Time of Tomatoes

Before the storm came I gathered tomatoes.  The plants are towering now and I have to be careful not to trip over the low hanging vines.  I need to crawl under and work hard to reach  those red globes and I gather them in my shirt, too many to carry.  In the afternoon I brought them in and removed the skins, then chopped them and simmered them down to put in the freezer for winter soups.  I do this every summer.


This summer I am thinking of Arielle.  It was her special day--August 4th--and I remember right before we left for China fourteen years ago my mother and I were hurriedly gathering tomatoes and cooking them down for the freezer, knowing I would be gone for two weeks and even when I returned, would I be concerned about tomatoes?  Fred had just had surgery.  He couldn't do these things.  So instead of packing, my mom and I were picking tomatoes and I was longing for the first glimpse of my daughter's face.


Arielle was at camp this past week.  We did not hear from her at all, and I did not call her.  (I did send e-mails and a couple of letters.)  I knew that someone would call me, if needed, but this was her week away.  She is training to be a counselor, working under an adult, with a cabin full of preteen girls.  Not my cup of tea!  But Arielle loves this sort of thing.  She is responsible and loving, compassionate and patient, perfect for the role.


It was a long, long week.  I missed her so much.  We had Lana here a couple of days and we had some sewing students come over, and Liana and I had a great sewing day making tote bags for the new school we'll all be attending in September.  But I am uneasy without Arielle.  I long to see her face.


On Saturday, Arielle special day, Liana and I drive to church at the appointed time for picking up the returning campers.  I see Arielle from the road among the crowd of children.  She sees us too.  She is glowing bronze from the sun, a shining star among all the others, that big smile on her beautiful face.  My daughter!  Then she is in my arms for a big hug.  I remember a hug long ago, when I first saw her face.  She lay her baby head on my shoulder and she was forever mine.  


Arielle bubbles over telling me about her week. She has had a great time.  Then a child runs up to tell me, "Arielle is the BEST counselor I EVER had!"  I share my daughter with the world and she brings joy to others.


My daughter is home.  I am content. More tomatoes to pick today.

Grandkids

This has been a week of family time.  My heart is full.  But some anxiety pulls at me because two of my children are gone, Arielle away at summer camp and Dominic away in Kenya.  I will be glad when everyone is back home.

Jon and Chrissy moved this week!  Finally, after months and months of waiting, they closed on their first new home!  Liana and I got to spend time with Lana while they packed and cleaned and loaded the truck.  With Arielle gone, it was the perfect time for Liana to be in the big sister role.

Kelsey and Seth are going home to Minnesota in a few days so Damien had a cook-out at his house, on a weekday, and invited all the family to come.  I know it was a sacrifice on his part after working all day, but he and Gretchen are generous.  I realized ALL my grandchildren were there together, except for the new tiny one not yet born.  (Wish you had been here, Stacia!)  So we corralled the kids together (except for Gretchen with the bigger tiny one not yet born) and tried to get a picture.  Do you know how hard that was?  Do you know how many pictures I took, yet this poor quality one is the best of the bunch?  Still, I treasure it.  Deacon and Joey discovered each other for the first time while we were trying to arrange the kids and it was fun to see them interacting.

In the kitchen Gretchen invited me to touch her near-to-bursting belly.  What an honor!  I used to hate how people would reach out without asking and touch me when I was pregnant.  But Gretchen allowed me to do this.  My grandchild right beneath her skin, alive and moving!  So close!  How I love that baby already!

Fred has discovered his own way of bonding with his grandson.  He takes little Joey and walks him around outside--for hours it seems!  Both seem to love it.  I just can't carry that heavy boy for long.  We all chased after Deacon to keep him from the street and Liana played with all the little blonde girls. We're all so different, yet we're FAMILY!  I didn't get enough time to talk with Kelsey and Seth.  What do you say before a year's separation?  They said they have had a good summer and wished they could stay longer.

As Fred, Liana and I got ready to leave, Kelsey had just sat down to her dessert.  I went over and hugged her. She stood up, my precious 17-year-old granddaughter, my first, and left her dessert to say good-bye. It was a respectful gesture.  I was filled with regret for lost opportunities and words unspoken.  I just told her how much I loved her.  My towering grandson Seth hugged me hard.  Seth gives the best hugs.  He's noted for that.

On the drive home I think about how blessed I am.  Like so many others, I belong to that group called GRANDMOTHERS.  What a title!  What an honor.

                             "Grandchildren are the crown of the aged..."  Proverbs 17:6

Bounty of Grace

Counting my blessings...


515.  God's provision from the garden.


516.  Our family blessed with another new baby on the way!  Incredible joy!


517.  A picnic with prayer offered through the towering trees, accompanied by insect song.


518.  The girls playing a game with their friend Thomas and the laughter and silliness of an adolescent boy making me smile, remembering...


"I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly."  (Jesus)

D.C.

Now for some good news.  We had the most incredible, fun weekend visiting Dominic and Stacia and I haven't had time to write about it!  For the first time with the girls, we traveled to Washington, D.C. to stay overnight and have fun in the city.  Dominic and Stacia are such gracious hosts and we thoroughly enjoyed our time with them.

