She thought the sky was always dark. Ominous. Brooding.
One day she realized this wasn't true. The blue just hides. Often.
Brightness, she found, beckoned her.
Hues of periwinkle and silver and incandescent pearl. Sun streams of golden orange danced on her skin. Bounced off of the crumpling asphalt.
She felt the world breathe her in. The embrace of it constrained her fight, yet gave her strength. That day, she felt as if she could do anything.
She felt like she could fly.
And there she was. Soaring. High above the world she knew. The omnious layer of black far below her. The sun beating on her new glow. She was light. Lifted. Loved. She knew the feeling wouldn't last, but for now - it was everything.
Eventually the landing came. Like a piercing thud that threatened to tear her very marrow. Ripped in two. Words and shrieks and oppression. Squeezing the life out of who she was. Or who she knew she could become.
She wouldn't think of that for now.
So she soared. Alone--but embraced. Spun in silver and gossimer. Clouds of cashmere called her name. So softly. Not quite a whisper.
Anything was possible. She nearly believed it up there.
And then she heard.
Words beckoning.
Life calling.
The heaviness of the day.
Familiarity.
The mundane.
As she landed, she thought she might die. She stopped breathing -- just for a few minutes.
Holding her breath helped the impact. Helped her survive what she hated.
And there was her life. Waiting.
She tried to remember how she felt five minutes before.
Impossible. But she remembered warm colors.
She tried to rest. But she kept running in circles. Over and over and over again.
She felt something in her pocket. A piece of cashmere.
Glimmering like only hope could.
A treasure.
They told her there would be a next time.
She didn't remember why. She just simply believed it was true.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
tragic things
After a long week of traveling to and from Chicago for work last week, I found myself jetlagged and asleep by 8 pm on Friday night - and subsequently, up at 6 am the next morning.
Nothing says "6 am" like a trip down the hill for coffee. And so I went.
Parked outside the mini-mart was an old Ford pickup - idling with no one inside. I had a "knock you down, bowl you over I miss my Dad" moment - right there in the parking lot. I burst into tears and didn't really know how to stop.
I collected myself and ventured into the mart. The owner of the pickup was about my Dad's age and was at the front counter purchasing cheetos and pepperoni sticks. Seriously? Two of my Dad's favorite things.
I miss my Dad. I miss my sisters. I miss my family. I could normally chalk this up to the pre-holiday chill in the air, but this year, it's something more. My Dad was in the hospital just a few weeks ago. It was very jarring to me. His health isn't great and it was truly an eye-opening moment for me.
Last week, while I was in Chicago, my Dad - who rarely calls - called. His sister has breast cancer. I haven't been able to get that one out of my brain. Results from her MRI will arrive tomorrow. My Aunt's daughter died 7 years ago from breast cancer. She was just 6 years older than me. I can't imagine what must be going through her head.
After arriving home from Chicago, my newly pregnant sister emailed us. She miscarried at 11 weeks.
Not one of these things is really about me, but it's affected me deeply. Life is so short. Too short. Health is a gift - a rare one. Family is not just important - they are life and breath wrapped up in one DNA-laden treasure. And my sisters are God's greatest gift to me. We laugh when we want to cry. We cry when we don't know what else to do. And we hold the key to a past that no one else will ever understand.
Live each breath as if it were your last and love as if your life depended on it.
Nothing says "6 am" like a trip down the hill for coffee. And so I went.
Parked outside the mini-mart was an old Ford pickup - idling with no one inside. I had a "knock you down, bowl you over I miss my Dad" moment - right there in the parking lot. I burst into tears and didn't really know how to stop.
I collected myself and ventured into the mart. The owner of the pickup was about my Dad's age and was at the front counter purchasing cheetos and pepperoni sticks. Seriously? Two of my Dad's favorite things.
I miss my Dad. I miss my sisters. I miss my family. I could normally chalk this up to the pre-holiday chill in the air, but this year, it's something more. My Dad was in the hospital just a few weeks ago. It was very jarring to me. His health isn't great and it was truly an eye-opening moment for me.
Last week, while I was in Chicago, my Dad - who rarely calls - called. His sister has breast cancer. I haven't been able to get that one out of my brain. Results from her MRI will arrive tomorrow. My Aunt's daughter died 7 years ago from breast cancer. She was just 6 years older than me. I can't imagine what must be going through her head.
