Category Archives: Motherhood

Get off our bodies and out of our bedrooms!

I am totally upset by the trend I see happening in the United States concerning the control of women’s bodies by the men (and more than a few of the women) in our governments. I’m sure there are a godzillion posts by now about yesterday’s news concerning the Komen Foundation and Planned Parenthood.

Since the 1960s, men have been losing control of women, en masse. It had been happening gradually since before women started wearing bloomers. It has been in the last fifty years that women in the United States have really asserted their rights to the control of their own bodies and their own lives.

It has not been a surprise that the men in power want to reclaim and hold on to that power. They see their position as “head of the household” as one ordained by God as the natural order. They have resisted the lessening of the women’s bonds for so many years that they now view themselves as “less than” a man when it comes to relationships with the women in their lives due to the freedom women have achieved.

This power struggle has now come to a head with the withdrawal of funds by the Susan G. Komen Foundation to Planned Parenthood. Their excuse is that they will not fund organizations that are under investigation by the U. S. Congress. Although they deny it, from what I have heard in the past twenty four hours, it is a flagrant attempt to disband Planned Parenthood because part of their services are for abortions. To do that, they are willing to sacrifice the lives of thousands of women every year who would no longer be screened for breast cancer. Life of the unborn is more valuable than life of the mother. They are making that perfectly clear. The irony is that Planned Parenthood is one of the few “crisis pregnancy” groups that do counsel the women in their three choices: parenting, adoption, or abortion.

I am not in favor of abortions. I feel that should be the very last option a woman should choose. That being said, I believe that women should still have that choice and be treated in a sterile environment. Outlawing abortions would not stop abortions. History has clearly shown that. Women have chosen abortion since at least before 1500 BCE according to written Egyptian records. It probably started happening as soon as the first prehistoric woman realized the pregnancy could be ended.

Not every child is a wanted child. Not every child can be afforded. The reason for abortions vary with every single woman who seeks out that service. Ending legal abortions would simply drive women back to the back alleys into deplorable conditions. They would seek out powerful herb concoctions. They would implement coat hangers to attempt to do the job themselves. They would desperately seek an end to their unwanted condition regardless of whether it cost them their own lives or not.

The irony of government seeking to end abortions is that throughout history, men in power, or the sons of men in power who outwardly oppose abortion, are the first ones to pay for and drive or fly their girlfriends or wives to the abortionist in the first place.

The government that is opposing abortions is the same government that is complaining about the safety nets that are in place (as fragile as they are) to keep the unwanted children that are born from starving or dying from disease once they are born. They are the ones to continue to cut funding for their education, health, and housing.They are the ones who forbid the woman from having the abortion yet punish her for the rest of her life for the sin of getting pregnant.

They are also the ones who condemn the growing number of women who choose to keep their children when they have limited sources of income to do so. They gripe at having to provide food stamps, health care, and housing, wishing always to cut funding in those areas. They speak out of both sides of their mouths. To me, that signals multiple personality disorders.

One thing governments can not do is legislate morality. In a fairy tale land, according to them, all children would be planned for and wanted and well cared for by a mother and father who have the financial means to do so. There would never be any “accidents” even if the couple did not practice contraception as some religious groups advocate. Both the mother and the father would be loving and faithful to each other until death does them part. But, alas, that is not the real world. It never has been.

In the meantime, until that fairy tale land exists, governments should get out of the business of trying to control women. It may work for a while but, as evidenced throughout the world today, there will again come a point when women will have the courage to resist such control. The backlash from the Komen decision is a good indication that that time is now. Namaste. Attic Annie

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The Actual Wedding

Everything for the past three days had led up to this moment. I was so happy for my son. Yes, he was already married having received his marriage certificate on July 8, but this was his wedding! My chadult (as a friend of mine calls her adult children) had finally found someone to share his life.

The HoJo was only a block from the wedding site so we walked. It was faster than calling a cab. The wind was a breeze and the temperature had cooled down to make it a beautiful evening. As we approached the hotel, I looked up and saw the marquee. In the middle of this Chinese message I saw the word Nathan. I was so pleased.

We entered and Barb and I were escorted to a table where the bride’s family was seated. I greeted them as best as I could. Her mother left the table and returned with a rose for my corsage. I had left the one I had received that morning in our hotel room. I thanked her as she pinned the new one on me.

