passages

Over a week and I've been, effectively, radio silent.

So much has happened this week.

Time changes and life slips away.

Our babies are a year older and not babies anymore.       

Time slips away and life changes.

I've taken on more time at the day job.

Time changes and life slips away.

I "tidied" the studio a bit.

I've started and stalled on several lovely designs.

Time slips away and ideas change.

I gave our young man a very drastic haircut. 

One day he will learn to not zig or zag during a hair cut.

We attended the funeral of a dear friend and neighbor.

Life slips away...

The funeral and events leading up to it consumed so much of my psyche. I have no regrets.

Eunice was the epitome of a life lived well. This ninety-something-year-young dynamo lived her life to its fullest until she couldn't live it anymore. She was full of love, life, and faith. She was an abundantly selfless woman. Eunice, the widow of Harry, was the mother of three, the grandmother of six, and a great-grandmother to six. She was the quiet matriarch who spoke softly, carried a big padded stick and a Ritz cracker.

She welcomed us to the neighborhood along with the others on Perdue Street. The difference between Miss Eunice and the rest is she took an extra genuine interest in our lives. Our children were like grandchildren to her. Our babies love(d) Miss Eunice. She loved them. The three of them had picnics in her backyard. She listened to their stories with the interest of a grandmother. She was the grandmother they didn't know they missed until my mother-in-law moved nearby.

I, no we, will miss Eunice.  I've been to funerals in my life but have to admit that Eunice's was the first I really felt the need to openly weep since my own father passed. Don't get me wrong, I've felt the losses during the other funerals but was more concerned with being strong for those around me who needed my strength. During the eulogies, Eunice's grandsons and eldest daughter spoke. I wept. I wept for the stories I knew and the ones I learned that day. I knew Eunice was a particularly wonderful human being. During the eulogies I discovered how her great faith in God gave her comfort all her life. Hers was a life well lived especially through great sorrow and adversity. Selfishly, I want to know faith that great. She worked at it. That is the key. I have much work to do.

The following is a poem/prayer that touched me during the service. Miss Eunice had the unique privilege of being able to plan her funeral. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer three weeks before she died.  Until the end, Eunice was the Matriarch of her family and in charge. The sentiment of this poem is what Eunice's family shared she genuinely felt as her physical life faded away. We should all live keenly aware of life's fragile nature. We will be remembered for our understanding.

REMEMBER ME

 Fill not your hearts with pain and sorrow,

but remember me in every tomorrow.

Remember the joy, the laughter, the smiles,

I've only gone to rest a little while.

Although my leaving causes pain and grief,

My going has eased my hurt,

and given me relief.

So dry your eyes and remember me,

not as I am now, but as I used to be.

Because, I will remember you all,

and look on with a smile.

Understand in your hearts,

I've only gone to rest a little while.

As long as I have the love of each of you,

I can live my life in the hearts of all of you.

 

Joey Beighley

Eunice's family misses her but they are strong.  Each of them remembers her strength and will use it to move on with their lives. They gather together to remember, laugh, cry, and laugh some more.  Life continues even as time passes. We experience loss and then we hobble along. The hobbling continues until we heal and are able to walk, then run to our next destination.

        _______________________________________________                                                    

This moment in time has passed, replaced by other moments-some poignant others not.

I've started and stalled on several lovely designs.

Time slips away; ideas change.

My inner voice asks me, "Are you serious about any of your half-year resolutions?"

I answer, "Time slips away, ideas change but the goal remains the same."

Life continues...until it can no longer do so.

I created fragments for several stalled but lovely designs.

I've thought of Eunice with joy.

aaahhhhhhhh if life were static what would we do?

yes, sir mama. time passes, slips away but Life continues...until it can no longer do so.  I want to live it well and until I am unable to live it any longer.

 

until next time...

hothouse posey

teacher, teach her

Teacher.

I left teacher off my many Me's list. Humph.

This is important for so many reasons.

I mean, for heaven's sake,  I teach every day. I teach strangers, acquaintances, friends, myself, my offspring, sometimes I even teach my husband. 

I am a teacher not by education but avocation and for my day job. Although educating the masses is a family trait, I just didn't think or know I was cut out for the job. Apparently, I was mistaken.

 
My humble attempt at the role of teacher is the reason this blog is called yes sir, mama. A very petite being reinforced what her big brother has been trying to teach me. She taught and is still teaching me to not take myself so seriously.

