For Mary Oliver and the Women

 For Mary Oliver and the Women

We sat down for a quiet cup of coffee, at the wooden table reserved for creating things. It is white, old, made of wood from 1792, wise and battered, painted over and repaired time and time again, like the women who gathered around it. A relief came in through the channel of simple words read aloud in our corner of the universe that removes time and space as a requirement for the art of connection, the words of Mary Oliver, which have been recent travelers with me, in high frequency. I believe this is how she would want it to be, to have written words, that remove time and space from the natural order of things, and drop them into new constellations.

“I tell you this to break your heart, by which I mean only that it break open and never close again to the rest of the world.” I hear you Mary. We hear you.

The relief washes over me, my brokenness, reframed, for the heart to sever in two and to welcome the burn, the ache, the light that gets in even in traveling low to the ground with the river of tears, tossed in the flood, caught in the rainstorm that has gone on too long with no wipers capable of clearing the line of sight, the flickering in then of the sunbeam prisms brought forward in a complete washing over of her, of me, of us, the women. 

It’s beautiful to be broken as everything makes you feel it so deeply, in your soul, all at once so that the flood water is now in your eyes and fills in the corners and must flow somewhere, causing the young child to ask, “Are your eyes leaking, Mommy?” And you smile at the purest beauty you’ve ever heard, in the most simple question you’ve ever been asked, right in the very moment where you couldn’t see even yourself. The overflow must go somewhere, dear child.

The soup, the view, the cup of coffee, the sunset, the fireplace, the smile, the good company, the dog, the voices of the angels, and a time traveler that whispers to you,” You deserve it, this thing, this life,” then leaves you. What do I deserve, I whisper to the air chasing their ghost? Tell me again, it was lost on me. I’ve never thought of deserving anything? But to be broken, and to feel all things with grace, acceptance and love, with a broken heart to make it better. I can deserve that and welcome it with gratitude. All of it. 

All of this one beautiful life

And in the breaking

You, I, we will find it all, every ounce of it, more beautiful.

That is it we whispered at the antique table holding the gathering of women. We are better now, deeper, more sensitive, intuitive, cracked wide open walking in a world of closed people, who think themselves unbroken.

I give up the strength and accept to remain broken

To feel all of it

And let all the light in.

I was, we were, never in control of any of it anyway, child, girl, woman, mother, wife, friend.

I’m not meant to stay, unbroken, we acknowledge in unison

And that is the greatest relief we can carry forward.

So we take a sip of coffee, and we carry on with hearts never to close again to the rest of the world, just as Mary asked us to do, removing time and space as a requirement for the art of connection, living broken in the places we chose to make beautiful. 

-Courtney Michener Miller #OneBeautifulLife

She Rises

 She Rises

What a gift, a sun that is setting.

Just before she carries herself to another place,

She sets herself on fire, instructs the clouds to rise,

And shows her true colors for only the mystical souls,

The few patient enough to remain captivated by her,

even in her time of departure, demise, rest.

Yet determined, after revealing, reflecting her inner most colors,

Only to surrender them to darkness,

She rises, once more, waking us all to hope,

and the prospect of bringing, of being, the light.

What a gift, a sun that is setting.

What a triumph, she rises again.

-CMM

(Southern Chester County, PA - 10.4.24

I Remember my Grandfather..

 I was asked to write to the prompt - “I remember my grandfather.” The timing uncanny, as if the universe was conspiring to consolidate a train of thought needed the most, that had been locked far away in long term memory, surfacing in small snippets, in synchronicities unplanned, in dreams unrealized, in needs unmet. “Write to the edge, no editing, just see what surfaces.” I did and here is what surfaced. I’ll edit endlessly from here, but I share candidly for those connections who knew him, my Pop Pop Courtie, as all of these words will resonate, and for anyone else that needs to prompt the memory of their grandfather. Here is your reminder from the universe.

Courtland Michener

I remember my grandfather… in a hug, he gave the best ones.

He had four fingers on one hand, a machinery injury childhood folklore is made of, but it didn’t impact his firm hold, only made it stronger, more mystical, authentically his.

I remember him in a cup of tea, and a joke from the end of the dining room table, and each time a tractor passes by. In every corn field. In every diner where breakfast is served. In storytelling.

I remember him in every sarcastic joke and his boyish grin. He held the quickest wit.

He is in a base guitar, and a band, the jitter bug and my love for dancing.

He is in a chorus and all music.

He is in every big white laundry room farm sink, and large back deck for iced tea, and dog, and work boots and landscaping in front of bay windows, in long driveways.

I remember him in the vast yard on the hill by their sign - Quaker Acres - his tall, lanky framed silhouette moving through the yard, by the barn.

I remember him in work, hard work, family work, farm work, yard work, God’s work.

