"If our hearts were tuned to praise, we should see causes unnumbered, which we had never seen before, for thanking God. Thanksgiving is spoken of as a "sacrifice well pleasing unto God." It is a far higher offering than prayer. When we pray we ask for things which we want; or we tell our sorrows. We pray in order to bring down blessings upon ourselves; we praise because our hearts overflow with love to God, and we must speak it out to Him. It flows out of pure love, and then the love goes back to our hearts, and warms them anew, and revives and quickens them."
As I look through my worn volume of "Joy and Strength" I find quite a number of quotes from Priscilla Maurice (she wrote the above), who died at age 44 before the Civil War occurred in our country. I found out she was her preacher-brother's housekeeper, but I could not determine if she ever married. Apparently she was a bit feisty and outspoken, as was her brother (a Unitarian turned Anglican). I got so engrossed in reading about her I began to wonder if she and I would have been friends. She wrote a lot about praise and being thankful ... very practical writing.
She is probably right that our prayers are mostly asking, where our praise is true worship, which God desires, and I like the idea of "hearts tuned to praise" and "praise because our hearts overflow with love to God." Kind of like "delighting in God." Something to chew on this hot, sticky Saturday afternoon.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Rain, Rain, Come This Way
So much for our taste of fall. It's hot and the humidity feels like July. If we could just gather up all that humidity and shoot it to the skies so it could come down as rain. Last night we counted ten rain drops. That was the extent of the predicted possible rain. I just figured out why all the mums are already 50% off--they are all 50% dead.
Today it was black bean/pumpkin soup ... yum. I love days when I have time at home and can make soup. Actually we are expecting out of town guests and I am cooking and freezing stuff. We enjoyed a bowl of soup at lunch, but into the freezer it goes for next week. Very special friends are coming from up north. We all started our families together--I guess we've been friends for 30 years. We share a lot of common history, including sponsoring two Laotian families together years ago. When you work together like that, you get close. Even though we've lived apart much of those 30 years, when we meet we take up as if we've never been apart. That's quite a treasure. We'll have fun.
Today it was black bean/pumpkin soup ... yum. I love days when I have time at home and can make soup. Actually we are expecting out of town guests and I am cooking and freezing stuff. We enjoyed a bowl of soup at lunch, but into the freezer it goes for next week. Very special friends are coming from up north. We all started our families together--I guess we've been friends for 30 years. We share a lot of common history, including sponsoring two Laotian families together years ago. When you work together like that, you get close. Even though we've lived apart much of those 30 years, when we meet we take up as if we've never been apart. That's quite a treasure. We'll have fun.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Welcome October
I love all seasons, but no Fall has never felt so welcome as it is this year after such a hot and dry summer. Now the mornings are delightfully cool with graciously warm afternoons. It's amazing how much more energy one has when it's not 100 degrees outside.
It's also time for soup--one of my favorite foods. Soup-making gives opportunity for creativity--like painting a picture or decorating a room. Just about anything can go into a soup and come out tasting like a five-star restaurant chef made it. The only problem is, it's hard to remember it exactly the same way for the next time. Today we just had to have soup to celebrate moving into October ... so it was sweet potato/salmon soup with some spinich thrown in for color. Yum!
It's also time for soup--one of my favorite foods. Soup-making gives opportunity for creativity--like painting a picture or decorating a room. Just about anything can go into a soup and come out tasting like a five-star restaurant chef made it. The only problem is, it's hard to remember it exactly the same way for the next time. Today we just had to have soup to celebrate moving into October ... so it was sweet potato/salmon soup with some spinich thrown in for color. Yum!
Sunday, September 30, 2007
In the Bag
Whenever I hear the words "orange creamsicle," I think of my grandfather, who I knew only the first 6 1/2 years of my life. But if I actually bite into a creamsicle, I'm immediately transported back to my childhood summers when we'd visit my grandparents. A big treat for us was to hop into our grandfather's Ford pick up after he got home from work, and ride with him down to the local shop to pick up some orange creamsicles. Other times he would just bring some home from work with him. I'm sure that's what the bag in this photo contains! Even though it's been years since I've had one, I can close my eyes and taste one now.
What color would life be without a memory?
What color would life be without a memory?
Friday, September 28, 2007
The Good Writer's Club
We printed until second grade, and then began the practice of cursive writing. Back in those days we were taught the "Palmer Method," which had a few frills to it. I can remember starting with circles and loops in my practice book. This was also the year of the fountain pen for us second-graders. Before that, we wrote with pencils (I guess there were no ball point pens!). I can't remember how I got the pen--I assume my parents bought it for me. It might be worth something today, though the "nib" is needing replacement. It's a Sheaffer, and still fills up with ink via a "pneumatic down-stroke filler." I'm not sure why I always pull that little lever three times, seems that's overkill.
Anyway, by fourth grade we were writing pretty well, and always used script or cursive in our assignments. If our handwriting was sloppy, we were told about it! That year we had a "Good Writer's Club." This had nothing to do with content, only our penmanship. I love to write, and part of that is the actual art of writing, especially when there is a decent pen to write with (not including a ball-point!) There is nothing like a fountain pen for beautifully flowing hand writing, and I suppose the blobs and smudges just go along with the romance of the whole thing. I was honored by being a member in good standing of that "Good Writer's Club." But as far as today, I will say there is nothing like being a nurse to destroy one's handwriting (back before charting was done on computers.)
I enjoy writing a nice note to someone if the ink is flowing well! And it's interesting to see a letter arrive from one of my sisters or my mother--or even some cousins...amazing the similarities in our handwriting! That could be a whole study in itself! By the way, this photo is of my original fountain pen, ready to write in a lovely journal Boniface gifted me with!
Anyway, by fourth grade we were writing pretty well, and always used script or cursive in our assignments. If our handwriting was sloppy, we were told about it! That year we had a "Good Writer's Club." This had nothing to do with content, only our penmanship. I love to write, and part of that is the actual art of writing, especially when there is a decent pen to write with (not including a ball-point!) There is nothing like a fountain pen for beautifully flowing hand writing, and I suppose the blobs and smudges just go along with the romance of the whole thing. I was honored by being a member in good standing of that "Good Writer's Club." But as far as today, I will say there is nothing like being a nurse to destroy one's handwriting (back before charting was done on computers.)
