MERCURY RETROGRADE

Mercury starts moving out of retrograde today.

Thank. God.

Mercury controls communication, and if you've been experiencing disruptions in that department, you can blame it all on Mercury.

To read more about it, go here.

We should all be back to "normal" by June 14th.

TRUE FRIENDSHIP PART II

I'm re-running this post because the comments were so awesome. I've been thinking about this question of true friendship all week, and your thoughtful comments have helped me hone in on my "answer." It's part of a bigger theory I've been working on: some things just need to crash. I think for me, personally, the tendency is so great to "help" that I may not see the widescreen view - the one that shows the need for things to get worse, before they can start to get better.

And isn't any advice I would give just that, advice? What the hell do I know? I don't know what the greater plan is for any given person's life. I don't know if the "wrong" choices they are making are leading to something greater. I. Don't. Know.

I like what Wanda said about advice vs. support: "Support always has the highest good of the person as a goal. It isn't advice per se. It could be observations, concerns, or even questions that allow the person to see or wonder for herself where this path leads. One thing is certain, support is not support if it is capricious or randomly pulled away. It is constant."

St. Teresa of Avila said, "Prayer is an act of love, words are not needed. Even if sickness distracts thoughts, all that is needed is the will to love."

So it's back to love. I can "hold space" with another in crisis. I can listen. When asked, I can offer that I'm concerned. But really, all I can do is love. And that's enough. And everything.



TRUE FRIENDSHIP

Got an e-mail this morning from a friend that is at Medugorje. She visited a community that is devoted to healing those suffering from addictions (but remember, I only have a "dependency.") She said, "They focus on spiritual healing, and true friendship. Their kind of friendship was about being real and being true to one another, not just saying what one wants to hear."

Reminded me of a dear friend of mine who each week trudges her brave soul to 1:1 therapy to excavate deep childhood trauma, then she trudges back again later in the week for "group" where a room full of trauma survivors hold each other's feet to the fire, while loving and supporting each other every step of the way.

Asked another friend recently what she does when someone she loves is making what she considers to be a poor choice, does she tell them? Does she pretend to support it? She said she tells them she'll pray for them, which seems both kind and wise.

Lady at the hairdresser's yesterday was getting her perm cut off - had been getting her hair permed for over 20 years until a friend one day innocently asked, "Have you ever thought of not perming your hair?" She'd never thought about it.

Now it's one thing to talk about perms and a whole other thing to talk about major life decisions.

When is support, support, and when is it not, and how do you "know" the difference?


*Photo from www.medjugorje-online.com

15 COMMENTS:

Maddy said...
Is 'friend' SP? As for the question.....still trying to fathom that one myself.
Best wishes

8:00 AM
kario said...
Tough question. My first instinct is to say that when the 'support' is pure and benevolent, without any intent to tear down the other person or build up yourself, then it's support. I tend to avoid giving 'advice' until I really know the person well, though, so that I don't stick my nose in where it doesn't belong.

Thanks for the food for thought today.

8:10 AM
Suzy said...
After a while, you being to trust your instincts and faith, and probably make some mistakes along the way, but sooner or later you acquire the tools to tell them apart.


Love you

Suzy

8:25 AM
jesswilson said...
i struggled with this issue with a dear friend not long ago. i decided to tell her that i didn't think that the decisions she was making would serve her well - that i didn't think that she was ultimately going to make herself happy on that particular path. i then told her that as her friend, i hoped that i was wrong. and that having said what i'd said, i'd be there for her every step of the way.

unfortunately, i was not wrong. she found herself heartbroken and angry. but she also had a friend to turn to when it fell apart.

your heart will tell you what your friend can or can't hear. you'll know.

8:37 AM
Michelle O'Neil said...
Support is seeing who someone really is, and holding that vision of them, even if they are not acting like "who they really are" in the moment.

Support always comes from a place of connectedness. If you think you are supporting someone, but feel diminished after offering said support, that is martyrdom, not support.

Support is also the elusive perfectly fitting bra.

8:40 AM
She said...
Ooooh! I love what Michelle said. I'm going to have to write that down.

Good food for thought.

10:03 AM
Tanya @ TeenAutism said...
Good question - I think it's difficult to tell the difference. Sometimes when someone who is connected to me appears to be offering support, it feels more like unwarranted criticism. But it could just be my dynamic with that particular person. Tough one!

