Showing posts with label Mama Kat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mama Kat. Show all posts

Friday, November 1, 2019

All Saints Day

These are some shots from a walk through Pere Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, resting place of several famous people, including Gertrude Stein and the composer, Frederic Chopin. 


The oldest people buried here are a husband and wife, Abelard (1079-1142) and Heloise (1101-1164).  Many graves have been added since that time.  The most recent I saw was in 2011, but most are very old.  Many are moss covered or strewn with cobwebs; some have sunken over time.




Lots of the family plots are marked by crypts where the bereaved can come to pray.  The smell of incense and flickering of candles can be found at several graves.  As sunlight shines through the stained glass that appears in the back and sides of many of the crypts, color can be seen through designs cut into the doors in their fronts.




After all these years, I still felt as though I was witnessing the grief of the bereaved looking at these graves.  Seeing how they attempted to preserve the likeness of a loved one, or tell something about their lifestyle in the memorial they chose, I understood the desire to make sure the one they lost was not forgotten having experienced that same feeling.


Grief is such a painful process; it overwhelms us leaving both body and soul spent.  Once you have lost someone, I don’t believe you ever really stop grieving.  I think the best you can hope for is to find peace.






Peace to all who are mourning.







Never have I seen a ghost; but if I did, I am pretty sure it would be here.

Thursday, October 24, 2019

What I am Reading This Fall


The temperatures are falling, the daylight hours shrinking.  Time to gather reading material for fall.

The Secret Diary of Hendrik Green, 83 1/4 Years Old
A resident of a nursing home chronicles daily life in Amsterdam.  The author, Peter De Smet, was not credited on the book adding to the sense this is truly Hendrik's diary.  Characters are presented with humor and sympathy that evokes compassion in the reader.  

Packing My Library
An Elegy and Ten Digressions
This is one of the books sent as part of the Year of Reading program at Shakespeare and Company bookstore in Paris.  Alberto Manguel wrote this book as he reflected on the process of packing up and whittling down his 35,000 volume library while preparing to move to a new continent.

Being Mortal
Medicine and What Matters in the End
My friend, a doctor, has just come through a year of loss.  She recommended this book to me after finding it personally moving.

A Walk Through Paris
A Radical Exploration
I picked up this book at the wonderful Commonplace Books the last time I was in Oklahoma City. A mix of history and geography of Paris, the chapters are dotted with vintage photographs and hand-drawn maps.

Exit West
Another selection sent through the Year of Reading program, this book has been labeled "an instant classic".  It was released in 2017, and Barack Obama featured it on his books of the year list.

Maid
Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother's Will to Survive
My younger daughter loaned me this book. She mentioned it every time we talked while she was reading it.  The book takes an honest look at the working poor in America. 



My next six books.


Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Stop the Glorification of Busy



As a college senior I worked two part-time jobs in addition to student teaching.  Hearing fellow students complain about the stress of student teachng without the added workload of the other jobs, I admit I felt superior. When my kids were small I took pride in juggling work, home and volunteer duties.  I wore the bags under my eyes from sleep lost in order to allow more work hours into each day like dark, puffy badges of honor.
Busyness becomes a god we sacrifice far too much to.  Our health, our families, our friendships and our peace of mind all suffer when we continually push ourselves beyond what is reasonable.  We develop tunnel vision looking only towards our goal and missing the blessings that surround us every day.
There is danger in the pride that comes from living life as though we can do it all on our own.  One day we look up and realize that is exactly how we are doing life–alone.
We will be much happier when we slow down,  doing one task at a time and giving it our full attention.  We will find more satisfaction in the work. Then to be truly happy, once that task is finished we should put it away and turn our attention–our full attention–to the people in our lives.






Mama Kat prompt: What were you writing about a year ago?  Something I still need to remind myself!

Sunday, August 5, 2018

You Drown by Staying

edwin louis cole


I found this handmade card at an annual art fair this summer.  The words came at what must have been the precise moment I needed to hear them.  The message grabbed hold of my heart and has not let go. The artist's doodles appear like ripples reminding me that each life decision we make effects all those that come after.  This is a heavy message, but it comes with a reminder of hope.  When we are in too deep--when we are in over our head--we don't have to stay there; and in choosing not to stay, we choose to live.  