After arriving home from Chicago, my newly pregnant sister emailed us. She miscarried at 11 weeks.
Not one of these things is really about me, but it's affected me deeply. Life is so short. Too short. Health is a gift - a rare one. Family is not just important - they are life and breath wrapped up in one DNA-laden treasure. And my sisters are God's greatest gift to me. We laugh when we want to cry. We cry when we don't know what else to do. And we hold the key to a past that no one else will ever understand.
Live each breath as if it were your last and love as if your life depended on it.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
she thought about things
She wasn't a fan of pain. Not really, anyhow. But she migrated to it every once in a while. Like a carribean vacation. Only without the sun.
She didn't love the past. It hurt with it's knots and twists. She left it miles and miles away.
The tangled mess didn't undo itself. The knots got tighter. Cords frayed.
So she went back. With dark glasses. She thought she could unravel the largest knot.
When she first arrived, she heard deep, cavernous sounds. Echos of nothing. Birds and trees didn't live here. Just darkness. And her jagged breath with sharp edges.
She tripped. And didn't get up. She could have. But she didn't. Being crazy made her tired.
The hours stopped, so did the years. There she lay in her past. Sometimes she heard footprints. And then nothing. She was used to the sounds of nothing.
Her skin had grown thick. The sharp edges only felt like pricks.
One day, she caught a glimmer of light through the bramble. Her memory was buried. It hurt too much to look. Did she even have eyes anymore?
She heard sounds. She thought of other things.
She felt the edges begin to prick. Just a bit. She'd felt worse.
She felt warmth. Then realized that she had begun to bleed. She wasn't squeamish anymore.
Still, the choice. Remain in the darkness and bleed a long slow death. Or stand up. And live.
Her head was pounding. Her stomach lurched. She hadn't eaten in years. Sharp edges had become her sustenance. Her comfort.
Little hands. A small voice.
The bleeding stopped. She didn't want to, but she got up. Sharp edges were everywhere. Something propelled her past them.
A young life. A new future. She had to look. Had to live. Had to heal.
People stared. Her scars were deep and painful. And visible to everyone. Shame followed her. Everywhere. She felt hideous.
No one understood. Not even her family. That was the knife wound.
Still, the young life. The blonde voice. Please, just stop.
The scars hurt. She healed slowly. And badly. She bled often. But not enough to make her lie down.
She had to live. Even when her past found her. It tried to kick her down. With images. And wickedness. Songs of remembrance. It was too much.
But still, her memories came with a soft voice. Please, just stop.
Instead, she stopped. Opened her hands. Pursed her lips. And pulled it all down. Every betrayal. Every untruth. Every misunderstanding. All of it.
Voices of love. Voices of young hearts.
Survival.
Masochism.
Rejection.
Abuse.
Abandonment.
She looked it square in the face. She remembered. All of it. She couldn't love it. But she didn't make it leave. Instead, it became small.
It couldn't stand to be stared at.
Was that the trick the entire time? In the land of sharp edges.
Some didn't believe her. Or her past. She didn't care. They were her tattered pages to tear up. It was her truth.
Sometimes she involved others. And sometimes, she regretted.
Sometimes, it was the best thing she ever did.
A boy with drums brought healing once. And truth. And some new pain.
But it was necessary.
She had to look at betrayal. With her sharp teeth and malicious lies and hatred.
Yet, she came from betrayal. She had to embrace her with boundaries.
The young life. The small voice. A new smile.
New thoughts. Possibilities. Flowers instead of sharp edges.
Pain? Yes. Devastating and life-altering? No.
She needed to pay attention to the young life. She had shoulders now that could carry her. And give the small voice a microphone with big feet.
She would love it and give it something she never had.
Hope. For a future. And the promise of different days than she had known.
She still has dark glasses. The little voice doesn't like them. So she only wears them once in a while.
The little voice often shrieks at the top of her lungs. And no one yells. Her young life stares wide-eyed at everything. And knows nothing of dark things.
The young life saved her. Hugged her. Delivered her. Softened sharp edges.
And somewhere in her world, this all makes sense.
Because her past is beautiful.
She didn't love the past. It hurt with it's knots and twists. She left it miles and miles away.
The tangled mess didn't undo itself. The knots got tighter. Cords frayed.
So she went back. With dark glasses. She thought she could unravel the largest knot.
When she first arrived, she heard deep, cavernous sounds. Echos of nothing. Birds and trees didn't live here. Just darkness. And her jagged breath with sharp edges.
