Chris Margocs’ inspirational prompt for this Spiritual Thursday is to write about (or is the word ‘towards’?) those who have passed and left something behind in our hearts.
Oh my, this writing prompt could not be more appropriate for this day.
You see -
my father,
a Rear Admiral in the U.S. Navy,
died two years ago,
at the end of the first summer of this pandemic.
Today, October 6, 2022,
he is being interred at Arlington Cemetery, in Washington, D.C.,
in a joint ceremony, with my mother alongside him;
my mother preceded him in death some four years ago.
Our family has waited a long time for this precious day.
This passage of time makes it easier to talk and share about them. Time has healing powers through its ability to vary the lens on the past, to let one reflect in different ways and to be surprised by memories in unexpected moments. I marvel at how grief and time have combined to make memories of events for which I was not present, causing me to think deeply about my parents’ childhoods, their marriage, on and on. It is truly a blessing to have so many memories – the gift of time.
As my family and I prepared for this special day – this celebration of my parents’ lives – I kept coming back to this one photo, a photo taken on their wedding day, in June, 1954. They were married at the Naval Academy, right after Dad graduated. Let me share the photo here –
My parents were married 64 years before Mom passed. This photo from their wedding day simply makes me smile. It is a treasure to have. Today, at the funeral reception, I am going to celebrate my parents with a short poem about this photo. Let me share it with you here, now.
Just look at this photo -
the twinkle in their eyes
the happy clench of their hands
the gentle lean of their heads
captivating looks
captured for the ages
this is love at the launch
when fair winds beckon
before two souls set for sea
no storms in sight
what if
this very moment of buoyancy
is what holds
all the power and force
to maneuver through rough waters ahead
a love anchor
stored on the underside of marriage’s hull
at the ready
throughout
what if
this is our finding
this is the knowledge gained
from their sea trial?
the wonder of
meeting one another’s eyes
holding the gaze and smiling
such a simple joy
to return to
again and again and again
whether spoken unspoken
love heals
love hopes
love holds
love always
always love
the whole of time
just look at this photo . . .
On the first Thursday of each month, writers share their thoughts on spiritual topics. Each month, a different host selects the instigation.
This is a very exciting week around here. On Thursday, my parents will be interred at Arlington Cemetery. We have waited a long time for this precious day. Dad died two years ago, in early September, in the midst of the pandemic; Mom preceded him in death, dying in October of 2018. Dad was a Navy Admiral, and Arlington Cemetery is his chosen destination.
I live in the D.C. area and have visited Arlington Cemetery several times, but I have never witnessed someone’s burial. We have tons of family and friends coming from out of town, to be present at this unique and special honor.
So, that’s what is “front and center.”
Let me tell you about our staging…about the background scenery…about the “side plots.” Simply put, we’re in the midst of major renovation, here at our home. After almost a full year of discovering, evaluating, and planning fixes for the structural problems of our home, we began construction repairs on August 1st. This involved a total ‘gutting’ of our kitchen. I was not naive about the timing – I knew immediately that the work was so enormous, I should not trust that it would be completed by the time of my parents’ burial. Thankfully, one of my brothers lives in the D.C. area as well, and he was totally fine with taking the lead on all “hosting” duties. We could focus on getting the home repairs that were needed.
This week, we’ve put a moratorium on the kitchen/family room remodeling for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday – there is simply too much going on with all our visitors (none of whom are staying here at my house, thank goodness, lol). I want to focus on my family, I want to be fully present at the service for my parents, I want to savor all the remembrances.
Months back, before the work began, I smiled at my contractor’s response when I shared this ‘calendar of events’ with him; he assured me that there would be no problem – they’d be done mid-September.
The work began August 1stInstallation of a steel beam across the room was the most grueling and essential part of the remodeling.
It is an enormous effort, this remodeling; there have been support posts, a steel beam, roof issues, you name it. As the work continued (at a very good pace, honestly), there have been a few setbacks and surprises in the work to be done (isn’t this always the truth, with a home remodeling effort?). Upon several delays, my contractor updated his timeline, saying they’d be done on the last day of September (this past Friday).
All I can say: I am so thankful I have never counted on the work being done this week. There will be NO company at this house! lol
Although it was painful to learn we had structural issues with our home, the beam opened up the kitchen space beautifully.Look how bright and open the kitchen space became!
