amazing grace
how sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me
i once was lost
but now am found
twas blind but now i see
-american hymn-
there are a myriad of thoughts weaving through my mind tonight. tomorrow is our birthday, the Bro's and mine. he's turning 28. 28! and i'm turning 25. a quarter of a century. it feels a bit surreal. and before all of you laugh at me, yes i'm aware i'm not old. but i have felt a bit...unsure, i suppose, lately. that is somewhat genetic, my father too is not always settled around his birthday. that's ok with me. it's a turning point, a little one, but a chance to reevaluate, shift my paradigm a little, prioritize.
and tonight, a dear friend sent me an early birthday gift that flipped my view, just a little, just enough. what was it? it was pictures. pictures from the latest wedding i went to, with her and her family; they are pictures of her kiddos from the wedding photographer. they are absolutely beautiful. my favorite is one of me and Younger Girlchild. we are on a couch in this old lighthouse. she is in her flower girl regalia; she was wearing sneakers instead of slippers, and those sneakers were adorable, red with heart laces (i think they were hearts!). so here we are: she has her flower circlet on her head and her legs tossed up in my lap. we are switching out sneakers for slippers. she is giggling, chuckling at my fumblings to tie the little toe ties; i am laughing, my face a simple mirror of hers. she is joyful. simple. and through her, i am joyful. thank you, Younger Girlchild. you are the first child i got to know as a baby, the first child i have tossed my whole heart to. thank you for holding on to it. thank you for reminding me, tonight, what pure happiness looks like. and, along with you, thanks for sharing the Older Girlchild, the Boy, and the Cousin with me. maybe someday you could explain to me how i got so lucky? until then. thank you all. each new birthday that i see, i think of how fortunate i was to have you all enter my world.
it has been quite a year. my best one yet, i dare say. there is a deep contentedness trickling through my bloodstream, steady. that is a gift. that is a gift on a universal scale. i think i'm lacking a lot of words tonight, but i am overwhelmed with gratefulness today. so. a list of my anchors and my joys.
1. my housemates, Bro and SIL. they offer compassion and forgiveness, room to grow and discipline. they offer love.
2. my parents.
3. old friends, especially my HLP and other 1/3, the Family Springfield, the Elf and the Doctor.
4. new friends, especially the Dodgeball Crew. who knew? i can make friends. :)
5. the animals, believe it or not, the critters who snuggle me and make me run and make me laugh.
6. running. a new joy, a new challenge. a change in body image, a growth of confidence, a new shield against apathy and sadness. new power.
7. writing! being published, finding ways to share my words, even if it's just with the 3 people who read this. it was ten years ago that i first started writing. woah.
8. my job. my amazing, challenging, doing-what-i-love job, my charge-full-steam-ahead-take-no-prisoners job!!
9. having the confidence, the inner and external tools, and when in doubt, the people to go to, to know that the ups and the downs will pass.
10. seeing--or trying to see--each hard minute, hour, or day as a useful one, an 'i'll-be-better-at-the-end'. and actually succeeding in doing so.
11. a stubborn belief in the principle that people are good. or trying to be good.
12. humor. seeing my world with at least a smidgeon of humor.
13. my freakin amazing coworkers.
14. a deep and growing love of mountains and trees and hiking and camping.
15. am i lucky enough to get fifteen? yes. it is the constant turning of the world.
on one final note: a sweet Great-Aunt died early this morning. she was funny and spunky and strong. and she will be missed. and as she died, at 11:30 in the morning in one part of the world, hours later at 11:30 in another part of the world, a new baby was born to a friend. coincidence? you decide.
and now i will wait for 9 minutes, call the Bro and wish him a happy birthday, and fall into bed.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Saturday, May 8, 2010
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
-william carlos williams-
i love this poem. it's one of my all time favorites and i couldn't tell you why. maybe it's the sheer simplicity of it. maybe it's the rain. i'm a sucker for the rain.
