Family Tributes part 3 - Mom

     I have had many teachers throughout my years of schooling, but my first teacher sang somewhere over the rainbow before I fell asleep.  She sat with me at the piano when I was 5 and taught me how to plink out twinkle twinkle star.  She taught me tricks for how to put my coat on when I was three.  She never tried to correct me when my pre-school teacher told her I was fond of wandered around the classroom and sing to the other children. She sparked my curiosity as a small child through bubbles and dissected daffodils.  She is a teacher to many and a friend to many more, but but I am lucky to only have to share her role of mom with one other person (and trust me, sharing mom was quite the dispute back in our toddler days).

     Some college kids only talk to their parents at set times once a week; my mom and I call each other on the phone sporadically, almost every day, with news about the goings-on across the country and the thoughts of our minds.   You would naturally wants to tell a best friend about what's going on in your life, right?  Some kids, especially in elementary school, saw this to be incredibly strange: "Eeehh, Kathryn, she tells her mom everything..."  I never saw a problem with this.  I still don't.

     I thank God that I have had parents who were never passive in my life, who listened to me, yelled at me, and comforted me exactly when I needed it.  She's dealt with me tears, my frustrations, and my laughter all the same.  My mom has one of the most kind, loving, caring hearts I've known and has a thoughtful special way of understanding that I aspire to have.  She sacrifices a ton of time to help our family.  She drove me 800 miles with my horse to compete in the championship when I was 16. She taught me to "tell your truths" and do what you need to do for you.   Like I mentioned in a previous post, she is never afraid to sing loudly the fragments of songs that she knows on the radio, or dance like it's the 80's when she's listening to her iPod around the house.  Her voice popped into my head the other day when I was at a prayer service, as we all light candles to place on a world map in honor of the people we love.  I remembered a song she used to sing with my sister and I in the car when we were little, and before we fell asleep at night:

"This little light of mine

I'm gonna let it shine...

Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine."

Thanks mom. I'm gonna try.

Equal Parts Science and Magic

250+ words for today = A beautiful talk by a  spoken word poet.  Watch it, guys. seriously. I promise it will change the way you walk through your day.

"There are talents inside us that allow us to excell in different ways than those that surround us.  And these talents lie innate in every one of us, and it is only a matter of discovering their location, unearthing it, holding it up to the light of the world and announcing, "This is me. This is what I can do."

"so call this the year of no mistakes 

the year of the heavy sword

but stronger hands 

the year, where we are no longer stuck in the street 

but found somewhere between the asphalt and the moon 

inside a sheath of arrows turning itself into wind 

the year where we turn our hearts towards light 

with the realization and acceptance of not only how utterly magnificent

everyone of us is, 

but that this magnificence is something that we cannot help but carry with us. 

there is joy inside of you waiting to be heard 

listen for it 

and to the spaces it speaks from 

follow those spaces

do not tremble before the boulder blocking the entrance into yourself 

do not tremble before the boulder blocking the entrance out of yourself 

you cannot fall 

you are noble 

the universe is a part of you 

and you apart of it 

and every piece of it is made of science and magic 

every part of you is science and magic."

*Thanks to Elizabeth Welliver for sharing this with me!

Family tributes part 2 - Dad

     When I was 5, my favorite game in the world was known as "ask daddy."  This entailed me capturing my father's full and undivided attention at the dinner table, while proceeding to unleash every question within my young inquiring mind and demanding answers in full.  Part of little me was actually pretty curious; the other part of little me just liked the attention and hearing the sound of my own voice. Regardless, I was in awe of how he always had an answer for everything.  There was nothing he didn't know.  He faced inquiries such as "why is the sky blue?" and "why do we get sick?" always fashioning nobel prize-worthy answers.  But I remember clearly the day that I asked the trickiest of questions: "why doesn't sugarless gum blow bubbles as well as sugar gum???"

Alas, Daddy had no answer.  My world was shattered.

