Crossing the Bridge Over Troubled Water

Halfway between our homes, we met––a golf course in Vallejo.

Men lost themselves in sun, fun, friends, and golf.

Two women lost ourselves in words. Peaceful words.

Hopeful, dreadful, healing words––and true.

It was a brilliant spot...a brisk, bright day.

Sweetest of all? Just being there together.

Discussing life and loss and love and LIFE.

And motherhood, the blessing of our hearts.

The journey home brought sorrow and reflection.

Gladness and gratitude were also mine. (I used the time.)

It came to me that life is the full package.

And we?......Receivers of that motley gift,

with all its grimness and its grace.

Awash in guts and glory, life is ours.

As are the children that we bear in faith.

In bits and bursts of courage, we bear with them.

They bear us off to soar and sink to heights

and depths, surprising us each moment.

By giving birth to dreams we almost own.

(Filling, then dashing them in equal measure.)

The rhythm God's, not ours, and rightly so.

For yes, oh yes, their lives are His. (We know.)

We don't know why her son is called home early,

while mine remains to share dinner and dusk...

to live and love and light these bright, sad days.

We love but do not understand His ways.

Et Voila! (The Reframing)

As Saturday Centus rolls around again, I am rushing out the door early to spend the day with a good friend. In the interest of haste, and because I can't stand the thought of not playing at all, I am using my 100 words to write a poem. As always, the prompt (by Ames) is in red.

∞§∞

Et Voila!

(The Reframing)

Grace knew her elegance would rule the day.

She vanquished pageants like a beast of prey.

Her beauty was the sort that made men sigh

and women grimace, with unfriendly eye.

Of course, her confidence was not conceit,

for judges fell and worshipped at her feet.

At least, they’d always done so in the past.

But now, her chin had sprung a zit so vast…

so wide and deep, she feared she could not chin it...

and it was growing bigger by the minute.

Resourceful to the end, she inked it dark.

Et voila! She embraced her beauty mark.

∞§∞

The Hair Reveal

New 'do! (Bangs, too.)

Side view.

Back askew.

(Fixed it. Whew!)

I know, Mom. It's not as short as you'd like. And it's not brushed back on the sides, either. But hey, it's a lot shorter than it was, right? (And I can always put it behind my ears.)

=)

(I kinda like it.)

PS. Did I say I wasn't going to post any more pictures of me for a while? I lied...

PSS. But this is the last, for real. Straight up, dudes.

A Quilt Made of Love

(written for an AIDS program at our local high school)

©1997 by Susan Noyes Anderson

When I was a child, my very best thing

was to snuggle up warm under grandmother’s quilt.

Every patch was a memory, stitched up with love;

every square a reminder, painstakingly built,

of birthdays and holidays, weddings and dreams,

of laughter and tears sewn in resolute seams…

beginnings and endings, first times and last days,

golden threads of a family, tied intricate ways.

A quilt made of love, not of cotton or fill,

but of love, freely shared; I am warmed by it still.

******

The AIDS quilt has traveled through cities and states,

extending the borders by which we are bound,

inviting each heart to reflect on expressions

of love, spilled in patches and squares on the ground.

At Washington’s feet, o’er the land of the free, lies

a blanket, a monument, growing too fast…

and spreading, like wildflowers sprinkled on hills,

vivid flashes of color and beauty that pass

into cold, frozen earth as the winter begins,

into pieces of quilt upon quilt upon quilt …

Every patch is a memory, stitched up with love;

every square a reminder, painstakingly built,

of birthdays and holidays, weddings and dreams …

of laughter and tears sewn in resolute seams…

beginnings and endings, first times and last days,

golden threads of a nation, tied intricate ways.

A quilt made of love, not of cotton or fill,

but of love, freely shared; we are warmed by it still.

Click below for more Q posts.

Blast from the Past

Okay. For those of you who perused yesterday's post, this is the photo my mom requested (in her comment) that I publish today. I'm not sure why, given the ugly shirt and the fact that I'm not even looking at the camera, but it's her favorite one of me as a young woman. I was attending the University of Utah at the time and studying for something or other. Can't imagine who snapped the picture. Must have been my hubby (then boyfriend) or roommate, I guess. Pretty glamorous, eh?

This one is in response to Jill's comment asking if I would post some photos of myself as a young mother "with all my kids around me." It hangs on my photo wall, and since I was too lazy to take it out of the frame and scan it, this is a picture of that picture, cropped rather carelessly. But you get the idea, right? Cute kids!

Here are a couple of faded but favorite photos from our picture book. Why must these old pics always turn yellow? (That's a rhetorical question, by the way, so please spare me the chemical details!) The first one was taken in front of my in-laws' summer home in Rancho Mirage. The second was in front of our old house in Southern California, just before my sister's wedding reception. Weren't the little guys cute in their suspenders?

And finally, here is the lovely (?) pic that hung on the wall of our church building for more than a few years. They happened to catch Matt in his dreaded dreadlock phase, so I thought you might get a kick out of it. (We were highly amused at the time, as you might imagine...)

Okay, that's enough self-revelation to last clear into next year. You can thank Jen (or not) for getting me started. Or maybe you should blame it all on my mom!

;)

PS. Those gluttons for punishment who long to feast their eyes on some earlier shots of my honey and me may click here and here. Those of you with better sense, thanks for your indulgence! (And I hereby vow not to post any photos of myself for a good, long time.)

Put on a Happy Face

Spending beach time with the hubby makes me happy.

In the interest of coming to a greater peace with our physical selves, Jen from Denton Sanatorium has issued her readers a challenge to gaze into the mirror for a few moments and decide which facial feature is most lovely.

To be honest, I've always been reasonably pleased with the facial features reflected back at me every morning. It's the rounding of my face by age and added weight that doesn't thrill me. (I hope to change the shape of things a bit this year!)

But that's not the point, is it? I've got a choice to make here, and I'd better get down to business.

Okay. I could definitely say my eyes, which are an interesting shade of hazel and generally shining with one emotion or another. Unfortunately, they are not visible in this photo due to sun, squinting, and the next feature worthy of consideration: a big smile. =D

I like my smile, but since I've yet to jump on the bleached-tooth train and now appear to be sporting the only yellowing cuspids in town, maybe I'd better move on.

I find no fault with my nose or ears, but neither is more than unobjectionable. The brow and chin are ordinary as well, despite thinning and doubling to perfection.

Historically, thick hair has been my best feature. In its heyday, my crown was glorious, luxurious, and the envy of all my friends. No more, though. Today it is thin and fine and flying away faster than a flock of birds hurrying south for the winter.

Which leaves me and my slightly winterized face with the final answer: my skin. I am selecting my skin as the grand prize winner today...not because of its rosy hue, silky texture, or healthy glow but because it is relatively free of wrinkles and earns me a compliment now and again for being so. The secret? Sun avoidance and Aida Thibiant––a high price to pay! (The sun figuratively and Aida literally). heehee

In all seriousness, this was a good exercise for me. I used to be quite comfortable in my own skin (facial and otherwise), but aging has given me pause. I confess it is indescribably strange to look in the mirror and see thinning hair, brows, and lashes; fading color; sagging chops; and lines that were never there before. (I only said relatively wrinkle-free, remember?)

In short, it's true what they say: Aging is not for sissies! Having made that point, I am determined not to wallow in woe. Hey, it is what it is, right? And no one can deny that it beats the alternative...

;)

Click here for more favorite facial feature posts and below for more happiness.