There’s this girl, you see, born on the Fourth of July. She erupted on the scene at a military base and grew to love all things military precision-like—minimalistic living and spartan saving with exacting expectations of herself—yet exploding with all the vibrant color of a rainbow. She’s an out of the box thinker—MacGyver’s met his match in her.
This girl, you see, is a firecracker, whip smart, and loud about things that matter like injustice, inequality, and freedom for all. She’s the yang to my yin, the bang for my buck, my soul sister, twin flame, and best friend. Happy Birthday, Tracy Jo! 🥰🎉🎊 💥
4th of July
It is hard to say when or where Although why is not quite as hard (synchronous orbits)to declare that mysterious tidal heat where in wonder science we meet. Life whisks away what’s not needed, brings the ebb and flow, completed we move while the stars stand their guard.
Thanks to the generosity of an out-of-town friend, who is just here for a couple of weeks, I was able to visit Trace today.
Thanks to the generosity of our friends and dog trainers, the dogs have been able to have an extended stay at a reduced rate.
Thanks to another friend who offered to host Ev, I will be able to pick up Tracy when she comes home from the hospital.
I’m overwhelmed with the love and phone calls, with the encouraging words, and with the prayer that has been offered to us.
We are grateful.
Thank you one and all.
grateful
for sun and rain for glen and grove for paths too steep and overgrown for friends who love without reserve for healing in transparency grateful.
for docks and dips in darkness deep for freedom found in letting go for the joy of finding new love for tears that cleanse body and soul grateful.
for maladies that mend our faith for stones that build our broken walls for the strength bound up in heartache for the power of weakness known grateful.
for life and breath, for strength in hope for knowledge and wisdom and truth for the freedom in forgiveness for the power of grace imbued grateful.
for everyday bits of holy in our everyday lives profane for everyday pleasures profound I staunchly rejoice and remain grateful.
Today Trace was moved to inpatient therapy in Rochester. She will have three hours of therapy per day, and unfortunately can only have one non-clergy visitor per day.
Because children are not allowed, I am not able to go and visit her with Evan, so we are counting on some friends to head over and cheer her on.
This is a hard season.
But we’ve been here before, and we know how to do hard things.
So sweep away the clouds and let the sun shine in.
On another note, I completed my take on a Trijan Refrain form poem today with the final and third stanza. You can read it in its entirety below.
Peace to all of you, you have been so very encouraging to us over these last days.
walking in the light
friendship unpacks a history rich with joy and sorrow, and days unfold with mystery—- surprise of tomorrow. walk in the light when days grow dark and life seems bleak and rather stark. walk in the light walk in the light rejoicing in each tender spark.
friendship unpacks a new season that’s not at all thrilling; I know things happen with reason without our request or willing— walk in the light when times get tough; walk in the light when times are rough. walk in the light walk in the light finding hope when life seems enough.
friendship unpacks love at the root, the core of each new bud; love is the base—the root absolute— an overwhelming flood. walk in the light hold your head high love carries the weight of your cry. walk in the light walk in the light sweep the clouds out of the sky.
We never heard back from RIM, but we did pray that the right door would open up.
As of tomorrow morning, Trace will be at an inpatient rehab in Rochester.
I’m hoping beyond hope that she is home soon, but more than that we want her to be able to walk again. We are missing her so much.
Thank you all for your prayers and for hanging in there with us on this adventure.
As far as my poem for today goes, I have been working on the Trijan Refrain, a poetry form created by Jan Turner. It consists of three 9-line stanzas, a total of 27 lines. Line 1 is usually the same in all three stanzas, although a variation of the form is not to repeat that same line with each stanza. I chose to repeat half the line.
In this form, the first four syllables of line 5 in each stanza are repeated as the double-refrain for lines 7 and 8.
