In between...

In between this posting and the April post:

--I celebrated my birthday
--we celebrated Samuel's Dedication
--Samuel turned four months
--My parents returned to the Philippines

Having my parents here was such a treasure. It was as if time stood still and I was back home again.

There are dreams that seem so real, you think you can just reach out and touch them...you want to keep on dreaming forever because that's happiness right there in that dreaming...

I have those dreams. I dream I am sitting down with my dear ones, I dream of dinners filled with chatter and laughter, I dream the bright sunlight, and the light radiating from faces so dear as we sit and talk and talk and laugh and remember all the good old days.

I think I just have to reach out a hand to touch the hand of the one next to me, and I wake up in the darkness of a Dutch dawn...and realize I'm not home but here, and while I am happy here, there is a part of me that thinks I'm dreaming this and if I just close my eyes tight enough, I'll open them and find myself waking up to the sunlight streaming in through the pale pink curtains of the room I shared with my sister...

But there's no going back, and I have to say how I would not exchange the reality of these:

--Joel Jan
--Samuel
--Jan
--family and friends I've found in this cold "kikker" land

But still, I miss...and we all miss:

--chess games with Lolo
--Lola singing to Sam
--Lola playing the piano
--football with Lolo
--stories exchanged during extended meals
--together time in the evening
--and all that...all the things that made us live inside the dream for the space of almost four months

We all live towards that moment of the next meeting...

Too many long periods in between postings. Life is hectic and busy with a baby in the house.

Baby update: Samuel's started sleeping through the night, and my brain is recovering from sleep shortage. It's something to think of how much he's grown since he was born. Hard to believe he was an itsy-bitsy baby, when he's turned into a babbling, brabbling 14 pound baby.

Thinking about Poetry, and preparing to write about it. I don't know if it's ever possible to define what it is that makes a poem a poem and what makes a poet a poet. Some thoughts passing through...

Poetry and the definition thereof is an illusive thing. Some say a poet is someone who engages the act of writing poetry, and there are those who say a poet is not a poet unless called a poet by other poets.

But what is poetry and when do we say a poem is a poem?

Someone once said to me that a true poet is an artist who sees beyond the leaf. I remember puzzling over this sentence, and desiring to live up to the person’s view of me as being a poet and an artist.

In seeking to understand poetry, I see how poetry is an art form in the sense of how it continues to speak regardless of the passage of time.

Just as works of art are sculpted out of material such as clay, rock, marble or wood; just as paintings are produced by brush on canvas or some mixed media; so, poetry is a shaping of art out of the material of words.

But how do we produce this art? How do we give birth to works that will transcend space and time? How do we sculpt words so that they become lasting works that touch the human spirit?

A poet, whose work is an inspiration, speaks of poetry as being a way of life. This same description of poetry is also applied by the true musician to his music, and by the true artist to his art. Poetry that lasts (just like art and music) proceeds from life itself.

I'm still pondering these things and wondering too why it is that some interpret christian writing as being necessarily "christian", "godly", or "evangelical".

This came in the mail for our Samuel. With this posting, we're saying thanks to dear friends and loved ones for the lovely cards, and presents we've been receiving in the mail.

Samuel at one month.

Samuel in the tummytub.

Samuel -- second week at home

Proud Older Brother poses with his little brother for the birth announcement.

Home from the hospital. We discovered our house had been decorated with banners welcoming Samuel home.