As I drove Zeke to camp I was thinking of all the other times I had traveled this road over the years. I, myself had gone to church camp twice in my own childhood. In my college years I had even had spent an entire summer at Camp Galilee doing an internship. How many times had I taken my kids to church camp over the years? I can’t even remember… lots!

So this trip felt familiar in many ways but this time I was taking Zeke to Wilderness Camp to be a counselor. He counseled a week last year with a group of Jr. High kids at some camp in Kansas but he went with a whole crew from our church, including the director of the camp who had invited him, and three other college kids he knew. I wasn’t worried about him but it suddenly occurred to me that he was nervous! When I asked him about it and he confirmed, “A little bit.”

He should have had a summer job by now but the broken wrist and subsequent surgery has kept him from most of his activities. His left hand is cast in such a way that there can be little movement, just tiny finger wiggles. No bend. No grip. Useless! And this camp is to be a sports camp!

Now that he is in a cast and out of a sling he takes part in soccer when someone is putting together a pick up game but mostly that’s about it. He will miss the guitar-playing part of camp, too… his specialty. And he doesn’t know a soul except a friend who is on the kitchen staff for the summer. (She is the one who gave his name as someone who might be able to fill this counselor position on short notice.)

No wonder he is apprehensive. Yet, it is such an opportunity for growth. He is not outgoing so this will be a stretch for him. People are drawn to him because of him countenance but he doesn’t realize this. His guitar has been his crutch, or perhaps tool is a better word. I’m hoping this newest challenge will build his confidence and send him one step closer to being ready for the adult world that he will enter in the not so distant future.

The cast comes off on his 21st birthday!

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Go with God.

They left without Zeke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a joke I am!

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

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

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

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

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

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.

It was Saturday evening and Rob had just picked up his daughter after track practice. He headed for home but pulled into the gas station for a cup of coffee. Amanda questioned this since he didn’t usually drink coffee in the evening but he replied that he just felt the urge to stop. He paid for the steaming brew and overheard the clerk and another customer discussing the woman out there with the flat tire problem. He headed straight for her car as he exited, intending to help her change it.

The next morning I entered church and said “Hi” to Rob sitting on the back row. I found my way up to the front and wondered why he wasn’t sitting with his family when I noticed that they were in their usual spot.

The service began with a loud, upbeat praise song. The amplified guitar sounded extremely loud and the drummer seemed to be trying to drown out the guitar. Did anyone else notice how loud and irritating it was?

My right ear was throbbing when I realized it must be sensitive from the cold I was getting over. I literally couldn’t take it. It hurt! I felt kinda rude standing there with my hand over my ear so I slipped out of the row and took a seat at the back right next to Rob. Ah, that was better.

Suddenly the older woman sitting on the other side of Rob began to cough. Rob handed her a Kleenex from his back pocket and then slipped out of the sanctuary. She continued to cough. I dug in my purse and handed her a handful of cough drops and she received them gratefully. She popped one in her mouth and it seemed to give her some relief. Rob returned a few minutes later with a bottle of water for her.

I was pondering the possibility that my ear problem was a God-thing to get me to the back of the church with my cough drops. I didn’t realize that Rob was an even bigger part of God’s little plan for this woman. I thought she might be his mom but I learned the real story later.

The woman had been traveling in an old beat up vehicle, escaping a domestic abuse situation and on her way to Texas. She had a flat tire and exited right here in our town and found her way to the gas station where Rob had stopped for his coffee. She didn’t have a spare tire. Rob called around and there was nowhere open that had what she needed. He ended up putting her up in a local motel, inviting her to church with him, buying her lunch and a new tire and sending her on her way.

I can’t help but think how God’ timing is so perfect. There were so many things that fell into place. She seemed so full of joy and gratitude when I met her. That’s what hope looks like.

Just another small miracle brought to you by God (with a little help from his servant, Rob).