She tripped. And didn't get up. She could have. But she didn't. Being crazy made her tired.
The hours stopped, so did the years. There she lay in her past. Sometimes she heard footprints. And then nothing. She was used to the sounds of nothing.
Her skin had grown thick. The sharp edges only felt like pricks.
One day, she caught a glimmer of light through the bramble. Her memory was buried. It hurt too much to look. Did she even have eyes anymore?
She heard sounds. She thought of other things.
She felt the edges begin to prick. Just a bit. She'd felt worse.
She felt warmth. Then realized that she had begun to bleed. She wasn't squeamish anymore.
Still, the choice. Remain in the darkness and bleed a long slow death. Or stand up. And live.
Her head was pounding. Her stomach lurched. She hadn't eaten in years. Sharp edges had become her sustenance. Her comfort.
Little hands. A small voice.
The bleeding stopped. She didn't want to, but she got up. Sharp edges were everywhere. Something propelled her past them.
A young life. A new future. She had to look. Had to live. Had to heal.
People stared. Her scars were deep and painful. And visible to everyone. Shame followed her. Everywhere. She felt hideous.
No one understood. Not even her family. That was the knife wound.
Still, the young life. The blonde voice. Please, just stop.
The scars hurt. She healed slowly. And badly. She bled often. But not enough to make her lie down.
She had to live. Even when her past found her. It tried to kick her down. With images. And wickedness. Songs of remembrance. It was too much.
But still, her memories came with a soft voice. Please, just stop.
Instead, she stopped. Opened her hands. Pursed her lips. And pulled it all down. Every betrayal. Every untruth. Every misunderstanding. All of it.
Voices of love. Voices of young hearts.
Survival.
Masochism.
Rejection.
Abuse.
Abandonment.
She looked it square in the face. She remembered. All of it. She couldn't love it. But she didn't make it leave. Instead, it became small.
It couldn't stand to be stared at.
Was that the trick the entire time? In the land of sharp edges.
Some didn't believe her. Or her past. She didn't care. They were her tattered pages to tear up. It was her truth.
Sometimes she involved others. And sometimes, she regretted.
Sometimes, it was the best thing she ever did.
A boy with drums brought healing once. And truth. And some new pain.
But it was necessary.
She had to look at betrayal. With her sharp teeth and malicious lies and hatred.
Yet, she came from betrayal. She had to embrace her with boundaries.
The young life. The small voice. A new smile.
New thoughts. Possibilities. Flowers instead of sharp edges.
Pain? Yes. Devastating and life-altering? No.
She needed to pay attention to the young life. She had shoulders now that could carry her. And give the small voice a microphone with big feet.
She would love it and give it something she never had.
Hope. For a future. And the promise of different days than she had known.
She still has dark glasses. The little voice doesn't like them. So she only wears them once in a while.
The little voice often shrieks at the top of her lungs. And no one yells. Her young life stares wide-eyed at everything. And knows nothing of dark things.
The young life saved her. Hugged her. Delivered her. Softened sharp edges.
And somewhere in her world, this all makes sense.
Because her past is beautiful.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
A Grief Observed
I just read the most beautiful piece. The story of a mom-to-be. Ripe with anticipation, love, birth songs and bursting hearts. The reality of delivering a baby with Down Syndrome wasn't part of their script. Traveling her journey of words made my heart full. Happy. Hopeful. Thoughtful.
The last 30 days have been the strangest of my life. While I didn't prepare for the birth of a baby or have Down Syndrome slice through my life, I have watched life break in half. I caught a very small, broken heart and did my best to stitch it back together. I shared tales of my own losses. My husband shared the same while his own heart ripped in two. I nursed bruises that weren't visible and wiped tears that wouldn't stop pouring. I made promises that things would get better. and that the human heart really couldn't break in half physically, even if it felt like it. I did my very best to weave something beautiful, believable and precious out of a situation that was none of those things.
Above all of that, I sought the Lord. Something I haven't done that fervently in a very long time. I didn't want to at first. I was so sad. Furious. Desperate. Annoyed.
The thing about God? He's there. Whether we acknowledge Him or not.
Almost one month has passed and I've realized a few things.
THE heart of a ten-year-old is resilient.
THREE are better than one
"PAT ANSWERS" don't work when death is imminent. Honesty is important
Our memorial to Ladybug - balloons with messages that we let loose to the heavens to meet Ladybug there.
