I planted today. I had turned the beds earlier last week on a sunny day near 80°s. It felt so good to be outdoors working in the sunshine. I was sweaty and had to stop and rest now and then but I felt so alive! I never really feel alive until Spring comes along. I am like a Daffodil bulb resting in the earth, soaking up the winter rains and snowmelts enough to survive. They prepare me for the time when the sun will finally shine and the earth will warm and I can come out again to do what I am meant to do. Most of the time for me winter is somthing to be survived, tolerated, not enjoyed.

It was cold and windy this morning and rain threatened, yet I planted. Poking the peas down into the cold soil happily. Sprinkling the tiny lettuce seeds in the fairly straight rows I had just marked and then patting them into the earth. My hair was blowing all over the place and my fingers were almost numb but all was well with the world... at least at that moment in my mind.

It's raining now with a warm up to follow in a few days. I can almost see those little wrinly peas sprouting and reaching up toward the warm above... Busting through the thin crust at the very top into the sunshine. I'll bet they'd shout "Hallelujah! Spring is here!" ...if sprouts could shout.

I wonder if I would appreciate Spring (and life) so much if there was never winter. I wonder if I would appreciate God so much if my soul never experienced winter.

What else could you name an Irishman born on St. Patty’s Day??!! Why, only “Patrick“, of course! The family gathered on St. Patrick’s Day just like it always has… since long before I joined the family. Corned Beef and Cabbage and Potatoes. But this year, for the first time, it was without the family patriarch, Pat.

It was to be a small, informal family gathering but, well, everyone showed up. We all miss him.

So, allow me to reminisce about my favorite day with Pat. Angus was having some surgery and I was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital when Pat showed up. I was surprised and pleased to see him. We began chatting to pass the time and somewhere along the way the conversation turned toward his parents.

I had known that Angus’s grandfather was an immigrant from Ireland who came over during the great famine. I also knew that his mother came to the Midwest on one of the Orphan Trains and was adopted by an Irish family. I hadn’t known she was then raised as a “Domestic”. He said she was Irish, too. I’m not sure if that was just wishful thinking or fact but he believed it. (I do, too)

His Da had come over to America all by himself at the age of 14! A couple of his older sisters had come earlier and he followed them. He made his way to the Kansas City area by himself, too. He worked as a pipe fitter until the age of 86 when he had to give it up because his shoulder went out. (I complain because Angus will have to work ‘til he is 58!).

Pat filled in a lot of missing details of my husband and sons’ family history for me and I was totally intrigued. Perhaps he embellished here and there… or not. I was fascinated and he was in his element with his story telling. The waiting time flew by for both of us.

I miss him.

Bringing them back... that's what our annual ski trips are mostly about. Yes, Angus loves to ski and we go with friends that make the trip all the more enjoyable but what it is really about is bringing the family together again.

We've found that the boys will go to any efforts possible to make it back for the ski trip. If it's possible for them ot get off and get away; they'll be there.

It is a chance to be together with their brothers in a joyfilled event. It's an opportunity to see their Dad in a new light, too. They see their Dad having fun, not working. They see him playing... no expectations! They see their fat, ol' Dad out there showing them how beautiful skiing can be... they've mastered the game but not his finesse. They aren't father and sons as much as just men doing guy stuff. They love to ski together and ditch the girls. They bond.

I am not a part of that but I can see the joy in their eyes when they get back to the condo. They are wind-burned, limping and dog tired and the pure happiness is shining out of them.

It's a beautiful sight.

Snow tubing on the ski slopes... I loved it! We had a group of 17, no only 16 since we left Weiner in the Infirmary at the base of the mountain waiting for the Dr. to look at his brand new x-rays (broken ankle & knee).

The sky was darkening as we rode the Gondola to the top of the mountain. They told us the rules and sent us out to play. We could go down singly or in group. They'd spin you if you wanted to be spun, which I did, of course!

I slid down by myself, with Angus, with our whole group and even with a slope record-breaking group of 29. We could only get 28 people to grab on so one of the workers grabbed a tube, hooked on and shoved us off. I think he had more fun than any of us! I was near the back and could hear him laughing all the way down the hill.

My favorite slide was when I got to the top of the hill and all the women & girls in our group were waiting for me to grab on. There was five of us and they spun us and we screamed all the way down as if on a snowy rollercoaster. The silly screaming in the cold air made it all the more fun. What a release! Everyone was laughing, including all who watched. Ah, good times.

The best part of the evening though was not the exhilarating slides down the slopes but when they hooked my tubes on the pulley and I was slowly, gently pulled up the hill with a beautiful view of the snowy mountains beyond our hill. I was awestruck the first time. I felt so close to God and happiness. I used the minutes to reflect on the day, on life. I used the time to pray my gratefulness for all God has given and asking him to show me the ways I can return the favor... by showing me what I can do for him.

