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Unexpected Rainbows and A Thursday Wedding…

Written on February 6, 2013 by Lisa in Memories of Mom

As I got the kids ready for school this morning, I mentioned that their Nana passed away 14 years ago today. Immediately ~V popped up to say that was 4 years before he was born. Then for some reason I told them the story about how my mom thought I was marrying their dad on a Thursday…

It was just a week or two before she died. She was home with hospice care. She had a morphine drip and lock to ration her boluses (we could only administer so much of the morphine, which was a good thing, as I just wanted her out of the pain at that point). The morphine helped make her a little more comfortable, but also had her hallucinating all sorts of stuff, things coming up from the past, fears she may have had that now seemed real. It was more than a bit stressful. I remember feeling like I was the only person who could change her bedding and clothes gently enough so that it would put the least amount of stress on her frail and hurting body.

I had only known Kevin for 6 months by then, but that week or so we had Mom at home he was with my dad, brothers and I as much as possible. On one of those days, Monday or some day earlier in the week Mom was awake, super pleased, and excited. She had a twinkle in her eye and was going on about what was going to happen on Thursday.

Kevin and I were standing beside her bed in the dining room as she talked. Once I understood the gist of where she was going with her conversation I was horrified, but Kevin who was holding her hand nodding and agreeing, was clueless as to what she was actually alluding to.

She was telling us how excited she was that we were getting married on Thursday!!!

You would think it would have been OK with me for her to have had this thought, to have given her the lie of it. It sure was a lot better than the other hallucinations she had and it was making her feel so happy. Instead I was furious at Kevin for going along with her about it and wanted her to know it wasn’t true.

To help you understand and see that I really wasn’t an ogre (though I don’t know I even believe that myself looking back), my emotional state was something like this at the time: I had lived with her illness and imminent passing for 4 years by then. Though Kevin had made it known that marriage was on his mind, I couldn’t imagine making such a huge decision before she died. I felt like I had to find out who I was without her before I knew who I wanted to marry. Ultimately I left her with her happy ideas that day and lived with my uncomfortableness. She didn’t mention it after that day anyway as things progressed rather quickly.

About 6 months after she died, as the pain started to ease, I began to be able to see a future for myself apart from my mom. It was then that I knew that I truly wanted Kevin to be part of that future. We got engaged and were married a year after that…

So there’s the story. I told the kids a very abbreviated/ not quite so heart wrenching version and then added how I feel now. I told them this morning that “I am so grateful to have actually witnessed my mom so happy that I was marrying your dad. She only knew him for six months, but she thought he was wonderful.” and it’s true, I am so very grateful now for that excrutiating day, to have witnessed her knowing about the love of my life before I even knew.

I found these two pictures last week as I was going through a big box of photos I brought home from my Dad’s house. They are treasures from around the time my mom was a school nurse and I was in my early 20′s, single, and teaching art at the same school she worked at. We had the opportunity to go out on a tall ship replica that day.

This photo of mom with the rainbow is just how I picture her and how she embraced life. Looking at it makes me think of Thursday weddings and how downpours eventually end and rainbows suddenly appear.

Love you always and forever Mum!

~Lisa

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Being Grateful – even at the scariest times.

Written on October 4, 2012 by Lisa in Memories of Mom, Simply Living

“BGR8FUL” - I wonder how many people this license plate touches each day? Do you ever see a license plate number or name that totally speaks to you in the moment you are in? This one was just right for my moment today…

I was driving to my 19 week ultrasound appointment. Kevin was following me in his car so he could leave straight for work after the appointment was over. We were going to find out the sex of our 6th child. The thought of a possible girl was exciting and scary, but mostly I was thinking about the baby’s health.

At our 8 week ultrasound there were some issues, I got “the talk” from one of the high risk Dr.’s about chromosonal abnormalities and if I wanted further testing etc. I declined, knowing that we would accept this baby no matter what. So this ultrasound would give us a little more info. I wasn’t nervous as much as ready in one way or another for something big.

I was listening to my favorite radio station KLOVE. It is a listener supported national station and this week is their pledge drive. Just before turning the corner to head up to the hospital the DJ’s were talking about a man named Kevin who had turned his life over to God and one of the DJ’s said “Kevin is going to heaven”. This struck me because when my husband Kevin and I first started dating, I was so thankful for this quizzical guy in my life and would say in my head in a childish way (a way I would have been embarrassed to say to him) “Kevin from heaven”.

