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 ♥

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 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 :)

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.~

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'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!

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.

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. ☺

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!

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life is so good.

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

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

Her grass was tall… almost too tall to mow. Luann is a friend, who has kept chaperoning church Youth Mission Trips even after her daughter graduated several years ago. She’s a tough cookie and the kids love her.

She lives alone and rents a charming little white farm house with several acres of mowable yard. She’s been divorced for a long time and is a very capable woman… been taking care of herself for years just fine.

Beau was driving down the road after school with his friend Andrew and they noticed Luann’s yard. They knew the long hours she puts in working at the grocery store and knew she would be there til close. They thought it would be a kick for her to find a nice surprise when she got home tired that night so they drove out to our house and loaded up our lawn tractor onto the trailer.

She caught ‘em though when she came home on her dinner break. The surprise was spoiled but she was grateful. Turned out her riding mower was busted and she’d been having to mow it all with a push mower when she could.

I overheard Angus talking to a friend of his on the phone a few days later. He was asking him about the old mower he still had… how much would he want for it? $500? He didn’t think Luann could afford it… maybe he’d just tell her it was $350 and throw in the rest himself…

I smiled inwardly. Angus had just been talking with me about how we need to really watch our expenses with all the college debt we are accumulating on the kids… we should cut back and pay attention to the neccessity of every purchase.

....There’s just some things you don’t cut back on.

Like father, like son.

Like the Father, like the Son.