How do I explain

How do I explain the nervous excitement of anticipation .. wondering "is this going to be good?  Is it going to be awkward? Will just being who we are be enough?"  Meeting Thy's parents for the very first time as George's car pulls into our drive, the snow coming down, the lights from our doorway casting a glow into the dark and shadows on the now white lawn, my stomach clenches just a little and my heart pounds a bit harder as I open the front door.  I wave, smiling big, because I really AM looking forward to this new development in our already topsy turvy, upside down, unorganized but very happy life and I want them to know how welcome they are. We love Thy, surely we will love her parents.

They climb out of the car, exhausted after driving up route 1 in a snow storm, in the back of an old Volvo with two dogs occasionally breathing down their necks, bags of clothing, food and four bottles of wine packed around them.  Thy with a gorgeous arrangement of flowers, greenery and persimmons in her hands.  They are smiling and we meet, look into each others eyes and hug. 

Thuy, called Becky by her American friends, is tiny.  I have to lean way down to hug her and I'm sure she was on tip toes and she smells wonderful.  Cuong has a huge grin and a big hug for me and I have to lean a little bit down for him too, but the hug is strong and real.

How do I explain the immediate camaraderie shared and felt by all four of us.  Two cultures melding swiftly, all differences disappear with each new thing we learn about each other. Becky and I are women, mothers, home makers, so much in common, but she has suffered things I can't even imagine.  Things that have made her the strong amazing woman that she is. I listen in awe and then she laughs and her face is transformed and I instantly fall in love with her.  The men are soon sharing their views and thoughts on deeper things, getting philosophical then laughing heartily over something one of them experienced in their past.  Two men so different, yet so alike.  Good hearts are joined.

George says there was a moment when he knew: "Mom's okay"  and it wasn't long in coming.  Both he and Thy had a bit of apprehension wondering how bringing their parents together for the holiday would go.  They knew they'd be there to help "break the ice" but soon found out no breaking was needed, there was no ice. 

We ate.  Seafood chowder prepared by Brad with crusty bread and later apple pie by the fireplace.  We talked.  We went to bed that first night marveling over a phenomenon we never expected.  Our hearts are lifted and we look forward to the following days with these two strangers who have become our good friends in just a matter of hours.

The holiday comes and goes in a blur of helping hands, happy faces, shared confidences, quiet moments, cozy fires and lots of laughter and the growing conviction that this is so good.  No clocks, no schedule (turkey took way longer than expected) simply fitting in, relaxing, enjoying .. don't remember who made the coffee that time, but the pot was almost always full, as well as our bellies.  Pastries, fruit, nuts, scones, pie .. there was cheese and a baguette and crackers that never got sampled.

A day of exploring, icy air, slippery sidewalks, hot coffee, cashmere gloves and blankets to "ooh" over, quick snapshots, no bags to carry, then home for more coffee, nibbles of this and that.  Evening out, dinner their treat, taking our time, more talking, sharing, laughing, and home again to enjoy the fire, dogs in our laps, a puzzle and sleepy eyelids.

How do I explain this feeling that we are family already and having just met Becky, I don't want her to leave and she with tears in her eyes doesn't want to say good bye.  So we don't.  Instead it's "see you soon" as we begin to plan our next visit together.  GA is beautiful in May they say, and there will most definitely be more trips north for them.

All because a boy went west and a girl went east and they met in Salt Lake City.  How do I explain this feeling of having wider eyes and a larger heart and so much thankfulness running over and out. This melding of Doans and Graves is surely a very good thing, and yes, just being who we are is enough.

 

Love Lines

Written for you, my very dear and very much loved
Aunt Darlydene and Unca Mahlon.

Love Lines

I look at your faces, the love in each line
and realize so clearly I want them in mine
I've worried too much what to me age has done
the expressions of life, the hours in the sun

I love every line, every curl of gray hair
the wisps of affection I see you two share
your lines have a meaning, moments through time
spent with your love, your partner in "crime"

Lines made by laughter, by worry and care
they're made by the love that has kept you both there
the wrinkles and "crows feet" I don't like on me
Look so endearing on you two, you see ..

