Author: Anna Eastland
I'm a homeschooling mom of 8 and write at "Just East of Crazy Land: Adventures in Parenting." My younger daughters share their art and writing at "The Passionate Pencil" and the older ones at "The Writing Sisters." Enjoy! :)
Deep Canyon
Have you ever pondered
that the heart carved out
by torrents of sorrow
can also run deeper
with springs of joy?
Baby Love
I was just taking a little nap with baby and closing my eyes so I could see what her dreams were…if they were good or bad.
Sweet Relief
Darling, I’d like to write you beautiful poems
after your long awaited arrival
and the desperate relief of the moment
you came slipping out like a selkie
from the waters inside
and beached yourself on my belly….
But right now I’m in such a happy bubble
that all I can think of is silly mama speak
you little pink piglet sweetie pie flower bud
baby blossom wonderful one
You are warm
You are safe
You are here
You are here
You are here
Christmas and the fragile gift of life
It’s easy at Christmas to feel as though you should write something joyful and sparkly…like a glimmering Christmas ball…round, perfect and whole. We yearn for such happiness, particularly at Christmas, when it seems possible to snatch down a little piece of a Heaven and bask in its glow in our very homes…but for how many is this image a real reflection of Christmas?
For many people, their Christmas balls have been cracked, chipped, or even shattered. Somehow the imperfections of this life, of our particular family or health situations, stand out more strongly when we compare them with the cosy images on Christmas cards. The innocence of a child, face glowing with anticipation of the ‘perfect’ happiness to be found in the toy shop window trimmed with sparkling snow, has been robbed from many of us as life’s tougher trials have set in.
For myself and many friends, one of these trials is the suffering of seeing aging parents struggling with their health. The ones who have meant our stability and safety in the world are now often clinging to life as to a very fragile gift, one we can’t guarantee won’t break. As we grow, we realize just how many things are out of our control. Like how major surgery will go for a beloved parent on Christmas Eve. And -thank goodness!-it went well, which was the best Christmas present by far this year.
In this age of instant gratification and micromanaging, Christmas is a powerful reminder that the things that matter most–life, love, family and friends–are beyond our control–in fact are complete and utter gifts. Ones we should give thanks for every day. Ones we should never take for granted. Life is vulnerable and precious, and it is made sweeter by those who are willing to experience it with us, suffering and all.
One of them is a baby, one who chose to leave the perfect safely and joy of Heaven to lay down on straw with us, to experience cold, hunger, loneliness and fear with us. The “I am Who am” became the “I am Who am with you.” Emmanuel. God with us, every step of the way.
Comforted by this divine tenderness, let’s stir up our hearts to look forward to the new year with trust and joy, because despite all our struggles, we are always loved, and never really alone. These are my thoughts as I anticipate meeting my new baby daughter next week, 3 weeks early because my pregnancy liver condition means that sooner is safer. Little one, you are a precious, fragile gift, and I can’t wait to hold you with great joy!
Merry Christmas, everyone, and peace be with you and yours in 2018.
The snow lies still
The snow lies still upon the rooftops.
From a few houses
smoke rises in a misty haze
and the streetlights blaze
like midnight suns.
All is silent
except the steady breathing of my toddler
whom I’m rocking back to sleep.
In the upper bedroom
across the street
insomnia reigns
and the blue lights of the television
flash out a noiseless dance.
But the snow lies still upon the rooftops
and silence greets my sleepy glance outside.
Little Astronaut
Tiny traveller
from the realm of inner space,
you float suspended
in dark warm liquid
upside down
untouched by gravity
tethered by a lifeline
to the mothership.
Outside, tiny blue rivers
run in veins over the rolling horizon.
Your world curves around you
like a constant embrace,
the pulse of your universe
beats reassuringly in your ears.
When you are launched into the outer world
in an epic one-foot journey–
“One small step for mankind”–
you enter a new solar system
where bright light abounds,
but the starlight from your former home
forever twinkles in your eyes.
Tiny traveller,
welcome to the world!
(Image from Hubble Telescope)
Birch tree
Birch tree
stripped bare
like me
No leaves to receive
the rain
Nothing left
to give or gain
Glowing white
in the mist
Twigs too thin
to clench a fist
Birch tree
stripped bare
like me
Happy St. Nicholas Day!
As I have some Dutch Family, I like to keep the tradition of putting out shoes the night before St. Nicholas Day, or Sinterklaas. Of course the kids love it, too, and this year ambitiously put out boots instead! 😉 We all got one little zippy bag of traditional Dutch cookies, one chocolate, and one decoration for the tree. It’s a fun way to anticipate Christmas, and the excitement of waking up to a surprise brings with it almost as much joy and anticipation as the bigger celebration of Christmas Day!
You’ll notice boots of 4 girls, 2 little boys, and mum and dad, too. And if you look carefully up on the bookshelf, you can see the little ornament of our new baby girl, who at 33 weeks old inside, doesn’t need any shoes yet, but is equally a part of our Christmas this year.
Wishing you all an Advent filled with simple joys and much love!
Solitary Light
Suffering friend,
your brightness bursts
through the dark like lightning.
People are awed by your strength and beauty.
They do not hear the cry of your pain–
your anguish always swallowed up by thunder.
They see only your power,
blinded to the pain that rips
your heart in half with such terrible violence.
They do not realize that you yearn
to be a candle–a warm light
shining in cosy concert with others–
the same simple joys lighting up your face.
Gorgeous, devastating lightning bolt,
strike no more alone,
surrounded by the cold empty air
that crashes through your lungs in suffocating silence
while your tears invisibly drown in the storm.
Reach for me,
let me feel the sting of your pain,
absorb some of the shock,
connect with the current coursing through you.
Illumine my ignorance.
Unblind me so I can see with you
the world from the eye of the storm.
Image from https://ignatiansolidarity.net/blog/2015/10/06/student-voices-thunderstruck-by-pride/
Just East Of Crazy Land 