LF never wrote back. s/he's not going to. tonight that sits heavy on my chest, weighing me down a little more than i would like. i made this move, i chose the direction, and now i am living with it. i'm not regretting. but just because i was the one who chose doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, just a little. i learned a long time ago that, with some exceptions, love lost living hurts farther than love lost dying. i did love LF. but there is a point when you protect your own heart. so tonight i suppose the weight is simply the shedding of pounds of a friendship that is no longer what it once was.
rough week. but in the midst i choose to focus on the amazing things--wonderful conversations with relatives who were involved, passionate, and wanted to come back into kids' lives. parents found. adoptions finalized. completing a case and closing it, only to get back some of the sweetest praise and most heartfelt thank yous i have ever gotten. the voices we speak for are often mute. sometimes they want to speak but don't know what to say. other times they have shouted themselves hoarse and have no voice left at all. still others are silent by choice. i am unendingly proud of the caseworkers i work with; at the end of the day i can imagine that they too are hoarse from all the shouting to make these children heard. yet they come back each morning and start again. why, you may ask? are you all masochists or something? is struggle and pain fun? well, because we have to, absolutely not, and not usually.
i think what it comes down to is this: there are so many opportunities for people's passions to come to life. and so many jobs where what you do directly impacts a person's worst day for the better. i know for me that i work with kids because they need advocates. what it is, where it lies, is in the simple fact that if i could not hold myself accountable to make even the smallest changes, if i could not ask that commitment of myself, if i couldn't find it in myself to put my heart and head and hands into this work, how could i possibly ask anyone else to do so in my place?
it is a selfish commitment at times; it is certainly enjoyable to tell others that you work in child welfare and have them shake their heads, grimace, praise you. i could never do that. it is a small badge of pride to wear on your sleeve, a strength movement that you get to be a part of.
it is also a selfless commitment at times; there are mornings where you wake up and think, i can't do this. you're always wrong, of course. you can, and you will, even if it's a hard day or a hurt day, even if you go in and end up having the best day yet. there are the angry phone calls that rattle your confidence, the saddest news that breaks a little part of you down. and those are days to face, deal with, and funnel away until there is nothing left of those tiny sacrifices. because, compared to our families, anything we deal with at work is tiny.
i have peppered the walls of my little cubicle with pictures of "my" kids outside my work world. i don't have all of them, but i'm getting there. i love being able to see them. besides the fact that my coworkers tell me they're all so beautiful, which they are and i should pass along to their parents(!), they act as a constant and calm reminder of why i work here. because every kid deserves to be as happy as that.
so maybe why i love that poem so much is that, in it, the littlest things matter immensely. i do the littlest things. and while they don't--and shouldn't--matter the most, they are invaluable to the cases. baby steps, i suppose.
in answer, an echo to answer mr. williams' poem:
so much depends
(said william carlos williams)
on that which is known to us
on two plus two equaling four
on waking following sleep
on breathing in and breathing out
on the brilliant exploding passage of time
he forgot though
that so much depends
on that which is unknown to us
on the song in breaking waves
on the mutter of hope in humanity
on small footfalls carrying grace
on tomorrow, and each day after.
-vera penn-
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
-william carlos williams-
i love this poem. it's one of my all time favorites and i couldn't tell you why. maybe it's the sheer simplicity of it. maybe it's the rain. i'm a sucker for the rain.
