It’s been a month since I started to write about the celebration in honor of Dr Huang, the John Hopkins neuro-surgeon who saved my brother’s life. God uses many channels to heal and we remain in her debt forever.
While festivities provide an enjoyable break from routine they can also be disruptive. Since my mother and sister left for St Louis, I find myself unable to regain my stride and the delicate balance between work and leisure.
Yet these last four weeks of dis-ease have not been without their memorable moments.
I wanted so much to learn photograph but during classes, my pink and purse fitting camera broke. I resisted buying one of the DSlRS but succumbed. By then, the classes were over so I missed a good opportunity. Yet, I was able to take photographs of a house where families cooked, loved, fought and played being burnt to the ground as the first step towards re-building. I couldn’t help feeling sad as the focus of all those memories lit the night sky.
ON July 2nd I spent a most relaxing afternoon in a forest in Beckley. For the first time, I watched horse-shoe being played. Tried a few throws and missed. The catering reminded me of scenes of medieval feasts where dish after dish arrived to tempt groaning stomachs to have one more bite of this or that. It might be fish or ribs or maybe the corn one forgot first or second time round.
Of course, cook-outs provide more opportunities for eating until my stomach protested. One had so much food that we continued after Church the next day.
The Church picnic itself was not exempt from temptations of over-eating as the grills sizzled and the air was heavy with delicate flavors of well -cooked meats.
Food, fellowship and Fun should not be restricted to summer. As social beings, we are programmed to get together. For many people, Sunday is the day where the single or the lonely, the student or visitor could enjoy home cooking and fellowship after Church.
I am indebted to those folk who shared what they had with me, teaching me many skills in the process and giving me the confidence to go and do likewise. When there are so many restaurants, it might be even more economical in time and money to eat out. However, sharing food at home in fellowship feeds body, soul and spirit. So when you ‘re invited to dine with me, please say Yes. I really want to celebrate knowing you in a personal way.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Finding Mama
The cloudy day has not dimmed my spirits as I recall the sunny Saturdays of the 11th and 18t . My mother is beautiful and elegant. At eight- eight, she often succeeds in losing Alzheimer’s, remembers the faces of family, thrives on domestic chatter and in the words of her youngest daughter and carer “can hang with me”. This includes leaving home at 6.30AM and returning at nightfall for extended days out. Hanging out involves having flights delayed, cancelled or re-routed so that her journey time is eight hours longer. She gets to son's house completely orientated in place and names. She eventually makes it to bed past midnight without a single complaint.
I am in awe of this woman.
We shared no common interest during my childhood. Attempts by my mother to get close to her firstborn were thwarted by my disinterest in shopping , cooking or any thing remotely feminine. So most of my life, we loved each other but not our lives. Yet, I always knew that hers is a complex personality. In a crisis, she is a rock, in grief dignified, in tough times, loyal, always generous, a sharer of what she has but a hoarder of her thoughts.
Age and re-location have forced a walk in my mother’s shoes. As I reflect on the journey, my admiration of my mother intensifies. I long for her courage and her strength. Her commitment to do the right thing, her sense of duty and her hospitality are impossible to emulate but still they inspire me to try.
Now, at this time of our lives, our paths intertwine as we draw closer in interests.
On the 11th, I shared with her the joy of my brother’s successful surgery. Then on Sunday, we went to Church together. I am delightfully surprised that these days, a Sunday with mama is the highlight of the week.
I am in awe of this woman.
We shared no common interest during my childhood. Attempts by my mother to get close to her firstborn were thwarted by my disinterest in shopping , cooking or any thing remotely feminine. So most of my life, we loved each other but not our lives. Yet, I always knew that hers is a complex personality. In a crisis, she is a rock, in grief dignified, in tough times, loyal, always generous, a sharer of what she has but a hoarder of her thoughts.
Age and re-location have forced a walk in my mother’s shoes. As I reflect on the journey, my admiration of my mother intensifies. I long for her courage and her strength. Her commitment to do the right thing, her sense of duty and her hospitality are impossible to emulate but still they inspire me to try.
