Redux

I'm sharing a piece I recently wrote for our church newsletter.  Because it was my turn at the time, and now because life requires multi-tasking.  Or multi-purposing.  Tra-la.

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I have this backyard that’s kind of a miracle.  When we moved into this house, the glacial till was assertively apparent.  The backyard, not landscaped and therefore with no topsoil to speak of, ate an hour or two of time for every half gallon plant we tried to put in.  The size and sheer persistence of the rocks the kids and I uncovered and dug out was amazing.  I contemplated letting it all go and claiming that we’d settled on a “meadow” theme, but then a letter came from the homeowner’s association.

So we began with a weed eater/trimmer, and hacked back the grasses and weeds.  A couple of cousins came and helped.  My aunt sprayed the worst of the dandelions and other noxious weeds with vinegar and we watched them wither in the sun.  Most of them did, anyway.  We moved on to a stupendous device my mom found: a propane tank attached to a moderate sort of flame thrower.  It sounds like a rocket booster immediately before launch, and makes satisfying work of blackberry vines (check your local ordinances before investing in your own).  Still, it was a battle, and not an enjoyable one.

Budgeting required that any work done in the yard be terrifically inexpensive, if not actually free.  The fact that my helpers mostly consisted of my children added another layer of interest:  children require feeding, their music needs practicing, and in our case, insurance coverage for medicines needed to be argued and re-argued.  And re-argued.  Figuring out how to turn the coin jar the kids had designated for The Yard Project into the thousands indicated by the estimates I had collected seemed a useless task.  But then Cynthia B. visited and began to pray.  One of my lovely neighbors, Gwenn, noticed that out of the entire new community, our house was the one without backyard landscaping (never buy during an uptick in the market), and she began to pray.  

So it was that a couple of weeks before Labor Day, 2012, I learned that we had volunteers, 80 cubic feet of dirt, 300 cement blocks, and more, arriving Labor Day weekend,  starting Friday.  When I had mentioned to Gwenn that a friend from church was praying over this yard too, she decided that was the perfect opportunity to make the idea a reality.  She called me for approval of a flier she produced, the flier went out to the neighborhood, friends from church became aware of the efforts, as did more old friends, and the backyard miracle commenced. 

Isaiah 55:11-13 reads:  11So shall my word be that goes forth out of my mouth: it shall not return to me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it. 12For you shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. 13Instead of the thorn shall come up the fir tree, and instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle tree: and it shall be to the LORD for a name, for an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.

Is that not amazing?  The trees of the field, clapping their hands.  Trees growing instead of thorns and briars.  The imagery is so fantastic to me: the word going out and filling up, nature itself rising to underscore the word and the blessing of God.  

This evening I would be out writing in what is beginning to resemble an “edible park,” as a visitor commented, were it not for crashing rain storms.  But since I’m indoors, let me tell you what I would be experiencing out there.  I would be smelling the clove scented breeze coming off of the stock next to the patio.  I would wonder about the tomato plants, invisible in the gathering dark.  I would marvel at what I could still see, in low light, late in the evening.  I would content myself with holding still for a few moments, listening to the frogs across the valley, around Fennel Creek.

I am so grateful to those of you who showed up and helped create this space.  As I’ve thought about this and other events which bring on deep and abiding feelings of gratitude, I’ve realized how many things I have to be thankful for over the last several years in relationship to Green Lake Church:  A baby shower when life was scary and overwhelming.  Mentoring for my children in service and leadership efforts.  Love and acceptance for the little guy in the green wheelchair.  Service opportunities for me.  And countless other unnamed events, relationships, and processes, each of which have their own significance.  Each of which has been a grace note.  

I hope you too are finding these grace notes within our congregation and that you are blessed by the service and by the opportunities to serve.  Thank you, each of you, for what you’ve come to mean to me and mine.  The yard, replete with joy and peace, is open for visitors. 

Three Good Things

1.) Attentive pediatrician who calls after hours to talk through options for Q's apparent allergies, ask after K's foot, and who thinks both inside and outside the box when looking for solutions.

2.) Q's new developments in therapies:  in addition to the video of the bull/matador game in the power chair from last week, this week he nailed verbs and nouns in Speech.  He continues to amaze his therapists and they continue to come up with new stuff for him to do.   Next up: modifying math and grammar curricula for summer study.  The family "summer term" begins June 24. 

3.) Exquisite kindness.  It is humbling, gratifying, inspiring, and none of those words are adequate, really.  There are some delightful folks on the planet.  I am so glad.

