Today's silly kid story

Some of you have already heard this story, so if you have, just X on out........

A cold, blustery day,............Ms. Lori is outside in the courtyard with a dozen primary students and the classroom door closes (and locks) behind her.

"Miz Lori, Miz Lori...............I need to go pee..." says M.

"Well, come on M.....hold it till we get inside" says I

We run toward the door and bang on it, hoping Ms. Nadine will open the door for us....

A. (small blonde girl, 3 years old) runs with us....

"uh- oh,.........Mz. Lori" says M.

I turn and see M. (small boy) standing in a puddle with liquid splashing out of his shoes, and steam rising off of his pants..

"I peed, Mz. Lori" says M.

A. screams........."Do something Mz. Lori.............his pants is smoking!"

I love these kids, and I love this job..............

Where else do you get such drama with so little problem?

Love, love,......love..............

Here is the thing about love...........It feels great sometimes, it feels horrible sometimes, and most of the time it feels alot like flannel sheets and fuzzy slippers. Sometimes it feels like you are drowning, and sometimes it feels like a part of your body has been severed.................sometimes there is this huge gaping hole in your heart that nothing............no amount of anything will fill.

It feels like the sun only shines on the one you love,.............

And then you grow up.

Love........no one can take it away, change the color, make it bigger, make it smaller, re-arrange it. No one can hide it in the closet, "ground" you from it, tell you have to finish your homework or your housework for it.

It can't be bought, sold or traded, and once it's yours, it is yours to keep.

Love is the thing that keeps you going when you have cleaned up after a sick child for the fifth time in one night.......it's the thing that makes you forgive,....and forgive,.....and forgive.....and it's the thing that makes you forget and go right back.

Love cannot be destroyed. No one can take it......No matter how bad love hurts, it is ours, and ours to hold, handle, throw away, bury, or treasure.

Sometimes love morphs...........When we love and lose, we don't really lose...........We just change it into another kind of love. A love that gladdens and grows........ a love that leavens our relationships, and stretches our souls.

There is romantic love, mother love, crazy love, and being in love. There is companionable love, sister love, baby love and puppy love...

We have one teacher of love........and if we listen, really listen, we can find Him all around us.

Love.......the more we give away, the more we get back.

New Year

So, I came to realize that it had been over a year since I wrote anything here.......anything at all.........even a word. There are so many words I could have written this past year......like fear or bitterness,..................desperation. Deep sorrow for a friend........................followed by wondrous amazement for same friend. Pride.

Other words I could have written. Melancholy. Nostalgia. Grief. Exhaustion. Worry. I guess one of the more important words this past year has been Acceptance.

I have accepted (finally) that the world will never be the same.......I will never be a young mother again, in fact I will never be a young anything again, ........I will never live in a world with my mother again, with my dear Glenn, and I will never awaken in the morning with that sense of carefree abandon.

But.................when I review this year, there are other words I could write, and some of them, for the very first time. Words like nurturing and kind, creative. Capacity for caring.......Stage designer.

Artistry. Teacher.

I have become. I am someone I can be proud of.....................and maybe I already have been, but being it and knowing it, feeling it, walking in it's shoes................that is completely different.

All those years ago when I thought of who I would be when I got to this place in my life, I have become....(although if I am being honest, I thought I would be here alot more peace-filled and IMMENSELY more prosperous).

So, as the New Year begins, I am. I am not in between roles, wondering who I am and where I am going. I am here, and maybe I can fold and put away the map, start to build my home and live in "this" place. I can genuinely BE this me and be the best I can be.

grateful.......

So, here we are..............Thanksgiving is upon us. In fact, as I write this, pies are baking, tea is brewing, and turkeys everywhere have met their fate.

All week I have been thinking about giving thanks...............how much I have to give thanks for. My family, my friends, the food in my stomach and the roof over my head.........but during my thinking, and my thanking, I thought of all the small things that make up a good life, ....MY good life,.....that never get credit, never get talked about, and go mostly by the wayside, unappreciated. This blog is for you, comfy bed......and for you my porch rocker.....and for all of the small things that make my life good.