His eyebrows so quirky, her brown eyes so dear
his grumbles of vowels and her chortles so clear
her table made ready with scrumptious delights
and his coffee made early and always just right

From the time I was little Unc, you've been solidly there
trustworthy and upright with that lovely thick hair
(I had to, it rhymes! Plus with all of your teasing it only seemed fair)
You're a man full of wisdom, both in action and word
of an uncle more humble, more kind I've not heard

And you, my dear aunt, always found by his side
you've loved him completely since you were his bride
I'm thankful for memories of a home full of love
of warmth and a goodness that came from above

I pause as I write this ... it's surely not so
my heart hurts just thinking of the one who must go
I can't stop the tears that are blurring my sight
and wonder how you, aunt, can get through the night

and then I remember, am reminded with shame
you both have a Father you can cry for by name
a God who will hold you safe through each day
and a Comforter to heal us when you, unc, slip away.

Uncle I love you much more than you know
I'll miss you tremendously when you're called to go
but oh what is waiting just 'round the bend
is but the beginning for you, not the end.

And those lines that I've hated to see growing deep
are now lines I'm loving and wanting to keep
I only see beauty when I look at you two
and know with a certainty they're worth it, I do.

Thank you for your faithful example of love
both for each other and your Father above.


your loving niece,
Kelly 

Dad is here for a few days.  He doesn't like to swim, in fact he nearly drown this summer leaning over to get his cell phone that had fallen into the pond.  Head first into the water he went.  No one saw him and thankfully his head didn't hit one of the many large rocks that border the shore there, or this could be a very sad summer indeed.  He managed to get himself back up, and it was then that someone looked out one of camp's windows and saw him sitting on the dock soaking wet, pretty shaken up.  He hasn't been a great lover of water for years now, so this wasn't one of his best moments I'm sure.

I did manage to get him to remove socks and shoes, roll his jeans up and sit down on the edge of the pool deck and stick his feet into the water.  While I floated on my air mattress we talked about old days, old friends and old shoes.  Mostly he talked, and if I did, his part of the conversation would be many "what?"s with me repeating what I'd said.  Still .. I've tucked that memory safely into a compartment in my brain (and heart) that I can pull out when I especially need to and be glad we had that day.

When he's here he goes through his old photos and papers that he keeps here .. again.  He comes downstairs and hands me things, or asks me if I "remember this" and passes me a photo of years ago.  This morning he brought the album of he and Mum's 50th anniversary the year before she left us, 2002, and shows me a picture "was I really that bald?"  Yup, you were Dad, and Mum had you comb those hairs over your head for years.  I love that he's stopped doing that and has soft white fuzz on top of his head now.  I'm afraid if Mama was still with us, he'd still be "combing over".  Sorry Mum, the only GOOD thing about you not being here.

I miss her.  Sometimes so longingly it hurts, but mostly with a dull ache in my heart that I can ignore because of all the joy I have in my life.  It's when I want to ask her something, or share something or think about how much she would love her great grandchildren.  Then it isn't so easy to ignore.  She would so totally enter into my joy.  Daddy tends to forget what I just told him 10 minutes ago .. or less.

Two things Dad brought down and left on my desk.  A poem that dear Murhl Howland gave him years and years ago.  Written on the back it says "some verses to put in your bible to read at times"   Murhl is blind now and near the end of his long full life.  Loved by more people than we know.  He was in his prime when he gave Dad that poem, and Dad was most likely in the early years of being a husband and father.

The other item is a poem I wrote in October of 1992.  I think back .. I was 31.  Still so young with no idea what lay ahead of me in the next 22 years.  Briana was 10 and 1/2, Ashley just 8 and George only 4.  Babies.  That was yesterday wasn't it?   I write poems when something touches my heart and soul.  So I wonder what it was that made this poem come to me.  Perhaps I'd reached an age with my three children that I realized just how important parenting is and how much my parents did for me.  Perhaps I got a glimpse that the day would come when I could give back a little bit of what I'd gotten. I hope Daddy can tell I do remember and love him so much for all he did as I was growing up.

So here they are.  I will share them both with you.


"When I was Young"
To Mama and Daddy
10/28/92

You were there, a solid pair to comfort and protect,
I took from you so easily and you gave as I'd expect.
A mother first, my friend indeed; a chore became a game.
A father, true, you made me proud; you never sought for fame.

