Backward, turn backward, O time, in thy flight;
Make me a child again, just for to-night.
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
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.
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.
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.
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!”
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
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. 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.
For the first part of this story taken from Legends of the Fall:
- Some People (carrpartyoffive.wordpress.com)
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*
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.