I enjoy writing a nice note to someone if the ink is flowing well! And it's interesting to see a letter arrive from one of my sisters or my mother--or even some cousins...amazing the similarities in our handwriting! That could be a whole study in itself! By the way, this photo is of my original fountain pen, ready to write in a lovely journal Boniface gifted me with!
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Simply Put
It was a very busy day today ... no time to stop and catch my breath. Ten wee ones to care for, mothers to teach, blood tests, admissions, etc. Midst it all I lost my notes, which is always my worst fear. I lost them for a long time and was totally helpless without them. I looked and looked and looked again and got into a near panic. I'd been praying, but I really stopped and prayed hard. "Lord show me." Very slowly, as if in time lapse, a picture came out of darkness into a clear focus, and I knew to look a certain place. There they were. Tucked under a baby's crib.
For the rest of the day it didn't matter how pressed I was, for I sailed around as if the best thing had just happened to (for) me. God heard and answered my prayer. He rescued me. Simply put.
For the rest of the day it didn't matter how pressed I was, for I sailed around as if the best thing had just happened to (for) me. God heard and answered my prayer. He rescued me. Simply put.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Dab Painting
A somber mother watches as her son hops on a canal boat headed down to the bustling capital of Amsterdam. Once he reaches America, will she ever see him again? Tears spill down her cheeks as she goes back into the tavern and picks up her dish towel and continues to shine the glasses she has washed.
Over in the new world, a young man weary from his carpentry work, picks up his worn lunch pail and heads for home across a bridge over the Penny Pack Canal. When he opens the door of his modest home, he is bombarded with the rich aroma of a casserole coming out of the oven. The house is very small, but his wife keeps it spotlessly clean. A bit of lace and some fresh garden flowers in a juice glass adorn the worn table where the dinnerware lies ready for their meal.
Today I took a plastic cup with a small bit of paint and went up the ladder to do some touch up painting. Every time I dipped the brush into the paint I thought of my dad. I realized how many times I'd seen him do some dab painting with a similar small cup.
Then I began to marvel at how much of what I do everyday is similar to how someone else did it in my past. The blood of the generations before me courses through my veins, and with it genes that play a part in who I am. And its not just the blood connection--a lot of it stems from living with someone. So much of what I do is because of how my parents did things ... and they like their parents ... and eventually we get back to the little house on the creek in Pennsylvania, and the tavern in the small Holland town.
It's fascinating when you think about it. I guess sometimes we just can't help but be who we are. How fun it would be to really get a glimpse into my ancestors' lives. But I guess I have to look no further than at myself.
Over in the new world, a young man weary from his carpentry work, picks up his worn lunch pail and heads for home across a bridge over the Penny Pack Canal. When he opens the door of his modest home, he is bombarded with the rich aroma of a casserole coming out of the oven. The house is very small, but his wife keeps it spotlessly clean. A bit of lace and some fresh garden flowers in a juice glass adorn the worn table where the dinnerware lies ready for their meal.
Today I took a plastic cup with a small bit of paint and went up the ladder to do some touch up painting. Every time I dipped the brush into the paint I thought of my dad. I realized how many times I'd seen him do some dab painting with a similar small cup.
Then I began to marvel at how much of what I do everyday is similar to how someone else did it in my past. The blood of the generations before me courses through my veins, and with it genes that play a part in who I am. And its not just the blood connection--a lot of it stems from living with someone. So much of what I do is because of how my parents did things ... and they like their parents ... and eventually we get back to the little house on the creek in Pennsylvania, and the tavern in the small Holland town.
It's fascinating when you think about it. I guess sometimes we just can't help but be who we are. How fun it would be to really get a glimpse into my ancestors' lives. But I guess I have to look no further than at myself.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Arrrh...
arr....
Originally uploaded by podso
The phone rang and I recognized the voice of spouse's "twin" calling from Canada (two big guys with gray beards ... some refer to them as twins). I handed the phone to spouse and left the room. Suddenly I heard a loud "arrh" followed by a lot of pirate talk. Duh...I had forgotten. It's "national talk like a pirate day." Comes around every September 19th and spouse is one who celebrates it. For real. Google it.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Hark!
hearken; listen attentively
Originally uploaded by podso
En route to my Tuesday office this morning, a car in front of me sharply turned into a side street. I was startled to realize that I had turned into that same street a year ago this very day at the very same hour. A year ago my husband, on a cell phone from a city four hours away, had asked me to pull over for some news. He told me that he was sure he had another PE but felt he could drive home and did not want to go to the emergency room when he got here. A rather eventful day followed, not without extreme stress, and it's been a bit of a rollarcoaster ever since. But hark! Pause, listen attentively to what God has done in our lives over this year. God has sustained spouse; he is feeling better than he has in a long time; and we need to rejoice over God's abundant grace in our lives. And just some icing on the cake––the weather is cool, cool, cool today! Fall has come!
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Back Again
not just another green
Originally uploaded by podso
They say that history repeats itself, and so it does. I find myself painting old wooden chairs, found at Good Will, just like I did as a newlywed 35 years ago. This time, again, I wanted green, but just the right green. When we visited our son and daughter-in-law when they were house-sitting here in town, I loved the green in the kitchen there. Son's wife kindly researched the color. Maybe I would want it in a slightly lighter shade. Boston Fern it was called--I liked the name. But when I went to see the paint chip at Home Depot, to my surprise it was the same color I painted the chairs of long ago (where are they now, by the way?)
The color is what I would call a 70s "avocado," or so it looked to me. But history can only repeat itself to a certain extent when you've been there before. I realized I couldn't use the same color, having begun my married life surrounded by avocado green. So I moved to the paint strip next door to Boston Fern and found what I was looking for. Similar, but a bit more yellow in it I think. Love it! Let the painting begin!
But I do thank Lindsay for researching and sending along the info via E. It got me where I wanted to be.