Now, at this time of our lives, our paths intertwine as we draw closer in interests.
On the 11th, I shared with her the joy of my brother’s successful surgery. Then on Sunday, we went to Church together. I am delightfully surprised that these days, a Sunday with mama is the highlight of the week.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Another step
After the distractions of the last week , this week has blessed me with warm weather and good news. After the waiting and many false starts, I have a definite offer for my house. Of course, until she signs on the dotted line, she is free to change her mind but I am optimistic. I have seen the clear fingerprint of God in this and am hopeful. Strangely, now that I have reached the end of the beginning, I am surprised by my ambivalence. So many fond memories are rooted to that house, so many great ideas were birthed there. Many relationships blossomed into cherished friendships.
In that house, people of all cultures, classes and races gathered around my table or spilled over the lawn or field beyond. Children romped and were never out of place. When I think of huge American homes, I am somewhat astonished at the company and comraderie that found place within that small five roomed house.
While I enjoyed that house for the people who blessed me with their presence, I would miss it for more personal reasons. I learnt to pour cement, tile walls, neither of which I’ll do again. I also painted everyone of its walls. My friend, Seema, who is an artist painted a seascape in my bathroom after Leslie helped me wall paper two of its walls. There was always something to be done and it was done teaching me a lot about maintenance.
Bad things happened there too. I was burgled twice. I heard of the death of loved ones. I almost lost my sight in one eye. And it was in this house after many years, in the depths of the night that I said goodbye in my heart to a relationship that undermined my emotional well-being.
So although, I agree to sell my house, I know that I won’t be selling my home for it is indeed true that home is really where the heart is at peace. While Grasmere is clothed with precious memories, ever so slowly, I’m finding new points of reference. I ‘ve been blessed to have somewhere comfortable to live for five years. Two years ago during a crisis, I realized that this temporary place was home. Now that chapter too seems about to end and a new book beckons.
As I reflect this Sabbath Eve, I am acutely conscious of the impermanence of life, of possessions and situations. I know that I’m passing through on a pilgrimage. Abraham, Jacob and Moses had great encounters with God on their journey. Tomorrow, as I worshi , I yearn for a similar encounter but even if it never happens, I am content because I know The Way and the Guide on whom I rely to see me safely home.
After the distractions of the last week , this week has blessed me with warm weather and good news. After the waiting and many false starts, I have a definite offer for my house. Of course, until she signs on the dotted line, she is free to change her mind but I am optimistic. I have seen the clear fingerprint of God in this and am hopeful. Strangely, now that I have reached the end of the beginning, I am surprised by my ambivalence. So many fond memories are rooted to that house, so many great ideas were birthed there. Many relationships blossomed into cherished friendships.
In that house, people of all cultures, classes and races gathered around my table or spilled over the lawn or field beyond. Children romped and were never out of place. When I think of huge American homes, I am somewhat astonished at the company and comraderie that found place within that small five roomed house.
While I enjoyed that house for ithe people Who blessed me with their presence, I would miss it more more personal reasons. I learnt to pour cement, tile walls, neither of which I’ll do again. I also painted everyone of it s walls. My friend, Seema, who is an artist painted a seascape in my bathroom after Leslie helped me wall paper two of its walls. There was always something to be done and it was done teaching me a lot about maintenance.
Bad things happened here too. I was burgled twice. I heard of the death of loved ones. I almost lost my sight in one eye. And it was in this house after many years, in the depths of the night that I said goodbye in my heart to a relationship that undermined my emotional well-being.
So although, I agree to sell my house, I know that I won’t be selling my home for it is indeed true that home is really where the heart is at peace. While Grasmere is clothed with precious memories, ever so slowly, I’m finding new points of reference. I ‘ve been blessed to have somewhere comfortable to live for five years and two years ago realized that it was home. Now that chapter seems about to end and a new book beckons.
