The college kids are back from their Mission Trip to Abbeville, Louisiana. Twelve of them went as well as a handful of adults.

Zeke, Kevin and I went last year to Gautier, Mississippi on a similar trip. We did mostly roofs and some sheetrock and painting. It was hot and heartbreaking work. We worked hard and fast but felt so inadequate to the task. We could stand on a roof and look around, seeing blue-tarped roofs in every direction, silently waiting for their turn to be repaired.

We knew we were barely making a dent. But Marcia, the woman in charge of volunteers said they look at it as “helping one family at a time”. There was no doubt that the people we helped were very, very grateful. In fact, the whole community was respectful of the train of strangers that came to help them, leaving and being replaced by the next crew. Piece by piece they were gaining hope, the commodity most needed in the face of the devastation. (More on the remarkable photos & stories of the people of Gautier, Pascagoula & Biloxi here)

Kevin said it was different this year with this college group, but still gratifying. He didn’t see many roofs that were in need of repair but there were still many people still living in the FEMA trailers because their homes are still uninhabitable! He was surprised that 2 years had gone by and people were still waiting for help.

His crew worked on a home that was spared from Katrina. The homeowners took in two other families whose homes were ruined. Then Hurricane Rita hit. The water surged to above the windows ruining everything in and out. But everyone was safe and the house was still structurally sound.

They gutted it and had it raised on stilts. Kev’s group did work on the soffets and put up siding. Their goal was to finish it before they had to leave… they even turned down an afternoon sightseeing trip into New Orleans because they felt the need to keep at it. Unfortunately, even with all their determined work, they were still unable to complete the job and were disappointed. But the homeowners, who worked side by side with them when they could, were still so pleased and grateful for the almost-finished job.

Another crew painted the inside of a home and another put up sheetrock in a home whose roof had been completely ripped off in the hurricane. After working hard all day, those kids still had energy to play volleyball! They also got to experience real Cajun cooking when a lady from the community came in and cooked for them one evening. Someone from our church donated funds for them all to go out to dinner while they were down there. Another great thing about folks coming down to help them out is that they put money back into the community with their commerce, so I guess they helped out that way, as well!

Anyway, they are safely home now, weary but feeling somewhat gratified. They came back with hearts for serving and are intent on making sure this kind of trip happens annually. They also developed a new bond with one another and the joy that comes from doing God’s work.

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The world says, "The more you take, the more you have." Christ says, "The more you give, the more you are." ~ Frederick Buechner

CJ and Ana are in town from their home in Tucson. They hadn’t made it back for Christmas so we decided to gather the families on Sunday afternoon for BBQ. We did a little phoning and a mass E-vite to get the word out… a possibility of over 50 guests, but short notice.

The party was at one o’clock (which is noon by the sun)… the least shady time of the day with the temperature predicted into the upper 80°s and humid (of course). Our house is not huge so we set the picnic table and lawn chairs close to the trunks of the trees. We dragged the tables on the deck way over to the shady side and set up a fan out there, pulled out the leaves in the kitchen and dining room tables, set up a food table in the living room and then just let it all happen.

It was wonderful. A mix of 32 loved ones from 1 month old to 80 years came bearing potato salad, cake and homemade ice cream. Angus’ brothers and sister and mom mixed right in with mine. Children and teens all mingled. A box was pulled down from the top of a closet and Hot Wheels cars that hadn’t seen light in years were spread out on a bedroom floor and roaring in hot little hands and with big, strong ones.

The hammock was a favored play area, there was frog-watching at the Lily pond, walks in the woods, chicken-chasing all over the place, ping pong in the basement, blackberry hunting, pea picking and a very sweaty game of volleyball.

It was laid back and fun, and was evening before the last of them left. Angus and I slid into the swing and watched them drive away after many hugs and smiles of gratitude. I noticed the Lilies strewn on my deck and the Cheerios floating in the pond and thought of the cheer-filled children who’d left them there. I leaned into my beautiful husband as I took in the afternoon. I am always leaning on him in one way or another and not usually noticing that I do.

