We Spark

We spark...

You, fire-bright

And strong

Me, muted, cool

We spark...

You, pressing, questioning

And sharp

Me, pondering, hushed

We spark...

You, eager, hungry

And impatient

Me, reflective, shy and musing

We spark...

And honestly

I don’t recognize much of me

In the lovely fiery power of you

We spark...

It’s true

And how I miss 

The gleaming flame 

The arcing light

The blazing ray


How I miss

The kindled current

White and hot

Between us two


-lisa, 4 September 2013

 

"Becoming Dad" by Kelly Crull

Becoming Dad: a True Story of One Man's Transformation from Clueless Husband to Involved and Nurturing Father  The Book

I first met Kelly during our years in Europe.  Our conversations often turned to writing.  In fact, Kelly is the person who got me writing this blog.  I was sure it was a silly idea, but he and Mary Demuth finally convinced me to give it a try.  I have to say I'm thankful they did.  I've really enjoyed it.

If there are new or expectant dads in your life, this is written especially for them.  What started as a blog called Spain Dad, is captured here in a collection of nugget-sized reflections, short enough to digest in the snatches of time that a new baby leaves you.  With self-deprecating humor and a keen eye, Kelly's observations cover everything from the awkwardness of being the only male in the waiting room at the OB/GYN's office, (Note to men, that's code for Obstetrician/Gynecologist and, yes, that means a woman's doctor,) to finding a way through the confusion of a million opinions on "the best way" to raise a child.

Through the Night

And maybe now
with the space of days
i can whisper
that parting hurt

That night
when they left
and you realized
you wouldn't see them

Your tears
scalded little streaks
down your face
and didn't stop soon

It was late
and they still needed
to come
so we welcomed them

In the dark
we climbed under
our mosquito net
and huddled together

The four of us
with your quiet sobs
The only thing I knew to do
was sing

I sang the old songs
the ones that lulled
my babies
to sleep

I sang
shaking voice
shaking heart
shaking sobs

Your brother slipped out
and you slept

You found me
in the morning
curled at the foot
of my own bed

Rather than wake you
I let you be
and found a place
where there was room

You felt so bad
And I thought, "Really?
You think it bothered me,
that flickering sleep?"

Rest is relative
and on that night
there were bigger needs
to be met

We unpacked your things
at boarding school
just a few days
later

And it was hard
But, honestly,
it was easier for the way
we passed that night

-lisa, 11 September, 2012

As You Go

It rained last night
unseasonal, but perfectly suited
a quiet, constant drizzle
like a mourning

A mourning last night
expected, but patently difficult
a grey grief misting
like a rain

And I may worry as you go
so many little things
when trying to feel
at home

So many big things
rising in a heart
very far from
what it knows

But I don't worry
about you
who you are or
who you will become

You live well
and shine
soft, clear
strong

We send you
in amazement
in confidence
and with tears

A joy last night
sure, if understandably muted
a calm, constant knowing
like all that is good

-lisa, 20 August, 2012

Music Discussion

(A conversation with Heather, who is 13, over lunch, which was good.)

Heather: (From out of the clear blue.) I don't like Bob Dylan. I'm just gonna say it.
Me: (Conceding.) There's a lot there not to like-his voice for starters.
Heather: (Relieved and empowered.)  Exactly! I don't understand how he got so famous with such a bad voice.
Me: Well, it was the time in history and what he was saying. It was his values and his music style. It wasn't necessarily about his voice. (Referencing a certain scene in 'School of Rock', I go on.)  He was singing against, you know, "the man," and against war and politics and the status quo.

Heather: (Understanding the reference.) But still! His voice is terrible.
Me: (Countering.) Well, he hits his notes.
Heather: (After a brief pause.) I don't think he hits his notes! It's like...(She makes a noise I don't know how to reproduce.)
Me: (After a brief pause, challenging.) What about Bon Iver's voice?
Heather: Bon Iver has a nice voice! Have you heard it? It's probably all affected by computer on his albums but his normal voice is nice. But I like his affected voice. It's not natural.
Me: (A little confused.)  Hhmmmm...

Still Life

A long quiet month.
Not for lack of things to ponder.  For an excess of things, actually.
An excess of big, chunky things that just needed hush.

