Happy birthday to my marvelous daughter-in-law, Laura, one of the most admirable, strong, and accomplished young women I know. Partner, lover, and cheerleader to my son, mommy to my beloved granddaughter, student and child development specialist, this young woman is kind, charitable, and always there for our family.
It would be easy for someone who doesn't know her to look at this gorgeous, energetic fashionista on a good day and enviously think, "She has it all." And she does. Like many of us, though, she also has wounds and challenges. She grapples with a rare autoimmune disease that sometimes lays her low, yet she keeps going with a love and dedication to her family and to living a good life that impresses and inspires me. It's hard enough to be a good person when life is going well and you have your health; but many people let go of their best intentions when they suffer, attacking and wounding others instead. Not this lady, though; she gets up, puts a smile on her face and a kickass pair of shoes on her feet, and she keeps going.
She does all she does with the love, support, and spiritual-emotional inheritances of a clan of strong women--her mom, first and foremost, and also her grandmothers, aunts, cousins, and closest friends and confidantes.
Laura's goddess-like dedication to ongoing growth makes her a woman I am so damn proud to know, love, and have in my family. All the best to you in the coming year, my dear. 💕
Today I took my granddaughters out because the younger had a birthday. We played with the new puppy, went out for gelato and French pastries, and then to Target for various and sundry delights. In the Barbie aisle, I was pleased to see that she’s finally a Modern Woman. These proportional Barbie dolls are, to me, beautiful. I look forward to seeing fluffier Barbies and Kens, for at the moment, all the Ken and friends look like pre-pubescent boys, mostly attractive to pedophiles; ... with a smattering of lovely gay Kens, attractive (let’s be real here) to all of us. Bring on the moms with baby tummies and the dads with beer bellies. The boyfriends with beards and flannel shirts and love handles. And girls with hips and thighs—that’s how we carry the babies, yo. Keep the svelte Barbies and Kens for our idealized selves. They’re great, too, since a minority of humans are naturally thin, pale, and flaxen-haired. Maybe one day we’ll see 60yo Nanas and Papas, too. Keep it up @mattel it’s about time! #realshit #human #barbiedoll
You are in my prayers, Eve. Poetry heals.
Ode To the Passionflower
by Helen Losse
O, passionflower,
growing in Mary’s Garden—
your lavender flowers prophetic in unction:
Their tendrils are showing forth
Christ’s scourging, the three top stigma the nails,
the five lower anthers the wounds, the radial
filaments the crown of thorns,
placed on the head of the “King of the Jews.”
O, teach us, teach us, little reminder—
for red stains are His blood, shed,
the style to mock, to offer Him vinegar:
Your fragrance all spices that anoint,
and like the dogwood, your taller neighbor,
with each flower Calvary’s cross, your
blossoms focus on the sadness:
For, while we gladly walk in the garden,
the joy of heaven is yet to come.
first published in Flutter
Thank you, Helen, for another beautiful poem.
For some reason this reminded me of Mary Oliver. It’s a lovely reminder to go back to myself, to look within.
I’ve been reading Mary Oliver, too. Isn’t she great?
This is a wonderful poem, articulating the truth of relationships in one’s life. As early as yesterday, someone, again, wanted to talk me out of my answer to them…”No, I still don’t want to do what you want me to do.” At 72, I find the most trustworthy person in my life has and always will be myself. I am the only one I have never left. My journey feels less frightening to me now; I go on, stepping forward, retreating from desparation.
Carol, I’m very happy to meet you here. I don’t know many people who at age 72 are willing to admit what you did here. There is no standing still, is there? One can be still, but one really must be on a forward- or backward-moving trajectory energetically. I have never had as much fear as I’ve had lately, and by grace I’m able to look it in the eye every day. Sometimes hourly.
I printed this one out – it made me feel very still. I really don’t read enough poetry, but when I do, I can’t understand why. Thanks, Eve.
I’ve been reading more poetry and looking at more art, Irene. Both are nourishing me.