Revelations

I have a confession. On the surface, it isn't pretty. Maybe down deep, it isn't pretty either. Anyway, it is the truth and when you keep the truth from the light, it grows into a little invisible gremlin that sits on your shoulder and whispers mean things in your ears.....so, here it is..... I WANT TO RUN AWAY. ALOT. The older I get, the worse it is. I first desired it while standing at the bus stop during college. There, one spring, as I patiently waited for my ride, an aroma tickled my nose that was a most familiar smell. What was it? I don't know exactly (honeysuckle, asphalt, a peach that was too ripe in my lunch bag), but it immediately reminded me of my grandfather, Pop. Without warning, tears sprung to my eyes and I wanted to RUN AWAY. To him. To Pop. To childhood. To the familiar place that I lost. To his garden, his yard, his truck, his arms....

The thing is, I don't want to run FROM things. I want to run TO things. I couldn't imagine my life without my children, my mother, my siblings, my friends - but I miss the cicadas. Yep, you heard me. The cicadas. The sultry, humid, heat of tonight's summer night has me yearning for past times, because the cicadas are LOUD, singing and lulling me into a slumber of memory that is seductive and powerful. I don't want to stay in the air-conditioned, pre-conditioned, dutiful cycle of the NOW. I want the days of my childhood that ring loud with similar hot summer evenings when the cicadas were purring. Back then, I was free and my bicycle took me everywhere - I doodled in the dirt and my mother was singing (light, airy, free!). Bugs bit me and I went to bed scratching but woke up happy and looking for more outside adventures. The cicadas sang in my grandmother's back yard, while the grown-ups talked and I circled them searching for lightning bugs to catch in my jar. The cicadas sang and chirped while I played "kick the can" with my neighbor friends under the street lights. When I was a young mother, they sang in my back yard in the heat of the summer while I rocked my first, sleepless baby to sleep. The cicadas call me back, over and over again to a simpler, more free time, when someone else was in charge. Rivers glisten, "Pops" hum, dryers run and I sleep - free from worry or responsibility - sweaty from play and not caring - giggly and giddy and happy and joyful. Childhood. I want to run there. Where the cicadas sing and my daddy is there and I am small and smart and free and I can hear and smell summer without all the traffic in my head sounding out and drowning out the beauty of life.

The cicadas are in my back yard, now. I hardly hear them. I wonder if my children hear them. Sometimes, I walk out there and listen and imagine I am wandering backwards in time to when I heard them in the background of play and laughter and exploration and I had not ONE CARE in the world. That is where I want to run away to. I miss it. I long for it.

My children didn't have the same childhood as I did. They had a more "present day" childhood, with fancy vacations and battery operated cars. They dyed Easter Eggs in the Caribbean and watched fancy, professional fireworks on the 4th of July. They had sparklers and ripe mangoes and corn-row hair in Jamaica. They had big city trips in fancy hotels - bottled water and mints on their pillows. Is there a sound or a smell from those places that will visit them 30 years from now that will make them want to RUN TO ME?

I took my teenage daughters on a shopping spree this week. During the long car ride, we listened to a book on tape, ate LOTS of fast food, shared some secrets and got in shouting matches. I realized I haven't done such a good job in making them appreciative, yet, at the same time, I realized they are good girls. We sang, spoke in foreign accents, told secrets, critiqued our clothes, stopped to pee a thousand times, indulged in chocolate delights (too many), had outbursts, laughed uncontrollably (at nothing) and came back exhausted. But, there were no cicadas. Yet, the cicadas are singing in my mind and calling me back. I want to run away.
I can only hope that some day, my daughters will want to run back to each other. To me. To a happy childhood. To the cicadas. To whatever made them easy and laughing and free. I will be there waiting - as will my father and Jim and other lost loved ones who have enriched our lives.

In the mean time, I will keep trying to live in the present - restored by the past and blessed by the present and .....reveling in my new shoes!! Did I mention that we bought SHOES??? Listen, I don't hear cicadas - but, my shoes are humming.... they are AWESOME (singing their own sweet song of promise)!!!

Cicadas are the lullaby of my childhood, but shoes are the song of my womanhood. Shoes don't lie. Really. Goodnight. ~J

The Ah-Haaaaas of Summer!

First, I was gone for a bit because I birthed another baby.....well, not technically. I birthed a great expression of my "artistic" side - a renovated, redecorated, shabby-chic beach house! In fact, my greatest compliment came from my daughter who said, "nothing goes together and yet, it all goes together"! Perfect! It evolved from a neglected 70's era beach house into a modern, but still "old-fashioned" beach-side cottage. I poured my soul into it. I haven't slept well or eaten well or performed my "other job" very well, but every one has been very understanding! Thanks, guys! I am having a hard time letting it go...to the renters....but I have faith that they will love it, too.
There are many bits of me there....the things that I love and the things that remind me of another house by the sea (from another life/another time). May God bless it!

