The Hanging Tree

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where they strung up a man they say murdered three.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where the dead man called out for his love to flee.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Where I told you to run, so we’d both be free.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, are you

Coming to the tree

Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Writer's Chair Views

Left

Center

Right

Out of Body

One of the greatest blessings in our new home is a sanctuary where I can read and write and think and talk and work and pray. It's tucked in over the garage and chopped into two rooms. The coziest room, where I imagine talking with friends over tea and indulging my appreciation for squishy furniture when I'm working, is toward the front of the house. I love being there with or without guests, but I'm all set up with tea and cookies should someone special drop by.

Singing Again

I am an ardent Hunger Games fan. The movie surprised me when I accompanied a child who wanted to see it. Powerful emotional experiences of that kind must either be rejected, thoroughly, permanently, or they must be worn out. I decided to wear Hunger Games out, reading the books, collecting fan magazines and seeing the new movie right away. I think it was the tribute to Appalachian culture that made it stick. One time when I asked my grandmother what I should say when asked about my roots, she said that I should say, "West Virginian." She was right, even though I grew up in Maryland.

Music was the most prized art form when I was growing up. We sang all day most days, and I loved it. Whether we were opening school, class, or church, whether we were messing around on the playground, bus, or park, whether we were in rehearsal learning how all those things we did naturally, worked and were written down, whether we were performing for church, nursing homes, or competitions, we sang. I took it for granted.

The part of Katniss' story that has surprised me the most is from the last book when she is recovering from it all. She begins to sing and sing and sing her way back to a shaky sanity. What a clever, Appalachian twist. Life carried me away from Appalachia kicking and screaming. This thing then that thing then the other thing separated me from singing, until I was only skipping through the little songs I sing my children, and whatever was on the board for Sunday.

I have started to sing. I haven't experienced an apocalyptic horror, but I have feared it. I've carried broken things too long, and it's time to sing. I've joined the church choir, and I'm trying to make time to practice more at home. It isn't as spectacular as Katniss, but I think I'm getting closer to home.

I always knew the treadmill was evil.

But I had no proof until today. Today I climbed on for the routine torture,and the electrics turned on, but the belt wasn't moving. I briefly considered racking up the world's easiest workout as I stood there watching the calories roll by, but those results aren't taken into consideration by my scale. I tried various fixes, but it wasn't moving. I resorted to pushing all the buttons. The total mileage stopped me in my tracks. The darned thing had stopped at 666 miles. I kid you not.

Remembering the Neighborhood

On my top ten list of items I will never own but can't help coveting, is the set of models Mr. Rogers would occasionally use to segue into a visit to The Neighborhood of Make-believe. I had a paper version briefly, but, it's a long story.

We are leaving Spring Lake and St. Mary's. In the eighth grade Mea had a to do a school project about the most beautiful place in Spring Lake. She chose St. Mary's, and I have to agree. One of the most impressive features is a copy of the Pieta made from molds taken from the original marble. It sits right outside of church, a beautiful gift to the entire community.

I had a gift certificate to spend and I carried it around for a month or two trying to decide what to with it. I'm ready for my life to be more visually Catholic. I was shopping for a good-sized crucifix when I saw the Pieta, model-sized. After that there could be no other purpose for the gift certificate, and I was so excited to receive the statuette. It is so good to have something to inspire good memories.

My Super Power

,

Everyone wants a cool nickname when they are growing up. The closest I came to having a nick name at all was "The Walking Dictionary." It was too cumbersome for everyday use, so it was reserved for the days when even my teacher wasn't sure what I'd said. Secretly I hoped they thought of me as "Dic" which demonstrates that my familiarity with slang could have been expanded.

Recently my thoughts returned to this melancholy subject, and my mind skipped forward a couple decades to sitting at a picnic table with a therapy group. "That girl is Spiderwoman. She knows what's going on with everyone in the room." The gentleman who spoke those words was truly street wise, and we all respected what he said. I blushed violently as every person in the circle shook their head in agreement. It's the best nickname I have ever been given.

Other people's feelings are important to me. Some people walk into a room and they can't rest until all the pictures are hanging straight. It can be like that for me with other people's negative feelings. I am uncomfortable because they are uncomfortable, so I take action. There's no need for an Iyanla intervention. You'd be amazed at how much pointing out the free coffee at the back of the room can accomplish. 

