uno. Tired, and tired of being tired. So damn tired feels like I can't sleep. Ever been this tired? I love the endless energy from chasing an age four daughter around the house, but clearly her energy exceeds mine; so the endless energy is limited to one of the two parties involved. At one point I just laid in bed numb from exhaustion.
You have to envy how easy Jesus had it in the desert... get tempted by Satan, eat basically nothing but sand dust and dew; no schedules, no commuting, just pray all day. He took on the weight of humanity out there [and this sinner is forever grateful for it] but I'm feeling a bit of the load lately.
Chula taught me not to complain, so take this as appreciation musings :>
dos. Full circle in giving; and children. I started donating to Child Haven years ago. Then Deborah and I continued after we met; mixed DNA and all wordly possessions. It was a drop-to-your-knees validation of faith to see them recently move into a new facility that is the envy of any non-profit organization. Previously they were in this dumpy little house; trying to serve more children than possible; trying to keep the program going. And now [at least operationally] they're thriving.
But to have Child Haven thriving means more kids are being abused; screwed up by their families. In my perfect world [perhaps not Our Father's] Child Haven wouldn't exist; wouldn't need to exist.
Memphis attends a great little school; and some of her classmates are from Child Haven. We all talk about multi-cultural; but this sets up her school environment to be multi-situational. I never want her to be embossed with "elite"; for her to believe she deserves to be seperated from humanity because of any categorization we place on ourselves. It's a hard fight; giving to your child without it transforming into an expectation.
There probably could have been several Child Havens in Sunnyside, when I was growing up there in the '60s; because families just get screwed up for one reason or another. But there wasn't. Chula didn't let me get caught up in 'things'; instead she drove deep and hard lessons about core attributes people need to mind, or get lost. I was like the stubborn daughter of Deborah and frank; not wanting to listen when a lesson was there to learn. Thankfully the message stuck - take care of the children; keep trying to make every day better.
tres. Farmer's Almanac is founded on the premise of lunar cycles; watching Luna go through birth/death [rise/set; crescent/full]. We're a family deeply affected by these cycles; and last week's full moon felt especially heavy. I've been blessed to see Luna in some of the most beautiful places on this planet; it's like a constant beacon to remind me of Our Father [and Mother's] beautiful creation, how the universe is grand and open but also personal.
quatro. Fender bender on I-5; jammed up people on the way to? When motion of civilization stops; or at least pauses for a moment; it's fascinating to watch how people embrace it or challenge it. I can imagine meeting Christ in Palestine to be similar; like time stopping for a moment. There might still be motion all around but the center of engagement is quite, and still.
cinco. This is another dream of mine; to have the larger, extended family pray together in one space, at the same moment. Imagine if we all gathered in a vast, open field; knelt together, quieted our busy minds and began to enter holy space as one - not seperate people praying -but as one tribe. Do you think we could hear each other's hearbeats? Could we feel the subtle gust of wind from our collective exhales? Could we smell the tears falling down our faces, dripping into the soil beneath our feet?
"Let go of your fear" someone once said.
ses. Bought an acoustic guitar to celebrate software my team just shipped. It should work to get us started; probably take lessons with Mr. Jack. Songs been playing so long the limbs start humming to get them out of the body. Music is prayer, no?
See you next week.
frank
Ex-Sunnyside Washington child, raised by amazing Mexican matriarch [Chula].
Monday, March 20, 2006
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Thank you, Chula's Boy, for sharing your heart. Reading your musings confirms again the strength of your upbringing. So, thank you, Chula, for the deep lessons of faith and integrity you planted in Frank. He shares them with Memphis and me to the betterment of our family. The seeds bore fruit that bears more seeds...
Which all brings me to a pondering moment. You call yourself "Chula's Boy". I think of myself as reared by Joanne. But there was a Billy there in my life, a most impactive Billy. Why do so many of us tend to think of ourselves as reared by women when there were men present in our lives? Is it because the men are "out" working and the women are "in" working in many cases? Is it that simple? Or is it as fundamental as the fact that a woman was our first "home" for that existential eternity of 9 months in utero?
I ponder this because I want Memphis to think of herself as "Frank and Deborah" reared. I want her to go to that place in her mind swiftly, knowing the full impact of her father's presence, heritage, gentle loving guidance. She will think however she does (as she so often demonstrates). And yet, I still hope that she realizes someday that her giving spirit, enjoyment of work, tenderness, and ability to name every rock band since the dawn of the genre, its members, and music, and so much more come from her father...
Example: Just this morning Memphis said she'd like us to live on a cabin-boat. To her, this meant we'd have to give our house to someone else. It was so simple to her. She's learned to give away the good stuff to someone who can use it before acquiring something else. She gets that in large part from her father. (Okay, I push this, too, but generosity is a huge thing with Frank.)
Then there's the other Frank influence:
When Memphis' teacher was going through the alphabet with her class (e.g., "'A', what words start with 'A'?") and they got to the letter "P", Memphis shouted with great enthusiasm, "'P' is for "Paul McCartney!" When pressed by her teacher what she knew about Paul, Memphis gave the teacher a lesson in who Paul was, his music, and the fact that (according to Memphis) "he's the best singer ever!" (Go, Paul!)
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