(this entry was first posted on October 14, 2008).

I just love Jewels over at Eyes of Wonder. The way she writes encourages me to slow down my day, to notice everything, especially the ordinary, and see it with "eyes of wonder."

In the entry I linked to above, she talks about saying goodbye to summer, and welcoming the fall with all of its good things. Like many other people, autumn is my favorite season. What's not to love? The sights, the sounds, the smells. Looking forward to coming inside for a little hibernation. Just reading  the first chapter of Little House in the Big Woods gets me in the mood.

This week, I am loving the fallen leaves--the satisfying crunch while walking anywhere, the softened colors of the drying leaves, the musty smell everywhere outside. Just one of the many, many things that make autumn my favorite.

I love watching the earth preparing itself for rest. The softened colors everywhere--the grays, browns, and beiges that happen in November *after* the gorgeous display of color in October. The look of bare trees against the sky, mixed in with the evergreens. It's all good, as Martha says.

Jewels mentions the time in her future, after she has taught her youngest child to read, and the Passage that will signal. That event has already happened for me; I have six children out of the nest, and only two teenagers left--and their time is flying by too quickly. The "autumn" of my life is arriving. At 53, though I'm not too concerned about my age, I have to admit that 35 is long past. Most of my childraising years are behind me.

Jewels had a great thought, about saying goodbye to my "summer," as I transition into the "autumn" of my life:

To everything there is a season. I'm so thankful that autumn is the very season to follow after summer, in God's creation as well as in my life. What a blessed mystery, that something equally/possibly even more special and beautiful, can and will, softly and quietly move into the place of something else long held especially dear, special and beautiful. God is so very good. So kind. So good.

That's a wonderful thought. Why shouldn't the "autumn" of my life, just like the autumn of the year, be my very favorite? Sure, my skin is a little dried up just like the leaves (hopefully, I'm not smellin' too musty just yet...) and my hair color is a tad faded-looking. But this is the time of my harvest--looking at the children we raised becoming wonderful adults, the promise of the seedlings we planted coming to fruition. Fulfilling the purposes God planned for them, and, getting me some grandchildren into the bargain!

Another thing that's apparent at this time of my life is the Wisdom my mother told me I'd get. It's magic! You just keep getting up in the morning, then, one day, all of a sudden you know a few things. A lot of the angst of youth disappears, and you stop sweatin' (at least *some*) of the Small Stuff. I can see as each year passes, Life getting more and more clear. Now, I still worry 'way too much. I thought I'd have it more "together" by this time. I guess I thought I would have conquered all that stuff I don't like about myself. But at least I know that God doesn't hold it against me. He loves me "just the way I am." Really. He DOES.

So now, for this season, I am going to try to look at my life, as well as what's going on outside, with fresh eyes. With those Eyes of Wonder.

• Comments (2) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

Forty years ago, man walked on the moon.

For some of you, this is only the stuff of history books. Others of my friends remember this event for themselves.

Charming was at the National Boy Scout Jamboree in Idaho. Along with twenty thousand others, he lay on the ground while looking up at the moon. He still has the Jamboree Newspaper with the article.

I m'self was sick on the couch, watching the event with Walter Cronkhite narrating (rest in peace, Walter!). My father made me get up off the couch, go outside, and look at the moon. "You will never forget this day," he told me.

And of course, I didn't. These events that are part of our collective consciousness are imprinted forever. Everybody knows where you were when you found out about Pearl Harbor (well, not *me,* I wasn't born yet) or when Kennedy was shot, or, more recently, September 11th.

For those of you young folks out there, here's a little "setting" for Today's History Fact. In the 60's, the Cold War was raging (well, not exactly raging, as, by definition, a cold war is not a hot war...) and the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. were in a space race. Russia had won the first round, getting a man-made satellite as well as the first human into space. But then we tied the score, having John Glenn go into orbit around the earth. And so on, and so on, through the Mercury (one manned) and Gemini (two-manned) missions. By the Apollo series (three manned) we were On The Way. Every flight was leading up to Apollo 11. You know the rest of the story. After the several moon landings, the manned space program shifted to the space station and the shuttle flights.

Maybe you didn't know that when the astronauts came back from the moon, they were quarantined for three weeks, just in case there was some dread germ that would invade the earth, a la Twilight Zone.

Forty years. Just can't get my head around that. And, of course, so many, many other big things have happened since then. Personal computers. Cell phones. Cable tv. Things we take for granted, all thanks to the space program. They used to pound that into our brains, how the research needed and the data gathered from the space program brought you Modern Science, with all of its goodies trailing behind.

Thanks for letting me share my memories of that day. It may not mean a lot for many of you out there, but it sure was a Big Thing back-in-the-day.

• Comments (0) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

We are moving closer and closer to the day when Charming will, almost certainly, be out of work. I related in my last (two-part) post that, to my *natural* self, this would be a source of great anxiety to me. But it seems that the Lord has other plans this time. He is ever-so-gently preparing me, day by day, for what is to come.

Last night we began our "summer series" in Ladies' Bible Study. Throughout the school year, our church offers a number of classes that have ten to fifteen ladies in each. But in the summer, we all come together in the large hospitality room at the church for a somewhat lighter Theme. This year we're calling it Beach Talk, using the wonderful little book, A Gift From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh.

