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Baby Fat

22 Feb

Since I give you insight into my sorrow, I also want to share with you my moments of joy.  One such moment came to me today, which multiplied to moments, which multiplied to hysteria.  But wait, I’m putting the cart before the horse…

If you don’t know already, I have an affinity for “King’s Cake”.  I was first introduced to the cake (and the story behind it) many years ago through a friend of my mom’s.  I can’t even remember the friend because the gift of the cake took precedence over any other memory associated with it.  The cake is connected with Mardi gras, Lent, and the celebration of the Epiphany (three kings visiting baby Jesus).  Choose one and then call it yours…for my part, I don’t need an holiday, I love the concept of the cake so much I could easily create a “King’s Cake” holiday without batting an eye.  Anyway, I’ll go with Mardi gras to keep my explanation concise.

With the help of Wikipedia,  “Mardi gras is French for Fat Tuesday, referring to the practice of the last night of eating richer, fatty foods before the ritual fasting of the Lenten season, which begins on Ash Wednesday.”  The King’s cake is essentially a round (ring) cake with a small, plastic baby (representing baby Jesus) baked right inside.  The idea is that whoever ends up with the piece of cake with the baby in it, has the “blessing” of hosting the celebratory event the following year, as well as the obligation to make the King’s cake (thus continuing the cycle of the adventurous infant).  Isn’t that just pure fun?!

Now since I was a little girl I have loved small inanimate objects.  They just intrigue me, that is all.  So today, while walking our two dogs–one leash in my right hand and one leash in my left–I briskly passed by something small on the ground.  All of a sudden my brain switched gears from drive to reverse (I didn’t lie when I wrote that last time).  My mind said, “Rivka, that was a little baby.  You know what that little baby could be used for?  A King’s cake!”  But I continued walking, trying to convince myself I didn’t need to go back and look at the small thing discarded on the sidewalk.  So my mind went at it a little harder, “Rivka–WAKE UP–it’s a baby Jesus!”  Well sure enough, and against the forward will of the two dogs, I went back and picked up the little doll.  It is the perfect size baby to make the perfect cake.  The weird part of it is that I didn’t even realize, until I shared my new found treasure with a neighbor who informed me, that today is, officially, Fat Tuesday.  Now that is perfect timing!  However, keeping in line with my previous post and the theme of my current life, wouldn’t you know it but my oven is on the fritz.  Our repairman has been alerted to its inoperable state for over a week now.  And I know he will show eventually.

Being my sense of humor is often twisted and rearing to go, and since I couldn’t fulfill my wish of baking the cake today, I decided the baby could fulfill its destiny via another method.  So when Cole was quietly eating his dessert bowl of Coco Krispies, guess who decided to go for a swim?!

And all the people said, “Amen”, all the people minus Cole that is.  😉

The Sweet Infant Sitting on a Quarter

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ELIMS

22 Feb

We are home from northern cal, safe and sound.  As is customary for my life, or so it seems, I tend to only have two gears with which to choose from in my world of motion.  The two gears being, drive and reverse.  Opposites, of course.  It is not the first time I mention it in my writing.  I have, in past posts, used words such as paradoxical, simultaneous, coincide, ironic, etc. to express the place in which I dwell.  That place being, where blessing and curse/rain and sunshine/happiness and sadness/love and hate coexist and keep me in a suspended balance.  Weird; or at least I think so.

So it was driving up north that I knew my mournful sorrow would turn to joyful glee once we arrived to Sacramento.  I knew this, in advance, because of who my grandmother was.  We weren’t going to have a large mournful affair, no we were going to have a large family gathering and that gathering would turn to celebration, which in fact it did.  So with this knowledge, I took advantage of the six to eight hour window I was stuck in a vehicle with nowhere to go, and allowed myself to mourn, hurt, and cry for the loss of my grandma Ella and my neighbor Fernie.  I sat behind Brian because he was, thankfully, the driver of the van.  And he kept looking at me in the review mirror and seeing my continuous sorrow show itself…I (for once) did not hold back.  At one point in the drive, through the grapevine I believe, we were surrounded by tall, green, grassy hills.  And I could have sworn I saw my grandmother and Fern standing atop one of the hills–beautifully bedecked in white, flowing dresses and waving goodbye to me.  Both of them were extremely happy.  They were smiling, and through their joyful adieu were in essence telling me, “It is ok to say goodbye.  We are happy, and we love you, don’t be sad for us.”  And though I know they weren’t really up on that hill waving to me, the very idea of them doing so soothed my heart, for I wasn’t able to say goodbye to either of them before their departure.  Don’t worry, I continued to cry and cry some more.  But that imagery has stayed with me, and I am thankful for it.