After a wild ride down 95, we arrived safe and sound and Dominic and Stacia had a big day planned for us.  Unfortunately, the metro from their town was shut down and we had to take two cars into the city.  (No one car could contain us all.)  So we followed them.  First stop, Dominic pulled over into a park.  He said he wanted to show us one of his favorite spots.  We walked into a field in the midst of biking trails. Soon we found out why we had stopped.  Planes were coming in for a landing right over our heads!  They appeared incredibly close.  The roar and the power of those planes!  We were off to a great start on our D.C. adventure..

Dominic had a parking garage chosen for us, so we parked and then headed to the free museums.  We lost track of time as we explored the fantastic displays.  As for the girls, they loved the mammal exhibit in the National Museum of Natural History.  Liana and I were in awe of the rocks, minerals and gemstones.  I wish my brother Shane the rock collector had been here to share this treat.  There was just too much to see in this museum and we were dazzled by the sights.  At the National Museum of American History, the girls first enjoyed the dresses of the First Ladies.  They had seen replicas of these dresses in a museum in Gettysburg and they had long been waiting to see the real ones.

There wasn't enough time to see everything, even in just two museums.  In fact, I think you could spend hours reading and observing just one exhibit.  But it was dinner time.  We strolled down the beautiful streets to a restaurant Dominic and Stacia had chosen for us.  We looked up and saw some dark clouds hovering and made predictions on the weather.  Suddenly rain descended on us in heavy sheets!  We ran for cover under a tree with sparse, dry leaves which were not much protection.    

Dominic to the rescue!  He hailed a cab and we all climbed in--except for him.  We had too many people for the cab and Dominic had to walk!  We got out at a nice Asian restaurant, went inside and waited for poor Dominic.  Finally he walked in--drenched!  He had to be cold in the air conditioning.  But Dominic is not a complainer and he directed us to some great food on the menu.  We settled in with hot Thai food, hot rice and hot tea to go with it.  Comfort food.  For me, this was the best time of the trip--being with this precious family, all of us gathered around the table with nourishing food.

We left the restaurant and the day resumed as if no rain had fallen--hot, humid and sunny outside.  I think we walked miles in the late afternoon, but it was peaceful and relaxing. We saw the White House with some interesting protesters outside.  We bought the girls ice cream from a street vendor.  We passed the majestic Eisenhower Executive Office Building that fills a city block.  The Washington Monument came into view.  On to visit the memorials.

The World War II Memorial is new since Fred and I were last here.  There is a beautiful fountain in the center and we enjoyed a rest.  Dominic and Stacia hoped we would see the Lincoln Memorial after dark, all lit up.  But the timing was a little off (which turned out for the best considering what happened later).  It was fun to climb the steps with the multitude of tourists and look out across the mall to the Capitol.  

We passed by the Vietnam War Memorial and a hush seemed to come over the people as we all saw the thousands of names.  Then the Korean War Memorial.  This one was haunting for me.  I am amazed by the creator who captured in stone the fearful, wary faces of men marching through a field during the war.  It was dusk now, and these forms rose white in the impending darkness.

Dominic wanted us to see his office very near the Lincoln Memorial, but the guards wouldn't let us in.  Still, the building was quite impressive and it was nice to see the place where my son travels to work every day.  It was getting late and we realized everyone was too tired to walk the long way back to the parking garage.  The men decided to get a cab and go back for the cars and pick the rest of us up. (We have too many people for one cab.) Stacia, the girls, and I rested in the arms of a giant Einstein sculpture to wait.  It was very dark now and the tourists passing by had dwindled.  I was a little nervous but Stacia seemed quite comfortable in the big city.

A little while later we got a call on the cell. The guys were at the parking garage, but could not get the cars.  Neither Dominic nor Fred had the parking tickets!  The tickets were with Stacia and me!  The parking attendant would in no way let them take the cars--and the garage closed in about half an hour.  We had to take a cab back to them.  

Dominic and Fred had gotten a cab right away.  We were not so lucky.  But eventually Stacia found one to take us to the garage.  We arrived before the garage closed and headed back to the apartment.

The next morning Dominic prepared a fabulous breakfast for us and afterwards we went into the city again.  We returned to the American History museum and saw some of what we had missed.  There is a fascinating exhibit on the history of transportation in America and how American life changed through the years as people embraced new ways of traveling.  Liana and I got away for a little bit to see the displays of the American Presidency.  (Her choice.)  Today it was hot, hot, hot.  We walked briefly through an art museum on our way to the National Museum of the American Indian.  It was a refreshing way to cool off from the heat, but I would have loved to explore this museum.  A FREE art museum!  Amazing.  After an interesting lunch of Native American food, we realized our time in D.C. was about up.  No time to see this beautiful museum.  That was a disappointment, but next time, hopefully.

We endured another long harrowing drive on 95, this time with car trouble!  Fortunately, at one point our GPS took us on a different route and we could avoid the high speeds of the highway and we made it safely home.  

The girls are full of information and images and impressions of their trip to the big city.  This is real education, the kind that is long remembered.  Most of all they will remember the love of family and the good times we shared and the stories that will be told long into the future.  We'll think about the rain and the hot food.  We'll tell about sitting in the dark with Stacia waiting for our guys to come for us, discussing how crazy it was that four responsible adults forgot parking tickets. I'll remember cooking hash browns with Dominic on Sunday morning and the thrill of seeing opals on display in the gem exhibit--glowing bright lights that gave my heart a lurch.  We'll think about eating ripe cherries on the streets as we walked to the museums, our hands all sticky.  Fred and the girls, I'm sure, have their own special moments. 

