BE THE BALL

After a week long bout that I truly thought the pollen had won, the victory is so deliciously sweet. I was chained to my sofas, chairs, beds and floors. Often times at moments crawling to the kitchen to display superpowers as I put together the necessary nutrients to keep my Daughter healthy. I declare victory as I am now standing outside, breathing in so deeply with arms wide open my eyes cannot stay open as my head tilts back and a smile curls up from deep within that transcendes my being to another realm. As if someone tapped me, I am thrust back jolting me as a soldier who just took the formation to that of a salute. The truck that passes me I wave as if I am on my street and yet; I realize just how accustomed I had become to seeing such destruction and construction on what used to be hallowed grounds of our beloved Golf Course. You look around and there is anything but beauty. The grass is brown and dead, trees are being cut down, mounds of dirt all over. Saddness overtakes me. For a moment I only long for what I used to behold. Losing sight of what all of this will become.

 The Club has decided to update our course and bring a fresh more modern design. Although I haven't paid attention to their plans of what is to come, I am enticed from within to be surprised and anticipate new memories being made.  But all my eyes survey is what is lost and gone. I look over to where one of my favorite trees used to reside right outside my back gate. My Daughter and I since when she was a toddler would sit under it and enjoy a picnic and booktime. Instantly as a chuckle erupts tears fill my eyes as if a movie screen replays that momentous day that I was driving my Daughter back to our yard after enjoying one of our picnic dates. My Daughter and I were as if on a ride at an amusement park when instantly our cart came to a complete stop. I was stuck! Giggling how the men I called over to help working nearby could not speak any English and somehow we communicated. I shake my head as I start my morning walk that I have missed and longed for this past week. As I enjoy my new found freedom I unchained my Heart and Soul to run freely, liken to my dog who jumps and runs and sniffs from here to there as if on a quest of the vast unknown. 

As I now sit upon my back porch savoring my coffee my mind is liken to the speaker of the house as it unveils the findings of what is deep within my being. As if my Heart and Soul were now leashed and called Home after running freely. I ponder over my thoughts and senses as I entertain them as the most admired guests to join me. The relevence of golf to life is spoken so commonly it is almost dismissed. As my Daughter is about to finish her first golf year on her JV High School Team this imagry is more potent. I am mulling over about caddies and their role in the game. Moreover, their role to the player. In golf, a caddie (or caddy) is the person who carries a player's bag and clubs, and gives insightful advice and moral support. A good caddie is aware of the challenges and obstacles of the golf course being played, along with the best strategy in playing it.Whilst carrying the bag is part of the caddy’s more traditional role, their actual job description is a whole lot more complicated than that. They are a confidante, a playing partner, a right-hand-man and an advisor to the professional golfer, and the close ties between golfer and caddy are testament to the difference they can make to a game. In short, they can make the difference between winning and losing a tournament, and in a competitive sport, that means everything!

Part of the role is menial – carrying the bag, cleaning the ball, raking the bunkers, replacing divots and holding the flag are all basic caddy duties, but the real skill in caddying lies in helping their golfer to determine the distance to the pin, in advising them on club use and informing them how their game is holding up, as well as how they think it could be improved. A lot to do then! Often times we are the caddy to our own Dreams and other times who is the caddy for you when you are the player on the course of your own Dreams? Just let that resignate and marinate within your being. How often would you have been fired as a caddy? I know about days 4-7 of my sickness, I was weepy, tired and frail. I had a couple incidents that had me overshoot or entirely miss the ball. I felt like I will never see any of my Dreams; much less ever feel better! I complained I was tired of carrying bags, especially anothers. I took no pleasure in the menial aspects and my whole persona almost caused me to loose my tournament of my Dreams of my own in my life. 

