Saturday, December 28, 2019

The Look of This Christmas

I remember my mom saying " I never get a cold" while she sniffled, coughed and suffered with a cold. This Christmas I have thought of Mom's words often as I sniffle, cough and lay low recovering from a nasty cold. This Christmas also saw a lovely White family gathering at Chapin and Brianne's house a few days before Christmas, an invite to join the Nickersons for their pre Christmas dinner, a stay at home Christmas Eve and a delicious Christmas dinner at Ronnie and Louisa's home surrounded by their kids and grandkids. This Christmas was brown with just a skim of snow followed by heavy rain.This Christmas was warm and cozy and comfortable while we enjoyed the option of doing not much of anything.This Christmas saw our dear friend Paul in the hospital and Alice spending her Christmas by his side. For so many Christmases we gathered together for breakfast and again for supper and our thoughts were with them praying for answers and improved health. This Christmas also holds the dream and anticipation of Meg, Cody and the girls coming home for Christmas next year. This morning in my early waking hours I searched my minds eye for Christmases of the past. I thought of my childhood homes and where the trees were placed. I remembered my mother's Christmas table, the kid's table in the kitchen with Ken's boys and my kids sitting around it. I remembered our Christmas tables in this house and the several tree locations . I remembered the year the tree fell down on Boxing Day and I quickly untrimmed it and threw it out the front door before company arrived. Yesterday I stood and made moocha cakes, a laborious job I always watched my mother do. My youngest son commented on the lateness of such an effort but really better late than never.I read past Christmas entries from several journals this morning. Christmas Eve travel, Christmas day flights, lost luggage with a decaying turkey, power outages, Christmas Eve church services, small and large crowds around our table, phone calls from loved ones. Oh so many Christmases each one looking special and unique.But each one held the same wonderful things that Christmas 2019 has; family, friends, food, fun, memories and reflection,traditions and new beginnings, dreams and hopes, gratitude and contentment.

Sunday, December 15, 2019

The Mom I Miss

I have given so much thought lately to the stages of life. I guess that begins to happen as we move through them , moving closer to the end stages. For almost a year I was blessed with weekly visits with Gladys. Each time I came away I was filled with gratitude for my current stage while at the same time so aware of the stages that have passed. In hearing her stories I relived my own. I have been busy getting my home prepared for Christmas and sometimes a fleeting question of why I bother creeps in. I will have some company over the holidays but my home is no longer the bustling center of Christmas for my kids. My across the road grandchildren will be in but my granddaughters out west will not have memories of Monkey's house at Christmastime. So sometimes I wonder why I bother . I woke up this morning knowing exactly why. Each moment of Christmas 2019 holds every other previous Christmas. Each twinkling light fills my heart with the joy of all that has been. I miss my mother and this morning I reflect on the mother I miss. I miss the mother who went to all the trouble to create Christmas for us. I miss her scotch cookies (even though I always picked off the cherry) I miss her mincemeat ( no other mincemeat will do) I miss her dining room table, her dressing, her excitement, her joy(and stress) in doing it all. I miss my father. I miss Red Wrap. I miss him trimming the tree each icicle placed individually and every ornament just so. I miss his generous surprises (like sewing machines and snowmobiles) I miss him carrying our stockings up stairs while we all pile in our parent's bed. I miss arriving at my parent's house with my own kids knowing we would be treated royally and with such love. I miss my Mom with her feet stretched out on the couch finally relaxing after the marathon of making Christmas happen.I miss the mom who surprised me on my 40th birthday (which is Boxing Day) with balloons on the railing and a drop in of friends. I miss the mom who always made me a birthday cake in the midst of all her Christmas cooking.I miss my little kids, each stage and each precious year. I miss the frenzy and the hectic pace and the anticipation. It is for that I spend hours placing each decoration and adding more twinkling lights. It is for the quiet moments in my warm and comfortable home that take me back to each of the stages that have passed and the loved ones I miss. And for Christmas 2019 I give thanks.

Thursday, December 12, 2019

Back at Bayside

Yesterday I donned my teacher/author persona and spent the day at Bayside Middle School. That school has welcomed me for the last few years and yesterday's visit held the same quality and warm experience I have always had there. Twenty four bright and beautiful kids came through the door of Lori's room and spent the day with me. Each one was unique and wonderful in their own way and I was given the gift of glimpsing that uniqueness. I hope in some small way I was able to help them see it in themselves. In their writing I saw sorrows, pain, frustration, fear, confusion, insecurity, self criticism, past trauma and I saw hope, joy, strong family bonds,humor,courage and promise. Our lives intersected and the connection was so worth while. My hope for Sarah, MacKenzie, Paula, Layla, Tish,Justine, Izzy, Maddox,Oden, Liam,Emma,Abby, Dora, T ( a beautiful name she kept me from trying to pronounce), Ava, Brooke, Grace, Jasmine, Luke, Riley, Hannah, Isabelle, Reese, Kayley is that they remain exactly who they were born to be and that their spirits soar despite life's challenges. I remember Bayside Middle. I remember tables pushed together to seat twenty four eager kids ready to meet the author of the books they'd read. I remember learning their names getting Jasmine and Justine mixed up , stumbling over two beautiful names and given a shortcut to use instead.I remember Liam and Oden reading passages from the books they'd read and touching this author's heart. I remember questions so thoughtful and deep.I remember vulnerability and eye contact. I remember the 'I remember' pieces written that brought tears and caught me off guard, the humorous and the touching ones. I remember feeling the beauty of hope in the room. I remember coming away and walking out the door of Bayside Middle thankful for the privilege I am given to have days such as that.

