Nora's 15th Birthday

I woke shortly after 1:30 this morning. I didn't linger awake long, but was taken back to 15 years prior as we laid eyes on our mysterious-to-the-medical-community baby for the first time. I woke again hours later before the sun had come up and I realized before long that Jason was also not sleeping. Those early morning hours of her birth day felt particularly dark to both of us. There we were in my postpartum recovery room trying to rest and absorb all that had transpired, being there with no baby in our arms to bond with, and wondering what was coming next for her and us. 

Over time so many streams of light filtered into the darkness. Yes, it was still often dark! But streams of light in the form of love and kindness and support from others spurred us on. And we had each other. As I snuggled next to Jason this morning and talked until the sun started to add light to the world outside, I felt so glad we've had each other through it all! 

Jason has written a lullaby for each of our girls. The intensity of caring for Nora didn't provide lots of time for things like writing songs but on the 12th anniversary of Nora's death he finished up her lullaby Wherever You Are.  I've been thinking about it here on the morning of what would have been her 15th birthday and wanted to share the lyrics as part of my reflections on this trip around the sun.

(Chorus) Sweet dreams, my dear one, wherever you are
This world's not that big, so you can't be too far
I'll hold in my mind the sweet light that you are
Or at least that's what you've been to me

I don't know all the reasons, and it wasn't my choice
When the time came that we had to part
And I hate that I can't tuck you into your bed
But I'm keeping a warm, cozy place in my heart

(Chorus) Sweet dreams, my dear one, wherever you are
This world's not that big, so you can't be too far
I'll hold in my mind the sweet light that you are
Or at least that's what you've been to me

I could barely believe it when I saw through my tears
That I had to leave without you
And I've got no way to tell you but I hope that you know
That your love is the thing that will carry me through

Love...so often the thing that carries us through. 

In many ways it feels so very fitting that Nora's birth day is falling this year on the final day of the Power in Pleasure class I've been taking this fall. One of the things we've explored in this class is how being in our bodies and in tune with all our senses can open us up to deep experiences of pleasure...AND it can also be intensely scary and uncomfortable for those of us who have absorbed many negative messages over our lifetimes about our bodies and pleasure. So these past 5 weeks have been full of new discoveries, interrogating old, no-longer-helpful messages, so many questions, a good dose of fear, more laughter, reminders to stay in this moment and not to live in just the past or the future, and on and on and on!

I remember so clearly the day with Nora when I got to go out for a little walk with her in the pack. She was content. The day was gorgeous. In that single instant, I felt alive and glad to be in that moment and there was nothing that needed to be different. The big picture was so very bleak and uncertain. But there were still pockets of joy and pleasure to be found if I could be present to all the moments that make up the day - there were plenty of good moments in the struggle. Those lessons are flooding back to me again and at this juncture in life are taking on more meaning and depth with the 15 years of living that have happened since!

In honor of the last day of my class, I'm sharing just a few snippets below of things that particularly struck me this week from the daily modules. Thank goodness I get to keep these 35 modules of content to circle back to. 

"The thing that I often have to say to myself is try easier. Try easier. I think a lot of us learned to try harder. We can insert any number of clichés and parables that really reinforce that when things are hard, you get harder. I think there is so much beauty in tenderness, in the softness, in vulnerability. I actually think that all of our strengths arise out of our tender places. ... Most of our authentic skills, resources, strengths, so much of our personhood arise out of our soft places. It is an active resistance to remain tender. As we are stuck, some of the ways that we can move through that stuckness is to be tender, is to try easier rather than try harder." Shadeen Francis

"I've learned to trust that even when things don't feel like they're changing, that underneath it all, deep in my psyche and in my bones, the tectonic plates of who I am are constantly moving in response to the questions I ask, the hopes and dreams I hold, and the small imperfect practices I stumble my way through each day." 

"What would it mean to allow our lives to be imperfect and joyous and difficult and playful and complicated and nuanced all while orienting towards satisfaction and enoughness? How can we learn to trust ourselves and each other?"