If you don't know the book, it was written in 1955 by the wife of aviator Charles Lindbergh. The fiftieth anniversary edition says this:

"Lindbergh casts an unsentimental eye on the trappings of modernity that threaten to overwhelm us: the time-saving gadgets that complicate rather than simplify, the multiple commitments that take us from our families..."

Sounds like either she was incredibly "ahead of her time," or women have always had the same challenges!

I happen to have picked up a 1955 copy of the book in a thrift store for 50 cents. I'm anxious to read it as a woman would have in that day. (by the way, my copy says "first and second printing February 1955." My mother was pregnant with me at the time...)

Last night was kind of an Intro night. At each table, we discussed what we look forward to at the beach. I've not spent any time at the ocean, but have spent time on Lakes Michigan and Huron. Not the smell of salt, exactly, that others at my table raved about, but the vastness, the rhythm of the waves, and the Sounds are there. A perfect place for contemplation.

Our teacher went on to relate an experience she had last fall at a beach in North Carolina. She was lucky, lucky, lucky enough to have a getaway with a girlfriend just to get some alone-time with the Lord. Nancy is kind of a chicken like me--it was October, so she wanted to do her walking at the place near the breakwater where the water was still warm, and she could see the bottom of the water. That was "safe," she figured. (Safe is such a Big and Necessary Word for me, you know?)

She found that, although she could see the bottom of the water (and did, indeed, feel "safe"), the Lord led her down the beach to a place that she couldn't see her feet. It was, however, a more pleasant place to walk, and only a little colder in temperature. There the Lord spoke to her: You want to walk where you know it is absolutely Safe. But there is a place where I am leading you to walk, and you need to trust Me that it is Safe there, as well.

That struck me like a bolt of lightning. I need to step out, and trust my Father that He will not take me to a place that He can't make safe. If I do feel like my feet are falling out from under me, that He is right there beside me.

Wow. Now, friends, I am in my fifties. The Lord has led me through a Whole Lotta Stuff in my life. He is always, always faithful and worthy of my trust. I have, like all of you, found Him not to be on my timetable, but when it's over, found His timing right. Every time. But, of course, every step we take in our faith brings us to another place of learning. This is why Jesus is called the "finisher" of our faith. This is how we become "conformed to the image of God's Son."

This is probably going to mean a big learning curve. It may involve some "growing pains." But how very grateful I am that I have had time to adjust to this new circumstance. How gently My Father has prepared me. And then He'll be right beside me, like my own Daddy was when I learned to ride a two-wheeler, or had to 'fess up to a neighbor that I broke a window. I'm never, ever alone. Jesus promised that He would never leave us or forsake us.

What's coming, I don't know. But He does, and it's getting to be Enough for me, just to know that.

• Comments (1) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

Wow. This is the second memorial tribute in a row here on this blog. You'd think I had nothing better to do all day than read the obituaries!

I read in the paper that a schoolmate of mine passed away. He was a year ahead of me in school, and our paths only crossed for a few months in my junior year.

We both tried out for the spring musical "Fiddler on the Roof." Denny wanted so, so badly to get the part of Motel, the suitor of Tevye's oldest daughter. He went "all out" at the audition, singing Motel's song "Miracle of Miracles." He got that part, and I got the part of one of the other daughters.

One day at lunch, he sat across from me. I had bought my lunch; he showed up with a brown paper bag and a thermos. With a string hanging down the outside. Curious, I waited while he opened it up, pulled on the string, and pulled out two hot dogs, steaming from their boiling-water bath.

As he continued to prepare his lunch, he started talking to me about JESUS. Now, it being 1972, the Jesus Freaks were out in force. I politely let him state his case, then responded that I didn't see the need to embrace the new Jesus thing.

You see, we were Catholic (it was a Catholic high school), and, well, I told him I already believed all that stuff. I felt privileged to pray to the Father, and didn't see the need to add Jesus to the mix. It went, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and that to me meant that the Father was most important.

I made a new commitment to the Lord in 1975, that made a great change in my life. I still believe that I was saved in third grade, at my Confirmation, where I made a public pronouncement of my desire to follow the Lord my whole life. As a matter of fact, when I "got saved" in 1975 (tho' I really don't use that term to describe that encounter), nothing really changed in my relationship with Jesus. Outward things changed--reading my Bible, praying often, lifestyle changes. But I think that the changes were a result of God saying to me, in effect, "now you're grownup--it's Time To Get Serious."

I have not seen Denny Kite since his graduation, 37 years ago. But I have thought of him often through the years, witnessing to me over two hot-dogs-on-a-string. I rejoice with his family today, knowing he is worshipping the Lord, face to face. He faithfully witnessed of the "hope that was in him," and I thank God for that.

• Comments (1) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

Have you heard about the senator from West Virginia who wants to ban the sale of Barbie dolls (and other similar dolls) in his state, because they promote the idea that, to get along in the world, you don't have to be smart, just pretty?

Of course, we have all heard the argument before, and it does have some merit. 

This is what my first Barbie(1962) looked like. She was the red (titian) ponytail version with the zebra-striped swimsuit. When Barbie was introduced, she was a "fashion doll," meaning that you bought One Doll, and then Many Outfits. And they were kickin' outfits, let me tell you! By the time my girls were into Barbies, you bought several to play together, all with different outfits.