I looked at the table which was already being set with food. There were many dishes that were not recognizable, but I thought I might be bold and I would sample some of them any way. There was a significant wait for the proceedings to start. Also on the table, ala 1950s USA style, were cigarettes right there on the Lazy Susan, taken from their packs. I was wondering why I thought the air was getting hazier. That was the answer. There was also a pack in the “favor” sitting on the table by each plate.

Things were still being set up and guests were arriving. I watched with interest as the staff set up tiers of wine glasses to form a fountain with a single glass on top. I had no ideas for what reason.

The bride was to enter by walking down a spiral staircase while the spotlight shown on her. The time was set for 1818 since 8 to many Chinese is a very auspicious number relating to good fortune, wealth, prosper, etc.

All was proceeding on schedule until “CRASH!” A couple of minutes before 1818 the “host”, or emcee hired for the occasion, backed into the table with the wine glasses and they all came tumbling down. Of course the glass flew everywhere including onto the several tiered wedding cake! The staff had to take the time to clean up the glass as much as possible and rebuild the tower. I didn’t know why Julie has chosen 1818 so I didn’t check my watch to see what time she actually entered. I’m hoping maybe this all was cleaned up by 1828 but I have no clue. She was left at the top of the stairs to wait.

The Chinese consider a wedding as a time to entertain friends. There is nothing really emotion producing, or solemn, or spiritual about any of the proceedings. The “host” who, by the way, was dressed as if to maybe go to a family picnic, or run to the local grocery, was in control. One of the things he was in control of was the music, and he played it as high-volumed as he could. Granted there was not much I would understand being said. The bride was gracious enough to provide someone to translate what was going on and neither Barb or I could even hear her and she was sitting as close in between us as she could. It was really disappointing. I ended up just pretending I was deaf and I used my eyes to interpret what was happening.

There was my son in his formal tux and Julie in an exquisite gown. When Julie entered, I couldn’t see my son’s face because his back was to me. I was hoping to watch the expression in his eyes. I could still tell he was extremely happy. Because nothing was solemn, there was never a place I wanted to cry. My friend Maxine had provided me with an antique handkerchief just in case, but it remained in my purse.

There were words spoken and an “important official” examined the wedding certificates. He avowed that they were legitimate and they were legally married. Nathan had insisted that Julie wore a veil. He lifted the veil and gave her a very sweet, sincere kiss. I could not always see what was going on so I don’t remember if they exchanged rings again or not. I’ll have to wait for the wedding pictures of the actual event.

Julie’s father was asked to come front and speak about the wedding. Then I was called up. Nathan had warned me only a couple of hours beforehand. I had everything written down but I did not have time to learn it so I read what I had written. I called her my daughter-in-heart and told her of Nathan’s love of adventure. I told him that he was not as wise as he may think if he ever let her go.

They lit the Unity candle, cut the top layer (without glass) of the cake and fed one another. They both picked up a large bottle of red wine and poured the wine into the top glass which then flowed until it reached the bottom layer. Fortunately this had happened often enough that the last of the wine left enough room so the bottom row didn’t overflow, I really didn’t understand the meaning of this event and I was told that there really wasn’t any. It was just part of the package the hotel provided whether they wanted to do it or not.

While the emcee was talking with Julie and Nathan, I heard her say, “I thought he was cute.” Evidently it is very popular to play a version of “The Newlyweds” as part of the program. Since I couldn’t hear, I don’t know if Nathan was asked a question or not. The whole thing did not go over well and the emcee stopped questioning almost as soon as he began. I realized why one of the family friends had asked me a question earlier. He asked, “The host knows you are religious. (I’m not, I’m spiritual) Is there any topic that would offend you if asked?” It finally dawned on me what he was talking about.

The official part of the program was ended. The bride and groom disappeared while the guests continued to eat. I honestly cannot tell you a thing that was on the menu. I was hungry by this time and I tasted a few of the offerings. Much of it was cool by now.

Nathan and Julie reappeared. This time she had on the traditional red dress. There was no time to talk. Group pictures were taken although there was not one of me alone with the couple. I didn’t even realize that until later. They then circled the entire room and toasted with very small glasses with small groups around the entire room. Fortunately, they were drinking water. I can’t imagine being able to consume that much wine.

The members of last year’s original faculty had taken a bus from Shenyang. They took off and Nathan and Julie followed shortly to continue the celebration. I was touched that nineteen of them had come so far to support Nathan.

