They stood  there on the porch leaning into each other.  Ricky and Clarice.  They were definitely pleased that we had come to help them with repairs to their home.  They had expected the new dry wall but had gotten a solid floor, new sink cabinet and counter and a patched ceiling as well.  We had little gifts of pretty kitchen towels, oven mitt, dish cloths, slice rug, hanging flowers and a welcome mat for their front door which we had just presented to them.  They stood there together as people took  their picture, truly grateful but somewhat unsettled.  I doubt they much liked having their photos taken, obviously uncomfortable as flash after flash of our paparazzi popped in their faces.

I've been thinking lots about them and the whole mission trip and what I have learned and am taking away from it all. I've been on a few of these work-type trips and always come away feeling as if we could have done so much more, that there is so much need and we aren't doing enough.  But this trip has really thrown me a curve.  

Appalachia.  We've all heard stories about how some of the poorest people in the U.S. live there and until recent history, because of their isolation, greatly fell through the cracks in our system for helping them.  

We did see much poverty, horrible living conditions and bad health.  What I did not see was need.  When I say that I mean that they are satisfied with their lives, accepting of their condition and happy.  They help each other.  Their homes weren't much but I have never seen such fine gardens!  That is why I am feeling ambivalent.  

It made me uneasy to see our group taking photos of this sweet, loving couple whom we obviously pitied.  They knew it, too.  I could see it in Ricky's eyes.  I think we were self-righteous and judgmental of thei

r lifestyle.  Yes, we definitely improved their living conditions but I wonder if we really improved their lives.  Did we make them feel small? Were we condescending?    I pray that we were not.

Ricky had no teeth at all and his clothes were filthy. He had moved all the kitchen cabinets and appliances into the middle of the room out of the way, in anticipation of our arrival.  He was there almost always as we worked, not underfoot but ready to answer questions, eager to help in any way he could.  He got us a broom to sweep up, he found us a hammer when we needed an extra for pulling out all those nails.  "Grampa's crow bar" was indispensible.  He found us the phone number for the lumber yard when we unexpectedly needed plywood to repair the rotten floor beneath the sink and freezer areas.  

On our second work day we arrived at the house to find a hole in the corner of the  kitchen floor.  Ricky was moving the refrigerator more out of the way the night before and had actually gone through the floor!  Worried, I asked him how far he had gone through.  He replied "About half way.  But it was my bad leg."  Oh no!  But he said that was a good thing.  He was totally sincere.  He'd been hurt but it was on his already damaged leg and not his good leg, so no biggie.  The man has an attitude of gratitude that I can only dream of.  He looks for the good in life and he finds it.  Oh, how I need to learn from that man!

On day 3, an old woman called because her electricity and gone out the night before and she called Ricky.  He went over and figured out the problem for her.  He is also the church caretaker. The Settlement would have come and gotten the huge pile of old sheet rock, paneling and debris we'd hauled out of his house but Ricky's brother showed up with his pickup to haul it off.

Clarice was overweight with the dirtiest feet I have ever seen.  She has a gaping hole in her quick smile and gorgeous blue eyes surrounded by long dark lashes.  You notice their beauty in spite of her teeth. Her health is poor and there were several oxygen tanks in their living room for her.  She teaches a Bible Study for the teenagers that go to her church.  The day she went to the doctor she wore a pretty dress that I commented on.  I wish I'd taken of picture of her that day.  I wish I'd taken a picture of those eyes.  She has quick smile and a joie de vivre

 about her that can't be missed.  Do I value life that much?  

On the final day, we wouldn't let Clarice in the kitchen while we worked.  We wanted to surprise her.  We made Ricky promise to keep her out while we went back for lunch.  We painted all day and put in the new cabinet and counter.  I painted a quick border of vines and flowers.  Someone found an old wooden heart laying in their yard, cleaned it up and painted it white.  They brought it to me to "do something with" so I painted the same viney flowers and the words "God bless this happy home".  We hung it above the sink.

When we had finished it all, we led Vicki in for her surprise.  She was delighted with the border and gave me a big ol' hug.  She was thrilled with her "new" kitchen.  We gave them the gifts and a new broom which she handed right off to Ricky "I cook, you clean."  We got a good laugh out of that.  We blessed their home, gave hugs (Ricky got a little teary) and headed back to the Settlement.

We'd had a good week of hard work and tons of sweat.  There was lots of kidding and fun.  Lots of jokes about no teeth and Mountain  Dew and how the mountain folks just "make due".  There had been lots of comments about the incredulity of the living conditions.  Smug?  

