Betwixt and Between

Many mornings this summer I’ve woken early, brewed the coffee, and taken my first cup outdoors, quietly excited to see what’s happened in my small garden overnight. I call it a “garden,” but it’s really just flowers planted in the landscaping that circumvents our condo. Because we’re on the corner, we have a large enough area to add a good number of annuals, planters, and garden ornaments amongst the existing greenery.

Now I’m no “gardener,” at least not in the sense that many of my friends are, with lush backyards filled with perennials, annuals, and even ponds or fountains. My small space is just the right size for my gardening talents, and each year we’ve lived here I’ve enjoyed planting flowers and trying out new combinations of potted arrangements. 

Mark My Words

Four months ago today, my mama died. Yes, I’m still a tangled emotional mess, still apt to cry at when I’m making her potato salad or applesauce cake, still punched in the gut when I walk past the Happy Birthday, Mother, greeting card section of the Hallmark store, still overwhelmed with loneliness when I pick up the phone to call her and suddenly remember she’s not there.

But there is no doubt that the sky over my world is a little brighter. I’m no longer exhausted all the time. I’m motivated to go out in the world and do things again. When I’m engaged in activities or doing things with friends, I don’t feel as if I’m swimming through mud just to get it done. That’s all progress for me.

Coming Around

A couple of weeks ago I gathered up my courage and plunged into the final stages of preparing my mother’s house for sale. After my first initial burst of cleaning frenzy, I had been coasting for a while, taking some time to just sit (literally and figuratively!) with this profound change in my life. But I began to feel ready to move forward, to move ON, and so I did a last burst of cleaning and clearing at the house, got some tips from a realtor friend, and was on track to put the house on the market in early August.

,

Broken-Open Hearts

,

“The most remarkable thing about broken hearts is that they are also open hearts. Broken hearts are soft and malleable. The locks protecting broken hearts have fallen to the floor - they are left unguarded. Broken hearts are easy to enter. Where the broken parts have fallen away, there is open space. Nothing is held too tightly anymore. My broken heart allows me to see the way other’s hearts are broken too. I am developing more compassion as others suffering becomes clear to me. No matter how hard and unpredictable this path is, I want to keep sitting here with Grief.”  Anna Hodges Oginsky, My New Friend, Grief, Reflections on Loss and Life

Hearts are one of my talismans. Like butterflies and birds and flowers, the heart symbolizes everlasting love and continued life, and has come to stand as a comforting sign of my mother’s spirit. The paragraph above from Anna Oginsky’s book (My New Friend, Grief) spoke volumes to me as I continue learning about living with loss and the reformation it’s creating in my life.

,

New Pathways

,

I spent ever day last week surrounded by Youth. As I do every summer, I worked at a musical theater camp where there were 30 young people between the ages of 10 and 18, as well as a few “older” young people (in their early thirties). This is one of my favorite musical activities, but at the start of the week I was a little concerned about my ability to keep up with all the energy they were sure to exude. 

However, I discovered something wonderful about energy: it’s contagious.