Time out, please

Dear God -

You've shown me that I have enough shoulder strength here lately.

I think you need a time out.

Possibly because I pray to you each second of every day here lately, and also, because you have shown me I've enough to handle.

The day after my mother's Birthday, really?  We have to put her cat to peace?  And she cannot remember where the cat is.  I run through this in my head & my heart and I can only find the words she would say to me in hers - she was hurting honey, she didn't need anymore of this life.  She had a lovely world.   She had to go to feel better.  She is our guardian angel now and she shines over us like a shooting star.

For the next several days I will need to repeat the above paragraph in different tones, and with large love & patience, as my mother has Alzheimer's with a twist of Parkinson's

I love my mother more than I can explain.  And each moment we have together is a blessing.  But we could use some peace right now, Mr. God.  A lot of it.

Love,

Mary Lee's daughter

The Time Between.

Childhood is measured by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows – John Betjeman

In the season that felt as though it was only ours – the time between the falling of leaves and snow, my sister and I would walk to the park near our family cottage in northern Michigan.  Most of the summer folks had gone, having  only left behind echoes of loving, joy-filled laughter.     

One particular afternoon, my sister and I discovered the trees were a more than the usual generous audience – swaying to the rhythm of our song – We Are Family – sung at the top of our lungs lying on our backs with the merry-go-round spinning around and around.   


It was one of those times we instinctively knew whose turn it was to get up and push, running around until jumping onto our revolving stage.  

We were one. 

Within the silence of nature with the waves from the lake lapping as our percussion, the gentle wind, our string quartet , the scents of fallen leaves,  you name it, we knew had back up in the form of a higher power.

I am aware to this very moment it was one of the most enchanting, freeing, healing afternoons of my young life.  As we walked back to the cabin in reverent silence, I realized it was the loudest conversation I'd never had.  It’s likely this is the day we learned that in our way, though 5 years and 5 days apart in age, we were twins and carry with us an ability to converse without ever saying a word.  

So cheers to family found, or otherwise.  

I am finally remembering that the time in the between is where real life exists.  

The Fine Art of "Let It Be"

Thanks to Facebook and my Aunt Ellen, our family genealogist, for whom I could not be more grateful, I have been able to connect with cousins once & even twice removed, half brothers and sisters,  the greatest of great aunts and other semi-interestingly titled family member here and there.  I've even enjoyed some conversation with these people otherwise know as my family which is lovely, having not seen many of them since I was something like 7 years old.  

I'd yet though, to find myself in the midst of any life-changing memories or even what may felt like a full on connection,  Well until, that is,  that one day when Dan Bearden, some sort of a first once removed, possibly great second cousin, and I began to chat.  

Dan and I occasionally found ourselves in conversation via Facebook, especially when neither of us could not sleep and it was soon that we discovered we had a common love that transcends all barriers - Folk Music.  I came to call him Cuz/Bro and he called me lil' sis/cuz.  Precious.

He invited me to a Folk Music group and without hesitation I joined.  I particpated occasionally and I was always pleasantly surprised by how much better I felt when I'd take the time to listen to another song.  

Dan passed not long ago and because I was missing him, in particular one day, I went into the group and read that they were looking for a co-administrator.  This isn't any kind of a fancy job that pays a million dollars - but it is the exact kind of thing that keeps us tied as a global family.  Stories have always kept generations alive - no matter the format, but song seems an especially lovely version to yours truly.  

I inquired as to what the job might entail - so as to not over-commit, but thinking it  would be a lovely tradition to carry on and that I would still be able to feel our cuz/bro lil'sis connection.  I thought a lot about it; it felt important to me to be able to do it right.  I even went so far as to ask for a sign.

Meanwhile purging/spring cleaning here in Southeast Alabama and I came across a box of things I'd tucked away into the "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do about these things, so I'll let them sit/stay until I can figure it out" zone.  Not to mention if tossing physical clutter doesn't make you ruminate, I'm not exactly sure what will.  I remembered the colorfully wrapped in scarf scented with my aunt's (on the other side of the family, for the record) perfume gift to be cotton, picked from a friends field in West Texas.  One to heed wisdom from my elders, here lately, I thought - ya know - you'd best be unwrappin' that cotton and see what goes on with that bandanna type thing. (sorry - I'm just lazy enough to not put in all the required punctuation and my editor is on personal leave, speaking of said aunt that smells good and sends super thoughtful gifts)

Suddenly - what to my wondering eyes should appear but an image  of "Mother Mary" - going by many other millions of names in this particular rendering - but I saw MOTHER MARY clear as day. (see above photograph, because not even my most clever self could make THIS stuff up)  And then the Beatles joined the party in my mind.  I was instantly transported to one late night talk, when Dan and I attempted to define "Folk Music" and him saying something to the tune of  "it's whatever we want or need it to be.  It's when we try to define things that we end up in trouble - or missing something really amazing."  

Ahem. Sign delivered.






I took the job - and hopefully I'll fill those shoes well.

That day and today The Beatles; "Let it Be" is a folk song of pretty serious magnitude to me.      

I'm ever grateful to all the parties involved in bringing me a moment as simply divine as that one.

PS - Don't worry, cuz/bro Dan Bearden - we'll keep the music playing.  Mother Mary said so.

Joy Hunting; Chapter One "Her Flock"

I am a mighty joy huntress.

What is a joy huntress, you ask?

To "Hunt joy" is a phrase I created a few months back, just prior to a potentially toxic situation my friend and I were headed into. I knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, this "potential toxicity" was based on my old beliefs. Once I shifted gears into the gratitude zone, all would be well, as usual and thankfully,  I have learned that within even the tiniest of normal circumstances, there is joy to be found.  I'm on the case like a bloodhound named Sherlock Holmes.

Exhibit A:

I had lived in Ohio for some time and began to frequent the store just around the corner.  It was convenient and the people that worked there always left me feeling like I had been not only been cared for, but about.  

I went to the store at Halloween time and discovered one of the rather demure, ever-cheerful, elderly woman clerks dressed as a green M& M. We talked and laughed to the point of tears. Her bravado and customer skills impressed me so much that I was moved to write a note of praise to the store's corporate headquarters.

For the record, it took me all of three minutes to write said letter of praise including extensive time spent with spell check.       

I returned to the store a few days later and there was the woman again - she was wearing her normal uniform and clothing (not that I'd ever see her the same again, I might add),  except for she had pinned a note underneath her name tag simply stating "Thank you to the lady that sent the email."

I acted as if it wasn't me  and asked her for the story. To hear her recant the joy over the situation was incredibly precious to me.    She was glowing.  I was near to tears, I was so excited that it had brought her that much loveliness.   I did manage express that it was obvious to me why someone would take the time to 'turn her in', with as well as she took care of us, her customers.

I felt like she needed to know we had become her flock.

I often wonder how many times on those days that she wore that message under her name tag, that she shared the story.  I still attempt to imagine how delightful that must have felt - to anyone that may have asked and most importantly, to her.

There is something quietly magical in the opportunity we all share as members of the human race to  joy hunt.  It's restorative in ways we forget unless we live it.

Did you hear that?  That joy was the sound of the Splash of a Mermaid.