Childlike Wonder

     I purchased some clay marbles at a flea market last month. I couldn't help myself. It was wonderment at first sight. Years of play (they are from the Civil War era) has left them with such a beautiful patina. The earthen colors drew me in. 

     Holding them in my hands transported my imagination through time at the possibilities of ownership. Black and white images of children crowding around the ground, bent at the waist, some squatting to get a better view, watching, waiting for the shooter to act. Crack! The marbles slam into one another and the children stand and jump, arms in the air, hooting and hollaring. Their neighborhood marble champ has done it again!

     Perhaps they have seen harder times as well. A soldier filling his pockets with the cold, orbital love notes. A gift from his sweetheart as he heads off to war. She knew they were a favorite game of his and she wanted him to have something with him that would make him smile, a good luck trinket he could rub if he were scared or lonely. Perhaps pull out for a game or two if given a chance.

     A grandpa passing his beloved marbles down to his great-grandson proclaiming "I only had a few toys when I was your age. Money was scarce. We made do with our imaginations. But these." He looked longingly into the past, his smile growing youthful with the memory, "These were my treasure. Out of the few toys I had, my marbles were my favorite. I won quite a bit of money playing marbles! I was the town champ!"

     Clay pulled from the earth, formed, glazed, fired. Through the years filled with memory. Worn away from hands of play. Kept in pockets, bags, drawers. Traveling around from owner to owner. Where did they come from? What stories do they have to tell? If you tracked them back to the ground from which they came, what would the earth say? Would it sigh a story of their birth?

     There is something magical about old toys. Made with earthen elements. Wood, clay, metal. Holding amazing energy. All you have to do is hold them, close your eyes, and listen. They are little story tellers.

Prideful Share

Weeks worth of emotions, thoughts and words are ruminating in my brain, their current consistency too thick to plate (upon the page). With a bit more time to marinatee they will become tender and more favorable a dish to pass.

For the time being, I am sharing a poem written by my eleven year old son. Bloody brilliant if you ask me! This mom is so impressed!

Element Poetry

by Carter Retzlaff

Gold

Shiny, rarity

Melting, freezing, bending

Jewelry, electricity, dentistry, bedrock

Dissolving, reflecting, shaping

Valued, attractive

Au

 Poetry © Carter Retzlaff

(I had to ask what "Au" meant. It's the elemental abbreviation for gold on the periodic table. He is already learning chemistry, a subject never presented in my education.)

Surprise

I love a good surprise.

Good as in happy!

Not good as in "I got you real good!"

Yesterday there was a wonderful surprise waiting outside as my son was heading out for the bus.

Mother Nature

She's the best!

Being Real

 I have been sitting at the computer for over a half an hour writing and re-writing this post.

Part of me wants to dump a long story on the page.

Part of me wants to hide my struggle.

The part of me that won is the part of me that likes to keep things simple and real.

This is me.

Simple

and

Real

Flaws and all.

 I was standing outside of my vehicle talking to an acquaintance this past weekend.

One of my kids, waiting inside, grabbed my camera and (unbeknownst to me) snapped this shot.

A few days later, I uploaded the weekend photos to my computer. I found this picture.

My hand instantly went to the delete button.

Common practice. I am the one behind the camera. Not the one in the pictures.

I see this picture and I see a dirty window, a wrinkled face, a goofy expression.

I see myself and I judge and criticize and condemn (over and over and over).

I see others and I love and embrace and accept.

Why am I so hard on myself? Why do I find it hard to look at myself?

~ ~ ~

This picture is taken of me as seen through my child's eyes.

This person is who my children unconditionally love.

They don't judge me, criticize me, tear me down.

This is the same person who my friends lift up and love.

What do they see that I don't? 

Perhaps a better question would be, why don't I see what they do?

On the surface I do a fairly good job of self-acceptance (for the most part), flaws and all.

Laugh it off, toughen up, nobody's perfect. Right?

Deep down it's a different story. When I get to the core, I don't let anything go.

I condemn myself and judge myself to the harshest degree.

I have been digging deep lately and have realized that my harshest self-punishment

has been the condemnation of my young self. I was severely mistreated and I blamed myself.

All these years I have held onto the self-hate and loathing.

The sick feeling that it was my fault. That I deserved it. That I was worthless, expendable.

Why was I so weak? Why did I allow it? I blamed myself.

Why has it always been so much easier to accept and forgive others?

Even those who have hurt or betrayed me?

Perhaps because I never saw myself the way I see others. As a person. Someone who matters.

Seeing myself through my child's eyes has created a change in perspective for me.

I am really looking at myself (possibly) for the first time.

My eyes have opened WIDE. I want forgiveness.

I want to learn to forgive myself and ask God to forgive and heal me.

Body, mind, soul.

 

Looking again at my children, I now see the youth in me.

If my children were ever as scared or injured as I was when I was young, would I condemn them?

Judge them? Blame them? Continuously punish them?

Never!

I would love them, hold them, heal them.

If they didn't know how to protect themselves, to fight back, to not be a victim,

would I lay continuous guilt on them?

No! I would empower them and teach them and embrace them.

If their reaction, retaliation and coping mechanisms to the pain were not pretty,

were harmful, were wrong, would I brush them aside and let them continue to destroy themselves?

Again, the answer is no.

I would hold them tight, let them kick, scream and cry.

Let them get all the ugliness out and I would fill the space with love and light.

 Pardon me while I weep.

Lesson learned.

Time for the healing to begin.