Monday, September 10, 2007
A Clean Breeze
as clean as she'll get
Originally uploaded by podso
There is the slightest hint of fall in the air and a warm breeze is kicking up. The lack of rain has caused leaves to fall prematurely and they crunch under my feet on top of the cracked ground and dry, lifeless grass. There also is promise of cooler temperatures by week's end, though the thermometer is rapidly pushing up past 90 today.
It's a wonderful day. Spouse is out of town for the first time in a long while. Not that I don't miss him tremendously, for I have been accustomed to him being around for many months now, and we enjoy each other's company. But since he works from a home office, a day at home to myself is rare. The house has needed a good cleaning for months, and today that cleaning occurred. I've enjoyed the time (only a workaholic would say that maybe?). The music is turned up, and I've found all kinds of little places and things that needed cleaning out. Tossed some things, rearranged some things, and put on an autumn-looking, fresh tablecloth in the dining room.
The best part comes after the cleaning. Peace! I enjoy a few hours of absolute stillness, freshness, and "clean," before members of the household re-enter (dog included), bringing the outside in with them! Since I am "home alone" today, that feeling will last at least until the dinner hour! Ahhhh!
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Island Talk
dad/bros
Originally uploaded by podso
There's something about weddings ... and funerals ...and family reunions. They are like islands of suspended time. For an intense day or two, family and friends gather ... and get to catch up with each another. We don't see relatives for years---sometimes not since childhood. Suddenly we see each other constantly for a weekend. It doesn't take long to be comfortable, for we share the same roots and similar upbringings. There is much in common, and sometimes there's a lifetime to catch up on. It's all a bit surreal. And then, we go our separate ways, maybe not to see each other again for years, or possibly ever ... but, left with a whole new collection of memories.
We just watched a fun montage of wedding photos from my niece's wedding. When I looked at some of the pictures of people goofing off, laughing, and having fun, it made me think about this. My brother-in-law's brothers were there who we hadn't seen since he married my sister 34 years ago. Yet, with shared history, we took up easily. And that is how it is with family, especially when we share a bond in Christ. Even if we don't see each other again, we have the assurance of meeting again one day "up yonder." A glorious, joyful hope about these "island" reunions.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
the formative years
This is a favorite photo of mine and good to post on a hot day like this. It was probably as hot in this photo as it is today, except there was no air conditioning escape. Ghanaian children are always happy to pose for a photo, so rounding them up for a group picture is effortless. Youngest son is about 2 1/2 or three here. Nothing made him happier than carrying around a stick and getting as dirty as possible. From infancy he showed a tenacity that stands him in good stead today.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Undeserved
Yesterday we saw God's grace and mercy all around. Little things. Nothing that we specifically prayed about other than a usual request for help along the way. Things that often go awry went smoothly. When days fall together like that, it's nothing that we deserve. I'm glad we took note at the end of the day, and thanked God.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Home Sweet Home
I popped into my mom's today to help her with a few things. Whenever I open the door to her little apartment I am filled with a sense of being home. Though she has condensed her 60 plus years of married life into a small apartment in a retirement center, it is still my parents' home. Familiarity is all around. Furniture, family heirlooms, familiar pictures I've seen all my life, a particular scent ... it's all there to instill peace into me, even after all these years of living away from home. Walking into her house is like a huge batch of comfort food.
And of course there is my mother's soft voice. She's always there, ready with advice (and I still go to her for some). Though our roles are switching a bit these days, she still mothers me. I often hear, "Be careful."
I don't take for granted still having a mother on this earth, and being able to "go home." I thank God for this incredible blessing and the feeling of security it continues to bring.
There's nothing so sweet as being able to phone her and say, "Mom?"
Photo: My childhood home, built by my father.
And of course there is my mother's soft voice. She's always there, ready with advice (and I still go to her for some). Though our roles are switching a bit these days, she still mothers me. I often hear, "Be careful."
I don't take for granted still having a mother on this earth, and being able to "go home." I thank God for this incredible blessing and the feeling of security it continues to bring.
There's nothing so sweet as being able to phone her and say, "Mom?"
Photo: My childhood home, built by my father.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Thirty-six
Thirty-six years ago today, Hurricane Dora had passed through our town delaying one bridesmaid. We were very young as we walked down the aisle. Strangely, we don't feel much older today (other than the usual aches and pains that come along life's journey.) Back then and still today, our marriage was built on the solid Rock of our Heavenly Father who in His amazingly creative way, believed the two of us together was a good idea. Out of that solid Rock has flowed a steadfast love and a life we would never have imagined, along with two wonderful boys and a host of family and friends.
There is nothing better to do today than recognize and be thankful for Who brought us together. And be thankful for each other, for together, as we collect life experiences, we grow closer and closer. What a treasure, never to be taken for granted!
There is nothing better to do today than recognize and be thankful for Who brought us together. And be thankful for each other, for together, as we collect life experiences, we grow closer and closer. What a treasure, never to be taken for granted!
Thursday, August 23, 2007
More From the 19th Century
Lucy Smith, who died in 1881, wrote: "One thing is indisputable: the chronic mood of looking longingly at what we have not, or thankfully at what we have, realizes two very different types of character. And we certainly can encourage the one or the other." (I vote for the second, though it isn't easy.)
And, Alexander Maclaren, who lived a long life during the 1800s, wrote a pithy statement: "Seek to cultivate a buoyant, joyous sense of the crowded kindnesses of God in your daily life."
Monday, August 20, 2007
Cold Front
We had a cold front over the weekend. It was in the mid nineties. I guess it's all relative! The dry, record breaking heat is barely even mentioned anymore. We just endure. But it's hotter again and the poor plants––in spite of our TLC, they just aren't making it. They look as wilted as we feel. We spent a lot of the weekend painting outdoors. Once you stay out and acclimate, it's not that bad. Even warm breezes are cooling on sweaty bodies. It's the in-and-out of air conditioning that makes the heat unbearable. I remember in Africa they used to tell us that hot drinks actually cool you down in the heat.
