pilgrimclassic: Mother's Day Proclamation for Peace

Originally posted May 13, 2007:

The celebration of Mother's Day originated with poet Julia Ward Howe, as a movement for women to fight the devastation of war and to show the way towards peace. Today's sentimental-flowers-&-Hallmark-card bedecked event hardly measures up to the fiery rhetoric of the day's founding mother...

Julia Ward Howe's Mother's Day Proclamation - 1870

Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosom of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of murder is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe out dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.

by hand

Starting during the last Christmas season, I've tried to have every gift I send be handmade. It's not always possible for me to make the items myself, so when I'm pressed for time I look to Etsy for extra-special gifts. Because I've just loved everything I've ordered, I thought it would be fun to share some of my favorite sellers:

For jewelry I just love SaraArts (such pretty swingy earrings), DornickDesigns (where I found the groovy tree of life necklace that I'm so fond of), PolishedTwo (such gorgeous stones), the artsy pendants of MadisonCraft Studios, and the Parisian-style earrings of JenniferRydin Designs (oolala!). Although I'm not a 'fancy' person, I do love pretty things, and I get a lot of pleasure out of wearing and gifting jewelry these days.

For the items I crochet, I've ordered recycled yarn from Soulful Hues. She unravels old sweaters and then dyes the yarn in wonderfully bright and groovy colors. Gorgeous!

For paper goods I've purchased items from RedCaboose (who, unfortunately, has an empty shop right now, but she's the one who made the darling tags I added to my holiday gifts) and from JumpingJackDesigns (you just take a look at those catnap notecards and tell me that you can resist!).

with the taste of blood on her lips...

Studying, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

See this little smidge of a kitty sitting on my hip? That's my TobyJoy, who doesn't even tip the scale at 5 lbs. She's our perpetual little kitten-cat.

Today she escaped out the back door at dusk and re-entered about 5 seconds later carrying a bunny in her mouth. Of course it wasn't just any bunny, it was the cutest little wee baby bunny ever. A perfect Toby-sized snack, I suppose. Sigh.

CatGirl squealed. I yelled for John (the master of righting-the-universe). GameBoy hid behind some bushes outside, not even wanting to know of the bunny carnage that might be ensuing in the house.

He-man John quickly separated bunny and cat, and bunny ran right under the couch where I sat. Toby was banished to the bedroom and the bunny eventually got away safely out the backdoor.

Crisis averted. But now that she's captured one bunny, I'm afraid that it just might not be her last....

Make me smile (and shed a few tears)...

lotsa roses, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

--taking catnap lessons from Elly. And I just love that her favorite nap spot is on the pillow where I prop my left leg. She curls up next to it as if to take that edge of pain away.

--Apparently my big climbing rose is still blooming like crazy. Those coffee grounds I was feeding it all winter--they are working their good magic. I suspect that by the end of the week I'll get to take a look-see for myself. In the meantime the kids have cut a big bouquet for my table. (Do you know that even though my original injury was in the garden, I want more than anything to return....)

--Friends. There really aren't enough words to say for the friends who've brought (delicious) food, who have visited, who have cared for my children. You people rock!

--I am even more wordless when I think of John during these past few days. I've buried my head in his chest and just sobbed--he's watched every needle going in and has been strong. He's insisted at being at each doctor appointment and in making sure that I'm not getting my medications muddled up ("the shot glass on your nightstand, that one holds the next dose, dear"). Even while under increasing pressure at work, he's holding up strong. I am so sorry for the toll on him that this has been. I'm sorry for the way that his needs are continually compromised because of mine.

--And of course I'm smiling because I am feeling better. I am nearly pain-free now and I go to the doc in a few hours to see if I can start back (slowly) into my regular routines again. Best of all, the redness and swelling in my leg is nearly gone. Though I don't doubt that I'll have some longterm healing and scarring around the wound site, for the most part my leg is looking quite healthy now.

--just as I'm typing this,Regina Spektor's "On the Radio" came onto my iTunes playlist.. In so many ways this has been 'my song' for the past few years.

:)

roses, in abundance, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

Just a bit late...

May 1st was BADD (Blogging Against Disablism Day). Here's my short (and late) contribution...

In the wee hours of May 1st as I was lying in the hospital bed trying to tolerate the noises of my fellow roommates (mostly really bad soap opera TV in foreign languages but also a fair share of random screaming for pain meds, IV pumps beeping, and toilet flushing), an aide came in to take my vital signs.

Let me just tell you, reader, that at this point I was not a happy camper. Though I was in terrible pain, the doc who had admitted me had only authorized small doses of ibuprofen or tylenol and I was told by my night nurse that nothing could be done about that until morning. So I was just aching, trying to just focus on my breath, to not hurt so much. I also felt scared, the kind of scared that only happens at night in the hospital where nights are exponentially long. So this aide comes in to take my vitals and I hold out my arm for the pressure cuff and open my mouth for the thermometer.

Then as she's finishing she sees my left leg uncovered and propped up on a pillow, in all of its infected ugliness. She shakes her head and says, "I sure hope you don't lose it."

