My son, Beau, lives in Denver and wouldn't be home for Thanksgiving but was able to get the weekend off before Thanksgiving, to go to a friend's wedding in KC.  He and his girlfriend decided  to drive through the night so they'd have as much time as possible with family. (Who needs sleep when you are 24 years old?)  During  Joy's turn to drive she ran the car out of gas at 3 AM, trying to make it to the next town, 17 miles short of Salina.  She woke Bo.  After some discussion, flashers on, cars passing, temps in the 20°s and car cooling fast, they decided to walk to the next mile marker to find out where they were exactly before trying to call for help.  Cars passed.  They were worried, scared and COLD.  Just as they got back to their car a man going the opposite direction pulled off the highway and ran across to them. 

He had been driving to Salina and had seen their stopped car and when he looked back in his mirror he saw the flashers on and them standing outside of their car.  He was too far past them to help by then so he drove on to Salina, then turned around and came back to help them!  Then he drove them on to the next town to get gas and brought them back to their car before continuing on his way.

I just can't get over how this guy went SO far out of his way for strangers that he wasn't even sure needed help, really.  There are so many ways this story could have ended with a far less happy ending.  I wanted to share what a difference a random act can have.   There is so much bad news in the world today.  We need to hear and share these stories when we know them.  Just sharing them is kind of an RAK in itself because it spreads hope.  

If I had been traveling on I-35 that night, I'd have been like that guy, looking up in my mirror, wondering if those folks need help, weighing the possibilities.  Realizing I was too far past them anyway, I'd have gone on.  I'd have sent up a prayer, and maybe others in those passing cars did that, too.  I'd probably have regretted I hadn't stopped but I wouldn't have gone back to check on them.  So, praise to God, that there are those willing to take a risk, to go out of their way, to give help and hope.  Let them be a shining  example to the rest of us. ♥

I recently came across the photo that was taken right before my youngest son, Beau, left to make a life in Denver at the end of July.  He and his girlfriend, Joy, had just graduated from college.  They had no jobs waiting for them but were going to sleep on the floor of a friend’s apartment until they could find something.   I pulled up this picture and enlarged it on my computer to see our smiling faces.  Everyone looks good.  Happy. 

Look closer.   Maybe you won’t notice, if you don’t know that we are usually a family full of silly.  We pose with wide grins that shine right up to our eyes, but there is sadness in these smiles.  We are happy for one another but there is no joy in these melancholy smiles.

I knew when Beau graduated he would be off seeking adventures and a life of his own.  This is the way it should be. I know that.  My goal as a parent has been to prepare my kids to leave us and make a place for themselves in the real world and to follow God’s lead in making it more beautiful.  I really do want that. 

There were no tears when they left, only happiness, and cheer and excitement.  Angus and I hugged them off and waved farewell.  Even as I stood and watched their jam-packed cars pull away, I knew we were entering a new stage in our life. They were not the first of our children to go off but they are the last.  A little place inside me went empty right then. But life goes on and I turned back toward the house and let it feel normal.  We still have Kev and CJ and their wonderful wives, and our beautiful grandchildren are all 4 close by.  That is a wonderful blessing in itself!

The best and the worst of life is that it is always moving, always changing,  unpredictable and we have to make choices that are difficult.  The changes can be wonderful or heartbreaking.  Usually it's somewhere in between that but life goes on.  We can fight against it but it comes.  Be ready (and willing?).  

Lord, give me the strength and and insight to move with it.  Don’t let me be left behind and go all stagnant.  Lead me to new adventures.  Grow me in ways that I can’t even imagine yet!

Fearless

I just discovered this little piece I wrote a few years ago but never published.  Interesting to look at it with today's eyes:

The desire to matter. I'm reading the book Fearless by Max Lucado and I have just discovered that one of my greatest fears in life is quite common. I want to make a difference. At my age I am wondering if it is too late, if I passed so many opportunities due to laziness, or busyness or fear that I won't be given any more chances. I got to thinking about that and it occurred to me that this is probably why those of us with older children start getting a bit controlling almost manic in our persuasions for our kids to accomplish something. It's why we take such pride in their achievements. If I haven't made much of a difference to the world in my so-small life maybe I can still count it if one of my kids does something worthy! After all, I had a pretty big hand in making them what they are today.... right?  My kids are mostly grown now. Will I be able claim greatness through one of them?

My first born, CJ, was an amazing child! (chuckle) He crawled at 5 months, walking, running, by 8 monts, an adventurous toddler. He'd probably grow up to be a professional athlete or something. He amazed us by learning to read by watching the words as I read books to him, was reading on his own before kindergarten... a boy genius! He'd probably end up being a scientist or something. In first grade his teacher recommended he be tested for the gifted program because he was so advanced. Wow! He'd probably become a world leader or something. LOL

So it has been with Kev, Zeke and Beau. Each has their own rare and wonderful talents and personalities and dreams. None is a high achiever or ambitious. I suppose that since I was so ready to claim their victories I should also admit that they are what they are in part because we didn't push. We just encouraged them be what they were meant to be. 

Yet, am I not disappointed. CJ is intelligent and can carry out a lively conversation. He's the one who is most willing to come over to help us out and as well as just stop by to visit. He married Ana and she has been a lovely addition to our heavily-testosteroned family. They gave us a grandson, too, in little Blue. I had no idea a grandchild could bring such joy to my heart and my life.

Kev has grown into a man who is kind and thoughtful. He's the romantic, too, and is marrying in April. He loves children and will be an incredible daddy some day.  I am so pleased with how he has turned out.

Zeke is fresh out of college and trying to find that special place where he can serve God. He'd like nothing better than to drop out of society's expectations.  He can be quite inspiring with his genuine love for God, is never preachy and has an ability to understand others' views.

Bo is the one that makes everyone smile.  Even when you don't want to.  He marches to his own drum and his drum is fun. Pretty much raised by his brothers, he got a little piece of the best of each of them. He is care-free (about what you think of him) but is deeply caring (about being a good person).

My sons are all lovely, wonderful, giving, non-ambitious men. They, no doubt, will each make a mark in their world but I can't claim it. I'll have to do that on my own. And it is not too late. God isn't finished with me yet either.

Farther on down the road...

It's been a year and a half since I've typed any words into this old blog and before that it was very sporadic. It was 7 years ago when I first started blogging and I took to it instantly. My sons were teens then; life was full of adventure and fun. My life was interesting... at least I thought so. You know, never a dull moment? I actually developed a small following! But life moves on and so have the boys. I took less joy in writing about it all as I felt the pressure of people watching. It was taking up so much precious time, as well, writing about life instead of living it. It was becoming an ego trip. So I pretty much dropped out a few years ago, only occasionally finding something worthy of sharing.

Life still intrigues me! It is different now in so many ways, but better than ever. Beau, my son who once told me he would always be my baby even when he is a grown-up cowboy, just moved into an apartment in the city as he finishes his last year of college. Zeke took off in January, for adventure while he is still young enough to live on nothing but life and is in Nashville, right now. Kev and CJ both married wonderful women and have each given us two grandsons and still live nearby. Angus is thinking about retiring but can’t quite bring himself to do it.

Now, no one is looking again. I am not a writer, only an aging woman who looks at life, knows it is good, and wants to remember it. I think I will replay some of the events of the last few years and then, well, I know the adventure will continue!

Many blessings ♥

Hazel

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."

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...

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~

 

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 :)

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 sheet rock 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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...

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.

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!

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. ☺

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.

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.