I too remember standing next to one of my oldest friends at her church as she sang loudly and off key. I at first was surprised and a little embarrassed for her (or me?) but later I too took that as a gift to remember to be who I truly am and to sing loudly with abandonment when the spirit takes hold.
Carrie, I'm so glad that you were well enough to share with us here in Goshen. I am so happy that I was able to speak with you afterwards about the experience our faculty had with "You Can Do This Hard Thing." And it's always wonderful to make contact with a fellow poet -- and Blue Blazer. Peace, Michael
Oh, and Patricia (my mom), Esther (my grandmother), and Aunts Rosemary, Jean, and Kathleen. My mom sang show tunes all the time, most notoriously "I'm Just a Girl Who Can't Say No" from "Annie, Get Your Gun."
Julie, Meridith, and I are so sorry you were ill. May good health return and remain. Our time with you in South Haven lifted our little lives. You will be ever singing in our hearts.
My Mum was always the rock in my life, and I got a lot of my strength from her. Miss her every day. Even 91 years wasn't enough for me to grasp all of her wisdom. ☮️🐧
Ruth, Beth, Sarah, Nancy, another Nancy, Carrie, Jane, Charlotte, Mary, Audrey, Leslie, Carey, Anne, to name a few. Some of these are artists both past and present.
Leanne, my partner and love of my life! My mother Dorothy was a formidable woman. My Gramma Pearl. She had 8 daughters and my Dad was the only boy! Gramma Edna I didn’t know very well but she raised my formidable mother! My sister Marianne. She is always there for me. Then there is Amy and Emily the mothers of my grandsons…you know Carrie this is like gratitudes at night…the list is long. Feel better soon my friend
Hoping the virus is long gone tomorrow and that you're back in fine form! I wish I'd been able to meet the subject of your lovely poem and see the woman I've heard so much about. From the time we met, you've made an enormous difference in my life, and have continued to be an inspiration across the years. Love you and your commitment to holding space for hope in all things.
Carrie, I offer you a virtual tissue or two. I’ll start by naming my Mom, who although having her challenges, loved me with all her heart. And I’ll add Debbie. Emily, Brittney, Carol, Caroline, and Heather. They have graced and strengthened my life in countless ways. I also must name you, Carrie, for being a mentor and teacher. All of those I named have been “Gentle Storms” in the most perfect way.
On Mother's Day, I remember especially The Sisters of Charity who taught me at the Academy of St. Aloysius in Jersey City NJ who kindled in my a lifelong love of the humanities; the Benedictine Sisters of Mount St. Scholastica Monastery in Atchison KS, who introduced me to contemplative spirituality; and of course my mother Theresa and dear aunts Gilda, Gloria and Yolanda; my late cousin Patsy who always encouraged me believed I could realize my dreams; poet Mary Oliver and poet Lisa Breger for inspiring me, and dear, dear Carrie for her songs, her spirit and her wisdom. To Aggie, who comments below, I am so glad your day turned out the be such a meaninful one, sitting enjoying memories, empanadas and coffee in your hatch back Forester. You matter! And to Carrie, please take good care of yourself and feel better soon!
I’m so sorry you were under the weather over Mother’s Day. I’m glad you are on the mend. I wondered as I know you wouldn’t miss a Mother’s Day Post! Be well Carrie!!
My list would start with you Carrie as you’ve been there through the hardest time in my life. I’m a stronger more confident person. Of course there is my mom whom I miss everyday. She showed me what strength is after tragically losing my dad and having to raise 2 young children all on her own. Others would be my best friend Deann whom I also miss everyday, Marcie, Deborah, Tina, Cheryl, my daughter Mikayla who’s way more cooler than I’ll ever be, my niece Kiara, Trisha, Bonnie, Cindy and so many more!