I certainly understand the concern of parents at Barbie's inhuman proportions (like, a 17" waist on a 7'2" body, if the proportions were on a real person), but I think that a law to ban the sale of Barbies is one of those "putting a bandaid on a gunshot wound" kind of deal. What about "role models" such as Beyonce or Britney Spears? Celebrities who gain fifteen pounds make the covers of magazines at the checkout. Strolling through the mall could make the most "perfect" girl feel inadequate.

I remember being thirteen and awkward, with no figure at all, and my mother telling me I was beautiful. I answered that she *had* to say that, she was my mother. Of course, I have had three 13-year-old daughters now who felt the same way, and I have said the same thing to them. The key to bringing up our daughters successfully is the same as it has always been: teaching them that true beauty starts from within, that a beautiful mind is more needful than making a fashion statement. Most of all, that we have value because God made us, and nothing else we can do can give us more value than He gives us.

However, we are foolish to think that the outside doesn't matter at all. But if we teach our daughters that our adorning should begin with "that meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price," (IPeter 3:4) then we can build on that. God loves beauty, and He created us to love beauty, as well. Great shoes are wonderful! And who doesn't like pretty things to wear, as our budgets allow?

There is so much more to say on this subject. How important it is to a girl's self-esteem for her Daddy to tell her she is beautiful. To have women in her life to be *good* role-models. To talk about celebrities, and how all the trappings are a facade. (did you ever see one of those tabloid covers where they show the celebrities "caught without makeup?")

One thing I know for sure. Unless we step up to the plate to steer our daughters' paths, they *will* follow the path that is more obvious to them, or one selected by their peers. I'm also sure that Banning Barbie is *not* the answer.

You can take it from me. I have been my Daddy's "Barbie Doll," since he gave me my first one, in 1962.

• Comments (1) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

Charming and I went out last evening with Johnny Tremain and Lily, and friends Bryan and Michelle. We went to a [free!] screening of the movie Fireproof, with Kirk Cameron. If you haven't heard of it, it is about a firefighter whose marriage is troubled, and how he wins his wife's heart back to himself.

Before the screening (sponsored by a local Christian radio station) one of the morning DJ's greeted us. He asked if there were any couples married less than two years, then asked if there were any couples who Knew How Marriage Worked. My and Charming's hands went right up, and Lily and Michelle pointed at us. The crowd laughed, and the DJ made a comment about anyone needing to see us after the movie?

I realize that his question about knowing how it worked was hypothetical, and if he had asked if any couples Had It All Together, I wouldn't have...well, maybe I would have raised my hands even then. But I have been thinking about how I would answer the question, and I *do* have a few things to say. Please be advised that this is by no means an Exhaustive List:

Number One (and the list is not in any certain order, either): Marriage is like anything else, in some ways. When I was first married, I wasn't a very good cook. After 33 years, I do pretty well. In order to get to this point, I had to acquire a skill set. Part of this skill set I acquired by trial-and-error ("Barbie, it's okay if you never make this recipe again...") part of it by reading cookbooks (making use of other people's experience and *their* skill set), and part just by observation (do you know that, outside of one brownie recipe I have, I have never seen baking Powder used with cocoa? It's always baking Soda.). So, number One: get yourself a skill set. The Bible has verses like "live with your wife with understanding." There are a gazillion others. Read a good book on marriage. Go to a seminar. Find an older couple to mentor you.

Number Two: Understand how God does things. In nature, if something is not growing, it is decaying. There is no such thing as a holding pattern in living things. Did you ever see the tree trimmers coming to cut off a tree branch that is, say, obstructing a stop sign? (I'm not talking about trimming dead branches here, but one from a healthy tree.) That branch, full of leaves, falls to the ground, and it doesn't look any different than it did when it was attached to the tree. But if left alone, there would soon be evidence of decay, because it was no longer growing. You have to always be Growing your Marriage. Spend time talking. Listening. Kissing.

Number Three: I love what our pastor said one time. "A loving couple in a devoted marriage is the best picture God has to show Himself to the world." Marriage is a picture of Christ's love for His church. If you're not looking like that, do something about it. And then, let your light shine, baby!

I wish I had a green thumb. My neighbor Linda has the coolest yard. Besides gorgeous veggies, she dabbles in raspberries and blueberries. She has a large number of perennial flowers, but she is always adding bits of this and that. People will give her something from their garden. She moves this or that around to make a place for the newcomer. She is always dabbling out there, almost every single day, three seasons a year. She also gets a great reward (read: harvest) from her work.

This is How It Works, baby: Dabble every day. Move things around. Fertilize the good stuff. Trash the stuff that's not working, or that is stealing nutrients from the good stuff.

So, at 33 years and running, I know How It Works. The secret is, Keep Working.

• Comments (1) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

100Thngs

• Comments (1) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

I think if I had to make just one New Year's resolution, it would be not to meander through life this year.

Meander. Now, isn't that a word that means exactly what it sounds like? Especially when you add the suffix -ing:

Meandering.

Actually, in print, it looks MEAN: MEANdering!

All of the things I think I'd like to accomplish can come under that one resolution. Getting more organized. Having a defined devotional life. Getting finances under better control. Getting my Body under better control.

I love to meander through the clearance racks at any store you could name: I've got the locations memorized, and I know the most efficient way to negotiate the store, hitting all of the racks with the big red signs. I also love to meander through the thrift store, going from the clothing to the housewares to the shoes to the books. And, of course, a good long meandering walk through the woods? Nothing more relaxing, right?