LOSING someone to cancer sucks today just as much as it did 12 years ago.
THE loss of a loved one is tragic-whether human or animal.
"PAT ANSWERS" don't work when death is imminent. Honesty is important
THE LORD is faithful - even when I am not.
FRIENDSHIP is an investment. I've never been more thankful for mine.
Life is fickle. Whether you're ready for it to move on or not, it simply does.
"He is my constant source of stability." Isaiah 33:6
Ladybug, we miss you, sweet kitty. Hope opened up her DSi today and was faced with reminder after reminder of your many photo sessions and how much she loved you. I don't know another cat who was so loyal - or who could rock a pink snow cap the way you did. Thank you for investing in our lives - and for allowing us to be your family. RIP, Ladybuggies. RIP.
10/96 - 2/27/10
Hope saying goodbye to her trusted companion and most loyal friend.
Our memorial to Ladybug - balloons with messages that we let loose to the heavens to meet Ladybug there. Monday, February 15, 2010
For the love of blogging...
Where has the time gone? We're 2-1/2 months into 2010 and so far, the new year has been good to our family. Highlights so far?
1. Ira Glass live at the Pantageous. If you don't catch his show on NPR/WBEZ (chicago), the podcast is worth the subscription (ie it's free!). www.thisamericanlife.com. I was inspired and moved by Ira's love for his craft - telling poignant stories. He is what good radio is all about.
2. Hope turned 10. I still can't believe it. But she did. I love that kid.
3. Elton John and Billy Joel. Three and a half hours of the biggest blast from the past. Amazing. Dinner at Ruth's Chris beforehand was amazing as well.
4. Avatar in Imax 3D. I am seriously NOT an action/adventure girl. I'm all about a chick flick, a nice latte and a foofy drink. My husband surprised our daughter and I with tickets to see Avatar on Valentine's Day. It was...amazing. Creative genius. GO. SEE. IT.
5. Surprise!!! Lee's (fill in the number) birthday is the day before Valentine's Day. I managed to pull off a small surprise party for him with a little trip to Muckleshoot for the adults. It was a fun night and I think, he enjoyed himself as well! :-)
Hipster Ira Glass plays show snippets, shares the elements of a good story and the craft to making people want to listen.
Lee and I on his birthday. February 13th. This is the...19th birthday I have celebrated with this man. Typing that number freaks me out a bit. We've been together a very long time!
One of my most favorite people. Ever. Shannon. I adore her.
Lee and Danny (shannon's hubby) posing as we wait for our car at Muckleshoot.
1. Ira Glass live at the Pantageous. If you don't catch his show on NPR/WBEZ (chicago), the podcast is worth the subscription (ie it's free!). www.thisamericanlife.com. I was inspired and moved by Ira's love for his craft - telling poignant stories. He is what good radio is all about.
2. Hope turned 10. I still can't believe it. But she did. I love that kid.
3. Elton John and Billy Joel. Three and a half hours of the biggest blast from the past. Amazing. Dinner at Ruth's Chris beforehand was amazing as well.
4. Avatar in Imax 3D. I am seriously NOT an action/adventure girl. I'm all about a chick flick, a nice latte and a foofy drink. My husband surprised our daughter and I with tickets to see Avatar on Valentine's Day. It was...amazing. Creative genius. GO. SEE. IT.
5. Surprise!!! Lee's (fill in the number) birthday is the day before Valentine's Day. I managed to pull off a small surprise party for him with a little trip to Muckleshoot for the adults. It was a fun night and I think, he enjoyed himself as well! :-)
6. Climbing Mt. Peak. Wendy has been hauling my tuckus up that steep mountain. Ten pounds are gone so far - here's to more mountain climbing!!!
Hipster Ira Glass plays show snippets, shares the elements of a good story and the craft to making people want to listen.Lee and I on his birthday. February 13th. This is the...19th birthday I have celebrated with this man. Typing that number freaks me out a bit. We've been together a very long time!One of my most favorite people. Ever. Shannon. I adore her.Lee and Danny (shannon's hubby) posing as we wait for our car at Muckleshoot.Lee's birthday cake a'la Wendy. A 1970 Chevelle. His dream car. :)
Wendy and I after my first 2010 venture up Mt. Peak. I did a little dance and everything.
