Adventures in Ruburbia

2011-02-20T09:51:00.001-05:00

I have a dear friend who is a God-fearing woman.  Dua is one of the few people on this planet with whom I can, and do, have deep and meaningful discussions about God. She challenges my thinking and I challenge hers. We both grow from it. I feel so blessed to have this kind of relationship with her.

There is a thing that she and I haven't agreed on but has made me stop and really think about my own beliefs and why I believe them. I think this is a good thing to do, don't you?  Dua believes that some of the bad stuff that happens to us, or to our loved ones, is a punishment for our behavior. She can even give some compelling contemporary examples.

I have never understood the thing about fearing God, although I admit the scriptures are rampant in the Old Testament. I haven't found anything like that in the new testament though; nothing since Jesus made his ultimate sacrifice for the sins of mankind. Everything I can find, everything I know, everything inside me, tells me that God Is Love.

I love my children and I punished them when it was needed.  I learned this early with my first-born, strong-willed child: Spanking doesn't really work in the way we want it to. It always left me with a sense of frustration and shame that I had resorted to that, usually because I couldn't think of anything better at the time. I'm pretty sure God can think of something much more affective. While the swat would stop CJ's behavior it did not prevent it from happening again and it made for lots of anger from both of us and the effect was a power struggle.

When gentle Kevin came along it was very different.  A light swat on his seat would just about broke his little heart. He seemed so humiliated and hurt. I do not believe that God wants to crush our spirit or cause us to shudder at the mention of his name.

Okay, so my point is : God is love. In fact, I believe that God is love in its purest form. I am a child of God - meaning: I'm God's and I'm still a child (spiritually-speaking), and have a lot to learn.   He wants to teach me and help me grow and inspire me to be all I can be. He wants me to "get it" and do all the wonderful things he has planned for me but he knows all of my weaknesses (that go hand-in-hand with my strengths) and is patient with my failures and wanderings and distractions. He guides me with love, always that pure love that doesn't have to resort to showing me his power because he has no need to prove it. He is confident enough in his own omnipotence and feels no challenge when we question it.

Before I had children of my own I remember when my neice screamed at my sister-in-law "I HATE YOU!" I was shocked and horrified. Di calmly and lovingly wrapped her arms around Jodie and whispered "I know you hate me right now but I still love you." I think this is what God does with us. He loves us through it all.

That doesn't mean that he gives us everything we think we want. It doesn't mean he doesn't let horrible things happen. I think he even intentionally places roadblocks in our way sometimes to get us where we need to be. I'm not saying the challenges he gives us don't seem extremely harsh. I'm just saying his love is perfect and if we lean into it instead of away from it, he will hold us. He will use whatever is going on to strengthen us or get us to the place we need to be. That is not a punishment but a consequence. It might be a consequence of some decision of our own or of someone else or even of society; no matter. He will love us through it - holding us up if we will let him or standing right by our side if we try to turn away.

Dua is a prayer warrior and loves God with a faith and passion I can only dream about. She was raised Catholic so she comes from a different perspective of this life-long Methodist. It doesn't matter to me who is "right". We all see God from where we are, It's the only thing we can do. Some day when we are with God we'll figure it all out until then, I will keep trying to do what God meant me to do, be what God meant for me to be and get closer to him daily. Because - God is love - and ♪♫ all ya need is love ♫♪

1 Corinthians 13 (The Message)

The Way of Love

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don't love, I'm nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. 2If I speak God's Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, "Jump," and it jumps, but I don't love, I'm nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don't love, I've gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I'm bankrupt without love.

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn't want what it doesn't have.
Love doesn't strut,
Doesn't have a swelled head,
Doesn't force itself on others,
Isn't always "me first,"
Doesn't fly off the handle,
Doesn't keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn't revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled.

When I was an infant at my mother's breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant. When I grew up, I left those infant ways for good.

We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!

But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love. ♥

2011-01-29T09:53:00.001-05:00

How does a baby so calm he never really cried become a man so passionate about God that he finds himself frequently (but somewhat reluctantly) in the limelight?

How does a boy who sang so off-key as a child (that we all laughed) become a beautifully-voiced singer and musician?

How does it happen that a child, so quiet that many people thought he couldn't speak, grows to the kind of man who speaks in front of a sanctuary full of people? (He won't use the pulpit and he won't call it a sermon; it's a "talk" :)

How does an unassuming young man, speaking softly and humbly, singing with passion and humility, reach the hearts of those who come searching for something of God?

God really does work in mysterious ways.

Zeke ~ "Maybe we are supposed to get comfortable with being uncomfortable."

2011-01-29T08:39:00.000-05:00

There are days when I am driving down and up and over these country roads on the way to work I feel as if I am driving right through a country calendar; the scenes are so beautiful! This week there was a thick blanket of snow and all the tree branches had been sugar-frosted by the fog. It was so beautiful it seemed surreal in the soft colors of a dawn sky. Yesterday, fog again but the sun was trying to break through it! Every day it is a new painting, sometimes with animals wandering or flying through, often frost or fog or sunshine or an awesomely spectacular sky. I am so blessed to start my day like this! Thank you, Father God!

2011-01-09T09:55:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I spent the day volunteering at a Numana event to measure out beans, rice, soy and nutrient packets, bag them up and seal them into packages that will feed a nutritious meal to a starving family of 6. Thoughout the day there were over 1,000 volunteers that came through working from 1 hour to all day. People of all ages were able to help. There were even young children who decorated the boxes with thier colorful artwork or patted the packets down flat for shipping. There were those who finished their 5 shipping boxes in 35 minutes and some who took over an hour. There were so many families that came to volunteer together and it really warmed my heart to see such a thing. There were groups of young people who came, too. Boy Scouts, Confirmation kids, a basketball team, and other groups of firends that came to be a part of the giving. There was one high school boy from our church that showed up at 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM! Everyone worked hard at it, yet went away happy and satisfied. Our food is headed to Haiti through the Salvation Army.

The people from Numana trained us "Green Shirts" the night before. Explaining the importance of making sure the ingredients are packaged correctly so each one has the right nutrients and size to ship properly. But they also insisted we keep it fun and value each participant's work. That was easy to do since everyone came with such a giving heart! They played fun Caribbean music all day and banged a big gong to announce packing milestones. It was a HUGE amount of work for Heather, who orgainzed the whole thing locally, but very well-run.

Check out the Numana website. What a beautiful organization!

How To Be Alone

2010-12-20T09:02:00.000-05:00

2010-11-09T19:00:00.001-05:00

As I drove home from work this evening, through the country on this perfect Autumn day, I spotted a white horse. He was saddled but riderless, tied to a hitching post in a little grassy spot in front of the local Mexican Restaurant in the small town I pass through. He calmly waited, among the cars and trucks, for his cowboy to finish his burritos and beans and head back to the ol' homestead.

...I love living in the country ♥

2010-11-03T18:09:00.002-04:00

Halloween. I have always loved it but, as the boys outgrew their need for my help with costumes and make-up, I lost interest.

This year, at the last minute, Beau was trying to throw together a costume. He had exactly 10 minutes because he and his girlfriend, Joy, had suddenly decided to attend a friend’s party 4-hours-drive away. (I know. But this doesn’t even register a blip on your radar if you are 22 years old.)

I dug out Angus’ old cowboy boots from the back of his closet, while Beau scrounged and found a pair of too tight pants and a long-sleeved plaid shirt. I grabbed my long black raincoat and unzipped the liner as he went to the basement searching for an old cowboy hat to cover his shoulder-length hair. A quick hug and he was out the door. He finished off the costume, stopping by a store to buy a little pair of cowboy pistols in holsters. Voila!

I smiled as he pulled out onto the road and remembered a Halloween years ago. I was in fourth grade and my mom was a Room Mother. When I was kid we all had homemade costumes. told my mom I wanted to be an artist for the school Halloween party and away she went. She sewed and gathered until I was a hip artist wearing a smock, black tights and a French beret, carrying a paint-filled pallet and a paintbrush. This must’ve been the 1960’s version of an artist (according to mom) and I was very cool.

When it was party time we grabbed our bags full of costumes giggling as we went to change. A few minutes later my mom came in and told me to hand over my tights and my beret, “Someone has come without a costume” was all she said.

We gathered back in the classroom and I noticed the timid new kid had on my tights and beret and someone else’s tight black shirt. He had a nice black goatee painted on his chin – a Beatnik. So cool! And the fun and games began!

I don’t remember much about the kid; he was gone again before the end of the year. I didn’t give much thought to the kind of life a nine-year-old boy who didn’t even have a Halloween costume must have led.

I wonder, now, if he was well-loved... I wonder if he remembers the nice lady who gave him a fun Halloween and a day of hope... I wonder if anyone ever admits to having been a Beatnik...

2010-10-23T10:29:00.000-04:00

Yesterday as I drove down the road, I turned a corner and there, backing out of a driveway, was a lovely white Suburban with small mushy-muddy hand prints squished all the way from the head lights, down the fender, across the doors, weaving all the way to the tail lights. It was a lovey mural all down the side of the vehicle in a perfect handprint collage. I had to laugh out loud and wondered how much trouble the muddy fingerpainters got in for their art project.

It brought back memories of when we were building our house. There was SO much mud and, well, I had three young sons at the time... need I say more?

If there was a mud puddle or pile, they found it. They hand printed our freshly painted new garage doors which bore those faint finger marks even after they had scrubbed and scrubbed, until it was finally repainted. They ruined their clothes on their first mud experience and soon the rule became: "Playing in the mud is a sans clothes activity".

They have never really outgrown their love for mudding but now it is usually done in secret fields and valleys in 4WD vehicles. My Jeep has come home suspiciously clean and shiny after the boys have used it. Ocassionally, though, even the older ones just can't resist the allure of mud and one tumbles out of his truck and pulls another one into the mud pit and some silly sort of wrestling in the mud entails among much laughter. (Someone always has a camera these days).

My grandson has recently discovered the puddle at the end of our driveway and I can already see the writing on the wall. His fascination is abundant but he is a cautious young man... so far.

This is Blue's Daddy and Uncle Casey to the right here and in the photos above. There is Blue, below, following in the Mc tradition. It makes my heart proud. :)

2010-06-23T09:46:00.000-04:00

I was not the typical girl who dreamed of weddings and having a family. In fact, I didn't have a plan at all. I just kind of went where life took me... but then I fell for the family-man kind of guy and his dream became mine.

I was 27 years old and several months pregnant when we, both city kids, moved to "the country" on 10 wooded acres along a creek. Angus was a UPS delivery driver and worked in the city... long hours and a long drive (in our only car). There I was, pregnant and all alone. So alone...

As my belly grew bigger so did my apprehension. What if I went into labor early and I didn't know a soul? How would I even get a hold of Angus out there in his truck somewhere? Then one day the Avon Lady rang my doorbell. We visited and she brought the community into my living room. I learned right awasy that she was a Christian lady who sold Avon as a hobby and a way to meet new people. She told me what was going on in town and she gave me her phone number in case I needed anything. A few days later she showed up on my doorstep and took me around to meet my neighbors.

Thirty years later, we are still out here in the same spot. No longer city kids, we are now the older couple who've been here forever. We've built a house and raised 4 kids here and starting in with grandkids. The Avon Lady has retired now but I still call her my first country friend. Thank you for your wisdom and your friendship, Sue.

2010-06-22T20:40:00.001-04:00

Lady Wisdom Calls Out

Do you hear Lady Wisdom calling?
     Can you hear Madame Insight raising her voice?
She's taken her stand at First and Main,
     at the busiest intersection.
Right in the city square
     where the traffic is thickest, she shouts,
"You—I'm talking to all of you,
     everyone out here on the streets!
Listen, you idiots—learn good sense!
     You blockheads—shape up!
Don't miss a word of this—I'm telling you how to live well,
     I'm telling you how to live at your best.
My mouth chews and savors and relishes truth—
     I can't stand the taste of evil!
You'll only hear true and right words from my mouth;
     not one syllable will be twisted or skewed.
You'll recognize this as true—you with open minds;
     truth-ready minds will see it at once.
Prefer my life-disciplines over chasing after money,
     and God-knowledge over a lucrative career.
For Wisdom is better than all the trappings of wealth;
     nothing you could wish for holds a candle to her.

"I am Lady Wisdom, and I live next to Sanity;
     Knowledge and Discretion live just down the street.
The Fear-of-God means hating Evil,
     whose ways I hate with a passion—
     pride and arrogance and crooked talk.
Good counsel and common sense are my characteristics;
     I am both Insight and the Virtue to live it out.
With my help, leaders rule,
     and lawmakers legislate fairly;
With my help, governors govern,
     along with all in legitimate authority.
I love those who love me;
     those who look for me find me.
Wealth and Glory accompany me—
     also substantial Honor and a Good Name.
My benefits are worth more than a big salary, even a very big salary;
     the returns on me exceed any imaginable bonus.
You can find me on Righteous Road—that's where I walk—
     at the intersection of Justice Avenue,
Handing out life to those who love me,
     filling their arms with life—armloads of life!

"God sovereignly made me—the first, the basic—
     before he did anything else.
I was brought into being a long time ago,
     well before Earth got its start.
I arrived on the scene before Ocean,
     yes, even before Springs and Rivers and Lakes.
Before Mountains were sculpted and Hills took shape,
     I was already there, newborn;
Long before God stretched out Earth's Horizons,
     and tended to the minute details of Soil and Weather,
And set Sky firmly in place,
     I was there.
When he mapped and gave borders to wild Ocean,
     built the vast vault of Heaven,
     and installed the fountains that fed Ocean,
When he drew a boundary for Sea,
     posted a sign that said no trespassing,
And then staked out Earth's Foundations,
     I was right there with him, making sure everything fit.
Day after day I was there, with my joyful applause,
     always enjoying his company,
Delighted with the world of things and creatures,
     happily celebrating the human family.

"So, my dear friends, listen carefully;
     those who embrace these my ways are most blessed.
Mark a life of discipline and live wisely;
     don't squander your precious life.
Blessed the man, blessed the woman, who listens to me,
     awake and ready for me each morning,
     alert and responsive as I start my day's work.
When you find me, you find life, real life,
     to say nothing of God's good pleasure.
But if you wrong me, you damage your very soul;
     when you reject me, you're flirting with death."

                    Proverbs 8 ~ The Message

2010-02-22T09:36:00.000-05:00

Debra and her three little children started coming to our church several years ago. A young women of exotic beauty and charisma with a quick smile, she exuded joy and love.  She was new to this small town but easily got a job at a local daycare. She quickly became involved in church activities, joined the praise band and became friends with the youth pastor. It wasn't long before she met a sweet young man, a plumber named Filandro and started bringing him to church with her. He was very shy but she brought such joy and hope to his life.  He began to open up and also become involved, in his humble, quiet way.

