On my dad's 65th birthday, I called him at about 6:00 a.m. so I could talk uninterrupted from my 7 kids. After I wished him a happy birthday, he said, "Oh, you are so rich!" I laughed because our entire married life we were below poverty level...and I said, "What in the world do you mean? We aren't rich!"
He answered, " Oh, you are rich because you have so many kids! When you get my age and you have everything you need, money doesn't mean anything. That's when your kids and grandchildren are what matter. And, wow! Are you rich!"
Well, I'm not that far from 65 now. And I'm here to say that he was right! My children and grandchildren are my most precious assets. I wish each one of them could open my heart and see all the love I have for him/her. It's so overwhelming that most of the time the only way I can express it is through my leaking eyes. Words simply can't do it.
I love you guys!
aka
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Thanks, daughter
My wonderful daughter, SML, sent me three incredible poetry books by Pulitzer Prize winning author, Mary Oliver, for my birthday and Mother's Day. She suggested I blog when I find a particularly moving poem. I came across this one this morning and I love it...
"Milkweed"
The milkweed now with their many pods are standing
like a country of dry women.
The wind lifts their flat leaves and drops them.
This is not kind, but they retain a certain crisp glamour;
moreover, it's easy to believe
each one was once young and delicate, also
frightened, also capable
of a certain amount of rough joy.
I wish you would walk with me out into the world.
I wish you could see what has to happen, how
each one crackles like a blessing
over its thin children as they rush away.
Thank you, sweetheart. A wonderful Mother's Day gift!
"Milkweed"
The milkweed now with their many pods are standing
like a country of dry women.
The wind lifts their flat leaves and drops them.
This is not kind, but they retain a certain crisp glamour;
moreover, it's easy to believe
each one was once young and delicate, also
frightened, also capable
of a certain amount of rough joy.
I wish you would walk with me out into the world.
I wish you could see what has to happen, how
each one crackles like a blessing
over its thin children as they rush away.
Thank you, sweetheart. A wonderful Mother's Day gift!
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Broken
Once you and I were one.
We filled the nooks and crannies of
Each other's lonliness.
But, unfailingly, life began creeping in...
Insidiously finding every small fissure-
Pushing and shoving them into crevaces
Through which all the good could escape.
Now we are broken.
We filled the nooks and crannies of
Each other's lonliness.
But, unfailingly, life began creeping in...
Insidiously finding every small fissure-
Pushing and shoving them into crevaces
Through which all the good could escape.
Now we are broken.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
My Love
There I was...
To all eyes, nothing but a fire,
Extinguished.
Nothing left to give...
And nothing needed.
Then you came...
With keen eyes you saw a spark.
Kneeling, you kindly and gently
Placed tinder and softly blew
Life into apparent dust.
Flames burst.
Here you stay...
Still carefully tending the fire.
And, with love and humility,
Warm and comfort yourself
Beside it.
There I was...
To all eyes, nothing but a fire,
Extinguished.
Nothing left to give...
And nothing needed.
Then you came...
With keen eyes you saw a spark.
Kneeling, you kindly and gently
Placed tinder and softly blew
Life into apparent dust.
Flames burst.
Here you stay...
Still carefully tending the fire.
And, with love and humility,
Warm and comfort yourself
Beside it.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
History of a Marriage - Part I
I was having one of those “we can’t say enough” conversations with my oldest son the other night, and we were philosophizing as to how amazing it is that our lives have turned out nothing like we had ever pictured them. The thought just won’t leave my head-I wake up in the morning thinking about it.
He was wistful at the fact that he loves children so much…and yet, is turning 36 this yr., with no prospect of marriage and seriously doubting that he will ever be a father. (What a pity-he really would be an awesome one!) He was pondering the fact that he was/is so much the father-figure in our home and if perhaps that’s why.
And then there is me and my life. My main ambition from childhood on (remember I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s), was to be nothing more than a wife and mother. I figured I’d have about 4 children, live in a nice home with a white picket fence, and be adored my husband. I would be the closest thing to June Cleaver anyone could possibly imagine. I would marry a doctor, have plenty of money and my children would call me blessed. My home would be neat, clean and beautiful. I would cook wonderful meals. I would always be thin and attractive. Ours would be a home of love and righteousness. And, when my children grew up, they would all come over for Sunday dinner with my grandchildren. We would spend every holiday together-gathered around my table, heavy-laden with delicious dishes as one big, happy family.