Barb, Becky, Robert and I went back to the hotel and had one complementary drink. Afterwards we went to bed. About twenty minutes later I have no idea why, I started sobbing. I tried to be silent but emotions were just flooding over me. I had suddenly seen my son who had, I felt, been trying to steer his boat with only one oar since he was six when his father left. I saw Julie and a new sail added. They were floating without effort down life’s stream. I was so happy. I was crying with joy.  I could give up trying to help steer Nathan’s life. I was relieved. I fell into a very blissful sleep.

Namaste. Attic Annie

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Pregnancy and Cancer…Impossible choices my mother made

I can only imagine the thoughts my mother had while she was pregnant with me. My family was very close mouthed about her even with me, and I was only able to glean bits and pieces of history about her or her life. We are talking about the late 40s when, if you talked at all about cancer it was in a whisper “Shhhh don’t tell anyone, she has cancer!”

From the way the story goes, she, for whatever reason after my sister was born, was told she would probably never have any more children. My sister was an only child from 1940 to 1945. At that time my mother realized that once again she was pregnant. I was on the way. She was 39. Two months after my birth, she was 40.

There was a problem. Somewhere along the line, she discovered a lump in her breast. She was pregnant. She had a lump. This was 1946. According to today’s rates, a woman in her 30’s has a 1 in 229 chance of developing breast cancer during the next ten years. Have the rates increased in sixty years? That’s a 0.4% chance if my figures are right. It happened to her.

There was very little she could do.  Maybe she could have a  radical mastectomy using ether as an anesthetic. I have been unable to find information on the effects of ether on a pregnant woman or her baby, but the effects on any patient were sometimes not good either. I don’t know what the medical establishment would have done for her then. Would they have refused until I was delivered? Would they have taken the chance?  Could she have had an abortion to save her own life? I don’t know. Abortion was illegal. I don’t know if there were exceptions to the law in 1946 or not.

I wish there were a way to go back in time to be there when she was going through all this. There isn’t.

She delivered me and had her operation. From what I understand, I was kept by my mother’s sister next door while she recovered. Some time during that first year I returned to my mother’s care. She was well enough to ride in the car with me, my sister, my cousin, two aunts, and my father all the way to California and back when my aunt returned home after nursing her through the operation and recovery.

Some time before I was two,  I have been told that she bent over to pick me up and had a horrific pain in her back. The cancer had spread to her bones. She lived another two years or so, dying in April two months before my fourth birthday. She was forty two.

To discover that one is pregnant is, in general, a very happy experience for many married women or unmarried women who intentionally get pregnant. I like to think that my mother very much wanted me to exist once she found out I was on the way. It is very difficult for me to comprehend her decisions sixty years ago. When she discovered the lump, from what I understand, she put off going to the doctor. When she did finally go, the doctor assured her that there was nothing to worry about. Did she agree with him? I’ll never know. Did she want to know anything different? I’ll never know. I do know that the same aunt came back once again to Illinois and took care of her those last two years.

I only had one opportunity to ask my aunt questions sometime in my early 30s. When she talked about Dr. Malcom, who was my mother’s doctor, she still blamed him for her beloved sister’s death. She said very little, but even after thirty years, I still remember the hate of that man in her voice and the pain she was feeling even talking about my mother. She never realized, and I didn’t say, that I was interpreting her reaction as having preferred my mother to live rather than me.

Being pregnant and having cancer at the same time must be a special kind of hell on earth. The questions that a woman has to face are monumental. Should I continue with the pregnancy? Should I have an abortion? Should I have chemo while I’m pregnant? Should I wait? Is it known yet what future effects the chemo might have on my child or on me? Will I live long enough for this chid to remember me as her mother? Will my husband love this child or will he resent it for all her life for his losing his wife? What effect will losing me have on my baby?

I have a cousin who survived breast cancer about four years ago. I’m not sure exactly what year it was since I deliberately avoid thinking of the year when I hear news like that. I never say anything like, “Oh, it’s 2007. My cousin was diagnosed with cancer this year.” I think when I was in her home last year she said something about having survived three years with no sign of its return. She was looking forward to the fifth year. I think if a woman survives that long, the likelihood of the cancer returning is very small.

