Infant and pregnancy loss awareness month

October is a Infant and Preganancy awareness month. It shares a month with breast cancer... so sometimes it gets a little lost. It gets a little lost a little muted. That seems so fitting, doesn't it? So very much silence surrounding the loss of baby... so much stoicism.
October was set aside in 1988 by then President Ronald Reagan as Pregnancy and infant loss awareness month, and it is a much needed movement. I know there are people who wonder... WHY? WHY DO I TALK SO MUCH ABOUT THIS? I have heard that by continually bringing it up I am not allowing myself to heal. I have been told it is time to move on! I understand where these people are coming from. They are speaking from a place that believes that by talking about it endlessly I am continually tearing off the new scar and not allowing it to heal. For THEM it would be easier if I didn't speak about this. For THEM it would be nicer if I allowed the matter to rest. It won't change... those babies will NEVER come back. I know this..... I know it so well.... do you know WHY I know this? I know this because there were times when I took a shower so that I could cry with no one knowing.... I know this because my husband KNEW I was crying and would come in and hold me wet in the shower while the water filled our bathroom, mixed with out tears. I know this because I BEGGED AND PLEADED with God to bring them back to me. I know this because my husband never went out without his sunglasses for a time after those babies left because...... it would hit him hard when he saw a woman big with pregnancy... or a newborn baby. Believe me when I say... I KNOW those babies are NOT coming back... but...knowing it doesn't stop the hurting. It doesn't stop the moment on Christmas when the count is wrong..... there should be MORE smiling children. It doesn't stop the count down to birthdays for children who cannot celebrate them. NOTHING WILL CHANGE THAT.

I talk about my babies... even when my voice wavers and the world gets watery from my tears.... I talk about them for several reasons. FIRST.... those babies are a part of my life... they are a part of my family. I cannot forget them. I will not forget them. I love them... even the babies that were only a couple weeks cooked before lost. I LOVE THEM> They have shaped ME today... they have helped to form the mother that I am... TODAY. I have photos of two... but... those photos and the memories are ALL I have. I do not have a series of birthday photos... I do not have Christmas pictures where the age progression happens. I do not have a chart on the wall to show how they have grown. I have nine photos of one... and about fifteen of the other... I have handprints and footprints... and I have cards that folks gave me to express their sorrow for me. I have even LESS for the littlest babies. I have a pair of booties for one that I bought two days before I started bleeding.... when I was still so innocent that I thought there was NOTHING in the world that could pop my bubble. So the memories.. the sharing... that is pretty much what I have... and what I can show the world. You know that moment when you held your baby out for someone to hold..... and you felt like you were offering the world to that person and your heart burst with pride.... yeah... THAT MOMENT... If I pull out my pictures for you.... then.... we are sharing THAT moment.
There is another reason I share though... you see.... I am nine years removed from that HEART WRENCHING SOUL STEALING pain... and I am NOT over exaggerating in any sense of the world. I have NEVER felt so gutted... I have never felt so raw. My truest fear.... is feeling that way again. My arms ACHED to hold her... my soul wanted to slip away to be with her... and I didn't think there was ever going to be a smile in me again. Yes... it was raw and it was awful and it makes me feel like sobbing just to think on it now. I am nine years removed and there are moments when a wave of grief steals my breath. And there are mommas and daddies out there who are JUST letting go... who are only starting on the road. There are people who are learning what it means to let go and people who are still trying to figure out how to do that. These people need a voice. They need someone who can stand and say PLEASE don't tell them they can have another baby. They need someone who can say NO you cannot make this better.... just sit with her.. just hold her. They need someone who can say DON'T IGNORE daddy... Mommy hurts so bad... but I GUARANTEE that he is setting his own grief to the side trying to help her. He doesn't think that she can bear to see how much HE hurts too. They need someone to say YES it is NORMAL for Dad to lose his job in the first year of grief... there are statistics on this..... NINETY PERCENT OF DADS DO!!!!! Why? your guess as good as mine... but... maybe it is because putting aside your grief the way daddies do... it can pop up OTHER ways health problems, attitude problems. Whatever the reason... there are people in this world who NEED an advocate... who NEED a voice. Who needs someone to say IT IS OKAY TO TALK ABOUT YOUR BABY! For someone who will say... share your memories with me. What IS!! your baby's name? There are people who are just at the beginning of the most arduous journey I have walked in my life and they need a friend.
I talk about it... because if I CAN'T be the friend for that person... perhaps my words will help someone NEAR them to learn how to be a friend to this momma. It is OKAY... to not know what to do. NO ONE knows. But I will say that those first few years of being a bereaved mother were the most isolated I have ever been in my life. One friend who can reach through that veil of isolation can be a life line to a mommy who SO needs it. I talk a lot about my babies... and because of that friends who have friends who have lost babies have put me in touch with them.... I am amazingly blessed.... because I have been offered those stories... the memories... that precious armful that only a bereaved mommy FULLY understands. My hope is that through MY sharing... others will feel less afraid of sharing... and as that happens the world will open to those mommies and daddies who need support so very badly.

