I was feeling sorta grumpy and dumpy this morning and then John started streaming some Regina Spektor tunes and it was like the sun started shining in my heart (which had nothing at all to do with the fact that it was 101 freakin’ degrees in our fine town today)….
Category: John
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which part is mine?
Today as I sat in silence, an old song was running through my mind. It’s a ballad by LDS songwriter Michael McLean and each verse portrays a stage of a women’s life and has her perplexed by her role in her various relationships–with friends, spouse, children and spiritual journey. The refrain asks “Which part is mine and which part is yours?”I thought about this song as I pondered my various relationships. I wondered, for example, about my children’s growing autonomy. At what point do I intervene and help them to solve their problems and when do I let them learn their own lessons? How much do I hover? When it is better to let them strike out on their own? How can I affirm my love without stifling them or breaking their will? And are there moments when I am too aloof, too absorbed in my own projects?
I thought about it in terms of my relationship with John. I considered the significant investment I have in him and how difficult it is for me when, like this last week, he is out of town. And I wonder what the best balance is between absorbing myself in him and pursuing my own goals & desires? I considered those moments when my being self-focused weakens our relationship. Yet I also think that, in many ways, I can only be a good partner when I have a strong self to offer. Which part is mine and which part is his, indeed?
This line of thought also has resonance with my involvement in the larger community of Friends. For the past two years I’ve mostly been a recipient–indulging in the efforts of others’ planning, sharing, and ministry. This has been a necessary time to nourish my wounded soul. Accepting the care of others has allowed me space and time for healing. I wonder, though, if it isn’t my turn to serve? As I sat in Meeting today and acknowledged each person in the circle I realized that I have much to give. I am no longer the girl in corner who is constantly on the verge of tears, who has no voice to speak in Meeting. Perhaps ironically, this brings to mind some words from my patriarchal blessing, an admonishment to “move with confidence because there are many who look to you as an example and who will receive encouragement from you through your example.” I am starting to feel that it is “my part” to become more active in the Meeting community. Perhaps it is time to return some of what I have received.
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I forget
Because some days I forget that I was ever 21 years old…
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letters
I have always been a letter writer. I love the feel of a fresh piece of stationery, and watching my words fill a card or a page. I fell in love with my spouse through the letters we exchanged during the years he was in Japan–long before the days of email.
During my college years I wrote letters every Sunday. Letters to John, letters to my parents and extended family, letters to friends both close and farflung. I kept a thick folder of quotations and poetry that could easily be inserted in letters. When appropriate I enclosed pressed ferns or flowers. I decorated my stationery with pictures in the margins and with stickers. I often sealed them closed with an impression from a favorite rubber stamp.
My Mom recently came across the letters that I wrote to my grandmother–covering a span of two decades. Mom had never known that I’d written so frequently and at such length. I remember thinking, at the time, that my grandma would be delighted to get my missives in the mail and it seemed an important duty to write to her often. And she regularly replied, though more than once she expressed her surprise at how much I liked to write letters. I wonder, now, if I was one of the few who wrote to her during those years. Perhaps it was those many years of letters that led to our closeness when I eventually moved my young family near her home. She came over regularly and offered much help and advice with the children. Though our interests didn’t overlap much, it was a joy to have her participate in our lives and I’d forgotten how important that was to me at the time.
Grandma loved roses and she let me pick from her many rosebushes as much as I wanted to. After visiting her I would craft huge bouquets that brought me much joy during the years that I didn’t have my own garden. I suspect that much of my affection for flowers comes from grandma and her husband, who was also an avid gardener.
Grandma is still alive, but suffers now from advanced Alzheimer’s and resides in an assisted living facility. She doesn’t remember any of her family members–even her own children. But I have heard that she still enjoys receiving cards and letters.
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just a trim…
Gave John and GameBoy some much-needed haircuts yesterday. Then left clumps of hair on the porch for the little birds who are building their nests in the nearby trees (much to TobyJoy’s delight). Things got a bit silly, but not nearly as hairy as last time.