LF never wrote back. s/he's not going to. tonight that sits heavy on my chest, weighing me down a little more than i would like. i made this move, i chose the direction, and now i am living with it. i'm not regretting. but just because i was the one who chose doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, just a little. i learned a long time ago that, with some exceptions, love lost living hurts farther than love lost dying. i did love LF. but there is a point when you protect your own heart. so tonight i suppose the weight is simply the shedding of pounds of a friendship that is no longer what it once was.
rough week. but in the midst i choose to focus on the amazing things--wonderful conversations with relatives who were involved, passionate, and wanted to come back into kids' lives. parents found. adoptions finalized. completing a case and closing it, only to get back some of the sweetest praise and most heartfelt thank yous i have ever gotten. the voices we speak for are often mute. sometimes they want to speak but don't know what to say. other times they have shouted themselves hoarse and have no voice left at all. still others are silent by choice. i am unendingly proud of the caseworkers i work with; at the end of the day i can imagine that they too are hoarse from all the shouting to make these children heard. yet they come back each morning and start again. why, you may ask? are you all masochists or something? is struggle and pain fun? well, because we have to, absolutely not, and not usually.
i think what it comes down to is this: there are so many opportunities for people's passions to come to life. and so many jobs where what you do directly impacts a person's worst day for the better. i know for me that i work with kids because they need advocates. what it is, where it lies, is in the simple fact that if i could not hold myself accountable to make even the smallest changes, if i could not ask that commitment of myself, if i couldn't find it in myself to put my heart and head and hands into this work, how could i possibly ask anyone else to do so in my place?
it is a selfish commitment at times; it is certainly enjoyable to tell others that you work in child welfare and have them shake their heads, grimace, praise you. i could never do that. it is a small badge of pride to wear on your sleeve, a strength movement that you get to be a part of.
it is also a selfless commitment at times; there are mornings where you wake up and think, i can't do this. you're always wrong, of course. you can, and you will, even if it's a hard day or a hurt day, even if you go in and end up having the best day yet. there are the angry phone calls that rattle your confidence, the saddest news that breaks a little part of you down. and those are days to face, deal with, and funnel away until there is nothing left of those tiny sacrifices. because, compared to our families, anything we deal with at work is tiny.
i have peppered the walls of my little cubicle with pictures of "my" kids outside my work world. i don't have all of them, but i'm getting there. i love being able to see them. besides the fact that my coworkers tell me they're all so beautiful, which they are and i should pass along to their parents(!), they act as a constant and calm reminder of why i work here. because every kid deserves to be as happy as that.
so maybe why i love that poem so much is that, in it, the littlest things matter immensely. i do the littlest things. and while they don't--and shouldn't--matter the most, they are invaluable to the cases. baby steps, i suppose.
in answer, an echo to answer mr. williams' poem:
so much depends
(said william carlos williams)
on that which is known to us
on two plus two equaling four
on waking following sleep
on breathing in and breathing out
on the brilliant exploding passage of time
he forgot though
that so much depends
on that which is unknown to us
on the song in breaking waves
on the mutter of hope in humanity
on small footfalls carrying grace
on tomorrow, and each day after.
-vera penn-
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
when all is done
I will love you as before this life began.
but I will still be me
whole and uninterrupted.
words featherweight on my back
fall from your lips like pearls dropped onto the sand.
I wake from sleep into dreams,
a sepia world receding with the tide
and approaching with the dawn.
words scatter the land, tumbleweeds rushing.
little pieces of who and why are scattered
and you hold one.
let there be no doubt,
no fear, no prejudice, no hate
nor confidence, no laughter, no joy, no heart
without the serene peace of knowing your love.
it is all done.
still I love you as I must have before we were,
for there is no other way but the page, and you;
could that be all: I am content.
there is light beyond the horizon, I hold the race close to my chest
and we sail on. the words under me the waves,
your love behind me the wind.
the road goes ever on and on, you are gone from me,
sight unseen, and still I love you.
