creative little daisy

It seems to be a recurring theme

At least they give me something to blog about, as the current state of my sewing room has led to a serious lack of creativity.

Sleeping Beauties

I laid Bayleigh down for a nap on her blankie, hugging her mouse. When I checked in on her, this is what I found.

Shamefully playing catch up

Doing a little quilting-bee sewing.
For November :: hence the title

 
Jessica's only instruction for her block  was "Autumn."  I like that theme. I only used the two fabrics she sent and went with a simple appliqued (by machine) leaf.  I think this one was prettier in person than in this photo.


Sarah sent the center fabric, the apple & pear fabric, and one with orange dots on creme.  She said she was a big fan of log cabins and Denyse Schmidt style improvisational blocks. This was a combination of intentional and improvisational design. I'm pleased with the results. I hope she will be too.

For December ::

Kristena requested a scrappy log cabin block. The fabrics are a mix of hers and mine. I even slipped in a small piece I had left over from Jessica's block.

Now I'm off to finish Stephanie's December block and start on Leslie's January block. 

It feels good to get back into the sewing room. 

Yet another reason I heart flickr

2008 was more productive than I thought
Originally uploaded by creativelittledaisy

I was feeling a little like a slug and quite sure I had accomplished nearly nothing in 2008, creatively, that is. Taking a look back at my photos, I was pleasantly surprised to find I did more sewing than I thought. Of course, I knew it was a very busy year with many changes for our family. We welcomed a new member and grieved the loss of one we would never know. We celebrated as one completed a journey and set out on another. Somewhere along the way I turned 40. It was a year of some of my happiest days and also some of my saddest. It was a year of loving, laughing, growing, and learning. As a whole, 2008 was a very good year.

**Edited to add a few words about flickr. If you can upload photos onto your computer, you can use flickr. You just have to register an account. A basic account is free, but has a limit on the number of photos you can upload. I'm not sure the # I think it's 80. You can purchase a pro account allowing you unlimited uploads.  I've found it to be like blogging, learn as you go. You will find all sorts of fun things to do with your photos, like the mosaic above, by going  here. 

Please forgive my absence... (also forgive the length of this post)

I didn't intend to get so wordy.

An island has occupied my thoughts. Does it sound as if I'm dreaming of a tropical getaway? While that would be quite wonderful, I've been fixated on a different kind of island. Parris Island. For those who've never heard of Parris Island, it's not the kind of place you go to rest and relax. It's the place Marines are made. My son has been there since November 17. In the weeks since he's been away, we've spoken once, for about 2 minutes on Christmas morning. While the KitchenAid was a fabulous gift, it was bumped to second behind that unexpected gift. 

Casey first voiced an interest in the Marines last spring, he had been talking to the recruiter at school. If you've been reading my blog for a while, you may remember I was less than happy about it.  Mitch and I did all we could to try to convince him to rethink this choice. I didn't know very much about the Marines, but I did know Casey. He's a smart kid, really smart, but not at all motivated academically. He bucked authority and wasn't fond of doing what he was told. He shirked even the smallest of responsibilities around the house, like taking out the trash. He never, ever made his bed and loved to sleep late. He was a typical, rebellious teenager.  This talk of joining the Marines just seemed to come out of the blue, like he'd found his quick ticket to freedom. He could be away from his parents, get a paycheck and maybe even get to see some action. Be his own boss for once and to make it even better, he'd get a nice signing bonus. 

I searched the internet for information about the Marines, about false promises that recruiters make, about how mean the drill instructors are. I found videos on you-tube of screaming drill instructors, articles detailing the harsh reality of boot camp. I looked for statistics on Marine injuries and casualties in the war. I printed page after page for him to read. He wasn't fazed. After the initial shock and upset, I think denial set in. Mitch and I decided this was likely just a threat and felt sure when the time came to actually sign on the line, he'd change his mind. I told him, no matter what that recruiter threatens you with, until you step off the bus at Parris Island, you can change your mind. He spent a lot of time with the recruiter, lots of phone contact, visits at school. When we tried to talk to him about when he'd actually be leaving, he said he was in the delayed entry program and he could wait up to a year to actually leave. He was very casual about the whole thing making us all the more sure he'd never really go through with it. But he did. He signed all the necessary paperwork, took the oath and on November 17th he got on a bus in Raleigh destined for Parris Island, South Carolina. 

I said good-bye to him in a hospital room. Alyssa's hospital room. I didn't ride with Mitch to take him to Raleigh, because I needed to be with Alyssa. He came in the room and we hugged. We both cried and hugged like we hadn't hugged in years. There had been such a distance between us for so long and in that room the anger and frustration and resentment melted as the tears flowed. That was on Sunday. Monday night we got a call. Alyssa answered and stood there with a look of horror on her face. She hung up the phone and said it was Casey, but he was yelling, something I couldn't understand, then he said good-bye for now and hung up. I contacted the recruiter to learn that all recruits call home with a scripted message,  just to let you know they've arrived safely.

