Tag Archives: grandchildren

Simple Explanations?

Carol A. Hand

There’s a magical doorframe

where we measure our height

Mischievous “Little People” visit there

hidden far from our sight

Under the floorboards they wait patiently

until the time is right

to raise or lower the floor

struggling with all of their might

Once our growth lines are recorded

we’re curious to assess our plight

to see if we’ve grown taller or shrunk

laughing at surprises with childish delight

***

Magic Doorframe 1
Magic Doorframe 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This poem was inspired by my granddaughter who is always eager to measure how much she has grown. But sometimes, she is actually shorter. That happens to me, too, so we came up with a logical explanation and tested it on Thanksgiving night. She grew this time and I shrunk, although there was no way we could confirm the cause… 

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For more information about “Little People ,” you might want to check out the following links:

http://forum.antiquatis.org/viewtopic.php?t=1742

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_people_(mythology)

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Gratitude for Gardens and Granddaughters

Carol A. Hand

Sometimes, one doesn’t have to travel far

to observe serenity and beauty with beloved companions

Neighborhood Garden – July 3, 2017

Even in the context of critters, city “upgrades,” and unpredictable weather

City “Upgrades” on a Drizzly Day – July 12, 2017

sometimes there are possibilities to create little sanctuaries

Gardens in the Rain – July 12, 2017
Sanctuary at Sunset – July 16, 2017

to enjoy a simple life and share love and laughter

Enjoying the Sunshine – July 16, 2017

weaving deeper appreciation for things that matter

knowing that these precious moments will pass

with the ever-changing seasons of our lives

***

Joni Mitchell – Circle Game

Reflections about Being a Parent and Grandparent

Carol A. Hand

When my daughter was born,
my view of the world forever changed.

“To have
a child
is to decide
to have
your heart
forever
walk around
outside
your body.”
(anonymous)

Life was no longer something I peered at
from a safe distance
I felt it deeply – glowing in my heart
Powerful, shifting emotions
forced me to realize how precious
and precarious life can be

Holding each of my grandchildren for the first time
intensified my sensitivity and commitment
to do all in my power to be a loving presence
Watching them as they grow
amplifies both joy and pain
celebrating their accomplishments
suffering when they encounter challenges

Self-portrait by my granddaughter – July 7, 2017

***

Sometimes all I can do is
to simply try to be a loving presence

***

My granddaughter’s portrait of her Ahma – July 8, 2017

 

In times such as these it’s not easy
to believe the future holds bright possibilities
Let our hearts awaken and glow
with celebratory joy

***

The Power of Music

Carol A. Hand

Do you ever awaken from a dream where you’re singing a song? That’s what happened to me this morning. It was a song that I see as a little silly in the context of what’s going on in the world today. But it’s a catchy tune that captures some of the troubles that produce such angst in our teens. Those years are long gone for me but not for my grandchildren who remind me what it’s like to be young.

Here Comes My Baby – Yusuf/Cat Stevens

Thankfully, finding the song on YouTube led to me to another song that echoes the yearning of my spirit in the unrelenting cold of this mini-repeat of the polar vortex we’ve been experiencing. It awakens hope by reminding me that even on a cold winter’s day, it’s a new morning filled with possibilities. Spring will come. There’s a different kind of beauty to the winter dawn.

Morning has broken – Yusuf/Cat Stevens

***

Wishing you all a blessed morning wherever you are.

***

Winter Dawn (Pixabay Public Domain Photo)
Winter Dawn
(Pixabay Public Domain Photo)

***

 

 

January Born

Carol A. Hand

On your eighteenth birthday, dear grandson, you’re in my thoughts
It’s a time to celebrate that miracle you are
not a time for dos and don’ts, shoulds and oughts
I just want you to know that you’ll always be my shining star

***

Beloved Grandson - 2002
Beloved Grandson – 2002

***

Gentle and strong, wiser than you’re often willing to show
I love you.
It’s such a precious gift to watch you grow.

***

A Thoughtful Young Man & Big Brother - 2016
A Thoughtful Young Man & Big Brother – 2016

***

Reflections and Blessings on New Year’s Day

Carol A. Hand

On this first day many celebrate as a new year, I find myself compelled to speak as honestly as I can. It’s true that my life has not been as easy or privileged as some would imagine. It’s also true that my life has been blessed in too many ways to count. Many may think me crazy or delusional for what I am about to share. Ancestors have appeared to me during waking times to protect and guide me through rough patches. Wise beings have visited me with messages in dreams. And strong intuitions have warned me of dangers and opportunities as well.