Why Spiritualism

I am a person who likes to analyze things... I am always looking at the UNDERLYING reasons for everything. It is part of the equation for me... and I like it when all my equations are completely solved. I never realized how MUCH I love math... not until I became an adult.... and started to notice that I use math even when math doesn't seem like the answer... I count number of letters in words.. in names... I change everything into patterns. It is how my brain makes sense of this world. So in looking for patterns I analyze the WHYS of decisions that I make... to me there is a certainty of it all making sense if I can JUST FIND THE EQUATION.
It is a strange thing to see yourself as an analytical thinker... and a spiritualist. For many those things seem ALMOST at counter purposes. And yet... they are NOT. I am assistant Pastor of my church... I am a Morris Pratt student. I have made the firm resolve that I will be.... an ordained reverend in a few short years. I am well on my way to it... with my lowest grade being 97 percent NOT TOO SHABBY. But then I have always enjoyed being the student. If somehow being a student could be a VOCATION... I would have arranged for it years ago. So... being someone who questions the life around me... someone who is searching for answers... someone who is seeking to solve the equations that life presents us is not such a stretch. Spiritualism is a great fit for me because it resolves to be more than simply a religion. Spiritualism is firm in its purpose to be a religion yes... but also a philosophy and a SCIENCE! You begin perhaps to see why it appeals a little bit... for that highly analytical mind of mine that is looking for PROOF... Spiritualism says... " YES... let's prove Spirit in Action!" and has for a very long time set about doing just that. For every medium and every healer that is certified by the NSAC there is a necessary requirement of affidavits signed by the receiver of the message or healing saying that THIS HAS HAPPENED. I have received a healing from this person... I have gotten a message from the other side from this person. To me... this is a wonderful requirement. One that I was slightly nervous of as I started Morris Pratt.... but that I saw the need for. As I have gathered my OWN affadavits from people who say "YES YOUR MESSAGE OR HEALING WAS ON POINT!!!"It builds my confidence in my own ability... and it stands as a history of authenticity and accuracy. For my ever questioning mind... the continued proof stands as a testament to the TRUTH that is spoken. One of the things that I learned as I embarked on my learning about Spiritualism is that... many of the strongest supporters through history..... ACTUALLY started along the path of debunking Spiritualim. These individuals approached Spiritualism as skeptics with the INTENTION of finding the gimmick and ousting charlatans, only to find that the SCIENCE of Spiritualism and the PROOF of Spirit changed them to believers. I love this fact... I love it... because I have always been a seeker.... and to know that I am not ALONE gives me solace. To know that not only is my questioning not frowned upon... but it is supported and that it is ENCOURAGED gave me hope.
There is another reason that Spiritualism called to me: I am the mother of children on the other side. I was raised first in a Science of Mind church followed by Unity. I was a young adult when I first went to the Spiritualist camp with my parents. I read everything. I read books from Unity from Spiritualism From Eckankar to Wicca and Witta, to Hinduism and Buddhism. I never wanted a label other than being Spiritual. It wasn't until I had become a mother of Angels that I settled into one place. My choice was specific.. I went to Spiritualism because Mediumship is considered the work of GOD... and because those who are Mediums are often drawn to the Spiritualist church if they are looking for a congregation to join. I wanted direct communication with my little ones. I wanted to reach through that veil. I was not content with knowing that I will see them again someday soon... I wanted COMMUNION with them. I knew that Spiritualism would offer me that.
I was surprised when it offered me more though... MUCH MUCH MORE. I was surprised when my own mediumship ( which was strong with animals but not always Humans) became stronger. When that happened.. I was stunned. But when Spirit guided me into the place of offering a sermon I was stunned. When the opportunity to continue my education with Morris Pratt presented itself I jumped, nervous... but feeling that it was the right step for myself and my family. My husband was wildly supportive... and off I went.
Today I stand before people and I say with out hesitation... I AM a SPIRITUALIST... my voice does not shake. I also stand  before others and say I AM A MEDIUM... looking those people proudly in the eye. This is a new self confidence... that has been offered to me by the church I attend,  the congregation I am a part of,  the learning I have opened myself to. And as I settle into who I am and how confident I am to voice it.... I settle into WHY I AM. because those sweet spirits are not apart from me... they are right with me. I don't need an intermediary I am capable of communicating with them myself.... and. ... .... Spiritualism did not GIVE me these gifts... .Spiritualism helped me to recognize my own potential and allow it to blossom.

