Fur Babies

 The evidence of man’s best friend is indisputable. Why we love our dogs is not as questionable as why we don’t love others as much. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but the truth is… our dogs have been closer to us more personally than any other  human…even our closest human. I’m not being rude or sarcastic or mean or anything negative. I’m only saying the truth. Don’t read further if you don’t agree. Don’t read further if you don’t understand. Don’t read further unless you’ve held your precious fur baby with tears in your eyes and snot running down your face explaining your tragic loss of love to the only one that can understand… your doggie. 

I’ve held several dogs in my arms on the cold floor of a veterinary clinic; telling my babies that they were the best dogs in the whole wide world .. honestly looking into their eyes… holding them and comforting them. What more could I do? What more could I do to make them realize the impact they have made on my whole life… 

It doesn’t matter if you’ve had one or two… I’ve never not had an animal in my life. I’m so very blessed because my very best friends have never spoken English… they only speak the language of my heart. Hugs. Kisses. Late night snuggles. They would never reveal my secrets… they only hug me and convince me that tomorrow will be a better day. I truly believe that animals will speak to you if you really believe… really believe that language is not the barrier. I can look into their eyes and see how much they love me and I know they know how much I love them . Sweet, precious, animal angels. 

Don’t think for a moment that the spiritual world isn’t close… it’s hugging me with paws 🐾 from my whole life. My friends from the animal kingdom are waiting for me… and sending love and hugs and snuggly blessings. How can I ever be sad knowing how happy they are. 💖

I planted 6 rose bushes and about 40 sunflower seeds in June.  Digging foot deep holes for the roses wasn't easy with my mountain desert soil, but the inch deep holes for the sunflowers went pretty smoothly.  I begin this story with basic gardening ideas...make a plan, dig a hole, plant the seed, water daily; a continuation of scheduled routines that are kinda second nature by now.  

I think a lot in my garden. I think about what I need to do, who I need to call,  how I will never get everything done...and my garden answers sometimes.  Not in a real voice, but in a voice that I hear through my senses other than my ears.  

Now that it is September; going towards the end of 3 full months of sunflowers and roses, the sunflowers have reached their full bloom and have slowly bent their necks; the spent blossoms now full of seeds.  The cycle is truly beautiful.  Tiny seed grows to an 8 foot stalk with enormous sunny bloom surrounded with 4 inch petals...I watered them everyday.  I watered them everyday and now I no longer need to water them because they will no longer continue to live.  I think a long time about how their full lives have been in my yard, under my care, and they will still not live any longer.  Yes, there are seeds in each one  so the cycle may begin again next year if I choose to keep the seeds.  I decide I will let the birds eat them instead.  Another extension of my sunflowers continuing to be  the food for bees, birds, and butterflies.  

My roses have grown as well; I admit I was nervous a few times when some leaves had burned edges or a bud didn't open quite as perfectly as I had hoped.  But my roses now have new growth; the tiny reddish leaves that appear when I'm not watching.  I didn't have any set reason on why I chose 6 bushes...I just chose each for it's color and probably made "eye contact" with them in some strange Druid ancestral connection to the earth.  My favorite rose from the 6 changes everyday.  One has coral-red blooms with bright green leaves, one is short and stocky with yellow blossoms, one has sage green leaves and perfect pale pink buds, another blooms in clusters of deep red, the fifth reaches out with longer stems, and the 6th is steady and a soft lilac.  I made water troughs around them with broken pottery edges; and I love thinking about how they will look next summer.  

I don't pretend that I am the first to see the advantage of the perennial versus the annual, or try to explain why they actually exist.  But I have felt the change inside each one; sunflower asking for water, rose asking for time.  Doesn't it make sense that if I keep watering the sunflower  it should continue blooming and blooming???  No.  My garden is telling me something.  I just don't know if I really want to listen.  

I decided to name my roses.  Myrth, Fred, Charles, John, Paula, and Hattie.  They have unknowingly become my connection to memories  of very  special people.  My special people.  Speaking to me with each new red leaf.  

The sunfower turns towards the sun and optimistically thinks life is forever and my roses turn towards the sun and know that I will take care of them for many years.  I think some more about next year's garden.  I will tell my sunflowers that they are growing where others were so happy.  And I will introduce them to my roses.  

Nesting

If I sit quietly long enough, without concern for time, Nature always opens a tiny window inviting me in...today's message came as a morning dove.  I had finished planting two rose bushes and sat for a bit when I noticed a dove with a stick in her beak on one of my pines.  "Huh", I thought.  I took several gulps of water, chatted with my dogs, and then I saw her again.  Another stick.  Just quietly collecting sticks.  More sips of water and then she dropped down from the pine and started walking through the desert brush behind my back wall.  I in turn  jumped  from my chair and started watching her... I'm imagining her thoughts,"this looks good, but, wait ! I think I saw it over there...yes! That's the one"!  She pulled out a bit of an old fallen branch and flew back to my tree.  Now I'm under the tree looking practically into the sun trying to find the nest location... TWO doves now... I can see them discussing the perfect placement of the new find...

