I have a good mother. I am grateful for my good mother. My mom (PW), like all mom's, learned on the job. It is interesting to me, as I observe my friends having children, and observing PW as Oma, that motherhood has a very broad job description, and a very broad allowance of how to go about being a mom. Some women are quiet and gentle; some are dynamic and voluble; some are naturally maternal and nurturing; others are more laidback or liberal. None of these types or approaches defines motherhood, but they do allow for every woman to participate in motherhood.
What I mean is that every woman, regardless her demeanor or personality traits has the capacity for mothering. Today is Mother's Day. I wish all of you Moms a very happy Mother's Day. Some of you are mothers to other people, but you've had a hand in mothering me. Realising that, has made me realise that I can offer mothering to other people as well.
The single life has a great many opportunities, possibilities and blessings not available to married women, or those with religious vocations. One of the disadvantages is its inherent amorphous nature. There is no job description, no real absolute purpose, and it's also rather open-ended. Very few of us are called to permanent, committed singleton-ness. And for women, there is another little twinge: where to expend our need to care for and nurture others in an acceptable, appropriate and satisfying way?
Each of us finds our own way to an answer for that question. I am not anyone's mom, but I am fortunate to have people to love in that distinctly 'feminine genius' way that JPII spoke about, in acknowldegement of the role of women.
Being able to do so has deepened my awareness of the cost of being a mother, of taking on the unfathomable task of forming -- moulding -- a person. I have witnessed the dying to self that motherhood requires, and recognize the unending vigilence and effort that goes into parenting. I see too, that the rewards are unsurpassable in the smiles, accomplishments, and love of your children.
In the two together, the cost and the rewards, God is present. He understands and experiences the unique sorrow of a mother, as well as the unique connection, pride, and love of a mother. For that reason, He has special blessings and consolations for moms. As surely as the grey hairs appear, worry lines develop, sleep is lost and never regained, so shall joy in your children flourish.
Happy Mother's Day
solitude + inspiration
10 May 2009
Footie
Happiness in two photos:
Ronaldo does what he does best: SCORE!!
Ryan Giggs. Elder statesman, gentleman sportsman, doing what he does best: play beautiful football.
The Best Team Ever (Manchester United) played their arch rivals today: Manchester City. That's right, they come from the same town. There is no love lost between the two. You can tell which are the City players: they're the ones in Baby Blue. Isn't it a sweet colour? Not a real manly colour, but you know...sweet. TBTE won, naturally. It's my sister's birthday today, and she is a devoted United fan, so it's only right that her team should win on this of all days. I'm just an innocent beneficiary of the results. Poor me.
United have three games remaining and then the season is over. They are three points up on the second place team...those Scousers who never walk alone (sounds awfully insecure to me...a United fan or player would be able to do something as simple as walking all on their ownsome) and have one more game to play than the other title contenders. Because United have also qualified for the Champions League Final, they have been playing more football than the other teams, and have more football to play still than the other teams, which is something of a disadvantage. They are, however, The Best Team Ever, and are quite up to the challenge.
Glory Glory Man United!
Ronaldo does what he does best: SCORE!!
Ryan Giggs. Elder statesman, gentleman sportsman, doing what he does best: play beautiful football.The Best Team Ever (Manchester United) played their arch rivals today: Manchester City. That's right, they come from the same town. There is no love lost between the two. You can tell which are the City players: they're the ones in Baby Blue. Isn't it a sweet colour? Not a real manly colour, but you know...sweet. TBTE won, naturally. It's my sister's birthday today, and she is a devoted United fan, so it's only right that her team should win on this of all days. I'm just an innocent beneficiary of the results. Poor me.
United have three games remaining and then the season is over. They are three points up on the second place team...those Scousers who never walk alone (sounds awfully insecure to me...a United fan or player would be able to do something as simple as walking all on their ownsome) and have one more game to play than the other title contenders. Because United have also qualified for the Champions League Final, they have been playing more football than the other teams, and have more football to play still than the other teams, which is something of a disadvantage. They are, however, The Best Team Ever, and are quite up to the challenge.
Glory Glory Man United!
Hmph
It is May 10. By all rights and according to the calendar it should be Spring. Printemps. Primavera. Fruejahr. That would entail warm afternoons bracketed by cooler mornings and evenings (a feature I love about both Spring and Autumn), clear blue skies, bright cheery sun, and bursting young life everywhere.