So on another hot day I cooked up a storm to celebrate number two son's birthday...it's been a long time since we had beef stroganoff, and I experimented on a new variety of his favorite ice cream cake. During the meal we heard some stories from childhood ... such as the wooden spool story ... that is, a telephone company wooden spool that came rolling down a hill into our family room. Amazing to hear that story from his perspective––that of the then 11-year-old who had a part in the story. (So much of our memory is affected by our outlook on life and total life experiences––a lot comes into play. And our kids remind us of a lot that we've forgotten.)
So we laughed a lot and had a good time, making more memories. We're proud of this tenacious son of ours, who at the age of three, stood bravely and with great curiosity alongside a man slaughtering a cow in an African mosque during Ramadan, and who, at the age of 16, flew off to India on his own to help and to learn from a 70-something seasoned missionary. He is preparing now to run another marathon while he enters his last year of dental school (with a possibility of even further study ... ). We never would have dreamed he'd end up on this career path, but he definitely has a passion for it and does it well. That makes us happy and proud.
So on another hot day I cooked up a storm to celebrate number two son's birthday...it's been a long time since we had beef stroganoff, and I experimented on a new variety of his favorite ice cream cake. During the meal we heard some stories from childhood ... such as the wooden spool story ... that is, a telephone company wooden spool that came rolling down a hill into our family room. Amazing to hear that story from his perspective––that of the then 11-year-old who had a part in the story. (So much of our memory is affected by our outlook on life and total life experiences––a lot comes into play. And our kids remind us of a lot that we've forgotten.)
So we laughed a lot and had a good time, making more memories. We're proud of this tenacious son of ours, who at the age of three, stood bravely and with great curiosity alongside a man slaughtering a cow in an African mosque during Ramadan, and who, at the age of 16, flew off to India on his own to help and to learn from a 70-something seasoned missionary. He is preparing now to run another marathon while he enters his last year of dental school (with a possibility of even further study ... ). We never would have dreamed he'd end up on this career path, but he definitely has a passion for it and does it well. That makes us happy and proud.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Back Again
Twice this summer we entered back into worlds that used to be ours. Places that are familiar and stir up memories. Life goes on when we're not there (and yes nothing much stays the same), but when we go back, those living there graciously allow us to enter back into daily life. We catch up on the news, join in whatever is going on, shop at the grocery store, and indulge at the local ice cream shop. Our energy is there and it's as if we're a part of the community once again. But then it's time to go. Slowly the everyday connectedness starts to fade. But we always leave a part of ourselves there. And we'll go back again another day.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
One Candle Only Please
Well here it is, proof of our 111 degrees today. I've lived in hot places like Africa and Florida, and it's never been as hot as it was today. This was the thermometer outside my kitchen window, in mostly shade late this afternoon. This morning it was 103 there in full shade. It's wilting for sure, and zaps my energy. Nonetheless I made a special dinner to celebrate our firstborn's 29 years with us. It was a treat to have our second son home at the table too. I made the birthday boy's favorite: chicken marsala (well, he'd prefer veal, but too costly), browned small potatoes, carrots, those rolls that pullapart easily, and for dessert, Tiramisu, a new favorite of his. (I was surprised. I learned this new love from his girlfriend.) Thankfully I found a simple version and it actually tasted good. We only put one candle on the cake to keep the heat down.
As I watched him laughing as he unwrapped a can of asparagas (I don't cook it, but he loves it so always gets a can on birthdays or Christmas--it's become a joke), my mind grazed over his eventful 29 years and I thought of all the things that worked together to make him the man he is today. His early love of books and animals; art and music and cars ... homeschooling and all the books we read aloud together ... travel on every continent but Asia ... sending him off to Australia on his own to learn a bit of life ... how thankful we are for who our son is on this his special day. We actually lingered at the table, talking. Moments like these get tucked away in a mother's heart. A week from today we do this all over again, for second son. They were born two years and four days apart. What gifts to us!
Now for a cool shower before bed!
Monday, August 06, 2007
Hot Crepes
Everyone is talking about the weather as we are experiencing the hottest week in several years. We will hit 100 or more; 108 humidity index in the shade. And no rain. What I never stop marveling at, during these "dog days" of August, is the beauty that arises out of the scalding earth: the crepe myrtles. It's as if they don't know it's hot and dry. Their vibrant colors in full bloom are total eye candy at this time of year when it takes great effort to keep flowers alive. Just another thing to be thankful for.
Horatia Eden wrote well over 100 years ago about her friend Mrs. Ewing (a good challenge to me): "I never knew her to fail to find happiness wherever she was placed, and good in whomever she came across. Whatever her circumstances might be, they always yielded to her causes for thankfulness, and work to be done with a ready and hopeful heart." --from the devotional Joy and Strength
Worth a Thousand ...
Pictures, that is, are worth a thousand words. This is one of my all-time favorites because there is so much to see in it. My sister took it in Italy, showing her artistic talent in yet another form (photography.) I love the sense of peace that I feel when looking at this. (Also love the color of the car.) Seeing clothes drying on a line always gives me a contented feeling. I think that it is afternoon. Errands are done, the laundry is drying, the stew is slowly simmering, and ... through the open door a soft breeze is blowing ... don't you feel a nap coming on? Maybe that's why all seems peacefully quiet right now. My guess is the cooker of meals is quite in shape from climbing those stairs with her daily groceries. And when children play, their voices ring in an echo throughout the courtyard, don't you think?
Friday, August 03, 2007
Roots
"Deep are these roots, inescapable, restorative. I thought about how life had gone on, generation after generation. Perhaps the past is really never gone, but always a part of the present. Lingering there in the quietness, I gather up the people, the places, the little fragments of another time." [Helen Thames Raley] (Pictured: My paternal grandfather, great-uncle, great-aunt and their school chums.)
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Bits and Pieces
In the space of two weeks, we've had dramatic changes to our quiet street. Older folks moved out and in came three new families. One has three kids; another a baby; and the third has two boys who now play vigorously with formerly lonely boy next door. Two stay-at-home moms (maybe a little of the older woman coming alongside the younger stuff will happen)! It's amazing the energy that is now in our cul de sac! We are thankful for good neighbors and new lives to intertwine with ours.