The Trijan Refrain is a rhyming poem with a set meter and rhyme scheme as follows:
x. x. x. x. x. x. x. a. 8 x. x. x. x. x b. 6 x. x. x. x. x. x. x. a. 8 x. x. x. x. x. b. 6 R. R. R. R. x. x. x. c. 8 x. x. x. x. x. x. x. c. 8 R. R. R. R. 4 R. R. R. R. 4 x. x. x. x. x. x. x. c. 8
It’s a tricky little form, but I rather like it. I’m going to post the poem today with stanza 1 and 2 together. Tomorrow I will add the third and final verse.
1. friendship unpacks a history rich with joy and sorrow and days unfold with mystery where twists and turns abound walk in the light when days grow dark and life seems bleak and rather stark walk in the light walk in the light rejoicing in each tender spark.
2. friendship unpacks a new season that’s not at all thrilling I know things happen with reason without our request or willing walk in the light when times get tough walk in the light when times are rough walk in the light walk in the light finding hope when life seems enough.
On the upside, Trace was able to be given a shower of sorts today. First one in a week, and boy did she feel better.
Keep praying for the miracle of RIM to open up.
walking in the light
1. friendship unpacks a history rich with joy and sorrow and days unfold with mystery where twists and turns abound walk in the light when days grow dark and life seems bleak and rather stark walk in the light walk in the light rejoicing in each tender spark.
Coffee in a styrofoam cup—not my favorite, but I am happy we are able to enjoy our coffee together.
What a day!
At 7 am the nurse (under doctor orders) ripped Tracy off her pain pump without making sure her pain was managed.
I probably don’t need to tell you how awful the day was. We spent most of it trying to get back on top of the pain. Trace was crying and her pain all day was largely unmanageable. It was dreadful.
Friends, even I had a hard time.
More than once the tears spilled over in my eyes out of sheer helplessness. At one point, I realized I wasn’t helpless; I had power to help her because I still had my voice.
And one voice has power.
I teach my students this at school, and I believe it to be true. You have a voice, use it wisely. So I made a choice to use my voice and made some phone calls to her surgeon; I also reached out to the hospital case manager.
Once I started reaching out, I found many folks with empathy. The pain management doc isn’t usually at this hospital on Wednesdays, but when he heard what was going on, he came all the way from his Novi clinic after a full work day, just to see Tracy. He reordered the pain pump—administered and weaned differently—and she found some relief.
We finally (both of us) (mostly) slept.
She is up, asked for coffee and her phone and is looking at a breakfast menu. First time she’s wanted to do any of that.
Thank you God for answered prayer and (finally) a pain pump returned!
When Worlds Collide
When worlds collide, life changes in a way that is never quite the same again.
Our path lies where we choose to walk (or fly)—not the beaten path
and maybe not even the road less travelled, but where we establish our rest.
We choose life near the cool waters feasting on simple rhythms— sunrise and sunset,
morning and evening. One giant living hum— peace amidst the chaos— in the middle
of every thing. We sing our stories rejoicing in each moment when worlds collide.
Well, Trace made it through night one like the champion she is.
And today feels like a new day.
Mostly.
I think I slept about an hour and half total. Worst bed and chair out of all the hospitals I’ve stayed at…and I have stayed just about at every hospital in the tri-county area. This fancy-schmamcy one had a couch and chair in the room that were simply dreadful, and I’m so wishing for a good nights rest tonight.
I will tell you this, every patient needs an advocate because not all nurses are created with the same empathy and ingenuity levels. To be honest, I’m afraid to leave her alone here.
A nurse anesthetist came in and said that her levels of pain are simply not acceptable. I was so relieved to hear someone say out loud exactly what I was thinking. Hopefully, she will make some changes.
On a good note, Trace is off the pain pump, and it’s just as well. She was pretty violently ill this morning from all the narcotics. Now it’s a matter of getting the right “cocktail” of meds to relieve her pain. The pain is still wickedly intense and not managed.
The surgical team came in early this morning and said everything looks great from the outside, but they have to do a standing x-ray today to make sure. That should be interesting with her pain level.
