Can You Read Backwords?

quinn-and-frodo

So my 10 year-old, Quinn, has been big into reversing words lately. It’s a phase, much like the eating only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches phase that all my kids have been through. Or the refusing to take a shower phase, not letting food touch phase, the Pokémon GO phase, or the not eating carbs phase. Wait. That last one was mine. Anyway, these things are all fleeting and are super fun and addictive for awhile.

Except the not eating carbs thing. That was a very dark time, friends.

I’ve been hearing all about words and their abilities to be the same exact thing, no matter which way they are read.
DEED 
LEVEL 
PIP 
BOOB POP POOP
MADAM 
EYE 
NUN 
RADAR 
TOOT 

These are palindromes, and they are fascinating to Quinn. But he didn’t stop there. He decided to look at words backwards, and see what they spelled. When he went into that territory, I almost said, “Oh yes! Like Redrum!” but then I remembered that Quinn is 10, and doesn’t really need to know about films that include psychotic breaks and possessed children.

DESSERTS-STRESSED, KNITS-STINK, RAW-WAR, PALS-SLAP, STRAW-WARTS

But then he came upon one that made us both stop in our tracks.

GOD-DOG

Quinn’s smile was slow like a train just coming to life on the tracks. I loved watching it gain speed. He ran to our dog, Frodo, and hugged him. “Yes!” he kept exclaiming. “YES!” and then he came and hugged me. “I like that, Mom! so much!”

I liked it, too.  When I think about the dogs in my lifetime, they’ve all shared the same qualities:

playful, joyful, wordless comfort, deep wisdom, innocence,loving, kind, protective, forgiving, humble, miraculous, faithful, devoted, loyal, insightful…..

And isn’t my list of God qualities the same? I think that’s the way truth feels-like the happiest slap across the face you’ll ever get, you know?

Children and dogs, dogs and children. I swear to you, they are my favorite teachers. It makes me think of one of my favorite quotes by Elizabeth Chase Allen:

Backward, turn backward, O time, in thy flight;
Make me a child again, just for to-night.

Watch this. Tell me that you can’t spot God in this place.

(P.S. for all my wordpress people, I’m really sorry about this new theme. It’s not set up yet, and I’m sort of over trying to figure it out today it’s bothering me, too. Bear with me! )

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Soul Companions

I peek at the Caller ID and pick up the phone. A forceful gust of air escapes that had  just seconds before, been held tightly in my chest.

Hey!”, a perky voice calls out.

“Oh hey. Damn I’m glad it’s you.” I bleat into the receiver. Continue reading

The Littlest

Well, this is the last of my KID posts. If you’ve kept up with me, you’ve seen The Firstborn, and the Middler. I stuck them up permanently with a permanent sticking charm on my Home Page.

I figure folks should know what they are getting into before deciding to follow me. Just from these three posts, you can tell a lot about the Party Girl.  I could nutshell it for you.

I believe in God. And I believe there are people….I call them sensitives,  that can tap into the vibrations of the world. The ones most people can’t feel.

And I tend to lean more toward my Grandpa’s take on God.

When my Mom was little, she had many questions about God. Grampa took Mom outside…and knelt down. He scooped up some dark, rich soil. The very soil that he had grown many acres of corn and beans in for the better part of his life.

Me and Grampa

He told her…this is God. He pointed at all the wonders of the world, and continued to say…this is God.

I come from a Catholic family. I honor them by keeping tradition as much as I can.

But I never forget my Grandpa’s description of God.

I’ll take a huge leap here….and say that I believe God put God Energy in each of us. I think that energy was alive and well in this story I tell of my youngest.

My Youngest.

The Littlest

Something was wrong.

But what, I couldn’t be sure.

One day, I realized, I was waiting for him.

I had been told these days were past.

Have you ever missed someone you’ve never met?

I found a prayer in the back of a well-read newspaper at the coffee shop, a novena to Mother Mary.

I stole the newspaper.

Pray it once a day for three days it said.

On the fourth day, your prayer will be answered clearly.

I said it 3 times a day.

For three days.

When something is missing, you’ll do anything to find it.

On the fourth day, my phone went off.

A new voicemail from an old friend.

A garbled message that cut in and out with a song in the background.

One she thought I might like.

