Keeping Pace With a Powerhouse

I began yesterday in the company of my oh-so-enthusiastic oldest granddaughter. Within the space of two hours, I picked her up from her dorm, took her to breakfast, shopped with her for an umbrella and rain boots, shopped for fish at a food market, and dropped her back on her campus. I ended the day with my mountain mama and the fine folks of the Coker Creek Ruritan club, most of whom are long retired. Mountain Mama spent much of her time talking with the second oldest member of the club, a mere ninety years old, three years her junior.

Upon my awakening this morning, Mountain Mama had coffee brewing, bacon almost done, and slices of Mary Sue's homemade bread ready for toasting. She allowed me at the stove to fry our eggs to order, the eggs being those that she brought in from her hen house last evening. She was then ready to get our day started.

We began with her insistance that we invite a few friends over for supper. Josie and Adam weren't even awake yet, but I fixed that with my phone call. Meanwhile, Mamie made phone calls to ascertain whether the family that is slated to rent one of her apartments is ready to move in. When she and I both received affirmative answers, we had missions to accomplish. It was first time to remove all the Mamie's dishes and linens out of the apartment to make room for those of the new family.

We swept the garage floor to ready it for storage and made many trips up and down the steep stairs from the garage to the apartment. We moved furniture, swept floors, and changed lightbulbs. She, thankfully, allowed me to be her pack mule up and down the stairs, but much to my dismay, she insisted on climbing on chairs and a step ladder to reach a couple of things for herself. I was thrilled when, after two hours, she decided that we needed to take a break.

Our break lasted all of ten minutes; then it was time to start thinking about our supper menu. Since slaw was in the offing, this led to a trip to the garden to pull up some carrots. I needed to go to town for some prescriptions, so we made a grocery list. Mamie broke off from washing carrots long enough to have a bite of lunch, after which I drove to the next-door post office for her mail. I know she'll always take a break to read her mail, and I really like to encourage her not to exhaust herself. When I returned with her mail after ten minutes, she had already put on the iced tea for tonight.

What a whirling dervish she still is, even at ninety-three. I was happy to have a good excuse to drive around for a while; I needed a rest. I'm sure we'll both be beating the pots and pans when I return to her house.

Savoring My Children's Sprits

Letting go of them is the hardest thing a parent can do,
Knowing our children are protected by a very few.
It is easy to interfere when we offer our protection,
Risking that this will lead to our own rejection.

When our adult children finally break away,
It hard to know what to do or what to say.
When we release them, we pray for their return,
Knowing there are lessons they still have to learn.

They and their children have so much to teach me;
My enthusiasm for them is often perceived as greed.
My prayers have been for them to have loving others
To protect them when they lose me, their mother.

The greatest earthly blessing that they can give me
Is showing me they're safe in their own families.
They have each other to share their history
Even if their families' futures do not include me.

I always knew they were not given to me, but lent,
And that, as their mother, I'd have much to repent.
I am willing to, our adult friendships sacrifice,
If my absence makes, for each of them, a better life.

Life without enjoying our shared memories
Is not an old age by which I'm most pleased,
But I am willing do whatever I must
To remain an elder friend in whom they can trust.

They may not always like me; we often disagree,
But my love and respect I hope they both see.
I stand at the door with my arms outstretched,
Available to them if, my friendship, they elect.

On this Sacred Sunday, I think of them with no tears;
I seem to have finally let go of my motherly fears.
I feel at peace with whatever they, as adults, choose.
Their Sacred Spirits live on in me; these I can't lose.

Men of Ministry

I see so many men struggling with what they are supposed to be;
We used to expect them to strut their strengths for all to see.
We got lonesome when they died, and we lived so very long.
We women, who love them, are now teaching them our songs.

So many of them cook and clean while we're on the run;
They are now creating friendships simply to share in fun.
These posses will band together to help us protect the young,
Even when those we women choose to protect are very far-flung.

Men grew tired of pretending strength while we pretend to be weak;
It's not easy defining roles in the partnerships we now seek.
A world of sharing resources is what The Sacred Spirit projected;
It takes head and heart from all of us for our earth to be protected.

Why do we continue to kill humans after all these generations?
Why do we continue to divide ourselves into earthly nations?
We are all The Body Human, endowed with The Sacred Spirit.
We must learn to sing loud enough so the whole earth will hear it.

We must stop promoting fear as a way to change the hearts of others;
We must stop ridiculing men who wish to learn from their mothers.
We must expect and teach our men to hold and cherish our babes;
Perhaps they will then realize that no person should be another's slave.

When we allow our boys to enjoy many years of innocence,
Perhaps The Sacred Spirit will leave a greater imprint.
A man who learns to hold a baby gently in his own arms,
Is a man much less likely to wish any life on earth harm.



  

We Belong to a Mutual Aggravation Society, My Mamie and Me.

Some people simply enter our souls and never leave again.
We may spend little time with them, but their spirits we retain.
I confessed to Mountain Mama that I'm greedy for time with her;
Our relationship isn't, with emotional baggage, hampered.

She reminds me regularly that she likes to aggravate me;
I tell her I'm as aggravating as anybody can possibly be.