Happy February, interenets.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
a year in the life
I haven't felt real 'bloggy' of late. Oh, there are some goals for 2010 floating around and I'm even wrestling to "heal a wound" right now. But I don't feel like writing about it. Not yet, anyhow. So here's a trip through our 2009...through what pics are on my computer, anyhow. Happy New Year, everyone!
We fought our way through the pickters and went to the greatest show on earth. It really, really was. Awesomeness.
Backyard fun begins when the pool goes up. I spent my fair share of time here as well.
Lyssie, Hope and Lee - jumping at Ocean Shores. Cracks. Me. Up.
One of the best meals - and experiences I've had in a long time. Amazing organization.
It was "Take Your Child to Work" day. So I did.
We celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary in July. I think this photo might be 16 years ago - BUT, it's what I have. Hello tight shorts. What was he thinking?
BAHAHAHHAHAH! To say my husband would die if he knew this were here is the understatement of the year. But he doesn't read my blog and I love this shot. Priceless.
Former neighbors visited right after Christmas. The orignal "ladies of the hood."
Ocean Shores - August 2009. FREEZING. 
My sister Katie took a train trip to Cali with our pop. We aren't slummin' it. This is at the train station. Love. Her. MUCH!!!
And this is my Dad. At the train station. Showing us his ticket. He was, in a word, "EXCITED!"
Hope was a scary white faced girl for Halloween. My pick, not hers. Not sure what else to say about that. :)
One of our favorite people: Miss Danielle. And Hope, of course!
Probably my favorite person on the face of this planet: my baby sister, Katie. She likes to be called Ishmail V. Toenail, but keep that one here.
Two of the most important women in our lives pose with Hope: Auntie Karen and Auntie Sandra. Girls weekend. T'was FUN!
Silliness with my Dad and sister. Love them much. :)
Hope in the back of an Arizona police car. Transport to the airport. Long story. :)
Not sure what mile this was - but on the rock and roll half marathon trail in seattle.
Before the race began. We all look very optimistic. And were not hobbling at this point. :)
Hope (right) and her BFF, Hannah at their school's spring fair. Cool face painting, yes?
I cheated. This isn't from 2009. But I love this photo. Hope is brave. 
Mom and Hope. Before a Girl Scout event of some sort. Or a birthday party. Or both.
Black Friday shopping. Our tradition stop for breakfast after shopping from 4 to 7 am.
Hope took up skating this year. She loves it. She's fast.
Hope's traditional "Holiday Cookie Decorating Party." Madness and frosting all in one.
Pure ridiculousness.
Hope (left) and her BFF Hannah AT the Miley Cyrus concert. Party in the USA, y'all.
We fought our way through the pickters and went to the greatest show on earth. It really, really was. Awesomeness.
Backyard fun begins when the pool goes up. I spent my fair share of time here as well.
Lyssie, Hope and Lee - jumping at Ocean Shores. Cracks. Me. Up.
One of the best meals - and experiences I've had in a long time. Amazing organization.
It was "Take Your Child to Work" day. So I did.
We celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary in July. I think this photo might be 16 years ago - BUT, it's what I have. Hello tight shorts. What was he thinking?
BAHAHAHHAHAH! To say my husband would die if he knew this were here is the understatement of the year. But he doesn't read my blog and I love this shot. Priceless.
Former neighbors visited right after Christmas. The orignal "ladies of the hood."
Ocean Shores - August 2009. FREEZING. 
My sister Katie took a train trip to Cali with our pop. We aren't slummin' it. This is at the train station. Love. Her. MUCH!!!
And this is my Dad. At the train station. Showing us his ticket. He was, in a word, "EXCITED!"
Hope was a scary white faced girl for Halloween. My pick, not hers. Not sure what else to say about that. :)
One of our favorite people: Miss Danielle. And Hope, of course!
Probably my favorite person on the face of this planet: my baby sister, Katie. She likes to be called Ishmail V. Toenail, but keep that one here.
Two of the most important women in our lives pose with Hope: Auntie Karen and Auntie Sandra. Girls weekend. T'was FUN!
Silliness with my Dad and sister. Love them much. :)
Hope in the back of an Arizona police car. Transport to the airport. Long story. :)
Not sure what mile this was - but on the rock and roll half marathon trail in seattle. 
Before the race began. We all look very optimistic. And were not hobbling at this point. :)That's what I've got, folks. Happy 2010!!! :) Be well and prosper. :) Spock, out.
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