Jessicarrot

I’ve been observing grief and I think the mind is very powerful. People walking around in a daze, staring off somewhere, their minds flashing, searching, grasping at pleasant and unpleasant memories. Its like our minds have to catalogue everything at once to determine what our memory will be of this person. Some little (or big) part of our soul that is lost. The spectrum of emotions from joy to profound sorrow are there in people’s faces, but the mind has taken hold. Protecting, I think.

** A friend emailed this morning and this was part of my response

I feel sick. I’ve never felt so sick to my heart. My sweet sister in law was visited by the nightmare no mother should ever have to endure this morning. My niece slipped out of this world. It doesn’t even seem possible. At this moment she is on life support. Her body is going through all the motions, but she is gone. She never recovered brain activity. Her organs will be the miracle other families have been praying for. It just doesn’t seem possible. What amazes me is the strength Paige has, to keep walking, keep moving, keep having faith. I am watching my 6 year old neice who just whitnessed the nightmare unfold. Children too, are amazing. She’s playing and laughing with my daughter. Out of the blue she stopped what she was doing and said, “I think Kraven is in heaven.” I just waited to hear what she felt like telling me. The aweful scene came out, without a tear. Matter of fact. Like her mind has suspended all connection to her heart. My neice Kraven drowned in the bathtub. She simply fell asleep and didn’t wake up. She’s nearly 10 years old, you just don’t think a child that age is in any danger in the bathtub. It doesn’t seem possible. At the trauma center they are running tests to find out why she didn’t wake up. I can not imagine the depth of sorrow my sister and brother in law are experiencing at the moment. I have asked everyone I’ve spoken to to pray for my sister in law’s family. They need all the prayers they can get right now.

I’m not really there.

That shadow, that flash.

That moment you almost forget.

Between the night and the day,

Between that empty and lucid moment in your dream

I’m the instant of recognition when you realize something is amiss.

A friendly face that suddenly turns dark.

I know you.

I hate you.

I will do everything in my power to destroy you.

I’m not really there…

I don’t even exist.

(A silly over-breakfast exchange ended with me calling BJay a dork.)

BJay to the kids: Who thinks daddy is a dork?

Hila: Me!

Asher: Me! Uh, mom…why did you marry a dork?

*(Ummm… I don’t know where the spell check went… Now you can see how bad my spelling is.)

We went to my sister-in-law’s house last night for games and pizza. It was fun and we stayed too late. As we were driving home a storm was coming in and we were awed by bright flashes of lightening and low rumbling thunder. The radio announced that there was a tornado watch for our area. I found myself wishing that we’d come home and find our house had been destroyed by a fallen pine tree. We have a whopper of a pine tree in our front yard. Anywhere it falls it would pretty much take out the house. Isn’t that a funny thing to wish? Of course I’d want the destruction to happen when we are all somewhere else. But I think we’d have a lot more fun on weekends if we were rid of this money-pit of a fixer house. Every weekend is a project and if we don’t do anything on the house I feel like we’re slacking and move back my expected date of completion another year. Luckily for me I don’t have any stuff that I’d be upset to lose either. Stuff that is. I think our neighbors would be thrilled too. Our sister ugly house in the neighborhood was purchased by a well-to-do retired couple at the begining of the year and they’ve completely remodeled and painted (with the help of about 20 different contractors). So our house is the sad lonely ugly duckling of the neighborhood. We have so much to do to finish the inside we haven’t really done much to the outside. Every other yard on the street is well-manicured and pristine. I have to laugh sometimes. But I wonder if my neighbors are wishing a tornado to drop down on our house raise property values for the neighborhood. Its funny. I guess.

I Heart Stephen Colbert

Rain always makes me gloomy. We’re in a drought here, so the rain hasn’t been around as often. Its annoying to be affected by the weather. The laundry never did get off the ground yesterday so I vowed to be productive today. Sunday I went to a baby shower and got to spend a little time with this woman who taught me early morning seminary. The older I get, the more impressed I am with anyone who teaches early morning seminary. Its one thing to be awake and coherent at 6:30am, its another thing entirely to be prepared to teach grumpy, sleepy teenagers about scripture. I’ve always admired this former teacher of mine so it was nice to talk to her. The first thing she asked was, “Are you working on your art?” Which seemed a bizarre thing to ask. “Um…no.” I said. And then I pathetically said “Well, I guess I’m writing a bit.” And then she proceeded to give me a pep talk about how important it is to do the things that give you a sense of fulfillment and creative release. “Its important for your children to see you do that.” she said. And I’ve been thinking about that ever since. I find it hard to strike the right balance. With 4 young children it is really hard to do anything for myself. I blog, of course but I sometimes feel guilty for ignoring my kids for 30 minutes or so while I try and post something. Its hard to know exactly how much of yourself you are supposed to preserve. They won’t be babies forever, and when they are older and self-sufficient and think I’m the biggest idiot in the world am I going to miss the time I could have been sitting playing with them or holding them in my lap? Of course. I don’t know if you could ever do enough. Every night I lay down and think about all the things I could have done better. All the wrong messages I gave my daughter. All the lost patience with my little 2 year old. “Give yourself 30 minutes a day, 3 days a week to pick up the sketch pad and draw.” My teacher said. That isn’t a lot. But then is drawing or painting the talent I want to work on right now? Is it even worth it? It is spring time in North Carolina which means the wisteria is out and everything is in bloom. Its a beautiful time for landscapes. When I was a teenager I fancied myself an artist. There was something so romantic about throwing some pastels and charcoal in a bag and setting out on a landscape hunt. I was modeling my mentor and friend who is an artist. A few years ago this friend of mine and I compared notes on our lives. I have always envied her chosen profession. Art shows, trips to Europe to study, painting under the summer sky in a big straw hat. It seems like such an enjoyable way to spend your life. And of course, she said she envied the joy and fulfillment I have as a mother. “It would be like winning the lottery if you could do both.” She said. I’ve thought about that a lot.

So the rain and that conversation about what I’m not doing converged to make me very thoughtful. And gloomy. I wonder if there is more I should be doing artistically. I enjoy painting and drawing, but I don’t think I’m an artist. As a teenager I tip-toed around the world of artists wishing I could be like them. But there was a moment when I was looking at this exquisite drawing, masterfully executed and I just knew. I will never be able to produce that. I’m just not dedicated enough. And it made me want to cry huge angry tears and rip something up. Becoming a mom was very natural for me and I fell in love with my infant son immediately. It surprised me how much it was like falling in love romantically. You carry this little creature around for 9 months and there is a sense of loving and connection, but it is nothing like when the baby is born. At least for me. It was like going from fuzzy black and white to color HDTV. All the sudden the creature was a little baby, my baby and he was so sweet and helpless and warm. All I wanted to do was hold him. Every night I lay down and I’m in awe that I’ve been so blessed with these four amazing children. But in gaining these four amazing little people, did I lose something about myself? Maybe. I don’t spend an hour on my hair every day anymore. And I don’t get to goof around writing songs or painting. I definitely don’t get to go out whenever I want to. It would be nigh impossible for me to go work on landscapes. Is that okay? I honestly don’t know. I guess what I’m wondering is if all those things need to be part of my identity right now? Am I myself when I have all those interests scattered around in the periphery?