Category Archives: Graced Moments

Mar23

The Plight of the Green Thumb

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The Plight of the Green Thumb

Last Sunday as I opened the window over my kitchen sink to let in the warm spring air I turned around and noticed this beautiful healthy poinsettia sitting quite proudly on the island,  definitely out of place. Who keeps a $7 poinsettia alive not only through the Christmas season but way into March??  Ah.. the challenges of having a green thumb.

My home is beginning to look like a nursery.  Give me a plant?  You can bet it will be twice the size next time you come over.  My indoor plants take all the love and attention I can muster.  I often give them baths in my bathtub or kitchen sink so that they can luxuriate in a cocktail of plentiful filtered water and the morning’s left over coffee.  I swear they are smiling as they absorb the nutrients and attention!  (Maybe it’s the cocktail I’m drinking.. ?)

Most people worry about having boomerang children in midlife.  I’m happy to say that my three sons are living on their own and thriving.  No, rather, I have boomerang houseplants.  Let me explain…

My two oldest sons lived together during and after college for several years.  When Patrick left for Denver to attend graduate school, he divided his house plants between Rob and me for safe keeping.  I was happy to house and nurture almost 10 plants for Patrick during the three years he was gone.  In the meantime, Rob moved home for a short time, bringing all of his plants plus Patrick’s. I worked overtime to absorb the extra greenery.  Eight months later, Rob moved out, taking only his favorite plant- a remnant of a long lost lover- and leaving the rest with me.

Do the math!  My plants plus Patrick’s plants plus Robert’s plants and Patrick’s plants minus one plant.  Yikes!  My photosynthesis runneth over!

Low and behold, Patrick finished graduate school and moved back to San Jose.  When I asked him about reclaiming his plants, he said “Don’t worry Mom! I’ll just buy some new ones!”  Oh Lordy!  However, once settled in his new digs, he came over to collect his bounty.  Among them the beautiful Japanese Maple I gave him for his college graduation, a prolific rose colored geranium, and, to my dismay, a delicate fern that I had repotted in a lovely french blue pot that went perfectly with the decor in my guest room.  ( …most likely payback for me letting his homegrown-from-a-pit avocado tree freeze to death in my back yard winter of 2013.)

However, Patrick was generous enough to leave me a cactus that had grown arms, boobs and hair since he left  (“she clearly loves it here, Mom!”) and a stately coffee tree that adorns the landing of my staircase.  I am also housing a fugitive ficus tree stolen in a drunken dare by both sons and their friends off a porch in Berkeley a la college years.  Believe me, if I knew whose it was I would return it!  But until then it will grace the corner of my living room reaching almost to the ceiling.

I repotted several plants last weekend, among them a Bleeding Heart that I actually purchased myself several years ago.

That’s me.. a bleeding heart.  A hostel for a feral cat and closets full of men’s suits and baseball cards.  My home is a revolving door to children, friends, and homeless plants.  I am honored.

Be green, dear thumb.  Be green.

 

 

Feb1

One woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure.

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One woman’s trash is another woman’s treasure.

At the end of the last school year as we scurried about preparing for graduation I found this lovely Buddha in the highly polished North Hall, dangerously close to a large trash can.  I took a photo with my phone and promptly sent it to our resident art teacher to see if she knew whose it was.  “Yes of course.  That’s Sophie’s Buddha!”

The email exchange went something like this…

Subject: your Buddha

Hi Sophie, I’m not sure if you intended to throw your Buddha away but I found him near the trash cans in the North Hall.  If you don’t want him, I will buy him from you! That will make you a professional sculptress!!

Subject: RE: your Buddha

Hi Mrs. Healy!  I think my Buddha would love to live with you!  Happy summer!  :)  Sophie

I was secretly delighted! He’s mine now!  I loved the beautiful open and upturned hands and the amethest stone in his forehead.  Why didn’t she want him, I wondered?   Maybe her mom wanted him.  Should I have suggested that?

I took him home and found a place for him under my blossoming Santa Rosa plum tree.  Narcissus grew around him.  Plums dumped their juicy essence on his head.  Yet, every time I ventured out to my garden he was there in all his peace and tranquility.  I continued to ask myself.. why didn’t she want this masterpiece?

Months later, still pondering…  I asked the art teacher, Mrs. Ford: “Did she get a bad grade on it?  Is that why she didn’t want it?”  Her response… “I don’t remember!!”  Note to self.. never ask an art teacher for facts and data.

I’m left to speculate.  Did someone tell her it wasn’t a good project?  Did she get a poor grade on it?  Who grades what we produce out of our souls and our essence?  What talents have we abandoned because someone said “not good enough”?

Sophie’s trash..

My treasure.

 

 

 

Dec31

Putting away Christmas…

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Putting away Christmas…

Ok.. on to the next thing.

