Bidding Farewell and Greeting

Waving a hand as I bid farewell. A sort of smearing, blurring, or holding on to one last glimmer of the present, a grasping but farewell nonetheless. This is how I leave this year and enter into the next.

There are always lessons to learn and often regrets to go along with them. Just as a barge moves slowly up the Willamette River, I have made my way against currents, and weathered well (in my assessment). I wept for the brokenness within and around me. I laughed full belly at the sweet pleasure of my quirks and the lack of my gingerly care. The lonely birds lasted only for the chill and have already left for higher branches (for this I am quite thankful).

Old characters that matter to my story remain and new ones have found a welcomed place within many different spaces and events. Spring, Summer, and Autumn fit their seasonal roles to a tee. Winter of the present year I bid farewell with an open waving-hand, and I welcome the New Year Winter with both arms wide for a full embrace. I have a lot to still process and awaken when hibernation has passed.

I am saying good-bye to this year with anticipation of a bountiful hello from the next. Time will tell, as it always does. There are characters (new and old) that have impacted me greatly this past year. Adam Sjoberg, Andrew Bradford, Austin Park, Austyn Lewis, Bryn Hobson, Cody Ramaekers, Jared Fujishin, Jedidiah Jenkins, Jeff Neckers, Joe Swanson, Josh Chartier, Kevin Carolan, Marc Dexel, Mike Fitzgerald, Nathaniel Colbert, Omar Spence, Orion Pahl, Scott Weir, Shawn Pedro Diez, Tom Dexel, William Cook, and Will Witt you are some of the people who have made a difference in my life this year. I will take the lessons I have learned and strive to be whom God intends me to be.

Farewell to yesterday and greeting tomorrow. May I know myself better and live my life more sacrificial in the year to come.

Nature Reveals The Heart

Watching drops suspended from branches reminded me of a poem my wife wrote about back in college. It comes to mind whenever I strive to shoo away the lonely birds that perch upon my shoulders in seasons like this. I find myself thirsty, longing to be quenched, wondering, waiting, and praying.

"Water water everywhere, 

not a drop to drink."

Solstice to Solstice (1.13) :: DARK

The light is so much more inviting when it is dark outside.

1980 :: A Christmas Story

I was seven years old when I made this ornament for my mother. I remember being so excited to wear the hawaiian shirt for my school picture because my parents had surprised my two brothers, sister, and I with a trip to Hawaii that previous summer. It was an amazing vacation. I remember a three legged frog by the hotel pool, and steering the golf cart while my dad played golf. life was sweet. Weeks before we went to Hawaii my Grandma Stowell had a heart attack and died at sixty-five. I remember thinking I would make sure to give all the girls in my class the same amount of heart candies next Valentine's Day, so that none of them would have a heart attack from too much heart. I really loved my Grandma Stowell. Missing her made our time in Hawaii seem magical and really special. I think we all understood there was an unspoken rule to get along, because my mom really needed a vacation.
Christmas of 1980 is one of the fondest memories I have of childhood. Every Christmas Eve my family would get all dressed up and go to this fancy restaurant in the gated neighborhood where I grew up and eat a five star, gourmet meal. I always got the filet mignon, garlic/horseradish string beans, and mashed potatoes, with a wild mushroom gravy. It will always be my favorite (even though I cannot remember the last time I have had it). After dinner we would return home and open our Christmas Eve gift (which was always new pajamas), and then it was off to bed for all of the children. My brothers and I shared a bedroom growing up. In 1980 my brother Scott was twelve, Marc was nine, and I was seven. My brothers had come up with a grand scheme to find out what we got for Christmas before we opened our gifts on Christmas morning. They had planned to execute the plan without me but realized they had to bring me into it because we shared a room and they knew I would have squealed had they not included me. I am the youngest and I used what I had to keep in the loop and to be included. So, we waited until well past midnight (I was barely awake), army crawled to the Christmas tree, and carefully made multiple trips back and forth from the tree to our bedroom with all the gifts. We proceeded to unwrap all of the gifts carefully, and look inside. After viewing the gifts with great joy, we rewrapped them and placed the tags back on the correct gifts (to the best of our memory). Our plan went off without a hitch. It was amazing. I swear to this day I only laughed in my hands once, and It was Marc's fault for passing gas loud. The next morning we gathered around  and began opening our gifts. All was going well and we acted quite surprised and approving of each gift. We thought we were in the clear until my dad opened a very interesting gift. The tag said, "to: Tom, from: Santa," but the contents were clearly for a ten year old girl to wear. It only got worse from there. My brothers and I thought it was so funny. My parents tried to be upset, but they had trouble holding back their chuckles while trying to sound disappointed. My sister was confused most of the morning, because she wondered how it all got so messed up. My brother Marc always told the story much bigger and better than I remember but it is still one of my fondest childhood memories, and a Christmas story to share. Merry Christmas!