Thank you, Dominic and Stacia, for a wonderful vacation!

Why?

Arielle is troubled by what happened in Colorado.  I've spent all these years warning the girls about risky choices and avoiding disaster.  But going to the movies?  How dangerous is that?  How do you explain to your children that sometimes bad things just happen and it is not your fault?  Arielle is a girl who wants answers in black and white.


Her first question to me--why did a mother take a six-year-old to a PG-13 movie at midnight?  Oh, how often I do this when I hear of tragedies that happen!  I want to assign blame. Someone must be at fault.  And if I can avoid those same mistakes, then I will be safe.  But we can't always count on our wise decisions.  Sometimes bad things happen anyway, so do you just give up in hopelessness thinking the whole world is in chaos?  But we need to trust the One who holds it all together.  He is there, even in the midst of the horror.


Is there anyone to blame?  Well, the shooter, of course.  But then is he just another lost soul?  (With a lost mind?)  But what made him that way?  What facilitated his behavior?  Why did he have such easy access to all those weapons and ammunition?  The movie itself, some say, is dark and violent.  Did that contribute?  But it's more than that.  I read an interesting analysis in the Philadelphia Inquirer.  Robert Jensen, professor of journalism at the University of Texas said this:  


"Did this movie cause this crime?  The answer is obviously no. Is this part of a culture that makes acts of violence more inviting?  Why, after all, are there so many images around us of violent behavior?  Violence in pop culture is something like porn. It doesn't cause behavior, but it may help create a setting in which certain behaviors are more common.  We don't ask such nuanced, complex questions because they lead to disturbing conclusions about our society."


So I ask, who is society?  We are.  Who is ultimately to blame?  We are--we who condone,  celebrate, laugh about, enjoy, or ignore those things in our culture that promote violence and death. Some say God is to blame.  The God who allowed this has disallowed many other things that might have tragically affected our lives.  The cancer you didn't get, the car crash you didn't have, the evil person who passed you by.  I should have been dead by now. But God in his mercy has granted me life all these years.  Who knows what disasters have been averted in our lives?


We live in a broken, violent world.  There is no explaining evil.  The Christian hope is that one day we will have a redeemed world, absent of evil.  In the meantime, God has given us another day of life.  Celebrate that.


So what should our response be to this horror? God says, "When I shut up the heavens so that there is no rain, or command the locust to devour the land, or send pestilence among my people, if my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land."  II Chronicles 7:13, 14.


I think of Jesus' words at the end of his life. "How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not."  Matthew 23:37.


:

The Package

My step-mother called and said she mailed a package for me.  She was going through my father's possessions and was clearing out what she didn't want anymore.  She said anything he had that came before her has no meaning for her.  But she was very excited to tell me that she found pictures of my grandmother and grandfather from long ago.  She had some things of my father too that she wanted me to have.  Curiously, she said she had some pictures of me.  I wasn't sure what that was about.  But I wanted to see these things!  Oh, I couldn't wait to get this package, a link to my mysterious past.


It seemed like I should have received the package at the time of our conversation.  It had been 10 days!  I know it had to travel across the country, but that seemed too long.  I asked for specifics.  Where did she mail it?  Did she include a return address?  (She didn't remember.)  Did she take it into the post office?  (No, she dropped it in a box.  So it hadn't been weighed for postage.)  Oh, no.  This wasn't looking good.  I actually called the Nevada post office near her house to ask about it.  The woman was not helpful.  She said if it was not addressed properly or had insufficient postage it might be sent to "Dead Letter" in Kentucky and then there would be no way to find it.  What a disappointment.  Then I stopped by our post office and the man told me no way they just send it off to nowhere-land for not having enough postage.  He said I would be notified.  He said don't worry.  Okay, so I waited longer.


My son Nick was here and I was telling him the story.  The mailman pulled up and Nick looked outside.  He said, "You have two packages!"  I rushed to the window and the mailman was bringing two Amazon boxes to the door.  For the first time ever I was not happy to get Amazon boxes.  Then Nick said, "He is stuffing something in the mailbox!"  I raced out the door and yes, there it was!  A white padded envelope, stained like it had been on a long journey, the front scribbled with shaky writing.  My package!


Carefully, I opened the envelope.  A multitude of artifacts spilled out.  There were many, many pictures, most carefully labeled, going as far back as my grandmother as a baby.  A group shot of three generations of women, and then one of the men.  Childhood pictures of my father with his parents and sister.  A studio picture of my father as a young man and also a formal picture of my great-grandfather when he was a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army.  There were several photos of a lookout station where my father lived temporarily to watch for forest fires.  Football letters from high school, athletic awards, and ribbons my father won for pigeon racing! I never knew about that.  


The pictures of me were most intriguing.  The backs were carefully documented with time and place, and they were pictures I recognized!  My mother has these same pictures.  But the handwriting on the back I recognized as my grandmother's.   She was the one sending my father pictures of me.  But he did save them all these years.  Arielle, intuitive daughter that she is, reminded me of that fact.  


What a treasure!  I am so grateful to my step-mother for giving them to me.  She could have just tossed them out.  But now I have a few bits and pieces of my history to be passed down to my children.

Something to Do Today

Geocaching!