Monday, December 9, 2019

I Love Mondays !

Oh boy I love Mondays. I have said this before but it bears repeating. I am a lucky duck! For as long as I can remember I dreamed of being a writer, of writing.I chased other dreams , becoming a teacher and a mother to four and tried to squeeze writing in. Years went by and life happened and for all of it I am grateful but on this day, this Monday I get to write. For ten years I have been a full time writer, putting writing first and fitting other things in.I have the time to write and I appreciate that every time I sit down in my office. I can of course fit in other responsibilities. I can take a long bath, go for a wood road walk or have an afternoon nap. I can take days off and clean my house, visit friends and family, go shopping,or do nothing. I can fit in Writer in the School visits and other writing related engagements. I can write on this blog which might sometimes seem like stalling or avoiding.But with all of that writing gets done. In my bath this morning I was given direction for the next chapter. I discovered more of a character's back story. And in the midst of it all I began to form this entry in my mind. My current work is a story about a writing retreat. Ten writers with dreams and aspirations, with sorrows and yearnings, with different pasts and challenges , but all with a need to write, gather for a writing retreat and a story unfolds. And in them all I recognize myself. So often writers battle with finding time, with claiming their need to write and with the struggle to make the writing happen. So I need to celebrate the fact that I have the privilege of writing. On Monday mornings I show up and the writing happens. Eight published books sit on my shelf and I will soon begin the editing work which will add the ninth to my living room bookends.And in all that I say to every writer out there, no matter where you are in your career, just write and be thankful for the day and the stories you are given.

Sunday, December 8, 2019

December Days

What a beautiful December day it is. On this quiet Sunday morning I took the time to read back to these days last December. Oh how quickly the years go by. Standing in the pie line at last night's Kingston Baptist Christmas dinner I had the fleeting feeling that I had been there just a short time ago. My oldest grandson asked last night if the dinner the year before was on a Friday night.I said it had been a Saturday and he quickly relented stating that I would know because I write this stuff down.I love that he knows that about me. This year Skyler was Joseph and looked so adorable in his costume which covered his already adorable shirt and Christmas tie. I loved every second of spending time with those two boys .Bella was further down the table between her Mom and Dad but I got to sit beside and across from the boys. The wonder and thrill of that was written into my journal this morning. I read in last years entries that they came and cut their tree in our field the morning after. The boys told me they have found their tree but haven't cut it yet. What I am getting at with this meandering entry is the beauty and wonder of December days and establishing traditions.I am so thankful for them. This week we found our way through another birthday without Zac. We reflected on so much , cried our tears and looked ahead.This afternoon Kathy and I will go to Elmhurst for the Mike Biggar and Jessica Ray concert. It will feel familiar while being unique in its own way. I will take the time to enjoy these December days. My decorating has been delayed a bit as I wait for some painting to get done but I look forward to digging out the boxes and bringing out each treasured decoration. The time and work involved will be well worth it when I stand back and see my house dressed for the season.For all of this I give thanks this morning .

Sunday, December 1, 2019

A Good Way to Start December

This morning I am basking in the sunshine streaming through my office window. I am also basking in some after book club stupor( not quite the right word)and gratitude. December 1st. I have changed the calendar , made my December goal list and now sit and ponder the transition from November to December. December a month so full of joy and sorrow. December a busy month so packed with memory, tradition and high expectation.On Dec 5th Zac would be turning 41. He will now have more birthdays gone than he had while with us.My baby boy, a man only in my dreams and imagination.So December is that. It is also so many wonderful things and I try to always dwell on the wonder and the gratitude of another Christmas . This will be the first Christmas that I have no parents. For years they celebrated Christmas in Florida and were not physically present on Christmas day but always a call, a card, a greeting. Last year Dad took great lengths to make sure he called all his grandchildren on Christmas day. He managed to reach each one of them.Last night I came home from a wonderful evening with women of Zac's age, mothers caught up in the hectic years of working, mothering and nesting, creating the memories and experiences their children will carry away. I was honored to sit in that circle feeling somewhat old but very much connected in that league of womanhood and motherhood with all the worry , sorrow, and joy it brings. Honored too as an author while the women who'd invited me discussed and brought 'Fear of Drowning'to life . They weaved their own family stories and their own feelings in to the observations and insights they shared. I had the privilege of hearing how my words and the work I do impacted them. They considered six generations of women in the book , made comparisons and spoke of the strength of each woman. We were all strengthened by the time together. This is the euphoria I feel when I come away from such meetings.The strength and resilience of women dealing with whatever it is that society throws our way. Some of the challenges they voiced are foreign to me and some so deeply familiar. Gwen who had invited me is the granddaughter of my dear friend Gladys who is now gone from us. I realized again last night just how much of an impact Gladys has had on me. As a woman now at the in between age, a woman younger than Gladys's 96 years and older than the forty year old women I met with I have wisdom to pass on , I have experience and life lived. I, like Gladys, have stories to tell and in all that there is a common bond. I drank my first rum and eggnog when I got home and welcomed the season ahead.