My Quilt Square

I visited my grandma today.

It was a spur of the moment decision; I happened to be in the neighborhood and had a few extra minutes, so I stopped by.  Because it was a last minute thing I didn't follow my normal routine of visiting her.  Usually I stop by Starbucks and pick up some coffee - decaf, because it's always so late in the day.  But today, sadly sans coffee, I followed the now familiar turns and lowered the volume of my radio out of respect for anyone else who happened to be around.  I parked in my usual spot and walked the short distance, wondering, as always, why I even bothered to lock my car. After all, it's not as though my little, red Bug would be out of my sight.

And then, with a quick glance to Grandma's neighbors, I lowered myself to the ground.  "Sorry I don't have any coffee for you," I said, and I touched a hand to her headstone.

This is usually the point when I say (out loud, because I think she would get a kick out of it), "Pour one out for my homegirl," and tip the coffee cup upside down.  We share that coffee as I talk about what's going on in my life.  I alternate between taking sips and pouring some beside her name, and I always feel a gentle swell of pleasure in the knowledge that my love of coffee is something that came from her and Grandpa.  It is not groundbreaking or earth shattering.  It will never save a life or change the world, but it is a part of the legacy I have inherited from her.

I've been thinking about that word a lot lately.  Legacy.  I'll spare you the sordid details, but "legacy" has been something of a hot topic in some recent drama.  Truthfully, "drama" doesn't at all capture the reality of the pain caused, but that's not currently my story to tell.

Legacy, though, that is mine, though I share it with many.  Legacy is like a blanket - a quilt - which lays over many, offering warmth and comfort, and unique in each individual space.  I've been inspecting my quilt square, trying to see clearly which pieces of each of my grandparents have made it into my little portion.

Mama Bear from The Berenstain Bears and Mama's New Job.  LOVE those quilts!

So today I sat at my grandma's graveside and I thought.

I thought about the moment my grandpa mentioned Grandma's great love of Christmas, when my brother leaned over to me and whispered, "That's where we get it."

I thought about jumping excitedly onto the couch when Granddaddy was GOING TO TELL HIS MICKEY MOUSE STORIES!!!!  And then laughing years later when kids I babysat asked me to please tell a Mickey Mouse story? 

I thought about Mimi and her sense of humor - the moment during our Easter service when she just could. not. handle. the way someone was chanting.  She and I covered our mouths with our hands and laughed and laughed and laughed as silently as possible.  Even now I get a flash of that memory when I notice something ridiculous.

I thought about Grandpa's great love of family, the way you can tell he is soaking up the chaos around him when we're all together, and I remembered moments at family events when I just looked around, in awe of and grateful for all these crazy people around me.

Webster's dictionary describes "legacy" in the following way:

I am going to ignore the first definition, because my family has taught me that while money is nice and helpful and certainly not evil, it is by no means the most important thing in life.  So let's move on to the second definition:

Something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past.

This.  Yes.

This resonates with me.  Because when I think of my legacy, I don't think of property or money - unless we're joking about how our inheritance was used to buy Beanie Babies.  

Wait!  This is actually my legacy! ;)

No.  Money, properties, or things are not a part of the quilt laid over me.  My legacy is a strong sense of justice, loyalty, and family.  It is a goofy and silly sense of humor, and a sardonic delight in the ridiculous.  It is standing in front of people and feeling comfortable speaking to them.  It is yelling at other drivers.  It is whistling - a lot.  It is a tendency to assume that I know exactly what's best, even when I have no idea what's actually going on.  It is caring about my appearance.  It is wanting to know who is in church this morning - not to judge...just to know.   It is taking everything so hard.  It is being incredibly self-critical.  It is my storytelling.  It is the sound of my exhale when dismissing something.  It is the shape of my mouth and the slope of my nose.  It is the sound of my laugh.

My quilt square is not perfect, but it keeps me warm.  

And I love it dearly.

Photo credit: Aunt Judy Braun

Just A Story Written For LOG...

A few months ago I was asked to write a story for a LOG activity.  This is what I came up with.  Figured I would share it.