You led me through those tender years and taught me all that's good.
I took for granted love like yours, but now it's understood.
The little things that meant so much, you did them all with ease ..
I never knew the sacrifice, the time spent on your knees.

The tears you shed, the fears you felt, you hid them from young eyes.
I only knew the warmth of love, support in all my "tries".

My Dad, you'd do most anything to make our play more fun.
And Mom, you filled the rainy days with rainbows one by one.
The kitchen warm with baking the ice all cleared of snow.
Picnics and adventures on a road we didn't know.

"Going through the porthole" taking off my Daddy's boots,
stories told by firelight, all these make up my roots.
Volleyball on summer eves, those days I can't forget.
Parents who will enter in, the lucky few will get.

 Now I'm a mother learning still of what it takes to be
unselfish, kind and honest; these things you taught to me.

You were there, a solid pair who held the standard high.
The path you chose, each step was clear you didn't "just get by".
You were there a solid pair, the need was always mine.
Now I want to give to YOU my heart, my home, my time.

I love you,
Kelly


Poem shared by Murhl Howland and kept in Dad's bible for years now.
("some verses to put in your bible and read at times")

"I Understand"

Hast thou been hungry, child of mine?  I too have needed bread.
For forty days I tasted naught till by the angels fed.
Hast thou been thirsty?  On the cross I suffered thirst for thee.
I've promised to supply the need.  My child, come unto Me.

Perhaps thy way is weary oft, thy feet grow tired and lame.
I wearied when I reached the well.  I suffered just the same.
And when I bore the heavy cross, I fainted 'neath the load
and so I've promised rest for all who walk the weary road.

Does Satan sometimes buffet thee, and tempt thy soul to sin?
Doth faith and hope and love grow weak?  Are doubts and fears within?
Remember I was tempted there by this same foe of thine,
but he could not resist the word nor conquer power divine.

When thou art sad, and tears fall fast, My heart goes out to thee.
For I wept over Jerusalem, that place so dear to Me.
And when I came to Lazarus' tomb, I wept; my heart was sore.
I'll comfort thee when thou dost weep, when sorrows are all o'er.

Do hearts prove false when thine is true?  I know the bitter dart;
I was betrayed by one I loved.  I died of a broken heart.
I loved My own; they loved Me not.  My heart was lonely too.
I'll never leave thee, child of Mine.  My loving heart is true.

Art thou discouraged in thy work?  Doth ministry seem vain?
I ministered midst unbelief with them, midst greed and gain.
They would not hearken to my voice but scoffed with one accord.
Your labor is not in vain if done unto the Lord.

Have courage, then, My faithful friend.  I suffered all the way.
Thy sensitive and loving heart I understand today.
Whate'er thy grief, whate'er thy care, just bring it unto Me.
Yes, in thy day of trouble, call.  I'll remember thee.

The sun is bright, the air is cold
my eyes are tired, my bones grow old

It's looking like a beautiful day .. I have to squint to look out at the (still) snow covered lawn.  Which reminds me I need to go open the front door and let the heat that is trapped between it and the glass storm door free so I can enjoy it, feet curled up beneath me, one foot falling asleep, one knee starting to protest "we're too old for this".

I hobble to the front door, because my foot did fall asleep and is sending needles up my ankle, open it and feel the heat hit me, close my eyes and can almost imagine summer when I will go sit on the front steps with my coffee until I'm so hot I have to come back inside.

I'm content.  I look around me and see what nearly 25 years in one house has brought about .. one huge stuffed elephant slumped against the newest chair in the room, newest but not most favorite.   My favorite chair is the retro orange (upholstered by my mother in law years ago) chair that inspired all the other spots of orange in the room.  Who knew 20 years ago I would have orange in my living room?  Oldest daughter Briana is delighted.  I let her paint the bathroom, she and her siblings used, whatever color she wanted and found out years later that she hated it once it was done, but didn't dare admit it.  Not a great shade of orange, but we lived with it for 8 years.

Looking beyond this room into the kitchen I see the tulips hubby brought home to me.  Yellow tulips, the color of sunshine.

I think I will bundle up and take a walk in that wonderful sunshine.

I love Elephants.  I really do.  I love their enormousness, their voluminous ears and those incredibly large brown eyes.  And, they have an amazing capacity for love in that big elephant heart of theirs.

