Category Archives: Life in General

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Can I Get A Witness

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One year ago today I began blogging at my original site for Gifts Of The Journey. I began my blog with a specific goal of keeping my family and friends updated on my travels last year while I was going back and forth across the ocean primarily between England and America. What began as a way to stay in touch with folks in the U.S. evolved very quickly into something more to me.

I’ve been telling stories and writing my whole life, but before I began posting at Gifts Of The Journey I rarely handed anything over for anyone to read or comment on not because I was overly concerned that the content might be no good, (okay..maybe a little) but more because it always felt a bit unfinished as if I’d left something undefined out of whatever I’d written. Blogging here on a regular basis has provided an unexpected gift in that I’ve learned how to write a piece quickly and let it go. There’s no time to over edit or over think things in the blogging world and I’ve grown to love that part of the process.

There’s certainly more to all this blogging than just an exercise in writing though and I want to touch on a couple of things I’ve thought about as I considered why I blog on this first anniversary of Gifts Of The Journey.

About eleven years I spent a weekend at a retreat with a friend and a group of women who’d gathered to share their stories. She’d spent time with this group before and I can’t remember why they let a stranger join them, but they made me feel welcomed without reservation. The experience of that weekend left a deep impression on me as woman after woman told different pieces their story. As an observer, I was frequently shocked by the intense emotion of some of these women who at times would move from tears as they talked to something that sounded like a kind of wailing release of grief. My caretaker self could barely sit still though the most painful parts and I found myself wanting to comfort and reassure. The group was not there however to perform any kind of therapy in fact I have no recollection of any real group leader or guide, but rather a collective a women just sitting and listening to anyone who felt compelled to share.  Some talked and some just listened offering nothing more than a hug and tissue when emotions overflowed.  My friend and I talked at length about later this especially after one woman in particular became so overwrought that her heartache made me want to weep along side her.

As I remember it, my friend explained that sometimes just being a witness to a person’s story is enough. Having someone sit and just listen as they told their stories was clearly powerful and appeared  in some cases to be healing for those who wanted to share.

I am reminded of this sometimes when I think about the blogging world and what this medium has done for me.  For instance, when I consider the pain and personal nature of this post one might wonder why I would publish it on the internet for the world to see instead of just typing it up for my sister and sending it off for her to read privately. There’s something very healing in sharing a story like Peanut Butter & Jelly. Could it be similar to those women who gathered to sit and witness the stories they felt compelled to share. Has the internet and the blogging community replaced those women sitting around the circle…I’m not sure, but I do know that I learn more about myself every time I remember and write about experiences like the one I had in the post, At Fifteen and sometimes I feel a need to share it.

There are times when a blog post can be a subject too happy not to share like the story told here or little messages of love like those here and here. Others have been sent out to help anyone who may have felt like this or needed to hear this.  Some of you have been reading my posts since I started writing here while others may have found me after I moved to this site. Either way there’s plenty to read as I was surprised to see when the number of posts from both sites totaled a 139 snippets of my past and present waiting to be found.

If you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time these will not be new stories to you…you’ve already been a witness. Many of the 19,260 plus views have been silent witnesses choosing not to comment and that’s okay… just stopping by is truly appreciated. To those of you who left messages of hope and support after reading certain posts or who joined me in the celebrations of the last year…I want to say thank you to you all. You’ve been wonderful and so appreciated and I am thrilled to have formed new friendships through this now familiar medium.

Whether we’re telling our individual stories or listening to someone else’s we are a witness…of good times and bad, hope and heartbreak, joy and discovery, and sometimes when we’re lucky, healing.

With all that goes on in each of our lives sometimes a witness is just what we need.

I’m leaving you with a favorite song, Marc Cohn singing,  Let Me Be Your Witness and thanks again…for being mine.

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Baking Scones In 2009 – With A Recipe From 1907

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I will be the first to admit that if you ask my family and friends in America what kind of cook I am, you’re likely to get a mixed response. Some will say they think I make the best sweet potato casserole they’ve ever tasted and I’d have to agree with them. Unfortunately, it’s a family recipe that I’m just recreating…this in itself does not make me Martha Stewart or Alton Brown, but it is one of the better things I can cook. Ask Miranda about the last time I made her turkey meatloaf (1994) and her cat food comparison food review and you’ll understand why I didn’t attempt that recipe again.

