bumblebee thoughts

It seems that
six
months
felt much longer
on other days
when I
didn't
love you.

But now
that I
have
learned
to trace
your roads
like lines
across
your palm...
I fear
it is much
too
short.
~


So my friends, we will be moving in six months. Unless something unforeseen happens. As of now, we are Louisiana bound in the middle of July. My mind is racing with all the certain things and uncertain things to come. The gypsy in me is THRILLED! The momma in me is sad, as one kid stays behind to make a world for himself. The southern girl in me is enthralled with the beauty of the trees and edges of the shore.
Many moons ago, I set out to work on a cruise ship all alone.
With this mantra: One cannot find new worlds if they are not willing to lose sight of this shore.
And so here I go again. Lucky for me, I will be co-piloting this journey. (Take my hand Sean, cause we're about to jump!)

~S

davia

I want to
stay
awake.
Recounting
hour
by
hour.
Our goodbye
kiss.

A
one-woman
vigil,
lit
by laptop
glow.
My fingers
fumbling for keys,
to make
words.
to make
sense.
to make
love.

Tomorrow children
want
to tell
secrets
and
hear
stories
like those
I
once read
to you.

And so
tonight,
through
fits
of restlessness
I.
will.
sleep.
perchance to dream
...and if I dream,
I pray
I catch
a glimpse of you.

Wink
if you
recognize
me.

2011!

Last year I blogged for one month. This year I'm going for at least two. :)

I'm also going to try taking a few more courageous steps.

And let myself make mistakes.

As long as they take me forward.

Here goes!

~S

Ry

Dear ___________,
I have a son who is developmentally disabled.
He is kind and lovely and funny.
And he is being bullied.

It has been going on now for over 4 months.
They punch him and kick him.
And call him a retard. (Do you know it takes me a good 4 minutes to type that word? And even longer to recover from it.)
He doesn't know what it means, exactly.
In 8th grade you don't have to understand it, to feel the sting. (Especially, if you're cognitively more like a 2nd grader.)

But today, when I picked up my beautiful 14 year old son,
before his seatbelt was buckled, he burst into tears.
"They did it again", he mumbles.

And I want to scream.

I want to make his stormy ocean-grey eyes, calm again.
I want to promise him that it will never happen again.
But, I can't.
Because people are mean.
Instead, I have to teach him to be brave.
And not to be mean in return.
So, I was wondering if just as a favor to me...to Ryder...
to all of the many, many people in his life who love him
enormously,
Could you teach your son to be nice?
Perhaps tell him the value of differences.
Help him realize that he is stealing my son's joy
and his peaceful sleep.

We have fought for this sleep!

4 years ago, my son couldn't sleep a wink.
He had seizures for the entire length of his rest.
8 1/2 hours a night of pure hell.
Every single night.
For at least 2 years.
Every time he closed his eyes.
And now, finally when he is getting some sleep,
he's having nightmares about your son.

So, please- speak to him and ask him to be kind.

But...
If you can't do any of that,
then would you please just tell him to stay home tomorrow.
Because Ryder deserves a day off.
And he would like to spend it with his friends.

Thank you,
His mommy

Marinating

This weekend was interesting. Saturday, I spent getting my son and daughter ready for their first formal. Running around, getting things for them and making them feel loved and beautiful. Sunday, I spent some "me time" with a friend at a make-up counter at Macy's.

---->Turns out the lady at the Clinique counter said my skin was thirsty.

De-hydrated.

It was sucking up anything it could find. Make-up, lotion, oil...anything.

Ever the poet, I got to thinking about what happens when my life gets dehydrated. When everything I do is a checklist. When I am sucking worth and hope and peace from anywhere I can find it. When the colors all get muted.

My life gets full quickly. There are 7 people on my calendar, so days become too big for the little black and white box sometimes.

That is when I need to stop and marinate.

After our trip, I came home and posted about it on my facebook.

Within the next hour many friends stopped by to comment and let me know that I am beautiful and loved.

That began the rehydration and then...

I spent time with my youngest daughter, turning a simple request into a project. (more below*)

I grooved to some music.

I listened with my eyes closed, to the sound of my children laughing.

I called my mom.

I read this blog, about giving, that made me smile.

I soaked it in. Let it get deep and change me. Change my heart and my responses. Remind me of the truths I know and propose to live by. I took deep breaths and now I am ready to "do" some more.

Just in time. (Cuz today is in the box and down the side.)

Blessings to you and many happy marinades!

~Sandi

*BTW...Our project:

Bella has been complaining recently that baby dolls are way too light. "They don't feel like real babies." So, she had taken to carrying around a "rice sock" (for heating in the microwave and relieving sore joints) wrapped in a baby blanket.

Instead we got an old scrap of linen and sewed it up. She then filled it with rice.

We wrapped her baby in one fat quarter of floral material and stiched it in place.

Lastly, Bella drew the new baby's face with a marker and I followed her lines to add some color with paint.

So: Here is Maddie Grace.

"The best, most realest feeling baby doll ever."

We have a winner!

Congrats to Mo, a fellow dreamer!
She wins a lovely handmade bookmark,
which I will try to post a pic of tomorrow.

For now, I will leave you with her comment!

Mo said...

...Some days I dream of reinventing myself - "being" the kind of person who can actually "do" the things I'd like to - an exerciser who eats healthy, daily art journaling, more involved in some type of volunteer project. But most days I just dream of hearing His voice clearer, and showing His love better, and dancing... I do dream of dancing with Him to the music in my soul.

What a beautiful dream.

Sleep well friends~
Sandi

(Winner was chosen by random number generator. Mo: Send your address to my FB Inbox so I can put your cool prize in the mail.)

A dream not deferred

Today, I have been considering how much easier it is to defer a dream. To wait until the "time is right"or "the money is better" or "the kids grow up". I have been thinking about how hard it was for me to begin this art journey outside of my house and my head, and how hard it was not to decide: that I was reasonably and rightly, too busy.
I have 5 kids from 7-18 years old. I have a husband. I am finishing my degree. I teach Science in the afternoon.I have reasons to be busy.

I am considering then, the enormous courage that it took a pastor, a husband, a father (who could've been too busy), to dream. I am thinking, how lucky we all are that he climbed up the stairs and he shouted his dream to the world. He walked right up to the seemingly, insurmountable task and dared to dream something better.

******
Perhaps right now, you have a dream.
Maybe it's not a BIG world-changing dream.
Though, sometimes it's the littlest ones that
bring about the most amazing change.
Maybe it's just a nagging something at the back of your consciousness.
A place you go while watching a film or hearing a certain song.

I want to encourage you, to do it!
Do not postpone it.
You might surprise yourself.

A Dream Deferred

By: Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Courage and blessings as you leap~
Sandi

(PS- Comment a dream you have to this post and be entered to win a handmade bookmark from my shop: mavis magpie. All comments must be made by 11:59 PST Wednesday. Winner will be selected by random number generator.)