I am grateful for my claw foot bath tub. When I soak in it, bubbles up to my neck, lights out and candles lit, sweet fragrant steam billowing around me, I realize I am in my own private spa....and I am grateful that I have somewhere to soak,......physically and spiritually.

I am thankful for my yarns. If there were jewels, I would be a princess, if they were clothes, I would be a fashionista.......if they were toys, I would be the most well liked, sought after kid on the block. But they are yarns......They inspire me, they comfort me, they bring me peace and solidarity and artistry, and besides, they are good insulation on those cold windy winter nights.

I am grateful for ginger snaps and Earl Grey tea....Does anything make one feel so pampered, so taken care of as a quiet moment alone, dipping that hard crispy gingersnap into the piping hot tea, and pulling it out, warm and gooey and soft?

I am grateful for duct tape......It fixes my dryer, my pipes, and my printer, and does double duty as a cool accessory in a belt, a wallet, or strangely, a hat. (Take note, daughters: ALWAYS keep duct tape within arms reach)

I am grateful for my clothes line.......Now, I rarely use it, but when I do, the pure, clean smell of fresh sheets in summertime instantly takes me back in time to a different time, a time when my mom made hot dog gravy and wore her housecoat all day on a Sunday. I can make my childhood re-appear at whim simply by hanging a couple of old wet towels on a rope in the wind.

I am thankful for Charmin toilet paper.....it may seem small to some, but when you have been a poor girl more than half your life, there is something luxurious and enriching about feeling a soft tissue on your bum. (It also stays together amazingly well when wiping a baby bum....particularly important if you are too poor to afford wet wipes)

I am thankful for a full drawer of light bulbs.....................nothing says "all is well in the world" quite like being able to have all of the lights on in your house at one time.

I am grateful for having several kinds of drawing paper in my house. Gone are the days of drawing on college ruled notebook paper. I now have vellum, and card stock, and watercolor paper, and even pastel paper.....and imagine how grateful I would be if I had the time to spend with all of this great paper. But having it means that a day will come when I WILL have the time to draw on it, and for that, I am grateful.

I am grateful for all of the mess in my house.......for it means I HAVE a house, I have people, I have pets and ALL of this clutter which makes me crazy means I have a full, productive life.

I am grateful to hear my Daddy laugh. It's a small sound, (mostly)....sometimes it's a big belly laugh, but it warms and nourishes my soul like hot cinnamon oatmeal on a frosty morning.

I am grateful for my sisters and for their differences,......perhaps MAINLY because of their differences. They are quirky and funky and kind and sometimes selfish. They are honest and hard working and sometimes obsessive compulsive, but I love them, and have reached this place in my life where I like all of their qualities, especially if the cranky is directed at someone else....

They are mine, and for that, I am grateful.

I am thankful for the way my feet feel when I acknowledge their existence and spend a moment or two getting to know them again. I lather and slather them, and I am so grateful for the sensation of freshly lotioned feet sliding on warm flannel sheets at bedtime.

I am grateful for flannel sheets. I am grateful that my 'common girls" desire for flannel makes me as happy as a rich girls desire for silk....My flannel sheets.....they're soft, they're warm, and they are like a big textile hug from the universe.

I am thankful that my husband loves me just the way I am. He's not wealthy, not famous, not showy.......but he is strong and kind and patient and makes me laugh. He accepts that I like flannel and not silk so much, and he tolerates my yarn.......

I am thankful that my grandsons call me "Nana"......not sure why, but everytime I hear it, I feel like a superstar................"Nana...SUPERSTAR!!!"

I am grateful for tall socks.....(check out sockdreams.com- for those of you unfamiliar with tall socks) They keep me warm, and covered, and make me feel alternately hippie and chic.

I am thankful for my most simplest of tastes............the joy I find in grape jelly on a saltine.....and it doesn't even have to be Welch's OR Zesta.

I am thankful for Mary and Brenda........my imaginary friends. They know me perhaps better than anyone at all....they hear me whine, they hear me gripe, they "see" me at my best and at my worst, and at every stop from one to the other, and they get 100% pure Lori because there is no risk,...........and through their eyes, I see myself, or what I could be....They make me feel smart and brave, and artsy and talented and loving and kind and well, cool.