I must admit I’ve had to learn to cook a bit differently here in England as they measure things in grams and milliliters. Ovens are a bit different too. Ours is an electric fan oven which reminds me of a convection oven, but it measures temperature in Celsius not Fahrenheit. I generally do alright if there’s a recipe to follow and yesterday while out with my friend Tina and her twin girls, I discovered a darling little cookbook filled with some of my favorite English goodies. I was up early this morning going through the book below looking for a scone recipe that might be good for my first attempt at scone making.

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Mabel I. Rivers published this little book in 1907

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If you notice the price above, poor Mabel’s 75 page cookbook only sold for 1 shilling which according to John, would have been about 20 cents. Below is the recipe I used only instead of currents, I put sultanas in mine.

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Currant Scones

If you’re like me the very idea of using lard is not even within the realm of possibility. I made a few healthier substitutions. I decreased the salt and had to do a little research to decide what exactly qualified as a moderate oven temperature which was easier than deciding what a quick oven temp might be.

The results were very pleasing…scones can be square or round so I made a little of both.

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After spreading on a generous portion of my favorite Scottish jam and a dab of Cornish butter,  it was just about perfect.

MACKAY'S Scottish Three Berry Preserve

MACKAY'S Scottish Three Berry Preserve

Nothing left to say here but Mmmmm!

Hot From The Oven

Hot From The Oven

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More Than Just A Wave

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Ry Saying Goodbye

When babies are learning to talk, one of the very first things they learn is how to say bye-bye. Along with a which they usually pick up the importance of tossing in a bit of hand waving as well.  Like all new (dog) mommies, my daughter Miranda has been teaching Ry to do a bit more than just sit around looking pretty. While I was back in America recently, she proudly had Ry demonstrate some of his newly acquired skills. He’s a smart pup and when there’s food involved can pick up new things faster than some of the folks who descended on my garage sale two weeks ago.

I think his little wave was one of the cutest things she taught him, although I have to say I loved his exuberant high five as well.  He jumps up to go paw to hand when she says, “High five” and you almost expect him to say, “Aw right ” along with it.

It’s been a busy four weeks since I went home to Georgia to sort, sell, and ship my stuff over to England. As you might expect, I have more than a few stories for you. Back at home in Cornwall now with John, it’s a blue sky morning and I’m getting ready to go for my first run in a month with Tina, my running buddy and friend. We’re meeting like we always do on the the village green at 9:00 and I’ll be a second or two late as I usually am, because I just have to write one more word before I go. She’ll be there on time and waiting and will swoosh away my apologies with a wave of her hand…understanding and happy just to say hello again.  

 

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Diversions And Updates

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dscf4319I’m still waist deep in boxes and sorting as I decide what will move to England with me. The shippers come a week from Monday and I’m working steadily to go through everything and repack the non-breakables. (the shippers have to pack the fragile stuff)

I’m having a huge, mammoth yard sale on the 15 th & 16 th so I have a good deadline for getting it all done before sending what’s left off on the 18th. In addition to the stress of completing such a task, I find myself getting terribly maudlin at times seeing so much of my past spreading out before me. 

Late at night or in moments when I grab a bite of food, I slip to my computer to do a fast catch up on the blogs I read. Those of you who pop by mine should know how much a quick look at your words and images shakes me out of the past and reminds me of the life I have in the present.  It’s a big help to me right now. 

Today over a breakfast bagel and my third cup of coffee, I took a look at a favorite blogger that I follow. Rima, over at The Hermitage, lives a life most of us couldn’t dream of and her lovely space is alway a delight. The post I read today reminds me of Cornwall and John and what waits for me on my return. Please take a minute to go by and read her post, What I Saw By The Wayside.  While you’re there, take a good look around her site…she’s a wonderful artist and paints the most amazing scenes on the clocks that she makes.  

Have a great weekend and I be back in a bit…once I get through all of this mess.