Her breast cancer still has not returned. Instead, she now has an aggressive form of leukemia. In some women, the chemo and radiation received to stop the breast cancer are responsible. She had the option of checking herself into the hospital and undergoing very aggressive chemo. It’s spring. She was told she would not be able to eat fresh fruits and vegetables. She would not be able to be around any living plants. She would be in isolation.

She checked herself back out of the hospital the next day. She said no. She wanted to finish the rest of her life surrounded by her family. It’s springtime. She wants to be around the flowers she loves and to watch all the birds in her back yard. She didn’t like the odds of a successful survival being only 40 % or the possibility of the leukemia not returning of only 15%.

It is not for anyone else to question any mother who is pregnant and has cancer. The current legislature is trying to pass laws prohibiting abortion once again even if it means the life of the mother. It is impossible to choose. No other human being should criticize any woman’s choice in a matter such as this. No other human being has the right to tell the woman what to do. She can only listen to her inner voice and make the best choice she thinks is available. Namaste. Attic Annie

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Her mother scares her….

I grew up without a mother. She died when I was three so I never really knew her. In many ways it was a tragedy. In others, it saved me the conflicts that so many other girls around me had to endure as they were growing up. It seemed they were embroiled in  constant love-hate relationships with their mothers as they traversed the mine fields of growing up. It saved me from becoming a care taker as my mother aged. She was forty when I was born. There could have been decades of increasing care for her had she lived as long as her sisters. My entire life would have been lived differently.

Mother’s Day has often been a troublesome day for me. My father asked his unmarried sister to come live with us. She was fifty years old when she moved into our home. I don’t think we understood each other a single day in our lives together, but, I guess she was better than not having any female influence in my life at all, as little as my aunt’s presence was.

I was reminded every Mother’s Day of my loss. In church one year we made some kind of flower memento and during a Mother’s Day program we were instructed to give these keepsakes to our mothers. I carried mine to my aunt. She was genuinely surprised by my gift. Her reaction told me so. She wasn’t expecting anything. When you think about it, though, what choice did I have? I could have stood by myself in front while the rest of the kids around me dispersed throughout the congregation, but that  would have been too painful. I had to give it to her, even though we never achieved a mother-daughter relationship.

Somehow I managed to grow up, marry, and have a son, so I became a mother myself. He decided to become a world wanderer so, except for his occasional trips home, and my two trips to visit him, we have not really been in each other’s lives all that much for the last ten years. We do Skype once in while but we really are not all that much involved with each other any more.

That’s the story of my life in that department. Growing up without a mother, growing older without a son (except for a a few days at a time.) I’m still trying to figure out the “whys” of that situation. It’s like the days when we traveled downtown and we paused to look into the windows of the department stores. Regardless of how great it looked on the other side of the windows, I knew I would never be allowed to climb inside. Life is sometimes like that.

I found a funny video to put everything into perspective. Comedienne Chondra Pierce shares with her audience episodes about her relationship with her mother. I can enjoy her story without having personally lived through it. I hope you enjoy it as well. Namaste. Attic Annie

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The Hungry Children Among Us

Good morning! Have you had breakfast yet? That is something a growing number of Tarrant families, parents AND children, no longer ask in the morning. The Tarrant County Food Bank is serving an ever-increasing number of children, who otherwise have nothing to eat.  

There is a couple in our Sunday discussion group that is greatly involved with this organization. She is in charge of obtaining the items that are auctioned off at the annual Souper Bowl. Since that event just occurred, it was a topic of conversation at our Saturday evening class social we hold once a month. Her husband, who also works with the bank,  started whipping off statistics of how bad things are getting for this ONE county in this state in this nation.  

Basically what he said can be found on the TAFB’s web site.  

CHILD HUNGER STATISTICS

  • In Tarrant Area Food Bank’s 13-county service area, nearly one-fifth (19.5 percent) of children under age 18 live in extreme poverty (below 100 percent of the federal poverty level) and thus are at high risk of hunger.  (U.S. Census Bureau, 2005)
  • In Tarrant County, 1 in 5 children live in extreme poverty and thus are at high risk of hunger.
  • In Texas, more than 1 in 5 children (22.2 percent) suffer from food insecurity or outright hunger. This is the highest rate of hunger in the nation among children under age 18. Nationally, 1 in 6 children are food insecure.*
  • Among Texas children under age 5, the rate of food insecurity/hunger is closer to 1 in 4 children (23.3 percent), the fourth highest rate in the nation.*
  • Of all age groups in the United States, children have the highest poverty rate (18 percent). (U.S. Census Bureau, 2007)

* Child Food Insecurity in the United States: 2005–2007  

However, if you look at the source of these statistics you can see that the data is from 2005-2007 before  the full effects of this recession began to hit. Not that these facts aren’t dire enough, Pete says that these facts are very obsolete. The numbers of new people coming to the food bank are increasing exponentially.  