1:37 PM
Wanda said...
Support always has the highest good of the person as a goal. It isn't advice per se. It could be observations, concerns, or even questions that allow the person to see or wonder for herself where this path leads. One thing is certain, support is not support if it is capricious or randomly pulled away. It is constant.

And it is what Michelle said about the bra.

2:15 PM
Lola said...
support without judgement is support...:) ANd often it's not what you say but HOW you say it:)
xo

5:06 PM
graceonline said...
Interesting. I thought the image was of Quan Yin, but I see the townsfolk expect it to be the Blessed Virgin. Some might think them different incarnations of the same being.

I too have been grappling with this issue of support and how best to be in compassion for another who seems determined to destroy all that is good in her life. I love your friend's response to pray. Send love. Pray. Send love.

Then of course, some of us may have residual feelings of betrayal, anger, impatience--all the uncompassionate feelings that arise when a loved one is in crisis and making choices with which we don't agree. That's when I try to remind myself in time--before I say or do something harmful--that I am the only one responsible for what I am feeling and so must send love. Pray. Send love.

Thank you for this thought-provoking post. It helps me immensely to see others faced with similar situations and learn of their process.

4:05 PM
Angie Ledbetter said...
Tough, especially when it's someone you love dearly. I try to support whatever is best for the soul of that person...whether they know it or want it or not.

Thanks for posting that picture. New to me, and lovely as your post.

8:00 AM
Deb Shucka said...
It's that still small voice of love from your heart that gives you the right words, or no words.

12:34 PM
Jerri said...
Enough but not too much.

(sigh)

Hardest damn thing in the world.

5:13 AM
Robin said...
I am reading a book on personal growth and one of the ideas is that we should always be struggling or working on something. The authors believe we should have a small group in which we can ask and be honestly answered, what could I do to be a better person? Wow, I don't know that I am ready for that honesty and then sometimes I think how freeing it could be. Because with with "advice" has to come total acceptance -- first.

In other words, I have no wisdom to offer on this subject, but I love to hear your thoughts.

I've shrunk nearly 2 inches.

I'm "aggressively greying" according to my hairdresser/therapist.

I'm saggy and wrinkled, receding and protruding in all the wrong places.

That's what age, and 13 years as the parent of a special needs child will do to you.

I am slower to anger, blame or judge.

I am overflowing with gratitude most every day.

That's what age, and 13 years as a parent of a special needs child will do to you.

love.

IF I START TO CRY

The Edie concert last night was INCREDIBLE! And it raised good money for Rojo's school, WIN WIN!

Edie is an absolute delight in person, as well as an amazing singer/songwriter. I urge you all to check out her concert tour schedule and make an effort to go hear her live. She held us all in the palm of her hand. We laughed. We cried. We were moved. Deeply.

The song that got me the most was the one she wrote about her dad, Tim, and with whose blessing she performs it. It's about asking her dad how he could love her when she was so much like her mother, and he didn't love her mother. Anymore.

I think a lot of us can relate to raising children just like our spouse, and/or being just like one of our children, and the "interesting" dynamics this creates in a marriage - in a family.

And the conclusion that many of us come to: if we love our children so deeply and fiercely, can't we work harder to love their grown-up version? Unconditionally?


if i start to cry

I got so much to ask you
It's never the time
Why would I spoil a perfect evening?
We've gotten this far on being polite
Besides, I know you're proud of me

When I was made
Did they leave out a part?
Did you know this
And choose to guard the secret?
You said everybody's born
With a beautiful heart
What was wrong with hers and
Why did you leave it?

If I start to cry, I may not stop
Love runs dry, I run off

Can you help me with this heart
Inside my chest?
It ain't perfect
But you should see me use it
But it only works when I make a mess
When it looks like I'm about to lose it

If I start to cry, I may not stop
Love runs dry, I run off

Yeah I'm just like my mother
Yeah I'm just like my mother
And if you don't love her,
What does that mean about me?

If I start to cry, I may not stop
I wanna know why I run off
I wanna know why I'm like this
I wanna know why


From the CD "When I Was Made" - (2004)

EDIE CAREY

Guess who is coming to my house for an in-home concert TONIGHT?

Oh yea, baby. And guess who drives a car exactly. like. mine. EXACTLY?

And guess who is super janked up, hyper and in a good mood?