-Vera Penn-
i am going to be published! just a little thing, a little poem in a little lit mag out of gainesville of all places, but it is yet another step towards bigger goals, bigger ideations. my book is 1/3 done. more than that really but the first section is the only one i feel confident about. this has been a dream i have tried to keep to myself; an aspiration that i have held very close to my heart. there is so much room for hurt and for failure in the world of writing. not in the writing but in the sharing with other people, any other people. my mom is the only person who reads on a regular basis. every bit of who i am goes into the page, more than i put anywhere else in my life, and for every person who i have shared with, half of them have scorned it or said it was no good or turned it down. that wears a little bit, tiny ragged edges around my heart, and yet i have to keep trying. why? well. i don't actually know. but i do. and much like my running, no matter how hard the race is, to see the email saying that someone, somewhere, is putting my words into published work, crossing that finish line, is well worth the effort and tears and time put into each word. and for every work that is scorned or disliked or turned down, i learn a little more about how to write. so it is, indeed, worth it.
in other news, if you remember the post about the Lapsed Friend, who i previously addressed as chris, i finally emailed this person. they wrote me first but i gathered my courage and realized that, well, i have sh*tall to lose. i can't imagine that LF will ever talk to me again, to be honest, and i can't blame LF. but it was damn time to be honest. i worked to not accuse, because i have nothing to blame LF for outside of being a crappy friend sometimes, which is only human. i tried to ask the questions that i wanted to ask, and explain my own growing silences over the past months. i took responsibility for my part in how LF and i got to where we are, and i tried to be tactful. we know how good i am at that...but i think maybe i did ok this time. i am both eager and anxious to see what, if anything, LF writes back. part of me is raring for the fight, the conversation; part of me wants to save that energy for my work, and running, and my friends here, for the places that i get as much as i give. and like i said, i don't think LF will write back. i might not were the positions reversed. i hope LF does. i hope LF remembers how, years ago, i held my tongue with another situation and how LF ended up getting very hurt and coming to me and saying, "you knew, didn't you?" and how LF said s/he wished i had said something earlier. but hindsight is bloody perfect and i doubt that any human, in all our common imperfections, can in fact display that much rugged integrity to recognize that sometimes the people who love you can hurt you the most, while all the time trying to tell you how much they love you.
and i wish i still loved LF like i used to. i just don't. i'm ok with that; i've spent many of the past months being hurt by how LF treated me and now i'm past it to where there is still interest in being friends, but for my sake we will probably never get to where we were. things shift, you know? and there are some, a rare few for each of us, who we hold on to through the daily earthquakes of life, who cling to us as hard as we to them.
a tidbit: the SIL told me the other day, in context of a long conversation, that i was optimistic. that is the first time anyone has called me that in my life. ever. and just when i thought i couldn't be surprised anymore...thanks, lady.
I will love you as before this life began.
but I will still be me
whole and uninterrupted.
words featherweight on my back
fall from your lips like pearls dropped onto the sand.
I wake from sleep into dreams,
a sepia world receding with the tide
and approaching with the dawn.
words scatter the land, tumbleweeds rushing.
little pieces of who and why are scattered
and you hold one.
let there be no doubt,
no fear, no prejudice, no hate
nor confidence, no laughter, no joy, no heart
without the serene peace of knowing your love.
it is all done.
still I love you as I must have before we were,
for there is no other way but the page, and you;
could that be all: I am content.
there is light beyond the horizon, I hold the race close to my chest
and we sail on. the words under me the waves,
your love behind me the wind.
the road goes ever on and on, you are gone from me,
sight unseen, and still I love you.
-Vera Penn-
i am going to be published! just a little thing, a little poem in a little lit mag out of gainesville of all places, but it is yet another step towards bigger goals, bigger ideations. my book is 1/3 done. more than that really but the first section is the only one i feel confident about. this has been a dream i have tried to keep to myself; an aspiration that i have held very close to my heart. there is so much room for hurt and for failure in the world of writing. not in the writing but in the sharing with other people, any other people. my mom is the only person who reads on a regular basis. every bit of who i am goes into the page, more than i put anywhere else in my life, and for every person who i have shared with, half of them have scorned it or said it was no good or turned it down. that wears a little bit, tiny ragged edges around my heart, and yet i have to keep trying. why? well. i don't actually know. but i do. and much like my running, no matter how hard the race is, to see the email saying that someone, somewhere, is putting my words into published work, crossing that finish line, is well worth the effort and tears and time put into each word. and for every work that is scorned or disliked or turned down, i learn a little more about how to write. so it is, indeed, worth it.