The Young Boy grumbled to himself as he stomped toward the well.  This was not a man's work, gathering water.  He hunched his shoulders against both his anger and the heat of the afternoon.  His mother had sent him to the well, too caught up in caring for the Boy's crying infant sister to gather the water herself.  She had yelled at him of the importance of water.  Would he rather them all die of thirst than swallow his pride and carry one jug?  And after all, he was still just a Boy, while she was his mother.  He must listen to her.

The Boy could not deny the importance of water for survival.  It was true that every creature, every living thing needed the water.  Living in the small, Samaritan town, the Boy was well aware of this need, even at such a young age.  The weather was harsh and unforgiving, and if a person was careless or lazy he would regret it greatly.  But at eight years old the Boy chose not to consider this.  He kicked a stone out of his path, cringing when he felt the pain in his toes.

As he approached the well he stopped abruptly – Photini was walking in the direction of the well, carrying a large jug.  Everyone in town knew of Photini.  The Boy's mother would be horrified if she thought he spoke even the shortest greeting to this woman.  He was stuck, unsure of what to do, when he noticed a Man sitting at the well.  The Man greeted Photini kindly, then asked if she would give Him water.  The Boy wondered briefly if this Man knew the kind of woman he spoke to, but then realized with shock that He was a Jew!  What on Earth was he doing speaking to a Samaritan woman, especially one like Photini?

The Boy inched closer to the well, curious to hear what the Man was saying.  “If you knew Who was asking you for water, you would ask Me for water, and I should give you living water.”  Living water? The Boy thought, amazed.  He had never yet heard of living water.  He stepped closer, eager to hear more.

Photini and the Man were speaking about her life – the Boy wondered if he should cover his ears – when she suddenly ran from the well, leaving her jug behind.  As she ran past, he heard Photini calling out about the Messiah.  The Boy looked back toward the Man, who seemed to be watching a group of men walk up the hill toward the well. 

“Come see me, my Boy,” He said.  The Boy jumped; he had thought he went unnoticed.  The Man turned toward him, and beckoned him to come.  The Boy nervously walked forward.  “What is living water?” he asked the Man.  The Man smiled gently, and reached out to touch the Boy's shoulder. 

“It is the water that I give.  Whoever drinks of this water will never be thirsty again.  The water that I give will become a fountain of everlasting water, springing up into eternal life.”  The Boy simply shook his head, not understanding what the Man meant, but knowing somehow that this was important, that this Man was no ordinary man.

“I'm sorry.  I don't understand.  How could anyone not need water again?”

The Man chuckled, and reached into a pack that was resting at His feet.  He pulled out a small, clay cup and a leather strap, and began wrapping the strap around the cup even as He spoke.  “Tell me, my Boy, why you feel water is so important?”

The Boy thought this was a silly question, but he answered anyway.  “It gives life.  No one can live without drinking water.  We would die without it.” 

“This is true,” the Man answered.  “You mother, your father, your baby sister – all of you need water to live.”  He looked up and smiled at the Boy, who was staring open-mouthed at Him.  “But would you like to know a secret?”  He leaned toward the Boy, who nodded and came closer to Him.  “Your soul,” the Man touched a finger to the Boy's chest.  “Your soul needs something else to live.  Your soul needs Me, and my Father Who is in Heaven.  And I will give your soul living water.  And it is through Me that you will find eternal life – life that far surpasses your life here on this earth.  Would you like to hear something else?”  The Boy nodded again.  He had felt power in the simple touch to his chest.  He felt as though his whole body was shining.  The Man looked at him as though He knew what the Boy was feeling.  “Whoever believes in me, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water,” He said.  “I give you My living water, and you pass that along to others, who can pass it to others, and so on.”  He handed the Boy the cup, which now had the leather wrapped around it in such a way that the Boy could wear the cup around his neck.  He did so now, feeling that the cup was somehow sacred.  He knew he would never lose it, even if only because it would make him think of this Man.

