Telling Stories

This is one of my favorite shots from yesterday. And thankfully there are many that I really like, which I’ll make use of. And apparently the cold and snow didn’t kill my cameras, which was amazing. And fortunate for me because a new camera is not in the budget. I took the chance and it paid off in great photos, and I get to shoot more stuff another day.

The Adventure of it All

The snow fell and, on contact with the camera, started to melt. I was constantly wiping it off, and trying to cover it with my hand. When I wasn’t using a camera, I stuck it inside my jacket to protect it. I just couldn’t stop shooting.

I switched between two cameras, my still shot camera , the Fuji FinePix 5200 and the video camera, JVC Everio. It was a lot of fun.

Now, I’ve heard that it may be fun for us (my mom and brother, nephew and niece had fun in it too) because we don’t get a lot of snow. I can’t say. All I know is I had a blast. And the next time it snows, if health and time permit, I’ll be out in it again. Although, I may try to see some other places too instead of staying at home.

Once I figure out how to adjust the size of my photos, I will be able to post more directly from my Flickr account. Sometimes, I’d really like for the photos to take up the full width of my post column. Until I figure that out, I’ll just set the size using my Corel® software.

Mom watching the Snow
Originally uploaded by ShariLS

This year the snow came early and it fell in abundance. It makes me feel hopeful about EVERYTHING!

As soon as I heard it was snowing, I was ecstatic! It doesn’t snow often here in Missouri City, Texas. And this is really early in the year for it too. I captured some really nice shots that I’ll be uploading to my Flickr account over the next few days.

Where the Inspiration led Me

It made me think of the possibilities of all that I want to accomplish in the coming year. I was inspired to increase my probabilities of success, just because it makes sense today. I want to start out aggressively. That way if I taper off (as I usually do) I should have moved forward quickly enough to be able to coast a bit.

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Oaks of Dillard University
Originally uploaded by ShariLS

Photograph taken at the 2008, 50 year reunion-graduation ceremony for my mom and dad. My dad passed away the year before.

Happily Distracted

I’ve been really busy and got pulled away from blogging, poetry and the Flickr work I’d planned. What pulled me away? I’ve been tied up building websites from scratch. I know, that’s crazy right? Not really.

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I thought cameras on cell phones
was really quite a waste
until I traveled to Johannesburg, South Africa.

The youths in the group
soon ran out of film
and my stores I had to limit.
After I shared my max,
they pulled out their cell phones
to continue taking pictures
. . . and I thought better of it.

Then I thought,
Cell phones to talk
is that too much to ask?
What’s the point of music
and texting and internet surfing?
until—
Hurricane Katrina hit and
knocked out all communications
save for one, can you guess?
Voice calls were intermittent at best.
But we could with some reliability
send and receive text messages.

I’ve given up on keeping ahead,
content with being able to
catch up to changes.
I’m stowing my cell phone
innovation skepticism.
Since just recently I sent my first email
from Gmail my web-based service,
I’m fully on board with all the new junk.
I’m getting an 8GB 3G iPhone.

© 2008 by Shari Lynne Smothers

The Hard Parts

I was preparing to leave my dad’s hospital room. He was very sick with cancer and other complications. He had suffered and recovered from setbacks that required surgeries, but he couldn’t seem to shake everything. Blood clots were his problem four years earlier and he still was plagued with them. We saw him through so much, but he was leaving us.

This day was a peculiarly gentle, warm day nearing fall. It had rained and then the sun came beaming out. It hurt every time leaving my dad in the hospital because I knew how much he hated being there. It didn’t matter that he was understanding about my leaving, he complained enough for me to understand that his heart wasn’t in that. And I understood that because I knew his personality. Still, I had to keep things in perspective so that I could just keep going. This particular day, dad was not ready for me to leave, and asked for different things “before you leave.”

Light in the Middle Parts

I stayed a little longer and did a few more things for him and just sat awhile longer. I told him that I’d return tomorrow, or maybe even pass back after I finished my errands. His spirits lifted and I was content that he was satisfied. As I left the hospital, I started to feel a little lighter because with just a little more time, dad was better prepared to be without family for the evening. Driving down the street the day was shimmering and such a feeling came over me. It was a promise I could almost hear. I called my mom, I just couldn’t wait to get to her house. I told her that things were about to change for us all. Mom asked me, “Like what? What do you mean?” “I don’t know really. That’s all I got.” She said okay and that she felt that way too.