She soon moved in with Filandro and he treated her children as his own.  When this happened it was a bit of an ethical problem for the youth pastor since Debra had become role model for the youth and was teaching a Bible study.

The father of her youngest child, a baby, started coming to our church, too. Debra was unhappy about that, saying he wasn't a good father. Then it wasn't long before we heard about the custody battle in Texas over her oldest child, the four-year-old. Lena's father was making some terrible accusations about Debra and also claimed that she had taken her from the state illegally. She claimed that she had done so in order to escape from his brutality. There was a fundraiser for them arranged by our youth pastor, so that she could fly back for court, hire an attorney.  Two folks from church flew themselves down twice to give testimony on her behalf. Filandro kept the kids each time.

Well, one day Debra took off. Disappeared. Took her kids and was gone. Left Fil with alot of debt and no word at all. We'd all been duped.  A con artist. She moved on.

A lot of people felt betrayed. The worst of it all was poor heartbroken Fil. He had truly loved her and her children had become like his own. He had love and a family and it had been taken away from him in the crueliest of ways.

Fil withdrew into himself, coming to church less and less often. He decided to move back to Oklahoma where he'd grown up, where his mom still lived. We lost track of Fil after that.

Yesterday at church it was announced that Filandro had taken his own life. I gasped out loud and tears instantly came. I was sobbing silently most of the rest of the service. Fil was the kind of man who would never be able to recover from such heartache without deep and dedicated love. Had we done all we could for him? Did we love him back to life again? Did we abandon him after Debra left? Did we call and check on him? Did we even notice when he fell away? Did we all dessert Filandro? Did I?

Ash Wednesday ~ A time to remember that we are ashes to ashes, dust to dust. To remember our fraility and our sinfulness and the sacrifice that was made for us.

Lent ~ The 40 days when we intentionally remember the sacrifice Jesus made willingly (his very life) and the love with which it was given. We might even make a small sacrifice (willingly, lovingly give up something precious to us) in order to get a better idea of the difficulty and the grace involved in Jesus' sacrifice.

I am feeling closer to that Lenten meaning today better than I ever have before. I knew Fil pretty well. I knew his character and, if I'd have given it much thought, I'd have known that he was a truly broken man. He was a tender soul. I failed him. We all did. We all thought or hoped that someone else was taking care of him or didn't even notice. There are no excuses.

Sometimes I think we think "Oh, I'm a good person." Honestly, I don't even give sin much thought. My sins "aren't that bad". But maybe the sins of not doing are the very worst kind. We know better, but we are busy, tired or lazy. Selfish.         But......

God loves me anyway.

Wow.

"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" Jesus replied: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments."

2010-01-09T09:57:00.001-05:00

The first snow came on Christmas Eve, we would have our white Christmas. It started with sleet then came howling winds, slick roads and not enough snow plows to keep up with the quickly falling and soon drifting snow. Blizzard warnings. Highways closed. Everyone's Christmas plans were suddenly disrupted.

We scrapped our never-missed tradition of trekking into the city to Gramma's but still made our way to the church because both Zeke and Bo were in the Praise Band. The place was packed! Like the birds bombarding our feeders in anticipation of the blizzard, we came to be nourished. Those who usually come to one of the two later services all seemed to be at the early one.

Back at home we settled into a rousing family game night. Zeke and I decided to head back in to church for the Candlelight Service. He said, "But, Mom, it's a tradition! We've never missed it!" (not within his short memory anyway :) So we went, slowly and carefully. Maybe 30 or so others had ventured out into the cold and snow. It was worth it. A sense of peace and calm flowed along with the violin and the candlelight. I was warmed by the love I felt in that service.

By evening on Christmas day we'd dug our way to out in time for Christmas dinner at my folks with all my family in the city. The boys have shoveled more snow this year than in all their years before combined! They’ve dug out our long driveway again and again trying to keep up. They’ve gotten up at the crack of dawn twice to shovel at the church before the morning worshippers arrive. They’ve been to Gramma’s so she can get out.

There has been a couple of days it warmed up enough for snowman building and Blue and his uncles took advantage. The big boys felt it was a heat wave and bundled accordingly. Zeke with no coat and bo in shorts, although it was barely above freezing. Blue has no boots and his Dad could not find his mittens so he trundled out there with wool socks on his hands and feet and plastic bags over his shoes. He thinks that is how you get ready to go out in the snow! Their big snowman still stands as a sentinel by the road weeks later. That never happens!

The birds are at the feeders from dawn to dusk and the squirrels make their attempts as well. There is one species of bird, 3 little fellows that are constant customers but have never been to our feeders for 30 years. The beak is longer than most and he flits around upside down and all around just like a Nuthatch. He flicks his tail like a wren. In fact he looks like a wren except he is much larger than the tiny wrens I am familiar with. He has white eye mask, stripes under his tail.

So we think we have gotten a total of around a foot of snow, although it is hard to tell with all the drifting. That isn't a huge amount considering it has snowed 3 or 4 times. It is the fact that it has stayed and accumulated and been so arcticly cold. I mean, a couple of weeks in the single digits! Brrrrrrrr.

We all used to dream of a pretty white winter, without all the slush and mush and only brown snow banks pushed together by the plows leftover from the snowstorm days earlier.

So. Be careful what you wish for. It’s snowing again!

God is with you wherever you are!

Blessings and love~

2010-01-08T18:22:00.000-05:00

Our dog is a Black Lab who lived with my niece and her two other, all very fat and spoiled, indoor dogs. I told my sis if I adopted Sabrena that she would not be spoiled here. She would live outside, sleep in the old tack room, romp the woods and and live the life of a country dog.

She did nothing but howl outside the windows the first two days she was here. In the middle of the night I'd yell out the bedroom window for her to shut up and she would... for about ten minutes. It was sometimes a full out wolf-type howl and other times it was pitiful wailing and sometimes a soft mourn-filled wimpering howl. She finally gave up when she realized I meant business. I'd go out and rub and praise her anytime she wasn't howling, which was seldom. I'm sure the neighbors loved us.

She got over it and learned to adjust. We've had her a couple of years now and she is a good dog. Pretty smart, stays real close to home, and very friendly.

We have had 3 weeks of unusually cold weather with lots of snow that doesn't melt. That doen't happen around here. We get snow. It's pretty for a day or two then turns to slush. But this! Snow then snow then more snow and winds and drifts and dangerously cold temps over and over!

So, of course, we've been letting Brena in the house at night and even in the day when it is "dangerously cold". Does she slip in and quietly lay on the blanket I've laid out for her? No, no. She tromps right for the bedrooms and jumps up on a bed! We heat with wood, so can't really close the bedroom doors at night or we'll freeze. The boys are tolerant but don't like a heavy lump on their legs. Zeke took a photo of her sleeping under the covers on Bo's bed with her head right on his pillow! He thougth it was hilarious. Last night I woke to heavy panting in my ear, sat up and screamed. She busted down the stairs so fast it took me a second to realize what had happened. Was she patiently waiting by the side of the bed for me to invite her up?

When the sun is out and it is above 10° I've been putting her out, she is a Lab. Don't they swim to retrieve ducks in frigid lakes? She has reverted to her old self by now and sits on the deck and howls, peeking in with those pitifully sad eyes.

I think about the nice pile of straw and pine duff, so soft, she has out there in the tack house. With double walls and a windbreak, too. It can't be that cold in there. The there's the old chicken coop which also has nice soft bedding and the playhouse out there has a carpeted floor. But she would prefer to sit on the deck, in the wind and the cold and lament her miserable fate.

I think sometimes we are like that. We have a pretty good life and all that we need but we start looking in the windows of people who have a more comfortable set up and suddenly our life doesn't seem so good anymore. We want more. Maybe we want someone to give it to us or maybe we will do whatever we can to get it, including knocking over a couple of folks who are standing in the door.

I'm thinking that true happiness is being statisfied with life right here, right now. That doesn't mean that I we shouldn't strive to be better or not accept a bigger and better thing when it comes our way... but just appreciate what is. Look at what we do have.

Blessings!

2010-01-07T15:27:00.000-05:00

The boys and I were sitting around and I told them about coming out after work and finding my car cleared of all the snow and how happy that little thing had made me. I mentioned that I didn't know who did it but liked the idea that it could have been a student, although I suggested the unlikliness of it even occurring to a Jr. High kid to do so.

Bo said, "Yeah, we did that once on a early out snow day." Then he proceeded to tell me how, when he was in high school, he and a friend had stayed after a few minutes talking with a teacher before they headed out. Andrew helped him scrape his windshield then he had helped Andrew scrape his, then they scraped the car in between their cars. They looked around and noticed about 15 vehicles still there. It was snowing and they were young and exhilarated from school being out early. They would scrape them all and no one would know who did it! They armed themselves with a scraper in each of their hands and ran around scraping all! He said it was a kick, and laughed with glee as he told it, even though it was several years past.

...pranking for good :)

2010-01-06T14:06:00.000-05:00

The snow had been falling for two and a half hours when they finally dismissed early. The kids were thrilled. Twenty minutes after the kids had gone I headed out, too. As I passed the big window I glanced down to see how much snow had accumulated and I saw my car below. Someone had cleared my car of snow! All of the remaining vehicles had been cleaned.

It wouldn't have taken my but a few minutes to do it myself. It wouldn't have delayed my journey home much, wouldn't frozen my fingers much. But someone had done the small task for me. Someone had weathered the chill wind and trapsed through the snow from car to car to do a nice thing that they would not likely be thanked for.

I can't tell you how that small thought alleviated some of the stress I was feeling about the winding, hilly backroads drive home. It stayed with me even as I backed down the big hill twice after not being able to quite make it over the crest and having to take an alternate route. It lifted me to a smiley place that wasn't shaken even after taking twice the time to get nearly home. It warmed me even as I waited for Bo to come pull me out of the ditch 1/2 mile from home. :)

I kept thinking of the good stuff that went with all that had happened. We got out of school early (yeh!) and would not have to make up the day. My car was warm despite the cold and wind. No damage done to my car as my wheel left the road and sunk off the edge in the deep snow. I had my phone with me and it was charged. Bo had been home when I called and so was the Jeep, the only vehicle we have that could get the job done.

Life is good... and so are most people.

2010-01-05T09:56:00.000-05:00

It was late the evening before New Year's Eve and I had a grocery list for our big New Year's Day dinner. As I set my grocery items on the belt I noticed that the customer in front of me was arguing with the store manager. She was waving coupons and I could clearly see the familiar red circles of the tegraT logo, although we were all standing in a small town grocery store. She was insisting that the store honor these coupons and the manager and my checker were adamantly defending their right to not honor them. The manager was frustrated and angry and the checker kept saying "We can't give you the money because we wouldn't get our money back on the coupon. It has to have our name on it." Eventually the customer left, leaving all her already rung up groceries behind. The employees, checkers, manager continued the diatribe, as if justifying their position to one another and to us.

My checker rolled her eyes and then checked me out. As I drove home I felt strangely bothered by the scene. I wasn't sure why, since I believed the store should not have to honor any coupon from other merchants and it is ridiculous to believe that all stores should. A little store like this would suffer greatly and would have to inflate their already higher prices to compensate. I get it. But... obviously the young woman with her handful of coupons didn't get it. She was never rude, probably embarrassed by the attention yet asserting her rights (as she understood them). I never heard anyone give her an explanation of why they couldn't honor them except "we won't get the money back", obviously some big stores do that anyway, they can afford to eat the diff, but no one bothered to explain that to her. Or the manager could have just explained that it is not this store's policy, and apologize. Or whatever, they could have been kind through it all.

No one was kind at all. They were so interested in being right that they lost sight of the person they were talking to. It was not busy, they could have taken the time. They could have handled it so differently. It bothered me so much, and has stayed with me these several days. I think because there have been so many times when I have been that manager. I have a need to be tight or to justify myself, forgetting or not caring how I have made another person feel. I want other people to give me the benefit of the doubt but I don't alwasy do that for others.

Kindness does not come automatically for me. I can be thoughtful and kind but it is a thinking thing, an affort. It makes me feel good when I do that and is usually worth the effort. I want my family and friends to be kinder, I want the kids and teachers at my school to show kindness, I want businesses to promote kindness among their staffs, I want strangers to show kindness, I want the world to be a kinder place. So, with that little grocery store scenario as one of my last memories of 2009, I walk forth into 2010 with the hope, desire and will for it to be year of kindness... starting with me.

I am not only going model kindness whenever I can, I am also going to promote it. I am going to recognize kindness whenever I notice it, whether it be a random act or an intentional one, because for me anyway, noticing the good things in life makes all the difference.

I'll try to post good things here and I hope you'll let me know when you hear, or see or experience a kindness that touches your heart.

2009-11-12T22:25:00.003-05:00

Why I love working in a Middle School:

I am weaving through the
mass of kids in the 7th grade hall. They are
loud and rowdy and mostly
oblivious to everything around them. I have
one hand on the stair rail when I hear a
lone male voice behind me begin to sing
off key.

Six steps up the stairs and two more voices have
softly joined in. Before I reach the landing there is a
chorus below me singing out the
Taylor Swift song. Only in a small town
middle school will one witness, in the midst of
hormones and chaos, breakouts of joyous
spontaneous singing.

2009-11-06T06:49:00.002-05:00

The sky is deep azure with a
few brushed cotton clouds. The contrast of
orange-peel leaves glowing against the
blue is striking. The air is warm with a crisp
breeze, smells faintly of smoke. There are people
out walking, walking their dog, pushing a carriage,
power walking.

Breathing the fresh air as if
it were the last of it. Like a dying man
enjoying his last meal, they
breathe life in as they crunch through the
dancing leaves.

Golden, coral and chartreuse leaves rain
down onto the grass sprinkling a perfect
circle under the Maple tree. I hear a faint sound of
teens laughing in the park nearby as they shoot baskets
in the sunshine.

Children scooping up mounds of leaves
into a pile. There is no rake in sight. Their intent is
not to clean up the clutter. Their
leave pile is small but so are they. Each
runs and jumps, laughing and falling, the leaves
flying and spreading. They scrape them together
and jump again.

Kevin and Andrew take to the woods
to explore. They return rosy cheeked and
smiling. Andrew proudly hands me an
amber sycamore leaf bigger than a
dinner plate. I leave it on the coffee table as a
centerpiece and a reminder to enjoy life now
before winter sets in and
steals life away.