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morning thoughts…
8:33
Look at clock, acknowledge that it’s about time to get out of bed. Roll over and curl into the warm hollow left by John’s body and note how super-cozy his pillow is in the morning.
9:10
John walks in with latte, heaping high with foam. Remind self what a good thing it is to have coffee-colored sheets when sipping in a supine position.
9:30
John joins me in bed at my request. Noted: the charming way a bead of sweat pools in the divot at the base of his throat between his clavicle bones. What is this oh-so-sweet spot called? -
Book Meme
From John, a Book Meme:
The rules:
1. Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. No cheating!
2. Find page 123
3. Find the first 5 sentences
4. Post the next 3 sentences
5. Tag 5 peopleMy nearest book at hand is James Goodman’s Blackout
. This is a wickedly good history book, the kind of history that I want to write someday. But honestly this passage just sucks.
“I’m almost 70 years old and I have no place to go,” cried a woman standing across the street from the charred remains of her $57 rental.
“I wish I had died.”“I’m no bleeding heart,” said the head of the Legal Aid Society’s criminal-defense staff.
The teaser from the dustjacket offers a more provocative glimpse into the book’s topic:
The summer of 1977 seethed.
Unemployment was up.
Crime was through the roof.
Son of Sam was on the loose.
Things couldn’t get much worse.
Then the lights went out.
When they came back on, nothing was quite the same.I now tag:
All of my female readers, including…Brooke, Barbara, Bonny, Alison, Allison, Alise, Alisa, Allyson, Christi, Kirsten, Deborah, Darlene, Amy, Alberta, Bekah, Lorell, Lucy, Sara, Sarah, Susan, Shana, Sandra, Rebecca, Caroline, JaneAnne, Janice, Emily, Maria, Margy, Jessica, Penny, Angela, Emma, Nicole, Tanya, Elise, Elisabeth, Lisa, Reg, C.L., Wen, Holly, Elaine, Cheryl, Kara, Kate, Kay, and so forth (and dang it, if I forgot to name you in my list, let me know and I’ll fix it ASAP)! And if you’ve already played along once, feel free to join in the fun again. :)You can answer in the comments or on your own blog… :)
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braided
A few years ago, John wrote this sweet poem for me. I thought I would share it with you, as it’s been on my mind a lot this past week…
A little late for work,
breath on breath, flesh on flesh,
limbs tightly woven
we glory
in our oneness.In our later years
perhaps mingled, our breath escapes
and unable to pry us apart
they bury
our braided bones.And in that latter-day,
when out neighbors stretch and blink
at the brilliant yellow sky,
we dally
and enter into paradise. -
A Story for Valentine’s Day
John’s story is one of the sweetest gifts ever from my beloved. It begins something like this:
“Once Upon a Time there was this handsome prince who asked me out on a date”And I think you can guess how it ends….
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12 songs later…
We had 14 people over to dinner on Saturday for John’s birthday (note: we also celebrated the birth of Tim and Bonny, who happen to be born on the same great day as John!). We indulged in tons of fabulous foods and drinks. I’m happy to report that neither John’s hot hair, the birthday cake, nor Elise’s sugar cube experiments set off the fire alarm (the rousing game of midnite TTR was super smokin’ though).
Needless to say, a party of this size means some pretty big cleanup the morning after. The vid below shows the magnitude of the job (note: we have no dishwasher, or rather, we have the manual kind that means a sponge & elbow grease).
I put on my ipod and had the job done in exactly the time it took to rock out to 12 Dresden Dolls songs. Easy peasy. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
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just one more…
Here’s a pic of John and “Thoreau,” taken while we were goofing around at Walden Pond a few months ago on our anniversary trip.
John is a super-traveler. When he’s around there always great fun and great food (he is the master of finding the best restaurants/cafes/pastries no matter where we are–okay, maybe with the exception of when we are flying on British Airways, but that can hardly be helped). John’s enthusiasm for life is infectious. He is simultaneously filled with child-like curiosity and awe-somely deep thinking.
And let me just add…there is no better way to greet morning’s first light than with him at my side…
:)
