Heidi Beth

Clean kitchen. What do I want to do? Make a mess.
chocolate mint candies
bean and cheese tortillas with Rotel on top
butternut squash
Then I want to eat it with friends and family.

Because we do not rest, we lose our way. We miss the compass points that show us where to go. We lose the nourishment that gives us succor. We miss the quiet that gives us wisdom. Poisoned by the hypnotic belief that good things come only through tireless effort, we never truly rest. And for want of rest, our lives are in danger. – Wayne Muller

I was 5 in an apartment on the edge of a suburb, half a block from Chicago’s cracked sidewalks, jagged pieces of cement laying next to the weeds pushed up overnight in summer. Our sidewalks were put together, our streets were clean, no litter strewn about,just a quiet street with a park perfect for children. This park had huge climbing trees. I climbed to the top of one by where Subrina Love used to live until she moved away when we were 5. She was my first best friend. She made friendship lovable. I climbed the tree until we moved when I was 10. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t see Subrina again. Now I see that no adult knew how important she was to me, how dear.
On Saturdays I’d roam the block looking for someone to play with. No one seemed to like romping outside as much as I did. I was an only child. I couldn’t figure out what could possibly be more fun than playing at the park all day. Jill liked to read, a lot! She also liked to play outside but I still have an image of her kicked back in her room, book open in front of her, beautiful weather on the other side of her kitchen wall, but I couldn’t talk her into leaving her apartment. I do have many memories of us playing together outside, lots of screaming and laughing, lots of silly faces. I don’t remember the others names. The blond sisters who must have been 5 years apart, a bunch of faceless boys. Mainly I liked to swing, arm wrestle and climb trees…and run up and down the metal train.
When we moved 2 miles into the same suburb, I gained a back yard and neighbors I knew, who I spent time with. Rupert mentored me in painting fences, caring for turtles and quiet living. Olivia inspired me to love the Cubs for a season, even waiting at a low fence for an autograph. I was 10, she was 13. I was amazed to have such an old friend. In that apartment I memorized the TV guide from 3-10pm for all of 6th and 7th grade. On non sports practice days there I was camped out with a bowl of canned spinach or black olives, eating them with a fork. I had the north bedroom which I kept very clean. I had a cat named Thor. The first night we had Thor, he slept in my room. When I turned off the light, he’d start cleaning himself. I was concerned with the strange slurping noise so I’d turn on the light. Thor would look up from his work, ears perked, curious what I was up to. We did this little dance several times the first night before I solved the mystery and knew he was going to be OK despite the odd noises (Thor was a loud groomer). Eventually I had an am/fm stereo with a turn table. I kept it on my dresser (kept it past my one year of college). The closet was big and empty. I loved to close the door, close my eyes and spin in circles then open my eyes and find the door handle. This is how only children play…for hours. In 8th grade I was part of a close group of friends who HAD to spend at least half an hour on the phone together every night, after spending all afternoon together, and the previous weekend. We made frequent use of 3 way calling.
Happy random memories!

It’s dark at 8pm, crickets in full song.
Owning a house = someone has weeding to do.
Getting rid of unwanted stuff that is being given away involves a cluttered living room for a few days.
Some burned bits are harder to remove from the stove top than others.
I like making new friends.
Helping the boys clean their room is easier than gearing up to do it.
I want to make chocolate mints but need to finish cleaning the stove top first. Chocolate mints are proper motivation or at least effective.
It’s easy to over commit to activities that benefit other people.
I like books but I’m diggin’ the idea of having only what I get from the library and a few Baha’i books around the house.
When I finish filing the living room will grow, even though the “to file” box is under a desk.
We may only need one big desk in the house but the second one is pretty and holding a lot of stuff I’m not sure what to do with yet.
I like listening to audio books more than video games but since the boys earned the $ for their hand held game boys, I like the tinny song they make (for a while).
We have many pretty figurines that need homes. I’m not sure who would like which ones.
I like the way Bahiyyih’s kitchen smells. There’s always something yummy making or just made.
Kids rooms and chocolate mints are calling.