Both of the black Honda '97 CR-V drivers, that's who!

Go check out this great video to see what you'll be missing, then go here to buy all her CDs. You'll be glad you did.

How did I come to have this amazing woman come to MY house you ask? Friends. In. High. Places. Shining City Music. And if you live in the Portland area, you can catch her Thursday night at Alberta Pub!

"Another Kind of Fire" Video 2 / Artist: Edie Carey

RUN, GET ME A SPOON

Rojo has been both extra darling lately, and extra buggy - could be the fact that he's on the brink of 13, a teenager, how is that possible?

There are times I could just eat him with a spoon, and I tell him that. Exactly. Actually, what I say is, "Run, get me a spoon" and he generally ignores me and keeps doing whatever it was that elicited that response: looks over the tops of his glasses with a look of utter nonchalance, gives me a closed mouth, huge dimpled grin, or the newest one, the open mouthed gap-toothed smile that kills me every time.

"Run, get me a spoon" I say whenever he's being extra darling. I've added a hand gesture, and at times I just give the gesture - a loop-de-loop with the right index finger pointing towards the kitchen - and just offer that. Sometimes that hand gesture provokes the tiniest of smiles, which is reward in and of itself for me, and thus, requires another, "Run, get me a spoon" response.

But yesterday afternoon he was anything but darling. He was annoying. He was "janked up." "Mom? Am I hyper? Am I in a good mood? Am I janked up?" Yes. Yes. Dammit all to hell, YES! He was extra obsessed with the ice cream man, and whether or not he would show up.

"Mom? Is it hot and warm today? Is the ice cream man going to come today? Is he going to come at 5:15? Are you going to buy Bubble Gum Swirl? Is he going to come at 5:20? Is it hot and warm? Is he going to come? Are you going to get...."

We're talking for four hours straight.

Until I thought I would kill him with my bare hands.

And do you know what that SOB did? Of course you do.

He ran and got me a spoon.

IN MEMORIAL

CONFESSION

Got another e-mail from my friend that's at Medjugorje. Apparently Mary appears as an apparition to one man over and over and over, and one can hang with him and he'll tell you what she says.

I buy it.

Guess she told the group the other night to go to confession, that it was so important.

That's where Mary and I might have to part ways.

I have always struggled with the concept that we need ANOTHER to forgive us, or to hear us, or to "take" our confession, or to absolve us, or, or, or. I get all fired up just thinking about it.

But then I went for a walk and thought about blogging, memoir writing, and BFFs. Aren't those just greater examples of "making our confessions?" And don't we feel better for having done it?

Mary's right again.


* Photo from flickr.com

WHY I KEEP THEM AROUND

STM got up early with Rojo today and made the toast, made the coffee, made it possible for me to sleep in. When I finally wandered out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, looking like something the cat dragged in, I'm sure, Rojo said, "Are you going to leave your hair like that today?" I looked in the window to see what he was talking about, saw enough to know it wasn't good, and then he finished, "because it looks really cute."

TRUE FRIENDSHIP

Got an e-mail this morning from a friend that is at Medugorje. She visited a community that is devoted to healing those suffering from addictions (but remember, I only have a "dependency.") She said, "They focus on spiritual healing, and true friendship. Their kind of friendship was about being real and being true to one another, not just saying what one wants to hear."

Reminded me of a dear friend of mine who each week trudges her brave soul to 1:1 therapy to excavate deep childhood trauma, then she trudges back again later in the week for "group" where a room full of trauma survivors hold each other's feet to the fire, while loving and supporting each other every step of the way.

Asked another friend recently what she does when someone she loves is making what she considers to be a poor choice, does she tell them? Does she pretend to support it? She said she tells them she'll pray for them, which seems both kind and wise.

Lady at the hairdresser's yesterday was getting her perm cut off - had been getting her hair permed for over 20 years until a friend one day innocently asked, "Have you ever thought of not perming your hair?" She'd never thought about it.

Now it's one thing to talk about perms and a whole other thing to talk about major life decisions.

When is support, support, and when is it not, and how do you "know" the difference?


*Photo from www.medjugorje-online.com

OH, MY HELL OF GOD!

Just got my Internet restored after about 20 hours of funky service.

Thought I would DIE!

How am I supposed to read blogs?

How am I supposed to check e-mail?

How am I supposed to Google each and every thing that pops into my brain?