That being said, the "elephant in the room" ? .. not so much.  It takes up a LOT of space (air) and good grief let's just acknowledge it already.  My tongue hurts from biting it and I lose control now and then, forget that I'd promised myself I'd keep my mouth shut, and ask a question about said elephant, only to be met with silence.  It's not like it's a bad elephant either.

Then again, it's not like I have to be in the same room with it.   I think I'll just keep that door closed.  Maybe I'll lock it so I never go there again.  Yeah .. "that's the ticket". 

Just when you think

Just when you think you have it all figured out ..

You're feeling comfortable in your skin and things seem perfectly aligned, in their nooks and crannies where they belong ... or where you think they belong because you like it that way, and you're walking along feeling good about the world ..

something shifts.  You can almost hear the tumblers ..

It's not that it really affects you all that much. It's like a little rowboat floating peacefully alongside all the others tied up at the dock.  Then something bumps it (ever so slightly) and it turns just a little bit, enough to set all the other boats rocking .. which in turn, causes the inevitable ripples.

Now your skin doesn't feel so comfortable anymore.  It has nothing to do with you, but things are just a little skewed and off balance and your head feels a little odd and your stomach a little knotted, and you know you just have to put your deck shoes on, walk upright and hope no one can tell you're feeling seasick.

Because, before you know it, things will realign, you'll be stuffing new nooks and crannies and thinking you have it all figured out again .. for a season.

"Good Bye"

I stood there .. watching him breath .. in .. out .. in .. out, and wiped the foam that had formed at the corner of his mouth away.  His son, before leaving, had told him it was okay .. if he had to go somewhere while he was away.

I thought we had more time, perhaps another day, a night .. but his breathing suddenly changed and there was a long pause .. I told him he could go, it was his turn, his time, he'd served well and filled his place .. finished the race.

Another breath, another pause ... and then "he's gone now" from the nurse.  I sobbed.  With relief?  Sorrow ... joy that it was over for him, sadness for those who loved him most.  And then I thanked God.  How perfectly he'd gone.  Home to rest.  How we are blessed.

This wasn't my first "death" but  this one was one I had prayed for, not just for him, but for his son who was so weary it broke my heart to watch him.  And now it is done.  I can't believe there is no longer a need for me to wipe his face gently, smooth his blankets, tuck his feet in, kiss his forehead .. but I do, one more time.

His grand daughter arrives not knowing her beloved grandfather is gone, this man who was one of her best friends, who had opened his home and heart to her during a time when she expected it least .. this man she took into her home for weeks at a time and loved and cared for him the way not many grand daughters would.   I have to tell her.  This being more difficult for me than the death.  I have to place those words into her ear as I hug her  .. "he's gone".  She collapses, this tall niece of mine, and I hold onto her and gently lower her to the ground.  We sit on the driveway while she sobs and my heart splinters into little pieces for her, wishing so much I could take her pain away.   No, it can't be.  Don't let it be.  Let me say good bye.

Not long before his best friend arrives, someone else to tell who loved him so, a woman who helped us so much during those last weeks, someone who would miss him more than I ... and lastly his son, the man I love, the one who cared so lovingly for his Dad the last 2 months of his life.  It is done. It is done!  He races up the stairs and sees him lying peacefully on his pillow the way nurse Betsy and I had arranged him, so he looked as though he was just sleeping .. still.   He's thankful, so very thankful it's on this bed in this house that this great man, his father, took his last breaths.

Old man, I loved you .. you lived in our house and took away our privacy, our oneness and I was not happy at first, at the thought of sharing my husband, my home with you.  But a hand laid something on my heart, thank you God, and I could not bear to have you finish anywhere but home.  Our home, your home now.  It was just a few short weeks that we had you here.  Weeks I'm so thankful for now.  And thankful for a oneness that is stronger than ever because you were here.

Yes, I loved you more than I ever thought I would, and you loved me.  Your silly, unorganized, unladylike daughter in law, so not like her mother in law, and yet .. you loved me . and I thank you for that.  I'm so glad we got to say those words before medicine took away your ability to.  But then the squeeze of your hand told me so and the look in your eyes.  You asked me once "how do you know?"  when you couldn't get all the words out.  That is how I knew .. I hope, dear old man, that I helped make your last days the best they could be so you knew too how much I loved you.