If I had been updating my facebook status update all week I may have written:
I cleared all the ingredients, tools and bowls from our storage closet at the bakery today. Our kitchen wall is beautifully lined with large containers of almond, millet, buckwheat and other gf flours.
We gave away a chair today.
We gave away a couch today.
We filled up several boxes of toys, kitchen items, books etc for our garage sale this weekend.
It’s hot.
For no reason I made chocolate cake. Actually I had a good reason. I wanted chocolate cake and it was really good!
Day 1 of garage sale started at 2pm. People came at 1:45pm, as soon as the signs went up. I enjoy visiting with people while they browse.
Day 2 of garage sale. I woke up at 6:30am, fixed six of the signs around the neighborhood came back and set all the goodies on our lawn again. I feel strong!
Garage sales are a meditation.
I sit in the house reading a book by the front window. I look up every little while to see if anyone’s come by. When people get out of their car I leave the comfort of my air conditioned living room and greet them.
Noon is so hot I’m in an oven. It’s still cooler than Texas hot.
We have 4 large and 4 small Corelle plates and 5 Corelle bowls. We have a few cute plastic bowls and a plate. We have a few forks, knives and spoons. Everything else is in the garage sale. Washing dishes takes 15 minutes.
We kept all baking supplies, pans and plastic food storage containers.
I tried parmesan cheese on rice and veggies. My tummy didn’t rebel.
Day 2 of parmesan experiment went well.
Day 3 I tried sharp cheddar. My tummy is still happy. Yogurt and butter experiment to follow.
The boys are parting with a lot of toys and books that didn’t make it in last years garage sale. This year they had a smaller book shelf to fill. All other books went. They didn’t fill their shelf.
We spent a lazy evening with Zivar and her girls and Amy Eades. That is how life should be. We made cheese crisps in the microwave and ate giant pickles from a giant jar. We laughed a whole lot!
We enjoyed a small belated birthday party for Devyn this afternoon and into the evening. It went 3 hours over scheduled time (not a surprise!). We played pictionary, a game David bought at a garage sale years ago that we haven’t ever played. What were we waiting for?! We performed a skit Devyn found in Highlights because it has a dog in it. I played the dog. It was a funny little play :).
I’ve learned many things I’m not writing here. One day I’ll tell you all about it, when I write a book.

Oh I get restless, trying to figure out how to travel, how to live traveling, how to have an adventure full of sunshine and smiles.
I’m summoning up will and courage along with David to do a purge on our home far more extensive than we were originally thinking.
I see it like this (just at this moment, tomorrow I’ll have to pray for perspective again). If we do have a lovely adventure elsewhere, great! If not, we can always create right here a lovely space by removing all the obstacles including every day mislabeled should haves like a shelf full of decorations, extra plates and bowls, seating in every room of the house, toys toys toys! as well as my preconceived notion that only travel or moving to a new town provides a new perspective.
So this is my work right now. Not waiting or scheming a “way out” but creating the proper place to be in right here in our home, a place not in agreement with societal norms but with fantastic beauty in all ways.

