tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91042538091384328472024-02-07T07:31:26.708-06:00landing on my feetattempting to find the groundMary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.comBlogger167125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-17257773733980478172012-01-22T09:09:00.003-06:002012-01-23T17:05:16.178-06:00Chatting and RebuildingI had a chat with my friend Garcia last night. I asked her if she had some time in the coming days, in between profiling all those serial killers of course, if she would look into my little hacker problem. She ingeniously gathers data to assist the BAU as they profile the crazies out there; is <i>brilliant</i> when it comes to finding things presumed "lost" to the untrained, non-techie (i.e.-me) or deemed "irretrievable" by difficult-to-understand, outsourced employees, ultimately reached after spending hours in automated-system hell. This should be a cake walk for her.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; line-height: 1px;"></span><br />
I know she'll do her best, but Garcia is a real sweetie (kind of a pussy cat actually) and I'm not sure what that creep who stole my stuff is really like. I can't expect the whole Team to get involved and go after the SOB. After all, those serial killers certainly do take priority over my treasured emails.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">So, I might have to chat with my friend Lisbeth.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lx3d05ArmD1r9ss4mo1_r1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lx3d05ArmD1r9ss4mo1_r1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This kind of thing just might piss her off enough<br />
to put her over the edge.<br />
One can only hope...<br />
<br />
in the meantime, my new email is<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">mary.potts8@gmail.com</span><br />
<br />
Yes, I am backing this one up.<br />
Yes, I have a much stronger password that will be changed more frequently.<br />
Yes, my blog is backed up.<br />
Yes, the experts can get into this stuff if they really want to anyway.<br />
Nothing is safe anymore.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I've started from scratch and have been rebuilding my contact list.</div><div style="text-align: center;">A few sentimental souls have kept some correspondences we've had</div><div style="text-align: center;">and have forwarded them to me.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm deeply grateful.<br />
Please, keep sending what you have,<br />
and forward this post on to others.<br />
thank you<br />
xo</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>P.S. If you were a recipient of my Spain adventure email, perhaps you should change your password too.<br />
Just in case.Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-31218129091443330842012-01-18T21:40:00.000-06:002012-01-18T21:40:25.386-06:00HackedMy email account was hacked into last night. Perhaps some of you received a message from me with the innocent subject line "Hi". Upon opening it you were told I was in Spain, I lost my baggage and passport, and I needed money. <br />
<br />
I am not in Spain. My baggage is in the closet. I don't have a passport.<br />
<br />
I don't need money. I need all the emails that were wiped out. <br />
<br />
EVERYTHING is gone.<br />
Everyone in my contact list - gone.<br />
Every email in my inbox, drafts, sent, spam, trash - gone.<br />
All my precious emails from dear friends who wrote such beautiful words while Erin was sick and after she died - gone.<br />
All of my emails from Erin - gone.<br />
All of the IM's Erin and I shared and I'd saved - gone.<br />
<br />
I simply don't understand how anyone could do something like this. <br />
<br />
I spent HOURS trying to get a real live person on the phone to help me. I was finally told nothing could be done.<br />
<br />
I can't receive any emails, so if anyone has tried to contact me, it hasn't come through. I'll have to create a new email account. I don't even know anyone's email address. <br />
<br />
Life is way too hard.Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-72983712468260328422011-12-26T09:19:00.000-06:002011-12-26T09:19:08.190-06:00Merry Christmas<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">here's to family</span><br />
those present and those held in cherished memory</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XD0WRKyMgwA/TviH34vj9oI/AAAAAAAACOM/DcKV5hOknKo/s1600/IMG_0702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XD0WRKyMgwA/TviH34vj9oI/AAAAAAAACOM/DcKV5hOknKo/s400/IMG_0702.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">with sunflowers and touches of lime </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNAQk7J1OY82B_z0CKAM_3V3yGg6_wp-gBqM22eyGnspa-gkspuwPd1X8z278Jbi5-2aW9KfPQS-xXDbHGwLPDqMDZFx55kBGmWfWI4Cvrvg3CS_C4OCg6vaY6MoBbruoS7cI7hATQWnq/s1600/IMG_0686.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilNAQk7J1OY82B_z0CKAM_3V3yGg6_wp-gBqM22eyGnspa-gkspuwPd1X8z278Jbi5-2aW9KfPQS-xXDbHGwLPDqMDZFx55kBGmWfWI4Cvrvg3CS_C4OCg6vaY6MoBbruoS7cI7hATQWnq/s400/IMG_0686.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">our "official" new member<br />
and, of course, beloved furry beasts</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKbFowQhPgfeHSq4FkXLDlaRyhIEjX2_Y8PwuVZlA5uT3bL8ewgKz1xbqCEsPjxIzNaDFkvsU8lqt1yWiuyDaBQSTgSYdtjLU3IXK2-nxkNrUIG-eWW8MxRifUD865UpWcUm6Su9ure8Hy/s1600/IMG_0697.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKbFowQhPgfeHSq4FkXLDlaRyhIEjX2_Y8PwuVZlA5uT3bL8ewgKz1xbqCEsPjxIzNaDFkvsU8lqt1yWiuyDaBQSTgSYdtjLU3IXK2-nxkNrUIG-eWW8MxRifUD865UpWcUm6Su9ure8Hy/s400/IMG_0697.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">hope your day was filled<br />
with lots and lots of LOVE</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZyGKXJgGgx4/TviHz-Hb6RI/AAAAAAAACN0/2z_pqnnBq0o/s1600/IMG_0692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZyGKXJgGgx4/TviHz-Hb6RI/AAAAAAAACN0/2z_pqnnBq0o/s400/IMG_0692.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-69175418419663625702011-12-18T00:00:00.030-06:002011-12-18T00:00:02.666-06:00sleep<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">in heavenly peace, my sweet beautiful girl</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihoVodRIGjQAQc9Wdny_8vsiyMj8O28rZ0mMPlEbhThTp3TF7krpKsO8hhqErmvxNiaozvXa9Ibv0o9eBYgseWvMV4G3lgv0O6TRLGoESSTZzTbQ1o0WyQ8c5gpX7zjX12w4fCDHTlpijZ/s1600/IMG_0661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihoVodRIGjQAQc9Wdny_8vsiyMj8O28rZ0mMPlEbhThTp3TF7krpKsO8hhqErmvxNiaozvXa9Ibv0o9eBYgseWvMV4G3lgv0O6TRLGoESSTZzTbQ1o0WyQ8c5gpX7zjX12w4fCDHTlpijZ/s400/IMG_0661.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">thank you, lisa leonard designs</span></div>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-87716526238325956182011-12-17T12:11:00.001-06:002011-12-17T18:20:49.596-06:00angel of God<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">it's snowing</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3koVqH2RE5X19vrSnMzt2m5MiPY8M9nWOii9gRALwMl6CAznj1BYy9ldrm8rYA7I7iA9-6iPpcr6uCCKaH0uCSKkbjDGjAmVcV9BWrDLw14XCtwhvtfg9GO-1Iak7VAIxwaDvreHAapo/s1600/IMG_0679.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR3koVqH2RE5X19vrSnMzt2m5MiPY8M9nWOii9gRALwMl6CAznj1BYy9ldrm8rYA7I7iA9-6iPpcr6uCCKaH0uCSKkbjDGjAmVcV9BWrDLw14XCtwhvtfg9GO-1Iak7VAIxwaDvreHAapo/s320/IMG_0679.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
What a gift it was to awaken this morning to the wispy flakes falling silently from the gray skies, forming a blanket to fortify the shaky ground upon which I'm walking these days.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Erin loved snow. <b> Loved</b> it.</div><br />
Those of you who knew her know this about her, and those who've been stopping here from time to time most likely have come to understand it as well. <br />
<br />
One of my most vivid memories is from late January of 2007. Erin had been diagnosed just before Christmas 2006, had completed her first couple cycles of chemo and was feeling fabulous because the drugs were killing the cancer cells that had been making her so very sick. This was pre-tumor removal surgery time and we often walked at night in the frigid air, both of us needing the fresh, germ-free slap the crisp outdoors provided as we each adjusted to the respective confinements the treatment protocol forced upon our once carefree lives. The darkness provided a comforting veil for Erin, hiding a 16-year-old's self-conscious insecurity about the emergence of the shiny head that had been covered by thick locks since the day she was born. <br />
<br />
On this particular evening as we ran into the backyard she shoved me, completely catching me off-guard, and I landed in a heap, surprised. Laughing. She plopped to the ground next to me and said, "Let's make snow angels." I can look at that patch in the backyard at this very moment and clearly see the imprint of those angels as if we just walked in the door now after making them. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">angel of God, my guardian dear</div><br />
Yes, Erin loved snow... The surrounding community knew that as well. <br />
<br />
I pulled a very special box out of the cabinet this morning.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjemITFQ8lyCIKpCoTBml5dgRvJczpotbOtxNkbhZXbO6tA6NSj1NJDwlJpqscsy9BdF6Af-_ltEUh6F2nQ_lRl-AqLb1kXJVbHKzpww3ybGQlkSxAQ5ls2asqsJkIDB5GSZNWKRMvuYwqM/s1600/IMG_0681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjemITFQ8lyCIKpCoTBml5dgRvJczpotbOtxNkbhZXbO6tA6NSj1NJDwlJpqscsy9BdF6Af-_ltEUh6F2nQ_lRl-AqLb1kXJVbHKzpww3ybGQlkSxAQ5ls2asqsJkIDB5GSZNWKRMvuYwqM/s320/IMG_0681.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;">When we brought Erin home from the hospital two years ago, </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;">the school family that had supported us for three years gave her a remarkable gift. </div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;">Every child, from the preschool through the eighth grade, cut paper snowflakes. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Each one unique. </div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOtfXmYPhvTTpIoCghWboDGamYyGyZvi3dHFP81fYffe4fjWkVHBJVIzQ9naeKCpkZnVxpKlY0Uj7SfXP_Jfo9o2BHIxGNgUKoTZ5RaLpbSwiyu7GW1tLF5zzzg9ApDGg-tykZk14LOPCc/s1600/IMG_0674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOtfXmYPhvTTpIoCghWboDGamYyGyZvi3dHFP81fYffe4fjWkVHBJVIzQ9naeKCpkZnVxpKlY0Uj7SfXP_Jfo9o2BHIxGNgUKoTZ5RaLpbSwiyu7GW1tLF5zzzg9ApDGg-tykZk14LOPCc/s320/IMG_0674.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">They came in all shapes, sizes and colors. </div><div style="text-align: center;">More than 500 snowflakes.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Some simple and white. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Others intricate and detailed. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbsnEWA2QHmEeD5eUt3QfeWABtp7hu016eXjlXpv1gAFNXGH3X3yMMTibMRZS2Z1skivQEX7FPxNNV6EC6_wXfVBue0p8U3P1tvyeeF6Kb5o5x-YkDbS4QQ6rSmWbgoiqn0LXDqSYZfqo/s1600/IMG_0676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbsnEWA2QHmEeD5eUt3QfeWABtp7hu016eXjlXpv1gAFNXGH3X3yMMTibMRZS2Z1skivQEX7FPxNNV6EC6_wXfVBue0p8U3P1tvyeeF6Kb5o5x-YkDbS4QQ6rSmWbgoiqn0LXDqSYZfqo/s320/IMG_0676.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Some held spirited announcements.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1IGqU8l-xHWKJf7A8PaNYqqUaiVh9aR3SV58IUo6BqvHj_F5Uf_FN_qtQnb2dykHll7_2182bNNvr_cUxgC73mE8JfycsjdGFftHIse4pExk33KjYEW8H7dVxL7Or45ekdyqaWNXgINDb/s1600/IMG_0665.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1IGqU8l-xHWKJf7A8PaNYqqUaiVh9aR3SV58IUo6BqvHj_F5Uf_FN_qtQnb2dykHll7_2182bNNvr_cUxgC73mE8JfycsjdGFftHIse4pExk33KjYEW8H7dVxL7Or45ekdyqaWNXgINDb/s320/IMG_0665.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">Others proclaimed important messages.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3bmZuJbgy2AoRrYbGU0chvFHF0q0ah3CY_Zmq4Iif5F5huP5p2HVEHJaO2NI1IGbI3QCqOWXPHO2ariR3O4SlT7xnwal5CEYeaTNxQ4NtZ4RBgZSz5L30VwzQdxjeko0JQwCbvj70bTi/s1600/IMG_0667.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3bmZuJbgy2AoRrYbGU0chvFHF0q0ah3CY_Zmq4Iif5F5huP5p2HVEHJaO2NI1IGbI3QCqOWXPHO2ariR3O4SlT7xnwal5CEYeaTNxQ4NtZ4RBgZSz5L30VwzQdxjeko0JQwCbvj70bTi/s320/IMG_0667.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Some were decorated with bright colors. Wishes for happiness.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib5sP19jfO4GEji57rPfKbPYsNr8BFMjXN7ZsqDi4rFK-Kn66eSLnzYKi3qrYmA_K8DWykUxWbdBcfwagNd_0parJoWU_2SrHXjPpG6gf9zjTVoszvjqhI1AbRm3XJiQNnJl8E9H6ERbl1/s1600/IMG_0669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib5sP19jfO4GEji57rPfKbPYsNr8BFMjXN7ZsqDi4rFK-Kn66eSLnzYKi3qrYmA_K8DWykUxWbdBcfwagNd_0parJoWU_2SrHXjPpG6gf9zjTVoszvjqhI1AbRm3XJiQNnJl8E9H6ERbl1/s320/IMG_0669.JPG" width="319" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Others held the promise of prayer and pledges to go forth.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Help for those in need.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-2rCzYgSlN9cmiLuGuPX-dQW04RW4fGueUFJbpCvw2EB9dPzN8ZXMfV0cQ7zDXPfZTRulej_raMRYZyN0X_xpWRzg7zXEuTzcPtSUp_Xc-3bMfamDdmI3Blda-FR9aBOFEnWIL9sor6f/s1600/IMG_0671.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-2rCzYgSlN9cmiLuGuPX-dQW04RW4fGueUFJbpCvw2EB9dPzN8ZXMfV0cQ7zDXPfZTRulej_raMRYZyN0X_xpWRzg7zXEuTzcPtSUp_Xc-3bMfamDdmI3Blda-FR9aBOFEnWIL9sor6f/s320/IMG_0671.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Yes Teresa, we were enveloped in a winter wonderland of love.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUUzuGUnykJAGlMon_T96O-p7FbWSczUOBOGkQRq7FFaNB5vQd1-5WUHLtO-Xiccvpm_CzI-ht92fe-5Md_syo9CMO78teHxPugcNvQecE5rjk9TE-Om72KTzJOMOk75Atc-yZvFOnNNj/s1600/IMG_0670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUUzuGUnykJAGlMon_T96O-p7FbWSczUOBOGkQRq7FFaNB5vQd1-5WUHLtO-Xiccvpm_CzI-ht92fe-5Md_syo9CMO78teHxPugcNvQecE5rjk9TE-Om72KTzJOMOk75Atc-yZvFOnNNj/s320/IMG_0670.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Erin and I had sat and read each one.<br />
Little by little, I had begun to hang some on the walls of her downstairs bedroom.<br />