Give thanks to the Lord, because he is good;
his love is eternal.
Give thanks to the greatest of all gods;
his love is eternal.
Give thanks to the mightiest of all lords;
his love is eternal.
He alone performs great miracles;
his love is eternal.
By his wisdom he made the heavens;
his love is eternal.
He built the earth on the deep waters;
his love is eternal.
He made the sun and the moon;
his love is eternal.
The sun to rule over the day;
his love is eternal.
The moon and stars to rule over night;
his love is eternal.
~Psalm 136:1-9

It was one of those miserable, wintry afternoons you just want to be lazy; glad you are indoors. Kev had flipped the channels of the TV 'til he found "The Bridge Over the River Kwai". Beau parked beside him. I wandered in, too, and settled into the big chair, SuzeeQ jumping into my lap. The woodstove had us cozy and warm. We had all seen the classic old WWII Prisoner of War movie (a true & fascinating story) many times but that fact just added to the comfortableness.

"Hey, the Japanese colonel is the same guy as the pirate in "The Swiss family Robinson", Kev stated proud of the discovery. Beau and I weren't sure. Kev disappeared into the basement and reappeared a few minutes later holding our ancient video tape of the old movie that had been a favorite of the boys so many years ago. He checked the info for the River Kwai movie on TV against the back of the video box for Swiss Family and proved he was right. Sessue Hayakawa had played both roles. In fact, both movies were made the same year, 1957. Good eye!

Suddenly, the old video was popped in and we were watching the Robinson's adventure once again...this time through the eyes of adults. As we watched we noticed things we had never noticed in the dozens of times we had seen it before. Like Kev said, "It would take them fifteen years to build a tree house like that with the tools they had." ...and how about that giant pit they dug to hold the tiger...imagine how deep and wide that would have been! Looking at it through the jaded eyes of adulthood we saw that it was, indeed, a fantasy...but when you are a child it seems so possible! It is the hope and love and passion for life and each other that give it the feel of realism... those parts were true and honest.

We remembered, we pointed out our favorite parts of the movie, we shared our favorite characters, we talked about the funny parts, we commented all through it...afterall we'd seen it many times so no need for shuushing. Our afternoon was peppered with "Oh, I remember this" and "I love this part". There was the recognition of brotherly rivalry mixed with brotherly love and loyalty. There was also singing.."O Christmas Tree" only Beaus sang it in German since he is a student of the language. "O Tannenbaum"