I came away thinking I had learned SO much.  If we had never come along I don't think they'd be much worse off.  They seemed satisfied with the life they live.  Yes, they accepted the things we gave them gratefully.  They were glad to have it all but did they need it?  Not really.  They were happy.  They were in love.  They appreciate the smallest things and look for the good in life, in people.  And they find it.

We were there to work, to get as much done in our 4 days as possible.  There were 17 of us and they started us off with two projects.  If we finished those they'd find something more.  There's always more to be repaired, replaced, renewed in these Appalachian communities in southeastern Kentucky and Northeastern Tennessee.

Our jobs were to sheetrock and a kitchen and put skirting and a porch roof on the house next door.  We all kind of gravitated to a job and set to work.  Ted was a retired sheet rock man who had owned his own business for many years.  We could not have done it without his expertise.  He was flat out amazing.  Seriously we hardly had to sand at all due to his incredible mudding skills!

But I've gotten ahead of myself.  We went on in to tear out the old paneling (a kind of cardboard) and sheet rock, discovering a horrible mess of mold and rot in one corner.  Ricky, the homeowner told us the creek had flooded the house in '93. 

The floor was squishy in several places so we had to be careful where we placed our feet.  There was already a patched area near the door, a piece of vinyl nailed over the hole.  We were able to tear out all the sheet rock and pull out the dozens of nails as well as vacuum up a lot of the debris.  Everything was crumbly.

 The skirting crew was making slow but steady progress.  Who knew it was such a tedious job?  The porch crew did more discussin' than workin' but that's what happens when you have too many chiefs.   They were working well together and enjoying themselves!  

                                                                                             The heat and humidity were barely tolerable for us but no one was complaining.

 
When we arrived at the house the next day to work on the house we found a big hole in the floor.  Ricky had gone right through the floor while trying to move the refrigerator!  

Fortunately, he was not badly injured but now we had floor boards to replace.  As they tore out the rotted floor boards they found more and more rot.  

A 2 foot (ish... nothing is square or level or uniform) piece of floor along the wall and the old hole by the door, as well.

The day ended with most of the insulation installed (There'd been none before!) most of the sheet rock was hung and most of the flooring in place.  

The following day was to be our day off, our site-seeing day, but we spent all morning working on getting needed items for our projects.  We traveling to a Lowe's where we could purchase a replacement sink cabinet, a counter top, some more quick-dry sheet rock mud and some odds and ends.  

Next door was a WalMart and we decided to stop in there to pick up a new broom for Ricky and Clarice. Their's was shot!


We all separated and wandered to the check out with little items to dress up their kitchen.  Towels and towel hangers, a kitchen rug, hanging flower baskets for the porches and a welcome mat for the front door.  

I picked up some paints and brushes thinking, that if there was time, I'd throw up a quick little vining   border to add a little cheer to the plain white walls.

Thursday was crunch day.  Everything had to be finished enough to get the painting done. The carpenters and mudders and skirters went back to the work site and several others of us stayed behind to work at the Settlement.

We were given the job to paint the inside of the big barn "nude Tan" (a pinky white").  The barn will soon be used for a Farmer's Market and the ladies who'll run it were thrilled to get rid of the drab gray cinderblock walls.

We worked and sweated and joked and laughed all day.  Some teens worked outside the barn hauling a huge pile of gravel to the playground area so we had their music and laughter as background in our efforts.

Friday, our final day! All work needed to be completed or left for another group to finish.  We were determined to get it all done.  Several of the most dedicated and talented had skipped lunch on Thursday to finish the mudding.  

We did some light sanding, cleaned up the dust and began a coat of primer before lunch.  The "Nude Tan" paint (again) went on easily with the many hands working while the new cabinet, sink and plumbing were installed.   The skirting was finished, complete with a "gate" so Michael (the coal miner whose family lives in the trailer) could continue to use the space underneath for storage.  The railing was completed for the porch and the flower baskets hung.

We ended with prayers and blessings for the families we had come to know.

Kentucky.  Tennessee.  Angus had two weeks vacation and we would spend the first week of it working on homes in Appalachia  with a group from Missouri, then head on for some camping and hiking in the Smoky Mountains.  We were excited and we were on our way!  The rented van held 8 and Angus and I were in our car heading to Evansville, Indiana where we would meet up with folks from Nixa, Missouri who were also going to the Henderson Settlement.  We stayed the night, sleeping on the gym floor of a church there and then caravanned on, heading east.  We were silly with our walkie-talkies and having fun along the way.  