2009-10-30T06:11:00.003-04:00

He came to me with a sheepish smile. Only three weeks earlier his father had been killed in a car accident. I don't know if he had been a good Dad but I know that Austin had lived with him and his older step-sister and step-brother and also a little brother. Now he was back with mom, rumored to have a drinking problem.

I had met both Mom and Dad several times when Austin was in elementary school and the family was still all together. I had never seen his Dad smile although he did not seem harsh but like a man with heavy responsibilities. Mom was likable enough, came in with a new hair color and style every time I saw her. Sometimes she came in bouncy and well-groomed and other times... not so much.

All of this flashed through my mind as Austin shuffled into the library and looked at me across the circulation desk. Our eyes were level. When had he grown so tall? Though he smiled, there was pain behind his eyes. He hemmed and hawed a bit, "Ummm. Uh."

"What's up, Austin?"
"Well, uh, my library book was in my Dad's car when he had the wreck."
Crack! Was that my heart breaking or his?

We talked another minute as I looked him up in the computer. He was trying not to cry. I was trying not to cry. And then I told him "Sometimes I just have to let it go." and I deleted the missing book out of the system. I wish I could have wiped away his hurt as easily. I said a silent prayer for 11 year old Austin as he smiled his sad smile and left.

I hope you'll do the same.

2009-08-18T09:17:00.003-04:00

My glasses were covered with white speckles which was messing with my vision almost as much as the fact that there was no light except what came through the shaded windows on the other side of the room. After finishing the priming of the sheetrock I was doing the ceiling. There was no electricity in the room yet so no light, no air conditioning. My arms ached, my neck hurt and the sweat was dripping down me from my forehead to my feet... I was having a great time. Really!

My brother has been remodeling their first home, which they'd been renting out. They plan to sell their newer house and move back in to house #1. He is doing almost all of the work himself and with the help of friends and family. Angus and a couple of the boys had helped a couple of times over the summer but this was my first effort.

We'd been driving home from church and Angus announced that he thought we should all go in to help Gino today. I am the only one who heard this announcement since one boy was home in bed still, one was at his home with the family, and the two others were off after church to grab donuts with friends. Good luck with that, I thought.

But little do I understand the power of a father who sees that his sons have nothing to do on a Sunday afternoon but loaf it away. That and the prospect of a little man-bonding time. All four sons showed up!

Gino was in heaven with the thought of an actual crew to help. Jenn and I painted... and painted and painted. Zeke and Kev and Bo installed lights and ceiling fans after some instruction from their grandpa. Angus and Zeke finished hanging the dry wall down the hall and the entire bathroom. Gino and CJ got to work on the new hard wood floors in the new garage-turned-bedroom. He had helped his friend lay them a week earlier and stopped by Judd's house to borrow some equipment that would make the job so much easier. Kev took over when CJ had to leave.

The day ended with pizza about 7 pm. We were worn out but had accomplished much. The boys had all learned some new skills and some life lessons about work and family and giving.

It was such a good day.

2009-08-13T07:32:00.005-04:00

A big truck rumbles around the corner, a dog barks in the distance as I pick tomatoes in the garden. A hummingbird buzzes by on his way to the feeder, the chimes tinkle gently in the breeze. I notice none of this, I'm thinking about what to make for dinner.

There's a golf ball in the grass and a piece of fur caught in a crack of the deck. A tiny puddle on the deck grows beneath a leak in the gutters above. I am lost in thought about the meeting tonight as I pull weeds among the flowers.

Sometimes I don't even notice when someone walks into the room! My grandson, Blue, notices all of the above. He catches everything. He is enamored by it all.

The very first time we blew up the kiddie pool and filled it, he was curious. What was this giant puddle? He stuck his hand in to test the water then lifted it and watched the water drip down his hand off the tip of his fingers and into the grass. He watched every detail of the traveling drop until it finally disappeared then dipped his hand again. He did it over and over again.

He is especially fascinated by the wind. He can be deep in play when the wind blows the leaves in the trees high above. They rustle; he stops and looks up to see. Blue can be riding his spring horse on the back deck when the breeze blows and he stops and points to his pinwheel laying on the table. I pick it up, turn it to find the wind 'til it is spinning furiously. He watches until it slows to a stop then continues his ride until the next gust of wind catches his attention.

Because Blue loves them so, I have hung wind chimes all around. He never fails to hear the chimes and points to make sure I am paying attention as well.

Having Blue around this summer has brought a new perspective to my life. I am beginning to pay attention. I am starting to notice the little things in life that add sugar and spice to the normal. I am observing the little details that bring a sense of wonder and give me balance. It slows me down and somehow makes me feel lighter and more grateful. Life is good. God is good.

There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million. ~Walt Streightiff

2009-07-18T17:33:00.001-04:00

Angus called on his way home from work at 9 a.m. "I think I'm going to golf this morning."
"Oh, yeah? You goin' alone?" says me, knowing his golfing buddy is still out of town.
"Probably... unless you want to come. (pause) ....I'll get a golf cart. You can drive."

You need to understand, when Angus golfs he speed walks. For him it is not only about golf but about exercise, too. I went out with him a couple of times last year, just keeping him company, tagging along. I could not keep up, he walks so fast. I really tried to be tough and not show that my calves were on fire and I was panting as quietly as I could but finally I told him "Hey, you're killin' me." and he slowed down to a normal fast pace which was till a lot of exercise.

Today, when he offered the golf cart I knew he really did want me to come, so I went. Why not? I said I wanted to walk it, I'd been walking with the dog lately so felt up to the challenge When he saw me slip on my flip-flops he said "Are you going to wear those?" Man-speak for "Are you nuts?" "Yeah, I walk in these all the time." Woman-speak for "You can't tell me what to do."

It had rained earlier in the morning and the air was still heavy with humidity but the sky was overcast and there was a slight breeze. We begin the trek to the first hole. Before we had gone past the 2nd hole I had a blister on my left foot. Instead of being miserable for the next 6 holes I just slipped off my flips and Angus slid them wordlessly into a pocket on his cart.

Suddenly walking on a lush, thick green carpet. It was cool and slightly moist under my feet as I walked beside my husband in the peace of the late morning. I wondered if anyone else had ever walked this place barefoot and experienced the soft joy I was feeling. It occurred to me that here I was standing in a little piece of grassy heaven and no one was appreciating it in quite the way I was. By standing barefoot on it I was somehow a part of the environment I was in and I saw things differently than I'd have otherwise. I spotted a deer track near a marsh. I noticed the places where clover was trying to intrude. I felt the sun slip in and out between the clouds and I caught the breeze gently lift my hair ever so slightly. It occurred to me that a golf course is a part of nature, however manicured it may be, beauty is everywhere!

I am so glad I did not miss out on that opportunity so feel closer to Angus, nature and God.

2009-07-14T07:14:00.000-04:00

We'd pitched our tent close to the creek and the rushing of the water over the little rapids just downstream was a soothing sound that made for peace-filled sleep. Just the night before we'd been sleeping in a dorm with a couple of dozen bunk beds occupied by others who'd come to the Appalachian Mountains to work. A week repairing houses and painting barns in the deep humidity of Kentucky, living in a community of friendly strangers had been great but we were eager to get on with our vacation and had headed to the nearby Smoky Mountains.

The contrast was surreal. The calm, quiet and solitude were more needed than we had realized. The first morning we woke to rain. Well, every morning we woke to rain. We'd planned to do a lot of hiking but with the threat of rain looming

and the incredible humidity, only managed two good hikes. Vince was so sweaty after he looked as if he'd been through a rain shower! One cloudy morning we were driving around when we came across a path to Lookout Tower. We walked up the path and up the tower to see the view and all we could see were clouds below us... but above was blue sky!

The next day, cloudy again! We took the same path up to the tower and discovered a much clearer view of our surroundings and it was beautiful! We decided it wasn't going to rain any more and trotted back down to do some hiking.

That was the day we took our long hike. The trail to Abrams Falls was closed due to "bear activity" so we missed out on that but we found another that led us up to the heights and down in the valleys. We were so deep in the woods that at one point it was almost spooky. We never saw a sign of another person all day! If felt good to be so free and wild. There were interesting things of nature all around us.

We love camp cooking and we and some wonderful meals, some of which we ate under a lean-to as we watched the rain speckle the creek. We tried out a couple of new recipe ideas I'd found on the internet and they definitely earned their way onto our camp menu in the future. On the way down the highway we had stopped at a flea market where we ended up purchasing quite a bit of local produce.

We did end up leaving a couple of days early. We saw some great views, met many nice and friendly people and discovered much to love about the region. The rain, oppressive heat and humidity finally got to us though and we were ready to head home (to much of the same, more rain, heat and humidity).

Life is good.

2009-07-10T09:51:00.003-04:00

2009-07-04T07:36:00.010-04:00

They stood there on the porch leaning into each other. Ricky and Clarice. They were definitely pleased that we had come to help them with repairs to their home. They had expected the new dry wall but had gotten a solid floor, new sink cabinet and counter and a patched ceiling as well. We had little gifts of pretty kitchen towels, oven mitt, dish cloths, slice rug, hanging flowers and a welcome mat for their front door which we had just presented to them. They stood there together as people took their picture, truly grateful but somewhat unsettled. I doubt they much liked having their photos taken, obviously uncomfortable as flash after flash of our paparazzi popped in their faces.

I've been thinking lots about them and the whole mission trip and what I have learned and am taking away from it all. I've been on a few of these work-type trips and always come away feeling as if we could have done so much more, that there is so much need and we aren't doing enough. But this trip has really thrown me a curve.

Appalachia. We've all heard stories about how some of the poorest people in the U.S. live there and until recent history, because of their isolation, greatly fell through the cracks in our system for helping them.

We did see much poverty, horrible living conditions and bad health. What I did not see was need. When I say that I mean that they are satisfied with their lives, accepting of their condition and happy. They help each other. Their homes weren't much but I have never seen such fine gardens! That is why I am feeling ambivalent.

It made me uneasy to see our group taking photos of this sweet, loving couple whom we obviously pitied. They knew it, too. I could see it in Ricky's eyes. I think we were self-righteous and judgmental of thei

r lifestyle. Yes, we definitely improved their living conditions but I wonder if we really improved their lives. Did we make them feel small? Were we condescending? I pray that we were not.

Ricky had no teeth at all and his clothes were filthy. He had moved all the kitchen cabinets and appliances into the middle of the room out of the way, in anticipation of our arrival. He was there almost always as we worked, not underfoot but ready to answer questions, eager to help in any way he could. He got us a broom to sweep up, he found us a hammer when we needed an extra for pulling out all those nails. "Grampa's crow bar" was indispensible. He found us the phone number for the lumber yard when we unexpectedly needed plywood to repair the rotten floor beneath the sink and freezer areas.

On our second work day we arrived at the house to find a hole in the corner of the kitchen floor. Ricky was moving the refrigerator more out of the way the night before and had actually gone through the floor! Worried, I asked him how far he had gone through. He replied "About half way. But it was my bad leg." Oh no! But he said that was a good thing. He was totally sincere. He'd been hurt but it was on his already damaged leg and not his good leg, so no biggie. The man has an attitude of gratitude that I can only dream of. He looks for the good in life and he finds it. Oh, how I need to learn from that man!

On day 3, an old woman called because her electricity and gone out the night before and she called Ricky. He went over and figured out the problem for her. He is also the church caretaker. The Settlement would have come and gotten the huge pile of old sheet rock, paneling and debris we'd hauled out of his house but Ricky's brother showed up with his pickup to haul it off.

Clarice was overweight with the dirtiest feet I have ever seen. She has a gaping hole in her quick smile and gorgeous blue eyes surrounded by long dark lashes. You notice their beauty in spite of her teeth. Her health is poor and there were several oxygen tanks in their living room for her. She teaches a Bible Study for the teenagers that go to her church. The day she went to the doctor she wore a pretty dress that I commented on. I wish I'd taken of picture of her that day. I wish I'd taken a picture of those eyes. She has quick smile and a joie de vivre

about her that can't be missed. Do I value life that much?

On the final day, we wouldn't let Clarice in the kitchen while we worked. We wanted to surprise her. We made Ricky promise to keep her out while we went back for lunch. We painted all day and put in the new cabinet and counter. I painted a quick border of vines and flowers. Someone found an old wooden heart laying in their yard, cleaned it up and painted it white. They brought it to me to "do something with" so I painted the same viney flowers and the words "God bless this happy home". We hung it above the sink.

When we had finished it all, we led Vicki in for her surprise. She was delighted with the border and gave me a big ol' hug. She was thrilled with her "new" kitchen. We gave them the gifts and a new broom which she handed right off to Ricky "I cook, you clean." We got a good laugh out of that. We blessed their home, gave hugs (Ricky got a little teary) and headed back to the Settlement.

We'd had a good week of hard work and tons of sweat. There was lots of kidding and fun. Lots of jokes about no teeth and Mountain Dew and how the mountain folks just "make due". There had been lots of comments about the incredulity of the living conditions. Smug?

I came away thinking I had learned SO much. If we had never come along I don't think they'd be much worse off. They seemed satisfied with the life they live. Yes, they accepted the things we gave them gratefully. They were glad to have it all but did they need it? Not really. They were happy. They were in love. They appreciate the smallest things and look for the good in life, in people. And they find it.

2009-07-03T08:35:00.015-04:00

We were there to work, to get as much done in our 4 days as possible. There were 17 of us and they started us off with two projects. If we finished those they'd find something more. There's always more to be repaired, replaced, renewed in these Appalachian communities in southeastern Kentucky and Northeastern Tennessee.

Our jobs were to sheetrock and a kitchen and put skirting and a porch roof on the house next door. We all kind of gravitated to a job and set to work. Ted was a retired sheet rock man who had owned his own business for many years. We could not have done it without his expertise. He was flat out amazing. Seriously we hardly had to sand at all due to his incredible mudding skills!

But I've gotten ahead of myself. We went on in to tear out the old paneling (a kind of cardboard) and sheet rock, discovering a horrible mess of mold and rot in one corner. Ricky, the homeowner told us the creek had flooded the house in '93.

The floor was squishy in several places so we had to be careful where we placed our feet. There was already a patched area near the door, a piece of vinyl nailed over the hole. We were able to tear out all the sheet rock and pull out the dozens of nails as well as vacuum up a lot of the debris. Everything was crumbly.

The skirting crew was making slow but steady progress. Who knew it was such a tedious job? The porch crew did more discussin' than workin' but that's what happens when you have too many chiefs. They were working well together and enjoying themselves!

The heat and humidity were barely tolerable for us but no one was complaining.