Ah, my Mom. Gone wandering over that grassy hill for 29 years now. She was given to breaking out in Irish ditties in her kitchen and reciting obscure Irish poetry (sometimes limericks) while gently stroking my forearm to soothe me as I dozed off on her shoulder. I was #3 of six (5 boys and 1 Daddy’s girl—I mean that kindly and lovingly). Back to the kitchen, the heart of our home. The place where Mom pan-fried pork chops until you could snap them in half to share. Where breakfast for me as a child was a cup of over-sugared coffee and buttered toast to dip. THE gathering place for the neighborhood wives…talking and laughing, crying and consoling. In a way, I had a lot of Moms watching for me. That was annoying then; nice now that I think about it. Anyway, back to Irish poems and ditties. My Mom was a Murphy. She took great pride in being Irish. She wanted the six of us to do the same. Heck, #2 (brother) even obliged by being born on St Patrick’s Day. Fast forward to the present. Science has progressed. All of us can get some facts on our ancestry. I did. Irish? Not a drop. I’m ignoring the science. I know Mom would too.
May I share some words I wrote for her memorial service? I’d like to let them to be my gift to her this Mother’s Day. If anyone finds themselves wandering the cemetery in a small Michigan town just north of Lansing and discovers a memorial stone with these words engraved upon it, that’s her. Pause and say “Hi”. The burnt coffee smell is another clue you’re in the right place.
My Mother's love surrounds me. She was the one great "Always" in my life...always giving...always caring...always loving.
Today, for the first time, I've awakened to a world without her in it. Everything has changed somehow. I can't hear the melody carried by the winter wind--she could. I can't feel the warmth of the winter sun--she could. I can't see the beauty in winter's desolation--she could.
My Mother lived life with a richness of spirit; with an appreciation for it's gifts. She convinced me I was one of the finest gifts bestowed to her...I and each of the five others to whom she gave life. She embraced us as the fabric of her life...her reason...her purpose. We were everything she needed or ever cared to have. We were enough.
Our Mother's life was a beautiful tapestry. Each color was rich and vibrant...each image immersed in meaning. One by one we came...one by one we were nurtured by her tender love. She enriched each of us and prepared us for our own lives. She smiled at our victories--she smiled at our defeats. She knew every experience bore its own lesson.
Our Mother opened our eyes to the truths scattered amidst the distractions of life. She helped us discover the items of importance--to hold them dear--to cherish them as real and priceless. Love was the greatest of these many finds...her love the greatest find of all.
And now, now that I've given my heart its voice, everything has changed somehow. I hear the winter wind's melody--I feel the winter sun's warmth. I can see the winter's pure and pristine beauty. My Mother could, and so can I. I sense her smile as she reveals the one truth I need right now...my Mother's love surrounds me--Always.
We share rich tapestries in our family heritages and in our Mothers-- yours Irish, mine Spanish/French. Nonetheless , we stand on strong "shoulders", Dear Person!
This for you and all of us and for Dear Carrie, from Kahlil Gibran's "the Prophet":
"Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for Itself. They come through you not from you. And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of Tomorrow.....
" You are the Bow from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The Archer sees the path of the Infinite. And he bends you with all his might, that his arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the Archer's hand be for gladness. For even as He loves the arrow that flies, He loves, also, the Bow that is stable."
Blessings to you all who are on this Comment Stream! I so sense and synergies with your Life Energy! No matter how sensational the World news may be, let us know, as we learned through the COVID adventure, that "we're all in this together." Keep the Faith and keep on keeping on okay! I will too!👍🙏🏻✌️🌏🫂🫂🤗😊🎶❤️❤️🙋🏻♀️
I too remember standing next to one of my oldest friends at her church as she sang loudly and off key. I at first was surprised and a little embarrassed for her (or me?) but later I too took that as a gift to remember to be who I truly am and to sing loudly with abandonment when the spirit takes hold.
Carrie, I'm so glad that you were well enough to share with us here in Goshen. I am so happy that I was able to speak with you afterwards about the experience our faculty had with "You Can Do This Hard Thing." And it's always wonderful to make contact with a fellow poet -- and Blue Blazer. Peace, Michael
Oh, and Patricia (my mom), Esther (my grandmother), and Aunts Rosemary, Jean, and Kathleen. My mom sang show tunes all the time, most notoriously "I'm Just a Girl Who Can't Say No" from "Annie, Get Your Gun."
