Committing

[caption id="attachment_3801" align="alignleft" width="224" caption="Ghany prepares for the evening bonfire."][/caption]

Each night at Pranee, Ghany would light a HUGE bonfire in the field.  Whoever was awake would go and hang out  chatting into the night.  One such night, Dan shared about his work around the world assisting missionaries.  Ghany shared how he went on a medical mission to Afghanistan.  Kip shared about the day camp he set up in Malawi a couple of years ago.  Thom and I sat in silence.  We were in awe of what our people had accomplished in the past few years.  And a bit humbled by it all.  I mean what the heck baby fire had we been DOING while eveyone else had been out saving the world??

I have been pondering for quite some time how I was wanting to reframe the whole idea that Ellie has "lost the battle with cancer", to seeing how in so many ways she WON.  Thom and I have acknowledged numerous times that in another time and place Ellie would not have had the

[caption id="attachment_3802" align="alignright" width="179" caption="Ghany plunges in."][/caption]

opportunity to live 10 glorgeous (glorious and gorgeous) years.  Ten years of splendor and love and overcoming pain to always revel in the wonder of each day. 

In one of the books I am reading, (On Gratitude by Todd Aaron) Jeff Bridges shares how at one point in his career he was contemplating retiring.  He had an offer for a movie and just felt like he wanted a break from it all.  Instead he contemplated what he really wanted and decided to stick with acting.  He said that decision to commit has made all the difference in his career. 

Then, I was thinking how I often feel so inept when someone asks me what I DO.  Meaning to make money.  How sometimes I have responded with the title  "family manager"--a management position in which I am waiting for those vacation and sick days to kick in.  Why do I feel less worthy because the work I do is unpaid?  I admire my sister, a fellow family manager, who fully

[caption id="attachment_3803" align="alignleft" width="239" caption="Ben and Ghany experience a waterfall."][/caption]

and unabashadly embraces her position AND her time away from childcare.  She has always wanted to be a dancer and recently joined a modern dance group.  She paints and takes a writing class and does yoga without apology.  Susan says she was inspired by her husband's full throttle approach to life.  That she realized when he is at the end of his days he won't think, "I wish I'd...."  He will have actually already done it. I want to be able to embrace my life in the same way, with that kind of commitment.

What did I spend my day doing?  Folding laundry, feeding my kids, attempting to tidy, thinking about what to eat next.  The next time someone asks me what I DO, can I respond with that list?  Would the person asking the question fall into a coma from complete boredom? Could I

[caption id="attachment_3804" align="alignleft" width="239" caption="Kirk, Kip, Me, Susan"][/caption]

give myself the same freedom I have given Ellie to feel my life is successful based more on how I have impacted the lives surrounding me, rather than the number of lives I have touched or the amount of money I have made?  Could I decide, like Jeff Bridges did, to fully commit to the path that I am on?

A friend told my mom, the new "What do you do?" is asking a person what they LIKE to do, rather than what they do.  I like that.

Becoming Mom

[caption id="attachment_3796" align="alignleft" width="239" caption="Photographer Kip, Susan, Lotta and I at the burial."][/caption]

There is a cutadorable (cute adorable) photo on the Wall of Love that brought me pain every time I looked at it.  It was taken on a trip to Memphis a few months before Ellie's diagnosis in 2001.  The photo reminds me of how Ellie had started waking up at night, for the first time, and I was so tired and beside myself, that it seemed like a good idea to yell at her to go back to sleep.  Maybe that would convince her.  In the photo, she looks so sweet and innocent and vulnerable.  And I felt, by my reaction, that I let her down.  That I was not the mom I would like to have been. 

Later we discovered she had a brain tumor and THAT was why she wasn't sleeping.  Imagine the guilt.  For years I've lived with it.  One day, I looked at that little girl in the photo and thought how that not so proud moment allowed me to become a better mom.  From that place of exhaustion I realized that THAT was not the mom I wanted to be, it changed me.  Now, for the most part, I am able to take night wakefulness in stride, knowing that soon we will be back to sleep.  Perhaps I could have gotten there without all the guilt.  Perhaps I could have gotten there without all the yelling.  Of course I would have preferred that path.  However, this path has gotten me to this point, and for that I am greatful. 