Well, my dreams started out well enough. I married my high school sweetheart, who had a four year presidential scholarship to BYU and ambitions of becoming a doctor. I had a one year scholarship-and we seemed to all to be the perfect couple. The talents I lacked, he had-and vice versa. I couldn’t imagine how intelligent and well-rounded our children would be. Then, Viet Nam happened. I honestly don’t know how much “blame” can be laid at that doorstep. Although he wasn’t in front line combat, he was definitely a different person when he came home. Add to that the fact that I was 8 months pregnant with our first child when he went into basic training and 13 months later, the second child, (sml), was born. Twelve months later, number 3 came along. Here we were trying to adjust to each other, him returning from a war zone and being the parents of three babies together. He couldn’t handle it, so he escaped into church work and scouting, a pattern he would follow for the next 19 yrs.-until our divorce. He still escapes into church work. As my seventh wise child says, “It keeps him unhappily alive.”
After three yrs. of army we returned to BYU, where he worked very hard and got excellent grades at the same time he was in the Bishopric and graduate school. Oh, I remember all the people who told me how lucky I was to be married to such a wonderful man. And how well I remember the pain of not being able to tell anyone that this pillar in the church was, as an LDS counselor later told me, “Nothing but a whited sepulcher-who looked so good on the outside, but full of nothing but dead man’s bones”.
Two and a half yrs. after child no. 3, no. 4 was born. I had my hands full. My husband was in school all day, came home to eat and change clothes and then would go to the church until about 11:00 each night. I had no car…just ate, slept and drank children. I remember one night telling him that I needed something more. I needed something to look forward to or to feel like I was accomplishing something and he answered, “Tough. This is what God wants you to be. So be happy with it.” Two yrs. later we had our second son and child no. 5. Finally, another boy, and we were thrilled. But, shockingly, he died of crib death 7 wks. later. Luckily for us, our marriage was strong during that experience. And, I have never felt such Heavenly comfort. It is unexplainable. I was unable to write about it, even in my journal. Then, two yrs. later, I awoke in the middle of the night with a poem in my head and I turned on the light and began writing. I hesitate to share it because I know it is not poetically or grammatically correct. But, it is mine, and here it is:
THE VISITORS
Death came last night.
And, like a thief, stealthily
Stole our child’s spirit
From us.
Grief came this morning.
But, like a visitor in a
Foreign land, could not
Stay long-he did not speak
Our language.
Peace visited today.
The joy of her presence is
Inexpressible; and although
She cannot stay forever-
Her brand upon our hearts will.
Joy lives here now.
We make her welcome, for
She assures us that he still lives
Beyond the envying of this life.
And we now know that
Very soon he will smile,
We will cuddle, and his
Tiny fingers will again grasp ours
And lead us into Eternity.
Aka Madre
He was wistful at the fact that he loves children so much…and yet, is turning 36 this yr., with no prospect of marriage and seriously doubting that he will ever be a father. (What a pity-he really would be an awesome one!) He was pondering the fact that he was/is so much the father-figure in our home and if perhaps that’s why.
And then there is me and my life. My main ambition from childhood on (remember I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s), was to be nothing more than a wife and mother. I figured I’d have about 4 children, live in a nice home with a white picket fence, and be adored my husband. I would be the closest thing to June Cleaver anyone could possibly imagine. I would marry a doctor, have plenty of money and my children would call me blessed. My home would be neat, clean and beautiful. I would cook wonderful meals. I would always be thin and attractive. Ours would be a home of love and righteousness. And, when my children grew up, they would all come over for Sunday dinner with my grandchildren. We would spend every holiday together-gathered around my table, heavy-laden with delicious dishes as one big, happy family.
Well, my dreams started out well enough. I married my high school sweetheart, who had a four year presidential scholarship to BYU and ambitions of becoming a doctor. I had a one year scholarship-and we seemed to all to be the perfect couple. The talents I lacked, he had-and vice versa. I couldn’t imagine how intelligent and well-rounded our children would be. Then, Viet Nam happened. I honestly don’t know how much “blame” can be laid at that doorstep. Although he wasn’t in front line combat, he was definitely a different person when he came home. Add to that the fact that I was 8 months pregnant with our first child when he went into basic training and 13 months later, the second child, (sml), was born. Twelve months later, number 3 came along. Here we were trying to adjust to each other, him returning from a war zone and being the parents of three babies together. He couldn’t handle it, so he escaped into church work and scouting, a pattern he would follow for the next 19 yrs.-until our divorce. He still escapes into church work. As my seventh wise child says, “It keeps him unhappily alive.”
After three yrs. of army we returned to BYU, where he worked very hard and got excellent grades at the same time he was in the Bishopric and graduate school. Oh, I remember all the people who told me how lucky I was to be married to such a wonderful man. And how well I remember the pain of not being able to tell anyone that this pillar in the church was, as an LDS counselor later told me, “Nothing but a whited sepulcher-who looked so good on the outside, but full of nothing but dead man’s bones”.