I’ve stayed too long and there’s no exit. There’s no plan for escape. I don’t even want to escape and she’s sad. Her heart is breaking under the weight of certainty.
She’s angry I’m not listening to her cries. This time is different I tell her. She doesn’t believe me. Poor thing sitting knees to chest in the corner, wishing the room were cleaner, wishing she had a way out, knowing I won’t be leaving this time, knowing she’s stuck.
She calls it stuck because she doesn’t know better. She’s only 10, maybe only 7. She cannot understand the complex reasoning and wisdom of maturity and healing. I admit, I haven’t taken her in hand and tried to explain yet either.
Maybe later tonight when all the strangers are quiet asleep in big beds I’ll sit on the floor too. I won’t get too close nor try to convince her. I’ll tell her the facts, my reasons, that this is the way it is, that I’ll do my best to take care of her, to be careful she doesn’t get hurt, that there are no guarantees and I’m sorry.
Knowing her she’ll cry, pour out a seemingly logical case to prove out her wishes as the best course of action. She’ll plead, maybe even whine but she won’t hit.
Her eyes will be far away. She will in fact be walking away hoping I follow though her body never moves. She’s done this feat of escape before to many bewildered hurt friends but never to me. I have not betrayed her.
Neither did they nor were they planning to, but I was faithful to her so I let her wander off for a while, a few hours, a week, whatever it took. She may not believe this time is different, that I won’t let her run away, that I’m betraying our rule yet she knows deep down it’s true because everything is all wrong. She says stuff like that often, “ALL WRONG!” She means it to, with all her might.
She has been right before in this observation, but not for years and the song still plays for her as if it’s never going to change because she knows it can’t. This is why she thinks I’m crazy for sticking around.
This is why she’s this close to a tantrum. I should at least give her that. A day alone together in a wood screaming between lyrics, dancing heavy footed on summer earth, growing soft when pink shows up unexpectedly.
Then we can sit and look. We can look into that flower the way one looks into their newborn’s eyes, for long minutes that are no time. We’ll see sparkles of sun playing on leaf tops. We’ll lay down on a soft patch of grass, close our eyes and see the bright orange red sun beating down on our upturned faces.
We’ll lay that way long enough to barely doze off, then we’ll sit up and stare all around us in a stillness that simply is. The tears can come then, not the ones accompanied by wrenching sobs, by rocking back and forth, by convulsive sighs, no not those. The quiet tears of resignation, and the smallest ray of hope.

I want to look at print the next time I check my blog. Print all across the screen and not just down the left side. Have I any ideas? No. Well, yes. But not blog paragraph ideas. I’m full of ideas about bread recipes, certified kitchens, children singing and dancing for an audience. I’m thinking about how my boys interact, how they switch roles through out the week, between silly, serious, frustrated, relaxed, cooperative, attentive, whiny, happy. Always loving, close to a smile even when grumpy. I’m thinking about David, loving, supportive, funny, how we laugh so easily together. I’m thinking about being a grown up, living my vision, working hard to do my best for the first time in my life. I’m thinking, but not in letters spread out for a reader. But the screen was blank for weeks…so, hello :).

orange plastic, yellow stripes, soft foam darts, denim, sweats, striped swishy pants
fresh hair cuts, jackets abandoned
softer sound of bird song than will be heard when pants are traded for shorts, sweatshirts for short sleeves
sun out, full, warming, frantic shouts explaining important matters of who’s in, who’s out, who’s tripped over their sneakers and now sits in the damp grass all flecked with mud and tan from winters blanket
warmer on the front step than in the living room where windows are open, curtains and wall calenders waving, papers knocked under the tables they fell from
behind that tall worn gray wooden fence a sharp yelp from four legs and a furry face
two boys drink soda, two reload, one shoots straight up, neck bent, eyes skyward watching his treasure rise and fall
they know the dance

A Poem for Matthew from Devyn and Mommy 10/06/07
I like that you’re my brother.
I like that you’re my son.
Violets are blue
Flowers are red
How I love to see you
bouncing on your bed
Violets are blue
Flowers are green
Smiles are happy
As happy as can be
I love you Matthew
I think you’re very neat
and you’re very sweet
When you’re not clobbering me in the head
And Matthew I love you more than the Universe
So if you fall down, like you always do, I’ll pick you up
and put you on the couch and the rest of the poem is by mom
Here you are darling. A big boy now.
Four years working every single day
How to share your brilliant smile, keep your head up high
Tell Devyn with a meaningful squeal. “Hey brother, that toy is mine!”
Crawl along the RV floor then…uh oh…right up the wall!
Chase and fly with Devyn over our Mississippi couch
Teeth steadily emerging without a single hint of fuss
running with cousins, falling in love with Maya…
In Texas now, finally together…able to spend so much time just being…mostly silly, night walks with Daddy, sometimes asleep in his arms.
Tomorrow? Next year?
The alphabet, memorized prayers, learning checkers, seeing the country from our very own truck, running the family business together. We’ll find all the best rest area playgrounds, health food stores and museums…only God knows this part really. I simply pray we remember to invite Baha’u’llah to guide us in His will every day.