Why I blog

I have been asked before why I blog, but the answer was never as clear as what I heard in a class on Job today; "Sometimes we just need to speak and for just one other person to hear."  That is why I blog, to put my small, lone voice out there, hoping that one other person will hear me.  Maybe we will grow closer, maybe we will understand each other better.  Maybe I won't feel so filled to overfull of whatever I am blogging about?
We all need to reach out to one another- I just choose to do mine through blogging sometimes.  I am sharing who I am, my life, my problems, my joys.  You don't need to fix them, comment on them, or even read them.   But, if you do, and you have wondered why I write so much "Stuff", this is why- I long to pluck the string that ties humanity together to hear the music of bond.  

the dream of a garden memorial

I dreamt that I walked in soft green grass,
the whisper of wind in the trees.
The flowers all nodded their sweet hello
as they welcomed the buzzing of bees.

I dreamt of a tree whose leaves unfurled
and gathered my sorrow within
And took it from me and gave me instead
peace and innocent comfort again.

The sun touched my hair in gentle warmth
while the breeze brushed my cheek so soft
Now lightened inside, my heart once more whole
No more burdened by such grief and loss.

I stood and I turned to leave that place
with its sweet peace and timeless lore
Understanding again, she is not here
I will see her in heaven once more.



~ A true dream, written the morning after the death of fellow Luther Seminary Classmate and DL Cohort 4 member, Rebeccah Whitlock  September 11, 2014.  

A thing learned... a joy, a sorrow

Time moves on- a restless, ever moving, ever changing, never changing entity, one we cannot ignore or hide from.

"From that one experience, a finger touching a flame, a person learns countless things."
~ A New Culture of Learning

It has been a joy to share my blog in a new way.  I did not start this blog for a large following.  It was a way to share my stories with my friends- not the world or even my classmates.  It continued as a way for my family and curious minds to see what happens in my life as a seminarian, mom, Army wife and plain old nomad.  Now, I share it with my classmates for my Ed II class that is about media in the parish.

One would think that closing each class is a joy... and it is to a degree.  But it also brings to an end a special relationship built, sometimes with one or two, more often, with 5 or 10 others who get to know each other in a whole new way.  I am grateful for our social media, for our internet and the blessing of online learning.  I am honored to read my classmates blogs and long after this class is done, I will be keeping them on my rss, wondering how they are and in an instant I will know.

Who would have thought how amazing the internet could be at helping us build relationships with someone we never met and may never share a cup of coffee with?  Not me, but boy oh boy, am I glad.

Ps.. here is a link to an old blog post about ends and goodbyes: should old acquaintance be forgot

Quote from A New Culture of Learning, SeelyBrown & Thomas, 2011.

Sometimes They Say Things That Hurt and M.E.

Today Madelleine L'Engle (M.E.) writes about being new and yet staying the same.  She loves Bach and finds a newness in his music even when she thinks she knows it already.  There is something to be said for this concept in relationships too.  When we think we know someone we can fall into traps of stale murkiness.  In fact, when we think we know our own life the same can happen.  We think we know who we are or what we are called to do and that is that.  But, if there is one thing I have learned in seminary, it is that discernment is a forever kind of thing.

It goes to show then, that we need to keep our minds and hearts open.  Even more, we need to keep people in our lives who keep us on our toes.  A life full of comfy cozy people is not the best for making us get up and get busy living the way we need to be.  We need people who challenge us, call us on our crap and love us enough (or sometimes dislike us enough) to be brutally honest with us and say things that hurt.

The other day I vented some frustration and pain to a collared friend.  Suddenly I said, "So there it is.  I am done now.  What do you think?"  In all his wisdom and truth he said, "I don't think you are.  What else?"  At which point I burst into tears.  I had, of course, known I was close to crying (which I hate to do) and tried to avoid it by ending my vent and turning it around to him and his thoughts.  He knew enough to call me on it and force me to try.  The funny thing is, we are new friends.  Kind of a big-brother mentoring thing.  We walk and talk through the struggles aligned with military chaplaincy and seminary.  But he already gets it, his role.  The one of brutal and up front honesty.

