lettering

Brian's football banquet was last Tuesday night. I got report of it the next morning via a text. Hurray and congratulations are in order as he lettered-and even more wonderful, was awarded 'most improved player' by his peers. What a blessing~
I will extol the greatness of this achievement to him when I call this weekend. He will poo poo it and make it seem it is no big deal. But it is~he moved to Michigan with the primary intent of growing his football career so that it might take him to MSU-maybe even on a scholarship ride. So, he is doing amazing things. And he deserves the kudos coming his way! So, kudos my baby! Enjoy the spot light and keep up the great work :)
And to me? All you mothers out there, can you feel what this did to me? Bittersweet, aching heart, fighting back tears of pride and longing. Yea, something like that......!
I never made it out to a game; life just happens sometimes. I don't have any anxiety or disappointment in this~I got to see some great photos-thanks to Daniel!-and heard the results of the game each weekend. I trust that he is thriving in his life there due to these achievements and recognitions-that and the grades I get updates on via teachers' emails! :) Yet, sometimes that's a lot of trust for a mom to put out there and rely on solely. I get caught in the pain of it and feel myself gripping and clenching the ache for him when events like the banquet occur. It can hold me for hours; sometimes for days. This one kept me clenched for a day. Okay, a day and a half. :) I think I've let it go completely now, but boy it socked me at the onset!
Bottom line though, I let it go. Did I just resign myself to it and say 'oh well that's how it goes' and move on? Did I lie in bed and feel sorry for myself over what I have lost in this? Did I weep in anguish from the heart pain of wanting to hold him?! (okay, I did a bit of that :)
No. I relaxed. I turned to listen~To my heart. To my soul. To my insticts. No more listening to my mind. It is the evil stepsister of joy and happiness! I went quiet and listened; gave thanks for what I have, sent praise up for all that the boys are achieving, looked for the lesson and the grace of accepting things just as they are. Life moves much more easily when I get quiet and listen this way, I've found. I can not control what comes and goes; what happens and doesn't happen-not in my life and most assuredly not in my children's lives. I guess you can see that while I definitely have feelings of loss, pain and still sometimes want to grippingly control things, in the end (and thankfully each 'end' comes more and more rapidly now a days!) I can let these feelings go and rest in the peace of knowing someone better, much, much better, is taking care of my children. Is taking care of me. Is setting the stage and building the foundation for things beyond today and today's pain. I can let it go and trust, love and jump into life~and have faith that my children are jumping in as well. in love. trish.

change is a comin'

S is for Sad......and for the mysterious appetite that often surges in us when our hearts seem to be breaking and our lives appear too bleakly empty. Like every other physical phenomenon, there is good reason for this hunger, if we will be blunt enough to recognize it."
--M. F. K. Fisher, An Alphabet for Gourmets

The most beautiful sound caused me to catch my breath as I scraped warm wax from a board this evening. A magical, simple pleasure that made my mind and heart travel back fifteen years to a time when that sound belonged to a much smaller incantation of the one I'd just heard. Back to the easy days of holding small hands crossing the street, catching 40 pound bodies as they plummet down the park slide and cutting crusts from peanut butter sandwiches. To a time when the tugs at the heart were associated with fleeting desires to have them stay this way forever-to never grow up and to continue to delight in the innocent pleasure of the sway of a lazy sprinkler on a hot summer day. The sound was so familiar to me that on many another day, with different tasks filling my minutes and engaging my brain, it has gone unnoticed-simply continuing its bounce off the wall and up the stairs to dissolve in the beeswax fumed air of my studio. But this evening it captured me. Grabbed my heart and filled my thoughts with smiles. A laugh: The free flowing, still innocent laugh of a child. Deeply resonating in its post-pubescent growth and full of presumed-self knowing that would daily be challenged by this worlds rough edges; the laugh was still mine- still his. Still held the timber of the three foot tall, chipmunk-cheeked youth slipping through spring-mud filled grass. It captured me now for the bittersweet warmth of its existence-soon to be gone. Soon to exist in the vacuous silence of my reminiscing alone. Exist only in the memory of its once innocent flutter from the sofa, up the stairs and to my concentrating ears and mommy heart. feed the hunger. in love. trish

Brian's favorite rhubarb berry crisp
'crisp':

1 c flour

1c brown sugar

1 c quick oats

1 t cinnamon

2 sticks butter, melted and cooled

Mix the crisp ingredients until crumbly. Press 1/2 the mixture into a greased baking dish. Spread 4-5 c chopped rhubarb and assorted seasonal berries over this base. In a saucepan blend

1 c sugar

3 T flour

1 t vanilla

1 1/2 c water

Cook this mixture until it thickens (about 5 minutes) then pour over the fruit. Spread the remaining 1/2 of the crisp over this layer and bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour. Allow to cool and dig in. It only gets better with time~and a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream!

I make this for Brian, exclusively. He can eat a 10x14 dish of it in three days easy; that's if he's pacing himself.