Okay, one more.   Because what's not to love about brain-controlled flying robots.  When the professor indicated that those most likely to benefit from his research are those in uncooperative bodies, rather than the stock answer of military applications, I nearly wept. 

Happy weekend, lovely people.

Open letter

Dear Molina Formulary and Policy Boards,

Congratulations! You have won the privilege of caring for my son for 72 hours! See you in three hours. We are SO looking forward to this!

Regards,
Quinn's Mother

Fine print and disclaimers:
1.) Bring several changes of clothes for yourselves. Consider also supplying your own washer and dryer, as ours will be busy with Quinn's increased demands thanks to your policies.
2.) Check your files for all the OTC and Rx options that will not work, thus saving yourself the middle-of-the-night, vomit-scented disappointment of trying yet another med that HAS to work, according to your policies.
3.). Speaking of vomit, you should know ahead of time that baby wipes are ineffective, as are washcloths, paper, bath, and beach towels, and perfume. Consider bringing your own shower.

_________________________________

And there's more.  I guess at least the taxpayers can rest assured that Molina is working to save them money!  By repeating tests and assessments that will NEVER, EVER CHANGE, and absolutely cost more than the $90 per month they'd prefer monthly documentation for.  Heck, the monthly documentation requests alone blow that $90,  and never mind the cost to the doctor's offices who keep writing letters and keep trying to send faxes that are, mysteriously, received only about twenty percent of the time.  It's something like having to answer the Social Security department's questions about "change in diagnosis."  Really?  (This is where I begin to feel I've developed an edge to my voice...)  Because you seriously think, SS people, that there will have been a change in his missing corpus callosum?  He will suddenly not have microcephaly?  Polymicrogyria is now a limited-time condition?  Gosh, that would be awesome.

I can't remember having been this angry.  Breathing deeply...

Let's talk about other things, shall we?  S gave a great violin book recital in the backyard on Sunday afternoon.  Barefoot, in a sparkly dress, cuing to her teacher who accompanied, with musicality, intonation, and stage presence taking the day.  She's grown her skill so much over the last few months.  It was spectacular.  And the black bottom cupcakes from Grandma were delicious.

Speaking of the backyard.  (You knew we were going there.)  The weather has been perfect for planting tomatoes, and there are currently about 18 in the actual dirt, above the second terrace, some of which have blossoms already (Black Krim, Lemon Boy, and something that may have stripes...?).  The nasturtiums have popped out all over the backyard and that second terrace.  I've been whispering to them a little, for inspiration, because I want them to overwhelm and destroy the weeds.  Okay, so they won't actually destroy the weeds, but they do grow shockingly fast, are completely edible, and make gorgeous flowers.  Which we will eat.  Nom.  There are also eight lemon cucumber plants, just behind the bricks of the first terrace, between the lavender and cress and the Jethro Tull (heh).  There are roughly 40,000 more tomatoes to plant.  And green beans.  Round zucchini.  I killed the watermelon and cantaloupe babies off, sadly.  They're short, cool season varieties, so maybe we'll try again in that hot spot on the southwest facing side of the house.  I'm tempted to uncover the rest of the dirt that's under plastic (weed abatement) and plant it full of potatoes, carrots, beets, radishes, kohlrabi, and eggplant.  We were hoping to find a nice grape this year at the cheap plant guy's greenhouse, but we missed it by waiting.  We don't have an arbor, though, so maybe that would have been futile for the poor grape.

Two girls had sick days today, with rebellious tummies.  Q's got a stuffy head, besides the disruptions in meds and feeding supplies, so tonight could be extra interesting.  But since he's sleeping now, I'm off. 

Here's a lovely thing to watch while you're having your weekend.  And a lovely thing to listen to.  

Pax.

Memoriam

It's been a rainy week.  Q went on his first school field trip - to the zoo!  He loved it, of course.  We haven't heard about the monkeys yet, but that's only because he was so tired he could hardly stay awake to eat.  Q's therapy schedule has been a bit light as some of his people have been out on vacation.  It's not all bad - he gets longer school days and especially loves the longer time he has in the library, music class, and PE with those longer days.

We haven't run as much over the last couple of weeks because of various injuries and odd little bumps in the road.  The girls have been talking about increasing distances and training for a sprint tri or half marathon.  There had been some talk of training for a marathon in the hopes that we could make the finish time cutoff for Boston.  I'm relieved to report that "technical difficulties" make that idea a non sequitur.  I think we'd have to drop everything but math, running, and music in order to pull off that kind of training - something none of us is prepared to do.  Hopefully the various hiccups will resolve in the next couple of weeks and we can get back out there.  They'd been doing so well with longer runs and with speed and strength work, and I hate to see them lose any ground.  Quite a bunch of troopers, these punkins - especially as they jostle for Q-pushing privileges during any given interval.