There is a little tree in the front yard that I can just see as I sit in my window. It is all abloom with white flowers, signalling the arrival of the growing season. The fierce wind, however, has ripped many of the blossoms off the tree, tossing them to the ground, which is now covered in white...resembling snow. The sky is heavy and grey. The sun hasn't been seen in a few days. The temperature is unreasonably (and unseasonably) low. The lovely plants we bought are too young and tender to withstand these harsh conditions. I am not amused!
Part of my miff is wrapped in the knowledge that in just a few weeks time I am going to be complaining just as fitfully about the heat and humidity. I'm Canadian afterall I suppose, and weather is integral to my state of mind.
There is a little tree in the front yard that I can just see as I sit in my window. It is all abloom with white flowers, signalling the arrival of the growing season. The fierce wind, however, has ripped many of the blossoms off the tree, tossing them to the ground, which is now covered in white...resembling snow. The sky is heavy and grey. The sun hasn't been seen in a few days. The temperature is unreasonably (and unseasonably) low. The lovely plants we bought are too young and tender to withstand these harsh conditions. I am not amused!
Part of my miff is wrapped in the knowledge that in just a few weeks time I am going to be complaining just as fitfully about the heat and humidity. I'm Canadian afterall I suppose, and weather is integral to my state of mind.
09 May 2009
Remember your lessons
I learned a valuable lesson today. Or rather, relearned an old lesson. I am not a city girl. And I hate shopping at the weekend!
A chocolate cake took me across town early this morning to the local Bulk Barn (such a great store...whoever came up with that idea is brilliant, and probably lots of fun, too). The trip is literally two right turns and a left, and ten minutes later, you're there! Not on Saturday mornings, though. Ugh. Just negotiating that particular strip-mall parking lot was stress inducing. I think people adopt a nine-to-five mentality: once they clock out, their brain goes on vacation as well. So, when they're out and about -- totally at large -- they are attempting to function in public places, operating heavy machinery, in a "this is your brain on weekends" state of mind. Makes errands veeerrry interesting for the rest of us, to say the least.
Shopping at Bulk Barn is always fun, but sadly they do not stock things like eggs. Chocolate cake uses eggs, so off I had to go to Blah-blah's to round out my purchases. (Along the way I bought movie tickets for an evening showing of the big sci fi prequel blockbuster opening this weekend. Another story, but I can tell you now it was a great deal of fun) Getting back across town this time took nearly three times as long, and there were traffic jams at every intersection. It's becoming ridiculous! This is not a large city that I live in, however, it's getting to the point that my new philosophy of life must include "I shall not leave the house and attempt to go anywhere by car between the hours of 8am Saturday - 9pm Sunday, or enter a store of any sort during those same hours". Doing so, you see, proves that I am not essentially a forbearing, kind, tolerant or mild sort of person. Which also proves that you really ought to remember your lessons, or you will be forced to learn them all over again.
A chocolate cake took me across town early this morning to the local Bulk Barn (such a great store...whoever came up with that idea is brilliant, and probably lots of fun, too). The trip is literally two right turns and a left, and ten minutes later, you're there! Not on Saturday mornings, though. Ugh. Just negotiating that particular strip-mall parking lot was stress inducing. I think people adopt a nine-to-five mentality: once they clock out, their brain goes on vacation as well. So, when they're out and about -- totally at large -- they are attempting to function in public places, operating heavy machinery, in a "this is your brain on weekends" state of mind. Makes errands veeerrry interesting for the rest of us, to say the least.
Shopping at Bulk Barn is always fun, but sadly they do not stock things like eggs. Chocolate cake uses eggs, so off I had to go to Blah-blah's to round out my purchases. (Along the way I bought movie tickets for an evening showing of the big sci fi prequel blockbuster opening this weekend. Another story, but I can tell you now it was a great deal of fun) Getting back across town this time took nearly three times as long, and there were traffic jams at every intersection. It's becoming ridiculous! This is not a large city that I live in, however, it's getting to the point that my new philosophy of life must include "I shall not leave the house and attempt to go anywhere by car between the hours of 8am Saturday - 9pm Sunday, or enter a store of any sort during those same hours". Doing so, you see, proves that I am not essentially a forbearing, kind, tolerant or mild sort of person. Which also proves that you really ought to remember your lessons, or you will be forced to learn them all over again.
