Today could be the day

Today could be the day. The day we have waited for, prayed for, hoped for, stopped hoping for, and then hoped for again for four long years.

I used to breath only for this day. The fantasy of this day was my reason to keep moving forward. Nothing else felt worth it, but this day made me put one foot in front of the other. Every decision I made was painted by the possiblity that today would be the day. I woke every morning and thought "today will be the day", and then day after day after day... it wasn't.

Soon after the shock of third world hell had healed, and life started to feel more like third world normal I stoped waiting for this day. I started loving palm trees, and creating relationships, and relishing my brilliant bi-lingual children. And the dream of the day faded, and even though I thought it might come, it felt more like longing to win the lottery, something that could happen but probably wouldn't. So forward we marched.

And then one day Washinton called, and said " the day might be coming" And I started hoping again, and then chastizing myself for hoping for something that I knew probably wouldn't come. But my hero in Washington kept working, and her letters would scratch off the scab in my heart that wouldn't let me hope, and my bleeding heart would hope again. And then she said, something she had never said before. She told which day would be the actual day. She said the words Tuesday or Wednesday.... not in the near future, or as soon as possible, not " we are optimistic that is will be soon" an actual concrete day. ( well one of two)

What will I do if today is the day? Cry. Tears of pure joy, and saddness. Tears of relief, and tears of trepedation. Tears of excitement and tears of fear. And then I think the overload of emotion will leave me numb, and completely disbeliving that the day has actually come.

Dear Lenora,

Dear Lenora,

Today as I was doing a quick pick up, dust, and sweep the house, before going to teach disrespectful Jr. High kids, I heard Claire de Lune by Debussy on theradio.com. I knew it. I played it at my senior recital. Do you remember? I thought about the other pieces that I played that day. I was so pregnant with Eva. I didn't know that recital would end such an important part of me. Hopefully, it won't be over forever. Just for now.

Today as I listened to those notes, I could see them on the keyboard. I longed for that creative part of myself that has been laid to rest. I longed to feel the way I felt when I played. I longed for the connection to myself that I gleaned as I practiced so many hours to understand those musical masterpieces. I miss playing the piano.

I wanted to tell you, because you knew me when I could call myself a musician. Not because I was so good, but because I spent so many hours a day in pursuit of trying to be so good. And mostly because I loved it so much. And also because I never could have done any of it without you. I treasure what you taught me. As much as I miss it, and as many years as have passed, I'd like to think that I learned more than music during all those years, and I am more well equipped to do the tasks I have at hand now because of what music taught me about myself.

I miss you lenora, and I miss so deeply playing the piano. Someday I am going to show up on your door step and I will be ready to take lessons again. I'll look forward to that.

Brook

Happy Mother's Day

We Can't Scream It Loud Enough!
WE LOVE YOU GRANDMA!!!!

This was my view earlier today. Playa Del Carmen. Beautiful don't you think?
Warm Sun. White sand. Blue water. Nice Breeze. Paradise.
My brother Andy is here visiting so we drove the 45 minutes or so, down south to Playa. We did an official visit on behalf of the stake primary ( that's my calling in church these days) and then headed for tacos, and to the beach.
It occurred to me that three years ago today I had a much different view of Mexico.
No sun. White Embassy. Blue uniforms. Cold Breeze. Hell.
I stood in the same spot across the street from the embassy scared and staring at the same little door for eight hours watching one face at time walk out. Some triumphant, but mostly worried or angry faces emerged. Justino's face was a color that I had never seen before. A fallen ashen countenance that made me know immediately that something was very wrong.
I could have never imagined on the scary surreal day, that my reality in Mexico would be the living under the breeze of the exotic caribbean.
Not that life is so exotic here. In fact mostly I would say it is quite the opposite. It occurred to me that there is more than meets the eye with that old saying
'Life is a Beach'
And especially so of our journey since that pivotal day three years ago.
It is immense and moves by the hand of God, just as the tides and the waves.
It is easy to get dirty sand seems to find it's way into every nook and cranny.
Sunburn, dry skin, tangled hair are a given if certain precautions are not taken.
There are alot of people around, all interesting but mostly strangers. The company of those who aren't is a real treasure.
It is really fun to be there for a while, but pretty soon you just want to go home.
Mostly It's all about how you approach the day. If you show up prepared for the possible ills of the beach, and focus on the enchantment of just being there,
the experience truly is paradise.

