Got hope?

How can my days be so incredibly encouraging and discouraging at the same time? I just looked up the word hope as I have a rock that sits on my desk with that word carved into it. I often overuse the word by saying "I hope...." and something that may be trivial like "I hope you have a nice day." But what really is it to hope? There were all kinds of definitions of the word but the one that stops me short is "to desire with expectation of obtainment".

Isn't it human to desire and sometime know you have your back to the wall or up against impossible odds and yet still have a huge hope you can beat the odds? You desire obtainment, but is it really the expectation? Do I expect to always obtain? I feel greedy praying with expectation of obtainment like I'm demanding my way or the highway, but I feel false and faltering of faith to not expect what I'm asking be granted.

“Ask and it shall be given unto you…” What isn’t said clearly is that it isn’t a one to one exchange. We can ask, but the answer isn’t always the one we imagined was the answer to the question. That takes us back to expectations. Is the answer sometimes asking us to change what we expect to happen? Is the point in asking to change the person that is asking? Change me to see beyond my expectations to what? That is where the picture gets murky for me. How can I change the questions when I can only see one answer?

Often I'm desperate for a change in a predicted outcome like when both my brother's lives hung in the balance. My expectations weren't met, but I understood that was a possibility. My hopes weren't met. I miss them and they died way too early. I had hoped that wouldn't be the case.

I had hope when I auditioned for way too many grad schools and got in to the one I thought impossible to be accepted into and I graduated from there too. Surviving it at times seemed a bit hopeless at the time, but my hopes carried me through. However my hope was met not in the way I expected at all.  

When my son was born and I wasn’t supposed to be able to have a child at all, but I was granted one. Soon after the diagnosis of autism came and things changed for us as a family again. Yes, not what we expected or hoped, but he is still a gift and quite amazing. He is what makes me stop and ponder such things as the nature of hope. He makes me change my expectations and in many ways gives me hope and stretches my definition of hope. I wait and hope for a good future, but my hopes change daily in each moment.

My son is brilliant and an incredible human being who teaches me how to hang on to hope. He is a tenacious boy filled with hopes and dreams of all kinds. His dreams are often my dreams for him also. He wants so much. I want it for him or with him to encourage him, but I’m discouraged by his fears and the hidden things that seem to overwhelm that hope, those dreams, and our moments of connectedness. I stumble around trying to help and I’m so afraid I’m hurting what we hope for.

It puts a new spin on that phrase in O Little Town of Bethlehem“....the hope and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight." This Christmas, I think about what is that hope I have in Christ? What does it mean to set aside my fear and hope for something better? Or is that what the song is talking about? The hope and fear of all the years….my years….your years are met in Emanuel, God with us. He is with us and for us despite our stumbles. May your hope be renewed or revived or resuscitated as you turn your face towards the Christ child tonight.

*Photos: painting of "Magdalene" by Titian above, my son at a Christmas light festival, and a nativity ornament at that same festival "The Lights of Christmas" in Stanwood, WA.

Shoring Up Grace

This poem is about a lot of things right now I’ve been going through and yet about my past also. Things I’m always learning. Written 11/5/2013 after a tough rehearsal night with a new script.

Reconstruction

I am so aware of what is hers and what I’ve created around it

The shaky form that held within its promise

I was drawn to it, barely knowing what it was

All I knew is that I wanted back in

I wanted to return to doing

To being a part of a family

That I’d dropped out

Become a distant visiting soul

Dancing on the fringes

Of a group of people

I admired

So I waited to come

To hold again a map

Returning me down that road

With bumps and winding

Meanders past deep lakes

That I dive into with eyes

That cannot see past

My own nose

In I plunge

This time over my head

Drowning in words, limits, and love

Struggling in the undertow of dramatic construct

Deconstructing what is there to layer over top

A canvas to make this boat to sail

Fast across that lake

Not weighted down to sink

On the bottom

To skim slick across the top

To get somewhere

I get out at the other shore

Walk down an unknown path

To a golden sun

Burning hot against those hills

Rising emerald green gems

To turn dark blue with cold

As the sun downs behind them

Leaving me alone

Look up, you say

She is gone

Above you are the points far off

That say you are not alone

That guides the boat

Who brought you to the path?