In the weeks that passed, dad started to show some improvement. And he did get a little better—enough to get home. I got some good job offers. My youngest brother came to town to see my dad before he got really sick. My family and friends kept my mind occupied and life just felt tolerable with good stuff in the middle. I was laughing and talking and appreciating good things that were coming my way, as I grieved the illness that had invaded my dad’s body.

I was talking to one friend and he asked my how I was doing. I told him I was well, and that made me pause because I didn’t know how I was well. It was amazing to me that in the face of my abject sorrow, I was still able to smile and laugh from my soul—I could still touch my joy.

Dad went back into the hospital a time or two and each time I went with him. When I could, I spent the whole day with him. We would talk about the things that I was working on, like my editing course, or learning HTML. Sometimes he would sleep, and he would apologize for not being a good host. It never mattered to me and I told him so. Sometimes we would both sleep. We just spent time at the hospital then at home. After a time, my daddy died at home.

Always Learning: Lessons are Everywhere

Looking back now over these 7 months since my dad died, and I try to track how we got through it. I wasn’t as “prepared” as I thought I’d be, and yet I survived. I appreciated all the good things that dad and I did for each other, and the time that we spent. It came to me one day when I was considering how it is that I survived:

There’s plenty of excitement in my days. Life has a way of showering down graces like mercies in difficult times. And I am drenched with reasons to be grateful.

It’s easy to be grateful for the good things that come my way, no matter how small. What was a deliberate practice years ago is now a habit of gratitude. The other part that helps me is searching for the meaning in difficult times. In my darkest times, I try not to get maudlin. But I do try to take a straight-on look at things; my goal is to take up some treasure from the muck. Writing them down helps to soothe me. The poem Life Lessons (at the end of the post, I Write for Me First) is from a sifting expedition; one that took me passed the why and straight to appreciation.

Death and why
don’t sit together in me for long.
It makes me feel too inept.
Because without exception,
I come back to accepting that
it happens
just
because.

Mother’s Day with Mom

This past Mother’s Day weekend, I met up with my mother in New Orleans, Louisiana. She was there to celebrate with her Dillard University graduating class, their 50th Reunion. It is a big deal to the University as it may be at other universities as well. And it was special to classmates. You see, their Dillard University class studied and lived and grew as a community. They were part of each others’ lives. Some had matriculated from as far back as grade school together. It was very special to me too, for different reasons.

My mom introduced me to the man who sang at her and daddy’s wedding. She introduced me to a lady who was stunned by how much I look like my daddy. And Aromenta’s familiar face that was part of my growing up years.

I watched my mom enjoy herself. And I paid attention to her appreciation for the life she lived and how she lived it. Even though they didn’t keep in touch regularly, these friends seemed to delight in their time togetherr. Mom introduced me to one man, and I moved to shake his hand. He held out his arms and said, “Mackie’s daughter? I have to hug you.” People made it a point to tell me how highly they thought of my dad. There’s so much I took away from the two days that I spent with mom and her classmates, so much feeling and appreciating.

It seems I watch my mom a lot more closely since my dad died. And, I watched her spend time with her friends, talking and catching up before they go their separate ways. She and they seemed to take full advantage of the time that they had. No matter how often I watch them spend time with their friends, the fundamental lessons I take from them are lived out before my eyes. And my mom reinforced them once again:

1. First, carry on
2. Second, cherish my history
3. Third, never underestimate the power of friendship

Appreciating Where I’m From

My mom, Helen, is on the left
and her dear friend Roxy on the right.
They’re smiling together
posing for the photo,
chatting,
reveling in the moment.

I shot the picture
remembering Roxy dancing
in my parents’ bedroom on Annette Street.
She’d come by to see our new baby;
probably it was my brother Damon.

I remember how I was enthralled by her dancing.
I’d managed to stay in the room
as the grown-ups chatted.
Her energy filled the room
the hem of her mini skirt shimmied
her necklace almost touching it
swaying as she and my mom laughed
and shared girl talk and friendship.

