Thick forest with many meadows

 I spent the day visiting the Grand Canyon with a beloved friend. It was a Monday and the boys didn't have tutoring so they had decided to spend the day getting caught up on their own projects. Aunt Teona was scheduled to spend time with Lochlan and take him to Occupational Therapy so I felt confident I could safely leave the house for a few hours. 

Lochlan had a day of amazing: he had a full day with lots of activities and was incredibly engaged and well behaved. Those days are happening more often, but they're not something we expect. Some days he wakes up smiling and ready to go. Other days he wakes up with dark circles underneath his eyes and we know immediately that the day will be an uphill climb. Often his health keeps him down but sometimes life just isn't what he woke up expecting and that can get the dysfunctional train rolling on a downward curve. 

My boys are incredibly adaptable, but for Lochlan change can be hard. He loves to travel and take adventures, but if you alter his routine at home it can be catastrophic. He loves to hike and explore, but if he gets worn out he doesn't know how to push past the fatigue; I'm coming to understand that this is learned skill. I think a lot of fully functioning young people and even adults do not actually known how to push past their own comfort and/or natural inclinations. Raising and training Lochlan breaks things down into such a rudimentary form that it gives me a window into others that I'm not sure I would have otherwise. To push past the discomfort of a tired leg muscle while climbing a hill, especially at high elevation... it's HARD and its a learned skill. Perhaps more importantly, it is a lesson for all of life.. 

I returned from my Grand Canon adventure in the late afternoon and Lochlan was still doing great. That evening, however, I looked over to where he was sitting on the couch and noticed that his hair looked different. Upon closer inspection I saw that he had pulled 20% of his hair out, leaving patches of bald glory. As Madigan stated: "Mom, we need to cut Lochlan's hair. He now has a thick forest with many meadows." So, we proceeded to cut all the remaining beautiful locks to a height that cannot be pulled out easily. It's incredibly sad, and terribly frustrating because we have no idea what inspired him to pursue a receding hairline. Hence, we have no real way of thwarting such decisions in the future. This is not the first time he's pulled his hair out, but it has been several years since the last episode. 

Alas... our adventure into the unknown territories continues. 

Legends

 

In a world torn apart by politics, differing beliefs, agendas, distrust, I see heroes who rise up from the shadows. The heroes I see are the heroes I know: my boys. True, their battle is on an isolated front, unique from the rest of the world, but they are fierce warriors in a battle of incredible importance. They are changing the world one life at a time, and I believe the effect of winning that war will be far greater than any political maneuver. 

We were exiting the cafe line at Sam's club. We hadn't purchased anything except our lunch, so we scampered through the checkout line ahead of some of the people with full baskets. By the time our train of humans had slithered through the line, the caboose inadvertently cut in front of a woman with a heaping basket of goods. She said disgustedly: "Excuse me!" Kelton immediately turned around and said, "Oh, I'm so so sorry. We didn't mean to be unkind." The previously grumpy lady visibly softened and said, "Oh, that's okay. What a polite young man! Go on ahead." When we got outside, I told Kelton that his response reflected so much kindness. He said: "Everyone matters." 

On our way home after a long hike, we made another Sam's Club lunch run (I promise, it's not all we eat) Declan spotted a man with a "Need Food" sign next to the stop sign. Without any hesitation, he asked me to pull off so that he could get out of the car. He ran his untouched lunch to the gentleman with the sign. As we drove away, the man was ravenously eating the pizza and I saw tears running down his cheeks. 

Madigan is about 6'2 now and when we go into stores, he blends in a little less. He is absolutely always the first to offer assistance to anyone he sees struggling to reach something, to carry something, to even walk around the store on aged limbs. He's always quiet, never drawing attention to himself, but there have been countless times where I turn around to find him missing from our herd and spot him helping someone in need. 

Someone came up to us in the grocery store last night and said, "I know you!" I replied, "I know you too! How do I know you?" She said, "I don't know, but I REMEMBER you!" We finally narrowed it down to a favorite coffee shop where she was our barista for a short season. She said, "I remember you all because we had some incredible conversations when you would come in for coffee. You all made me feel seen, like I had value. I was really struggling then and it mattered."

