What Forgiveness Looks Like

This is not anything I wanted to post on my blog....but it's mulling in my mind, and I guess I wanted to use this as a place to write my thoughts....a diary of sorts....I'm sorry if I'm sharing too much information....but it's part of what makes me me...and so I'll share....again, I apologize.
My dad has struggled with anger, alcoholism and Mental Illness all my life.  I thought he had become enlightened in the last few years.  He joined AA and went through the steps, we talked about the bad parts of my childhood, and I felt like we had all worked through that.  It turns out it was probably just his medication doing the work, quieting him down....making him easier to be around.
He hasn't been on his medication for a while, and has been gradually getting more and more like the dad we knew when we were little, controlling, abrasive, and angry.  This all came to a head for me when we had Thanksgiving at my house.  Gordon and I had planned to the finest detail....Gordon spent his day off cooking for my family....I decorated and baked....we were both excited about hosting our first holiday as a married couple.  It was beautiful...together we probably put Martha Stewart to shame.

 My dad was angry and needy....he disrespected my sister and I and my husband....the one who made the day possible....it ended with my dad sleeping in his car, but after he set off the alarm and woke us all up.  I was crestfallen....I realized nothing had changed, that we were back where we were when I was 10 and I felt 10.
And so...here we are 5 months later and I haven't spoken to him.
He called me yesterday and said he apologized for everything....raging for my entire life....the way he acted during Thanksgiving....everything.
So this started the conversation between Gordon and I about what forgiveness looks like.  I didn't want to....I felt like we would go through this all again....it's getting old.
But then we decided that if I didn't forgive him....it would be on me....my heart is the one that will shrivel up....my soul will pay the price....my wabi sabi life will suffer.
So I do
And does this mean we will ever host Thanksgiving again....we talked about how we set up the dogs, goats, ourselves to succeed.  We don't let the goats out without supervision....we cover the garbage when we leave the house so Charley will stay out....Gordon doesn't buy cookies unless he is sure that he is done with them because I will finish the box....and that is how I feel about my dad....I forgive....I will have him in my life....but we won't do things that make him feel on the attack and need to control....small doses.....that's the key
I love my husband for his wisdom....I love that he lets me be me....and guides me when I need it....this is why I think we will always be together....why he is a second part of my soul....why I am daily blessed by his presence in my life.  I am blessed by the health we share.

Thank you Gordon.

The Mama of Here

It's been a few weeks....but Mother's Day was upon us.  This year I found myself in a bit of a funk.  Facebook was filled with thoughts like "You haven't loved until you've been a mother" or photos of generations of mothers sitting together.  The parking lot next door at the restaurant was filled with mothers being adored by their Children and Grandchildren eating carefully prepared meals being cooked by my husband and his staff, and he couldn't be with me.  I was sad and selfish....but it was how I felt.  And what we believe beyond anything else is that you have a right to feel the way you feel.
I have never given birth to children....although I have spent my life caring for and nurturing other people's children...and have even made some life long connections with the charges I have come upon in my 25 years of childcare....but I've never stayed up all night with a child with a fever....I've never cried as my baby went of to Kindergarten....went to college....or walked down the aisle....I never will.
Anyway....these were the thoughts that filled my mind on a holiday that really is a made up hallmark holiday.
Gordon came home and I was little melancholy feeling sorry for myself because I am not a mom.  I was even a little teary.  I told him how I was feeling....that I'm not a mom.....Gordon looked at me and said "You are the Mamma".  I said....dogs don't count.  He looked at at me...."You're the nurturer of here.....you care for everything here....the house.....the dogs.....the goats....the garden.....you keep us alive.....you're our mom....you're the creator, nurturer and lover of here.....that is what a mamma is."
I smiled....he was right.....I've not stayed up all night with a human child....but I have with a doggs....when the girls are a little off, I'm there, trying to figure out what to do to help them.  Next spring I will sit up with them and help them while they have their babies....and I'll feed and care for their babies like I would my own.  When my sweet boys need to cross the "rainbow bridge" and "graduate" from this world, I will be there with them telling them I love them and help them cross with peace in their hearts knowing they can go and that it is OK.

