Tuesday, April 08, 2014

Lodged; but not dead.


Rest of endless winter wearily lets loose his grip
though bony fingers still clutch
as up through earth; death-shrouded,
shy spring forces herself to be reborn in beauty.
Against resistance,
against apathy,
against fear,
against lethargy,
against the odds of innocence.

Each new tender sign of growth
unfolds with divine pressure
to be enveloped
not just by soothing warmth of sun,
but icy blasts of bitter rain and razor sharp of biting winds.
So cruel.
So necessary for roots to push deep.
So bruising on tender petals that only seek to display beauty.

Now kneeling, lodged in defeat.... but not dead.

I know how the flowers felt.
I know.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

What Do YOU Laugh At?




"Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me." ; a childhood rhyme no doubt created by an abused child learning the necessity of resilience.

Growing up in a family where humour was often used as put-downs and laced with sarcasm I learned to try and avoid being the object of ridicule. But I can remember many times when, as the baby of the family, my actions or words incited the laughter and teasing of my older siblings. Some might say I should have learned to 'lighten up' others would think I was too sensitive and needed to let it roll off my tender heart. But words stick and the message sent was wounding.

Over the years I have never been comfortable with humour that finds delight in making others feel badly about themselves. Put-downs, regardless of how funny they can sound, always hurt.
I detest any racial, sexist and bigoted attempts to make a joke. Anything that devalues and serves to objectify another person based on gender, culture, colour, religion, orientation, etc.

What's left to laugh at? Well, any comedian knows that self-deprecating humour goes over well... mostly because when we can laugh at ourselves, it gives others permission to laugh at their own weaknesses, idiosyncrasies and quirks.

And there are so many things that are just plain funny to me, however weird or twisted. Silly things. Goofy things. Unexpected giggles.
My favourite comedy movie is "What About Bob"... a neurotic OCD man who ends up causing his smooth-successful psychiatrist to go crazy...when we get glimpses all the way that perhaps it's Bob who, by humbly embracing his brokenness, really is the sane one after all!

I'm fully capable and often DO laugh at myself. Out loud. I crack me up a lot of times! Usually based on some goofy thing I did by accident or said without thinking.

A few years ago, I had the unfortunate experience of being in the presence of someone who seemed to make it his sport to tear me down and imply or suggest that I was 'dumb'. I found myself skirting around any topics that could again frame me in this light and avoided crossing paths with this individual whenever possible. But it there seemed to always be just enough material to go on; no matter what I did or said; that he would latch onto and again, reduce me to an air headed, naive woman worthy only of his pity and contempt.
I did not serve it back to him nor argue with him. Sometimes I would dismiss and ignore. Sometimes I would agree that my ignorance on certain subjects was likely funny to him. Sometimes I would just leave when I was able to because I could not stand it another minute.
Over the time, though, I continued to be kind and tried to engage in normal friendly conversations.
Slowly, the put-downs reduced and at the very least a respectful silence took their place.
However, the saddest part for me, was that another 'friend' in the same vicinity never stood up for me or told him to stop. Not once.

To make jokes about things we do not take the time to understand is a highest ignorance and arrogant pride.
To find pleasure in making someone else feel lower than us is the sign of deep-seated insecurity and personal self-hatred.

I managed to remove myself from that situation and thankfully, have not had to be there again.
But interestingly, the man who kept putting me down is now a family friend. The 'friend' who didn't have the courage to stand up for me, is no longer in my life.

What I learned about myself through that situation is that I have indeed, 'Come a long way, Baby!'. The back-handed compliments, outright mocking, tainted vulgarities and cruel innuendos didn't make me feel worse about myself or 'less-than'. They still hurt, because I felt abused and judged and stereotyped, but I knew the whole time that I was NOT what was being thrown at me. It didn't 'stick'. My identity in Jesus Christ was secure.

Puns, wit, clean jokes, riddles, quirky observations, are all things that can make us laugh without anyone feeling humiliated.
It is the mature person who is able to reserve their laughter for the kind that truly is the best medicine.
The kind that heals and brings life.


Monday, February 17, 2014

Isabel Marlene



Here at 10 pm I am back to editing photos of my nephew's new baby girl.

Isabel Marlene Toman.

She is perfect.
Beautiful.

Her older brother, his father's mini-me is all cute during the photo shoot... wants to lie down beside her on the studio blanket and with his clear blue eyes and mischievous grin points at her eyes, her mouth her nose and kisses her.
This tiny piece of heaven so recently given to us to see.... the reflection of her grandma and namesake.
Marlene.
My sister.


I knew having a nephew, one of my eldest sisters' sons, get married could mean that one day I might meet a baby girl that is my sister's first granddaughter.
Ohhh...if she were here.
She who raised three handsome, strong, tall and sturdy boys. But never a daughter.
She would be smitten.
Glowing in the grandma-love and pride of a wee one so delicate and feminine and precious.

Precious Isabel.

I wrap you in the wedding dress I've saved... salvaged from your Grandpa's purge of all things unnecessary to his going forward after your Grandma Marlene had died from brain cancer.
I held it thinking SOME day maybe there would be a granddaughter...
and here you are.


And I lay it carefully down.
And I lay you on it.
And I wrap the old lace and gauzy white fabric around your new baby skin.
You smile.
The wedding dress... a promise, in sickness and health for richer or poor...til death do we part...
Too young to die...only 44..... she never met her daughter-in-law, grandson or you....
But she talked about the 'what if's'...and here you are. The first female for her :)

Click.
I take so many photos... yet you smiling while wrapped in your grandma's wedding gown is the shot that now makes me weep as I edit photos.

Sweet girl.
I am not your grandma, but I am your great-aunt, and I too loved this one whom you have only met in eternity.

<3 p="">

Sunday, January 12, 2014

Snow Falling



Lacey snowflakes
icy candy-floss of winter
melting tingling and burning my face
my tongue
my breath

hushed whispering chilling enticement to my senses
as I, moving through the passive evergreens
catch faint the rhythms of voiceless music
snow waltzing descends
suspended

dreamy dance in time frozen



how quiet it gets when the snow falls.
like a feather blanket being wrapped around you....
sounds muffled....
air being purified one tiny snowflake at a time...