So my ears were perked. The DJ then listed off the names of people who had just pledged to their fundraising goals and they said “Lisa and Valerie” from such and such a state. Well my moms’ name was Valerie and to hear our names together again made her feel so close. I thought about what she would have to say to me today. A lot has gone on in my life in the 13 years since she left earth. I cried a bit and then noticed the license plate of the car in front of me.

It said: BGR8FUL

It was a direct message to me I couldn’t ignore and pledged in my heart that no matter what happened in the ultrasound, I would be grateful.

The ultrasound itself was about and hour long, we found out we were having another boy (WOW) and that their is a very good chance (as in 1 in 3) that he will have Down Syndrome.

We decided to take a blood test (it’s new and very non invasive) that is 99.4 percent accurate in telling us if he truly will have Down Syndrome or not. Like knowing if this baby was a girl or boy, I just wanted a little prep time for my spirit. In 2-14 days we will have our answer pretty much definitively.

Kevin and I talked for a few minutes in the parking garage afterward. I wanted to connect with him a little about this big possibility before he left to go to work. I told him that I wanted to be excited for this new little person no matter what and that I was so very thankful that the baby didn’t have any health issues that would put him in pain (though I hope we would deal with that possibility with faith too) and that I just wanted to love this little guy, get to know him as his own individual self apart from any diagnosis, delay, or differences.

I just want to love him, trust in the path of our lives and above all be GRATEFUL for all the amazing blessings God has given to us. Part of me feels like “Shouldn’t I be crushed?, Scared?, Feel like my life is over?” and that faith is just plain crazy in this circumstance.

The peace I feel in my heart tells me it’s right though. We knew each and every birth that this was a possibility. This baby IS a blessing not matter how different he may turn out to be, and it may just be those very differences that bless us and our other boys lives the most.

I cast aside the thoughts that I am being naive and instead am living in the moment. If we take it day by day, moment by moment, year by year, then there will be no time for fear to sets its’ soul destructing talons upon us.

Will update this with the test results when we find out. Either way I am grateful for life and this new life inside.

Love Love Love

~Lisa

P.S. If you know my dad please don’t mention this to him. I don’t want to worry him unnecessarily. We’ll know for sure in a couple of weeks and if it is definitive then we’ll tell him. So why am I telling you? Well I want you to know my thoughts before it’s all real. I feel like they are more full of faith this way in case our blessing does not have Downs Syndrome and a reminder of faith for me if he does…

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How my mom taught me Jesus’s love – in life and death

Written on July 10, 2012 by Lisa in Memories of Mom, Simply Living

My mom filled me up. Where I had doubts and insecurities and cracks in my soul, my mom was the caulking. When I came to her with fears she allayed them. She didn’t solve, but encouraged. Of anyone in the entire world I knew, my mom loved me the most fully and unconditionally. I knew that if life deemed me a failure, my mom wouldn’t. Let me say that one more time, If the whole world saw me as a failure, my mom wouldn’t. She saw me. She loved me.

What a gift.

When she got sick (with cancer) I took care of her and loved her. After four long, trying, ugly, and beautiful years, our separation as earthly beings came.

I painted her nails a few days before she died while she was unconscious in the hospital. They were chipped and needed to be done. It was something we always did together up on her bed, just enjoying time together. Those simple moments of doing our nails together while chatting were some of the most easy and comfortable of my life.

I can still see the exact shade of taupe I painted them and feel how her hands were becoming stiff as she began to journey on. The consolations of this world were becoming nothing…

When my mom was here I held tight to her and the love she gave me. It was unconditional and totally unique in my life. I didn’t think love like that could exist anywhere else.

I wrote a song soon after her death, trying to get out the feelings I had about her absence. The chorus went “and for me you were my anchor to the land“. With her gone, I felt adrift.

A year after her death I married my husband Kevin and then our children came along one by one. But that feeling of not quite having a handle on life, even though outwardly to most I looked great, persisted.

Seven years after my mom died we moved to Vermont. It was a ginormous leap for me, completely out of my element, away from a large extended family and friends.

But, God had me right where he wanted me. I finally was stripped down and ready to be re-made.

