Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The Lanyard- Billy Collins



This has been playing on repeat in my iTunes. It's worth a listen if you can-- his tone tends to add more humor to his poems than you might pick find in the text alone-- but the full poem is below. Happy Almost Mother's Day!

The Lanyard - Billy Collins

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

On Hope

Thursday night.

I'm in crazy-hippie-man's class, being lectured on the divine power of the feminine, Jesus' resurrection, and the Kennedy assassination plot. As per usual, I have my phone out, ready to text Elly with the latest conspiracy theory quotes and Star Trek references. It lights up-- a message from my little sister:

"Mom went to the doctor and they found precancerous cells on her cervix."

She didn't know much more than that. Mom had left her phone at home and didn't respond to my texts. The router at our apartment was broken, so as soon as class ended I went to the lab and started researching. Precancerous cells are considered Stage 0 cancer and, if caught early, can be "cured" 100%. Those with Stage 0 cervical cancer have a 93% five-year survival rate. Of course, if it is someone you love, that pre-cancer is still way, way too much cancer.

I was shaken so I participated in my holy trinity of coping:
1. Pray
2. Read the scriptures
3. Eat In & Out (because nothing says "my mom has cancer" like giving yourself a sympathy heart attack).

I've since talked to my mom and she sounds nonchalant about the whole thing (though that may have to do with her access to a supply of morphine to "make things easier or speed things up"). They found the polyps at her doctor visit (her first one of the kind in 19 years) and sent them to the lab. They aren't sure if it has spread or how far it would have spread so we're playing the waiting game until the labs come back.

I feel like I'm in suspension, like I'm swimming in water and I can see the worry and panic floating above me but they haven't reached me yet. The answer to my prayers thus far has been a calming mantra in my head: "Don't worry until it is yours to worry about."

I have hope. Not in the sense of miraculous healings or things getting better. I just know that now would be a lousy time to stop trusting God. I don't know what His plan is but I know He has one and He'll give me the strength I need to get through whatever He has coming. I wish I had stronger, more unique words to say, some spectacular new lesson I've learned, but I don't. It's the same faith and trust that carried me through everything else that will carry me through this too. Vaclav Havel: "Hope is not that conviction that something will turn out well but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out."

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Catching up on the Awesome

In order:

1. Last Thursday, my mother called to tell me she was in town for a nursing meeting. We went to Costco where she filled me up with actual groceries (to supplement my personal collection of Lean Pockets) and convinced me to my night class to go to Salt Lake with her. We grabbed my little sister, ate massive amounts of butter crab and clams at Joe's Crab Shack, and watched the inappropriately hilarious "Just Go With It".

2. Elly and Mexules taught me to play Call of Duty on Saturday. Afterwards, we went to what we thought would be a b-boy competition but was actually one white kid bouncing around in a dark room. We went to ghetto laser tag instead (I loved the two floor arena and half hour time limit). The next day, Mexules and I were both sick and Elly followed soon after. I now sound like a frog with a nictonine addiction, which has greatly improved my ability to sing my favorite rock songs with the right amount of "one bad decision away from dying" in my tone.

3. I took my mama to the BYU v Colorado State game yesterday.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

A Very Merry Unbirthday!


We're all mad here.

Today was the best birthday I've ever had (that wasn't actually my birthday, or even her's). Hell's Bells hit the big 1-8 on Friday. According to her, being legal means:

1. "Tittttttyyyyyy barrrrr" (facebook status)

2. She "can bring home 38 year old men!" Statutory rape is a thing of the past!

3. Not having to bum fake IDs to get into the same clubs mi madre used to party at.

Her actual birthday was rough going, culminating in a great dinner at Tucanos where the waiters brought me the bloodiest meat they were allowed to (thumbs up!) but the circumstances were less than ideal for the others. There were tears, verge of tears, and general frustration (thumbs down).

We called a do-over.

Today was filled with Insanity, an intense workout that started solo then became a spectator sport until my mother joined me (Bells and the Boyfriend provided "supportive" commentary). We went shopping for a few hours, got pedicures (even the Boyfriend), and then Bells and I headed to dinner with Legally Blonde.

We covered the basics: Bells' love life, how my recently widowed grandma is getting along, the concerts Legally Blonde had attended....

Then Legal's shirt sleeve rode up a little.

Me: "(Legal), did you get a tattoo?!"

He's got a big, black, tribal sign on his arm in celebration of his upcoming Big One Birthday. I think it has to do with fighting his age but, as I told him, I'm not sure what he's so worried about. My parents both look twenty years younger than they should and Blonde flat out is twenty years younger than you'd expect so really, I'm going to be surrounded by The Pretty People for a while. He seemed a bit miffed that I had noticed (as he pointed out, I'm so unobservant that I had to have the fact that they installed a deck on the front of our house pointed out to me) because Bells is itching for a tattoo and he's anti-inked-daughter (but if she has to, "Bones" at Southern Thunder does good work. Blonde agreed that he totally sounds like a worker at a strip club).

The rest of our conversation involved stripper tricks, the various ways Bells' friend's pets had died, and Legal's all-encompassing opinion of "Take that shiz* somewhere else!".

