Thoughts on mothering...

"We can't know or be or do everything; we can only listen, notice, and feel our way into who our children are, who we are, and what each of us needs in order to become fully realized as who we are. Mothering is partly about improvisation, creativity, and an openness to discovering what is emergent." - Daphne de Marneffe in Maternal Desire: On Children, Love and the Inner Life

choices

I've been wondering lately if we made the "right" choice in moving back here to colorful Colorado. This morning as this annoying question found it's way to the surface of my mind for about the 100th time, it dawned on me that the question is a set-up in and of itself. The question is framed in such a way that one choice is elevated as "good" and one as "bad"...or at least "not as good". Maybe there isn't such a things as the right or wrong choice, good or not-so-good choice. Maybe there is just choice. It just is...and we just need to work with the choices we make.

Our lives are made up, in large part, by the choices we make. And If I'm the one with the power to make choices...then the choice itself can no longer hoard the power. Instead, it exists because of me. For some reason, this shifting of power feels comforting to me. Maybe it's because by remembering this existential tenet, I became empowered. I (or we - Brian and I - in this particular case) made a choice. And we made it for a whole host of reasons. And we can make other choices moving forward. We have the power to keep choosing. This one choice has not trapped us, it has not defined us or necessarily determined our future. The question is not whether or not we can live with our choices, it's rather how will we continue to live with choice.

page after page

With no paper deadlines or assigned reading on the daily agenda, I have finally been able to make a small dent in my amazon wish list of books. A Thousand Splendid Suns was the first book I picked up and cried my way through in about a day and a half. Brilliant. Perhaps even better than Kite Runner. If any of you have not given this book a read at this point, I highly recommend it. Hosseini offers a glimpse into the history of Afghanistan in all its glory and its heartache. This book highlights the oppression of women through a fictional, yet realistic, tale filled with gut-wrenching trauma and profound courage, strength and love.



Sticking with the theme of female oppression and realistic fiction (with a bit of history and cultural exploration), I was drawn to this Oprah's Book Club reader. The form of oppression is different, though no less tormenting, in this story of a Haitian woman. It is a difficult book to read because it explores the complexities of cultural practices that are sexually abusive and the impact upon the lives of those victimized. The perspective is cross-generational and cross-cultural and does not settle for simplified or reductionistic conclusions.








My earliest memory of Dr. Dave was when I was in the sixth grade. I had been taken to a neighbor's house after a freak snowboarding accident that resulted in a whopping 72 stitches in my knee. Dr. Dave was the first to inspect my knee to determine if I needed to be taken to the ER. My mom had dropped the four of us kids off at a sledding hill to entertain ourselves for a bit while she finished up her Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve. Upon the removal of my light-washed jeans (we were barely into the nineties) I was able to see the damage done and I nearly passed out, but Dr. Dave remained calm and reassured me that everything would be alright. I just remember feeling safe in his presence.

Later on I would become a frequent babysitter of his four blonde kids, one of whom went on to become the first female football player to play in the College football league. My babysitting days were over by the time he became a regular medical commentator on the local news station. I recently learned that Dr. Dave, the safe and gentle man whose family I was once extremely fond of, had voluntarily served 2 tours of duty for the US Army...and that he had written a book about how this experienced had changed him.

This book broke my heart into many little pieces. It also restored a sense of hope in the men and women who choose to follow their hearts, face their doubts, and struggle with questions of meaning relating to our individual and collective lives. This book was eye-opening, as it offers an inside glimpse into at least one medical facility located in the grueling desert of Iraq.

I just received another pile of used books in the mail...and I can't wait to crack them open!

heartache

Dear Blog,

I have missed you. I probably think about you everyday...and there are so many things that I long to share with you. But I must confess, it is really hard to face you. It's nothing you should take personally. It's just that you remind me of a season in my life that has come to a close. You see, right now, I'm back in the in-between...and as of right now, I really really REALLY hate the in-betweenness. It's uncomfortable. It's overwhelming. It's calling forth the birth of something knew. Labor sucks. And it's beautiful. It's painful. And it's a miracle. It's messy. And it's transformative.

When I was approaching my due date during my pregnancy with Faith I remember thinking, "I don't care how painful or how long the labor will be...I'm ready to endure it because I long so desperately to greet this precious life that's been dwelling in my belly." When I was actually in labor, vomiting and shivering from the shock my body succumbed to, I remember yelling, "I don't want to do this...it hurts too bad. I don't care what comes next...this hurts too bad."