My niece and future daughter in law are including me in a group text about wedding showers, having babies and when’s the next party.  My cup runneth over but my energy runneth low. Even though I deeply admire their youthful enthusiasm and love for each other and for me,  I want to text back “Ladies!  Let me get Christmas put away first!”

So many things to look forward to in the new year.  But before I go there I want to be here. I want to be here to put Christmas away.  I want to look at all the ornaments I threw on the tree in such a rush between working, traveling and meal preparing.  It all happened so fast and now it’s over.

I want to be in the kitchen once more with my three sons and my future daughter in law cooking Christmas dinner and laughing about nonsense while the two Goldens, Lua and Willow, gaze at the oven door with the 25 lb. bird inside, hoping to get a quick lick when Patrick opens it to baste.

I want to see Gramma Louise ask for refills on the Vodka Punch, all the while relaxing and enjoying the hustle bustle of her family.

I want to hear once again all the various conversations at the Christmas dinner table with all the guest glowing from the warmth of good food and wine.  I want to reveal the secret ingredient in the stuffing and listen for the pregnant pause.  (ok.. no more secret ingredients in the stuffing- I promise.)  BTW Who guessed the baby Jesus?

I think this was the best Christmas ever.

Years ago, when I was in my early 20’s, I never bought Christmas paper on sale after Christmas.  I didn’t anticipate there being another Christmas.  You know.. it was the ’80s and everyone was talking about Jesus coming again and Revelations in the bible.  Good Catholic that I was (still am but not as good) I took it all to heart.   Existential angst had me wondering about the meaning of life and how my life was going to pan out. It became somewhat of a joke among my family and friends.  After Christmas sales?  You won’t see Rosemarie there!

Now I find myself looking forward to many Christmases to come.  And to wedding, babies, celebrations and most of all to a life filled with love and belonging.  I consider that progress.

But today I am content to take down the ornaments and unstring the lights.  Open empty boxes.  Nativity scene goes in this bag.  Delicate ornaments go in the tins.  Stocking folded with the little white hooks inside for easy hanging next year.  One last deep inhale of the still fragrant tree.

 

 

Dec18

Can you see me now?

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Can you see me now?

When I lived in Portland, Oregon one of my favorite things to do in the evening with my neighbor Clara was walk around the neighborhood and just catch up on the day, build our friendship, and look into peoples’ windows.

From the sidewalk of course!

Homes at night, illuminated from within, reveal so much more than the typical daytime drive-by viewing.  There’s often an interesting lamp or a curious seating arrangement. There is the lighting and the color and the architecture and the moisture on the windows that speaks of warmth and conversations and relationships within.

Clara and I would muse about the decorating but also about the family dwelling inside.  What were they like?  Most houses kept their draperies open in the evening as if to invite such speculation.

As if to say “see me”.

See what I’m like inside.  I may be awkward and not good at conversation.  I may be boorish or abrupt or seemingly uncaring or selfish or grouchy or cross.  I might appear unkempt and desperately in need of a hot meal and some sound sleep!   But look inside me.  See the me illuminated from within. See my intentions and my efforts. See my brokenness and my longings, my fears and insecurities.

In this season of light as we are hurrying to make some magic for our families, as we cook and bake in between 9-5 jobs,  as we volunteer at soup kitchens or church pantries or reach to give a dollar or two to a person with a sign on the corner outside the Safeway (after purchasing $200 worth of groceries how can you not?)…

Stop for a minute and look inside where the lights illuminate who we truly are.  Who the stranger is.  Who my neighbor is.  Who the homeless woman is.  Who I am.

Can you see me now?

Nov26

“Such is life!”

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“Such is life!”

Life is fragile.

One day you are enjoying your privacy in your big two story house getting your own tea and bossing around your cleaning lady and the next day you have an accident, spend the night in a hospital and consequently have 100 of your closest relatives worrying and knowing what’s best for you.

“Such is life!” my father would say.

When Adele married Dad at the ripe age of 54 years old, having never been married before or had children, she inherited all of us whether she agreed to it or not.  My siblings and cousins, aunts and uncles, were all very pleased with Dad’s choice of a new wife.  She kept him happy and even and tethered.  Something every one of us Shaheens seems to need I might add.

Someone solid to bounce off of.  Someone kind to put up with us. Someone with an internal compass to keep us on track.  We are an unruly tribe.

She is all those things and independent to boot, coming from solid Irish Canadian stock.  Having been raised by the nuns in the French province of Montreal.  Liking her tea and rolls just so at a certain time of day and reading her paper from cover to cover without interruption.  I’m not sure she was ready for a rambunctious family such as ours.  Or the outpouring of concern when she needed some medical attention and “help” (God forbid!).

After spending four days with her I am in awe of her 92 years of wisdom, strength and fortitude.  Driving home from our visit, I had 6 plus hours to contemplate what it might be like to be in her shoes and wonder why everyone is making such a fuss about her living alone and carrying on her daily life.