The Boy turned to face the group of men who had just reached the well.  They called out to the Man cheerfully – they obviously knew Him well – and the Man acknowledged them with a wave.  He turned to the Boy and placed His hand on the Boy's head.  “Go, my child, and let the rivers of My living water flow from you.  And remember, if anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink.  Anyone, my child.”  The Boy nodded and ran toward home.  He was almost to his house when he realized he had forgotten to gather the water.  He looked down at the pitcher he held in his hands and almost dropped it in amazement when he realized it was full.  He walked into his home, feeling lighter and stronger than he had ever felt in his life.  He took the small cup from around his neck and poured some water into it.  With that in hand, he went to his mother and said, “Mother.  Come sit, and drink, and listen as I tell you about the Living Water.” 

Small Enough

My heart is heavy.

 

Truly, I look around, and it seems that everywhere I turn I see pain.  Sorrow.  Hurt.  Anger.  Grief.  Lots and lots of grief.

 

It's been like this for a while, too.  I was anxious for summer to end this year, which is unusual for me.  But for some reason I told myself that if summer would just be done, all the heaviness and sadness would be done, too.

 

I'm tempted to say that it seems senseless, even though I have seen God moving through this time.  He is moving slowly, quietly, more like a mist than a strong force.  But, being human and oh-so-doubtful, I still find myself demanding answers of Him.  Why? I ask (not very nicely, either).  Why are people we love being taken from us?  Why can't my brother find a job?  Why are the people I love hurting so much?  Why did You give joy and anticipation only to take it away?  Why the loneliness?  Why the constant struggle just to make ends meet?  And cancer.  What the heck?  Cancer.  Cancer.  Cancer.  Why?  Why?  Why? 

 

I thought to myself today that I was just ready for something joyful.  And then immediately I felt ashamed of myself.  I needed to quiet myself, and to pay attention to the mist I am seeing moving, even through the sorrow.  But tonight I'm not sure I'm there.  Tonight I am not sure I can put the positive spin on it.  Tonight I want to cry out, "my God, my God!  Why have You forsaken us?" 

 

Tonight, when then only prayer that comes to mind is Lord, have mercy, I find - unsurprisingly - that a song expresses it so much better than I can.  Another night I will be able to be positive again.  I know I will.  But tonight, in this time when I look around and see so many people hurting, I pray that our great God, Who is clothed with strength and majesty, will be small enough that we can feel Him. 

 

 

Glory to God For All Things

This Akathist, or prayer service, is said at my church every year on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.  It touches my heart every, single time and I wanted to share it with you all.  It's amazing how in every verse there was something that I felt to be directly relevant to me.

Happy Thanksgiving.  Glory to God for all things!!!

Kontakion 1

Everlasting King, Thy will for our salvation is full of power. Thy right arm controls the whole course of human life. We give Thee thanks for all Thy mercies, seen and unseen. For eternal life, for the heavenly joys of the Kingdom which is to be. Grant mercy to us who sing Thy praise, both now and in the time to come. Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age.

Ikos 1

I was born a weak, defenceless child, but Thine angel spread his wings over my cradle to defend me. From birth until now Thy love has illumined my path, and has wondrously guided me towards the light of eternity; from birth until now the generous gifts of Thy providence have been marvelously showered upon me. I give Thee thanks, with all who have come to know Thee, who call upon Thy name.

Glory to Thee for calling me into being
Glory to Thee, showing me the beauty of the universe
Glory to Thee, spreading out before me heaven and earth
Like the pages in a book of eternal wisdom
Glory to Thee for Thine eternity in this fleeting world
Glory to Thee for Thy mercies, seen and unseen
Glory to Thee through every sigh of my sorrow
Glory to Thee for every step of my life's journey
For every moment of glory
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 2

O Lord, how lovely it is to be Thy guest. Breeze full of scents; mountains reaching to the skies; waters like boundless mirrors, reflecting the sun's golden rays and the scudding clouds. All nature murmurs mysteriously, breathing the depth of tenderness. Birds and beasts of the forest bear the imprint of Thy love. Blessed art thou, mother earth, in thy fleeting loveliness, which wakens our yearning for happiness that will last for ever, in the land where, amid beauty that grows not old, the cry rings out: Alleluia!