We stopped for lunch in Somerset, Kentucky.  That's when I discovered it.  My purse was missing... my purse with pretty much all of our cash for the trip.  I remembered putting up on the towel holder in a gas station restroom at our last stop.  We had the receipt and called information to get the phone number.  The rest of the group went on in to order at Smokey's BBQ.  We called and they looked.  No purse.  A hundred thoughts were running through my head.  We don't use credit cards anymore so the loss of the cash was big.  Angus had his debit card but mine was in my purse, so was our check book, of course.  If we canceled mine would he still be able to get money with his card or did it put a hold on the account?  It was Sunday,the bank was closed.   

We live in a small town and so we know our banker and we called him at home.  He told us to call the bank first thing in the morning, any charges would be covered.  Not very comforted by that information, we went back to the table.  We discussed it all.  I told them that for me, the worst of it was knowing people do stuff like that.  I kind of shakes your faith in humanity.  That sounds dumb, I know, but I want to believe, I do believe that most folks do the right thing when they can.  Jenita told us that when her purse was stolen, they had grabbed all the cash out of it and tossed it in the nearest dumpster.  Perhaps we could call the police in that town and they could find the purse, maybe the debit card and check book would still be within.  

That sounded promising so we went back outside to make the call.  Angus had his new early Father's Day gift, a Garmin, and it gave us the local Police number for Morgantown, Kentucky.  The officer who answered was efficient and polite with his deep southern drawl.  He  didn't make me feel like an idiot (okay, not any more of an idiot than I already did).  He took our phone number and said would send someone out to check on it.

My head was still spinning.  I kept thinking of more and more things that had been in that bag.  My digital camera. My school keys.  Angus was quiet and calm, he's used to me doing dumb stuff.  We headed back in and sat down with the rest of the crew.  There, laying on the table between us was a stack of bills.  I didn't know what to say when I saw it.  I looked searchingly at Angus who hadn't  seen it yet.  They'd taken up a little collection for us, these people... most of whom we barely knew.  They had collected $300 in those few minutes we were out.  Tears welled in my eyes.  I had been pretty careful about how I was feeling, nothing seemed real until then.  Their generosity moved me back to my faith in humanity again.  Yes, I know there are bad people, lots of them.  But I still think that they are outnumbered by normal people who do the right thing.  It just doesn't get the attention.

As we were finishing up our meal Angus got the call back.  The purse had been found.  It appeared that everything was intact he said.  We decided to go back the 88 miles to retrieve it.  The rest of the group would go on and we'd, hopefully, meet them at the Henderson Settlement before dark.

In all the excitement we almost forgot to pay for our meal but when we went back to check on it one of the people from Nixa had paid already paid for it.

We called the police when we got into the tiny town and he met us in the parking lot of the local Dollar Store.  He was a big ol' boy and pulled up in his big black SUV.  He didn't even get out of the vehicle, just reached his arm out and handed it out the window, telling me again, he thought it hadn't been messed with but he didn't know what it had looked like before.  Sure enough, everything was there.  Everything.  I was thrilled.  He told us there are two of that gas station in town and we'd probably been given the phone number of the wrong one.  I said I'd sure like to give him a big hug.  He laughed and told us that "Oh, no.  This is a small town and everyone'll hear about it."  Laughed again and was on his way.  

That's it.  We returned all the money given us but we kept the love that had come with it.  Our hearts were filled with such gratitude that every one of those 15 people felt like kin.  The couple who'd bought  our meal refused to be reimbursed.  We missed the evening devotions but arrived at our destination just as it was growing dark.  Heard our names called out from a porch swing as we drove slowly through the peaceful Settlement in the foggy dusk of the surrounding hills.  We were greeted and hugged and settled in quickly. It was peace And we felt ready for whatever adventures lay ahead.

I've been accused of being an idealist so many times.  It's always used in a derogatory manner which puzzles me.  So I looked up the word to make sure it meant what I thought it meant.

i⋅de⋅al⋅ist

  [ahy-dee-uh-list] 

–noun

1.	a person who cherishes or pursues high or noble principles, purposes, goals, etc.

2.	a visionary or impractical person.

3.	a person who represents things as they might or should be rather than as they are.

4.	a writer or artist who treats subjects imaginatively.

5.	a person who accepts the doctrines of idealism. What's so wrong with that?  -to believe that people can change?  that there is hope for the future?  that life is good and should be treasured?  Guilty.

