Strength

I wasn't going to write here today but I had two interesting experiences yesterday that made the word "strength" immediately pop into my head....My mother called after a tiring & trying couple days down in Chicago. The father of a friend of the family had passed away, and Mom wanted to show her respect by attending the wake and funeral. How strange, first off, it must have been for her to see some of her old South Side friends, but even more strange that she was one of the only women who actually showed up out of the group and that she was left talking to the guys, who were all C's friends originally. (The friend of the family has known C since childhood). As for C? Yes, he was there with MA, and Mom told me that she didn't know how to react so she shook his hand and asked how he was.....Must have been a strange experience, you know, 20 yrs., 3 kids, and lots of stuff later....to just shake hands like that. But she said they were actually pleasant to one another; she'd brought him pictures of us from our trip to Scotland; and in the cemetery, while she was crying and contemplating life's losses and possibilities--saying goodbye to people, moving here to Portland--C even offered some kind words to her. Here's the "strong" part, though: As she turned to leave, she said maybe he should call his three sons, to check in with them. She did so kindly and with genuine concern. But what did C do? His viper tendencies came out, and he spat at her, "It's because of you that they hate me! You've brainwashed them!" And what did Mom do in return? --and you go, girl!--she said, "No, C, it's because of you that they feel the way they do. They're all adults. You're the one who showed them your true colors. You have no one to blame but yourself." And they both walked away, upset, in opposite directions. It's sad that C felt the need to lash out--especially in that cemetery, a place of honor and worship--but I'm glad my mom stuck to her guns and stood strong and gave him a healthy dose of his own medicine....When we talked about this, she was driving through Lemont. She'd already taken pictures of our old house, and as we chatted she passed Stephanie Treece's house (she was our babysitter and I think of her with such love and fondness) and St. Patrick's, where I attended school back in my Catholic childhood days....She was on her way to visit her parents' graves and to bring them flowers....I love you and your strength, Mom! You are such an example to Jordan, Aaron, and me!....Here's my other example from yesterday: In the evening I attended a reading for Write Around Portland (WRAP), an organization that provides creative writing workshops for people who might not otherwise have the opportunity to participate in one. Various groups are represented through WRAP: runaway teenagers, LGBT teens, teen mothers, men and women who've spent time in prison, people with disabilities, people recovering from substance abuse, survivors of Hurricane Katrina, people living with HIV & AIDS, and others....(And if you want to learn more about WRAP simply check out their website at: www.writearound.org. Maybe you're just curious, or maybe you want to get involved or donate. In any case, it's worth a look. And if any of you ever want to donate journals for any of the participants--many of them can't afford their own, and WRAP provides all writers with journals, pens, etc.--bring them to me and I'll shimmy them over to the WRAP office.) The reading was poignant, beautiful, powerful, sad, enlightening, and strengthening. Men and women, boys and girls, from all walks of life read their fiction, creative non-ficition, and poetry. The writers discussed the loves of their lives, kicking unhealthy addictions, dealing with brain damage in the aftermath of car accidents, accepting their HIV status, accepting becoming a mother when you're not even eighteen, learning to find meaning in the deaths of those close to us....One young woman, M, read a piece called "The Dishes," and I was so incredibly moved when she compared washing dishes to raising a family, how some people seem to do it so effortlessly, the way they scrub and dry and keep everything in order....But for M, like so many of us (if not for all of us when it comes down to it, really) we sometimes find stains on the glass, or forget to get rid of all the scum on the plates, or something shatters, or something is forgotten. M is just one of the multitudes who had the strength and courage to get up there in front of an audience and share their stories....People discussed dragons and anger, hurricanes and caskets, tears and laughter. Yes, there was laughter too. And lots of smiles. That's the best part, isn't it? Taking sadness and bathing it with grace? So thank you, Mom and everyone involved with WRAP, for once again showing me that despite all this yuckiness in the world there's also bucketloads of dignity, compassion, and strength. Big shout-outs, my friends, always!