"Most of us think of setting boundaries as our no. We often equate boundary work with rejection and putting up walls...this is only one part of boundary work. Boundary work is also asking for what we DO want, our yes, our desire and longing, and being able to communicate that."

"We heal in relationship. We grow together. Just as you didn't make up all of the shame and beliefs you carry with you now, you don't have to figure it out or make new stories on your own, either."

And as the day gets rolling here and Jason is watering plants, Terah is playing legos, and the other two gals have yet to appear in the front room, I'll close by sharing some of those moments in our lives of late that have engaged one or all of my senses and brought pockets of joy, pleasure and satisfaction! And then Jason and I will be off to attempt to donate blood in Nora's memory. It's a good sign that I feel well enough to give it a go - it's been a long time!

The winter squashes are tucked into the root cellar (just in time to clear out the garage and take down the drying racks to have the space ready for my parents to use again for the winter/spring)! 

The autumn joy in Nora's garden.

This baby! He's mobile! He found the bookshelf. He loves to snuggle. He loves to watch the chickens. And he makes us feel so special when he reaches for us and holds on. Or kicks his little legs or shrieks/roars with glee when he sees us.

Pockets of reading time! Me with the girls. Or side by side with them. Reading my first romance novel in so so many years! Polished the first one off in 24 hours! Good thing frost has come (multiple times)!!

Seeing how our pigs really know how to take and savor naps. No shame here!

Fall leaves! The colors. Seeing them dance in the fall breezes. See the way they swirl to the ground. Watching the mountain change in front of us.

SPINACH! Don't count your spinach leaves before they are harvested, but this is looking so hopeful!

MASSIVE turnips! I do wish I liked them a bit more than I do, but I'm slowly learning to appreciate them!

Silliness! It is in abundance in this household. Here's Terah's new sweeping method!

Ultimate milk mates. Made with our home grown and ground whole wheat flour. Yum!

A precious circle of women friends around the fire talking for hours about...

A hike with my eldest! 

This place! This is not photoshopped. The photo doesn't even do it justice! I've savored hikes with some of my nearest and dearest to Hensley's Pond in the past week. One with a dear friend, mentor and loved one who has modeled an expanded and deepened version of what it means to live fully and erotically. A dear friend who has modeled such courage in their own healing journey. And a friend who is sharing all of life with me - the day to day, processing the past, envisioning the future, and cheering each other on in our quest to live the best versions of ourselves.

French toasted nutty sweet potato waffles with ginger sugar.

Some of the last raspberries of the year.

Community! Neighbors! Borrowing stuff like this Nutrimill that has forever changed my relationship to grinding grains! :) 

This place! It has held my joy, my sorrow, my laughter, my tears, my love, my anger, my wrestling, my questions, death, new life, and so much planting, weeding, harvesting and processing of not just fruits and veggies but of life at large!

Guests: Another precious week with Aunt Eleanor (Round 3!)

Where do I even start? Hopefully these pictures are worth more than a thousand words, as I'm not sure I have a thousand in me any more tonight! That said, once I get going the words normally start flowing. We are at the end of our "rounds of visitors" for October. As of late afternoon today my parents once again are occupying their in-law quarters after traveling over 5000 miles these last few weeks!

Last evening we said goodbye for now to Aunt Eleanor. It was another really special week and we'll eagerly anticipate the next time in the not too distant future. She is about the easiest house guest to have in our midst, except that she doesn't eat enough! :) We had told her she needed to try to keep up with the guests before her in noise level and helping us consume our food, but we gave her an impossible task!

I still feel guilty when we have days where we are buzzing around most of the day and don't get a chance to sit and chat or do things together until evening. But I'm so glad she feels free to sit and read or puzzle or explore outside or sit on the porch swing and gaze at the mountain. She was also eager to pitch in if we had a task for her to help with, but we also didn't have to twist her arm to NOT wash our mountains of dishes. 

