Identity

Little girl fettered by invisible chains

hedged in on all sides

by a prison laid stone by stone

of false doctrines of men

life decided for her

no room to breathe or be

breaking free into the sunlight

into the wings of the wind

searching, seeking, growing

soul taking root in sacred soil

finding identity not in men

but as one beloved by the Creator

Linking to five minute Friday.

(The prompt today is identity.)

Be Still

(Sunrise over the little marshy pond a little way down the road from us on 2/5/12)

Be still, be still...

It has been a week of mind numbing fatigue--falling behind, trying to catch up, using every last minute of the day...and still being behind.

Be still, be still...

Deep breathes, quiet, silence, be still.

Trust.

All will be well.

He holds me in the palm of his hand.

He carries me on the breath of the dawn.

He makes me to shine like the sun.

Be still.

All will be well.

Linking to Five Minute Friday and Sky Watch Friday.

(Thanks for the many comments over the past week! I'm looking forward to catching up with you all over the weekend. It has been a hectic week.)

The Truth of You

looking beyond
rigid standards and cliches
black and white dying
into shades of living color

letting go
rigid thoughts fading
gentle breeze blowing
learning, seeking
finding understanding

touching sharp jagged edges
dark rotting hurt
pain so deep it kills
seeking understanding

letting in
raw feelings pain
suffering, darkness
forgiveness,  mercy

standing by another
open heart, embracing
whole person,
pain and beauty
sometimes ugliness

open mind seeking
 the truth of you
beauty and brokenness
perfect in imperfection
a masterpiece

linked to Five Minute Friday and open mic at real Real Toads.

Embrace the Storm

A tree that grows alone
is battered and shaken
by the storm
 but it grows stronger
and more graceful
in form
as it bends
and dances with the wind

I pray that
like the tree
I may grow stronger
and more full of grace
as I embrace the storm
and dance
with the winds of life.

Linking up with Five Minute Friday over over at Gypsy Mama. Today's prompt is "grow'.

Unexpected Love

I had stepped beyond a broken family
Needing healing from a painful past,
Letting time and silence heal a broken heart
Love came quietly and unexpectedly
It was an unlikely match,
He came from a past of hurt and pain
Anger and dysfunction
But an unexpected love for each other
Brought both of us wholeness again

Linked to Five Minute Friday. and Imperfect Prose.

A Picture of Joy

They have been a couple since they were 14 and 16.

They got married at ages 18 and 20.

They have been married for 52 years.

In August he had a stroke. He was in the hospital for 10 days, then in a rehab facility for 20 days.

Listening to them tell the story of the last 30 days, it sounded like this was one of the most painful experiences of their lives. Not because the stroke left him permanently disabled. And not because of they where worried about hospital bills. They didn't seem worried about long term care either.

The reason it was a a painful experience is because, for the first time in their lives, they hadn't been able to be with each other all the time during the last 30 days.

Finally, today, he was home and they were together again. She tenderly held his disabled right hand in hers. A crooked smile lit up his face and her eyes sparkled. JOY. That was what was what was writen on both their faces. Joy, at simply being together again.

Linked to Five Minute Friday. This week's subject is Joy.

On Beauty...

In my work I witness people and moments of beauty

that inspire and fill me with awe

hardship and sickness like a refining fire 

can bring what is most beautiful to the surface

a woman with tired face and kind eyes,

caring for a husband with dementia

and a father with metastasized cancer

gentle, caring, loving, giving, true selflessness

a husband and wife in their 90's

still as much in love as the day they wed

her eyes light up with joy

when he comes in from running errands

the tenderness of a son

 as he lovingly cares for his frail mother

tending to her most basic needs

with gentleness and deep respect

I am honored and privileged to be

a small part of these people's lives

and hope that I bring a small measure

of beauty and hope into their lives as well

This post is part of five minute Friday over at Gypsy Mama and Imperfect Prose.