Most importantly, please pray that we can figure out how to get on top and ahead of the pain. (Can you tell that’s the theme of the day?) That is our biggest need right now.
Hospital Nights
It’s 2am and peace has settled in the room.
Her bloodstream— narcotic drunk, a slumped half-smile on her mouth.
Getting up to use the commode wasn’t so bad.
Of course, dilaudid helps— gotta love that pain pump.
I’m trying to close my eyes But I’m terrified
she’ll sleep— sleep through button pressing and suddenly wake
screaming again. I know she can’t live on that
high forever— hooked up, hooked on drugs every day.
Eventually she— she will need to feel pain again.
The only road to recovery is in her own clear thinking
and her sheer determined, unflappable, unstoppable, undeniably tough spirit.
Today is surgery day. I am still in the surgery waiting room and she’s been in there for four hours already. To distract myself from the bile creeping up into my throat, I wrote.
It’s what writers do.
It’s what poets do.
It’s certainly what I do.
I will keep you all posted as soon as I know something.
Trust The Wait
There’s a breathless expectancy in the hospital waiting room. I feel it in the man in blue speaking nervously on his phone;
I feel it in the woman dressed in coral slacks and matching bag as she rushes past with purpose— a faint hint of lillies wafting.
Trust the wait; live in the question— beauty is becoming in us.
Doctors and nurses bustle by eyes cast downward even as I earnestly hope one brings me news. The darkness of waiting covers
me like a cocoon; I hate this. I hate the persistent nagging of worry, the lingering doubt— the waiting and the not knowing.
Trust the wait; live in the question— beauty is becoming in us.
I am longing for this darkness to burst into glorious light; I am waiting for certainty in the middle of misgivings.
So I will close my eyes and long for days when sunshine kissed the waves, and I will set foreboding fears aside to dream of unknown shores.
Trust the wait; live in the question— beauty is becoming in us.
Denial? Perhaps there is some; I prefer resigning to rest. Not dispassionate, but rather prepossessed to my pact with peace.
Trust the wait; live in the question— beauty is becoming in us.
Tomorrow is Tracy’s surgery. She is having a spinal fusion, which is a pretty serious surgery. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous and a little scared about the unknowns.
But I am choosing to breathe positivity and healing and a full recovery into this day. So many folks have reached out and called to encourage us.
Their words have not gone unheeded.
I have taken them to heart and allowed them to remind me of what is important. I am so very grateful to God for good friends, for a supportive church community, and for a workplace that allows me to take time off.
I know it’s gonna be ok.
It’s Gonna Be Ok
They say it’s gonna be ok; They say it’s ok to be terrified— that everything will work out, but right now I’m not so sure.
One breath at a time, one foot in front of the other even when the path is dark and looming with uncertainties.
I am strong and brave, I am a force of nature, I am connected and whole— vibrating like a horsehair bow scraping against violin string.
Who could imagine the beauty created from that tension? Who could imagine how music bravely brings back life—
bringing light to the darkness breathing beauty into the ashes bowing a beautiful harmony into the lonely melody?
I have known defeat and I have known struggle, I have borne the weight of loss and nearly drowned beneath it.
So I will lean into that knowing— how to climb out of the depths, and how to cling to gratitude like a lifeline of hope.
Today the sun was scorching and poetry had to be written, so I went searching for a new form to explore.
That’s when I discovered the “rispetto”. A rispetto is a short poetic form of Italian origin comprising of 11 syllables per line. It has 8 lines. Rispetto typically uses the ababccdd rhyme scheme.
So here is my Sunday offering. A rispetto about rain on a scorching day. Wishing all of you that respite of rain.
Rainy Days
Somewhere in my mind it is always raining— like the sound of thundering rooftop dancing, while cozy fires burns brightly maintaining the mood. And all the signs are there enhancing the idea that I am moving toward sound so powerful it cannot be ignored. Refreshed, re-energized, and renewed I rise— much like flowers after that rain, I surmise.