Number two son is temporarily living here at home while doing an internship in our fair city. (Unfortunately for all of us, his wife remains home most of the time for her nursing job.) But it is a bit of slipping back in time to have both boys sleeping under our roof again (number one bunks here right now anyway.) Of course they are grown men and responsible for their own dailies, but it is nice to have conversations, and to hear "Mom" or "Pop" called out occasionally!
Lastly, last weekend our family celebrated my "aging to yet another marker" at a local Italian eatery. The best thing about the whole meal was the waiter. He was gray-haired, bearded, and without a doubt, saw his job as an art. It was amazing to watch him work ... flawlessly. I've never encountered such an experience, at least where I dine out. And of course, the "icing on the cake" was the fact that he overheard a mention of birthday. Out came a deliciously, sinfully chocolate cake to share around. Mmmmmm ... And the next morning, the actual marker day, dear friends picked me up and we went to a favorite non-chain coffee and tea house where we experienced a couple of hours of serenity, talk, and good coffee and scones. The little friends who came along made it all the more special!
I scoop up all these little bits and pieces that arrive in my life unexpectedly or otherwise, and label them gifts ... uncalled for simple blessings from a heavenly Father that is always, always watching out for me ... and thee.
Number two son is temporarily living here at home while doing an internship in our fair city. (Unfortunately for all of us, his wife remains home most of the time for her nursing job.) But it is a bit of slipping back in time to have both boys sleeping under our roof again (number one bunks here right now anyway.) Of course they are grown men and responsible for their own dailies, but it is nice to have conversations, and to hear "Mom" or "Pop" called out occasionally!
Lastly, last weekend our family celebrated my "aging to yet another marker" at a local Italian eatery. The best thing about the whole meal was the waiter. He was gray-haired, bearded, and without a doubt, saw his job as an art. It was amazing to watch him work ... flawlessly. I've never encountered such an experience, at least where I dine out. And of course, the "icing on the cake" was the fact that he overheard a mention of birthday. Out came a deliciously, sinfully chocolate cake to share around. Mmmmmm ... And the next morning, the actual marker day, dear friends picked me up and we went to a favorite non-chain coffee and tea house where we experienced a couple of hours of serenity, talk, and good coffee and scones. The little friends who came along made it all the more special!
I scoop up all these little bits and pieces that arrive in my life unexpectedly or otherwise, and label them gifts ... uncalled for simple blessings from a heavenly Father that is always, always watching out for me ... and thee.
A Road Well Traveled
I love a quote from "In His Everlasting Arms" by Gail MacDonald: "Someone wisely said that a contented person is one who enjoys the scenery along the detour." Well said and certainly the life attitude I would like to have. I remember a busy time in my life when such detours would stress me. By detours I mean a long gas line, a long wait at the doctor's, or anything else that did not fit into my ideal time plan. I used to remind myself to look at those delays as a gift of time. I either tried to read a book I had along, or to work on my calendar, or to just think and pray. When I stop stressing about what is going on, somehow the wait becomes an unexpected blessing ... and sometimes, the very slightest bit of disappointment when the end of the line arrives!
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Please Pass the Salt and Pepper
Last Sunday at lunch my mother reached for the salt and pepper and said, "Oh, these remind me so much of my mother!" During the Great Depression my grandmother collected pretty pink dishes--called Depression Glass. My mother remembers using them at the table as she was growing up. By the time we grandchildren sat at my grandmother's table, they were stored in the basement. When I got married, which coincided with my grandmother cleaning out her house and moving to an apartment, I got the depression glass, along with her wonderful hope chest. I love using them, and love the fact that a reminder of my grandmother sits on our kitchen table!
So ...
I drove to work the other morning and didn't turn on the radio at all. I had no clue to the weather predictions, if the stock market had crashed, or the latest presidential dislike polls. I rode in silence, so deep in thought (note "deep in thought," not necessarily "deep" thoughts) that I totally missed my turn off and almost was late to work!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Hello Neighbor
It seems the only time I bake cookies any more is for some special occasion that I must bring them to, or when we have new neighbors. We happen to have two new families that arrived in our cul de sac within four days of each other. I was amazed at how much I enjoyed baking chocolate chip oatmeal cookies today (and taking them over to greet and meet). When I reached for ingredients and untensils it was like greeting old friends I haven't seen in a while.
Echoes of the Sounds of Silence
THERE IS SOMETHING TO be said for stillness and quiet (though it should be said very quietly of course, so not to disturb the peace). We relished our days in the mountains, and rejoiced that the first full day was a day of unending rain. There was nothing to do but read and nap. So restoring! The quiet was broken only by the sound of the rushing stream, rushing all the more after the rain. Such a soothing sound to lull one to sleep!
Silence like this allows peace to reign. Somehow when noise is going on, everything whirling in my mind kind of gets bogged down and is not given a proper perspective. In silence thoughts can sort themselves out to those that are meaningful ones to be pursued, while others are cast aside.
Did I bring silence back from the mountains with me? Not totally, but I am trying to decrease some of the noise around here. Some chores done in silence allow the same thought molding, and driving without the radio sometimes helps me to arrive more mentally rested than if I was "charged up" by the what I was listening to.
Anyway, it's worth thinking about. I read about silence recently in a magazine and the subtitle read: "Your world can be a place of peace if you let it."