My son Jon asked us if we wanted to go geocaching with him.  I had heard about this, but I couldn't figure it out exactly.  I knew Jon had some handheld GPS device and that he searched for hidden treasure in the woods.  It sounded like a good opportunity to be outdoors with him and my granddaughter and daughter-in-law.  So we headed to the river trail on a hot, sultry day and Jon taught us how to find treasure.

From his device, Jon located the first cache.  At least we knew it was in the general vicinity of where we were standing. You can go to a website and find all kinds of hints.  We were on a little sandy beach, and that matched up with one of the clues.  We knew it was a tiny treasure, so that meant it would be hard to find.  We all searched around in the trash left behind by maybe teenagers partying on this beach. We couldn't find it.  Okay, on to the next one.  We walked down a narrow path, me trying hard to avoid the knee-high poison ivy and the girls stopping to watch a little turtle sunning himself in a pond and a multitude of butterflies fluttering around us.  The next cache was supposedly dangling from a tree above the river.  That we figured out from the hints.  We stood on the bank of the river looking down.  We were high above it.  Jon first climbed out on a tree branch hanging over the river and then decided to slide down the steep embankment.  Mother instinct took over.  I said, "Jon, get back up here!"  It looked too dangerous.  But Jon didn't listen to me, of course, nor to the admonitions of his wife to be careful.  My son is very persistent.  It really bugged him that he couldn't find this cache either.  We left to find the next one.

We were standing in front of it.  This we knew.  But the woods were dense and overgrown.  A big tree stood before us, and Jon seemed to know that it was the most likely place for the cache.  He fearlessly tore through the brush and leaves (and snakes, surely) and scrambled around in the foliage.  This was supposed to be a large cache.  Chrissy and the girls and I stood safely on the path.  I tend to get poison ivy just by looking at it, so no way was I going into the weeds.  Poor Jon.  This didn't seem like much of a sport if he was doing all the work. Finally, finally!  He found it!  He brought over a large metal ammo box and opened it.  The treasure!  The idea is, you take a treasure and leave behind a treasure for the next person.  This box had an odd assortment of a little stuffed animal, cassette tapes, balls, a sticker book, and a shark tooth.  Lana grabbed the little animal as her mother cringed.  (Who knows who touched it?)  Jon left behind marbles. Okay, now I see why this could be  fun.  You never know what you will find.  Encouraged by success, we went back to the sandy beach and finally found that first one.  All this cache contained was a teeny slip of paper rolled into a very small canister hidden in a minuscule hole in a tree.  The paper was simply a log of those who had come before.  Jon signed his name.  

On to the last one.  We were on a sunny bridge over a little stream of water flowing into the river.  We all searched with our eyes to find the cache, but no luck.  Jon once again trampled into the weeds, lifting rocks and boldly putting his hand into small, dark openings.  He searched a long time while the rest of us began to melt in the heat.  Lana's face was flushed red and I was getting dizzy.  We retreated to some shade.  Jon could not find this one.  To him, this was a bad geocaching day.  But for the rest of us, it was a fun day in the park.  I enjoyed sharing an adventure with family, and we're all up for trying again on a cooler day.

New Flower

What is this?  I was delighted to find a new flower that I have never seen in my life!  Can you guess what it is?  Look beyond the flower to the shoots behind it.  I wish I could show this to my mother.  She loves this vegetable--OKRA!  We never grew it before and it appears to be doing quite well in this oppressive heat.

Can vegetables be beautiful?  I think so.  The cabbage is almost ready for harvest but we have to wait a little longer for eggplant and peppers.  Green beans that have been a summer staple for years are not nearly ready and quite sparse this year.  We finally found out why.  Despite all the fencing that keeps out deer and groundhogs, Fred found a cute, little brown bunny munching away on our vegetables this morning.  We've seen him in the yard before, but didn't know he was able to get through the fence into the garden. He prefers to eat the tops off the emerging bean plants.  Now we are like the mean, old Mr. McGregor.  This rabbit is not so cute anymore.

Competition

I don't like competition.  Somehow it seems ungodly.  If someone wins, someone else has to lose. The girls participated in the six-county regional fashion revue this week.  They look forward to it every year because of the activities they do with other girls.  This year they made jewelry and accessories and attended an etiquette class.  But looming heavily (for some) over all the fun is the COMPETITION.  I always try to prepare the girls.  They might not win.  They need to be gracious losers as well as gracious winners.  In the big picture of life, this is not all that important.  Every girl has already won because she has learned useful skills and created a beautiful garment.  Arielle and Liana always say, "We know; we know."  This year I told them the most important thing is to let their lights shine.  They have gentle, sweet spirits.  And if by chance they win, they should remember it is a God-given talent they have.  They cannot be boastful about it.


I was asked to work at this event for the first time.  I was a Timer, one who calls the girls in to see the judges, timing their meeting, and keeping the schedule moving.  It was an exhausting job!  I was on my feet (in new shoes) for about five hours without a break. But I was glad to do it.  I was able to personally talk to the girls as they waited in the hall before going in to see the  judges, and I could admire up-close the outfits they had sewn, which was very exciting.  I made some observations.  Many girls were nervous and timid about speaking to the judges and presenting their designs.  It was nice to be in a position to encourage them to smile and to tell them what a good job they had done.  Some girls were arrogant and condescending to the others, and this, above all, was most unbecoming, no matter how exquisite their outfits were.  And some of the clothing was definitely gorgeous!  Many girls made prom gowns, each more beautiful than the next.  I'm glad I didn't have to judge them.  They all worked so hard, and there it is again.  The COMPETITION.  All the girls deserved to win.