No Longer a Stranger in a Strange Land

The land I grew up on will be forever etched into my heart. Acres of gently rolling hilly meadow land, hardwood forests filled with native wildflowers, the deep quiet you can only find far away from motors and modern hustle and bustle that comes with living in or near a town. Black nights with stars so bright and large you almost feel as if you can reach out and touch them.  The land was my Home.

I left that land 11 years ago, knowing that since I was also walking away from my parents belief system, I would probably never return. For the next  9 years I felt like a stranger in a strange land.

Then two years ago on a wet rainy morning in May, I walked 13 acres of land and knew I had finally come Home. I barely looked at the house. The house didn't really matter. I was suddenly no longer a stranger in a strange land. My soul knew that it had found a home in the 13 acres of gently rolling meadow land and hardwood forest. For, me, home is the land where my soul is.


(And speaking of souls being at home--this little grasshopper has decided this rose is his home. I have seen him on it every day for the past few days.)

This post is part of Five Minute Fridays over at Gypsy Mama.

Every Day....

It is easy to become overwhelmed
with everything life throws at me...
a complex, time consuming nursing job
that requires mountains of take home paperwork,
house work that is never done,
13 acres full of invasive weeds that won't stop growing on their own,
a Spring that is racing toward summer
with so much work to do, and so little time to to it in.
Dealing with chronic fatigue each day doesn't make it any easier, either.



Every day I have the choice of racing through the day
trying to get as much done as I can, then collapsing when the day is over,
or I can go at a slower pace, and savor the little things...
like watching a poppy flower unfurl,
Or stopping at the side of the road to admire a field full of daisies and lupines.
Or taking that extra 20 minutes to just BE with a patient's wife,
 as she cries and makes the hardest decision of her life---to place her husband in hospice care.
Or at the end of the day, to fix my husband a simple hot meal,
though he doesn't expect it of me, when I come home from a long day of work.


(Daisies and Lupines--photo taken yesterday while driving between patient visits.)

In the grand scheme of things, it is the those little things that matter the most.
The big important things will get done, one way or another.
But it is taking the time every day to stop and do those little things
that brings joy to each day and makes life worthwhile.


(Poppy photos taken yesterday--same poppy--five minutes apart. I like poppies, because they grow themselves...just scatter the seeds one year and poppies will continue coming up year after year...)

This post is part of five minute Fridays over at Gypsy Mama.

As The Seasons Turn

Once upon a time spring was my favorite season.

Now I am beginning to think it is the most frustrating time of year. So much I want to do, barely any time or energy to do it.  No time to sit back and breath and enjoy the dewdrops and spiderweb and new leaves.

Somehow, I need to figure out a way to balance having to work to pay off the mortgage, managing chronic fatigue, and the buring desire to take care of 13 acres and grow many things. I've barely started the garden, barely gotten a start on pulling garlic mustard this year, have done very little clean up, and still have lots of perennial plants we have to get into the ground. Don't even dare to look at my flower gardens or the inside of my house!  And don't ask what we have been eating lately!

I'm looking forward to when planting season is over this year--even if I don't get every thing in the ground that I'm planning too. The corn, bean and pumpkins seeds will keep until next year.

Summer is a lot of work, too. But last year I was able to keep up with the gardening and canning and we even did quite a bit of brush clearing.. It is just spring that gets way out of hand!

Now that I have my own house and land, I'm liking fall and winter much more...things slow down, I can turn up the heat as high as I want too, I can relax and dream, curl up by the wood stove with hot chocolate and read seed catalogs and dream of spring...

This post is part of five minute Fridays over at Gypsy Mama...

On the Edge of Time

Seven years. That is how long it takes for simulated wild ginseng to be ready for harvest. At first glance that sounds like a long time. But is it really?

It has been 12 years since I left my parents home and the unhealthy family dynamics there.
It was seven years from the time I decided I wanted to be a home care nurse and started the process of applying to nursing school to finally working as a home care nurse. 
My husband waited seven years before I finally said yes to marriage.
I don't even know where to begin counting the years I dreamed of having a home I could truly call my own. That dream was realized two years ago when we bought our thirteen acres.