September

They say what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.... I kind of feel that way about the month of September. I would say January too because that is when Aislynn passed... but somehow January doesn't hit me as hard... I am not sure why.
Today September 18th is my son Aidan's birthday. He would be 9. It is also the day that he passed... 9 years ago. I held him for a very short time on this earth. And it will never ever seem to be enough. Last Saturday I was crying on the phone with my mom as the dread of this day pressed on me. As I felt my breathing constrict already in preparation for this day. Last year my Gran passed on the 15th.,... of September. It didn't take any of us by surprise she had brain cancer... she was on hospice. The anniversary of her funeral is the 20th... Last year was a tough one. Only hours after crying on the phone with my mom... I got another call from her... My mother's sister was in the hospital and there wasn't long. My  mom left in a hurry to be by her sister's bed. Aunt PJ is still hanging on... home now with Hospice... but I suspect there is going to be another reason for September to be hard before too much longer.
Oddly October also has a loss that is remembered... many many many months do... but September seems bigger somehow... maybe it is the weather change... maybe it is something deeper I don't know. It isn't like September doesn't have the days to celebrate... My Father's birthday... both of my Father-in-Laws' birtdays... two of my sister in laws birthdays. Many many friends birthdays. These are days to celebrate... days to be grateful for the people who are in my life. Still somehow September is melancholy ... still some how I brace for September and I feel like the other shoe is about to fall.
This year I had great plans... I was going to keep busy. I tried so hard... but friends were busy... So my husband took the day off... but his boss said " EH we need you buddy"... and our bank account said "HMM not such a great idea there". So we tried a different way... we decided to have him come home early... and I was going to keep busy by doing the Friday bank and grocery run... but... he needed the card that has our funds on it... so... I have nothing to do that with. So... we were going to decorate a tree at church... only it is rainy and stormy... and my youngest has a cold with a fever. ... ... ...  Kind of feeling STALLED. I tried so hard to fill today.. to be busy... because I don't want to sit around just feeling... because feeling can turn to wallowing.. and I don't want to do that. Still... every attempt to fill today has been thwarted... and here I sit...
Still maybe there is a reason I sit here. Last Sunday I gave a sermon on plans... on how they change... and today I found this photo graphic on facebook:

A reminder... that we all have our dark times... but if you use them correctly... they help you to grow. And even in the day that My son died there were things to celebrate... not the least of which was his life.... that I have photos... that he took breath... that I held him while he did take breath. So I will take the lessons from this... and I will find a way to make the darkness light in my life.
My little boy... is missed... dearly dearly missed. and always will be. And this day... I am sad... very very sad. Most likely always will be, but today I search for ways to celebrate that life... even with the tears... even with the sadness. Today... I let it go... the guilt of still being alive... the need to live. The feeling that I let people down by not being over all of this... the feeling of guilt for not LIVING the grief. So many things that can crowd in... and none of it is ME... not at the core. So today... I washed my little girls hair.. and brushed it... such a relaxing way to spend time... and we are preparing to go to an indoor parrot exhibit... it isn't what we planned.... but plans change... they have to in order to keep up with life... and sometimes failed plans can make for an amazing experience. So I am holding out for that. And if my eyes fill with tears... it is okay... and if my heart smiles because of Ashlynn and Taryn... then... that is okay too. Because sadness is a feeling that comes... but a feeling that also goes when happiness knocks on the door. And because being aware of what is me and what is coming from outside helps me to be present in the moment..... and being present in the moment is what allows me to make a connection with my son... who is simply a thought away and who is always with me.

