Writer's Notebook #4: Carly

(grrr... I keep trying to fix it but every time I publish this, it puts weird spaces in... it's supposed to just be line after line)

Carly

I’m the one

who came first

opening her eyes and heart as mother

who shops with her, advises her, dreams and laughs with her- 

no subject too big or too small for us!
I’m the one

who reads and thinks and reads again

who values strength, intelligence and independent thought- 

outside the trend
who wants all the answers- Now!

but waits for the quiet whispers that illuminate

who recognizes truth and won’t turn away

even when it hurts, even when it’s hard

I’m the one

who makes plans decisively, ventures boldly,

who falls hard when dreams crumble at my feet

and yet

I’m the one

who rises from the rubble- a phoenix

with greater understanding and new direction

hesitant at first, then vision clear- I soar

I am Loyalty 

Writers Notebook #3: Samantha

Samantha  

I am the one

who came to chaos

with patience and peace,

who reminds her of Jane-

As I stand, fierce & defiant, against injustice.

who likes understanding and creates order

with calendars and lists and checks

and yet-

I am the one

who likes to be just a little bit crazy

with silly glasses, funny faces, goofy songs.

who is willing to go out on a limb-

sometimes for a laugh, always for a friend.

I am the one

who sees through anger and hurt

to find my mistake,

who finds it easy to forgive,

but not so easy, the forgetting...

I am the one

who tries so hard

because nobody notices,

  I am Grace. 

Writer's Notebook #2: Rachel

Rachel

I’m the one

who feels peace

as the green grass of summer touches my skin,

who finds comfort

as my fingers twist in her hair.

I’m the one

who sees the world in my own way,

and waits for someone to see- truly see- me.

I’m the one

who sees wildflowers in weeds &  beauty in the changing colors of a leaf,

who gives love in inked kindnesses placed on pillows

I’m the one

who runs-

through aching legs, calculus problems, anxiety, fear, confusion.

I'm the one

who knows Triumph.

I am commitment.  

From my Writer's Notebook #1: Jacob

Jacob

 I'm the one

who remembers everything-

head full of possibilities,

who talks in circles until she talks back-

through teeth clenched together,

hands balled into fists at her sides.

And yet...

I’m the one

who makes her laugh-

at least once every day,

who dances with her at weddings,

guiding, dipping, spinning.

I’m the one

who grew so tall, so fast,

hurling spears, beating drums, keeping time, making noise.

I am energy.

The Writer's Notebook

I have a writing class this semester.  Since I am in the Education program, it is focused on how to teach writing.  One of our required books was Ralph Fletcher's, A writer's Notebook.

It's a book geared towards kids to give them ideas on how to keep a notebook full of their thoughts and ideas and observations that will give them topics to write about.  It was engaging and fun and inspiring.  One of our assignments is to keep our own writer's notebook because how can we teach what we do not know??? It has been fun for me.  

We even had a FHE on it which inspired Samantha and Rachel to go get their own notebooks and they have been writing in their notebooks.  They both have struggled with keeping current with their journal writing.  It IS journal writing with a twist and it's fun to see them fired up about recording their thoughts.  The boys have not been inspired but hey... you do what you can and leave it at that.  

There was a gorgeous poem in the book written by a 4th grader that I loved and it inspired me to start furiously scribbling about each of my children.  I wanted to make an "I am the one who" poem about each of them.  I will post them as I complete them although I have a feeling there will always be more I want to add to each of them as it is hard to capture all things about a person you love so much.

Untitled

by Chase Whitmire

I am the person who

Frantically plays with leaves, 

Dances with the sun,

Smiles at the moon,

Follows the stars,

Puts my arm around the wind's shoulder,

Tells secrets with the water.

And I think I'm special

to have such adoring things to do.

The imagery first made me think of Rachel, my nature girl-

 but it was Jakes' that I finished first, then Rachel.  I'm still working on the others......

A little more about Brian. A little more about faith.

I am feeling more at peace with my sadness by the things I have been reading about Mr. Flex in an article  my mom shared with me and in his obituary .  

I was especially touched by a quote his family shared that expressed how he felt about dying near the end of his life...

"I'm not afraid to die. I know who's up there. I just want to live."  

I've read that quote several times in the last couple of days but it brings tears to my eyes each time: the Faith and sureness- the aching hope.

My dad said that he felt those same things on the day he had his heart attack 13 years ago. I am so grateful my dad lived.  I have needed him these 13 years.  I wish Brian had lived too.   

My mom said so many people wanted to attend his funeral that it was held in one church building chapel but broadcast to two other churches in town and they were all full.  

His life touched so many others.  Maybe that was part of his life's mission: to touch other people and be an example of goodness and strength.  So many people who experience the kind of success this kid experienced become cocky and prideful.  It sounds like Brian never did.  It's made me think about what is really important in this mortal test-  

The most important thing we can do is know who we are and who is waiting for us and live a life that exemplifies kindness, doing your best and helping those we meet along the way.  