I have been blessed with a few of those in my life.  One is long gone now.  Lost to suicide.  Her gentle nature was not lost in the force of nature that I tend to be.  Instead, it was an opposites attract kind of thing.  Still, her words of truth and love live on.  If anything, the gentleness is all the more powerful than every because she is gone.  I never thought I would say this, but she is still teaching me, even by her own death... and it hurts.

I have a couple of others still.  They are in my life to varying degrees.  One, if I need her, and occasionally she pops up with a word of wisdom on fb too.  Our shared birthdays gave us a day once to get to know each other far better and yet, I really didn't need to know her better.  She was already being steel sharpening steel.  What I was seeing on the outside was what I saw more of.  She was just her, being her.  No apologies necessary. What a powerful lesson all on its own, but man did it hurt to look in the mirror some days.

My sun worshiping one is not in my life as much as I like, but she is doing some good things for her soul and that makes it okay with me.  It isn't about my needing her or her needing me.  Instead we teach each other constantly kind of like a sparring match.  I love it.  It invigorates me and some days makes me cry when I realize how little I really know. Because of that I would not trade her for the world.

Then there is this one who is almost daily in my life and we go through cozy days.  Then suddenly, like a freak summer thunderstorm, her words of wisdom and strength pile in and force my attention.  I love thunderstorms.  They are a little scary when you really think about them. They are all the same yet very individual.  They are full of surprises and energy and power beyond our imagination.  Beyond beautiful, they are awesomely cool.

But each of these lovely people say and do things that hurt.  Not to be mean. Not to vent their own needs.  But because that is what they are supposed to do.  Be real. Be honest. Be loving.  It is in those moments that I thought I knew my own life that they surprise me by being the most fantastic mirror and showing me more of who I am than I could find alone.

I think when we wonder where God is in our lives, we need to stop, be quiet, and listen to the voices already around us.  They may very well be God right in our living room turning fashion magazines and drinking tea, or on skype with coffee talking about new eye makeup, or baking up a storm for the unit bake sale and corralling kiddos.   They may seem to be the most mundane, ordinary, unsurprising part of our lives. Until they aren't.  But don't be angry when they say things that hurt.  Instead, love them and honor them enough to hear their words and ponder them... you might be pondering the words of God in your heart.  

How I met Lance

So I am at this fundraiser for our youth group in Germany. We are hosting a Mexican dinner and it is near the end and we are done serving so we all sit down to eat and watch the slides from the last trip (to Spain). I am 16 and with all my friends...and I see this guy sitting all alone at the end of the long table. So, being the outgoing person that I am who needs to make others feel connected... I scooch down the table and invite him to join my friends and I.

Turns out he almost didn't come to the dinner. He bought tickets at the PX(like a walmart on Army posts)and then his friends blew it off. Well he decided to come after all.

He stayed and helped us clean up and then afterward we stood outside looking at the stars while i waited for my ride. We talked about his hometown in Michigan and I knew I was in love with him that night. There was no doubt.

I invited him to join me at church the next day... and he did. I was so glad! After service we would walk across the street to the burger bar and sit and talk for hours. That is what our courtship consisted of. He became my best friend first. I didn't think I stood a chance with him so I never told him I loved him. Then I went out with another guy and the look on Lances face told me I had a shot! I dumped that other guy soooo fast.

So Lance was a new soldier at his first duty station and home sick. We would sit outside the main gate waiting for the bus and talk about home- our home that we would have someday. He told me he loved me and we talked about our future together and he had not even french kissed me! Talk about respect!

The first time we went on a real date we walked downtown with my friend and her boyfriend (also a soldier) to get spaghetti eis ( a German ice cream that looks like spaghetti). While there he held my hand for the first time. I also tried to show off my vocabulary. He made some comment about something that was obvious and I said, " my aren't we astute?" He dropped my hand and stopped walking and asked, incredulous, " I'm a what???" We still laugh to this day! So much for showing off and impressing him- he thought I was calling him names!

Next blog will be about how we lost each other and found each other again- titled My Life: Lost and Found

Why so many Christmas Cards?

My beloved looked at me like I had turned into a hoarder. 

I have over 400 blank cards ready to be addressed and sent this year as soon as the Calendar says November 20.