08 May 2009
Defiance
Not light and fluffy escapist entertainment, but Defiance is a movie worth seeing. Based on the true story of four brothers hiding from the Nazis with 1200 other Jews in the Belarussian woods, it pays homage to hope, faith, and the strength of the human spirit. It also shows human nature at its very best, and its absolute worst.
The group of Jews who find each other over time build a community. Every person is assigned work, and everyone gets the same rations. People fall in love, people grumble about being hungry and having to work, people become sick and die. The Germans manage to find them, and so they must once again leave everything they have and run to a new spot to begin all over again. (Imagine doing that with 1200 people!) Food must be taken from local farmers, but they are careful to not visit one farmer more than others, or to take from people who cannot spare what they have. They build simple log huts, and trade labour with Russian partisans for food and medicine. Despite all they had endured before having to hide in the forest, they manage to maintain hope and rebuild again and again and establish a semblance of 'normal' life.
It is not an idyllic or romantic life, however. When times are especially challenging, many begin to wish they were back in the ghetto, and at one point they pray for God to remove His favour from them, to find another nation to bless. One person asks why it is so hard to be friends with a Jew; the answer he gets is: try being one.
We learn at the end of the film that the children and grandchildren of the survivors now number in the hundreds of thousands. What a legacy those four brothers have.
The group of Jews who find each other over time build a community. Every person is assigned work, and everyone gets the same rations. People fall in love, people grumble about being hungry and having to work, people become sick and die. The Germans manage to find them, and so they must once again leave everything they have and run to a new spot to begin all over again. (Imagine doing that with 1200 people!) Food must be taken from local farmers, but they are careful to not visit one farmer more than others, or to take from people who cannot spare what they have. They build simple log huts, and trade labour with Russian partisans for food and medicine. Despite all they had endured before having to hide in the forest, they manage to maintain hope and rebuild again and again and establish a semblance of 'normal' life.
It is not an idyllic or romantic life, however. When times are especially challenging, many begin to wish they were back in the ghetto, and at one point they pray for God to remove His favour from them, to find another nation to bless. One person asks why it is so hard to be friends with a Jew; the answer he gets is: try being one.
We learn at the end of the film that the children and grandchildren of the survivors now number in the hundreds of thousands. What a legacy those four brothers have.
The earth
I'm so excited, for this year...at last...I am attempting something that has intimidated me all my days: gardening. I have been responsible for the demise of many house plants. Even several arrangements of hardy cacti did not survive my care. Those experiences have left me feeling vulnerable and rather reluctant to take on large-scale, in-the-earth plant planning and planting.
So this year, my sister and I have banded together in our desire to take on the great outdoors, tame it, beautify it, fill it with pretty blooming things. After weeks of talking about how nice it would be, this afternoon we took ourselves off to the local garden centre (three totally uninterested little boys and one experienced and helpful Oma in tow) to explore the world of horticulture.
What an overwhelming world horticulture is, to the uninitiated. We decided our plan of attack in this, our inaugural year, was container gardening. The variety of containers and boxes is vast and daunting. Is this a decision to be made based soley on the pocket book? Does climate or contents impact the choice? Baffling. I thought that simply deciding to plant stuff in a container was half the battle. Nevermind! Not to mention the fact that you can't just get a few pots of 'stuff', you must make a selection from among hundreds of varieties, heights, flowering seasons, colours etc. Yikes! Daunting indeed.
Living in Germany for a number of years has given me a fondness for geraniums. I'd love to have a long windowbox of red geraniums, under an actual window. Nothing else in it...just geraniums. I was very surprised at myself, once at the garden centre, to discover how many of the flowers I was wanting to take with me. What colours! What shapes! So many possibilities.
We brought home two planters, one of which has a little shrub waiting to be planted in it; the other will very soon be brimming with assorted herbs. Oma bought a few lovely flowers to go along the front path (they look like a daisy with a purple centre - so lovely). I bought a pretty flowering maple in a planter with two little ivy plants in it. The flowers on the maple have a tissue paper texture, and are a cheery orange colour.
I am accomplished gardener in manner of Martha Stewart. (get the quote?) Hoorah!
