A Thought on my 9th Birthday

Last July in this space one of my precocious grand daughters, Heidi, wrote about unrest in the world. 
This week on her 9th birthday, she penned some more reflections expressing her feelings.  They appear below.  If you wonder where Heidi gets her idealism, please read the second article by her mother - Glenn N. Holliman, aka Grand Dad

Sweaters
by Heidi Jahn

We were at Michael's craft store shopping for my birthday.  When we got there I pulled my grand mommy all the way to the yarn section.  She asked why are we in the yarn section.  I said because I want to make sweaters for homeless people.

And she said, "Well, the soft yarn is $10.00 each."  I said I will save up for it.

Then we went over to the art supplies where she and I searched for art.  All I could think about was making those sweaters.  One day I hope I can and I should never give up.  One should never give up on your hopes and dreams.

Impermanence 

by Grace Holliman

I don’t recall why I hated hiking in the woods with my mom when I was a teenager. Maybe it was because she made me go on hikes. Maybe it was because hiking made her happy and I found my mom very annoying when she was happy. Or maybe I hated hiking because I was a teenager and hated everything.

For the record, I’m now forty-two and love hiking in the woods. I love the gradual uphill climbs, the switchbacks, the navigation of streams while holding my dog’s leash and hoping she doesn’t pull me into the chilly water. I love the views, the mountain laurel, wildflowers and mossy banks. I love the dirt on my legs, the sweat on my back, the song of the birds, and I’m even fascinated by the snakes that cross my path. 

All of these things scream to me, “you’re alive” while whispering, “impermanence” at the same time.

It’s a cool, April morning in Stuart, Virginia. I’m sitting on the porch of Cabin 23 in Fairy Stone State Park. I’m in a rocking chair, sipping hot, black coffee, as the sun rises and steals the fog from the lake in front of me. My daughters, ages eight and eleven, are with me. It’s their spring break from school and at the last minute I rented a cabin for two nights at a state park four hours southwest of our home in Richmond.

Holly, the 11 year old, paddles a canoe

At first my eleven year old balked at the idea of renting a cabin in the woods. “There won’t be anything to do there,” she whined. “Why can’t we go to Florida? I don’t want to just go hiking. I hate hiking.”

“I understand,” I said. I find myself saying that a lot lately, “I understand.” When my eight year old comes to me in the middle of the night because she’s worried about death; her death, my death, her father’s death, I tell her I understand. I could be aggravated by her waking me up over a ridiculous fear, but I’m not, not too much anyway. 

Fear is not ridiculous in the middle of the night when you are eight years old. We sit with fear for a moment and talk about death. The moment passes. We use the bathroom, get a sip of water, kiss the dog goodnight and tuck back into bed. Impermanence.

My mom wasn’t able to join us at the cabin this year. Her husband has had some recent health concerns and she needed to stay home. I know she is thinking of us. I know she would like to be here. Her love is here. Her love of hiking. Her love of uphill climbs, switchbacks, mountain laurel, wildflowers, and mossy banks. Her love of dirt on her legs and sweat on her back -I won’t include snakes, she doesn’t love them, but everything else is here with me and my daughters.

Grace and Heidi on Heidi's 9th birthday

As for my eleven year old who said going to the cabin would be boring, I told her that we would hunt for Fairy Stones once we got there. Fairy Stones are special rock formations that one can seek out in a designated area near the park. I showed her a few Fairy Stones I had collected when I went to the park fifteen years ago. She liked the stones. She liked the idea of going to the cabin for spring break. Impermanence.

Grace Holliman

April, 2017

A Poem by a Grandaughter

by Glenn N. Holliman

I am supervising my grandchildren while their parents are away.  This past week has been filled with bad news, both nationally and internationally.  In response to news reports, my eight year old granddaughter wrote the following.

OUT THERE

by

Heidi 

Out there, somewhere

There are people who need us.

No homes, 

 Lives taken  away.

It is time to remember, 

The great moments, memories made.

Out there, somewhere

Time is changing.

Moments pass,

Out there people raging.

So put down your comic book 

and try to make a stand,

Because out there, somewhere, 

people need us.

No homes, 

Lives taken away.

Now it is time to remember

The great moments, memories made.

Heidi

I wrote this poem July 16, 2016.  It is actually supposed to be a song. What inspired me to write this was on the news over 200 people killed in deadly shooting. I knew something had to be done to stop it. 

My cousin was playing music on her  iPad, so I went to my room and wrote down some lyrics from my head.  When my Mom came in, I asked her if she would like to hear something I wrote.  I told her I wanted to sing it to my Dad and Grand Dad.  

Later that night I gathered everyone in the den, and sang this song. My Grand Dad suggested I share it with the world.  And that's why we are writing this!


COMMENTS:

From a Farmer in Pennsylvania - 

What a social conscience for an 8 year old.  She'll go far to save us.

From a relative in Texas whose husband, a Dallas Police Officer, was involved in the ambush and deaths of five fellow officers last week - 

She has a talent for writing just like her mother!!!! Way to go Heidi!


From a correspondent in Tennessee - 

Wow and wow!! How profound from one so young!!?


From an English couple vacationing near Nice, France - 

Very moving.  We should have eight-year old children with Teddy Bears running the world.

D&M

From a retired librarian in Virginia - 

Loved it.  Thanks for sharing.

From Glasgow, Scotland - 

This was inspiring especially at this time when so much is horrible in the world.

Lovely words from a lovely little girl.

From socially concerned Methodists in Tennessee -

...and a child shall lead us...  Your granddaughter's thoughts have made my day and hopes for the future.  God bless her.

From a genealogist in Tennessee - 

Your little Heidi is beautiful. And so is her heart. Please tell her I loved her poem. 

From a friend in Guildford, England - 

Wow!' is all that I can say.  Two more words: amazing, incredible!

From a noted barrister in Pennsylvania - 

Glenn, don't take this seriously, but she is so intelligent and cute that I find it hard to believe she is related to you.  Just kidding.  

From Heidi - 

Thank you so much for commenting on my poem.  It is one way I express my feelings - by writing.

From a retired minister and YMCA director in Alabama - 

Thanks Glenn. I will send to all my addresses. There is always hope.

Blessings, Charles

From a friend of Heidi's great aunt in Tennessee-

Oh, thank you SO much for sharing this… I tried to post a response on Glenn's blog but it did not publish – would you send my response to Heidi?  Her song brought tears to my eyes and joy to my heart! I'm sending her a BIG hug and hope she will be able to stay with me again in December! 

From a cousin in Alabama - 

Thank you for the sweet article!

From a well-read, political savvy friend in Orlando, Florida, the scene of a recent mass murder - 

I don't think your granddaughter has a future with the NRA.

From a college English professor - 

Your granddaughter's poem show both skill and a good heart.  She's a grand addition to your family tree.

From several sincere warm-hearted spiritualists -

Very cool Heidi! 

Keep writing them songs about your love for the world and our work together. That one is poetic and potent. I'm hoping that your young heart feels held as well, considering the big things it's holding so tenderly.

Brought sweet shivers to my body. 

A strong force, a beautiful being, a fiercely loving heart. No doubt you share her lineage. 

Thank you

From a caring relative in Colorado - 

These words from my 8-year-old last week  step-niece remind me of the work we need to do in this world, and the responsibility we have for the care and needs and gifts this incredible new generation, being born to carry us through these times....