As I have plowed along on the "project", SUMMER HAPPENED! Yes, my husband and children are getting along with summer jobs and camp and golf and sleeping in - embracing the lazy, humid, days of June. I have tagged along and grasped a little of it: Coastal Carolina baseball (go, Chants!), beach days (sharks teeth!), the farmers market (Caprese salad!), mosquitoes (2 legs full!), pan-seared grouper (YUM!), thunderstorms at night (blessing!) and a little boy who forgot where his OWN BED is (sweet, sweaty breath).....I have been renewed by the encouragement of friends, the knowledge that I am not alone and the revelation that life goes on, anyway.

Keep the summer memories coming~J

What do you "do"?

I am a little sensitive to the question "what do you do?" I know it's a silly sensitivity - I was raised in the after glow of bra burning and g-spots and equal opportunity. I had a working mother, for Pete's sake, before working mothers were "normal"! I know what I do has eternal value and that I am doing a silent, unrecognized and yet ultra-valuable job of providing hearth and home to my husband and children.....and yet, I feel bad that I don't have a business card.

It really hit home when my 6 year old son came home one day and asked me "what do you do?" See, they were studying careers in 1st grade and lots of parents had come in to speak to the class about being a lawyer, dentist, restaurateur, weather-man, teacher, coach - and it was logical for Michael to wonder what I "do". I tried to explain that I cypher, organize, clean, schedule, cook, change, spread, water, paint, hang, hem, hook, plan, pray, defend, discipline, compromise and commandeer the lives of 6 people everyday - and his response was "yeah, I know, but what do you do?!" Jeez.

When I was a little girl, my mother played a game with me every time she buttoned up my dress/shirt/shoes/coat: for each button she would point and say "rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief, doctor, lawyer, Indian chief" and wherever the buttons ended corresponded to what I would "do" when I grew up. Would I be proud to be any of these things??

Mom was a career woman with the demands of home and work forged upon her and still taking time to make a riddle out of buttoning my blouse.

What do I do?

Last week, we had 3 trees cut down in our yard. The arborist came to remove the stumps and, later, we stood out in the yard discussing the economy and such. He asked, "How is your business doing?" - and yes, "what do you do?" AHHH!!! I am still stewing over how to handle this from here on out. I am tempted to give a sarcastic response, but that would further degrade the still underestimated station of stay-at-home-mother.

Recently, in a meeting attended by all male professionals (except for little 'ole me), there were introductions via conference call with a well respected South Carolina attorney. Each male was defined by his glamorous title and then there was me....Jeanne Quinn....no title or profession....and then the big shot attorney says "I have heard of you Jeanne, and your reputation as a true Southern Lady"......Can I have THAT on my business card?????
This is my REAL business card. I can't tell you how very proud I am to call myself their mother. They don't know what I "do" either - but God knows and now, you know too!

Good night! ~J

Fruits

In the last days of my father's life, he seemed particularly concerned about being forgotten...the human mind is a mystery, and there were a lot of medications involved, but still - he wanted us to remember him. So, on the white board in his room, we wrote "A tree is know by its fruit". Indeed, my father was a fruitful man in many ways - but what came to my mind were his children. I will continue to lead my life in a way that honors him - the values he instilled in me, the trust he placed in me and the faith he had in me. Oh, and the pride he had in me and my children. Because he was such a good example, I have tried to graft those same values and expectations into my own "fruits". He lives on!!

And so, today, my daughter, Carol Anne is graduating from high school. I am very proud of her for her many accomplishments - the "things" she has achieved, awards, recognitions - but I am especially proud of her soul. She has been steadfast, trustworthy, brave, loyal and well....good. Not perfect, but good. She has always had a big heart, never been mean-spirited, and gosh, I love her. She is bossy. She is dramatic. She is stubborn. She is smart. She is caring. She is giving. She is my fruit and I am ever grateful for the blessing of being her mother.

The love of a parent is a sacrificial love - I have lost parts of "me" in the loving and caring of Carol Anne - but what I have gained is immeasurably better. We are defined by those who love us, and I am blessed to be Lanier's daughter and Carol Anne's mother.

Carol Anne, while you will be leaving me, our home, our daily lives, you are forever in my heart and always my daughter. Thank you.

~Mom

Good Grief!