Empathy has become fashionable. It's an official super-power on the Super Power Wiki. There are a lot of products being developed to teach children empathy. For a student to lack empathy is now as large a crisis as if they struggled to read. I was just born with it. It's a major reason I write, that and I have to do something with this ridiculous vocabulary.

Worn out

My birthday comes on the first day of summer. It's always made me feel special. To me, growing older means becoming more precious, because I loved my elders so much. My parents gave me my grandmother's Bible this year. It is crammed full of her personality and faith. Like the sword of all good Baptists, it is falling apart. 

I had all four grandparents and my great-grandmother until my final semester of college when I lost my grandfather and continuing until my first baby was born--a span of four years. I needed the powerful ups of college graduation, marriage, and pregnancy to counter such powerful downs. Mea was my greatest comfort after all that loss. Slowly the wheels are turning again as my beloved children start leaving me to create lives of their own. 

I've begun pouring my life into books, because that is my personality. The Bible will always be primary, but I was designed to study. I look forward to showing my grandchildren how many books I've worn out. I hope that they will wear out many of their own, because that is my faith.

Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything

It was a nice year. I raised a grown up. The other five conveniently remained needy. I deepened a lot of friendships. I finally came up with a great excuse for reading the classics. I began to understand my life in new ways.

Happy Birthday to me! I am no longer the answer to life the universe and everything, but you can only carry a responsibility like that for so long. :)

Smelling Like My Granny

The first time I got a whiff of White Shoulders was probably an hour or two after I was born. My great-grandmother, Edna Pearl Root Durr Spotts, wore it and over time it became a favorite scent, signifying peace and order. It has a certain pizzazz that has maintained it's popularity since 1943. I gave in and bought a bottle. What a great anxiety reducer. Some part of my brain turns on the chill out juice as soon as the spray hits the air, which is impressive to someone as high-strung as I am.

I hope someday, 20 years after my death there are people to whom a small reminder of me can lift their heaviest mood. I hope I can heal others as she did.

Saline or Ann Arbor?

I ran off on a romantic trip with my romantic man. We need a new house near his new job, and I needed a better idea of the lay of the land. He was more than happy to show me around especially without the kids. For us the choices are boiling down to lots of space, but a little out of the way--Saline, and less space, but nearly immediate access to globally appealing amenities--Ann Arbor. There's also smaller exemplary school system--Saline, and an enormous exemplary school system Pioneer.

We'll take it one house at a time.

And Away She Goes

Marguerite Eloise graduated yesterday. The ceremony was lovely, and we were all so proud of our kids. Mea was a Senior Scholar which means she graduated with highest honors. She plans on studying neuroscience at the University of Michigan. Watching her congratulate all of her friends and carry out all the rituals and traditions was encouraging because I know she will carry forward the energy into this next more demanding phase of life. 

Congratulations, Mea! I always knew you could do it and I knew you could do it well.

Cheery

I spent today looking through a bunch of home listings, and I have to say it cheered me up. I love our house now, but I discovered if we get really crazy we can have it built again, only with the laundry separate from the powder room and more storage in the kitchen. There are a lot of options each rich with possibilities. Kurt kept telling me this, but it takes me a while to shift gears.

For me, an inspiring object helps. I bought this bird a week or two ago. Something about it spoke to my hopes about our move, and I have a feeling it will be right at home in our new place. She'll help me remember to live, love, laugh and be happy.

I can see the light in the future a little more clearly.

I knew it.

Growing up fundamentalist has been fascinating me lately. In some ways, I've been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, but that's not the same as understanding it. I've been watching lots of shows about fundamentalist Mormons, and the Amish, the Duggars, and anything else from any religion that strikes the same chords. My sister posted a little news on Facebook that brought all this research back to my home front. Bill Gothard has resigned from his Institute on Basic Youth Conflicts because of bad behavior with at least thirty-six of the many teenage girls that he recruited to work at his headquarters.

We had our share of Bill Gothard stuff around our house. I can't remember if my parents went to his Basic Seminar or not. His idea about the umbrella of protection made my mother miserable for years, turns out that was just a way to make the girls more compliant. He wasn't a second god for us, just a guy with strong ideas and a huge following. As I got older he seemed strange to me. His behavior didn't meet the standards healthy men had set for themselves. Everyone said it couldn't be true of such a well-known teacher, but it just had to be. It is.