Looking back, seven years seems like a drop in the bucket. Looking forward into the distance, it seems like an eternity. Standing on the edge of time and looking back puts what we can only see in the distance into perspective.

It will be 14 years before our mortgage is paid off. But perhaps in seven or eight years I can start harvesting a crop grown on our own land that can help pay that mortgage off and be steps closer to my ultimate dream of making a living working at home--growing something on my 13 acres.

My husband tells me not to be disappointed if my dreams of eventually working very part time as a nurse don't work out. I tell him that if I hadn't dared to dream I would still be living an isolated life on my parents homestead.

 It is only by dreaming, then taking small steps toward the future, that you can eventually cross the distance to where the future becomes the present moment.

(Ginseng may or may not be part of making that dream come to reality, but the more I research it the more it looks like it might be a viable part of the dream--a good part of our woods looks like it is ideal for growing it. If nothing else, I love growing things and it is a beautiful woodland plant.)


This post is part of 5 minute Fridays over at Gypsy Mama. And it did take longer than five minutes to write because I was interupted in the middle of writing and when I restarted I had lost track of the minutes. Todays prompt is "On Distance."

A photo I took of wild ginseng growing in a lovely forest in upstate New York.

Five Minute Friday--If you were to meet me

(Green Lake, Waterloo Recreational Area, Michigan State Land.)

Sometimes I am amazed that I can do the job I do and actually like it. I knock on the doors of people I've never met before, often in towns I've never heard of before. I ask these people all kinds of personal questions and look them over from head to bare bottoms to toes. What amazes me even more is that these people for the most part like me...and tell me that I come across as kind, thoughtful, and caring--like a nurse ought to be.

See, I was painfully shy as a child and young adult. I'm still quite painfully shy sometimes. In a lot of social situations I still feel very awkward. When meeting new people I still get butterflies in my stomach. I'm really quiet and reserved. I don't share personal information readily. I probably come across as something of a snob--though that isn't what my intention is. I grew up feeling like I had to constantly hide my feelings and thoughts, I still don't open up to people until I get to know them and establish some kind of trust. So if you were to meet me, at first you'd find me very reserved and quiet. Slowly I am becoming more confident and maybe a bit more outgoing--maybe by the time I'm 80 I will be where I want to be.

This post is part of Five Minute Friday--where you write for five minutes flat--just write what first comes to your mind after seeing the prompt.

A few of my favorite things

(frost crystals on a a crocus flower)

A few of my favorite things that are right outside my door--

frost on spring flowers,

birdsong in the early morning,

starlit skies on a dark country night,

spring peepers peeping in the pond down the road,

vegetable seedlings sprouting on my window sill,

fluffy new baby chicks....

these are a few of my favorite things.
(What can I say, it is the little country things that make my heart sing.)

(black australorp chicks--2 days old--the newest addition to our flock)

This post is part of five minute Fridays over at gypsy mama.

The (Almost) Adventures of a Little Dog

I'm skipping 5 minute Friday today because--well, I can sum up my view of waking up in five words--"Waking up: It is hard to do."  I'll share a little story from my day instead.  Let's see if I can do this in five minutes.

 Why did the traffic keep slowing down when I was in  a hurry?  I was in between patients and running late. I didn't need one more thing to go wrong and put me even farther behind. Then I saw it, a little fluffy white dog in the middle of the road who seemed intent on getting someone to stop and pick him up.

He would run up to an approaching car, stop in front of it, and when it did not stop, he would chase it for a moment before going on to the next car.

When I got to him, I pulled off to the side of road, more because I didn't want to hit him than any other reason. I certainly had no intention or desire to be the good guy and stop and pick him up. A bunch of other cars decided to stop too. The little dog eagerly made the rounds of all the cars.

We all sat there looking at him, and at each other, waiting for someone else to do the right thing.

No one else was was making a move, so I finally opened my car door to get out and try to get him out of the middle of the road. I didn't have to try very hard though. The little dog took one look at my open door, came running  and on his own accord jumped into my car and hopped on the passenger seat and plopped himself down on my pile of patient charts. 

