilly late afternoon walk so we could meet Matt as he rode his bike home from work. My eldest granddaughter is absolutely adorable as she pushes her doll stroller down the sidewalk ... the doll stroller which today carried Gigi the stuffed dalmatian I gave her when I arrived. As we walked along, I said, "Boo, I'm sure going to miss you when I have to go back to my house on Saturday." Coraline abruptly stopped pushing the doll stroller to turn and gaze up at me with those piercing blue eyes of hers and said, "I will miss you, Ghee. I not want you to go to your house. I want you to stay wif Boo."
Sweet baby Amelie is having some stomach problems, and I've spent a significant amount of time over the last few days rocking, singing, swaying and/or jiggling her ... basically anything it takes to soothe her. This evening she was especially fussy, and I walked back and forth through the house singing to her while I patted her rear. I didn't dare move her when she finally fell asleep on my shoulder, and I'm not sure exactly how long I held her. As I walked and patted and sang and walked and patted and sang and walked and patted and sang, I breathed in the scent of her baby hair and marveled at the perfection of her tiny face.
For the first time in forever ... when Boo told me today she would miss me, I understood how difficult it was for my mom to live so far away from my children. For the first time in forever ... I understood how tough it was for my kiddos to be separated by so many miles from my mom. For the first time in forever ... as I patted little Amelie's rear and sang to her, I understood that the countless nights I reached over the crib rail to pat her dad's rear so many years ago was unconditional love in its purest human form. For the first time in forever.
For the first time in forever ... don't waste a single moment, friends ... don't waste a single moment.
"For the first time in forever, there'll be magic, there'll be fun."
I got an email from someone yesterday asking me why I haven't blogged on this trip to Canada like I did during my two previous visits, and I couldn't help but chuckle when I read it. Obviously, the person who wrote to ask me about my lack of blogging over the last eight days has completely forgotten what life in a house with a toddler and 10-week-old baby is like ... busy, busy, busy. As I've helped my son and daughter-in-law feed and bathe and rock and jostle and read to and play with and entertain my two granddaughters since I've been here, I've found myself wondering how in the world I ever managed to take care of my three kiddos on my own. I think perhaps that the parenting of young children is proof that God gives us the strength we need at exactly the time we need it, eh? I've had a ton of "for the first time in forever" moments since I've been here in Canada visiting Matt, Becca, Coraline and Amelie ... moments I can only hope I will remember for as long as I live. But today two of those moments brought memories crashing into my mind and tears welling up in my eyes ... one moment with Coraline and one with Amelie.
Following a morning of train rides and visiting Matt at the university, reading Little Red Riding Hood and taking a long nap (Boo, not me!), Coraline and I went for a chilly late afternoon walk so we could meet Matt as he rode his bike home from work. My eldest granddaughter is absolutely adorable as she pushes her doll stroller down the sidewalk ... the doll stroller which today carried Gigi the stuffed dalmatian I gave her when I arrived. As we walked along, I said, "Boo, I'm sure going to miss you when I have to go back to my house on Saturday." Coraline abruptly stopped pushing the doll stroller to turn and gaze up at me with those piercing blue eyes of hers and said, "I will miss you, Ghee. I not want you to go to your house. I want you to stay wif Boo."
Sweet baby Amelie is having some stomach problems, and I've spent a significant amount of time over the last few days rocking, singing, swaying and/or jiggling her ... basically anything it takes to soothe her. This evening she was especially fussy, and I walked back and forth through the house singing to her while I patted her rear. I didn't dare move her when she finally fell asleep on my shoulder, and I'm not sure exactly how long I held her. As I walked and patted and sang and walked and patted and sang and walked and patted and sang, I breathed in the scent of her baby hair and marveled at the perfection of her tiny face.