Ikos 2

Thou hast brought me into life as into an enchanted paradise. We have seen the sky like a chalice of deepest blue, where in the azure heights the birds are singing. We have listened to the soothing murmur of the forest and the melodious music of the streams. We have tasted fruit of fine flavour and the sweet-scented honey. We can live very well on Thine earth. It is a pleasure to be Thy guest.

Glory to Thee for the Feast Day of life
Glory to Thee for the perfume of lilies and roses
Glory to Thee for each different taste of berry and fruit
Glory to Thee for the sparkling silver of early morning dew
Glory to Thee for the joy of dawn's awakening
Glory to Thee for the new life each day brings
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 3

It is the Holy Spirit who makes us find joy in each flower, the exquisite scent, the delicate colour, the beauty of the Most High in the tiniest of things. Glory and honour to the Spirit, the Giver of Life, who covers the fields with their carpet of flowers, crowns the harvest with gold, and gives to us the joy of gazing at it with our eyes. O be joyful and sing to Him: Alleluia!

Ikos 3

How glorious art Thou in the springtime, when every creature awakes to new life and joyfully sings Thy praises with a thousand tongues. Thou art the Source of Life, the Destroyer of Death. By the light of the moon, nightingales sing, and the valleys and hills lie like wedding garments, white as snow. All the earth is Thy promised bride awaiting her spotless husband. If the grass of the field is like this, how gloriously shall we be transfigured in the Second Coming after the Resurrection! How splendid our bodies, how spotless our souls!

Glory to Thee, bringing from the depth of the earth an endless variety of colours, tastes and scents
Glory to Thee for the warmth and tenderness of the world of nature
Glory to Thee for the numberless creatures around us
Glory to Thee for the depths of Thy wisdom, the whole world a living sign of it
Glory to Thee; on my knees, I kiss the traces of Thine unseen hand
Glory to Thee, enlightening us with the clearness of eternal life
Glory to Thee for the hope of the unutterable, imperishable beauty of immortality
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 4

How filled with sweetness are those whose thoughts dwell on Thee; how life-giving Thy holy Word. To speak with Thee is more soothing than anointing with oil; sweeter than the honeycomb. To pray to Thee lifts the spirit, refreshes the soul. Where Thou art not, there is only emptiness; hearts are smitten with sadness; nature, and life itself, become sorrowful; where Thou art, the soul is filled with abundance, and its song resounds like a torrent of life: Alleluia!

Ikos 4

When the sun is setting, when quietness falls like the peace of eternal sleep, and the silence of the spent day reigns, then in the splendour of its declining rays, filtering through the clouds, I see Thy dwelling-place: fiery and purple, gold and blue, they speak prophet-like of the ineffable beauty of Thy presence, and call to us in their majesty. We turn to the Father.

Glory to Thee at the hushed hour of nightfall
Glory to Thee, covering the earth with peace
Glory to Thee for the last ray of the sun as it sets
Glory to Thee for sleep's repose that restores us
Glory to Thee for Thy goodness even in the time of darkness
When all the world is hidden from our eyes
Glory to Thee for the prayers offered by a trembling soul
Glory to Thee for the pledge of our reawakening
On that glorious last day, that day which has no evening
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 5

The dark storm clouds of life bring no terror to those in whose hearts Thy fire is burning brightly. Outside is the darkness of the whirlwind, the terror and howling of the storm, but in the heart, in the presence of Christ, there is light and peace, silence: Alleluia!

Ikos 5

I see Thine heavens resplendent with stars. How glorious art Thou radiant with light! Eternity watches me by the rays of the distant stars. I am small, insignificant, but the Lord is at my side. Thy right arm guides me wherever I go.

