My maternal grandmother, pictured below, died when I was weeks old. I met her once in one of her final days in the hospital. An infant on her belly, cuddling. I look at this photo and wonder overcomes me — this woman is part of me and I always wish I knew her more. The photo below is of my mom, a toddler, and how I wish I knew her as a toddler, how fun would that be?
She sent me these photos, and I found them enchanting. They made me feel she was being hugged, loved, even though I could not be there with her, on her special day. She sees birthdays like New Years. A celebration of new beginnings. I bless her with so much good.
The face of God.
(In the middle of nowhere, Texas.)
The Universe/God is looking out for you. Happened to my mom, and worth noting and remembering. The world may feel like it is against you, but it is for you.
Dinty Moore describes memoir as having an invisible magnetic river. It stayed on my mind, and came out in art.
Bennett is old enough to understand Easter this year. It’s a strange time to celebrate a holiday. But we are still talking about it and getting excited.
We haven’t been to the grocery store in a week or two and ordered grocery store pick up and they were out of ham. Normally, I’d drive around to different stores to get one. It’s a small tradition we adhere to. But I’m not sure about this year. We might be living off pasta.
In lieu of everything going strange in the world, Bennett and I like to get outside. On our walk, he stopped and pointed to a rock, and said, “Look, it’s the Easter bunny!” I turned my head, and there it was! I felt some magic and wonder on the 100th day of the year, the Easter spirit.
It’s another day of fear over: politics (and mourning over not potentially having a woman president), the pandemic of the coronavirus, schools subsequently shutting down until fall or moving online, the ever-plunging stock market, just to name a few. In my personal life, family have been canceling travel plans. My grandmother, in her late eighties, has had a pneumonia for three weeks. I’m scared. I think we all are.
What we are experiencing as a world is unprecedented. So how do we find wonder? In crisis, it’s imperative to find the wonder.
Today, I wasn’t sure. But there were brief glimpses of wonder. Humor over a tweet. The joy of reheating and repurposing my homemade Turkey burgers from last night, my sister kicking butt on her final practicals in dental school, my grandpa and grandma’s voices on the other end of my phone line (and the opening of Del Taco in Stillwater).
This morning I woke up feeling so naturally happy. My son was sleeping horizontal in the bed next to me. My husband had kissed me before his commute to work, like every morning. I had a long day ahead and was waking up late; I had to rush to get out on time. But I wasn’t stressed or overwhelmed. I didn’t have anything grand to look forward to, it was just a regular day but I felt overwhelmingly grateful and with joy in my heart. I think that’s wonder, in the body, and mostly, in the spirit.
Here is a photo of what I was up to today: running a thesis workshop for Masters students.