I know there must be shock on your faces too.  But my Christmas cards serve as far more than a holiday greeting and newsletter.  They let people know where we are.  They keep us in contact with previous co-workers, church congregations, sports team members, landlords, you name it.

Mind you, I don't do it for anyone and everyone. But there are those in our life that we do not want to lose the wispy connection that remains as time goes on.   We never know when we may return to an area.  We never know when they may want to come visit!

This is my facebook/myspace/twitter alternative that reaches everyone- because not everyone we love has a fb account either.

Then there is something to be said about the joy of getting a hand addressed piece of mail... it is a warm, comforting feeling.  No label- just a hand that once shook or held yours that took the time to WRITE your name and address and let you know they are thinking of you.

So I do not always send that many- but I rarely have a list smaller than 150.   This year, with a cross country move and a failure to send to everyone for 3 years now, I have a duty to send to everyone.   It is my biggest priority. I didn't send change of address out so I really have no choice .... besides, I like getting them too!

Amid the boxes and packing paper

Lately it seems my blogs have ended up in my seminary blog, but today, this is just about me and my life.  Not about how it works with seminary.  Today, it is about the fact I sit in this house, as it is almost empty of our things; things that made it our home.  I look around me at all the space- which by the way, feels really good in a whirlwind of busy-ness- and I think of all the room that was made in my heart for my friends here.
We were blessed with a great little congregation.  Not that there have not been times I wanted to rip my hair out over frustration with them, but just like marriage, I believe a congregation chooses you, not the other way around and you stay; a commitment.

Our house is not the only empty place we will leave.  By sheer volume of Kelly bodies alone, we will leave an entire pew empty in our quaint little sanctuary.  And we worry.  Will someone sit and lead other parents and adults in study on Sunday mornings now?  Will the archiving of church photos be completed?  How will the youth groups fare when losing a large number like this?  Not that my family is the be-all end-all for this congregation, but we are a small one and we are not the only ones leaving.  One of the members is leaving to live in warmer weather, another has gone home to await us all.  Many empty spots will appear over this month and ours will be among them.

I look at my boxes, labeled with things we own and often think, they are just things, they are not what matters.  Yet it is the moment I unpack those things that I think of the ones I love and memories we have made along the way.  The Austrian cowbell from friends who took thier parents all over the continent when we all lived in Germany.  The crystal returned just days ago from co-hosting a fancy fundraiser dinner that will now make me think of her as I put it away in my new home.  The vintage map of the Hudson Valley that will be framed and hung to make me think of my dear clothing designer friend, who loves all things vintage.  There will be beach passes to empty from my wallet to make me remember a summer spent learning to walk on an injured ankle down to a hidden cove where we sat, sunned and swam with local friends and read trash and fluff all summer.  And little things will stay on for a while- probably like my A&P and Shoprite store cards on my keychain- that will be months before I remember to take them off- but see them every time I put a new one on for L.A. groceries and pharmacies.

What is always hardest is realizing that like the forwarded mail, the daily thoughts will become fewer, less noticeable.  I will make new friends to add to my growing list of blessings along the way.  I will find new haunts for coffee and new local spots for swimming and hanging out.  I will not forget NY, nor the friends made here- the family of choice that comes with Army life.  I will treasure them and when I pick up these things to pack them again, to leave L.A., I will think the same things again.  So they are not just things.  They are reminders, they reveal in a way the memories that get forgotten in daily life.  They will keep my friends close in my heart, even long years from now when we may have lost touch.

 For now though, I wrap them up with care, I label them and I move on to the next item.  Because if I don't, it isn't about not being ready in time, it is about not being able to function.  I have to set them in those boxes and move on.  I have to say farewell and start again, just like I did in Savannah, in New Jersey, in Wisconsin, in California, in Germany, in Colorado, in Florida, in Tennessee, in Kentucky, in Virginia, in Michigan, and now, New York.  

25 things, for my friend Fran and becuase of her. (from Jan 26, 2009)

Edit

25 Things, for my friend Fran and because of her

by Julie Kelly on Monday, January 26, 2009 at 10:26am

1. If I could change one thing about my life, it would be to live as a missionary with basically nothing. Simple is good.

