Timeless Words....

Did she know?  That's the question that's been on my mind.  Did my mom know just how much I admired, loved and appreciated her before she died?  

She reached out to me this week, from beyond the grave.  I made an impromptu trip to visit my sister because I was starting to feel a tad claustrophobic at my house, and truth be known, lonely.  I needed a little bit of that special love one can only really get from being with their family.  While at my sister's, the two of us shared our time by going through boxes of old family photos.  The boxes we went through contained images of long gone souls; souls we'd grown up knowing only in family tales.  As history detectives, we identified our kin.  This experience was incredibly eye opening, and it touched my soul.

My sister opened an old scrapbook one night.  She perused it's pages, as I was identifying loose photos.  The next day, I peeked inside that scrapbook and was treated to a world of personal stories.

My grandmother, Theresa, went through a period of loss, not unlike others in her time.  She had a baby (my Aunt Carol) in July of 1939.  Carol didn't see her first birthday because she contracted Tuberculosis.  My grandmother would test positive or TB the remainder of her life.  My grandmother was able to get pregnant again, and this baby would grow to be my mother, Patricia, the first of five more babies to enter the family Simonetto.  My mom was a few months old, when my grandmother's brother, Patrick, died.  He was just 21 years old.  He had been at college, but came home for a visit, when he died suddenly of Pneumonia.  In the next year, my grandparents would lose yet another family member: my grandfather's youngest brother, Joeseppe.  He was 20 years old, and died in an air training accident at the Air Force base in Kansas (McConnell AF Base, before it was named as such).  So much loss of youth.  How did the families handle it? That is a rhetorical question, I know they were survivors.  They persevered.  As I continued to leaf through the pages of the scrapbook, old letters, notes written by unknown-to-me relatives, came alive. I was mesmerized.  I was held captive.  

One letter gripped my heart more than the rest.  It was one penned by my own mother.  It certainly wasn't the oldest letter.  The paper hadn't turned yellow yet with age.  There, before my eyes, was my mom's handwriting, on blue, flowered stationary.   I read the letter out loud to my sister.  As I did, tears slowly streamed down my cheeks.  My mom was expressing sentiments that I have been recently feeling.  Mom wrote a letter to Grandma, near Mother's Day in 1989.  Below are the unedited words my mother had to say:

Sassy.
My Grandmother, before children.
I have a picture of my grandfather at this time, too,
so I do suspect they were married in this photo. 

Lake Michigan in the foreground, and my
grandmother with my mom on her right and my Uncle Joe on the left.  

My mom and Grandma

Mom and Grandma,
on my mom's First Holy Communion

*****

2003
My mom and my Grandma at my sister's wedding 

5-10-89

Dear Mom:

I suppose you're wondering why I'm writing this letter since we live only ten miles apart and talk on the phone almost every day.  I don't feel I could express myself verbally as well as I could by writing.  Since Mother's Day will soon be here and I've been shopping for that special gift, I've been thinking about you and what you've meant to me through the years.

As I think back now, I guess I really didn't appreciate you as much as I could of while I was at home. It wasn't until I went to California that I began to get a new perspective on our relationship.  We didn't always agree on everything, of course
but you always took time to listen whenever I had a problem that I wanted to talk about.  After I left home, I missed not being able to confide in you except long distance, by mail or by telephone.

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My mom, the bride - March 1962

I think it was when I married Larry that I really began to think of you as a real person rather than as "Just Mom." I began to admire your abilities with cooking, getting everything on the table hot at the same time, sewing which I took for granted, gardening and how crafty you are.  Your ability to make something out of nothing amazed me.  I also discovered that you were generous and always ready to help out a friend, neighbor and me.

You know, you've given me good sound advice over the years and I haven't always taken it.  But I especially remember the morning of my wedding when you and Dad said, it wasn't too late to change my mind about marrying Larry" - your only concern was my happiness and I've often thought of that special moment.  After Lisa was born, I began to see what it meant to be a mother from a new point of

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view.  I felt a very special closeness with you as I understood, for the first time, the joys of having a child, of seeing her smile, hearing her say, "mama" and watching her learn to walk and grow up.  Each child has given me more insight to who you really were.  I had a hard time with three and you managed fine all by yourself. 