When we arrived at the house the next day to work on the house we found a big hole in the floor. Ricky had gone right through the floor while trying to move the refrigerator!

Fortunately, he was not badly injured but now we had floor boards to replace. As they tore out the rotted floor boards they found more and more rot.

A 2 foot (ish... nothing is square or level or uniform) piece of floor along the wall and the old hole by the door, as well.

The day ended with most of the insulation installed (There'd been none before!) most of the sheet rock was hung and most of the flooring in place.

The following day was to be our day off, our site-seeing day, but we spent all morning working on getting needed items for our projects. We traveling to a Lowe's where we could purchase a replacement sink cabinet, a counter top, some more quick-dry sheet rock mud and some odds and ends.

Next door was a WalMart and we decided to stop in there to pick up a new broom for Ricky and Clarice. Their's was shot!

We all separated and wandered to the check out with little items to dress up their kitchen. Towels and towel hangers, a kitchen rug, hanging flower baskets for the porches and a welcome mat for the front door.

I picked up some paints and brushes thinking, that if there was time, I'd throw up a quick little vining border to add a little cheer to the plain white walls.

Thursday was crunch day. Everything had to be finished enough to get the painting done. The carpenters and mudders and skirters went back to the work site and several others of us stayed behind to work at the Settlement.

We were given the job to paint the inside of the big barn "nude Tan" (a pinky white"). The barn will soon be used for a Farmer's Market and the ladies who'll run it were thrilled to get rid of the drab gray cinderblock walls.

We worked and sweated and joked and laughed all day. Some teens worked outside the barn hauling a huge pile of gravel to the playground area so we had their music and laughter as background in our efforts.

Friday, our final day! All work needed to be completed or left for another group to finish. We were determined to get it all done. Several of the most dedicated and talented had skipped lunch on Thursday to finish the mudding.

We did some light sanding, cleaned up the dust and began a coat of primer before lunch. The "Nude Tan" paint (again) went on easily with the many hands working while the new cabinet, sink and plumbing were installed. The skirting was finished, complete with a "gate" so Michael (the coal miner whose family lives in the trailer) could continue to use the space underneath for storage. The railing was completed for the porch and the flower baskets hung.

We ended with prayers and blessings for the families we had come to know.

2009-07-02T07:47:00.007-04:00

Kentucky. Tennessee. Angus had two weeks vacation and we would spend the first week of it working on homes in Appalachia with a group from Missouri, then head on for some camping and hiking in the Smoky Mountains. We were excited and we were on our way! The rented van held 8 and Angus and I were in our car heading to Evansville, Indiana where we would meet up with folks from Nixa, Missouri who were also going to the Henderson Settlement. We stayed the night, sleeping on the gym floor of a church there and then caravanned on, heading east. We were silly with our walkie-talkies and having fun along the way.

We stopped for lunch in Somerset, Kentucky. That's when I discovered it. My purse was missing... my purse with pretty much all of our cash for the trip. I remembered putting up on the towel holder in a gas station restroom at our last stop. We had the receipt and called information to get the phone number. The rest of the group went on in to order at Smokey's BBQ. We called and they looked. No purse. A hundred thoughts were running through my head. We don't use credit cards anymore so the loss of the cash was big. Angus had his debit card but mine was in my purse, so was our check book, of course. If we canceled mine would he still be able to get money with his card or did it put a hold on the account? It was Sunday,the bank was closed.

We live in a small town and so we know our banker and we called him at home. He told us to call the bank first thing in the morning, any charges would be covered. Not very comforted by that information, we went back to the table. We discussed it all. I told them that for me, the worst of it was knowing people do stuff like that. I kind of shakes your faith in humanity. That sounds dumb, I know, but I want to believe, I do believe that most folks do the right thing when they can. Jenita told us that when her purse was stolen, they had grabbed all the cash out of it and tossed it in the nearest dumpster. Perhaps we could call the police in that town and they could find the purse, maybe the debit card and check book would still be within.

That sounded promising so we went back outside to make the call. Angus had his new early Father's Day gift, a Garmin, and it gave us the local Police number for Morgantown, Kentucky. The officer who answered was efficient and polite with his deep southern drawl. He didn't make me feel like an idiot (okay, not any more of an idiot than I already did). He took our phone number and said would send someone out to check on it.

My head was still spinning. I kept thinking of more and more things that had been in that bag. My digital camera. My school keys. Angus was quiet and calm, he's used to me doing dumb stuff. We headed back in and sat down with the rest of the crew. There, laying on the table between us was a stack of bills. I didn't know what to say when I saw it. I looked searchingly at Angus who hadn't seen it yet. They'd taken up a little collection for us, these people... most of whom we barely knew. They had collected $300 in those few minutes we were out. Tears welled in my eyes. I had been pretty careful about how I was feeling, nothing seemed real until then. Their generosity moved me back to my faith in humanity again. Yes, I know there are bad people, lots of them. But I still think that they are outnumbered by normal people who do the right thing. It just doesn't get the attention.

As we were finishing up our meal Angus got the call back. The purse had been found. It appeared that everything was intact he said. We decided to go back the 88 miles to retrieve it. The rest of the group would go on and we'd, hopefully, meet them at the Henderson Settlement before dark.

In all the excitement we almost forgot to pay for our meal but when we went back to check on it one of the people from Nixa had paid already paid for it.

We called the police when we got into the tiny town and he met us in the parking lot of the local Dollar Store. He was a big ol' boy and pulled up in his big black SUV. He didn't even get out of the vehicle, just reached his arm out and handed it out the window, telling me again, he thought it hadn't been messed with but he didn't know what it had looked like before. Sure enough, everything was there. Everything. I was thrilled. He told us there are two of that gas station in town and we'd probably been given the phone number of the wrong one. I said I'd sure like to give him a big hug. He laughed and told us that "Oh, no. This is a small town and everyone'll hear about it." Laughed again and was on his way.

That's it. We returned all the money given us but we kept the love that had come with it. Our hearts were filled with such gratitude that every one of those 15 people felt like kin. The couple who'd bought our meal refused to be reimbursed. We missed the evening devotions but arrived at our destination just as it was growing dark. Heard our names called out from a porch swing as we drove slowly through the peaceful Settlement in the foggy dusk of the surrounding hills. We were greeted and hugged and settled in quickly. It was peace And we felt ready for whatever adventures lay ahead.

2009-06-30T06:42:00.005-04:00

I've been accused of being an idealist so many times. It's always used in a derogatory manner which puzzles me. So I looked up the word to make sure it meant what I thought it meant.

i⋅de⋅al⋅ist

[ahy-dee-uh-list]

–noun

1.	a person who cherishes or pursues high or noble principles, purposes, goals, etc.

2.	a visionary or impractical person.

3.	a person who represents things as they might or should be rather than as they are.

4.	a writer or artist who treats subjects imaginatively.

5.	a person who accepts the doctrines of idealism. What's so wrong with that? -to believe that people can change? that there is hope for the future? that life is good and should be treasured? Guilty.

2009-04-26T06:26:00.000-04:00

One bird chirps outside my window. One bird in the dark. He chirps again, proud to be the one who calls forth the morning. A gentle breeze filters through the screen and as it brushes over me I arise. I close the window and lower the shades so Angus will sleep another few hours after working through much of the night.

I don’t want to miss a moment of the awakening world so I hurry, grab my robe and tiptoe down the stairs. Not wanting to invade my world with artificial light, I maneuver easily through the darkness to the kitchen. The numerals shine at me from the microwave clock, 5:55. By the glow I choose a mug, the one Zeke brought me back from the Petrified Forest, fill it with yesterday’s coffee and zap it for 50 seconds. It is stuffy in the house and I am impatient to get outside. I open the back door and step into the place between night and morning.

My wake-up bird is still calling, singing out his joy. I hear “This is the day the Lord hath made!” in his four little notes and my mind sings the answering “Let us rejoice and be glad in it!” The chairs are still stored for winter so I sit cross-legged on the deck, facing the woods beyond and listen to the world wake up. The silhouettes of the trees stand out against the gray sky. Another bird sings out from the Hackberry tree beside me and the duet begins.

There is a refreshing breeze and it plays with the little dragonfly chimes and sprinkles tinkling notes as more birds begin to join the chorus. Now and then the breeze picks up and the bamboo chimes chunk its bass tones into the melody. An owl barks out a single “hoot” and a turkey “gobbles” every few bars. He must’ve been roosting in the trees out back and knowing this sends a wave of pleasure through me.

I notice the tops of the trees waving their arms to the morning music. The sky is already lightening into a pale gray and I can make out the lovely white branches of the sycamore by the creek. There is still no color in the dawning sky so the Red Bud, in full bloom looks as if it has been swallowed by a cloud. The slender branches of the Maple sway gently and even the knobby, angled branches of the Hickory dance.

The breeze is growing stronger, probably bringing with it the rain predicted later in the day. The chimes become a frenzy of tinkles and clunking and the birds are a full choir now. A squirrel chatters at me and urges me to get on with my day. I reluctantly stand, my mug now empty but my heart is full. I have been gladdened and feel grateful for life. Today I start my day with joy.

2009-04-03T06:13:00.000-04:00

My "baby" sister, Pete, is 14 years younger than I. When I was off to college she would save her pie crust in a tupperware in the fridge, because I loved pie crust. Of course, I didn't love old stale pie crust all by itself but... guess what? When I'd come home she'd run to me, excitedly carrying that little square dish with the treasure inside! So pleased was she with her offering that what could I do but sit and gag it down pretending to love every bite? That's how much I love her.

Last night I dreamed that Pete had died and I was dealing with it well when suddenly it came to me how she is the glue that holds our family together. There are five of us "kids" and my parents and 16 neices and nephews and at least 6 great-neices and newphews by now in our family. It occurred to me how she is the one who calls when someone is in the hospital, she is the one who shoots out the newsy emails, she is the one who pulls together the family get-togethers and sets in motion the big events. I also suddenly realized ( all this in a dream!) how very much I would miss her if she were gone. That's when I suddenly couldn't breathe and that woke me..

I woke and started breathing again, realizing it had been a dream and recognizing that I had dreamed this before but not remembered. In the confusion of waking, with taht ache still in my heart, I wondered if I had dreamed it because it had really happened and for a few moments, trying to wake up, trying to remember, I came to the conclusion that she is fine and dandy living with her young family in the city. Oh, but those few moments...

I thought about my friend, El, who has those dreams about her son and wakes with that fuzz, hoping it was just a dream, only to conclude that it is her new reality. The death of Dane is real. I sent up another prayer for his family.

I thought about how very much I love Pete, and how I take that so for granted. I thought about how death can snatch any of us away in an instant. Who else do I love don't even think about it? There are so many!

I'll call my sister, Pete, today. By the way, I'm the only one who calls her Pete and she loves me enough to like that (I think). I'll tell her that I notice all she does and I'll tell her that I love her.

2009-01-31T06:09:00.007-05:00

Two weeks ago tomorrow the most horrible tragedy occurred. Our closest friends' 22 year old son was killed. Their only son. Their beloved, full-of-joy, so-much-potential son. My four sons' "other brother".

Grief is mostly unfamiliar to me so as I watched that awful day unfold I was totally awed by, well, everything. I hugged them both at once as they cried those raw words into my ears, the words I hear over and over again with the same agony and despair "I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do." I didn't either. Helpless.

There were many other things wept out that day with the same anguish as they tried to grasp, to understand. In the history of me it was the worst day, the worst week, of my life... and he wasn't even my son. How does one go on from that? How do you be a friend through that?

But, oh, there was so much good as well. People came. Some jumped into their cars as soon as they heard. Others brought food. People answered phones. Made lists. Made plans. The house was filled with love and respect. And, while I was there the whole day I did nothing but stay by El's side. I would move away when someone new came in to give her love but would move back as soon as they moved on. She needed touch. She needed love. But I felt useless. She needed something none of us could give her.

It haunts me. Sleep eludes. Work is meaningless. People around me don't "get it". My God and music have gotten me through. It is amazing to me how healing music can be. As if, someone else out there understands what this family, this friendship, is going through.

I came across this beautiful song, lyrics below, sung by Greg Long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Help Somebody Cry

Someone you care about has a broken heart
You want to be a friend but you don’t know where to start
There are no words to speak that could ever be enough
How can you show them your love?

Help somebody cry
Be there for the tears
God will use your life
To show them he is near
There’s no easy way
To make it feel alright
When you don’t have the answer to why
Help somebody cry

Time may heal the wound
But that doesn’t matter now
So lend a friend your faith
Walk them through the doubt

Help somebody cry
Be there for the tears
God will use your life
To show that he is near
There’s no easy way
To make it feel alright
When you don’t have the answer to why
Help somebody cry

Sometimes there’s nothing you can do
But hold somebody’s hand and pray them through
There are no words to speak
That can ever be enough
How can you show them your love?
Help somebody cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today is El's birthday. There will be no celebrating. If you pray, please do so for the family of Dane Nelson ~ his parents, sister & brother-in-law, his bride of 6 months, his friends, and his students. And realize how fragile life is and how quickly it can be snatched away. Go hug your loved ones right now.

2008-11-15T16:41:00.002-05:00

In no hurry at all, I pushed my cart down the wide aisle of T@rget heading toward the registers. I glanced down each row as I passed, just checking out the items to see if there was anything else I'd missed.

That's when I noticed this. A dark-haired child with her back to me, maybe 3 years old, sitting in a cart. A man gently sliding a small barrette into her hair. She had leaned toward him a bit so that her hair hung perfectly straight, her face tilted up.

I know. I only was walking by, maybe four steps was the scene in my view. It doesn't seem like anything of note does it? But, oh, the tenderness with which the man did this small task. The way she seemed so accustomed to the act. The palpable love shared between them... well, it moved me.

I feel so blessed to have witnessed it.

2008-11-15T08:22:00.000-05:00

I awoke to the sound of chirping outside my window. I couldn't resist opening my eyes to see what this mysterious bird could be, so happy on this first really cold day of November. Within my view was one fat fellow cheerily pulling dried hackberries from the branches. Grabbing my glasses and raising myself higher I found that it was a robin and there were several more of his companions doing the same. The surrounding trees were full of singing robins, no doubt thrilled to find such bounty when most food sources appear to be gone. The sharp wind was blowing their feathers inside-out but they didn't seem to mind as they cheerily filled their bellies before they continued their flight south.

I smiled and reminded myself that it is time to take down the hummingbird feeders and hang the bird feeders. What a great way to begin the day opening one's eyes to the simple joys of the world. It would go on to be a very good day.

