Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Daily Prompt

February 17, 2017

fermented wine

pxby-white-flower-spring

life flows through her veins
fermented wine of past dreams
melts my eyes

***

This week was high-jacked. Not by force, but by my desire to spend time with our adult daughter. Her visit coincided with my husband’s determination to get rid of unnumbered books from our academic collection. Most stored on shelves in our large attic.

Deep in the attic, behind multiple shelves of books, he uncovered a mother lode. All belonging to our daughter. Boxes full of school papers, reports, works of a budding artist (she’s a graphic artist as well as a musician), stuffed animals, posters, programs, correspondence, and other memorabilia I’d saved for her.

This week she sat in our relatively small den surrounded by boxes, going through each item. Laughing, sighing, reminiscing, showing and telling, sorting and sifting for keepers. Of which there were an abundance. A paper trail that told the story of her life.

Unexpectedly, the paper trail confirmed the nature and content of our daughter’s character, and the trajectory of her life as an artistic type. Her life has had its ups and downs, and it wasn’t always clear how things would turn out. Or whether our parenting of her–especially mine as her mother–had helped, hindered, or encouraged her.

Thankfully, going through this treasure trove did more than confirm her nature, giftedness, determination and joyful creativity. It also gave me assurance I didn’t know I was looking for until I found it this week. I always wondered whether my mothering helped or hurt her.

I’m an expert on what I think I did wrong as her mother. I found out, though, that what I got 100% right was so simple I didn’t even know I was doing it. I kept boxes for each of our two children. Into each box I put anything I thought they might enjoy seeing when they were older. It was that simple!

Given my personality, I erred on the side of putting in too much material instead of too little. Before dropping it in, I penciled on the back of each paper item our daughter’s name, age and a brief note about when or where the item originated.

Tears, laughter, memories, hoots and hollers of recognition — all that and more because of those old pieces of paper that capture in vivid detail our daughter’s personality, creativity, and musicality. She is a strikingly beautiful forest flower–grown up now as her own wild woman.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 17 February 2017
Photo found at Pixabay.com

Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Juicy

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February 14, 2017

Great Expectations Greeting Card

flower-card-from-sherry-p1180692

When our son and daughter were growing up, I salted away every decent piece of artwork they produced in any moment of their young lives. For future enjoyment, of course!

So last night our very adult daughter, here for the week, pulled the above magnificent work of art from a box. It was the front of a greeting card, probably dating back to 1st or 2nd grade. Huge, bright and cheery — as you can see for yourself.

When she opened it, she discovered the following message inside.

Dear Mother,

On this, your special day, please forgive me for the times I forget to say, “I love you.”

Love,

Only we’re not there yet. Daughter didn’t write this card. All she did was print her name at the end, and put together the cheery flower on the front of the card.

Daughter’s teacher, most likely a mother herself, had kindly printed this message in clear grade-school letters. Then she thoughtfully mimeographed (Xeroxed for those who don’t remember) the text on a full sheet of paper. One for each child in the class. With space at the bottom for each child to print his or her name. And paste this contrite plea on the inside page of the card. Brilliant!

I laughed until my belly ached. This beats all. Nothing like forgiveness in advance, and a special Mother’s Day card designed to serve in perpetuity any day at any time, just when needed. Most convenient.

Think about it. It’s like absolution in advance for every time you __________ (fill in your own blank)!

Just for today, this is my favorite Mother’s Day/Valentine’s Day/Thanksgiving Day/Christmas/Birthday card for this year and forever.

Hoping you have a happy Valentine’s Day, full of heartwarming moments and memories.

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 14 February 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Expectation

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February 13, 2017

I was born to it…

It suited and soothed me. Gave me a safe hideout from which to survey the world into which I was born female.

Quiet laughter and cautious smiles tempered by seriousness. Tamped down into double and triple-analyzed responses. Nagging worries hooked my joy. Kept it tightly tethered. No belly laughs.

It was safer that way. Not so prone to rash reactions that escalate into silliness. The bane of serious girls and women. I wanted to be taken seriously.

Long-faced and self-righteous? Not at all. Just thoughtful, cautious, keeping myself under control, on time, disciplined and orderly, not given to excessive emotions, behavior or dress. You know, the way women must be to survive. I’m not a troublemaker.

Serious colors became me, even when they didn’t. Neutrals stitched up loosely fit well without calling attention to me or to my body. Sidelines were comfortable spaces. Don’t call attention to yourself, Elouise. Take notes and file them.

Think about things – seriously. Especially when you feel emotions welling up against your will. Don’t laugh too hard, too long or too loudly. Squelch it. Sit on it. Swallow it. The same goes for anger. And tears.

That little girl in you who just wants to play today? Remind her there isn’t time—not until we’ve finished that list of Thing To Do Today. And thought Serious Thoughts. And written Serious Words.

I applaud seriousness. Seriously, I do. Some things aren’t funny or laughable.