Holding and rocking a sick child, I've also discovered the long hours of worry and work you put into caring for me.  I found then, as you did years before, that a mother learns to rely on God a great deal.

As the kids have grown I found that I could sound grouchy and irritable just as you sometimes sounded when I was growing up and for some of the same good reasons.

I remember how you use to complain about how sloppy and messy I was. I really

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didn't care much about your frustrations then, but I now know exactly how you felt - Sorry.

You've always been there when I needed you the most.  I remember the morning Larry died - you were there to help me when I didn't know what I was going to do - you held me in your arms and I felt so safe and secure.  What magic your arms possess.

My Uncle Joe, Aunt Pam, Grandma and mom -
There were still two babies yet to join the family.

I was so lonely and frightened but you were there to pick up the pieces.  You said I was still young and pretty - I had no faith in myself.  Then I met Art and you were there again.

At Disney World, with my siblings and my mom 

Since I've had children of my own I feel that I know you better.  I understand that a mother tries so hard, makes mistakes, loses her temper when she doesn't mean to, and has normal human

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emotions.  Yes, I understand now that mother's don't always know how to settle siblings quarrels fairly or may even run out of patience a lot of times.  But, moms never run out of love - I know because you've shown that through the years.

Thank you

With all my love, 

Your daughter, 

Patricia

Happy Mother's Day

*****

Did she know?  

I believe she did.  With age comes wisdom, and mother's definitely have wisdom along with their endless supply of love.

Thank you mom, for being there for me.  May you look down and know I embrace all you bestowed upon me in life.  I am who I am, because of you and dad.  I love you, as every daughter, and son, loves their mom.  Sometimes we just need a little time before we truly realize the awesome souls in our lives.

Wonder.  Wisdom.  Grace.  Power.

~Lisa Scubelek-Kroll, 
     story teller, mother, lover of life 

Imagine...

Imagine going all summer long and bragging to your neighbors like some proud parent..."We have an Eagle's nest in the woods at the end of our road!"  Taking your teenage daughter to see the nest and then have her say, "I don't think that's an eagle's nest.  Have you ever seen an eagle on it? When is the last time you saw an eagle?"

True.  I had, and have, not seen an eagle on the nest. Also true, I haven't seen an eagle since July.  Still.  There is an eagle's nest in the woods at the end of my road and I know where it is!

*****

Today we had our annual neighborhood (which really means street) potluck.  Guess what some of us talked about?

As the picnic was winding down, one of the neighbors turned to me and said he and another were going to go see that nest.  Did I want to come?  Now, feeling like I do kind of have a claim on this nest, OF COURSE I wanted to go with!!!  So shortly after the picnic ended, Winston and I headed down the road with 5 of our neighbors and their dogs.  We were about 3/4 of the way to the nest when we stopped because there was a sight in front of us that made us all freeze.  Sitting on the ground, very near the trail was...an eagle!  Talk about apropos!

I did have my camera with me, like always.  You'd think with 6 people and 6 dogs so near by the eagle would have high tailed it out of the area and not pose for his picture.  Please note: these photos have been cropped.  We weren't that close to him.  What a majestic sight!

My 100th Post!

Flowers are so symbolic. They represent hope and new life each year as they spring forth from from the ground or brown branches.

I love flowers of all kinds, but Lilacs hold a special place in my heart. When I was very young we had a few huge lilac bushes next to our house in Miller. I remember sitting on the ground with my best girl friend, Mary Ellen Warren, and stringing the flowers from lilacs and making our own leis. The leis were of various sizes and we'd place them around our necks, on our heads, on the cat, on our dolls and hang them around the yard. We'd dance around pretending to be fairies from the woods sparking new life where we'd go.

When I moved into my current house, my FIL gave me a stick with roots stuck in a bucket of water. He was given a lilac starter, for me, from one of his neighbors! I pampered that stick! I fed it root stimulator and then fertilizer. I discovered that lilacs need to be trimmed only just after they have bloomed...if you trim them in the fall you will clip off all the buds of next springs flowers. Each spring I would patiently wait to see the blooms of my labor, and to smell their intoxicating sweetness. This year I had more then enough blooms to clip and bring inside my house.