But I don't see a lot about meandering in the Bible. (except that incident of the Israelites taking forty years to make a two-week trip, of course.) But I do see a lot about discipline, especially self-discipline. Discipline is Training, and I need a refresher boot-camp in that department. Just like when Dave Ramsey says, "every dollar needs a name"--well, every hour in my day and my week needs a name, as well.

I had a friend once who used to call me up every morning and keep me on the line for forty minutes or so, recounting the day before, how her husband let her down, as well as gossip of every sort about people I did and didn't know. I learned to say No to her (and other such people) who wanted a "biggie" portion of my day. Now my problem is mostly of my own making--I am perfectly capable of wasting time all by myself.

I had plans to go out of town today, which have just been cancelled. So, I guess I'd better take some time to decide some Definite ways to begin my journey.

I'll be letting you know how it goes.

• Comments (1) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

Charming says I'm a hypocrite. I blogged here about how I wasn't going to the after-Thanksgiving sales. Well, I had no desire to go--it was LILY who dragged me out! And, it wasn't at 4 am, it was going-on 7 a.m.

And, it was only to the fabric store. Not that JoAnn's wasn't a madhouse. Our friend grabbed a "take-a-number" when we first started shopping, so that we wouldn't have to wait so long in the cutting line. And the line for the register, tho' it had to be 30 or 35 people long, only took 15 minutes to go through. Seven registers move you along pretty quickly.

I still stand by my blogpost, tho'. It doesn't hold the Adventure it used to. I'm glad I got my bargains at those great prices, though, so I won't try to rationalize it any more.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. "Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault." Yep, I still remember Latin Mass back-in-the-day.

Or, maybe this comes under the "confess your faults one to another" thing. In any case...

Charming, get off my back.

(love ya'.)

• Comments (4) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

Wow, you never really know all about your parents.

My father, who is 86 years old, told me a story yesterday that I had never heard. When he was eleven years old, he went to the Chicago World's Fair (1933). He and his father started out about 3:30 am, and went to a different town to pick up my grandfather's cousin, Tom. A little ways up the highway, they stopped at an all-night diner to get some breakfast. As they left the restaurant, Tom asked my grandfather (Dick) what time it was. [at this point, my father said, "Dad was always extremely precise about the time."] "The time is 4:30 am, exactly."

They arrived in Chicago near eight o'clock. Grandpa gave Dad some money, and told him "to meet back here at six o'clock." Can you imagine leaving an eleven year-old to his own devices for ten hours anytime, much less at a World's Fair? [shudder]

Daddy told me, "I knew why they sent me off by myself--they wanted to spend the day at the Girly-shows."

tee. hee. I imagine they were exhibits called "Spices of Asia," or "Arabian Beauties," or some-such. Daddy, like so many boys of his time, was an airplane fanatic. Besides the many airplane exhibits (Dad specifically mentioned the 1933 Lockheed Cargo Carrier), there were plenty of freak shows and other carnival fare. He said he had planned to ride the Sky-ride to the man-made island that was a big attraction, but one of the cars had crashed the day before. Eleven year-old Adventurer that he was, he wasn't foolishly careless. Good for *me*, or maybe I wouldn't be here!

When they got home, they heard on the radio that John Dillinger and his gang had broken into a jail in a little town in Indiana that morning.

Across the street from the little diner where they had had breakfast.

At Exactly 4:30 a.m.

Somehow, I don't feel like I've had a very exciting life, ya' know?

• Comments (3) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

I just love Jewels over at Eyes of Wonder. The way she writes encourages me to slow down my day, to notice everything, especially the ordinary, and see it with "eyes of wonder."

In the entry I linked to above, she talks about saying goodbye to summer, and welcoming the fall with all of its good things. Like many other people, autumn is my favorite season. What's not to love? The sights, the sounds, the smells. Looking forward to coming inside for a little hibernation. Just reading  the first chapter of Little House in the Big Woods gets me in the mood.

This week, I am loving the fallen leaves--the satisfying crunch while walking anywhere, the softened colors of the drying leaves, the musty smell everywhere outside. Just one of the many, many things that make autumn my favorite.

I love watching the earth preparing itself for rest. The softened colors everywhere--the grays, browns, and beiges that happen in November *after* the gorgeous display of color in October. The look of bare trees against the sky, mixed in with the evergreens. It's all good, as Martha says.

Jewels mentions the time in her future, after she has taught her youngest child to read, and the Passage that will signal. That event has already happened for me; I have six children out of the nest, and only two teenagers left--and their time is flying by too quickly. The "autumn" of my life is arriving. At 53, though I'm not too concerned about my age, I have to admit that 35 is long past. Most of my childraising years are behind me.

Jewels had a great thought, about saying goodbye to my "summer," as I transition into the "autumn" of my life:

To everything there is a season. I'm so thankful that autumn is the very season to follow after summer, in God's creation as well as in my life. What a blessed mystery, that something equally/possibly even more special and beautiful, can and will, softly and quietly move into the place of something else long held especially dear, special and beautiful. God is so very good. So kind. So good.

That's a wonderful thought. Why shouldn't the "autumn" of my life, just like the autumn of the year, be my very favorite? Sure, my skin is a little dried up just like the leaves (hopefully, I'm not smellin' too musty just yet...) and my hair color is a tad faded-looking. But this is the time of my harvest--looking at the children we raised becoming wonderful adults, the promise of the seedlings we planted coming to fruition. Fulfilling the purposes God planned for them, and, getting me some grandchildren into the bargain!