About 10 days later we got a letter. It was a form letter. He filled in the blanks with his name, the address where we could send mail and signed it. As soon as I had the address I started sending letters. I wrote every day, at least once a day and waited for a letter from him.

Finally after about two weeks I went to the mailbox to find three letters.  He told us a little about what was going on and what he'd been doing. In the third letter I opened, he said it had been several days since they had been able to receive mail and he had not gotten a letter yet. My heart fell. I knew that mail call was the brightest part of a recruits day, so I was intent on making sure he got a letter every day. What happened, why wasn't he getting our mail?  I felt so helpless. In the next letter he told us he was sick. He had a fever and a bad cough. His head hurt so bad he could hardly see. Oh. My. Goodness. The feeling of helplessness, it was awful. Thinking my child is off somewhere being yelled at for hours on end, he's lonely, and sick and I have no way to comfort him. You don't just pick up the phone and ask for an update. We were informed in that first form letter, if there was a family emergency we should contact the red-cross. This ain't summer camp, folks!  Finally we got a letter saying he'd received some mail. His tone was upbeat and he said he was feeling better. He told us about what he was learning, what some of the other recruits where like. Recruit, by the way, is how they come to be known for most of their stay on the island. They refer to themselves in third person, this recruit, these recruits. There is no longer  I or he or him.  They are completely cut off from the world and every step they take is directed by a drill instructor (DI). They have one hour of free time each day and the rest is spent becoming Marines. The thirteen weeks of boot camp are divided into three phases. Phase one is spent mostly breaking them down and driving out civilian ways so that in the next two phases they can be built into US Marines.  {Here is a really good description of  Marine bootcamp} Before they finally graduate as Marines, they face one last challenge, the Crucible. It's a 54 hour training exercise that involves food and sleep deprivation and over 45 miles of marching. During the Crucible the recurits face obstacles that require them to work together. It's a rite of passage they will never forget. Only after completing Crucible are recruits called Marines. It's a title that's hard earned, not given.

In each letter we received it was evident that changes were taking place. The words we were reading were those of a thoughtful, respectful young man who missed home but was determined to reach his goal. Sometimes we'd read his words and wonder what they'd done with our son. Who was this person sounding so positive, so kind, so upbeat and so determined? After about a month, I told him in a letter that I was happy to admit that I was wrong. I tried so hard to convince him that he was making the wrong decision. I worried and I prayed. God answers prayers.  Not always in our time and frequently with a different answer than we had hoped for. I hoped and prayed Casey would change his mind. I wanted to protect him from this torture and I couldn't bare the thought of my son being sent off to war. When people would tell me, joining the Marines will be good for him, it's just what he needs, it would make me mad. I'd think easy for you to say, it's not your son. Now? Now I feel like instead of loosing my son, the Marines have given him back. Though physically, there are many miles between us, we've never been so close.

In one of his early letters he said he was going to church. That's one of the few choices they can make and he was choosing to go. Each week he'd tell us something about church. Then he told us he did fine in the gas chamber. He said he was a little nervous, but he prayed before going in and did fine. Those words took my breath. That's something Casey never would have said. He prayed? Not only is he going to church, something he wouldn't do at home, he's relying on the strength of the Lord to help him through challenges. I may not be able to be there with him, but he's not alone. 

**

We try so hard as parents to shield and protect. We want to spare our children as much pain as possible, when perhaps it's in times of pain they learn the most valuable lessons.  Casey had to be stripped of everything to realize what really mattered to him.  He had to be completely broken down to get to the place where he could be whole. He's thriving on the structure and he loves the feeling of accomplishment that each challenge brings. I still worry about the future and can't let myself think about the war, not yet, but I feel good about the road he's on. Really good. Back in November I said good-bye to a very nervous boy. Now I'm counting down the days to February 12th when I will get to see my son, the confident young man, who has earned the title of US Marine.

**The above photo may, or may not be Casey. There is a message board, for recruit families. Sometimes when people attend graduation they take photos of other platoons and post them on the message board, so that maybe a parent or spouse can catch a glimpse of their loved one. I scanned at least a hundred photos looking for Casey. This one was part of a larger photo that I zoomed in and cropped. It looks just like him and it is his platoon.  Alyssa, Mitch, and I feel sure it's him. Others have voiced doubt. They say his eyebrows are too dark, he doesn't have a five o'clock shaddow.... For now, I'm calling him Casey. When I look at him, it gives me a sense of connection. That's enough for me.