~This is the day the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.~

2008-07-18T15:31:00.007-04:00

Zeke is spending his summer in the deep South. He is living and working in the heart of West Jackson, Mississippi. (Fred, isn't that the part of town you warned him to stay out of?) I think he is loving it!

He is working as an intern at Voice of Calvary Ministries, helping with their Summer Youth Program. They do school work enrichment and also take field trips and fun stuff. After work every day the kids insist he play football with them, so this soccer player plays football in the deepest Mississippi heat and goes home hot and drenched in sweat and happy.

He's living in a house with 5 other interns. They have no internet service and often spend their evenings sitting on the front porch. They are getting to know their neighbors and he says all the neighborhood kids from 5 to 20 years old come on over to inspect the white kids living in their midst. The little kids all want to feel his soft blond curls and he lets them... gets a kick out of it.

One Friday in mid-June he drove 9 hours to be in a friend's wedding, then turned around and drove back Sunday morning. Angus and I met up with him on Saturday just in time to see him all decked out in a fancy tux, he had not gotten his hair cut, but it was so good to see him.

He was a Groomsmen, also played guitar and sang. It was a lovely wedding and we visited with him a bit at the reception but there was so little time!It had only been a month since I had seen him but he had already changed and grown. A friend once told me when your child goes away to college it's like getting to know someone new every time you meet up again. She was right. It seems they change as much as they did when they were babies, only now it is in a less predictable pattern but every bit as fascinating!

Saturday was Zeke's birthday and I spread the word among his friends and relatives. Having a summer birthday, he's spent many of them away from home on family vacations , at Camp Galilee, at a soccer tourney in Minnesota and at the Sonshine Festival. But always he'd been with people who knew it was his birthday. I doubted if he'd even care if no one knew about it but I thought it would be cool if he got a bunch of cards on his day.

He did! He called on the Friday before and asked me if I think he is 7 years old? I laughed as I could hear the pleasure and joy in his voice behind the mock disgust. He'd already gotten the gift we sent and several cards, one with five bucks in it. (Remember when it was a thrill to get $5?)

He had to work Saturday morning at a Youth Rally in the park. It was his second one and he already knew it would be a fun day. A TV crew showed up and was taping and he made it on the WLBT TV News that evening!

His GrammaJo ordered a cheese cake at the Broad Street Bakery in Jackson(found on the internet) and all he had to do was go pick it up. He's not much for cake so we always have cheesecake on his birthday. Bet he didn't expect it this year. Surprise! He shared it with his new friends that evening.

A good kid. A good day. A good life.

2008-06-20T18:35:00.020-04:00

The thundershower rolled in just as my extended family were all arriving for our Father's Day picnic. Thirty minutes earlier the sun had been shining but we could see the clouds rolling in from the west so I had gone ahead and set up everything indoors. The guests ran into the house laughing with rain-splattered backs and soggy shoes. By the time we'd finished eating, the rain had passed and off the kids went to explore. Sometimes I forget how fascinated kids are with frogs and tadpoles and flowers. They followed me around like the Pied Piper intrigued by the herb garden and wanting to taste them all...dill, cilantro, parsley, thyme, basil, chives.... They searched the vines for ripe peas in the garden and held out their little hands for more, more. They plucked the ripe mulberries as high as they could reach then persuaded their 14 year old cousin to pick for them. Life is sweet when you are two or three or four.

Their feet were muddy, their fingers purple and when their uncle sliced the watermelon they ate with abandon not caring at all that the sweet juices dripped off their chins and soaked the fronts of their shirts. Life is full of joy when you are one or two or three or four.

And when I see them full of sweet joy at the wonders of life it makes me joyful, too. It makes me remember to be grateful for the gift of each new day. So after they had all gone home I wandered over to the mulberry tree and I pulled off berry after berry and plunked them into my mouth, one by one savoring each one. I'd forgotten how sweet life can be... when we pay attention to the joy and forget about the messiness.

2008-06-17T10:10:00.002-04:00

CJ called me on May 23rd and his first words were "We have a baby". He had begun every phone conversation in the previous month with the words "No baby yet". It was very sweet to hear the new words. I mentioned that he sounded out of breath and he informed me that he was lying down...the nurse had insisted on it because he was hyperventilating. I had to laugh out loud. He told me he had taken almost 100 photos already in the hour since Patrick's birth. He was so proud, so pleased, so happy.

It's still a little hard to think of him as a dad. Not that I don't think him capable of being a father and a good one... it's just that I don't always think of him as an adult, much less a man responsible for a family!

He graduated from high school in 2000 went off to college, got married, moved to Arizona. He rarely came home from college and we only see him once or twice a year now. So we pretty much missed those maturing years into real adulthood.

He has always been self-assured and independent. When he was a young teen I had no problems leaving him in charge of his 3 younger brothers because the kid had a head on his shoulders, cool in emergencies and confident in his decisions.

Interestingly, as fatherhood fast-approached, we received almost daily phone calls asking questions about his childhood, or babies, or nursing or just wanting to know our thoughts on something. He even told me that he'd been thinking a lot about the kind of father that he wants to be, what parts of his own dad he wants to find in himself and what parts he wants to leave behind. He was thinking about the values he wants to instill in his child and what kind of father and husband he wants to be.

I was blown away. He has always marched to his own drum, never taken anyone's advice about anything... one of those kids that had to learn the hard way. He's always been sharp but I've never know him to be philosophical!

I am impressed and so proud of him and what he has become - and is becoming ... A good man, a confident father, a compassionate husband, and a caring son.

Wow.

2008-06-11T19:02:00.004-04:00

CJ looked up just in time to see the cat take a swipe at their 2 day old baby! He flew to Petey's rescue, scooping up the cat and throwing her across the room. He was ready to boot the cat out the door never to be seen again but Ana remained calm. Petey had only some tiny little marks on his face. Obviously, the cat just "tapped" him, teaching him a lesson about who is boss... she is bigger and older afterall.

I recall that my dog, Fido, never got used to baby CJ. She continued to growl whenever he was in the vicinity so when he started crawling at 5 months, the dog found a new home at my sister's. (Thank you, Aunt Dandy!)

What will become of CJ and Ana's feline friends? They are keeping the cats, Mini and Maxi, in a separate room from Petey now, unless he is being held. Time will tell how they will adjust to their new "brother".

"Evil Cat" Maxi doesn't even look one bit guilty for picking on a 2 day old!

2008-06-03T00:18:00.002-04:00

I've had writer's block for so long. Nothing seemed worthy of writing about. Not that my life is boring but it just didn't seem like I had anything to say that others would be interested in.

May was crazy. I had started a new job in January as the Middle School Librarian and had never been through the end of year inventory and all that craziness. Bo graduated from high school, Kev graduated from college and we had a grand celebration for them. Oh, and there was a wedding slipped in there, too. I was able to get my garden in between every thing. Ana graduated with a Doctorate in Pharmacy and then gave birth to our first grandbaby a week later. That was May. Wonderful, fabulous, fun-filled May.

Then it all calmed down and my life has slipped into slow motion. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Can you hear my sighing? I was sitting in the sun just enjoying life. I felt more alive than I had in months. I'd been so weary, just going through the motions but not putting my heart into anything. I have so much to be grateful for but I can feel my life shifting gears. I can feel my role changing. I'm not sure yet where it will go but I know that change is in the air and I am ready.

So I sat lazily in the sun with a weightless sense of relief and joying washing over me, felling no guilt whatsoever for my idleness. For now, for at least that one shining afternoon, all was well with my world. I felt such a sense of peace.

I glanced around me and started to write. My thoughts just flowed out of me and I scribbled onto my yellow legal pad for 6 full pages. Life is full of surprises!

2008-06-02T11:35:00.008-04:00

I AM A GRANDMA!!!

It has taken some time to sink in really, since we are here and they are there. Although CJ took many photos he didn't have the means to download pics until they all went home a couple of days later. Can you imagine what torture that was for all of us grandparents??

Patrick Ostein was born on May 23, 8 lbs,4.5 oz. in Tucson, Arizona ~ named after Angus' father (Patrick) and Ana's grandfather (Ostein), both of whom passed over a year ago. Isn't he gorgeous?

They thought they had planned it all with perfect timing to have the baby born right after her graduation, leaving her time off after graduation to be with the baby and study for her Boards before getting a real job (hopefully close us). Unbelievably, it worked out just as they had planned!

We haven't actually seen him yet. We haven't gotten to wrap our arms around the parents or hold the babe in our arms yet. Because they are there and we are here. It has been so hard.

Jennie's mom flew down yesterday and I am sure Ana is so grateful to have her. We are going out in 2 weeks and I am counting down the days!

God is good and life is so very sweet...

2008-06-01T15:31:00.001-04:00

I am sitting here in the sunshine on this first day of June. It's humid and the sweat drips off my forehead onto my notebook. My hands are glistening with perspiration but, well... it feels good... the heat. It's been a long cold spring.

It's like when the kids come trundling into the house from college laden with dirty laundry and dragging guitars and amps and cords all of which get dropped in the living room. Yet they also bring laughter and music and joy back into our quiet home. It is all good.

It feels like that, this coming of summer. And just as I am so glad for the kids to come home again I am also glad for their leaving in the fall even as I feel the regret of the lonelier months to come.

Everything changes. But life is still good.

2008-04-04T15:10:00.003-04:00

"Serving Our Lord One Hotdog at a Time" is announced on the tee shirts of the volunteers handing out free lunch at the Christian Church of North Kansas City. The program was originally started to help the poor and homeless in this mostly industrial town but it wasn't long before the students at the local high school heard about free lunch on Wednesdays. Nothing brings kids running like free food.

Did the church chase them away telling them they were not the intended recipients of these free meals? No way! They took it all on. Their first week, in 2004, they served about 40 people. Now it they have more than 900 students each week ... and anyone else who walks in. With an active membership of about 250 they took on the cost of the annual $19,000 to cover it.

They have over 20 dedicated volunteers, mostly retired folk, who show up each week to dole out the hotdogs and a dose of love requiring only a bit of manners; the removal of their hats in the church and a thank you.

I graduated from NKC High over 30 years ago. The buildings were ancient even then and landlocked. I had gone to a modern high school the year before and found the old stone buildings beautiful and filled with character. The cafeteria just couldn't accomodate the number of students so, out of neccessity, we were given some freedom. We could leave the building at lunch time, on our own, and go wherever we wanted to go... so long as we didn't go in a car and we were back for our next class. We were heady with this freedom. There were no fast food places within walking distance and you really cut it close if you tried to eat at one of the few restaurants, so kids mostly just wandered, went to the park or the convenience store. There was nothing to do, no place to eat but we could leave... so we did.

I try to think back and imagine how wonderful it would have been to have a safe place to hang out for awhile and to feel welcomed and loved on top of that! I work in a Middle School now and I know for sure that most of the kids that are walking on the edge could be pulled back if they just had anyone who cared, someone who made them feel valued.

I heap my blessings on this church and its ministry of love. They started a program and it went in God's direction instead of the way they thought it would go. And they let it; they let God. They trusted and were servants and it grew. They took a chance. So many of us don't.

What is it Mother Teresa said? ~Something about preaching without preaching...

2008-02-02T09:58:00.000-05:00

The line to vote was long but the church was warm and the line was moving quickly. I was finally near the front and I visited with the friendly lady checking our names at the table. She commented on what at sweet little boy my toddler was. Suddenly it was my turn and as I looked to the polling booth my mind quickly assessed what to do with my son while I was in there. Was it even legal to take him in with me? (I was young and stupid) The lady must have read my mind as she said “Go on. I’ll watch him.”

So, I guess that’s how it happens. You are young and hopeful and new to motherhood or tired in motherhood and you are weak or weary or confused and, for just a moment, you trust. You trust someone, or you trust society or you trust fate. For just a moment. That’s how kids get snatched or squashed or baked or broken or abused.

I hear those stories in the news of those children and those mothers and I hear the blaming tones of we who hear them, the accusing chants of neglect. “How could she let that happen?” …throwing the first stone.

It ended well for us. When I came out of the booth three minutes later CJ was gone. Gone. The nice lady was talking to someone else totally oblivious to the fact that CJ was gone. Gone. The word strikes fear into my heart still.

The line of voters was orderly and lined up against the wall. The room was empty of one very small blond boy. Where could he be? I called him and got nothing but dumb looks from the folks in line. I began searching but there wasn’t much to search so I headed down the line toward the door. He couldn’t have opened that big heavy door, couldn’t have even reached the handle. But where else? My heart pounded and I was panicky but not yet ready to let all these strangers know how stupid I was, so I willed myself calm. I opened the door and there he was. My adventurous child just standing there waiting for me patiently. He had wandered past 30 people and outside without anyone stopping him. It would have been impossible to have not noticed him and someone had held the door open for him! These people were not busy they were just standing there waiting in line!

I still get angry when I think about it all. I was angry at the “nice” lady, angry at those strangers who must have known a 2 year old walking down a long corridor and heading outside to the parking lot alone was not right. Mostly though, I was angry at myself. How could I have been so stupid? So careless with the most precious thing in my life? I was able to chalk it up to another very valuable and well-learned life lesson.

But I know that it could have ended differently so when the news hits of another child left in a car or a bathtub for just a second or not taken to the Dr. soon enough or wandering out of a home in his PJs in the middle of a frigid night or taken at the mall or the park … well, you know the list goes on. It happens and we know, if we are honest, it could have been us. My heart goes out.

“You can’t be too careful”. I have heard that said often but I think you can be too careful. We should be diligently cautious for sure. But, as in all things, balance is the key. We trust. Sometimes we must. Without trust there is no hope. Without hope there is no life. Balance.

I work in a school and I see the parents that are too careful. They do not love their children more than others do but they think they do. Their kids are sheltered and often weak and, well, helpless and will remain so. Or they’ll be embarrassed, frustrated or angry and hateful to those same parents who love them so much. They don’t understand their need to try (and possibly fail) in order to succeed and build their self-confidence. You can be too careful.

I learned that from a very small blond pig-headed boy who was fearless from day one. Sometimes I was careless for a moment, or he was… or fate was. He was in the hands of God and an arrogant surgeon at the age of 6 months. With a skull split open from hairline to the middle of the back of his head he learned to crawl in the hospital bed… with a big grim on his face. At age one he walked over to the slide and climbed to the top while I was picking beans. I looked up just in time to see him standing there, looking down, deciding if he could go without me to catch him at the bottom. Ha. He barely hesitated, slid down and landed on his very padded rump. Looked over at me to see if I had seen him and was proud. When he was two, he survived wandering down the middle of the road looking for his Daddy mowing out there while I napped. The list goes on right into the teen years (but I didn’t hear about those adventures until much later.)