So this year, my sister and I have banded together in our desire to take on the great outdoors, tame it, beautify it, fill it with pretty blooming things. After weeks of talking about how nice it would be, this afternoon we took ourselves off to the local garden centre (three totally uninterested little boys and one experienced and helpful Oma in tow) to explore the world of horticulture.
What an overwhelming world horticulture is, to the uninitiated. We decided our plan of attack in this, our inaugural year, was container gardening. The variety of containers and boxes is vast and daunting. Is this a decision to be made based soley on the pocket book? Does climate or contents impact the choice? Baffling. I thought that simply deciding to plant stuff in a container was half the battle. Nevermind! Not to mention the fact that you can't just get a few pots of 'stuff', you must make a selection from among hundreds of varieties, heights, flowering seasons, colours etc. Yikes! Daunting indeed.
Living in Germany for a number of years has given me a fondness for geraniums. I'd love to have a long windowbox of red geraniums, under an actual window. Nothing else in it...just geraniums. I was very surprised at myself, once at the garden centre, to discover how many of the flowers I was wanting to take with me. What colours! What shapes! So many possibilities.
We brought home two planters, one of which has a little shrub waiting to be planted in it; the other will very soon be brimming with assorted herbs. Oma bought a few lovely flowers to go along the front path (they look like a daisy with a purple centre - so lovely). I bought a pretty flowering maple in a planter with two little ivy plants in it. The flowers on the maple have a tissue paper texture, and are a cheery orange colour.
I am accomplished gardener in manner of Martha Stewart. (get the quote?) Hoorah!
06 May 2009
Of dogs, tears, and truth
It's been mentioned before: I really enjoy watching movies. I like highbrow films, reading subtitles doesn't deter me, and artsy movies can be enjoyable too. At the same time, Pretty woman is one of my favourites along with Black Hawk down, and Die hard. I draw the line however, at Natcho libre, potty-humour, and senseless gore.
Of all the movies I've seen recently, the one I'd like to inaugurate 'Movie Reviews by Tess' with is the sweet and simple story about the family of the the world's worst dog. Marley and me really took me by surprise; I was expecting pure escape and thought this would fit the bill nicely: escape wrapped in feel good fluff. Instead what it delivers is Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson realistically portraying a convincing young couple from the beginning of their marriage through the early years of raising their children.
John Grogan (Wilson) follows the advice of his determinedly single friend to buy his wife Jenny (Aniston) a dog to sublimate her desire for children. Enter Marley -- you guessed it -- The World's Worst Dog. This is a dog that would challenge the most devoted of canine devotees. This dog eats floors, tears down walls in a thunder storm, inconveniences innocent poodles, and shuts down the only dog beach in three counties and fails obedience school. Children do enter the picture despite the demanding dog, and so the beauty of this movie develops.
A young couple get married, drive a rust heap of a car, struggle in their early careers, have children, take on insanity packaged as a dog...and are tired. Sound familiar? This is an honest portrayal of life without being scary, despondent, depressing, or lesson-preaching. It manages to be funny and tender at the same time and is ultimately very satisfying.
Marley and me is a keeper.
Of all the movies I've seen recently, the one I'd like to inaugurate 'Movie Reviews by Tess' with is the sweet and simple story about the family of the the world's worst dog. Marley and me really took me by surprise; I was expecting pure escape and thought this would fit the bill nicely: escape wrapped in feel good fluff. Instead what it delivers is Jennifer Aniston and Owen Wilson realistically portraying a convincing young couple from the beginning of their marriage through the early years of raising their children.
John Grogan (Wilson) follows the advice of his determinedly single friend to buy his wife Jenny (Aniston) a dog to sublimate her desire for children. Enter Marley -- you guessed it -- The World's Worst Dog. This is a dog that would challenge the most devoted of canine devotees. This dog eats floors, tears down walls in a thunder storm, inconveniences innocent poodles, and shuts down the only dog beach in three counties and fails obedience school. Children do enter the picture despite the demanding dog, and so the beauty of this movie develops.
A young couple get married, drive a rust heap of a car, struggle in their early careers, have children, take on insanity packaged as a dog...and are tired. Sound familiar? This is an honest portrayal of life without being scary, despondent, depressing, or lesson-preaching. It manages to be funny and tender at the same time and is ultimately very satisfying.
Marley and me is a keeper.
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