After modeling before a crowded auditorium, the winners were announced.  In the junior division, Liana's name was called!  Then the seniors.  Arielle's name was called!  The joy on their faces!  Arielle now has the opportunity to compete at the state level.  Later one of the junior judges came looking for Fred and me.  She wanted to tell us to encourage Liana in her sewing because she is so creative. (No need. She sews all the time.)  The judge was especially impressed with Liana's hand-embroidery with black stones that she incorporated into her jacket and purse.  She said Liana had the highest junior score of all.  Arielle told me later the judges were most interested in the patchwork design she used for her shirt pattern.  But it isn't just creativity that gave them points.  Expert construction and fit are very important, as I learned by being an "insider" to this event.  These things they learned from their very competent teachers in 4-H.


So now I had the opportunity to be a gracious mother of winners and not be lifted in pride because I really had nothing to do with it.  I remembered to thank the teachers who have bestowed their gifts on these girls.  Several sacrificed a great amount of time to encourage and teach and inspire them to do their very best.  One teacher taught Liana how to embroider, and then another helped Arielle alter the neckline of her patchwork shirt--not a simple task!  I am grateful these giving, kind women are part of my daughters' lives.

Vacation of Sorts

It seems like we've been on vacation for days.  Not really, but we have strayed far from our routine.  That's the fun of summer!  On the day of Arielle's adventure to the warehouse, Liana and I had a delightful day of sewing.  We will soon be ready to start up our Etsy store!  For now, we are focusing on bags and have five nearly ready to go.


The next two days brought the much-anticipated home school conference that I long for every year.  It energizes me for a new school year.  There are great speakers, either other parents sharing their journeys or curriculum authors who give me insight into new books or methods to use in teaching.  The first day of the conference I took the girls and my granddaughter Lana.  They even had their own session with other girls at one point in the day.  Arielle searched the used books to provide her with summer reading, and I perused new books, longingly thumbing through, but only buying exactly what we truly needed.  I've always loved books--the feel of them, the smell of them.  Thank you, Mother, for instilling that in me.


The next day of the conference Fred gave me a gift of time.  He stayed with the girls at home so I could think and plan and check out vendors and sit in on lectures.  To top off the day, three friends and I stopped for dinner on the way home.  We sat outdoors in an unusual restaurant along an unused railroad track in the middle of town.  The restaurant served organic, locally grown meats, fruits and vegetables.  My daughter-in-law would love it here!  (Want to go, Stacia?)  We had lovely salads of bibb lettuce with cheeses and fresh berries.  Lady food--not at all suitable for my meat-a-tarian husband!


Fred had some vacation time, so on Monday we took a day trip.  We drove only an hour away, but it might as well have been in another state.  I can't believe I've lived here so long and haven't seen this part of the countryside. The beauty of the gorgeous rolling hills with farmland planted in patches of green and yellow caused even Fred to slow down and relax.  Giant cottony clouds rested lightly on the horizon and a mountain ridge stretched all around in the distance. Our destination was a cave in the midst of a pine forest.  As we hiked to the entrance, the heavy pine scent sent me back to childhood, camping in Yosemite with my family and the mixed emotions of those days.  The cave has an interesting history of entertaining guests in an underground ballroom complete with piano while World War II raged on in Europe. 


Later we traveled further north toward the mountains and visited a most unusual store full of stuffed animals.  No, not toys.  This was a Man Store with nothing much of interest for the girls and me except for the many specimens of deer arranged in their natural habitat.  Like a zoo, only the deer were dead.  It was a little unnerving.


On the way home we stopped at a place where Fred used to visit as a child with his parents and sisters. I know it holds a lot of memories for him, what sort, I'm not sure.  The pagoda was closed so we couldn't climb to the top, but we had a great view anyway of the nearby town from this high point.  Arielle thought she could see the building where Damien and Gretchen were married.  Only good times reigned that night!


To end our vacation, we stopped at a local Chinese restaurant for cheap, delicious food.  Even though we didn't go far from home, it was fun to pretend we were away on a trip.  And actually, this was one of our best family days that I can remember.  I hope the girls will tuck this away in their hearts and maybe one day tell the stories to their own children.  I want their memories to always be a picture of pure joy and love without the dark frame of raging war that so often distorts their parent's.  

Leaving the Nest

On September 11, 2001, Arielle, at three years old, began her education at a Christian school nearby.  Just minutes later, on a TV in K-Mart, Fred and I watched in horror what happened that day.  I remember my strong impulse to just go and retrieve our little daughter from school, so she would be safe with us while the world was out of control.  We did not.  But we circled her school, which remained quiet and peaceful, as the radio news station reported the disaster.  


For that one year Arielle proudly rode in the front seat of her daddy's pick-up truck (strapped in her carseat) as he drove her to school each day.  She loved it, and young as she was, she still has vivid memories of that fun year.  She has always been bold and confident, never clinging to mommy and never homesick.  She was always ready for a new adventure.


Early this morning Arielle got in the front seat of the car with Fred (no carseat) as he drove her to church to meet up with others for a two hour trip to serve with an organization that sends supplies overseas to schools and orphanages in impoverished areas.  Today they will pack seeds to send to Gambia.  Arielle is excited to go.  She still loves an adventure, and she has a serving heart for others.  It is hard to let her go, not just today, but as she gradually leaves her family and sets off in the world.  She wants to visit missionaries and care for needy people, already planning a trip to Spain in her senior year.  


