If you’re in North Eastern Washington, the American Stonehenge in Maryhill, WA is a must-see place to visit. Sam Hill, a wealthy railroad and utilities magnate, bought 7,000 acres of land and founded the town of Maryhill – hoping to lure Quaker farmers to settle in it. They did not.
After the town burned down in a fire, he surveyed the area and chose the high windswept spot overlooking the Columbia river and began construction on a full sized replica of Stonehenge.
Sam Hill’s memorial is meant to be a memorial to the dead soldiers of World War I, a reminder that humanity is still sacrificed for the god of war.
The Maryhill Museum was also founded by Sam Hill. It was originally intended as a home for Hill and his wife, but after a visit from his friend, Loie Fuller, he decided to turn his unfinished home into a museum.
I’ve been meaning to post more pics of this trip for a while now. I hope you enjoyed them.
We stumbled upon this garden in the fall. It’s called a memory garden. In the center of the garden is a curious little tree with strips of ribbons hanging off it. The strips have peoples names on them. Or they would if the rain hadn’t washed them into illegible smears of ink. You put the name of a loved one who has passed away on the strip of paper and hang it on the tree. Seen through the little gazebo below.
I’d like to go back and take another look at it. Maybe put my moms name on a piece of paper or ribbon and tie it to the tree.
I must say, this grieving stuff is hard. There are days I don’t want to get up and go out the door to work. And others where I get up and get going just fine, only to get there and want to turn around and leave within the first few hours. I keep wanting to stop and get a whole bunch of lottery tickets so I can win the lottery and not go in ever again. Nothing against the place I work. I just don’t want to be there lately. Staying home and wallowing in my grief a bit longer sounds good to me. Maybe it’s better I don’t, but I want to all the same.
I’m finding that I’m feeling angry at God. They were singing a song about the God who saves at church last week. I was pissed off. God didn’t save my mom. I stopped singing and started having an angry conversation with Him in my head. Why didn’t He save her? Why doesn’t He bring her back? I sat there crying angry tears. Perhaps he did save her. It just doesn’t feel like it from here.
I tried to look up the song they were singing last weekend. I hadn’t even heard it right. The chorus goes like this:
You’re the God who stays
You’re the God who stays
You’re the one who runs in my direction
When the whole world walks away
You’re the God who stands
With wide open arms
And you tell me nothing I have ever done can separate my heart
From the God who stays
Wow. My head is such a jumbled up mess right now I hadn’t even heard the words right. The song is titled ‘The God Who Stays’ by Matthew West. So I had to have another cry because He is the God who stays. Despite my pain, my hurt, my sorrow, my anger, my grief. He’s the God who stays.
It’s really hard to tell what will trigger grief. I started crying on the way to work a week ago when the song Maybe it’s Okay by We are Messengers came on. (mentioned here.) I wanted to pull over and turn around and go back home.
My sister and I are both trying to be okay with not being okay right now. This grief thing is a process. It may never be all the way okay again. Or at least not the same. There are moments when I’m okay. And moments when I’m not. There are moments when my B.S. tolerance level is down below zero. Watch out. She-Hulk may emerge when this happens.
Grief sucks… I miss my mom. I want her back already!
To my mom: I know you’re in a better place and free of pain. But I most certainly am not.