Yesterday was the one year anniversary of my father's death. He spent the last three weeks of his life in a Hospice House - a wonderful, peaceful place, as I look back on it, but not so wonderful at the time it was all happening. It was hard to imagine that he would never go home again. As nice a place as the Robin Johnson house is, it still says "I am here because I am dying". I kept a journal while I was there...waiting. Some of these thoughts come from those musings. When Daddy was able to talk, he was as precious as always. He sang! On three separate occasions, he looked at me and started singing...."Remember me, I'm the one who loves you"....."Since you've been gone, My buddy"...."Me and My Shadow". All the while, trying to comfort those around him as he barely hung on to consciousness. Oh, I wanted to reminisce with him, to say "thank you" for some of the (many) important things he did for me, to laugh, to cry - but his ability to carry on a conversation was difficult. Lesson: don't wait to say it and when you say it - say it over and over again. It is a cliche, life is short - but so true! Even when we have a chance for a long goodbye, we are limited by time. Sadly, knowing this doesn't change the way I live: in a hurry, in a worry, precious time slipping away. What would I give to hold his hand? How can I live without his smile? He was my biggest fan, my encourager, the one and only man who I know loved me unconditionally and he was/is a great and everlasting blessing! Thank you, God, for giving me an earthly father of such value.
This is Daddy in his overalls and cowboy boots! Probably taken in about 1989.This is photo was taken probably 15 years later, as his health was really beginning to fail....but still, I can smell his after-shave and feel the warmth of his hand. I miss you, Daddy.

I will end with these words of comfort that a friend offered me -for all of us have loved and lost and as we each face daily struggles:

"My prayer is that the joy of the Lord will be your strength as you walk in the work that He has given you to do".

Amen. ~J

Half Full

A note about blogging. It is a public journal. For me, it is a fun way to examine, report and preserve the daily blessings of my life. Not just one, but several, of my friends, after having read my posts, commented that it seemed a little one sided....maybe a little "rose-colored"? YES! Exactly! I want to take time, hopefully everyday, to look at the good stuff in my life. I am writing about what makes my glass "half full". Sure, if you must know, there are worries, disappointments, failures, loss, extra pounds, lies, demands, illness, depressions and mistakes wedged in and around every word that is printed in this public domain - but I have no intention of giving it any press time! I think for most of us, it is a constant battle trying to keep our human nature from tying up our Christian spirit and holding it hostage! So, if you want to know the dirt that does exist in my temporal life - come steal my book of PRIVATE musings and weep away....but this spot is for joys and jubilation! And soooooo, today was Youth Sunday at Pawleys Island Presbyterian Church! My daughter, Carol Anne, and 3 other high school seniors were honored by their church family. Also, it is tradition that they preach the sermon....their theme was "perseverance" and they each did a fantastic job. I am very proud of their accomplishments both at school and church. Carol Anne is a beautiful, young woman with a tender heart and a deep understanding of what it is like to persevere through trials and tribulation and she eloquently shared her faith experience from the pulpit today. Thank you, Lord, for giving me the honor of raising her....it makes all the hard stuff seem insignificant when you look at it that way - that is the "half full" doctrine!
Pastor Rhett and Pastor Frank were kinda proud too! Finally, no church function would be complete without a dessert table like this:
I think my final words should be from the lyrics of today's Hymn of Preparation, because this verse adequately explains both my "half-full" doctrine and the spirit of today's service at PIPC:
"As we gaze on Your kingly brightness So our faces display your likeness, Ever changing from glory to glory; Mirrored here, may our lives tell Your story; Shine on me, Shine on me. Shine Jesus shine, fill this land with the Father's glory. Blaze Spirit blaze, set our hearts on fire."

Cheers to "half full"! ~J

PS Thanks, Jenny, for knowing about the emptiness and loving me anyway!

Food for the Soul

On Mother's Day, we took some nice photos of me and the kids. It was a great afternoon, so we headed out to Creek Ratz for a "sea breeze" on the inlet....then we had dinner at Texas Roadhouse where my sweet Carol Anne was working her shift! Somehow, we managed to all be together, even if that meant we were simply all in the same location! I can't believe how wonderfully grown up they are getting - I would rather spend time with them than with anyone else, anywhere, anytime! Thanks, kids, for a wonderful day.

When Monday rolled around, it was strawberry picking time! I helped chaperon the 1st grade field trip to Thompson Farms. Now, I am no "Super Mom"....this is the ONLY field trip that I have attended all year - but I "picked" a good one (no pun intended). Thompson Farms is awesome and we had so much fun.
Michael learned so much about "picking" and was very careful about it. We ended up with a gallon bucket and turned that into 2 pies and a cake. YUM! There is nothing more fulfilling than spending time in and around God's creation and then literally eating it up! THAT is what I call food for the soul! That said, it is well with my soul! Blessings abound in everyday life. ~J