today my mom would be 69 years old

thinking of my mom today

On no day of the year is my mother's absence in my life felt more keenly than on my birthday. Seventeen years ago today my mom came to visit me in Birmingham, only to wake up paralyzed on one side of her body, due to a brain tumor that would be discovered later that day. The days between then and her death on Christmas Eve of that same year are somewhat of a blur. Seems like both forever ago and only yesterday at the same time. 

In spite of my workaholism, which has plagued me for most of my adult life, I can look back on that time and know I did the right thing. I took a significant amount of time off from my job to be there. This was before the inception of the Family and Medical Leave Act (FMLA), but my employer (actually my boss) was sympathetic and gave me a lot of leeway that would not be allowed today in corporate America. For that I am grateful. 

If I inherited anything from my mother, I hope it was her bent toward hospitality, and I think I have. Hosting gatherings in my home comes easy for me and is something that brings me joy.

I recently reconnected with a childhood friend on facebook. We have not been in touch since high school graduation. Here's what she had to say about her memory of my mom: 

" To this day, I still think of your mama every time my son brings friends home after school. Your mother was THE BEST at timing things to where we would arrive and she would have snacks ready and waiting for us and she would serve us like she had been waiting all day long for the moment of our arrival...."

The thing that makes me smile most about this is knowing that someone remembers that from thirty-plus years ago. 

Now, off to do some house-cleaning to prepare for my out-of-town guest...

potpourri

- Work has been quite demanding this week in a lot of ways, so not much coming out on the creative front.

- I'll get back to posting Holy Week stuff this weekend. Still have photos from Easter Vigil to clean up, as well as some thoughts about my experience with Lent and Holy Week.

- Feeling sad tonight at the loss of a dear childhood/college friend, Gregg Fulkerson. Gregg was among the most talented people to come out of my hometown. He was an amazing, extremely talented singer-songwriter/musician who will be missed by many. My heart goes out to his entire family, especially his son, Carter. He was one of those people that I've known my entire life. While I love living in Colorado, it's times like these I wish I was back in The South.

- Chances are as great as not that I'll begin my day shoveling show tomorrow. Wet, heavy snow.

- Off to bed in hopes of starving a cold that is lurking.

- Weekend, come quickly.

Orphan Girl 2009 - Take One

Heading back of Denver from Estes Park after a fabulous weekend in the mountains. Stop at Starbucks for some coffee for the drive. What's playing at Starbucks? Emmylou Harris' Orphan Girl. Yep. Why, oh why, can I not escape that song?

change is in the air

not much to blog about lately. it has been a long, hard summer here. summer of grief. summer of disappointment. hopefully along with cooler temperatures, fall will usher in a change of heart.

have a stack of books sitting by my chair, but i’m not diving in very quickly. still working thru Sara Miles’ Take This Bread. i’m enjoying it, i’m just not reading much these last few weeks. new rob bell, kathleen norris, and julia reed are in the stack, along with the shack, some poetry, works on contemplative photography, another debbie blue book, some flannery o’connor, a book on the lure of liturgy, a couple on spiritual journaling, and another on the enneagram. plus a few others. no shortage of stuff to read. just the desire and focus to do so.

seems that lots has shifted for me over the last several months. especially when it comes to worship. any tolerance i had previously for contemporary worship music has dried up. i’m leaning hard towards hymns and liturgy. again, i am wrestling with what church and worship and community look like for me. i have given up on finding a perfect fit. maybe that is possible, but seeing as we are all flawed human beings, i’m dropping that expectation for now.

for a long time i have been wanting to find a community that seems like a better fit for me than the one i have been a part of for the last few years. some great folks there that i care dearly about, but it has never been a true fit for me (here comes that expectation again). and i’m tired of trying to make it work and finally have the guts to step out and try something different. part of that means also finding somewhere closer to home. seems silly to me at this juncture to drive up into the foothills to church when i do life in the city, unless there is a compelling reason to do so. and there isn’t for me right now.

so i’m going to hang out for a while with some folks at an emerging/liturgical church in the city. kind of seems like a chapter is ending, and that feels sad to me. but it also feels right on so many levels. in just a few short months, i am already experiencing a breath of fresh air.

there’s lots to be said and noticed about intentional communion and intentional community. more later.

writing (or not)

Seems like I have nothing of significance to post these days. I have been writing on a pretty regular basis, just don't have anything I'm ready to stick out here. Lots of grief writing and such. Hard work, but nothing to share yet. I expect some stories and essays to come of it in the future. For now, mostly mindless stuff on here.