Thursday, June 21, 2018

Road Trips




1990- 2010 was the Era of Epic Road Trips for our family. We made multiple runs to the East coast from our Kansas home.  We thought nothing of buzzing up to Door County, Wisconsin with semi-frequency.  We loaded up our own wagon and traveled to every location where Pa Ingalls had settled the Little House gang.  From the Grand Canyon to the Statue of Liberty we saw the USA, and we did it while preserving quite a bit of the domestic tranquility.
We were blessed with three easy going kids which made the traveling feasible, but we also had a secret weapon…the little girl in this photo, Daughter #2 age five.  By this point she could out-pack me for the journey.  Those indoor/outdoor sunglasses are a tip-off that this young lady was ready for anything.  Wherever we traveled, she brought along a backpack filled with the most obscure items which we inevitably found ourselves needing.  Tape, chigger bite cream, a flashlight, a permanent marker, a bungee cord, all manner of safety items could be found in that red calico bag.  But she wasn’t merely practical, she also packed creature comforts.  Snacks, drinks, lotion, chap stick, stuffed animals, fuzzy socks, and most likely that set of Uno cards amusing her in the photo, all were things she could be counted on toting along as well.
The mere mention of an item one of us might find handy sent her riffling through her back pack.  Nine times out of ten she could lay her hands on the very item we were wishing for.  She wouldn’t say a word, but simply grin and hand it over.
She and I  make fewer epic road trips now that shuttling her back and forth between home and college not to mention our summer vacations have ended.  The last road trip we made was Kansas to North Carolina where she settled into her adult life.  Even on that trip she still thought of things we needed that I had forgotten, and still pulled them out of her bag with that same sly grin.  She is still a world class traveling companion.  In fact, the only that has really changed is her taste in sunglasses.


Posted o

Wednesday, April 11, 2018

Patience




I have been so frustrated with the spring that just won't spring this year.  Winter clings for dear life when all I want is a lawn scattered with colorful tulips and blossoming trees.  I had nearly come to believe that we would never see spring this year when I came across this post which tells how I felt these same feelings in 2013.  The good news is that I wrote another post about a week to ten days later celebrating the flowers that filled my yard. Maybe spring 2018 really is just around the corner.



Wiping sleep from my eyes I grab my phone and pull up Accuweather.  The screen displays a temperature barely above freezing and the words, “It’s much colder than you’d like.”
I am so ready to feel the dirt in my fingers, to breathe in its rich smell of life. I’m ready to stroll the neighborhood and linger under the blooms of the crabapple on the corner.  I dream of the heady perfume from the row of lilac bushes on 19th Street.  I want to see the promise held in the blooms on the fruit trees out back.  Instead, I satisfy myself puttering amid the potted plants and seedlings which line the countertop of the mudroom.  I look through the windows and imagine the beauty waiting to emerge outside knowing spring would still my restlessness.
My mind drifts to other potential things waiting to blossom in my life.  My temporary job has been offered to me permanently.  I didn’t anticipate the offer and am not at all certain yet what my best response would be.  All three of my kids are sifting through options and potential plans to determine where they will be this fall.  Their decisions will affect the courses of their lives and might take some as far away as Paris.  So much potential lies waiting to make itself known in our lives.  Anxious to know the answers, I fidget through days that feel suspended in time.
Every season brings its own lesson if we are willing to learn.  The lesson of Spring 2013 would appear to be patience.

Wednesday, March 28, 2018

Fredrik Backman's Britt-Marie Was Here




"You have to understand that when I was small my family and I went to the seaside.  My sister always found the highest rocks to jump off into the water, and when she dived and came up to the surface, I was always still there at the top of the rock, and she would call out to me, 'Jump, Britt!  Just jump!'  You have to understand that when one is just standing there looking, then just for a second one is ready to jump.  If one does it, one dares to do it.  But if one waits, it'll never happen."
"Did you jump?"
"I'm not the sort who jumps."