in other news, if you remember the post about the Lapsed Friend, who i previously addressed as chris, i finally emailed this person. they wrote me first but i gathered my courage and realized that, well, i have sh*tall to lose. i can't imagine that LF will ever talk to me again, to be honest, and i can't blame LF. but it was damn time to be honest. i worked to not accuse, because i have nothing to blame LF for outside of being a crappy friend sometimes, which is only human. i tried to ask the questions that i wanted to ask, and explain my own growing silences over the past months. i took responsibility for my part in how LF and i got to where we are, and i tried to be tactful. we know how good i am at that...but i think maybe i did ok this time. i am both eager and anxious to see what, if anything, LF writes back. part of me is raring for the fight, the conversation; part of me wants to save that energy for my work, and running, and my friends here, for the places that i get as much as i give. and like i said, i don't think LF will write back. i might not were the positions reversed. i hope LF does. i hope LF remembers how, years ago, i held my tongue with another situation and how LF ended up getting very hurt and coming to me and saying, "you knew, didn't you?" and how LF said s/he wished i had said something earlier. but hindsight is bloody perfect and i doubt that any human, in all our common imperfections, can in fact display that much rugged integrity to recognize that sometimes the people who love you can hurt you the most, while all the time trying to tell you how much they love you.
and i wish i still loved LF like i used to. i just don't. i'm ok with that; i've spent many of the past months being hurt by how LF treated me and now i'm past it to where there is still interest in being friends, but for my sake we will probably never get to where we were. things shift, you know? and there are some, a rare few for each of us, who we hold on to through the daily earthquakes of life, who cling to us as hard as we to them.
a tidbit: the SIL told me the other day, in context of a long conversation, that i was optimistic. that is the first time anyone has called me that in my life. ever. and just when i thought i couldn't be surprised anymore...thanks, lady.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
the milk rang into the pail, then muffled its ringing in folds of white froth, a measured bell sounding through thick, creamy warmth.
this is hank's bell.
in a deepening sky where the spearpoint firs scratch the clouds, already a moon--like a cast off paring from the setting sun. this is hank's bell, too.
this is hank's bell--secret between peaks of foam, muffled in warm white valleys--this is hank's bell ringing.
when it rings it's like ripples in a pool, spreading in all directions.
be nice if it could ring like this all the time...
but it's hard to stop out other noises.
-from 'Sometimes a Great Notion'-
-Ken Kesey-
we are down in eugene for the half now. looking back it seems as though i have trained forever, and for no time at all. i'm ready. the Brother is ready. the SIL is ready. there is nothing quite as wondrous as going into an undertaking full with the knowledge that you will complete it. it is human immortality. it is being able to fly.
a coworker asked how long i'd been training. i told him 3 months. in reality it is more like 13, which is when the running started. every step i've taken has led me here, the training steps and the racing ones, the fantastic steps and the awful ones, so it is hard to put a timeline to when training for *this* half started. in reality i have been training for this for my entire life, because isn't it the makeup of who i am that allows me to complete this joyful challenge?
this same coworker asked me who i was going with. i told him the Bro and SIL. we have run together and apart, shared snacks and advice and dinners, picked up for each other, taken care of each other's animals, made it possible for each of us to get here. this morning we packed up our cars--animals, courage, shoes, strength, snacks, confidence, hydro packs, determination--until they were full to the brim and caravanned down all together. he said it sounded like a pilgrimage. he's right. of sorts, it is.