I’m deeply grateful for the presence of the ancestors and wise beings in my life. I’m not sure I would have survived without them. Of course, being willful and independent, I didn’t always listen. And of course there was always a hefty price to pay.

I also wish to acknowledge my gratitude for the old and new blogging friends who have enriched my life in so many ways. Thank you.

***

Quote from Robert G. Ingersoll, Image from quoteaddicts.com
Quote from Robert G. Ingersoll,
Image from quoteaddicts.com

***

Recent events have made me remember why I began blogging. There were stories and insights I felt compelled to share. You know, those messages that sometimes seem to flow through you and demand to be given voice. And then, as it happens, that purpose was compromised along the way. The appeal of attracting followers, writing posts that were “liked,” sometimes attenuated or muted my voice. But a funny thing happened when this blog achieved something I never envisioned in 2016, almost three years after it began. More than 1,000 followers, and almost 3,000 views one day. It was empty without meaningful dialogue and a sense of genuine connection.

Let me be honest and risk making people angry. A sizable number of my newer followers appear to only be interested in posting selfies to sell clothing and makeup and never like a post or leave a comment, thoughtful or otherwise. Or they’re new bloggers who seem to follow this blog, any blog, just to build their own following, again with no attempt to connect. Perhaps it’s foolish, but I do often follow them back because I honor their right to perspectives that differ from mine. I do learn a bit about worldviews that I might not encounter elsewhere. And the 3,000 views? Almost all were from Facebook, empty visits that, quite frankly, merely felt voyeuristic from a social medium that I am avoiding these days except to connect with my grandson.

As I responded to a comment from a dear friend yesterday,

Thank you so much, ***. I don’t have the words to tell you how much your kind and thoughtful comments mean to me. I am weary at the moment and feel powerless to change the world my grandchildren will inherit. They’re lovely gentle souls and like all people everywhere, they have a right to live in peace and be treated with kindness and dignity. I will continue to do what I can anyway because I love them and I care about the earth. But it’s hard to keep hope alive sometimes.”

….

Your kindness has given me a good reason to keep chipping away, ***. I’m deeply grateful. I had been contemplating whether to continue blogging or give it up. Posts and comments from friends like you make it well worth the effort.”

Weary or not, there’s work to do. After trying to clear ice from my car and driveway, I spent time playing a game with my soon-to-be-ten-year-old granddaughter, tell me a story (by eeboo corporation).

Perhaps the beginning of our story book, January 1, 2017
Perhaps the beginning of our story book,
January 1, 2017

Let’s play a game, Ava,” Ahma said.

Okay, but I don’t know the rules,” Ava replied.

Well, let’s read the directions.”

Hmm,” Ahma said after she skimmed the directions. “They don’t say much, so let’s make up our own. How about if I just deal out cards to each of us?”

Yeah, that would work.”

How many do you think we should each get? Four? Five? Seven?

Five would be good.”

Five it is, then Ava.”

And so we began weaving stories from the five picture cards before us, writing down each other’s stories as we went. First it was Ava’s turn to tell a story, and then, mine. (English is a hard language to learn how to spell!)

Ahma, You’re a better storyteller.”

It’s what I do, Ava. I’m a storyteller. I’ve had practice. I learned how to do it from others a long time ago. It’s something we learn how to do from someone else and this is my chance to help you learn how to tell your own stories.”

Just before Mom came, we packed the game away and created a special folder to hold our stories. We’ll keep adding new ones each time my granddaughter’s here. It’s such a small thing. But it’s something very special my granddaughter and i could do together on this first day of a new year to help build a better future.

As we embark on the journey of a new year, however we mark the beginning, I have a special wish. May we all breathe kinder stories into being for the next generations. Even when we’re weary.

***

I Remember …/ A Reblog

Originally Posted on November 10, 2014

by Carol A. Hand

I remember other storms approaching – the wind silent but the air filled with the electricity of threat and possibility. I survived. But have I worn the grooves of hope and love deeply enough into my spirit to weather the storms that I know are coming? As I sat on my doorstep this morning watching the first of the snowflakes begin to fall in the darkened landscape, I wondered what the winter of these times will bring. I can feel the beat of my heart quicken with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

DSC00510

Photo Credit: Duluth – Morning – November 10, 2014

My thoughts are transported back to an earlier time, the first warning of storms to come. I was standing in the Connecticut cottage where I lived with my infant daughter looking out of the picture window toward the trees and down at the river that flowed past the front of the cabin. Then, as today, the air was filled with the electricity of an approaching storm. Yet in the past, I awoke from a dream remembering some of the images and insights of a guide that sometimes speaks to me through dreams. “A storm is coming,” the guide said.