Glory to Thee, ceaselessly watching over me
Glory to Thee for the encounters Thou dost arrange for me
Glory to Thee for the love of parents, for the faithfulness of friends
Glory to Thee for the humbleness of the animals which serve me
Glory to Thee for the unforgettable moments of life
Glory to Thee for the heart's innocent joy
Glory to Thee for the joy of living
Moving and being able to return Thy love
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 6

How great and how close art Thou in the powerful track of the storm! How mighty Thy right arm in the blinding flash of the lightning! How awesome Thy majesty! The voice of the Lord fills the fields, it speaks in the rustling of the trees. The voice of the Lord is in the thunder and the downpour. The voice of the Lord is heard above the waters. Praise be to Thee in the roar of mountains ablaze. Thou dost shake the earth like a garment; Thou dost pile up to the sky the waves of the sea. Praise be to Thee, bringing low the pride of man. Thou dost bring from his heart a cry of Penitence: Alleluia!

Ikos 6

When the lightning flash has lit up the camp dining hall, how feeble seems the light from the lamp. Thus dost Thou, like the lightning, unexpectedly light up my heart with flashes of intense joy. After Thy blinding light, how drab, how colourless, how illusory all else seems. My souls clings to Thee.

Glory to Thee, the highest peak of men's dreaming
Glory to Thee for our unquenchable thirst for communion with God
Glory to Thee, making us dissatisfied with earthly things
Glory to Thee, turning on us Thine healing rays
Glory to Thee, subduing the power of the spirits of darkness
And dooming to death every evil
Glory to Thee for the signs of Thy presence
For the joy of hearing Thy voice and living in Thy love
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 7

In the wondrous blending of sounds it is Thy call we hear; in the harmony of many voices, in the sublime beauty of music, in the glory of the works of great composers: Thou leadest us to the threshold of paradise to come, and to the choirs of angels. All true beauty has the power to draw the soul towards Thee, and to make it sing in ecstasy: Alleluia!

Ikos 7

The breath of Thine Holy Spirit inspires artists, poets and scientists. The power of Thy supreme knowledge makes them prophets and interpreters of Thy laws, who reveal the depths of Thy creative wisdom. Their works speak unwittingly of Thee. How great art Thou in Thy creation! How great art Thou in man!

Glory to Thee, showing Thine unsurpassable power in the laws of the universe
Glory to Thee, for all nature is filled with Thy laws
Glory to Thee for what Thou hast revealed to us in Thy mercy
Glory to Thee for what Thou hast hidden from us in Thy wisdom
Glory to Thee for the inventiveness of the human mind
Glory to Thee for the dignity of man's labour
Glory to Thee for the tongues of fire that bring inspiration
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 8

How near Thou art in the day of sickness. Thou Thyself visitest the sick; Thou Thyself bendest over the sufferer's bed. His heart speaks to Thee. In the throes of sorrow and suffering Thou bringest peace and unexpected consolation. Thou art the comforter. Thou art the love which watches over and heals us. To Thee we sing the song: Alleluia!

Ikos 8

When in childhood I called upon Thee consciously for the first time, Thou didst hear my prayer, and Thou didst fill my heart with the blessing of peace. At that moment I knew Thy goodness and knew how blessed are those who turn to Thee. I started to call upon Thee night and day; and now even now I call upon Thy name.

Glory to Thee, satisfying my desires with good things
Glory to Thee, watching over me day and night
Glory to Thee, curing affliction and emptiness with the healing flow of time
Glory to Thee, no loss is irreparable in Thee, Giver of eternal life to all
Glory to Thee, making immortal all that is lofty and good
Glory to Thee, promising us the longed-for meeting with our loved ones who have died
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 9

Why is it that on a Feast Day the whole of nature mysteriously smiles? Why is it that then a heavenly gladness fills our hearts; a gladness far beyond that of earth and the very air in church and in the altar becomes luminous? It is the breath of Thy gracious love. It is the reflection of the glory of Mount Tabor. Then do heaven and earth sing Thy praise: Alleluia!

Ikos 9

When Thou didst call me to serve my brothers and filled my soul with humility, one of Thy deep, piercing rays shone into my heart; it became luminous, full of light like iron glowing in the furnace. I have seen Thy face, face of mystery and of unapproachable glory.

