The Back Story, Installment 2

Right around the time it became clear to Greg and me that we would need to head out of our current situation in Kansas, we found ourselves driving out to the beautiful hill country of Texas for an invitation-only Artists' Retreat.

I know, that's what we were thinking. Really? We don't know where we are going in life after this, and we don't even know exactly why we get to go to this retreat, but retreat sounds like something we are seriously needing to do... so we did.

I share this detail, not because I have the time right now to expound upon the huge impact that event had upon our lives or the restorative power of the conversations we engaged in with some of the most talented and creative people we've met (keynote was a film maker from Scotland who lives in a castle, etc) or, looking back, what a truly amazing and God-thing that timing was -
Mostly I want to share why poetry became important to me again.

I had the privilege of attending a session with one of the featured writers, a published poet and poetry professor and singer/songwriter named Nathan Brown. He talked about how writing poetry became more than something he "ought to do" and in fact turned into therapy for him; something he couldn't be without as a means of daily expression if he were to maintain his sanity.

That stuck with me. Over the next few weeks, I found a similar effect in my life - along with running to really loud music.

I am NO poet, but I pretend like I could be sometimes. I share the following as an honest look at where I was, grappling with fear, anger, hope, grief.

10-8-08
The wind sings a song,
A mournful dirge
It seems to me
As it sweeps my gardens about.
But on a careful, lingering listen
I realize the birds are singing too,
Clear and crisp, but almost drowned
By the dirge.
The insects louder join, proclaiming
"The wind is blowing not only
To buffet and chase away
But to help send us where we are going."


10-11-08
Gratitude is the only option
When you are given a gift.
A well-timed gift, the thoughtful kind
Screams for a response in the midst of pain.
It sticks out - so bright it hurts your eyes.
And, on impulse, you close them,
But that doesn't block out the screaming,
Which begins to sound like something different.
A melody instead,
Enrapturing, prompting misty eyes
Back open-
Looking for Someone to thank.


10-12-08
There are seagulls stuck in Kansas.
I overhear their shrill cries through open windows.
Smirking at their stupidity,
I wonder why?
Could our little town's pond have drawn them?
Are they so confused?
So easily mistaken?
What of instinct or Providence?
I hear another single cry that pierces me.
I realize each gull has flown by
And cried - utterly alone.


10-31-08
Pain is a strange thing-
Sneaking up on me
In tears or anger or fear,
Often when I least expect it,
Controlling me and revealing
That bitterness
Is not quite as far off
As I had hoped.

We drove away from Kansas with our moving van on November 11, 2008.

I love you, stinky face

I have to share the results of our Valentine's Day "homework" that came home with Grace this week. Her teacher read the book I Love You, Stinky Face and had each student write their own small version as a letter to their parents and draw a picture to go with it.

The parents then had to write a response and draw a picture to be displayed next to their child's.

What Grace wrote:

Dear Mom and Dad,
If I wher a big which and I had big sharp and slimy teeth and I would tarn you to a frog will you still love me?
love Grace holmes

(Sorry her picture is sideways)-


What we wrote:

Then we would give you a toothbrush and bubblemint toothpaste to clean your teeth. And we would ask you to make us people again, so we could hug you in our big, long arms. If you didn't, we would hop up onto your head and give you a froggy kiss on your forehead and croak, "We love you, Slimy Teeth Witch!"
No matter what.
Love, Mom and Dad

picture by Greg, of course

dermatologist

I went to the dermatologist today, because...

I am a redhead with FAIR skin.
I am getting older.
I have moles.
I have not had a skin cancer screening, ever.
Greg made me.

It was not fun...

I am standing there in the little room with bright, unflattering lights and three people (young, fit, beautiful people) staring at me - really intently, for a long time; I am the only one seriously underclothed. It was a nightmare happening in real time. I felt like I needed to explain...

I know I should be doing yoga, but I don't really like it. I run though, it's just that everything has been covered in ice and we've had advisories about being outside. I don't tan, but that should be a real plus with you guys.

Everything turned out pretty well, one mole removed but not too worried about it, one precancerous spot frozen (or something). I'm thinking I'm good now for 15 years at least. And now, Greg says I can go get my hair done at AVEDA - this was my prerequisite.

The Chocolate Custard that will be in Heaven

I am breaking from "the back story" to share the recipe for the Chocolate Custard Pie that Abby says will be in heaven. Thanks to Southern Living for the recipe - It is so yummy and easy...

Chocolate Custard Pie
1/2 cup sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1/2 tsp salt
4 egg yolks
3 cups milk
2 (4 oz.) bars bittersweet chocolate, chopped
2 tablespoons butter
2 tsp vanilla

Bring first 6 ingredients to a boil in a heavy saucepan over medium heat (about 15 minutes), whisking constantly; boil, whisking constantly, 1 minute or until thickened. Remove from heat; stir in butter and vanilla. Pour custard into baked pie crust (according to package directions for an unbaked pie). Place plastic wrap directly on surface of custard; chill 2 hours. Top with sweetened whipped cream and, if desired, chocolate curls.