Gave wind to fill the sail

Warmed by the sun and marked it

Going out behind what seemed so green

And then silent black blue

And you were frightened in that silence

Until you turned your eyes away from the depths

Or the storm

Or the path

Above you is an expanse

That goes on and on and on

There is no limit

To the gift of grace given in this moment

You are not ever alone

Frustration Poems

I haven't posted anything of late and I have always been a frustrated poet. Here is today's quick entry on that note.

Perpetual Pea Soup Ponderings

The daily fog outside

Matches me inside these days

And nights reaching for something

That runs far in the distance

An outline of something

I can’t quite make out

Seeing it there in shadow

Through a white translucent curtain 

floating, yet thick enough

Not to know where to go

I nearly run into it

Looming before me

It was there all along

Not what I wanted to find

When will this fog lift?

So I can see things clearly

I wonder and wander alone

And this poem I wrote a couple of

years ago. I know the picture isn't Tiger Lillies, but just imagine. (See the fog behind the flowers and you will get my state these days).

Tiger Lilly Turmoil     

I buy myself flowers now,

You used to bring them to me,

You never question the occasional bright bouquet

I pick up while running errands

To provide some sort of comfort or inspiration into my ordinary existence

Not a secret lover’s flaunt you surmise

You glance and say nothing

They greet us standing soldier silent on the kitchen table

Exotic, fragrant, and bright

How I used to seem

They remind me of what I’ve lost for you

I must to you look like the wilted bunch that lingers at the end of the week

Too good to throw out, but not fresh enough to celebrate

Is there room for new growth?

Not in dry bunches stuck in water that greys with time

I’d rather dig a hole and dive into the ground

Overwintering the frozen storms

Until spring awakens me once more

To emerge reaching skyward  forever bright

returning each spring to bloom once more.

GFCF Lemon Blackberry-Strawberry Coffee Cake

By popular demand I'm posting this. I have grown up baking and cooking. GFCF baking though took a bit of a learning curve this past year to really get any good at it. I tend to not measure, but eyeball a lot of things when I cook and (gasp) bake. Some bakers would swear you can't eyeball anything, but my mother always did and so do I. I make my own jam which went into this cake too, but you can use whatever you like. I hope you make it and enjoy it! I do tend to lean even heavier on the spices, but toned it a little bit down for you all. It was going to be raspberries, but my bush just stopped producing them and the blackberry bush was full plus I had some late summer strawberries in the fridge. You can use whatever berries are on hand and in season!

GFCF Lemon Blackberry-Strawberry Coffee Cake

Dry Ingredients

1 ½ C. Pamela’s GFCF Baking Mix

1 ½ C. GF All Purpose Flour

½ C. Either Garbanzo Bean or Almond Flour

½ Tsp. Salt

2 Tsp. Baking powder

1 Tsp. Baking soda

1 Tsp. Ginger

1 ½ Tsp. Cinnamon

2 Tsp. Cardamom

¼ C. Sugar

Wet Ingredients

½ C. Vanilla Coconut Yogurt (if not vanilla add in 1 Tsp. of vanilla extract)

1 C. Light or regular canned Coconut Milk

1 Lemons (zest and juice)

¾ C. Honey

3 Eggs

Filling and topping

1 TBS Strawberry or Blackberry Preserves (heaping)

Blackberries

Strawberries

1 Lemon (zest and juice)

1 ½  TBS. Brown Sugar

1 Tsp. Cinnamon

½ Tsp. Nutmeg

½ TBS. GF Flour

1 ½ TBS of non-dairy GF margarine melted

Powdered Sugar

½ to ¾ C. Nuts of your choice: Walnuts or pecans are great! (Optional)

If you like a little more lemon, I did end up adding in a little lemon extract too to punch it up a bit. Do that to taste.

Preheat oven at 375. Combine Dry ingratiates. Combine wet ingredients. Combine dry and wet together to make batter. Spray bunt pan and add in ½ the batter. Spoon preserves on top of batter putting as many berries as you wish in this filling. I wouldn’t overfill the middle with berries or it will get super mushy. I probably did ¼ C. of each kind. Spoon in the rest of the batter on top of this.

Prepare topping (or bottoming in this case!):

Combine brown sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, and lemon zest. Combine with melted margarine or if you are like me and forget the margarine I put the topping on and then go, “Oh the margarine!” and then drizzle it on top of the topping so it will combine. Either way works. It can be easier to forget as the dry stuff goes on easier and covers better that way. Place on top of batter (it will end up being on the bottom when you flip it out of pan). I suppose you could start with this as the first layer if you wanted it on top of the bunt. Bake at 375 for 25 minutes and check to see if done (everyone’s oven is different).