I guess you’ve got to know your kid. Figure out how much rope they need. By age 10 he was dying to be left home alone now and then. He was ready. He was so ready to be on his own to college and I’m sure didn’t have one minute of homesickness. He was ready. We learned. He was fearless. He fell a lot. He got back up. The UnderToad tried to snatch him away from me more times than I’ll ever know and yet he is still with us today. And now, he’s gonna be a daddy himself in a few months.

So I’d say to him - Be cautious. Be watchful. Be aware. Be prepared. Be careful… but not too careful. Trust… but not too much. Balance. Let him live! Let him feel the joy of accomplishment that comes from effort and sometimes even pain. Trust God. Pray often and love always!

2008-02-01T22:06:00.000-05:00

No, we did not forget to pay our phone bill.

Living out in the country has many benefits but the availability of access to high-speed internet is not among them. We could get it with satellite but our satellite service is none to dependable either so we've trudged along... soooo slooow! It has been a great source of frustration.

We recently went to mobile broadband for our internet service and it's working out great. The boys can use it for their laptops or we can plug it in to our dinosaur-of-a-computer for wireless internet service. It's quicker, too, but then... what isn't quicker than dial-up?! The cost is about what we were paying for our internet server before we switched, so by giving up our land line we will actually save money, too.

So... we think we have outgrown our land line and have had it disconnected. We were paying extra for the Kansas City line and also fees for long distance even though we never, ever used our land line for long distance calling. We really didn't use it much for anything except the internet... so now it's GONE. Feels weird not having a "real" phone but I'm told that is the trend and you know we are so very trendy. Now we just all have our own cell phones; five of them!

I admit I am "stupid about cell phones" as Beau says. I hardly ever use it and it is not usually charged because it goes dead between uses. I mostly forget I even have it except when Angus calls to ask where I am or Beau calls to tell me he'll be out late. Quite unlike the boys... who sleep with theirs cells on their pillows! Anyway, I'll try to change my casual habits and become just as cell phone-dependent as the rest of the gang.

One more change ~ When we first switched I sent everyone our new email address at Yahoo but CJ pointed out to us that if we use our Gmail account, they have a "pop server" available for free and we can just keep using Microsoft Outlook Express with it. Huh? We didn't have to transfer any addresses or anything; use the same address book, same set up. Just a different pop server!

Okay, I don't understand it either but it works. We don't have to go to the website and log in to get mail. It does it automatically whenever we are connected.

I am learning so much! I've been kicked right into the tech~generation!

2007-12-01T09:14:00.000-05:00

It was one of those perfect Autumn days. The was day sunny and warm but there was a crispness in the air and a cool breeze. The sun had already dropped below the horizon but the sky was filled with soft colors as we stood for the national anthem at Beau's soccer game. The American flag waved gently against the peach sky as the soccer announcer began to sing. "Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light?.." His strong, heavenly voice melted into the beautiful scene before us.

I was taking it all in, feeling grateful we are fortunate enough to have such a beautiful voice lead us. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of children laughing. Perhaps it was coming from the playground of the school across the road and behind us. It grew louder and I realized it was the sound of honking geese... and then they flew into view. They flew in their V-formation, singing along with us, across the sky and toward the flag, through the pastel sky, above the silhouetted trees. It was an image that will stay with me forever.... a perfectly God-painted moment.

The soccer boys later made jokes about how the Chiefs get Blue Angel fly-bys at their games and we Canada Geese.

Ours was better. ☺

2007-12-01T07:02:00.000-05:00

I have not left the face of the planet, at least not bodily. Lots of everyday craziness... jumping back into my job after loafing all summer, Beau's senior year soccer season, an opportunity to change positions at work and training my replacement while trying to get everything done that I normally do. Anyway, I never thought I would say this but, as we head into the Christmas season, things are winding DOWN for me and I am looking forward to Christmas just like when the boys were little!

Oh, yeah, and got the news that I am going to become a granny in May!!!

2007-11-22T07:58:00.000-05:00

I am so fortunate to start my work day with a drive through three miles of desolate country roads. I am constantly being surprised by the simple beauty in this common everyday world. I think most people just see dust and weeds and trees that have grown too far over the road.

There's the isolated corner were people sometimes come to dump their old sofas and trash they don't want to pay to have hauled off. I guess that's pretty much what I notice on my way home, too. In fact a lot of times I'll even take the longer route going home just to avoid the gravel.

I am not sure why I am still surprised by the what I find around the curves and over the hills every morning. The landscape itself doesn't change; fields and woods, a creek crossing, a pond, an old abandoned house... and gravel. But the look of it is constantly changing.

In Autumn leaves change color gradually, deepening and finally dropping and leaving their lovely litter to pile and blow across the gravel. It is a new experience daily.

Winter days are often dull but the mornings are always frosted. That which I hate on my windshield is beautiful on branches, grass stems, seed pods and vines. There is nothing as lovely as ice on the fences and snow changes everything with its soft pure blanket covering the dust. Often the rising sun shines through the morning sky making the frost, ice or snow sparkle.

Spring is washed afresh with the rains and the gray turns green with bud and leaves. Piles of fluffy white wild flowers grow and reach out as I drive by changing to Black-eyed Susans and blue Chicory as Spring grows into summer.

There is often fog at any time of year and it is always magical as passing through a soft dream.

I see deer regularly but am always fascinated. Turkeys are also regular visitors, sometimes singly but usually in flocks. One time I startled a turkey who was starting to wander across the road as I came over a hill. He lifted his hulking body into the air and flew over the hood of my car and up into a tree on the other side of the road. I wondered if his heart stopped for that moment as mine did!

I have only touched the surface of the beauty I get to enjoy every day. I try to use my drive time to reflect on the blessings around me. I try to use it to put me in a place where I can pass that joy and contentment on later in the day. I usually forget it though... until the next day when I am once again reminded of God's gifts that surround us and we don't recognize them.

I am so thankful that he gives me another chance, every single day, no matter how badly I messed up the day before, no matter how much I disappointed him, he gives me a new start every morning. I think God has faith in me. Sometimes that's what keeps me going.

He has faith in you, too.

2007-08-31T17:41:00.001-04:00

This is kind of a long story that I have needed to tell for awhile but just couldn't. Thank you to Shelly at Can I Borrow Your Life for nudging me.

In August of 2003 I lost my dear friend, Sandy, in a car crash. It was my first experience with a close, unexpected death. I took it hard. I dropped about 10 pounds in two weeks because I forgot to eat and wasn't hungry. My thoughts were consumed with Sandy and what she was and what the world, my world, would be like without her in it? Had I appreciated her enough? (no) Did she know I loved her? (yes) What would her kids do? (she had 4) What would her parents do? (she was their only) My mind just would not stop.

She worked right beside me every day. One evening her family came in and cleaned out her area without our knowing. I walked into our small office the following morning and it was such a shock to look over there and see nothing of her! I burst into sobbing and just turned around and went home without saying a word.

I really started thinking about the value of life and how we live it and how we should be living it. I thought about Sandy and how she was one of those people that wasn't very involved in her church and didn't go to church all the time and I really didn't know how deep her faith was. But she lived the way we ought to.

She was kind to everyone without exception, even those who didn't have her best interest at heart (like her Ex). She knew the name of every salesman or repairman that walked in, if not when he arrived then by the time he left. ...And how many kids he had and probably their names, too!

People she barely knew would stop by just to say hello to her and she was never too busy for them no matter how much she had on her plate. We joked about "Here comes your new best friend" when we saw some of them walking up to the door, but that's the thing... She treated everyone, and I mean it, everyone, as if they were her family.

Why couldn't I do that? Me, who professed to be a Christian (with far more involvement and spirituality than she). I knew she had it right by the Great Commandment and I was still struggling with it all.

Three weeks after Sandy's death Vince and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. We took a weekend getaway to Lawrence, Kansas. With all the thoughts of life and death and such I had also been reevaluating my marriage.

Vince and I are incredibly different in temperament and personality and even the way we think. We usually get to the same place but it often takes some negotiating. I decided it was worth it. It's kind of like that "Jerry McGuire" movie where he says "You complete me." I've heard people make wisecracks about that statement but it is why we are still hanging in there. When we do work together it can be amazing and wonderful. I wanted that to happen more.

While we were in the little college town that weekend, I got my tattoo. It was a plan, not spontaneous. I wanted a dragonfly rising from the water. I had designed the line of water with a "V" and an "S" gently curved into it. Whenever I looked at it I would be reminded that I love Vince and also to carry on Sandy's example for living.

A butterfly is too pretty and gentle for me. A dragonfly is born in the water and changes into a predatory flying insect. It is in the "good bug" category since it consumes huge numbers of nasty mosquitos. It is an amazing insect to me, to be so bold and tough and so full of life as it darts around the ponds ands fields. I am so not-prissy or gentle or beautiful (Is that why God gave me 4 sons?). I thought the dragonfly was a much better representation of who I am. No, I'm not a predator but I'll fight for what I believe in.

So, now you know the secret of my tattoo. Many people have asked why the tat and why the dragonfly but I never fill in the details. Now you know. (Shhhh~don't tell anyone.)

~~~~~~~~~

Okay, did any of you notice that my tattoo is not really a dragonfly? Most people think it is though and I wish it was so ... They told me it was a dragonfly and I was so excited and scared at the time that I didn't notice the antennae, which dragonflies do not have, and the wings are shaped wrong, too. Haha. A dragonfly that's not right. The jokes on me! I'm just pretending to know what's going on but in reality I am just skimming the surface. How just.

The tattoo is perfect for me.
~~~~~~~~~~

~P.S. Vince and I just hit #29 and still rollin'

2007-08-30T07:02:00.001-04:00

I've been trying to "Let go and let God" because I didn't know what else to do! Yesterday I had a breakthrough (FINALLY!) and things will start getting back to normal. I'd love to tell you all about it but can't think of a way to do it without sounding whiny and self-pityish )OH, poor me) SO... suffice it to say that yesterday I was full, full, full to brimmin' with thanks to God all the way home from work. "Thank you God, Thank you God, Thank you God" The deadline had been fast approaching but I could not see a way to resolve anything. Don't know if he actually helped me through it all in any way except keeping me calm and sane and Ithat is what I most needed. For that I am so grateful!

More good news. When I got home I checked my email and had sold another book on Amazon! YEAH! If only I had realized how easy it is to buy and sell college text books at Amazon Marketplace I'd have done it years ago! I started last year and sold several at so much more than the pittance at which the schools will buy them back.

This year has been even better since Kevin decided to sell most of his Business books and they have been snapped right up.

Anyway, don't be afraid to try it. Contact me if you want to, and I'll help you out getting started but it really is easy and helps out with those ridiculous book expenses. Kev hardly cracks a book so they are mostly in great shape (now that's putting a positive spin on things, isn't it?) but even Zeke's books with highlighting have sold well.

Anyway, life is good and God is good, all the time.

2007-08-23T20:24:00.000-04:00

Have you ever been so busy that your mind wakes up an hour before the 6 a.m. alarm every day and you hit the ground running, barely taking the time to breathe and definitely not smelling many roses?

What do you do?

2007-08-16T07:46:00.000-04:00

I woke and the alarm clock glowed 5:22.... too early to get up. I almost rolled over and went back to sleep when I remembered the Perseid Meteor Shower. It was supposed to peak at 4:30 a.m. I thought maybe if I got up I could still catch a bit of it.

The debate in my mind, whether it was worth getting up for, actually awakened me so I did get up. I grabbed a blanket to lay on and stepped outside. It was still so humid but surprisingly cool so I grabbed another blanket to cover up with.

I laid down and gazed up at the darkened sky. There were some streaks of clouds and the sky had already lightened enough that not a lot of stars were visible, but I was comfy and it is always amazing to stare into the night sky so I stayed.

I stared into the sky and thought about all the zillions of stars up there. I knew there were also meteors out there whizzing past the earth, too. But I couldn’t see them. As many as 80 per hour at peak the newsperson had said. Even at half that I should be seeing some… and then I did.

It was so quick but it was there and I saw it. I thought what a beautiful miracle it was. I remembered the time Angus and I were young and had been driving home late one night from the city. We caught a meteor shower through the windshield and we hadn’t known it was going on so it caught us by surprise. Some were quick and short but others were bright and had long trails across the black sky. We delighted and pointed, “Oh! Look at that one! Did you see that one?“ It just kept on and on, one after the other. We were so amazed and grateful… but after awhile we just stopped paying attention, even as they continued to streak through the sky.

Isn’t that how it is with God’s wonderful miracles? Like the stars, they are out there all the time. Constantly surrounding us but not always visible. Most of the time we don’t even notice because we see them so often we don’t even think of them as miracles any more.

The mosquitoes were buzzing me by then. The first high-pitched singer started buzzing me soon after I’d laid down, so I had covered myself neck to toe with the blanket and waved it away if it came in too close. After I saw my “shooting star” I quit watching. I rolled over and covered my head, too.

I had seen a meteor and I thought I would just lay there and listen to the world awaken. The crickets made beautiful background music for my soprano mosquito. Soon an alto joined her and then another. I honestly did not know that mosquitoes sound different but these three definitely all had their own individual songs. I didn’t enjoy it though and I jumped up, grabbed the blankets (flinging my glasses somewhere beyond onto the lawn) and ran back into the house.

While I was crawling around in the grass feeling for my glasses, I thought about how distracted we get from all that God has to offer us… all of his plans for us, too. Or we just flat out ignore them because it is hot under the blanket and we don’t like what’s going on around us any way. So we split. Take the easy way and miss the opportunities. We wander around blindly until daylight comes and we see a glint in the grass and we can see again but only because we searched!

...Okay, I’ll quit. I just get like this sometimes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm not there yet...

2007-08-09T09:10:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I think God gave us husbands so we will keep perspective in our lives.

This morning I read Swampwitch's post about being the mother of the bride and some of her personal horrors as she prepares for the wedding. This excerpt made me laugh out loud. This is she talking to her really empathetic husband:

"Can you see my zit?"
"Not if you put your hand over your nose or if I shut my eyes."

I love it.

Her drama with getting sick before the wedding and everything else that was not going right brought back my son's wedding to me. It was three yeats ago.

I needed a just-right dress. I thought it would be easy but I was oh-so-wrong! It was about a week before the wedding and I still didn't have it. Everything I could find was either spaghetti-strap prom, matronly or beaded/glittery. I am none of the above. Oh, yeah, and it had to be a color that at least didn't clash with the bridesmaids and the mother of the bride. AND it had to fit my weird skinny-limbs-broad-shoulders-big-butt figure. Where were other women finding those gorgeous dresses? I hate shopping for clothes anyway and I found myself shopping for hours on end.

