Author: ferylfiles

Tulips

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2018 was a very full, busy, momentous year. Bryan, Mary, and I went to Hawaii in the winter. Bryan and I met up with friends in Paris in late Spring and then visited my French host family just outside of Tours. I also made the heavy decision to close my little boutique gift shop, Shop Eleven. And in the fall, my dad, with whom I’d been estranged for a few years reached out to ask me to come see him in Bend, Oregon, which I did without hesitation.

My Daddy loved his babies, me included, but I think our transitions to adulthood and independence were hard on him in every case and it manifested in not always the most pleasant outcomes (I like frosted over euphemisms, too, Mom). A big source of the heartache was my relationship with Bryan. I had chosen a much older man. And in early days, Bryan had a conflicting schedule and couldn’t meet with my Dad when he’d come out from Ohio to visit. Bryan thought there would be ample opportunity and Dad felt it was a snub. Lack of communication and hurt feelings all around grew and grew. And Dad often leaned on anger, the secondary emotion, when hurt was the primary one. With a lot of encouragement from others, Dad ended up calling me to help resolve what had been way too long of a time apart. It was a good visit. It was a healing visit. I’m so thankful to every person who helped make that possible. You know who you are…

At the end of that weekend, driving back to Walla Walla from Bend in our old Camry, I decided to make a pit stop at the Bi-Mart in Redmond. What should I see when I stopped? All kinds of bulbs for sale–daffodils and tulips primarily caught my attention. I felt the strongest compulsion to buy tons and so I did. Bringing home a full heart and a full car.

Bryan, delighted by the visit and gracious in my fall planting exuberance helped me plant all those bulbs. The squirrels have gotten most of the daffodils, but the tulips have been a source of joy and healing ever since.

The following spring, April 4, 2019, my daddy passed away. And the tulips were in full bloom. Every anniversary of that date afterward, I think of that fall 2018 visit and what it has meant to my heart and my healing and that the tulips come just when I need them most.

Still Living, Living Again

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This is the reemergence of one of my peony plants in the backyard. They look a little otherworldly when they start to break from the ground, but they have the most fragrant beautiful flowers when the time comes. Bryan used to quote Frank Herbert’s Dune a lot. One of his favorites was “beginnings are such delicate times.” How true. These shoots remind me of that. Spring reminds me of that.

Overmatched

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Some days I get up early enough, make breakfast, make the bed, get to work with time to spare, take care of all the tasks in front of me. Laundry is caught up. The kitchen is pretty clean. The house is mostly tidy.

And then as the day concludes, here, alone, I see all that’s not done. All that I’m reponsible for. I feel overmatched. How do I do this? How am I supposed to do this? That feeling of overwhelm and smallness–it clobbers me.

I went out to clear the stream of debris. I think I might have plucked a dead squirrel or rat or some misfortunate, drowned rodent out along with all the water plants that flow downstream to the grate that separates my side from the neighbors. I began to remove weeds and dead plants from the back garden, barely scratching the surface. Why is it so much harder this year? Why does it seem like a mountain?

I know I can do hard things, but I don’t wanna. (you can imagine that in as whiny a voice as you can tolerate) Tomorrow is a new day. I’ll put on my big girl pants and tackle one thing at a time.

Too easy.

Momma

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Today is my mom’s birthday. She’s been gone for sixteen and a half years and that hardly seems possible. My relationship with her was complicated–the details of which are more suited for a coffee shop chat than a blog. After the age of eight, almost nine, I didn’t live with my mom full time. There’s a lot of heartache in the layers of story there and I’m not interested in pouring them out. What I do want to share is how she built the foundation of my worldview, character, and aspirations of who I’d like to become.

MariAnne had a rough childhood largely due to an abusive mother, one she only spoke about in sing-song euphemisms to protect her children from the full impact of the truth. What we needed to know was that she chose differently and that we experienced childhood differently, too. I’ve learned in more recent years about childhood ACES (Adverse Childhood Experiences) and their impact on brain development, mental health, physical health and the vital importance of having adults who support and believe in you, even if it’s just one. My mom had more ACES than I will ever know. She also had grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who adored her, supported her, believed in her.

My mom graduated from boarding school, got a degree in nursing, raised four children, traveled as a missionary and teacher to Cuba, South Korea, and some of the Pacific Islands. She climbed mountains, she waterskiied, she could style a home on no money and make it look effortlessly elegant. Long after my parents divorced, my dad told me “your mom could make any place feel like a warm, beautiful home, no matter what our budget.” When her kids were far away, she made sure to not stop loving and took many kids under her wing, teaching them how to drive, giving them a chance to earn a little money doing chores, reminding them of their importance and worth, just like she’d done for her own kids.

When I was little and would come home from school complaining of a mean girl, my mom was insistent that I consider the source of the meanness. She worked very deliberately to help me hone a sense of empathy. Maybe this little girl doesn’t have a happy home. Maybe this little girl is acting out. Maybe this little girl needs your friendship. “Oh Mom!” I’d be so mad that she wouldn’t take my side. I’m so glad she didn’t. I’m so glad she wanted me to think of others. My mom had a spirit of forgiveness that I would like to emulate more. I find it so interesting that some folks can have the worst possible things happen to them and they deliberately choose the path of grace, love, forgiveness, and hope, and others become bitter, angry, score-keeping, and vengeful. She once told me I was just like her and I bristled as a young woman might do when their mother lays that sort of mantle on her shoulders. Now at nearly 47, I think to myself, “Oh, God, I hope so.”

Happy birthday, momma. Thanks for showing us a better way to be.

[My siblings and I have set up a memorial nursing scholarship in our mom’s name at Walla Walla University, her alma mater. The first Sunday in May, I host a porch pop-up at my home where we sell our art, creative achievements, my jewelry, and I invite other vendors to sell their goods in anticipation of Mother’s Day the following week. Our proceeds go to help fund that scholarship. I encourage you to put that day on your calendar as it’s a lot of fun and there’ll be refreshments as well. If you’d like to donate directly to the scholarship you can go here: https://payment.wallawalla.edu/donate#/ in the first dropdown box, choose “Student Aid and Scholarships.” In the second dropdown box, choose “Other.” Then where it says to “Describe Your Donation” write MariAnne Jensen Moore Memorial Nursing Scholarship. Thank you very much to all those who have contributed before as the scholarship has been providing support to Walla Walla University nursing students for a number of years now.]

Ninth

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Nine years ago I got to marry the best man I’ve ever known. It was a surprise, small wedding at the back of a restaurant in Portland, Oregon. We had a small group of attendees, which suited my introversion well. We made our own vows. Our officiant told the story of Naomi and Ruth, reminding us that love is a decision and a commitment and we lived it.

I miss my husband–the man who would pull me close and say in a low voice “mine.”

Today is a good day because we had that day and so many more afterward. Today is a hard day because he’s not here with me the way I want him to be.

If you see me today and my nose is runny, my eyes a little puffy, my cheeks blotchy, just know that all off the feelings are close to the surface.