When I was a girl, I loved to stand in the pulling tide.
First the water rushed-- pushing, pushing.
Suddenly, it could push no more.

There, at its height, everything went still for the skinniest slice of a very slim second.

With the reversal, my bare feet were unable to hold their ground.
Upright, yes.  But the ground beneath me ripped away, leaving little hollows in the places where my feet fell.

There are two departures coming up.
Certain as ebb and flood, I am unable to cause them not to happen.

Perhaps this last month has been lived in that shaving of time when water can neither advance nor fall away.

(I suppose that would be why I've found myself unable to speak or move.)

-lisa, 31 July, 2012

Ready. Set. Engaged!

Jesse and Annie became engaged on May 21st :-) We're so very happy with them!  This sweet turn of events has prompted a few of my friends to ask me how I'm doing and if I was ready for this important FIRST in our lives. I find myself wondering, "What's ready?"  Was I expecting it? Yes.  I mean, I've been expecting it for quite some time and I actually had to work on not expecting it! Every time I thought I had it figured out, I didn't.

But, ready... What would that look like?

a few of you, so far away

if i could choose
i would not be this far
from you

the way your eyes light
and your laugh
spills out

there are days
when it makes sense
some how

the long flights
the enormous cost
the loss

i'm afraid, though, that
today is not among
those days

These are the Days as They Unfold

I find it a wee bit alarming if many days go by and
In them I never feel an urge to write.
I look at myself and wonder if I'm ok.

(Maybe I need to take my temperature.)

It's not that I'm a great writer.
But I am a writer, after all.

(And maybe before all. I don't know.)

So let me just tell you this--
The days have been weighted with a
Still humidity that is not my favorite.

And yet I have no good reason to complain.

I saw the Variable Sunbird,
Sleek and flirtatious in his bold/shy approach.
He comes so close and I, I just hold my breath.

I watched as all the greens outdid themselves,
Shimmering so in morning sun,
And smiled at sleepy dogs collapsed handsomely at my feet.

I answered mails and did chores
That had long fussed at me (tisk tisk)
From inbox and carefully ignored corners.

And last night I held my daughter's hand
As she fevered in her restless sleep.
Of all my work, it seemed the simplest and greatest to be done.

Departures Again (Ug)

I hate it when the 3 boys leave. Some times I'm able to say it a bit more eloquently than that but the bottom line is the same: I hate it. Heather and I cling to each other and cry after they pull away and I feel like I'm going to be sick for the rest of the day. It's no fun.

There is a boy who’s gonna build homes with his bare hands
There is a son who will sing for all the land
There is a young man and he's lying wide awake
We're all asking how long we're gonna have to wait

There is a boy longing for peace
There is a son who will dance in the streets
There is a young man facing the sky
We're all trying to make sense of how we feel inside

If you'd like to hear Trevor's full song "About Being Brothers"
you can download it for free here .
It's very lovely, if I do say so myself.

Moments

A friend asked me about the moments that made my holiday. That's a nice question that helps me savor things.

So, here's my list in random order...

Moonrise-- We sat outside in the warmth and watched the moon come up on as many nights as possible. It was captivating each time.

Table art-- The photo above shows the mosaic table we made in the days leading up to Christmas. It was fun to break tiles and put them back together and see the ocean colors appear as a new puzzle that we get to keep.

Cinnamon rolls-- Byron's Christmas Morning cinnamon rolls are legendary in our family. Jesse made them for us this year and Byron proclaimed them the best ever. I get a sugar headache just thinking about them :-)

Thirst--Unknowingly, Jesse and I each gave the other Mary Oliver's volume of poetry, "Thirst." We both love it but neither of us owned it. Now we both do. I liked mornings at the beach when we read our favorites to each other.

Fragrant gifts-- Byron carved 4 wooden kitchen spoons for me from Olorian collected off the forest floor in Loita. Olorian is African Olive and is precious to the Maasai. Loita is precious to me and the smell of Olorian makes me happy. Also, the spoons are beautiful.

Feasting-- I loved the moment Liz tasted the freshly grilled marinated meat that Byron had prepared for us Christmas Day and the way her eyes got big and it looked like she had just fallen in love. I loved looking around and seeing friends, old and new, celebrating Jesus together.