2. If I could take back one thing in my life it would be that I never sang to my Great Aunt as I sat beside here during her end stages of cancer. Like the little drummer boy who had no gift to bring, I wanted so badly to give the only gift I could give, a song. Yet I sat, mute and afraid. I did not open my heart in song for her until it was too late, at her graveside in the pouring, icy, October rain.

3. I have 5 brothers and 3 sisters. Mike, age 40, Wayne, age 38, Rick age 33, Anne, age 33, Lisa, age 33, Rich, age 31, Irene, age 30, and Josh age 24. We are a mix of his, hers and ours. In one family I am the oldest child and in the other I am the middle. No wonder I am messed up!

4. I have moved 39 times in my 35 years of life. 'Nuf said.

5. When I turned 9 I refused to admit it. I declared that I could not turn another year older as I had not done anything with my life yet to change the world. I thought keeping my old age of 8 would give me more time to fix my horrendous mistake and a chance to do something to make the world a better place.

6. Most people say I am confidant, but I am scared stiff and unsure of myself 90% of the time.

7. If I could take any vacation right now I would take all my girlfriends to a lonely beach with a huge hacienda and tons of good fresh food and yummy wine. We would spend the week eating, talking and working on our skin cancer risk. No men allowed.

8. I am quite nervous about the idea of Lance retiring and us not being so involved in the Army anymore- it is all I know!

9. I don't have too many interesting things to share because you all know what there is to know already. I try to live transparently- that is why so many people don't know how to take me; they figure there is something else behind it all... but there isn't.

10. My best writing happens at night when I cannot sleep. I type in a stream of conscious style (thanks Pat Sperry!) until my brain is empty.

11. I have never taken any classes on how to use a computer but I think I am allowed to call myself a mini geek. (what do you say Jason?)

12. I first kissed a boy in 2nd grade... but I kissed my first boyfriend in 7th grade.. Shane Nesmith in Clarksville TN.

13. I learned the facts of life at age 9 from the book "Where did I come from?" (great book to teach kids this stuff!)

14. I fell in love with Lance at first sight but thought I would never have a shot with him- until I started dating Tony Campbell (Fulda) and told Lance after church one Sunday and the look on his face said it all. I have never broken up with someone so fast in my life! Sorry Tony buy true love was waiting!

15. I found out I would never grow any taller when I was 15 and skied over my thumb (yes I am talented like that- that will be number 16 here) and had to have an x-ray. I have pretty much worn high heels ever since... not wanting to admit I am short for life. (5'4")

16. I have skied over my thumb (youth group ski trip from Fulda to Zugspitz). It is hard to describe- if you realllllly need to know how I achieved it hit me up for a real message.

17. I used to have to wear glasses- but at 16 I got hit in the head with a locker and ended up in the hospital for a week with a concussion. I missed out on the volleyball season and I still have the card my whole Jr. class made me. I could not see any writing for around a month without vomiting and somewhere around 6 weeks it cleared and voila- I had better than 20/20! Now I wear reading glasses due to age.

18. I have had 6 operations in my life. All for different things. Let me tell you- having a varicose vein removed realllllllyyyyyy hurts. Do NOT go Black Friday shopping only a week afterward!

19. My favorite color used to be green growing up. Now I would have to say it is tangerine orange. I am not sure what that says about me.

20. When I need to reset mentally I picture myself standing on a hill, standing between fresh white sheets hung on a line, as they blow in the stiff breeze. The sky is sunny but I cannot see the sun- I am simply caressed by the white and sheets.

21. When I had my first surgery I remember thinking how nice the "nothingness" was. I heard a voice saying "Julie, breath or I will have to put your tube back in" several times- but I really didn't care. I did not "know" I had a loving husband, 60 day old twins and 2 other lovely children waiting for me to come back to them. That scared me stiff. To this day I am affected by it- grasping life for all it is worth.

22. I HATE painkillers. They don't get rid of the pain, they just make me not care- and I HATE not caring or losing control- I am a control freak!

23. My favorite book in the Bible is Ruth. The story of friendship, devotion, love and the power of chosen family is so inspiring to me.

24. I am named after my Great Aunt Julie whose real name was Violet Jewell Torricellas. She died when she was verrrrry young of a massive heart attack. She also had twin boys. I kind of freak out her living siblings every so often when they see me as an adult because I remind them of her very much.