Glory to Thee, transfiguring our lives with deeds of love
Glory to Thee, making wonderfully Sweet the keeping of Thy commandments
Glory to Thee, making Thyself known where man shows mercy on his neighbour
Glory to Thee, sending us failure and misfortune that we may understand the sorrows of others
Glory to Thee, rewarding us so well for the good we do
Glory to Thee, welcoming the impulse of our heart's love
Glory to Thee, raising to the heights of heaven every act of love in earth and sky
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 10

No one can put together what has crumbled into dust, but Thou canst restore a conscience turned to ashes. Thou canst restore to its former beauty a soul lost and without hope. With Thee, there is nothing that cannot be redeemed. Thou art love; Thou art Creator and Redeemer. We praise Thee, singing: Alleluia!

Ikos 10

Remember, my God, the fall of Lucifer full of pride, keep me safe with the power of Thy Grace; save me from falling away from Thee. Save me from doubt. Incline my heart to hear Thy mysterious voice every moment of my life. Incline my heart to call upon Thee, present in everything.

Glory to Thee for every happening
Every condition Thy providence has put me in
Glory to Thee for what Thou speakest to me in my heart
Glory to Thee for what Thou revealest to me, asleep or awake
Glory to Thee for scattering our vain imaginations
Glory to Thee for raising us from the slough of our passions through suffering
Glory to Thee for curing our pride of heart by humiliation
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 11

Across the cold chains of the centuries, I feel the warmth of Thy breath, I feel Thy blood pulsing in my veins. Part of time has already gone, but now Thou art the present. I stand by Thy Cross; I was the cause of it. I cast myself down in the dust before it. Here is the triumph of love, the victory of salvation. Here the centuries themselves cannot remain silent, singing Thy praises: Alleluia!

Ikos 11

Blessed are they that will share in the King's Banquet: but already on earth Thou givest me a foretaste of this blessedness. How many times with Thine own hand hast Thou held out to me Thy Body and Thy Blood, and I, though a miserable sinner, have received this Mystery, and have tasted Thy love, so ineffable, so heavenly.

Glory to Thee for the unquenchable fire of Thy Grace
Glory to Thee, building Thy Church, a haven of peace in a tortured world
Glory to Thee for the life-giving water of Baptism in which we find new birth
Glory to Thee, restoring to the penitent purity white as the lily
Glory to Thee for the cup of salvation and the bread of eternal joy
Glory to Thee for exalting us to the highest heaven
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 12

How often have I seen the reflection of Thy glory in the faces of the dead. How resplendent they were, with beauty and heavenly joy. How ethereal, how translucent their faces. How triumphant over suffering and death, their felicity and peace. Even in the silence they were calling upon Thee. In the hour of my death, enlighten my soul, too, that it may cry out to Thee: Alleluia!

Ikos 12

What sort of praise can I give Thee? I have never heard the song of the Cherubim, a joy reserved for the spirits above. But I know the praises that nature sings to Thee. In winter, I have beheld how silently in the moonlight the whole earth offers Thee prayer, clad in its white mantle of snow, sparkling like diamonds. I have seen how the rising sun rejoices in Thee, how the song of the birds is a chorus of praise to Thee. I have heard the mysterious mutterings of the forests about Thee, and the winds singing Thy praise as they stir the waters. I have understood how the choirs of stars proclaim Thy glory as they move forever in the depths of infinite space. What is my poor worship! All nature obeys Thee, I do not. Yet while I live, I see Thy love, I long to thank Thee, and call upon Thy name.

Glory to Thee, giving us light
Glory to Thee, loving us with love so deep, divine and infinite
Glory to Thee, blessing us with light, and with the host of angels and saints
Glory to Thee, Father all-holy, promising us a share in Thy Kingdom
Glory to Thee, Holy Spirit, life-giving Sun of the world to come
Glory to Thee for all things, Holy and most merciful Trinity
Glory to Thee, O God, from age to age

Kontakion 13

Life-giving and merciful Trinity, receive my thanksgiving for all Thy goodness. Make us worthy of Thy blessings, so that, when we have brought to fruit the talents Thou hast entrusted to us, we may enter into the joy of our Lord, forever exulting in the shout of victory: Alleluia!

