I admit that with the scarcity of my posts here, and the lack of information about my "real life", it seems odd that I would break my silence for a film review. However, I would be absolutely remiss if I did not share my discovery of the brilliance that is Hayao Miyizaki's Howl's Moving Castle.
Watch. This. Film.
It is a masterful piece of storytelling from a master storyteller, full of wonder, life, and imagination. The score by Joe Hisaishi (a favorite of mine from Takeshi Kitano's films), the script translation, and even the English voice cast (including Christian Bale)--which can often be groan inducing in other foreign films--are all also worthy of mention.
So when you get the chance, find this film, settle in with a blanket and a friend, and bathe in child's wonder for 119 minutes.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
Special Mother's Day Guest Columnist!
Greetings, all! Provoked by a dearth of updates from yours truly, we bring you an entry from a special guest: me own lovely mum.
I've no idea what she's written yet, but she's a better writer than I am, so enjoy....
-------
Tea cups and Roses and a Mother's dreams
Gathering up the ribbons and remnants of breakfast come Monday morning, causes me to pause and reflect. Life with Brian has been a charming adventure. He is my middle son. And this year the responsibilities of the Mother's Day festivities have rested upon his shoulders. Dad has been off doing his spring tour ( no he is not a rock star but an engineer) adding frequent flier miles to his already platinum status. John, the oldest, has been off being all that he can be in the Army. The burdensome task of holiday with MOM has been placed in the skillful hands of Brian and his smiling assistant Dave.
It was a wonderful day. The phone rang early in the morning and it was John wishing me a Happy Mother's day. Brian and Dave entered the room so that I could enjoy the blessing of all three of their voices in the same room ( and not an argument among them!!) From there it was breakfast, I had a handsome butler named Jenkins, with a lovely British accent ala Dave and a breakfast menu to chose from. While I waited for scones with lemon curd and strawberries and melon to be prepared, I was given Godiva chocolates- from Dave, the first of many gifts I was told. Now that is a pleasant way to start Mother's day. The joyful sound of my three sons with coffee and Godiva. Breakfast was delicious hot coffee, warm scones with lemon curd on good china!!! And two hungry sons to share with.
After breakfast Brian skillfully manuevered his way through the day with charming little surprises round every turn. When I went to dress what should I find but a card from Brian and perfume waiting there in the bathroom. It was the exact fragrance that I had mention wanting only a few weeks before. Later when we went out to dinner my heart skipped a beat. Red Lobster, the whole time I was pregnant with Brian, I craved shrimp. Since we were in Florida while I was expecting him, I ate them to my hearts' content. I could not help but smile since seafood always makes me think of the joys of my pregnancy of my second born son.
Later during the meal, Brian pulled out a little black box that was my gift from Travis. My eyes filled with tears as he said this is from Dad. Little did he know that a few years before, in the same restaurant Travis had presented me with a diamond bracelet to celebrate our twentieth anniversary. Now in a loving gesture for his father, he presents my gift for mother's day in the very same fashion. It was a set of beautiful pearl bracelets. Pearls, they speak to me of wisdom, of beauty and of grace. For a tiny little grain of sand to grow to such a thing of beauty. It is amazing to me.
Life is much like that. When I think back to my first mother's day. I was thankful just to have Travis watch over John and allow me the time to shower and do my hair and makeup. Now that was a gift!! Flashbacks and memories flood into my mind. Coupon books and dandelions. Plaster hands and crayola cards. Pretending to sleep while the boys fought QUIETLY to make me a surprise. Spilled coffee on bedsheets because of the traditional mother's day breakfast in bed. Poems and promises and lots of potted plants. Shovels full of dirt for roses and tea parties in the afternoon. Those memories seem faded over time but have become so much more precious.
I can also remember the prayers and the dreams. Oh God give me wisdom, wisdom to raise this precious little life. Wisdom to teach him. I was overwhelmed by all I never seemed to know. And then before I knew it there were two babies. How I held them in my arms and cried out earnestly that God would show me how to raise them, that they would grow to be men of integrity, men of virtue. That some how I could take all the leassons I had learned and help them to learn more, be more, accomplish more, more than I had ever hoped or dared to dream for myself.
The reality is that when you hold your babies you hope and pray and dream but you can never really imagine the men, the women that they shall become. As a Christian parent I have tried to instill in them the importance of devotion to God, through worship, pray and His Word. I have taught them as best I know how to live and love and laugh. I have surrounded them with the things I believe are of merit, value and beauty -books, music, faith and forgiveness, china and sunsets and to stop and smell the roses. I have tried to be genuine, allowing them to see my human frailities and need for dependency upon God. I have prayed for their safety, their sorrows, their strength, their loves and their futures and that above all their lives would give glory to their God.
