Is this really me?

Last evening Jason, Kali and I found ourselves once again on the 4th floor of the outpatient unit at RMH for the 24th Annual Bereaved Parents Memorial Tree Service, sponsored by RMH's Grief and Loss Services. We went bearing a little star ornament that Kali had written Nora's name on and decorated with colorful dots. Since last year Kali has mentioned several times wanting to go to the service again so we were thankful when our neighbor M brought down the local paper with an announcement of the event - I had been naively waiting for another invitation which apparently only go to families in their first year after the loss.

It was one of those evenings where I felt slightly out of place, yet also connected in a strange way to the stories (most of which I knew little to nothing of) of those gathered in that room. We were a group of no more than about 30, persons that would likely not find themselves at many common gatherings but who share a common experience of loss. Mostly it was just being present that mattered for me last night, and particularly being there with Kali and allowing it to be another experience to place in her bank of memories of these years. She said very little but enjoyed helping to place the dozens and dozens of ornaments on the tree that had been accumulated over the years. She wondered on the way home why there kept being more ornaments. It was that which struck me as well as I hung each one on the tree, knowing that each represented a little life that someone out there missed.

One of the things that was shared by a mother who lost a baby at birth was how she was told soon after her loss that for awhile the grief will carry you but someday in the future you will find that you will carry your grief. It was emphasized that it never goes away, but it shifts and changes over time. I have found that to be true.

So taking a monumental leap in my thought processes, it seems that these last few years are full of finding myself in odd places where I can't help but question, "Is this really me doing this or in this place?" While it often leads to growth and changes I'm grateful for, it almost always includes a slightly unsettling feeling as well.

That was so true of Thanksgiving day and the week following where we found ourselves immersed in our largest butchering project ever. I should note that Jason was the central person involved and I found myself entering in at various moments throughout the process, which for this time was enough for me as I slowly gather the courage the fully engage myself with the source of my food.

Thanksgiving day I found myself plucking feathers for the first time since Bolivia (1997-98). At that time I hated the smell, hated making the children help, hated doing it myself, and was not thinking about much else. This time I was surrounded by my own family and good neighbors, I felt like I had grown much more familiar with our feathered friends through my decade of being married to Jason. I watched in awe as Kali dove into the project with no hesitation, resentment or fear of the smell, the wet feathers, the blood. But I still feel like such a novice on so many levels and I can hardly tout being fully engaged as I can't yet muster the strength to do the actual killing and I still feel a bit squeamish about the butchering portion. Yet it felt good to be involved and to allow myself to feel the awkward feelings, as well as those uncomfortable feelings of power associated with taking life (I know that so many aspects of my life contribute to both taking and giving life and therefore it feels good to get close to it even though it feels uncomfortable).

Kali, on the other hand, seemed right at home. She came and helped and then went off to play. At one point she went and grabbed two feet off the butchering table and was playing with them. Before I knew it I heard her by the rooster pen asking them if anyone wanted to trade for a new pair of feet. I didn't know whether to laugh or be horrified, but was quickly reminded of Barbara Kinsolver's chapter in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle where she reflects on a butchering day that found their children doing much the same. Kali clearly has grown up around the cycles of life and death and did not find it odd or gross and I'm grateful for that. I hope that she sees in all our actions a true respect for the animals we care for and in the end eat.

Part of that respect involves for us attempting to use as much as reasonably possible of the animal that we kill. After learning from friends that the feet provide the best soup stock - high in protein - we decided it was time to try it. Another stretching experience to have a pot of chicken feet simmering on our stove for a day or two. But there is no doubt of it being high in protein!

We left the chickens aging in the cooler while we took off for our wonderful weekend in WV. While there we got a call, similar to one a few years back: my uncle D had shot another deer and by now had more venison than they needed. Did we want to take it home? Oh, we have such a hard time saying no to free, local food (particularly a great protein source that Kali loves). So like we did when Kali was not yet two, we came driving back to Harrisonburg with a deer tied to our roof, this time more securely--the last such trip, the deer shifted on the roof rack and Kali (then just beginning to say a few words and animal sounds) caught sight of it "looking in at her" through the car window. I watched in horror as she examined this creature out her window for awhile and then I heard, "Duck?...Woof Woof?" Poor girl, she was trying to fit what she saw into her limited repertoire of animals. We laughed, but not altogether comfortably!











So Monday through Friday was filled with cutting meat off bones, grinding meat, cooking the bones down, picking cooked meat off the bones, canning meat and broth. And now the pantry shelves are once again loaded to the brim and the canner is put away (are we now truly done for the year??). I found the most amazing part to help with this time was picking the meat off the chicken bones. It may not have been so relaxing for Jason as I was asking him about the name, placement, and function of every other bone that I cleaned off. Sometimes I feel like I'm just starting my education - and now I'm doing it for me, not for anyone else or for a grade or because I have to. What a difference that makes!!