I have to let go and I have to learn to trust. Trust her--and I do more and more as I see her maturity and wisdom.  And trust God.  He showed me years ago that she is the "apple of his eye."  He loves her even more than I love her!  Amazing.  I know God has great plans and purpose for her life.  He chose her from the ends of the earth and graciously gave her to us for a season.  But she is his and not ours.

Finding God

We don't have to look far to find God. This morning I was reading Psalm 36.  Sometimes we read familiar passages and it's easy to just skim over the words and not allow them to really penetrate our souls.  But this time the freshness and vitality of God's words caused me to  meditate on the message.


This time of the year I love to take walks outside and look at God's creation, even in our own backyard.  His living creation gives me great joy.  My new butterfly bush is bursting with spiky purple cones and I found two gorgeous yellow lilies growing in front of the house.  Where did they come from?  I've never seen these blooms before.  Our cabbage plants all in a row remind me of Mr. McGregor's garden in a Peter Rabbit picture book.  A little gray catbird visits me among our vegetables early in the morning.  Even if I'm not outside, I hear her "mew, mew, mew" through the open windows. I can forgive the deer that ate the tops off all our new sunflowers because I so enjoy watching this beautiful animal wander across the lawn.

"God's invisible attributes, namely his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived ever since the creation of the world in the things that have been made."  (Romans 1)
We see God's character in nature. He is not hard to find. We instinctively know "the heavens declare the glory of God."  (Psalm 19)  But what do they declare?

From Psalm 36:  "Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds."  I remember a day in the park when we were flying kites.  To stare into the sky for such an extended period of time mesmerized me.  I had never contemplated the beauty of the endless, boundless, eternal heavens before and connected it to God's never-ending love for his people.  Will the clouds remind us of his faithful presence whether billowy white or stormy dark?  


"Your righteousness is like the mountains of God; your judgments are like the great deep; man and beast you save, O Lord."  God is our solid rock,  massive and towering, our fortress.  The great abyss threatens, but he promises to save.  


"How precious is your steadfast love, O God!  The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings."  Picture a great bird overhead as it soars, casting a shadow on us below.  We hide beneath God's saving grace.


"They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights."  We have rivers teeming with life all around us. God's blessings flow generously, nourishing and refreshing us.  (I've counted 445 gifts so far on my way to 1000.)


"For with you is the fountain of life; in your light do we see light."  God enables us to see and know him.  "For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ."  (II Corinthians 4)


We can see God in all of creation, but even more so, we see God in the face of his son.  One of Jesus' disciples said to him, "Lord, show us the Father, and it is enough for us."  Jesus answered, "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father."  The character of God is clearly revealed in the life of Jesus.  Read the gospels, see the Son, find God.

End of the Year

Today is the official last day of school.  With homeschooling, we kind of just fade out rather than have a definitive end.  But today we reach 180 days, as required by law.  Arielle still needs to take a science test and finish her Algebra book and Liana will continue to have math and reading every day. So I guess we're not really finished.  But I think I will surprise the girls and take them out for ice cream later this afternoon.


Last week Arielle had a graduation ceremony at church.  She is moving into the high school ministry.  Then last night Liana also had a graduation.  She is moving into the middle school ministry.  My babies are growing up.  It is shocking to me how quickly time passes.  Any "old" mom will tell you that.  Love your children well while you have them.


Another conclusion to many months of hard work and angst:  4-H is officially over.  Well, kind of.  At least the weekly sewing marathon has ended.  We will still work on preparing for the fabric sale at the fair in August.  And Arielle has a little work to do before the regional fashion show in a couple of weeks.  But the county show is over!  Getting ready the week before?  Let's just say, I'm VERY glad it's over.  The last minute hemming and fixing and adjusting just about brought all of us to tears.  Arielle vowed to never sew again.  But that was a Friday, and Saturday changed everyone's attitude.  Liana won in her division and Arielle found out all the older girls qualify to go on the regionals.

Liana has already started a new sewing project at home and Arielle is looking through patterns to see what she might want to make this summer.  They both still have the sewing bug.

Step-mother

When I acquired a father last Christmas, I didn't realize I would also get a step-mother.  How strange!  


My father is dying.  He was supposed to go to a bowling tournament halfway across the country this May, but now I hear he can hardly breathe and has difficulty even getting out of bed.  It's been a fast decline.  He needs a heart valve replacement, a serious surgery, and supposedly only two hospitals on the West Coast do this particular procedure that he needs.  He lives four and a half hours away from the closet one.  I can't imagine he can even make the trip.


My husband's relationship with his mother has always been volatile. She is not a kind person and yet Fred continually honors her by reaching out to her. On Tuesday last week I was thinking about this and my former decision to write my father off for his lack of response to every attempt I've made to reach him.  I asked myself if he died, would I have regrets that I never called?  No, I don't think so.  I did my part.  So why was I so troubled this day thinking about him?  I prayed about it, thought about calling, got up the courage to do it, lost the courage, and went about my day.


I was cleaning up the school room and under a pile of books I found a pink envelope with a Nevada phone number.  At some point I had looked up the number and scribbled it down.  There it was staring me in the face. Why I happened to find it now, I didn't know.  I will call, I decided.