So go outside. Dig in the dirt. Keep fresh flowers in your house. Support your local farmers market. Go lay in a hammock and read a book. Sit on the porch and enjoy your morning coffee. Have a cigarette on the back deck. Build something with your hands. Read the Sunday New York Times. Check back later for words of substance.

home sweet home?

Hanging out with the latest issue of Oxford American tonight. Kinda weird as I ponder the concept of home a little differently than I did a mere 2 1/2 months ago.

Losing my Dad, the last parent, has caused a profound shift for me in what home means. When I walked out the door that last day, after taking care of disposing/distributing his worldly goods and left that place that symbolized home, something changed. Not necessarily good or bad, just different. Still working through it.

how much can one heart hold?

Just found the lyrics to the Kate Campbell song I referenced here back in February.

How Much Can One Heart Hold

Heard about a man from Birmingham
Went down to Selma to take a stand
How much can one heart hold
He sang some songs about peace and love
And took a beatin’ from a billy club
How much can one heart hold

How much can one heart hold
A pound of dirt or a pound of gold
We may never know the truth be told
How much can one heart hold

I met a woman who lost a son
On a chopper in South Saigon
How much can one heart hold
I couldn’t tell you all the tears she’s cried
I guess she’s gonna ‘til the day she dies
How much can one heart hold

If the heart is a bottomless pit
You gotta watch what you put in it
How much can one heart hold
Before you know it you’re carrying around
A ton of stuff that’ll weigh you down
How much can one heart hold

holy week?

It's Holy Week, but it feels anything but to me. Thursday will be the first day of spring. Yet my heart feels it is the dead of winter. As the week progresses towards Spy Wednesday and Maundy Thursday, on to Good Friday, I wonder, "will I be able to feel the goodness of it under a cloak of grief?" May it be so, even for a few tiny seconds.

in memory

Jimmy P. Clifford
September 8, 1938 - March 8, 2008

We buried my Daddy on Tuesday. It still doesn't seem real. Saturday night I received a phone call from my brother that I'll not soon forget. It was a shock to all of us. Twelve hours later I was at the airport, on my way to Tennessee.

We've done this drill enough times that I planned the funeral on the plane and had a list of pastors, pallbearers, and songs by the time I was on southern soil. Folks in our hometown were super gracious, providing us with places to stay, childcare, and plenty of fried chicken and sweet tea.

While it was sad, and I still feel like I've been punched in the stomach, there were some funny and some surreal moments. Maybe I'll write about some of them in detail in the days to come. But, oh, the stories I could tell.

Like the lady who apologized for missing the funeral due to a monthly dog grooming appointment. And the dog wears little girl baby clothes. But he is a boy dog.

Or the close-talking man who I don't really know who asked to be a pall bearer not long before the service. I had to delicately turn down his request - because he had asked one of my brothers, who told him to talk to me because I was making those decisions. Yeah, thanks.

Or the cousin who had his camera at the cemetery and wanted family pictures.

Can't really top the preacher who mentioned (and not just in passing) my parent's separation in the course of the eulogy, though. Coulda gone all day with airing that, I think. Maybe I'll send him a therapy bill, cuz that's just bringing up too much old baggage.

We're 0 for 2 in the parent department now.

farewell, my friend

one of my wise people passed away this morning.

yes, without some sort of divine intervention, we knew it was coming. no, i didn't think it would be today. and it's totally jacking with my faith in that how-much-does-one-family-have-to-take kind of way.

i know this doesn't mean that God has disappeared from the scene altogether, but it kinda seems like it. and i'm not in the mood for a "she's better off" lecture at the moment. maybe i'll post later about the huge hole that's left in our hearts.

right now, all i can think about is Kate Campbell's song, How Much Can One Heart Hold?