One bird chirps outside my window. One bird in the dark. He chirps again, proud to be the one who calls forth the morning. A gentle breeze filters through the screen and as it brushes over me I arise. I close the window and lower the shades so Angus will sleep another few hours after working through much of the night.

I don’t want to miss a moment of the awakening world so I hurry, grab my robe and tiptoe down the stairs. Not wanting to invade my world with artificial light, I maneuver easily through the darkness to the kitchen. The numerals shine at me from the microwave clock, 5:55. By the glow I choose a mug, the one Zeke brought me back from the Petrified Forest, fill it with yesterday’s coffee and zap it for 50 seconds. It is stuffy in the house and I am impatient to get outside. I open the back door and step into the place between night and morning.

My wake-up bird is still calling, singing out his joy. I hear “This is the day the Lord hath made!” in his four little notes and my mind sings the answering “Let us rejoice and be glad in it!” The chairs are still stored for winter so I sit cross-legged on the deck, facing the woods beyond and listen to the world wake up. The silhouettes of the trees stand out against the gray sky. Another bird sings out from the Hackberry tree beside me and the duet begins.

There is a refreshing breeze and it plays with the little dragonfly chimes and sprinkles tinkling notes as more birds begin to join the chorus. Now and then the breeze picks up and the bamboo chimes chunk its bass tones into the melody. An owl barks out a single “hoot” and a turkey “gobbles” every few bars. He must’ve been roosting in the trees out back and knowing this sends a wave of pleasure through me.

I notice the tops of the trees waving their arms to the morning music. The sky is already lightening into a pale gray and I can make out the lovely white branches of the sycamore by the creek. There is still no color in the dawning sky so the Red Bud, in full bloom looks as if it has been swallowed by a cloud. The slender branches of the Maple sway gently and even the knobby, angled branches of the Hickory dance.

The breeze is growing stronger, probably bringing with it the rain predicted later in the day. The chimes become a frenzy of tinkles and clunking and the birds are a full choir now. A squirrel chatters at me and urges me to get on with my day. I reluctantly stand, my mug now empty but my heart is full. I have been gladdened and feel grateful for life. Today I start my day with joy.

My "baby" sister, Pete, is 14 years younger than I. When I was off to college she would save her pie crust in a tupperware in the fridge, because I loved pie crust. Of course, I didn't love old stale pie crust all by itself but... guess what? When I'd come home she'd run to me, excitedly carrying that little square dish with the treasure inside! So pleased was she with her offering that what could I do but sit and gag it down pretending to love every bite? That's how much I love her.

Last night I dreamed that Pete had died and I was dealing with it well when suddenly it came to me how she is the glue that holds our family together. There are five of us "kids" and my parents and 16 neices and nephews and at least 6 great-neices and newphews by now in our family. It occurred to me how she is the one who calls when someone is in the hospital, she is the one who shoots out the newsy emails, she is the one who pulls together the family get-togethers and sets in motion the big events. I also suddenly realized ( all this in a dream!) how very much I would miss her if she were gone. That's when I suddenly couldn't breathe and that woke me..

I woke and started breathing again, realizing it had been a dream and recognizing that I had dreamed this before but not remembered. In the confusion of waking, with taht ache still in my heart, I wondered if I had dreamed it because it had really happened and for a few moments, trying to wake up, trying to remember, I came to the conclusion that she is fine and dandy living with her young family in the city. Oh, but those few moments...

I thought about my friend, El, who has those dreams about her son and wakes with that fuzz, hoping it was just a dream, only to conclude that it is her new reality. The death of Dane is real. I sent up another prayer for his family.

I thought about how very much I love Pete, and how I take that so for granted. I thought about how death can snatch any of us away in an instant. Who else do I love don't even think about it? There are so many!

I'll call my sister, Pete, today. By the way, I'm the only one who calls her Pete and she loves me enough to like that (I think). I'll tell her that I notice all she does and I'll tell her that I love her.

Two weeks ago tomorrow the most horrible tragedy occurred. Our closest friends' 22 year old son was killed. Their only son. Their beloved, full-of-joy, so-much-potential son. My four sons' "other brother".

Grief is mostly unfamiliar to me so as I watched that awful day unfold I was totally awed by, well, everything. I hugged them both at once as they cried those raw words into my ears, the words I hear over and over again with the same agony and despair "I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do." I didn't either. Helpless.

There were many other things wept out that day with the same anguish as they tried to grasp, to understand. In the history of me it was the worst day, the worst week, of my life... and he wasn't even my son. How does one go on from that? How do you be a friend through that?

