Only To Be With You

I have climbed the highest mountain

I have run through the fields

Only to be with you

Only to be with you

--From U2's I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

Since her death, my grandmother’s spirit has scaled the walls that define the physical world that for 30 years hindered our togetherness. She was with me last night when that crummy thing was said to me. (I’ll keep her reaction to myself.) And, she was with me last night when I picked Bridgette up and twirled her around in the kitchen. She reminded me that she was a young mother once, and that those three little babies, one of whom was my mother, made her so happy.

And, she was there this morning, when I was getting Bridgette ready for church. She was standing right there as I dressed her and I know she thought she was beautiful and that she reminded her of me as a baby.

She sat with us in church today, and we exchanged a knowing. I felt her slip away during lunch, maybe off to see someone else she’s been missing? I know she’ll back soon, though, because of a comment one of you left on my blog:

“...I have heard way too many stories not to believe that the souls of our departed loved ones check in to say their farewells, blow us a kiss, let us know all is well. And then it is our job to let them know WE will be okay so they can go on along.”

For over 40 years, I’ve shared my grandma with 50 different people, feeling all but invisible most of the time. But for the last 36 hours, I’ve had her all to myself. And, I can’t believe she came to see me, and she knows now, I never forgot, and soon I’ll be able to let her go.

I want to thank everyone for their kind words during this time. I have never been good at handling death. When Robert and Juliette both asked me on separate occasions if I’d heard about the Wal-Mart employee who was trampled to death on Black Friday, I came unhinged.

I reminded them both: “DO NOT REPEAT STORIES LIKE THAT TO ME. I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR THAT STUFF.” My imagination is wild and vivid and I immediately imagine everything from plummeting Wal-Mart stock to the grief of the man’s mother, child, wife.

Thus, you can imagine that the carriage, which Emily Dickson likened to death, I have imagined as that great pumpkin that carried Cinderella. Grandma hasn’t stepped inside it yet, but eventually she will and will be on her way to centuries that are more like days. She was pragmatic that way, and that is just one thing I loved about her. And, I'm not OK -- yet.

I've Been Meaning to Tell You

I've missed you for a long time.

Rest in Peace

Bertie ~ Grandma

November 29, 2008

The Memorable Words of Sully Lane

This morning as I talked to Robert about something rather upsetting, Sully appeared from out of nowhere and said, "Pray the Lord. God is not sad." Robert and I were amazed.

It was 9:15 a.m. Around noon today, I learned that at 9 a.m., my grandmother departed this crazy, fractured world. I can't help but think she was whispering in Sully's ear.

Pray the Lord. Bertie is not sad -- or blind anymore.

Ron, the door!

Today, Robert and I ventured out for a little capitalist adventure - braving the traffic and parking lots on Black Friday. Ahhhh, the joys of being a consumer. Ehhhh.


At precisely 4:18 p.m., I remembered I needed to pick up a piece of certified mail at the post office, which closes at precisely 4:30 p.m. So, Robert and I make a concerted effort to get to there before they locked the doors.


Robert didn't quite get my haste. "They're very serious about closing on time," I said.


We arrived at 4:24 p.m. and at 4:27 p.m., post-office-lady screams at the top of her lungs (no joke), "RON! THE DOOR!" Robert, was like, "Man, you weren't kidding." It was like that scene from Mary Poppins when all the maids take their positions when the neighbor shoots the cannon.


So, this postal worker - I'm assuming, Ron - appears and closes the postal-blue curtains in front of the glass doors. Robert made a few bouncer jokes, and I thought back upon my childhood and all the post offices I visited with my father. They all had those curtains in front of the glass doors. USPS must have funded a federal study to determine that postal-blue curtains increase security and reduce crime after hours.

So, I got my certified mail, which was from the Pit River Tribe regarding Bridgette's enrollment. The postal worker who waited on us was Native American. He shared in our zeal over receiving this communication from the tribe. He and Robert gave each other the knowing glance Robert always gets from and gives to other Indians. It's actually kind of neat to see, but I always wonder what they're thinking: Christopher Columbus did not discover America?


Anyway, Robert turns to me and under his breath says, "Is that the guy who, you know?"


"Yep, that's him," I said, and we laughed.


About a year I told Robert about an experience I had at that post office. A "statewide elected official" who will remain nameless, walked in demanding to pick up mail that had been placed on hold. I happened to be there buying stamps.


When the elected official could not produce a valid driver's license, the aforementioned postal worker would not produce the mail.


"I left it in my car, and it's across the street," the official said, "And I'm late for a meeting."


"You're going to have to go get it," the postal worker replied.


The official began to argue, and with little apology the postal worker explained it was federal law.