You’ll Be Blessed, by Elton John

Hey you, you’re a child in my head

You haven’t walked yet

Your first words have yet to be said

But I swear you’ll be blessed

I know you’re still just a dream

your eyes might be green

Or the bluest that I’ve ever seen

Anyway you’ll be blessed

And you, you’ll be blessed

You’ll have the best

I promise you that

I’ll pick a star from the sky

Pull your name from a hat

I promise you that, promise you that, promise you that

You’ll be blessed

I need you before I’m too old

To have and to hold

To walk with you and watch you grow

And know that you’re blessed

I stopped everything.

I listened.

I cried.

I knew.

2 weeks later I felt dizzy when I stood up from tucking my little girl in for the night.

My blessing was born 8 months later.

When I questioned my friend about the message, I could hear her puzzled expression over the phone.

“Lis…I left you that message 6 months ago!”

The Firstborn

My dear friend Madame Weebles has inspired me to tell a story. She herself has been telling tales of moments that make you believe there is a force in the universe much larger than ourselves. I’ll urge you to visit her over at Fear No Weebles. You won’t be disappointed.

Now for my story. Continue reading

Damn Fools

 

October   
My dear lsabel, 
today our sons are leaving home — to defend an England they have never seen. l am unable to stop them. l have tried to shelter our sons from all the madness. And now they go to seek it.
William

Colonel Ludlow told me:

”Ride with them to Calgary. Bring back the horses. ”

”Damn fools, ” he called them. ”Damn fools. ”

The Colonel would not have his sons ride off to war on old nags.

Damn fools or not.

 

February   
Dear Susannah,
the horror of this place is indescribable.  Nothing is as l thought. Tonight. as l prayed for the souls of those who ‘ve died so terribly, – l also prayed for personal glory. ls it wrong to want to distinguish myself in combat  as my father did?Tristan and Alfred watch over me, so l may never get the opportunity. Our bodies are in God’s keeping. We go into battle honourably.

 

Confident. His name on our lips. Susannah, l try to guard against despair, — but at moments it seems all human decency has gone. Alfred will recover from his wounds. He and Tristan have drifted apart. l cannot understand it. l miss you more than you can imagine. You’re all that’s clean and cool and pure. l close my eyes and fix my thoughts on you.

l now regret that we agreed to wait to marry. l regret that we were never together as we planned to be. Please stay on at the ranch and wait for me. Don ‘t let Father worry. God will protect me, aided considerably by Tristan. He seems to have come to France purely to nursemaid me. Be well, my love.
Your own Samuel
Dear Father and Susannah,
l have been discharged, but l cannot come home yet. l’ll join Grandfather Ludlow in Comwall and go to sea. As for our beloved Samuel, all l can send home is his heart. Alfred will bring it back. You know where he should be buried. Up in the box canyon.
Your son, Tristan.

The Meanest Flower

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting

The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,

Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar:

Not in entire forgetfulness,

And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home.

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be;

In the soothing thoughts that spring

Out of human suffering;

In the faith that looks through death,

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,

To me the meanest flower that blows can give

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

-Bits and pieces taken from”Ode: Intimations of Immortality” by William Wordsworth

For the full poem, Click HERE*

Heads I win. Tails you Lose.

My makeup is my art.

I can go for 3 days in a row with a bare face and freckled nose.

 My words are sweet and warm, like maple syrup.

They are hard and sharp, like broken shards of ice.

My heart is open to love, and waits to soak it up like a sponge.

And then I  slam the door shut.

I want everything to stay the same.

But I crave transformation.

You won’t find God in church. He lives inside of you.

I am raising my children in the Catholic faith.

I got married when I was 18. Best decision I ever made.

Dear daughter, I don’t want you thinking about marriage until you are 30.

Dear sons, I want you to always use your words. They are more powerful than fists.

Sweetheart, if he does that again, you bust that kid up.

Give me a day alone, in silence.

Why has no one called me?

I love living in a ranch-style house in town with neighbors who smile and nod.

And I long for a farm-house with old woodwork and a gravel road and fields to tiptoe across in my pajamas and bare feet.

I love our busy family, and how everyone fits together like a Christmas Eve Puzzle.

My arms feel empty; and ready to hold another baby; to see who she resembles.

I want to wake up early and run, like the other hot mammas in my ‘hood.

If only I could sleep until noon, like my college days…when I was hot without trying.

I want to forget everything that makes me homesick for my childhood home.

Help me remember every detail.