After it has come out and cooled for about 10 minutes. Flip out of bunt pan onto serving plate. Combine a little more preserves with lemon juice and a little powdered sugar to drizzle on top of cake. A light dusting of powdered sugar if you want to make it even prettier. Place berries on top. Eat and enjoy!

Another poem....

My son is into keeping all the windows open at the moment. Even when the nights are dipping down into the low 50s. I have been writing poetry still since April, when I wrote so many, but here is one I wrote this morning that seems blog worthy.

Summer’s Opportunity

You’re opening windows

Insisting that they be not shut

Such an effort to open them

You climb up on a chair to reach

Stretching to your full height

Pulling on stiff levers that secure them

You push them free

Swinging out

Nearly falling yourself

You rock back on your heels

Standing in the silhouette of the sky

Breathing in summer’s sweet release

Hemmed in no more

Science Lecture Captured #1

My son is 8 years old and happens to be autistic. He is gaining more and more interest and knowledge about science. He’s always been fascinated by the weather, but in the last several months plate tectonics has captured his attention. Plus, he is trying to figure out what God does and the view of the Bible. We try to help him figure out all the pieces and theories vs. fact vs. not knowing.

 It is all overflowing with these long rambling lectures as he calls them that he has to “get out”. We interrupted him the other night when he was in the midst of one and tried to put him to bed. He fought us tooth and nail scratching and screaming upset to the maximum until we all got calmer after a while and I figured out it was because we’d interrupted him on his lecture walk. He wanders through the yard outside usually, lecturing to me, the bushes, and the air, but it is a driven moment that he has to do. Plus he has to sleep out on our balcony even though the temperature have been dropping into the low fifties at night (quite cold for summer).

This morning, he lectured me and engaged me some. He spoke loudly, not the whispered lectures of the evening, oh no, this was a proclamation about the morning sun. I finally grabbed a piece of paper getting some of it down verbatim. Some of it I remembered. Here it is in entirety as best I could put it back together. I’m so sorry I missed part of it because he had me laughing at his clever turn of phrase too.

"If I was born was born where the space was born....If I were born when the universe started, we must travel back in time. I'd be born in space in a space suit so I could breathe. I'd come down into the atmosphere onto the planet Earth. As we travel back in time, we'll watch what happens when I'm space born.

First, I’d descend into the ocean. No land. Hurricanes blow up and spit me out. Oh, it is rough. Lots of rain pelting my body. It is somewhat confusing. I go up into the air where there is oxygen and hydrogen and the sun warms me some.

 I plunge into the water. Splash! Thousands of feet below the waves it would be dark. There are underwater chimneys spewing hot liquid. These chimneys would create my first life. Single cell organisms. I think we call it single cell bacteria.

Millions of years and then the stromatolites turn sunlight into food and they make the atmosphere not so toxic. My location is on my island, but then the next two billion years the oxygen level will begin to rise and I’ll be so old. But I sleep every night until each dawn. But I can be reminded I can only sleep outside on the ground. Whatever my body feels like. No blankets.

Five million years ago, I still don’t see more complex life. No plants, dinosaurs, and I can’t see any humans. My Earth looks like a beautiful blue ball and there are volcanic activity in my location. It looks like I push and pull the plates around the globe carrying the islands around the globe.

I will still be in my location and in two billion years there will be a super continent: Rodinia. I see in my location is a desert. My planet has been slow. Eighteen hours, but then my planet looks more like Mars than Earth because of the desert in my location.

750 million years ago in my location, state of Washington, something is happening. A great big super continent is splitting into two continents. A new super continent Pennotia. In just a few thousand years the temperature will plummet in my location thousands of degrees. The cold comes. My body freezes and my body will shake. Thousands of ice sheets will meet and form plates and then meet at the equator.  I will look at the sun to see what the ice is doing. Not even the sun can rescue the planet now.

Millions of years the volcanos start emptying. They erupt in my location too. It creates thick shoots and weak spots and oxygen levels rise. Then it will create more carbon dioxide and push up the temperature in my location. About 600 million years ago the temperature will be warmer acting like a summer’s day.