As I reflect this Sabbath Eve, I am acutely conscious of the impermanence of life, of possessions and situations. I know that I’m passing through on a pilgrimage. Abraham, Jacob and Moses had great encounters with God on their journey. Tomorrow, as I worship , I yearn for a similar encounter but even if it never happens, I am content because I know The Way and the Guide on whom I rely to see me safely home.
In that house, people of all cultures, classes and races gathered around my table or spilled over the lawn or field beyond. Children romped and were never out of place. When I think of huge American homes, I am somewhat astonished at the company and comraderie that found place within that small five roomed house.
While I enjoyed that house for the people who blessed me with their presence, I would miss it for more personal reasons. I learnt to pour cement, tile walls, neither of which I’ll do again. I also painted everyone of its walls. My friend, Seema, who is an artist painted a seascape in my bathroom after Leslie helped me wall paper two of its walls. There was always something to be done and it was done teaching me a lot about maintenance.
Bad things happened there too. I was burgled twice. I heard of the death of loved ones. I almost lost my sight in one eye. And it was in this house after many years, in the depths of the night that I said goodbye in my heart to a relationship that undermined my emotional well-being.
So although, I agree to sell my house, I know that I won’t be selling my home for it is indeed true that home is really where the heart is at peace. While Grasmere is clothed with precious memories, ever so slowly, I’m finding new points of reference. I ‘ve been blessed to have somewhere comfortable to live for five years. Two years ago during a crisis, I realized that this temporary place was home. Now that chapter too seems about to end and a new book beckons.
As I reflect this Sabbath Eve, I am acutely conscious of the impermanence of life, of possessions and situations. I know that I’m passing through on a pilgrimage. Abraham, Jacob and Moses had great encounters with God on their journey. Tomorrow, as I worshi , I yearn for a similar encounter but even if it never happens, I am content because I know The Way and the Guide on whom I rely to see me safely home.
After the distractions of the last week , this week has blessed me with warm weather and good news. After the waiting and many false starts, I have a definite offer for my house. Of course, until she signs on the dotted line, she is free to change her mind but I am optimistic. I have seen the clear fingerprint of God in this and am hopeful. Strangely, now that I have reached the end of the beginning, I am surprised by my ambivalence. So many fond memories are rooted to that house, so many great ideas were birthed there. Many relationships blossomed into cherished friendships.
In that house, people of all cultures, classes and races gathered around my table or spilled over the lawn or field beyond. Children romped and were never out of place. When I think of huge American homes, I am somewhat astonished at the company and comraderie that found place within that small five roomed house.
While I enjoyed that house for ithe people Who blessed me with their presence, I would miss it more more personal reasons. I learnt to pour cement, tile walls, neither of which I’ll do again. I also painted everyone of it s walls. My friend, Seema, who is an artist painted a seascape in my bathroom after Leslie helped me wall paper two of its walls. There was always something to be done and it was done teaching me a lot about maintenance.
Bad things happened here too. I was burgled twice. I heard of the death of loved ones. I almost lost my sight in one eye. And it was in this house after many years, in the depths of the night that I said goodbye in my heart to a relationship that undermined my emotional well-being.
So although, I agree to sell my house, I know that I won’t be selling my home for it is indeed true that home is really where the heart is at peace. While Grasmere is clothed with precious memories, ever so slowly, I’m finding new points of reference. I ‘ve been blessed to have somewhere comfortable to live for five years and two years ago realized that it was home. Now that chapter seems about to end and a new book beckons.
As I reflect this Sabbath Eve, I am acutely conscious of the impermanence of life, of possessions and situations. I know that I’m passing through on a pilgrimage. Abraham, Jacob and Moses had great encounters with God on their journey. Tomorrow, as I worship , I yearn for a similar encounter but even if it never happens, I am content because I know The Way and the Guide on whom I rely to see me safely home.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Foggy landing-happy homecoming
My week away came to a heavy, jolting halt as the pilot seemed to brake sharply to slow the plane down. The air craft dropped so fast. Discomfort faded away to relief at being home when we realized that we had sailed through a blanket of fog so thick that we were almost diverted back. Safely on land in the early minutes of the young day, the fog enveloped us in a cosy world.
