Don’t Quit!

Don’t quit, my friend, hang in there.

Sometimes when we feel like we’re at the breaking point and about to give up, a new breakthrough is right around the corner.

Last week I came pretty close to losing it as I stepped back to review the memoir that I’m working on.

A Reflection on Last Week

Many years of research and writing are in front of me and it’s not a pretty site. Some sections of  the narrative are intertwined with details and free flowing thought that leave them sounding chaotic. This is not what I expected this draft to look like. Yuck.  

Feeling discouraged and not wanting to quit, I decide to take a short break. Fortunately, my husband Jim and I had already scheduled two days with family and friends. It provided a wonderful diversion.

A New Perspective

Rested and renewed I return to my writing room.  Sitting with paper and pen in hand, I remember a blog post by Cal Armistead - “How do Your Write a Book? First, You Start with a Lump of Clay…”

Rereading Cal’s article was like getting a shot of adrenaline.  Maybe it’s not a chaotic mess, but a lump of clay that is taking shape. If I stick with it, it will continue to take form. It will become a complete work in its time.

Politically Distracted?

Are you finding this political season a bit of a distraction? I am.

Expressing political opinions has reached an all-time low. The words we use do matter.

Much of the rhetoric coming from the varying political persuasions is laced with labeling, judging, name calling, and fact distortion. Polarization appears to be the norm. How is a person to make an informed decision based on comparing the facts when they are buried beneath the hype?

Prayers please…

Just for today may we have the courage to move beyond the publicity and seek out the facts.

May we have:
Ears that hear,
Eyes that see, a
Mind that explores,
Arms that embrace, a
Heart that loves, and
Feet that move.

Your life and circumstances matter.  Using a variety of sources can be helpful in uncovering the facts. A lot is at stake this election season and each of us can make a difference, one person - one vote at a time.  

Thrive

How can we thrive?

The 20 words below are an experiment in "brevity with meaning" as I contemplated the question, "How can we thrive?"  My prayer is that all may thrive!

Thrive

by Cal Shook

Need

Lack

Poverty

Decay

Plenty

More

Accumulate

Hoard

Shoes

Yours 

Mine

Switch

Walk

Experience

Understand

Empathize

Listen

Collaborate

Abundance

Thrive

Creativity, Legacy, Empowerment - "The Gift of the Memoir"

This month's blog features a captivating poem called "The Gift of the Memoir" by Bill Farr about creativity, legacy, and empowerment..   As you read Bill's poem, may the writer/artist within you be empowered by his words

York Beach, Maine - Cal Shook

"The Gift of the Memoir" 

by Bill Farr

My mind is a kaleidoscope of paintings,

Colors swirling in all directions and

Caught in the ebb and flow of time.

I peer into the tube of the ages and

Gasp at all that is hidden inside...

There are so many people and places,

I cannot resist the urge to stop and 

Capture each one in words.

Yet, this legacy is bound by a boxed 

Frame of white and letters, caught on

Weightless pages.

There is no room for each story that

Would crowd into the space.

There is not enough 

Time to hold the past.

I write, driven by the belief

That all is not in vain.

Life has been and continues to be

A tale filled with wonder and magic.

The memoir is the gate to 

Resurrection.

My fingers slow as the words pour forth.

My mind races back to the moments

So long ago,

Yet so fresh and renewed today,

I cannot let these souvenirs from

The past escape.  I must

Capture them now,

Empowered by this day.

Writing a memoir is a sea surging 

Tide that cannot be caught in the 

Small bucket that is my mind.

I view the receding years from this 

Mountain peak of age. I must

Bring it forward and make it real.

Who will see the paintings in my head

If I do not preserve them?

Who will meet the characters in the

Pages of my life if I do not 

Bring them to the stage of now?

The memoir stores all and reveals

Time past and long lost life.

The years that have fled become

Presents for those about 

To embrace the future.

Such is the gift of

The Memoir.

----------------------------------------

Thank you Bill Farr for giving me permission to use your poem in this month's blog.  Your words express and touch the heart of my experience. It is a reminder that, 

" I must Capture them now,

Empowered by this day."

if I am to leave a family legacy in the form of "The Memoir".

She Lost Her "Best Friend"

A simple Landry family story about the legacy we leave and a not so typical friendship through the eyes of thirteen year old. Though given in the first person, it is compiled from various conversations with my great Aunt Anna Bella Landry (Bradley) and research information available at the time of this writing.

Michael and Charlotte (Bouchard) Landry Family - Circa 1915

January 1917
Halifax, Nova Scotia

I’m thirteen years old and I’m crying uncontrollably. My best friend is gone. Please, it can’t be true, I need her too much. I’m a mess.

The rest of the family is attending the wake and funeral.  They thought my constant crying would be too disruptive, so I’m home.

While sobbing, my thoughts turn to this past year.  It started off great. Each day my younger sister Elizabeth and I would get up early and help Mom get breakfast ready.  Because we have five older brothers, we love having time with Mom.  There are actually four boys at home because Leo has gone overseas to fight for our country.  Also, there would have been three girls, but older sister Bernadette died two months after she was born.

Following breakfast, Dad, Joe, and Dan head off to work. Elizabeth and I clear the table then head out to St. Joseph’s School.  While we’re gone Mom cleans the dishes and does other chores like washing laundry and keeping the house spotless.  All of this is done by hand. We didn’t have a dishwasher or a washer and dryer.

When we returned home, Abe and Jimmy head off to school.  Girls go in the morning and boys in the afternoon because the boy’s school is being repaired.  Mom is spending more time teaching me how to keep house.