After the girls finished school and the afternoon was quiet I called the home of my father for the first time in my life, my father lost to me for over fifty years.  His wife--my step-mother--answered on the first ring.  She is a quirky woman!  It was as if we had just talked the day before.  I said who I was and she immediately launched into a big update on my father's health.  It seemed she expected me to call and check on him.  She is quite the talker and I didn't need to worry about what I would say.  I realized why I felt the urgency to call.  She needed a listening ear.  I put aside any agenda I might have had to gain information and focused on assuring her that we cared for the two of them going through the challenge of their lives.  I just listened.  She would switch from stories of the past to her fears about their future.  The surgery is very serious and my father is in his eighties.  But he will die without it.  I did not ask to talk to my father. I enjoyed my step-mother, and in the end she said she was so glad I called.  She says she feels she knows me, which is very funny because I said absolutely nothing about myself or my family.  I just listened, and that is what she needed that day.  


*****I wrote this post up to this point last week.  Today, May 28th, I write this:  I came home on Saturday afternoon and checked my caller ID.  I had a call from Nevada.  That gave me a start, but I thought surely my step-mother would not be calling me. We had just "met"!  I could not find my pink envelope to match up the scribbled number to see if it was her.  And a generic voice answered when the number was called back.  I did not leave a message.  A little while later my son called to tell me that my step-mother was trying to reach me.  I then knew why, and my son confirmed it.  My father had died.  He died the very next day after I made my first call to him.   He died in the same hospital where I was born.


On Sunday, before I had the chance to call her, my step-mother called me again.  She said she wanted to be the first one to tell me.  She told me the details of what happened and also her anxiety of what life will hold for her now, losing her husband of 40 years.  She is not just an illusion anymore, but a real person.  And from her stories, my father became real too.   

River Walk

We were invited to walk the river trail with my son Jon and his family on a glorious spring day.  The girls and I suffer from nature deficit disorder and as I watched my granddaughter Lana running through the woods, I notice that she is quite comfortable here.  Her parents take her outdoors for hikes several times a week.  We need more of this!


The river ran fast and brown from the storm the night before.  Jon takes the kids a little too close to the water for my comfort.  And what about snakes and poison ivy? (Or maybe the bogeyman is lurking behind the trees?)  I realize I am too fearful and that is a result from not letting the kids be kids.  I didn't used to be like this.  My boys were free to roam and explore when they were little.  I hold on too tightly now.  So as we walk, I slowly relax and just enjoy the beauty of this day.  

The girls had given me a butterfly bush for Mother's Day.  As they were choosing it, Fred said they needed to get a dwarf variety so we could plant it in a flower bed.  This day of our river walk, Jon and Chrissy give me a huge butterfly bush!  I think they can grow up to ten feet high. But Fred doesn't complain and plants it right in the middle of the yard, not as part of the shrubbery framing the house, but boldly in front of it.  It is a joyous reminder of a new season and the hope of visits from butterflies and hummingbirds throughout the summer.  I see it and think of grace, love, and forgiveness.   

Celebrating Family

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven...a time to be born, a time to die, a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted...a time to weep, and a time to laugh, a time to mourn, and a time to dance..."  (Ecclesiastes 3)

Mother's Day weekend was a time of laughing and dancing, a time to celebrate family.  Somehow, when I have been suffering the most grief about the past and my little boys, they shower me with grace.  Each of them, in his own unique way, has blessed me this past week.  My little girls hop into my room Sunday morning bearing gifts. The cold and rain is over, our school work almost done, and it's time to rejoice.

The weekend begins with my granddaughter Laci's 4th birthday party.  My son Nick is a great father and he planned the ultimate party for his little daughter.  She loves bunnies, so the top bunny of all hopped out of the woods--the Easter bunny!  Laci was delighted.  We laughed every time we looked at him.

It's sunny and breezy on Mother's Day, the perfect backdrop for all our plans.  Our yard surprises us with brilliant bursts of color here and there, each flower blooming at its appointed time.  My iris make me happy.  I heard they are also called flags.  What a great word.  I see them waving, heralding a new season.  The rich earth of our vegetable garden is warm and crumbly as we set out baby plants green and sturdy.  Fred takes us to Rita's for a special gift of gelatis and we burn our backsides on the sun-baked bench outside.  I cut rhubarb and rosemary for Marissa to take home and we enjoy the deck for the first time this year in the wooden Adirondack chairs my dear husband made. Damien and his wife engage us in deep conversation as the day fades into twilight.  I don't want to ever forget this weekend.  It was one of the best.  Weeping and mourning will one day come, but not now.

Burning Bush

"My harp has been out of tune, and I had no heart to write. Perhaps you are ready to infer, by my sitting down to write at last, that my harp is now well tuned, and I have something extraordinary to offer: beware of thinking so, lest you should be sadly disappointed"  (John Newton, former slave-trade ship captain who became a pastor and hymn writer)


The day-to-day stuff has been getting me down.  Liana's illness took a lot out of me, and for some reason my boys have been on my mind a lot.  They are all doing well.  But it's the past that haunts me, the complexity of relating to my adult children and how all that came before interferes.  Daughters-in-law are complicated.  I don't know how to do this.  My little girls have always been my comfort, my way to fix the wrong by trying to be a good mother to them.  I guess I thought I'd redeem myself that way.  Now they are getting older and they will soon be part of the group of "adult children.".  Will I lose them too?  I can't bear it.