I was glad to be home and enjoyed the unusual experience of being missed. It was a challenging week which started when one of our flights was delayed and after a further two delays, our last flight was cancelled. It was a day so long that my feet ached despite my comfortable chunky shoes. Relieved to find a hotel, my colleagues and I faced the prospect of spending another day in the clothes we were wearing. I recalled what I had written about delayed flights and mislaid bags last week and resolved to be calm and stoical.
All our bags did arrive the next day when we deplaned at Fargo and although late, we were able to join our class whose main participants were police officers. A week so disruptive of normal routine moved me from my comfort zone; but I gained greater insight into domestic violence from many perspectives. I saw Moorhead through its food as we visited different eating places twice daily. We had little time or energy to sightsee although we did visit a Burlington coat factory. We worked solidly through the week and to keep us engaged, every class-member had a presentation on Friday. So we were all looking forward to being home. Fortunately, on Friday night, the decision was made to land and I was able to enjoy my day at home.
After sleeping in all morning, I left with David and Philip to mow the lawn of our elder brother while his arm heals. We had good fun and a great meal. Afterwards, I read a book and when I returned home, trimmed the roses and went for a two mile walk around our division admiring the carefully tended gardens. My best activity today was talking: to my three brothers, my sisters-in-law, and my neighbor. We connected in a look, a word, in laughter. So I am thankful that I’m home and tomorrow will offer special thanks for the blessing of the family.
I was glad to be home and enjoyed the unusual experience of being missed. It was a challenging week which started when one of our flights was delayed and after a further two delays, our last flight was cancelled. It was a day so long that my feet ached despite my comfortable chunky shoes. Relieved to find a hotel, my colleagues and I faced the prospect of spending another day in the clothes we were wearing. I recalled what I had written about delayed flights and mislaid bags last week and resolved to be calm and stoical.
All our bags did arrive the next day when we deplaned at Fargo and although late, we were able to join our class whose main participants were police officers. A week so disruptive of normal routine moved me from my comfort zone; but I gained greater insight into domestic violence from many perspectives. I saw Moorhead through its food as we visited different eating places twice daily. We had little time or energy to sightsee although we did visit a Burlington coat factory. We worked solidly through the week and to keep us engaged, every class-member had a presentation on Friday. So we were all looking forward to being home. Fortunately, on Friday night, the decision was made to land and I was able to enjoy my day at home.
After sleeping in all morning, I left with David and Philip to mow the lawn of our elder brother while his arm heals. We had good fun and a great meal. Afterwards, I read a book and when I returned home, trimmed the roses and went for a two mile walk around our division admiring the carefully tended gardens. My best activity today was talking: to my three brothers, my sisters-in-law, and my neighbor. We connected in a look, a word, in laughter. So I am thankful that I’m home and tomorrow will offer special thanks for the blessing of the family.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Planting and Packing clothes
In forty-five minutes, it will be another day of rest as we wait in God’s presence and experience the icy patches of our hearts being melted by forgiveness, our minds being renewed with different thoughts and our spirits quickened with new resolve.
Tomorrow, I will need to take the Sabbath with me as I stand barefoot in impatient lines or squeeze past harried flyers trying to find their seats. How can I remain serene if my flight is delayed or luggage mislaid? Particularly when today was spent in a circuit of activities. I took my brother for his commitment, went to Charleston, then to the shops in Nitro before coming home to plant the many plants I bought from my idyllic nursery visit last week
Plants rooted, I changed into evening clothes, rushed to Dunbar to meet my brother before returning to Charleston for a party that was over. To salvage the evening we went for a Chinese meal . I have not finished my packing because I cannot decide what to take: woolens or cottons, suits or casual, skirts or trousers., red or navy.
I feel that the energies expended in making this decision should be saved for momentous situations but still I hesitate and ponder.