Thank you DR. Wayne Dyer from reaching through the veil to offer me a little bit of insight. So we head to the Lorikeet exhibit with the INTENTION of celebrating his life.... and his Spirit... and with the knowledge that as I AM spirit... I am never separated from a little boy who lived for such a short time. I love his essence and as I reach to him with the light of LOVE... he is there.

I am a child loss survivor.

I am a child loss survivor. I have held in my arms children who I then had a funeral for. I am also a miscarriage survivor. I have held in my womb life that never took breath. I have ultrasound photos of children who were never " babies" and babies who were never " children."  I am not alone. I am not the only one. I am the mother of two amazing little girls who are alive and well, who run and jump and play, and because I have these sweet girls here with me on this side I am not supposed to talk about their sister and brother. I am supposed to forget my children who have forged their path in the other world before me. I am supposed to remember that I have living babies... as if that makes up for ... THE OTHERS. It is an unwritten rule. A rule that you only come to understand when you have lost your little one. That... while you have had a tragic loss... you are NOT supposed to share it. You are to get over it and focus on the good.
 I realized very quickly that I could NOT stay silent. Staying silent was driving me slowly insane. I realized that I felt guilty for my grief, a grief that will continue for the rest of my life, because I was supposed to be over it already. And yet I felt guilt at the thought of NOT feeling grief because... They were my children. MY CHILDREN. For those of you who have kids... look at them... and then... imagine they are gone. Forever... never ever to return to your arms in this life time. NOW... if you have more than one children... look at a DIFFERENT child and imagine how you are supposed to feel lucky because you have that child... maybe even hear some one say " well YES Jimmy is gone, but GEORGE over there is ALIVE. That makes it better." No... no it doesn't because George is NOT Jimmy and should never feel that he is a replacement for the other. What a terrible thing to do to George... AND Jimmy. Yes... you see. One is not and will never be a replacement for the other. It isn't fair to mommy or daddy either.
Infant loss is not actually all that rare, pregnancy loss is even LESS rare. I would be willing to guarantee that you know someone ( other than myself) who has suffered one or both. What is worse.. if you know a woman who has suffered it once... odds are... she has suffered it multiple times. Strangely when I refused to stop talking... when I got uppity and started remembering my babies posting photos on facebook and talking about them....I got 100% validation that I am not alone. I got women who I hadn't known had lost coming to me and saying... This is my story. When I started talking about it I started to get friends who asked if they could send other friends my way because she had just lost a baby.. she had just miscarried.. she needs some support and I know you have been there. This has happened because I have NOT sat silently... because I have worked actively to make those children a part of our family not a part of our dirty laundry that shouldn't be aired. The best part of being vocal and earning all of these friends who needed support... is that.... I have also been able to watch as miracles have happened... and mommy's have found their arms filled... sometimes with more than they had ever thought possible. I believe in miracles because I have watched them happen again and again. That is a pretty freaking awesome side benefit of making a new friend... one who knows how it feels to let go.
I personally cannot live in a place of constant grief. And living my life normally has gotten easier with the passage of time. Living a "normal" life however is not a life with out them. For myself IT CANNOT be. There is not a single day where I do not think of those babies. And I work actively to find a way to fit those little ones into my life in an every day way. I share them.. I say their names... I remember them. I have told my children who were born after them... about them... I have shared their names and birthdays with my living children. I cannot hide them away. Sharing them means facing grief waves at times... It means being filled with a soul deep sadness but it means riding those waves out, because I would rather be sad than forget them. I would rather face those waves... knowing that they may take my breath away... that they may cut my knees out from under me... but that it is worth it to remember MY CHILDREN.
A friend who I value greatly once told me that when she became facebook friends with me she was at first a little unsettled by how I share my little ones: By how I post about their short lives,  about their birthdays, about how I as their mommy feel.  She followed that up with the fact that as I shared more, she came to see our angels as a PART of our family... and it became less and less uncomfortable. This was without a doubt one of the most amazing things I have ever heard about our babies. Because it not only validated their LIVES... but my effort to make them a part of OUR lives.
It is coming... my Aidan's birthday. My birthday every year starts the ticker.... the clock that winds down to the anniversary of the first day... and the last day... that I held the only son I have. This year it will be his ninth birthday. Nine years... what would his nine year old self be doing? What would his birthday list look like? Because Ashlynn started hers in January... and it gets longer every week. What would he be like? A reader like myself... A tinkerer like his daddy? There are some answers I will never have. I will never know what it will be like to have a Christmas dinner with all of my children. I don't cry every day any more... but there are days that I always cry... and September 18 is one of them.... As I am faced with a lifetime of commemorating a birthday for a boy who isn't on this earth to celebrate it. I haven't gotten it right... yet.., but I have a lifetime to figure it out.