Kevin, the kids (2 boys at the time with one on the way) and I lived with my in laws for two years and depended on them as Kevin looked for permanent work and we saved for a house. I was humbled and searching for a new way of doing life, because I saw that my old way just wasn’t cutting it.

Bit by bit, without my pride, I began to rely on God.

And here I am today, getting past my nervousness of what you might think, of being uncool, pigeon holed, or just weak, to share how it helped me.

I remember thinking that belief in Jesus/God was a crutch, for weak people.

But the thing is attempting to control my life was an effort in futility, it caused anxiety, fear, anger when things didn’t go the way I wanted. The weight of the world was continually on my shoulders -even if that weight was just a day when a birthday party was planned and everything was not falling into place.

Handing over the reigns of my life was not easy. My pride got in the way, fear. But when I did, faith brought me peace and not being in charge became if not anything else, well exciting (as in what’s going to happen next?!). And when I am humble (that toilet that I just can’t seem to keep clean with our hard water and many sons, or have a bad day when I am less than I hope to be) there is more space for communion with others. When I am seen as imperfect, as hard as that can be sometimes, the fruit of it is being more available to others, or a simple reminder that being imperfect is ok.

In my weakness God makes me strong.

And after 13 years, I’ve found that love that my mom so decadently poured upon me during her life. It is humble and true, real and unconditional. I could give you all sorts of examples, but I will just say that God’s love and the love it brings out in me has become my anchor.

I can’t wait to see my mom again someday, it’s true. But I’m thankful to have found her love alive and well today and I’ll follow it wherever it might lead.

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The Best Kind of Bathroom Talk

Written on March 16, 2012 by Lisa in Memories of Mom

I was on the phone with one of my oldest friends the other day and she was talking about the interpersonal issues her 10 year old daughter deals with between girlfriends. It brought us back to all the baloney we pulled in our neighborhood between our crew of 3 and then later 4 girls of the same age. Someone was always on the outs.

I’ll just call my friend Pinky (for Pinky Tuscadero on Happy Days , she was always Pinky and I was Leather, Pinky’s friend). Anyway, Pinky in our friendship was always in control or so it seemed to me then. I remember many “bathroom talks” where I would complain to my mom about Pinky and our friendship.

Yes, my mom and I while I was growing up had our most important talks while she was on the potty with me sitting across from her on the edge of the tub. Her words of wisdom were worth so much to me that I hardly noticed the discomfort of sitting there, we had sliding doors on the tub so I basically sat on top of the metal groove that the doors slid on – OUCH.

On any given day, especially in summer, I would complain that Pinky did this or that to hurt my feelings. Honestly I can’t now remember what those things were. Pinky and I are still friends and I value our friendship as it has evolved more than ever. I do remember though that my mom never got into the fray of our arguments, always gave solid advice that helped me get over being hurt, and ALWAYS stuck up for Pinky. That part did kind of bug me at the time – I mean I was her daughter why stick up for her?

It is so easy to cast blame, to judge, to be defensive, or jealous -it’s human. But mom always looked at things from other peoples perspectives. She always cared about people whether they were rich, poor, popular, or unpopular. It is something that was so innate in her. She was a giver. I can’t say that it is ALWAYS innate in me but oh it is something I try hard to emulate!

That light, it shined bright in my mom, and in the bathroom that humble place, she taught me by example to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt, a lesson that continues to guide my soul.

I know from our talk the other day that Pinky appreciated it too and so do I. Love you mom!

~Lisa

P.S. My mom would totally snigger at the title of this post (she had a twinkle in her eye that lady!)

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Inner Light

Written on February 24, 2012 by Lisa in Memories of Mom, Painting, Simply Living

I made this painting about 18 years ago when I really needed sunshine. My mom had stage 4 cancer, I was in my early 20′s and confused about where my life was leading me, living on my own, very very introspective, and just plain old in need of some light to brighten my soul. It’s a pretty simple painting and fairly crude, but it did the trick.

The light I needed so desperately back then has found its way inside, so as part of my Lenten journey, I’m going to paint over it and trust whatever comes next.

Ouch. I better get painting before I lose my resolve.
Jesus you are more important that any painting or thing of this world…

edited 1 hour later to say:

So way better than doing it by myself, my 3 1/2 year old ~R asked if he could help. It is so in my nature to say ” No” for the usual reasons; the paint will drip on the floor, it’s mine, etc. Thank you good God for helping me say “Yes” instead. What a joy watching him. He had so much fun and kept saying how much he loved painting with mommy, and kept randomly saying “I love you mommy”‘.