We didn't have the chance to hang them all...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">On December 22nd, they lined the walls of the funeral home. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Again, the work of the community's hands. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I remember children coming through the line.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Mrs Potts, did you see my snowflake? It's on the wall over there. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> Do you like it? Did Erin like it?" </div><div style="text-align: center;">Yes. Yes. Yes.<br />
Erin loved them.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I loved them then. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I love them just as much now. Maybe even more if that's possible.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I remember that they hung from the Christmas trees on the altar </div><div style="text-align: center;">of the church on December 23rd.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Alison and Jen sang "For Good" and John sang "Silent NIght".</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">such an extraordinary and blessed gift</div><div style="text-align: center;">then and now</div><div style="text-align: center;">thank you, all of you, dear friends</div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't know if you understand how much I cherish these treasures</div><div style="text-align: center;">and all the letters and emails that came then</div><div style="text-align: center;">and continue to arrive these days</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">there is marked depth to the written word that</div><div style="text-align: center;">is borne of emotion and allowed to flow freely</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">a precious gift</div><div style="text-align: center;"> received with profound gratitude</div><div style="text-align: center;">~ ~ ~</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">angel of God, my guardian dear ...<br />
ever this day, be at my side</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMA73s3A1bv6BBavUCuhCgucGou977ioXTP5_n1QDrGhAAWPC0lNVipkWbypK_DEjozsLDvYxG3hiuU8IcBj038jdwVp1MAtpOF59N8td8zpO9Xo4Kn7ibUmfrFtSibVZHzWtgWnyAOlnZ/s1600/IMG_0672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMA73s3A1bv6BBavUCuhCgucGou977ioXTP5_n1QDrGhAAWPC0lNVipkWbypK_DEjozsLDvYxG3hiuU8IcBj038jdwVp1MAtpOF59N8td8zpO9Xo4Kn7ibUmfrFtSibVZHzWtgWnyAOlnZ/s320/IMG_0672.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">to light and guard,</div><div style="text-align: center;">to rule and guide</div>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-76359537864239659662011-12-07T01:57:00.017-06:002011-12-10T16:10:25.700-06:00in hidingprofessed intentions of purpose and thought-filled actions and failure and swimming cancer cells and hyperventilation and corn bags and clementines and snowflakes and chocolate ensure splattered on a wall and a volleyball player who was so damn good and biopsies and pine cones and plaster dust and chicken tenders and bags of ugly orange doxorubicin and twinkle lights and chemo farts and gratitude and brain bleeds and project linus tie blankets and oxygen tanks and sprays of red berries and benadryl and commercialism and ambivalence and facebook and wheelchairs and strands of snowflake lights in a bedroom with an empty bed and an ambulance ride in the middle of the night and a wee christmas tree from a bit of earth in vermont and a turkey baster and countless tumors and the phone stopped ringing and rivers of tears and the smell of chlorine and bald heads and a finger lap counter-30 flippin laps! and atrophied leg muscles and a stunning letter dated may 2010 -xo and needles and a silky golden boy and refrigerators in living rooms and #8 and sleepless nights and rain machines and deep-seated anger and diffusion and confusion and saline flushes and pictionary and bombed out platelet counts and a kid who was never sick and a recliner and a school backpack still packed and my lip is numb, your lip is what and 15-18-23 and i have been changed for good and paralyzing grief and regrets and the overwhelming desire to disappear and a poem in my inbox<br />
<blockquote>Be infinitessimal under that sky, a creature<br />
even the sailing hawk misses, a wraith<br />
among the rocks where the mist parts slowly.<br />
Recall the way mere mortals are overwhelmed<br />
by circumstance, how great reputations<br />
dissolve with infirmity and how you,<br />
in particular, live a hairsbreadth from losing<br />
everyone you hold dear.<br />
<br />
Then, look back down the path as if seeing<br />
your past and then south over the hazy blue<br />
coast as if present to a wide future.<br />
Remember the way you are all possibilities<br />
you can see and how you live best<br />
as an appreciator of horizons,<br />
whether you reach them or not.<br />
<br />
Admit that once you have got up<br />
from your chair and opened the door,<br />
once you have walked out into the clean air<br />
toward that edge and taken the path up high<br />
beyond the ordinary, you have become<br />
the privileged and the pilgrim,<br />
the one who will tell the story<br />
and the one, coming back<br />
from the mountain,<br />
who helped to make it.<br />
<br />
<b>Mameen</b><br />
-- David Whyte<br />
from River Flow </blockquote>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-15537071975938103462011-11-18T06:56:00.005-06:002011-11-19T07:14:01.198-06:00A Few Bits and PiecesIf you're one of the kind folks who checks in here on a regular basis, you've most likely noticed I've not been posting often as of late. I've recently received a few "are you ok?" emails, much like I did while I was still in the narcoleptic phase of post-surgical recovery last <a href="http://inspiredbyerin.blogspot.com/2011_04_01_archive.html">April</a>. Yes, I'm here and I'm OK. Thank you for your concern.<br />
<br />
On one hand I've been incredibly busy with my new job/s. Beginning employment in a new area (in healthcare as opposed to a school system/athletics where I'd spent <i>years</i> in my before-cancer-invaded-my-whole-world life, where I was quite comfortable and confident) has involved many hours over the past few months with my brain directed toward the absorption of a mountain of new materials and the task of familiarizing myself with the procedures and flows of <i>several</i> departments.<br />
<br />
I'm grateful for the opportunities afforded by the managers of these various areas of the hospital, and I'm gradually settling into a routine that provides a welcome balance of physical activity (from my therapy pool instruction where I benefit from the restorative effects of exercise in warm water as much as the members of my classes do), the brain-power challenge of computer technology and the complex insurance world (@&*#) and the opportunity to have face-to-face contact with patients and their families.<br />
<br />
Admittedly, on occasion, I've been nervous and overwhelmed. OK, pretty much exhausted and scared shitless here and there! It's both exciting and unnerving to begin life again at my "mature" age and to balance that with the time I continue to feel is personally necessary to grieve. If I deny myself that proportional time, I find "Erin" oozing out in an undesirable fashion rather than finding her spirit through purposeful living and the respect of honoring her wishes. Have fun. Yes <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">lovey</span>. <br />
<br />
Someone who walks a path similar to mine recently said, "It often requires so much energy to get through the day at work with a smile on my face, and when I walk out the door I can finally let down. I usually cry the whole way home from work in the safety of my car, and then put the smile back on for my younger son when I get home." <br />
<br />
I've had comparable experiences. Because I couldn't return to my former place of employment, where everyone knew my circumstances and there was an established comfort level, I've had to start from square one. I would create a potentially awkward environment if I were to walk into each new department and say, "Hi there. I'm the new girl, and by the way, my daughter died. It was terrible. Still is. It's coming up on two years now and I'm working very hard to stay out of the treacherous hole this time of year invites me to crawl in." I've confided in a few individuals and the word is spreading, so it's getting a little easier, but I still have to consciously keep myself in check. It's not always easy, so that tension has to go somewhere and it has often been poured out in this space. <br />
<blockquote>I'm trying hard not to do that because I led you down that road with me last year. There's no need for me to take you again.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_whZ8pbtIjwE/SAmB6WYLzYI/AAAAAAAADpA/qlm0g6MG8WA/s400/heart1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_whZ8pbtIjwE/SAmB6WYLzYI/AAAAAAAADpA/qlm0g6MG8WA/s200/heart1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
A few posts ago, I wrote about the threatening descent this time of year invites. My circumstances now are different than those of last November-December. A year ago, while unemployed, I allowed myself the luxury of wallowing neck deep through the first anniversary. I curled up with my blanket and wrote a lot during that time. I'm glad I did. The tangible <a href="http://inspiredbyerin.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2010-12-18T00:00:00-06:00&max-results=20">pain</a> that's very evident in those <a href="http://inspiredbyerin.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html">posts</a> which I typed while sinking into the agonizing memories of those days, often hour by hour, was a requisite process that enabled me to move in a forward direction after turning the calendar page to January 2011.<br />
<br />
This year, I'm making an effort to diffuse the concentration of the pain of those memories by focusing outward on the things in my life that I've found to be purposeful and positive, as I continually remind myself of the sound advice that one should <u>remember</u> and not <u>relive</u> the experiences. Embrace <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">Erin</span>, and separate her from the grief associated with the results of a disease outside the realm of our control. I have been fairly successful thus far, due in part to the receptive venue provided by my employment situation in combination with some other events.</blockquote>Tomorrow, I'll be volunteering with the Bear Necessities Pediatric Cancer Foundation and making ornaments with current pediatric cancer patients at one of the Chicago hospitals. I'm looking forward to rolling up my sleeves and getting paint spatters on my face with the little sweethearts whose radiant lights will shine through their energetic and optimistic personalities. Those qualities can be extremely contagious! Thank goodness.<br />
<br />
Also, there has been an abundant response to my mention of Katherine's <a href="http://inspiredbyerin.blogspot.com/2011/10/little-things-really-are-big-things.html">Project Linus</a> endeavor. Donations, both monetary and purchased fabric, have arrived in my mailbox and in bags by my front door.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Check it out Katherine!</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OI1IQOIwU_JbyGOPODomWLm3odJ7wuD9zMMJYbFkyH2oWu0pwLwUsN6NB0MRk-6rVdmnIiNO6G7FakjU5zmIHFBGZJ6X31MDeLLgNbEGruXGOp4-nrdNCcb6409BlCD7R7NcNm7TLXei/s1600/IMG_0635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OI1IQOIwU_JbyGOPODomWLm3odJ7wuD9zMMJYbFkyH2oWu0pwLwUsN6NB0MRk-6rVdmnIiNO6G7FakjU5zmIHFBGZJ6X31MDeLLgNbEGruXGOp4-nrdNCcb6409BlCD7R7NcNm7TLXei/s320/IMG_0635.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">just a few</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
They've arrived from ~ family members ~ neighbors ~ my friends ~ Erin's friends ~ the Purdue University Volleyball and Women's Hoops teams ~ Sarah's friends ~ Girl Scout Troops from St Cletus who gathered to actually make the blankets so they could fully experience and therefore understand the true intention of the activity ~ a beautiful letter enveloping a check that came all the way from California from a reader of my blog whose only son passed away from sarcoma; a young man who'd been wrapped in a warm refuge of his own to soften the harsh florescent backdrop while serving chemo/hospital time ~ another one, made by the loving hands of a mother whose son also died from Ewings and is buried near Erin at Bronswood, we met one day... the Lord provides in amazing ways.<br />
<br />
Project Linus, which is really not my project at all, but rather Katherine's, has been a totally unexpected blessing from which I've reaped immeasurable bounty. My deep gratitude extends to one and all.<br />
<br />
Last month I had my six-month post kidney donation checkup. I am pleased to report that I'm the picture of health. I'm even happier to tell you that Jim is doing fine. He is down to one lab draw each week, (from three) all his levels are good, there are no signs of rejection and he has gained back some much-needed weight.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images3.cafepress.com/image/46709393_125x125.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images3.cafepress.com/image/46709393_125x125.png" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"></span> I've recently added a new fashion accessory to my wardrobe in the form of a little button with this message.<br />
<br />
This is a new interest I've started to pursue.<br />
<br />
Yeah, I know. There she goes! <br />
First blood, now body parts, right?<br />
<br />
Froedtert Hospital in Milwaukee, where Jim and I had our surgeries, has begun a support group that invites organ recipients, hopeful people on national transplant lists... waiting, individuals on dialysis... waiting, and caregivers to gather together on a regular basis. Meetings are facilitated by social workers and the topics vary, based on requests of those involved. A week ago, the topic centered on exploring the possibility of living donations. I desperately wanted to go to the meeting, to listen to and talk with those in attendance, some of whom are considering the testing process to be a living donor to a relative or friend. The meeting was held on a weeknight, and I'd been at work all day and couldn't drive to Milwaukee. The social workers were kind enough to conference call me in and I was able to share my positive experience with the 50 individuals who had gathered. THAT was pretty weird! It was strange to speak through the phone to a group without having the benefit of eye-contact, facial expression and body language to key into.<br />