For the first time in forever ... when Boo told me today she would miss me, I understood how difficult it was for my mom to live so far away from my children. For the first time in forever ... I understood how tough it was for my kiddos to be separated by so many miles from my mom. For the first time in forever ... as I patted little Amelie's rear and sang to her, I understood that the countless nights I reached over the crib rail to pat her dad's rear so many years ago was unconditional love in its purest human form. For the first time in forever.
For the first time in forever ... don't waste a single moment, friends ... don't waste a single moment.
"For the first time in forever, there'll be magic, there'll be fun."
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Let It Go
I discovered something yesterday ... something really, really big. Though I truly hate to admit it, I feel that in the spirit of being open, honest, real and transparent, I must, even though it will completely decimate my non-girly, detest all things frilly, bow tie-loving image. Yesterday, I discovered that even a tough gal such as myself can learn some pretty gigantic life lessons from ... oh, how it pains me to admit this ... from ... oh, gosh, I will never hear the end of this ... I learned a gigantic life lesson from a princess. Go ahead, laugh it up all you want, but yesterday a princess in a Disney movie taught me a big old huge lesson about the devastating effects of fear and isolation, and the far-reaching, life-restoring power of love.
Though I've heard the song "Let It Go" many times, it wasn't until I was stretched out on a couch snuggling my precious little granddaughter as we watched Frozen that the words of the song really hit me ... words about not letting people in and not letting them see ... words about concealing rather than feeling ... words about a kingdom of isolation ... words about letting go of the past and embracing the future. Yep, I learned a big old huge lesson from that Disney princess yesterday ,,, a big old huge lesson indeed.
Though I've heard the song "Let It Go" many times, it wasn't until I was stretched out on a couch snuggling my precious little granddaughter as we watched Frozen that the words of the song really hit me ... words about not letting people in and not letting them see ... words about concealing rather than feeling ... words about a kingdom of isolation ... words about letting go of the past and embracing the future. Yep, I learned a big old huge lesson from that Disney princess yesterday ,,, a big old huge lesson indeed.
"Let It Go"
The snow glows white on the mountain tonight
Not a footprint to be seen
A kingdom of isolation,
And it looks like I'm the queen.
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside
Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I tried!
Don't let them in, don't let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know
Well, now they know!
Let it go, let it go
Can't hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door!
I don't care
What they're going to say
Let the storm rage on,
The cold never bothered me anyway!
It's funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can't get to me at all!
Not a footprint to be seen
A kingdom of isolation,
And it looks like I'm the queen.
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside
Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I tried!
Don't let them in, don't let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know
Well, now they know!
Let it go, let it go
Can't hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door!
I don't care
What they're going to say
Let the storm rage on,
The cold never bothered me anyway!
It's funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can't get to me at all!
It's time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me I'm free!
Let it go, let it go
I am one with the wind and sky
Let it go, let it go
You'll never see me cry!
Here I stand
And here I'll stay
Let the storm rage on!
My power flurries through the air into the ground
My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast
I'm never going back,
The past is in the past!
Let it go, let it go
And I'll rise like the break of dawn
Let it go, let it go
That perfect girl is gone!
Here I stand
In the light of day
Let the storm rage on,
The cold never bothered me anyway!
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me I'm free!
Let it go, let it go
I am one with the wind and sky
Let it go, let it go
You'll never see me cry!
Here I stand
And here I'll stay
Let the storm rage on!
My power flurries through the air into the ground
My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast
I'm never going back,
The past is in the past!
Let it go, let it go
And I'll rise like the break of dawn
Let it go, let it go
That perfect girl is gone!
Here I stand
In the light of day
Let the storm rage on,
The cold never bothered me anyway!
You 'Member, Ghee?
