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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guilt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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!

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.

The line of cars was several lanes wide and stretched the whole length of the parking lot when we came to pick up our new cabinet. We had just purchased it after months of talk of building one and of half-hearted looking. Finally we made the commitment after my mom threatened to give her china to my neice instead of me.

Our dining room is small and our family is big. WHen the table is stretched out to its full square size and there are people seated there isn't much room left. But I loved those dishes and the memories that would vome with them so we shopped.

After looking locally we finally drove to the far side of the city to the famous Nebraska Furniture Mart, the grandaddy of all furniture stores. We had never been there before and were overwhelmed by the size of the place but there were a lot more options than we had seen anywhere else.

We found the Dining department and were looking them over when Rachel, the saleswoman stopped by to see if she could help us. We hesitantly told her what we were looking for. She convinced us that we would need to order it to get what we needed and helped us through that process. The price was more than 3 times what we had hoped to pay but after all the searching and the mom-threat we went on with it. With order in hand we moved away resigned but not happy trying to convince one another that we were at least done with it all.

We ran into some old friends on our way out and chatted for a half hour or so and then continued through the miles of sofas and lighting and lounge chairs to the escalator. We stepped off the moving stairs into another sea of furniture. Off to our left Angus noticed some curio cabinets and suggested we take a walk through. That's where we found this perfect "book case" that we bought to put our china in. No fancy lighting within to display our china, no glass shelves, just simple and lovely. Perfect for us and within our budget.

After a good lunch at an Irish Pub nearby we drove the 70 miles back home content to have left that place behind us... not knowing when or how we would pick up our new cabinet but happy we had found it.

My mother made this Nativity and gave it to us the year our first child was born...the year we became a family. My dad made the stable and built a little music box within. It plays it Silent Night.

I didn't take the time to get out my many Santas and jingle bells or garland this year, but the Nativity is too great a symbol of Christmas to forget. It was the first thing I put out, the only thing out for the first 2 weeks of Advent.

I think that is appropriate. It kind of gave us a focus away from the sparkle and glitz.

I "claim" Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I remember the days when our kids were little and we tried to get to Angus' family and mine since they both live in the same city. It was awful. We were stuffed til we ached and traveling and tired and miserable. We didn't enjoy it or feel grateful. We felt obligated. We did it because we love our families and are grateful for them but we didn't do them or Thanksgiving or God justice by trying to to it all. Isn't that the way it is so often in life?

I have told my 4 sons that I wish to claim Thanksgiving as ours even if it means we will have to give up having them at Christmas. I know that as they marry and move on their return home for holidays will become a time of decisions. I hope they will choose to be with us on Thanksgiving but I will not want them to try to do it all. I'd rather they love us and God and recognize all they've been given no matter where they are or what they are doing.

I want them to know that our focus for Thanksgiving is to be grateful to God for all that he has given every single day. My kids are a huge part of what makes me so thankful for life, but there is so much more.

This morning I read Keith Brenton's Thanksliving weblog and he says it better than I:

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It isn't the food. It isn't the football games. It isn't even the gathering of family (when we can). There's just something inside that wants Thanksgiving to be a year-round, 24/7 thing. I want it to be an ongoing holiday. A moveable feast of gratitude. A lifestyle.

Thanksliving.


Amen, Keith. Amen.

My mowing days pretty much ended when CJ became old enough to take over that job. By then he had 3 younger brothers and I had no time for that chore. Now the big ol' zero turning radius riding mower (man toy) we have is so complicated I don't even have a clue how to run it. It doesn't even have a steering wheel!

Most of our property is wooded or the field but just about every bit of the grassed area is shaded by the many trees we have. I have told Angus that I hope by the time we are elderly we will have so many trees that it appears we live in the middle of a forest. He usually replies with a grumbly "humph" because he and the boys are the ones that have to mow around all those scores of trees. They've killed plenty of them by stripping a circle of bark from the base of the tree as they mow around it but eventually I just plant another one in its place.

So...one day we will be living in the woods and no one will have to mow but for now we rake wherever the leaves lay thick, just to keep them from killing the grass beneath. Yesterday I sent the boys out to do that chore. I had raked a few days earlier so there were a dozen big piles already that needed to be moved to the compost pile.

They grumbled a bit and stalled some ("where are the rakes") but went on out to finish the work. Twenty minutes later I looked out the window to check their progress... just in time to see my 23 year old son flip himself into a pile of leaves. I watched as he and my 17 year old son took a few more jumps before they went back to raking the rest of the yard.