He looked at me with bright black eyes and wagged his tail enthusiastically as if to say, "Okay, let's get going! It's adventure time!"

"Um, no, Dog, it is not." I told him. "You may be cute and all, but you are not coming home with me. For one thing I am 50 miles from home and I'm in the middle of my work day,  and for another thing, my husband doesn't like dogs. Trust me, unless you want to be sleeping in the chicken coop (or worse) you don't want to come home with me."

Little dog didn't seem to get the message and just jumped onto my lap and kept looking at me and wagging his tail. 

"You are too friendly for your own good." I told him, while wondering what the heck I was going to do with a dog if I couldn't figure out who his owners where in the next five minutes. I mean, seriously, I was on the job and I didn't have time to deal with a lost dog who seemed determined to either get himself killed or kidnapped. But at the same time I couldn't just let him go again in the street because that seemed like sure death.

Fortunately, he had a collar and a tag with a phone number--that 1) actually worked, and #2) someone actually answered. "Yeah," the tired sounding voice on the other end said, "he's always running out into the road and chasing cars. I'll come and get him."

She came and got him and he didn't seem very happy about it. "Darn it!" his eyes seemed to say, "You've ruined my adventure for today."

"Um, no, Dog," I told him. "I saved your life. That is what nurses do. If you want to get yourself caught up in high adventure instead of getting your life saved, choose a different car to jump into next time."

(Sometimes doing the right thing isn't so hard after all.)

Waiting

It's five minute Friday over at Gypsy Mama. Here’s how the game works: you simply stop, drop and write for five minutes. Set your words free. Don’t edit them, don’t fret over them, don’t try to make them perfect.


On Waiting....

The past few weeks I have come home from work every day and feverishly walked my property searching for some sign that the 1000 bulbs I planted last fall are coming up. The bulbs I planted in fall of 2009 are coming up and do not appear to be decreased in numbers, but no sign so far of the bulbs I planted last fall.

 I pause and wonder--why I am so impatient for for the these bulbs for to come up? My anxiety and impatience takes away some to the joy of the moment. I know that newly planted bulbs almost always come up  a few weeks later than established bulbs.

Waiting. It is something we all have to do. It is something I am not very good at. Most of my life I have lived in some state of discontent---believing that everything will be better later...when I turn 18....when I finally am living on my own...when I finish nursing school. When I get married...when we finally move out to the country...when I finally get that perfect nursing job....when I'm not so completely tired all the time. When I finally have a child...when our new home is finally payed off...when I retire and can quit my job and stay home. Life will be perfect then.

I'm finally figuring out that discontented waiting doesn't get me any closer to my goals than contented waiting does. And life never will be perfect.  Discontented waiting takes away from seeing the good and the beauty in the here and now. There will always be something to wait whether it be new bulbs blooming, or that day when our mortgage is payed off and I won't need to work full time.

 But I don't have to let the waiting prevent me from throwing myself 100% into life and work here and now and fully enjoying and appreciating the moment.

(First crocuses bloomed today--from bulbs planted in 2009--of the course the ones I planted last fall haven't shown their pointy green tips yet!)

It is the little things...Five minute Friday.

It’s Friday. I've got five minutes to write...

Before I start....today's topic made me stop, take a deep breath, and remind myself that I am loved even when I'm completely stressed out, grouchy, and my behaviour is rather unlovable. I am on call this weekend and just looking at my schedule for tomorrow makes me feel panicky. I have five admissions in 4 different cities with lots of drive time in between. To give you an idea of the the kind of day that means, an admission can take from one to two hours in the home, then another hour or so of finishing paperwork once I am finished with the patient visit. On a normal workday we would not be given more than three admissions. (Rules never seem to apply on weekends!) So I am looking at potentially seven to eight hours directly with patients (if they are relatively uncomplicated admissions--and thankfully they all look relatively uncomplicated!), then over three and a half hours of driving time on top of that.  Then five hours of finishing paperwork once I get home.