For as much as I consider myself to be in pretty decent physical shape for a mid-50s gal, this morning I discovered that there are muscles in my body which have quite possibly never been used before. I knew the moment I rolled over in bed that today was going to be a heavy-duty Advil kind of day ... every single solitary muscle in my body, both used and unused, screamed out to take the day off from any form of movement or exertion. Slowly creeping out of bed and heading toward the shower, I said to myself, "Being a Ghee is not for sissies ... at least being the kind of Ghee I am determined to be isn't for sissies anyway." A long hot shower followed by the precious voice of my little Boo saying, "Ghee? You weady to play wif Boo now?" put my aching muscles in their place and got me pumped for a full day of Boo time as Matt and Becca readied themselves to go to Calgary for the day to take care of Amelie's citizenship paperwork.
I had planned to take Boo for a bus ride to her favorite bookstore this morning followed by lunch at a cute little restaurant, just the two of us. But the poor little gal had a very upset tummy through the night last night, so we had to dial our outing back to a short walk to a local pet shop followed by a stop at a specialty grocer for some Honey Bunny crackers and bottled water. On the way to the stores, we sang songs and talked about flowers and birds, and we counted houses and watched the train go in the tunnel on one side of the road and come out on the other. We saw an ambulance and a school bus and lots and lots of cars. I kept stopping to check on her in the stroller until she finally said, "Ghee, you need a stop stopping and walk faster." Have I mentioned how much I love her?
It was when we were walking back home that Coraline said, "Ghee, you 'member we are going to watch Frozen after Boo goes night-night. You 'member, Ghee?" Tears filled my eyes as I realized the significance of what my sweet granddaughter was asking me ... she was asking me if I remembered I had made a promise to her the day I arrived that she and I would watch Frozen together on the day her mom and dad went to Calgary ... my granddaughter was holding me accountable to honor the promise I had made to her earlier in the week. With her innocent and adorable question, "You 'member, Ghee?" Coraline taught me a gigantic lesson about how important my words can truly be to someone else ... especially when that someone else is my granddaughter.
So ... 'member when I said I might not blog much while I'm in Canada? I'm keeping a list of all my ideas and wonderful stories that are blog-worthy, and I'll post as I have time or when I return to Kansas. Until then, 'member this, friends ... there is no better cure on earth for a case of the blues or the uns or the funks than love. 'Member that, friends ... 'member that for the rest of your lives.
It was when we were walking back home that Coraline said, "Ghee, you 'member we are going to watch Frozen after Boo goes night-night. You 'member, Ghee?" Tears filled my eyes as I realized the significance of what my sweet granddaughter was asking me ... she was asking me if I remembered I had made a promise to her the day I arrived that she and I would watch Frozen together on the day her mom and dad went to Calgary ... my granddaughter was holding me accountable to honor the promise I had made to her earlier in the week. With her innocent and adorable question, "You 'member, Ghee?" Coraline taught me a gigantic lesson about how important my words can truly be to someone else ... especially when that someone else is my granddaughter.
So ... 'member when I said I might not blog much while I'm in Canada? I'm keeping a list of all my ideas and wonderful stories that are blog-worthy, and I'll post as I have time or when I return to Kansas. Until then, 'member this, friends ... there is no better cure on earth for a case of the blues or the uns or the funks than love. 'Member that, friends ... 'member that for the rest of your lives.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Here I Sit
If you think my fear of storms is irrational or that my fear of flying is crazy or my fear of grass should cause me to be locked up (really it's sinkholes I'm afraid of rather than the actual grass itself, however, most sinkholes happen in grassy areas, hence my fear of grass is actually quite legitimate and perhaps even ... dare I say it ... scientifically based) ... wait a sec ... where was I going with this? Oh, yeah ... if you think all my fears make me seem like I'm a few fries short of a Happy Meal, then it's a really, really, really good thing you've never been at my house when I'm getting ready to go on a trip. Yep, I'll admit it ... my behavior in the days leading up to me traveling could easily reside in the over-the-top crazy person category. I make myself even crazier than I already am with all the things I feel I must do before I head out of town ... things like shampoo the carpet, make an encyclopedia-worthy list of instructions for the young fellows who stay at my house to care for my dogs, mow the yard, clean the garage, completely freak out about leaving my dogs, clean parts of the house I haven't cleaned since I last traveled, pack and re-pack and pack at least a dozen more times, worry myself sick about getting on the airplane ... you get the idea ... I take insanity to a whole new level when it comes time for me to take a trip.