When I was a kid I loved the moment in the story where the wicked witch was defeated and all the evil is overturned. Finding out I was right about Bill Gothard restored my faith in my radar. It brought men back into the realm of the knowable.

Going Blue

We are moving to Ann Arbor, Michigan. Kurt needed a better work opportunity, and he found it in a city we've often talked about for retirement. We'll have The Big House, and the University of Michigan for entertainment and enlightenment.  There are great schools for the kids, and the possibility of graduate school for the adults. All my research says that this is going to be a great experience, so why are we so sad?

Mea doesn't want us to crowd into her big adventure. No one wants to leave friends. We've put down deep roots here in Spring Lake. This has been a place of shelter and help. It is irreplaceable, especially all the people. 

And Just Like That...

A Taste of Redwall is over. I still have notes to write, a summary to create, and ideas for the next time to capture, but this event is over. I learned so much.

1. Walk straight through your fears. I put this project off because I was afraid it would be rejected. Morning after morning, I woke up sure it was failing. Phone call after phone call, I had to remember a no added up to nothing, but a yes changes everything. There were moments all along the way where quitting was a reasonable option. I'm so glad I persisted. It was worth every negative feeling.

2. Actively listen to others. I've always appreciated input, but in the past I was so afraid of being run over that I could be very hard-nosed about my vision. This time I had the best supervisors in Ann English and Mary Casselman. Their ideas were always helpful, and they truly appreciated what I was doing. It was easy to share with them. Karen Morgan was also instrumental in ramping up the fun factor. She was patiently persistent about activities I was unfamiliar with. She taught me a lot of new tricks.

3. Keep everybody in the loop. Sometimes I got so busy with drama in one aspect that I forgot that leaders in the other aspects needed to know what was going on in order to feel useful and appreciated. I don't think I'll make that mistake again.

4. Have fun! I did not meet my goals. In the past this meant an emotional storm that overshadowed everything. This time I decided to roll with it. The desserts were delicious and we had a good time. 

5. Remember, it's not your party. This was the first time I could let go of my successes and recognize that they came from God. They were not mine so I had no reason to boast. It's a nice change for me.

There is too much...

A Taste of Redwall is coming down to a bunch of lasts, last rehearsal, last school to call, last reorganization of my paperwork. I've had a grand time and managed to float through other milestones and some unexpected and unwelcome stressors in one piece. I hope that God's will has been done, and that it will prosper, but it's out of my hands.

It's down to ticket sales and this weekend is our "Hail, Mary" and St. Zita, and St. Martin DePorres, and St. Anthony, and everyone else. It is maddening to work this hard for so little fruit. Pray for us, everybody! It's all that remains.

Cat Humans

A few years ago, Iris learned about catechumens in her religious education class at St. Mary's. Her imagination caught fire and we had cat-human pictures all over the house. Now, tonight, she is one, though not in the way she originally thought of it. Two of my babies will be baptized and enter the church tonight, though they'll step into the font to do it. Praise, God!

Winded

On my aerobics videos they always give the advice that you should be able to talk or sing while you exercise. This blog has been me singing while I do my Taste of Redwall workout. 

Exactly.

A different time zone

Right now I have one graduating highschool, two joining the church, and I'm coordinating the huge, A Taste of Redwall, event, I still have work/reading to do for Crowhook, and I'm facing other pressures I'm not ready to blog about. I keep waiting for the meltdown, but instead I've trusted that enough is enough. When my anxiety goes up, I'm learning to wait and to do whatever small things I can do. So far more has been accomplished than I ever expected, and I'm still sane. It's like moving to a new time zone while leaving most of the fear behind.

30, 40, 50

This year I am the answer to life, the universe, and everything. That means that clever marketers think I am worried about aging and boy do they have the products for me. Scattered across the spectrum of lazy reading I am offered beautiful pictorials of famous people who have spent their lives cultivating their appearance for a living, some 30, some 40, some 50.  I want to see those glamorous images spliced with ordinary women who don't have two hours a day to workout or hundreds of dollars to spend on creams, because that's a great 30, 40, 50, too.  Then I want to go one step further and I want to see 30, 40, 50 year old refugees or others who have suffered the affects of grinding poverty and war.  After that, everyone should take a deep breath and change the direction of their attention. 

After all those pictures, what do we really need to do to improve the world? I don't know everything, but somethings are obvious.