How lucky am I?  I don't consider the question a silly one but instead one that brings about more questions.  This nest explains the tiny eggshells that I often find on my grass; and the rather large society of morning doves that wake me up...Cooo, cooo, . Very distinctive. Actually the more I think about them I go back to my grandmother's house so long ago and I can hear them there.  A distant call; "Paige, how about some jelly toast?"  A simple moment given to me because I took a brief pause to notice the sweet, young mother bird building her nest anew.  But my thoughts turn back to the roses... I will name them Fred and Myrth.  In memory of gardens, doves, love, and jelly toast.  How lucky am I.  No longer a question.

 

Fishin' and Country Music

Sitting on the lake I have officially "Gone Country"; that is according to the  words I can make out from a pick up truck's radio on the next bank.  How perfectly the music matches a day of fishing; or should I say a day of sleeping while holding a fishing pole.  I have a six pack of Negra Modelo, barbecue potato chips, Walmart folding chairs, and two determined fishermen one in a hat and the other in a Hawaiin shirt.  

No excitement yet... Not even from the little boats dreamily floating in front of us.  

Except these two dragon flies that are piggy backing on the ripples and the black bird that keeps swooping in front of   Hawaiin shirt every time he casts through the air.  

The Hat is convinced there is one  fish that lives here and he's on vacation.

Probably.  

I wonder how long we will sit here so quietly; is there an unspoken rule about how quiet one should be?  What if I sneeze like my mom?  They'll be running over to check our fishing licenses.  

Time to experiment with different baits, floaters, weights, and for me a beer.  This is pretty awesome.  Who cares if the fish Ain't biting?  

Hat begins giving advice, "when you see that thing going up and down there's a fish".  And. "Fish are hot at 40 degrees; they must be at the bottom ".   You just gotta love a fisherman.  I'm not completely sure what we're going to do with all these fish we are planning to catch...I'm not even sure I like fish.  

Time for the sandwiches; no, I didn't make them, but boy do they taste good and the country music has my attention again. How beautiful this day is!!!  

We've decided to move to a stream.  How could it be more beautiful?  The country music has changed to stream movement, water and rock symphony,  delighted birds,  and leaf rustling.

The right combination of hook, bait, sinker...country sounds...folding chairs...cold brew...the Hat...the Hawaiin shirt, and God's great outdoors.  

I've "Gone Country " and I ain't sure I'll ever be the same.  

Fish or no fish.

Sometimes I Think in Haiku

Sunday morning rain 

Flowers stretch to meet each drop

Gardens freshly cleansed 

Gardener gazes

While the slow mist covers ground 

Nature needs to help

Daily changes give

Hope for growth; new beginnings 

Encouraging her soul.

Do you remember or do you not forget?

My lovely nephew stood at the Torah last weekend and brought another source of pride to our family.  He read in Hebrew so confidently and with such assurance in his words that we all sat beaming.  

The Rabbi spoke of remembrances and how an event like this helps us to remember our own commitments; and of course this got me thinking... Of how We experience life in stages and in simultaneous events that seem to never end...a series of overlapping occasions.  

When is it that I remember stories of my childhood? What triggers my thoughts? Is it the smell of juice that brings on my memory of Hawaiin Punch?  Just how much sugar did I add to the Kool-Aid pitcher? The smell of freshly mowed grass that takes me back to playing "Ditch Em" at Madeline Park...(I've hung upside down from everyone of those trees)...sometimes I smell paste.  You know it; twist off the lid and use an orange stick to spread it on your construction paper flowers that you're  making for a Mother's Day card.

Looking at old photographs helps me remember... birthday  parties, family pets, vacations, loved ones still with us and some whom are not; let's take a moment to remember.

Brain research links remembrances with emotions...  The stronger the emotion and the more we remember.  

I remember taking a nickel from my mom's purse... All I wanted was some candy and all she wanted was to make sure the laundry was done... Remembering my very bruised punishment is something  I'll never forget.

"You're making me live"...Queen takes me back...who's your best friend?  " I really love the things that you do".... 

Vicki and Ginger...  I will never forget the ridiculously obnoxious things we did...not only do I remember but I will never forget.

Ummm, have you ever tried to dry out your eyeballs upside down under your bed with a blow dryer? Who has used perfume as a breath freshener? Vicki!!  You're swift!! 

