Another snowy day of parenthood

Worry. This is a relatively new one to me. Perhaps it comes with age even if one doesn't have children, but my son's presence in my life has brought me to such states of terror and fear for his health and well being that I never could have imagined! This week he is sick (again) with bronchialitis, only this time we fear he may get pneumonia because he is wheezing like a freight train -- you can hear him coming from the other side of the house! Oh, my heart aches and I pray please, God, please let him be okay. Even though it may be nothing, my mind goes rambling into the neck of the woods that has a sign reading "the worst possible place", and horrible scary things live there. PLease God, Please spare my son. I'll do anything. I know it sounds dramatic, but his wheezing really sounds dramatic! Come over and listen! To the doctor again tomorrow. Biting my fingernails the whole way.

Toilet goes down the drain

Today we had an all out toilet crisis. The culpret? A bottle of good old fashioned blowing bubbles!!!! Luka managed to propel the bottle into the toilet just as Grandma was flushing it down, and sure enough she couldn't get to it in time. Why do toilets have this inexplicable snake-like tunnel inside their porcelain stem? Alas, the bottle could not find its way to the sewage drain, and was lodged within the porcelain snake, making friends with our waste as it went down. Yes, we thought maybe we were in the clear, and anyway it isn't necessarily the kind of thing you jump into doing - taking up your toilet in search of its innards, but no, this morning the bowl was definitely overflowing!!! It took Andy nearly all day to go through trying to get the thing dislodged and then the toilet busted, then we went to buy a new one, then the bolt broke, then the thing wouldn't sit level on the bathroom floor . . . and we finally called the plumber. Poor Andy, he didn't want to admit defeat after all that, and I sure didn't want him to either (after all, plumbers cost a pretty penny!), but I was definitely proud of my resident handyman for doing all he could. At the end of the day we decided it might be okay for the poop pros to come finish the dirtyworks. Yuck! My feet are itchy . . . is that bad?

A Soldier Returns, a True Warrior

Tonight I saw my friend Ben for the first time since he returned 2 weeks ago from his tour of duty in Iraq. We met as counselors for the local Ecumenical Youth Group, and before going off to war unexpectedly, Ben was working as a real estate agent and appraisor, and had joined the National Gaurd to get himself through school. Before he left we talked a lot about the war, and at the time he felt confident that he was involved in actions that were for the good of the Iraqi people, and that our government was not in the wrong. Though I disagreed with him, he is a well spoken young man, and he can definitely hold his own in conversation, so I wished him well when he left and prayed for him regularly in my own way, especially when we received word from him. As the year went on, his beliefs started to drastically change.
He worked as a gaurd at a war prison. Tonight he was still wearing his combat boots and green fatigue-like cargo pants. WHen we hugged I wanted to hold on to him and not ever let go. His face was radiant, and there was a glow about him, the glow of culture shock, of the all around shock of returning smack dab into this crazy commercial "comfortable" country fresh out of a world of violence and routine. His head was freshly shaven, and he had a good tan, a good fitness and thickness about him. Looking at him I could tell he was more used to carrying a gun than being embraced. It made me want to hold him tighter.
He shared with me some things I felt honored to hear. About his Buddhist practice that sustained him through the hard times of mortar attacks and bodies blown apart around him. About being utterly alone in his practice and feeling ostracized for his beliefs. He told me about meditating on his prayer beads while doing watch in the gaurd tower at night, or while desperately trying to solve conflicts without violence. He made me think of Thich Nhat Hahn, who has written much about practicing Buddhism in the midst of war, and Pema Chodron who wrote that she feels so lucky to have been awakened to the suffering of people's hearts. Yes, that was the glow he had -- one of great compassion. I am so grateful that Ben has returned home safe and that I have the chance to be touched by his experiences. I can't wait to get to know him better.

February

I have always loved the song February from Dar Williams. After my horrible breakup that produced an entire 2 albums worth of break up songs that could tear your heart out, my good friend Randy came into the bathroom where I was taking a bath when we were on tour and snuck in the guitar, and sang me that song (the perfect song for the last time I would ever see the one that broke my heart) and I just cried and cried because it was just the release I needed. February is that month when winter really sinks in, and we hunker down into ourselves and all the walls are exposed for what they are. Andy is feeling better these days, and we are finally finding some semblance of a groove in our little family. We are gearing up for a big change. I have been dreaming of cutting my hair, and losing those last 20 pounds of Luka weight I am still carrying around. I can taste it, the shifting of our energies. My momentum can't be stopped this time. I don't have to push quite as hard right now, things are finally moving, and I can feel it, just around the corner, spring, oh spring!!!! Spring is coming, I know she is!