My Soul is like Tree

When I was 15 yrs old, I met a pivotal group of people. They were my best friends and we were together everyday for many years, mostly in the same place... 234 East 300 North. The Stewart Residence. I still remember the address and the phone number, I could never forget. Mostly I will never forget the people that touched my life forever.

It was such an impactful experience for me hanging out every day, because in that circle doing mostly nothing, the group us of were actually doing alot of something, learning alot about dealing with life. We did it together. We started earlier than most in our sheltered neighborhoods dealing with the big guns of life, like death, divorce, drugs, religion, money, jobs, car accidents, illness, trouble with the law, it was all in there. I've often wondered if that is why God brought us together, because he knew that we were a unique bunch of teens that were going to be hit by life and we needed to be there for each other. And we were.

The years passed and we grew up. We got married and had kids and did what people do. And since grown up life doesn't exactly lend to playing haki sak every night with our friends, we don't see each other a lot. We get together for a christmas party and usually a BBQ or two in the summer, but that is it. But we all walk around with a mark on our hearts because we shared those special years together.

And every once in a while that place in our hearts throb when one us is being hit again with one of those big guns of life. It has happened alot in the past ten "grown up" years that we have spent apart. It is happening again. Papa James Stewart, the owner and head of that infamous Stewart Residence died yesterday. When I was a troubled teen spenging day in and day out at his house, I tried not to be seen by him. And when I became a grown up I got to know him better. He is a kind and good man. He had to be to let a bunch of hooligans run around and through his house for all those years.

I am thinking about his wife today, who without me even even knowing it, was mothering all of us by letting us gather there every day for so long. I am thinking about Jer, my friend who I love who lost his dad. My heart is feeling his hurt today. I am frantic when I think that those important people will gather this week to be there for Jer, and I will not be able to be there.

I hope he feels my love and prayers. I hope he knows that I am forever grateful for his friendship. I hope he feels my hugs in all the hugs he gets in the next few days. I hope his wife Marie knows that I love her too, and all their beautiful children. I am feeling their loss, and I love them.

I think that my soul is like a tree. My life and my actions are the visble trunk and branches and leaves of that tree. The roots are my belifes and my background that nourish and are the cause of how my visible tree grows and flowers. When my grandma died I felt one of the roots of my soul tremble as a fundamental peson in my development left this earth. Today I feel a little bit like that again.

James Stewart probably didn't even know how much his house and his son would be an anchor in my soul. I would dare say, an anchor in many peoples souls. I love him for that, and I love his family. I am thinking about you Stewart Family.

You are a root of my tree.

I love Martin Luther King Day

" You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive...

With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day."

That is my favorite quote from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Justino and I found it together on day in Ciudad Juarez, a city that truly made us vertrans of creative suffering. It is a horrible place. As we sat on the bed with filth and danger enclosing in on our little family, we read aloud the legacy of truth that Dr. King left us with his immortal ' I have a dream' speech. We dreamed that day, of being freed. Free to go home. Free to choose what country we live in. Free to decide which is the best place is to raise of our kids. Free to be home for the holidays. Free to visit grandparents on Sunday afternoon. Free of the bondage of the of having to choose between my county and my spouse. Free to CHOOSE for ourselves what our future holds. Free of the unearned suffering that the unearned punishment has placed on our shoulders.

His words changed my heart that day,

For one reason, I think...

He spoke solid truth, and truth applies to everyone regardless of their place in life. No matter what affliction we carry truth can deliver us. That was his message.