At the same time, I applaud Life with Laughter and Joy. The kind that wells up from within unbidden, against all Serious Expectations. The kind that snatches me unawares and carries me away.

The way you light up my life……♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 13 February 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Seriousness

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February 11, 2017

Awareness of pain

Awareness of pain
Life-shaping yet elusive
Lodges deep
In bones and sinews
Erupts without warning
Bleeding over pages
Of my life
Softening my heart
Longing for tenderness
Squandered in the past
Foolishly given away
To dull my pain

***

I don’t live in this awareness every day. I wouldn’t survive if I did. I’m grateful for God’s grace every day of my life. Still, moments of grief arrive, often taking me by storm. They don’t destroy me. Instead, they soften and connect me not just to my pain, but to that of others.

I used to think these waves of emotional and spiritual pain would fade. They haven’t. In fact, the more willing I am to live with grief, the more I find myself grieving and growing.

This past week I listened to Beethoven’s Sonata 8 (“Pathetique) and found myself right where this poem is. In the middle of a teary eruption. The kind that fosters life, not death, when I’m willing to live through it.

You can listen to a brilliant performance by Daniel Barenboim here.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 February 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Aware

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February 9, 2017

Resistance is Never Futile

Never. What’s at stake isn’t a predetermined outcome, and death is always a possibility. Yet resistance is never futile. It’s about our character. Not simply as individuals, but as communities and nations.

I have a theological hero. He wasn’t the most well-behaved man on the face of the earth. He was human just as I am. Some of his theological ideas still irritate me. That’s an understatement.

Yet he’s a theological hero. From him I learned to listen to myself, to Christian scripture, and to what’s happening around me. With a newspaper in one hand and my Bible in the other.

Actually, it’s more than listening. I call it looking in the mirror and discovering painful reflections of myself. Too often as a collaborator, not as a member of the faithful resistance.

Karl Barth came of age as a theologian during the early years of Hitler’s reign. Though he was a citizen of Switzerland, he spent most of his professional life as a professor of theology in Germany.

Barth cut his theological teeth on Hitler’s final solution for Jews. He became one of a surprisingly small number of resisting theologians, and an influential member of the so-named ‘confessing’ churches that refused to support Hitler.

His theological work is, in part, a critique of Hitler’s brutal treatment of Jews and a vision for something different. There were several parts to Barth’s vision for humanity.

  1. First, absolute allegiance to following Jesus Christ as witnessed to in Christian scripture. Jesus of Nazareth—a practicing Jew whose total allegiance lay with Yahweh. No matter what the cost.
  2. Second, a careful reading of Hebrew and Christian scripture in which he discerned a simple theme that brought every theological idea down to earth. Hospitality toward strangers. This theme challenges all human interactions including Hitler’s treatment of Jews and the churches’ treatment of Jews and others strangers.
  3. Finally, who is this stranger? (Or, who is my neighbor?) According to Barth, the stranger is that person or group of persons you’d rather not see or meet today. Maybe he or she gives you a mortal headache. On the other hand, that person might beat you up and leave you lying on the side of the road to die. You never know. It’s easy to wish you could banish ‘these people’ who annoy, threaten or terrify you.

Hospitality toward strangers has a sweet sound about it. However, as developed by Barth, it’s not sweet and harmless. True hospitality toward strangers is a life-changer for the hostess or host, not just the stranger. It can lead to life; it can also lead to death. As it did for Jesus Christ.

We can already see the USA becoming polarized into stranger groups. It’s happening in churches, between religions, in public and private institutions, news media and families. Many groups vet members formally and informally by political or religious tests of various kinds.

It seems a good time to think about what it would take to show hospitality toward strangers today. Especially, but not only if we’re followers of Jesus Christ.

I’m not naïve. All strangers aren’t safe. Neither is every friend or family member. Wisdom and discernment are necessary. But not political or religious tests. We need each other now more than ever. No matter what the cost. It’s about the content of our character.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 February 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Criticize

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February 8, 2017

majestic peaks soar

pxby-romania-mtns-winter-sunrise

majestic peaks soar
in otherworldly silence
broken by sunrise

***

Life is noisy.
My eyes keep traveling back to this photo.
I want to be on the mountaintop.
I want to hear this moment when speech fails
and creation bears witness
to the majesty of its Creator.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 8 February 2017
Photo found at Pixabay.com
Mountains in Romania, Winter Sunrise

Response to Daily Prompt: Heard

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February 3, 2017

music to my ears

waves-washing-onshore-huff-post

I love the calm cadence of your voice
and the way you make rare
the everyday

waves rolling in on the beach
wind whispering in the willows
my husband reading to me aloud
Mendelssohn’s E major Song Without Words
J. S. Bach’s C major Prelude #1
doves cooing in the morning
robins singing in dusky evening
the overwhelming calm of Psalm 23

***

I wrote the first three lines in response to Frank Prem’s beautiful poem, “Ten Signs of Life.” The rest of the poem is my short list of voices that make rare my everyday. The image at the top was icing on the  cake.

