Live, Love, Laugh

My daughter has the slogan, "Live, Love, Laugh" prominently displayed in several places in her home. I love light-hearted laughter, but am not comfortable with much of the "snark" that passes for funny. So much of who we like to be with seems to be based on what we find fun and funny. Shared humor certainly makes my marriage much more rewarding.

Although the thing that first attracted me to Richard was the twinkle in his eyes when he gazed at my infant godson, there have been many points of his humor that didn't amuse me one bit. Richard was brought up in an age when ridicule was seen as a way to change the behaviors of others. We had to negotiate this tendency out of our relationships to the children in our care.

There are things that I find amusing that don't make him laugh. Humor about my failing female body parts simply embarrasses him. I know some women who only laugh with their fellow female friends, and men who do the same. I am so grateful for the friends that I find funny who also love to laugh with me.

When we finally trust our relationships enough to find each others' and our own foibles funny, we can get through almost anything life throws at us. It took many years of our own healing for us to get to that point of trust. I am eternally grateful that now my best and funniest friend is my husband.

Giggles are the purest form of laughter, as they come from our child-like innocence way down deep in our souls. A good guffaw, not at another's expense, can really clean out our emotional cobwebs. Maybe marriage preparation should include a giggle and guffaw gauge. If you can't find any mutually funny moments, you marriage will probably be one long, hard road.

Isn't it amazing that even a laugh can be healing or hurtful? I'm not sure we can ever achieve "faith like a child" until we reclaim our ability to giggle and guffaw as we did when we were still innocent.

Giving In to Growth

In honor of a verse from Corinthians: When my children and grandchildren were young, I embraced their youth, what they thought, what they said, that which they read, that which with they played and those with whom they were friends. Now that they are grown or almost adults, I look forward to encountering what they have become. I only hope that we can relate as respectful adults.

Today, as I cleaned our condo in which only one grandchild has slept in our two years here, I realized that it may be time to put away the books I read to them as infants. What a sad time this was for me in realizing that I will never again be surrounded by their innocent awe in all around them. This comes with gratitude that I spent so much time surrounded by my children and their children in the glow of family protection for so many years.

How humbling it is to know that they will now make their own life choices; that they may take our teachings backward or forward a generation or two.  Unless we sequester ourselves and our progeny, there is no way that we can predict what they will be. All of us, and our subsequent generations, are products of so many influences that their futures are impossible to predict.

My faith is in our ability as humans to choose to be reborn and to come to a point where we embrace our own support groups for growth. No more is our ancestral history our destiny. The greatest gifts I've been given are encompassed in my coming of age during the counter-cultural revolutions.

Gone are the artificial boundaries of religion, race, gender, class, and political bias, at least in theory. Women and other vulnerable, minority, and formerly disenfranchised populations are now considered as fully functional and honored members of our voting American populace. My focus, now that my primary motherhood mission is accomplished, is to do whatever I am able to assist in securing the realities of our nation's truly "Democratic society" promises.

Breath after Death

There is a saying, "That which doesn't kill you, makes you strong." Gayle wrote in her blog today OneBirdWatching.blogspot.com of "a change of vision and a new relationship with the Spirit of God, a "new breath" that brings life to our souls after an experience of death."  

In the past four years, I have felt myself dying a thousand times as I lost relationships with many through illnesses, deaths, moves and finally becoming aware of my past as part of my present. It has always been important to me to revisit the points of my pain's origins in order to begin again with a new "skin." 

I have been rejected by many who are angry with me for not being "there" for them, and I am blessed by many  more who have been here to help me heal. Connecting with the energy of these people is the purpose of my pilgrimages to places and people from which I was formed.

My daughter reminded a recent faith focus group that even Jesus needed to take time off to refresh his spirit because so many, as the woman who touched the hem of his robe, drained energy from him. We are told that Jesus felt great grief in facing his own physical death, and that he went to hell before he was reborn in his strictly spiritual self. Is this the path that we must all follow to become truly born again as people of the Holy Spirit?

All creation is suffused with Divine energy that we can either accept or reject. I believe that the only permanent death is the rejection of the positive power of Divine energy. Whatever we touch on earth, positively or negatively, becomes our legacy in the rest of life. Perhaps if we are willing to face dying a bit to ourselves, we can leave more positive power of The Spirit for future generations.