That pretty much sums up how I feel right now. It hurts too bad. But there remains that still small voice reminding me of the life that just might burst forth if I endure these labor pains.

So, to you blog, I will try to return, though you make my heart feel the necessary contractions.

Ireland in a nutshell...

Yikes! I have 17 minutes to spit out this long overdue post about our trip to Ireland before I have to go retrieve my lil' ladies from school. I thought I'd share about this amazing experience using a few photos...so here are just a few of my favorites! Oh...and just to prepare you, the few readers I still have, these photos have not been edited and were taken by our pathetic point-and-shoot camera...so don't judge.

The Cliffs of Moher...perhaps one of the most famous natural sites in all of Ireland. The fog was so thick that morning that we could barely see the outline of the cliffs. I focused on the experience of my other senses instead...taking in the smells and sounds in particular and trying to appreciate the feeling of the mist upon my face (that of course reminded me of Seattle). At the very end of our time at the Cliffs the fog clouds lifted for only a moment and we were able to quickly snap a couple of decent shots.




We were in Dublin for most of the trip, but we ventured out into other regions of the country as well and stayed at a few bed and breakfasts. Each one was unique in it's own right. At one of the B&Bs we were entertained by a flock of unruly hens. Brandon attempted to capture one...unsuccessfully.



This is from Glenalough, an ancient monastic city set in the breathtaking Wicklow mountains just south of Dublin. While visiting many of the monastic sites I often found myself attempting to imagine what life would have been like for the devout monks living in the 12th century. I wish I could have spent a couple of days at one of the sites fasting, meditating and committing to silence and simplicity. Maybe someday I'll have a monastic experience.



I think the Rock of Cashel was my absolute favorite site. It was supposedly the site where a king was converted by Saint Patrick himself in the 5th century, though most of the buildings that remain are from the 12th and 13th centuries. The celtic art and medieval architecture were evidence of an entirely different world.



The little towns with their main streets were simply adorable...and yet I don't have a single photo of any of the strips we visited. This is a shot taken from the main street in Kilkenny looking through an alley to the ancient ruins of a cathedral found just behind the strip.



The natural beauty of the country was why I wanted to travel to the land of Ire to begin with. These photos don't even do the beauty any justice. Green was redefined!





And how could I not include a pub photo?! This was actually a church that had been renovated and transformed into an upscale pub in the heart of Dublin. We had our fair share of Guinness (though I must admit I drank almost as little as the prego). The pubs were truly where you felt the heartbeat of the culture...so lively, engaging and enjoyable.



I my include photos and a summary of our trip up to Belfast in a later post...that experience was too heavy for this quick synopsis. Oh...and incase you were wondering, this post took me longer than 17 minutes.

Inspiration. Beauty. Witness.

Dear Colorado,

I guess since I've taken up residence once again in your terrain that now might be a good time to clear the air and reacquaint ourselves a bit. I know that I'm not technically a native since I first arrived on your soil at the tender age of 5, but you never seemed to hold that against me. And now that I've been away for four years, I hope that your acceptance is even further extended.

I have to admit that we never really got off on the right foot. I grew up believing that the move out here was what prompted the demise of my parents marriage, triggering a domino-effect upon the course of my life. I wasn't angry with you specifically, but I think that as a result I was never able to attach to you. You could never be considered home if you were the cause of so much pain in my life.

It was when I became involved with a church youth group that I began to fall in love with you. As I backpacked into your mysterious and vast mountains, skied some of your most rugged terrain, rafted down your rivers, and traveled from one end of the Rockies to the other I grew eyes that could behold glimpses of your beauty. There were many dark moments when your beauty reminded me of life, refreshed my broken spirit, and renewed my hope in the journey.

But as the years went on and the journey laid forth some difficult turns, your beauty was no longer enough to soothe my sorrowful soul. You offered what you could in your masculine landscapes, but it wasn't the rugged terrain I needed. It was the nurturance of a feminine beauty, where one's thirst can be quenched, that my heart most ached for. Four years of being tended to by luscious leaves, water in abundance, and a blanket of clouds...that is what I needed.

So here I am once again. I have come back. And I'm hoping for a new kind of relationship. You no longer have to bear all of the blame for my parents divorce. And I've discovered a life-source within, so your beauty needn't always rescue me. Instead, I long for us to give to one another, to see one another in a new way. Our stories are intertwined. Your land holds many memories for me - many of great harm, many of great joy. But my hope, is that our journey has entered into an entirely new chapter...that our relationship is about to take a different form. Colorado - I'm asking you to love me well...and I finally feel able to truly love you back.

Yours,
Shauna