Blog Has Moved

I've Moved. Visit me at: www.wistfully.wordpress.com

silence

i heard just a little of the memorial service today at fort hood for the victims of the massacre last week. there were beautiful tributes, an address by the President and military rituals that bring dignity and honor to the grieving. what was the most profound to me though were not the words spoken, or the music or the ceremony, but the appropriate and poignant silence. during the service when the roll call was performed, soldier's voices called in from here and there. but then came the name of someone who died. then it was silence. only silence. a lifetime silence -  just a chilling absence of a familiar voice. it seemed the most complete way, maybe the only way, to honor a life - by allowing only the silence to speak.

in that strange emptiness were all those things that made each one beautiful and unique, frail and foolish and divine. in that moment a dozen mothers remembered the birth of their child and the first time they tumbled on the floor when learning to walk and their awkwardness when introducing their first date. fathers recalled the way they threw their head back when they laughed or how every time they got mad it was their grandmother's irish blood coming through. girlfriends and husbands remembered the sleepiness in their eyes in the morning light and the secrets and the promises they shared that no one else could possibly ever understand. children remembered the sound of their voice on the other end of the phone or how it felt to snuggle next to their warm body after a nightmare woke them during the night. fellow soldiers recalled their inability to remember jokes or their stubbornness or the fierce pride they took in wearing their uniform.

but i just heard exquisite silence. wordless honor. the stillest reverence. a life gone. and i imagined who they were and thought about who they would never be. maybe there is no really no other possible way. rest in peace.

washing dogs and other rituals of manhood

MOM! i need help! what do i do first?

what do you mean what do i do first.

i mean do i start with the hot water or the shampoo or the hose and do i put the shampoo in the water or on the washcloth?

oh dearest Lord. i've let you loose unsupervised in society and ya can't figure out how to wash the DOG?

thus begins my saturday (well let's be honest, it's almost noon). my house is full of boys er men. er men who think like boys, or boys who have inhabited the bodies of men but whose brains are still at the pokeman stage. there are two on the patio trying to wrestle the dog and make sense of the multi-layered complex process of washing the dog. the other two are upstairs snoring. i'm sure they are all ravenous. sometimes on saturday i'll make the "Big Breakfast" (pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, toast...) - but guess what boys, this isn't one of them.

just got an email from my sister cheryl. she has to attend a memorial service today for the son of one of her fellow Marine Moms (my nephew luke is a Marine). her friend's Navy Seal son passed away after complications from surgery to correct war wounds and damage – he was blinded in Iraq. i'm sending mournful and sorrowful prayers for another mom. wishing i could bring him back for her. wishing i could heal her aching which will likely always be her constant companion, in this world that is.

i am once again reminded that mine is close by, hands in sudsy water, chasing a furry black creature around the patio, getting drenched in the process. his body moves and shifts as easily as his spirit - sometimes a child, sometimes a man. never sure exactly which he wants to be. tell me what to do? i know how to do it mom. help me mom. leave me alone mom. but always - i love you mom. and for that i am so grateful.

the face of love

this was the theme of our big event this year. about 70 different artists, community leaders and the women in magdalene all contributed images that represented the face of love to them. we took these images and created a beautiful video which shows the wide breadth of love in this community. in this one night we raise at least half of our funding for the year.

these are stressful days  - the day of the event that is. at least 600 people to be present. large ballroom and 60 tables to decorate. tables laid out. guest lists managed. 75 + volunteers needing direction. programs and pledge cards to be assembled and ready. art to display. guests canceling. tables to rearrange. last minute guests adding. tables to rearrange. program rehearsal. musicians, photographers, rental companies, food vendors, food assembly, supplies arriving (or not). wine picked up. it's 5:00 and food still isn't ready. bartenders accounted for. omg we have no tea. someone run to the store. omg we are out of envelopes. send another to the store. guests lists organized by host. guest lists organized by alphabet. vip guests. more vip guests. smile. thank. smile. kiss. you look beautiful. wonderful to see you. thank you so much for coming. hug. smile.