Companionship and Creativity

We finally gave ourselves permission to do what we do best while in Coker Creek. We worked and relaxed with friends instead of staying so much to ourselves. Mary and Don have taken over the management of our property, so we walked into a welcoming ambiance instead of facing the first few days of our stay cleaning cobwebs and mice droppings. Thanks to them, we felt like guests in our own home.

Richard was willing to take time to "go visiting" several of our friends. We actually took rides simply for the sake of enjoying the scenery, while even Richard found occasion to wax ecstatic about the glory of the beauty surrounding us. Nancy and Jim brought along Mary when we met at Tellicafe. We enjoyed all of their company along with a marvelous meal. Being into seafood and local cuisines, I had a great mountain trout stuffed with a shrimp dressing. Is it still sea food when it comes from a mountain stream?

Deborah and David showed us around their antique shop and treated us to the best sweet potato fries on earth at Cotton Pickin'. Richard had good Pasta Alfredo and I had the Eggplant Parmesan. David is quite a character who seems to be giving Deborah a new lease on life. There were no dull moments at that supper.

Several days before that, Richard and I ate at the new Mexican restaurant in Tellico Plains. Who would have predicted that we'd ever see ethnic food added to the country cooking in the Bible belt town of Tellico Plains?

Our final weekend held a great finale with the Coker Creek Autumn Gold Festival.  Richard manned his usual post, collecting money for the Ruritan food concessions while I floated around spending and grinning. Wanda talked me into helping to judge the festival queen contest and I assisted at the Quilts for Kids booth, which is always a joy.

Donna and her co-chairs lead a powerhouse of women creating crafts which they sell to fund quilts that they make and donate to children in medical and other life crises. Their blessings become love on the laps of all these children to whom they offer their compassionate gifts. I guess Donna and her co-chair Delight were meant to meet. Donna's last name is Powers and Delight's is House. Hence: PowerHouse. 

I had a blast meeting so many talented crafters and catching up with so many who stopped by the booth to chat. I met two authors whose autographed books I bought, one at the festival and one at the new Coker Creek Gallery. We also came home with great gifts for friends in Louisiana and some for ourselves to extend our mountain memories until we come back to Coker Creek.

Our next trip won't be very far in the future, as the trip across the street led us to our next commitment. Stephanie, the owner of the gallery, wants assistance in setting up a weaving room. I asked Ralph, whose mother brought weaving to the area, if he'd be willing to help. He has recruited Richard to help him help Stephanie upon our return. I love being a catalyst for creativity.

Eating in Appalachia

Feeding people with love is one of the most important features of faith. So many in our society have lost the sacred in their meals. Manna fell from heaven for the Jews to share in the desert, and Jesus exhorted Peter to feed his lambs. Our fast food culture has taken the meaning out of our meals. In Coker Creek, people still care about the simple pleasures of life and love.

We were privileged to be fed by many friends on our visit to the mountains, beginning with a perfect pot roast, salad, cornbread, and pound cake at Mountain Mama's table on the night we arrived. She's ninety-two years old and still growing and preparing gifts of sustenance for family and friends. Upon our arrival, she and a  fellow ninety-two year old former post mistress shared their evening meal and many memories with us.

The next day, I enjoyed a visit with Millard and MaryJane where I received an education on wine making, as well as gifts made from their efforts at growing and gathering foods. Millard's apricot/peach wine seemed more like a good brandy, and the blueberry wine was smooth and not too sweet. I was sorry that Richard couldn't join me in this enjoyment, but we were both able to partake of the habanero jelly made by MaryJane with peppers grown by Millard.

Seeing as we had moved all our spices to Louisiana, I announced to Mamie that we didn't intend to cook while we were at Our Tennessee Mountain Home. She has become quite fond of our cooking, so she didn't miss a beat in inviting us to cook in her kitchen with her spices.

Upon peeking in our outside freezer, I discovered a treasure trove of lovingly pre-prepared vegetables which had been grown by us, Jack, and Mountain Mama. So much for my determination not to cook. Most of the vegetables went into my huge pressure cooker: okra, tomatoes, yellow squash, cow peas, red banana peppers, green beans. Now I needed a ham bone and some seasoning. Back to Mountain Mama I went, but she had no ham bone, although she did supply some seasoning.