<br />
Through the social workers, I have made myself available for phone calls to answer questions and relate my experiences to those considering living donation. They've also encouraged Jim to soon begin mentoring those who are in "waiting-mode". I think the two of us together could be an effective one-two punch of advocacy for this below the radar situation. According to the <a href="http://optn.transplant.hrsa.gov/latestData/rptData.asp">Organ Procurement and Transplant Network</a>, there are over 96,000 people in the US on the waiting list for a kidney! I'm exploring the various ways to become involved, at Froedtert and locally, because it was truly a piece of cake on my part. Not kidding!<br />
<br />
Back to the topic of blood donations. Thank you to those who continue to offer a pint on a regular basis. I can't tell you how much it means to receive a simple email or text message - "Donated in memory of Erin today. Thinking of her. Thinking of you." I can close my eyes and see her sitting in a chair pre-transfusion, pale and tired. I can see her cheeks pink up and her eyes brighten and her energy level increase as that gift some kind soul had sat a few minutes to give coursed through her. Keep donating, everyone. You're making a HUGE difference in the lives of others who desperately need you.<br />
<blockquote>One other thing I want to mention in this post is the link down near the bottom of my sidebar <a href="http://limeandsnow.tumblr.com/">To E Love Saysee</a>. When Erin was a little girl, she began to call Sarah "Saysee". I have no idea how or why it started, but the nickname stuck through the years. </blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BUDiOSm-pBI/TQuf58VaQVI/AAAAAAAABoc/lDnq2ih6dZM/s1600/SarahErin5-2009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BUDiOSm-pBI/TQuf58VaQVI/AAAAAAAABoc/lDnq2ih6dZM/s320/SarahErin5-2009.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><blockquote>The link takes you to Sarah's Tumblr - a series of photos. Once you're there, the sentence under the title explains her intention. If you're so inclined, take a peek.</blockquote><blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguLP08ASH2AWbjGOyD29_c7a7Z-Nncj2vuWwP60YsuwlzW09Hop4MeOICMzKynYkjenaEkUibvd7VR2popoU-EhH2_75v6Df4NgvxjZZIBuMctAY1slZaEFC9GHeE_v-PoyzZRM6A66W14/s1600/IMG_0628.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguLP08ASH2AWbjGOyD29_c7a7Z-Nncj2vuWwP60YsuwlzW09Hop4MeOICMzKynYkjenaEkUibvd7VR2popoU-EhH2_75v6Df4NgvxjZZIBuMctAY1slZaEFC9GHeE_v-PoyzZRM6A66W14/s320/IMG_0628.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
If you knew Erin in person, or have gotten to know her through my posts, you will see <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">her</span> in the majority of photos in the Tumblr. I took the one above of some treasures that still sit on Erin's dresser, and you will see one of those objects mirrored in a couple of Sarah's choices. This new space has been a source of enlightenment, comfort, tears and laughter for me as I read a story about my two daughters told from Sarah's perspective. </blockquote><br />
Well, I certainly said a lot! What began as " a FEW bits and pieces" turned into quite the novel here! It's been a while and I had a number of things to share with you. Again, thanks for your concern. I'm certainly entering into the dark months and it's good to have you all there. Now... it's time for me to get ready to go to that job I mentioned above. <br />
<br />
I hope all of you have a wonderful Thanksgiving. The owner of my Milwaukee kidney and his wife will be among those who gather around our table. Their daughter, her husband and this fabulous beast will join our immediate family as well. Keenan is so excited that Finn is coming!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitLk5zmt_bM-nCK-QVnepMaLDStm6Rm1D9Uh4x9TTkt7YDBMCvc6uGZLNJN8hSWA9NdhzeFJZKXbNo3EItAc3DAGwoHxxZhHXtUHeRciLV7bqIELCPR6CCCO3QIOEkZRchw78NQezN61_3/s1600/Our+dog+3.jpg" style="color: #5588aa; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="" border="0" height="133" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642192453826847954" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitLk5zmt_bM-nCK-QVnepMaLDStm6Rm1D9Uh4x9TTkt7YDBMCvc6uGZLNJN8hSWA9NdhzeFJZKXbNo3EItAc3DAGwoHxxZhHXtUHeRciLV7bqIELCPR6CCCO3QIOEkZRchw78NQezN61_3/s200/Our+dog+3.jpg" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; display: block; height: 266px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" width="200" /></a></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">May we all count our blessings on that day.</div><br />
PS - please take a moment today to say a prayer or think a positive thought for my blog friend <a href="http://metanoia-mrc.blogspot.com/">Robin</a>. You've most likely read her comments after some of my posts. Her son Josh died by suicide three years ago, and today she is undergoing breast cancer surgery. She is a newly ordained Pastor in the Presbyterian Church, a brilliant individual and gifted writer.<br />
Thank you.Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-5205690494041612432011-11-04T07:32:00.000-05:002011-11-04T07:32:56.865-05:00holding you<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">with deep respect, we honor the memory of <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/11/03/kelli-olaughlin-murder-su_n_1073508.html">Kelli O'Laughlin</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">as she is laid to rest today</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and we hold her loving family close to us </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">during this time of profound heartache</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Fy3b3W-Bv4NaPNTwhp4bWjbcOiRV1rdMq_noISWJMKZgoisRnWliNa5Luk9PubRvFyOhFc248BelmsUufmT3HUlXvx_vyvy4BKGvbxZzBx-TX85oL93apKkZXU-Cpom-cknKo6caw6pL/s1600/IMG_0626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Fy3b3W-Bv4NaPNTwhp4bWjbcOiRV1rdMq_noISWJMKZgoisRnWliNa5Luk9PubRvFyOhFc248BelmsUufmT3HUlXvx_vyvy4BKGvbxZzBx-TX85oL93apKkZXU-Cpom-cknKo6caw6pL/s640/IMG_0626.JPG" width="411" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">knowing firsthand how we gained strength</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">through the love and unity of this same community </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">with ribbons bound in solidarity</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">embracing us during our own time of sorrow</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">~ ~ ~</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4y6_5ocht7AJr475AkM01M58O8ruGOZ3mDYBfnJME1MVbO-Y0Z-ev7zzP08tTVCvHWEFREBVUb6ig7eGIowCY1h7VCA9VJMPpl81g7JXxlY1dCoEV7vTXaIyJwqaiZ-7cJYt42Wcgf-w/s1600/Ribbon%2526Rose12-19-09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4y6_5ocht7AJr475AkM01M58O8ruGOZ3mDYBfnJME1MVbO-Y0Z-ev7zzP08tTVCvHWEFREBVUb6ig7eGIowCY1h7VCA9VJMPpl81g7JXxlY1dCoEV7vTXaIyJwqaiZ-7cJYt42Wcgf-w/s400/Ribbon%2526Rose12-19-09.jpg" width="265" /></a></div>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-57221265731331190542011-10-30T21:47:00.004-05:002011-11-08T15:03:18.376-06:00descending<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">What We Want</span><br />
<br />
What we want<br />
is never simple.<br />
We move among the things<br />
we thought we wanted:<br />
a face, a room, an open book<br />
and these things bear our names—<br />
now they want us.<br />
<br />
But what we want appears<br />
in dreams, wearing disguises.<br />
We fall past,<br />
holding out our arms<br />
and in the morning<br />
our arms ache.<br />
<br />
We don't remember the dream,<br />
but the dream remembers us.<br />
It is there all day<br />
as an animal is there<br />
under the table,<br />
as the stars are there<br />
even in full sun.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">--Linda Pastan</span><br />
<br />
The treacherous season has arrived and I'm feeling the onset of the descent; the path upon which I set foot five years ago this very weekend. Mild concern that transitioned into confusion, then snowballed into sheer panic and eventually converged on December 15 with a diagnosis. A sentence. A <i>death</i> sentence that wouldn't register at the time. It couldn't... then. Determinations from the white coats who had peered into microscopes in a cold lab, scrutinizing slides holding slices of tissue - small round blue cells with their scant neoplasm, a translocation between chromosomes 11 and 22. What?<br />
Then, survival rates. Statistics. A prognosis. <br />
<br />
Three years later, and ironically again at this time of year, those hellishly despotic cells that stealthily avoided our earnest wage of chemical, physical and radiologic warfare made a clear declaration that they had gained the upper hand over my ever-optomstic and spirited last born, stripping her from my grasp and leaving a vacuous space that cannot be filled by anyone or anything. She is irreplaceable. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://ih2.redbubble.net/work.6751498.1.flat,550x550,075,f.empty-chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://ih2.redbubble.net/work.6751498.1.flat,550x550,075,f.empty-chair.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">empty chair AlanPee</span></div><br />
I move about the days looking perfectly normal, smiling even, while searching for bandaids and therapeutic repair of my spent character. Some efforts work for a time, the palliative respites of which I grew intimately familiar as I watched them work their magic and spell my daughter's physical distress time and again for three long years. Salve and some breathing space. Amen.<br />
<br />
Other attempts fall miserably short, and as I work to crawl back out of holes, often results of my shovel's sharpened blade, I'm reminded to perhaps lower my expectations of not only the general population, but of my own self as well.<br />
<br />
Why engage in the descent? I still need to. Walk away, you say? Can't.<br />
Just curl up on the couch with your blanket, Mary. Stay there. You're so tired from all the effort. Sleep.<br />
But those dreams are there...<br />
<br />
And I'm confused by them. I can't have what I desperately want, and so it comes down to settling for alternatives that don't add up. I was comforted by the absolute fact for years that 1 + 1 + 1 +1 was equal to 4. Now, I find myself shaken by the basic principles of subtraction. I used to love math, but no one took the time to explain the <i>reason</i> that 1 would be taken away from 4, and I'd be left with only 3.<br />
I've developed an aversion to odd numbers. <br />
<br />
I was once more than just the mother of Erin, but when the ground swallowed her it took nearly everything defining me with it.<br />
<br />
who the hell am iMary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-10821161687637189802011-10-19T11:55:00.002-05:002011-10-20T07:03:32.263-05:00The Little Things Really Are The BIG THINGS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqErENdmrAcyJiaW2Sp-Uh99tsDDdX0590kxOobi0muL1xaCG_n1p9ax0QCG_PCd6KoTuEnVPh9t88SQIkKkZElq7116bvtZzwwA-1RgNe1WFTJ4bjsa2Nxnlo4MTytqPetnzY1-UxUvb/s1600/SunflowerKM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqErENdmrAcyJiaW2Sp-Uh99tsDDdX0590kxOobi0muL1xaCG_n1p9ax0QCG_PCd6KoTuEnVPh9t88SQIkKkZElq7116bvtZzwwA-1RgNe1WFTJ4bjsa2Nxnlo4MTytqPetnzY1-UxUvb/s320/SunflowerKM.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I've come to know a young lady through email correspondence. Her thoughtfulness and level of wisdom extends beyond her years ~ a portion of her insight acquired through personal experience with a loved one and the rest due to the innate sensitivity and acumen of which I recently wrote; that which finds its home inside certain vibrant and ambitious young souls. (I included part of an email toward the bottom of <a href="http://inspiredbyerin.blogspot.com/2010/12/welcome-to-my-cozy-room.html">THIS POST</a> nearly a year ago. Scroll way down to the Project Linus graphic and take a few moments to read the simple words that pack the punch of an understanding many struggle to achieve.)<br />
<br />
Katherine is from our community. She played volleyball for a time, and that is where her path crossed Erin's some years ago. She is a graduate of the University of Iowa and is now working toward a degree as a Child Life Specialist - an individual who works in pediatrics departments to assist patients and families as they cope with serious illnesses and trauma. We had the good fortune of meeting a few of those enthusiastic individuals during our own time spent in the hospitals here in Chicago.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">She is organizing and directing the <a href="http://www.projectlinus.org/">Project Linus Event</a> in Iowa. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.expressionsinthreads.com/images/projectlinus2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.expressionsinthreads.com/images/projectlinus2.gif" width="319" /></a></div><br />
In her words ~<br />
<blockquote>For the third year in a row, I am heading up the University of Iowa's very own Project Linus event. Project Linus, as most of you already know, is a national non-profit whose mission is to provide warmth and security to children facing adversity. On Friday, December 2nd (let's all face the fact that, yes, December is right around the corner) University of Iowa faculty, students and community members will come together for one day and make tied fleece blankets. The blankets will be donated to pediatric patients at the University of Iowa Children's Hospital (both trauma patients in the ER and inpatients fighting cancer, cystic fibrosis and other life-threatening illnesses). I am so very proud of what we've been able to accomplish in the last two years and can't wait to see how successful we are this year.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">(last year they made179!)</span><br />