Time has passed and geography separates them.
My daddy always nearby
is now passed away almost seven months.
What I see watching mom and her friends,
their expressions as they talk together
the bonds forged in their youth
is only more seasoned, a given,
unmoved by the distance between them.

It was a lovely day, warm with a nice breeze
blowing silently through the majestic oaks,
clear enough for my cameras to
capture what I wanted to keep.
My dad almost made it
but my mom’s still here to celebrate it.
In me is enough of both of them
to attend, appreciate and enjoy
the friendships they forged
and be back in time for work on Monday.
I was able to send pictures
and details to my family
who couldn’t be in attendance.
In all of this I am thankful.

And I continue.
Life is good with all that’s gone from me.
I’m grateful for all I have
and events and time and stuff left to do.
Whatever will be my future,
at these events, I glimpse insights of
parts and people that impacted my parents
who in turn shaped me.
I like knowing.

© 2008 by Shari Lynne Smothers

by Shari Lynne Smothers

Thank you Father, for everything.
For the flowers and the trees
and birds that sing.
For the cool, smooth crooning,
Jazz playing on my stereo.
For all the places You’ve taken me.
For all the experiences I have yet to know.
There are so many things
that I have yet to learn.
There are so many doors that You’ve opened for me
until I know not which way to turn.

I falter at times. Though generally I try hard,
I don’t always put my best foot forward.
Eternally grateful am I that You’re not at all, to me,
indifferent apathetic and untoward.
The ever-vigil watch that You keep,
continuing my very breathing while I sleep
sometimes goes unnoticed.
I can’t always see You through my worries.
I forget that Your graces are
all-powerful through all my stories.
Each scenario I come up with to
worry me to pieces
is a contingent handled. Before I get there
I have been released.

Woe be unto me, not for having been forsaken,
but for forgetting who was in charge of
this light of mine, for forgetting
that Your unerring watch will ever remain unshaken.

from Pebbles in My Shoes ©2004

Back-story: This poem is older than many of the others included in the book. It came from a morning reflection after a particularly hectic time in my life. I was sitting in my car parked at the Lake Front in New Orleans, Louisiana reading a book.

I was distracted by emotion thinking about having finally finished college. And I was grateful. I wanted to capture the gratitude, appreciation and thankfulness I was feeling. I flipped to the back of the book that I was reading and let this flow from my pencil.

Amen represents a culmination of a lifetime of gratitude to that point. It’s in this book because that sense of gratitude is ever present, certainly reinforced by milestones in my life, like the publication of Pebbles in My Shoes.

Gratitude Habit

It’s fitting to end this month with this poem because I’m pleased that I managed to participate even for a short while in National Poetry Month. And I got to do it on my own terms.

Blogging is a great way for me to get my writing out. It’s been pretty exciting since I’m usually not so brave. When I think back, this time last year I hardly knew what the bloggosphere was about. Now I write posts at work and at home and I only want to get better at it.

I’m grateful. And this habit of being thankful has taken over my life. It is something that I consciously cultivated as I reminded myself even in my heaviest hours to be grateful. It’s been joyfully dubbed my gratitude habit by a very dear friend.

Please share your expressions of gratitude. I would love to include a link to your blog in a post in early May.

by Shari Lynne Smothers

Luminous full Moon with its
finely etched marble finish.
A beautiful lamp God mounted.

Looks like He put in
a brand new bulb.
I can see the gray markings clearly.

So brightly does it shine
in the cool blue sky,
it radiates out have its own thickness.

If I held up a paper
I could trace exactly
the picture on the side of the moon.

When my grandmother and I
were out on a night like tonight,
She would sing the moon song.

I never learned that song
I don’t even know that I liked it.
Only that I loved to hear her sing it.

She may have been flat
or slightly off key,
but there was pure joy in her voice

that gave me just one thing more
that I would one day miss,
each time I see a beautiful moon

clearly on a night like this.

From Pebbles in My Shoes, ©2004

Back-story: This is another poem from when my grandmother was sick; it was time I spent enjoying what we had left, and who I was losing, by reflecting on things we shared. The only thing left is the rest of the story. In the time since I wrote the poem, March 2003, a full moon still makes me remember, and smile.