sorrow

I have been wading through grief these past few weeks.  The anniversaries of the death of a family friend and 9-11, a dear family friend in the hospital in grave condition, and a few other private pains that are not mine to tell.  I haven't written anything in over a year, but it's times like these when putting pen to paper is cathartic.

This is for everyone, because we've all had our seasons of sorrow.  And if now is one of those seasons for you, time may not heal all wounds, but Love will bring you peace -- maybe even sooner than you think.

Sorrow

by Catherine M Braun

The sky was cloudless today,

a bright cheerful thing

when I would have wished for rain.

And my heart is heavy tonight,

weighed down with this grief –

engulfed in its echos and aches –

winding around and through my chest,

constricting my breath

and emptying my soul.

I feel the whisper of your ghost in my ear,

gnawing with sharp, poisonous teeth,

telling me what I want to hear.

But all there is,

is this demon of silence

mocking me.

giving thanks

So, many of my Facebook friends took the 30-day Thanksgiving Challenge.  I thought about participating but then realized two things.  The first is I would probably forget to post every day.  (You would think I had ten kids from the state of my short-term memory these days.)  The second is, how could I limit myself to only 30 days, not to mention one thing a day?  Not to brag, but I have the most wonderful family and friends and a pretty amazing life (even though I forget sometimes).  I decided a blog post would work better.  And then I realized time and space probably would not permit the entirety of my thankfulness.  So I had to be ruthless (ruthless!) in my giving thanks and limited it to the following:

I am thankful...
...for my Grandpa and my Granddaddy for teaching me Truth
...for my Grandma and my Mimi for teaching me Faith
...for my Mom and my Dad for teaching me Love
...for Rosie, Kefi, and Jac for teaching me Friendship
...for Jobie and Gare for teaching me Courage
...for Ginny and Timmy for teaching me Perseverance
...for Elijah, Erin, and Robby for teaching me Hope
...for Aida, Sophie, Robert Gordon, Michael, and Lucy for teaching me Selflessness

And I am thankful for all of you, for putting up with my craziness and loving me anyway.
Happy Thanksgiving!

memory eternal

I don't know what I can say that hasn't already been said (and much better than I ever could) by my sister and my cousin, so I decided to post this poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  I've used parts of this poem in a previous post, but I felt today warrented the entire piece.  The last three stanzas hit me especially hard (italics are mine).


Christmas Bells
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep;
God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!


May their memory be eternal.

ocean breezes

Ocean Breezes

by Catherine M Braun

It could be opal

or mother-of-pearl

abalone shell.

Maybe a puddle on the road,

slick with oil.

A perfect glass surface

iridescent in the waning sunset.

The hazy horizon a dusky purple

as the sun slips down

behind islands that look like mountains.

Down here in the valley that is not

I ache; I’m awed by the beauty.

I taste salt on my lips.

This, this is what I miss

when I’m surrounded by rolling green hills

and mountains that smoke,

when I taste damp with every breath –

only this –

and blue mountains, golden foothills

that fall to the sea.

The salt finds its way.

Ocean breezes flow overland

two thousand miles to roll down my face.

happy birthday, rosie

Today is my sister's birthday.  A few years ago I wrote her a poem for her birthday, and I thought I'd post it here today.  Happy Birthday, Rosie!  I love you!

For Rosie, on her 20th birthday

by Catherine M Braun

A vision of pink

with peach voice,

music to the poet.

Sweet blossom –

delicate petal –

brilliant goddess –

Rose angel.

Soothe my heart;

hear my cry above the sound

of the sunshine.

I cannot myself.

Blood not water saves.

book lovers day

Today is Book Lovers Day. In my mind, that means I should get a paid day off to wallow in pretty much my favorite thing to do – read. I love to read. I love books. I mean, REALLY love. Of the four walls in my room, only one doesn't have a bookcase on it and that's because it's taken up by the closet and the door. I have five bookcases and they are stuffed full of books, stacked two deep in some places. And this is after I sold/gave away about 8 boxes of books when I moved last. (Six years ago, when I moved from Tennessee back to California I had 18 boxes of books. Eighteen. I only lived there seven years.) It's a family trait – my Granddaddy has so many books he had them cataloged. My Grandpa regularly gives my dad books he's already read because he doesn't have room to keep them anymore. (These are the men I pretty much give credit to and/or blame for my personality.) One of my aunts even read in the shower. Now, I haven't done that but I do admit to reading while taking a soaking bath.