How am I supposed to check the weather report?

How am I supposed to SURVIVE?

Besides, really wanted to tell you all about the hole in Rojo's mouth I just noticed this morning, and then the weird little white thing on his BEDROOM FLOOR I almost vacuumed up before realizing it was a tooth.

Besides, really wanted to tell you that I just got back from the naturopath's office and now have a new stock of bio-identical hormones, which should help significantly with the near PANIC I am experiencing.

Besides, really wanted to inform you that according to the receptionist/also-a-naturopath-that-specializes-in-mental-health, upgraded me from Internet ADDICTION, to Internet DEPENDENCY.

Besides, really wanted to get all this out of my brain and onto the "page" before it shorts out again and I am left stranded with only my own unexpressed thoughts!

TALKING DEAD

I am not a fan of talking "live." In fact, I have such an unbelievable and irrational fear of it, it's crippling at times. I needed to order STM a gluten-free cake from the local bakery. Total phone time? 1 minute. Total number of minutes spent trying to figure out if it could be done on-line? 30. Total number of days it took me to work up the courage to call? 5. Total number of hassles when I did finally call? Zero.

Once I actually get on the phone, I'm fine, it's the thinking about making or accepting the call that's anxiety provoking.

What is UP with that?

I might be more inclined to work on it if the good Lord hadn't invented Caller ID and the Internet. Not a day goes by that I don't give thanks for those tremendously thoughtful inventions.

My mom has neither - she just up and answers the phone each and every time it rings - can you IMAGINE? And when she has a question, she just picks up the phone to call someone to answer it. Unthinkable.

Woohoo takes after her, she thinks nothing of calling a store to see if they're open, checking on an item, or ordering something to go.

I want to be more like her when I grow up.

SPIRIT WEEK

This week is Spirit Week at Rojo's school.

However.

We talk about Spirit Week the other 51 weeks of each and every year for going on six years.

"Mom, when is Spirt Week this year? Is there going to be a Crazy Day? Are people going to wear crazy clothes? Do I have to wear crazy clothes? Are people going to have crazy hair? I do not want to have my hair crazy, I do not want blue hair. I do not want anyone to make their hair blue this year, Mom. Are people going to wear their hair blue this year, Mom, on Crazy Day?"

But all weekend I heard this:

"Mom, Monday is Pajama Day, I am just going to wake up and boom, wear my pajamas to school. You will say, 'Rojo, go get dressed!' and I will say, 'I don't have to get dressed, Mom, because it is PAJAMA DAY!'"

"Tuesday is Hippie Day, what am I going to wear for Hippie Day, Mom? Do I have to talk like a hippie all day? Do I have to have a hippie accent? Do I have to speak Hippie? What do hippies sound like? Can you teach me some Hippie?"

"Wednesday is Hawaiian Day and I am going to say, 'Aloha!' I am going to say aloha all day long. I am going to talk Hawaiian. I am not going to wear my swimsuit to school. I am not going to dress like Hawaii, I am going to say aloha all day on Wednesday."

"Thursday is Sports Day! Should I wear my Louisville Cardinals shirt? My Oregon State shirt? My Oregon shirt? My Delaware Fightin' Blue Hens one? How about Texas Tech Red Raiders? Maybe Boise State Broncos? Which one should I wear, Mom? Which one should I wear for Sports Day, Mom? Which shirt should I wear on Thursday when it is Sports Day, Mom?"

And then back to the blue hair conversation.

And back.

And around again.

Friday is not the only thing going crazy.



* Image from http://school.discoveryeducation.com

Dear STM,

Today you are 50, that's nothing small,
Half way to a hundred, and that's not all.

Your body, it feels the age,
But the good news? You've become quite the sage.

I've loved you in your 20's, your 30's, and 40's,
We've journeyed through much, or Lordy!

I couldn't love you more if I tried,
In our love I will abide.

MENTAL ILLNESS OR WELLNESS?

Ever since I heard an interview on NPR with author Ayelet Waldman, (in)famous for writing the words, "I love my husband more than my children," I've been thinking about something else she said. She herself is bi-polar, and she says you can always tell who else is bi-polar because they're either the ones at the party over-sharing, or they're memoir writers.

I'm sure she was partly being funny.

I'm sure she was partly serious.

I'm sure I'm partly concerned I might be bi-polar.