Creatures of extraordinary beauty--The Carmine Bee Eater on the branch above our camp... The dark blue and deep gold crab Jesse found in the mangroves... Crazy colors just casually carried by these!

Starry night--We walked long on a dark and quiet beach, lit only by stars. Without a moon, the brilliance of the canopy above us was nuts. The tide had risen and the usually shallow crossing at the mouth of the river required that we wade chest deep in warm, salty water. I liked that it was 2 o'clock in the morning on the first day of the new year and we were drenched in powerful beauty.

Conversations-- Around tables, by fires, by the waves, in cars, in the kitchen, and wherever else they unfolded, they made me rich.

All the little moments string together and give us more to weave with.

What were some of your favorite moments from your holidays?

School Again!

Heather and I sort of dragged ourselves to the table to officially begin the new school year today.

Actually, I should say Heather sort of dragged me there. The thought of being back in the school schedule was not my favorite one this morning... Not after the stressful dream that shook me awake just hours before. It was one of those I'm-in-school-and-I've-lost-all-my-homework-and-accidentally-missed-a-million-classes-and-forgotten-to-turn-in-assignments-and-can't-pay-the-bills-and-can't-formulate-an-appeal-and-will-seriously-flunk-out-now dreams.

I hate those.

A friend of mine recently quoted a student we know. "How am I ever going to learn anything if I have to be in school all day?"

It's such a good question.

When my bigger kids were little I was a better, more creative and enthusiastic teacher.

So this is my prayer for the year ahead...

"Lord, would you reawaken my heart to the pleasure (the fun!) of opening a young mind to the endless possibilities that fill this very fine world you've made? Give us patience with math, and maybe some proficiency too. Give us stamina for science, with a heap load of grace. Give us good literature--the kind that makes us laugh or cry or both. Give us poetry that changes us. Give us history that inspires. Help us to explore with wonder and to question anything that demeans or degrades. Raise our expectations and fuel our curiosity. Fill our heads with dreams. Teach us about beauty. Allow us to see you everywhere in everything. And help us, please, to be nice to each other along the way."

Seventh grade has begun.

Here we go!

Stripping the Beds (or I hate it when they leave)

The boys took their leave
One by one they packed their bags
Their funny things

Half made drums
A snakeskin
Shoes made from old motorcycle tires

One by one
They waved goodbye
Wednesday, Thursday, Friday

A bad week, really

And I am left to strip their beds
To laugh at the remnants
And wonder at the quiet

But they are off to good things
Adventures, life
A good week, really

(And can I honestly complain?)

lisa
27 August 2010

Trevor Makes Me Laugh (or Is this how it feels to have grown up kids?)

It's good to have Trevor home. There are lots of reasons for this but my favorite is that he makes me laugh.

I know it's not always easy to come "home" from college. He's a year away from completing his degree and he has a life totally apart from us. This is well and good and as it should be.

There's always a little dance when grown "children" re-enter the circle of home. We all have to learn newly developed rhythms, and allow ourselves to adapt to a morphing tune.

I think of Trevor as a man, though I guess I don't see it that way 100% of the time. Circumstantial, I suppose, is the way I actually experience it. A couple of weeks ago we sent him off in the old Land Rover into the wild places to set up camp for volunteers who would arrive with Byron the next day. Man work. Then, the other night, he made himself sick with a funny little home-made corn cob pipe and some awful, cheap pipe tobacco right after a meal of rich curries. Dizzy and barfing from silly things=boyish behavior that makes me feel a little sorry for him while also laughing at him for being a dork. Still, I tucked him in that night and cleaned up the bathroom. Boy child.

The next day he rode his motorcycle alone for 100 miles across rough terrain where there was no phone contact. I knew he would then get up in the middle of the night and hike up a live volcano with a group of friends. I knew there would be no phone contact for at least 48 hours. Heading out into the adventure of it, an experienced man with lots of common sense and skill; me confident he could do it, though I fretted a little since that's my mommy right.

A couple of days later Byron broke down away out yonder in the bush. He didn't have phone contact either but he sent a runner to where connection could be made and we got a call saying he needed Trevor to go out and help him. Trevor, who was preparing for his gig that evening at a local restaurant, moved quickly. He got himself replaced, threw a couple of sleeping bags and some bottles of water in the car and was gone. A man, that was, who can be counted on.