Icon written by Daryl Cochran

The Case of the Invisible Mother

A few week's ago, at my sister's baby shower, I heard a story read about a mother who was suffering from a common problem (or I believe it to be common): the case of the Invisible Mother.  This mother went on to say that she had found peace from a book a friend had given to her about the great cathedrals in Europe.  In the story the (childless) friend had said that this mother reminded her of the builders of the great cathedrals.  No one knows their names, no one knows anything about who they were, but they built amazing places that to this day bring glory to God and wonder to people.  The "invisible" mother had found some comfort: she was building cathedrals for God through her children, even if no one noticed her work and sacrifice. 

I have been thinking about this ever since.  See, I know my mom suffers from Invisible Mother Syndrome.  Sometimes we talk about it - more often we don't - and I know there are so many times when a "thank you" or "I love you" would have gone a long way but instead I ran out the door with a "good-bye!" or an "I'll see you later." 

My mom and I have had our share of conflicts.  After all, don't all mothers and daughters feel frustrated with each other at some point or another?  But to be honest with you, I have far more good memories than bad with my mama.  Sure, maybe we argued the morning I was moving to college, but didn't she cry harder than I did when we said goodbye at my dorm room door?  And maybe I felt frustrated that she didn't seem to understand why I was so upset with my professor, but when the letter from home came a couple days later in the mail it was just what I needed.  Moms usually do know just what we need, don't they?

And when I think of how my mom must feel invisible so much of the time, it blows my mind.  Because to me, you see, she is very visible.  Every time my older sisters sing I hear Mama's voice.  When my brothers (and sisters, for that matter) talk about the desire for justice, I hear Mama's words.  When Ginny and Timmy talk about "my Jesus," or sing Gospel songs in the car - well that's Mama for you, right there.  My sister holding her arms out to those in need: Mama.  The random fascination with kind of gross, but really cool, medical issues or injuries: Mama.  Heck!  The pure stubbornness that I know has gotten my siblings and me through tough times that would otherwise be impossible to deal with...That's my mom, right there.  The heart for those who need a little extra love.  Well, that's my mama, too.

Let me tell you why I love this picture: It isn't because it's good of me (it's not).  It's because in it are 12 people who adore my mom and don't see her as being invisible at all - whether we say it or not.  You can see her smile on all of our faces.

Invisible?  No...I see her clearly everyday.  I feel her expressions on my face.  I hear her tones in my voice.  And that is an extraordinary thing, because as those of you who know my mom can attest to, my mom is a pretty extraordinary person.  And even though the lines of the song below are written for a Mama and a Daddy (and I have amazing love and respect for my Daddy, too), today I want to send them out to Mama.  Because when I heard this song the other day my mind shot straight to you.  I love you.

Excerpted from Heroes by The Isaacs:

"...Those who sacrifice to raise a child that's not their own.
They dedicate their time to make a difference in someone else's life.
And in my eyes

"He's a hero and she's a hero
It doesn't matter that nobody knows their name.
They keep on giving to make life worth living
It might go unnoticed, but they're heroes just the same.

"They might go unnoticed, but they're heroes."


Happy Mother's Day, Mama!!!  I love you.

The Hills ARE Alive!

Last week I was invited to go to "The Sound of Music: Sing-Along."  I was excited (especially because some pretty spectacular people covered the cost of my ticket...Thanks Joanne and Mary!!) and ready to sing when I arrived at the Gish house.  Mary moaned a little bit about not owning a nun's habit and not being able to dress up, but we hopped in the Speier's van and headed to the Arlington.  Mary and Taylor and I did a great job of embarrassing the junior high girls (Tati and Jordan) by singing "The HIIIILLS are aliiiiiiive with the sOUnd of muuuuuuuuusic (aah ah ah ah)" at the top of our voices from our parking spot all the way to the theatre. 