I have fallen love with Fredrik Backman over the course of the last year.  I devour anything I come across that bears his name.  It is his perspective of human nature that draws me in.  He possesses deep insight into what motivates and inhibits people.  His words paint his characters strengths and weaknesses as though by candlelight--in the gentlest of ways--making them appear lovely even though flawed.
In Brit-Marie Was Here we see the uptight, regimented main character slowly let down her armor so that others can finally come close to her.  With each tentative step out of her comfort zone she begins to conquer the fear that has isolated her. In loving others and allowing them to love her Brit-Marie finally dares to jump.  








Thursday, March 22, 2018

Spring Bouquet


I recently drove halfway across the country from Kansas to North Carolina.  I had looked forward to the drive anticipating budding trees, green fields, and wild flowers.  I was surprised to find that spring was not springing anywhere along my route.  Maybe my return trip will be more colorful.  Meanwhile, I have to be content with these photos of flowers from a springtime past.
Garden flowers circa Spring 2013




 I cut a fist full of flowers in the garden the other day, picking ones I liked without a thought about what might go well together.


One by one I dropped each stem into a glass of water surprised how well they harmonized, each color complimenting the next. None of them competed, drowning out the others in a bid for attention.  Instead, the presence of one made the next all the more beautiful.


There is a lot we could learn in the garden.






Thursday, March 1, 2018

Oh, To Write Like Beatrix Potter








One of my earliest memories involves snuggling with my mom and younger brother in mom's bed in the middle of the day while she read to us my favorite book, Beatrix Potter's The Tale of Peter Rabbit.
I was captivated by this book.  The illustrations fascinated me with charming detail.  The smallness of the book itself felt special.  The characters enchanted me.  Mr. Mc Gregor's shadowy presence always looming nearby suggesting danger.  Peter possessed a willingness to be naughty in a way I couldn't have imagined doing myself. But it was the words that took hold of my imagination and would not let go.
Peter gave himself up for lost, and shed big tears; but his sobs were overheard by some friendly sparrows, who flew to him in great excitement, and implored him to exert himself.
I remember this line tripping across mom's tongue as she read. It was absolutely lyrical and I begged her to read it again and again. I didn't understand what the individual words meant exactly, but from context I knew Peter was stuck and the birds were urging him towards freedom.  I knew that if anyone in great excitement ever implored me to exert myself, I would do it!
I also knew that I wanted to experience the delightful sensation I felt when those words were rhythmically presented many times in my life.  At first I was content to hear words and phrases other people had put together.  Sometime around junior high I began to experiment with my own words.
The written word has brought me great joy.  It has allowed me to connect with others.  I may never be a great American author, but I will always feel the urge to write.  As I go about other tasks throughout the day phrases and stories swirl through my imagination. I look forward to the quiet time as the day ends when I feverishly commit word to paper responding to the friendly sparrows in my mind.


Thursday, February 22, 2018

I Miss Paris

 A place I love to visit.



It has been drizzly and icy all week long.  The gray skies and lack of color have me dreaming of a stroll in Paris where even the most everyday things are beautiful.


sidewalk cafe



fluted stone column detail
pixar-style chess board park table
a monument cast from the cannons of a warring nation
lady lamps for sale in the gift shop of the Opera House
 
a butcher shop



Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Filling an Empty Nest



Thinking of Shakespeare and Company, I decided to share this piece from 2015 once more.  
Prompt: If you could have given yourself a snapshot five years ago of what your life is like now, what would the picture be of and how do you think you would have felt about it?





 Five years ago, I had adjusted well to my oldest child being a college student three states away.  My other two kids were in high school though the end was in sight.  I so enjoy having the three of them around that I was not looking forward to the emptying of my nest.


My wise friend June was in the same stage of life.  She told me that we had to figure out what made us personally happy and pursue it.  What she understood was that our nests wouldn’t feel so empty if they were filled with what we loved other than our children. 


And so I rekindled love:  the love and friendship that my husband and I shared as newlyweds;  my love of creating art or something like it;  and my love of reading.  While all my rekindled loves bring me joy, it is my reading that has surprised me with its voraciousness.  Each night as I lay in bed it is not the stillness that has replaced footfalls on the stairs that I hear, but the adventures re-experienced with characters I’ve known forever or new escapades with those I have just discovered.  I feel no loneliness in the wee hours as my husband sleeps peacefully by my side because I am kept company by historical figures and fictional friends page after page.