Another thing that's apparent at this time of my life is the Wisdom my mother told me I'd get. It's magic! You just keep getting up in the morning, then, one day, all of a sudden you know a few things. A lot of the angst of youth disappears, and you stop sweatin' (at least *some*) of the Small Stuff. I can see as each year passes, Life getting more and more clear. Now, I still worry 'way too much. I thought I'd have it more "together" by this time. I guess I thought I would have conquered all that stuff I don't like about myself. But at least I know that God doesn't hold it against me. He loves me "just the way I am." Really. He DOES.

So now, for this season, I am going to try to look at my life, as well as what's going on outside, with fresh eyes. With those Eyes of Wonder.

• Comments (2) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

I read this week:

"Blessed is the man that heareth me, watching daily at my gates, waiting at the post of my doors. For whoso findeth Me findeth life, and shall obtain favor of the LORD."  Proverbs 8: 34-35

Isn't it funny how certain questions come up over and over in a certain week? I have been asked several times this week about whether I will do the Day after Thanksgiving Shopping Madness this year. I just don't know if I've ever been asked so early.

Now, for about twenty years, the day-after both Thanksgiving and Christmas were part of my Big Shopping Plan. I scoured the ads the night before. Planned my route of three or four stores. Set the alarm for well before dawn, in order to wait in line, coffee in hand, long before the stores opened their doors. Rushing in, trying to beat several dozen people to the three or four items that I could get for that "unbeatable price--5 a.m. to 10 a.m. ONLY."

Maybe I'm too old. That just doesn't hold the appeal it once did. I can wait until noon (if I go at all) for the Second Best Price (the ones that say "all day" instead of "5-10 a.m. only"). I only go to the after-Christmas sales once every three or four years, if I need paper at 75% off. Much more important to me, now, is a Quiet Morning at home, savouring the day before (or, finishing dishes....). My daughter and daughter-in-law have moved into my former place, grabbing bargains for their growing families.

Still, as much fun as I used to have, anticipating being part of the Crowd and walking miles to my car with sack after sack of great bargains I had snagged, I have to tell you this:

I never "found life" or "the favor of the LORD" there.

Look at that passage again--Blessed is he...Watching daily at my gates...Waiting at the posts of my doors.

Have I *ever* been as excited to spend (early morning) time with the Lord as I was to go shopping with a hundred thousand people? Have I done the planning and re-planning in preparation? Have I set the alarm Well Before Dawn, on purpose? Has the Anticipation-Meter ever registered off-the-charts?

Well, of course there have been periods in my life where that has happened. In times of crisis, I was ever at-the-ready to fly to my place of solace. Every word of the Lord was my food and drink, and the very air I breathed. And He was always faithful. I never arrived at our trysting-place, but that He was there waiting.

And look at the promise: He who is waiting for the Lord at His gates, "findeth life." God does not hold out a "fabulous deal" on wide-screen tvs, when there are only five in the store. He never runs out of His treasures. In fact, they are available even after 10 a.m. and still for the fabulous price of "Free."

Wow. That is, as we used to say in the '70's, heavy, man.

• Comments (1) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

Today is a busy day! Alvin Fernald has his last game and awards ceremony for his baseball league--yeeks, at 8 am! I have to make a batch of potato salad and an oatmeal cake for Charming's family reunion tomorrow. Two or three loads of laundry. Several errands, including grocery. Drop Blackeyed Susan at the mall, and pick her up later. Wrap a quilt for a gift at the reunion. Go see my Dad at the nursing home...

Sigh. Go see my Dad. Do I have to do it To-Day???

In April, Daddy moved to a nursing home 25 miles away, but that is not the problem. The drive through the country is quite refreshing and "cleans out my brain." I think it's a matter of Fitting One More Thing in My Day.

Well, *there's* the problem, right there! I've been thinking of visiting my Daddy as another errand, another chore!

***************************

I speak with my Dad at least five times a day. If I come home after being away a few hours, there are 8 messages on my machine--7 are from Dad. Sometimes I get more phone calls than that, if his memory isn't quite up to par that day, and he calls three times to tell me what he's had for breakfast.

Sitting with him is a sweet joy. Sometimes we sit, silent, or an old family story comes to mind. Those stories (though I may have heard them dozens of times before) are even more mellow, as six or seven or seven-and-a-half decades have passed since they've happened. Once in awhile there'll be a brand-new one for me to tuck away. The time is past, when I can hope for accuracy if I ask a question about one of the stories--his memory is sometimes faulty. So I sit and listen. I change his dvd in his machine, or open a new bag of candy. It's all very slow-paced and gentle.

That, I think, is what makes it Important. One of these times will be my last visit with him, and I don't know if any one might be "the one." Daddy has a hankerin' to cross over to where his beloved has been for 2 1/2 years. I'm grateful that he has his right mind, and we can still have great talks. Any day he could have a stroke and be gone from me. Or, like my mother, just "go to sleep" and not awaken.

So there. My attitude is adjusted, and his visit is On The Schedule. Right after the baseball game, and before All The Other Stuff.

Because a visit with Daddy is never Stuff.

• Comments (1) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

Dang.

What is the matter with me? I am so darned double-minded. Or quad-minded. Or dodecahedron-minded.