<br />
I know it feels early to be thinking about the holiday season, but please consider making a contribution to this worthy cause. I wish I could explain how incredible it is to bring the blankets to the hospital and see the kids (and their parents) light up. A local news station aired a story about this event last year in which the broadcaster said, "sometimes the little things really are the big things."<br />
That sums it up perfectly.</blockquote><br />
Yes, it does.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CbMmY0WxaAY/TDXWJPtCRFI/AAAAAAAABJQ/XGI1VRXSSpw/s1600/ErinKeenanMarch08.jpg" style="color: #2288bb; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491530774970778706" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CbMmY0WxaAY/TDXWJPtCRFI/AAAAAAAABJQ/XGI1VRXSSpw/s400/ErinKeenanMarch08.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976562) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0976562) 1px 1px 5px; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a></span>This photo was taken at home, but both blankets had been made for Erin by volleyball team members, and they accompanied her on trips to the hospital whenever she was admitted for chemo and/or surgeries. I had one, also, that had been made by a class of 2nd graders "to keep Mrs Potts warm and cozy". It did. Still does...<br />
<blockquote>Katherine suggests donations in the form of<br />
<br />
<ul><li>Checks </li>
</ul>You can make them out to me, Mary Potts, and mail them to ~<br />
825 S Stone Ave<br />
La Grange, IL 60525<br />
I will, in turn, forward them to Katherine.<br />
Cash works too.<br />
These donations will be used to buy fleece.<br />
The average blanket costs between $25-35 to make.<br />
<br />
<ul><li>Material (more work, but lots of fun!):</li>
</ul>For one blanket, purchase two (2) cuts of fleece, 1.5 yards each<br />
-one with a pattern suitable for a child/adolescent<br />
-one with a solid color that matches or compliments the pattern<br />
<br />
Suggested places to shop - JoAnn Fabric, Hobby Lobby and WalMart all sell fleece.<br />
If you do go to JoAnn, never go without a coupon! Coupons can be found in the Sunday paper and on their website.<br />
Check out <a href="http://www.joann.com/joann/catalog/category.jsp?_DARGS=/joann/catalog/categoryleftnav.jsp.9_A&_DAV=fullPath&_dynSessConf=-6334381950337424814&categoryExpand=true&CATID=cat2743&supercatId=&allProducts=&categoryName=fleece+fabric&categoryfullPath=all+products////product+home////fabric////fleece+fabric&narrowSelection=false&subCatName=fleece+fabric&categoryPage=categoryPage">THIS LINK</a> to see some of the great fabric choices!</blockquote>Fabric can be dropped at my house and I will take it to Katherine's parents' home where she will pick it up. Please mail check/drop off donations <b>before Thanksgiving</b> so I can make sure Katherine has them by the <b>Friday, December 2nd assembly date in Iowa</b>.<br />
<br />
This is a pretty easy way to make a BIG difference in the life of a sick child. Perhaps teachers and coaches could ask for $1 from their students/team members, and the efforts of each class/team could buy the fabric for one blanket. Add them up - that's a lot of blankets! <br />
<br />
Individuals who are out shopping can swing buy a store and choose some really cool fabrics. Think about patterns and colors that would make your own kids happy. Even better, let your kids go with you and choose the fabrics.<br />
<br />
Oooooh - I just found the graphic below. It's a Girl Scout patch! What a great project for a Troop.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.nitrosell.com/product_images/7/1683/PROJECT%20LINUS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://images.nitrosell.com/product_images/7/1683/PROJECT%20LINUS.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">And the J is topped with a sunflower. </div><div style="text-align: center;">How about that!</div><div style="text-align: center;">I think I have to go shopping!!!</div>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-52188132110669451902011-10-12T07:16:00.001-05:002011-10-13T17:07:38.939-05:00Homeostasis?At a recent TCF meeting we talked about the lack of understanding and/or support from friends and family members (immediate and extended) in the wakes of the deaths of our children, a recurring theme in discussions; a pronounced concern for the newly bereaved as well as for those of us who are moving farther away from the date of our children's passings. <br />
<br />
As parents, we're always seated in the spot up front, the driver's seat. Although we wore the safety belts of responsibility at the time of our children's deaths (by illness, accident, suicide...), the impact of that collision hit us head-on, forcefully launching us through the windshield. Those carefully buckled belts of security somehow gave way, admonishing us with further evidence that we were not in control of so many things in spite of our earnest care of those blessings we brought into this world and worked diligently to care for. Now, in the aftermath, we walk though life attempting to make peace with the awful images of long-term sicknesses that stole our children piece-by-piece, or pictures of a sudden, violent death that have forever embedded themselves in our heads, accompanied by running dialogues of regret/guilt over <i>should-haves</i> - countered by - <i>stop! it does no good to go there</i> over things past.<br />
<br />
<i>Move on!!</i> It doesn't work that way. I'm sorry. It doesn't all just go away. Peace is elusive because everything changes. Reread <i>Death Barged In</i> in my recent post. BANG!<br />
<br />
We're making determined efforts to find new paths in an unexpected, detoured life while facing the ever-present <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; color: white;">GAPING HOLES</span> where our children should be - sunflowers instead of a healthy 20-year-old beauty in a bridesmaid's dress... <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">erin #8</span> on sweatbands rather than "Assists, Service Aces and Digs" listed in the Box Scores of some University under "Potts, Erin, Jr, class of 2013"... <br />
<br />
We're assaulted by empty chairs everywhere we look.<br />
Instead, we find our children in cemeteries, names boldly etched in marble grave markers.<br />
<br />
The practice of staying in the present moment to road-block the painful memories of the past isn't always easy, because present moments are often underscored by the absence of our child. So, where does that leave us? In a state of an exhausting discipline of restructured thought patterns, SO very thankful for the gestures of sunflowers, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">erin #8</span> sweatbands, etc and in need of ongoing support and understanding from those around us because life will be a never-ending series of those gaping holes.<br />
<br />
That doesn't always happen, and our pain is exacerbated by the lack of understanding of our struggle to move forward in spite of our sadness - the lack of willingness to acknowledge our pain, with the underlying thought that perhaps we should be better by now - the lack of considerate appreciation of the plain and simple fact that a huge part of us died along with our children and we will never <i>ever ever</i> be the same in spite of the fact that we appear to be "normal" on the outside. <br />
<br />
Certain individuals have a greater level of understanding than others; perhaps due to a personal experience that has offered a paralleled glimpse into our world.<br />
(Cancer? No, she has eyebrows!)<br />
<br />
Some have the wisdom of years coupled with a long-held bond of friendship, a maturity that invites a sense of confidence; where a tender, sympathetic heart inspires <a href="http://sewandsowlife.blogspot.com/2011/09/shining-light.html">creative energy</a> to flow through one's fingers to gift us with tangible evidence of love and an alliance across the miles between.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEi-PDZMSnol_7jiKlEX-qB8SmNfO_B7Zr8mt-aSuHHUFu-SU6Z1eR-jUP64fi33m4Rm2YnafN5gtFJgabsLe48dEOFNF_SREzZ-9OVWhyphenhyphenU6du0n0OIx8G5_4ZfrWSJNM1a4iLMGFnzpqV/s1600/IMG_0613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEi-PDZMSnol_7jiKlEX-qB8SmNfO_B7Zr8mt-aSuHHUFu-SU6Z1eR-jUP64fi33m4Rm2YnafN5gtFJgabsLe48dEOFNF_SREzZ-9OVWhyphenhyphenU6du0n0OIx8G5_4ZfrWSJNM1a4iLMGFnzpqV/s320/IMG_0613.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Maybe it's a genetic component that predisposes some with an innate ability to think on this plane; a vibrancy of youth driven by an internal sensitivity and an awareness of and appreciation for the blessings of good health and the opportunities of a life ahead; a willingness and initiative taken to share an important message with whomever is randomly touched on a particular day.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOB0gOrJm2rJFfn60JJe_8vsiWiceKf2acCcAJyc1Zfjwlj-YeDzt-hN2fki2KnGP4JqQviDAKDmbWD-2jTX33mx5MGFKVyoy3lL1Bj2amWim-TfDCHCHTBQ4VN0RCn-EfazRiENre2gu/s1600/IMG_0609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOB0gOrJm2rJFfn60JJe_8vsiWiceKf2acCcAJyc1Zfjwlj-YeDzt-hN2fki2KnGP4JqQviDAKDmbWD-2jTX33mx5MGFKVyoy3lL1Bj2amWim-TfDCHCHTBQ4VN0RCn-EfazRiENre2gu/s320/IMG_0609.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Or the coach and members of the local volleyball family who remember a young girl whose time was abruptly cut short, and they take time to recognize her and support research in the hope that someday this disease won't take others. Please see <a href="http://lagrange.patch.com/articles/lt-volleyball-remembers-potts-with-second-annual-cancer-fundraiser">Patch.com</a> for last night's event.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 205px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=9104253809138432847&postID=5218813211066945190" id="photo_8086951" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #0044aa; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="" src="http://o1.aolcdn.com/dims-shared/dims3/PATCH/resize/273x203/http://hss-prod.hss.aol.com/hss/storage/patch/ac233001f0e7fb9f22453498bc235808" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: middle;" /></a></span><br />
<br />
All these people are among the saving graces in our lives.<br />
<br />
So, what about those who don't get it? Those who don't call anymore... or worse, never did. I'll bite my cheeks and stifle my fingers to refrain from sharing details. Through my own experience and a gained perspective through listening to the stories recounted by others in my shoes, I know it is due to a multitude of reasons: a lack of understanding, the fear of many things, embarrassment, self-absorption, the choice to not "go there", one's own hectic life taking priority... a multitude of reasons. I often think... well, I won't say.<br />
<br />
Someone recently told me it's due to homeostasis. <br />
Huh? Hmmmm<br />
<blockquote>~ the tendency of a system, especially the physiological system of higher animals, to maintain stability, owing to the coordinated response of its parts to any situation or stimulus that would tend to disturb its normal condition or function.</blockquote>Think about it. <i> A disturbance of normal conditions. The need to maintain stability, balance, normalcy. </i><br />
<br />
The death of a loved one, especially a child, catastrophically disrupts the normal "system" - and you can define that system on narrow terms as one's own personal self where one fights one's own demons, or broaden it to define the system of the family unit including immediate and extended members or widen it even more to encompass the whole community that knew the individual who died. <br />
<br />
By the laws of nature, a system wants to remain in balance and works steadily to do so. So the people who act as though nothing has happened or those unable or unwilling to speak our children's names or those that are "just complete idiots" (not my words, well maybe), are simply nature's way of providing the counter balance to right the scale that has dipped dramatically - its tray holding the overwhelming weight of sadness due to the loved one's death, along with the many individuals who climb in to provide faithful support.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.all-free-download.com/images/graphiclarge/scale_clip_art_17489.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="154" src="http://images.all-free-download.com/images/graphiclarge/scale_clip_art_17489.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
In order to bring the system back into homeostatic equilibrium where it is "meant to be", these folks kindly assume the role of the opposing force. <br />
Everyone has a purpose.<br />
<br />
It's an interesting thought to begin your Wednesday morning!Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-56554598003590856872011-09-28T21:47:00.000-05:002011-09-28T21:47:11.273-05:00the traces of suffering<i>And then something happened. It's hard to believe, it's such a sad day. At around five I went down to Madame Michel's loge (I mean Renee's loge) with Kakuro because he wanted to get some of her clothes to take them to the hospital morgue. He rang at our door and asked Maman if he could speak to me. But I had guessed it would be him, I was already there. Of course I wanted to go with him. We took the elevator down, not speaking. He looked very tired, more tired than sad, and I thought, That is what suffering looks like on a wise face. It's not apparent; it just leaves traces that make you look very very tired. Do I look tired, too?</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio7yU2umBq7-LH3guyaUDl_J5Ngv5XlN7-fphWJd90dMiJ1OCc3gGecD6UpDeWh4Vwei2P7Lc3kCFLCBb54oiVgYgXVf_hBPlvG4qyRDKSR3kxFCyYnR8iVEI7xrV1G5t64ofwu65B3VuU/s1600/IMG_0622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio7yU2umBq7-LH3guyaUDl_J5Ngv5XlN7-fphWJd90dMiJ1OCc3gGecD6UpDeWh4Vwei2P7Lc3kCFLCBb54oiVgYgXVf_hBPlvG4qyRDKSR3kxFCyYnR8iVEI7xrV1G5t64ofwu65B3VuU/s320/IMG_0622.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">excerpt from "The Elegance of the Hedgehog"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">- Muriel Barbery</span>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-6139798834609207212011-09-20T10:25:00.001-05:002011-09-21T06:26:37.574-05:00thanks dory<iframe width="500" height="284" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/CmyUkm2qlhA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