I looked back on the day and I saw all the love that had flowed. There were no harsh words or intolerance. Only love. We’ve all grown up! I saw how my boys have grown into young men to be proud of. Their cousins are mommies now and good ones, too. Our parents are filled with the same joy of life that children have. Oh, life is precious!

Eventually I rose to clean up the mess. I headed into the kitchen with an armload of dishes I had picked up on the way. There by my sink, standing tall in a beer bottle was a beautiful Queen Anne’s Lace, the flower of the common Wild Carrot.

Thank you, Father God, for the making things that are so common, so known to us, also wild and lovely and unique when we take a closer look... my family included.

Whose your Daddy?
...there is no doubt this one's mine.

It’s morning here in Missouri with a hint of the heat and humidity in the air that will make the afternoon a time to be spent indoors or in the shade. It’s still cool enough right now though and there’s a slight breeze. I go out back to check and see if the sheets have dried from the dew. I press my face into each sheet and pillowcase as I unclip it. I can’t help myself!

I always hang out my sheets after washing… if there is time… and if it’s not raining or freezing or stupid-hot. Okay, so I don’t really hang them out as much as I’d like but I try. I don’t hang out any other laundry anymore but there is nothing like that fresh smell sheets acquire from hanging outside on a cool day. When it gets hotter I hang them overnight. Eventually it is hot at night as well and it doesn’t work and I have to wait until fall to achieve that moment of pure surprise and joy when I open the linen closet and pull out the fresh sheets; the fragrance of them comes to me like an old friend. I lay my head down on the pillow after a tiring day and the fragrance of the wind gives me peace for deep sleep... for one night anyway.

I’ve even told my boys “If I’m ever laid up in the hospital, don’t bring me flowers… bring me a fresh hung-on-the-line pillow case.”

Do you think I’d love the fragrance as much it was readily available in a bottle or a dryer sheet (Oh, they’ve tried to duplicate it!)? Or is it like fresh home-grown tomatoes? Only available for 2 or 3 months so you build up a mouth watering desire for them.

Anyway, there it is. My hands-down all-time favorite smell, beating out coffee brewing and bread baking, although those are also winners. What does it for you?

As I drove Zeke to camp I was thinking of all the other times I had traveled this road over the years. I, myself had gone to church camp twice in my own childhood. In my college years I had even had spent an entire summer at Camp Galilee doing an internship. How many times had I taken my kids to church camp over the years? I can’t even remember… lots!

So this trip felt familiar in many ways but this time I was taking Zeke to Wilderness Camp to be a counselor. He counseled a week last year with a group of Jr. High kids at some camp in Kansas but he went with a whole crew from our church, including the director of the camp who had invited him, and three other college kids he knew. I wasn’t worried about him but it suddenly occurred to me that he was nervous! When I asked him about it and he confirmed, “A little bit.”

He should have had a summer job by now but the broken wrist and subsequent surgery has kept him from most of his activities. His left hand is cast in such a way that there can be little movement, just tiny finger wiggles. No bend. No grip. Useless! And this camp is to be a sports camp!

Now that he is in a cast and out of a sling he takes part in soccer when someone is putting together a pick up game but mostly that’s about it. He will miss the guitar-playing part of camp, too… his specialty. And he doesn’t know a soul except a friend who is on the kitchen staff for the summer. (She is the one who gave his name as someone who might be able to fill this counselor position on short notice.)

No wonder he is apprehensive. Yet, it is such an opportunity for growth. He is not outgoing so this will be a stretch for him. People are drawn to him because of him countenance but he doesn’t realize this. His guitar has been his crutch, or perhaps tool is a better word. I’m hoping this newest challenge will build his confidence and send him one step closer to being ready for the adult world that he will enter in the not so distant future.

The cast comes off on his 21st birthday!

It was one of those fleeting moments where everything comes together and life feels perfect and you know it won’t last so you soak it in and let it fill you.