I'm sure she meant it as a fairly innocuous remark (and certainly I'd stressed to my doctors how important the health of my one leg is, and this fueled much of their aggressiveness with my various treatments over the past few weeks). But that remark, combined with my own discomfort just put me over the edge. I tried to call John and couldn't figure out how to work the damn phone. I started crying into my pillow. Wondering if maybe I really was going to lose my left leg and no one had told me yet (I should note that this info was also withheld for a time from me when I lost my right leg due to cancer). I just sobbed and sobbed. When I eventually stopped and reached over for a sip of water I saw one one of my roommates from across the aisle, walking towards me, leaning on her IV pole.

"I have a cookie for you. It's good and fresh," she said.

Well, to tell the truth I wasn't at all interested in a cookie right then. But she was kind and I felt I couldn't refuse. I took the cookie and started nibbling on it. And it turned out that it was good. After she saw that I'd finished it she brought me two more cookies and chatted with me for a few minutes.

Not too long after that, my other neighbor--the one whose bed was nearly next to mine except for an IV pump and a thin curtain between us--she started singing in Vietnamese. I didn't recognize the songs, but I found her quiet voice just tuneless enough that I could imagine my own lyrics. In between the songs she would recite some rote prayers and then start singing again. I wondered if she was singing for me, but I'm sure she was singing for herself and for her own long night. That day she'd learned that she had incurable cancer and had just a few weeks left (I'd heard this all through our shared curtain). Her numerous children had spent much of the afternoon debating various treatment options: surgeries, chemo, etc. I'd heard the doctors' gentle suggestion that she be made as comfortable as possible, and also heard that her children were pushing for more aggressive therapies. Sigh.

So back to Blogging Against Disablism...

I know sometimes when we encounter disability, we don't know exactly what to do or what to say. Sometimes we can't tell whether a remark we make might be offensive (as that of my aide was for me right then), sometimes we wonder if our kindnesses will be rebuffed--if the cookies we offer can ever assuage a hurt that's as dark and deep as the night is long. Sometimes we can only lie in bed and hum a song or say a prayer and not even know if there's anyone out there to hear it. But somehow, one way or another, we just keep trying, keep doing, keep learning, keep connected. Because we're all going to have those nights, those ones that seem like they will never end.

When the sun rises (and it will, eventually), what's left is not the fear or the hurt, but the memories of the people who cared, who generously reached right outside of themselves. And whose courage seemed bigger than their fear.

Us.

Us., originally uploaded by mind on fire.

Got to experience much of this man's good bedside manner this week as I humored him with my codeine-laced nuttiness. [Note: one way to while away the hours that one is in the ER cringing at the madness all around you, is to take lots of silly photos. When this was taken I'd just polished off a cup of tea and a fresh-baked cookie that John'd found for me somewhere in the maze of the hospital. I tell you, this man is pure magic]

People, I am home. Now I can truly heal.

thank you

I can't reply to all of your emails and well-wishes right now, but I have read every one of them.  Thank you!   :)  

brb. :-)

Band, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

Getting better, being well cared for. Be back soon, but I won't promise any fashion shows of me in my breezy gown. :)

wishing

roses, facing the sun, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

Wishing that I was in the garden today instead of sitting on the couch, watching the 'rosy' infection spreading on my leg, nauseous from the many drugs I am now taking...

A sweet friend sent this poem to me, so I share it with you...

i am a little church (no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
-i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april

my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;

my prayers are prayers of earth's own clumsily striving
(finding and losing and laughing and crying) children
whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness

around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope, and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains

i am a little church (far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish) at peace with nature
-i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing

winter by spring, i lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)

~e.e.cummings

gonna get bettah...

I was feeling sorta grumpy and dumpy this morning and then John started streaming some Regina Spektor tunes and it was like the sun started shining in my heart (which had nothing at all to do with the fact that it was 101 freakin' degrees in our fine town today)....

off center

unfolding, originally uploaded by pilgrimgirl.

I don't want to tell this story, really, but I will anyways.

On Wednesday afternoon I felt a strange burning on my left calf--in the area where my wound was from 10 days ago. Later that night after being on my feet for a few hours at some meetings, as I got undressed I realized that my lower leg was raw and swollen. I passed the night feverish and in increasing pain. By Thursday morning I realized that I needed to see a doctor, and soon.

It's hard having just one leg, to have something go awry like this. Ambulation became nearly impossible, I couldn't drive, I was getting increasingly scared about the hot red swelling spreading up my leg.

Long story short: I am on some antibiotics and I haven't left the couch since returning home from the doctor. We are watching carefully for signs of further problems but so far all seems okay.

This incident has caused me to consider many things: the problems of antibiotic resistance, my vulnerability to infection, and my dependence on John & the kids. I find myself continuingly grateful for a spouse who keeps a job that he dislikes so I can have good health insurance.

But the overriding emotion for me, in all this, has been fear. I am scared of pain, of being bedridden, and of having my body be out of my control. Even as I write this there's a big knot in my stomach. Because I remember another time when my leg was red and swollen and I started spending most of my days on the couch. Since then I don't think there's ever been a day that I have not felt afraid that it could happen again. To me. Or to one that I love.