Such a fitting way to say goodbye to this painting, by relinquishing instead of taking over.

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Focus on the Moment

Written on February 21, 2012 by Lisa in Memories of Mom, Simply Living

We had ~O’s Baptism this past weekend. It’s the first one my family (my Dad, brothers and their families) have missed. Life has gotten so busy, it’s winter and far for them to travel, three of our boys have birthdays in the next three months, ~K has his first communion in May, and well we just wanted to get it done. So due to circumstance we ended up scheduling it a week before and sneaking it in to an already full day. Aside from Kevin’s family, we also invited a few good friends from Vermont to attend. It was so nice to look out during the ceremony and see Kevin’s family and these dear friends standing there.

The photo above is the shortbread cookies I made for our coffee and dessert time after the ceremony. I pressed doves and crosses in to them. The doilies are from my Nonni. She made them when she was a girl growing up in Italy. I’m not sure they’ve ever been used before (Nonni was more of a put it away safely and save it for the future kind of person). She is my Dad’s mom and passed away at just shy of 91 about 6 years ago. I have a bunch of her beautiful crochet work in a box in my closet. I’m so glad I decided to take a few out. It really made it feel and look special. Using them would be something my mom would have done (she was an appreciate it today instead of save it for tomorrow sort of person) so in a way it brought memories of both sides of my family to this special day.

~O did a great job. He was so smiley during the ceremony, even when the water was poured on his head, not a tear. All the boys stood up on the altar with us and the god parents (Kevin’s parents). ~R our 3 1/2 year old was in quite a mood and did his firm best to bring it all down to a wrestling brawl, but we managed to mostly ignore him and focus on the moment.

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Taking it apart: a few minutes in the studio

Written on October 22, 2011 by Lisa in Memories of Mom, Painting, Simply Living

Up early this morning. With baby neatly tucked next to Kevin in bed I was able to sneak into my studio.

I went down the basement and brought up an old painting I had made in college, it got damaged in our sometimes wet cellar and I thought I would paint over it. After taking a look at it though, I found it in too bad shape for mere painting over. New plan: take it off the frame and buy a bit of canvas to re-wrap the stretchers. It is a nude painting. The woman was plump and round and I remember when I brought it home from school during summer break my mom thought it looked like her. She got a kick out of it, she had a nude painting of herself that she didn’t actually have to drop a stitch of clothing for.

I am always battling that urge to keep “things”/ memories in tangible forms. The painting was in the basement where it wasn’t being looked at anyway. My mom, though not on this earth anymore is truly such a part of me that I don’t even have to conjure up memories to be close to her; I hear her in my voice, she echos in me when I laugh. So I took the painting off the stretcher staple by staple and then cut it up, deciding at different stages of destruction what parts I might keep.

In the end I have only a small part, the rest is going out to the trash. I may just strip even that part down to bookmarks for the boys (or pausers as they like to call them).

I like to repurpose, sell, or give away, my “things”. I find it cathartic this push against my desire to store up “treasures” in objects of this earth. It is refreshing to be left with that blank canvas I get to paint something new on.

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Ok, the baby is calling… So nice to finally post here again though.

~Lisa

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Just USE it…

Written on November 18, 2010 by Lisa in Memories of Mom, Simply Living

One of my mom’s Willow Ware tea cups broke today. My dad gave them to me after my mom died. I used to have them up on the top of our cabinets as decoration, but took them down about a year ago and decided to start using them.

So today, my youngest two boys were drinking warm maple milk from them. It was a sweet moment, we were relaxing after lots of yard work and mud playing. My youngest -R pushed -C off the bench and down went -C’s tea cup full of sweet goodness onto our unforgiving kitchen tile. I immediately started crying, I’ve been fairly close to my emotions lately and well even though I knew it was a possibility that in using them one of the cups could break, the fact that it did in that quiet moment kind of undid me. I let the tears flow, reprimanded -R for pushing his brother and proceeded to clean up the spill and shards.