But, oh, there was so much good as well. People came. Some jumped into their cars as soon as they heard. Others brought food. People answered phones. Made lists. Made plans. The house was filled with love and respect. And, while I was there the whole day I did nothing but stay by El's side. I would move away when someone new came in to give her love but would move back as soon as they moved on. She needed touch. She needed love. But I felt useless. She needed something none of us could give her.

It haunts me. Sleep eludes. Work is meaningless. People around me don't "get it". My God and music have gotten me through. It is amazing to me how healing music can be. As if, someone else out there understands what this family, this friendship, is going through.

I came across this beautiful song, lyrics below, sung by Greg Long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Help Somebody Cry

Someone you care about has a broken heart
You want to be a friend but you don’t know where to start
There are no words to speak that could ever be enough
How can you show them your love?

Help somebody cry
Be there for the tears
God will use your life
To show them he is near
There’s no easy way
To make it feel alright
When you don’t have the answer to why
Help somebody cry

Time may heal the wound
But that doesn’t matter now
So lend a friend your faith
Walk them through the doubt

Help somebody cry
Be there for the tears
God will use your life
To show that he is near
There’s no easy way
To make it feel alright
When you don’t have the answer to why
Help somebody cry

Sometimes there’s nothing you can do
But hold somebody’s hand and pray them through
There are no words to speak
That can ever be enough
How can you show them your love?
Help somebody cry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today is El's birthday. There will be no celebrating. If you pray, please do so for the family of Dane Nelson ~ his parents, sister & brother-in-law, his bride of 6 months, his friends, and his students. And realize how fragile life is and how quickly it can be snatched away. Go hug your loved ones right now.

In no hurry at all, I pushed my cart down the wide aisle of T@rget heading toward the registers.  I glanced down each row as I passed, just checking out the items to see if there was anything else I'd missed.  

That's when I noticed this.  A dark-haired child with her back to me, maybe 3 years old, sitting in a cart.  A man gently sliding a small barrette into her hair.  She had leaned toward him a bit so that her hair hung perfectly straight, her face tilted up.

I know.  I only was walking by, maybe four steps was the scene in my view.  It doesn't seem like anything of note does it?  But, oh, the tenderness with which the man did this small task.  The way she seemed so accustomed to the act.  The palpable love shared between them... well, it moved me.

I feel so blessed to have witnessed it.

I awoke to the sound of chirping outside my window.  I couldn't resist opening my eyes to see what this mysterious bird could be, so happy on this first really cold day of November.  Within my view was one fat fellow cheerily pulling dried hackberries from the branches.  Grabbing my glasses and raising myself higher I found that it was a robin and there were several more of his companions doing the same.  The surrounding trees were full of singing robins, no doubt thrilled to find such bounty when most food sources appear to be gone.  The sharp wind was blowing their feathers inside-out but they didn't seem to mind as they cheerily filled their bellies before they continued their flight south.

I smiled and reminded myself that it is time to take down the hummingbird feeders and hang the bird feeders.  What a great way to begin the day opening one's eyes to the simple joys of the world.  It would go on to be a very good day.

~This is the day the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.~

Zeke is spending his summer in the deep South. He is living and working in the heart of West Jackson, Mississippi. (Fred, isn't that the part of town you warned him to stay out of?) I think he is loving it!

He is working as an intern at Voice of Calvary Ministries, helping with their Summer Youth Program. They do school work enrichment and also take field trips and fun stuff. After work every day the kids insist he play football with them, so this soccer player plays football in the deepest Mississippi heat and goes home hot and drenched in sweat and happy.

He's living in a house with 5 other interns. They have no internet service and often spend their evenings sitting on the front porch. They are getting to know their neighbors and he says all the neighborhood kids from 5 to 20 years old come on over to inspect the white kids living in their midst. The little kids all want to feel his soft blond curls and he lets them... gets a kick out of it.

One Friday in mid-June he drove 9 hours to be in a friend's wedding, then turned around and drove back Sunday morning. Angus and I met up with him on Saturday just in time to see him all decked out in a fancy tux, he had not gotten his hair cut, but it was so good to see him.

He was a Groomsmen, also played guitar and sang. It was a lovely wedding and we visited with him a bit at the reception but there was so little time!It had only been a month since I had seen him but he had already changed and grown. A friend once told me when your child goes away to college it's like getting to know someone new every time you meet up again. She was right. It seems they change as much as they did when they were babies, only now it is in a less predictable pattern but every bit as fascinating!