I can get lost in a book, block everything else out. I can't count the number of times I got in trouble because I didn't hear my name being called. I may even have read through a fire alarm. I'll read anything that interests me -- Fiction, Nonfiction, Romance, Science Fiction, Fantasy, Mystery, Biography, History, Anthropology, Science -- you name it, I've probably read it.  And if I like a book I can read it over and over again. I have books I've read at least five times. (To be fair, I also have books I've never read. Apparently just buying them fulfilled the interest. I swear I'll read them eventually. Really!) I'm in awe of people who can create a universe and keep it alive for 200, 300, 700 pages, and still have me wishing for more. I have a hard enough time doing that over three verses (which is why I'm pretty sure I'll never write a poem longer than a page).

I just love books.  There's really nothing more to say so I'll leave you with a few quotes.  Happy Book Lovers Day!

A book is a garden, an orchard, a storehouse, a party, a company by the way, a counselor, a multitude of counselors. -- Charles Baudelaire

There is no Frigate like a book to take us lands away nor any coursers like a page of prancing Poetry. -- Emily Dickinson

Beware of the person of one book. -- Thomas Aquinas

comfort and joy

(I wrote this post nine months ago, as a Note on my Facebook Profile, but I've been thinking about it lately -- especially last night when for some reason it felt like Christmas and I decided to listen to my MercyMe Christmas album.  And obviously it's been on the mind of some of my friends because when I signed into Facebook this morning I had a notification that two of them had commented on the Note yesterday.  I don't usually look for signs as to what I should do, but that's a pretty large flashing one, don't you think?)


Up until two years ago I had a hard and fast rule about when I would start to listen to Christmas music – the day after Thanksgiving.  Never earlier.  I don’t remember the reason for this rule.  Maybe it comes from working retail and having to listen to incessant and insipid renditions of Christmas carols starting in what felt like June.  Or maybe it comes from being in the school choir and needing to start learning music in September.  Or maybe I’m just contrary.  (I know which reason my family will pick.)  But all that changed on October 17, 2008.  I know this because that’s the creation date for my Pandora Christmas Radio station.  Whether or not I actually listened to Christmas music before my self-imposed date, who knows?  But I have to think I listened to some.  Otherwise why did I create it so early?

Last year, though, last year I know I started early.  Early October, to be more precise.  I’d been thinking about what I was going to put on my Christmas mixed CD and decided, why wait?  So I ordered MercyMe’s Christmas album used from Amazon on September 30, and when it showed up in the mail the next week, I started listening to it.  In October.

This year, I started today.  Sunday, October 3, 2010.  I was in the mood and wanted to listen to MercyMe’s album, so I did.  Twice.  (Did I happen to mention I was contrary?)  I hadn’t forgotten how much I love their version of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”, but it hadn’t been in the forefront of my mind since last year.  But listening to it today, I was struck by the chorus: “O, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy; O, tidings of comfort and joy”.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I sure could use “tidings of comfort and joy”.  It’s been a hard few months for my family.  Heck, it’s been a hard year: both my Grandmothers had surgery, as well as one of my Grandfathers and one of my sisters; the child we took in last year turned out to be so damaged we couldn’t fix him (a bitter pill to swallow, especially, for my parents); and, as always, the myriad little things that seem to drag you down until you’re not sure you can get back up again.

Then yesterday, yesterday we went to a memorial – a “Celebration of Life” – for a family friend who died too soon.  As at all memorials, there was some laughter, there were some tears, and the knowledge that there are two young men out there who had to grow up faster than they should have.  But thinking about the number of people who were there, all the people who were touched by this man and his life, I have to think it brought some comfort, if not joy, to his family.  To know how much he, and they, are loved.

Because we forget that, don’t we?  We forget there are people out there who love us.  Because life gets in the way, and the peace and certainty of love gets torn from us.  That’s one of the reasons I love Christmas so much – the peace and certainty get restored.  Yes, Christmas has become a very secular celebration with the moron brigade out in full force at the mall.  But for those who believe the promise of John 3:16, Christmas is a new beginning.  “A thrill of hope; the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn”.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote a poem which has since been adapted into the carol “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”.  I probably didn’t need to write the previous six paragraphs; the last two verses say what I mean, better than I ever could:

And in despair I bowed my head
“There is no peace on Earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on Earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor does He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on Earth, good will to men."

So I know this is a bit early, but my hope, my wish, my prayer for you is this: May the hope of Christmas be your comfort and joy throughout the year, and never forget you are loved.