My Cell Phone is Ringing

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Originally uploaded by podso.

What better photo to use as I make sure the new blogger system is working, than this one of an adorable blueberry munchkin!

Oh No! I Feel A Blog Coming!

redpickup
Originally uploaded by podso.

Sitting in traffic on the way to work today I noticed a modest red pickup truck sitting a little farther up than my car, in the left lane next to me. The older man driving the truck looked just like my father from the rear and from the side that I could see. I stared, inching my car up to get a better look. Incredible. Same hair, tan jacket. glasses, dignity. His truck inched ahead of me and I pushed to keep near it. I strained to look at him; he looked so much like Daddy. Tears filled my eyes, spilling down my cheeks. My cousin, whose parents had predeceased my father, had warned me that there would be moments when spontaneous tears would surprise me on this journey of grief.

For a third time my car neared the little red truck. The man put his hand up to his neck and rubbed it, In my growing imagination, it was like my dad's hand. What if he was down on a little visitation from heaven. Could there be such a thing? Though totally out of the realm of possibility (I think ...) it was strangely comforting, We neared the traffic light, and when it turned green, the little truck sped forward and out of my sight. Tears clouded my vision as I went on to enter the expressway. The truck had looked like a humble carpenter's truck. Could my dad be doing his favorite hobby in heaven, that of carpentry?

The experience stuck with me and I shared it with my husband this evening. An infrequent reader of my blog, he blurted out, "Oh no! I feel a blog coming!" I couldn't resist. It was a nice moment in my early morning commute.

Ninety Minute Gift

Gift
Originally uploaded by podso.

I felt like I was unwrapping a package. Construction workers were absent, spouse had headed out for a breakfast meeting, and I had just heard the putter-putter of resident son's now-functioning Sumarai heading out of our cul de sac. I bustled around with morning tasks enjoying the tidiness (after the new kitchen floor last week) and the quietness--yes, the serenity of a Monday morning all to myself ... for 90 minutes. I settled down with my Bible.

Peace pervaded my soul. It seemed an extra sense of peace for one who is usually in high gear thinking hard about the next thing. Times like this aren't all that frequent, sadly, but seem to be such a gift directly from God. He knows we need moments like this in our busy lives. I'm so glad I could be aware of the gift and celebrate the joy of it all.

Over 100 years ago, Henry Van Dyke wrote about a "she" whose identity I can only guess at. "She spoke of the duty of being ready to welcome happiness as well as endure the pain, and of the strength that endurance wins by being grateful for small daily joys, like the evening light, and the smell of roses, and the singing of birds. She spoke of the faith that rests on the Unseen Wisdom and Love like a child on its mother's breast, and the melting away of doubts in the warmth of an effort to do some good in the world."

Sort of a "stop to smell the roses" moment!

Know anyone like this?

Originally uploaded by podso.

A Missive

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Originally uploaded by podso.

Dear Bonifice and Emily,

Thanks for the drop by visit. Just like in Jane Austin's day, only you did not leave a calling card. Neither did you have tea nor some refreshment. Next time we will rectify that. I enjoyed seeing the new writing paper. Beautiful, and to allow me to have the unwrapping of the exquisite package as you watched, was just a memorable way to break up a busy afternoon of messy house rennovations.

The way the letter is an 8 x 11 folded piece of stationery brings back to my mind spouse's first letter to me. He wrote on plain paper folded in half and penned it in his very neat, small handwriting (he now only prints tiny tidy letters [as in alphabet letters, because if I was referring to the missive type of letters, I would have to say not all are tiny, but for sure they are tidy].) Anyway, I was in the hospital with a four-in-one wisdom teeth extraction when the letter somehow arrived at my bedside (how that happened is now a mystery not worth solving.). He made comment about the formation of the letter into a sort of book form. "It brings out the scribe in me, don't you think?" he wrote. I have never forgotten those words for some silly unknown reason, or else it's just one of those incidental things that clutter the cobwebs of the mind. But, say ... they have become prophetic haven't they, for he has become a writer. Speaking of letters, here is the missive word information:

"From Middle English (letter) missive ,(letter) sent (by superior authority) , from Medieval Latin (litterae) miss?vae , feminine pl. of miss?vus ,sent , from Latin missus , past participle of
mittere,to send .]"

So, 40 years ago, Miss Wilson pounding Latin into my head while her arthritic hand struck the desk in a rhythmic motion, I guess paid off, at least for a word today.

Come again, any time whether or not you have "show and tell."

Gravy Reminders

Sisters
Originally uploaded by podso.

Whenever I thicken a sauce or gravy, I reach for a Tupperware mixer container and think of my aunt. It's funny how certain things trigger memories. I am immediately back in her kitchen where she is cooking us newlyweds Sunday dinner and working on the gravy with a similar container.

But more than just remembering gravy, I sense the warmth of her hospitality when I think of her. That's what I remember the most about my mother's sister, the woman I was named for. She was a lady seasoned with grace. Her 20 years living as a doctor's wife in a little Alaskan village were not easy, but she was not one to complain. I didn't visit her there but did after they returned to the "lower 48." Her home was gracious, as was her hospitality. I remember delicious meals, and the comfort of the Prophet's Chamber, with every detail perfect for weary travelers. She wasn't the most talkative of the bunch, but she had a great sense of humor and a ready, listening ear. She was a homemaker in every sense of the word, coming alongside her husband, loving and caring about and for her kids,--even her nieces and nephews--a true “Proverbs 31 woman.”

Now her pain is gone, replaced with perfect health and pure joy in her Savior's presence. In no time at all we will join her, but for now we savor that hope …

"The list of loved ones who have gone every year grows longer,
And everyday that I live on my ties to them grow stronger.
I long for family and friends, to see some lost face.
But I know at my journey's end, they are saving me a place
At a table bright with candlelight and linens edged with lace.
The ones so dear from my time down here, are saving me a place."
~R. & L. Williams