Why I chose Essential Oils.

A little over a year ago I jumped into the Essential Oil world. My parents helped me to get a Starter Kit to Young Living and off I went. This was not a choice that I made spur of the moment. As a matter of fact I researched for MONTHS trying to decide which company that I would join. In the end... I joined Young Living because of the fact that a friend from church was a member and when I became a part of her down line it benefited her as well as myself. To me it felt right to step into this new world with a friend.

Regardless of which company I was going to choose I KNEW I was going to step into oils. I have been fascinated by them since I was in college. But when oils started making a real presence in my life was when I had children. I am the mommy of a child with many severe food allergies. We carry epi-pens and inhalers everywhere we go, because when you have many allergies the whole world can feel like it is dangerous. Our first trip to the hospital for an allergic reaction happened when she was two because of cashews and that was only the start of our road. Cashews seemed like something we could avoid easily enough... but when dairy products, eggs, peanuts, and tree nuts of many different kinds made the list we were starting to get pretty concerned. When Beef caused an anaphylactic  response... we were pretty convinced we would never be able to eat in a restaurant again. 

Eventually our fears eased and we got pretty good at fielding all of the potential dangers in our life. Luckily in our large and extended family she was NOT the only child with food allergies... and so... we all knew to warn the parents of the children with special food needs. Still our diet was pretty clean. Most of our foods were made at home and a lot of items that others can get from a box... I learned how to make from scratch. But... there were always times things slipped through. And the more that I researched the more I noticed that often an allergic response could actually show up BEHAVIORALLY. Sometimes if something would slip past we would have sensitivity and emotional issues for DAYS. I made mention of this on facebook one day... and a friend said WHOA... wait let me help... and off she sent a sample of oils. This oil was... simply put.. magic. Using the roller bottle on my little one could literally change her emotional direction in a couple of minutes. I truly don't have another word for it... MAGIC. My other daughter has a severe allergy to mosquito bites. It is just awful... and last year... we used oils from my friend to curb the response. Instead of the mild cellulitis spreading from the bite... they were almost immediately smaller and less swollen. I was sold. Last year was the first year that we were not at the doctor on an antibiotic with a steroid because of a stupid bite and it was enough to make me jump. 

In the last year I have learned a lot about oils. I have used them to help support the health of my family in ways I never would have imagined when I bought my first bottle of Patchouli oil when I was in my teens. :D I probably will post every now and then about ways that oils help my family. I may post recipes every now and then. I have a page... you can visit and you can order from it. That is NOT what I want this page to be about though.. so while I have a link I will try my hardest to NOT make this page an advertisement. Still.... oils have become a large part of my life. And I am not exaggerating too much when I say that the oils have indeed changed my life. And just a warning I may not be able to curb my enthusiasm when it comes to certain oils or blends. 