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Beyond the Wall
A friend loaned me Jan Karon's last Mitford book to read in the mountains. It was fitting as it could have taken place very near where we were. I felt like I was in the book as we drove winding back roads through mountain communities. As we passed little churches I wondered which was Father Tim's! I thought of this quote as I gazed upon the very mountains he describes: " Beyond the wall, it appeared that the whole of creation opened itself to him. An ocean of the world's oldest mountains rolled away on their journey to the west, green upon green, and in the great distance, blue upon blue. Small lakes of mist collected in the hollows, a poker-red sun cast its light upon the ridges and hogbacks as it ascended ... " (Light from Heaven)
Monday, July 09, 2007
seeking boredom
Spouse and I are heading for a week of semi-solitude (there are two of us) in the mountains. I'm looking forward to falling asleep with the sound of a rushing stream in the distance, reading, crocheting, walking, and napping. I think it's "just what the doctor ordered" and trust it does a world of good for Spouse's racing heart and tired mind. We've never done a full week like this before--no phone, computer (I hope), TV ... and not much radio reception. I hope we get at least one rainy day. I don't ever remember being bored, and can't imagine I will be this coming week either.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
The Duty of Small Daily Joys
Henry Van Dyke, a good Dutchman born during the Civil War, once wrote: "She spoke of the duty of being ready to welcome happpiness as well as to endure pain, and for small daily joys, like the evening light, and the smell of roses, and the singing of birds [and white picket fences]. 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."
Saturday, June 30, 2007
On Being a Senior Lady in Waiting
waitgarb
Originally uploaded by podso
IT IS ALL ABOUT THE HANDS. When I lived in Africa, there were times when I forgot my skin was white. I was so surrounded by Africans in my daily life that I would forget ... until I saw my hands, such as when I paid for food in the market. It would startle me just a bit and I would remember that yes, I was white.
So now along came the privilege to stand up with my niece at her marriage to wonderful Andres. Could I do it graciously and gracefully? For starters, as I started down the aisle feeling quite casual and confident on the arm of a young father of two, I caught my heel on the white runner. I recovered okay and probably no one but the wedding director and a few back row folks noticed. Secondly, I found it hard at my age to stand still for 35 minutes. I swayed and actually caught myself from falling over during the prayer, where upon I decided to keep my eyes open to maintain my balance. But for the most part, I totally forgot I was the age of the rest of the wedding party's mothers ... and it all felt quite normal.
Until, that is, I saw my hands. Age spots, veins and wrinkles ... and remembered with a start that I was not all that young anymore. But I learned later that Spouse asked around for the name of the lovely, mature bridesmatron, wanting to ask her out on a date. (What a guy!)
It all was great fun. And many wonderful memories were packaged up during all the festivities that went on during the wedding week.
Bonnie said: "I loved reading this and it made me teary! Can't wait to see the photos. Glad you didn't fall over! My nephew did , as a teen, in my brother's wedding. The heat outside and no food helped with that fall. The wedding stopped for a moment and then went on as he was taken to get something cool to drink."
Simply Roses
simply roses
Originally uploaded by podso
"IT IS AT THE EDGE OF THE PETAL THAT LOVE AWAITS."
~ William Carlos Williams
There was great beauty in my niece's wedding. First and foremost was the lovely radiance of the bride herself. There is no one quite as beautiful as a bride as she prepares to meet her bridegroom. Then everyone else was beautiful--dressed in wedding finery and being together as family and friends to celebrate such an occasion. But the icing on the cake (no pun intended), was the roses. The gorgeous colors in the bridesmaids' and bride's bouquets topped the wedding cake, and adorned the church. They were a feast for the eyes everywhere one turned. Simply put, simply roses.
As Couple Honeymoons, Missing Wedding License Hides Up On Lift at Andy’s Auto Repair
bubbles
Originally uploaded by podso
This is a pretty funny headline, but it's the truth. What a panic set in a day or two after the wedding when it was time to mail the marriage license. Why the minister didn't do so is a mystery to us, but it was given to the bride's family to take care of. Naturally times were stressful and busy with people coming and going as well as bubbles to blow as the couple ran to their car.
So, panic set in when Monday rolled around and it was time to post the special missive. Just where did it go? Didn't one give it to another for safe keeping? And so the questions went. Before too much time had passed, it was found. Yes, in a vehicle in for repairs, and yes, way up on Andy's lift (well, the "dish" was brought down for the search.) Next stop after Andy's? The post office. Meanwhile the bride and groom blissfully honeymooned, unaware that the legality of it all was temporarily missing!
Monday, June 18, 2007
Pain Management
Two weeks ago, when Spouse and I were back in his hometown for his sister's funeral, we observed an amazing thing. Community. His sister's kids were pretty tied down in the evenings caring for her, so, instead of going out, their friends came to them. The old house became a gathering place and friends were just as much at home in this house as their own. They called Spouse's sister "Mom" or "Mama" and it seems they all had a part in taking care of her. Her hospital bed was positioned to see the door and she could observe the comings and goings and be a part of the kids' lives. Remarkable.
These kids, growing up in a small town, have been together since kindergarten. Not many move in or out of this town, so the friendships are stable and they know each other very well. We watched as they cared for the brother and sister who had just lost their second parent. They helped in the house, they worked on photos for the funeral, they seemed to know where everything was. But most important, they were just there. They just came and hung out. I got them talking about memories of "Mom" and the stories flew...funny and sad, with smiles and tears.
I realized how much they were helping with the pain of loss. No special words or deeds––they were just there. Helping to manage the pain.
These kids, growing up in a small town, have been together since kindergarten. Not many move in or out of this town, so the friendships are stable and they know each other very well. We watched as they cared for the brother and sister who had just lost their second parent. They helped in the house, they worked on photos for the funeral, they seemed to know where everything was. But most important, they were just there. They just came and hung out. I got them talking about memories of "Mom" and the stories flew...funny and sad, with smiles and tears.
I realized how much they were helping with the pain of loss. No special words or deeds––they were just there. Helping to manage the pain.
House Holds
Our dear friends are downsizing, leaving the house they raised their kids in for something smaller and closer to work. Twenty-one years ago when we moved our families to this fair city together, we hunted for houses at the same time. We saw theirs first, loved it, but decided it was not right for us. They bought it, and we bought ours in an adjoining neighborhood. Our kids grew up together, built forts in their back yard, made sleeping tents for overnights, etc. We all have an emotional attachment to their house, as most likely do others who frequent their wonderful hospitality as well.