I glanced over at Angus grilling fat juicy burgers and noticed a squirrel ransacking the Mulberry tree behind him. It stopped now and then to scold Miss SuzyQ as she carefully watched his every move from below. Eventually she gave up the hopeless waiting game and took her place beside me on the deck. I sat rocking in a slow rhythm, occasionally taking a sip of wine as the sun just dipped below the trees.

The rocking chair had been a Mother’s Day gift a few years ago. The boys had gone together and bought it, knowing my love for sitting on the deck observing, reading and just enjoying. They have memories of me rocking them sleep at night, reading or singing our own made-up lyrics to “Mockingbird“. “If that mockingbird won‘t sing, Mama’s gonna buy you a squishy thing. If that squishy thing gets flat, Mama’s gonna buy you a brand new hat (or cat… or rat).” Oh, they loved that song! It changed every time we sang it and it never failed to quiet a sad little boy. Eventually the old rocking chair with teething marks on its arms symbolized “bedtime” and they wanted nothing to do with it. Now, a different rocking chair, a different purpose but it still brings me closer to the boys when I think about it.

Captain Jack lay quietly beside me taking it all in with me. Now and then I would drop my hand down and rub his cheek. He’d squint and lean into it with gratitude and barely notice when his sister joined us. He was once a bold, brave tomcat who wanted nothing more than to escape the domestic life.
One time he was gone overnight and came back with his eye swollen shut. He had a worbal in his eye that the vet removed and said he’d have gotten the maggot-like parasite from sticking his head in a rabbit hole. A few days later, feeling better, he disappeared again for three days. When he came back he was a changed cat. Frightened of everything. So jumpy that the boys couldn’t resist surprising him whenever they got the chance and laughing hysterically when he jumped a foot straight in the air. He has since settled down to be our homeboy, seldom venturing more than a few yards from the house. He has lost his lust for adventure.

The aroma of the hickory smoke and the seared meat was making me hungry. Brutus lay on the grass near the grill, his head up but careful not to look in the direction of the fabulous smells that were wafting his way. Such a greatly disciplined dog he is! He is a black lab we inherited when my brother moved from his house with a little fenced back yard to a house on a golf course. He has been a great addition to our family and loves the country life. He loves the woods out back and comes home grinning and covered with ticks. He is gone more than he is here, roaming with the coyotes, I wonder? But this evening he has joined us and I am glad for it.

The birds are active on this cool evening, flitting from tree to tree, they give out happy chirps different than their morning singing. They must be wearier now but still hopeful to fill those little birdie-bellies back at the nest. I watch to see if I can locate a nest but give up and turn my attention to my chickens wandering about the yard.

They have found something yummy up near the road and scratched the mulch away from the flower beds to get at the something hidden beneath. They stay together as they meander along the driveway and back into the yard. One of the hens is a straggler, attentive to some grub hidden in the grass. She suddenly notices they’ve left without her and she runs to catch up. She lifts her skirts and wobble-runs toward the others.

I knew we’d be eating on the back deck in a few minutes, taking advantage of the mild weather that we both knew would not last. It would be just Angus and me, the boys having all gone off with friends tonight for sand volleyball. I am thinking about how nice it is to have this quiet dinner at home with Angus. We’ve had so little alone time over the years but we are transitioning. I wonder, in a year or two when all the boys have gone and only come home sporadically, will we still cherish these quiet evenings alone?

It was a lovely, quiet meal. We talked and smiled and as we cleaned up afterwards, the house filled with young people again and the fridge door opened and laughter flowed. Someone flipped on the TV and we all sat jumbled together watching “Shrek“ because that was what was on. There were too many for the seating but no one cared. They crunched together, they sat on the floor and chuckled at the silly jokes. I noticed the look of contentment that had settled over Angus as he sat comfortably among them and I felt the same.

Life is so good.

It’s amazing what a
handful of dewy wild blackberries
discovered
quite unintentionally on a
cool June morning walk
can do for the
troubled soul.

Bitter, sweet juice on my tongue
purple-stained hand;
cleansed thoughts.