Mindfulness Thy name is crochet

I struggled with the title... lol Zen and the Art of Crochet kept popping in and I kept refusing it. When I worked at Borders there were at least a dozen different titles with Zen and the Art of....... Truly though for my self I use crochet to help me to find that zen spot. I use it when I need to get in touch and when I particularly need to get in touch with my own sense of self. As I once told you I have been knitting since I was in elementary school.... for me a simple pattern with lots of repeats helps me to settle into a meditative state. snick snick snick the needles go and I let my thoughts wonder and my mind go free. I fall into a zone and sometimes need to be called twice or three times in order to come back from that place. This having been my method of knitting for most of my life I kind of figured that crochet would do the same thing for me. ... a sort of walking meditation. Only I very quickly realized that it wasn't for me.
 Crochet takes a conscious effort on my part. I have to be active rather than passive as my work unfolds. Crochet is also the barometer for how I am feeling at the moment.... or sometimes about the thing that keeps popping into my mind as I am working. I find that if I am tense in anyway my stitches get tighter and tighter. As my stitches start to close in on themselves my gauge gets thrown off and the item I am working on will change sizes. This isn't a big issue perhaps on a dish cloth... but it can be on something you want to offer to another as a gift.... or say on that blanket I made for my daughter where the edge closes in and then comes back out and closes in again. Needless to say THAT project stay right here in this house.
During the "dark years" when I had lost all the babies and I had none to hold... I couldn't crochet. I tried. And with in minutes my work would be so tight that I couldn't even get my crochet hook back into the loops. During this time I knit... I knit and I let my thoughts go through me so that I could let them go... because some of the thoughts that come are meant to go THROUGH you not stay with you. Knitting allowed me to do that.
For a long time I thought that I didn't like to crochet because of this... because I had to actively work at getting those stitches down right. With time though I realized that I WANTED to be better at crochet, so I knew I would have to focus my intentions and make it happen. One day at a time... one project at a time... I have worked until my hands can keep an even tension... and my work can be as beautiful as I want it to be. The other day as I sat to crochet I was in a place that was less than ideal and after a few short minutes I realized this and quieted sought that peace in side and let go.... I let go of what I was holding onto so that what NEEDED to come through me could.
As a Spiritualist I have learned Magic Staff of Andrew Jackson Davis. As a Morris Pratt Student I have thought on it long and hard:

Behold, here is thy Magic Staff, 

Under all Circumstances Keep an Even Mind:

Take it, Try it, Walk with it, Talk with it, lean on it 

Believe on it forever. 

I have looked at these words over and over trying to make them my own in some way. I have taken it tried it and walked with it... and I have seen the physical lesson of it in my crochet. I go to that crochet now... when I need to calm, when I need to summon that even mind. I use the stitches now to find the peace that I need. The lessons that I learned as I focused ACTIVELY on making each crochet stitch even and as I mindfully approached the work perfectly embody what the Magic Staff is saying. And as I sit mindfully working and allowing emotions that make me clench or tighten flow through me and then away from me... I realize that keeping an even mind can at times help me to make more emotionally intelligent decisions. I have come to realize that if I take a step back at times I am able to move forward many more paces than what I could have originally. 

So as I work actively to keep even stitches... I work to keep an even mind... and I realize that sometimes we need a moment to knit and let everything just flow through us easily and with no thought.... and sometimes we need to actively work at keeping an even mind. Both are equally as valid... both weave the beautiful fabric of our lives. 

To Channel a Purse

My Grand mother taught me to crochet when I was in highschool. It was an amazing afternoon. The Saturday after Thanksgiving I went and made fruitcakes with her to hand out to family for Christmas. During the cook times... she got out a hook and some yarn and taught me something that she loved. I was a knitter my mom had taught me at an early age.. and it is said that people can do one or the other well, typically not both. My first attempt at crochet was a dish cloth and true to typical first time crochet I made a triangle because I forgot to chain when turning. My mother kept it even though I have since given her much better cloths to use. I suppose now that I have children of my own I understand. I have sitting on my shelf over my sink a couple of pieces of decorated packing peanuts.... and I will keep them until they dissolve because of who they were made by and how proud that little lady was to hand it to me. 

My granny passed in September of 2014. It was ... a blow to me. She was 90... I knew it was coming. We all did. But that didn't change the fact that I had somehow convinced myself that she would live forever. and I would have been glad to have it that way. Since she passed my fingers have itched to pick up crochet. I have some nerve issues in my hands... they come and go. Some days I can crochet for hours... some days I can't hold a pen very well. Last Fall those issues hit a pinnacle of suckiness and I could not crochet like I wanted. By spring I was back to mostly normal and able to knit and crochet again THANK GOD... because any one who knows me... knows that is my way of keeping sane. 