Saturday was Zeke's birthday and I spread the word among his friends and relatives. Having a summer birthday, he's spent many of them away from home on family vacations , at Camp Galilee, at a soccer tourney in Minnesota and at the Sonshine Festival. But always he'd been with people who knew it was his birthday. I doubted if he'd even care if no one knew about it but I thought it would be cool if he got a bunch of cards on his day.

He did! He called on the Friday before and asked me if I think he is 7 years old? I laughed as I could hear the pleasure and joy in his voice behind the mock disgust. He'd already gotten the gift we sent and several cards, one with five bucks in it. (Remember when it was a thrill to get $5?)

He had to work Saturday morning at a Youth Rally in the park. It was his second one and he already knew it would be a fun day. A TV crew showed up and was taping and he made it on the WLBT TV News that evening!

His GrammaJo ordered a cheese cake at the Broad Street Bakery in Jackson(found on the internet) and all he had to do was go pick it up. He's not much for cake so we always have cheesecake on his birthday. Bet he didn't expect it this year. Surprise! He shared it with his new friends that evening.

A good kid. A good day. A good life.

The thundershower rolled in just as my extended family were all arriving for our Father's Day picnic. Thirty minutes earlier the sun had been shining but we could see the clouds rolling in from the west so I had gone ahead and set up everything indoors. The guests ran into the house laughing with rain-splattered backs and soggy shoes. By the time we'd finished eating, the rain had passed and off the kids went to explore. Sometimes I forget how fascinated kids are with frogs and tadpoles and flowers. They followed me around like the Pied Piper intrigued by the herb garden and wanting to taste them all...dill, cilantro, parsley, thyme, basil, chives.... They searched the vines for ripe peas in the garden and held out their little hands for more, more. They plucked the ripe mulberries as high as they could reach then persuaded their 14 year old cousin to pick for them. Life is sweet when you are two or three or four.

Their feet were muddy, their fingers purple and when their uncle sliced the watermelon they ate with abandon not caring at all that the sweet juices dripped off their chins and soaked the fronts of their shirts. Life is full of joy when you are one or two or three or four.

And when I see them full of sweet joy at the wonders of life it makes me joyful, too. It makes me remember to be grateful for the gift of each new day. So after they had all gone home I wandered over to the mulberry tree and I pulled off berry after berry and plunked them into my mouth, one by one savoring each one. I'd forgotten how sweet life can be... when we pay attention to the joy and forget about the messiness.

CJ called me on May 23rd and his first words were "We have a baby". He had begun every phone conversation in the previous month with the words "No baby yet". It was very sweet to hear the new words. I mentioned that he sounded out of breath and he informed me that he was lying down...the nurse had insisted on it because he was hyperventilating. I had to laugh out loud. He told me he had taken almost 100 photos already in the hour since Patrick's birth. He was so proud, so pleased, so happy.

It's still a little hard to think of him as a dad. Not that I don't think him capable of being a father and a good one... it's just that I don't always think of him as an adult, much less a man responsible for a family!

He graduated from high school in 2000 went off to college, got married, moved to Arizona. He rarely came home from college and we only see him once or twice a year now. So we pretty much missed those maturing years into real adulthood.

He has always been self-assured and independent. When he was a young teen I had no problems leaving him in charge of his 3 younger brothers because the kid had a head on his shoulders, cool in emergencies and confident in his decisions.

Interestingly, as fatherhood fast-approached, we received almost daily phone calls asking questions about his childhood, or babies, or nursing or just wanting to know our thoughts on something. He even told me that he'd been thinking a lot about the kind of father that he wants to be, what parts of his own dad he wants to find in himself and what parts he wants to leave behind. He was thinking about the values he wants to instill in his child and what kind of father and husband he wants to be.

I was blown away. He has always marched to his own drum, never taken anyone's advice about anything... one of those kids that had to learn the hard way. He's always been sharp but I've never know him to be philosophical!

I am impressed and so proud of him and what he has become - and is becoming ... A good man, a confident father, a compassionate husband, and a caring son.

Wow.

CJ looked up just in time to see the cat take a swipe at their 2 day old baby! He flew to Petey's rescue, scooping up the cat and throwing her across the room. He was ready to boot the cat out the door never to be seen again but Ana remained calm. Petey had only some tiny little marks on his face. Obviously, the cat just "tapped" him, teaching him a lesson about who is boss... she is bigger and older afterall.

I recall that my dog, Fido, never got used to baby CJ. She continued to growl whenever he was in the vicinity so when he started crawling at 5 months, the dog found a new home at my sister's. (Thank you, Aunt Dandy!)