Between rain showers, I poked nasturtium and annual morning glory seeds into various locations throughout the yard, looking for enthusiastic groundcovers to keep the weeds out while we grow as much food as possible.  I'm hoping that the weather will cooperate well enough on Sunday to allow the baby tomatoes to be set out.  We've been trying to think creatively about how to make trellises for green beans against the back fence with just rocks and twine, since we already have plenty of both.  I was hoping to have sunflowers again this year, but we're probably a bit late for them.  We're going to go a little crazy and try short season cantaloupe and small watermelons.  The west side of the house retains crazy amounts of heat with even a little sun, so maybe we'll even see some fruit!  Lemon cukes are also ready to set out.  A friend surprised us with a packages of short-season veggie seeds, and those will go out too, directly into the dirt: round zucchini, fat little carrots, and Delicata squash.  A family friend stopped by a couple of weeks ago and after receiving a tour of the backyard, declared it an "edible park."  What a charming description.  We would love it to be true.

A young man with a diagnosis similar to Q's passed away this month.  Jorden was twelve years old, one of the five children (of whom I'm aware) with some form of Polymicrogyria in this state.  He had a seizure one Sunday morning, while his family was getting ready for church, and he did not recover from the loss of oxygen.  Jorden's thoughtful parents chose to donate his organs, and many other children are now living more promising lives because of the family's kindness.  If you would, please say a prayer for Jorden's parents and siblings as they celebrate his life with their church family and many relatives this coming week, and as they navigate life without their beloved and joyful young Nascar fan. 

Peace be with you.

Beatus diem matris

Sometimes when this part of the week arrives, I feel like I've skidded into home, knees and uniform a mess, and dirt up my nose.  Another six hours in this day wouldn't have gone amiss.  I wouldn't be caught up, but things would have moved further along, which can feel just as nice as being all caught up.

Three and a half servings of Q food are cooling on the stove, awaiting coverings and the fridge.  His towels are running - extra pre-treat, bleach, etc.  The kids are all in bed, the dishwasher just stopped, the house is getting quiet.  Apart from the big fan (it was 83* here today), it's still enough that one might hear the plants growing. 

Speaking of plants, a favorite subject...  This week, a neighbor brought over a Shasta daisy to share.  It's waiting to go into the dirt, behind the Rainbow Ascot euphorbia, with it's chartreuse bracts and their little red middles, and behind the Lucifer crocosmias.  I dug the grass out of the crocosmias yesterday, much to E's delight.  She'd gone looking for them and thought them dead, their leaves blending too well with the misbegotten weed blades.  The nearby coreopsis and Strawberries and Cream yarrow are looking fluffy.  I hope the lilac is okay - no blooms this year, though the new growth looks healthy.  I think all the moving around and heat last fall gave the poor thing palpatations.

The callas are poking their noses out, and the baby hollyhocks are holding their own.  The irises (sent by a friend, all the way from her garden on the other side of the country) are budding, and promise a swoony blue, so far.  There are more buds coming up, and each one will be a new revelation.  I had a little Miracle-Gro potting soil left from a couple of summers ago, so that went onto the Pacific Giant delphiniums today.  They need fertilizing, but we haven't any, so this shall have to do.  They're making spires already, and will try for a full six feet in height by the end of the summer.  I can't wait to see them in full bloom, their little center "bees" all fuzzy gray, offsetting the deep blue violets as if they were velvet and watered silk.

In other news, we're emerging from the spring spate of Busier Than We'd Thought Possible.  In under a week, the girls had their big orchestra performances (Mendelssohn's 5th Symphony and Rutter's Requiem), and all their spring recitals.  E played viola for the first time in public, as part of her sisters' violin recital performances - quartets.  She also played a piano duet with each of her sisters, in addition to her own solo piano performance.  K also had a solo piano piece.  We've discovered the best way to beat K's pre-performance nerves: running a race the morning of the recital.  By the time she played the three violin pieces (two as second violin in quartet, one as her piece), she was loose and happy.  S played second and third violin in the quartets (in addition to her own recital piece), and couldn't have loved it more.  Still, we're all glad that particular week is done.

The punkins are all asleep, so I'm headed up myself.  Happy Mother's Day, all you lovely mamas.  Take good care of yourselves - you make the world go round.

XO.

Skipped the showers, on to flowers

So April flew by, eh?  Between lessons, school, rehearsals, running, and therapies, I feel like we blinked and found ourselves in May. 