Two and a half yrs. after child no. 3, no. 4 was born. I had my hands full. My husband was in school all day, came home to eat and change clothes and then would go to the church until about 11:00 each night. I had no car…just ate, slept and drank children. I remember one night telling him that I needed something more. I needed something to look forward to or to feel like I was accomplishing something and he answered, “Tough. This is what God wants you to be. So be happy with it.” Two yrs. later we had our second son and child no. 5. Finally, another boy, and we were thrilled. But, shockingly, he died of crib death 7 wks. later. Luckily for us, our marriage was strong during that experience. And, I have never felt such Heavenly comfort. It is unexplainable. I was unable to write about it, even in my journal. Then, two yrs. later, I awoke in the middle of the night with a poem in my head and I turned on the light and began writing. I hesitate to share it because I know it is not poetically or grammatically correct. But, it is mine, and here it is:
THE VISITORS
Death came last night.
And, like a thief, stealthily
Stole our child’s spirit
From us.
Grief came this morning.
But, like a visitor in a
Foreign land, could not
Stay long-he did not speak
Our language.
Peace visited today.
The joy of her presence is
Inexpressible; and although
She cannot stay forever-
Her brand upon our hearts will.
Joy lives here now.
We make her welcome, for
She assures us that he still lives
Beyond the envying of this life.
And we now know that
Very soon he will smile,
We will cuddle, and his
Tiny fingers will again grasp ours
And lead us into Eternity.
Aka Madre
Friday, February 16, 2007
I Shoud Write a Book
So many times in my life I have been told, "You should write a book!" Well, I would, but where in the world would I start? Lately, I received a unique suggestion to that question, which was...at the beginning! The problem is...my life may not have been boring, but I fear my writing style and creativity may be!
I am being "prodded, encouraged and nudged" by my beautiful daughter, whom many of you know as Sister Mary Lisa. She, by the way, is the child who gave me my "Madre" nickname. When you have 7 (yes, I said seven) children calling you "Mom" all day, someone very smart finally created something unusual that I learned to recognize and respond to, despite all the "mom" words flying around.
I was born the youngest of five girls. It is said that my mother cried when they announced my sex-it was her final and last ditch effort to provide a son for my father, and she failed! I believe she eventually appreciated my gender, since I was the only one available to take care of her and dad in their final 10 yrs of life. I could be wrong, but I don't think there are many sons who provide that service for their folks.
I was also raised in a home of mostly adults, there being 4-6 yrs between each of us. Consequently, I heard a lot of "grow up" and "don't be so silly" criticisms. My home was also a very strict Mormon home, which I think gave me some very sound, good values-some of which I have forsaken! And, for that reason, I don't really have a relationship with any of my sisters, which is sad. It did, however, give me the strength to hang in there and do what I needed to do at times when the going seemed impossible. On the other hand, it encouraged me to hang in there in other situations when it would have been much less painful to simply "cut my losses" and give up! So....I have always said, "There is nothing so bad that some good can't come of it. And, there is nothing so good that some bad can't come of it".
Well, this is just a small capsulization of aka madre. I hope you aren't bored to death! In the coming months I hope to learn to get to know you all better. And, I hope to share more of me...I am not a protected, virgin eared saintly woman. So, for those of you who have expressed concern over me reading their blogs....not to worry. I just hope I don't shock you all to death at times!
Ta da....aka madre
I am being "prodded, encouraged and nudged" by my beautiful daughter, whom many of you know as Sister Mary Lisa. She, by the way, is the child who gave me my "Madre" nickname. When you have 7 (yes, I said seven) children calling you "Mom" all day, someone very smart finally created something unusual that I learned to recognize and respond to, despite all the "mom" words flying around.
I was born the youngest of five girls. It is said that my mother cried when they announced my sex-it was her final and last ditch effort to provide a son for my father, and she failed! I believe she eventually appreciated my gender, since I was the only one available to take care of her and dad in their final 10 yrs of life. I could be wrong, but I don't think there are many sons who provide that service for their folks.
I was also raised in a home of mostly adults, there being 4-6 yrs between each of us. Consequently, I heard a lot of "grow up" and "don't be so silly" criticisms. My home was also a very strict Mormon home, which I think gave me some very sound, good values-some of which I have forsaken! And, for that reason, I don't really have a relationship with any of my sisters, which is sad. It did, however, give me the strength to hang in there and do what I needed to do at times when the going seemed impossible. On the other hand, it encouraged me to hang in there in other situations when it would have been much less painful to simply "cut my losses" and give up! So....I have always said, "There is nothing so bad that some good can't come of it. And, there is nothing so good that some bad can't come of it".
Well, this is just a small capsulization of aka madre. I hope you aren't bored to death! In the coming months I hope to learn to get to know you all better. And, I hope to share more of me...I am not a protected, virgin eared saintly woman. So, for those of you who have expressed concern over me reading their blogs....not to worry. I just hope I don't shock you all to death at times!
Ta da....aka madre
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