And I am grateful for my "here and now" friends......even though I am too busy to see them much,......... to talk to them,........ be with them, when push comes to shove, they are there, and everyone of them is different and like a polished gem, I see and love a different part of me because I see and love a different part of them.

I am grateful for cinnamon toast.......just when you think there is nothing decadent in the house to eat when your thoughts are spiraling down, down down, and all you want to do is numb yourself with candy or ice cream......there is the singular pleasure of cinnamon and sugar and butter slathered across your toast like sauce on a pizza, and you tell yourself, "oh well, this isn't junk..........this is good for me, I mean it is a breakfast food, right?" RIGHT?????????

I am thankful for those short bouts of self love and forgiveness that I have when I tell myself, "it's alright that you ate all of that sugar....just this once,....after all, you had a bad day and you deserve some pleasure"

I could go on and on and on and on........................................and for all of this I am grateful. I am easily amused......I am a simple girl, with simple wants, simple pleasures.........

I thank you, Heavenly Father for fashioning me this way. I thank you for the people and the places You have put in my life, and I thank You for the circumstances that got me here. Though life has been hard sometimes,..............sadness almost too much to bear....grief and loss, betrayal.....anxiety that makes it almost impossible to breathe, I am all I am because of the journey here, and I pray, Lord God, that I continue to have a grateful heart. I pray for peace...peace for me, peace for my loved ones, and peace for the world. And when I am feeling dissatisfied, or feeling sorry for myself, help me God to find the small things that make my life feel full. I am trying like heck to NOT need the hard lessons anymore....

Can I get an "A" for effort?

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. Be blessed!

So..............Here I go again, embarking on another job......really?

I am going to pose a question to the universe......and I think I ask the question, not just for me, but for all of us out there, like me, who want to know.......

Let's see....I have loved, and (sadly) I have hated.....mostly, though, NOT a hater. I have birthed three children, raised six children, and lost two children. I have grown food, shopped for food, cooked food. I have kept a home and a business, and even both at the same time. I have cut firewood for myself, and built a fire from scratch. I have even broken furniture to keep the fire going in lean times when the firewood ran out. I have installed a transmission in a mid sized car, bled the brakes on at least three others, and changed a tire. I have been to school, been to college (some) and taught school. I have made my own clothes, made my own bread, and even knit my own shoes. I have driven halfway across the country by myself..............driven my family halfway across the country, and walked for miles to get where I needed to go.

I have taken my own stitches out, applied first aid to family and friends, and on an occasion or two, strangers. I have pulled teeth, ticks, and a few other things. I have built my own pergola, dug my own firepit, and fashioned a fake fireplace.

I can draw pictures, sing songs and write poetry. I can be simple as soap, and go back to the roots that I grew from, making grits, and beans and biscuits and red eye gravy, or I can be a savvy, talking about organics and drinking soy.

I have milked cows, gathered eggs, and caught a big mouth bass. I have painted and hammered, and dovetailed and spackled. I have quilted and tatted and mended. I have made pottery and felted vessels, and art from bits of this and that.

I have entertained myself, my children and my husband, and I have counseled a few others.

I have used a computer, a sewing machine and a microwave, along with my stove, my washer, my dryer. I can take pictures,.good pictures..............of babies and newlyweds, and families, and mostly I am capturing the moments in life worth remembering.

I have grown large crops of flowers, and once forced 100 rosebushes from bare root to bloom in about 3 months. I have made a greenhouse dark enough to turn pointsettias red.....

I have nursed three babies, made my own baby food, and discovered how to diaper with whatever was on hand. I have sat by the bed of the sick all night long, crying and praying and hoping for good news with the morning light.

I have helped deliver a calf, bottle fed a puppy, and fed a snake.

