As fas as I can remember, my mother has been an artist. She has China Painted, sketched, used watercolors, pastels, even zentangle designs. Growing up she would bring her face paints with us every summer to our family reunion at our family's dairy ranch. Our Perazzo family would gather all 42 of us cousins and she would paint all of our faces!! Even some of the adults.
It was a memory that defined that part of my childhood. What could I be today? A cat? A fairy? She could pick up her brush as transform me into anything my little imagination could dream up. Even an American flag!
This weekend my children had their faces painted by my mother, and it was a moment I felt the need to capture on camera. I hope these memories stay with them forever..
What does that mean to me? It means I am Lakota, Dutch Indonesian, Swiss, and Portuguese. I am pieces put together, a cultural mural of mosaic textures and histories compiled into one portrait.
Me.
I am proud to be all of my pieces, and most recently in life I honor the part of me who is Lakota. I spent the past few years learning, observing, and immersing myself in my culture. I had a desire, and HAVE a desire to grow that part of who I am. I owe it to my ancestors who desperately fought for our cultural survival, to own that part of me. To live as traditionally as I am able.
I beaded my own medallion, wear my own medicine bag that I have added to, and have offered Tobacco to the earth. I have smudged sage that was gifted to me by a mentor who holds a very special place in my heart. I actively seek to learn and grow with respect to my elders.
I am learning to dance. I am learning to dance in a way I have never learned. There is something deeper in my movements this time. It's not ballet, it's not jazz. Its Fancy Shawl...it's Jingle dancing. My soul is rooted into the earth, and I feel grounded. When I run around my neighborhood for exercise, Northern Cree is blasting in my headphones. It's as if the drum is pushing me on when I feel like quitting. Primal, and in my heart.
This part of me is awake. This part of me is real. This part of me is honest and I will never let her go.
What I love most about this verse, is that it doesn't say that with "discipline you get what you want." It says that it produces a "harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it." Where am I going with this..
I'm not a biblical scholar, or a pastor, or anyone claiming to know it all. I do know that I am a daughter of God, and with that title on my heart I find myself coming unto Him over and over again in my times of pain. My view on God and this life is radically different (I feel) from most "Christians." I don't believe that God will swoop in and help me find my keys with a little prayer, or that he intervenes with much at all. How incredibly difficult the hard times in this life would be if I believed my God would rescue me with a prayer, and then didn't. My faith has led me to believe that I have chosen my life's journey and challenges for myself before coming to this earth. I believe that God sat with me and we drew out an elaborate tree filled with all of the life experiences I wanted to have.
I am living with my parents while my husband and I decide what the next move for our family will be, it's a stressful and trying time! But I believe that I chose this for myself. Why? Because it will teach me something I believed would be good for me. I believe my soul chose every challenge I face in this life, and mapped out all the choices I would be given in the hopes that I would choose what was right. Thats what life is all about. Learning.
So what happens when the lesson is "Sorry, that's not the path for you."? What happens when you ask God and the answer is "No."?
My amazing husband (and I'm already starting to cry..) has been trying to become a Police Officer for over 5 years now. He served as a Marine in both Iraq and Afghanistan, and desires to continue serving and protecting Americans from the home front. He is a good man, and an incredible father. He's giving, kind, selfless, and the neighbor that will pull out his elderly neighbor's trash for him without so much as a wink. He will pull over to help a stranded car, run to assist a woman with her groceries, take over the dishes when he sees I am weary. He is a Godly man. So why has the answer continued to be "no" when becoming a Police Officer has been his dream? The lessons here are feeling more and more like "Do something else" as opposed to "Work hard and get what you desire." Isn't that the American dream? Work hard and you can do anything? Maybe that's the lesson, that God's dream for us, isn't always in line with our dreams for ourselves. Maybe the lesson here is that the big door that slammed in our face is actually a part of the guiding wall that directs us to our true calling.
Seeing my beloved rejected for position after position has been heart wrenching for me, and has brought me to my knees in prayer on too many occasions to count. I have wept on my bedroom floor in confusion and desperation for God to bestow joy upon my husband. "He deserves this Lord.." I would pray. "Please."