What will become of CJ and Ana's feline friends? They are keeping the cats, Mini and Maxi, in a separate room from Petey now, unless he is being held. Time will tell how they will adjust to their new "brother".

"Evil Cat" Maxi doesn't even look one bit guilty for picking on a 2 day old!

I've had writer's block for so long. Nothing seemed worthy of writing about. Not that my life is boring but it just didn't seem like I had anything to say that others would be interested in.

May was crazy. I had started a new job in January as the Middle School Librarian and had never been through the end of year inventory and all that craziness. Bo graduated from high school, Kev graduated from college and we had a grand celebration for them. Oh, and there was a wedding slipped in there, too. I was able to get my garden in between every thing. Ana graduated with a Doctorate in Pharmacy and then gave birth to our first grandbaby a week later. That was May. Wonderful, fabulous, fun-filled May.

Then it all calmed down and my life has slipped into slow motion. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Can you hear my sighing? I was sitting in the sun just enjoying life. I felt more alive than I had in months. I'd been so weary, just going through the motions but not putting my heart into anything. I have so much to be grateful for but I can feel my life shifting gears. I can feel my role changing. I'm not sure yet where it will go but I know that change is in the air and I am ready.

So I sat lazily in the sun with a weightless sense of relief and joying washing over me, felling no guilt whatsoever for my idleness. For now, for at least that one shining afternoon, all was well with my world. I felt such a sense of peace.

I glanced around me and started to write. My thoughts just flowed out of me and I scribbled onto my yellow legal pad for 6 full pages. Life is full of surprises!

I AM A GRANDMA!!!

It has taken some time to sink in really, since we are here and they are there. Although CJ took many photos he didn't have the means to download pics until they all went home a couple of days later. Can you imagine what torture that was for all of us grandparents??

Patrick Ostein was born on May 23, 8 lbs,4.5 oz. in Tucson, Arizona ~ named after Angus' father (Patrick) and Ana's grandfather (Ostein), both of whom passed over a year ago. Isn't he gorgeous?

They thought they had planned it all with perfect timing to have the baby born right after her graduation, leaving her time off after graduation to be with the baby and study for her Boards before getting a real job (hopefully close us). Unbelievably, it worked out just as they had planned!

We haven't actually seen him yet. We haven't gotten to wrap our arms around the parents or hold the babe in our arms yet. Because they are there and we are here. It has been so hard.

Jennie's mom flew down yesterday and I am sure Ana is so grateful to have her. We are going out in 2 weeks and I am counting down the days!

God is good and life is so very sweet...

I am sitting here in the sunshine on this first day of June. It's humid and the sweat drips off my forehead onto my notebook. My hands are glistening with perspiration but, well... it feels good... the heat. It's been a long cold spring.

It's like when the kids come trundling into the house from college laden with dirty laundry and dragging guitars and amps and cords all of which get dropped in the living room. Yet they also bring laughter and music and joy back into our quiet home. It is all good.

It feels like that, this coming of summer. And just as I am so glad for the kids to come home again I am also glad for their leaving in the fall even as I feel the regret of the lonelier months to come.

Everything changes. But life is still good.

"Serving Our Lord One Hotdog at a Time" is announced on the tee shirts of the volunteers handing out free lunch at the Christian Church of North Kansas City. The program was originally started to help the poor and homeless in this mostly industrial town but it wasn't long before the students at the local high school heard about free lunch on Wednesdays. Nothing brings kids running like free food.

Did the church chase them away telling them they were not the intended recipients of these free meals? No way! They took it all on. Their first week, in 2004, they served about 40 people. Now it they have more than 900 students each week ... and anyone else who walks in. With an active membership of about 250 they took on the cost of the annual $19,000 to cover it.

They have over 20 dedicated volunteers, mostly retired folk, who show up each week to dole out the hotdogs and a dose of love requiring only a bit of manners; the removal of their hats in the church and a thank you.

I graduated from NKC High over 30 years ago. The buildings were ancient even then and landlocked. I had gone to a modern high school the year before and found the old stone buildings beautiful and filled with character. The cafeteria just couldn't accomodate the number of students so, out of neccessity, we were given some freedom. We could leave the building at lunch time, on our own, and go wherever we wanted to go... so long as we didn't go in a car and we were back for our next class. We were heady with this freedom. There were no fast food places within walking distance and you really cut it close if you tried to eat at one of the few restaurants, so kids mostly just wandered, went to the park or the convenience store. There was nothing to do, no place to eat but we could leave... so we did.