I have doctored myself through migraines, toothaches, and an almost severed toe. I have studied herbs and vitamins and minerals, and can prepare a tonic to heal whatever ails you..or if not heal, to bring you relief and comfort. I have massaged sore muscles, and rubbed insomnia right out of people's heads. I have made my own soap, my own candles, my own scrub.....I have made hats and purses and gloves and bags. I have made curtains and quilts and other comforts of home.

I have read the Illiad, the Odyssey, and the Bible and the Ya-ya Sisterhood. I have learned CPR and first aid and inventory control. I can look at a rug and tell you if it is from Indian, from China or Iran, and tell you how many knots are in it. I can clean your rug, removing chocolate, or blood and dog poo, and remain confidential while doing so.

I can manage a staff of 12 or work independently. I listen to people and hear them and offer my concern.

I can design a newsletter, a sign or even a living room, using sticks for accessories, and dried flowers for decor. I have cleaned up baby puke, baby poop and baby toys. I have washed down all manner of people and things, and cleaned the world. (though, if I am being honest, cleaning is NOT really my bag)

I have spoken words that needed to be spoken, and bit my tongue to keep from saying the wrong thing at the wrong time..........I have been an advocate for the weak and the powerless, for the sick and the tired, and for a whole rack of children. I have supported my family, and bought their clothes and their shoes and their food.

I have done my own "while you were out", my own "extreme home makeover", and my own "biggest loser", (sadly I was NOT the biggest loser....at least not in weight)

I have composed songs, written recipes, and invented knitting patterns.

I have watered, and pruned and planted and harvested, and even made ficus trees thrive in dark corners.

I have been a horticulturist, an interior landscaper, a childcare provider, a photographer and a photo lab manager. I have been a teacher and an artist and I have even been a factory worker, manufacturing venetian blinds back in 1979....

I have survived all manner of bad times, including poverty, homelessness, a suicide attempt of a loved one , a runaway, alcohol and drug abuse by some of the people I love most in the world.....I have survived two miscarriages, three cesearean sections, a gallbladder removal and a tubal reanastimosis.....I have lost many teeth and have come close to losing my mind...(or at least it felt like it). I have lost a few people in my life to betrayal, or at least one that I can think of. I have lost my mother...MY MOTHER....that searing pain that never totally goes away, and I have lost my first love....I have lost cousins and friends and in-laws. At times, I have felt that I lost me. I have weathered many storms, including real ones, like tornados and hurricanes and blizzards, and managed to thrive despite them.

I am strong, and clever and creative. I am reliable, hard working and honest. I can think on my feet and ponder solutions over a long period of time if need be. I am good in a crisis and almost always ready with a laugh.

And so now, I ask the question......Why am I worthless to this society?

A friend told me the other day about his company.....his company that pays new hires 4o thousand dollars a year, just to hire them, just to keep them around and ready, for the days when the economy comes back. Some of them even go to school on company time, since there is nothing else to do... He said they don't like to hire people my age.......

Really? I mean,...............really?????

So....I can get a job that pays 12 dollars an hour....maybe even 15.....I can be treated like I am dull and half witted and have to be told what to do and how to do it, and THAT is in a discount store....is that what I'm worth......can't someone take my hand and see inside this gray hair and weathered face and say, "I have been looking for someone just like you, with your wisdom and wit, for this job...." I'll take it.....and I'll take it for 10......and thank you for the dignity you give me....

Well, well, well..............................and so we meet again. After a very long hiatus.......

Seasons change, people change, lifestyles change, and me, not much has changed and yet everything has changed.

I am now the mama of another college boy.......one who is far away........and far too young. At least for me. I stumble around, going through my daily life, but every minute of every hour, a secret part of me is away, over the river and through the woods, to the hills of West by-God Virginia. My little one, now nearly grown up in in Morgantown, at WVU, and a part of me resides there with him. Alas, it is not the part that can make him a meal if he is hungry, or hug him if he feels discouraged................it's not the part of me that can put my practiced hand to his forehead to check for a fever or nag him to wear a coat. It is the tender little part of my heart that feels everything, EVERY LITTLE THING,....and that hurts for him when he hurts, as it hurts for each of the others when they hurt.