With a quick trip downtown, we were all set to stuff jack's yellow and red peppers with a chili cheese stuffing and finish our vat of soup. Time to invite the neighborhood, but where could we provide seating for all those folks? The Ruritan clubhouse saved the day. So many functions are made possible by the generosity of the Coker Creek Ruritan Club in allowing community members free access to their fully furnished kitchen and clubhouse.

We started the menu with our soup and bread from Tellico Grains bakery, stuffed peppers, MaryJane and Millard's pepper jelly with cream cheese and crackers, and peanut butter cookies. In came a parade of people with cakes, pies, casseroles, and various other offerings. How grateful we all were for each others efforts. We did take time to offer verbal appreciation to each other for the sharing of our blessings, and Pastor Linda offered a formal prayer. There were also hugs enough for everyone.

Josie and Adam missed our Souper Saturday Supper but made up for it with inviting us to their home for a private meal and art show. Josie excels at everything she does, and her home is a showplace of her many art projects. The beef stew she served was superb; as Adam said, it was A-plus. Richard made one of his incredible salads and brought bread from our favorite bakery. We finished with another Josie creation, elderberry sauce over vanilla ice cream. Adam made coffee, regaled us with stories of people and places he loves, and cleaned the kitchen. Camaraderie doesn't get any better than this.

Most Marvelous Mountain Trip

We just returned from  an autumn wonderland and Our Tennessee Mountain Home. It was the most marvelous trip to the mountains in our experience.

We connected as a couple to others to whom we'd never connected before, making us both hunger for a return to our second home. We've never before, as a couple, prioritized the people of Coker Creek; Richard always requiring a purpose outside of emotional need. It was indeed the request for his assistance that brought us to the mountains, but it was his commitment to my need for community that made our trip such a success.

This time, Richard hired those who could do our odd jobs, leaving his energy for creating connections with those that I most admire. He was still able to serve the community in his two-day assignment in serving the Ruritans in their annual fundraising event.

We began with a lovely weekend in Atlanta, spending social time with our brother-of-choice, conducting a spiritual focus group and relaxing with daughter and family. The last of Richard's Atlanta was spent with a chef and mutual foodie friend.

I was back and forth from the mountains to the "mainland" while Richard continued managing and doing projects at our mountain home. My granddaughter was performing in a marching band exhibition, bringing back fond memories of her mother's similar experience. I was so blessed to be able to enjoy this event with my daughter, her mom.

Coker Creek is a hotbed of "traditional" values, where families help families and neighbors never do without the necessities. There are rules to relationships, which here are held sacred; everyone is expected to pull their own weight. To be able to contribute is a blessing; to depend on charity is a disgrace. It was so lovely to reconnect with so many that we have missed, from my "Mountain Mama" to the wonderful women and men of the Coker Creek Ruritan club.

We live with one foot in uncertainty and celebration and one foot in slow security. This mirrors the two worlds from which my parents came, and probably the only way my gypsy soul can ever be at peace.

Re-Awakening and Resurrection

What a wonderful weekend it was, the last weekend of September, which so happened to contain the date of my deceased father's birthday. My father had called me "Y" for much of my life because of my propensity for wanting the reason for everything. He then took to calling me a "mighty powerful woman."

For the last four years, since my daughter (my oldest child) was diagnosed with cancer, I have felt anything but powerful. Without her incredible woman energy I felt that I had died. I began wishing that my fantasy was true. I wanted no connection to anyone who may miss me if I was gone because I didn't want to inflict the pain that I was feeling on anyone else.

The problem came in with those who refused to let me go; they seemed to give me the choice of coming back to life or dragging them into my abyss. This weekend I began to start over, at my daughter's request (or I should say, insistence).

So many joined me in the beginning of my new mission, the pursuit of answers to what The Spirit is doing in various communities to work toward global compassion. A dear spirit brother organized an urban group from various faith and value systems to begin my first focus group session of the global listening campaign leading to the next Parliament of the World's Religions.

Men and women shared their souls in this group. My daughter, who knew several of these folks since her childhood, took the time to join us. What a wonderful group it was, ranging in age from early forties to late sixties, with at least five religious traditions represented.

I look forward to hearing from others pursuing paths to peace who may be interested in sharing what they and their communities of conviction, religious or otherwise, are doing to affect these efforts.