Things here are good.   We're neck deep in history and literature discussions, grammar and Latin study, math, sets of splints, tomato and squash seedlings, recitals, annual testing, and baby lettuces. 

The trees have bloomed and promise oodles of pears and Asian pears, and maybe some little plums.  The rosemaries are bright and healthy, the morning glories have volunteered, and baby lavenders are thriving.  The bleeding hearts, bronze fennel, and blue hyssop have lost their minds - exceeding last year's growth by leaps and bounds.  Sweet woodruff and blue vinca carpet the east side in front of the fence, while purple sage and succulents are taking over the west.  Red yarrows are coming up, the Jethro Tull (ha!) coreopsis is all leafy, and the chocolate mint is doing it's work: holding down the hillside to the north and making the trash can area more pleasant on the east side, by the gate.

I was sure we'd killed the banana mint, but it's back, with two little leafy spires.  I need to check on the cress seedling babies and probably give them a little water, since it's been warm and gorgeous for nearly a week, with no rain predicted.  The hollyhocks did a nice job of self-sowing last fall, and their progeny have been watched with bated breath.  The pink-flowering strawberries I found for twenty-five cents apiece are fluffing up, and approaching the edge of the wall - something I hoped would work out so Mr. Q could pick berries himself, from his chair or stander.  Next year, the Hidcote lavenders will afford a similar opportunity - providing there aren't too many bees for Q.

In other news, it sounds like the quote for ramps might come down.  The pharmacy rep was out during one of Q's therapies this week and noted that the math has shifted.  So I'm waiting to hear.

To be clear, there's no budget for ramps, and I don't know what comes next here.  Little and not so little miracles have strung together for the last nine months, and we're still afloat, and I just don't know what else to say about that.  I find myself thinking that we can't possibly last another month like this, and then something completely unexpected occurs, et voila: speechless.

I'll come back and say more about the outdoor portions of the domicile, and our many hours of weeding.  It's kind of amazing that we have so many plants - many of them gifts or grown from seed.  Some have come from the local plant guy, who's been known to knock off 40% or just give my kids the plants they've dithered over, after they've fretted a little about how far their dollars would stretch.  More miracles.

Time to crash - we have church, orchestra, recital, and running to come before Sunday evening.  I hope you have a delightful weekend: all rest and sweetness, peace and renewal, with enough accomplishment to make the coming week easy and rewarding.  Hug those babies, y'all.

Good

Number one.

Number two:  These kids of mine are doing well.  I don't mean they're perfect or geniuses, or really anything related to those categories.  I mean they are becoming kind, hardworking, striving, hilarious, silly, earnest, lovely, grown-up human beings.  It's such a tough thing to describe without sounding like somebody's crazy mother, but I think this is the part, the observational bits of parenthood, where one feels one's heart swelling.

Number three:  Somehow, and the how part helps to make this extra amazing, things continue apace here - warm and dry, fed and studying.    It doesn't make logical sense that we're all motating happily forward, but we are.  It's maybe a little like adding two and two and coming up with five.  If you have a minute, stop by and I'll try to explain further.  For your trouble, we'll give you a tour of the budding backyard.

Q's better - much less gagging and no breathing treatments for two days now.  (Though I'm now holding my breath for a continued recovery...)  His personal care hours are up a tiny bit, there are prospects for some agency help, and the latest argument with insurance over prescriptions seems to be shaking out.  We shall see.  The girls had their violin recital Sunday afternoon and all did well, despite some last minute scrambling to reorganize after Q's illness.  They've had extra orchestra performance opportunities lately, so tomorrow will bring a redoubling of focus on schoolwork.

One more good thing:  I am grateful to be here.  The list of insurmountables just seems to grow - lately as though it's being fed a steady diet of Miracle Gro, Industrial Strength.   I can honestly say that I have no idea how we're going to manage the next bit of really anything.  And still.  Still!  There's so much to learn, to see, to do, to experience.  Every day presents a litany of striking opportunities for engaging with the goofy people in this house, with the amazing therapists and teachers and friend/family/pastoral types we love and interact with.  Each of those interactions spawns its own unexpected graces, opportunities, and kindnesses.  And from there?  Just wow.  I mean, there's no predicting where this stuff goes, and it leaves me daily just crazy-grateful to be here, right here, with no conditions or caveats.  I mean, I have caveats!  Serious things which need fixing!  (Come over.  Bring tools.  Yes, you.)  And still - wow, people.  Just... so, so much "wow" for which to be grateful.

Hope you're having at least a little of the same, right where you are. 

God.
bless.
you.