The way I see it, Facebook Memories are a crapshoot. They remind us of big and small events, family history, or a lovely brunch meal you shared with your girlfriends 8 years ago. If memories become too painful to revisit, we simply turn off the notification. Most often, “On this day” moments are fondly remembered as we scroll through the years.
Today’s 2013 moment, a photo with its hash-tagged caption, sidled up nicely to current events. It’s serendipity, really. I’m not a fan of puns or maybe it’s a metaphor, but here ya’ go.
Eleven years ago today, my son texted a playground snapshot of my oldest grandgirl, Bella. Like most cell phone pics from 2013, the quality is grainy, but the composition is oh so dreamy, especially for a cloud lover like myself. When I shared the picture, just like a Nana on Facebook does, I gave it the hashtag #JustKeepSwinging.
Bella Swings, photo by Seth
Fast forward 11 years and Bella’s second season as a high school softball player has come to a close. She’s a talented catcher/utility player and we often refer to her BEAST mode in group chats. This season had its challenges, but with the unrelenting support of her family and coaches, her talent is nurtured and developed. This kid sparkles on the softball diamond. Even behind home plate, she throws out runners at second base from one bended knee with graceful strength. Personally, that’s my favorite way to witness the beast inside her.
Division Champs, Colorado Sparkler 2024, photo by Kayla
Some spectators enjoy another talent…she managed NINE of them, this season alone.
(Insider tip – Turn down your device volume before viewing this video. Her #1 fan aka camera person aka Softball Momma’s got some lungs on her!)
Swinging Bella, video by Kayla
Bella, #JustKeepSwinging – it works well on and off the field of life.
I say friend, because if you’re still subscribed to this abandoned place, I owe you. I’m revisiting some old posts, updating them and sweeping out the cobwebs on this domain to publish again. I had the honor of releasing a tagged Monarch butterfly today, so how could I not think of this post? As the butterflies flew from our palms, I was covered in goose bumps and a deep sense of gratitude. Thanks for reading!
When I was a kid, I hated Fall for the following reasons:
* It got dark too early and I couldn’t play outside until bedtime.
*Back to school meant back to shoes, instead of the bare feet of summer.
*Worst of all, everything turned brown and died.
There WAS one particular fall when a magical experience with nature created one of my favorite childhood memories. That was the year I fell in love with the Monarch butterfly.
Lady Monarch 2022, photo by me
1973, I was playing outside, barefoot and getting cold as dusk approached. I found a Monarch butterfly on the honeysuckle bush beside our house. She didn’t fly away when I came too close. She climbed onto my hand when I reached out to touch her wing. I tried to shake her off, encouraging flight, but she clung to my grimy 11 year-old hand. I deduced that this butterfly must be hurt, so I snuck her back into the house when my dad whistled his time-to-come-home whistle. Having seen the movie “Dr. Doolittle”, I was totally convinced that I was the girl version of him for most of my childhood.
I kept that butterfly in my closet for two days as I “nursed her back to health.” I provided fresh water in a pickle jar lid and took her outside before and after school each day. She fed on the honeysuckle blossoms, unfurling a graceful proboscis while I watched in wonder. When she quit feeding I’d hold my hand next to her, she’d climb aboard then back into my room we’d go. On the third morning, when I lifted my hand after her breakfast, instead of climbing across my finger, she flitted away. Gasp! Awe! Pure joy!
Those two days meant the world to me, especially when we studied the epic journey of Monarch butterflies in science class. Their migration path is directly through my home state. From then on, every April and September, I cheered when I saw the orange and black miracles fly over me. While they made their way north in the spring and south in the fall, I felt like a secret part of the process.
When I became a Mom, I introduced the kids to my migration ritual and they clapped along with me. These days they call me to report their sightings and cheer with my grandkids. Many times over the years, Monarch joy carried me through difficult seasons, reminding me how precious and fleeting life can be.
*June 1988 – I was suddenly a single mother with a two-year-old daughter and a five-week-old baby boy. I noticed a chrysalis on my front porch bannister on a grueling morning as I scrambled out the door, kids in tow. It felt like a gift for me. Watching it go through its life cycle sustained me those few days after my world crumbled.
*April 1995, Oklahoma City and September 2001, New York City – While trying to come to terms with the horror and sorrow of the world during those days, witnessing another migration of Monarchs through my state brought much needed solace.
*September 1996 was the last time I spent the morning with a friend (who later became paralyzed in a motorcycle accident.) We ate his famous chocolate chip pancakes on an apartment balcony, planning our visit to the state fair while watching thousands of Monarchs dot the sky as they flew southerly toward us. We joked about how jealous we were of their impending winter vacation in Mexico.
I’d been planning a blog post about my love of Monarchs and heard a quote that spoke to me about true joy. Was it trite to compare my love of these little insects to a spiritual experience? I tried for years to write about it without sounding like a weirdo; but from the time I was 11-years-old and felt that surprise rush of joy when she flew away, the experience with my butterfly felt sacred.
When I Googled the quote, imagine my delight when I clicked on the link for beliefnet.com in the search results list. The quote was illustrated with an image of a Monarch butterfly.
If you’d like to learn more about Monarch butterflies, visit Okies for Monarchs.
There’s a dinosaur theme at my job these days and the music playing for our guests today was set to a Jurassic-ish station. I wondered out loud “What would a Mother’s Day playlist sound like?”
When I got home, I put together a Mother’s Day Playlist to reflect my motherhood journey. A couple of songs are straight from Disney movie soundtracks; one is a fun song from the 90s, when we cruised in my Mustang convertible with the top down. I spent so much time driving, performing the bi-monthly drop off trip that children of divorce know so well. Sometimes I’d play my music, mostly 80s rock and 90s country and sometimes we’d listen to the kids’ music, everything from Will Smith to Eminem. When we played the game, Who Sings This Song, they beat me every time. One of my fondest memories as a grandparent is riding in the car, with my daughter Rachel and my grandkids, Presleigh and Cash, coasting under the twinkle lights of a small Oklahoma town and singing “Can’t Stop the Feeling!” at the top of our lungs.
Coming soon, under construction, Rose learning WordPress…yep, all of those. Big thanks to Mashi, the WP Support Agent, who helped me fix my URL and point the domain to the right place.
Shout out to Laura Clark for her creative spin on my rose rocks logo, I love it!
If you’d like to stay tuned, click one of the follow buttons below. That’s all I have for today – well, plus this imperfectly fuzzy butterfly picture I took last week. When you spot joy, don’t worry about the details, just snap it up!
OKRoserock 