About Karen (formerly kcinnova)

I'm a 50yo former SAHM of 4 boys, happily married for 28 years. For 21 of those years, he was a soldier in the US Army. I've lived in 4 states and traveled all over the US and part of Europe. Now that my husband is retired, we are in a new chapter of life: he is the one preparing supper and I am working part-time as a church administrator. I enjoy photography, writing, crafting, hiking, camping and --most of all-- family time with my incredible menfolk. "Girl time" with friends keeps me sane. Jesus keeps me grounded.

We still cling to hope.

It’s prom season.
In fact, tonight is prom for my youngest son’s high school.
He’s not going.
He’s not into loud crowds or loud music or pop culture, but none of his brothers have been either, and two out of three of them did attend prom.  I don’t know if he would have gone had he not fallen out of that tree.

It’s also the season for announcements of which university the high school graduates are heading off to in the fall.  I’ve seen multiple pictures of my friends’ high school seniors proudly holding their acceptance letters and wearing their new college t-shirts. I get a little jealous pang but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for them. I truly am pleased for the parents and the students.
My youngest son will graduate (thanks to his IEP and his hard work) and he plans to attend the local community college in September. We are still hoping that by the time he has two years of CC under his belt, he will be recovered enough to go on to a full university.  But there are no promises. I know it, his dad knows it, and I’m pretty sure he knows it.

We still cling to hope.

I have to keep reminding myself that we are so very lucky to have him as whole as he is, despite the constant headache and the times his brain refuses to function properly for him.
Dear God, I am grateful.
At the same time, though, I sometimes grieve for what he has lost.

DSCN5773 bleeding HEARTs

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Speaking of Marching…

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On Saturday, people of all ages marched and protested against gun violence.

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Show me what democracy looks like.

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This is what democracy looks like!

 

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Don’t let anyone look down on you for being young. Instead, make your speech, behavior, love, faith, and purity an example for other believers.

1 Timothy 4:12 (NIV)

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My hope for the future shines brighter because of “kids these days.” I confess to missing the speeches at the park downtown because I waited to leave my house until the livestreaming of the rally in Washington, D.C. had finished. I’m glad I was able to hear the incredibly moving speeches given there but wish I could have also heard our local teen leaders speaking out. There was an estimated 5,000 people who rallied and marched, and I was proud to be one of them.

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November is coming.

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Woman in Winter

Winter mocks her.

Despondency settles heavily on her brow like a sinus headache.

The steady drip of melting snow trickling off the eaves is just that: a trick. It will snow again. She knows this to be true.

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Today’s roadway slush will freeze tonight into alien landforms. Walking outdoors is treacherous; slick ice with sloppy, wet, grayish-brown sludge on the offensive, ready to take her down. She despises shopping malls – if one more person suggests walking in one, she will scream. Besides, there is no time. She hasn’t seen her younger child since an early supper on Wednesday before he left for scouts, his shaggy unkempt hair incongruent with the neatness of the Boy Scout uniform. She lies awake late at night, trying to clear her mind and relax so she can sleep. Eventually, sleep comes – she suspects it arrives with a cast iron skillet like a cartoon fishwife.

Groggy mornings find her struggling (but not really – why fight the sleep that came so slowly?) to awaken. The children are already at school. She forces herself to go through the motions: shower, get dressed. She looks longingly at fleece lounge pants – too warm for sleep, they would be perfect right now. But she must leave for work and they are too informal for office attire, even for her. Wearing no make-up, she chooses nicer yoga pants that she hopes look like dress pants.

At work, she fakes happiness in a voice doesn’t belong to her. The more she accomplishes the further behind she feels. How important, really, is that particular task? Would anyone notice if it was done or left undone? She stays late at the office in a futile attempt to catch up, making mistakes that cost her more time.

She pulls into the driveway and turns the key, shutting off the engine. Life at home continued without her, of course. The fourteen-year-old has already shut himself in his room for the night. Her place is set at the table, her cold supper portion resting in serving dishes.

Rest. That’s what she craves. So much remains undone in her life: work, appointments. She sighs – and realizes that in the morning shuffle, she failed to take her medication. No wonder she is achy and sad. (There is no exclamation point because one of the forgotten pills is an anti-depressant.) If she takes one now, she will perk up and have trouble sleeping. It is better to wait for morning. Tomorrow is another day.

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This post was originally written 4 years ago and left to languish in the “drafts” file. Today simply felt like the right day to set it free.

 

Dichotomy

The internet is both helpful and destructive.

The same tool that allows a person to look up cold symptoms (e.g., “does green mucous require antibiotics?”) also allows strangers to deliver death threats to teenagers who have spoken out after surviving a massacre at their high school.

Computers are used for good and for evil.  And while I understand the use for health questions, I will never understand the cruelty that I learned about this past weekend.

Like Paris, only different

My go-to website for news is the BBC [dot com] and I’ve been following the flooding in Paris with a mix of horror and fascination. Whenever the Seine River floods, I worry over L’Orangerie and Monet’s Water Lilies in the round being swamped.

Tonight there is a warm wind blowing and when The Scout returned from a walk, he said it felt like mid-March. The wind arrived with plenty of rain to swell our river, although being “still January” and normally cold with a decent snowpack on the mountains, we don’t have to worry about flooding here… yet.

Photo of mural taken on a sunny fall day last year.

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