Shhhhhh...Mother Holle is Sleeping

Winter was relentless this year. Several weeks ago I read an email from a young friend who said in her part of the world Mother Holle was still shaking her pillow. Puzzled, I googled the name. I found a fairy tale about a character, Mother  Holle, who when having her feather pillow shaken in her world, it would snow in our world. I enjoyed the story and smiled ruefully as I watched big fat wet snowflakes fall from the sky outside my kitchen window.

About a week later I was walking into my sister’s house and stopped to tilt my head and listen to the  bird chatter, and a few hours later when I left her house I was delighted to hear the little Peeper frogs singing their night-song from the pond below her home. Spring was awakening.

When I got up the next morning I looked at the tall birch trees outside my bedroom window to see if I could spot the beginning of leaves yet. From then on I checked every morning. I smiled to myself a few days later as I was descending the stairs. It had rained a tiny bit the night before—just enough to coax the buds out on the trees.

Over the next few days the lawns and meadows slowly turned lush green. Sweet grass and damp earth filled the air with the scent of new life as bouquets of bluettes covered the lawn with their lacy blossoms. Dandelions burst forth dotting the fields with their cheerful objectionable abundance.A little friend and I checked often to see if the daffodils had poked their sunlit heads through their glossy leaves. 

The tall birch trees in the yard are now clothed in their green splendor. Soon the apple and pear trees will fill the air with the grace and fragrance of their blossoms.You can hear the low rumble of lawn mowers in the distance and the heady scent of fresh cut grass fills my senses.

I want to climb to the top of the birch tree,(picture that if you will), and shout my joy to the world; but I won't. Number one--I am scared of heights. Number two?? Listen carefully. Hear that? Mother Holle is snoring softly.

Shhhhh…….

She has FINALLY laid her troublesome head on those pillows and I wish her to sleep soundly for a good long time. 

Link to Mother Holle:

http://www.surlalunefairytales.com/diamondstoads/stories/holle.html

Happy Mothers' Day....Missing you!

MOTHER

God gave so much

When He blessed me with a Mother

Whose ever open arms welcome...release

Warm soft cheek, salt and pepper hair

Gentle smile...loving heart

Breath and breast

Rising, rhythmic, reassuring

Ever maternal

Weary with satisfaction, her household clothed

She is contentment, ever changing

Her heart to mine

Sharing and caring

Our relationship bearing

Dreams and disappointments

I write this with much love

And eternal thanks

For my Mother, My friend

---With Love, Always-- Dianne (1994)

Proverbs 31:26 She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness

Happy Mother's Day....A Constant Life

One of my earliest memories is of being in the living room pretending to fly as I jumped from the furniture. I am probably younger than four. I can hear Mom in the kitchen singing as she does the laundry. I can smell the laundry soap and bleach and hear the rhythm of the old washing machine beating the laundry clean. (I can smell molasses cookies baking too, but when I told Mom about this memory years ago she said it would not have been the same day).

This is the strongest memory of my Mom? Surely I loved my mother for more than doing laundry and making cookies? Then I realized--whether she was doing laundry, baking cookies, finding a jam jar for the hundredth bouquet of limp dandelions, or holding the bucket while I was sick—she was a constant presence. It is her presence that is the memory.

When she died it was painful. Who do you turn to when the one you have always turned to is gone? In the first few months I would reach for the phone to ask or tell her something. When I drove home on the weekend and walked through the door—my heart would strain to hear her footsteps in the kitchen or her voice calling out hello. I missed the warmth of her touch.

When people came to visit and offer sympathy to the family---everyone said the same things about her-- whether they knew her as Sister, Aunt, Friend, Neighbor, Jean, Jean-the-bean, or Mrs Ness. They spoke of her kindness and patience, her gentle spirit and laughed about that little bit of mischief in her. Even Dad as her husband and we as her children and grandchildren knew her the same way. All of these relationships were very different, but her character was obvious and constant throughout. What a blessing that was to me.

It has been twelve years since Mom died. After the grief lifted I realized she is still with me, just differently. She is here in the memory of her love. She is here in the example of her faith in God.  She is here in the stories and smiles of family and friends. As her life was constant, so is her memory.

Joy---My Cup Runneth Over

Almost Apple Blossom time again---this is my most Joyful memory--and this is what fills my heart and mind from my childhood.....

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.

--C.S Lewis

My Cup Runneth Over

When I was a child I can remember my mother getting us ready for bed and telling us it was time to climb the wooden hill. Mom tucked us in and as soon as I heard her feet going down the wooden hill, I would slip out of bed and go and kneel at the low bedroom window that looked out over our small farm. The wood-house stood to the left. The lawn and field beyond the fence were thick with new grass and dotted with flowers. I could hear the frogs in the nearby pond singing their night song, and the soft trilling of the birds. There was an apple tree that stood outside the window and when it was in bloom it was frothy with pink blossoms. The evening breeze would whisper through it and carry its’ fragrance to where my head rested on my arms. I would have this overwhelming fullness—from the tips of my toes--right up to my heart--then on to the top of my head--an aching sweetness that stung my eyes and gave me a pang of longing, because no matter how long I looked, listened or smelled--I could never get enough of that moment.

....AND I DANCE

… AND I DANCE

As a child,

I danced, I laughed, I loved,

A darkness came

A choice was given---- and taken,

By someone who said they loved me

Paralyzed by fear and shame

My young heart ached,

 If only I could destroy the darkness…

If only I could rip down and tear apart,

 the shame and rage,

 That holds my heart in so tight a grip,

My every breath and love --is measured

‘Dear God,’ I cried...