Now at the age of 19 I am at College being taught by a slew of PhDs, and I will still honestly tell anyone that my father is one of the most incredible minds I have ever encountered, even despite the lack of gum chemistry knowledge.  From the time he read the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings to me before bed as a little girl, to the time he would sit with me for hours discussing my history readings with me when I was home-schooled, to the times I come home from college and we talk about the new wonders of academia, I mind has always been ignited by his contagious and genuine curiosity.   Through this, he has shown me that no matter what is happening or where you are in your day, there is always something to sit down and be fascinated by.  He can often be spotted with coffee reading an art book, history book, or one of just about any topic come to think of it.  Talking to him is still one of my favorite things to do, and topics range from religion and philosophy to science to politics to current events to art to history to psychology and back again; He always reminds me how important it is to ask all the questions, to assume nothing about the world around me, and walk towards everything with an open mind.  His contribution to my love of learning growing up has been greater than that of any teacher or professor.

In addition to his curiosity and smarts, I look up to his profound way of seeing the beauty and art in the world around him as well his depth of caring that I have been beyond lucky to receive as his child.  He has helped me climb mountains and helped me down rocky ledges, literally and figuratively. He researched endless data on I swear every college in the country when I was applying to schools to help me find a good place to land when I "flew the coup."  He has helped talk me through states of dismay and indecision, encouraged me, and reminded me of all the possibilities I can create for myself.  He drew me a pastel picture of my horse for my christmas present.   His smile expresses just as much love as his art.

Dear future husband/boyfriend: I require you to be at least half as amazing as my Dad.  Nothing less will suffice.

Saying goodbye after christmas break

My christmas present

On top of the first mountain I climbed 

 Our most recent mountain last summer

Headlines and Prayers...

Continually praying for Boston.

In honor of all the victims and their families:

A quote shared by a friend:

“For the church, the many abuses of human life, liberty, and dignity are a heartfelt suffering. The church, entrusted with the earth’s glory, believes that in each person is the Creator’s image and that everyone who tramples it offends God. As holy defender of God’s rights and of his images, the church must cry out. It takes as spittle in its face, as lashes on its back, as the cross in its passion, all that human beings suffer. They suffer as God’s images. There is no dichotomy between man and God’s image. Whoever tortures a human being, whoever abuses a human being, whoever outrages a human being abuses God’s image, and the church takes as its own that cross, that martyrdom.”
― Oscar A. Romero

Family Tributes Part 1 - Sister

     There is one special girl out who I have giggled with, played with, yelled at, scraped my knees with, smiled with, sung to the radio with...the list goes on.  Once, I harassed her into playing beauty parlor with me when she was 3 and then proceeded to cut off half her hair.  She somehow still loves me.  She is a star basketball player, an amazing horseback rider, she's smart, artistic, genuine, and beautiful - she is my now-not-so-little sister, and every time I come home from school I am astounded to see how much more she has grown and matured.

She wrote me a letter (a 10 page letter!) before I left for college, and said: "I know your textbooks will be your best friends/enemies, but try to have a little fun without me. You know, textbooks are kind of like sisters - you gotta to love us, you have no choice, though sometimes you just want to throw us in the fire pit."  Hee hee.  I am happy to say, my darling, that unlike my textbooks, I have never once considered throw you in a fire pit.  Whose hair would be left to coercingly curl then???  Oh how I miss our days of tree-fort and sand-castle making: as little nature children we perpetually played in the trees, dirt, creek, sand, tree sap, and every other naturally occurring substance you can think of, with the elements becoming a part of our spirits in addition to each other's presence.  In this letter, which I re-discovered only a couple months ago, she wrote, "Thanks for being my sister. I love to laugh, cry, scream and play with you.  I'm pretty sure that you are the only person that I have done all five with in every extremity. Haha. Aren't you lucky? Now, last but not least, thank you for being.  Because without you, the world would be so much different.  My world would be at least.  It would be missing your clothes for me to steal, you fun, your love, all that is you."

I just about cried.