Tarrant County is in a major food crisis…ONE county in ONE state in the entire nation. Of course that crisis is hitting almost every county in the United States. When people altruistically decide to “feed the hungry” they only have as far as their own neighborhoods to look.  

While I was still teaching, there was a fourth grade girl in the classroom next to mine. She always looked sad, but her teacher noticed that whenever they had a party to celebrate an upcoming vacation, or even a three-day weekend, this girl would look even sadder. Her teacher asked her one day what was causing such sadness. The girl broke down sobbing and finally was able to tell her teacher that she hated holidays and long weekends. To her it meant that there would be NO food for her until school resumed again and she was once more able to eat in the school cafeteria her two meals a day. She was already very thin and this was the day before the winter break. The teacher didn’t know what to do. Our conversation about this issue ended then and I never heard what, if anything, was done for that poor child.  

Hunger insecurity for a child can affect that child’s entire life.   

* Hunger in the United States is measured by the U.S. Department of Agriculture as low or very low food security, that is, “food insecurity.”  Food insecurity is the inability to consistently access adequate amounts of nutritious food necessary for a healthy life.  Any degree of food insecurity can lead to malnutrition and chronic hunger, which threaten a person’s health.  In the case of the seriously ill or the very young or very old, chronic hunger can even threaten one’s life.  

That fourth grade child was extremely hunger insecure. I don’t remember when I found out about that child. It was somewhere, I believe, between 2000 and 2004 when I retired. I never knew her name. I don’t know her fate when she left fourth grade.  

Fortunately, the plight of the hungry children is being relieved somewhat. TCFB initiated a backpack program to feed the children nutritious snacks over the weekend when so many would obviously go without.  

The backpack program was established the year I retired. The children had food to eat on the weekend. Bank of America gave a gift. I’m assuming that perhaps they have repeated that annually.  

Pete said that if the food bank is aware of other siblings too young for school, the backpack contains enough for all the children in the family.  

In the good ol' USA

  

She, above, is deciding which beans to serve with the bag of rice on her shoulder. Her full story can be seen in the link below.  

The face of hunger exists all over the United States. Sometimes you may discover that it exists right in your own extended family. Open your eyes, open your hearts, and if you are able, open your wallets. If one bank can do it in one community, maybe more banks in more counties would be willing to try. Take your laptops along and show them the above video. Banks need all the positive feedback they can get these days. Ask the bank president to donate one day’s salary…what ever it takes. Hunger is real in America. Hunger is in your own family or in your own neighborhood. There is no excuse to spend that much money on platinum weddings, or to award yourself with obscene salaries and perks when so many children right here in the good ol’ USA are suffering. Namaste. Attic Annie

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What does God smell like?

premature baby

Good morning, world! Wow! I never thought I’d write a blog a couple of days ago about a Department of Peace that would be read by so many countries. I am in total shock. I thought I was reaching on a regular basis only about fifteen of my friends, relatives, and a few new fellow bloggers. Today is another Sunday. As of right now it’s been read in 37 countries by over 500 people.

The following story appeared Saturday in my mailbox and, although I’ve received it before, I thought there might be someone somewhere who will be reading it for the first time. I’m sorry about no pictures but my computer won’t allow me to download the file type.

I have no idea if this story  is true or not but it is a good story that can make you think about the power of God. I checked White Pages and there is a Diana and husband David Blessing living in the Irving, TX  area. I know very premature babies are being saved. I just don’t know if they smell God while they are in such critical condition. Here’s the story I received.

A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in  Dallas as  the doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana  Blessing. She was still groggy from surgery.

Her  husband, David , held her hand as they braced  themselves for  the latest news.
That afternoon of March 10, 1991,  complications had forced Diana,  only 24-weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency Cesarean  to deliver the couple’s new daughter, Dana Lu Blessing. 

At  12 inches long and weighing only one pound nine  ounces, they  already knew she was perilously premature. Still,  the doctor’s soft words dropped like bombs. 