So today....after a beautiful morning at church....I was out weeding my garden.....talking to my girls....playing frisbee with Charley....checking to see how many slugs have died crossing through the sluggo I layed down in  an effort to keep my covenant with my garden....I looked at my charges....including the birds who eat the worms who live in said garden....and I was grateful to the God who entrusted all this to me....and I think of all the other women who are mothers in different ways....to each of us who don't have a baby who we adopted or birthed, but who care for other women's babies as their own, or care for furry babies, or who tend a beautiful garden, or make a blanket, or care for the sick and dying....I nod myhead to you....we are the sisters who help this beautiful world keep turning.....and to the "sisters" in Oklahoma who kept other people's babies safe in school, I tip my hat to you....I raise my drink to you.....thank you for still loving even if you've never had a baby.

When Lilacs Last In Door Yard Bloomed

"When Lilacs Last In Door Yard Bloomed" is a poem by Walt Whitman written to mark the 1 year anniversary of the death of Abraham Lincoln.....A sad poem about a horrible event.  I've always loved the title....and every year when lilacs were blooming I would think of the poem, not so much the content, or the message, but just about lilacs.  They've always been my favorite flower, and when we moved to our little house, I was so excited that there was an old lilac tree in the yard.   It was something anticipated with so much joy.

 When lilacs last in my door yard bloomed, I was frazzled.  I was planning my wedding.  I'm sure that during the time that the lilacs were blooming, I was a hot mess.  We were days away from the ceremony, and I was trying to bring it all together.  If you know me well, you know that I stay calm and gentle....but then something happens to break the calm....usually a little thing that I have no control of....and I explode.  So, I'm sure that was me 1 year ago.  Me not knowing how it was all going to come together....if the guys were going to have the right color of saddle shoe and if the songs would turn out right.
BUT....the lilacs calmed me....I would walk by them, smell them and think of the dream of my wedding.  My bouquet was lilacs, so I would smell the lilacs, with "Pachabel's Canon in D" playing in my head and remember that I was about to marry the sweetest man ever...the man who put up with my rants and raves....who let me be who I was....and smiled....while he was taking care of his side of the wedding....orchestrating the catering for his own wedding....on a shoe string....as his wife talked about how the table cloths should be....and he would talk about the table cloths we could afford....but gently....lovingly....kindly.
And so we did it....with the help of so many friends....who loved us enough to stand with us....give of their time and talent to help make the "Wedding of the Century".

And so....on the first rainy Sunday of the entire Spring....friends and family.....our best friends...our dog....joined us as we united our lives.  It did not go off without a hitch.

 But it was beautiful

It was heart felt....it was a feast for the eye, the ears and  the soul.

It was....as we advertised in our invitations....a place to "Eat, Drink, and be Married"

 I was blessed to marry the kindest, most passionate, gentlest soul I have come across.  He is probably a dog in human form.  And in the year since that beautiful day he has done nothing but make me happy, care for me, smile with me, cry with me....he has helped dreams come true....and he has loved me happy, sad, tired, and everything in between.  He completes me.

And so....this year...when the lilacs bloomed....I smelled them....I shared them....I even made some Lilac Jelly.  I smelled goat and lilacs in the same breath.

As we plan our 1 year anniversary, I pause to thank each person who stood with us on our beautiful day....and the universe for bringing me together with my split-apart.  We are just blessed.

A Dog With a Job

Charley my Heeler-Sheltie Mix has always loved watching "working dogs".  Whether we were at a competition for sheep herding or watching agility, Charley has loved watching it.  Always with quite of bit of intent.
When we first moved to the Island, we lived in a little studio apartment above a garage, and down the street there was a sheep farm, and when we went for a walk we would watch the dogs herding the sheep....it touched something in Charley, when we watched, I would imagine it was his football.
It was at a herding competition that I first starting thinking about goats.  Certainly I wanted to be a goat farmer....but I wanted Charley to have a job.  I would imagine my goat cheese label with a picture of Charley looking at the camera.  I called my pretend cheese "Smiling Dog Cheese".  When I was stressed at work, I would imagine Charley as my goat herder, as I spent the day milking goats and making cheese.  It was my escape fantasy.