The official, highly irritated, made quite a scene, stomped off and fetched the driver's license. But, before leaving the counter said this:


"Everyone knows who I am!"


Apparently not everyone. The postal worker, who remained very calm and quiet, gave half a smile and said, "I don't know who you are."


And it's people like that statewide elected official who make postal workers yell for Ron every day at 4:27 p.m.

And God Bless God

Tonight, as Sullivan finished up his nightly prayers, which always include a long list of people he asks God to bless (including Tinky Winky, Poe, Dipsy, Laa-Laa, Dora, Diego, Baby Jaguar and Boots), he ended with the sweetest thing: "And God bless God."

This reminded me of the Hebrew poem written by King David, which is found in the Book of Psalms:

Bless the Lord, O my soul
And all that is within me
Bless His holy name
Bless the Lord, O my soul
And forget not all His benefits
Who heals all your diseases
Who redeems your life from destruction
Who crowns you with lovingkindness and tender mercies
Who satisfies your mouth with good things
So that your youth is renewed like the eagles...

Horn Seed, Oklahoma City

The year my son was born we began a family of tradition of attending Horn Seed’s Annual Open House, which is always the weekend before Thanksgiving. Horn Seed is a garden center in Oklahoma City.

Horn Seed is everything the mall and warehouse stores are not. It’s been in business for nearly 90 years, and was the first modern garden center in Oklahoma City. These days, like the Old World Christmas ornaments they’ve become known for, Horn feels old world.

Anchoring the far east of end of Classen at Northwest Expressway, their open house comes fully stocked with hotdogs, popcorn, sodas, cookies, candy canes, choo-choo trains and Santa Clause. The highlight, however, is that the kid each pick out an ornament – or we pick one out for them. So far, we have about 20 ornaments from Horn. Juliette couldn’t go with us this year, which really bummed me out, so we took her the next day to pick out her ornament.

Here are some pictures of our visit.

Troubling Statistics about Oklahoma Women

OTHER STATES:

For information about the status of women in your home state, google your state's name+commission on the status of women. The results should lead you to reports, etc.

As Long As the Waters Flow, by Allan Houser

Oklahoma State Capitol

A few days ago, I promised to publish on Thanksgiving Day the first of four posts about a specific issue facing women in Oklahoma. Here is that post. It is a compilation of some of the more troubling statistics regarding women in our state.

After reading these, I hope you will consider joining the Oklahoma Women's Coalition, a non-partisan group that has newly formed to help promote legislation that will help improve the lives of girls and women in Oklahoma. Your membership and support can make a difference.

Oklahoma is 49th in the nation in female representation in the State Legislature.

Oklahoma has the highest female incarceration rate in not only the nation, but WORLD.

Two-thirds of the women in Oklahoma prisons are single mothers.

Oklahoma is among the leading states for reported incidents of child abuse rates.

Oklahoma women earn only 75 cents for every dollar men earn.

Oklahoma has the 8th highest rate of teen pregnancy in the nation.

Single women head nearly half of all poor families in Oklahoma.

Nearly 20 percent of Oklahoma girls never graduate high school.

Fewer than 15 percent of Oklahoma girls complete four or more years of college.

In Oklahoma, a husband cannot be prosecuted for raping his wife, because in Oklahoma it’s not against the law.

One in six women in Oklahoma are victims of domestic violence.

The most timely and comprehensive resource for information regarding issues impacting women in Oklahoma, is Dr. Jean Warner's blog, Oklahoma Women. Bookmark it, fave it, blog roll it and visit it often. I learn something new every time I do. After awhile, you'll wonder what you did before you discovered it; probably lived in the dark or under a rock or something. I sure did.

My Children: Two Pilgrims and a Wild Indian

Now you can't break the ties that bind

You can't forsake the ties that bind

--From Springsteen's The Ties That Bind

My mom made these outfits for my kids. Thanks, mom!
Sully is actually my little peacemaker.



These two are so close. It makes me so happy to see them

snuggle on the couch together at night.

She endures Dora, and he actually asks to watch Little Women with her.

(Talk about give and take.)

The Super Bridgy makes them both a little crazy at times,

but they love her and are considering keeping her.

Juliette gathering the little ones. She is an amazing big sister.

Sitting on the steps of the First Unitarian Church, built 1928, Oklahoma City.
I am the luckiest woman in the world. Every day with them is better than the last.


My little renegade pilgrim.

Thanksgiving is a rich holiday in our house, and this year, in honor of my husband and children’s roots and membership in the Achumawi Tribe, we are starting a new tradition. Tonight, the five of us will gather around our big dining room table – the one we eat at three times a year - for a feast of Native American foods, including venison roast and molasses bread. I can't wait!