A dear inspirational friend shared a book on facebook. My Daughter was sitting beside me with her head in my lap on her phone when her ears perked up when I played the portion my friend shared. She said, "Mom! Get that! Let's listen to it! Send it to me!!" I should not be surprised for she is my child but she was as a cortisone shot to my weary body. Alas we lay in bed at night and are listening together. It is called, "Girl, wash your face." What is more inspiring is the story behind this book. I follow both the Author and her Husband on Instagram. Two days ago she posted a picture of a bottle of Dom Perignon with a piece of tape across the top where she had written New York Times Best. She had that bottle saved for 10 years. She wrote an awe inspiring post you must check out at @msrachelhollis. Her Husband @mrdavehollis too wrote the most beautiful words of calling out her biggest dreams by believing they will happen and the impacts on their Family. He said it took her twenty+ years and he said "today and for the rest of her life, she gets to say that she's achieved her big dream." I am thankful for those I choose to be my caddy in this most precious game of life. Moreover, I am humbled and inspired to be the caddy as well. May I be the best caddy amongst the most menial of tasks. Last week, my Daughter was nervous before the match. I being her "caddy" I said as she was coming off the driving range, you have got this, I see a spark in you. Channel that force within you not what is trying to intimidate you. She said,"thanks Mom. I needed that." She shot her first birdie this day and I can now attest as I was standing on the green as her awe inspiring shot was played out to perfection; it was one of my most momentous times to be a "team" with someone. For I have been doing the menial tasks along this journey for her and with her as well making that moment so much richer. 

From the wise words of a phenomenal and truest Lady, the Late Barbara Bush. "The winner of the Hoop race will be the first to realize her(his) dream, not society's dream, her(his) own personal dream." This is the Wonderment of Life. xo

TAKE A SEAT

Dusting off my pants legs as I rise to meet my lunch date who I see smiling as she approaches me. She is in from out of town and insisted that although our time was brief, we agreed the opportunity was still there to be worthy of remembering as if we had an abundance of time. The place I chose for us to meet is an olden day store that has been turned into a Restaurant. Something about this place fascinates and bewitches my being as it delights my very Soul. It always has as if laced within a mesmerizing whisper as the walls tell me secrets of what I cannot see. I nod as in acceptance as my mind takes flight, entranced with delight. I have chosen this spot for momentous times as my Birthday, and my last meal before my second child was born. It is as if I am transcended into times of old and this quaint little storefront that is around a hundred years old has come to life. I am distracted by the mumblings of the voices that I hear   resounding of their stories as if I too were standing in the Moore Brothers General Store. Alas as if Jesse King himself were writting up my tab as we talked. Happy talk like being there for my Birthday and the somber, heavier moments laden down as mentioned my last meal before delivering my second child, who I knew was terminal; uncertain of what was to come. I wonder if Jesse as reported never missed a day of work in his sixty years was because his very heart and soul was what showed up for work. I was telling my out of town friend the legend is that this place is haunted. Although they report there are no bump in the nights and stories to tell I believe that Jesse brought that place to life. The aged old saying as if these walls could talk is poetry in the present. My imagination floods with wonder of now of  how people are still drawn to this enchanted delicacy. They are continuing to breathe life and add more chapters to this undeniable story of life. I find it rather ironic that another word for memorable is haunting. This is Monday motivation graciously taking me by the hand and ushering me in to breathe in from the marrow of my bones. 

As we ate from one anothers plates, giggling as we embraced this moment in time.  We knew that we were being gifted with more than something from the Chef. We were no longer occupying space, we were hyptmotized and delirious with the mere Wonderment of Life. On my way home I took my time to enjoy the beauty that was bestowed before me. I stopped and found a bench beneath the trees so beautiful as if the most skilled artist had painted beauty too rich for words to describe. The moss that was draped were as if a skilled designer had thoughtfully placed it. As if a veil had suddenly been lifted and the drapes were drawn for me, I understood the beauty of the benches such as that of Notting Hill. My mind escorted my senses to the bookstore in London we visited a couple of years ago where they made the movie. The beloved line where Julia Roberts read the bench to Hugh Grant, "For June  who loved this Garden from Joseph who always sat beside her." As if a chemist in a lab upon discovering a marvel my heart prodded where would my very own bench reside and what would my bench proclaim? Last week I was watching my Daughter's golf match. One of the holes had the most picturesque swing hanging from a tree with a view mere words cannot describe. I hopped out of the golf cart liken to a little girl excited and drawn to a swingset on a playground. I basked in the beauty before me that surrounded all around me marveling at how fortunate these people are to have this yard and this view. I allowed the swing to tell the stories as I sat and let my mind run free. 