The husband and I, as our children's first educators, have tried to instill manners in our small ones. Our oldest understood the niceties of please, thank you, no thank you, yes, sir/yes, ma'am, etc. Our youngest could dig the Yes, Sir/Ma'am thing but ma'am is so close to mama that 'Yes sir, Mama' was the best she could muster. Now, my husband, being a stickler for accuracy would correct our Little Miss every time she contracted and contorted Yes, Ma'am into Yes sir, Mama.  I would correct her too, but found this gaff in vocabulary completely and extraordinarily endearing. And let's face it, like her brother, Little Miss is pretty doggone endearing anyway. I got swept up by those big eyes hanging on my every word while seeking validation. My correcting her involved 'sternly' admonishing her usage and then turning around to giggle out of eye shot. I mean, really, it was so darn funny.  

I figured with a little coaching and time Little Miss would grow out of this phase as she marched proudly on to the path of linguistic accuracy. I also knew when the day arrived that she understood the correct usage of Yes, sir and Yes, ma'am I would forever lose that lovely little bit of her first steps from Toddlerdom to PreKopolis.  Of course I was correct about her grasp of the usage. She resides quite happily in PreKopolis ready to leap to the next town and has since forgotten 'Yes sir, Mama.'  

I'm glad I jotted down this Little Miss-ism for posterity. I'm not a journaler. (Well, I wasn't one until 5 years ago and officially not until yesterday.) I thought about blogging for a long time but wasn't sure if this medium was for me. If it was, what would the clever title hook be? So jotting this Little Miss-ism for posterity not only preserved that bit of her for as long as possible  but also gave birth to this blog's title. 

Radish Harvest

This face has taught/reminded me that life is simple when we don't try to complicate it. Duh! The Little Miss is a Teacher Teach Her. 

Don't get so caught up in the details that you forget what makes each moment in time special.  I guess I should add student to the aforementioned list of Me's.

Until the next time...

hothouse posey

...and so it continues

If you told me that I would join the blogosphere, I would have said," No, not me."

...but here I am.

I am a girl, a woman, a daughter, a sister, a wife, a mama*, a friend, an artist. None of these personalities is greater than the other, although I have to admit I haven't always given each their due and proper attention at all times.

So many people am I that I'm not sure which to be at any given time. At the very least, I am attempting to be three of these ladies in the same moment and space. Whichever of these women I seem to be in tandem we are all journeying to the same far off place. The journey we are on is one of lost and found (or at least finding). As with many people my age or any age, for that matter, I've experienced my gamut of loss.
         
            Loss of innocence
            Loss of faith- in God, in self, in love
            Loss of a parent
            Loss of a child before formal introductions
            Loss of my way
            Loss of my fearlessness
            Loss of friendships

The loss of these people and things was certainly not searched out or wanted. I surely didn't set out to lose them. I do know that loss is an inextricable part of life. Knowing doesn't make the losses any less painful.

There are things I want to lose. You know the usual suspects-

            weight
            self doubt
            the nagging ache in my lower back
            useless people
            my obsession with the past--- (and not in the
            grand fashion that creates great art)

I am rambling and you've lost interest. Before you turn away let me tell you about the found/finding portion of this journey. The following list is not finite. After all,  this is a continuing trip.

I've found the undeniably soul-encompassing joy of seeing my children's smiles first thing in the morning.

I'm finding delight in doing jumping jacks with my six year old ... and believe me that is not an exercise I've done much of in the past couple of decades.

I'm finding solace in the clutter created by new artistic passions.

I'm finding love, again and again and again and again and again...

I've found lasting friendships with kindred spirits.

I've recognized 4 milestones in my life as moments of birth/rebirth. As I travel this long and meandering road, I am certain I will discover other moments, literal and figurative, of birth and rebirth.

This day is one of those milestones. Today is the day I choose to accelerate onto the on-ramp to the highway of my life.  On this day, six years ago, we welcomed an eight pound 15 ounce bundle of rambunctious joy into our world. A Me, I barely recall now, was replaced with a sappy, sentimental, love-struck, mama in love with tiny feet.

Happy Birthday my sweet, funny, all-at-once-cuddly-adorable-huggable-exasperating-smart-insightful-bundle-of-crazy-Son. You are one of the reasons I take this leap of faith on a journey of uncertainty in search of freedom. In search of Me.

'Who is this?' you're asking. My name is Ndidi

         a girl
         a woman
         a daughter
         a sister
         a wife
         a mama
         a friend
         an artist
         a hothouse posey.

I and my many selves are working on being the artist God intended us to be. As our journey continues, follow the purpose-filled wandering and occasional head-in-the-clouds meandering. Me, myself and I (& I & I & I & I & I) will discover just what makes us tick.

I hope you will come along for the ride.


*the sound of mommy is the equivalent of Joan Crawford and Chucky each chasing me down for a deadly hug.