And God would sit before me, stroking my hair..I could almost feel him, and he would whisper "I know. He is a good man. Just wait my child..just wait and see what we have planned for him." Obviously I didn't hear these words voiced audibly, but my heart and soul felt Him there. I knew that God the Father is present and heard me in those moments, and even though he didn't directly interfere, his love and understanding was present.
I feel an odd peace in the knowing that God is quietly nearby, remaining observant and not intrusive, but ever so gently, like a parent watching their child in preschool, offers a reassuring smile or hug before sending us off to learn more.
Do I know what's in store for our family? No. I don't. But I do know some things that ARE certain..
I am going to have a baby for an amazing couple.. Hunter is finally beginning to make friends in Preschool and have fun.. My Photography and writing continue to fulfill my creative desires.. I love Jason until the very last breath I take, where I will continue to love him in a billion tiny pieces. I have healthy children and a comfortable home with my amazing parents.
We are loved.. we are held in Gods hands..and we are going to survive this and every other challenge we have planned for ourselves with God as our loving guide.
Some may say that choosing to live in your parents house again as a family is a step backwards, but I can't express enough how wonderful it has been. Its been healthy and healing. Imagine how for centuries humans lived together in large family groups. Joys and frustrations were shared and nothing was shouldered alone. We've rotated our cooking dinners, and discovered that it gives all of us a break.
Then there is the unexpected beauty of seeing my children playing in the rooms I grew up in. On the wooden floors I played with my own brother on. I enjoy sticking my head through the doors and seeing my children play with my brother's old legos the exact way we used to play as children. Its oddly healing to be "home" again as a family, preparing to launch again into the world and into our own home and adventures. Its wonderful seeing my step dad snuggle with his grandson while he watched the Giants game at night, or hear my babies run barefoot down the hallway in the morning s to greet grandma having tea in the dining room.
This is a phase. It will pass quickly and be gone. I am settling in it comfortably and enjoying it before it is a moment and chapter to add in the pages of our family story.
Maybe it's because I'm a writer, but I tend to view phases and stages in life as chapters of a book, or railroad tracks. Sometimes we journey through life and transition slowly into our next phase of life the way a railroad track would transition slowly from one country to the next, not realizing the change even happened until we look up and compare terrains. Other times we transition abruptly, and with finality, the way a chapter ends with half the page blank, forcing us to turn over the paper and presenting us with the number or title of what is to come next. Often times with such chapter endings there is some feeling of longing for a more rounded closure, or a wish to continue in the feelings and lingering emotions of that chapter before stepping into what is sometimes an entirely new setting. That is the way I feel with this move...
We move out of our home for the past 3 years tomorrow. We will be living at my parent's home saving money for our (hopeful) move to San Diego in October. I have loved this house. It was the first home we lived in for longer than a year since being married, it was the house my daughter was born in and the only home she has known. We have found family in our neighbors next door, and I cannot think of a day without seeing them next door without tears welling up in my eyes. My children have grown to listen for their voices come through our open front window which always meant that our neighbors were stopping by for a chat. I know also that we will still and probably always be involved in each other's lives because of the relationship we have made, but it's still so sobering to know that the chapter where they are our neighbors is over.
I will miss our awful backyard grass that dies every summer no matter how many times I water it. I will miss the Ghost that ties my blind cord into knots during the night just to irritate me, who whistles from the back of the house, and who moves things around until the second I curse him aloud. I will miss the hardwood floors that cause bits of food to stick to the bottoms of my feet. I will miss the back door that is incredibly heavy and hard to open because the roll track is broken. I will miss our little box of a shower. I will miss how bright this house is with morning and evening sun. I will miss watching the old asian man across the street pain his brick driveway, then tear it up, rotate it and paint it again. I will miss the elderly couple on our other side screaming profanities at each other...oh no wait..I won't miss that.
This house really has felt like home. I know and knew from the beginning that it was never "ours" as a rental..but it sure felt like ours. I will miss my kids echoing my sing songy voice say "We're home!" as we bounce into the driveway after a drive. I'm hoping when we visit Brian and Linda our neighbors sometime soon that the kids won't ask to go "home." I don't think I could handle hearing they miss it too.
We love you house.. We will miss this Chapter in the Book of our Family.