Today's Guest

I am hosting a guest author/artist today.

My 10 y/o son wanted to share some of his writing.

I'm sure he would love to hear what you think!

Care to indulge him with some blogland love?

Lennon Vs. Carter

by Carter Retzlaff (with guest Lennon The Cat)

L- “Since I’m so famous you should re…”

C- “You are NOT famous! You’re a regular old cat that has cat asthma, can jump eight feet in the air, do a somersault in the air and can open everything in the house!”

L- “Most cats can’t do that stuff you know.”

C- “Fine. You win.”

L- “Yes!!! I beat the record!”

C- “What record?”

L- “Oh, just the record on how many times I can win in one day.”

C- “THAT’S IT! I WILL GET YOU FOR THIS!”

Yawn

L-  “You’re boring.”

yawn… zzzzzzzzz

(the next day)

C- “Oh Lennon! I got a new rock wall for you!”

zoom

screech

L- “Wait a minute. Cats don’t climb rocks.”

C- “Wild cats do and anyway, you have your room at the top.”

L- “Really?”

C- “Yeah!”

Zoom

C- “Sucker! That rock wall is over 10 feet high. It’ll cost a life to get down.”

C- “Yow!”

whack!

C- “Hey! Keep your butt out of my face!!!”

L- “This rope is awesome!”

C- “Rope? Hey! I didn’t order the Tarzan Special.”

L- “Hey, this computer has internet.”

C- “Internet? Computer? I bet he’s just joking.”

L- “Hey Carter! I can climb down too!”

C- “Lennon! Why I’m gonna get…”

ding dong

C- “Hold on. The mailman is here.”

3…

2…

1…

C- “A BILL FOR A HUNDRED DOLLARS FOR PLAYING EAT THE COW?!?!?!?!?!”

L- “That’s not all.”

C- “BLACK MAIL! THIS BLACKMAIL IS LITERALLY BLACK!”           

L- “Ah. This video game called ‘Rabid Bunny Attack’ rocks!”

C- “Um… Hey Lennon!”

L- “What?”

C- “Can I play too?”

L- “Sure.”

(after climbing the rock wall)

C- “So what level are you on?”

L- “10”

C- “How many levels are there?”

L- “1000”

C- “Is it two player?”

L- “Yup.”

C- “When can I join in?”

L- “Any time.”

C- “What are we s’posed to do?”

L- “Well, you’re on the bunny side and I’m on the cat side.”

C- “What do we attack you with?”

L- “Plungers. And we attack you with swords and catapults.”

C- “That’s unfair!”

L- “Who said life was fair?”

C- “That’s it! I’m not going to talk to you! Good-bye!”

L- “Have a nice fall!”

C- “What do you mean, ‘have a nice fall’?”

Triiip

C- “Yaaaaaaaaaa!!!!”

splat!

C- “I think I broke something. Yaaaaa!!! My knee is bent backward!”

L- “Okay. Now I can switch bunnies to have swords and catapults and… oh yeah. I’ll visit you in the hospital.”

C- “Darned you Lennon!”

The End

What Kids Really Want

Warning: Jolly Elf discussion. Not for little eyes.

Second born is in middle school. His school shares a project with the local grade schools. All first graders wrote letters to Santa. The letters were distributed to the middle school where they had the students elves respond.

Second born elf received a letter in which the child told Santa he (the child) wanted to give him(Santa) a gift this year since Santa is always giving to everyone else. The only other request in his letter was to have a fun and happy Christmas.

Simple and sweet, right?

Second born elf's best friend elf received a letter from a boy requesting two small toys. The boy also stated that if he could have his true wish for Christmas, it would be that his daddy would play with him more.

Ouch.

For Christmas this year, in honor of the letters to Santa, I am doling out extra hugs and love. I am praying the little boy's wish for time with his daddy comes true.

I am sharing this story in the hopes that it inspires all who are reading to slow down, sit in silence and feel the real Christmas spirit. Don't listen to the noisy media-bot and reach for your wallet to spread false holiday cheer. Dig deeper. Reach into your heart. Share fistfuls of love, armloads of hugs, mouthfuls of praise and compliments.

I wish all of  you a Heart Overflowing Holiday Season. Hugs all around.

This ornament has been on my tree for many years. When my oldest was just a wee lad we went to visit an old family friend. He spotted this Santa on her tree and plucked it off. He was fascinated by it. He grinned from ear to ear and would not take his eyes off of it. Diane, always full of love and generosity, insisted he keep the ornament as it obviously made him very happy. She passed away several years later, in her early 50's, of diabetes complications. Every year I hang Santa on the tree. With that ornament I hang memories of Diane, of her love, her generosity, her spirit. She resides in my tree every Christmas.

Childlike Wonder

There's something about zebras that bring out the childlike wonder in me.

Their stripes are so bold, so exact, so... fake looking!

I've seen horses my whole life and the zebra looks like a horse in striped pajamas.

They appear to be imaginary. They are entirely too amazing to be real.

Zebras were always my favorite zoo animal by far.

When my local zoo took the zebras out, I was heartbroken.

Guess where I found them?

Near a local amusement park wandering the fields free and happy.

(as free as a large fenced field allows)

I was giggling with glee when I took the park's mini-train ride and spotted them grazing.

I could ride that train all day just to get a glimpse of this gorgeous creature.

Staring at them makes me feel like a child again.

They free my sense of wonder.

What frees your sense of wonder?

I challenge you to find something this weekend that wakes your inner child.

Give yourself permission to play!