The good thing about having a full week together was that even with pockets that were kinda chaotic or full for us, we still were able to pack a lot of fun and meaningful connection into our times together. As always we tried some new foods (browned butter or raw turnips with salt) and watched some new things (Shirley Temple's Heidi movie) and heard some new stories and laughed at what I'm now calling "Eleanorisms." I'm not at all surprised that she has been considered a funny person that makes people laugh since she was little. At 96 she still adds considerable laughter to any space she is in!

I think I've mentioned here that I'm currently taking a class called Power in Pleasure. At various points in the week we are asked to think of people that embody different things for us. I was very keenly aware this week that my Great Aunt Eleanor is someone that models embodiment for me and being attuned and present to all of one's senses and living fully in each moment. It's really beautiful and inspiring. Here's she relishing eating raw turnips with salt while she reads through yet another one of our blog books! Below are some of my other favorite moments of the week!

She was itching one day to "do something" and so she cleaned our shoe shelf corner in the dining room - I would not have suggested such a grungy job, but she certainly could feel successful! On another day she helped sift a bunch of corn and wheat flour. This was before I got fed up with our system and gave up finishing that project for the day (more on that in another post!).

There was lots of puzzling upstairs and downstairs!

And lots of reading! When I found her sitting on the floor by our kids' books I told her I hoped I could sit like that if I make it to 96. She replied, "You haven't seen me get up yet." But she gets up just fine! Actually now that I think about it, I can't really sit like that now at 44!

We enjoyed good times outdoors - at the picnic table, at the swing set, around the fire ring. 

And many fun mealtimes. Some were calmer than others. In the one pictured below Daddy was remembering trying to chew as a child without moving his lower jaw. Then everyone was trying it. Give it a go - I don't think it's really possible, but maybe it's because I can't do it!

On the night pictured here we made homemade pizzas and then watched a movie and had ice cream cones. Eleanor noted that the evening felt like she had been at a party! I couldn't agree more. It definitely was a party! So many aspects of our time together feel festive and celebratory! I love that my 96 year old aunt reminds me so well what it means to live fully savoring the beautiful moments gifted to us.

On the eve of Nora's 15th birthday, I'm grateful for all those in my life that remind me that life is full of both struggle and beauty (and to cherish the beauty all around us which makes the struggle easier to hold. Another dear friend of mine (and of Nora's!) shared this song with me today, which I've listened to multiple times this evening (Seasons of Love). I love the image of measuring our lives in love. That's the way I hope to orient more and more with each passing year...

A "last supper" of sorts

Several weeks ago a former colleague and dear friend emailed current and former CJP faculty/staff members to invite us to gather in the parking lot of the office buildings to mark yet another transition happening within the organization. The remaining faculty/staff were being moved from those offices to others across campus and so there would no longer be a "CJP building." Knowing that spaces matter and the stories those spaces held for many of us, she invited us to gather together to grieve, celebrate and share a time together of remembering and marking these changes (as unwelcome as they felt for most). In the email she noted that a light lunch would be provided. I knew immediately that I wanted to provide it. What was different than sometimes is that I felt no "should" in my spirit but instead almost an "I need to do this" feeling. So I offered and they accepted. 

At the time I didn't realize how significant and important it would be for me to cook and bake this meal. So yesterday as the gratitude flooded my direction in the CJP parking lot, I didn't know how to articulate that I was glad they were enjoying the food, but this was honestly more about me than anything else. I needed to do this for me and my own process. So bonus that the food was enjoyed by others, but I'm pretty sure I got more out of it than anyone else in that circle yesterday. 

I'm not sure whether I'll be able to flesh out all the layers of this but I'm here to try because it feels significant enough to mark it in the family scrapbook. Here's what unfolded as I chopped and stirred and kneaded and baked.