What about something along the oceans? A slug takes up residence it’s called Olaxia (I think he’s trying to say “atlantics”---I looked it up---a kind of ancient sea slug). There are planets. There are worm sponges and lobsters. Mesonychoteuthis, (I had to write this out phonetically and then look it up to figure out what he was talking about. An ancient type of real Kraken type creature just discovered recently that roamed the seas and was quite aggressive), Mesonychoteuthis is 20 feet long, razor sharp eyes and grasping limbs. And it’s a monster. All it has to do with its razor sharp teeth is take its pick. Rodinia and Pennotia are starting to break apart. The end for now. That’s all.

Poem #30 for April National Poetry Month.

I made it! 30 poems in 30 days! It has been actually more than 30 poems. What a ride! I’ve never tried to intentionally write that much poetry at once. It has been good discipline.

Susan Lori-Parks wrote a play a day for a year. Now, being who she is her year of plays gets produced. It was a grand experiment like this.

I know I need to edit and re-work a lot of these, but there are beginnings of some gems. What would a year produce, I wonder? Could I stand it? Keep it going? Or have enough vocabulary? I tend to repeat my favorite words. I am aware of all of this. What do you think? Yea or nay? Let me know.

Tonight you get two poems for the price of one. The first written this afternoon and the other after seeing myself tonight on film at a big movie theatre in the local indie film The Pony Man.

Pondering Polaroid

A quiet cascade through my memory

A silence so loud it hurts

How easy let go

It doesn’t flow

Here in my mind

The pictures painted bright

There is so much I have forgotten

I reach for the photos

I have misplaced

Shuffling through the same stack

Getting lost in story

The sound of the train whistle

 Out back of my home

Between the garden and the airport

On the edge of that farming sleepy town

The train sliced through

Clickity-clack high pitched announcement

That marked the day into sections

So sweet like an orange peeled

Juicy and ready to cut those hazy

Summer days playing on railroad tracks

Smelling the sticky tar

Bubbling up from treated wood slats

Hopping from one to one to one

Walking for hours trying to outrun the distance

Lying on my back in a dark field

The cold grass against my shoulders

A bit nippy in September’s late kiss goodbye

 to August’s free form passion

Looking for stars or something familiar

Singing to the Heavens

Waiting for them to whisper back

Tasting blood trickling down

The side of my head banged against

The steering wheel

Lost staggering alone on an Iowa dirt road

Stunned seeing the ditched pitch

Of a car curled up like a yellow bean bug

Waiting to devour the whole plant

When a dust cloud pulls up

Out steps a flannel clad knight

Asking if I’m ok

He takes me back to town

In a rattle-trap sea sludge green truck

on a sienna brown road

Pulling us towards town

out of the wild lonely flat lands

These small unspecific adventures

trapping solace and sculptures of a place

A marker between pages of adventure

stretching out my probability

To capture that perfect sunset

photographed on my cortex

in a distinct distant melody

I sing to remember

Humming snatches

Grabbing notes

Floating euphoric in snapshots of home

First Screening

Surreal seeing myself on the silver screen

I was there and then gone

Uttering a few lines

A pained look with joy

Is that what I look like?

I look at her

And I do like what I see

Heavy, but pretty

Country and city

Finding something in this itty bitty part

My life mimics the art

It’s a start

Performing a tiny role

Written for me

That I thought,”Why not?”

I get to be on the spot

In the light

Big emotions in a miniscule moment

A pause of dialogue in the montage

That’s me full and free

Poem #29 of National Poetry Month. This evening I went and returned a sleeping bag and camping pad that I borrowed nearly three years ago from a very generous and patient friend. It made me in mind of that great quote from Polonius in Hamlet Act 1 scene iii. This is for you Syrinda, thank you!

Deferred Taxes

Never a borrower or lender be

When you borrow you can pay great fees

And lending can lead you round the bend

Especially, if that person is a friend

They take the thing they needed most

And keep it with no regard to the host

You are wondering if that thing is now toast?

Or been lent out to some unknown source?

But of course, you try to have trust

In those that you love the most

When you need a thing

And put out a general cry

It is amazing the replies

Those are closest often

Do not respond

And those you know

A bit, see fit

To lend you their most precious

Or treasured thing

Not box or bag,

But a ring

Or antique going back generations

From the fathers of this nation

We borrow and lend

To friends and friends of friends

Now where are we?

On an apparent spending spree

That we cannot borrow more

And those lending days are through

This is the main issue

If not to be one who needs or charges fees

Then who shall we be?

