Thursday, April 9, 2015
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Under the Bridge
A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.
– Joan Didion
I cannot visualize my memories very well, but I do remember the feelings they invoked. The solitude and peace I felt under that bridge. The reprieve from my exhausting efforts to fit in. A place I shared only with true friends.
As a kid there aren't many places you can go to just be. However each time my life was turned upside down by a move, the first thing I'd do was find a place to call my own. Atop of a cinder block wall, an abandoned fort, atop of a parking garage, but my absolute favorite was under a bridge.
Retreating everyday to my spot, I'd climb the hill up to the top where there was just enough room for a small person like me to stand. I loved when there was a lull of cars atop, then suddenly you could hear and feel the thunder above. I used to think if there was an earthquake I'd be the first to go, but at that time I didn't care. I'd sit and wait for my friend to arrive, she knew where I'd be. It was cold and dim, a prefect place to sit and sulk a while. My mind free to wander and ponder life's deep meaning. Throwing a rock watching it tumble down the hill, I'd think of my space and time. Why I was there in that moment, what impact my self had on the world. Wakened from my somber solitude, I'd hear her bubbly presence, laughing as she'd run up the hill with confidence and style. We'd spend hours complaining and laughing about our day at different schools. More teens would sometimes show up to find out what mischief was in store. We were misfit toys, the after school breakfast club, there to add colorful injustice quotes marking the cement walls. We knew our place in the world, it was there under that bridge.
Carl von Clausewitz
– Joan Didion
I cannot visualize my memories very well, but I do remember the feelings they invoked. The solitude and peace I felt under that bridge. The reprieve from my exhausting efforts to fit in. A place I shared only with true friends.
As a kid there aren't many places you can go to just be. However each time my life was turned upside down by a move, the first thing I'd do was find a place to call my own. Atop of a cinder block wall, an abandoned fort, atop of a parking garage, but my absolute favorite was under a bridge.
Retreating everyday to my spot, I'd climb the hill up to the top where there was just enough room for a small person like me to stand. I loved when there was a lull of cars atop, then suddenly you could hear and feel the thunder above. I used to think if there was an earthquake I'd be the first to go, but at that time I didn't care. I'd sit and wait for my friend to arrive, she knew where I'd be. It was cold and dim, a prefect place to sit and sulk a while. My mind free to wander and ponder life's deep meaning. Throwing a rock watching it tumble down the hill, I'd think of my space and time. Why I was there in that moment, what impact my self had on the world. Wakened from my somber solitude, I'd hear her bubbly presence, laughing as she'd run up the hill with confidence and style. We'd spend hours complaining and laughing about our day at different schools. More teens would sometimes show up to find out what mischief was in store. We were misfit toys, the after school breakfast club, there to add colorful injustice quotes marking the cement walls. We knew our place in the world, it was there under that bridge.
Carl von Clausewitz
Friday, April 3, 2015
You see mother, I make all things new
This by far is the hardest scene for me to watch. Yes, the many trials and tortures Jesus endured was horrific! Yet, I often think of how Mary felt. Jesus knew his fate and accepted his role to save our souls, for this I am grateful. But those faithful stood by and watch fate unfold! I can't help but feel the pain they must have felt, the injustice their brains scattered as a murderer was set free. When lashes sliced his flesh the sound and sights that they could not free themselves of. The helpless, heavy feeling in their arms as he fell to the ground, yet could not lift him up. As a believer, I know his pain and suffering had a purpose, and I am humbled to be his child. He was more than just a man, however, his mother WAS just mom. She cared for him and watched his growth (astonished I'm sure to witness his glory). Forced to stand by as the history of humanity unfolded around her son. It is hard for any mom to stand by when their child endures something difficult. Even when your intuition tells you it will be ok, your senses still battle with your will to hold back. Every bone in your body is programmed to protect from the harm of the here and now, it takes great faith to just breathe and be still knowing everything will be just as it should.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
A person is a person no matter how small
Glad to see I have some company!
I'm constantly having to ask strangers to reach things for me :( Or do this..
I hate it when people question my relationship to my teen. And then dare to ask how old I was when I had him!
Dane taught me a trick... lift the toddler up on the counter to reach stuff for you :)
Capri's often times are full length
Ha.. She's got a whole inch and a half more world than I.
Friends in high school always wanted to see if I fit... .yes I did
I hate walking with others...
EEERRRR!!!!
I've always been the benchmark in the family. "Whoo hoo, I'm taller than Brandy!" This has been all my nieces and nephews goals, and now that they've all grown to heights and considerably passed my own 4'11.5". My own children are but months away from looking down on me.
Maddy at her 12 year check up measured 4'11", she was of course excited to be reaching that family benchmark, but then later was disappointed to hear from her doctor that she would be small like me. All day I spent cheering her up and reassuring her that she would not be super short like me, but would at least grow a few more inches.
Monday, March 30, 2015
Sporting new boots!
Thanks to my daughter's growth spurt (she went from a size 5 to 7.5) I am sporting her 6 month old boots! They're a little big, but maybe I'll grow into them LOL!
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