It was a beautiful afternoon that some might considered wasted and unproductive. They would be so wrong! Any time you have an opportunity to spend time with your almost-grown children, wallowing in memories and remembering the joys of their childhood you should snap up that chance and never regret it for an instant!

~~~~~Moments from the movie that I hadn't noticed before:

Father: First thing we've got to do is to unload the raft. Then, put up some sort of shelter for the night.
Mother: No. That's not the first thing.
{Then they all have knowing looks of agreement on their faces and kneel together in prayer.}
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Father: Don't you sometimes feel that this is the kind of life we were meant to live on this earth? Everything we need, everything, right here, right at our fingertips. You know, if only people could have all this and be satisfied, I don't think there'd be any real problems in the world.

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

Father (upon discovering that mother is willing to stay on the island after they are rescued):
It's amazing how unimportant things are when they isn't anyone around feeling sorry for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AMEN!

Today I saw the faces of the 8 students (A.J. Jackson, Michael Tompkins, Ryan Mohler, Michael Bowen, Katie Strunk, Michelle Wilson, Jamie Ann Vidensek and Peter Dunn) who lost their lives in the tornado that hit the high school in Enterprise, Alabama. I read the stories of the heroic acts of the teacher who threw herself over one of her students. I read about the students who had just survived the tornado themselves running to the collapsed hallway to get the injured out long before any authorities arrived with rescue units. I read about the finger pointing and second guessing regarding the administration’s decisions. As I read all of this the tears were streaming down my face.

I prayed for all those children and teachers, administrators and families, neighbors and communities that are all suffering from the aftermath. Lives forever changed. They are going to need a lot of prayers and assistance and support… and love.

I have a deep fear of tornados that goes back to my childhood. I have lived on the edge of Tornado Alley most of my life but have never seen one. You’d think having lived for half a century in a high tornado region and not ever having seen one I’d be pretty skeptical, but here’s the thing. We have all either seen one from a distance or seen the aftermath and destruction. We’ve all been through “close calls”, tornados that came down for a few minutes and then lifted back into the sky… tornados that run wild through a nearby trailer park or through a farm. They are real and they tease and threaten and veer off from where they are headed… they jump over a house and flatten the one next door… they will snatch up a man covering his nephew in a ditch and leave the boy there (true story)... They can drop out of the sky with no warning no matter how much the weather man thinks he knows. You don’t have to experience it to recognize the power. And, of course, there are always the annual tornado warnings.

There were no big sirens that blared out to the whole community. No, it was every police car in town driving up and down the streets screaming their sirens through the black streets of the night. You’d wake in the night and hear the siren… a fire? A crash? But then you’d hear another siren a bit farther away, then another and another from all different directions and you knew…TORNADO! TAKE COVER!

Here is the one memory that I can’t escape. I grew up in a nice suburban neighborhood. I am not sure how old I was…maybe 8 or 10 years old. I was awakened by my obviously frightened mother who grabbed my little sister and me out of deep slumber and told us to “Run to the Fulks’ basement. Don’t stop. There was a tornado sighted on North Oak.”

The Fulks were the only people in the neighborhood who had a basement. Everyone gathered there during take-cover warnings.

We ran! I was old enough to know that North Oak Street was not far from our house (about 8 blocks). We ran through the rain in our nightgowns in the dark all alone down the street. We ran for our lives. We ran while our parents gathered up our young twin brothers.

We were welcomed into the basement where others had already congregated and were huddled about. I don’t think I have ever been so physically frightened. Other neighbors arrived and soon my parents joined us safely, too.

The tornado did not come. We went home. But the fear remained.

I really needed a day like today… a day filled with joy. There was nothing special about the day really, nothing I can put my finger on except in the way I felt, the way I reacted to everyday things all day long. A day filled with joy.

The “why” today was different is harder to identify. I‘m pretty sure it was all in my attitude but why my attitude was better than usual? That I‘m not sure. Was God speaking to me?

I woke before the alarm and got up and soaked in a hot bath. Yes, a slower start to a day than a shower would be but much easier on the nerves, like the difference between waking to an alarm or to the rising sunshine filtering into the bedroom.

I ate an orange while the coffee brewed and then sat down and read the Bible. I usually do some kind of quick morning devotion but today I sat in my favorite chair, with my old, highlighted, scribbled-in, easy-to-read Today’s English Version, Good News Bible. I opened it to the book of Matthew and just started reading, not really to study so much as to enjoy, to experience it, like reading an ancient diary, yet as familiar as the old family photo album. I read ‘til time to head to work.

So, my day started softly and with a Bible in my lap. Is that why my focus was different? Is that why I was more compassionate with the steady stream of boys in trouble? Is that why I was more tolerant of the staff needing help during my lunch time or when I was busy? Is that why I was more generous with my reservoir of kind words? Is that why today it occurred to me that most of the parents that come through our doors are doing the best they can with the skills and experiences that they have and they love their kids as much as I love mine.
The whole day went like that with much laughter and many smiles. A good, God-given gift of a day, filled from dawn to dusk with joy!

I tell myself that I’m not into “having things” and I suppose by American standards it’s true. But by worldwide measurement, I know that I am a glutton for my comforts. I can rationalize all I want to but I am an American… and I am so grateful that I am. I sometimes feel guilty that I have so much… but not quite guilty enough to give much of it up. Last year I had these feelings big time after my return from the Hurricane Relief trip to Gautier, Mississippi… but those feelings of guilt faded over the months.

Two weeks ago my dryer stopped working…one minute it was tumbling and drying and all was well. I took the nice warm clothes out of it and put the cold wet sheets into it and pushed the button and …NOTHING. Just nothing. I called Angus at work and gave him my sad story. We decided it must the motor and discussed how expensive it is to have appliances worked on and how they charge $50 just to come out and look and just how old was that dryer anyway?