Or, you can just eat it as custard and forget the pie crust - YUM!
Enjoy.

The Back Story, installment 1

Greg and I just saw Inception last night, and I'm still recovering... Fabulous movie, kept me up a way too long time thinking about it. I'd be on the verge of unconscious and a new thought would jolt me awake to join my theories of what exactly was going on (and the later it got, the more my thoughts turned to... "if Greg does something weird in his sleep, I am absolutely going to jump out of my skin.)
Perhaps that's my disclaimer if I make little or no sense...

In writing a little at a time about my "foggy period," I'm trying to figure out where the beginning is...

Greg and I spent a week painting our new house and fixing extreme issues that came along with our beautiful but troubled foreclosure while our daughters stayed in San Antonio with grandparents. This was it... the beginning of our new beginning.

After living with Greg's gracious brother and sister-in-law and my niece and nephew for 4 months, we had our own home again (sort of, thanks to Greg's parents spotting us in an economy that wouldn't extend a home loan to us in any form). We were still trying to figure out what a steady source of income would look like, practically speaking. Greg had a part-time job at our wonderful new church and a business partnership beginning with his brother, but steady income at this point was $1000 a month (not what banks want to see).

I know a lot of people have this story element somewhere, especially in the past few years, but this shook us pretty hard; we had never dealt with such financial insecurity and future obscurity. We dipped into savings for carpet (HAD to be done), paint, and necessary appliance replacements. And with this home came my expectation for a renewed sense of identity and purpose for me as mother, wife, and woman in my own home.

Back a little further without nitty-gritty details (not because I don't wish to share, just because I don't want to infringe on someone else's "story" with my own projections)...
We had just left a difficult ministry fit in a small town in Kansas (we were there for 3 1/2 years) without a plan B or C in place. We knew it was time to go and then the timing was pressed upon us ("you have two more weeks"), so with no Plan beyond knowing we had loving family in Dallas and San Antonio and Iowa and a church in Iowa that still considered us part of their family, we packed up in a fog and tried to make sense of what was supposed to happen next.

A quick run-down of God's orchestration during that time - within two days of hearing we had two weeks left, the following happened:

Our church in Iowa (Greg was youth pastor there for about 7 years) let us know that the elder board voted to pay off our minivan and provide 3 months of health insurance premiums and to offer one of the homes the church owned as a place for us to live while we "found what was next." We opted to move to Dallas because of family and connections there, but we were overwhelmed with gratefulness at their financial support during our transition. Our amazing orthodontist in Kansas wiped our remaining balance for Abby's braces off the books. A pastor friend of ours from another church let us know they were bringing in a new staff member and his family who were looking for a house. This family offered to buy our house before we ever put a sign in the yard. Gracious friends from Kansas were incredibly generous as they sent us with financial gifts from their own pockets.

And we realized as we drove to Dallas with my dad and brother driving the moving van, that the non-Plan next part of our story had us going in completely debt-free without our initiating any bit of that. And although the free-fall in the fog felt weird, I knew the big poofy-bounce house thing was at the bottom...

Losers like us - A starting point

I've recently connected with a distant cousin (I think she's a little older than me) who was reading up on family blogs. She was drawn to the real stories, wanting to familiarize herself with extended family members...

And feeling kind of like a loser who hasn't done much.
I don't know a whole lot about her except that she's a mom and wife and she works. I was so impressed by her honesty in her very personal email; she felt a connection to me because of my posts about darker times and personal struggles in the last few years.

I felt an immediate tug toward this cousin and shared some quick encouragement based on the little I knew about her.

Again, her honesty impressed me...

"...it is just that I really don't think I need to read more about what I am worth. I know and truly appreciate the fact God made me to be exactly who I am. I know he loves me and I love him. I want something more practical like a 12 step or kick in the butt to get me going on things like this..."

I haven't been able to shake this quote out of my brain. It cuts to the core of my personal struggle, especially last year. I think it is time for me to write it out - the reality of it, although the sting is still so sharp, tears are quick to my eyes.

I've been running far away from the emotions of last year, distancing myself from the weirdness encompassed there - as I am finding myself in a place of some new found equilibrium, margin, bandwidth... I honestly feel as though I was rescued just in time, and I am so thankful, joyful, different...

that I haven't wanted to revisit. The truth is my story is there and some artist friends have recently challenged me to go there and write it, just a little at a time. We'll see how it goes...

my premise is that the 12-step and kick in the butt (and ALL the books I've read about that) leave me in a crumbled heap in my closet when my"opportunities" seem to be taken away and my worth was accidentally super-glued there...