Bring us to the present.  We have our beautiful goats.  I understand how much money it takes to create a goat dairy, and we are content to be a small family with goats who will give us milk we will experiment with.
Well, in all of this, I was so excited about Charley being our herder.  When I would visit my mentor and friend with the goat farm, I would bring Charley so he could acclimate himself to the goats.  He seemed to enjoy them, and there was always something about them he felt he needed to do, he just didn't know quite what it was.
When the girls first came, Charley was there, and he would stand back....again watching....trying to figure out exactly what he was supposed to be doing.  Unfortunately, after getting butted a few times by Layla, our protective mamma, he grew to be afraid of them, and wouldn't even go in their pen.
We have started letting the girls out, with a little portable fence, where they can graze on our blackberries, or enjoy some of our luscious grass.  When we would herd them from their pen, to the fence, we had Charley just stand back and watch.
Well....my husband has been coming home on his breaks, letting the girls out, and teaching Charley the finer points of herding goats back into their pens.

Today we were having what we call a "Heavenly Day".  We put together a milking stand and then put the girls in their fence area and just sat, having a beer, enjoying the few minutes before my husband, Gordon, had to go back to work.
When it got time for Gordon to go, we let the girls out of their fence and led them to the pen.  All except Daisy.  She wasn't ready.  So, when Cali and Layla went in, Daisy took off to the other side of their area.  Gordon was on the other side, as I tried to get Daisy to come to me.  I kept hearing Gordon calling for Charley, giving him commands.
Daisy got away from me, into a patch of nettles.  I saw her going towards Gordon.  I went to the gate of their pen.
All of a sudden there was Charley, with all the skill of any border collie, herding Daisy along to the gate.
I shut the gate and started singing for Charley, I grabbed his frisbee and threw it for him.....Gordon has taught Charley how to herd....he now is doing what I fantasized about all these years.  We all jumped a yelled.  He did it, he really did it!!!!
Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks.  I'm so happy that after all these years Charley is the herder he always knew he could be....I love that my sweet husband, the chef, is also a dog whisperer and goat herder.  And Charley and I are living our dream, as small time goat farmers.  Dreams do come true.

Getting Grounded

It's a beautiful morning, certainly the best we've seen all year, so I was up at 7 (still sleeping in for me) made some tea, fed the boys and the girls and got to work planting some things in the garden.
As I was working, I was thinking of something I heard on the radio last fall about grounding.  The man was talking about standing in his garden without shoes, and how that felt.  As I listened, I thought of the kids I work with and how, living in the city, and probably apartments, they never get to take their shoes off and stand in the ground.  I talked with a co-worker and we both wondered if that was what some of their problems were, they just don't get to be barefoot in the dirt.  I never thought about how that would help me.
And so....today being Garden Naked Day....I decided to do what I felt comfortable doing, and at least take my shoes off.  Remembering what the man on the radio had said last fall.
Electricity shot through my body as my feet touched the cool damp earth.  The coolness brought back feelings of my childhood and how good it felt squishing through my toes.  I was suddenly revived, I had energy to spare....I hoed and planted, covering the seeds with my feet and smooshing the dirt between my toes.  What?  Was my floor going to get dirty when I came inside?  No dirtier than what the dogs aleady do.  I was alive....I felt like 7 year old me....indestructible....powerful....I felt like every woman....I was a creator....a nurturer.....someone who loved her patch of ground....someone who was caring for her patch of ground....I was proud and connected.
When I was done, I washed off my feet and my plastic garden shoes and came inside and kissed my lovely husband.
And so, my fellow earth dwellers....I encourage you to take your shoes off and feel the grass and earth beneath your feet.  I truly is an amazing grounding exercise.