25. I love to make tortillas and I hear that mine are pretty darned good. (especially my flour ones with oregano in them.)

facebook gave me roots

We hear it all the time, "facebook ruined my marriage, my friendship, got me fired...".

Well apart from the fact that a computer program cannot do those things, I am here to say that facebook has done something really good, really true, of value, of moment, in my life.

I am a Brat.  yup... proud to say it.  Military, Army to be specific, Brat.  It is what I know.  It is what I do now, I am a BratBride.  I traded one ID card for another.  I had a civilian life once, many years ago, before my parents remarried and I was given a prefix to my sponsors ID#.

To be fair, that first life was when I was young, by the time I was 12 I was a Brat.  But the moving started much earlier.  I love my parents, let me just say that.  I am not trying to be unfair or mean, but the fact is, in general, every time my parents split up or got back together we moved.  So we could argue my training for Army life began early. Add to that, my father is a GOOD solid German Norwegian.  In good Scandinavian style, "we" don't speak about family, it might be gossip.  But that rule also stopped me from learning about my heritage. I lost an invaluable treasure trove of stories about who I am and who I come from.  I know what I learned from my mom's side and can only IMAGINE what I would feel if I had been able to connect to my fathers family in the same way.  I didn't even know what I had lost until I lived in Wisconsin.  There the women of my church and quilting group taught me old family recipes.  They shared thier stories of thier families in that odd womanly way that doesn't qualify as gossip somehow.

Let me back up though.  I have always felt like I had no roots, no home.  Once told that there is no way anyone doesn't have a place they truly call home, they said emphasized by asking where I want to be buried.  In all honesty, with a straight face, I answered, " Dig a hole beside my body and role me in."  I was and still am serious.  I have no place I call home.  None.  In face, I have few places I can go where anyone would recognize me if I showed up today.  My life is that ephemeral. Thus, I have no roots.
That is, I didn't.  Until facebook appeared.

Somehow, the roots to my high school- that no longer exists (due to BRAC, Base Realignment and Closure started in the 80's) were found through this neverland of the world wide web.  There have been reunions, there are groups, there are close friends reconnecting and recalling the fun.  Even the icky stuff too- but all of that is required to have roots.  You know, it takes poop to make good plants grow deep roots too.

 I have found many a dear friend on here.  Some, we find, we read up on each other and we then settle into a non-interactive connection again.  Others, who may not have been my closest confidants, are now quickly becoming the ones to whom I go for support, connection, encouragement and truth.  I know the rules.  I don't do that with the guys.  I have a loving hubby and I am not willing to risk that.  But that doesn't mean I won't add a guy to my friends list.  They are a root too.  Maybe one of those tiny ones, but they count.  They are a part of my past, a part of my now and will be a part of my future, even without facebook.

I have connected with cousins.  I have been shown pictures I did not know existed of me as a young girl.  I have found distant relatives through my grandfathers cousins!  I am finally, creating my own "web" of roots- and facebook is to credit, not to blame.  It has been a blessing in my life.  It has connected me with my college pals in Kansas and Minnesota.  It allows me to participate in Bible study groups.  It has let me learn who my husband is and has given me a key to that treasure trove of stories in my father's family, so that now I may share this with my children. I finally feel almost confidant enough to reach out to family in Minnesota to ask if I may come visit, to see family history in person, to see faces that look like mine, hair of flax that looks like my children's.
Yup... for once, facebook has done as good as an inanimate object may.  This Brat has finally found some roots, in spite of my lifestyle.  Thank goodness for this marriage wrecking, job losing, friend turned enemy making site.

It will come... sooner or later.

Today is a different day. That doesn't mean that things are different though. Yesterday a friend was laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery.

Try as I might, I cannot cut short the sadness over the loss of his life in this world. I could not travel the 6 hours each way to honor his life there with others. I chose instead to take a break from moving and see Long Island beaches for the first time. I spent the hour of his interment watching my children jump into the ocean. And the waves crashed over and over again like a heart beat, reminding me of his now gone.

Am I a crappy human for wanting to forget? It was as though my heart said, if I cannot be there to truly grieve with others then I will simply not grieve.