So until I manage to write you a sufficient 10 page response, I want you to know, dear sister, that while we were building tree forts, having you in my life built a part of me I would never want to loose.  Thank you for your kind heart, your concern for others, and your joyful smile.  Thanks for yelling at me when I needed to get off my high horse. Thank you for being, with your clothes for me to steal, your fun, your love, for all that is you and all that I know you will become.  I am so proud of you, and I am honored to be your family.

Love love love,
Kathryn

"Having a sister is like having a best friend you can't get rid of.  You know whatever you do, they'll still be there."  ~Amy Li

"A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost."  ~Marion C. Garretty

Formals, Shambles, and Fairytales

It's official - Turner house does no less than Fairytales.  Crazy, unpredictable tales, but fairytales nonetheless.

Last night the whole house went to the beautiful Carrigan Farms Quarry for our spring formal, complete with live music, great food, beautiful scenery, best friends and endless dancing (dancing in heels for 3 hours = don't underestimate us, guys). These girls are priceless, plus any night you get to run around on the sand in a pretty dress is a good night.

A short photo-chronicle of our adventures:

   

...we are a beautiful family.

Promise Land

When you see the Vice President of Admissions darting around campus in a golf cart, you know it's prospie weekend.

 There have prospective students running amuck around Davidson all weekend, and I couldn't post on friday because I was busy hosting and entertaining a lovely student from baltimore.  It seems like only yesterday I was a wide-eyed "prospie" roaming the then-fairytale-like world that was Davidson. Dear high school seniors, I know what you're thinking.  With a full slate of classes, too many extracurriculars/sports to keep track of, and a growing case of senioritis, you stay focused on the light at the end of the tunnel.  Because college...college is the promise land, and everything's gonna be ok.  

Here's the real story.  Get ready to work, struggle and really learn how to learn, why to learn, and how to revel in the beauty of everything we can and can't know.  Expect to meet people who will challenge your ways of thinking, people who are exactly like you, people you might never understand, and learn from them all.  People you will laugh with, cry with, argue with, and throw paint on.  Get to make plans and to change them.  To face frustration, confusion, and the depth of your own imagination.  To dance, make mistakes, and be awake at hours you wish you weren't.  Get ready to work hard, very hard, and understand yourself in ways you never did before.  Get ready to become part of a community of learners, achievers and friends that will look out for you when you didn't even realize you needed it. Get ready to incessantly ask questions and reach beyond your experience. 

Because it isn't about SAT scores or prom dates.  It's about who you are in the world.  And even within this small brick NC haven, I think that together we're getting there. 

This is not your happily ever after.

It's only the beginning.

Healing Hooves

All through grade school, middle school, and even high school, the boys in my grade would tease me about being a “pony girl.”  Pooooonniiiies?? That’s weeeeiiird. Why do you like Pooniiiies?”  I would just pout, flip my dress and stomp away in my little mary jane shoes, telling them they just didn’t have the guts to do what I do.  

As anyone who knows me can tell, my horse obsession has transcended the magical unicorn/pegasus/my little pony phase of childhood and grew into a passion for a sport and powerful human-animal connection.  I unfortunately don’t ride often while at college, but I still get to spend time with equine friends when volunteering at a horse therapy barn near Davidson called Hind’s Feet Farm.  They work with individuals living with traumatic brain injury, and it’s incredible to watch the joy and healing horses can bring to fractured minds and lives.  Therapeutic riding has been proven to help with neurological recovery in many people: when a person suffers from TBI, the damage done to neural networks caused by the injury often causes difficulty integrating different tasks together, and the brain does not perform efficiently.  When riding a horse, the brain must operate on multiple physical and cognitive tasks -balance, direction, coordination - and this multisensory activity can help begin the “re-integration” of processing abilities.   The joy and healing of goes beyond pure science, however; I’ve felt it before when I am faced with fragments in my own life.  If you’re a horse person, you know what I’m talking about.   This semester I have had the privilege to work with the members (the patients with TBI) directly in the riding program, and breathing in the sweet smell of hay is always the best way to start Thursday mornings.