I remember him pulling the tin squares out of the barn to the yard, those that would transform to baseball bases, as the vast yard turned into the diamond, set by the cornfield, as the fireflies danced, and so too did our childhood bliss, as even the adults would join in on the game.

I remember my grandfather in every gas tank and the smell of gasoline.

I remember him in every willow tree. In every breezeway, holiday, and fireplace conversation surrounded by family. At every snack table.

I remember him as pure, protective, joyous, hilarious. My grandfather was love, gentle, patient, kind, strong love.

I remember my grandfather, each time someone says my name, his Court, Courtie, and Courtland.

I remember how he loved the picture I made, that I gave to him as he laid sick in the bed. I remember how I wanted to mend him. I remember the night we rang in a new year and Dad came home late, alone. I remember how the door sounded closing, announcing his leaving. My Dad lost his best friend and I would never be able to fix it. I remembered writing then and my childhood words still sit in the journal, waiting to be revisited. This is the day there would only be the remembering. I remember how I couldn’t breathe at the thought of no more Pop Pop hugs, no more grandfathers. I remembered, by calling to me his memory, that even then, I was writing to survive.

He was salt of the earth he tended so well. He was known by all, his gregarious energy drawing in everyone he ever met, one of the many gifts he passed to my father. He was loved by all. I remember my grandfather… and am thankful my writing journey had me pull him from the constellation of my memory this week, perhaps when I needed him the most.

Jack gets his License

 “On the night you were born the night wind whispered life would never be the same, for there had never been anyone like you ever in the world, and there never would be, not ever again” Moms swoon for the lyrical nature of this book, myself included.  I received it at a baby shower, from my Mom, and still have it on the bookshelf in my hallway, 16 years later. I’ve read it incessantly to all of the kids.  

I remember rocking Jack, just a few days old, crying my eyes out on his perfect skin, as the sunlight reached in his nursery window onto my ravaged body and raging hormones, and reading this book to him for the first time.  Life would never be the same, not after you feel the love that accompanies the title of mother, that’s for sure. You have no idea what you are signing up for as you dream of motherhood, but when it arrives, it is not usually in the form of night winds whispering. The nights are long, and loud, roaring rather, at times.  Jack dealt roaring nights the best from the first night he arrived, and most thereafter, my son who held on the longest to my core, nested so close to my heart he didn’t want to leave, and he stayed grumpy and colicky about it for 8 months thereafter.  Unless in my arms, he screamed.  Even in my arms, sometimes, he screamed.  And then, in time, we figured it all out.  Kindred souls, learning the ways of soothing each other and, well, we’ve been doing it ever since. 

His anxiety was high in his younger years.  He screamed at the thought of leaving me more often than I like to recall.  He wouldn’t go into the daycare, get on the bus without an epic battle, …or be away at all, without panic attacks. They were tragic, all encompassing and soul ripping for him, for me, and anyone in the vicinity of us.  We learned self soothing, and mind tricks, and talking our brains out of the darkness, together, arm in arm, side by side, rocking, grounding, and with love.  He would beg me to stay for one more minute each night at bedtime, and I did.  His curiosity insatiable, his needs clearly stated, his jokes ridiculous, his safety provided in good, safe company.  

And slowly, he transformed, as children do, on their own time, with simply my unconditional, all encompassing love, my extreme patience, his creative genius, his love of learning, his grit, quiet soul, quick wit and most loving nature of any human soul to walk the earth. He is gentle, kind, incredibly humble, too smart for most revelry, and the world tosses him around, as it does all of us, and I worry.  But, each day now, I stand on my tippy toes to hug his ever growing 6’3” frame and he steals my breath, as he has all he needs in his arsenal now, and everyday he shows me this.  He keeps me steady, his curiosity still insatiable, his reading of me and the ways of the world uncanny, his conversation still the absolute best. 

So, we raise our kids to fly and we know this, yet each chapter, each milestone, each moment of mothering, something new hits me right in my core, the reminder that in doing it right, there is an elixir of joyful agony in the…letting go. The timekeeper appears in the background unexpectedly, the one we know so well, that greeted us with motherhood, the one who looked over me as a young first time mother and whispered, “Savor this, enjoy this, bottle it up, you will miss it, the years will fly by”…he paid me a visit today.  He sat on my shoulder for a bit, in a parking lot, and with my Mom by my side, we looked on. The time marched. The car pulled away and then the driver's license was granted.  The road trip is officially in his hands.  

The time keeper was there to remind me of the journey Jack and I have been on in this #OneBeautifulLife for 16 years.  He reminded me that he has transformed into an awe-inspiring young man and in the…letting go, there is so much agonizing beauty.  Trust the journey in this #OneBeautifulLife my Jack.  There is no one like you in the world.  The night winds will whisper, and roar, and you’ll handle them.  Cheers to the new found freedom of an open road. 