Winter Solstice Observed :: In Walked Winter

In walked winter

shimmering stones 

woven within lace

dazzling lights dance

against shivering grey

In walked winter

invited by Autumn

 tree branches blush

leaves tumble aloft

naked bark stands bare

In walked winter

day light lingers

sand and sea kiss

no one interrupts

intimate being alone

In walked winter

one word warms

hand extended out

invitation to embrace

Spring will wait

Today winter begins and the light of day last a little longer. Winter is a season of letting old lie and waiting for new to come. It is not always easy to wait for the days to warm and the night chill to subside, but Spring will arrive in it's due time. Today it is winter and we are in this season for a reason, so let us live fully in this day. I like to think of winter as a season where all things lay bare. It is not easy to be vulnerable and completely authentic, but it is good to find the trusted hands extended and accept the invitation to embrace. In peace or adversity I welcome you.

"If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome." -Anne Bradstreet

REMIX: linger in whispers and lullabies

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 8, 2009

"linger in whispers and lullabies...

sometimes i think back to where i have been, the people i have met, the events that have shaped me. it is strange how tragedy can shout so loud, yet the sweetest, most lasting events linger in whispers and lullabies. in a world that screams hurt, hate, and hopelessness, i have found comfort, compassion, and comrades. this week has been mixed with memories of pain but in the mix there have been these nectar-kisses from life. i laughed after crying from the reality of my friends terminal illness drawing his life to a close because my youngest described the color of her strawberry and lettuce barf while driving home from ballet class. "pink, but with lettuce. are you okay with me talking about it, dad?" i laughed. i am learning so much about the frail beauty of each moment and the temporal sting of death. my friend is hopeful for heaven. he is excited to get there, but more excited for the day when his wife, daughter, and all his friends will join him. i am learning about pain. it is really good to feel. i often feel like my senses are on overload as i take in life with every new experience. i really love talking with my friend about hope. he speaks with his eyes. his glasses connect to a laser that tells a screen what he is saying and then it speaks to me. some would be frustrated by the lulls in communication or the limitation, but he is thankful to be able to still communicate. i am just blessed to sit for a spell and enjoy the warm autumn sun with a friend. we actually laugh a lot together. he told me he envied me. i am still processing that, but one thing that has been happening as a result of my time with him on tuesdays is that i am smiling more. i cry in the shower almost everyday. i cannot tell if it is the sensation of water pouring over me or the safety of curtain drawn. no matter, i am feeling fully. my friend can sip water with help of another. i asked if it hurts. he told me it is more refreshing now than it ever was before. i took a sip of water and as i swallowed i felt it flow down and quench my body. my soul is being quenched in each moment. alive i am thirsty. i drink up humanity. feeble, frail, strong, and sturdy. refreshed by lingering whispers and lullabies. creating new ones."

I wrote the above entry over 2 years ago and my dear friend continue to battle ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis "Lou Gehrig's disease"). We have become even closer as the years go by. His daughter just turned eighteen and is graduating form high school in June. Big events lie ahead, but there will always be big events ahead. Today was a "big event" for Mike and I. Simply time together is a big event. He is less able to use his eyes to speak, but we manage to sit together and still laugh, cry, talk of time passing, and the important things in life. He has asked me to officiate his memorial service. I am honored and feel overwhelmed with the thought. We really do not know how long we have to live. He thought he would have gone home by now, but he remains. We sat laughing about mixed up letters and what some of his words might translate to in other languages. He has a brilliant smile and a lot of spark in his eyes. We always end our conversations talking about family. It is so important to him. I do not fully know how to experience life with my extended family at this point. How do you say, "I love you the same way I did when I use to cry for us to get along, but I want to be loved back, because I need to know I am wanted" without letting my whole heart be revealed and tenderized by the reality mallet that has so often harmed me?" Mike didn't have a clear answer, he just smiled and invited my whole family over for a visit. I am really going to miss him when he is gone. I smile less these days, but I still cry in the shower everyday. It is not that life has become more tragic, but rather I am saddened by what it has become in regards to family. Mike reminds me of how precious life is and how valuable each day is. I just wish there was a way for my family to see my heart without me losing my life. I lost my life once and it took a lot of healing to live again. Mike reminds me that the most lasting events linger in whispers and lullabies. I need to remember all that Mike reminds me of in all that life offers. A lot of people are surprised when they hear that I am still spending time with Mike. He is still alive and I am grateful for one more visit.

a picture says a million words...

she has always had the best faces. when she made this one and i realized i had caught it with my camera, i had to simply share it. there is plenty to be said, but i want to let you make up the story and decide what you think motivated such an expression.

oh, my sweet youngest daughter, how she holds me dear.