Finding Daheim

For my 15th birthday, my  mother’s sister (Tänte Ilse) gave me a collection of some favorite poetry handwritten into a yellow, leather bound journal. Some poems are in English, others in German (Tänte Ilse’s native language). This journal is one of my most treasured possessions because there is so much love in each carefully printed word. 

A German poem called, “Daheim” is one of my favorites. Daheim is a tricky word to translate, but essentially, it means “home” as in homeland, or the place that lives in your heart as home. 

Carefully taped on the page opposite this poem is a folded slip of paper with a pressed flower and one simple phrase, “Daheim bin ich gewesen.” (I’ve been at home.) Tänte Ilse… Continue reading

Bearing Witness

Twenty-four years ago I became a mother for the first time. As I held my son, I felt tremendous waves of love, joy and fierce new feelings of protectiveness.

My inner Momma Bear was awake. Looking at the world through her keen senses, danger appeared to lurk everywhere. It was up to me to keep this little one safe.

As I dressed Frank in his way-too-big “going home” outfit, I remember feeling the full weight of responsibility settle on my shoulders. I couldn’t believe the hospital was just going to let me take this baby home. How would I know if he was eating enough? How would I know if he was sick? What if I made a mistake? What… Continue reading

Got Guilt?

This week I bumped into a friend I hadn’t seen in a few years. I was about to take Ella (our goofy pit-bull) for a walk when Mary walked by and admired the riot of flowers in our front garden. I forgot about the walk for a while and enjoyed re-connecting. Mary’s son and my daughter went all through school together, but since graduation two years ago our paths hadn’t crossed. 

It was wonderful to see Mary and catch up on “the kids” (who are of course all adults). As we stood on the sidewalk chatting, I couldn’t help but notice that the hair under Mary’s baseball cap was really short – chemo short.

Eventually, it came out in conversation that Mary was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer and… Continue reading

Beauty Queen

Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them.”  ~ A.A. Milne

The garden in the front of our house is mostly perennials, but every year we plant some annuals here and there for color. This year, we splashed the garden with happy snapdragons and bright pink petunias. It was only after we finished planting that we saw a bare spot where one of our coreopsis plants was mysteriously missing. Maybe it died over the winter and was pulled during spring cleanup, but we somehow missed the obvious bare spot when planting the annuals.

A few weeks later, James and I noticed tufts of fringy green leaves sprouting in the bare spot. It didn’t look… Continue reading

Are We Having Fun Yet?

On Saturday, I woke up wanting to have fun. James and I had no specific plans for the day, so I thought, my intention is to have fun doing whatever we do!

I sat down at the computer and sent out this tweet.

“Today’s Intention: Create fun out of thin air. ღ˚•* ♥˚˚✰˚˛★* Look out world!”

I even posted this quote on the Strong & Wise Fan Page: “In the beginning it was fun. In the end, it was all for fun. And in between is where it tickles most.” ~ Oaqui ~ Go find some giggles today! :-D

Soooo the rest of the day was fun right? Not exactly.

Shortly after I “tweeted” I received a text from a friend who was sitting… Continue reading

Gone Fishing

I’ve been a city girl all my life, born and raised on asphalt. The smell of warm cement cooled by summer rain ranks right up there with Tosca, the perfume my mother wore when I was a child.

As a result, I’m usually content with nature in small doses. A city park, a small patch of grass or a well placed garden satisfies my need to be with nature. But this week, I craved a nature fix. Specifically, I needed to be near a lake. Not a pond, a LAKE.

This isn’t an easy destination when you live in an old suburb of Philly. A few hundred years has allowed civilization to spread far and wide. In fact, it takes at least 20 – 30 minutes of driving to even… Continue reading

The Back Porch

In the evening, after dinner dishes are done, James and I love to relax on the back porch and digest the day together. Sometimes we are joined by our neighbors in an over-the-fence discussion, other times we sit and gaze quietly at the yard we’ve affectionately dubbed, “Lush & Lovely.”

It’s our way of claiming SPACE - moments to exhale, listen and dream.

After one such evening this week, James wrote a poem. I loved it so much I wanted to share it with you (with permission of course). During the upcoming July Fourth weekend, I wish you all moments of joyful celebration and perhaps, even more so, moments of peaceful, joyful SPACE.

The Back Porch

In between the slow conversation,

as my

One Year – But Who’s Counting?

This week marked the first anniversary of the day I was diagnosed with breast cancer. To celebrate I had a mammogram.

Woo hoo! Party!!

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t all fun and games. But while the mammogram equipment still resembles a medieval torture device, the vise like grip of the machine is nothing compared to the grip that fear had on my imagination while waiting for the results.

I think of myself as generally very optimistic but, in between thoughts of “all is well”, visions of cancerous lumps danced in my head. Those visions loomed even larger when the tech came into the waiting room and said that more pictures were needed.

Part of my brain was glad that the radiologist was being careful to get all the correct angles… Continue reading

The Grass is Greener

I was privileged recently to spend a week in a gorgeous English town called, “Berwick-upon-Tweed.”  My husband and I, along with many other family members, all gathered to celebrate my mother-in-law’s 80th birthday.

Relatives came from far and wide (France, Wales, Spain, the US and many parts of England) to celebrate. Since there were so many “out-of-towners”, my mother-in-law (Marion) arranged a guided tour of the historic grass and stone ramparts that surround the town.

Walking along the path at the top of the ramparts, I couldn’t help but be awed by the gorgeous, lush grass that waved in the breeze.

I gushed, “It’s so green!”

Mari Lo (from Spain) was walking beside me. She thought about… Continue reading

Time to Talk

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.”

Robert Frost

First, let me apologize for the late release of this week’s blog post. I’m under no grand illusions (or delusions) that your life was on hold waiting for its release, but still, I like to keep to a predictable schedule of a new blog every Friday morning.

Here’s what happened. Last night… Continue reading