Making this meal reconnected me with one of the things I loved in the early days of my job. I remember thinking, "I'm being paid for this?" I would make things for various special events at work. I was reminded by a former colleague yesterday that I would bake bread for one of the regular trainings we held. I had forgotten this until she reminded me. We often gathered together around food - for coffee breaks, for birthdays, for check ins, and so on. As my job responsibilities grew, as budget tightened, and as stress increased it was those things that felt like they were slowly whittled away. Implicitly it communicated the message that those things were extra. So we shared less food together, we gathered less, and I kept my nose to the grindstone. Not only did I hardly cook or bake for work anymore, I also didn't join any of the "extras" when a few colleagues had lunch together or in other ways tried to hold onto the importance of relationships within our work environment. A part of me yearned for those deeper points of connection and yet the feeling of "I don't have time for that" almost always won out. I was struggling so much to just keep us with the bare essentials of my job.

As I sat in the circle yesterday with people who spanned all my years at CJP and listened to stories, I felt so keenly how much those times of gathering around food and celebrating together and building relationships were NOT extras! They were the core and heart of who we were together. And I felt sad and angry and regretful that this is another thing that hustle culture and capitalism stole from me/us. I marveled at how insidious and powerful those messages are, filtering even into work environments that want to care for people and that verbalize values around relationships.

Cooking and baking for this event didn't come with all warm fuzzy feelings for sure. The day before the event I made the soups and cheese and prepped a few other things. I was initially thinking that there'd likely be only a handful of people there, but the net had been beautifully cast wide and clearly this was an invitation others valued as much as me so the lunch was now for about 25. There was a lot going on at home that day too and so I was in touch with the fact that what I was setting out to accomplish in my afternoon was a bit of a stretch. But I was in it now so was gonna try to make the best of it. Then one of my daughters was having a hard time. And things spiraled - as much within me as externally. She needed my presence and I felt panic in me about getting done all the things I had started on. And then this very deeply uncomfortable feeling rose up, something that was so so familiar for years. This tug of war within me. All the times that I had to (or chose to) put work above the needs I saw around me at home. I knew my kids yearned for more of me. And I knew my work responsibilities could take every second of every day if I let it. I did better and worse with boundaries in various seasons, but the last few years had been rough. My kids had extended grace over and over again, but I know it wasn't always easy. So here I was doing something I really wanted to do, but it felt soured by a sense that my daughter needed my full attention as she was overwhelmed by some big feelings and I was struggling to be fully present because of competing needs for my time. Sigh! Undoubtedly, it was hard to be a mom and work at CJP as the demands grew. 

Let me be clear: for every single year of my 20+ years at CJP I worked with some of the most incredible human beings on this planet. Of that I am sure! And yet the system squeezed us and pressured us and made it hard to not lose our way and the focus on how we care for each other and tend to what is most important. But all throughout my time there, we tried in little and small ways to not lose it altogether. And as I gathered things for the lunch it felt like the timing of this lunch struck something deep in me as well, something connected to some of my most cherished memories.

Tomorrow is Nora's 15th birthday. Saying goodbye to CJP buildings is also losing a connection to one of the few spaces Nora inhabited in her 7 months with us other than our home and doctor's offices. She never traveled to family's homes and she never went to the church that prayed for her/us weekly but she came with me to work. It was the most insane juggling act I tried in my time at CJP. And it was agonizing and exhausting and precious. We'd warm a hot water bottle and put it in the carseat early in the morning to warm her seat up. I'd tuck Nora's little body in her carseat and say, "You're gonna come to mamma's work with me." And off we'd go. And then the day of trying to be in meetings and tend to naps, and type emails while holding the phone in the crook of my neck while I also tended to the baby in my arms. But those memories are wrapped up in that space and so that space means a whole lot to me. And while my colleagues often couldn't take any of the balls from me that I was juggling, I did feel their tenderness and care for me then and in the grieving following her death. They had gotten to know her just a bit through her times in the office with me and that was special since most people only got to know her through our letters out to our community. So yesterday I got down and dusted off the bowl that we would line with a baby blanket and weigh Nora in when we were checking her weight before and after every feed. I filled it with spoons and forks for the lunch, as my heart did its panging thing!