Each day my lilacs bloom I confess, I step outside and nuzzle my nose into those tiny purple blossoms. I close my eyes as I inhale and picture a little girl dancing around the yard with flowers on her head.

Old Churches...and Fate...

This weekend I went to an old Catholic church for a funeral of a great uncle who had almost made it to his 97th birthday.

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The church was unmarked on the outside. Only a large cross with a broken heart was planted near the door with a sign that read "For the Aborted Children." My husband and I had to ask some parishioners if we had the correct location. As we walked in the door it was like we were stepping back in time. The whole church felt like stuck in the late 40's. There was not a single bit of evidence of any improvements or updates. I went to a steel tank that was labeled 'holy water' and I pressed the tap to expel a small amount of water to bless myself. Old habits are hard to stop. Although I don't practice Catholicism any more, I feel a level of respect that must be paid to God and the church.

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This large statue of the Infant of Prague was on our left. This was my mom's favorite saint to pray to. I felt her spirit must be near by.

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The service was spoken in English by a Croatian priest. He looked a bit like Jimmy Kimble's parking attendant - Guillmo, and he sounded a bit like Andy Kaufman's character, Latka.

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The stain glass windows in the church were gorgeous. But seeing all the confessionals made me feel like we were in a religious prison. I was quickly reminded why I needed a different church in my life...the Catholic faith is too confining for me, too judgemental. I need to be mentally challenged, allowed to interpret the writings in the gospels, make my own choices, feel that all who worship God are good - not just those who practice like me.

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No blinders on...we are all God's people.

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Fate

I am a huge believer that things happen for a reason. A week ago while I was out walking I found a set of house keys. I thought they must belong to a child walking to and from school since I was near an elementary school when I found them.

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After contacting several of the parents whom I know have children who walk to school I decided to take the keys to the school office and go write a note on the sidewalk in chalk. While I was writing my note two men in a utility truck pulled up. I asked, half jokingly, if they lost a set of keys. The first man said no in a voice than said 'very funny' but the second man said, "as a matter of fact I did, about a week ago." He went on to describe the keys I found.

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That, my friends, is fate. It was meant to happen. I don't know why yet. Maybe that man just needed to be reminded that good is in the world. Maybe I just needed to be reminded that little actions can have big rewards. My reward was that wonderful feeling I am still having from knowing I was able to do something good for someone I don't know.

Friends...and dreams

Dreams are such powerful things.

Just after my step-dad died I drempt he was standing next to my bed as I slept. My dream woke me abruptly. I felt like he was coming to see me to tell me he was okay. When I told my grandmother about my dream she told me it meant he needed prayers. She said when people visit you in your dreams it means they aren't settled and they need prayers. She seemed freaked out by the fact that I dream pt about Art. I decided to keep my dreams to myself when speaking to Grams. I like the idea that Art's okay better.

When I was up north last November during the time when I knew my mom was close to "crossing over" I felt several spirits all around. One was my step-dad again. I found myself trying to talk to him and tell him it was okay. He needed to come and show mom the way. I was sad that I didn't "see" my dad. I did feel something pulling on me at night when I slept. I mean really tugging on my arm. Maybe that was my dad?

I do know that this March I felt a huge sense of relief knowing my mom and dad were together once again on their anniversary. I haven't had anyone that's passed away visit my dreams since mom died. Maybe Grams was right? Maybe people who die only visit you if they need you to pray for their soul.

A few weeks ago I had a different sort of dream. I drempt I was eating dinner or lunch with my husband, my daughter and an old friend of mine from high school. I haven't thought about this old friend of mine in years. I guess I was worried that maybe he had died. Maybe he needed some prayers? I decided to Google him. If he could be found and was still alive I wanted to tell him thanks for making my high school years so fun. I've tried in the past to find him - before our last high school reunion, but no luck. This time I had a hit! And lucky for me I did find my old friend!

I don't want to disrupt his life, or mine for that matter, but I do want him to know that I have always thought he was a neat person and I am glad our lives crossed.

I truly feel that in life everything happens for a reason.