This is a picture of my grandmother's house in Virginia. It's the place I go to in my mind when I want to feel calm. It's the place I mentioned in an earlier post, Pennies from Heaven. My grandmother died a number of years ago, but when I find myself needing comforting she's a person I turn to in my mind who I feel still supports me.
I called her Moonie. Her name went unquestioned until I was in fifth or sixth grade when I asked my mom, "Why do we call Moonie 'Moonie'?" My mom said that one time when I was very little I had been crying in my crib. My grandmother came into my room to comfort me and pointed out the window. She said, "Don't cry. Look. The moon is watching you."
Months later when she was visiting again and I was starting to talk I kept saying, "Moonie, moonie." My mom asked, "Who's moonie?" I ran over to my grandmother and that's what I called her ever since. She was a special person in my life, and even now seeing a full moon reminds me of her.
Last night, after my day at the doctor's office and finding out that I have still more cancer treatments to go through, I was so sad. Marc was out of town and I just went to bed crying, scared and worried and feeling overwhelmed. Around 4 am I was awakened by a light outside my window and on my pillow. There was a bright full moon shining on me.
I opened the window and took this picture. Seeing a full moon was both wondrously surprising and very calming. I felt like it was a sign that things would be okay. If something happens to you that feels magical, maybe it is magic. Go ahead and wonder. Or as Rumi put it, "Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment."
I felt better all day today.
Here's a song my brother shared with me that I linked in an earlier post, but seems fitting again: What faith can do
Photo credit for Moonie's house - Don Janak
I think of Moonie often and the incomparable times
we had in that magical place. And I think of what
Paul Simon wrote in a quote you sent my Dad long years ago:
"once in a while from out of nowhere
when you don't expect it and you're unprepared
somebody will come and lift you higher
and your burdens will be shared. Dad
Posted by: kenneth weihe | 08/28/2010 at 10:18 AM
Thanks, Dad. Perfect quote - that's how I felt!
Posted by: Lisa D | 08/28/2010 at 10:32 PM
Lisa, another odd calming effect of my mother, your Moonie - for years when Don and I were at concerts featuring a pianist I promptly nodded off in an embarrassing way, my head rolling off my shoulders. I did not realize until after many such noddings that it was an association from childhood. After tucking us into bed at night mother very often went downstairs and played the piano. In addition I often wander mentally in the woods of my childhood as a comfort place. Jo
Posted by: Joan | 08/29/2010 at 11:04 AM
I remember walking up to the house when she was visiting at the Sauers and not knowing at first if it was the radio playing or her practicing. It was her. Thanks for the memory of how well she played.
Posted by: Lisa D | 08/29/2010 at 05:25 PM