finally he asked me why i ran. how do i answer that? to him, to myself? well, now that the race is over and today is finally done, i can only tell him that the run is my bell. each step is what keeps me close to myself. each step takes me a little farther from the heart of the matter of each day and reminds me that that which i love is housed all around me. i can tell him, tomorrow, if he asks again, that the sweat, the ultimate pain, the sweet sick glee of running downhill (it's just like falling off a log, folks!), the tears that swell in my throat as i step onto the track where so many great runners have traced ahead of me, that fleeting moment of glory and the ultimate calm of post race exhaustion--that's why i run. my bell, my bell, takes me to the edge of my own possibilities and then one step further.
to date: 3 half marathons, 2 10ks, 1 8k, 3 5ks. endless hours of training. 400 miles under my feet.
even more than that: confidence. heightened belief. strong muscles. religion of steps. comraderie with people i may never see again. finding the great equalizer in completing the same race as an olympic athlete. a daily deepening appreciation of the people around me, from my sibs who lead on ahead and cheer at the end, to my parents and friends who come to the races, to the friends who text and call to ask how it went, to everyone in my life who sent me facebook messages of pride and encouragement: the great increase in love that i feel for and from those people is enough to keep me going every step.
as my SIL puts it: your feet will take you oh-so-far. your heart will take you farther.
this is hank's bell.
in a deepening sky where the spearpoint firs scratch the clouds, already a moon--like a cast off paring from the setting sun. this is hank's bell, too.
this is hank's bell--secret between peaks of foam, muffled in warm white valleys--this is hank's bell ringing.
when it rings it's like ripples in a pool, spreading in all directions.
be nice if it could ring like this all the time...
but it's hard to stop out other noises.
-from 'Sometimes a Great Notion'-
-Ken Kesey-
we are down in eugene for the half now. looking back it seems as though i have trained forever, and for no time at all. i'm ready. the Brother is ready. the SIL is ready. there is nothing quite as wondrous as going into an undertaking full with the knowledge that you will complete it. it is human immortality. it is being able to fly.
a coworker asked how long i'd been training. i told him 3 months. in reality it is more like 13, which is when the running started. every step i've taken has led me here, the training steps and the racing ones, the fantastic steps and the awful ones, so it is hard to put a timeline to when training for *this* half started. in reality i have been training for this for my entire life, because isn't it the makeup of who i am that allows me to complete this joyful challenge?
this same coworker asked me who i was going with. i told him the Bro and SIL. we have run together and apart, shared snacks and advice and dinners, picked up for each other, taken care of each other's animals, made it possible for each of us to get here. this morning we packed up our cars--animals, courage, shoes, strength, snacks, confidence, hydro packs, determination--until they were full to the brim and caravanned down all together. he said it sounded like a pilgrimage. he's right. of sorts, it is.
finally he asked me why i ran. how do i answer that? to him, to myself? well, now that the race is over and today is finally done, i can only tell him that the run is my bell. each step is what keeps me close to myself. each step takes me a little farther from the heart of the matter of each day and reminds me that that which i love is housed all around me. i can tell him, tomorrow, if he asks again, that the sweat, the ultimate pain, the sweet sick glee of running downhill (it's just like falling off a log, folks!), the tears that swell in my throat as i step onto the track where so many great runners have traced ahead of me, that fleeting moment of glory and the ultimate calm of post race exhaustion--that's why i run. my bell, my bell, takes me to the edge of my own possibilities and then one step further.
to date: 3 half marathons, 2 10ks, 1 8k, 3 5ks. endless hours of training. 400 miles under my feet.
even more than that: confidence. heightened belief. strong muscles. religion of steps. comraderie with people i may never see again. finding the great equalizer in completing the same race as an olympic athlete. a daily deepening appreciation of the people around me, from my sibs who lead on ahead and cheer at the end, to my parents and friends who come to the races, to the friends who text and call to ask how it went, to everyone in my life who sent me facebook messages of pride and encouragement: the great increase in love that i feel for and from those people is enough to keep me going every step.
as my SIL puts it: your feet will take you oh-so-far. your heart will take you farther.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)