‘I don’t think she’s  going to make it,’ he said, as kindly as he could.  

‘There’s  only a 10-percent chance she will live through the night,  and even then, if by some slim chance she does make it,  her future could be a very cruel one’

Numb  with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the  doctor described  the devastating problems Dana would likely face if  she survived. She  would never walk, she would never talk, she would probably  be blind, and she would certainly be prone to other  catastrophic conditions from cerebral palsy to  complete  mental retardation, and on and on. 

‘No! No!’  was all Diana could say. 

She and David , with their 5-year-old son Dustin, had  long dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to become a  family of four.

Now,  within a matter of hours, that dream was  slipping away

But  as those first days passed, a new agony set in for David  and Diana. Because Dana’s underdeveloped nervous system  was essentially  ‘raw’, the lightest kiss or caress only intensified  her discomfort, so they couldn’t even cradle their tiny baby  girl against their chests to offer the  strength of their love.

All  they could do, as Dana struggled  alone beneath the ultraviolet light in the tangle of tubes and  wires, was to pray that God would stay close to  their precious little girl. 

There  was never a moment when Dana suddenly grew stronger. 

But as  the weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight  here and an ounce of strength there.

At  last, when Dana turned two months old. her parents were able to  hold her in their arms for the very first time. And  two  months later, though doctors continued to gently but grimly  warn that her chances of surviving, much less living any kind of  normal life, were next to zero, Dana went home from  the hospital, just as her mother had predicted. 

Five  years later, Dana was a petite but feisty young  girl with glittering gray eyes  and an unquenchable zest for life.  She  showed no signs whatsoever of any mental or physical  impairment. Simply, she was everything a little girl  can be and more. But that happy ending is far from  the end  of her story. 

One  blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home  in Irving , Texas , Dana was sitting in her mother’s  lap in  the bleachers of a local ball park where her brother Dustin’s  baseball team was practicing.
As always, Dana was  chattering nonstop with her mother and several other  adults sitting nearby, when she  suddenly fell silent.  Hugging  her arms across her chest, little Dana asked, ‘Do  you smell that?’ 

Smelling  the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm,  Diana replied, ‘Yes, it smells like rain.’
Dana  closed her eyes and again asked, ‘Do you smell that?’  

Once  again, her mother replied, ‘Yes,  I think we’re about to get wet. It smells like rain.’  

Still caught in the moment, Dana shook her head,  patted her thin  shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced, 
‘No,  it smells like Him. 

It  smells like God when you lay your head on His  chest.’ 

Tears  blurred Diana’s eyes as Dana happily hopped down to  play with the other children.  
Before the rains came, her daughter’s words  confirmed what Diana and all the members of the extended  Blessing family had  known, at least in their hearts, all along.
During  those long days and nights of her first two months of  her life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them  to touch  her, God was holding Dana on His chest and it is His  loving  scent that she remembers so well.

This is the place where I was supposed to forward the story to five friends so that something good will happen to me at 11 o’clock. When I read that, that’s the time I usually hit the delete button. However, this story continues to touch me. There have been many occasions during the troubling times in my life that I have tremendously desired to be embraced by God to rest within the Holy Spirit. I would love to be able to sense the “smell” of God and embrace the experience with all my senses. That is why I didn’t delete this story this time.  I really like the story and the understanding faith I have in my life says that what we consider God can and does work miracles. God is manifested in all life, even the life of a premature baby. What do you believe?  

Namaste. A friend asked me what that means.

Definition: Namaste is a Hindi salutation or greeting. The word Namaste is a combination of the two Sanskrit words: nama, and te. Basically, nama means “to bow” and te means “you.”

Interpretation:

The God/Goddess Spirit within me recognizes and honors the God/Goddess Spirit within you.

Namaste is significant because it is a humbling gesture. Namaste is done as a recognition that we are all on equal standings, all of us are children of divinity. We are one.

Who Can Namaste?

Namaste can be used as a greeting for all ages, all genders, all races. Namaste greetings can be given to friends, family members, and also strangers. Namaste is significant because it is a humbling gesture. Namaste is done as a recognition that we are all on equal standings, all of us are children of divinity. We are one.