We agree that parenthood is the most important job on earth,
But she's not sure that fathers can take over after we give birth.

We cook together, cry together, laugh and complain
She says that we women should, over the world, reign.

I remind her that the only thing holding us back
Is the fear that, for our strengths, we will be attacked.

She is rightfully proud of her many management skills.
"What do you think?" is her entree to me being grilled.
We congratulate each other on the things we do the same,
Avoiding admitting differences is a favorite of our games.

When we can't ignore a disagreement, we agree to learn
The way each other does things, so neither feels spurned.
If every one of our elders was willing to learn from their young,
Perhaps the future's possibilities, by all of us, would be sung.
 
She married and gave birth very young, educating herself;
For all her reading material, there aren't enough shelves.
Her interest in people is another form of her education;
Her friends include people from every state in the nation


Her four children all grew to be responsible citizens;
They all seemed to consider their mother their best friend.
She lost a son to death, a daughter to Alzheimer's dementia;
Still, her life is family, friend, faith, feeding folks, and fun centered.


When I am in her home, to her will, I always try to defer;
This is a sign of homeowner's respect that I usually prefer. Everything that happens in her home is her responsibility;
I am blessed that she is willing to share it all with me.

What a compliment that she believes that I am her equal,
Even though her life has been much more eventful.
Perhaps in the years between now and when I'm her age,
I'll enjoy as many relationships as those in which she's engaged.

Women of Wit and Wisdom

I'm basking in the wisdom of a woman we has adopted me;
She and I have always enjoyed each others company.
The knowledge she passes on, she learned at her mother's knee;
As she shares it all with me, she insists I remain debt free.

Her wisdom is much like that that I gleaned from my mothers,
But she is not embarrassed that I'm not like many others.
Perhaps it's that she isn't related to me by blood,
That she doesn't seem to find my ways rude or crude.

We laugh and cry together, as if we're both in our nineties;
This equal sharing seems to, both of us, equally please.
Today she called me her best friend; there is nothing more blessed
Than to find friendship with one who pretends to love me best.

I know that my time with her is, by nature, limited to a few years;
I want to soak up as much of her spirit as possible while she's here.
I hope this intensity of attention doesn't endanger her affection,
As I have already, through my intensity, created much rejection.

It is simply that I want to share all the wisdom and wit of women
That I have been so privileged to call my own good friends.
I want to sing the songs of women who think they're only average,
And pass their sacred stories of greatness on from age to age.

Sing the songs of loving mothers, nursemaids, singers, and cooks.
Sing the songs of teachers who explain what we can't learn from books.
Sing the songs of laundresses and of prophetic storytellers.
Sing the songs of our men who honor the home dwellers.

We must write new chapters of our own sacred scriptures,
The every day lessons we've learned without religious strictures.
We must tell our children and theirs our own experience in truth;
Only then will we be able to relax and have faith in our youth.

Listening and Learning

I can't think of anything more enjoyable than to bask in the success of those I love. Not only did I have the privilege of being at the event announcing my daughter's success as a teacher, on Sacred Sunday, I spent the day with my daughter. We had a leisurely brunch together, followed by something she hasn't allowed me to do with her for many years, help her choose clothing. It seems that she has decided to change her dress style now that she is being so prominently put on display. I used to really know how to dress for success; I'm always proud to share any knowledge I have on any subject with her, anytime she asks. This position in her fashion adviser line-up has opened because her older daughter is now busy with college.

Her younger daughter was busy all week-end preparing for her performance as a tenor saxophone player with the district honor band. I know it was Super Bowl Sunday, but watching my granddaughter share her success was my Super Sacred Sunday celebration. I was blessed with the opportunity, after the concert, to take mother and daughter stars to supper, just the three of us. What a delight it was to be able to converse with my almost fifteen-year-old grandchild in an arena where she felt free to share her life and information on various topics with me.

I'd much prefer to listen and learn from those who are successful than to spend my old age complaining about what a mess we've made of the world. And listening to the youth of our nation, I have great hope for what will come after I'm long gone.

Women of The Word

If we are known by the company we keep, I should have a halo by now;
My daughter is her school's teacher of the year; I was her mother, somehow.
My daughter-in-law also earned that award; my son is her husband/partner
They are both so very deserving of any accolades they garner.

What can be more sacred than teaching a child to apply information?
We need more teachers this dedicated in our hysterical nation.
Until we learn to think through consequences before we react,
We will make no progress in society, without then sliding back.

I love to surround myself with people of great competence
This began when I was a child, and I've practiced it ever since.
My daddy said that I was a sponge; my mother said I was arrogant
I had to learn in secret, or away to another's home, I was soon sent.

This served the purpose of exposing me to even more
Knowledge of the kind that my mother's people abhorred.
Women were to be seen and submissive, but never heard;
This was according to our religion's teaching of The Word.

Teaching is a subversive act; education can be dangerous;
The world is changed when ideas are respectfully discussed.
Rote memorization and vomiting back random facts
Is the old method of learning; sacred teachers won't go back.

I am so blessed by the aura of these two fine women;
One I call daughter, but they are both good friends.
If it hadn't been for gifted teachers, I don't know where I'd be;
My Sacred Spirit was kept alive by women such as these.