“Times ahead will be hard. The earth has shifted on its axis and the polarities of the earth’s gravitational fields are changing. People will not know they are being affected by these shifts, but polarities will be amplified. Those on a path of light will glow brighter while those on a path of darkness will grow stronger in their quest for control and destruction. You have a choice. You may leave now. You don’t have to stay to face the storm.”

How could I leave an infant to face the coming storms without a mother who loved her? I certainly wasn’t a perfect mother, but I loved my daughter enough to choose to seek the light again and again. I would fail again and again, but decades later, I know I did the best I could. I’m not a perfect grandmother either, and I’m unsure what I can do to help my daughter and grandchildren prepare for the coming storms, but I trust that whatever comes, love for others and for this wondrous and beautiful world and universe are what will matter most in the years ahead.

***

Copyright Notice: © Carol A. Hand and carolahand, 2013-2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Carol A. Hand and carolahand with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

Aadi and the Magic Chair/ A Reblog

Aadi and the Magic Chair
Posted on November 21, 2013
by Carol A. Hand

When my grandson, Aadi, was just learning to talk, there were some sounds that were hard for him to say. He couldn’t say “g” or “r” or “d,” so instead of calling me “Grandma,” he called me “Ahma.” Because it was a special title, I never corrected him. Although he is a teenager now, it is still my name.

When he was 5, I took a job at a university far away from his home. Although we didn’t see each other for two years, we often spoke on the phone. Whenever we talked, Aadi would ask me to tell him stories about our adventures when he was little and stories about where I worked. One of the stories I told him was about the magic chair in my office at the university. When he was 7, he came to stay with me during his Christmas vacation. He was sad because he missed his mother and father, but he was excited to see the magic chair. For a Christmas present six years later, I wrote down some of the stories for him, including the story of his encounter with the magic chair.

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When Ahma was a teacher in a university a long time ago, she was given a very expensive, fancy chair for her office by one of her bosses. It was a chair that was soft and had all kinds of levers to make it move: up and down, from side to side, and to move the back of the chair so it leaned backwards or forwards. Ahma could never figure out how to use the levers. Nothing ever moved when she pushed and pulled the levers, no matter how hard she tried to make them work. She couldn’t get the seat part of the chair to fit under her desk. So, she decided to use the plain old wooden chair in her office. It was simple, with no fancy levers. It was just fine. When she was busy, she really didn’t notice if the chair was hard and without levers. She kept the special chair for the students to use when they came to visit her, still with all of the tags on it showing that it was new.

chair 1

One of her students, Penelope (not her real name), was having a very hard time. Penelope had two children. Because she was taking care of her children by herself and going to school full time, it was hard for her to work enough hours to pay all of her bills. One time, she was being threatened by her landlord. The landlord told her that she and her children would be evicted from their apartment if Penelope didn’t pay the rent. If that happened, they would not have anywhere to live.

When Penelope went into Ahma’s office, she was crying. As she sat on the magic chair, the seat suddenly dropped lower. Penelope was startled, but not hurt. She stopped crying and started to chuckle. It helped Penelope forget her troubles for just a little bit. She was able to look at her problems in a new way. As she and Ahma spoke together, they were able to come up with an idea to help her and her family stay in their apartment. Working together, Penelope and Ahma were able to convince the landlord to let Penelope and her family stay in their home. And they were able to figure out how to help Penelope pay all of the money she owed.

chair 2

Several months later, Penelope came to Ahma when the university wouldn’t let her have a copy of her diploma because she didn’t have the money to pay them. She had to spend all of her money to pay the hospital because her son was rushed to the emergency room when he became very ill. Her diploma was important — it was proof that she had completed her education and that she was qualified to do lots of different kinds of jobs. Because she couldn’t get a copy of her diploma, it was hard for her to find a job that would help her pay her bills. When she entered Ahma’s office, she was crying because she was so scared and sad.

chair 3

This time when she sat on the special chair, the back tipped way back when she sat down. Again, she was startled but unhurt, and she started laughing. Again, the chair helped Penelope look at her situation in a different way. Ahma helped Penelope look at all of her strengths and gifts. Penelope was very smart. She was kind to people, and because she had overcome so many challenges in her own life, she was gifted at helping other people solve their problems. When Penelope left Ahma’s office, she felt more hopeful and confident. She was finally able to get a job, pay her bills, and get a copy of her diploma.