That's bad... because when I shop and don't find what I want, well, I settle. I start seeing possibilities in things. I found a dress that I thought would do. It was a blue similar to the mother of the bride's dress, which she was making herself, by the way. It was big but it wasn't shiny or fancy, which neither am I. ...it had possibilities.

It was way too big, even for my backside, although fit pretty well at the shoulders. It just hung on me. Guess what? I bought it anyway. I decided my mom could alter it for me and she agreed to do it.

Kevin's girlfriend convinced me to go to her salon for my hair cut. She was also a "Colorist". I should have run. I have never colored my hair before other than highlights which I do myself. She said we needed to get rid of the gray (hey, it's in the back, I can't see it!) and "even it out a bit." (she didn't like my highlights!) She gave me a nice "caramel" color, a lighter shade than my natural color and add some lighter streaks. "Okay, you're the expert." ...famous last words. It came out blah, blah, blah, plain.

After a couple of hours of that, and it all cost more than my dress, I just wanted to get out of there! Shoe shopping time. I found a nice pair of pointy sling-backs and bought them. In the process I lost my credit card (or was it stolen?) which, being that I use it so seldom, I didn't notice 'til I got ready to pay for the kids' honeymoon suite several days later and it was gone. But someone had "found" it and had been on a little buying spree. The guy at the credit card company was gentle when he told me this but I just burst into tears anyway. He must be accustomed to this response because he comforted me and told me to take some deep breaths and that it would all be okay. (It was)

Two days before the wedding I woke up feeling kinda nauseous... the day my mom was going to take in and hem up my dress. When I got out of bed I literally could not walk, the room was spinning. I was sure I had some disease and was going to miss my firstborn's wedding. If I lay perfectly still I was fine but any movement left me nauseated and dizzy. The doctor squeezed me in and decided I had some kind of virus that messed with my inner ear. He got me some medicine and life was good again. But the day was wasted and my dress did not get altered.

Anyway, I had to keep it all in perspective, after all the wedding wasn't all about me. Angus said I looked "fine" which is guy-speak for "get over yourself". I doubted anyone would even notice me and I was so flippin' busy I didn't really give it much thought. Until the photos came back.

Here is a snapshot of boring me taken an hour before the wedding with the mother of the bride. Still in my flip-flops and see how my lipstick makes my lips disappear? I am a hopeless cause, I think.

The good news is - the bride was beautiful. My son was wonderful. The wedding was spiritual. The reception was fun and I fell in love with my husband all over again. Who cares that I was wearing a blue potato sack?

+++++

Phillipians 4:11 ~ Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.

2007-08-08T13:00:00.000-04:00

The walking tunnel into

Cuyahoga Valley National Park:

It was hot and humid and the sky darkened while we walked, as if the skies would open up at any moment and drench us. It was then we came upon Icebox Cave.

No kidding.

2007-08-03T17:11:00.000-04:00

I sat down by the seawall watching the sun rise. Angus and I had been at The Lake of the Ozarks for two days. Our hosts, my brother and sister-in-law had headed back home the evening before and we had the large lake house to ourselves for a few days.
I was content and happysitting in the quiet morning light, trying not to notice the hulking frame of concrete and steel rising off to the Southeast. We are on Ship’s Point. The point just to the East of this one… the one that this house faces, has always left us with a beautiful view of a lovely, grassy point with small trees… no house, no people, not even a dock.

The original house had burnt down over 40 years ago, leaving only the brick chimney standing, and nothing had ever been rebuilt. “Chimney Point”. Years ago the “For Sale” sign went up but the asking price was high so it remained the same year after year. Several years ago it finally sold. The rumor was condos. And sure enough we began to notice changes when we went down. A sea wall was built. Trees were bulldozed and the grasses scraped away. Construction began a building was erected. Now, this year, the condo is taking shape.

In only a few more minutes I knew that the clanking, groaning and grinding of the heavy equipment would break the silence. The banging and shouting of the workers would begin and last ‘til 4 pm when the construction crew would leave the giant steel skeleton behind as they crawl into their pickups weary from their hard work in the July heat.

I was drinking my coffee, watching the sun appear above the mist and later disappear into the clouds. Enjoying the peace and the solitude. Not wanting to think about the changes to this peaceful point once the condo is finished.

It occurred to me that it was Thursday and that Jetty Betty would be writing her “Thursday Thanksgivings” and finding wonderful things to be thankful for even in the midst of whatever turmoil and disappointment is in her life. She’d be looking at the good side of things. I started thinking about all the good in my life. I starting thinking about all the good times we’ve had down here over the last 29 years with friends and family.

Angus and I took long weekends in the incredible peace and solitude of the lake house in winter. Reading and watching the view and the rare speedboat pass by the picture windows. We cooked elaborate meals, ate slowly and did the dishes side by side. We were undisturbed by the temptations of TV and computers and telephones. The decisions were whether to put on Eric Clapton or Jimmie Spheeris as we sat by the fire in the evenings dreamily watching the flames and sipping a glass of wine.

We’d go to bed early and sleep late. And because it was The Lake House it was especially romantic… like a fancy secluded resort, yet as familiar as home.

When the kids were little we spent a Fourth of July watching the fireworks put on at the Four Seasons Resort across the Lake. We had a perfect view from our lawn chairs by the water and we didn’t even have to be a part of the flotilla of boats out there watching, too. The kids giggled as they drew golden circles in the black night with their sparklers and after the fireworks they watched to boats pull away one by one.

One year Angus’ family decided to have Thanksgiving at The Lake. We all sat together at the long Ponderosa-style table laughing and enjoying one another. No late arrivals or fast escapes... just acceptance.

The Lake is where I first really got to know Angus’ family. What’s to do but talk as you sunbathe and watch the kids, cooking and eating together? It’s where I first learned of the Mc’s “10 O’clock Rule“. The men would get up early to fish and do any yard work before the summer heat set in. They’d keep an eye on the time for at 10:00 a.m. it is okay to have your first beer of the day. I don’t know who made the rule; it preceded my entry into the family.

The boys floated in life jackets in the waves from the passing boats pretending they were in the ocean while we mamas laid in the sun on the rocking dock. They picked wild flowers along the gravel road. In later years they jumped off the roof of the dock into the deep water. They jet skied in the cove ‘til their legs ached. They’ve blown leaves with the powerful backpack leaf blowers onto a tarp to be pulled to the water’s edge and dumped, jumping into the ice cold water to cool off and to prove they were men.

They caught lightening bugs with their cousins who are grown now. They caught fish with their grandfather who is gone now.

Everything changes.

I contemplated the sunrise and my memories, feeling both happiness for the beautiful past and regret for what never will be again. The looming mass of condo reminded me that change is always coming and a lot of times it is out of our control, it‘s not what we want... But life goes on.

It made me value the “right now” a little bit more, appreciate the past a lot more and look forward to whatever happens next with hope. The unpredictability of life is what makes it both scary and fascinating. It makes us work harder, dream bigger and love better. It pops us out of our ruts and into the sunshine or into the mud.

This day, I’m in the sunshine and will take advantage of today. I know the mud is there waiting to pull me down so I’ll look up… trust God to get me through it when the time comes.

Life is good… and I believe that with all my heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Life will bring you pain all by itself. Your responsibility is to create joy.”
~Milton Erickson, M.D.

2007-08-02T09:56:00.000-04:00

It's so good to be back. While Angus was on vacation we took several days at The Lake ( around here that means Ozarks) and then traveled to my Family Reunion in Michigan, taking a slow journey. The drive home was straight through, 12 hours, arriving home around midnight. I wish all of you could have the sweet kind of homecoming that I had.

I was so weary from sitting in the car. I am a fidgety person and I have Restless Leg Syndrome, too. (I am not sure if the two are related.) It is impossible for me to sit still for very long. When I was a kid in church my grandmother was constantly reaching over to gently lay her hand on my knees... the signal to stop swinging my feet. I tried.

In the car I sit most often with my feet up on the dash board or crosslegged in the seat, sometimes stretching my short legs out straight on the floor, changing positions after a few minutes. My husband is used to this and can even tell when it is time for me to stop and take a walk.

Anyway, for me, it's all about the destination and when the destination is "home" I can't be there soon enough. Finally, we made it. The lights of the house were on and there were three college-girl friends of ours watching a movie while waiting for us. They jumped up and welcomed us with long hugs. The house smelled of baking and cinnamon and was shiny clean!

Last Thursday, five of the girls had come over and did a load of laundry, picked up after Kevin who had just left for The Lake, vacuumed, scrubbed the kitchen floor, and cleaned the oven (I don't think I'd ever done that). The day we arrived home they baked while they waited for us to return... Choco-chip Cookies, Dump Cake and Cinnamon Bread ( still warm).

Oh, to be loved like that! It felt so good!

Around here we have a pretty-much have an "Open House" policy all the time. Anyone is welcome anytime... as long as they can stand not being treated like company. The teens and young adults stop by often even though we live way out in the country. It's a place they can get away to. We don't have a huge house and many times I go up to my room early so I won't have to watch/listen to whatever inane movie they have on.

I don't know why they come other than that they can. On Sunday, around midnight, I was so glad they had.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you Jessica, Brook, Courtney, Danielle, and Sara! I love you.

2007-07-23T07:40:00.000-04:00

The thirty year mustache came off this week! When I met Angus in college he had a full beard. Every autumn he and his 3 brothers grew their beards, every spring they shaved them off. He continued that tradition until he started working for UPS. Their drivers aren’t allowed to have beards. But the mustache always stayed.

Last week he shaved it off. I have no idea why he did. Funny though that I didn’t even notice it when he first came downstairs afterwards. I was busy in the kitchen and we talked a minute and I wasn’t really noticing him. A few minutes later we sat down together and I DID notice. I took a huge inhaled breath, totally shocked, and he just grinned.

The boys flomped into the house Saturday, after a week of counseling at church camp and they were full of fun and stories. I listened with joy as they unpacked and talked, then I suggested they go find their Dad and let him know they were home.

A few minutes later I heard hysterical laughing coming from upstairs. I wondered what was so funny. Down the stairs they tumbled, barely able to speak for their red-faced laughter. “Hey, Mom. Uncle Mike is upstairs!” I’d gotten somewhat used to seeing Angus without the ‘stache and had forgotten that the boys hadn’t seen it yet. They took one look at him and burst into laughter. He does look more like his brother Mike, now, than himself.

2007-07-22T09:36:00.000-04:00

I’m a bunny killer. Last week when I was weeding in the asparagus I startled a baby bunny. I thought how bold that wascally wabbit mama was to nest right smack in my garden but I just kept pulling the tall grass and didn’t give them another thought. My garden is big enough that I can share. The deer are also frequent unwanted visitors volunteering to prune the tops of my tomato plants and beans.

A few days later when I was mowing in the paths between my raised beds it happened. I heard a big thud and knew I’d run over something, a dirt clod maybe? Until I saw the chunks of …well, I’ll spare the details. I instantly stopped the mower and went in the house. I went to the sink and got a drink of water and told Zeke what had happened.

Here’s the bad part. I made him go out and clean it up. He didn’t want to and we argued. I said it would gross me out and he said it would gross him out, too. I told him I just couldn’t do it and he said neither could he. I told him I knew he could and then, well, I basically guilted him into it. I didn’t say it, but I implied that this kind of task is one of those things that men must do for women. He said he was going to throw up… but he did it anyway. …I’m so ashamed.

Today when I was mowing again, I replayed this horrible scene in my mind again. I don’t think it was the hunks of bunny remains that I couldn’t deal with but the guilt of having done it that made me feel that I just could not go back out in my garden that day.

I let my stupid guilt over the killing, even this purely accidental thing, rule my behavior in the way I treated my son. It’s not that it hurt him to clean up the mess (nor would it have hurt me). I was selfish and threw away my values there for a minute. That scares me. I teach my sons about equality and that guys must carry their household load, too, and that women work in the world now and can do man-stuff, too. Then I revert to the weaker sex when it is easier to do so. It was one of those hypocritical, do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do kind of things.

Guilt.

I hate it and I‘m not one that has much use for guilt generally. I let things go pretty easily …forgive myself and others, too, because I know God does. We are who we are. But now I’m thinking guilt can be a useful tool for change, can’t it? I learned a lesson here and it won’t happen again. Sometimes I think that is what life is about. The lessons.

2007-07-21T21:05:00.000-04:00

We know a guy who took his own pins out. Zeke told me this as he was waiting for the surgery to have his taken out. The surgery took about a half an hour, although the waiting before hand was closer to an hour. He still has to wear the brace but is supposed to try to start moving his fingers and turning his wrist a bit.

He was at church camp all week, disappointed that he still couldn’t play the guitar but happy to in the process of winding this all up. The pix is Zeke pretending he was dead while being extremely bored waiting for the surgery. His way of keeping things light.

He and Beau returned yesterday giddy with the good experiences they’d had at Camp. It was wonderful to see them laughing and joking together. I had missed them …and also enjoyed them gone and glad to have them both back. Beau had only been home an hour from the Sonshine Fest before he had to leave for Camp Galilee so I hadn’t seen him for awhile.

One of the girls at Sonshine had dyed his hair red. Lordy! Photo is Beau before the hair went red. He and his buddies bought Spiderman suits at the local WalMart up there. Of course, they are child sizes so they were scrunched into them. They wore them to one of the concerts and as they were walking up to the venue a big guy spotted them and lifted Beau above his head, “Hey, Spiderman is here! Send him to the front!” then the crowd bodysurfed him right to the very front! They did the same to his buddy. He said it was AWESOME.

2007-07-12T20:18:00.000-04:00

Zeke turned 21 today. He also got his cast off. It was a real gift but not as good a one as he'd hoped. They took the cast off and x-rayed the hand and the put a brace back on. He still can't move the dang thing... still no guitar playing. The brace limits as much as the cast did! (see the smiley face drawn on his fingers? he's been bored.)

He's handling the disappointment well. He has definitely learned patience and an appreciation for things taken for granted before. He'll have surgery tomorrow to get the pins out... thanks to a nurse who finagled an appointment at he Surgery Center because Zeke will be out of town next week and she didn't want him to have to wait another week.

We took him out to lunch on the way home. Not much of a birthday celebration. Most of his friends and his brother, Beau, are at the Sonshine Festival in Minnesota. He didn't go because of his appointment with the surgeon.

A couple of friends did stop by to wish him Happy Birthday this evening... just in time for birthday cheesecake!