So this Saturday, I feel flustered and harried and I won’t be in Church to-morrow but I know God has loved me this week and has looked out for me. I know as Lord of the Sabbath, He transcends time and place. Whenever, I can find time to worship in celebration, He attends with new wine. I am filled, I am blest. I am at rest in His peace.
Tomorrow, I will need to take the Sabbath with me as I stand barefoot in impatient lines or squeeze past harried flyers trying to find their seats. How can I remain serene if my flight is delayed or luggage mislaid? Particularly when today was spent in a circuit of activities. I took my brother for his commitment, went to Charleston, then to the shops in Nitro before coming home to plant the many plants I bought from my idyllic nursery visit last week
Plants rooted, I changed into evening clothes, rushed to Dunbar to meet my brother before returning to Charleston for a party that was over. To salvage the evening we went for a Chinese meal . I have not finished my packing because I cannot decide what to take: woolens or cottons, suits or casual, skirts or trousers., red or navy.
I feel that the energies expended in making this decision should be saved for momentous situations but still I hesitate and ponder.
So this Saturday, I feel flustered and harried and I won’t be in Church to-morrow but I know God has loved me this week and has looked out for me. I know as Lord of the Sabbath, He transcends time and place. Whenever, I can find time to worship in celebration, He attends with new wine. I am filled, I am blest. I am at rest in His peace.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Dancing and greenhouse joy
Last night I went to a dance-a-thon, a fund-raising event for KISRA It was fun. Each dance was preceded by instructions so everyone could learn. It provided a good example that even if everyone is given the same opportunity, results would vary. Some folk after the briefest of instructions glided along like Fred Astaire, instinctively knowing when to twist, twirl and turn. Most enjoy it after a few practice runs. I get most of he moves but the turns elude me. I love dancing. Watching dozens of dances swaying in unison is like looking at fields of daffodils dancing in the wind; sheer poetry in motion. I took my two left feet home early after adding to my bucket list: Learn to dance before arthritis comes to stay.
I picked up my brother from work and as Captain D was still opened, I had a meal there for the first time ever. We waited for our meal but were gratified to know that although we had ordered different menus, our food was freshly cooked. My grilled fish was delicious, fried okra crisp and corn on the cob tender. My brother enjoyed his fixed meal too. So we went home replete and refreshed and ready for the weekend.
This morning, Philip came for David to visit Leon. David invited me but I thought that brothers benefit with time alone. Besides, I was offered a trip to a nursery along many miles of winding farm roads. I really did take note when the sign said 10mph. Nevertheless, the trip was perfect. Clear sunny skies, cushioned flooring and a village of greenhouses with plants: annuals and perennials, common and exotic, some just for ground cover, others decorative bushes.
This year, I’ve splurged on scented rose bushes. The great news is that I can keep the roses in their pots if they are watered and fed. I hope this works. Of course, I couldn’t resist some other plants too like a peppermint flower that smells like mint but mainly I selected those with varying shades of blue to purple. I can hardly wait to compose the different hues and textures into interesting and vibrant displays.
But I did wait because my brother who is recovering from brain surgery wanted to borrow my car like old times. He drove to the shops and bought what he wanted, another landmark on the road to recovery.
The beauty of this day reflects the beauty of my life. Being in good health, doing the things I love and knowing that the sick in my family are being healed is beauty created by the Hand of God. This beauty creates praise and makes my heart sing. It echoes in my spirit that someone who is special to me can even give beauty for ashes. To-morrow, in Church I will celebrate this.
I picked up my brother from work and as Captain D was still opened, I had a meal there for the first time ever. We waited for our meal but were gratified to know that although we had ordered different menus, our food was freshly cooked. My grilled fish was delicious, fried okra crisp and corn on the cob tender. My brother enjoyed his fixed meal too. So we went home replete and refreshed and ready for the weekend.
This morning, Philip came for David to visit Leon. David invited me but I thought that brothers benefit with time alone. Besides, I was offered a trip to a nursery along many miles of winding farm roads. I really did take note when the sign said 10mph. Nevertheless, the trip was perfect. Clear sunny skies, cushioned flooring and a village of greenhouses with plants: annuals and perennials, common and exotic, some just for ground cover, others decorative bushes.