Our first dryer came with our first house. It lasted through three moves and thousands of cycles of cloth diapers and sleepers, jeans and sweatshirts and towels. I kept going for some twenty years or so with only a belt replacement. The only criteria I had when we finally had to replace the old dryer was that it have a buzzer on it. We can’t remember how old this buzzered dryer is but we do know it is nowhere near 20 years old….maybe five… or possibly eight.

The next day we went shopping for a replacement dryer. The first thing I noticed was that dryers, though very simple machines, are more expensive that I realized. The second thing I saw was that the warranty on most dryers is only one year!

We wandered around looking at all the fancy features that we didn’t need. We didn’t say much. We both had sticker shock. I’d already had to drape sheets all over the ping-pong table and the furniture in the basement to dry. I had also hung a load of towels out on the line on a nice 20° day. Not fun.

I was thinking that everyone was getting pretty low on clean underwear and we’d have to buy something. Suddenly Angus made a decision, “I think I’ll go home and take another look at that dryer. It might just be the button on the door is bad.”

The parts place gave Angus a couple of ideas and showed him how to look for the problem and tested some parts he brought in. They were so helpful! It turned out to be a fuse. Who knew dryers had fuses?! The cost was $6.00 and a couple of trips into the city and, yes, I had to wash undies and hang them out.

Yesterday I washed several loads of laundry with a new appreciation for the dryer. I take it for granted like I do most other luxuries that we, Americans, consider to be necessities. I think we walk a fine line. We want to help and I think we DO help out a lot. I give what I consider to be a decent amount of my income and time to help out those in need and to serve but I usually stop when it gets uncomfortable. I give right up to the edge of my comfort zone and then I stop.

Here’s what I mean. I give! but not so much that it will mean I’ll have to give up my ski trip. I give! as long as I can still have enough left over to keep my season tickets to the dinner theater. I give! but my friends won’t respect me if I’m not at least fairly fashionable. I give! If I have time, but my time is precious.

You get the idea. I don't feel rich. I think I feel scared. I'm scared if I give away too much I might have to hang out my laundry forever. Wouldn't that be awful?

I’m pretty sure God wants me to give beyond what’s comfortable for me. Why can't I trust that he will take care of my needs? Well, I do believe that... but will he take care of my wants? Don't I deserve a few nice things?

I’m pretty sure there are dividends for sacrificial giving. I’m trying to do better this year, to be better. I am impatient with myself even though I do see change. Do you think God will be satisfied with my baby steps? Does God use broken dryers and dirty laundry to help us regain our perspective? I can do more. I will.

Toby Mac has a new song out called "Made to Love". It is upbeat and catchy, not your typical love song sound but it hits on a simple truth that we don't often think about. We were made to love and be loved by God. That's it. It's so simple. If we could just keep our eyes upon Jesus and remember that we are made to love him then everything else would just fall into place. Afterall, the Great Commandment that Jesus himself gave us tells us to love God with everything we have. If we truly loved God wouldn't we also love our neighbor? We'd have to since that is what would please God. Wouldn't our pain diminish and our selfishness end if all our thoughts were to pleasing God because we just love him so darn much?

Made To Love
Toby Mac/From the album "Portable Sounds"

The dream is fading now I am staring at the door
I know it’s over cause my feet have hit the cold floor
Check my reflection, I ain’t feeling what I see
It’s no mystery

What ever happened to a passion I could live for?
What became of the flame that made me feel more?
And when did I forget?

Chorus:
That I was made to love You
I was made to find You
I was made just for You
Made to adore You
I was made to love and be loved by You
You were here before me
You were waiting on me
And You said You’d keep me never would You leave me
I was made to love
And be loved by You

The dreams alive with my eyes open wide
Back in the ring You got me swingin’ for the grand prize
I feel the haters spittin’ vapors on my dreams
But I still believe?

I’m reaching’ out, reaching’ up, reaching’ over
I feel a breeze cover me called Jehovah
And Daddy I’m on my way?

Chorus:
That I was made to love You
I was made to find You
I was made just for You
Made to adore You
I was made to love and be loved by You
You were here before me
You were waiting on me
And You said You’d keep me never would You leave me
I was made to love
And be loved by You

Anything I would give up for You
Everything I give it all away

The snow and cold had kept the schools closed on Valentine’s Day but the Wednesday evening Youth activities went on. There were less kids than usual but still a decent crowd. As the evening was winding down, Ryan excused the guys in the group and asked the girls to stay for a few minutes. They gathered around interested in what he would say. He told them how much God loves them and how valued they are by him. He suggested that teenaged girls take Valentine’s Day too seriously; take boy-girl relationships too seriously and that they need to be careful about that. He explained that boys often aren't ready for that kind of dedication yet.

He told them never to lose their own identity in a relationship. He reminded them not to lose focus on the One that really loves them and will never abandon them. He said a lot more, too, but basically he reminded them that having a boyfriend right now isn’t as important as they might be feeling that it is and not nearly as important as having a relationship with God. It was a beautiful thing that they needed to hear (often). Many girls practically worship a boy when they are going out and that scares the heck out of the boys. Boys just want to have fun.

Beau had a friend-girl that pursued him so long and hard that I referred to her (unkindly) as “the Stalker”. He eventually relented and went out with her although it didn’t last. He was not ready for a serious relationship and enjoys flirting too much. He broke up with her when she asked him what she could do to make herself more like the girls he flirted with, that she would change herself for him. Totally freaked him out! He was 15... he just wanted to hang out.

Anyway, Ryan ended his little session by bringing in a large vase filled with roses. They squealed with delight. He let each girl take a set of 2, one real and one artificial, tied together with a ribbon. He told them that they symbolized, together, the real and true love that God can offer them and also the eternal, unwavering, undying love that he has for them. It was a good message.