it was a particularly hard one today. for many reasons. but the kicker had to be 15 minutes before the event begins i realize that somehow when i sent the guest list/excel file at 4:00 to a friend who juggles and sorts and spins it into lists for registration, i neglected to delete one eensy no-longer-necessary column....and this results in about half of the table numbers getting completely mixed up. so the hours/days spent carefully fine-tuning, arranging hosts and guests, then changing, then rearranging - all chaos. the event chairs? in the back of the room. the vip country artist? oh no, not there. the head of the large foundation. over there??? serious panic. serious. did i mention people are starting to come in the room, claiming their space. we do some serious switching, there is only time to do a handful.

the program begins and i'm in the back of the room. i'm emotional and teary. i'm next to jordan. i lean on her. i'm so glad she's there. jordan and i come from different worlds. she's cautious and reserved. i'm well, perky. she sports new braids/cornrows. i wear pearls. she wears her pants baggy and likes mens shirts worn extra large. i'm in a, well, banana republic grey tweed sheath and boots.

jordan was raised in an orphanage in brazil. abused. she says someday she will return and rescue any other children from that place. jordan was on the streets for years. she is street smart and tough. and she was quite aloof with me at first. i'm sure she thought why should i trust this white suburban chick with her pink purse. and really, why should she.

but time and love changes so much. so very much. it must have been obvious that i was upset. what's wrong marlee, she always calls me. oh i really screwed up jordan. i try to explain this thing with the tables and the guests and the hosts in the wrong place. she says something like, is that all they got to complain about? not being at the right table? then she tells me it doesn't matter and reminds me what does matter. i look at the stage and am listening to a couple of the new women introduce themselves. i'm 14 days clean one says. two weeks ago she was maybe sleeping in an alley. two weeks ago she might not have eaten for days. two weeks ago maybe she didn't know that we love her.

i look at my friends standing near me. niki and gwen and jordan and beverly. just a few of the women who ground me and nuture me. they have come so far. i just hope i have the courage to travel the same places spiritually that they travel every day.

my face of love tonite was also carolyn. when she is in town she works at thistle farms. she photographs. she writes. she hangs with the women. she assists me with PR. the women love her. we all miss her. she has been gone almost non-stop the past couple months. one week she's in LA with reba at the tonite show. next week she is in london with the indigo girls.  she was in ny today and not supposed to be back til late. she gets sick. reba sends her home. she flies in, grabs her boyfriend, and there she is, in the back of the room. she hugs me. i'm crying. i'm sure God sent her just for me.

the program is beautiful. the women and artists sing man in the mirror. graduates speak and present themselves with grace and dignity. the face of love video is extraordinary and divine. becca speaks. and like she always does, she brings us all together. we are all called to love the world, she reminds us. everyone in this room. but we are not called to change it but to change ourselves to love more fully. the work continues.

no one seems to care where they are seated. the candles flicker. the paintings the women created frame the room in rich colors. and i'm surrounded by love.

face of love photos by carolyn

aslan

it was a long time ago, but today i felt it near. sometimes at this time of year, whenever a breeze picks up leaves and scatters them, or i hear the neighborhood kids voices in the field behind me, i remember. maybe it's the sunlight caught in just a moment on my cupboard door, dancing with the trees in front of my house, but it's there. so briefly. and then gone. it is the awareness of death and that slim line we all walking between the eternal and folding towels. it is a gift that is given in tiny crumbs. i have no control over it, it rushes in with a wave, overwhelms me with its power, and leaves me drenched. every part of me feels alive for that brief moment because i know that death is also near.

it does makes me cry but it is an emotion of humility and of how ephemeral it all is. it is an awareness of the Creator. of mystery. of life-everlasting.

i cried today. many times. overcome with emotion. nine years ago this afternoon the doctor said rather matter-of-factly, from across the room, after cheerfully bantering with the patient next door for the past 40 minutes while i clung to a cold paper gown, glancing over his clipboard, motioning to the nurse to review my stitches/his handiwork - oh yes, why yes it is cancer. in fact quite aggressive. yes we'll have to have surgery right away. almost completely unaware of the spinning that began that moment for me. of the loss of contact with the ground below or of the meaning of words.

i have many more memories. but why i cried today is because those divine moments are a gift from that day. it is a tender and delicate thread we walk on. so gentle and precarious. i don't understand why i'm still breathing while others are no longer here. but in those moments when a ringing guitar echoes seemingly into eternity or my sweet jude baptises herself with scoops of water from aslan's fountain in my back yard, i remember. but the Spirit gently speaks. the Lord the giver of life is waiting. have no fear. have no fear.