And then there are the middle schoolers...............C began middle school this year, and though I know he is 11, in that same tiny tender part of my heart, he is my baby....my little small one and I watch his progress as a mother watches her toddler take his first tentative steps, concerned that a small fall or bump or bruise will traumatize more than his body.

And then there is L........on the cusp of a new chapter in her life......the stretching of her mouth to make room for her teeth, and the stretching of her psyche as she prepares to become a young woman, and yes, there is that tiny bit of my heart, stretched, too, waiting and worrying and watching, sometimes feeling like my hands are tied behind my back.

And if I thought it ever got easier as they grew older, I was wrong....SO wrong. I know this now. Actually, I have known this for a very long time, and the knowledge does not bring me any comfort,....................it only brings me acceptance, and a certain capacity to talk trash to myself, in the hopes of calming my tortured mothers heart, of bringing a fresh peace to my worried mothers soul. The knowledge that I will always carry this concern around with me, like a tattered backpack on the first day of school, brings with it a weariness,........a sadness, and I think that this baggage is what really ages us, causes us to grow up and grow old.

In those moments of the day, those precious minutes when you know that all of them are safe at home, either sleeping blissfully unaware that their mother is lying awake, worrying about them,.....or having their own quiet adult moments, you relax. and for those moments, however short and sweet they are, you forget that you are 50. And for a few minutes you feel like you are 20, or 22, or any other age when you felt young and vital and free, and that you could do anything, be anything, and in those moments, you can almost touch that same sense of wonder and anticipation,.... you ALMOST can BE anything you want. And in those moments, I lie in bed, and the silent soundtracks of my life become almost audible. "Welcome to the Hotel California...such a lovely place,................", "I've got two tickets to paradise, won't you pack your bags, we'll leave tonight?",..............

"If we still have time, we might still get by

Every time I think about it, I wanna cry
With bombs and the devil, and the kids keep comin'
No way to breathe easy, no time to be young

But I tell myself that I was doin' all right
There's nothin' left to do at night
But to go crazy on you
Crazy on you
Let me go crazy, crazy on you, oh

My love is the evenin' breeze touchin' your skin
The gentle, sweet singin' of leaves in the wind
The whisper that calls after you in the night
And kisses your ear in the early moonlight
And you don't need to wonder, you're doing fine
My love, the pleasure's mine

Let me go crazy on ya
Crazy on you
Let me go crazy, crazy on you, ohhh

Wild man's world is cryin' in pain
What you gonna do when everybody's insane
So afraid of one who's so afraid of you
What you gonna do...ohhh...

(Ah-ah-ah-ah)

Ooooo...Crazy on ya
Crazy on you
Let me go crazy, crazy on you

I was a willow last night in my dream
I bent down over a clear running stream
Sang you the song that I heard up above
And you kept me alive with your sweet flowing love

Crazy
Yeah, crazy on ya
Let me go crazy, crazy on you, oh
Crazy on ya
Crazy on you
Let me go crazy, crazy on you, yeah



(Ah-ah-ah-ah)

Crazy on ya
Crazy on you
Let me go crazy, crazy on you, ohhh..."

It's those moments when you can feel the joy of it all come over you, wash all of the worries away, like a wave rolling in off of the ocean. You lie there, savoring the freshness and the feeling of freedom.

But as the wave rushes in, the wave rushes out, and the salt water becomes your tears, mourning all of life's losses and changes, and it's the scars that cause the aging. It's the breaking and healing and breaking and healing of your own heart that cause your soul to grow heavy and the weight of your own world, past and present that cause your heart and mind to age.

That small corner in my heart? It's there, young and fresh, and still pliable enough to stretch and contain more love for more people. For more children and grandchildren to come....

Yup.....the changes come as surely as autumn follows summer....but me,

I'll just keep right on worrying, try as I might,..........and in that, some things never change.

And dear ones, it is because I love you, and I wish to live in a world where I can protect you, where you never need this coat of armor , that I worry.

Eat heartily, sleep well and take your troubles and traumas and toils into prayer.

I do, and in those moments, I sleep.

Summer Heat

I know..................it has been exactly one month and 17 days since I last posted.