This is my family. We're non-traditional, irreverent, and hell is given to all. But if you could have seen us through the past nine years, you'd understand why being able to laugh together is one of the greatest gifts we've got.

*C'mon.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Bailey

Earlier today I had a voice-mail on my cell phone. It was a few seconds of frantic barking followed by my mother's voice saying "You're going to be alright" over and over again before it petered off into tears. The message ended there. I immediately called my mom and found out that a car had hit our dog, Bailey.

Bailey

She survived the impact but her broken rib punctured her lung. As of tonight, she's at the vet's in a little oxygen-infused enclosure, wrapped up in bandages and drugged out of her mind (though she can still find it in her to try to crawl through the petting hole and let out a constant stream of pained yips). The vet says that there isn't anything they can do except wait and see if she pulls through (about a 50/50 chance).

As I was driving back to my apartment, I kept thinking: Alright, Life. I get it. You are so much bigger and meaner than I could ever hope to be. Now please stop shitting on my face.

(I apologize for the language. My inner-self and I are still working on the cussing issue).

My little sister said, "God, if you let Bailey live, I will never do anything wrong again."

My mom said, "Good things never happen to good people."

The thing is, I don't believe that's how it works. As elementary as it is, life only consists of two types of circumstances: the ones you can control and the ones you can't. Being a good person has to be a reward on its own because it is no guarantee of anything good coming your way. I believe in blessings and I believe that our Heavenly Father wants us to be happy, but between teaching us and letting us be blissfully stagnant, we've already chosen to learn. You can control your actions and do the things that will lead to the kinds of consequences that you desire. But there is still a realm of things that may fall on you for the better or worse and where what you deserve is supplanted by what you are given.

And if that's really part of Heavenly Father's Plan, then that has to be okay. Maybe the real blessing is that sometimes, even rarely, we do get to choose, that we aren't stuck with just being acted upon, that we get even an iota of influence in the dealings in our lives. That even when things are spiraling out of control, I can look around and say "This is how this happened. A affected B and C happened and now I'm going to do D". Even if I don't understand the "why" behind it all, I have the faith to say "Okay. I'll take it and I'll work with it".

I don't need things to be better. I just need them to go forward.

"Our God will deliver us from ridicule and persecution, but if not. . . . Our God will deliver us from sickness and disease, but if not . . . . He will deliver us from loneliness, depression, or fear, but if not. . . . Our God will deliver us from threats, accusations, and insecurity, but if not. . . . He will deliver us from death or impairment of loved ones, but if not, . . . we will trust in the Lord.

Our God will see that we receive justice and fairness, but if not. . . . He will make sure that we are loved and recognized, but if not. . . . We will receive a perfect companion and righteous and obedient children, but if not, . . . we will have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, knowing that if we do all we can do, we will, in His time and in His way, be delivered and receive all that He has."
-Elder Dennis E. Simmons of the Quorum of the Seventy

Update: Bailey is fine! She's all bandaged up and is getting spoiled silly :)

Sunday, July 25, 2010

July 25, 2010

Every so often, if you are very lucky, you meet a person who seems entirely in tune with your core self. Someone who has no blinders about your worth (infinite), your flaws (also infinite), and with whom every new facet of yourself is simply a new leaf of a well-loved tree. With whom there is no shame, no self-degrading, no desperate plea for attention and validation. Someone with whom you can simply be. As a certain red-headed orphan would say "bosom friends".

This is one of those people:


But this post isn't about her. It's about him:


In honor of his Herculean feat of carrying me up three flights of stairs at a dead sprint, let's call him Mex-ules.

Mexules came into our apartment's collective life as the protector. At first, it was taking over home teaching duties and thus foiling an ex-boyfriend's plan to continue stalking wooing one of our own. He then progressed to personal chef, willing stalk-ee, guy beater, couch sleeper, and occasionally, spiritual fount.

Acting in his first capacity, he came over tonight. He gave me the choice of two lessons: forgiveness or optimism. I asked for the second; he misheard and gave me the first. And of course, it turned out to connect to something fresh on my mind.

It has been one of the great struggles in my life to watch people I care about try to function without the most basic aspect of love: forgiveness. True forgiveness means that accepting the other person for all of their potential. You can neither expect them to change, as that implies conditional forgiveness, NOR can you ignore the possibility that they might, as that is damning them unjustly. Repentance is a product of their relationship with God and the stipulation of a change of heart is one that only He can demand. Of us, it is required "to forgive all Men".

I firmly believe this and so was a little jarred when Mexules pointed out that our lack of forgiveness could hinder someone else's progression. We will never be able to make someone change, but we can stop setting them up to fail.

He also pointed out that there are three people that need our forgiveness for us to progress: 1) Others 2) Ourselves 3) God".

I have been blessed with experiences that have allowed me the chance to build a solid relationship with all members of my Heavenly Family. I have been carried by Their love and been saved too completely to feel any bitterness towards Them. Through this, I have learned to love and value myself. And though it stems more from jaded-ness than perfection, I can honestly say I have very little problem forgiving others.

Why? Because stripped of everything else, we have our agency, our power to act. Every minute is an opportunity to choose your reaction. You can choose to wallow in anger against how you want things to be, and punish yourself and others when those ideals aren't met.

Or you can choose to hope: to accept with grace how things are and actively work toward something better.