As I write, I am sitting at the island/bar of my dream kitchen – beautiful cabinets, counters, floor…let me show you…
I love the natural light from all the windows. I love all the space. I especially love the quartz countertops, having only had laminate counters before.
Unfortunately, my kitchen is basically akin to one you might find on display in a showroom – it looks great but it is not functioning. We’re close, we just aren’t quite there yet.
Yes, we have a faucet, but there is no running water at the sink. All the appliances remain in the living room, not hooked up. All of the drawers along one wall of cabinetry don’t open – which reminds me, when is a drawer not a drawer? When the contractor forgets to order drawer inserts and you must wait for these at a later date. There are endless ‘to do’s’ on a ‘punch list’ – all the little things that get pushed aside while something bigger gets done. Oh, and the guys are struggling to install a new (main) door to the house; it is missing its locking mechanism and we’ve been blockading the door at night for more than a week, to feel ‘safer.’
This past Friday, my contractor assured me that he’d be done today – yes, today, Tuesday. October 4th. C’mon, be serious! There is simply no way! Look at all that still needs doing.
Honestly, I am fine with this. I assured him:
Work at a pace where the work is completed well.
Take all the time you need.
Just don’t show up tomorrow. Or Thursday. Or Friday.
We look forward to seeing you on Monday.
Truth – it already ‘feels’ like I have a new kitchen. It is a great space to sit and write – and it is very quiet, before the workers arrive.
All will be well.
To the day! To the week ahead!
It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.
What is the monarch chrysalis up to, at this very moment? What’s happening inside here? From my perspective, chrysalises are very quiet. Of course, noise tolerance varies from being to being. Perhaps within the chrysalis, they are packing and moving metaphoric boxes, cleaning and scrubbing surfaces, using special tools to prepare for what is to come?
We are tightly bound in a metaphoric chrysalis these days, wrapped up in just two small rooms on the first floor with limited access to two additional small rooms on the floor above. Our remodeling proceeds at a strong pace, with a solid beam in place across the kitchen and family room (“great room”), new flooring and cabinetry in place, and the plan for new countertops to be installed tomorrow. The end is in sight. We will burst forth into new beautiful living in the very near future.
Yes, and.
I’m feeling edgy, confined, depleted. Trying to keep my heart and hope on the end goal. Washing blueberries in the bathroom gets relentlessly old. Maneuvering around non-working appliances in the living room, wiping dust from surfaces, negotiating plastic-wrapped doorways, yes, it’s reaching a frustrating crescendo. Our stress was all the more heightened when Tony had COVID a few weeks back, leaving us each relegated to two very small and separate places in this chrysalis of a house. I have to remind myself to breathe, stay present, know that good work is being done, and all will be well. Our structural issues have been repaired. We will have a beautiful space in the end. Breathe.
I had a dear and painful conversation with an elderly friend the other day. She and her husband are moving into senior living, a transition deemed long overdue by their children but one that has been so challenging for the two of them to accept. In the midst of her downsizing work, she told me, “I am living through hell.” I tried to comfort, to reassure – yes, the shift itself is dreadful, but there would be comfort and ease in the end. It would be fine. It would be beautiful.
I hope I soothed her – but what good are soft platitudes, really, in the midst of the exhaustion and loss of such transitions?
Is it possible that some similar stress happens within a chrysalis?
Monarchs and their gorgeous journeys are just outside my house, in a small flower bed I have squeezed in between the porch and the driveway. I have been planting this little bed for years, welcoming butterflies and bees and birds and bugs – and allowing me to fawn over all the beings from our porch. I plant a variety of perennials and annuals, lots of happy flowering plants, and I make changes to the bed from year to year. The milkweed was “a volunteer” I uprooted from the edge of my front yard along the road two years ago, and I crossed my fingers that it would flourish in the little flower bed. The milkweed is SO happy in this location.
Up close and personal like this, I have realized why my neighbor told me to move it to someplace less visible – it is a homely plant, the milkweed. It is not wispy and delicate and covered in flowers. It is large and clumsy. I never thought through its wild lifestyle, how tall and floppy it would grow, how it would fall over and try to nudge all the other plants to take leave. I’ve been corralling it into a limited space, forcing it to be a bit more prim and upright than it really prefers to be. The leaves are large and pale green and take on a deathly, depleted yellow cast as summer ends. Most surprisingly, right at my eye level, it appears to have gonads – who wants to look right at these?