I have often pondered whether I was kind enough to Ellie.  Absolutely knowing that I often fell short.  At the same time, knowing that Ellie never held any of  that against me.  Can I forgive myself for those times and utilize them to become the mom I strive to become?  Can I let them go and allow myself to catch up with the version of mom that those experiences actually created?

Wishing (hey i am no longer wishless!), yearning that I could've been the mom to Ellie that I am to Lotta.  Knowing that I am this mom because of what Ellie taught me.

For the Love of Chocolate

On Easter Sunday, we buried Ellie's cremains (don't you think Ellie would've liked that word?) on my sister and brother-in-laws property in Tennessee, named Pranee.   Pranee is absolutely gorgeous and while Wisconsin continues its pursuit of winter, summer had arrived in Pranee--full on green, flowers, blue skies.  The weather was so perfect that much of the time I didn't even contemplate whether or not I was hot or cold. 

When we arrived, Ghany suggested we walk around the property (60 acres!) and decide what spot felt right for the burial.  It seemed like a lot of pressure--I oscillated between feeling as if it was the biggest decision I would ever make and feeling too overwhelmed to make the choice,  to feeling as if this really didn't matter at all.  I mean Ellie left her physical body over 3 months ago.  Sort of a yin/yang feeling.   

[caption id="attachment_3790" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Betsy C and Lotta"][/caption]

Then, I had a sudden moment of clarity where I realized that this whole gathering was all about US being together.  Ellie was simply the excuse.  I thought about the time we were contemplating Ellie's first chemotherapy.  Betsy came to visit us and we discussed my fears in a Vietnamese restaurant, as Thom and Ellie walked around outside.  When the food arrived, our conversation switched to something more Ellie friendly.  Abruptly, Ellie said, "I don't want to die."  We were shocked because we, of course, had not mentioned our fear to Ellie.  (Just as I could read her mind when she was unable to talk, she was uncanny at being able to read mine.)  Betsy calmly explained that these bodies are merely crazy costumes we put on for awhile.  As we prepared to bury Ellie, I thought of THAT, we are just placing her costume here.  So often as of late, I find myself feeling Ellie's presence with me.  It feels as "real" as when someone walks up behind you and while you cannot see her, you suddenly feel her nearness. 

[caption id="attachment_3792" align="alignright" width="239" caption="One of the magnificent waterfalls."][/caption]

With all of these thoughts in my head, Betsy and I were walking near 2 gorgeous waterfalls.  I neared a statue of Quin Yin, who had been moved to the land from China by the previous owners.  I looked up at the big blue sky, through the trees, and saw the clouds racing by.  I recalled how Ellie and I used to take our dates to Willy Street Co-op and tell cloud stories.  If I recall correctly, it was more about Ellie seeing the same formation in each and every cloud and me sharing the stories of what I saw with her.  And I knew that this was THE spot.  It was as Ghany had said, it felt right.

We had our 2 ordained mininsters, my mom and Betsy C., say a few words.  Plus, Ben seemed to be channeling Ellie as he insisted on telling the group about the day Ellie died, just as he had his class.  He tried hard to make our somber group more jovial by cracking jokes.  It felt like all those times when Ellie so desperately wanted to be included in the conversation at hand.  As 

[caption id="attachment_3791" align="alignleft" width="179" caption="The angel above the costume Ellie wore."][/caption]

in all things Ellie related, there were lots of tears AND  laughter.  Betsy talked about Ellie's love of stories.  How she felt that our task now is to go forward and create the best, most amazing story so that when we see Ellie again, we can share.  And in her own Ellie way she will say, "REALLY?!?!"  Betsy said she felt as if everyone gathered was like Ellie's wall of love beside her bed, their stories were all present.  Then my mom talked about how she felt as if Easter was THE perfect day to bury Ellie, as this day is all about celebration and love and chocolate.   All the things Ellie stood for.