Now you know… I believe we are all one. Have a blessed day. Attic Annie

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Happy Birthday, Son

We were all clowns

We were all clowns

Today is my son’s birthday. I didn’t know how long it would take for him to get a card so I sent it in plentiy of time. It arrived about five days too soon. I’ll probably send him another email card in a few hours when he is at work. For a while I called him at 7:35  in the morning. That’s the time he was born. He is thirteen hours ahead of me. I don’t call Japan.

I’m not sure I can even remember that last time we shared his actual birthday on October 1. For the last eight years he has not even been in this state. For the past six years, he hasn’t even been in this country. I think I remember going to his new apartment a couple of days later the year after he graduated from college. He found one close to twenty miles away from this home so he could be close to his job on the opposite side of the metroplex. He cooked dinner. I sent a cake to him and it was still sitting there with no more than one piece cut out of it. He doesn’t (or didn’t) really care that much for cake.

His junior year in college I bought him a cake and delivered it to him in the middle of a frat party in the park. At least that year I’m almost certain most of it got eaten.

You’d think with just one son I’d remember more of his birthdays. His freshman year in high school he had wanted to go to a military school in Indiana. I found a bakery that would deliver to the school.

He’s not a little boy any more. He is now the age my ex was when he was born. At  that time, my ex thought he was too old to be having another child. I hope my son doesn’t feel the same way. He used to talk about wanting kids, but that topic doesn’t come up with me very much any more. At least if he does decide to have kids, I am hoping he does it the old fashioned way and marries first, although neither he nor his girlfriend are in any way practitioners of any religion. He mentioned they’d just go down to the local “city hall” or the registry or  whatever they have over in Japan and have a ten minute civil ceremony. I’m not sure that would be worth flying thirteen hours to Tokyo to witness. I’d like to see his girlfriend in a kimono in a traditional ceremony even if I wouldn’t be able to understand it. I haven’t gotten the idea that that’s going to happen any time soon.

I’d like to be a grandmother, but currently my son is living in Japan for the second year. If he were to marry over there, I’d probably very seldom get to see my grandkids anyway. I have friends tell me all the time what their grandkids are doing. They are enjoying being a part of their lives. I just smile and listen a little jealously.

I was born after all four of my grandparents had passed away. There was always a part of me that wondered what it would have been like to have them in my lives. Now a part of me may always wonder what it would have been like to have grandchildren in my life as well. It’s not as easy to rock a monitor and sing to a computer no matter how life size the image is on the screen. I have kept the rocking chair that was in my son’s nursery waiting for just such a chance to use it again.

I’ve known since before my son was even two that I had a wanderer on my hands. We had gone camping and I had not put the cooler away into the closet yet. It was still on the opposite side of the room from the door. This room was a converted two car garage with thick shag carpeting. I was on a calling committee at that time and I made my calls secure in the knowledge that all the doors were  locked.

My mommy alarm went off when I realized I wasn’t hearing any normal little boy sounds. Just as I stood up to seek him out, I happened to look out the dining room window. There coming up the walk was Maxine’s son leading a naked little kid back home. In his effort to be free, he wanted to be totally free.  There was absolutely NO identification on the kid.

I rushed to the door. My son had managed to escape. He had figured out that he could drag the cooler across the floor. By standing as high as he could on his tiptoes, he was able to unlock the door. He had run down the street and was clear down by the entrance to our little subdivision when my neighbor spotted him and stopped to pick him up. That’s about two blocks from the house. I know that’s how he escaped because I had him stand on the cooler and I raised his arm. It was too far from the lock until he showed me how he did it. He wasn’t even speaking in complete sentences yet!

He has always felt the need to be free, to explore. He lived in Switzerland for four years and saw almost all of the large cities in Europe during that time. Last year he decided to move on to see the Asian culture. He can do that more easily by being based in Japan. Of course his wandering ways are still causing me concern. It’s not easy to take my dog for a walk on New Year’s Day and come home to a message on the answering machine, “Don’t worry, Mom, the bombing was not in this area of town.” He happened to be in Bankock, Thailand at the time over Christmas vacation.

It was an axious few days before he let me know he was safely back in Switzerland.

I’ve tried to let him be an adult man, but maybe some of you mothers can identify with the feelings of loving that precious little child. He will always have my love and affection regardless of how old he gets. The next time you are home for your birthday, I’ll bake you another cake. This one was a success. I can do it again. Happy Birthday, Son. As for the rest of you…Namaste y’ll. Have a great day! Attic Annie

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