The next time Penelope came to visit Ahma, she peeked in the door looking sad. But then, she glanced at the chair and started laughing. She said, “I wonder what it will do to me today!” Because Penelope was laughing, the chair just acted like a normal chair when she sat down. The seat didn’t drop down, and the back of the chair stayed straight. And every time after that when Penelope came to Ahma’s office, she smiled and laughed as she looked at the chair. And the magic chair continued to behave just like any other chair when Penelope sat down smiling. It was just a normal chair when she was happy and not sad.

There were many other sad students after Penelope who experienced the surprises of the magic chair. When they, too, learned to smile when they saw the chair sitting in the center of Ahma’s office, the chair behaved just like every other chair, it just stayed still.

When Aadi came to visit Ahma, he told her that he was excited to see the magic chair. So, one day, Ahma brought him to her office. Aadi eagerly sat on the chair. He worked all the levers and leaned this way and that, but nothing happened. He tried again, and again, but still nothing happened. Finally, he gave up, disappointed. Ahma laughed. She told Aadi it was a magic chair. It only did funny things when people were really sad. It helped make them smile and laugh again. She added that even though Aadi was missing his Mom and Dad, the chair could sense that he was okay. His Ahma and Papa loved him and would take care of him until his mother came soon to take him home. His Mom did come, and he went back home to the shore of beautiful Lake Superior.

When Ahma left her job at the university, she left the magic chair behind, still with its tags. Maybe it is still helping other students who are sad, but we may never know.

chair 1

***

Copyright Notice: © Carol A. Hand and carolahand, 2013-2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Carol A. Hand and carolahand with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Reflections – Thursday, July 14, 2016

Carol A. Hand

“Water” is the focus for today’s photography course assignment. Although the St. Louis River is less than a mile away, and the shore of Lake Superior just a short drive or bus ride, the likelihood of scattered showers inspired me to stick closer to home. (I was caught in the rain yesterday when I was photographing streets.)

I could always do this assignment another day, but showers are predicted for tomorrow, too. I decided it was best to find an alternative. Then, I guiltily remembered a “water” task I delayed despite my granddaughter’s frequent reminders this year.

“Ahma, can we set up the fountain today? Please?”

I had planned to build some type of stand for the fountain first. But today, I realized that is not likely to happen any time soon. So before the showers that still look imminent arrived, I finally set it up.

It wasn’t the easiest subject to photograph. Figuring out what would work best required at least 75 shots. Most ended up in the trash. These are the photos that survived.

DSC01583

DSC01590

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, the fountain has a story.

On the many trips my granddaughter and I made to the nearby garden center over the years, she always headed to the water fountain display first so she could play. (She still does.) When she showed me this fountain two years ago, we laughed. The symbolism of “hands” has obvious significance for our family. (It’s our last name.) How could I turn down her exuberant request to buy it?

I love my granddaughter’s choice – open hands presenting flowing, life-giving water. I’m grateful for this chance to share this story today, along with the life, love, and laughter this simple water fountain symbolizes.

***

Copyright Notice: © Carol A. Hand and carolahand, 2013-2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Carol A. Hand and carolahand with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Reflections (Literally) – Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Carol A. Hand

I should be editing today, but I promised my granddaughter I would share this story. We didn’t have a chance to work on it together so I’m writing it for her.

More fierce storms rolled through on Saturday evening when my granddaughter was spending the night. She grew frightened as the sky darkened and warnings about severe storms headed our way sounded on the radio.

She was on the verge of tears. “Ahma, where can we hide?

I have another idea, Sweetie,” I replied. “Let’s go outside and offer tobacco with a prayer. I’ll teach you how. The lightening and rain haven’t come yet so there’s still time.”

I showed her the garden I had chosen, but she found her own special garden by the ninebark bush. When she finished, she smiled and we went inside and read a story.

When the thunder and lightning ended, and the rain abated for a moment, we took our little dog out. I laughed when I saw the huge puddle in the alley behind the house. It was covered with little popping bubbles.

Ahma,” my granddaughter joyfully shouted when she saw the puddle. “The puddle is tooting! That’s what happens when people are swimming and toot (fart). It makes bubbles in the water.”

Just then, the rain began again, and bubbles appeared on all of the puddles the whole length of the alley. My granddaughter laughed and danced with delight despite the rain.

The next day, she sang a song about “The Tooting Puddle Bubbles.” (Try saying that fast!) We went outside the next morning to look for the bubbles, but they were gone. The biggest puddle was still there, though, and we took some pictures.

I’ve gone a little overboard posting them…

puddle 1 2016

The illusion of bushes, buildings and fences growing out of the asphalt intrigues me.

puddle 2 2016

puddle 3 2016

Ava and Pinto 2016

May we all find simple moments for gratitude and laughter during and after storms along our path.

***