I have a Really Big Problem with organization. And routine. And deciding What To Do First. So, many times I just Chuck The Plan and do something random. But then I leave Several Things Undone.

My sister is coming for nine days this Sunday night. (Yeah!!) I did pretty well for awhile, about three weeks ago. There was some decluttering I wanted to do. Some little sewing projects for her Happy Box (annual box of little fun things--handcrafted stuff, funny magazine articles, thrift store gags). Planning a slow-paced visit with lots of Down-time.

Lost the vision last week in the panic of "oh-my-goodness-she'll-see-All-The-Dust-in-the-house-and-know-I'm-not-Wonder-Woman." Kinda got paralyzed, now don't know where to continue.

Then, last night, stopped by the local teachers' store to pick One Thing up. Now, I can't stop thinking about getting the new year's things out, making lesson plans and schedules and...

I am so pathetic.  AAACCCKKK!!!

Kind of a mental panic attack. Deer-in-the-headlights. Cornered-animal. Need to breathe.

Make a list. Cross stuff off.

Maybe I can do this.

Otherwise, she'll see the dust.

Maybe I can be human, right?

• Comments (1) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

I am reading the book A Life That Says Welcome by Karen Ehman. Its subtitle is "Simple Ways to Open Your Heart and Home to Others." It was only a few pages into the book, where I found a quote to latch onto: "When people leave your home, they should be refreshed, not impressed."

Wouldn't we all love to have a home that looks like House Beautiful or Country Living? I confess, I have a subscription to Country Living. I don't think I actually am *envious* of those homes, tho' they ARE really, really lovely. I learned somewhere, sometime, that the homes don't always look like they do in the magazines. The magazine brings in more "stuff" to "round out" what the owners already have in the rooms. So the forty-two Christmas trees in the "castle in the Adirondacks" in the December issue? The owners did not decorate all of them.

You will also notice the lack of dust on all of the people's "collections" in those mags. Twenty-thousand pairs of salt-and-pepper shakers with nary a dust bunny to be found. This is not natural, people.

Some lessons I have learned throughout my lifetime:

I don't think I have ever, ever noticed dirty woodwork in any home in which I have been a guest. So, either I am the only one in the entire universe with fingerprints on her woodwork, or, nobody is noticing Mine, either.

Don't wait for the Perfect Furniture or Painting the Walls to invite people over. I was in a ladies' Bible study once. At prayer and praise time, a woman asked if we had heard of the two murders up at Lake so-and-so that week. These were two different neighbors of hers. She then told us that the Lord had been impressing her for two years to begin a neighborhood Bible study, but she had told Him, "not until I get new carpeting." That really spoke to me, that hospitality is Not about the house or the nice china or perfect food.

Our church homeschool group holds monthly meetings in members' homes. I remember one September meeting, in a very gracious home, with a huge family room, with enough room to seat everyone. The next month was at my house, with my little square living room, where we had to put two rows of folding chairs around the circle. Later, I mentioned to a friend how lovely it would be to have a bigger room, and she told me that (another) friend and she were talking, and decided that, even though the other home was more suited to "hospitality," they actually felt more comfortable in my home. (a very lovely compliment, let me tell you...)

Now, don't get me wrong. I love pretty things, and I love to decorate for parties big and small, even if my budget is more modest. I remember growing up in the 50's and 60's. When my mother had company, the Electric Percolator was plugged in, instead of the old, everyday, aluminum coffeepot. When we saw the shiny percolator "perking," we knew we had to wash our faces and hands, and get ready to be "on our best behavior." Even if the company was "drop in," and all Mom had on hand was store-bought cookies, it seemed special to us. There was an air of "expectancy." I wonder if that is how we are to feel, in case we are "entertaining angels unaware?"

Wow, there's a thought. Maybe learning hospitality is learning how to be Expectant? I'm sure you have had the experience of thinking a get-together was going to be ordinary, but ended up anything but? Treasured memories can come from unexpected things.

I'll share one more story of an unexpected blessing from being willing to share my home and food. My daughter Forget-me-not was at a seven week summer session before her first year of college. She was at the university just seven blocks from our home. We were having a Fourth of July cookout, and we had a family visiting from out of town. As my friend Kay and I were pattying hamburgers for the grill, we were talking so much, that we pattied all eight pounds of burger I had bought on sale that week! We decided that we would be having lots of leftovers!

My daughter called and said the university was not serving dinner that night. (What were they thinking?) There was a fast-food place within walking distance, but she wanted to come home and bring her two roommates. We were sitting on the porch a little while later, when three University vans filled with students showed up. Twenty-eight in all. My daughter said, "they heard I was coming to a cookout, and I told them, no problem, my parents won't mind!"

Well, there were no leftovers that night, but we had a beautiful time, getting to know the students, many of whom were far from home. We had a great time of worship on the lawn, and the evening was far spent before everyone went home. Little did we know the blessing that the Lord had planned for us. And, of course my Mama-heart was pleased to have been able to take care of so many other Mamas' children.

As I write, many more times like these come to mind. Maybe I'm beginning to learn. Hospitality is not about outdoing the Joneses, or I'll-invite-you-because-you-invited-me reciprocating. It's all about the love of God
"shed abroad in our hearts."

• Comments (2) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

The Lord has blessed this week! (of course, the Lord blesses every week, every day, every HOUR...but this week it seems, well, Obvious.