They worked together wonderfully and had obviously worked out a routine. They had found a tarp and drug it around to the many piles of leaves that by now were dotted all over the yard. They raked a pile onto the tarp then drug it to the next one until it was heaped high with the leaves. They dragged the heavy load to my big compost pile and then flipped it all into the pile. Making sure to jump on it a few times "to pack it down" they later told me. ...Right.

It was such a beautiful sight for a mother to see her nearly-grown sons working together, playing together and making the best of life. When they were younger I sometimes wondered if they will ever get along, if they will ever be responsible, if they will ever "act their age". They have always gotten along pretty well but they didn't always enjoy each other's company. Now they do.

So, young parents, Take Heart! All the hard work involved in making the kids do chores when it is easier to do it yourself will eventually pay off. Some day the kids will like each other. They will eventually become the fine young adults that you prayed they would... well, maybe not that perfect but they will come into their own. Have hope... and keep praying.

PS~ I also got to witness a rake handle sword fight and a cell phone thrown into a pile of leaves as a find-the-needle-in-the-haystack and a little brother chase a big brother around a tree. I am still waiting for the "act your age" thing to kick in. ☻

Finally rain. I hadn’t kept an eye on the weather reports, but I thought it was coming. It has been so hot and the ground already had dry August cracks begging for a drink to green things up. It’s not supposed to be like this in June. June is the rainy month. I remember when I used to teach swim lessons there were weeks at a time when the pool would be closed for rain…or we’d be standing in waist deep water our teeth chattering trying to coax a child into relaxing enough for a black float while the clouds gathered overhead. But yesterday it finally rained.

All week it has been so hot and humid and rumors of that building into a thunderhead and somewhere in the city or the suburbs it had…but no rain for us. The lilies are trying to flower but the buds are wrinkling instead of blooming. The last cherries on the tree look like raisins hanging there.

Yesterday I took my morning walk with coffee in hand, picked a zucchini, popped a cherry tomato in my mouth and noticed how heavy the air was. I reminded God how badly we need rain. By afternoon as I wandered out to the mailbox the sun was hiding but it was still so hot. “hey, God, we sure could use some rain.“ I carried the trash out to the barrel in the evening and I thought “It’s gonna rain. Oh, how we need it!”.

Sure enough, I was cleaning up the kitchen and notice the chickens all run for cover at once. I dropped what I was doing and ran outside. A downpour! Most of that would just run off the hardened earth but it was better than nothing. I sat down in the old wooden chair by the door, glad I’d found it at the garage sale. I just sat there and soaked it all in. There was some distant thunder but the rain song came from the rain hitting all those leaves of the many trees surrounding our house as the reached out the gather in every drop.

I was only sitting under an overhang so now and then I’d get some cool spray but mostly the rain was coming straight down. The smell was fabulous, too. Did the rain smell like cilantro? Yes, it was pounding my herb garden and the plants were giving up their scents readily.

It moved though quickly and in less than ten minutes of heaven on earth I found myself wandering bare foot through the fresh and tender grass. Only this morning it had been dry and hot. Amazing what a drink will do. The rain gauge registered only about an eight of an inch.

But that was just the first chorus! It cooled things off a bit for the fireworks show and held off ‘til it was over. The clouds made a beautiful backdrop for those fireworks! A gentle rain followed with showers all night long. Perfect for the thirsty, dangerously dry on the 4th of July world. Two inches!

Thank you God for giving us what we need when we need it. Would I have appreciated that rain if it had come as usual? Would I have cursed it for making mud where I want to dig and rotting my cherries before I could get to them? Why do we appreciate you and all you do so much more when we suffer first? Thank you , God, for this good rain.

I heard the water spraying as I began my descent into the basement. That is not a sound I was expecting as I went down to get a bag of tortellini from the pantry. I quickened my steps and called frantically to Zeke. He must have heard the panic in my voice and was right behind me.

The Hot water heater was gushing water out of some valve on the front of it. The concrete floor in the laundry area was covered with water but the floor drain was doing a pretty good job of letting it escape. The boundaries of the pool had not risen above the edge of the metal strip that separates the concrete floor from the carpeted area of the rest of the basement but looked as if it might at any moment...or had the water been spraying for hours and this was just the level at which the drain could carry it away?

I grabbed a broom and swished the water toward the drain while Zeke waded to the tank to figure out how to squelch the waterfall. He tried turning a handle at the top that appeared to be how water enteres the tank but there was a pipe an inch away from it that was very hot. He got a pair of pliers and tried to turn it that way and broke a piece off of the handle instead. We looked for instructions on the label of the tank but tat was for relighting the pilot light. I'd forgotten about the pilot light.

I tried to think who to call that would help out or that would know something. Angus was upstairs asleep after having worked all night and waking him wouold be a last resort. His brother, TJ, is a real handy man, he'd know but he'd be at work still. Everybody would be.