Unfortunately, although I was able to defer pain, I could not cut it off. It remains. I woke this morning with a lump in my throat and a deep need to cry before I even knew why.
It's done. He is gone. There are no more ceremonies or memorials, there is not another step to finalize the formal end. Now comes the time when the others slowly but surely get on with thier lives as his family drowns in grief that has been deferred to a point as well. Now there is nothing else to keep them busy arranging or trying to 'get through'.

100 years ago we still wore black for a year. We showed our grief. A close friend or distant relative wore a black band to show the grief. The widow for a full year or more was clothed in all black with little relief of color.

Today we have no outer way to know of grieving kin. They walk by us in the grocery store and for all intensive purposes carry on thier daily grind as we stand in line behind them or scoot our cart around them in the deli department.

As a not so close friend, but more than mere acquaintance, where do I fit in? Some of us feel grief for others in the oddest of ways with no rhyme or reason. Maybe this is deferred pain over other losses in my life?

All I know is that today I grieve and no matter how enjoyable yesterday was, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I was aware all day of my friends who stood by a grave and shed tears at an armed salute, taps and a folded flag. I was so aware that I let out a deep breath- one I did not know I had been holding- around 1500. Surely it was done. Surely his lovely bride stood surrounded by others muttering condolences to her when she only wished to be alone on a mountain top screaming her lungs out over the ugliness of this.

There are no words I can utter to her that will ease her pain. There is no action I can perform to lessen her grief. I can only allow my tears to join hers as they fall to the earth where he is laid. My only hope is that I will be able to travel soon to honor his life where he rests and that I can live my life in a way that honors the love, laughter, friendship, and heartbeat that was his.

Pedro Mercado, my friend, may you rest in peace. May your lovely wife carry a little less pain each day. May your family remember you with honor and smiles. May your memory live on to remind us all that we should live with a HUGE smile that lights up a room, because in the end, while we may try to defer the pain, or even death, we cannot. It will come. Sooner or later.

Make a Memory

Originally written 28 May 2010.

Last night Bon Jovi sang this song... and I listened to the words as always, and felt sad as always. It was that sad joy that comes with saying goodbye but also devouring every moment left.

It reminds me of so many moments in my past when I wanted one more moment with someone- to hold onto and cherish forever if I couldn't have them.

I held onto those memories of my love through two icky relationships- never dreaming I would have him again in my arms.

Most people have that one "what if" person in their past... the 'what if we had tried, or tried harder' person. The person that makes them forget for a moment that they are happily married.
I have to say I almost cried when I realized I don't. I have him here, in my arms, kissing me sweetly goodnight as he wraps me into his arms. He wakes me with the same words, for over 17 years now- "Good Morning, I love you."

Those who know me well have heard me say Titanic was a beautiful movie that I will never watch again. It is because it saddens me. I have found that love and I do not want to lose it- and the fact is, life happens and we do. I know that time will come soon enough. Hopefully in another 50+ years, but it will come nonetheless and I will still not be prepared for the loss.

In the meantime, I am sadly happy for my life, for what I have that so many do not. Sometimes I want to feel guilty, sometimes I minimize my blessings to others. The fact is though, that I am blessed beyond measure to have the man of my dreams, a really good man, by my side and that there is no other "what if" person in the past anymore now that he is by my side.


(You want to) Make a Memory (by Jon Bon Jovi)

Hello again
It's you and me
Kinda always like it used to be
Sipping wine, killing time
Trying to solve lifes mysteries
How's your life.
It's been awhile
God it's good to see you smile
I see you reaching for your keys
Looking for a reason not to leave

If you don't know, if you should stay
If you don't say, whats on your mind
Baby just breathe
There's nowhere else tonight we should be
You want to make a memory

I dug up this old photograph
Look at all that hair we had
It's bittersweet to hear your laugh
Your phone was ringing I don't wanna ask

If you go now, I'll understand
If you stay, hey, I got a plan
You want to make a memory
You want to steal a piece of time
You can sing the melody to me
And I can write a couple lines
You want to make a memory