The other week, I was working with a sweet older gentleman who was riding caddy, my favorite huggable horse at the barn, and he very concerned for Caddy’s well-being.  He kept asking me if he was comfortable since he was doing so much work to carry him.  I assured him Caddy does this all the time, so not to worry.  This morning I asked him if he was excited to ride again, and he simply said, “When they look in your eyes you can just tell there’s so much there.   They have minds.”  He commented on my green cowboy boots and asked me if I had been around horses a lot; I smiled and told him I had been riding since I was eight.

He looked at me with a knowing smile and said, “Ahhh.  They are really in your heart aren’t they.”

That they are.  And they’re even more magical than when I was eight years old.

 

Beauty Springs

Spring has sprung, and my world is blooming.  Just a week ago the forecast was cold and grey, but today the sun was beaming at a whopping 83 degrees and gave me my first slight sunburn of the season as I walked around snapping pictures of Davidson's beauty.  Today I am thankful for the reminder in the new leaves that “there is a time and season for everything,” and that we shouldn’t be worried when colors fade.  They speak to me and tell of how they are made beautiful by their transience: change is what gives rise to bursts of red and orange before a long silence.  Change is what leads us to where blossoms spring.  They remind me that all this color was contained in the smallest of seeds, of the resilience within each living thing, and of the promise we have to be revived and renewed.

Today gives me hope that, within every dormant tree and disheartened person, there is life waiting to bloom again.

The Seed Market by Rumi

Can you find another market like this?
Where,
with your one rose
you can buy hundreds of rose gardens?
Where,
for one seed
get a whole wilderness?
For one weak breath,
a divine wind?
You've been fearful
of being absorbed in the ground,
or drawn up by the air.
Now, your waterbead lets go
and drops into the ocean,
where it came from.
It no longer has the form it had,
but it's still water
The essence is the same.
This giving up is not a repenting.
It's a deep honoring of yourself.
When the ocean comes to you as a lover,
marry at once, quickly,
for God's sake!
Don't postpone it!
Existence has no better gift.
No amount of searching
will find this.
A perfect falcon, for no reason
has landed on your shoulder,
and become yours.

Dirt, Life and Sacrifice

It has sometimes been said that “Cleanliness is next to Godliness.”  I strongly disagree.  We are called to sweat, to get scraped up, and to get our hands dirty.

On Saturday I lead a group of my fellow Turner sisters to volunteer at a farm called Sow Much Good, a non-profit organization that provides organic produce to low-income neighborhoods in the surrounding area struggling with food insecurity.  The director of the organization began the program out of her backyard in the hope of helping a loved one who was homeless and had been chronically struggling with a mental illness, whose condition was only aggravated by the fact that he was being fed primarily out of processed cans and packages.  She planted extra rows in her garden to provide him with some fresh food, and soon one small mission became an operation that now includes 3 different sites and countless volunteers.  We dug, planted, raked, cleared debris, and wrestled hydrangea plants that insisted on never being relocated (a battle we won after a solid hour). Though we were only there for 3 hours, we could see the collective dent that we made and its impact for the the farm and those it serves.

As I thought about our service work and the story of this organization, I felt its profound relevance to our most recent holiday.  On Easter Sunday, we often see posters, signs and billboards with the words “He is Risen”…yet where are the posters with the question, “Now what?”  I recently encountered a book called “Yours are the hands of Christ,” which speaks of the ways in which we are called each day to do the good work entrusted to us by a Christ no longer here on earth.   Ours must be the serving hands, loving hands, wounded hands, praying hands, dirty and cracked hands, until this work is done.  We are called to sit with those in need, share in their struggle, to plant extra rows in our garden and dig in - in my heart, this is where the true beautiful messages of Easter lie.  Through all the scars, suffering, and resurrection, I believe there was a direct lesson for us to learn – that Love is sacrifice.   That when we sacrifice of our time, of our strength, and of ourselves so that others might have life in full, a little piece of heaven and earth is changed.  A little piece of humanity is saved, right here and now.  

So let’s pick up our shovels and aim for cracked skin, scrapes and dirty fingernails.  Some scars create beautiful things.