Last Sunday night, the neighbors gathered as a fire truck, ambulance, and police car came onto our block. I knew that the young woman who lived in the upstairs apartment of the house next door, had been in the hospital gravely ill a couple of weeks ago. It was funny: each of the neighbors "filled in" a little of the information. I had known she was disabled, but they parked the car in the back of the house (most of us neighbors greet each other "on the porch" or getting into the car to go on our way), so we didn't see so much of them. Another neighbor said they thought she had MS or Multiple Sclerosis. Her downstairs neighbor said she had had a lung transplant eight years ago, and Sarah's folks told her that a transplant is good for 7-9 years. At that point, I thought she probably had Cystic Fibrosis--a 20-year old with a double lung transplant suggested that to me.

When the ambulance left with no Sarah and no siren, and the policeman stayed until the Coroner's van arrived, I knew what had happened. But with all the "bits" of info, no one offered a clue whether or not she knew the Lord. Another example of the urgency we *need* to feel, as witnesses of His love and His yearning to find his "lost sheep."

Out of this event, however, Alvin Fernald was able to speak with Sarah's stepson, and prayed with him to accept the Lord. Last night, we took him to Youth Group, where he was again prayed with.

*********************

Sunday was Graduation Recognition at church, so the youth pastor spoke. At the end of his sermon, he called his seven-year old up to the platform, where he Jumped up into his Daddy's arms. He rested completely, laying his head on Daddy's shoulders. The pastor asked us, "is this what your relationship with Jesus looks like?"

Pow. Right in the kisser.

As I thought about it, I think that my relationship with Jesus looks more like, Here I am, doing my thing, and Jesus is walking beside me. If I need help, I'll let you know, thanks very much. But, as a Grown Woman, and a Mom for 32 years, I have my "job" dowm pretty well. Yet, I am Worrier Supreme. not Warrior Supreme, W-O-R-R-I-E-R.

And that should not be. How many Bible verses say Don't Worry or Take No Thought? Last night at Bible Study, I heard of three (among many) struggling with desperate illness. Grief surrounds me. Unemployment. Relationship issues. And here I was, worried because my air conditioning was p**ping out, and the forecast calling for 90's for the next few days?

Well, we changed the filter on the a/c, and Charming hosed out the outside part. Now we're back to full cooling. The Lord nudging, "just keep it clean, silly!"

My marriage? Great. My kids? Having the luxury of growing up slowly, getting to be "kids." All of us well in body. No Crises.

Me worried about the price of gasoline, or paying for school stuff, or whether...?

Hopefully, not anymore, any time soon.

• Comments (2) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

...Well, that is what the older male patients in the hospital would call me when I came in to take a blood sample. "Here comes the vampire!"

Here's another little-known fact about me: My fingerprints are on record with the FBI.

It came about this way. My little brother was dying of a congenital blood condition. Our pediatrician had heard that there was a study being done at the National Institutes of Health for this condition. They would treat my brother for free, if he could be kept alive until he arrived. He was treated with *experimental* drugs that are quite commonplace now, including Prednisone and Vinchristine. (in fact, those two drugs were part of my mother's chemotherapy when she had her cancer.) Imagine steroids being *new* and *experimental.*

My brother was in the study for 2 1/2 years, until he died. At some point, about a year into the study, the NIH invited Scotty's three siblings still at home, along with my Dad, to come for a week and be Volunteer Patients. It was incredibly fascinating for this seventh grader. The nurses and doctors from all around the world. I had planned to be a nurse when I grew up, and all of the fascinating nurses' caps from the different nursing schools--I fancied choosing my nursing school based on the cap!

But my plans for a career changed on that trip. I found out that every floor of the hospital had its own laboratory, complete with rabbits and white mice. The pipets and test tubes. The chemicals. I was enchanted. I also found out that the "lab rats" were the ones who took our blood every morning, as well as nail and hair samples.

I was "number 5" in our family. (although only four of us came to volunteer, I don't know why I was "Number 5...") Somehow, the glass syringes with which they drew my blood were always breaking. I think I had two "sticks" for every one my brothers got. No problem. I was fascinated at the way those syringes filled up by themselves after I was stuck.

(by the way, about the fingerprint part--every "guest of the government" was fingerprinted automatically. My Dad told me that now I had to Watch Out and avoid arrest, or they would Find Me Out. So far, so good...)

(by the way, Part II: did you know that the FBI was originally devised only as a repository for fingerprints? Once it was discovered that fingerprints are unique, and began being used to identify criminals, they needed a central, national place to keep them, as criminals didn't conveniently stay in the states where they committed their crimes.)

So, when I was looking at college, I found out that I could major in Medical Technology, and work in a lab for a career. Was I excited!

Well, I only got to go to college for a year, but that's okay, I met my darling Charming, and, if that's all I got, so be it! I came home, and got a job at a hospital lab as a phlebotomist. (the real name for us vampires!) Oh, how I loved it! Palpating for veins--Charming was always weirded out, because instead of holding hands I wanted to feel his veins. By then (1974) the vacuum tubes you see now for collecting blood were in use. Oh, but no computer labels--handwritten was the way to go. Gloves were only used for Infectious People. A*I*D*S was in the future--hepatitis was what we feared, if we were accidentally stuck.

When all you do all day is stick people, you get very, very good. In my two years on the job, I did newborn venipunctures (with a needle, instead of the heelstick) and even arterial punctures (in the artery in your wrist).