I wrote months back about the water oak that had fallen in my front yard. I had lost another one shortly before in my back yard and only thought of clean up. This time I was wiser and amidst the pieces that had crumbled beneath that mighty oaks fall,I was inspired noting how lofty this tree was and how much it had lived.  I wrote of cutting chargers to display upon my tables. I also kept the stump which simply sits upon my front porch for now, and I had them cut me logs in sections storing them in the garage. Often times I must attest I shake my head at myself for saving them. They simply remind me of my loss. Somewhere in the depths the voice was very clear to wait. No need to rush about in haste. My Heart was quite clear in giving instruction to simply sit and draw from this. Thus choosing to wait until I was inspired and passionate. And so I did for quite some time. Questions bombarded me as to why I had them cut these logs and would I ever really enjoy them enough to save them.  Fast forward to the other day at my Neighborhood Garden Club I was in charge of table decorations. As if a messenger delivered it to me, I googled Garden Club Table Decorations, alas what do you think I saw?! My dusty cobwebbed beloved logs that layed there against my garage wall were going to be transformed into the most beautiful of vases. I am disappointed to state that I could not figure out the drill to have them ready for that day. Instead I improvised at the last minute with what I had on hand. The Ladies were delighted and raved about the creativity. I quickly showed them pictures and told them all about my tree. I am waiting now on the driller to teach me how to craft those beloved logs. It is important to me as if mandated that I do them as much as I can for I am imparting my very own existance into them. So as when my Daughter sets her own table many years from now; that mighty oak will still stand tall captivating those who sit around as if delighting in it's shade. The yard that this Mighty Oak lived was chosen because the same type of feeling resounded within the helm of this House as I feel at my favorite restaurant. It is imagery in motion. All this time and this tree is still giving to me in new ways. This Mighty Oak is a poetic remembrance of her childhood Home wherever life might find her. 

This was my table at Easter and I cannot wait to see those logs in all their mighty splendor filled with glorious flowers to adorn my table. Many years from now this chapter of my story may be enjoyed as in the olden days before the televisions. Where families would gather together as someone would read as laterns provided light. I imagine I would love for it to go something as this.... may I be so fortunate.  Camille thoughtfully sat at her table allowing it to speak inspiration to her senses to carry out the tone that her guests would undoubtably feel. As she took her rightful seat as the Hostess of her Easter Brunch she shared the story of her Mom. Although she lived for how ever many years she never failed to show up for duty. She poured herself into her family and guests. Camille shared her beloved tree that serenades it's listeners with all that it has seen. The crystal goblets were chosen because they have mine and my sister's names for their patterns. The silverwear we eat with were gifted to me year after year consecutively on Christmas Eve until I had a complete set. My Mom would use  them throughout my life to make the memories that make them shine with bountiful brilliance. They were chosen for me namely after flowers for floral patterns. One of my favorites is named Poppy which is what I referred to my Father. Another is Lily which my Mother often times called me and my maiden name is inscribed upon the other that was hers and passed on down to me. Her passion is undeniable as she invokes a force as if the ground quaked beneath her feet.No longer were we talking table talk, it was far greater. Her story would continue laced with her own essence intertwined with mine while being weaved into her children. 

What will your story be? We all have the opportunity as Jesse to have one or June that must have marveled with such intensity that Joseph was captivated to sit beside her. Be captivating.  Be passionate. Main ingredient; make sure you live with intention and as you move, it is with such a fluid motion that dictates a story to be embraced worthy of your life. This is The Wonderment of Life. 

                            xoxo

One of my High School Leaders in my girls group was at a concert I attended this past weekend. She posted on Instagram the following, "@moon_taxi, your music makes my soul more alive. Never change. Here's to a band full of talent and love." Well said Caroline, well said. I wholeheartedly agree. I leave with you one of their songs and this version is acoustic. May you savor in your moments that ignite your being to Dance in the River Water....