2007-07-09T17:21:00.000-04:00

Zeke stepped out of the house and called me out of the garden, holding the phone towards me. I stood up and asked “Does Beau need to go to the Emergency Room?“ I was joking... but Zeke paused and said ”…maybe.”

Working the Fireworks tent is like hosting a 3 week party. Beau and Zeke both worked it this year. Zeke stayed nights and days the first few days after the fireworks were delivered since both Beau and Ex were at church camp that week.

Beau was hired for days this summer. His friend, Ex, had the night gig but his mom put the big NIX on that. She didn’t want him staying there alone all night. I'd had similar concerns last year when Beau had the night shift but had let him do it. (Turned out he was seldom there alone anyway.) So Beau ended up staying, too, and they split the cash.

When there were no customers there was plenty of video games, movies, and the wireless internet from Carol’s house reached the tent so they could do that, too. Friends stopped by at all hours, often bringing them pizza or cookies. It became the local hang out. The kids are allowed to shoot off fireworks to see what they look like so they can tell the customers and if a customer asks about something they don’t know, they can just walk out back and give one a try for the customer to witness! A boy’s dream job… friends, games, food and explosives.

Fireworks are lucrative, as well. Carol’s only job is running the tent on the corner of their property and she makes enough for spending money for the whole year! There were no storms this year but in year’s past the tent’s blown down and all the fireworks got wet. The truck comes the next day, hauls off all fireworks and delivers dry stuff. They still make an incredible profit. Carol also gives the kids lots of free fireworks so they put on a lovely display here at our house every year.

They have a dirt bike, too. When there are no customers the kids take turns with it. Beau watched Hayden give it a go then took his turn. He had never been on a dirt bike before but, hey, looked like a blast. He rode off on the same route as his friend had but thought he was headed into the neighbor’s property so changed direction... but there was a tree ahead so he for sure did not want to hit that so veered to go between the tree and the privacy fence that separated their yard from the rest of the property. Only he didn’t quite make the turn. Somehow he slid right through the wooden fence! Luckily he wasn’t seriously injured and he had worn a helmet. He had a huge strawberry on his shoulder, a bruise on his thigh, but his pinkie finger was bleeding like crazy.

There were no adults around at the time so it was teen decision making time. They got the bleeding to stop but then did it need stitches? Hmmm? He called a friend’s mom who is studying to be a nurse (an LPN) but she wasn’t home. He called his friend, Brook, who kinda might want to be a doctor some day and she said, sure, come on over and I’ll look at it. He drove over there, she looked at it but didn’t know so they called the ER doctor that lives next to her. He looked at it and said , “Sheesh, YES, it needs stitches!” (a cellphone photo I saw later confirmed it.) He put in 6 and let Brook put in the last one. Seven stitches and they were oh-so-proud!

I got the phone call between Doc telling them he’d need stitches and then putting them in. As a mother of sons I’m always prepared for that phone call that may come saying he did something really stupid and the fear is always a bit deeper in July when fireworks abound in this rural community. Things get blown up… deer carcasses, sparkler bombs, stuffed animals, snapper bombs, bicycles, tomatoes, watermelons, etc.

So. A few non-fireworks stitches in a pinkie finger seemed pretty tame. Saturday, I gathered the alcohol, nail scissors and tweezers. I snipped the thread and Beau pulled out the stitch, one by one. It was gross a lot more difficult than I am making it sound but we both survived.

PS~ I wish I had a photo of their fence. Angus and I drove over one evening to assess the damage and it reminded me of a cartoon where someone has just run through and left a perfect bodyshaped hole in a very lovely fence.

2007-07-03T23:49:00.000-04:00

“Guess what, Zekiel?” (pause) “You get your cast off in 10 days.”

These were the loud words I heard coming from a female voice in the dining room. I peaked in to see Zeke, his laptop in front of him. He’d been frustrated, pecking away trying to do his music stuff but was grinning now.

“What in the world?!!” I ventured “Where did that come from?”
“I am alive!” Laptop spoke.
“That’s not real.” said me.
“Don’t judge me” said she.
(Zeke still grinning as he poked away)

2007-07-02T20:12:00.000-04:00

I have green feet today. I was mowing the area in front of the house with the push mower this morning. It has become my job because the males in the family conveniently can’t tell grass from the shoots of tulips, grape hyacinth, daffodils and other spring beauties so I just took over that chore years ago. I kind of like doing it anyway… a bit of sweaty work makes me feel tough and part of the “crew“ in this testosterone-heavy family.

It was only mid-morning but already humid and the grass was still wet from the morning dew in some places. As I pushed up an incline I had the feeling that my feet could slip right out from under me. I visualized klutzy-me slipping to the ground, and the mower rolling back over my hand. (yeah, I know, but I can’t help it) So I kicked off my flip-flops thinking I could get a better grip with my bare feet.

Suddenly everything changed. The grass was cool despite the heat in the air. It was a fresh, soft carpet under my feet even as I continued the effort. The chore suddenly became pleasant. I moved the mower along the coiled path and a memory came to me. I recalled my brothers and sister and I trailing, barefoot, behind my Daddy as he mowed our yard. Our goal was nothing other than to get green feet and spend precious time with Daddy on his day off. We were silly, giggling Green-footed Ducklings, happy with life, living in the small joys of the moment. We never grew tired of the green foot parade.

Sometimes we just need to put aside the work and weariness and, without a care, just follow our Father for a awhile. Notice only the joy of the moment before we move on to the pressing matters.

Thank you, God, for transporting me today to an old place of happiness and reminding me that, even in the tedious times, you are there waiting to lead me. Thank you for my green feet today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
PS~
I was going to post a photo of my green feet... but they weren't as lovely as I remember thembeing as a child. ;) Pamela pointed me to this photo which will enlighten you who have never had the green-foot experience.

2007-07-01T13:17:00.000-04:00

CJ was in town so I gathered the boys for a snapshot before he left.
Remember when the kids are little and you want to get a picture of them all together? One refuses to smile.

One looks in the wrong direction.

One grins like he ate dogdoo.
One does something dumb just as the photo is snapped (picks his nose, bunny ears, crosses his eyes, etc).

Well, it doesn't change when they get big enough to know better. After many goofy shots I finally got one where none were laughing or making a dumb face.

Turns out I like the funny ones better. Can you tell which son has his pants around his knees and which one is proud to have done it?

I'm glad they love each other!

2007-06-26T00:15:00.001-04:00

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.

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

2007-06-25T08:53:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-06-20T19:24:00.001-04:00

2007-06-18T23:18:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-13T12:50:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-06-12T07:42:00.000-04:00

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!

2007-06-09T23:10:00.001-04:00

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.

2007-06-05T20:07:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-05-28T07:27:00.000-04:00

For the Ones Who've Survived: I've resurrected this from the not so ancient past because I can't write anything better today than what I was feeling then. In honor of Memorial Day and the ones who came back but now have to live with it.

Dear Marine,
It's September here in Missouri, still hot but with a hint of Autumn in the air today. I walked out to get the mail this afternoon and couldn't resist the hammock in the shade of the peach tree on the trip back to the house. I laid across it, just for a few minutes, as I sorted through today's bills and flyers. There was a sweet thank you note from a friend who had left for college for the first time only 3 weeks ago. I recognized her big round letters and smiled before I even opened it, knowing that the small package I had sent had brought a tiny moment of joy into her exciting, new and homesick world. Then my thoughts turned to you, my faraway friend.

I remember the first time you went off to Iraq. You had no idea what to expect. I barely knew you then except through your mom. She was so upset when you enlisted but she also recognized that you had been having difficulty finding your place in life and prayed that the Marines would fill the hunger in you. You were so young and fresh and eager then.

I talked to your mom for a long time the other night. She didn't cry this time. You have just deployed for your third tour of Iraq. The fear inside her still fills her up for she, too, has lost her innocence. But she has had to learn to trust you and your instincts and your comrades... and God. There were times when I didn't think she would survive Iraq but she is a survivor. You get that from her.

As I lay in the hammock with that hint of late summer in the air...a few lone cicadas buzzing their constant circular song with a gentle breeze rustling the pages in my lap, I remember that you are over there. I send up a silent prayer, as I do every time you cross my mind, and wonder how you are faring. Your mom told me how, when you phoned last week, you told her about the new guys who jumped at the sound of mortars each time and were astounded at you guys who never even flinched. She chuckled.

Once upon a time the mortars frightened you something awful but you learned that most of them don't hit anyone. One time one hit right near you and your buddy and you never even blinked, you'd become so accustomed to them and perhaps to death, too, by then. But then you realized after that... your hands were shaking. Yes, Marine, you are still alive, amazingly and gratefully, still alive.

So, you are probably one of the old men in your unit this time, at 22 isn't it? Respected for your battle scars perhaps, even though they can't be seen. Are you able to sleep yet, friend? Do the nightmares still come? Can you put them aside and rest? Can you be a leader and a role model to these young men that look up to you and teach them the battle skills that they will need to survive the horror they will see out there?

The weight is heavy. I know that most of your buddies didn't survive the 2nd tour. I know that some of those that did are out now and that it was hard for you to see them escape, even as you rejoiced for them. I know that the memories haunt you. But I also know how strong you have become and how beautiful you still are. When you get through this next journey you will have learned some things that some people, most people, never know.

You will know how to rejoice in every day and in every person around you for you know how fragile life is. You won't take anything or anyone for granted the way the rest of us often do. You will have learned that human beings are capable of things that we can't imagine, both great and horrible. You will know that one can survive anything as long as there is hope. You will learn to hope again. You will learn to push aside the most awful of things your memory tries to show you but you will retain it in the back of your mind to make you into a kinder more aware person. You will have learned to trust God in all things and give your burdens to him.

It was a beautiful day here. My prayer for you today is that you find a small piece of beauty out there and share it with someone else.

Go with God.

2007-05-27T07:35:00.000-04:00

They left without Zeke.

Our church put together a Mission Trip down to Abbeville, Louisisana for our college kids to help with the continuing need with hurricane relief down in that area. Zeke, Kevin & I went last year when we made a similar journey to Gautier, Mississippi. It was a life-changing experience for me so when I heard about this trip, with these kids that have known each other for years, some since preschool, I knew it would be a beautiful experience for them. ...only Zeke didn't get to go.

Last Sunday, a week ago today he broke his wrist. He's only been home a week and was already enjoying all the thing he's missed. He had set up a little sound booth in the basement so he could really get into his music making, he'd signed onto an indoor soccer league and a sand volleyball team, there were pick-up games, too, of soccer and ultimate frisbee. He was looking for a summer job.

But that's all changed now. It was at the end of his first indoor soccer game when he and an opponent collided and they both went down. He said he heard it crack. They gave him a bag of ice and he joined us a Gramma's where we were all celebrating Uncle Tim's birthday. (Kevin and Beau had are both on the team, too, so he didn't have to drive himself.) Everyone looked at it all swolen and there was debate whether it was just a sprain or a break and whether to wait 'til tomorrow and go to the Dr. or to go the the Emergency Room tonight.

I wasn't letting him spend the night in pain for nothing so after everyone had their say and had eaten I took him to the ER. They showed us the x-ray and it (scaphoid bone) was clearly displaced. They sent him home with a weird little temporary "thumb cast", a pain killer, a nice new ice bag and an appointment with a Hand Specialist the next day.

Surgery was Tuesday with a screw in the bone and a couple of pins for the torn ligaments (everyone was right! It was a break AND a sprain). The surgery went well although we were left with the warning that this bone is always a "problematic" break that has difficulty healing. It has to do with blood flow to the bone. But they got to it quickly, his bones are young and strong and he left us with a feeling of hope that Zeke's injury would be the exception and would heal quickly.

So ... he's been taking it really well. But yesterday was rough. The kids all left for the trip, including his best friend, Bella, and his brother, Kevin. Later, someone called to see if he was playing Volleyball last night. I think he is tired of keeping up the smile. His hand is still swolen and he still can't move his fingers and it still hurts.

I think he is weary of being brave. Yesterday I went to check on him and found him wearing his guitar and strumming it even though he couldn't hold the neck or make chords. Just the same sound over and over.

Okay, so I'm wading in the pity pool with him. Yes, he's so lucky it was his left hand. There are a lot of "lucky" things about it all. It's not a brain injury, it's not cancer, I was off work for the summer, his brothers were with him, we have health insurance, etc. etc. etc.... the "Lucky List" is never ending.

Somehow, thinking of how it could have been worse doesn't really help. I have no doubt that he will learn from this, that he will grow and be a better person. I know that God uses difficult times to strengthen us for what's to come. Now that helps.

Phillipians 4:13 I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

2007-05-26T05:41:00.000-04:00

Do all bloggers go through this? I couldn't wait til I got a chance to get to the computer to blog. To type out my thoughts and share them with the world. I'd stay up late reading & writing. I'd get up early and was still sometimes late to work. I'd check blogs at work, too. I was trying to hide how much time I spending on my rearend in front of my pitifully slow dial-up computer. It was beginning to comsume my thoughts. If I wasn't writing I was thinking about what I would write.

I was craving comments, too, and I had never much cared before who was reading. I became prideful about it. I started writing less about my family and my life and what just spills out of me. I wasn't loving it anymore but it was consuming me. I started to worry about what "my readers" would want to see. ...My Readers.

What a joke I am!

Then suddenly I went all empty. Nothing I had to say seemed worthy of saying to "the public" ... so I stopped. One thing I know is that when you stop writing people stop checking your blog... and I stopped. How could I keep on with nothing relevant to say?

But today I am back... with a clearer head again, I think. Back to the joy of sharing, with the hope that there are still a few folks out there that will find my thoughts interesting but mostly just back to writing to help with my sanity.

If you are reading this, Thank you. I'm back down to earth where I belong. Plodding along and enjoying the journey. If I ever do that again; somebody smack me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Father God, Please keep me grounded in your love. Help me prioritize my busy life and guide me through it. Amen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Psalm 131 ~ LORD, I have given up my pride and turned away from my arrogance. I am not concerned with great matters or with subjects too difficult for me. Instead, I am content and at peace. As a child lies quietly in its mother's arms, so my heart is quiet within me. Israel, trust in the LORD now and forever!

Adventures in Ruburbia

How To Be Alone

I've been accused of being an idealist so many times. It's always used in a derogatory manner which puzzles me. So I looked up the word to make sure it meant what I thought it meant.i⋅de⋅al⋅ist

I've been accused of being an idealist so many times. It's always used in a derogatory manner which puzzles me. So I looked up the word to make sure it meant what I thought it meant.

i⋅de⋅al⋅ist