This year, I’ve splurged on scented rose bushes. The great news is that I can keep the roses in their pots if they are watered and fed. I hope this works. Of course, I couldn’t resist some other plants too like a peppermint flower that smells like mint but mainly I selected those with varying shades of blue to purple. I can hardly wait to compose the different hues and textures into interesting and vibrant displays.
But I did wait because my brother who is recovering from brain surgery wanted to borrow my car like old times. He drove to the shops and bought what he wanted, another landmark on the road to recovery.
The beauty of this day reflects the beauty of my life. Being in good health, doing the things I love and knowing that the sick in my family are being healed is beauty created by the Hand of God. This beauty creates praise and makes my heart sing. It echoes in my spirit that someone who is special to me can even give beauty for ashes. To-morrow, in Church I will celebrate this.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Resting for the Sabbath
Friday evening and the heat of the day has past. I am in a woolen sweater as I was attending a course and froze for two days. This morning, I decided that I would be warm and the sun came out. I stopped at a Nitro lake to eat ice-cream and inhale the serenity of water kissing green tipped edge of land. The lushness of the trees hiding the hills made my brother, David think of home. I agreed with him as an afterthought. Switzerland came to mind as I recalled a lunch of bread and cheese by a lake there, an hour’s train ride from the Alps. We were hungry and the pleasure of eating was recalled by the children years later.
I’ve seen so many places that reminded me of different parts of the world but not in a bored, disinterested way. On the contrary, I seem to reconnect and to recall their similarities with joy. It’s as if the world is saying wherever you are I’ll show you beauty. Although I still enjoy finding picturesque places, I’m convinced that wherever I am, there will always be a spot to make me gasp in awe or remembrance. David commented on the sun lightening the trees which seemed almost yellow under the glare. I asked him if he painted as he has an eye for beauty. “No”, he said “I get the dimensions all wrong” and then proceeded to inform me about different artistic styles. “I love art”, he said in explanation but I can’t do it”.
Once again, someone close to me has surprised me by revealing another aspect of themselves. No wonder my concept of God is always in revision. There is always more than what I see or can understand. Although, intellectually, I know this to be true, my reality is usually based on just what I can experience.
This Saturday has been a complete day of rest so I can face tomorrow energized to worship a God who loves me and often surprises me. I can hardly wait to praise Him for all I know Him to be. I also want to thank Him for bringing a complex, loyal, loving, multi-dimensional person in my life. My mother and I love each other but I adore her courage, her quirkiness, her Ps31 approach. Tomorrow, I will celebrate her personality that has colored my life in starting ways.
I’ve seen so many places that reminded me of different parts of the world but not in a bored, disinterested way. On the contrary, I seem to reconnect and to recall their similarities with joy. It’s as if the world is saying wherever you are I’ll show you beauty. Although I still enjoy finding picturesque places, I’m convinced that wherever I am, there will always be a spot to make me gasp in awe or remembrance. David commented on the sun lightening the trees which seemed almost yellow under the glare. I asked him if he painted as he has an eye for beauty. “No”, he said “I get the dimensions all wrong” and then proceeded to inform me about different artistic styles. “I love art”, he said in explanation but I can’t do it”.
Once again, someone close to me has surprised me by revealing another aspect of themselves. No wonder my concept of God is always in revision. There is always more than what I see or can understand. Although, intellectually, I know this to be true, my reality is usually based on just what I can experience.
This Saturday has been a complete day of rest so I can face tomorrow energized to worship a God who loves me and often surprises me. I can hardly wait to praise Him for all I know Him to be. I also want to thank Him for bringing a complex, loyal, loving, multi-dimensional person in my life. My mother and I love each other but I adore her courage, her quirkiness, her Ps31 approach. Tomorrow, I will celebrate her personality that has colored my life in starting ways.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)