Then one dreadful day in June, we got news that Leo had been killed in the Battle of Y-Press in Belgium.  This left a big hole in our family and Mom was never the same.

Summer into fall is hard to remember.    As the days got colder and colder Mom continually went outside, without a coat on, to hang laundry.   When asked about it she’d say she had too much to do to bother with her coat.  Our over protective Mom, not wearing a coat didn’t make sense to me.  Then she got weak and started coughing.  Before long she was getting behind on everyday chores.  Our immaculate house was looking a bit disorganized and laundry was piling up.  Elizabeth and I were worried and so were Dad and the boys.  Mom was hospitalized and diagnosed with Tuberculosis.   She didn’t make it.   I not only lost my Mom, I lost my best friend.

Note:   Great grandmother Charlotte (Bouchard) Landry was 46 years old when she passed away. She sewed the dresses that Anna and Elizabeth were wearing in the picture above.  Charlotte was thrifty with money and she raised children who knew how to take care of it and provide for their families. Her love and dedication to her family live on in the current generations.

Landry family picture:
Back row from left to right –  Private Leo , Michael (Dad), Joseph, Annie Adams (Dan's first wife), Daniel, Charlotte (Mom)
Front Row:  Anna Bella, Elizabeth

Daily Vacations

Photo Credit: Cal Shook 

Picture the weight of the world being lifted. You are experiencing perfect peace.

Where are you located?

For me it is at the ocean. Watching the tide go in and out is like having my cares washed out to sea.  The world can wait while my soul is restored.

Rest During a Storm

After a day ministering to others, Jesus got into a boat with his disciples,then made his way to the back where he laid his head on a pillow and fell asleep.  As the boat makes its way toward the next shore, a storm hits.  The boat rocks violently and starts to capsize.  The disciples wake Jesus shouting. "We're drowning!"

Jesus sits up and tells the storm to stop and it does..
Mark 4:35-41

A Peaceful Island

At the time of this writing, my husband Jim and I are on vacation. The beauty of creation is around us as we walk along the ocean.  It's low tide.  We head for the cove.  With the tide rolled out the danger of a rip current is gone, leaving a once treacherous cove free to pass and a peaceful island within reach. My soul is at rest.

As this time away comes to a close, my goal is to create daily vacations.  A time each day to envision the cares and worries of everyday life, rolling out with the tide and freeing me to cross over to a place of peace - a daily restoring of my soul.

My prayer for you, my friend, is that you will find Peace!

Note:  Are you looking to create moments of rest and relaxation in your life?  Check out one of my favorite authors, Kirk Byron Jones.
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School Days – A Lesson on Fear

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.” (ESV)

With her tea cup clanging as it hits the saucer, my great Aunt Anna lifts the cup to her lips and takes a sip.  I sit in eager anticipation of the history that is about to come to life.

Extreme discipline is at the heart of the story below based on Anna's recollection.

Circa 1915 

Mary is in the principal's office standing in front of Sister Jaine.

"Hold out your hands."

Reluctantly Mary lifts her hands, palms down.

With a ruler, Sister Jaine whacks them.

As the beating continues, “You were told not to walk across the Protestant church yard and you disobeyed.”

Mary’s knuckles start to bleed.

“I hope you have learned your lesson,” says Sister Jaine, “You may return to class.”

Mary returns to class with bloodied knuckles.  The pain and swelling make it hard to concentrate on her lessons.

Once classes are over, Mary walks down the stairs and finds Anna waiting for her.  They head out of the building together. Holding out her bloodied knuckles, Mary shares her story with Anna as they walk home.

“It’s not right, Mary, you shouldn’t have been punished like this,” says Anna.

“When I get home, I’m telling my parents what happened,” says Mary.

The next day Mary’s father walks her to school and into the principal’s office. In a fit of rage, he informs Sister Jaine that Mary will no longer be a student here.

The following afternoon, Anna heads from class to the main entrance of the school.  Sadness sets in with the knowledge that Mary will no longer be joining her on the walk home. Then the image of Mary’s bloodied knuckles comes to mind and the wrongness of it haunts her. They tell us that we’re not allowed to cross a Protestant church yard. What is that going to do to us? They tell us we can’t enter a synagogue or any other church not Catholic. I’m not going to become another religion by entering their building or walking across their yard.  Why are we being taught to hate? This doesn’t make sense.

Afterward

Following the telling of this story, Anna proclaimed, “I still believe in my religion, but why in the name of God was it wrong to cross the yard of a church that’s not Catholic. I went to Jewish ceremonies. I went to Greek baptisms. Doing these things did not make me choose another religion. I believe everyone has a right to their religion. You can believe what you want, just don’t push it on others.  I married a Protestant and I loved him just as much as if he were Catholic.” 

Reflection

When fearful I need to check my words and actions to see if there's a ruler, of sorts, in my hand. Fear clouds my judgment and won't allow me to make informed and caring decisions. My great Aunt Anna would not let anyone bully her into prejudice.  Checking out other faiths, as well as people not like her, Anna's life was enriched with an eclectic group of friends.

Who do you identify with in this story?  Are you the child with bloodied knuckles?  Maybe you're the friend who dared to enter the yard and building of another faith?  Or maybe, like me, there are times when you're fearful and it's tempting to pick up a ruler.

Note:
Anna Bella (Landry) Bradley was 97 years old when she revealed this story. She lived on her own until about six weeks before her death at the age of 103.
Photo Credit:  All three photos from www.pixabay.com