this morning i am sadly moved by the headline weary story of phoebe prince. for those of you who have been fortunate enough to dodge the nightly news, phoebe is the girl who, after living months of torment and hell inflicted on her by her "peers," couldn't bare the pain any longer and chose to end her life.

i'd seen headlines for this story plastered all over the internet news sources, but until today i hadn't chanced to read of such a heartrendering account. this morning though, as i sipped my coffee and perused the top stories on cnn (and yes, it makes me sick to see the attention being wasted on tiger woods - a sorry character indeed) i clicked and read phoebe's sad story.

as i read, my mother's heart felt a stab of pain much as if my own child had felt her pain. who are these people, these heartless teenagers, that could take such pleasure, such satisfaction in hurting someone so? how were they raised that they could be capable of such behaviour? where are their parents? where were the teachers who might have been able to reach out to this girl?

numerous students from phoebe's school admitted that "everyone knew" of the hateful actions and harassment exacted upon her. it was obvious what was happening, yet no one stepped in to defend her. being a teenager is painful in and of itself, let alone being the object of cruel and malicious torture. for all accounts, it appears that the root cause of phoebe's torment was a boy. two boys. all of this over a guy. i shake my head at the waste of it all.

her tormentors were, are monsters. anyone who would turn a blind eye such cruelty also shares the blame. and as parents we're to blame too when we turn our heads on our responsibility in teaching our children the "do unto others" rule, exemplifying in our own actions to love thy neighbor as thyself. who are they to learn from, if not us, the meaning of humility? do we even understand that word - humility? does anyone anymore?

i pray for the soul of this troubled young girl. i pray for her parents. i pray for the sad and sorry hearts of her persecutors - where do they go from here? what hope do they have if, at this early stage of their lives, they are capable of such cruel and despicable actions? and i pray for us, as a people, that we may see the beauty of humanness in the eyes of everyone we meet and that we might realize that as creations of a loving god, there's a part of us in every other living soul. when we're cruel to others, in reality we're only hurting ourselves.

hu.mil.i.ty: noun

1. the quality or state of being humble

2. respectful; feeling or showing

respect or deference

toward other people

in the grand scheme of things, you and me make we.

may we always know that, practice it, and simply...be.

love,

-t.

photo - a flower for phoebe from my collection

taken at the chicago botanic garden in last february

i have been...

feeling an incredible sense of peace with my life recently. contentment being not simply a word, but more a bonafide feeling. i like that, this sense that i am exactly where i am meant to be, doing precisely what i'm supposed to be doing. right now, today. i'm not reaching, trying to grab the higher spot on the monkey bars. the view is mighty fine from my perch on life's jungle gym. i have what i need. i want for nothing.

i'm getting lots of exercise, fresh air and clean food. i have the company of a good man to share my life. my children are healthy, fully functioning adults who for all practical appearances seriously seem to have their shit together. and they like each other. a lot. me too, and the huz. and those babies - my little grandbeans. having them leaves me feeling sorry for those without. grandchildren, that is. my little family's pretty tightly knit, a blessing i hold in high regard. i have good, good friends and i realize how lucky i am to be held in their countenance.

above all else though, i have peace. one can only understand how vital inner peace is when one is without it. it's painful. i don't ever want to experience life without it again. i'll do whatever it takes to maintain and secure peace in my life. with peace there is freedom. freedom to trust, live honestly, and feel safe.

and i'm writing. not here so much lately (though i miss it, think of it each day, and really want to do better about posting more regularly) but on my own, in the morning, at night, whenever i get the chance. i've taken to carrying a notebook around with me, not leaving home without it. i'm collecting pictures, jotting phrases, making note of new words, unique names, anything of interest that sparks my imagination. these days i think in stories and in doing so i feel as if i come home after an overly long absence. my stories never end, but go on day and night, switching directions like the springtime winds blowing color and life onto the page.

deep post. what did you expect after my having been gone so long? oh, and i have you. reading along whenever i post. for one who so loves to write, there is no greater blessing than to know that someone is reading.

wishing you peace and love on an unseasonably cold morning

a morning to stay tucked in reading

a morning to stay tucked in writing...

-t.

~this, my dear nans, is what i've been up to~

i have been...

Hi there, missed you. Sorry I've been absent. I'm keeping this short but wanted to let you know that everyday I think of you, and more so, everyday I think more and more about writing. Daydreaming actually. Story lines, plots, characters and scenes fight for time during my workday. Now so they're even waking me up at night, revealing themselves to me layer by layer.

I'm going to try to keep up here a bit better and on a more casual basis. Checking in. Saying hello and sharing what I've been up to. I'll also be sharing my the titles of current books in which my nose is buried. Speaking of which, I just finished listening to the BBC production of Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert. Loved it, though SO sad - perfect example of a poor soul incapable of being happy all the while missing true love as it stares her in the face. That said though, sad as it is, I loved it.

I have a few audios lying in wait...who will it be next? Jane Austen? James Joyce? Over the past few months I've taken a swift dive into the classics all the while discovering a new found joy in the listening. As for hard copy, a coworker of mine suggested I might like The School of Essential Ingredients by Erica Bauermeister and she was right. Loving that too, reminiscent of another one of my all time favorites - Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel.

Am loving the sounds and scents of these glorious spring days, despite the fact that while the sun shines I'm tucked inside the library. That's okay though. At night by the cast of the moon's glow, the window is open blowing in the promise of spring. And as I lie awake, blessed by the caress of the night time air, I conjure and create, spinning stories in my mind.

"Every spring is the only spring. A perpetual astonishment"

-t.

quotation - ellis peters