Carrie,
Julie, Meridith, and I are so sorry you were ill. May good health return and remain. Our time with you in South Haven lifted our little lives. You will be ever singing in our hearts.
❤️🙏❤️
Jack (Ridl)
Glad you are on the mend.
My Mum was always the rock in my life, and I got a lot of my strength from her. Miss her every day. Even 91 years wasn't enough for me to grasp all of her wisdom. ☮️🐧
Her notes weren’t perfect, Heaven knows, yeah but Heaven opened anyway… 💛
Naming my Mom as we share meals:
Sometimes the crusty end of bread,
the center of the the broccoli stalk,
the crust of pizza,
the skin of a baked potato,
the remainder of of corn,
or left over jello from a hospital room.
Her parts
My parts
Sometimes the same shared plate
carry moments
not germs
years gone by
from the shared plate of a child
to the plate shared, 60 some years later as the machine pumps oxygen to her lungs
So I finish what is there,
while giving and sharing,
until there is nothing left
but an empty plate,
not one drop wasted
Ruth, Beth, Sarah, Nancy, another Nancy, Carrie, Jane, Charlotte, Mary, Audrey, Leslie, Carey, Anne, to name a few. Some of these are artists both past and present.
Leanne, my partner and love of my life! My mother Dorothy was a formidable woman. My Gramma Pearl. She had 8 daughters and my Dad was the only boy! Gramma Edna I didn’t know very well but she raised my formidable mother! My sister Marianne. She is always there for me. Then there is Amy and Emily the mothers of my grandsons…you know Carrie this is like gratitudes at night…the list is long. Feel better soon my friend
Hoping the virus is long gone tomorrow and that you're back in fine form! I wish I'd been able to meet the subject of your lovely poem and see the woman I've heard so much about. From the time we met, you've made an enormous difference in my life, and have continued to be an inspiration across the years. Love you and your commitment to holding space for hope in all things.
All of the Women Touched by Grace, at the monastery and in parishes across the land
Carrie, I offer you a virtual tissue or two. I’ll start by naming my Mom, who although having her challenges, loved me with all her heart. And I’ll add Debbie. Emily, Brittney, Carol, Caroline, and Heather. They have graced and strengthened my life in countless ways. I also must name you, Carrie, for being a mentor and teacher. All of those I named have been “Gentle Storms” in the most perfect way.
Dear Carrie,
I suspect that your mother would say something like, "Honey, remember that viruses are sneaky. Please don’t push yourself too much too soon."
My list of ladies is too long to write.
On Mother's Day, I remember especially The Sisters of Charity who taught me at the Academy of St. Aloysius in Jersey City NJ who kindled in my a lifelong love of the humanities; the Benedictine Sisters of Mount St. Scholastica Monastery in Atchison KS, who introduced me to contemplative spirituality; and of course my mother Theresa and dear aunts Gilda, Gloria and Yolanda; my late cousin Patsy who always encouraged me believed I could realize my dreams; poet Mary Oliver and poet Lisa Breger for inspiring me, and dear, dear Carrie for her songs, her spirit and her wisdom. To Aggie, who comments below, I am so glad your day turned out the be such a meaninful one, sitting enjoying memories, empanadas and coffee in your hatch back Forester. You matter! And to Carrie, please take good care of yourself and feel better soon!
I’m so sorry you were under the weather over Mother’s Day. I’m glad you are on the mend. I wondered as I know you wouldn’t miss a Mother’s Day Post! Be well Carrie!!
My list would start with you Carrie as you’ve been there through the hardest time in my life. I’m a stronger more confident person. Of course there is my mom whom I miss everyday. She showed me what strength is after tragically losing my dad and having to raise 2 young children all on her own. Others would be my best friend Deann whom I also miss everyday, Marcie, Deborah, Tina, Cheryl, my daughter Mikayla who’s way more cooler than I’ll ever be, my niece Kiara, Trisha, Bonnie, Cindy and so many more!