the song is now in my head too<br />
she's such a wise oneMary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-12789031973969172532011-09-12T07:27:00.003-05:002011-09-14T07:43:19.334-05:00Instrusion<blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Death Barged In </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">by Kathleen Sheeder Bonanno</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>In his Russian greatcoat</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>slamming open the door </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>with an unpardonable bang,</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>and he has been here ever since.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>He changes everything,</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>rearranges the furniture,</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>his hand hovers </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>by the phone;</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>he will answer now, he says;</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>he will be the answer.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Tonight he sits down to dinner</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>at the head of the table</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>as we eat, mute;</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>later, he climbs into bed</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>between us.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Even as I sit here,</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>he stands behind me</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>clamping two </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>colossal hands on my shoulders</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>and bends down </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>and whispers to my neck,</b> </div></blockquote><blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>From now on, </b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i><b>you write about me.</b></i></span></div></blockquote><br />
<br />
flagrancy, an atrocity<br />
nothing vague - nothing subtle <br />
can you feel it<br />
distinctly tactile to some - obscure, vague to others<br />
<br />
taste it, metallic<br />
touch the blatant intrusion, the unwelcome invasion<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">BANG</span><br />
make yourself comfortable<br />
settle in to stay<br />
<i>how dare you enter this space</i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">ignore it and it will leave... </span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">if only</span></i><br />
<br />
control over every part of the routine of daily existence<br />
insidious, street-smart<br />
order, is there order left, any semblance<br />
altered, taken, snatched from grasp<br />
wandering in circles - in the house, in the woods, at bronswood<br />
will it ever return<br />
no, just longings for things that will never be<br />
<i>ever</i><br />
<br />
sinking under the weight - oppressive, stifling <br />
feeling the breath<br />
palpable, manifest<br />
i'm freezing<br />
the hairs on my nape disturbed... forever disturbed <br />
i'm writing<br />
<br />
I AM writing! <br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>DAMN YOU</b></span>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-55639407305346584102011-09-02T21:25:00.011-05:002011-09-03T09:42:08.957-05:00in a spirit of letting go...When Erin was a senior in high school, I decided to take a part-time job. It was the fall of 2008, and as she began the new school year she was characteristically undaunted by the adjusted schedule that coordinated with her 5-day/every third week after school chemotherapy protocol, which included the fringe benefits of a monthly (pre-neulasta-boost) tanked white count and a bombed hemoglobin level pallor that even expert make-up application couldn't hide. <i>Stop worrying mom! </i>Yes dear.<br />
<br />
So, to give myself a semblance of outward focus, I accepted a job that was ten minutes away. Rather than staring at the clock all day until it was time to pick her up and take her to chemo/for a transfusion/home, with my mind spinning all the potential scenarios of allowing her to leave the house-bubble of safety, I steeled myself and released her into the germ-infested halls of the school, where she drank from the water fountains where students spit gum and I still don't even want to think about what else, and where she limped up and down three flights of steps in the damn flip flops she insisted on wearing, adamantly refusing an elevator pass.<br />
(She never got sick and she never fell on those stairs.)<br />
let her go...<br />
<br />
My place of employment was owned and operated by the Congregation of St Joseph, the Sisters of the Catholic order that taught at many of our local schools. You can read about their business <a href="http://www.ministryofthearts.org/servlet/StoreFront">HERE at Ministry of the Arts</a> if you're so inclined. The Sisters compose music, write poetry and prayers, draw and paint... The products are beautiful, and they're sold in the gift shop on the premises, through a mail-order catalog and via the internet. <br />
<br />
I found this card one day as I was familiarizing myself with some of the products. The verbiage, so appropriate, stopped me in my tracks. I felt as though it had been written just for me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vpIBTJ_979rJwr7FPI0CnwuRyJWGMNCtabvxBhLYClC1e3k368fN4dAPtYsqzMgYgFlex-TVwM4ahNOzsK8AWoWqA2uKhc5tsyyo4SFaWF4rJIGeho-VZUskHt7wYVR6WDS54EbcbdzG/s1600/prayercardmota.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vpIBTJ_979rJwr7FPI0CnwuRyJWGMNCtabvxBhLYClC1e3k368fN4dAPtYsqzMgYgFlex-TVwM4ahNOzsK8AWoWqA2uKhc5tsyyo4SFaWF4rJIGeho-VZUskHt7wYVR6WDS54EbcbdzG/s400/prayercardmota.jpg" width="290" xaa="true" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blessing - Pat Bergen, CSJ<br />
Art - Mary Southard, CSJ</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
I bought the card, took it home, kept it with me and read it constantly, pleading with God to "bless this woman". Bless ME! Oh God, I beg you to bless exhausted, terrified, pitiful me. Help me know what to do. She's not leaving me today. Not yet. But she's eventually going to. I know that. Help me to know what to do. How to do the unthinkable. Help me to let go of her. That's ridiculous! How can I possibly let go of my daughter? "Breathe new life in her". Get me through the day. Or more challenging, get me through the darkness of night after night after night. Oh God, those nights. Help me breathe, Period!<br />
<br />
I did let go. I had to. I rested for a while after because I took comfort in the overwhelming relief that she'd finally been graced with well-deserved peace. The suffering was over. I was carried by the adrenaline rush of gratitude for that peace.<br />
<br />
I'd finally packed the card away among others received from thoughtful people over time - three years of struggle and then death and then the after. So <i>many</i> extraordinary cards. Boxes of them. Scores of handwritten notes from adults, teens and children. Treasures I'll keep forever.<br />
<br />
While recently rummaging through one of the boxes in search of something else, I unearthed it. I'm thankful, for I find myself in need of its messages again.<br />
<br />
Strong emotions in the here and now are causing me to feel tipped in many directions ~ the wedding, the deaths of other children we met along the cancer road, the beginning of a new school year coupled with the many <i>if only</i> scenarios and the accompanying deep sadness playing in my head about what Erin <i>should</i> be doing now... "be with her now as she opens her hands", a variety of potential job situations and some resulting uncertainty about what I really want, what's truly best while putting the pieces of a new life together... "whispers of new voices and new learnings". Who am I now?<br />
<br />
It's so complicated. I still can't let go. I don't want to let go.<br />
My gratitude for her peace has waned, or rather, it's countered by frustration over what I can't have. Everything blew up.<br />
I want my old life back.<br />
<br />
in a spirit of letting go...<br />
don't i get to keep something?<br />
there are so many times when the "cherished memories" simply aren't enough to fight off the chill of grief that courses through my veins, yet those same memories are what drive me forward on certain days<br />
again, so complicated<br />
<br />
to what do i cling when i enter the gates...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKm7Y0eqqKRx2N4XdWJbj_FFLoqeZepIAxkjxXDn4DRlQG-Bt05v1lnMgCM1G2uo2Y7AwDNclMKNQfebfSQX7bpryQ_LBiJtLF83YAad1BnoS3a5jj_a9CRZ-K7ZGjlHEjgYxMa04aKUC/s1600/thegates.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyKm7Y0eqqKRx2N4XdWJbj_FFLoqeZepIAxkjxXDn4DRlQG-Bt05v1lnMgCM1G2uo2Y7AwDNclMKNQfebfSQX7bpryQ_LBiJtLF83YAad1BnoS3a5jj_a9CRZ-K7ZGjlHEjgYxMa04aKUC/s400/thegates.jpg" width="400" xaa="true" /></a></div><br />
PS - please take a moment and visit <a href="http://metanoia-mrc.blogspot.com/2011/09/memory-grief-and-suscipe.html">Robin's blog here</a> to read the Suscipe and her accompanying words of wisdom. Robin's beloved son died by suicide three years ago. <br />
<br />
It's SO not easy.Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-85476048340312345232011-08-24T07:49:00.000-05:002011-08-24T07:49:36.534-05:00That word means WHAT?????<div style="text-align: center;">How extensive is your vocabulary?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Wanna get hooked on something productive while sitting at your computer?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Would you like to challenge yourself AND do good unto others at the same time?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://freerice.com/index.php?s=English%20Vocabulary&t=10547661530"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">** CLICK HERE **</span></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://realtalkmedia2k.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/logo_free_rice.jpg?w=192" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://realtalkmedia2k.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/logo_free_rice.jpg?w=192" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Once you become really proficient in the English Vocabulary category, click on "Change Subjects" and dare to have your brain picked in other areas. You can master the full list of Chemical Symbols, learn a few words in a Foreign Language, memorize all the World Capitals...<br />
<br />
How many grains of rice were donated on your behalf?<br />
Isn't this fun???Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-14623375945112929212011-08-18T07:30:00.000-05:002011-08-18T07:30:04.055-05:00Time<div style="text-align: center;">time elapses differently for the bereaved</div><div style="text-align: center;">it often creeps<br />
<br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSd-3msi_wji68KBjtI1Is6iD6sF8S0pJq02f7xlSBUqohEzvA5uuAEOiTBP6wrL0t25CtHP-PnHxeXFLWdTaR_Y4n2KSYwJf5e_8cX40gg2VPArPNBlJru6es8orSRPstb3bwLm7BbkUX/s1600/limecaterpillarbronswood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSd-3msi_wji68KBjtI1Is6iD6sF8S0pJq02f7xlSBUqohEzvA5uuAEOiTBP6wrL0t25CtHP-PnHxeXFLWdTaR_Y4n2KSYwJf5e_8cX40gg2VPArPNBlJru6es8orSRPstb3bwLm7BbkUX/s400/limecaterpillarbronswood.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">lime caterpillar at bronswood</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">as we sense the rest of the world rushing past us</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">we move slowly and purposefully through our days</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">with pronounced awareness of the fragility of life</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">and the significance of living in the moment</div></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">20 months today...</span><br />
<br />
Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-75120296247729302692011-08-14T21:26:00.015-05:002011-08-17T08:53:49.843-05:00Keep Your Mouth Shut and Wear Beige<div style="text-align: center;">Words of advice for the mother of the groom.<br />
Actually, pretty sound advice for most folks when it comes to wedding preparation.<br />
Let the bride and groom do their thing!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.diesel-ebooks.com/mas_assets/image_cache/c/6/4/c/500x500_812228_file.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.diesel-ebooks.com/mas_assets/image_cache/c/6/4/c/500x500_812228_file.jpeg" width="267" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">And I absolutely agree ~ ~ ~ with the exception of the beige part.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't do beige very well.</div><br />
As the big day approached, people repeatedly said - <i>You must be SO busy getting ready for the wedding! What are you doing about "this" or have you taken care of "that" or aren't you worried about "this thing" and who is going to take care of "that other detail"? </i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Seriously people?? My response continued to be ~ </div><div style="text-align: center;">Gosh, I'm not really doing much of anything because it's not my wedding. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Dave and I had our day 31 years ago.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9PU1oNy8bvTgFHAS91i4F4BhxCWykteWag7fIhng5NScgDqnl-_zcUrsxpaLAIRCqNNQa43TlxEZ9mkS3RVn6QgWJmuxRzO59TLCkMnu3jPW-b0vKbWp19TkS2qcltnYoqJwZzvUdU8yM/s1600/Vows4-26-80.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9PU1oNy8bvTgFHAS91i4F4BhxCWykteWag7fIhng5NScgDqnl-_zcUrsxpaLAIRCqNNQa43TlxEZ9mkS3RVn6QgWJmuxRzO59TLCkMnu3jPW-b0vKbWp19TkS2qcltnYoqJwZzvUdU8yM/s320/Vows4-26-80.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">This is Chris and Tasha's day.</div><div style="text-align: center;">A day they've been planning and saving for.</div><div style="text-align: center;">A day that needs to be their own.</div><div style="text-align: center;">They should choose exactly what they want. They're responsible adults.</div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm going to buy a pretty dress, a shawl to wear in church<br />
