Monday, November 24, 2014

I Want

I want warm hands
I want to wear my heart on my sleeve and not feel ashamed that I do
I want to feel the anticipation and thrill of a first kiss and not the sadness of a last one
I want to wake up and watch him sleep...
I want to love with recklessness
I want paint and glue on my hands
I want to feel kindred
I want to smell him and know his scent is meant for me
I want little children kisses and little children hugs
I want to hold hands
I want to reach out and touch
I want to give compliments with confidence
I want hugs
I want to feel alive and awake
I want to sit in the ocean and admire it's beauty
I want my beauty to be defined by me
I want to lay in bed and listen to the rain
I want to love and protect and treasure this skin I am in
I want to sing loudly and joyfully
I want hands on my bare back
I want to be seen, all my perfection and imperfection
I want to be me

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

In Rememberance

We called him Poppa with the funny shoe. He had nicotine stained fingers, large glasses and he loved to garden.

His attestation papers describe him as having a fair complexion, brown hair and blue eyes, 5 feet 11.

He was 19 when he signed up in 1917 according to his war records. As a rural boy, whom was needed to help his mother and brothers run the farm, it was not expected that he enlist. In fact none of his brothers did until after George signed up. His older brother Lynden followed him into service in 1918.

George Thomas Jenings
He was gassed over there. My Nana says that every winter he had a chest infection. Colds settling into the scars he came home with. He was one of the lucky ones. He came home. His brother Lynden died of Influenza before being able to come home.

He had 4 children, my Nana the youngest, lots of Grandchildren, lots and lots of Great Grandchildren and now Great Great Grandchildren.

Dad, Nana, Me, Poppa Jenings,Patti and Danny.
He loved gadgets. The family farm had a Delco plant (a generator) long before the electric lines were brought out.

He loved to dance with my Great Nana. She would close her eyes and allow George to lead her.

He fancied himself a handy man. Because he was a lefty he always hooked up the hot and cold water backwards. Once he had hot water running in the toilet.

My most vivid memory of him: is of him in the hospital following hip surgery (not his first and also why he had to wear a raised shoe). I was between 6 and 8 and I was with my Uncle Dave -whom was visiting from university- and Poppa Jenings wanted to show Uncle Dave his incision. He lifted the sheet and beckoned Uncle Dave over. I was to stand on my side of the bed, it was not for young ladies to see. I got the impression that my Uncle Dave didn't really want to see it and I felt that the incision was wasted on him. I really wanted to see it. I thought of him the first time I ever had to remove staples from a hip incision.

He spent many winters in Florida. He was my first miracle, he'd had a stroke when away one year and I prayed that he would live and he did, for many years after. He died when he was 96.

In a way he fought so that I could travel all over the world,so that my sister Katie could spend a year in Spain. He fought for peace, he fought for choice. In a way he fought so I could go to nursing school, so I could own my own home, so I could have the choice to have a baby on my own  if I wanted.

Today I remember him. Today I remember them.

Me and Poppa Jenings

Thursday, November 6, 2014

The Wave

I have wanted to share my experience at Serendipity but have been struggling to find the words. How do you explain a truly magical wondrous experience to someone who wasn’t there?

I arrived to the Outer Banks after a 15hour drive in the rain and I could immediately feel a change, a change in me, also as if I was arriving to another world.
Nags Head, NC


There are no words to explain the Outer Banks to someone whom has never been there. No words would do it justice.

No words to explain Serendipity either. Beautiful souls gathering together to explore themselves, support each other and eat way too much lovingly prepared food. Loud moments and quiet ones.
One of the amazing beach houses we stayed in.

I had the honour to get to cry with and laugh with and cheer and sing with and encourage some amazing women.
Our prayer banner.

I, a non-writer was called to take a writing class and I found out that I have a voice and that my love is huge, intense, magical and amazing. My stories are worth sharing.

I was excited for the new beginnings I was getting to have. The new job waiting for me when I got home. The boy I was falling in love with. The prologue I had just written. (YOU GUYS I WROTE A PROLOGUE!) The new friendships I was making.

I got to spend the day painting, and gluing, and cutting with a good friend. And I got to witness a small part of her new beginning. And it is amazing and a long time coming, she writes about some of it here.
This beautiful soul is Melody Ross!

On our last night together I stood in a room full of women that were all still new to me and felt like I belonged. A feeling I don’t get to have very often. I felt seen and I saw and I loved them all anyway.

I left there feeling looked after and so very grateful.

On our first night together and our last night together Michelle and Jen spoke about how re-entry might be difficult and I put it off for as long as I could.

I traveled to nearby Wilmington, via the lost colony of Roanoke.
Where is the colony?
I found the spot were Nathan gave Haley the Cracker Jack bracelet.
"Don't say I never gave you anything."
I imagined myself on the Rivercourt.
It use to be here.
I walked across Lucas’ bridge.
"I don't wanna be anything other than what I've been trying to be lately."
I heard ghost stories.

Is that an orb in that cemetery?
I caught a wave, then caught another wave.
A tired wet suit and surf board.

Look at those waves!
I visited a huge Antebellum mansion.
Bellamy Mansion
Gained more freckles.
I love my selfie.

On my way home I stumbled across a TAPS memorial, stood on the banks to the James River and cried as the bugle played.
On the banks of the James River.

Pebble beach.

I spent a whole day driving, itching to get my hands on a certain boy.

I came home excited about what the world had in store for me.

But my re-entry was not what I expected it to be. I did not arrive home to my guy waiting for me. I still didn’t know when my new job would start (not until the New Year apparently). And not a single Elsa came to my house on Hallowe’en night.

When I did connect with said guy, it did not go how I had hoped. He didn’t want to be with me and it wasn’t my fault. In fact he thought I was amazing and when I said maybe love wasn’t meant for me, he told me he knew for sure that it was, I loved so well and so easily. But he wasn’t ready and it wasn’t fair to me. And he held me while I cried and told me I was safe. He showed me how much love he had to give, quite and gentle and amazing. It occurs to be that my love is not meant for him, his not meant for me.

In order to honour how much I could have loved him I know that I have to let him go but I have spent most of the last week in yoga pants and cozy sweaters, feeling numb or crying at the drop of a hat. Feeling paralyzed. Worrying that there was something wrong with me. This was not how it was suppose to be.

Then my new amazing friend Kate posted this photo on her blog.
(Photo credit the amazing talented Kate Inglis)

It’s me sitting in the ocean looking out at the waves, looking like a regular pin-up girl (her words not mine). What you can’t see in this photo is that shortly before it was taken I had gotten knocked over by a huge wave (even Kate didn’t know that when she snapped this pic). It dragged me across the ocean floor but it did not pull me under. It did not even leave me paralyzed. I sat there and admired the beauty of it, the vastness of the ocean. I sat there like I meant to sit there and was not merely knocked over.

I have been knocked over by a huge wave and I have been allowing it to pull me under. I have not been admiring the beauty of it. The new beginning of a swelling wave, I’ve only been able to see the crash of the surf. This allows the man whom is meant for my huge, intense, magical amazing love to enter my life. So I think I’ll just sit a while and admire the view, the ocean is ever changing, you never know which waves will knock you over or which ones will allow you to catch them. The trick is to not get pulled under. Sitting here in the ocean, I get the feeling that anything can happen and I’m ready for it.

 (disclaimer: posted with permission of said boy, I am not in the business of hurting people)