The water rushing out was ice cold. That told me that the tank had drained long ago and was refilling with the cold water which was spraying out and going down the drain (thank the Lord for that!). The pipe was hot so the tank was still reying to heat. I remembered 20 years ago when a neighbor's hot water tank had drained and went dry with the pilot light still on and their home has burned. I didn't have any details of that but that memory popped into my head. We needed to get everything turned off.

I'd already sent Zeke out to see if he could turn the water off, at least temporarily, at the road, where it comes into the house. Then I did what any red-blooded American girl would do in such a situation. I called my daddy.

I calmly explained what had happened and what we'd tried. Zeke was back from his jaunt unable to get the knob turned. After 20 years of never being used it had corroded. He squatted to see if he could read the words on the red knobs at the base of the tank. Dad told me to turn off the pilot light and you'd hear it go off. Zeke had found the words "vacation" (hey, we should have been using that all these years!) and "OFF" he turned it and we heard the puff as the pilot light went out.

The water was still spraying out but he found a pair of leather gloves and was able to turn the knob without being burned. The water instantly stopped spraying out but now I was worried that with the water empty from the tank and the pilot light off would the gas just be leaking out into our home? Zeke and I discussed whether you could smell propane gas and whether they add that smelling agent like they do with natural gas. I called my dad back and he said that when the pilot light is turned off the gas is shut off. Oh, yeah, ...duh.

I swished the water into the drain. Zeke told me that there was water in the garage too. Just puddles. The water had gone under the drywall.

So. We have no hot water. The tank kept draining for hours. When had it begun? Bo went through the basement on his way to school and it was wooshing then. I heard the water around 3:30 pm. I havent gone out to read the water meter...not sure I really want to know right now.

I woke this morning cold and aching. We’d turned the heat off after the beautiful warm Spring days we’d been having but it dropped into the 30°s last night. I tossed and turned all night, chilled under the light quilt covering me yet too tired to get up and dig a comforter out of the closet. The alarm rang and I crawled out of bed to run a tub of hot water to ease my stiff joints. Ahhhhh… that was so much better.

As I sipped my morning coffee in my favorite comfy chair my mind wondered to those people out there that can’t get out of bed and get a warmer blanket. They have no blanket and no bed, they sleep in doorways and alleys and parks.

I remembered how cold Bo had been after the track meet last night. It had rained and they were out in it for several hours. He made me feel how cold and wet his shirt and shoes were. He had been miserable but he came home and dried out and wore a different pair of shoes to school today. I thought of those who don’t have another pair of shoes when theirs get wet or worn out and have no home to go to when the weather gets bad.

And for just a minute I thought, “Well, those people chose that lifestyle.” But how did they choose it? Did they choose it by making bad choices? Did they choose it because they have no family to fall back on? Did they choose it because the rest of us snub them and they prefer to escape our mockery? What would it take for me or someone I love to get into that situation? Is there someone out there that loves them?

I recently read Under the Overpass, by Mike Yankoski, a Christian who lived as a homeless person for 5 months. He posed this question: “Is addiction a greater sin than not loving?” That question keeps coming back to me and I know the answer. The great commandment says to love God with everything you have and love your neighbor as much as you love yourself.

“In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive‘.”

Acts 20:35

God, You have blessed me richly in many way. Help me to love other people more than I love my possessions or my own time. May I give of myself, in thanks to the one who gave himself for me. Amen

(prayer is from Words to Live by for Teens)

"We need to cook the turkey and free up some freezer space." Angus said. He was thinking about the fresh beef we will have next week when we have the steers butchered. He was thinking about Zeke coming home for 10 days of Spring Break this weekend. With all the boys home the turkey idea sounded great. Angus wanted to invite his parents as well...and, maybe, his nephew and wife. Okay, sounds good.

Hmmm, probably should invite his big brother. And his other brother, too. Oh, yes and he told me he also invited his sister. Then he'd have to invite his other sister even if it would be unlikely that she could make it. You can't invite everyone and not her (and her 5 big kids)! He was right of course. And Zeke invited his girlfriend (who ended up bringing a friend with her).

Somehow a nice little Sunday dinner with the family turned into a major cook-&-clean-all-weekend feast event. We weren't sure whether there would be 10 people or 20. We brought the long table up from the basement and more dishes...just in case. Dug out the tablecloths and the folding chairs, too.

We ended up with 13 family members gathered in holiday fashion on a regular ol' Sunday. There was barely enough food but much conversation and laughter and love. We discovered that there is as much to be thankful for around a big turkey dinner during Lent as there is in November.

We may just have begun a new family tradition!