some high heeled shoes, </div><div style="text-align: center;">(and I'll practice walking in them!) </div><div style="text-align: center;">and I'm going to go to our <b>son's</b> wedding.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0PgKeaGpCgYQ10Sfv60MoDlOaNnoyExttLbvps7gRl-0-5cfEH9uXQMi6-pOsmOTsFWiW8JazDetuv7d_0pW-tCUmbm87YOWKkwj7jHU2ur3QPpd5A3IPkvPl1ayMYu15cHMRZ8Doa2X/s1600/DaveMaryChrisTasha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu0PgKeaGpCgYQ10Sfv60MoDlOaNnoyExttLbvps7gRl-0-5cfEH9uXQMi6-pOsmOTsFWiW8JazDetuv7d_0pW-tCUmbm87YOWKkwj7jHU2ur3QPpd5A3IPkvPl1ayMYu15cHMRZ8Doa2X/s400/DaveMaryChrisTasha.jpg" width="316" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><i>But what about the rehearsal dinner? How will you take care of that detail?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>That's the responsibility of the groom's parents!</i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfvIRJj4KMC9GEaoRoYP5UvE4cEInZ33x6JN7CNG9CN71SZpkfJaCm0r7UnkbYVALsyUjeuPZj4NTz5eYBA4Le9qpXSYnZg7HYa4RSjd2PCPlQU7g4jq-znonKpIejZNapuvkXcfyaSAg/s1600/ChrisMaryDaveRehearsalDinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfvIRJj4KMC9GEaoRoYP5UvE4cEInZ33x6JN7CNG9CN71SZpkfJaCm0r7UnkbYVALsyUjeuPZj4NTz5eYBA4Le9qpXSYnZg7HYa4RSjd2PCPlQU7g4jq-znonKpIejZNapuvkXcfyaSAg/s400/ChrisMaryDaveRehearsalDinner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">OK. Settle down now. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Chris and Tasha looked at a few places and chose one they liked.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The Claddagh Irish Pub<br />
- casual - fun -</div><div style="text-align: center;">No, we've not seen the place. It's in Minnesota.</div><div style="text-align: center;">What's the big deal? We trust them.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3SWg9HaGzppyXfb6fChhIMqcrDkzgYenaZ5lbixPBNWpz08ScuteLUvC1ezrVX62pFu_iQ0vORieN5tdNaNmy8VkVIaU1CfqE-xVOsE7iWdjsVFDWnZLXTdqHlVeBPtoKOrXZrLTkDIEj/s1600/FamilyRehearsalDinner8-5-2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3SWg9HaGzppyXfb6fChhIMqcrDkzgYenaZ5lbixPBNWpz08ScuteLUvC1ezrVX62pFu_iQ0vORieN5tdNaNmy8VkVIaU1CfqE-xVOsE7iWdjsVFDWnZLXTdqHlVeBPtoKOrXZrLTkDIEj/s400/FamilyRehearsalDinner8-5-2011.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The food was delicious ~</div><div style="text-align: center;">corned beef and cabbage rolls and chicken/spinach melt sandwiches </div><div style="text-align: center;">and huge onion rings coated in bass ale batter...</div><div style="text-align: center;">Plenty to drink.</div><div style="text-align: center;">A patio for the guys to have a cigar smoke afterwards.</div><div style="text-align: center;">See, no worries.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmE3kLSNWWJqsIFsMbNmOY8Ags3qwQ6Yz5lajZ657YTQ7UxObulmJNJW69xUw_hSD9OrZGnl9j9oF6k4FoPv9a4lbmGC7t63yPE2k0CCob7ZoMjnMq6P8b9ZjuFTpJSL0qLqodaND_r0-/s1600/TashaSarah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmE3kLSNWWJqsIFsMbNmOY8Ags3qwQ6Yz5lajZ657YTQ7UxObulmJNJW69xUw_hSD9OrZGnl9j9oF6k4FoPv9a4lbmGC7t63yPE2k0CCob7ZoMjnMq6P8b9ZjuFTpJSL0qLqodaND_r0-/s320/TashaSarah.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And bonus, I got to spend some time with all my handsome boys. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggm_AnDCVnggYud3vPMTdROdgSLpg5VZli0vdgVoo3sMxSXrZLmjy435jp6xtbv8v_eeagVHfUt3CVr92J9j0aMexoQis3f7iwexKz0Y0UpXjG8PmUeiBgXdnPbZbqiApP1Y0mhCpTImYZ/s1600/Me%2526Guys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggm_AnDCVnggYud3vPMTdROdgSLpg5VZli0vdgVoo3sMxSXrZLmjy435jp6xtbv8v_eeagVHfUt3CVr92J9j0aMexoQis3f7iwexKz0Y0UpXjG8PmUeiBgXdnPbZbqiApP1Y0mhCpTImYZ/s400/Me%2526Guys.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">a group of guys who've been buddies for many years</div><div style="text-align: center;"> through grammar school and high school days and seasons of sports </div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtqCX8ZJbcpkqzQ-SvRLRfdrVE-KXQCp5ZmJ2lruMA_2pupw_2JowM6CrPMhHRmBZQ8CJgY7L7rmkdxCGyEoN30qiUfdOAtO6qJrb4sApClnUhlWhlhnuih4bVc3WnLwjqchRjkGKO13Kf/s1600/ChrisJimReedProm1999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtqCX8ZJbcpkqzQ-SvRLRfdrVE-KXQCp5ZmJ2lruMA_2pupw_2JowM6CrPMhHRmBZQ8CJgY7L7rmkdxCGyEoN30qiUfdOAtO6qJrb4sApClnUhlWhlhnuih4bVc3WnLwjqchRjkGKO13Kf/s400/ChrisJimReedProm1999.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prom 1999</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">young men who, during a few post-college years, </div><div style="text-align: center;">played together on a fledgling softball team </div><div style="text-align: center;">and often spent hours on our old wrap-around porch</div><br />
And at the reception, the friend chosen to be the best man gave a pitch perfect toast that alternately poked fun at and honored Chris, with words that included remembrances of hours spent on that old front porch... growing boys whose bellies had been filled with my mom's breakfast twisters on high school late-arrival days, the ever-present jug of red Hi-C in the fridge... his toast bringing back some fond memories of my own.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_M4AcXpv1hK5ARc3HcnAvfJVkOqwviy8wiTvLZoK8I08DSqkDTg-GKqZ7KgM9XYisP_JypOcplX7PjQu4Mr5q1qGaCdtDAY2AxG_K1wgoAh-27gjyFclmJ_KQoDkxunIIxnl143kaXwj/s1600/ReedErinProm1999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_M4AcXpv1hK5ARc3HcnAvfJVkOqwviy8wiTvLZoK8I08DSqkDTg-GKqZ7KgM9XYisP_JypOcplX7PjQu4Mr5q1qGaCdtDAY2AxG_K1wgoAh-27gjyFclmJ_KQoDkxunIIxnl143kaXwj/s320/ReedErinProm1999.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
SO... How did I do without Erin there? Pretty well, I think.<br />
Was I able to see anything but that pronouced gaping hole defined by her absence? <br />
Yes. There was beauty and love and joy and class and compassion and understanding.<br />
A beginning, with two individuals joining as one.<br />
Was I split in two? Yes. Equally happy about this blessed union and broken-hearted that Erin was not there to share in the joy.<br />
Did I cry? Yes, for a lot of reasons as the many parts of me collided. <br />
Did I smile and laugh and dance like crazy in my bare feet? Absolutely yes! <br />
<br />
I missed her when the FAMILY photos were taken before the ceremony while I clutched the sunflower, filled with both happiness in the knowledge that our family was about to expand to include new members and at the same time literally sick to my stomach because she wasn't standing on that altar with us. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5JNF6kFkUwZxtzBilRAC_coI9uf4ktUt66j0Vq7W1kKbPLy7-xrcvGjwfEDRZ5KeIaj8nGBxcZCrAXOPsh8cYXgtuhMVCvQ_LiEj8Qhn39Irbr3KRvRzTYMNkP04UR79JxDP80crL2Pns/s1600/HagelbergerPotts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5JNF6kFkUwZxtzBilRAC_coI9uf4ktUt66j0Vq7W1kKbPLy7-xrcvGjwfEDRZ5KeIaj8nGBxcZCrAXOPsh8cYXgtuhMVCvQ_LiEj8Qhn39Irbr3KRvRzTYMNkP04UR79JxDP80crL2Pns/s400/HagelbergerPotts.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
As the photographer took pictures of the wedding party, I wondered where she would have stood among the other bridesmaids, knowing how beautiful she would have looked in a plum dress. A perfect color for her. A color she loved. As each couple processed down the aisle once the ceremony began, I wondered which handsome groomsman would have accompanied her. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEPARWxoqDT-KNQSwL5VtgGZdZrxytoDyR-LJlp3bi4NK91hK1mpV4kaOicnDkzYm4bt6AZtFmFJi7Md809bp_Lb0fIYiSSYYBhbSAORxjJW9PvdAcpzwf6AspPv-Q6f9xPfvyoM3cYiT0/s1600/WeddingParty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEPARWxoqDT-KNQSwL5VtgGZdZrxytoDyR-LJlp3bi4NK91hK1mpV4kaOicnDkzYm4bt6AZtFmFJi7Md809bp_Lb0fIYiSSYYBhbSAORxjJW9PvdAcpzwf6AspPv-Q6f9xPfvyoM3cYiT0/s400/WeddingParty.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And then when Sarah told me after the service that she had quietly said "eeeeeewwwwwww" when Chris and Tasha had kissed, I imagined the two of them cracking up on the altar had she been up there too, and it made me laugh. <br />
<br />
The parts of me colliding...<br />
<br />
But, because she<i> wasn't</i> there, she <i>was</i> there in the sunflower I clutched, in the gorgeous bouquet standing prominently on the altar that was then carried to a memory table at the reception, in the lime green ties the groomsmen wore and the lime table runners at the reception, in the sunglasses the bridal party sported when they arrived at the reception after a "happy" ride on the bus from the church... and in the <a href="http://www.lisaleonardonline.com/blog/weddings/the-brides-bouquet-token">"Have Fun" tag by Lisa Leonard</a> that adorned Tasha's bouquet (clicking on photo will enlarge it).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAmxdxneUi2wFW0gxGS33tgrLFlHMj1o40KvABfY8EVP_BRVvTcPfFRFBrAfI5JB25r7ncSckyKyDGhhBHDVQyUEmmA6wZdvvqcIm0eIO7KmhwIa740s8krGDFOUB4K5ZHZyT_TG5CPaj_/s1600/HaveFun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAmxdxneUi2wFW0gxGS33tgrLFlHMj1o40KvABfY8EVP_BRVvTcPfFRFBrAfI5JB25r7ncSckyKyDGhhBHDVQyUEmmA6wZdvvqcIm0eIO7KmhwIa740s8krGDFOUB4K5ZHZyT_TG5CPaj_/s320/HaveFun.jpg" width="270" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">She wasn't there... but she <i>was</i> there, in the only way she could be.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Chris and Tasha beautifully and selflessly integrated her memory </div><div style="text-align: center;">into <i>their</i> special day.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Remember, I just showed up. They planned it all.</div><br />
I am so lucky to be the mother-in-law of this bright, confident young woman who walked into Chris' life at a time when our world was already upside down, yet she never turned in fear from the challenges accompanying Erin's cancer and her subsequent passing. I'm so grateful she knew Erin, and therefore can consciously carry her into the future and keep her memory alive. She is unafraid to speak her name, and she does so while calling up humorous incidents they shared and can also vocalize a sympathetic understanding about our ongoing pain due to her absence. Is it an accident that she is a radiation oncology therapist? Chris didn't meet her at the hospital during one of Erin's treatments. They met through mutual friends. I continue to believe some things are not accidents. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidiYSM6mMIAOjjfXeMIlmfHTuTJHBzHFSo74Ao6gof7V2WTf7rsCBOPCQQMN8C6sGMLdaEntZiGSWo3MJYTk-7hPDn2Ov3ihaHs843cB2d2t8YLp6fODkyRKZZcw-rcxwtvTQXkIhmyNAx/s1600/Tasha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidiYSM6mMIAOjjfXeMIlmfHTuTJHBzHFSo74Ao6gof7V2WTf7rsCBOPCQQMN8C6sGMLdaEntZiGSWo3MJYTk-7hPDn2Ov3ihaHs843cB2d2t8YLp6fODkyRKZZcw-rcxwtvTQXkIhmyNAx/s320/Tasha.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
The couple was poised and gracious and relaxed - before, during and after. Tasha looked like a princess who had walked out of a fairy tale. Chris looked pretty good too.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxGDTcNCp7vXYwg1p7NTSrvSQbTc1iIfD6BZoC8CbwWPdYm4zn8KnLwCwAjQ_FBK7dMWXm6vmO5mIjFlefisJeX7_xm5kYxB-8QAKUdYoYxrnaWATa01e2Ou047-0imD51xQo8X1dj-Yf/s1600/Garter2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihxGDTcNCp7vXYwg1p7NTSrvSQbTc1iIfD6BZoC8CbwWPdYm4zn8KnLwCwAjQ_FBK7dMWXm6vmO5mIjFlefisJeX7_xm5kYxB-8QAKUdYoYxrnaWATa01e2Ou047-0imD51xQo8X1dj-Yf/s400/Garter2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I did worry about one little detail. One of the straps on my dress was a bit loose, and I was concerned about a "Janet Jackson" incident during the mother-son dance. Not to worry. Sarah, who had just gotten off the "happy" bus ride from the church, assured me she could secure the strap to my bra with bobby pins. There were no safety pins to be found and she had about 95 bobby pins holding her hair up.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Would you trust this "happy" girl in the glasses with your dress?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Mom, I've got this! It will be fine! Why do you doubt me?</i><br />
Gee honey, I don't know!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh77H3YFshg8WfP8HMKk46uIP_wzuURft8F3-gCl40Ckkyw3XUqzamQXC0e64RhWw_fzlF_PcHqRlZ2RAyf5AFJgvIL9pnjd7rIo92ZjLgpwxYddMg1-TmEXMtEsiEk9f1bUyLzCinrjzvY/s1600/SarahBobbyPins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh77H3YFshg8WfP8HMKk46uIP_wzuURft8F3-gCl40Ckkyw3XUqzamQXC0e64RhWw_fzlF_PcHqRlZ2RAyf5AFJgvIL9pnjd7rIo92ZjLgpwxYddMg1-TmEXMtEsiEk9f1bUyLzCinrjzvY/s320/SarahBobbyPins.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We chose Forever Young - the Rod Stewart version. (Many people don't know Bob Dylan did it before Stewart.) If you're familiar with it, you know it has a kick-ass rhythm.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkqq8-q9siTk80qmzMxLYSV6iYrqNMFuIIanqJyuYTPa5-1mEs7jOuEpyJkjnnpUrn-2jUMhOgzF7REjgIS9w043jsibky2FIkkaPhYQhrhH2ukc6aRmNMIC-dgMHY_NcXnY9qkTcixadY/s1600/MaryChrisDance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkqq8-q9siTk80qmzMxLYSV6iYrqNMFuIIanqJyuYTPa5-1mEs7jOuEpyJkjnnpUrn-2jUMhOgzF7REjgIS9w043jsibky2FIkkaPhYQhrhH2ukc6aRmNMIC-dgMHY_NcXnY9qkTcixadY/s400/MaryChrisDance.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">The straps didn't budge. No wardrobe malfunction.<br />
I promised the "happy" daughter I would not doubt her again.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFCYvOCeSJ2BhTyWuptwF7at_MfdFnZP6Aede4ABqS7kdSKJeXmc7uwhAXb5-C_7fXy9R3LU6GU2s0TAXbSE__bcnKYiCskk2dxWhI6bLiJ_XBjef4pAZLoV3_X0vusP7U27OAbIbywTaa/s1600/ForeverYoung1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFCYvOCeSJ2BhTyWuptwF7at_MfdFnZP6Aede4ABqS7kdSKJeXmc7uwhAXb5-C_7fXy9R3LU6GU2s0TAXbSE__bcnKYiCskk2dxWhI6bLiJ_XBjef4pAZLoV3_X0vusP7U27OAbIbywTaa/s400/ForeverYoung1.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
Did you ever really listen to the words of the song? Most people just rock along with the music, singing - da da da da, Forever Young - Forever Young. <br />