Some of the things above were the things that were more on the surface for me as I offered to make the meal and engaged in that process. I was eager to reconnect with the parts of my job that had brought me a lot of fulfillment. It felt like there had been so much struggle in the end, that a chance to connect with things that were more joy filled was a welcome opportunity. But I wasn't prepared for something else that opened up in me.

Let me start by briefly sharing what I actually made. I have a hard time keeping things simple and this was no different!

• Chicken, red lentil, sweet potato and greens soup - the chicken, sweet potatoes, sweet potato greens, lard and garlic all came from this land.
• Vegetarian chili - the things in this derived from Tangly Woods included garlic, peppers, trombone squash, tomatoes, shallots, and black beans.
• Yogurt cornbread made with Tangly Woods red flour corn, our eggs and homemade yogurt.
• The three kinds of yeast breads were made using Tangly Woods wheat, rye, corn, amaranth, buckwheat, and millet. I made:
• Whole Wheat Butterhorns
• 100% whole wheat bread - a FIRST EVER yeast bread made with 100% T.W. grown, harvested, threshed, dried, winnowed and ground wheat!
• And a recipe from my 6th grade science fair project - a multi-grain bread.
• There was homemade butter and several kinds of jams from the fruit of our land (red raspberry, blackberry orange, and a blueberry blackberry ginger)
• Tangly Woods cheeses - farmers cheese, black pepper aged cheddar, aged cheddar with our fermented Serrano peppers
• And for dessert and to celebrate a former colleague and dear friends birthday, an apple cake made with some of the last of our T.W. apples and with 100% red flour corn, as well as our eggs.

It was good to know that I still have it in me to pull together such a meal in 24 hours or less. AND it wasn't as easy for me as it was in my 20's and 30's. I'm very out of practice. But I felt the similar thrills that I often did having 5 different processes going at once and keeping track of timing for each thing. But my brain was feeling stretched to hold it all, maybe as much as anything because my emotions were working on overdrive to take in and absorb and process (or hold for later) all the different things welling up in me. Those things were felt most notably as I kneaded bread dough in the early hours of the morning before any kid had roused. Normally I use that time to listen to as many podcasts as I can squeeze in. Yesterday, I knew I didn't want that distraction. I wanted and needed (as I kneaded!) to feel!!

As I worked the dough on the last batch of bread I found myself closing my eyes. And I felt almost transported in time through various points in my life. I was baking bread in Immokalee, Florida for my VS unit. I was baking bread for the kids at the home in Bolivia. I was baking bread summer after summer at the West Virginia State Arts and Crafts fair in Ripley, WV. I was baking bread with my mom and aunt for our wedding. I was baking for work. Baking for friends. Baking for other people's weddings. My best business venture ever was babysitting, cleaning homes and making bread for the family all within about 4 hours time! The act of kneading that dough reconnected me with so many memories and with a deep part of myself and my identity. I am, after all, the daughter and niece of the authors of Recipes from the Old Mill (a fabulous bread cookbook!).

Well, there ya have it. I hadn't fully come to terms with this being yet another thing that diet culture, the wellness diet, weight stigma and fat phobia had stolen from me. This was not just about "giving up grains" because I had some impression that they would make me fat or sick or unhealthy. With that, I had given up something that brought me such meaning and I believe is coded somewhere deep in my DNA. And it was a way that I enjoyed expressing care for others and celebrating with them and grieving with them. Sure I had found other ways to do that and other things to cook and bake that didn't include yeast breads. But I missed it! And I realized that I didn't need to let it go. So as I worked that dough, I grieved and then also felt gratitude for the invitation I felt within me to freely reconnect with that part of my heritage, family and identity. When my younger gals emerged from their slumber to fresh bread hot from the oven for breakfast, something felt so deeply right as I cut them slices and spread them with homemade butter.