One month and 17 days of mostly hot, HOT days.

I am tired, worn out really, and am looking forward to enjoying summer vacation. Alas, I realize it is half over and I have not even started yet. Will this be the summer I remember years from now as "THE" summer? It's funny how we never know while we are in it, while we are living it, that these may be the days we will remember in years to come, as the "good old days", or the "worst days of my life".

I want to memorize every sound I hear, every sight I see. I want to make a clay impression of my life, in my mind, so that years from now, I will remember everything that mattered, but instead, I think........................I will remember the heat. I will remember a hot wind blowing across a parched brown lawn, cracks enlarging in the dry brown dirt in my garden.

I will remember "the cusser", a young (very young) JD (juvenile delinquent) running the streets of my town, with no respect or regard for himself, let alone anyone else. I will remember his faceless obscenities, spoken to the night, his trying to make sense of the injustice of HIS life, and me trying to make sense of how one child can already be so jaded, so ugly minded that already he has lost the ability to feel anything but meanness and hatred and it so fills his mind and his heart and his spirit that he feels he must defile everyone within hearing distance by swearing and cursing and tainting the night air.

I will remember the smells of this town, especially as they linger in the hot afternoon sun, and I will remember how the smell assaulted more than our nostrils. I will remember how they tore apart the safety and loving kindness in our community, how they made us feel afraid in our own town, afraid to even be out with one another, distrustful and violated. I will remember the sadness when I realized how much life can be disrupted by strangers, and their own brand of insanity. When I remember this summer, I will remember it for it's inequity, it's violation, the taking away of something that should be intrinsically ours................our peace of mind.

I will remember the fear and desperation in my heart, I am sure, as I struggled to leave the last remaining vestiges of innocence and child-like trust on the cutting room floor. "I am afraid", I thought. Afraid of my Daddy getting sick and not recovering, afraid of him not loving me anymore, afraid of him not knowing how much I love him.

I am afraid of working so much that I feel as thin spirited as onion paper, paper that will dissolve and disintegrate when my many tears fall upon it. I am afraid of not working enough to support my family and myself and having to count change to buy milk and bread for the young. I am afraid of working my life away at a job I don't love, only to discover that when I retire, I have no time left. Mostly I am afraid of the lack of hope that permeates the very air I breathe, no hope for a brighter future for me and my family....only a certainty that I can no longer follow my magical thinking to it's logical conclusion, a dream I built on the promises of a different time.

Will I remember this as the summer that I learned the truth? The summer when I gave over my want for something more on this earth to the certain knowledge that I will never attain it? Will this be the summer that I started looking more forward to life everlasting with it's heavenly possibilities than to life among the living here on earth? Maybe, this, then, is when we finally grow up, when we reach that threshold and step over it into real adulthood.

Or,......................is this the summer that begins a new life? Will I look back and remember these hot and dusty days as the dark before the storm? Will there be a silver lining? Is there the promise of peace and prosperity on the other side? We never know...........................and in the not knowing, we continue to salvage and plunder all of the good we can glean from the here and now.

And like those dried out and tired flowers adorning my garden, dusty and brown from heat and drought, we go to seed. We release our seeds of hope into the fertile ground we have farrowed,....cultivated during the heat of summer, and they drop and take root in the soil that is our faith, and eventually the rains will come..........They will grow and thrive.

And when that time comes, some distant day away, will I remember this summer as the "good old days", or some of the "worst days of my life"? Will I remember the way the tomatoes grew like beanstalks and the morning glories thrived? Will I remember the surprise I felt at dancing with my nephew as though I were a valued and treasured family member? Will I remember the pride and joy and love and hope that I took in my children and my grandchildren? I hope so.

I want to keep on keeping on..................for them,......so that they will know the value of walking on in faith, the glory of continuing to try and rising above all that pulls you down. I want this to be the summer that THEY remember....the summer when Mom stood strong and overcame.

And as for me,......summer is only half over. I think I'll try a little more.....laugh a little more, pray a little more and try, REALLY hard to remember not to take myself so seriously.