Mothers sow in prayer and tears, they hope and dream, love and laugh and along the way there are many, many regrets. The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. The responsibility of bringing another life into this world is overwhelming. To realize as a mother that you are influencing that infant for a life time can be staggering. It is only through the grace of God that this responsibility and commitment can in any way trully be realized. Have I touched their hearts and shaped things around them in a way that is good and right and pure? Have I honored God with this gift of life that He has entrusted to me?
The chairs are often empty now. And time seems to have slipped by quicker than I ever imagined it could. For some this might imply sorrow and emptiness. Not for me, my heart is full. From the very first moment that John was born, I knew that my babies did not belong to me. I was given the gift of time with them but they were never mine to keep. It was my job to teach them to be polite, to lean on God and stand as men. They are strong now, and independent and they stand in the light of who they see God to be. And the tea cups and the roses... did they make a difference..... you tell me.
The Second Cup by John
A young man sat down and took for himself a pot of tea on the table along with his cup. In the empty chair across from him he took a second cup from the tea set and place it there. He sat looking at it for a while knowing what it was for.
This is my second cup.
This is for the woman who will make my life special.
It is for someone I love.
She'll make me feel l can do anything.
We'll enjoy just being togeher.
When we're sipping that tea
Everything will be all right.
The woman who's out ther
And while he sat there pondering this someone sat down in the empty chair.
"Hello Mom"
And he offered her that second cup.
Untitled by Brian
Just a short stroll, she thougthto herself. It was too lovely a day to remain indoors. Everything seemed s it should be. As she meandered down the path, she couldn't help but feel at peac. The gentle sunshin cascaed through the multicolored branches of the trees. My trees, she thought.The light breeze caused the branches to sway, making the shadows dance all around her. All around her, the feeling of spring was tangible. All of the flowers, the blooms, bursting forth with color. She stopped in front of her favorite, the rosebush near the center of the garden. My rosebush. My garden. She thought of all the time that had gone into it. All the years, starting so small, with so little reward. But standing ther, bathed in light, the troubles faded away, and all the toil seemed to her a small sacrifice to make. It was worth it. Absentmindedly she plucked a rose from the bush, and inhaled it fragrance as she stood there. She knew she couldn't stay for long. The children would be coming soon. My children. Even thought they were scarecely children anymore. Sometimes it pained her. She would walk her garden, with small tears in her eyes, because a part of her had left when they had moved on. The thought of all the time, all those years ago, when they were so somall. All that she had given up. But she saw them now, so tall and grown up, now with families of their own, she saw the men that she had raise, and it all seemed a small sacrifice to make. It was worth it. She heard a sound coming up the hill, the sound of laughter. Her children, and their children. One last look at her garden, and she went inside, eager to see them again. All grown, with families and lives of their own. But they would always be her little ones.
Rainy weather prevented Brian and I from planting roses this year. John and I both agreed to sit with two cups of tea, reminiscent of our times together.
And the grandchildren among the roses .. that's a dream that must wait for another day.
I've no idea what she's written yet, but she's a better writer than I am, so enjoy....
-------
Tea cups and Roses and a Mother's dreams
Gathering up the ribbons and remnants of breakfast come Monday morning, causes me to pause and reflect. Life with Brian has been a charming adventure. He is my middle son. And this year the responsibilities of the Mother's Day festivities have rested upon his shoulders. Dad has been off doing his spring tour ( no he is not a rock star but an engineer) adding frequent flier miles to his already platinum status. John, the oldest, has been off being all that he can be in the Army. The burdensome task of holiday with MOM has been placed in the skillful hands of Brian and his smiling assistant Dave.
It was a wonderful day. The phone rang early in the morning and it was John wishing me a Happy Mother's day. Brian and Dave entered the room so that I could enjoy the blessing of all three of their voices in the same room ( and not an argument among them!!) From there it was breakfast, I had a handsome butler named Jenkins, with a lovely British accent ala Dave and a breakfast menu to chose from. While I waited for scones with lemon curd and strawberries and melon to be prepared, I was given Godiva chocolates- from Dave, the first of many gifts I was told. Now that is a pleasant way to start Mother's day. The joyful sound of my three sons with coffee and Godiva. Breakfast was delicious hot coffee, warm scones with lemon curd on good china!!! And two hungry sons to share with.
After breakfast Brian skillfully manuevered his way through the day with charming little surprises round every turn. When I went to dress what should I find but a card from Brian and perfume waiting there in the bathroom. It was the exact fragrance that I had mention wanting only a few weeks before. Later when we went out to dinner my heart skipped a beat. Red Lobster, the whole time I was pregnant with Brian, I craved shrimp. Since we were in Florida while I was expecting him, I ate them to my hearts' content. I could not help but smile since seafood always makes me think of the joys of my pregnancy of my second born son.