“Why is everyone asking me how I am? Eh?”

When I’m 92 I want to be just like her.

Oct17

Something Special

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Something Special

When I was the ripe young age of 21 years old and engaged to my college sweetheart, my mother did something rather out of character for her.  She threw an engagement party for us.

Now keep in mind that there was no pinterest in 1978 and no internet for that matter!  I was finishing my college degree and typing my final papers on a typewriter that never quite spit out my monkey mind thoughts as fast as I wanted it to.  My mother’s parties were always the same- no fancy decorations or new recipes.  They usually consisted of the house full of my siblings, their spouses and their children. And even though no “extra” people were invited, we still had to eat in shifts at the dining room table.  The house was always full of chatter and love and the table was always groaning under the weight of homemade Lebanese food and the elbows of my handsome and hungry brothers.

I wouldn’t have changed one thing about that party!  It was just the celebration I craved!  All the love in the world was in that kitchen!

But my mom added a special touch that I will never forget.  From the dining room chandelier she hung a sterling silver baby cup with a curled pink ribbon tied to it.

Now, you must appreciate that in a family of six children, individual artifacts of each child are difficult to identify even if you can find them after twenty something years!  Having been raised “warehouse style” (look it up- it’s Freudian) in a house full of the opposite gender I don’t remember anything really being my personal property except maybe for my dolls and a couple random items from the Avon lady.

But somehow this tiny silver cup floated its way to the top of the old Amelia Earlheart trunk in the garage and my mother had a thought about finding it and displaying it from the chandelier.   Without the guidance of pinterest or advice from friends on Facebook, she gave the party that special touch.  And touched I was.

Indeed, it touched me so deeply that the tiny cup is displayed in my china hutch (her china hutch!) thirty five years later.  The ribbon has faded and the cup has tarnished, yet it is still a beautiful reminder of the occasion and my mother’s intention to do something special for me.

This weekend I am hosting an engagement party for my son, Peter, and his beautiful fiance, Brianna.  I couldn’t have hand picked a more lovely young woman for him.  That same dining room table that now graces my home will be groaning with food.  It has bowed even more with majesty under the elbows of my three handsome and hungry sons.  There will be family and friends and toasts and the fullness of love and good wishes. I’ve hosted many parties in my home but this one will be special.  We  open the door to join with a new family and hail the beginning of Peter and Brianna’s lives together and all the joys and challenges that lie ahead for them.  It will be a profound and meaningful celebration.

And I have been preparing for it for weeks!  Just this evening I was deadheading mums and raking leaves in the back yard.  Tomorrow I will pick up some last minute items.  Saturday, my “helpers” are coming to string lights, set up tables, roll grapeleaves and chop parsley for tabouli.  Sunday morning will be spent arranging flowers and ironing table cloths.  It is all a sweet labor of love.

So shoot me… I want it to be perfect!  I want it to be something that they will remember for years to come.  A celebration full of all the love in the world!

I want it to be something special.

 

 

 

 

Mar16

To see a world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wild flower.. ~ William Blake

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To see a world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wild flower.. ~ William Blake

I don’t know how I managed to kill the beautiful magnolia that had graced my front yard for the past twenty years. But the optimist in me saw it as an opportunity to choose a tree of my own.

My search began on the internet. I then quizzed my tree-hugging son, Patrick, about branching patterns and flower colors and the ability to live in a watered lawn environment.  After much deliberation I settled on another magnolia- the deciduous kind that flowers early in spring and leafs out after a spectacular show of color.

You have probably seen this tree in beautiful shades of pink and violet.  But I was curiously drawn to the description of the magnolia with a delicate butter yellow flower.  Now that it is in bloom, I am remembering why.

We lived in Whittier, California many moons ago and I used to drive my son, Peter, across town to El Rancho Presbyterian Pre-school.  Every Tuesday and Thursday morning we traveled down Greenleaf Ave. and took a left on Hadley, passing 100-year-old homes- some of them built at the turn of the century from Sears and Roebucks “kits”.

On one corner there was a dignified old two-story home with a majestic multi-branching tree that reached beyond the rooftop.  The house was painted the loveliest shade of butter yellow.  I would wonder at how they decided on that particular color.  It wasn’t anything like the homes around it.  It was so whimsical to me in the shadow of the stately front yard tree.

Then spring arrived and when we turned the corner from Greenleaf onto Hadley the secret was revealed.  The beautiful tree was in full bloom showing off hundreds of buttery yellow flowers- the exact color of the house.

Stunning.

It took my breath away.

In my imagination I decided that the first time the owners of that old stately home saw the tree in full bloom, they rushed to the nearby paint store with one of the delicate cups in order to match paint for the house.