"But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force."

Aren't we all opressed sometimes about something? Don't we all have some problem we want to be freed from? I recognize that I am not opressed like my black brothers and sister were all those years ago.

But all the same, everbody hurts sometimes.

And whatever the struggle the answer is the same.

"We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back."

He was a man of God. He knew where the strenghth and the deliverance was coming from.

I am happy to say that our unearned suffering has been redemptive. It has strenghthned us. It has enriched our perscetives. It has sealed us together as a family. It has made us grateful to be together. It has given Justino the oportunity to prove to himself that he can conquer the opression and poverty of his youth and his country, becaue he has found sucess in Mexico. It has taught me about him, and myself, and what is really important. It has taught me more and more who my God is, and that he loves me, and all of us.

"I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together"

Happy Birthday Martin Luther King Jr.

Home

Today I am thinking about the word HOME. Yesterday I was doing my 'fold laundry watch Oprah routine' and her Australian Life Organization Guru was doing some overhaul on some family. ( Is his name Peter Walsh?) Anyway... He was talking about how our homes being an extension of ourselves and when there is clutter and disorder it creates an imbalance in our families and in our souls. So I got to thinking.

When we got to Martinez our apartment was a cement box with a bare mattress, one roll of toilet paper, a bar of soap, and a rose bush. I was in shock. And as I went about trying to furnish the home without making any real investment, because we were sure that we were leaving. I outlined in my mind that a home is a shelter where your basic needs can be met. It became clear quickly that the definition of " basic needs" was not so clear, and another question that I have yet to really answer arose. What is necessity and what is luxury?

Here are some things that I have learned are nice but not necessary. Hot water, washer and dryer, dishwasher ( I still don't have one) climate control, dressers, tvs, couches.... the list goes on.

On the other hand, a bed for everybody in the family, a refrigerator a stove, a toilet that flushes, and a place to bathe are not optional.

Of course as economics allow the definition of shelter expands and luxury becomes necessity. And I say great, if that becomes a possibility. But I have noticed as I get more stuff, I get more stressed and there is more to clean and maintain. I love to watch Home Makeover with crazy haired Ty Pennington. I cry every time I watch him build some beautiful monster house for a woman with five autistic children. I can't help it. But there is a little place within my mother scope that feels bad for the woman who has to keep that whole house up and pay all those utilities. I always hope that since they usually pay off the mortgage, she can afford to get a housekeeper, but still...

Ty's whole premise to the show is to build a home that meets the emotional as well as the physical needs of the family. And how graphic it is to me that our homes really should do that. Oprah's Australian was telling the woman yesterday that if there is laundry all over the house it creates tension and imbalance that translates to the relationships in the home. Do you think that is true? I don't know if I quite believe that, but I do believe that there are some principles that do correlate.

My mother always said, "A place for everything and everything in it's place" I think that what we have and store should have a place not only in our homes but in our lives. It must serve some purpose. Further more I think that same saying is true of our emotional selves. If our emotions don't serve us they should be dealt with and then let go so as not to clutter our souls. negative emotion is like crap in our house that serves no purpose, as time goes on it truly burdens us.

The most important basic need we have as human beings is to love and be loved. Our homes should be refuges of love for ourselves and our children. The infrastructure of manners and respect and connection that can't be seen in our homes, is surely felt and has longer lasting effects than anything temporal. The absence of hot water or modern conveniences may make for a harder life, but over time will build character. However if love lacks character is not built but broken down. What an overwhelming sense of responsibility I feel as the heart of my home to make sure it is filled with love and learning life lessons.

So what is the moral of the story, I don't know. But I think it has something to do with me needing to get off the computer to fill my four walls with loveliness and order so that when my chickens come home they will be ever blessed for living in this humble abode.

By the way, the photo is of my kitchen. I have been promising photos of my house since we moved in, sorry this is a little dark. More to come.. I'm serious this time.