I've spent the evening rather in a panic, trying to get tomorrow organized so that I can get to my last patient's home before dark. (If everything goes smoothly, and I get to my first patients home by 7:30 am I just might be able to pull that off.) Anyway, until I clicked over to Gypsy Mama a few minutes ago to see what today's five minute Friday topic was, I was feeling very disgruntled and annoyed. Not anymore, because in spite of how disgruntled and annoyed I act I know I am loved. No matter how horrible or long my day is tomorrow, I know I will come home to someone who loves me unconditionally.



So it is Friday and I've got five minutes to write:

"I feel most loved when..."

I grew up in a home where love was given out based on behavior. It was a home where so called Biblical Patriarchy was practiced. It was a home with very black and white rules, especially for girls and women. If you were good and followed the rules, and were sweet and kind and obedient and only expressed interest in so called feminine things and your behavior was feminine, then you were shown love. If you weren't, then--then well, it wasn't good.


Even though I feel strongly that biblical patriarchy is very harmful and have rejected it in my own life, I still feel a lot of pressure in my own mind to live up to some of those standards that my parents laid out. After all I spent the first 24 years of my life preparing to be that kind of a wife.  No wonder I feel like a total failure when my house these days is mostly a mess, I don't have three hot meals (or even one hot meal) on the table each day, and laundry piles up.  I spent a lot of time on my days off just laying on the couch or wandering around slowly outside with a camera in hand. I am far from the ideal wife as defined by those who believe in black and white roles for men and women.


But you know what, my husband doesn't care. In fact he has made it clear he doesn't want that kind of wife. He wants ME, exactly the way I am.


He doesn't love me for what I do, he loves me for who I am. When I am frustrated by my lack of energy or overwhelmed with hours of paperwork, he tells me to sit down or relax and then makes me a cup of tea. He tells me to go out and look at my flowers instead of cleaning the house. He tells me I am beautiful when I am in sweats and a tattered tee shirt and have dark circles under my eyes. When I sigh about how I wish I could keep up with everything and how bad I feel that I just don't have the energy for certain things, he tells me that he loves me exactly the way I am and that just being me is enough. He does the dishes, folds the laundry, and vacuums and does not ever suggest that I ought to be doing those things.


All very little things, but they don't just make me feel loved, they make me secure in knowing I am loved.

(Well, okay, I will admit, this took a little more than five minutes to write.)

Five minute Friday--When I look in the mirror I see...

This post is part of Five minute Friday over at Gypsy Mama. The goal is to write five minutes without stopping--in hopes you will come up with something creative. I'm not sure that I came up with anything  creative this time, but I think it will be an interesting challenge to look forward to each Friday. (Thanks, Trina!)

(My brother took this photo when we were hiking Old Rag in Virgina in June last year--it is my favorite recent photo of me.)

When I look in mirror I see....

Tired eyes. I've battled chronic fatigue for four years now. I spent  four years trying to figure out what was the cause. When I did finally got a diagnosis and a treatment last October it seemed so obvious that I was quite mad at myself for not having figured it out sooner--a chronic toxoplasmosis infection. I had toxoplasmosis as a young teenager and never completely got over the achy muscles and a low grade fatigue that it caused. The fatigue flared back up in the last stressful semester of nursing school and put me in a downward spiral of mind numbing, can hardly keep my eyes open, almost constant fatigue. The good news is that there is a treatment and I have started it, even though it could take up to a year before I really feel better.

When I look in the mirror I see...

Several pale little scars that are the result of having chicken pox as an adult 10 years ago. That was the sickest I've ever been in my adult life. And actually, I am amazed that my face isn't one huge scar from the chicken pox. At the time my face was one open running blister. I couldn't stand to look at myself in a mirror let alone be seen in public. I shut myself up behind closed doors for two weeks while waiting for the sores to subside. (It took about six months for them to fade enough that I didn't look like I had a severe case of acne.)

When I look in the mirror I see...

A rather plain face (the older I get the more it seems to be my mother's face looking back out at me), but one that is looking at the past with more understanding and at the future that is filled with more hope than I ever dreamed possible. I see someone who is dearly loved and cherished by her husband and who believes the best in life is yet to come.