One of the songs I heard while encapsulated in the van was a song called, “Smile”, by Kirk Franklin.  I would put it up for you to see but I don’t really like any of the videos associated with it…it is better listened to without a visual aid.  Essentially the ministering lyrics go something like this:

“Today’s a new day, and there is no sunshine. Nothing but clouds, and it’s dark in my heart and it feels like a cold night. Today’s a new day, where are my blue skies, where is the love and the joy that you promised me you tell me it’s alright.
(I’ll be honest with you) I almost gave up, but a power that I can’t explain, fell from heaven like a shower.
(When I think how much better I’m gonna be when this is over) I smile, even though I’m hurt see I smile, I know God is working so I smile, Even though I’ve been here for a while I smile, smile…”

The truth of these lyrics are reminiscent of my intro paragraph and the running at drive and reverse simultaneously.  My grandma is gone, but wow what a celebration!  My Fernie is gone, but her grandson (whom we adore) and his expectant wife will be moving into the home of their beloved Fern.  Blessings and sorrow–simultaneously.  Elims=Smile!

Tengo una sombra de tristeza sobre mi alma.
conjunto
tengo el resplendor de una
sonrisa.

lleno con el difunto y
lleno con el amor.

El amor trae la alegria
La fe trae la esperanza
estoy vivo porque Dios es mi razón.

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Swinging Low

17 Feb

I have lost one of my blog readers.  She was a faithful friend to each of us Bents.  Fern, though we always called her “Fernie”.  A vibrant woman, she was a continual example of charity, fortitude, love, generosity, laughter, and so much more.  She was one of my cheerleaders in life.  She was also Cole’s, Brian’s, and Esther’s cheerleader.  She gave us a sense of family, right here on our block.  I would, occasionally, take my afternoon cup of joe and walk to Fernies house to sit in her beautifully kept living room or sunshiny, avian friendly backyard.  And just like that, a few days before we head to Sacramento for my grandmother Ella’s funeral, Fernie herself traipsed to Heaven.

I know in my head that living until you die is a true gift.  I have seen life taken from the body one function at a time until the angel of light finally emerges.  My grandmother, like Fern, was an avid quilter.  Having the ability to use her fingers and hands removed from her was a great hardship she bore.  Fern didn’t have time to bear those type of physical inconveniences.  Her time to be with our heavenly father came very quickly.  And though I understand she is the lucky one, I am so broken up about her being gone.  Brian is broken up, Cole is broken up, and Esther is as well.  And today our rental van awaits our departure to Sacto…

Swinging low feels bad.  I began this 2012 so hopeful that the emotional burdens of 2011 would fall off my shoulders and I would find a new spring in my step.  Instead, I have unleashed an ability to curse that is new to me (yes Stacey, your debt is now paid in full).  Instead of smiling at offending drivers and blowing them kisses, I’m daydreaming of bashing in their windshields with a sledgehammer, or having my neighbor Mark (the laser engineer), devise a watch-like device that shoots tranquilizing darts at people who display inconsiderate arrogance.  Not to mention I actually let Betty Cranker out of her cage this week…and though Brian has only heard me use the “F-word” once or twice in our 24 something years together, in one hour–a couple of days ago–he could have sworn in court the word was a common place adjective.  In essence, swinging low is not so great.

And as I think of why I am so emotionally depleted, I think of the women I mourn and the losses they have suffered and the joy they continued to emanate.  Their very manner reminds me I don’t want to turn into the crotchety woman who, like the old man yesterday with scrunched face–big black eyebrows smuushed almost on top of his lips– yelled at me from his open car window, “IDIOT”, because I didn’t move fast enough out of his way in my newly acquired minivan rental, sees life through a negative lens and terrorizes those around her.  No, I want to “lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help” (Psalm 121:1).  I want to smile in hardship and I don’t want to take on the mouth of a sailor.  I once was going to write a saying on the wall above our kitchen table.  I wanted it to subliminally ingrain itself into Cole’s adolescent mind.  I never did get the verbiage on the wall, but I have memorized it; and apparently I am the one who needed it engrained in my mind (for you word aficionados, engrained and ingrained are both correct spellings):

“Be careful what you think, for your thoughts become your words. (True, I used to only think cuss words…now they’re audible).  Your words become your actions.  Your actions become your character…and character is everything.”  Thankfully, I don’t carry a sledgehammer in my car!

I know it is a part of life to mourn.  All I ask, dear Lord, is to please give us a break for a while.  Let us mourn but please let joy fill our hearts and may your peace be in us.

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