We were hanging out last night, admiring the gleam of all they did to ready the house for selling, when the call came, finalizing a sale after just two days on the market. How very cool we "happened" to be there for this significant moment. Tears flowed in gratitude to God for His affirmation on their plans, and then flowed in sadness, realizing the house was really going to leave their hands. Our kids are sad, their kids are sad, we all are sad, nostalgic for the many memories over these 21 years.
When the new, young family moves in, if they listen carefully, the walls will have many stories to tell. Houses are like that...the keepers of family secrets, sorrows, joys, celebrations ... When we drive by our childhood homes, memories flood into our minds and hearts ... but no holding on allowed.
It's time for our friends to move on. May they find a house with much character and some trees to shade their new memories.
We were hanging out last night, admiring the gleam of all they did to ready the house for selling, when the call came, finalizing a sale after just two days on the market. How very cool we "happened" to be there for this significant moment. Tears flowed in gratitude to God for His affirmation on their plans, and then flowed in sadness, realizing the house was really going to leave their hands. Our kids are sad, their kids are sad, we all are sad, nostalgic for the many memories over these 21 years.
When the new, young family moves in, if they listen carefully, the walls will have many stories to tell. Houses are like that...the keepers of family secrets, sorrows, joys, celebrations ... When we drive by our childhood homes, memories flood into our minds and hearts ... but no holding on allowed.
It's time for our friends to move on. May they find a house with much character and some trees to shade their new memories.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Father's Day
Two years ago I scooped up the family pictures I had taped to my father's care center room walls and arranged them on a bulletin board. I trimmed it in blue and presented it to him for Father's Day. Little did I know a month later he would not be with us, and that he was already gravely ill with the sickness that would spiral him to death.
But that day the light in my father's eyes let me know his appreciation. With his fading, husky voice he would tell me names of those pictured, even though I know he would rather not speak at all––he was just humoring me. What a gift to us that, even as Alzheimer's robbed him of his fully functioning mind, Daddy never stopped recognizing his loved ones.
The bulletin board now hangs inside a utility room door in my mom's apartment. Not a bad place, really, for when she opens the door (which is often) she sees all of us greeting her at once. A full display of smiles, ready for showing off.
I miss my dad today. I miss his handsome smile, his wit and humor, his godly wisdom, and his refinement and gentleman-ly-ness. I miss the way he cared for my mom and always looked out for her. I miss him coming into my house and saying, "There's my book." He always found his childhood book, Little Men, on our bookcase, and would pull it out and read a page or two. My dad was able to pick up a book, read from the middle somewhere and always enjoy it!
Today the men in our church became a great choir of voices as they sang three great hymns together. What a magnificent sound. I can't help but think of my dad today, in heaven with his father and brothers, and his Heavenly Father. Maybe they also had a Father's Day Choir.
But that day the light in my father's eyes let me know his appreciation. With his fading, husky voice he would tell me names of those pictured, even though I know he would rather not speak at all––he was just humoring me. What a gift to us that, even as Alzheimer's robbed him of his fully functioning mind, Daddy never stopped recognizing his loved ones.
The bulletin board now hangs inside a utility room door in my mom's apartment. Not a bad place, really, for when she opens the door (which is often) she sees all of us greeting her at once. A full display of smiles, ready for showing off.
I miss my dad today. I miss his handsome smile, his wit and humor, his godly wisdom, and his refinement and gentleman-ly-ness. I miss the way he cared for my mom and always looked out for her. I miss him coming into my house and saying, "There's my book." He always found his childhood book, Little Men, on our bookcase, and would pull it out and read a page or two. My dad was able to pick up a book, read from the middle somewhere and always enjoy it!
Today the men in our church became a great choir of voices as they sang three great hymns together. What a magnificent sound. I can't help but think of my dad today, in heaven with his father and brothers, and his Heavenly Father. Maybe they also had a Father's Day Choir.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
random thoughts
OUT OF THE MOUTH OF ... my physical therapist ... came a firm reminder this morning of why God allows suffering, what I can do with it, and that I need to avoid bitterness. I don't even know if she believes the way I do, but she sure was a voice from God on a morning after a night filled with fear. With that under my belt we headed for yet another cardiology appointment and found some reassuring news, as well as obtained a miracle earlier appointment booking with the next guy to see. God is good all the time. It's amazing what some good news can do for your outlook, even when you try to be faithful in your trust and peace ... good news is just such a boost!
A RAINY AFTERNOON OF TEA, talk and making cards at Bonifice's was a soul nourisher ... while the rain nourished our parched earth. There I learned that I am not the only one who did not know what was for dinner tonight. All my married life I've wished for organized weeks of menus, but the times that happened over these (wondrous) 36 years probably could be counted on one hand. And I thought I was the only unorganized one. How comforting. And then as I faced finding supper at super walmart on the way home, I found several other friends doing the same ... and we all met in the same (cereal) aisle! We here in this large metropolis, at least in my circle of friends, call such meetings a "Mitford Moment."
A RAINY AFTERNOON OF TEA, talk and making cards at Bonifice's was a soul nourisher ... while the rain nourished our parched earth. There I learned that I am not the only one who did not know what was for dinner tonight. All my married life I've wished for organized weeks of menus, but the times that happened over these (wondrous) 36 years probably could be counted on one hand. And I thought I was the only unorganized one. How comforting. And then as I faced finding supper at super walmart on the way home, I found several other friends doing the same ... and we all met in the same (cereal) aisle! We here in this large metropolis, at least in my circle of friends, call such meetings a "Mitford Moment."
Monday, June 11, 2007
Famous Quotations
We all love quotes (especially Boniface.) Here's one by the nonfamous h.buckingham: "The best time to eat ice cream is when you're not hungry."
A Beautiful Moment
In a little white church called Hope in a country town nestled along the winding Delaware River, I experienced a beautiful moment ... possibly one of the most lovely, even in spite of its deep sadness. Dear Spouse stood on the tiny platform surrounded by flowers in honor of his sister's memory, the landscape of color trimmed by the glow of the sun through stained glass windows. Intermingled throughout the flowers were photos of Joyce from her childhood, and from her life as a mother, wife, and sister.