Once we walked into the theatre, tickets in hands, we gawked at our fellow movie-goers - the ones who did dress up.  Over there was Maria as a novice!  And there was Captain von Trapp!  And look at the von Trapp kids! 

We waltzed down the aisle and found a row with some friends, and sat down - still embarrassing the younger girls.  We sat enthralled at a "Behind the Scenes" short documentary, but we were ready for the main attraction.  When the lights lowered we leaned forward in our seats and clapped with the rest of the audience.  As the opening credits rolled I was suddenly struck with awe: I was watching The Sound of Music on the big screen.  This movie was released in 1965 - 21 years before I was born.  It's a modern-day classic; everyone knows about The Sound of Music.  And I was watching it on the big screen. 

Wow.

But as soon as Julie Andrews came into view my awe was replaced by delight and as the music swelled I glanced at Mary.  She looked back at me with a grin on her face and then took a deep breath and belted "THE HIIILLS ARE ALIIIIVE..."  I laughed in pure delight and joined in.  When Mary, Taylor, and I supplied the first "Aah aah aah aahs" the rest of the audience erupted in laughter.  This, of course, set the three of us off in giggles, and I found it hard to sing along. 

Amazing, right?

The audience was great: people were cheering and yelling out advice to the characters on screen.  And behind us people were playing kazoos during every song.  I leaned over to Mary.  "They have kazoos.  Next time..."

"Next time we are bringing kazoos.  Definitely." 

I was swept along by the storyline, even though I have seen the movie countless times before.  I wasn't the only one, though.  There were audible gasps and claps sprinkled throughout the audience.  There was laughter when we all saw there were lyrics posted for the song the nuns were singing - in Latin.  Mary and I had a grand time translating for everyone in the theatre...Completely ignoring the fact that I speak no Latin and Mary speaks very little.  And when Maria and Captain von Trapp kissed for the first time a group of people behind us set off some poppers.  We jumped, and I turned to Mary again.  "They have poppers.  Next time..."

"Next time we are bringing poppers.  Definitely."

As I was enjoying myself and the movie I was suddenly pulled out of the moment.  I watched Captain von Trapp refusing to give into the Nazi generals and I sent up a prayer of gratitude that I have never lived in a time or place in which my life has been put in such danger for saying a simple word: No.  I sent up a prayer of thanks that I have never had to leave my home to save my life, and I have never had to live in fear and hiding.  I know when I saw the movie as a child that I could figure the Nazis were bad - Brigitta says it very well in the movie: "Maybe it's the flag with the big, black spider that has everyone so nervous."  Anyone, at any age, who sees that flag knows it isn't a flag portraying goodness and light.  But I had never before understood what it really meant to live in that shadow.  Even now, never having lived like that, I can't truly understand it.  And I sent up a prayer of thanks that I can't understand it.

Just as I - and most of the audience - were completely engrossed and heartbroken that Rolfe had joined the Nazis, and were breathlessly hoping he wouldn't betray the von Trapps the poppers shot off again.  I jumped about a mile high in my seat, I noticed from the corner of my eye that Mary had put her hand to her chest. 

"That scared me so badly!" she laughed to me.  I nodded in agreement.  But I was glad, because it yanked me out of my heavy, contemplative mood.  I was back in the joyful, excited mood I had begun the night in.  We finished the movie the same way we started it: laughing and clapping and singing. 

As we danced our way back to the car (still embarassing the younger girls) I was somewhere in the Alps, not on State Street in Santa Barbara.  My mind was drifting along, brought back to Earth by the laughter of my friends.  I joined in, singing along, and we tumbled into the car, just in the knick of time, too, because rain drops were beginning to fall from the sky. 

We all agreed that the evening was almost magical.  As we drove back home I looked at our little mountain range (no comparison to the Alps!) and imagined them ringing with the sound of music.  Back at Mary's house I hopped out of the van and gave hugs all around, then hurried to my car to avoid the rain. 

As I started my car I looked in my rear-view mirror for another look at the mountains.  I could swear they were singing for me.  I smiled hummed back at them, then pulled my car into the road, ready to go home and sleep. 

Lots of love,

Psalm 98:4