My son Hunter is 4. He has Tourettes Syndrome, as well as Anxiety, OCD, and we begin tests for Autism this week. He has many triggers that can cause an absolute melt down which includes kicking and screaming, throwing his body no matter what is around him, and being inconsolable. His 2 year old sister causes a LOT of these upsets. She breaks his legos, or takes something he's playing with and runs away, or touches him when he doesn't want to be touched. I am constantly policing their play time, and spend hours explaining to Hunter that Emma isn't trying to break his toys, but to play with him. Its exhausting, and as I try to continue my own daily responsibilities like wash the laundry, or stir the boiling pot of pasta, I am almost ALWAYS interrupted during these tasks to try and calm Hunter. Some days I am just as on edge as he is, he starts to escalate his screams and I feel like screaming right along with him. I have literally had to re-train my emotions to force myself into a polar opposite state of calm when he gets upset. I walk over to him and depending on how upset he is, I either explain whats happening and why he's upset, or I just hold him and model for him the calm behavior I wish him to exhibit. Its hard. Some days I look like a calm pool of tranquility when really I am screaming inside just as loudly as he is, and its not always out of frustration. Some days those screams are out of sadness because my poor baby is living in a world where everything seems to upset him.
I am positive that when Hunter and I are out and about at the grocery store and he sees a toy he wants and I say no, and his anxiety from that triggers a fit, that people assume I am a terrible parent who spoils their child. I'm positive that when he starts ticking in public and someone imitates him to his face, that those moments will hurt him as he gets older. But the thing is this, I can't explain my son's medical history to every gawking and judgmental stranger who stands watching me in a grocery store isle. I can't explain that I HAVE to hug and hold him in order to get him to calm down, and that a spanking would inflame the situation.
My son is special needs, and I am not ashamed of that, but I am exhausted, emotional, and protective. I do everything in my power to remain calm, but some days I can't. Some days I get angry, and then at night while he sleeps calmly in his bed, I sneak in and stroke his hair and cry with guilt. I'm sorry for yelling today buddy, I remind myself to forgive myself, and then the next day I tell him how proud I am of him for his good listening. I'm human, and being human is hard. It's so hard that God sent his only son to come to experience JUST how hard it is, so instead of saying "I hear you" when I pray, he says "I know..I too have felt that pain." God has taught me that Hunter will teach many people patience, joy, and bring healing and inner reflection. He has for me, he teaches me so many things every day, and I am a better person because of my son.
John 9:1-3
1As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth.
2His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this manor his parents, that he was born blind?"
3"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life.
Hunter has been taken to Dr. appointment after lab test after Dr. appointment in these past few weeks, and after a few emails between myself and our local Fire department as well as my neighbor getting in contact with a relative who is a Fire Captain, I was able to bring Hunter and Emma to see 2 Fire Stations here in Fremont.
At our first visit, Hunter was extremely quiet. He didn't want to shake anyone's hand, or climb in the truck, or wear the sticker, or the hat they gave him, but the whole way home after an extensive tour from the sweetest Firefighter, he was a chatty cathy and went on and on about how much fun he had at the Fire Station!
Today our neighbor whom the kids call "Uncle Chris" because he really is more like an Uncle than just a neighbor, took us to visit his Uncle who is the Fire Captain at his station. The kids got to see both fire engine and truck and then walked into the kitchen area and were greeted by an entire table of real Fire Fighters!! Hunter was a little star struck. He was smiling this huge grin, but wouldn't leave my side. Emma on the other hand was all flirts and giggles, and when they handed her a lollipop and said "Thank you.." all sing songy I swear every fire fighter in there said "Awww." and one said "I think that was the cutest 'Thank you' I've ever heard." HAHA ya...come by at about 7:45pm when she's cranky and mean...then see how you feel. The kids had so much fun and enjoyed their green lollipops at home while they ran around fighting imaginary fires.
I was so glad to take Hunter for a trip outside the house that wasn't another Dr. appointment. I hope to bring Hunter back again, the first fire station we visited said we were always welcome to come back. I want Hunter to get used to seeing new places and meeting these Heroes. Maybe we will bring a plate of cookies next time. :)