Our church is having an Auction and as my arms and hands have been pretty good lately... I decided that I would crochet some potholders. But what happened was drastically different than I had expected. I sat down to make potholders and started to hear a little  voice in my head telling me that I should do this and this to change the pattern. The next thing I realized is that... this was no longer a pot holder... it was instead a purse, and as I was listening and following the instructions that were being given to me it was unfolding PERFECTLY... not ONE error. You must understand... as much as I love to crochet I still end up with meandering edges and weird shaped stitches. I WANT to be good at it... but... well I certainly am not as good as I would LIKE TO be... until recently. As I follow these whispered instructions I am turning out purses that are perfect without needing to rip it out. The other thing that happened was that... as I was crocheting this purse... a name was given to me... and I knew with no hesitation that the purse was intended to GO TO THAT PERSON. I wanted to rebel... because I was making these things for the church auction... which... I eventually DID do... but I was filled with the certainty that THIS purse was intended for a specific person... with a specific purpose. I mailed the first one to a friend... who wrote back that I had MADE HER DAY... and that getting something like that was EXACTLY what she needed that day as she had just lost a friend. I finished that first purse and sat down to make a potholder. DAMMIT JIM.... I was donating a POTHOLDER. It happened again. This purse was a different pattern... and once again it was "whispered" in my ear and as I followed the instructions that were given a PERFECT purse unfolded. And as that purse unfolded the individual who I was supposed to send the purse to was told to me. INTERESTING this time... it was not a name or a picture of a face like it was the time before... this time it was " Her birthday is next week" And I KNEW... I just KNEW who that was. I finished that purse and then I picked out another yarn and started what I KNEW this time was going to be a purse.... and yet again it was a DIFFERENT PATTERN and Once again it was PERFECTLY executed. This time... I heard... a tsk sound before my name that I knew with out a doubt and " Melissa... your mom is going to love this one." OH Granny... you must be missing crochet is all I can say... because you are working my hands in a CRAZY way. I am mid-crochet on a 4th purse... and this one... is yet again different... and I have no doubt will be PERFECT... and this one is for " the vegetable girl" A person who I knew immediately by the description... and so... as soon as it is finished it will be mailed to said " vegetable girl." 

For the record... I remember the patterns that I have been given... and I have made... purses for the church auction rather than potholders. When I told people at church about the experience one of the ladies said " We all know about Chanel purses... but this is the first CHANNELED purse." And you know what... that may be the case... as a medium and a Spiritualist I know that this is an expression of God... and I am so very grateful for this inspiration in my life. Pictured... are photos of the purses that I have donated for auction at church.... it is a facebook auction... if you are interested in having a channeled purse... go on over to the facebook page for Spiritualist Chapel in the Woods... there is time... the auction will start in September. 

Art and the pursuit of happiness.

ART: the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power

the various branches of creative activity, such as painting, music, literature, and dance.

I had an interesting response to something that I posted on facebook the other day. I posted a graphic that said how to be an artist... make art is it awesome is it terrible... make more art you are an artist. I posted it because in my mind it was something that stated a message I think more of us need to hear. That ART is not intended to be perfect... that sometimes what we hate can make a great impact. Tchaikovsky in fact did not consider his most popular piece to be art. The Nutcracker was intended as a bedtime story for his children. Here we are  100 years later and nearly everyone in the world has heard of The Nutcracker. My sister in law has a degree in Art and is an artist by trade.... and she put on that graphic " I don't know whether to be offended by that or not." 
My intention was not to offend... but I can see where that might be there. She has worked hard to get that degree and to have someone look at it as less than the hard work that it was probably stings. That said I apologize if any offense was felt. I recognize that feeling when people with out malice say things like " What do you DO all day?" or "Don't you get sick of being with your kids all day long?" or some other similar statement that comes from not understanding what a stay home wife and mother does to make a household work. So I have been on that side of the equation. 
Still the questions remain in my head... WHAT is it that decides that it is ART? My children are prodigious producers of ... artwork. Something that I encourage. I find that the craftier they are in a day the less they fight, it is a truly amazing equation. Taryn learns better through songs and drawing... She expresses herself eloquently with pen and paper, At the age of one she drew a skull that even a person who didn't have kids could tell was a skull... and by two you could tell exactly what she was drawing often times. Both girls are extremely musical and often make up their own songs to learn new things with. Ashlynn and Taryn when left to their own devices with craft supplies can come up with AMAZING things. 
I myself am a singer. I have been singing since I was young and while I don't make my living doing so I make it a large part of my life. As you can tell I also love to write and I take photos so much my children have adapted to be able to see with permanent flash blind. I also do needlework, often people I love end up with that handiwork as a Christmas or birthday presents. It took years before I looked at that as even in the realm of artwork. To me it has been an expression of self... so necessary that it is almost difficult to separate them from myself. But is it ART? 
I suppose it is in a way... I have always called it craft... as if it is somehow different. So let's see if it IS different ..... 