Just as I was contemplating the neighbor’s advice…to transplant the milkweed this fall and make it a ‘wallflower’ somewhere in the back of my yard, not center stage in the flower bed…it began to teem with life. Over a dozen monarch caterpillars appeared almost overnight, climbing the stems, crawling on top, under, all around, munching all the while, leaving great, raggedy holes throughout the leaves – it was a monarch party! I have been enjoying every minute of it.
A few days of wild munching and the caterpillars became so plump and large, slowed down, and hung very, very still from various branches, readying for the transformation into chrysalises.
Two dear caterpillars never completed the move to this new stage – I watched these brown and wither, and ants devour them bit by bit. Happy ants.
I have been able to observe six chrysalises – I have no doubt there are others that are hiding from my view. One has formed on my porch railing, oh my! Even the chrysalis is enchanting – sage green in color, with a thin line and several small dots of spun gold that catch the sunlight in this magical way.
Yesterday, the first monarch butterfly appeared. I missed their emergence from the chrysalis, but recognized its slow, stunned wing movement as evidence that the butterfly was new to this world. I watched it flutter (tremble, really) along the porch wall for many minutes, and then it flew away. I know there will be more butterflies in the days to come – perhaps even today.
Milkweed is a plain, galumph of a plant and it is a bastion of beautiful life. Yes, and. I’m keeping it front and center in my garden. What a welcome source of joy in the midst of life’s many transitions.
It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in the Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.
It’s Tuesday and I’m participating in Slice of Life! Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers!
“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart andtry to love the questions themselves."
- Rainer Maria Rilke
Do you ever have a moment, a surprise occurrence, that just sticks with you for days on end, and you can’t quite figure out why? This happened to me recently. I was supposed to pick up my granddaughter from her local playground, where she was with another babysitter. I was unfamiliar with this D.C. park and I had trouble finding her right away, which is always an unsettling feeling for a guardian. The city has great facilities, meaning that ‘a park’ can be quite large, encompassing several blocks. At this one, there’s a playground, a community center, a pool, basketball courts, and even a library. It turns out that they had gone into the library to use the bathroom, and that’s why I couldn’t find her right away. I ended up having an interaction with a stranger that continues to make me smile, it was so weird – and unexpectedly kind.
I had journaled about the day, but not much more. I wondered why the day/the moment stuck with me – and I thought about that great Rilke quote (above) and figured I’d just discover the full meaning in time.
Yesterday, on the Ethical ELA 5-day poetry Open Write, the challenge was to write a sestina… oh my, do you know the sestina form? I tried writing a few of these earlier this year, a personal challenge, in the midst of a 100-days of poetry commitment I was making. This poetry form is an intricate puzzle for me, one which I invariably fail. Six key words to end phrases and six stanzas jumbling the order of these end words? By the third or fourth stanza, I lose my thoughts, my way, my focus and just fizzle out. Oh my.
Then it dawned on me – why not try to tell the story of the stranger through the sestina form? At least I wouldn’t “lose my way” – because there was a beginning, middle, and an end. This ended up being great fun for me, and I thought I’d share the sestina here. I still need lots of practice with this form, but I was excited to complete six stanzas for once. Also, I used the Rilke quote as the bedrock of my six key words – so, I knew where the poem would end!
One last thing – writing into this form led me to a deeper level of reflection. I am realizing that the day sticks with me because this man was not someone I would normally have met or spoken with or hung around; and yet…well, you’ll see…
It makes me wonder what I miss in life on more ‘ordinary days.’
[Warning – I wonder if reading a sestina by a novice sestina writer is rather like listening to a young child practice their recorder? My apologies, in advance! Ha!]
My six words are
All
Patient
Heart
Unsolved
Questions
Love
Be patient toward all
There at a city park I knew not at all,
and behind schedule to boot, I parked impatiently
and stepped out. He spun up, said HEY!, startling my heart;
where he came from, vexxed me, confused me, unsolved
Watcha doing? Who are you? His torrent of questions
began; I challenged myself to respond with love.