But I don't think I am, and I don't agree that all memoirists are by definition.

Still, she's definitely right about one thing - memoirists are in a class of their own - they're willing to let you in, REALLY in to their lives, their problems, their joys, their struggles, and maybe most intimately, their thoughts.

Was in a discussion about this very thing last night and one woman said about another memoirist, "She just writes what I'm thinking."

Exactly.

And to me, that's the point.

We are one.

What affects one, affects the whole.

We are more alike than we are different, and if we don't have brave souls out there willing to stick their necks out to show us that to be true, than we remain isolated.

So maybe we do it because we're bi-polar, or didn't get enough attention as a child, or are exhibitionists, or extroverts. Or maybe we just do it because we believe that's the only way we, and the collective, will ever heal.

So we can move on.




* Photo from www.beaconlearningcenter.com

TAKING TURNS

Had an epiphany while frustrating myself in the kitchen last night (doesn't take much). STM being gluten-intolerant has required me to step it up in that department, and it's been a big step. I'm baking gluten-free brownies, I'm making gluten-free pasta, and last night I tried making gluten-free pizza dough - well, actually the whole pizza, not just the dough.

Had one cabinet open to get the pizza tray, opened a drawer to get a knife, knocked into the corner cabinet and just had to laugh: how like me. How like me to want it all NOW. I can have it all, the knife, the bowl, the pizza tray, just not ALL AT THE SAME FLIPPIN' TIME. But really, moments within each other if I just relax, closing one door allowing another to open.

Allowing one door to close.

Before opening another.

WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS

Try to get past the 80's, pulled-through-a-cap-frosted hair.

Try to get past the heavy eye make-up,

Try to get past the obvious irony I was going for by holding up a plate of cinnamon rolls and juxtaposing them against the NIKE signage.

And then you'll "see" the girl that first fell in love with STM.

Woohoo asked the other night at dinner, "How did you two meet?"

Well, there is some disagreement about HOW we met, but we do agree on where/when we got to know each other, and that's when we were both sweet young things working for NIKE.

The day after our dinner table conversation STM brought home this picture, IN A FRAME, that he's had on or around his desk, ALL THESE YEARS.

How sweet is that?

MORNING MANTRA

I have a friend that's been in and out of my life for 28 years. We connected easily and quickly and no matter how long goes between e-mails or visits, our paths appear to be parallel and it's just a hop, skip and a jump from his path to mine, or vice-versa.

E-mailed him awhile ago to say, "Do you think we have karma?" He wrote back in about 5 minutes, "Old and deep."

That's what I'm talking about. Easy. The fact that he's gay doesn't hurt, either.

He wakes up each morning with what he calls his Morning Mantra. Sometimes I'll just send an e-mail with only "MM?" in the subject line, and wait to see what comes back. His MM is always apropos for me that day - of course.

Yesterday he voluntarily sent his Morning Mantra to me: "The highest level of sophistication and enlightenment in this world is simplicity." This speaks to my theory that developmentally disabled individuals are amongst the wisest.

Today I woke up with my own, and first, Morning Mantra: "Write every stone," which I took to mean, leave no stone unturned in terms of writing - write everything, get into some of those last deep, dark corners and write them out. Clear them. Release their hold, their energy, their power.

It won't be sophisticated and it won't be simple, but it's sure to be enlightening.

MARY, QUEEN OF HEAVEN

I've written about Mary before and my affinity for her, but she is making her presence known a lot these days, so I told her I'd toss her another bone.

And she laughed.

Because Mary is nothing if not funny.

I'm not sure just why I love her so much.

Maybe it's the fact that she raised pretty much the most "special" boy ever.

Maybe it's the fact that to me she represents the divine feminine, the "energy" that I think is sorely missing on our planet today.

Maybe it's because when I talk to her she listens - there is a deep sense of being heard - and understood - that brings me a sense of calm that I don't get anywhere else.

For my birthday in February a friend gave me Mary Seeds. (To order, click here.) Little clay bits with the image of Mary, Queen of Heaven stamped upon them. The idea is to plant them, literally, where you want Mary to grow. I've done me some planting, and I keep a few seeds around for more figurative planting. Got one on my desk, in my purse, in my car, and always in my pocket.

I've given Mary Seeds to friends, she is helping to sell houses that desperately need to sell, she is helping to build schools, she is re-building marriages, she is healing and blessing left and right.