Where are you??? I will search the four corners of this Earth to find you because I can never forget...."You're Swift!!!"

Do you remember? Or do you try not to forget?  

I'll always remember the days my children were born; but I did forget the pain.  

I remember Christmas Eve at my grandparents house; Cornish hens, fruit ornaments, strange jellos, and cousins that still make me laugh.

I remember wanting to be an archeologist...I'll never forget reading about Egyptian Pyramids...

So.  Do you remember? Or do you not forget?  Is there a difference?  

I can remember so many wonderful moments of my life... And some I try and forget. But no matter how hard I try; there are things I can't forget.  

Those memories are buried.  I may never forget them but I don't have to remember them either.  

Whatever you need to do, you should remember that forgetting has consequences.  Remembering has power.  

There are things I would love to forget... No matter how hard I try .  

But I will always remember.

Do you remember or do you try not to forget?????

What Do You Believe?

The "back story" begins in more than one Baptist church; memorizing scriptures, vacation bible school, art projects, juice and cookies, and a swift dunk in the baptismal.  I remember being in the white robe and leaning back ... Coming up completely wet and very excited.  I was 6.  My family was so happy.

Seven years later I am comfortably worshipping in a little country Episcopal Church.  I have memorized The Lord's Prayer and have knelt down to pray on a small wooden stool; receiving weekly communion from a nice priest.  I have now been "confirmed " and very much enjoy the peaceful Sundays that follow.

In between these beautiful memories I became a special granddaughter of a Jewish couple.  I began to sit through numerous Passover Seders, lovingly lighting Hannukah candles, celebrating weekly Shabbat services and learning how to eat lox, herring, gefilte fish, latkes, and blintzes.  

Yep!  I'm pretty screwed up.  

At least everyone thinks I am.  But let me guide you through ...My story.

My religious story begins to turn when I was not allowed to be the president of my college's Hillel because I wasn't Jewish.  

(How they knew that is beyond me...)

 Wasn't Jewish?  Are you kidding me?  

I've been a part of an amazing Jewish family for 10 years!

  What? You have to be born Jewish?  What does that mean? What does that really mean?  Obviously I was now led to my rabbi at my synagogue.  My synagogue.

Maybe it's not My synagogue .

It's true.  I'm not Jewish. 

I'm not Jewish?  After the shear shock I begin to search for a church that I would "fit" in.  Searching for a church that loves Israel and the Jewish people like I do is not as easy as you would think.  So I'm back to the rabbi , my rabbi, with endless questions.  Several months later I am again going under the water just like I did at 6 years old... Only this time coming up soaking wet as a Jew.  Yes.  I've been baptized as a Baptist and I have immersed myself in the mikvah becoming a Jew.

The next 24 years include a wedding under the chupah,  a naming, a bris, a bat mitzvah, and a bar mitzvah. 

 I am happy here. But is this my Religion?

Now that the kids are grown I am beginning to feel something a little different.  I'm beginning to think that the paths available to us might be more numerous than I once thought.  

Why do we have to have a religion?  I absolutely agree that learning about G-d is  a natural consequence of seeing life and love opening before us . I have never questioned my belief in G-d.  But I do question how many different ways there are to follow him.  Of all the billions of people in this world how does one even dare to assume one religion is THE religion.?

I love the way the Native Americans felt about Mother Earth.  I love how Buddhism allows the tolerance of other religions.  The Four Noble Truths in Buddhism are something to study.  I love the new pope.  He is saying things that are changing people's lives. He is stimulating changes that are changing people's lives.  

I find myself thinking about the Ten Commandments.  I think about Jesus coming to Earth.  I had an argument with a dear Christian friend over whether Jesus would eat a pepperoni pizza.  There is NO WAY  he would eat a pepperoni pizza.  Jesus keeps Kosher.  He just does.  

I don't miss having a Christmas tree. But if I had one it would be the most beautiful tree... covered in beautiful glass ornaments and twinkling lights...I am absolutely certain I saw Santa and his sleigh when I was a little girl. I think the Hannukah menorah is so beautiful on all of the eight nights.  I love to eat the Rosca...and if I had the baby Jesus I would definitely bring tamales on February 2nd.   I love Luminarias...I am fascinated by rosaries...I can speak Yiddish like my mother-in-law... I can play Mah Johg with my girlfriends...

I have an idea.  When it comes to religion why don't we all just come together and share and hug and pray.  Why don't we just learn from each other and grow in our SPIRITS.  Let's light the candles of Peace; glowing and burning for righteousness and solidarity... Glowing and burning for love. And love. AND LOVE.

And let us all say SHALOM.

And let us all say AMEN.