We have been taking Lochlan for some long hikes because he has been struggling. It has been an almost daily sacrifice for these brothers, but they are as committed to his well being as I am. Some days I can tell they are weary and I know that traipsing through the woods is not high on the wish list, but they do not EVER complain. We have shared incredible experiences on those trail adventures and this brother has a rich life because of the commitment to love, because of the care his brothers give to him. 

~ Ode to our recent adventures ~

Good Grief

 

Good grief. I've often wondered where that phrase originated. Has anyone who has ever experienced grief looked back and thought of its goodness?  Grief stalks us unknowingly throughout our lives until one day it encompasses us, taking possession of our hearts, distracting us from everything that is joy filled or grants us contentment. 

Once we belong to grief, it never seems to fully release us. It may lessen its hold upon us, even significantly, and it may become less acute, but too often grief has a chronic element too.

Grief is fostered and flourishes through loss, heartbreak, loneliness and disappointment. It feasts upon the weight of broken dreams. It knows no boundaries and it leaves no human untouched. It is marked by longing for what was, what could be, what has been, what might have been, and/or what never was.

Grief has many faces; it can be all-encompassing, overwhelming every joy-filled chamber of our lives and leaving nothing discolored (acute grief). We surprise ourselves and survive this kind of grief. It can also be the subtle knocking that chips away at our hearts, that simply changes everything subtly and perhaps indistinctly (long grief).

I have seen that grief can destroy us. It can replace our determination with hopelessness, it can blind us to our purpose, it can displace our dreams with nightmares, it can mangle what was beautiful so that we are unable to see it. It can also build into us strength and resilience and compassion. It can soften the heart while it simultaneously breaks it. 

And love. Love is interwoven deeply with grief. Love is the antidote to grief. Love is also most often the catalyst of grief. It is the hope to the hopelessness, it is the balm to loneliness. It is the compounding agent to the sorrow. And it is the restoration when coupled with time. 

I believe grief is the result of a broken world. I see it everywhere in faces I know well and in faces I do not know. When I see it, I long to fill the void, lessen the pain, replace the hurt with healing, restore once again what is broken. But, that is a Divine task. In and through Divine love we can be surprised by joy and heal in the process of the finding. I'm not sure if we're ever made whole again or if we become a different form of ourselves. 

[These are merely my musings on the subject. No cause for alarm]  

 

Beach Access

 Sometimes, I wake up in the early morning hours knowing that I must write but not actually knowing what I am to write. I am privy to so many incredible things each day and I store them away to remember when I sit down to write, but my brain functions more like a colander these days. So, I sit... the pressure percolates because the momentary treasures I have been witness to may or may not come to my recollection when I need them to. There are too many, and with time at a full gallop I hold them about as effectively as I would sand through my fingers. 

Right now I am sitting in the upper story of a house that sits along the Oregon coast. We can see the waves and we can hear the waves. The smell of the sea permeates and it compels me to venture outdoors. I am on a "sisters trip" with my twin, my Mom and my Aunt Teona. Stepping outside of my world into this 4 day world feels like a complete and thorough reality shift. I have slept the past two nights entirely through the night without waking. I'm constantly looking for where I need to pick up, clean up, repair something, water something, feed something, meal prep, or organize (again). Instead, there is time to read, reflect, consider. The quiet and rest is nice. The peace is needed. I think I'm soaking up the beauty of this place into the marrow of my bones. 

I miss the hustle and bustle of my life, though. I miss the chaos of keeping 4 young human men in existence. I miss watching their sleepy faces wander out of the bedroom for morning tea. I miss hearing them share their hearts, watching them galavant across the fields, take Lochlan for endless rides with the lawn mower/trailer, ride the Zipline for hours on end, wrangle their flock of chickens. Life is full. It is crazy. It is utterly exhausting. It is messy (and dirty and cluttered and gross). And it is beautiful. 

The reflection is easy here. The power of the sea is compelling. I am savoring this short 4 days, absolutely

. 

We got to ride horses on the beach last night and I landed on a little bay gelding who was absolutely delightful! He was smart, kind, spirited and his attitude made the whole experience such a treat.