And always, she is love.

May is Mary's month - her presence is particularly felt this month - let's go big with it.

SUMMER READING LIST

Had all the moms in Rojo's class over on Friday night (well, almost all, 18/29). Everyone brought a book that they'd already read and really liked and we did an exchange. You know the kind: the kind that involves drawing numbers, stealing and laughing.

Here is a list of all the books exchanged - maybe you'll get some ideas for your own summer reading lists.

Enjoy!

1) Everything I Needed to Know About Being a Girl I Learned from Judy Blume

2) The Story of Edgar Sawtelle*

3) The Birth of Venus*

4) Ishmael*

5) The Zookeeper's Wife*

6) Dry

7) Behind the Bedroom Door

8) It's a Chick Thing

9) Paris to the Moon*

10) The Summer of Naked Swim Parties

11) The Friday Night Knitting Club

12) Love and Other Impossible Pursuits

13) The Hours

14) Watermelon

15) The Last Lecture

16) Peace Like a River*

17) Love in the Time of Cholera

18) Agatha Christie

* On my own summer reading list, the others I have either read or they just aren't up my alley.

"Nearly all of us receive our first lessons in peaceful living from our mothers, because the need for love lies at the very foundation of human existence. From the earliest stages of our growth, we are completely dependent on our mother's care and it is very important for us that she expresses her love. If children do not receive proper affection, in later life they will often find it hard to love others."   H.H. The Dalai Lama

Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers and all you "mothers." You make a difference. 

love.

MOTHER'S DAY COME EARLY

Remember when I wrote about our front window failing? Well, it's taken us awhile to order and install a new one - not exactly our first choice of where to spend money, but it needed to be done.

Thursday, as an early Mother's Day present, STM arranged to have someone come help him install it. It arrived over a week ago and has just been sitting in the living room. I'm having 20 women in my house this morning for a support group meeting, and 20 different (actually some are the same) women over tonight for a 6th grade moms book exchange/Margarita party. He knew getting the new window OFF the living room floor and IN the wall, would make me very happy.

Smart man.

Then he really outdid himself.

TOP 10 THINGS STM DID TO MAKE ME VERY HAPPY

10. Got the new window in

9. Got the old window hauled away

8. Painted the trim of the new window

7. Arranged to have his friend the window washer come over and wash BOTH sides before I got home

6. While he had the touch-up paint out, he painted the big "ding" on the silverware drawer in the kitchen

5. And the one by the dishwasher

4. And the one on the basement door

3. And then he did the RISERS going up the stairs

2. Then he mowed both the front and back lawns

1. And edged them

THAT, is abiding love.

My book club is reading LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHOLERA. It's been on my list of books to read for 21 years. Worth the wait.

I was grabbed when early in the book, and mid-way through their 50 year plus marriage, the husband comes out of the bathroom and informs his wife there hasn't been soap in the tub for a week.

She knows perfectly well it's only been three days.

They fight for months over that, neither one backing down.

Many years later when the man is too elderly to bathe himself, there's a beautiful scene of the wife tenderly and lovingly spending an hour bathing him and helping him to dress.

When he dies his look is full of love, and his last words to his wife are: "Only God knows how much I loved you."

Abiding love.

TEACHER APPRECIATION

It's Teacher Appreciation Week, and I for one don't even know where to begin with my appreciation for all the various teachers in my life, and my children's.

Thank you.

Times one million.

Our PTO (Parent Teacher Organization) has a special week planned at Rojo's school, and the kids were given a couple 1/2 sheets of paper and asked to jot down a kindly message to a teacher or two. Taking a gamble I gave four to The Wonder That is Jenn and hoped she'd be able to get some response out of Rojo.

Up popped this e-mail today:

Carrie,

If you can meet me before school gets out today that would be great. I have Rojo story/stories that will bring you to tears. Not with laughter, but pride. He is so stinking cute, I can hardly handle it. Let me know.
Thanks,
Jenn


I was able to get to school a few minutes before he got out, and Jenn had made copies of the SIX teacher appreciation notes he'd written just today, with vows to make more tomorrow. "I'm going to make ALL the teachers one."

Which is darling.

But not as darling as the fact that he peered over the top of his glasses staring off into space, deeply contemplating just the right words to put down for each teacher. DIFFERENT words, hand crafted for each one.