If you don't know, if you should stay
And you don't say, whats on your mind
Baby just breathe
There's nowhere else tonight we should be
You want to make a memory
You want to steal a piece of time
You can sing the melody to me
And I can write a couple lines
You want to make a memory
You want to make a memory

the recipe I cannot write down

What is it about cooking? There is deep satisfaction in that moment of completion of a dish, when you look at it before it is eaten and think, "I made this." You realize you did not waste your time, there is a final result and it is pleasing. Well, pleasing most of the time that is.
The moments of measuring, pouring, sifting, stirring, whipping, rolling, kneading... these are, for the home cook, a 'known' in the unknown of life. I KNOW that if my bowl for whipping egg whites is not clean they will not set up well. I know a cold pastry dough will yield a tender crust. I know a loaf insufficiently kneaded turns out like lead in your stomach.
In life though, we have no such knowledge. We have no guarantees that even if we do "it" right that we will turn out with success. We can walk through life keeping all our promises, doing all the right things, helping, loving and sharing and still not get an easy path- or even a fun one.
We can anticipate others and what they will do, but no guarantees of what will turn out to be true. We cannot even guarantee our own actions!
Even the best of hints, tips and self help books do not ensure a child well turned out. The proverbs were not 'quite' honest. Train up a child in the way he should go and he will more than likely not depart from it- but the fact is, they are their own person and they will do as they will do, regardless of our love, devotion, discipline, prayers and guidance.
But my food, that I can guarantee. I can KNOW that my tortillas will brown to gorgeous golden rings on the tips of tender bubbles. I can know that my scrambled eggs will turn out creamy, light and savory.
Quite simply I wish I could put it down in words and measurements to share with the ones I love. I wish I could share a tip or word of wisdom so your life will turn out as consistent as my tortillas. So while I may try, while I may wish, I cannot share this recipe with you- I cannot even write it down for myself.

my grandma

For my Grandma T;

Upon this last breath I give her up and trust her to the Lord's embrace. She will feel no more of these worldly things that cause us hurt.

Her pearly white locks will be full of color and youth, her eyes sparkling with joy and excitement as she wanders her grandfathers shop of second hand goods on the end of eternity street. Her soft wrinkled skin will be firm with the color of springtime blossoms reflected in the perfection.

She will know the names of all those who passed before her- the ones she has poured over for years- and now she will have a face to go with. She can ask the questions of them that sit open in those books of history with no answer we know now. And we will envy this knowledge with a smile.

She will sit at a table with her mother and daddy; engaging in loving banter, laughter and joy. She will prepare a place for her lover, her child, her progeny, and wait patiently for us to join her- enjoining us to wait for our time and not come too soon.

She will no longer roll beside us in her scooter, will not guide us over the phone, will not chide us lovingly for a poor choice. She will not holler "Worth" with that disapproving voice when he tells an all too colorful family story... nor will she call out, "Worth" when she seeks his guidance, his voice, his wisdom to balance with hers.

She will not dance with her granddaughters for now. She will no longer crochet an afghan to wrap around us on cold nights when we cry our tears over her passing and her personalized patches sewn with love on each one will become a legacy to future generations.

She is tiny again, a wraith of beauty that no one needs peach colored glasses to see clearly- they will all see her as her beloved did for over 58 years. She now lives in our memories as all too human and frail- not the woman of strength and character we knew- but one whose strength we only now begin to grasp.

Her loving arms will not hold another generation and her missing birthday cards will be the most painful moment of each of our birthdays for years to come. There will be no more PTA baths- instead her lithe heavenly form, slipping gently into sweetly scented pools of crystal clear water that slide over her skin like silk and she breathes deeply and swims with no effort as far as the eye can see.

We will catch our breath as we feel the tears run down our cheeks, struggling to swallow, grasping for solace in words that right now are so lacking in solace... and yet.... we are filled with joy for her- with love that words cannot express our respect, honor, awe, tribute and adoration.

Instead of locked to a chair, taking each breathe from a tube, she will run, ski on one ski, rebuild an engine, climb to a roof, and never, ever need to worry that she cannot breathe.

Now she will dance with cousins long gone, fish with her daddy, walk with our Jesus and know a peace we could not give her here. She will be free, glancing back with a loving expression as if to say- "you will be okay, I taught you well. It is time for you and me both to fly."

And then she will.