Keep showing me how to be a Mom, the superpower of my first born son.  I’ll be here loving you with my whole heart, always.  

And so it goes, as the time keeper marches on.

Leo is 7

 Leo is 7. Last year I wrote that I’ve studied Leo closely. I'm still studying! As he continues to grow, he continues to display a command for attention. This year he celebrates 7 with two missing front teeth, full of questions about ALL the things, having had his first kid birthday party at the bowling alley, eagerly awaiting baseball season, a bit too into video games, testing any limit put before him and always ready to run out the door to play with friends. He's made 1st grade friends and crushes - I'm convinced these are the one's that always live on in your heart - has lots of questions about Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift and he's very serious about eating and has turned into a connoisseur of meats on the grill! He remains incredibly challenging, then ridiculously sweet, in a matter of minutes. He has always done things in his own time, almost commanding the way he captivates time, cadence, hearts, of those around him. This remains more true today then ever. He's got the world in the palm of his hand. Happy 7th Birthday to our Leo the Lion. Go get 'um lil man. Keep shining your light like only you can.

Leo is 6

 I’ve studied Leo closely. As he has grown, he’s displayed a command for attention that is new to our family dynamic. And to me, as a Mom. He’s incredibly challenging, then ridiculously sweet, in a matter of minutes. He has always done things in his own time, almost commanding the way he captivates time, cadence, hearts, of those around him. Finally, on his 6th birthday, after crying my way through photos, my birthday ritual

, I believe I understand. Of all of our children , Leo is a pack animal, and will strive to be leader of a pack, always. We named him Leo, the lion, we brought him into a family, with siblings and action all around, a community filled with love, we dressed him as a lion , we brought a sister to him to care for 17 months into his life, and Daddy snuggles him to sleep every night. He is hardly ever alone, ever. He has a tribe, a pack, and he knows no different. Since day 1, he’s been a part of something big. He is so abundantly filled with love, people and friends all around him, he is adored, exuberant, adorable, ridiculously social and personable, challenging, temperamental, snuggly and bold. He will, without a doubt, test all limits ever set before him, and as a result, grow to be king of whichever mountains he chooses to climb. The people, his people, that surround him will love him unconditionally. And me, as his Mom, never top of his list until he needs me for the love only a Mom can give, retreats in awe, of the power he possesses, and I watch in wonder. Leo, my Lion child, may you always have a pack to love you, may you find your roar as a leader, walk the line between fury and calm eloquently, continue to bring joy and warmth to everyone you know, and don’t forget to come home from playing and adventuring for a hug from your Mom every once in awhile I love you, whole heart, Leo. Happy 6th Birthday, my baby boy. Go climb some mountains.

Leo is 5

 Leo DeWire is 5 today! I could sit down and scroll through pictures forever, looking back on the past 5 years, and all of the love that Leo has brought to our family. My goodness, where does the time go? I had to pull myself away.

To know Leo, is to love him. To love him, is to appreciate the force he is. His zippy name defines his lion like personality. I've never known a fiercer lover of their people than Leo, or a child more ornery...I wonder often where this passion and zest will take him. Lover. Connector. Relator. Amazing child. You are adored. Leo loves toast, Imaginext guys, his people, his family, his cousins, making friends, bugs, science, his siblings, the neighborhood family, sports, white lies about his 'professional' sports career, snuggling with Daddy, all things Daddy, loudness, animals...I could go on and on. He is just so full of love. He is his own timekeeper, setting his own pace for he how tackles the world. We know he will do it with love for certain. My dear sweet boy, happy 5th birthday. I just want to snuggle you forever. You're still the baby in my arms I wrote about here, and it is a gift and amazing blessing to be your Mommy.

Leo is 4

 Leo is Four. Zippy, confident, loving and brazen, 4. He’s got a heart of gold, goes from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye, is a super hero to his core, loves his people, and in this year, found his powerful voice. This pandemic year brought him a true love for ‘home’ days, official potty trained status, a need to have everyone under one roof and accounted for, hours of time with his super hero army, a love for being read to, and a newfound love for Scooby Doo. There is never a question of how he is feeling, as he wears his heart fully exposed on his sleeve. If you need some joy and humor, and a reminder of how it feels to be in the midst of a pint size kid with the personality of a lion, all you need is 5 minutes with our guy. Beautiful boy, blaze your trail. We will all run to keep up with you, always. And of course, snuggle on demand. You are fiercely loved, and loving to all who know you in return. Happy birthday, Leo DeWire. You have my heart. Love, Mommy

Leo is 3

 Endearing, curious, ornery, lovable, hilarious and tenacious, sweet 3!!! You’ve arrived, rapidly, of course. Leo, you continue to challenge any status quo, adore your family, always want it to be a ‘stay at home’ day, and love your super hero toys. You so eagerly want to be a big boy, hang with your big brothers, and boss Adeline, and we so desperately want you to stay our little bundle of love. You light up the world sweet boy, for all who know you. You are loved beyond measure.