‘Forgive--my child’

A choice is given---and taken

I lift my heart to the mercy of God,

I forgive

Ever so gently..so sweetly

I am enfolded in the arms and heart of God

 And in the light of His love

The shame and  fear is damned

The darkness falls and dies forever

Once again,

I love, I sing with Joy

…and I dance

--Dianne Annie Ness

I wrote the poem to share my journey from the fear and sadness of  sexual abuse to the great love and redemption of God through the joy of forgiveness. Please do not be sad for me--rejoice with me that the God of love can redeem our hearts and lives and make us whole when we have been hurt. God has given me more through this journey of forgiveness than was ever taken from me.

 I want to send a message of hope to those who have been hurt—there is healing and wholeness.

( The man who hurt me is deceased—he was a trusted adult who frequented our home. I will not drag his name into this as he cannot hurt anyone else, I also do not want to bring shame to his name or family and with God’s love and grace I have forgiven him.  Please feel free to share--as it may encourage someone else).

A Lesson Learned.....

What a beautiful day---woke up to bright sunshine and birdsong, and a massive headache. I had agreed to teach Sunday School to eight and nine year olds--my niece’s class as she was away for the weekend. Thoughts about the lesson had been going through my head, but I had not prepared well for it at all. Nursing my headache with Tylenol and coffee at 9:30 am was doing nothing to help
.

I walked into church at 10:30 and went straight to the classroom to wait for the students. The theme of obedience was rolling through my head and as I prayed for wisdom all the thoughts that had been going through my head came together with a few scripture verses and a couple of stories to show examples. We opened in prayer and discussed two of the Ten Commandments that were relative to the lesson.

Then I shared with them a story about why it is important to obey our parents—because God wants us to honor our parents with obedience. I also explained that we should respect our authorities. For them; their parents, schoolteacher, bus driver--and we discussed different rules and why they were important.Then we discussed rules for adults; traffic laws—no littering, those kinds of things, and why they were important to obey. I wanted them to understand we ALL have authorities we need to respect---because it is the right thing to do—because it is respectful—because ultimately we honor God when we honor our authority.

At the end of the class I asked them how they could go home and use this lesson to live their lives. My heart was touched by their answers. One little girl said she was going to go home and clean her room, her Mom had asked her to clean it yesterday and she hadn't done it yet. One said he would turn off his electronic game when asked—others stated they would do their chores. One wisely suggested doing it with the right attitude..hmmm. 

I had my own list of how I could honor God in obedience—and was soon to be tested.

I went home for a quick lunch and then went to pick up a friend to go for a drive and have a coffee. Signs of Spring are finally showing--the grass is getting green, daffodils are showing their pretty heads--the air was warm and full of cheery birdsong. The windows were down and because my headache was gone the music was fast and loud. I just wanted to cut loose with my speed and I couldn't see any police; but immediately I was reminded of the lesson I had just taught. As my foot lifted--slightly--off the gas pedal, an empty bag blew out the window of my van. No one was around to see it—but it taunted me from my rear-view mirror. I turned around and retrieved it from the side of the road because I know it is wrong to litter—even if I did not mean to.

 

However I still need to work on the attitude part—a little bit. It is now almost eleven o’clock at night and I have just remembered another way I need to apply this lesson on honoring authority………I need to wind this up so I can go find the rest of my tax papers……Arrrghhhh!!!!

Winter Schminter!

Sending this out with the hope that winter will pass quickly and we can all be warm again....lol....

Today the weather is sunny and mild. The snow is melting into the lawn and disappearing quite nicely--- (excuse me while I pause to wave goodbye). Last week we had a few mild days that definitely held a promise of spring. I opened the windows and cleaned a few more corners and relished the milder weather—but didn’t get too excited....winter always teases us with a little thaw, and then gives us another swift kick up our “sit-upon”. We definitely felt it this week, with freezing rain and blowing snow making life miserable.

I have always had mixed feelings about winter. I love the heat and dancing flames from the woodstove. There is a coziness to the shorter days and longer lamp lit evenings spent reading, or watching the snow come down. I love making soups and homemade bread to warm and feed the little bellies I care for. Playing board games with the school kids and cuddling in blankets and watching movies with the toddlers.

I stood at my open door one night last week and watched in wonder as the snow came down like sugar, it was so quiet I could hear it landing---and was tempted to reach down and taste it. I took a deep breath letting my lungs fill with cold air purified by the snow---so delicious you can’t possibly take a big enough whiff. Another day I was delighted for the kids as it fell in huge flakes that lay heavy on the ground just begging to be made into a snowman or fort.

I have good memories of snow and winter as a child. Making snow angels with my sister Donna as big fat flakes fell on our faces, and laughing as they fell into our open mouths. Other times I remember lying still on the ground watching the stars in that huge velvet sky, the warm smells and comforting sounds coming from the open door of the barn as Dad and the boys finished the evening chores. As children my siblings and I would go sliding with half a dozen neighbors and stay out until our feet and fingers ached from the cold. Mom would sometimes warm us by letting us wrap our arms under her cardigan and around her waist. I remember windows etched with fern and feathers compliments of Jack Frost.

However—you know the saying there is a thin line between love and hate?  Most of the time the line is as thin as the depth of my back door--2 inches. The things I truly enjoy about winter can be enjoyed from the inside of the threshold---including those icy cleansing breaths.

I sometimes wish I was of a species that hibernates—sometimes I wish I could revert to childhood. As I look out the window to grin and thumb my nose at winter and the melting snow, I realize the child in me is winning. Next year I vow to make a snowman. Snow-angels? Not with these hips.