The month of March was the third warmest on record here in Missouri. They told us that it wasn’t going to last but I had been lulled into the hope of an early spring.

I watched as the peach trees bloomed. I planted the cold-hardy veggies, and sneaked in a few of the later ones, too. The cherry tree burst into bloom followed by the pears. I was harvesting asparagus…in March! My water lily leafed out and floated gracefully over the heads of my fish and some tadpoles that have hatched out. Even the lilac began to bloom!

Then it happened. Not just a frost but a hard freeze! Predictions of lows down in the 20°s were realized. …And there was nothing I could do but watch.

I drove off to work and noticed all the tulip heads hanging. They looked as if they were deeply saddened. They seemed to be praying, every head bowed. The timing was perfect (as God’s timing always is). Holy Week.

Those flowers reminded me how only a few days earlier they had been beautiful and proud, rejoicing in the light and warmth of the sun… just like the people had on Palm Sunday so many years ago. I wonder what the disciples must have been thinking…”Ah, at last! He is getting the recognition and priase he deserves!”.

Jesus warned them repeatedly that he would die, that they would fail him. They just didn’t get it. My brain knew that the cold weather surely couldn’t be over yet… but I wanted it so badly. Then the cold streak hit and it has taken its toll.

The tulips bend almost to the ground in their sorrow. The disciples must have hung their heads like that in their shame. They surely all wanted had thoughts of their failure. They may have even wanted to kill themselves just as Judas did.

In the afternoon on my way home from work, SURPRISE, the tulips had raised their heads again. The sun had come out and got their juices flowing! They were not standing so tall and proud now… just a little bent. The Son came back to the disciples, too. He gave them hope again. They finally got it. They went on, humbled now, understanding what true sacrifice is. Understanding what Grace is. They had hope and humility and faith. They did go on living and spreading the Good News.

We are forgiven. We can start over again knowing that. We can raise our heads again. Jesus is here with us! We can keep on going in hope and in serivtude and in joy! Happy Easter to all of you, my friends.

This morning I got up and headed down to do a load of laundry before work. I grabbed a fresh bottle of bleach and there was one of those safety tabs on it. I couldn’t get a good grip to pull it off. I was frustrated and needing my morning coffee. I finally gave it a big yank and off it came splashing bleach all over me.

I felt it on my face. My right eye was burning but it was just fumes from th bleach on my face. My glasses had saved my eye. I reached down to the piles of laundry on the floor and grabbed something to wipe my face and chest, dropped the robe and ran to the bathroom to rinse it off of me. I wondered if my eyebrows were bleached.

When all was said and done, my robe was totally ruined. The bleach that splattered to the floor mostly splashed the whites. It left a white trail on my garden pants and Kev’s paint pants… missed Angus’ work uniform by a quarter inch. I smelled bleach all day… I’m smelling it now as a matter of fact.

Okay, I’d been wallowing in a pity pool the night before, feeling under appreciated and taken for granted. I wanted to be over it but I wasn’t. Did God give me a bit of a wake up call this morning?

“HELLO! Don’t you know how good you have it!? Great family and friends and, look, I’m watching out for you! Nothing of value ruined... you weren’t in your work clothes. The bleach didn’t get in your eye... you aren’t blinded. Your hair didn’t turn bleach blonde either... just a few highlights. All is well. I was right there with you. Wake up! You think you are taken for granted… underappreciated... what about ME? I give and give and give and love and love and love and people, like you, don‘t even notice! But I just keep giving and loving anyway, hoping that someday you‘ll notice and give me the praise and gratitude I require of you. I still have hope for you.”

So, Father God, please forgive me for my self-pity and my selfishness and my self-righteouness. Guide me closer to you and reveal yourself to me. Thank you so much for all you have given because I know that it all comes from you. Thanks for sending beautiful reminders of your grace and your glory. But mostly thanks for never giving up on me. Show me how to follow your example when I am dealing with people that disappoint me. Help me to remember that you love them, too.
Amen