The future is murky

Look at countries like Turkey

Greece and Ireland

Who have tried to be better men

Yet are like Rabbit trying

with all his relatives and relations

to unblock that door

Pooh Bear had to lose weight

Before he could get out of that scrape

I wonder what will happen to our state

Traveling at this rapid rate

Digging our own inevitable fate

I really cannot relate

To what the government does or purposes

As I haven’t chosen

To get on this ride with them

They are men who

Defend a system that is broken

And so few have spoken

About the justice of money

The future of this land

How can we expand our thinking?

We are sinking

This is stinking

More and more

They cannot ignore

The people who struggle

I wish they knew

How much we need

A common man

To take a stand

And understand making a solid plan

Lending less and borrowing less

To get us out of this mess!

That is what seems best

To quote a great mind

To be kind

To thy own self be true

But to borrow nothing

And lend nothing

I think could be quite shrewd

Poem #28 of National Poetry Month and Autism Awareness too, which I write quite a bit of poetry about my autistic son.  Some nights I am so grateful for a quick prayer said and answered by the kindness of strangers. I needed help and it came from strangers and my husband. The boy might be not feeling well as part of this too, but I didn’t know until the storm hit. This poem I write for Peter and Austin that stopped to help us out tonight. You were the angels sent to aid us. Thanks!

Flash Flood Storm Boy

Downward spiral you slide so fast

I am caught in your wind wake

Not seeing all that is at stake

It is a seamless night

With a clear sky

Like a desert downpour

Out of no where

Sudden onslaught of sleepiness

Drives the clouds to grow

Larger, more full, and the deepest threatening hue

I had no clue this was brewing

Until I am drenched in misfired questions

Misdirection and so many missed connections

As I scurry to find the map to lead us out of it

Tonight a couple of strangers

 held an umbrella over our heads

I was shocked they stopped

And really heard your cries for help

They weren’t afraid

They sat down and stayed

Looking like they would have

Remained for as long as it takes

To see the storm abated

This new lightening rod

Attracted all your energy

You were repelled by them

I was attracted to their kindness

It was enough inertia to blow the storm

Down the block and into the car

Where we had to go

As home was so far

The rage settled to a trickle

Until the tickle of the driveway

You were so dismayed as the Heavens opened

 again to flood the floor to ceiling

I thought we would drown this time

Trapped in the car

Gotten this far

Then my partner storm chaser

Stepped out of the house

To see the tornado up close

He shouted to be heard

Stepping into the funnel undeterred

Into the house you blew

Full hurricane on the horizon

Unless we could shoot the eye

Coming around the bend

We stuffed your high pressure front

Into your footed pajamas

Getting many kisses from Mama

We brushed teeth

Despite the rain still constant

We tucked you in

Giving you a concert

Of sweet rest

Songs stilling the storm

Eyes closing

Rain down to a hiccupping mist

The fresh smell of sleep

Curling away the clouds

In comforted consolation

Our sweet boy once more

Poems #27 My thoughts racing all over the map tonight. I wrote this first one and nearly didn’t publish it, but decided it would be good to do so. Here I am with 2 more for today’s entries.

Solo Story Project

Blank stare at the page

Matches my empty-headedness

As too many thoughts

Ride by the window

Much too swift and slick

To hold onto

Snatches of my father

Eighty-eight this year

Turning over that nine

He has almost run out of time

He sits alone and likes it

Yet he holds onto his stories

I’ve begged him to tell us

Before he goes

And turns up his toes

He hears me not

My sisters are someones

How I’ve wished to know

What dishes they have

Inside they keep

Their stories, not a peep

I overflow and they know

Most of what I know

I am a constant show

Wanting them to be my audience

Holding that front row seat

But like for Guffman

I wait and wait

Faith Story

Faith takes a fullness of being

To know what it is that makes us leap

We repeat the same patterns

The echo of past mistakes

And something says purchase that new item

Way over there that you know nothing about

That shouts“pick me!”

In the sea of other worn grooves

More than mere mood molds

That jump to a find

When we are lost

Cannot be found

We hear the sound

Of simple symphonic greatness

In one single note

We stroke that lamp

Hoping for smoke

Knowing there will be a genie

Kind or evil is not

The supreme thought

In this small action

This tiny tenacious turn

To hold onto the one thing we know

Leaping for what we don’t, can’t,

but must, must, must!