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Lullabies

Our preacher gave a sermon this morning that began with what has been in the news as of late. He did not want to go into politics or finger-pointing, but made a point that has really triggered a lot of feelings I have had for a while. He commented that many Americans are justifying the torture of Iraqi prisoners by saying that the American soldiers weren't doing anything compared to what the terrorists have already done to "us". He pointed out the Americans that have been executed over in the Middle East and the many thousands that we lost here on 9-11. We have people in our congregation that were at the Pentagon that horrible day.

A member of our congregation and a friend of mine was the first to die over in Afghanistan. I have cried many times over his loss, tried to comfort his wife and children and sung sad lullabies to his baby. And, yet, I do not hate "those people". As our preacher pointed out, we are not to compare ourselves with other people, but to God. It doesn't matter what other people have done throughout history or even that they may have actually done these things directly to us. God is our standard, not other people. How many times have I had to tell my own children this? You don't set your standards by what others do.

Let me be clear. I support our troops and our President. While my friend was over in Afghanistan, he wrote to his father that we needed to support our troops even when the bodies started coming home. Especially when the bodies started coming home. Little did we know that his would be the first.

I ordered a CD a couple of months ago and, while I don't necessarily agree with the politics of the man who put this CD together, I fell in love with the music on it. It is a CD of lullabies from Iran, Palestine and Iraq sung by native singers.

I take some small comfort listening to the lullabies that are actually being sung to the babies in the heart of such sadness. It makes me remember that we are all human. We need to treat each other humanely even in the midst of war, as much as that is possible. I walked and sang sad lullabies to the baby of my friend who died. A little boy who will grow up not ever having had the chance to know his father. I feel a connection when I listen to the soft, often sorrowful lullabies sung to the babies of Iranian, Palestinian and Iraqi mothers. Unfortunately, war is sometimes necessary and in war there is almost inevitably death. I think that we will ultimately be measured by how we treated the life left over.

Cicada Invasion 2004

It's hard to get away from the cicadas around here. Our dog is eating them as fast as she can, but they only make her hack in her sleep later. From inside our house, with the windows closed, we can hear what sounds like the mother ship coming in for a landing back in the creek.

Mr. Picassohead

You've heard of Mr. Potatohead? Well, Marc kindly introduced me to Mr. Picassohead and I couldn't resist posting my artistic results. It's Mr. Picassohead meets Mr. Modiglianihead.

Motto

Diarist.net Spark

What would your motto would be for the place you're at in your life right now? Is it different than it would have been five years ago? 10? 20?

I thought this writing prompt was interesting because of my instant response to it. My first response was what it would have been five, ten or twenty years ago. I immediately thought of the Rolling Stones song You Can't Always Get What You Want. When I was between eighteen and twenty-eight-years-old, I remember feeling comfort in the chorus,


You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes
You just might find
You get what you need


I even remember riding around my college campus in my roommate's red Mustang convertible with the top down, this song blaring and me singing right along. During this period of my life I always felt acutely lost.

When my husband and I married, I no longer felt lost, but our first ten years together were quite difficult and I often felt very much alone. Marriage is a difficult thing. I remember still clinging to the chorus of this song during this period like it was almost a spiritual anthem for me. I could sing along and gain not only comfort, but strength from the words and music.

A little more than five years ago, though, I started feeling like I not only didn't have what I wanted, but I wasn't getting what I needed, either. I remember dancing to Paula Cole's song, Where Have All The Cowboys Gone? with my young children nearby and feeling totally disconnected. Completely lost.

Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?

Oh you get me ready in your 56 Chevy
Why don't we go sit down in the shade
Take shelter on my front porch
The dandy lion sun scorching,
Like a glass of cold lemonade
I will do laundry if you pay all the bills

CHORUS:

Where is my John Wayne
Where is my prairie song
Where is my happy ending
Where have all the cowboys gone

Why don't you stay the evening
Kick back and watch the TV
And I'll fix a little something to eat
Oh I know your back hurts from working on the tractor
How do you take your coffee my sweet
I will raise the children if you pay all the bills

(Chorus)

I am wearing my new dress tonight
But you don't, but you don't even notice me
Say goodbyes
Say goodbyes
Say goodbyes

We finally sell the Chevy
When we had another baby
And you took the job in Tennessee
You made friends at the farm
And you joined them at the bar
Almost every single day of the week

(Chorus)

I will wash the dishes while you go have a beer
Where is my Marlboro man
Where is his shiny gun
Where is my lonely ranger
Where have all the cowboys gone
Yippee yo, yippee yeah

Today, though, I was listening to the Jars of Clay remake of America's Lonely People and I couldn't help but think that my life is so good today. My husband and I will have been married sixteen years this summer, we have two beautiful children and I no longer feel lost or lonely. I think this would come as close to a motto or, perhaps I should say an anthem, as anything for my life today.


Lonely People

This is for all the lonely people
Thinking that life has passed them by
Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup
And ride that highway in the sky

This is for all the single people
Thinking that love has left them dry
Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup
You never know until you try

Well, I'm on my way
Yes, I'm on my way
Well, I'm on my way back home

This is for all the lonely people
Thinking that life has passed them by
Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup
And never take you down or never give you up
You never know until you try

Play

COME to me, O ye children!
For I hear you at your play,
And the questions that perplexed me
Have vanished quite away.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Shrank, Shrunk, Shrunken, Shrinking, Shrinks...

In case anyone out there has been missing me, I have just been busy tearing up my home. I had this plan that I would go through each room of the house and load up the station wagon with all the unused, unwanted stuff and have Will take multiple trips to the local Goodwill. Then, I spent the afternoon over at a friend's house so our children could play and we could chat.

My friend is moving to another home in the area (as yet unchosen) and mentioned that she wanted to get rid of her shrunk. Her husband is in the military and they acquired this shrunk while stationed in Germany. It is huge. I am uncertain why they call this monstrosity a shrunk when it clearly could not have ever been any bigger. It is twelve feet long, seven feet high and two feet wide. Unfortunately, I love it. Will is preparing to make arrangements to acquire the shrunk for me this weekend. It is Mother's Day this Sunday, you know.

In the meantime, I found out that this shrunk-pushing friend of mine and another friend of mine are having a yard sale and invited me to join in the fun. So I am supposed to load up the station wagon and have Will make trips to my friend's garage to deposit the stuff that is clogging our home in preparation for this yard sale in June.

I can't begin to tell you how liberating all of this is. We just put our old dining room table out by the side of the road this evening thinking that maybe someone would want it for free. It is a nice mahogany table, but we have a nicer table now. Sure enough, some neighbors walked up from the cul de sac and claimed it. I know I could have made some money selling it at the yard sale, but I am not sure how much garage space my friend is willing to share with my clutter.

Our homeschooling group is also having a used curriculum/book sale in a couple of weeks. I have loads of stuff to sell there. I am starting to feel like there is hope for us to continue living in this house. It was beginning to feel like we would have to start sleeping in our tent out back.

I am trying to rethink everything around here and it is actually quite fun. Like moving, but not. The only problem is that the house looks worse than its former appearance with all this clutter flying. I have to keep my eyes on the goal or I will be sucked into this horrible black hole. Whenever I start to feel overwhelmed, I tell myself to just keep doing and not to look around.

I don't think that Will believes there is a method to my madness, but the fact that I am moving is encouraging to him. He has yet to see the shrunk, though. Worst case scenario, I will just set it by the side of the road and meet some more neighbors.

Natural

Nature is a greater and more perfect art, the art of God...

Henry David Thoreau