We have a fiery shrub along our driveway.  It's really not pink but a blazing red right now, our burning bush.  I need a burning bush moment, when God will show up and give me some direction.  


"Now Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law, and he led his flock to the west side of the mountain...and an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush.  He looked, and behold, the bush was burning, yet it was not consumed.  And Moses said, 'I will turn aside to see this great sight, why the bush is not burned.' When the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, 'Moses, Moses!'  And he said, 'Here I am.'"  (Exodus 3)


Moses is minding his own business, going about his work, and the bush gets his attention.  "I will turn aside," he says.  He will stop what he's doing and go and check it out.  Then it says WHEN God saw he had turned aside to look, he spoke to him.  When do I ever turn aside to hear what God has to say?


The girls and I recently saw Amazing Grace, a movie about William Wilberforce and his battle to abolish the slave trade in the British Empire.  John Newton, author of the hymn "Amazing Grace", was another interesting character in the film.  He says, "Sometimes God speaks to us through a storm (or burning bush?) and sometimes in a gentle rain...drip, drip, drip."  Maybe I've been seeking a big revelation when I should be listening for God in the ordinary day-to-day moments. (Quote is from the movie.  I don't know if Newton really said that.  But the quote in the beginning of this post is Newton's actual words.)


Newton (in the movie) also said he lived every day with 20,000 ghosts, the faces of the slaves who traveled on his ships.  He had a hard time forgiving himself, but says,"I am a great sinner; Christ is a great Savior."  I know how he feels.


My little girls gather long-stemmed buttercups from our yard and present them to me.  My son Damien calls me on Sunday just to say thank you for doing mom stuff when he was little.  I feel so unworthy of it all.  Amazing grace.

When God spoke to Moses from the burning bush, Moses hid his face.  He said he wasn't up for the task.  God responded, "But I will be with you."

Right Now

The director of a private school hired me to grade papers. All I knew was that she was overwhelmed and needed me to get this work done quickly. I drove forty minutes to pick up the papers and receive instruction. I assumed the grading would be objective--maybe math tests with an answer key, definite right or wrong answers. To my surprise, she wanted me to grade high school essays! I wasn't sure I was up for the task but thought I'd give it a try.

That afternoon I pulled out the papers and began to read. Lucky for me, the students had just read Romeo and Juliet and were writing papers based on the teacher's assigned thesis and specific points. So I knew exactly what was expected of them. Arielle had just finished reading this play for her literature class at the co-op and had written her own paper, so the story was very familiar to me. I did have to ask Arielle a few questions on facts as I was going over the essays, and she was a big help.

It was a very warm afternoon and we all sat at the dining room table, the girls finishing up school work. As twilight came, a light breeze cooled us off. Liana finished typing her essay on pianist Clara Schumann and Arielle continued work on her research paper on endangered tigers. What a lovely, peaceful evening! At first... Then came interruptions--phone calls, Fred's arrival home and needing food, Liana's cries of frustration over math, a sudden ant invasion, a bee flying over our heads and the girls screaming. Now I am frustrated! How was I going to finish up these papers when I couldn't hold a thought for two minutes?

I read a quote from Ann Voskamp. She was cleaning up the messes left by her six children and she wrote: "I get to be here and do this." Simple words, much implication. I get to be here! I am privileged to be here in my own home with my treasured daughters and husband. I get to do this! Right here, right now, I am able to do this work. How often I need to be reminded to live in the moment and be grateful.

This morning I wake to a chorus of thousands as the bamboo birds chatter to each other, preparing to fly away for the day. They sound so joyful, ready for their adventure, whatever it may be. My dear husband brings me coffee and my daughters sleep on. It's a new adventure for us all this beautiful spring morning. Thank God for another day of life--for an ordinary day of extraordinary blessing.

New Life

Sometimes April comes with tears amidst the blooms of spring. Last year my friend wept into her hands, knowing her time on earth was coming to an end. But right outside her glass door a hummingbird hovered over a pot of scarlet petals and we watched with wonder. A couple of Aprils ago a late night call crushed my soul. My little sister, battle-weary, finally let go, her eyes lingering on her son's face for the last time. That spring an apricot lily I'd never seen before unfurled outside my door, bold on a strong green stalk. We rage against the injustice and marvel at new life bursting forth from the the dead of winter.

This April we longed for a return to good health, and we thanked God for healing. On Thursday before Easter, we prayed and confessed. My precious daughters, my husband, my granddaughter--we soberly reflected on the death that brought the only hope to the world as we walked down the aisle to take the bread and wine. "Take eat...drink of it, all of you." On Sunday we were refreshed, and with joyful tears I saw my son and daughter-in-law submerged in the waters of baptism.

"Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his." Romans 6:3-5.

Our family gathers in the warm afternoon sun and children look for colored eggs in the fresh green of the lawn. A new baby cries for his dinner and we rejoice in our blessings and God's work in the lives of our people, beloved people around our table. April will bring other tears at later times. We treasure our time in this world, but when the time comes to say good-bye we will not grieve as others who have no hope. We will suffer because he suffered. We will die because he died. But we will be raised because he was raised. The promise and our hope is that one day God will wipe away all tears from our eyes and death shall be no more. All things will be made new.