Live this poem, Carrie!
Ah, my Mom. Gone wandering over that grassy hill for 29 years now. She was given to breaking out in Irish ditties in her kitchen and reciting obscure Irish poetry (sometimes limericks) while gently stroking my forearm to soothe me as I dozed off on her shoulder. I was #3 of six (5 boys and 1 Daddy’s girl—I mean that kindly and lovingly). Back to the kitchen, the heart of our home. The place where Mom pan-fried pork chops until you could snap them in half to share. Where breakfast for me as a child was a cup of over-sugared coffee and buttered toast to dip. THE gathering place for the neighborhood wives…talking and laughing, crying and consoling. In a way, I had a lot of Moms watching for me. That was annoying then; nice now that I think about it. Anyway, back to Irish poems and ditties. My Mom was a Murphy. She took great pride in being Irish. She wanted the six of us to do the same. Heck, #2 (brother) even obliged by being born on St Patrick’s Day. Fast forward to the present. Science has progressed. All of us can get some facts on our ancestry. I did. Irish? Not a drop. I’m ignoring the science. I know Mom would too.
May I share some words I wrote for her memorial service? I’d like to let them to be my gift to her this Mother’s Day. If anyone finds themselves wandering the cemetery in a small Michigan town just north of Lansing and discovers a memorial stone with these words engraved upon it, that’s her. Pause and say “Hi”. The burnt coffee smell is another clue you’re in the right place.
My Mother's love surrounds me. She was the one great "Always" in my life...always giving...always caring...always loving.
Today, for the first time, I've awakened to a world without her in it. Everything has changed somehow. I can't hear the melody carried by the winter wind--she could. I can't feel the warmth of the winter sun--she could. I can't see the beauty in winter's desolation--she could.
My Mother lived life with a richness of spirit; with an appreciation for it's gifts. She convinced me I was one of the finest gifts bestowed to her...I and each of the five others to whom she gave life. She embraced us as the fabric of her life...her reason...her purpose. We were everything she needed or ever cared to have. We were enough.
Our Mother's life was a beautiful tapestry. Each color was rich and vibrant...each image immersed in meaning. One by one we came...one by one we were nurtured by her tender love. She enriched each of us and prepared us for our own lives. She smiled at our victories--she smiled at our defeats. She knew every experience bore its own lesson.
Our Mother opened our eyes to the truths scattered amidst the distractions of life. She helped us discover the items of importance--to hold them dear--to cherish them as real and priceless. Love was the greatest of these many finds...her love the greatest find of all.
And now, now that I've given my heart its voice, everything has changed somehow. I hear the winter wind's melody--I feel the winter sun's warmth. I can see the winter's pure and pristine beauty. My Mother could, and so can I. I sense her smile as she reveals the one truth I need right now...my Mother's love surrounds me--Always.
Hello Monte!
We share rich tapestries in our family heritages and in our Mothers-- yours Irish, mine Spanish/French. Nonetheless , we stand on strong "shoulders", Dear Person!
This for you and all of us and for Dear Carrie, from Kahlil Gibran's "the Prophet":
"Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for Itself. They come through you not from you. And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of Tomorrow.....
" You are the Bow from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The Archer sees the path of the Infinite. And he bends you with all his might, that his arrows may go swift and far. Let your bending in the Archer's hand be for gladness. For even as He loves the arrow that flies, He loves, also, the Bow that is stable."
Blessings to you all who are on this Comment Stream! I so sense and synergies with your Life Energy! No matter how sensational the World news may be, let us know, as we learned through the COVID adventure, that "we're all in this together." Keep the Faith and keep on keeping on okay! I will too!👍🙏🏻✌️🌏🫂🫂🤗😊🎶❤️❤️🙋🏻♀️