The greatest accomplishment of my life is motherhood.  The times that my children are nestled under my roof are still my favorite times of all.  But the other times–the quiet times of solitude and contented partnership have a magic of their own.  Like all great stories, as life unfolds I am surprised and entranced by the plot twists, especially those which I could have not predicted such as an empty nest where a sense of emptiness is completely foreign to me.




Snapshots taken at an English bookstore, Shakespeare and Company, in Paris, France.
Posted 

Friday, February 2, 2018

A Manuscript at Last

Book Review of Sorts
mamakatslosinit.com







Dreams spring forth from the hopeful heart, and the hopeful heart is a happy heart.  Dreams can only mature to reality once they've seen the light of day.  If I name my dream--type it here on the screen, there is no turning back; I will be committed to seeing it through.  At the very least, I will have to make a wholehearted attempt whether I fail or succeed.  My whole life I have avoided risks for fear of failing and looking foolish in other's eyes.  Yet, real failure comes not in trying and falling short, but in never trying at all.  Today I am screwing up my courage and naming the dream I am ready to pursue. I will write a daily devotional book featuring reflections I have written and shared at church as well as additional  essays I have never shared publicly before.  In naming my dream I've moved outside my comfort zone into the place where growth can happen.

With those words I made a New Year's resolution in 2013.  Five years later I am proud to say that I have completed a manuscript.  I have written 365 daily devotions which I hope people will find inspiring and useful in moving towards deeper spirituality.  

It feels so weighty as I hold it in my hands.  Partly, because it is three hundred ninety-three pages, partly because it represents nearly a decade of my life, it is a big deal to me.  This book has been a labor of love.  Because I see God in the everyday, the book is filled with stories about the people and places I love and the ways that God's presence influences all my experiences and relationships.

I have begun the process of editing and clean-up.  I have names of a couple of people to speak to for guidance about publishing; friends of friends, they will be hearing from me soon.  I am hopeful they will be willing to point me in the right direction to begin a process I know absolutely nothing about and find daunting.  But for today I will celebrate.  A dream I have had for long before I made it known to others, is coming true. Whatever, else happens I did what I set out to do.  I wrote a book.





Friday, December 29, 2017

Reading Challenge

Book Review Time








Several years ago, I developed insomnia. My sleep was disrupted to a level that caused me significant distress.  Anyone who has dealt with insomnia can tell you that the more stress it causes, the less able to sleep you become.  Fortunately, not long after the insomnia set in I discovered Goodreads' annual Reading Challenge.  At the beginning of each new year, I set a goal number of books I will read.  Now, rather than tossing and turning, I spend the time that I can't sleep reading instead.
I recently wrapped up 2017's challenge when I read A Man Called Ove which is a terrific book.  Other favorite reads this year include Widow, The Sisters Chase, Those Who Save Us and It's Not Yet Dark.  
I have heard some people suggest reading challenges are not a good idea because they discourage us from reading books of any significant length, but that has not been my experience.  I still read a variety, choosing only what really interests me regardless of length.  I tackled Bill Clinton's My Life this year, though it was not one of my favorites.  However, the two books I loved most this year happen to be two of the shortest I read.  Both can easily be read in a single sitting.  Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions and And Every Morning the Way Home Gets Longer and Longer: two gems with titles nearly as long as the books themselves were the very best books I read in 2017.


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2017



TOTALS
Img bookstack 360
I read 39,922 pages across 120 books



MOST POPULAR 2,209,207people also read
The Alchemist
by 
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
         
LEAST POPULAR
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The French on Life and Love
by 


Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
HIGHEST RATED ON GOODREADS
Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions
by 

4.55 average

Maude by Donna Foley Mabry
My first review of the year
really liked it 
Poignant memoir of an average American woman over seven decades of life. Maude experienced so much history-suffrage, the Great Depression, two World Wars and more. Over that time she had many losses, but managed to not become bitter or cold-hearted. Maude's story is written by her granddaughter as she recalls stories her grandmother told her at bedtime throughout her childhood. 


MY 2017 BOOKS





















A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman
My last review of the year
really liked it 
A traditional man, the strong silent type, believes he has nothing to live for. His wish for his life to draw to a close is forever being interrupted by his young and optimistic neighbors.