“The Tea Girls”

famThe first week of May.

Quite frankly, my head has been spinning about what to write. Motherhood. Children. Rites of passage. Joy. Gratitude. . . for mothers and children, school years ending and summers beginning, friends and family and forgiveness…..

Song a May Morning

I recently read an on-line story that the best Mother’s Day gifts  involved leaving mom alone. Admittedly when my children were very small quiet, some occasional  alone-time might have been very welcome.  Sleep was a rare commodity. Spending quality time with other adults, girl-friends was cherished.

Mother's Day 1994I’ve been blessed to have remarkable friends throughout my life. Male and Female. There are no time limits, labels or geography when it comes to those kind of friends. I have a friend who says: “time stands still on those kind of friendships.” She’s right.

When I first relocated to Baton Rouge, my children were young I joined a ‘play group’ with four other young mothers. We met at first on Tuesdays, then eventually branched out….sharing everything from swimming lessons to understanding what happened at the pediatrician to First Communions. Growing Up. Starting school. We were all ‘transplants’, none of us  had local family so it was nice knowing there was a safety net of friends.  Louise-Roe-Vintage-Women-Drinking-Tea-In-Nice-Dresses

It became the custom for our group to go to High Tea on the Saturday before Mother’s Day.  Clotted cream, lemon curd, scones….a May tradition.  Looking back, we started as young mothers going to ‘play dates’ and transformed into the ‘The Tea Girls’, a  diverse yet supportive group of friends. During ‘teas’ we shared our hopes and dreams for the future. Clearly being a mother was the most important work  any of us would do…..will ever do….but as creative individuals we had the support of each other to ‘bounce’ ideas: What about this business venture? What about grad school?

In the twenty- five plus years since we became friends some of us have moved to other cities, divorced, remarried, seen our own children get married. We have supported each other through the loss of parents and illness within the group. Friends, good friends, keep us grounded and healthy. They are a mirror for our soul. This group was that.women-holding-hands1

There is little doubt in my mind that much of the credit for my success as a mother came from the example of my own mother. If Yvonne was  gently whispering in one ear,  I was lucky enough to have  “The Tea Girls” whispering in the other. I’m grateful for both pieces of wisdom and for the Saturday before Mother’s Day….tea cup

Today, as we honor mothers I’ll be nibbling on scones and lifting my cup…to My Mother….to Your Mother….”Tea Girls”everywhere…..and to the children they raised…..

April Abandon

April.
Spring is dressed up in all her finery. I’ve learned to appreciate Spring without waiting for the other shoe to drop.   Discovered order out of chaos. I’m a person who likes traditions and memories as much as I like knowing there is hope in tomorrow, being aware of the possible of each moment. SERENDIPITY!
 Once, April began an adventure to a yesterday I chose not to remember.  Now the  journey is creative, collaborative,  filled with a different abandon. Paradigm Shift.DSC_0212
“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

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Recently my daughter Sarah, a graduate film student asked people to submit experiences about “loss” or being “lost”: anything from losing keys to more profound experiences. St. Anthony certainly came to mind since I’ve evoked him plenty during my life: “Tony, Tony please come round…..”. Ultimately, I submitted something a little more reflective.
 
Shout for joy, O daughter Zion! Sing joyfully, O Israel! Be glad and exult with all your heart! Zephaniah 3:14
 
Beauty. Loss. Struggle. Finding a way… 
 
When I was very young I went with my parents and older brother to the Louisiana State Fair in Shreveport. I remember the bright lights and music of the midway, the smell of the carnival food. Somehow I was separated from them. Hazy memory:  the loudspeaker blares my name, my mother calls for me, my father picks me up. I am safe. I used to dream that memory.

 

April 19, 1985.  I’m called to the phone during a  choir rehearsal. Busy, I say. Take a message, I say. Urgent. Come with abandon. I take the call. My brother with news. The minute I hear his first word….. I know. 
The unsettling confusion I remembered encountering on the midway returned.  Loss. Lost. Change so visceral you can taste it. Until that day if anyone had ever asked my greatest fear I would’ve said: ‘losing my mother’. I was twenty-five. Naive. Sheltered……Unconditionally loved. me and mother christmas
My mother had experienced loss: her only brother in his 30’s, the mother engagementmonth before I was born; her mother, other relatives, friends . I witnessed her strength, her intelligence, her faith in life’s scenarios: joys and struggles. It has been one of her greatest lessons to me. In her short life, 59 years, she showed me how to live with style and grace.
daddy carI’ve wondered how I could ever be the person my parents were: honest, involved, fun, loving, warm. They raised me to live an independent life…as me, not them.  Exactly want I for my own children. Because of that example there is no loss; I am not lost or abandoned.
 
My parents words have stuck with me, reminding me to be a person of faith and not fear, guiding me along the right path, to love all people and walk humbly. Even when I have stumbled, their wisdom and spirit have brought truth to a world often absent of it. Not the least of which: I was born in their heart. Because of it I carry a piece of theirs in mine. . . for the journey. . .with sheer abandon…but never abandoned.
 
Here’s to the beautiful people finding a way….
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Phoenix Rising

Louisiana and Mardi Gras. They go together like red beans and rice. New Orleans and Jazz.

Mardi Gras isn’t just one day but a season, an attitude. Carnival season starts when the first King Cake appears on the Feast of Epiphany.  In turn, the day following, “Ash Wednesday” is determined by the date of Easter which is set as the Sunday following the paschal full moon, which is the full moon that falls on or after the vernal equinox. A. Mouth. Full.

Like so many things in South Louisiana, the lines between sacred and secular are often blurred. Easter is late this year which made for a long Carnival season.DSC_0211

“Throw me sumthin’, Mister”!

Young. Old. In-betweens. The art of the ‘catch’. Balls. Doubloons. Pearls. Krewes. Kings. Queens.  Floats. Flambeaux. Laissez le bon temps rouler.   Let the good times roll.

It’s taken me over two decades to appreciate the finer points of the culture and tradition of Mardi Gras.  Joie de vivre  Twenty-five years of living here, this North Louisiana native-Irish-Catholic is still much more at home on Ash Wednesday; however, I have come to appreciate the rhythm and cadence of the changing seasons.   Last summer I went to a parade back home in North Louisiana only to realize that most parades pale in comparison once you’ve been to any parade in South Louisiana. DSC_0138

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Saturday I attended a local Mardi Gras parade with friends.  A beautiful,warm day.  There are no strangers at these events in South Louisiana. At one point the parade stopped for over 30 minutes. While we waited, music from the floats continued  playing. A beautiful little boy, eight or nine, started dancing.  The woman next to him joined in. Total strangers dancing together, joined in community. Diverse in age, race. No labels. Serendipity. Joy. The moment was beautiful.

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                                                                                   As with all good things the parade ended. My son Patrick always liked the ‘last float’: the street sweepers.  He enjoyed seeing the beads attached to the DSC_0302brushes. I always thought it was a nice segue from Carnival to Lent, a cleansing. Some of the things I have in my life need cleaning up, sprucing up.

Lent.  A good street sweeper would do the trick. Slowing down after the parade. There are a few remnants of the good times had but cleaning up, examining the leftovers. Taking time. Thinking about others.

Finding the old leaves and burning them could be the right idea after all. Starting fresh. A phoenix rising from the ashes. DSC_0151

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