The most amazing thing was when we all walked back to the big red barn (the yoga retreat center where we slept and gathered and ate and ate and ate some more),  a gift of peacefulness swept over me.  One of those fleeting, delicious moments when all is well.

The Ben

[caption id="attachment_3772" align="alignright" width="225" caption="The Ben dresses as an explorer."][/caption]

Saturday afternoon we all went to the movies.  During a playdate with the amazing Caitlyn, we had gotten out some  costumes to play dress up.   At first, Ben had to go into another room to "become" spiderman.  (The costume has built in muscles which I find highly entertaining.) 

When it was time to leave, Ben could not fathom taking off his ninja costume.  He threw his winter coat over his costume and we went to the movie theatre.  I am always a bit stunned when I see someone grumpy there.  In my head I marvel at how someone can be grumpy at the movies!?!  I mean we are all there to have fun after all.  If you are grumpy you've missed the point entirely.  I suppose if you can be in a bad mood there, you can do it anywhere! 

As we left the theatre, Ben realized that no one had actually seen his costume.  Which made him not only a ninja, but a secret, spy ninja.  What could be better?  As we left the building, he had to sneak around, hiding behind signs, and very thin trees, checking to see if he was being followed. 

Then on the ride home, Ben started referring to himself as, "The Ben".  It seemed like something George, from Seinfeld would do.

Perfection

Last weekend was fantastically beautiful outside (this weekend it's winter-like again, it even snowed).  Blue skies, slight breeze, near 80.  Felt exciting to be alive.  Ben was thoroughly enjoying being outside.  At a local park, we ran into one of Ellie's classmates.  This little guy was so upset about Ellie's passing that he had to leave school.  Well, Ben just happened to start swinging next to him and asked me to push him.  One of the first things Ellie's classmate said was that he didn't think it was fair that Lotta would not get to know Ellie.  I agreed that it was sad, Lotta would not recall seeing Ellie physically.  AND I told him that we talk about Ellie ALL the time, she will definitely grow up knowing of Ellie.  This litte guy's sister was there (ironically she too is named Elizabeth Rose and goes by Ellie) and asked how old Ellie would have been.  I explained that Ellie was 13 days from turning 11.  Ellie's classmate again spoke up, saying he did not think THAT was fair either, that Ellie was so close to her birthday.  I once again agreed.  AND I told him how Ellie never cared about birthdays.  How I often felt like I was pushing the whole celebration on her.  He was SHOCKED.  As if I'd told him there were 2 moons.  It was one of those magical moments where it felt as if I was  in exactly the right place at the right time.  Not only that, but it felt as if the conversation itself was the perfect mix of allowing him to express his concerns and feel them AND giving him another perspective at the same time.  It felt as if I accomplished what most needed to be accomplished that day.  Aah perfection.

Landlubber

Ben's gym class has begun a swimming unit.  (His school used to be the special ed school in the district before the students were mainstreamed.  In the basement of his school is a therapeutic.)  This week, I went to help out in the locker room and observe the class.  Thom does the hard work of actually being in the pool with the kids and helping the boys get dressed afterwards.  At one point, the students were supposed to practice floating on their backs.  The thing that I noticed was that the kids who panicked and tried to stay afloat were the ones who had the most trouble.  They stiffen their bodies, struggling mightily to stay afloat.  The kids who are able to lay back and trust and allow the water to hold them up were the ones who got it.  It seemed like there was a life lesson in there somewhere... Think about it.

[caption id="attachment_3762" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Is that a tub full of water!?!"][/caption]

Speaking of water, have I told you how much Lotta hates water?? When I have taken a bath with her, she will hold her little feet up on my lap so that they in no way touch the water.  I try making it fun, pouring the water so she can watch it.  It's a no go.  She just nurses the whole time we are in the tub.   She is definately a landlubber as the Pirates say.