I'm finally heading up to Canada to snuggle my newest granddaughter and engage in some super serious playtime with a certain little two-year-old. On top of being in my normal full-blown pre-trip crazy land, rather than pay the exorbitant shipping costs to send Christmas presents in a couple of months, I'm taking all their presents with me in my luggage which means my pack and re-pack and pack at least a dozen more times sort of resembles ... well ... Santa on crack is probably the closest analogy that comes even remotely close to giving you a vague idea as to how seriously crazy my pre-trip behavior really is. I spent most of Saturday working on things inside the house since it was like a bazillion degrees outside with humidity in the gazillion percent range, and Sunday was yard work day since a cold front moved through and made for a completely beautiful day. Yesterday was total freak-out day ... worked until 2, came home and finished all the rest of the things on my list of 5,329 things to get done before I leave, told my dogs how much I'm going to miss them (5,214 of the things to get done before I leave), and finally crawled into bed at 1:45 ... yep, that means I'm flying today on 4 hours worth of sleep.
Now here I sit at the airport waiting to board my first plane of the day ... sweaty palms, churning gut, nervous twitches, I've peed like 18 times already ... have I ever mentioned before how much I'm terrified of flying? But if I survive, in about 6 hours, I'll be meeting little Amelie and getting tackled by sweet Coraline. I can't think of very many people other than my kiddos and grandgirls I'd get on two planes in one day to go see ... well ... except Ellen, I guess. I'm not sure how much I'll post over the next couple of weeks ... depends on how exhausted I am from a ton of Ghee-ing. And how many funny stories I have to tell ... or sweet stories ... oh, heck, we all know I'm probably going to post a few times while I'm in Canada.
It's time to get on the plane ... I need to breathe ... breathe ... I can do this ... there are babies waiting for me!!!
I'm finally heading up to Canada to snuggle my newest granddaughter and engage in some super serious playtime with a certain little two-year-old. On top of being in my normal full-blown pre-trip crazy land, rather than pay the exorbitant shipping costs to send Christmas presents in a couple of months, I'm taking all their presents with me in my luggage which means my pack and re-pack and pack at least a dozen more times sort of resembles ... well ... Santa on crack is probably the closest analogy that comes even remotely close to giving you a vague idea as to how seriously crazy my pre-trip behavior really is. I spent most of Saturday working on things inside the house since it was like a bazillion degrees outside with humidity in the gazillion percent range, and Sunday was yard work day since a cold front moved through and made for a completely beautiful day. Yesterday was total freak-out day ... worked until 2, came home and finished all the rest of the things on my list of 5,329 things to get done before I leave, told my dogs how much I'm going to miss them (5,214 of the things to get done before I leave), and finally crawled into bed at 1:45 ... yep, that means I'm flying today on 4 hours worth of sleep.
Now here I sit at the airport waiting to board my first plane of the day ... sweaty palms, churning gut, nervous twitches, I've peed like 18 times already ... have I ever mentioned before how much I'm terrified of flying? But if I survive, in about 6 hours, I'll be meeting little Amelie and getting tackled by sweet Coraline. I can't think of very many people other than my kiddos and grandgirls I'd get on two planes in one day to go see ... well ... except Ellen, I guess. I'm not sure how much I'll post over the next couple of weeks ... depends on how exhausted I am from a ton of Ghee-ing. And how many funny stories I have to tell ... or sweet stories ... oh, heck, we all know I'm probably going to post a few times while I'm in Canada.
It's time to get on the plane ... I need to breathe ... breathe ... I can do this ... there are babies waiting for me!!!
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