A few years after I quit, A*I*D*S came on the scene, and I figured I got out at a good time. I figured that if I ever went back to school, I might try the nursing thing again. But lately, I'm remembering the absolute fascination of the Laboratory. Let me tell you, the Apologia Science books are great--all the experiments! I think I drive my kids nutso, being So Darn Excited about science. Next year, Blackeyed Susan takes Biology, and then Chemistry! *Love* is in my future again!

• Comments (2) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

I'm feeling the need of some Psalm 51 today:

   ¹Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions. 

   ²Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.

   ³For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me.

   ⁴Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest.

   ⁵Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.

   ⁶Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom.

   ⁷Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

   ⁸Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.

   ⁹Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.

   ¹⁰Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.

   ¹¹Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me.

   ¹²Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit.

   ¹³Then will I teach transgressors thy ways; and sinners shall be converted unto thee. --vv. 1-13

*********************************

I have a note in my Bible next to verse 7. It says "hyssop is a plant used for scrubbing." It reminded me of my kitchen floor. Being chubby and having bad knees, the corners can get neglected week-to-week. Eventually I need to get the scrub-brush in there and get the *accumulated* grime.

That, I'm afraid, is like my life. I catch the "biggies" most of the time. When I hurt someone by a harsh word, I ask forgiveness. But I tend to "brush over" some things on my get-right-with-God list, and leave them in the corners, to build up. That's when I need Psalm 51.

I remember one incident in particular. I had been married about ten years, and had been "stuck in the house" with my six kids all week. Charming was home on Saturday, and, by golly, I was going shopping. ALONE. Never mind he was ill, and needed to sleep. "I promise, honey, I'll only be gone a little while."

Well, my shopping trip ended up being almost three hours. I remember thinking at one point, "oh, well, [Charming] will forgive me."

Red flag.

Well, of course, he did forgive me. But, of course, That Is Not The Point. I was wrong, wrong, wrong, to be so inconsiderate. And I have never forgotten that little thought--oh, well, he'll forgive me.

I so, so often treat my heavenly Father like that. I know that He will forgive me. I go on glibly, leaving "stuff" to build up in the corners of my life. Then I need that spiritual hyssop to do some scrubbing.

So, please, Lord. I'm way overdue for my Spring Cleaning. I want to be shiny and have that smell-good, Clean Feeling.

Then I get to do verse 13--"teach transgressors Thy ways, and sinners shall be converted to Thee."

Good, good stuff.

• Comments (1) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

Found on a vintage ad on the wall in Applebees restaurant:

"Karo Corn Syrup is the only syrup served to the Dionne quints. Its maltose and dextrose are ideal carbohydrates for growing children."--Allan Roy Dafoe, M.D."

Yum.

• Comments (5) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link

I "inherited" a set of books from my dear mother-in-love, when her own children had grown up. It is by McGraw-Hill, and has titles such as Life of the Pond, Life of the Forest, Life of the Jungle (now, of course, it would be Life of the Rain Forest), Life of the Marsh (ditto--"Wetlands"), etc.

My geeky children loved to read these volumes, mostly "redeeming the time" in the bathroom. Their favorite by  far was "Life of the Cave." A fascinating volume, with a lot of info on those creatures that, because of living in complete darkness, are both blind and colorless. Some of these species have only a scientific name; no common name has ever been given. Creatures who feed on things without chlorophyll--no use for it, since there is no sunlight.

As you may have guessed, I pulled out this volume over the weekend, for some personal enjoyment. Though what I find "enjoyable" about these things is a mystery--I mean, they are all CREEPY-CRAWLIES, you know...eeuuww.

One phrase is used over and over: "they spend their entire lives foraging for food to exist." Then, in turn, *they* become "food for worms," or bacteria, or fungi, whatever.

So many, many species, even the higher species, "spend their [entire] lives" doing this. Predators/prey. It's all around us. Only our domesticated animals are free from this. Our puppies, kitties, horsies, they "have a life." ("it's a dog's life," you know...)

Now, of course, most of these species aren't sentient--don't even know they exist. "Go to the ant," the Bible tells us, to see an example of a good work ethic. But you don't see those ants getting up a game of croquet after dinner dishes are done, do you?

When I was a little girl, I felt sorry for these kinds of creatures. What a life of drudgery. As I got older, I realized, of course, that "it's all they have ever known," so it didn't bother them. Like a rabbit done in by a hawk: after it was all over, did the rabbit care?

And, when I discovered Biology Class (one of my great passions in life!) I could see that all of these creatures fulfilled their place in God's creation. One species being food for another, on up the food chain, and then the Decomposer species, cleaning up after the picnic, "leaving the place cleaner than they found it." (sorry, I lapsed into the old Girl Scout mode...)

Wow, do I have a cushy life. A roof over my head. Warmth, or cool, depending on the season. Food and gasoline that I complain about the price of. Medical care in abundance, and an abundance of "alternative" health options. A library full of ideas, to think about, or relax and escape into. Church of my choice on just about every corner.

Then I remember that "to whom much is given, much is required." I don't work as well as the ant. I don't keep my nose to the grindstone like the earthworm or the fungi even. It gets quite difficult when, because of how God made me, I have Choices. And then I must Determine to Choose Correctly.

Well, I'd better get on to What Needs Doing. So I can get back to Life of the Cave during my free time.

Do you think I "think" too much???

• Comments (1) • Post A Comment! • Permanent Link