Happy 3rd birthday baby boy.

Leo is 2

 Happy 2nd Birthday, Leo! You came into the world on your own time, slowly and then all at once. This cadence has set the rhythm for how you tackle every milestone and every adventure. You bring unconditional love, warmth and tenderness to those you love, have the very best dinosaur roar, idolize your big brothers, remain fascinated with Adeline, and want to be a worker guy like Daddy. And when you yell for Mama...well, I’ll always come running. Love you, whole heart, our sweet and tender, wild one!

Leo is 1

 You never quite understand where the time goes. Day by day they grow into these beautiful little souls capable of lighting up rooms with laughter and love. Our sweet little Leo is one today. How is it possible? We never know, do we? He's showed our family how to care a little deeper, love a little fiercer and look out for one another just a bit more. He's our little light and has grown into an inquisitive, tender, bubbly, curious, perfect one year old. When he woke from his nap today, he had his brothers, two neighborhood best buds, Mimi, Pop and Daddy all surrounding his crib singing him his first Happy Birthday. Oh, to be so loved! Thank you God for our lil Leo DeWire. He has brought us all joy beyond words.

Mom Mom Marge is 98

In the year 1926, nearly a century ago…Benito Mussolini increased his power in Italy. John Louie Baird gave the world’s first demonstration of a working television at his laboratory in London. Three years before the infamous Wall Street Crash in New York City, land on Wall Street sold for a then-record $7 per square inch. The first transatlantic phone call from London to New York was completed. Ford Motor Company implemented the 40-hour work week for factory workers. Babe Ruth became the first player to hit three home runs in a World Series game.

In 1926, several of the most influential people of the 20th century were born, such as Queen Elizabeth II, Fidel Castro, Marilyn Monroe. On March 8, 1926, one of the most influential people in my world was born, my grandmother, Margaret Virginia Wren. “She claims that no one should live to be this old,” with a chuckle in her quieted laugh. We wonder if she means that.

She still lives independently, holding her freedom firmly with a sign I remember all my life still above her kitchen sink. It proclaims, “Do Something. Either lead, follow or get out of the way.” We know she means this.

She will never forget to send you a birthday card. She will always remember to call. She delights in old photos where you’d mistake her for a movie star, painfully delighted as we ask her to relive her history, adventures, loves. She’s laid to rest every beloved human, dog, love in her old albums and the pain is palpable, but she is patient with us now. Everyone from her generation lives only in her memory and she visits them in her stories.

We feel selfish and foolish in our 'youth' around her, I wonder if she thinks this too. My world traveling, strong willed, physically gifted, sharp minded, hostess extraordinaire, musically gifted, animal loving, Victorian furniture loving, Andes mint serving, Quaker Acres Queen, really gave 1926 a legend.

As her only granddaughter, I see her clearly now as a woman, as time has gifted me love, agony, victory and defeat, heartbreak, survival, enough to treasure her fully for all that she is and all she must hold in her heart. She always asks me if I’m looking after myself. She means this and she knows the answer without my words. Look out 99 - Mom Mom Marge is coming for you. Be gentle with her, her beautiful heart and sparkling blue eyes. She has truly seen it all and thinks so too. We believe her. #OneBeautifulLife

Vincent is 3

 My baby boy is 3 today. I'm so lucky to be his Mommy. Tears will flow if I write much more tonight. But for now, counting my blessings for his vibrance, tenderness and innocence. Love you, lil man, whole heart.

Vincent is 4

 Happy 4th Birthday my sweet Vincent. Your spirit, humor, and gentleness make our world a better place. I'm in awe of you, always have been, always will be. How blessed I am to be your Mommy. I love you, whole heart, sweet boy.

 

 

Vincnt is 5

 5. My Vincent. Bold. Confident. Social butterfly and friend to all. Lives on the edge and loves the dark side of the force. Wanted a real motorcycle for his birthday, but this will have to do my little one. Still a Mama's boy to the core and I pray he always is. Came into the world with grace and ease and lives each day with the same poise. Oh the places you will go my love. Just not too fast please!!!

 

 

Vincent is 6

 6! Master kid baker, master athlete, master sleeper and kid dog whisperer. My dear, sweet boy who still loves to snuggle his Mama like he did when he was a baby...each day he grows, he gets wiser, more hilarious and more loved by all who know him. How very blessed I am to be his Mommy. Happy birthday baby love. You hold all of our hearts in the palm of your hand!