I think you'll agree, the lyrics are pretty appropriate.</div><blockquote><i>May the good Lord be with you <br />
Down every road you roam <br />
And may sunshine and happiness <br />
surround you when you're far from home <br />
And may you grow to be proud <br />
Dignified and true <br />
And do unto others <br />
As you'd have done to you <br />
Be courageous and be brave <br />
And in my heart you'll always stay <br />
Forever Young<br />
<br />
May good fortune be with you <br />
May your guiding light be strong <br />
Build a stairway to heaven <br />
with a prince or a vagabond <br />
<br />
And may you never love in vain <br />
and in my heart you will remain <br />
Forever Young<br />
<br />
And when you finally fly away <br />
I'll be hoping that I served you well <br />
For all the wisdom of a lifetime <br />
No one can ever tell <br />
<br />
But whatever road you choose <br />
I'm right behind you, win or lose <br />
Forever Young</i></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5TSX-cYzeG76DmOfHQa3sG2-ob41xZfQHneTHAspWcgd8yQidvNhOccsI1t69AymTOiof5d-o5OmxuHFo_1KiiecfLYgnjriG1Rcm-YARSAsJx6yIlu37DQ6JhV3womOmOmiKmRyyGywB/s1600/Chris+Tasha+Dancing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5TSX-cYzeG76DmOfHQa3sG2-ob41xZfQHneTHAspWcgd8yQidvNhOccsI1t69AymTOiof5d-o5OmxuHFo_1KiiecfLYgnjriG1Rcm-YARSAsJx6yIlu37DQ6JhV3womOmOmiKmRyyGywB/s640/Chris+Tasha+Dancing.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Yep, simply perfect.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">~ ~ ~</span></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFz5w10vpz-yLi8oM-rdxizL-addSZSjgeWp_hiQp7IpCHzTSOrM1Zg1aJh3y0Q84j6J3a_Mswj0-LG2vbx1V7dQrGtuL_780Ldl7Os8i93ur2_GBOF4qBuXRCq4KcB3O7ai28fJkjGVb7/s1600/Keenancarride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFz5w10vpz-yLi8oM-rdxizL-addSZSjgeWp_hiQp7IpCHzTSOrM1Zg1aJh3y0Q84j6J3a_Mswj0-LG2vbx1V7dQrGtuL_780Ldl7Os8i93ur2_GBOF4qBuXRCq4KcB3O7ai28fJkjGVb7/s320/Keenancarride.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
PS - Of course Keenan traveled with us.<br />
He got to hang out at my cousin's house in MN with their dog and five kids.<br />
<br />
He had trouble staying awake in the car on the way home - a happy, pooped out pooch!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-45195560354905038572011-08-08T08:00:00.000-05:002011-08-08T08:00:10.969-05:00One Word?<span style="font-size: large;">Simply perfect.</span><br />
OK, that's two.<br />
but, it was...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDljsL0SQNsUEvVpG79D4ulRjO78Jzr3ONaqNbslGbNIaiT2jrlIs8f2ClrkVGugm2qNhNPSgPRAezhV2gX8m6r36PaK3sCQiS8BIDm7aUgiAsEQnHmZvlernKPlop8bnAjqYRAc_EnTI/s1600/Church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="361" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDljsL0SQNsUEvVpG79D4ulRjO78Jzr3ONaqNbslGbNIaiT2jrlIs8f2ClrkVGugm2qNhNPSgPRAezhV2gX8m6r36PaK3sCQiS8BIDm7aUgiAsEQnHmZvlernKPlop8bnAjqYRAc_EnTI/s400/Church.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I have to get to work and my camera stinks and I don't have many good pictures. I'm putting out the APB for copies. I will share soon.<br />
<br />
oh, just so you know<br />
we <span style="font-size: large;">HAD FUN!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tAZnIM0WyXI7t8w2UGgDfmWtZnwzPmyUQU13FHFd5trUpIdvJMtL5962w4MR0zOiduJkbXz01S0YoWlKoh18zCFp2tG1lzrsP3OVuKq4A3Zc8r8_vxh9WKaJBR1Jf5Wyuc_QPRPcdV45/s1600/Garter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1tAZnIM0WyXI7t8w2UGgDfmWtZnwzPmyUQU13FHFd5trUpIdvJMtL5962w4MR0zOiduJkbXz01S0YoWlKoh18zCFp2tG1lzrsP3OVuKq4A3Zc8r8_vxh9WKaJBR1Jf5Wyuc_QPRPcdV45/s400/Garter.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-9667137417645193282011-08-03T08:44:00.002-05:002011-08-04T06:54:54.968-05:00So many thoughts swirling<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSBNxWcMrYHqECuaFUnQizS-Hbs9U7NEGkHt3IdFbpQiSes3NWGzS1vIMuO6Nfl7MSlV0wdZ_bVdqwRWm444tfKXbjOEcvuLG8Psk495-1a8MKIkxdMzRukJDhkFJozkXQmovyXsf68oEL/s1600/ChrisMary6-1981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSBNxWcMrYHqECuaFUnQizS-Hbs9U7NEGkHt3IdFbpQiSes3NWGzS1vIMuO6Nfl7MSlV0wdZ_bVdqwRWm444tfKXbjOEcvuLG8Psk495-1a8MKIkxdMzRukJDhkFJozkXQmovyXsf68oEL/s400/ChrisMary6-1981.jpg" t$="true" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">June 1981</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCdybpeo122RHar_NWomXb4SinGD6ZHltePcS11Cb7jcGQNvPiP9VW8Wp6SKALxs9xdtC2UoPJyy_biBwAgmmSUUn6VM8ZbVz-xVXYtyNs0LcWqmaM2ZTLMHsbTOewjbUDYnhtLxPN6pt/s1600/ChrisErin5-2006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCdybpeo122RHar_NWomXb4SinGD6ZHltePcS11Cb7jcGQNvPiP9VW8Wp6SKALxs9xdtC2UoPJyy_biBwAgmmSUUn6VM8ZbVz-xVXYtyNs0LcWqmaM2ZTLMHsbTOewjbUDYnhtLxPN6pt/s320/ChrisErin5-2006.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 2006</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEbXhfFjInwAKAFg-8OMaiuMWVJtgmyMPVwr-yFoGjUhWKy8L_JDKx39WHJZ6bcccZLwItm7sICh96x_r60_3dHu-fOQfDrh6JBKvDNylXGRxUviWOUdez7JeJoklG4foI1ZURzBcwgq-/s1600/ErinTasha11-2009_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEbXhfFjInwAKAFg-8OMaiuMWVJtgmyMPVwr-yFoGjUhWKy8L_JDKx39WHJZ6bcccZLwItm7sICh96x_r60_3dHu-fOQfDrh6JBKvDNylXGRxUviWOUdez7JeJoklG4foI1ZURzBcwgq-/s320/ErinTasha11-2009_2.jpg" t$="true" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanksgiving 2009</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">as we approach the<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"> <a href="http://inspiredbyerin.blogspot.com/2010/11/oh-happy-day.html">HAPPY DAY</a></span></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcgFTGfkMpHgtYPCV2JQFDQ-TP0W9Wyv_iBP79bE6t6xOjvDZiFcPrsP2vibdyez7vcOnK_2hn2T7-8aCSESZDHZA1BdLcBvc-KU__EiRwXbfMu7xktVlM983oHzS33otd1-PAQTEB2vQc/s1600/SavetheDate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcgFTGfkMpHgtYPCV2JQFDQ-TP0W9Wyv_iBP79bE6t6xOjvDZiFcPrsP2vibdyez7vcOnK_2hn2T7-8aCSESZDHZA1BdLcBvc-KU__EiRwXbfMu7xktVlM983oHzS33otd1-PAQTEB2vQc/s400/SavetheDate.jpg" t$="true" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">~ ~ ~</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzvJ7_k0ZX1a36XKwUx5nOEqpztBxruyzCA9hcsOMTNCVBmAbclQIA-ULCgf2_9Hhtm9XXcSbYt_IMbqfJAuobp6XWAPkcmmfdPq2hJg_a4PQeGpEB-JtngyE8BBBUEIJtvjLNUsH9o_h/s1600/Chris1982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglzvJ7_k0ZX1a36XKwUx5nOEqpztBxruyzCA9hcsOMTNCVBmAbclQIA-ULCgf2_9Hhtm9XXcSbYt_IMbqfJAuobp6XWAPkcmmfdPq2hJg_a4PQeGpEB-JtngyE8BBBUEIJtvjLNUsH9o_h/s400/Chris1982.jpg" t$="true" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fall of 1982</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-20052884977036272011-07-22T11:36:00.006-05:002011-07-25T06:33:09.423-05:00A Little Trick!After having to take a few months off due to my kidney donation surgery last April, I'm again able to donate blood. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Did you know your hemoglobin level can differ</div><div style="text-align: center;">by up to a whole point from one hand to the next? </div><div style="text-align: center;">It's pretty crazy, but true!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://s1.vyras.lt/pictures/1523/33/10118_102565_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://s1.vyras.lt/pictures/1523/33/10118_102565_.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I recently learned this little trick. Thank goodness because I had to use it when I donated last Saturday. During the screening process, my hemoglobin level was 12.3 when tested from my right hand - 2 tenths of a point below the required 12.5g/dL. I asked them to test from my left hand, and my level was a whole point higher - 13.3.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeH4Ut2NKt-xRFy6cqTHgZXg36O-9hTgm2TW2SbpnWgRzbkzgBt02G_7K2UDoKAgD9QDTUlA6hyphenhyphenMNIaot76VIfO5oY6h72oJgSajTWip7Ualj8klfH0_dtP8pUR7UNF6LMzbgMFJGrYd6j/s1600/donation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeH4Ut2NKt-xRFy6cqTHgZXg36O-9hTgm2TW2SbpnWgRzbkzgBt02G_7K2UDoKAgD9QDTUlA6hyphenhyphenMNIaot76VIfO5oY6h72oJgSajTWip7Ualj8klfH0_dtP8pUR7UNF6LMzbgMFJGrYd6j/s200/donation.jpg" t$="true" width="200" /></a></div>I think it's because my "e" is on my left wrist, and I always donate from that arm :)<br />
Yeah - success!!<br />
I ate a steak and green salad for dinner, just to make sure to replenish.<br />
OK, I had chocolate ice cream for dessert too.<br />
One can never be too careful!<br />
<br />
<br />
Per the <a href="http://lifesource.org/">LIFESOURCE WEBSITE</a> there is a <b>CRITICAL NEED</b> for blood donations. Click on the link to read more, and please consider making a little time in your busy schedules to offer a pint. It's so easy to do, and the donation centers are nice, air-conditioned environments in which to spend an hour during the current heat wave! I actually went to a drive at Divine Providence parish instead of Westmont this time, and I used 556C in memory of Erin. It felt good.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">~ interesting stats ~</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://library.thinkquest.org/05aug/01576/images/bloodtypes.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://library.thinkquest.org/05aug/01576/images/bloodtypes.png" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I'm the most common, O+.<br />
<b>Remember, O- is the universal donor.</b></div><div style="text-align: center;">What type are you?<br />
The generous type, for sure!</div><br />
PS - see Mimi's helpful tip in comments.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">Let me know if you donate and I'll post your name in the sidebar. Perhaps others will be encouraged/reminded to do so if they see your name. Spread the word. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">It's all about helping others, isn't it?</span>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-20385114356201735072011-07-17T08:47:00.001-05:002011-07-17T10:12:11.694-05:00A Little Grace<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A special little girl was born on Friday, July 7. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">This is Elizabeth Grace, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">named after our Erin Elizabeth.</span></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRws6DAPddnxPzyfVyH-Bnw2hAW5ou9v1bVcorbvnmT1LF07o75723g8nFBzPTsDgDb-d_HntgP99P7JrXTpGQruq1ACGllum8wyYfcCym5DAczjN6vkFEZK3qjxygUvb1O1vXxTKl5kJR/s1600/photo%25286%2529.JPG" style="color: #a32364; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628643189077172498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRws6DAPddnxPzyfVyH-Bnw2hAW5ou9v1bVcorbvnmT1LF07o75723g8nFBzPTsDgDb-d_HntgP99P7JrXTpGQruq1ACGllum8wyYfcCym5DAczjN6vkFEZK3qjxygUvb1O1vXxTKl5kJR/s400/photo%25286%2529.JPG" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.09375) 1px 1px 5px; background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-color: initial; border-left-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(238, 238, 238); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; border-width: initial; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px; padding-top: 5px; position: relative; text-align: center; width: 299px;" /></a></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">She is the daughter of my niece,</div><div style="text-align: center;">the granddaughter of my brother, aka <a href="http://inspiredbyerin.blogspot.com/2011/04/some-very-exciting-news.html">my Milwaukee kidney</a>.<br />
(Photo from my niece's blog <a href="http://abbeyadventures.blogspot.com/">HERE</a>.)</div><br />
Soon after this little sweetie was born, they noticed she was very lethargic. Tests were done, and they found her blood sugar level was dangerously low. She is now in Children's Memorial Hospital in the NICU. The results of more in-depth tests point to a condition called hyperinsulinemia - her pancreas is secreting too much insulin which causes her sugar to drop. The doctors have currently prescribed a medication plan hoping to regulate her little system, and she will most likely be in Children's for about a month.<br />
<br />
Please keep Elizabeth and her very tired and worried parents in your thoughts as life's roller coaster takes them on this unsettling ride.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://inspiredbyerin.blogspot.com/2010/06/little-piece-of-her-carried-forward.html">She has a big sister at home waiting for her too. </a><br />
<a href="http://inspiredbyerin.blogspot.com/2010/06/little-piece-of-her-carried-forward.html"> Perhaps you remember this photo and post from last summer.</a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VkRq93S5c5k/TBDzQiRV1BI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/y-OiLAivhMA/s1600/K%2526K5-2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VkRq93S5c5k/TBDzQiRV1BI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/y-OiLAivhMA/s400/K%2526K5-2010.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Thank you,<br />
from Elizabeth's great Aunt Mary<br />
who is a bit weary of life's challenges...Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-20266396185190544272011-07-14T22:21:00.003-05:002011-07-15T07:02:24.580-05:00Luxury or Necessity?<div style="text-align: center;">So, how did everyone fare during the 3-day power outage?<br />
Did we all have fun doing without our electricity?</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">~ reading this weekend's book club selection<br />
once the sun went down was a bit of a challenge ~</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0-PeNissMtBYgcliFiU0N-gObRuEQHRsmk5GTk77FS9iVUPXAUWDcDkcBzv59QdHdglH4_Bl8EwfwnkGxNU7gewO8LgVZ5IMwzDtselzXQ7xxGeqoApDzoM-xfV2fnHN6C2qnkWQOGQ/s400/Peter+Vilhelm+Ilsted+%2528Danish+artist%252C+1861-1933%2529+Woman+Reading+by+Candlelight+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0-PeNissMtBYgcliFiU0N-gObRuEQHRsmk5GTk77FS9iVUPXAUWDcDkcBzv59QdHdglH4_Bl8EwfwnkGxNU7gewO8LgVZ5IMwzDtselzXQ7xxGeqoApDzoM-xfV2fnHN6C2qnkWQOGQ/s400/Peter+Vilhelm+Ilsted+%2528Danish+artist%252C+1861-1933%2529+Woman+Reading+by+Candlelight+2.jpg" width="306" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> - Peter Vilhelm</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">~ it was awfully toasty without the air conditioning,<br />