Home the next afternoon, he was tired from a lot of driving and hard work. He had forgotten to drink the water he carried and his stomach was grumbling the after affects of roadside food stops. Still, he left on his motorcycle for the home of friends and dehydrated himself further in the sauna. The smoke burned his eyes and his stomach was increasingly complaining about life. That boy person seemed to be the one that convinced him to go out exhausted and sick, yet he did have the common sense to stay put and not get back on the bike late at night. We'll call that nusu nusu, or half 'n half.

It's his telling of these tales that makes me laugh so hard. He gives the blow by blow descriptions with a mischievous grin.

Mostly-man-with-traces-of-boy, I'll take him home with us any time. And I know his little sister agrees. When the movie got to a scary spot the other night, Heather and (best friend) Sianna both jumped a mile each and landed on either side of Trev. They stayed there, heads on his chest, for the rest of the film.

"These are the days they say we'll remember..."

Yes, I believe they are.

A Gift to Remember

Mother's Day morning was quiet and little drizzly here in Arusha. With Byron in the States and our 3 boys absent as well, I wasn't thinking too much of a celebration. Heather was home, of course, and our friend, Darrelle. I was content. I certainly could not have anticipated the sweetness of the morning.

I knew some plans had been hatching between H and D so I snoozed in obediently. Then they appeared, woke me and invited me to breakfast.

At the table there was a lovely little necklace from Byron and I loved that he had planned ahead and hidden it with Heather for the day. It's very sweet and I like it a lot.

But I have to say that breakfast was my best, best gift.

Here's the thing...

Heather is 11 and she's never made pancakes before. Yet she found and followed a recipe, prepared the tea, set the table and got everything ready. She felt a bit daunted by the task and in well over her head, yet she accomplished it all beautifully.

And Darrelle? Unbeknownst to me, she was sick as a dog. Poor little thing was chilling, aching and feeling that she might throw up any minute. But she had promised to help Heather make a Mother's Day breakfast and she was not going to let her down.

Of course, she couldn't actually do a thing, but she would not abandon ship. Rather than retreat to the guest room and take care of herself, she literally laid herself down on the bathroom floor where she was not far from the kitchen so that Heather could come to her every few minutes with another question. She didn't even have the strength to sit in the kitchen. She just had to get horizontal and she didn't dare venture too far from the toilet.

So, this necklace is really, really pretty and I love that Byron got it for me. I love being mom to the people we've made and sharing this adventure with him.

Yet I can't help but see the necklace as a reminder of the most precious gift of the day. From here on out, this wee necklace is my reminder of the gift of effort that went into that sweet breakfast.

It's really something to feel love.

Untitled

There are many things I like about this photo. First, I'm their mama so I'm going to like it regardless, right? But still. It was taken by a guy named Dean at a recent gig that Jesse and Trevor played with friends.

For one thing, I like "Caught in the Moment" photos. They capture and convey something bigger than just the scene and how it was set. I like the way the photographer jiggled the colors and came up with these. For some reason, I also very much like Trevor's arm and the way he is bending toward Jesse. I wish I could hear what Jesse is smiling and talking about. I like that I can hear his laugh when I look at this.

But there's something else in here that startles my mind and heart and I think it is this...

This is a photo of 2 men.

Hello men.

I Continue to Grow Up (or so we hope)

Colin sounds good these days. So good.

I love to hear the smile in his voice as we chat on the phone. I love to hear the plans he's hatching with his friends at boarding school. I love to hear that he got high marks on his recent poetry writing efforts, though he's never attempted poetry before. I love the way it surprised him. Colin the poet--who knew?

Colin's successful adjustment is good reason to celebrate.

But wouldn't it just be great if he missed us so badly that there was still a little tremble of a tear in his voice when we spoke?

No.

Colin's love for us, for home, is not measured by pain levels. His coping well at school does not mean he's glad to be away.

I know this absolutely. I rejoice in the achievements of transition this (beautiful) 16 year old has made.

(But secretly, I guess there might just be a little part of me that misses the feeling that he can't live without us.)