After getting myself together a bit I explained to -C who was also sad that the cup broke (the boys all love drinking from them), that Nanna would have been happy that he was enjoying using them, she would have been ok with it breaking, to her it was better to use it and eek every bit of enjoyment out of it and possibly break it, then to never use it at all.

It was kind of a thing with us, Mom and I that is, the USING of things. My Nonni, my dad’s mom, had her kitchen table protected with 7 or 8 table cloths at all times, she had boxes of china from her wedding never used that I now have in boxes in my basement, Nonni saved everything for the future. I remember taking the protective covers off of her living room couch, about 6 months before she died, she had been admitted to a nursing home and my brothers and I were cleaning out her house. The fabric hadn’t worn, but the cushion inside had totally disintegrated underneath. It struck me that she had never truly appreciated the couch and it got destroyed anyway.

My mom and I observed this way Nonni lived her life and were in agreement that things were meant to be used.

I loved the cup, but I loved it more for the happy memories my boys would have of drinking warm maple milk, tea, or hot chocolate out of it, rather than seeing it up on a shelf as a pretty decoration.

I have a bathroom mirror that really needs refurbishing, I’ve been thinking a mosaic would be just right for it. That tea cup will live on for sure and continue being used, and yes we’ll still be drinking out of and enjoying the others.

~Lisa

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Since when is a chickens’ derriere cute?

Written on November 6, 2010 by Lisa in Farm Life, Memories of Mom

Derriere, hee hee that’s such a word my mom used to use. She’d say “Lisa get your derriere over here!” when I had done something I wasn’t supposed to.

Anyway, here are our laying hens a.k.a. “the girls” raiding the remnants of my flower garden today. Luckily no sternly spoken French words for them, they are allowed to have the run of the garden once the flowers have passed

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Any Dream Will Do

Written on October 30, 2010 by Lisa in Memories of Mom, Simply Living

View of the mountains while out on a walk with two of my boys a couple of days ago.

I took my parents to see Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat when I was about 26. It was the Donnie Osmond version. I lived a “T” ride away. I was so proud of myself for buying us the tickets. I didn’t really have a lot of money, was living by myself in a one bedroom, fabulous, yet cheaply priced apartment, teaching art to 7 & 8^th graders during the day and working odd jobs at night.

My mom was 2 years into her treatment for a well spread cancer that had metastisized to her bones. I worried a little that she might be uncomfortable sitting for the 3 hours for the show. I don’t think I had been on the “T” with my parents since I was a little kid, though we didn’t live far from it. We just never went into Boston together. Personally I was in and out of Boston on the ”T” all the time to read poetry at clubs or coffee shops, but riding in with them was a thrill.

The show was amazing -we all loved it, my dad cried.

The most recognized song from Joseph, Any Dream Will Do, has ebbed into my consciousness lately. It burns at me when I talk to people about my current life, this farming (at least to me), family raising, back to basics sort of life. Whenever I talk to people about our 4 boys and they ask if we will have more, I always say “Kevin would have 10″ or something to that effect, though I never thought I would have as many as 4 kids and never would I have imagined all boys! If I talk about our house, land, gardens, and chickens to someone, I say “It’s always been Kevin’s dream to farm”. I grew up watching the planes land and take off across the ocean from Logan Airport and always thought I would never leave the ocean, or a metropolitan area.

I often wonder as I am saying these things about our life, what people think. Do they think I have no backbone, that I’ll just do anything Kevin says? But, I LOVE our life, though I would have never dreamed it for myself.

I had a friend in college who wanted to be a biologist. Had a huge passion for it and eventually became a biologist. I remember being so jealous of her not at all for being a biologist, but for KNOWING. The knowing is such a gift. Then sure there is hard work behind that, but it just isn’t as hard when you feel certain about something.

I have never had that kind of certainty. My certainty comes in bits and pieces, like starting Elemental Memories, working full on at it for four and a half years, and just as certainly knowing when it is time for it to end.

I have learned and life has shown me, through the death of my mom at just 55, and many other smaller ways, that control over my future is relative, that I can have a plan, but a plan does not a future make.

I have found true grace in times when I don’t have a plan, when I feel the unknown of the future and yet still take steps forward, seemingly in the dark. I have seen how beauty, excitement and contentment can be found in places that I wouldn’t even think of.

I am witness to the truth, wrapped in a catchy melody and sung perfectly by Donny Osmond, that sometimes, any dream will do.

~Lisa

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