If I was to leave this life tomorrow would I feel like I had done those things?  I want  a chance tomorrow to do better, to be better.  

I do know who's up there but I am a little afraid-  I don't feel like I am my best self yet and I'd really like to be when my time comes.  So, I hope God can wait a little while for me to figure some things out.  

All of this thinking about death and enduring trial makes me think about how I've handled some of my trials in the past.  The image of a turtle comes to mind: pulling back inside my shell, hunkering down, waiting for it to pass.  Yes- I did learn some things but mostly, I endured with eyes closed tightly, body tensed, muttering "Go away! Go away! Go away!".

I want to be the kind of person who faces trials with my eyes open asking "what can I learn from this?  What is God trying to make of me?"  I want to throw on my protective gear and walk into the storm saying "I am not afraid!".  

I'm not there yet but wanting to be is the first step right?

Mr. Flex

Mr. Flex.

My brother started that nickname about 5 years ago.  If I remember all this right, Carly was around 14 and was visiting my parents and my brother's family for an away from home adventure.  She had gone down to the creek behind my parent's home with Uncle Matthew when Brian, age 15, ventured upon them.  He stood there talking for quite some time with his arms folded, his hands strategically balled and placed behind his biceps to push them out to make himself more manly, more studly-       to impress Carly.

A Carly very unaware of her curves, her femininity, her anything that would make a boy stand there talking to a guy in his ward he usually never talked to, trying to flex his muscles for an unnatural period of time...

After Mr. Flex had exhausted his avenues for conversation with Matthew, he sauntered off.  Matthew turned to Carly and asked if she'd noticed him flexing because it was all for her!   She was mortified and sure he was mistaken.  She hadn't noticed a thing  and was only wishing he'd leave so she could have her uncle's attention back...

Over the years my dad and my brother and just about everyone else in the family have enjoyed teasing Carly about Mr. Flex.  Uncle Matthew would mention... "Mr. Flex was in my Sunday School class today.  He was wondering if my niece would be visiting anytime soon.."  My dad would cut out articles from the paper and send them to Carly as Mr. Flex became quite the football star leading his team to a very victorious season.

Carly was planning to go to SUU and lots of teasing began when we found out Mr. Flex got a full ride football scholarship... "Maybe you'll bump into each other on campus and you can ask him to flex for you" heh heh heh...   She was used to it by this time and would roll her eyes and shake her head and laugh it off.

Mr. Flex decided to defer his scholarship to serve a mission.  He started doing his paperwork and went to the doctor to find out why he couldn't shake this bad cold he'd had for a few weeks.  That bad cold turned out to be cancer.  Instead of serving a mission, he has been fighting cancer for the last 2 years- fighting hard.  He and his mom have been in so many hospitals, trying so many different treatments.

When I heard Tuesday morning that he had died, I was surprised by the overwhelming grief I felt for this boy whom I have never met.  I cried and my heart ached and I just feel so sad and empty.  I think I kept half expecting a miracle turnaround.  He was a prime candidate: faithful family, preparing to serve a mission, his ward praying for him, strangers (like me) praying for him.  In every story I've ever heard about him, he is strong and vibrant and full of life.  It just feels so wrong and pointless.  5 years ago he was standing on the creek bank, flexing, flirting, unaware.  Tonight he is lying in a morgue....  3 years ago:  On top of the world- leading his team to victory every game.  Tonight- gone.

The last 2 years while my child started college, struggled through her new beginning, fell in love, got married and decided to become a mother,  somebody else's child fought for his life with chemotherapy and blood transfusions and pain and nausea and misery and faded away.

My faith tells me that his spirit is somewhere beautiful and maybe this cancer fight was more important a test than a life full of choices, maybe it refined him and made of him a stripling warrior in the most important ways.  However my heart hasn't caught up with my faith yet and all I can do is cry for the boy who's gone and the mother who is not.

A woman I have never met lost her baby this week, her youngest of seven I think.  My heart hurts for her and so I held mine a little tighter tonight than usual when I said good night.  He looked confused as he kissed my cheek and wiped away the tears that were falling.  He didn't ask why.. He just smiled sweetly at me and wiped the tears and said "i love you too" as if he just understood it was my love for him dripping down my cheeks.

I'm glad I didn't yell at him the other day when he broke the 4 brand new glass votive holders as he dropped the bag on the way out of the store.  Votive holders just don't matter very much.  I want to remember that.

There are so many sad stories we hear on the news and from friends.  If we truly felt them all- we'd be a mess, nonfunctioning puddles of sadness all the time.  But sometimes, a story connects, just hits our heart just so and we feel it all.  I think that's why I can't let go of my sadness.  He's the same age as Carly, in the same stage of life- Beginning adulthood, stepping off into his own adventure and he was cut down before he could begin and my heart cries out "what if this was your child??  It could be your child..."

Maybe my sadness is really fear.