New Shapes and Sizes (or We Adapt)

As the boys took their leave for Kenya and California, Byron, Heather and I looked, I'm sure, a little forlorn. It's just downright weird to be only three of us in the house.

Let's review: Jesse is soon to be 23, Trevor is 20 and Colin is 16. Heather, by the way, is 11. While Jesse and Trevor are "supposed" to be away, Colin's absence is plain unnatural. Don't get me wrong, I think he's at a great school where he's doing well. It's just 7 hours too far away from home!

We cherished our time together over the holidays, but now we claim our right to a little melt down. Heather has already cashed in. On the day after they'd all gone, she flung herself down beside me on my bed and gave way to all the drama in her head.

"Jesse and Trevor are going to get married and come home with their TODDLERS and we're just never going to all live together again and it's not right!"

While I thought it was a little early to imagine Jesse and Trevor married (to lovely women, I'm sure) and chasing toddlers around the place, I felt for her. From my perspective, the changes that lie ahead might seem weird, but they still seem right and good. Our kids are supposed to grow up and make their own way and, yes, marry and have TODDLERS! That's all part of the deal.

But Heather's take on it is different. Yes, MY kids are supposed to grow up. But that's not how she's looking at it. My kids can take flight, but HER SIBLINGS better not. As you've gathered, Heather's a bit of a caboose. She was a long anticipated, hugely desired and wildly welcomed caboose, but a late addition nonetheless. And she isn't feeling too much enthusiasm about the rest of the train rushing off without her.

Still, there's nothing for it but to venture on. May the years before us bring many happy surprises as we continue to embrace new ways of being family.

Strong Currents

There’s a place that we like to frequent when a day in the shade is required. The current in the pool at the spring (as the water comes out from an underwater source) pushes you firmly along if you get in the right spot at the mouth of the cave. We had a tradition with Max and Gina whenever we were there, (and I’ve lost track of how many times we were there with them,) that mandated a race of Dead Man’s Float. We would all let go of the roots along the edge of the pool at the same moment and vigorously DO NOTHING as we raced to the other end in a great float-off.

It always amazes me how well that current pushes us along.

Life has felt much like that, of late. Not that we’ve been doing nothing. No, that’s not what I mean. I mean that there has been a strong current taking us along. It’s a good current; one that I trust.

It’s good to know I can trust the current when we talk on the phone to Colin and hear that he’s having a hard time. Most of our phone calls have been very encouraging and we are the super proud parents of a young man who is making a huge transition well. And when the calls are not as encouraging, when Colin is terribly home sick and we ache to have him here, we are still the super proud parents of a young man making a huge transition well.

Sometimes, letting go of the holds along the bank is the best thing ever.

So I Caved (or lisa gets facebook)

I kind of hate to admit it but I've finally caved to the inevitable domination of Facebook.

Yep, Ms. B. got herself a Facebook account.

"Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated."

So said THE BORG whenever they confronted life forms that tried to avoid being conquered. (So many life lessons were learned by watching Star Trek ;-)

I have valiantly resisted FB for over 2 years. Even the clever, persistent and sweetly persuasive Nelly could not get me to join.

So what did it?

England.

Dang it. We were there with almost 300 people in the 24-7 family and as we left that gathering I thought,

"I care way too much about way too many of these people to NOT opt in and make staying in touch that much easier."

It's not that I think FB is easier than email. It's more that I just have to join the current MO if I'm to have a hope in hades of having any hazy... (searching for an H word here. Nelly, what H word could be inserted for 'connection' or 'relationship' ?)

I'm not getting sucked in, (she said like a true addict.) But I do think having a new FB account is a little like having a new baby. It needs a lot of attention as it makes those initial steps of growth. At least you don't have to get up in the night to take care of friends requests.

I'm hoping it settles down and takes care of itself a little more now.

BTW, there is ettiquiette to follow if you're the parent of other FB users. First of all, don't be writing on their wall all the time. That's WAY out of line.

I got a land-line phone (that's a TELEPHONE with a cord that attaches it to the wall, for those of you who don't remember those) with my own number in my own bedroom when I was 16. It was the absolute height of communication technology.

That and passing notes in the hall.

I always loved passing notes.

Here we go, then.