Yes, my personal goal, to show “the stranger” love
rather than lead with fear, try to be open to all;
but within myself, appeared a flood of questions -
how do I make time for this or offer patience?
finding my granddaughter is priority one and unsolved
only this will settle my heart
He said, The name’s Karim, this here’s my park, my heart
Chuck Brown played here, music I love
What brings you round? What can I help solve?
I know everything about this place, I know it all.
From his perspective, I was the one out of place; patiently,
gently, he was quizzing me, questioning
Ahead at the playscape, no children, a scared feeling and questions
My granddaughter’s supposed to be here, my sweetie, my heart.
I walked along briskly, trying to stay patient
He stays close on his bike and assures, We’ll find her, love;
It’s the safest neighborhood in D.C., safest of all.
Honestly, I was in two places at once, her location unsolved.
Where’s her sitter? Where are the playmates? Everything’s unsolved.
I’m tagging along with a stranger, riddled with questions
If she’s not at the playground, where all
might she be? Is this the day that breaks my heart?
He soothed, Down the hill, there’s a water park kids really love.
Don’t worry, I gotcha, keep the faith, be patient.
So we continued, he the calm doctor, me, worried patient
Happenstance odd couple with mission unsolved
Up, down, around, across the field, together, until I found my love
Why I trusted this guy, I suppose that’s a question
I tell you, it made sense at the time to open my heart
I smile now at his words, I’m my brother’s keeper, that’s all.
“Be patient toward all
that is unsolved in your heart
and try to love the questions
themselves.”
Rainer Maria Rilke
Squirreled away in the corner of my bedroom in the early morning, window open and fan on for air circulation, I work quickly, passionately, without a break, to create a new blog site for myself before the workers arrive. Yes, contractors will arrive at any moment – I will hear the imposing beep, beep, beep of their truck backing up the driveway, doors wrested open, tools dropped to the floor, heavy booted footsteps across the subfloor, followed by the hammers. drills. saws – not quiet versions, but loud nail guns, pneumatic drills, jack hammers, oh my. They are hard at work on our major remodeling, and I am trying to create my own little bit of sanity in the midst of it all. When they arrive, I type madly, holding my breath for when they accidentally or necessarily turn off the power without warning, and this technology pursuit of mine will be severed for the remains of the day.
I am in the midst of construction, in all kinds of ways.
One day, a couple weeks back, I began to entertain the idea of switching my blog from Blogger to WordPress. Glenda Funk gets most of the credit (blame?) but there were others, as well. Mostly, I had grown so weary of Blogger’s many little frustrations – the way the layout bounced around when I entered text, the way the font size changed when I ‘published,’ the numerous frustrations I and others had with commenting on posts…on and on, the list goes, and I decided to switch over to a blogging platform that I saw so many others using successfully.
I’ve been blogging for years…how hard could it be to switch blogging tools?
Then I got the bright idea to have my own unique domain name – a flight of fancy, to have my own little niche. (https://maureenyoungingram.com) What possessed me to do this? I don’t know.
Wouldn’t this be the perfect pursuit, fun little remedy to the headache of the tools? Me, discovering and toying with new technology, and writing with abandon?
Be careful what you wish for. This little idea has sent me tumbling down the proverbial rabbit hole of technology blather and lingo – hosting, optimizing, linking, caching, SEO, plugins, META descriptions, blocks, insights, what the heck?! Where does one start? What does that mean? What comes first? Where did my draft go? How do I add my photos?
How do I?
How do I?
How do I?!
Where am I?
What is happening?
The “icing on top” of this new learning – the all-too-regular surprise frustration: Oh no! I was just about to figure that out but now I don’t have internet! We’ve lost power again! I take a deep cleansing breath and tell myself – later, later, later, I’ll try to figure it out later.
This is life. Learning in limbo.
I have so many things I wanted to write about and share with you – my summer travels out west, the aches and delights of home remodeling, the wonder of the monarch caterpillars crawling all over the side yard milkweed, to name a few. However, I can’t just yet. I am mired in technological transition.
I have faith that one day soon I will understand all the nuances and how to’s and must do’s of this new blog site, but today is still not yet… baby steps … baby steps … baby steps …
Thank you for visiting my fledgling site…it is a work in progress.