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In The Air Again

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I’ve “moved house” as they say here in England so often I feel as if I could almost do it in my sleep. As a child, we moved so many times that I missed a good bit of what was important in school…thank goodness I was a big bookworm or I’m afraid I’d know very little. By the time I was in the ninth grade, I’d been to 10 schools and in one extreme year of elementary school, I occupied a desk in 4 different schools on both the east and west coast. It’s no wonder that I grew up with a fierce case of wanderlust.

At 18, I joined the Army and left home moving after completing basic training to my first duty assignment, a post in Baumholder, Germany. I arrived there with what I could carry in two large suitcases and an over stuffed military duffel bag. The rest of my childhood things stayed in Georgia with my family so deciding what to pack was not too difficult. These last few months have presented a different set of choices with regard to packing and moving… some of which have been more difficult than others.

As I leave to fly back to Atlanta today, it is with a clear goal in mind. During the next few weeks, I’ll be sorting through what’s left of my physical life in Georgia. Ever a saver with too much stuff, I’ve been going through things since early last year when John and first considered the possibility of sharing a life together in Cornwall.

It was during the first bit of sorting and selling that I came up with the name of my blog…Gifts Of  The Journey. Having surrounded myself so long with things that held memories that I considered part of my story, I never would have believed I would or could consider letting them go. It would have seemed almost as if I were being asked to slice off a finger or a toe. I thought I needed those things to help me balance and connect to what was important. It was during the time when I was selling off the furniture and things that made my house so cozy, that I realized the gifts I was receiving in learning how to let go of the physical stuff in exchange for my deepening connection with John. I had no idea where we would go or really how we would get there, but what I did know was that my house and all the things inside were not what made it a home. Freeing myself from the belongings that I thought had to have, gave me the opportunity to start over in a life I could not have imagined would be so right for me.

I’m back in the air again soon and my next post will find me sorting through books and art and bits of my old life…choosing with the care and heartache my immigrant ancestors must have felt when moving to America so many years ago.  All I can think is…thank goodness, I don’t have to only bring what I can carry.

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Shades Of Grey And In Between

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Many things are not as black and white for me as they appear to be for others. Faith, acceptance and unquestioning belief come so easily to some providing a foundation that guides them in all ways. My own thoughts, especially at this time of year when Christians celebrate the death and resurrection of Christ, drift back and forth through non-committal shades of grey. I feel as if I am Thomas reborn at times…I know I’m not alone though and this song captures much of what I feel on this day and most days.

The song’s worth hearing…take a listen, when you have a moment.

Doubting Thomas

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A Tender Hello

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Father & Son Reunion

Father & Son Reunion

In airports, you often see the best and worst of people. Tired, cranky, and sometimes scared, they can be a field of emotional land mines to navigate through as you edge your way past bag drops and security check points. Frequently, it’s the people traveling for business who are at their worst. Believing themselves to be masters of their own universe, they can make life uncomfortable for everyone within hearing range when life changes the plan ever so slightly. I’ve traveled for business in the past and I understand the stress of getting to a distant location where people wait for your presentation. I know what it feels like to sink into believing that a missed flight is a missed opportunity that will be difficult to recover from. Rarely is that the case though. If what you offer is what’s needed, people will still want to hear you no matter when you arrive. 

In the last year, my travel life, business life, and love life have all gone through dramatic changes. Airports look different to me now. Instead of moving at breakneck speed towards departure gates or rental car pickups, I travel for love. Flying these days is about reuniting with family and friends or exploring places I’ve never been before. Since moving to Cornwall to marry my darling Englishman, my life has slowed down to a pace where I can breathe again. More importantly, I can see again. Instead of rushing about with my focus always on the future or getting things done, I have time to see what is in front of me. It is a gift of astronomical proportions and one I don’t take for granted.

It is with these fresh eyes that I captured the image you see above, a father and son reunion at the Atlanta airport taken last March while waiting for John to arrive. Although I was still working ferociously long days through a fog of must do items and endless lists, I was beginning to be able to see more clearly what was happening in the rest of the world. With love filling my own heart, I could pause to recognize it in those around me, even those who were strangers. Like the tender hello of the father to his son, I began to welcome the heart of me, perhaps the best part of me, back home where it belonged.

 

Today’s post was inspired by Karen Walrond’s post over at Shutter Sisters…take a look if you’ve never been before…it’s a good place to look for things you thought you’d lost.