Later during the meal, Brian pulled out a little black box that was my gift from Travis. My eyes filled with tears as he said this is from Dad. Little did he know that a few years before, in the same restaurant Travis had presented me with a diamond bracelet to celebrate our twentieth anniversary. Now in a loving gesture for his father, he presents my gift for mother's day in the very same fashion. It was a set of beautiful pearl bracelets. Pearls, they speak to me of wisdom, of beauty and of grace. For a tiny little grain of sand to grow to such a thing of beauty. It is amazing to me.
Life is much like that. When I think back to my first mother's day. I was thankful just to have Travis watch over John and allow me the time to shower and do my hair and makeup. Now that was a gift!! Flashbacks and memories flood into my mind. Coupon books and dandelions. Plaster hands and crayola cards. Pretending to sleep while the boys fought QUIETLY to make me a surprise. Spilled coffee on bedsheets because of the traditional mother's day breakfast in bed. Poems and promises and lots of potted plants. Shovels full of dirt for roses and tea parties in the afternoon. Those memories seem faded over time but have become so much more precious.
I can also remember the prayers and the dreams. Oh God give me wisdom, wisdom to raise this precious little life. Wisdom to teach him. I was overwhelmed by all I never seemed to know. And then before I knew it there were two babies. How I held them in my arms and cried out earnestly that God would show me how to raise them, that they would grow to be men of integrity, men of virtue. That some how I could take all the leassons I had learned and help them to learn more, be more, accomplish more, more than I had ever hoped or dared to dream for myself.
The reality is that when you hold your babies you hope and pray and dream but you can never really imagine the men, the women that they shall become. As a Christian parent I have tried to instill in them the importance of devotion to God, through worship, pray and His Word. I have taught them as best I know how to live and love and laugh. I have surrounded them with the things I believe are of merit, value and beauty -books, music, faith and forgiveness, china and sunsets and to stop and smell the roses. I have tried to be genuine, allowing them to see my human frailities and need for dependency upon God. I have prayed for their safety, their sorrows, their strength, their loves and their futures and that above all their lives would give glory to their God.
Mothers sow in prayer and tears, they hope and dream, love and laugh and along the way there are many, many regrets. The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. The responsibility of bringing another life into this world is overwhelming. To realize as a mother that you are influencing that infant for a life time can be staggering. It is only through the grace of God that this responsibility and commitment can in any way trully be realized. Have I touched their hearts and shaped things around them in a way that is good and right and pure? Have I honored God with this gift of life that He has entrusted to me?
The chairs are often empty now. And time seems to have slipped by quicker than I ever imagined it could. For some this might imply sorrow and emptiness. Not for me, my heart is full. From the very first moment that John was born, I knew that my babies did not belong to me. I was given the gift of time with them but they were never mine to keep. It was my job to teach them to be polite, to lean on God and stand as men. They are strong now, and independent and they stand in the light of who they see God to be. And the tea cups and the roses... did they make a difference..... you tell me.
The Second Cup by John
A young man sat down and took for himself a pot of tea on the table along with his cup. In the empty chair across from him he took a second cup from the tea set and place it there. He sat looking at it for a while knowing what it was for.
This is my second cup.
This is for the woman who will make my life special.
It is for someone I love.
She'll make me feel l can do anything.
We'll enjoy just being togeher.
When we're sipping that tea
Everything will be all right.
The woman who's out ther
And while he sat there pondering this someone sat down in the empty chair.
"Hello Mom"
And he offered her that second cup.
Untitled by Brian
Just a short stroll, she thougthto herself. It was too lovely a day to remain indoors. Everything seemed s it should be. As she meandered down the path, she couldn't help but feel at peac. The gentle sunshin cascaed through the multicolored branches of the trees. My trees, she thought.The light breeze caused the branches to sway, making the shadows dance all around her. All around her, the feeling of spring was tangible. All of the flowers, the blooms, bursting forth with color. She stopped in front of her favorite, the rosebush near the center of the garden. My rosebush. My garden. She thought of all the time that had gone into it. All the years, starting so small, with so little reward. But standing ther, bathed in light, the troubles faded away, and all the toil seemed to her a small sacrifice to make. It was worth it. Absentmindedly she plucked a rose from the bush, and inhaled it fragrance as she stood there. She knew she couldn't stay for long. The children would be coming soon. My children. Even thought they were scarecely children anymore. Sometimes it pained her. She would walk her garden, with small tears in her eyes, because a part of her had left when they had moved on. The thought of all the time, all those years ago, when they were so somall. All that she had given up. But she saw them now, so tall and grown up, now with families of their own, she saw the men that she had raise, and it all seemed a small sacrifice to make. It was worth it. She heard a sound coming up the hill, the sound of laughter. Her children, and their children. One last look at her garden, and she went inside, eager to see them again. All grown, with families and lives of their own. But they would always be her little ones.
Rainy weather prevented Brian and I from planting roses this year. John and I both agreed to sit with two cups of tea, reminiscent of our times together.
And the grandchildren among the roses .. that's a dream that must wait for another day.
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