What voices bring you joy and help keep you grounded?

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 February 2017
Photo found at huffingtonpost.com

WordPress Daily Prompt: Overwhelming

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February 2, 2017

Dreamscape

kintai-bridge-yamaguchi-prefecture-japan

she woke early this morning
green thoughts flowing through her veins

This small poem came into my consciousness as I was waking up this morning. I was surprised and heartened, given my state of mind late yesterday when I wrote Intimidation. Something came through my spirit as I slept and wiped the slate clean for today. An ordinary day made extraordinary by this gift and the stunning image that later came up on my screen saver.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 February 2016
Image found at pinterest.com – Kintai Bridge, Yamaguchi Prefecture, Japan

Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Clean

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January 31, 2017

Scent of Hospitality

graham-crackers-and-milk

I used to think hospitality meant planning a big splashy event. Dinner to prepare or goodies to bake and have ready to go. With, of course, the scent of baked goodies or aromatic spices hanging in the air.

The house had to be sparkling clean in every corner. And smell clean, too! As for the hostess—that would be me—she, too, had to look and smell spiffy.

It isn’t that I’m not into social niceties anymore. It’s just that I’m older. Less energy. Less time to waste on dusting every nook and cranny. Or making sure the kitty litter isn’t fouling up the air.

If you drop by today I’m happy to make do with whatever’s in the cupboard, plus tea or coffee or water. All pretty cheap props in return for lively conversation with friends, neighbors or even strangers.

But now I’ve gone and done it. Decided to have a teeny tiny children’s tea for our neighbors and their young twins. A little boy and a little girl. You’d think I was totally out of my league, given my consternation about what to do.

I keep telling myself all I need to do is have some graham crackers, grapes and something to drink handy. Relax, Elouise. This isn’t a big deal—even though it is.

Still, though I’m a bit anxious, I can’t wait! I think our young guests will quickly set the agenda.

If things lag, there are at least a dozen mysterious boxes in our living room. Small, decorative boxes. Different shapes and sizes. Full of cheap trinkets I’ve picked up here and there. The kind of things young children love to discover.

And children’s books! Scores of them are here and there, waiting to be picked up. Maybe even read out loud.

Besides, my lovely piano stands ready for anyone to play. And then there’s Smudge, our people-friendly kitty. Or, should all else fail, D and I, in our second childhood!

Seriously, I had no idea how daunting this great idea of mine would feel. After decades of working with adults, and with our grandchildren now grownup teenagers, I’ve forgotten how easy it is to be with young children. Especially in our interesting and somewhat eccentric house.

In the larger picture of my life, getting started is always the most difficult part of all. From then on, it’s usually a great if not glorious adventure. The simple kind that puts all of life in perspective, no matter how bleak the weather or how grim the headlines.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 31 January 2017
Image found at vintagevapejuice.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Scent

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January 30, 2017

Interrupt and Replace

I woke up this morning feeling down, weary and discouraged. ‘Dis-couraged.’ An interesting word. It means I had courage ‘back there,’ and now I perceive a deficit. How can this be?

If I go back to my childhood and teenage years, I know when dis-couragement happened and why I need to attend to it, lest I lose my voice or become an enabler.

As a young girl I knew when the flames started licking around my legs, weakening my focus and my courage. Back then I persistently carried focus and courage into every punishing situation inflicted upon me. First by my father, and later by men with power to inflict punishment on me as a professional. It’s called bully behavior.

One gift of being a childhood survivor with PTSD is the ability to feel when certain dynamics are in the air. Dynamics neither we nor the person in control are necessarily able to change.

The behavior we’ve seen thus far from our new president is the behavior we’ll most likely see for the next years of his tenure. We already saw it in the presidential election cycle. Nothing has changed except this: the power of the office of President of the United States of America now protects him.

So here I am today, feeling dis-couraged by the events of this past week.

What can I do to change things? I can’t change or replace him. Nor can I change or replace myself.

Back to my father. As a child I was powerless. There was no way I could replace him with a different father. Nor could I interrupt his agenda for me. Especially when he determined I needed to be punished.

I’m an adult now. I’ve done my homework. I’ve learned not just to interrupt and replace the internal voices that mess with me, but the voice of my father talking about himself. He died in 2010.

Now there’s Mr. Trump. I want to interrupt him. The presidency isn’t all about him. Nor is it a platform for bully-talk toward and about others. One painful example will do: his language and behavior toward women who are, apparently, there to serve the desires of his heart.

So how can I do my bit to interrupt Mr. Trump’s monologue and replace it with contrasting voices? Not in debate form, but as a proactive, fearless way to change the conversation, the topic, and the outcomes. The Women’s March is an example of other mass interruptions that changed the topic, the political conversation, and the outcomes.

I want to be part of a movement to interrupt political bully talk and replace it with dialogues that make a difference. I’d love to hear what you’re thinking about. Or how your courage is holding up.

Thanks for listening!

Elouise ♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 30 January 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Replacement

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