With his voice husky, and succumbing at times to emotion, Spouse gave tribute to his sister. A photo of them as children was adjacent to his elbow as he spoke of their painful childhood and her many years of suffering, bedridden, with multiple sclerosis. It was as if Spouse wrapped up all the suffering in a package of God's grace, and laid it on an altar, giving God all the glory for His faithfulness to them through the years. There was a deep sense of God's presence in the stillness of those moments––his quiet voice interrupted only by sounds of sniffling from the pews. The prayers of those praying for this time were almost tangible as God met us and intertwined dear Spouse's words with those that followed from the 86 year-old minister's message on suffering.
There is good and bad to small town living. But when a time like this comes along––when you are surrounded by people who have watched you grow up and remember it all, and you can tell the story of God's role as a loving Father to you, well then, yes, it is a very beautiful moment. As indeed this was.
With his voice husky, and succumbing at times to emotion, Spouse gave tribute to his sister. A photo of them as children was adjacent to his elbow as he spoke of their painful childhood and her many years of suffering, bedridden, with multiple sclerosis. It was as if Spouse wrapped up all the suffering in a package of God's grace, and laid it on an altar, giving God all the glory for His faithfulness to them through the years. There was a deep sense of God's presence in the stillness of those moments––his quiet voice interrupted only by sounds of sniffling from the pews. The prayers of those praying for this time were almost tangible as God met us and intertwined dear Spouse's words with those that followed from the 86 year-old minister's message on suffering.
There is good and bad to small town living. But when a time like this comes along––when you are surrounded by people who have watched you grow up and remember it all, and you can tell the story of God's role as a loving Father to you, well then, yes, it is a very beautiful moment. As indeed this was.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Friday, June 01, 2007
Transformed at the Post Office
...For Six Cents
I needed to mail a letter to Australia. I stuck an 84-cent stamp on but knew it needed more after the postal increase, so made my way to the post office. I looked in vain for some notice about postage increase numbers. If I knew the amount I could use the machine to buy the addtional postage. And of course the line was long, but I joined it. It's a pretty uptight place and dead silent, so I didn't have the nerve to force my way to a window to ask the simple question. Most likely it would not have been simple as there would be a discussion about the weight of the letter.
As I waited in line I was simply sizzling inside, fussing to myself about such a huge waste of time for one letter.
Halt! "Remember," I asked myself, "the times when I was in the habit of considering such lines and other unexpected 'wastes of time' as unclaimed opportunities?" It's all in the attitude, and I reprimanded myself. And then my eyes and ears opened wide. The music playing in the background became a melody. I studied the people around me. Did the woman two ahead of me pay a high price for her hair highlights, and did she know it was time to refresh the color? The heavy set weather-beaten man at the counter sounded so irritated that something wasn't working right. I wondered what all these things were that people were taking care of...so few were simply buying stamps or mailing packages.
I soon realized that I was relaxed and enjoying the time to look around and study people. I thought maybe I should spend some time praying, when the line moved quickly and I found myself at the counter. The lady charged me six cents while she excitedly showed me the new 90 cent overseas stamp. Just arrived that morning.
Will I ever learn? What a difference in my attitude and countenance as I sailed out of the P.O. ... not frustrated and angry, but actually a bit refreshed! And I only spent six cents for this lesson!
I needed to mail a letter to Australia. I stuck an 84-cent stamp on but knew it needed more after the postal increase, so made my way to the post office. I looked in vain for some notice about postage increase numbers. If I knew the amount I could use the machine to buy the addtional postage. And of course the line was long, but I joined it. It's a pretty uptight place and dead silent, so I didn't have the nerve to force my way to a window to ask the simple question. Most likely it would not have been simple as there would be a discussion about the weight of the letter.
As I waited in line I was simply sizzling inside, fussing to myself about such a huge waste of time for one letter.
Halt! "Remember," I asked myself, "the times when I was in the habit of considering such lines and other unexpected 'wastes of time' as unclaimed opportunities?" It's all in the attitude, and I reprimanded myself. And then my eyes and ears opened wide. The music playing in the background became a melody. I studied the people around me. Did the woman two ahead of me pay a high price for her hair highlights, and did she know it was time to refresh the color? The heavy set weather-beaten man at the counter sounded so irritated that something wasn't working right. I wondered what all these things were that people were taking care of...so few were simply buying stamps or mailing packages.
I soon realized that I was relaxed and enjoying the time to look around and study people. I thought maybe I should spend some time praying, when the line moved quickly and I found myself at the counter. The lady charged me six cents while she excitedly showed me the new 90 cent overseas stamp. Just arrived that morning.
Will I ever learn? What a difference in my attitude and countenance as I sailed out of the P.O. ... not frustrated and angry, but actually a bit refreshed! And I only spent six cents for this lesson!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
"Serendip"
The English author Horace Walpole coined the word serendipity. In a letter of January 28, 1754, Walpole says that "this discovery, indeed, is almost of that kind which I call 'Serendipity,' a very expressive word." Walpole formed the word on an old name for Sri Lanka, "Serendip." He explained that this name was part of the title of "a silly fairy tale, called 'The Three Princes of Serendip': as their highnesses traveled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of...."
During our cousin weekend, on a lovely afternoon, we visited Wing Haven. It is just what it is called––a haven for birds in a beautiful three acre garden, with paths begging to be wandered. But we didn't know about the big bucks party being readied for that evening. Donors, patrons, the board ... some important people were going to have a smashing gala when twilight settled in. With pure delight we gazed upon elegant table settings under a green tinted tent. We "admired 'til we were tired" ... and took some neat images. It was, without a doubt, a "serendipity." (you can click on the images to see them larger.)
During our cousin weekend, on a lovely afternoon, we visited Wing Haven. It is just what it is called––a haven for birds in a beautiful three acre garden, with paths begging to be wandered. But we didn't know about the big bucks party being readied for that evening. Donors, patrons, the board ... some important people were going to have a smashing gala when twilight settled in. With pure delight we gazed upon elegant table settings under a green tinted tent. We "admired 'til we were tired" ... and took some neat images. It was, without a doubt, a "serendipity." (you can click on the images to see them larger.)
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