In order to dazzle themselves and passer-byers with a work of art worthy of the finest museum.  If only for a yearly one- month exhibition.

I will never know if my fantasy is true.  I don’t even know if that tree is still standing. Perhaps some type A homeowner decided it was too “messy” and cut it down.  Maybe the house is now a modern shade of slate green.

Be that as it may, I have planted my own museum piece in my front yard.  It serves my fond memories of Whittier and El Rancho Presbyterian and my curly topped Peter. It makes me happy to see it bloom and thrive.

Who would imagine that a simple tree would bring such joy?

 

 

Feb14

Getting my ash in gear…

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Getting my ash in gear…

 

Yesterday’s Ash Wednesday Liturgy at Presentation High School was a beautiful thing.  Eight hundred young women in formal dress uniform exuberantly singing an old Protestant hymn, Amazing Grace.  The gym was filled to capacity- standing room only.   The homily was delivered by a woman- our own resident bible scholar, Claire Foley.  Peer ministers doused their fellow students with ashes.  A slide show highlighted one of our Sisters of Presentation, Sr. Rachel Pinal, who works as a missionary in Somotillo, Nicaragua.  The liturgy kicked off our Mission Drive month, raising money to support our Sisters of Presentation working for peace and justice in South America.

No wonder Pope Benedict is resigning.  This old church ain’t what it used to be!

However, in the faculty room over lunch one would never have known that we have progressed this far as Catholics.  People were still talking about “giving something up” for Lent.  I assumed we were a more enlightened and progressive Catholic faculty.  Is it really that simple?

During Lent, the forty days and forty nights culminating in the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus on Easter Sunday, we are called to conversion, reconciliation, mercy, grace, self reflection and humility.  How do you get there by giving up candy?

I’m just sayin’….

But the most amusing thing for me as the Senior Class Counselor was one of my naughtiest students carefully tracing a cross of ashes on my forehead and advising me to “Turn away from sin and be faithful to the gospel”.

Oh Lordy..

My life is plaid.

Dec5

All Is Calm.. All Is Bright

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All Is Calm.. All Is Bright

This is my next door neighbor’s house.  They are the first house on our street to have their lights up and their tree decorated.  I noticed this Sunday evening as I was walking to my mail box across the street. (I hadn’t had time to get my mail for a few days.)

I said to myself  Jeez!  A bit anxious aren’t we?  I then heard a voice in my ear saying “bah humbug..”.

I looked a little closer and noticed through the window people eating and laughing.  My neighbors were having a holiday party and the guests looked cozy and warm inside- the windows somewhat fogged from the heavy breathing, fun laughter, and everyone talking at the same time.

I was transfixed.

It was a rainy night yet I felt compelled to walk by their house again later that evening just to take it all in.  It was like a Norman Rockwell painting and it stirred within me a nostalgia for days less busy, less hurried and less hectic.  Days filled with the care and feeding of three little boys, putting together puzzles with them, dancing to wild music on the turntable and baking Christmas cookies.  Days when the mail man at the door was one of the most exciting events of the afternoon!

I have to admit, I’ve been a little bit of a Scrooge lately.  With a full time job, preparing for Christmas often feels like taking on an additional part time job!  It always has a lovely ending though the beginning can be rough, plagued by my bad attitude and feelings of impending doom.

Sunday night changed all that.  Something wrenched itself loose in me and I wanted what I saw inside my neighbor’s cheery and festive home.  Love and Joy.  Friendship and laughter.

All things calm and bright…

Let the wild rumpus begin!

 

 

Jan14

Big Shoes to Fill…

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Big Shoes to Fill…

Camera ready!

Time to fess up..

I have three wonderful and delightful sons and I wouldn’t change that for the world!

And yes…

I have always wanted a daughter.

There came that moment in our early marriage when my husband and I asked ourselves. “Should we try for a girl?”  But after considerable thought and deliberation.  After acknowledging how blessed we were with three beautiful and healthy little boys.  We decided that our plate (and our joy) was full.

I consoled myself with these thoughts…

Someday there will be a little girl who needs me and I will have room in my life and in my heart for her.

Today I had the privilege of going wedding dress shopping with my beautiful niece, Sarah.  I felt so honored to be asked to spend this very special day with her.

Today she was that little girl who needed me.

Sarah’s mom, my sister in law and dear friend, Nancy, died of melanoma when Sarah was 22 years old.  She would have so enjoyed this eventful day with her daughter!  And perhaps I could have tagged along for Auntie support and fun and gossip!   The three of us would have laughed and cried and laughed some more.  Oh, what mischief we could have gotten into!

Today I had big shoes to fill.  But I was not alone. I know Nancy was there with us.

When Sarah stepped onto the platform with that beautiful wedding dress on an angel bent down and kissed her.  She was all aglow.

God works in mysterious ways.

Today Sarah, Nancy and I went wedding dress shopping together.