CRAFT: an activity involving skill in making things by hand. 

Well.. that definition certainly leaves a lot to be desired. And it certainly does NOT serve to clarify for me whether art is craft or craft is art. Still... the question remains inside of me. Does then the difference between craft and art mean the difference between its USEFULNESS? Am I simply over thinking things that don't need to be even thought about or considered. Art seems to run the gamut from beautiful to horrifying and everything in between... it also seems to cover every base between useful and useless. I don't guess that I will get the answers by writing about it here. Still... often the writing helps to clarify the thinking. 

A trip down memory lane... and maybe a time to pick those memories up again.

I have been playing with the idea of needing to write again. I have been told again and again by people I love that I SHOULD be. So many things that get in the way... so many days that go by with nothing more than keeping up with the demands of a household. As time goes by there is a forgetfulness that envelopes me. The active me forgets how the spirit me needs release every now and then. Also... I have found a new and different outlet... see... I have taken on the responsibility of becoming a Spiritualist minister... with that comes homework, tests, and a lot of new reading. As I picked this up I also started offering the message at church ( sermon if you will) and picked up mediumship and healing. Now... I KNOW that none of those things should interfere with what I can get onto a page... and probably should even ENHANCE IT. I am however a human and as this spirit is learning sometimes the physical needs to play a bit of catch-up. Oddly I have picked up my needlework again and I recently started to visit old stations on Pandora. I had a week where my children were with my parents and my husband was mostly at work. In that week.... I started picking up the parts of me that were dropped along the way. I haven't picked all of them up... and some of them don't fit like they used to, but it is a start.
I am trying to figure out where these new old parts belong... and why I dropped them to begin with. Music has always moved me in a way that I can hardly express. I saw a friend from a long time ago last week while the kids were away and I mentioned that I hadn't been listening to music in the last few years. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. " WHAT!?" she practically yells... " THAT IS NOT MELISSA!" and while I know this as truth... I can't seem to figure out when I stopped listening to music or why. I can't figure out why I put down my needlework not to pick it up... and I can't remember why I stopped reading for the pure pleasure of it. I feel like I have been the disappearing woman. I want myself back... I want to remember what it felt like to float with the music and disappear into a land that seems like it must be a dream. I want to be that whirling dervish again. I don't know how to be... so.. I pick up... and I move on from here.
One little step at a time... as I pick up the parts of me that have been left in places that speak to my heart.... I am finding out who this NEW Melissa is. Nope can't go to music festival or concert after concert any more.... but I can listen to the music on the computer and remember... and remember.... Have to split my time between parts of me that I love now and people who I love. Many of these parts I have lost were lost because my heart had to make space for new PEOPLE>.. and their likes and dislikes and their needs and as they grow... they will be less and less needful of me... and as that happens I can pick up more and more of my parts. I don't have to mourn them.... I can pull them out every now and then and smile and say.... "I remember you... let's dance again." and I will evaluate whether this is a part that can fit right now... or ever again... and I will evolve. For right now I am going to perhaps try to pick up writing again. Because there are few ways in this world that BETTER help me to figure out who I am and where I am going. So bear with me... as I don't always know what will come out of me.... and I don't know that it is really intended for a reader. Still..... I will bang away on this keyboard... and I will see where that takes me. And maybe just maybe you will find something of worth in what I have to say to myself.