"Jenn, what's that 2nd grade teacher's name? I'm going to do one for her," Jenn told me.

He was stumped, though, because he never had this particular teacher, but that was no excuse not to be appreciative.

So instead of telling her what a great teacher she IS, he just advised her to BE a good teacher. Good advice, you gotta admit.

He's really loving the creative writing "rotation" he's in. "Jenn, if I just write CW will Mrs. Martin know what it stands for?"

She assured him Mrs. Martin will understand.

I just hope she, and all the other teachers, understand our full appreciation.

"Love is simple
I worship this tenacity
And the beautiful struggle we’re in
Love will not elude us"
From the song "Simple" by K.D. Lang

You know how it is when you hear or read something and you get that, "Ahh yes, that's IT" It just resonates. For so long I made love complicated. I discounted tenacity. I failed to see any beauty in struggle. But really, that's what abiding is all about.

SIMPLE
By K.D. Lang

Flawless light in a darkening air
Alone...and shining there
Love will not elude you

Love is simple
I worship this tenacity
And the beautiful struggle we’re in
Love will not elude us

Love is simple
Be sure to know that

All in love
Is ours
And love, as a philosophy
Is simple

I am calm in oblivion
Calm, as I ever have been
Love will not elude me
Love is simple
Be sure to know that
All in love
Is ours...
Is ours...

That all in love
Is ours
And love, as philosophy
Is simple...
And ours...

To see K.D. perform this song, click here!

ST. KATHLEEN

A mutual friend of Kathleen's and mine recently pointed out that I always get cranky when Kathleen is out of town or otherwise engaged, and our walking schedule gets interrupted. And our walking schedule has been wildly affected because of her saintly taking to and fro of Rojo to Outdoor School, then last week her parents were in town and she had to go and be all good daughter on me. Again with the saint.

Could be the lack of endorphins that's causing the problem, the whole cranky problem that is, because God forbid I walk a step without her! Won't. Do. It. Feels like torture.

But it's more than that. It's the loss of who and what grounds me.

According to Wikipedia, "a connection to ground limits the voltage built up between power circuits and the earth, protecting circuit insulation from damage due to excessive voltage." And if I know anything about electrical engineering (stop laughing), that's a good thing to protect oneself against.

So that's exactly right, that's what Kathleen does for me, she protects against damage due to excessive voltage.

I am nothing if not full of excessive voltage.

And I'm nothing without St. Kathleen.

BAD PICTURE, GOOD TIMES

Remember when I told you guys I got together with 3 friends from college, and one drove up from Eugene, just for the 1 1/2 hour time together? Well, she was back in Portland on Thursday for a workshop (she's a school nurse) and she had another 1 1/2 hour window of time to meet for lunch.

Long story short, we chose to meet here. Yes, right where the (blurry) picture captured. A little Mexican restaurant close to her workshop so we'd have extra talking time and barely any driving time. It was a sunny (but not warm) day so we decided to "upgrade" to the outside dining area, clearly marked in the above picture. It's that area right under the awning, immediately adjacent to the garbage cans. And in the parking lot. As in cars drove right up to our kneecaps.

But we didn't care in the least.

It has been years and years and years (like 15) since we spent any 1:1 time together, and 90 minutes barely tipped the iceberg, but we did a good job of trying.

One of the things she shared with me as we parted was this: She had a friend in high school, a guy, they were really good friends and then lost touch. Now they're back in touch, e-mailing and texting left and right.

The guy is crippled with ALS. He has use ONLY of his left ring finger.

Only.

After processing all the guilt I feel for taking for granted my able body, I was struck by the profound need we humans have for contact.

And friendship.

HEY, FORGIVE YOURSELF ALREADY

So I've had this whole apathy thing going on, and Wednesday I was driving in my neighborhood and saw the message above: Hey, forgive yourself already. Just there. Just there in all it's colorful glory - a sign, literally and figuratively.

Someone in my neighborhood keeps leaving cool inspirational messages like this in that same place. I always drive by, read them, love them, then promptly forget about them.

For the most part I don't walk around with a ton of unforgiveness, but I've got my share.

Wednesday night I was putting Rojo to bed and was grumpy and hurrying the process along. "You're not mad at me," he said, "you're mad at yourself."

Same message, twice in 24 hours - no accidents.

Time to forgive.

Time not to forget.

Time to promise.