and really hard to sleep at night ~</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3246/2794525944_2c6646515b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3246/2794525944_2c6646515b.jpg" width="303" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">- Jules Cheret</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">~ and man what a pain it was to have to drive to the local coffee shop</div><div style="text-align: center;">at 5:30am for my morning jump start ~ </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.acharmingchest.com/collectibles/LovelyLadyDrinkingTea4L.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.acharmingchest.com/collectibles/LovelyLadyDrinkingTea4L.jpg" width="312" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Thank goodness we're up and running again!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://cache2.allpostersimages.com/p/LRG/56/5638/X8IMG00Z/posters/marks-george-mature-woman-washing-clothes-by-hand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://cache2.allpostersimages.com/p/LRG/56/5638/X8IMG00Z/posters/marks-george-mature-woman-washing-clothes-by-hand.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">I'm exhausted!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Luxury? Maybe.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Necessity? Let's say the highly preferred way of living!</div>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-42524553285437504342011-07-10T10:33:00.000-05:002011-07-10T10:33:53.548-05:00FLY ERIN!<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">it's summer time</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;">swim season</span></span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_QIf6hWDW-o9bcsZup5wVsyW7g1fTlkxv1VnI_UdWiigv3n2EbvtJH8R7RIyHIiU69-1wdgW-5OoWm1dZRcSrShEdDhmCts1hkK3MWN3R5sJkXusSuhJ4Dj7nLllgyT-7AHLkXqgZYge/s1600/swimteam1999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_QIf6hWDW-o9bcsZup5wVsyW7g1fTlkxv1VnI_UdWiigv3n2EbvtJH8R7RIyHIiU69-1wdgW-5OoWm1dZRcSrShEdDhmCts1hkK3MWN3R5sJkXusSuhJ4Dj7nLllgyT-7AHLkXqgZYge/s400/swimteam1999.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">pasta parties </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">fuel, the night before the big competition</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1oO68c1eFc4EHl82iQNlbEZ6cEdeyLKl5XMGMb16BLb7Epwtm6k86nxxx1Vtp5cHvR17HU9RNZHmNyZxuYpIGZoNtPDpt21x8MeYLfZ_2x6Wg0q5tmXlXqKyuwPMz3bzv5pC8pciehl1j/s1600/swimteamledos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1oO68c1eFc4EHl82iQNlbEZ6cEdeyLKl5XMGMb16BLb7Epwtm6k86nxxx1Vtp5cHvR17HU9RNZHmNyZxuYpIGZoNtPDpt21x8MeYLfZ_2x6Wg0q5tmXlXqKyuwPMz3bzv5pC8pciehl1j/s400/swimteamledos.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">teamwork and success</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-NBGN7mzmIPg4QG02AfQ-8v2muBde7D3S18uvdk-h2TPr7S9blfudzCxyGmBM-YLQlSlHNe078j-gMxR9Uu2R_IpPIdTuAqG595GRosN2OP4Uc9-oZmM_v2phAJxtfcqtkfONsLPSkoU/s1600/swimteam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-NBGN7mzmIPg4QG02AfQ-8v2muBde7D3S18uvdk-h2TPr7S9blfudzCxyGmBM-YLQlSlHNe078j-gMxR9Uu2R_IpPIdTuAqG595GRosN2OP4Uc9-oZmM_v2phAJxtfcqtkfONsLPSkoU/s400/swimteam.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">a little girl born with gills and grit</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">the family fish - the only one,</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">calling it her own, in no one's shadow</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wjjL11vAW3g/TFCQ6mq9vKI/AAAAAAAABOE/ULGWHaF26ZM/s1600/Conference1999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wjjL11vAW3g/TFCQ6mq9vKI/AAAAAAAABOE/ULGWHaF26ZM/s320/Conference1999.jpg" width="301" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">POTTS!!!!!!!</span></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Streamline! Don't breathe!!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You get her, Potts! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You get in there and catch her!!!!</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSrnSSCsgbh_DKJdNWQ1PSKtiXzqOtf6E-uQcN52jiQER-6ERH179IntcmSTn7Zjxxicv2P1jV5qWbhKYBcQPKhe3zzuU_OCBqZ10xnNTaLJjRVM3pDAahOeeyx0oEIhCuCfBSiGbNSh7/s1600/walkererin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSrnSSCsgbh_DKJdNWQ1PSKtiXzqOtf6E-uQcN52jiQER-6ERH179IntcmSTn7Zjxxicv2P1jV5qWbhKYBcQPKhe3zzuU_OCBqZ10xnNTaLJjRVM3pDAahOeeyx0oEIhCuCfBSiGbNSh7/s320/walkererin.jpg" width="271" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">FLY ERIN</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">swim fly</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">edge out the competition in the lane above</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and leave the one below far behind</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">keep moving with focus and intention</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">see the wall</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0HuV59Kv1lI/S-wZGbbOGUI/AAAAAAAAAmI/dy7B7ff7pzU/s1600/TheLead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0HuV59Kv1lI/S-wZGbbOGUI/AAAAAAAAAmI/dy7B7ff7pzU/s640/TheLead.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">as i work in the pool now</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">your physical strength and fiercely competitive spirit</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">are in the smell of the chlorine </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and in the determination of my patients</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">who work through their limitations</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w4CVmHzYfnk/S-xfxobw0LI/AAAAAAAAAm4/Cldj-9X2_Dg/s1600/FLYerin2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-w4CVmHzYfnk/S-xfxobw0LI/AAAAAAAAAm4/Cldj-9X2_Dg/s400/FLYerin2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and boy, does that make me smile!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">fly, erin... </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">FLY</span>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9104253809138432847.post-55045392440515223342011-06-30T09:50:00.005-05:002011-07-02T16:24:15.371-05:00My SpaceI tell people I'm not who I once was. I don't know if they really understand. Some do. I guess. I hope. For a long time after Erin was diagnosed with cancer I'd said that if she didn't survive, if I had to one day bury my child, then they'd have to put me in the earth right alongside her. They did. A large part of who I once was <i>is</i> in that ground. Gone. And when I visit Bronswood I often lie in the soft grass on top of her, feeling her in the breezes that blow and the wind chimes that ring and the flowers that bloom, and I wish I could stay under the protective limbs of <a href="http://inspiredbyerin.blogspot.com/2010/05/incontestable-symbol.html">the pine tree</a> that towers over her; the one that withstood recent turbulent storms that felled mighty oaks just across the way.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_X1XOl3_URWnCK_6LZsNC3DBRuL3wtcH0z-xnUayRqCgOfa4joXnsmOcVAewFaAWxTHxo7zqdWLNqmmSHPp0WIHdqJAs_rHBg_sDNd7eYLp8hJ-AKNb6TtwKS0tjq7xBhdfsaNSgkAFZ/s1600/ErinsPine2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_X1XOl3_URWnCK_6LZsNC3DBRuL3wtcH0z-xnUayRqCgOfa4joXnsmOcVAewFaAWxTHxo7zqdWLNqmmSHPp0WIHdqJAs_rHBg_sDNd7eYLp8hJ-AKNb6TtwKS0tjq7xBhdfsaNSgkAFZ/s400/ErinsPine2011.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The deaths of Skye and Dr Nachman caused eruptions of fresh pain. It's pain that's always under the surface, but pushed deep to the core by the necessity of everyday living. One has to function and smile. It's expected. And I want to do so. <br />
Most of the time.<br />
<br />
There are exciting events happening and challenging responsibilities to learn at new jobs and dirty clothes to be washed. All important. Some mundane. All part of -W<i>ell, life does go on, you know. </i><br />
Yes, it does.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">We host parties to celebrate the truly wonderful occasions in our lives ~</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih5TIrENkgU1DZsBae2gmy9jDWSBCANb9mpLMqRJ-ytlsTL3w1PK6XTqSYVU4BSnrCRzokrmFjtm6vggfhXdydpAycAXwqCkpnZtWIH5Yb96ybknjrnt5gQNgP5tXjO5bORS-3GdLdJnOL/s1600/TashaShower1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih5TIrENkgU1DZsBae2gmy9jDWSBCANb9mpLMqRJ-ytlsTL3w1PK6XTqSYVU4BSnrCRzokrmFjtm6vggfhXdydpAycAXwqCkpnZtWIH5Yb96ybknjrnt5gQNgP5tXjO5bORS-3GdLdJnOL/s400/TashaShower1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">to welcome the lovely, soon-to-be member of our family</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MPR7eMtdI1y7fCPV_kqDd0vCTjd20mrVKL9GpIEca38Kmp1VFGh8DhR2f8vnvJj_VTkK1J0UgsQxF8IRtZr27lcg8TW8SjvDQCJiUOtHipGK7_RXJwi-G_NhqZXEtVAb__I3CpjzcGlm/s1600/TashaShower6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MPR7eMtdI1y7fCPV_kqDd0vCTjd20mrVKL9GpIEca38Kmp1VFGh8DhR2f8vnvJj_VTkK1J0UgsQxF8IRtZr27lcg8TW8SjvDQCJiUOtHipGK7_RXJwi-G_NhqZXEtVAb__I3CpjzcGlm/s400/TashaShower6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">by showering her with gifts in anticipation of an August 6th wedding!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoysNPHds6GtMe62OzDXd-u949XtFfSmq2N3s1wN-UiIBluHJ_FJYjUDOCcZFS32jP-AwrSWu5U5GvpvEQ7ZE5IWHaBjFEGZRq3OBOKuW9QlDtV02AzafdAAgtp0LPPjWxSC-eu7fRSkaT/s1600/Presents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoysNPHds6GtMe62OzDXd-u949XtFfSmq2N3s1wN-UiIBluHJ_FJYjUDOCcZFS32jP-AwrSWu5U5GvpvEQ7ZE5IWHaBjFEGZRq3OBOKuW9QlDtV02AzafdAAgtp0LPPjWxSC-eu7fRSkaT/s400/Presents.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
But there's an energy required to roller coaster between these joyous events and that core pain, complicated by the resurgence of my own grief in the recent experience of my friend Hope's fresh grief and my profound sadness over the shocking death of the physician that helped guide Erin to a better life in spite of the chaotic effects of her cells at war within. It's an energy few understand. <br />
<i>Throw yourself into the present. Into the lives of those around you. <b>Have fun!</b></i><br />
<br />
I do. <u>We</u> do, those of us who've buried children do so as best we can, but the gaping hole left by their absence, an unfulfillable hunger pang, constantly gnaws at our insides. Our lives become a complicated series of integrations necessitated by the jagged tear that splits us in two; fragmented pieces penetrating each side.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">We grieve the one gone, and look for ways to include them</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0lC05k1LGCe9oRo1iTpw2Tcp0AAsRJwe2kXgLW9eWpNIjd9aF6_cQgXkBG9SnoqndARNJsu8CXK8QksUGOOnbZIoI7Yig4G6j3o-y2Cn3vYJGgZ-AHNAgt2b-ftifegHcCqWlvZhDfIlS/s1600/Sunflowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0lC05k1LGCe9oRo1iTpw2Tcp0AAsRJwe2kXgLW9eWpNIjd9aF6_cQgXkBG9SnoqndARNJsu8CXK8QksUGOOnbZIoI7Yig4G6j3o-y2Cn3vYJGgZ-AHNAgt2b-ftifegHcCqWlvZhDfIlS/s400/Sunflowers.jpg" width="376" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">among the events of the present time.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgfbB1C3-55BnR-2DiT0XhmXwDAuXoqjmulinxqPuBYq9nhaYK_bMHPMPgNOI_SXUVLjyQKxzOEN4fd_1EdaRqOPgtfIzaAsTW1U3GhilqgZwW9ptVAL9hVDGyHkJ5TB7uGk_lHivbkFG/s1600/Dessert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlgfbB1C3-55BnR-2DiT0XhmXwDAuXoqjmulinxqPuBYq9nhaYK_bMHPMPgNOI_SXUVLjyQKxzOEN4fd_1EdaRqOPgtfIzaAsTW1U3GhilqgZwW9ptVAL9hVDGyHkJ5TB7uGk_lHivbkFG/s400/Dessert.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The internal on/off emotion toggle of those of us with dead children doesn't always switch seamlessly. It occasionally shorts out and results in sparks of tears and exhaustion. Grief truly is hard work. <br />
<br />
I'm now the editor of the newsletter for the Chapter of The Compassionate Friends, where I've attended meetings for about a year. Members of the steering committee submit articles of interest for possible inclusion in the issues, and I recently received the one below that I've pulled into the July/August publication. Due to the ever-present dichotomy of grief - joy, and the complexity of the elements that now define me/us, its theme hit home. <br />
<br />
~<br />
<i>Please experience me as I am and not as you think I should be. I have<br />
transformed and emerged out of the cocoon of ignorance and paradisiacal bliss.<br />
I have seen the other side of life; I have visited the landscape of suffering<br />
and know all its twists and turns and I need to tell you this story of mine. It<br />
will require of you that you listen carefully and without prejudice. You do not<br />
know this land, how can you; so I will teach you about it graciously.<br />
<br />
At times, I may be angry at you for not knowing this place of desolation and suffering, and other times I will forgive you for not knowing. I will often treat you in a<br />
way that makes you feel what I am feeling. I ask you to forgive me for this, but<br />
it is a strange experience being me. <br />
<br />
Often I wonder why people do not visit this place of their own accord. <br />
I guess nobody wants to know this kind of sadness unless they have to. <br />
<br />
My journeys there have made me wiser, stronger, more compassionate, <br />
cynical, sad and bitter. It's strange, but all of those qualities can be <br />
in the same person at the same time.<br />
<br />
I have returned to your world a different person <br />
and if you want to get to know me as I am now, then we<br />
can meet and share with each other. If not, I will leave your space.</i><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">TCF Atlanta Online</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibRz-HL-ctutmHt1jnTc_NgM_e9-wIdvYxhxM5OA2ocG7w2fUev_oR9zcYchyphenhyphen1SzjBAOQRf7zYGgYPQWH6Vjk_AxLCSDjYKCQPzIUJI_AigX_UERughwXBXMeUOVKuYmPg4MdNa7bEg-A3/s1600/ErinsFlowers2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibRz-HL-ctutmHt1jnTc_NgM_e9-wIdvYxhxM5OA2ocG7w2fUev_oR9zcYchyphenhyphen1SzjBAOQRf7zYGgYPQWH6Vjk_AxLCSDjYKCQPzIUJI_AigX_UERughwXBXMeUOVKuYmPg4MdNa7bEg-A3/s400/ErinsFlowers2011.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">- beneath the pine tree</span></div>Mary Pottshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03952052366072701992noreply@blogger.com15