I try to think back and imagine how wonderful it would have been to have a safe place to hang out for awhile and to feel welcomed and loved on top of that! I work in a Middle School now and I know for sure that most of the kids that are walking on the edge could be pulled back if they just had anyone who cared, someone who made them feel valued.

I heap my blessings on this church and its ministry of love. They started a program and it went in God's direction instead of the way they thought it would go. And they let it; they let God. They trusted and were servants and it grew. They took a chance. So many of us don't.

What is it Mother Teresa said? ~Something about preaching without preaching...

The line to vote was long but the church was warm and the line was moving quickly. I was finally near the front and I visited with the friendly lady checking our names at the table. She commented on what at sweet little boy my toddler was. Suddenly it was my turn and as I looked to the polling booth my mind quickly assessed what to do with my son while I was in there. Was it even legal to take him in with me? (I was young and stupid) The lady must have read my mind as she said “Go on. I’ll watch him.”

So, I guess that’s how it happens. You are young and hopeful and new to motherhood or tired in motherhood and you are weak or weary or confused and, for just a moment, you trust. You trust someone, or you trust society or you trust fate. For just a moment. That’s how kids get snatched or squashed or baked or broken or abused.

I hear those stories in the news of those children and those mothers and I hear the blaming tones of we who hear them, the accusing chants of neglect. “How could she let that happen?” …throwing the first stone.

It ended well for us. When I came out of the booth three minutes later CJ was gone. Gone. The nice lady was talking to someone else totally oblivious to the fact that CJ was gone. Gone. The word strikes fear into my heart still.

The line of voters was orderly and lined up against the wall. The room was empty of one very small blond boy. Where could he be? I called him and got nothing but dumb looks from the folks in line. I began searching but there wasn’t much to search so I headed down the line toward the door. He couldn’t have opened that big heavy door, couldn’t have even reached the handle. But where else? My heart pounded and I was panicky but not yet ready to let all these strangers know how stupid I was, so I willed myself calm. I opened the door and there he was. My adventurous child just standing there waiting for me patiently. He had wandered past 30 people and outside without anyone stopping him. It would have been impossible to have not noticed him and someone had held the door open for him! These people were not busy they were just standing there waiting in line!

I still get angry when I think about it all. I was angry at the “nice” lady, angry at those strangers who must have known a 2 year old walking down a long corridor and heading outside to the parking lot alone was not right. Mostly though, I was angry at myself. How could I have been so stupid? So careless with the most precious thing in my life? I was able to chalk it up to another very valuable and well-learned life lesson.

But I know that it could have ended differently so when the news hits of another child left in a car or a bathtub for just a second or not taken to the Dr. soon enough or wandering out of a home in his PJs in the middle of a frigid night or taken at the mall or the park … well, you know the list goes on. It happens and we know, if we are honest, it could have been us. My heart goes out.

“You can’t be too careful”. I have heard that said often but I think you can be too careful. We should be diligently cautious for sure. But, as in all things, balance is the key. We trust. Sometimes we must. Without trust there is no hope. Without hope there is no life. Balance.

I work in a school and I see the parents that are too careful. They do not love their children more than others do but they think they do. Their kids are sheltered and often weak and, well, helpless and will remain so. Or they’ll be embarrassed, frustrated or angry and hateful to those same parents who love them so much. They don’t understand their need to try (and possibly fail) in order to succeed and build their self-confidence. You can be too careful.

I learned that from a very small blond pig-headed boy who was fearless from day one. Sometimes I was careless for a moment, or he was… or fate was. He was in the hands of God and an arrogant surgeon at the age of 6 months. With a skull split open from hairline to the middle of the back of his head he learned to crawl in the hospital bed… with a big grim on his face. At age one he walked over to the slide and climbed to the top while I was picking beans. I looked up just in time to see him standing there, looking down, deciding if he could go without me to catch him at the bottom. Ha. He barely hesitated, slid down and landed on his very padded rump. Looked over at me to see if I had seen him and was proud. When he was two, he survived wandering down the middle of the road looking for his Daddy mowing out there while I napped. The list goes on right into the teen years (but I didn’t hear about those adventures until much later.)

I guess you’ve got to know your kid. Figure out how much rope they need. By age 10 he was dying to be left home alone now and then. He was ready. He was so ready to be on his own to college and I’m sure didn’t have one minute of homesickness. He was ready. We learned. He was fearless. He fell a lot. He got back up. The UnderToad tried to snatch him away from me more times than I’ll ever know and yet he is still with us today. And now, he’s gonna be a daddy himself in a few months.

So I’d say to him - Be cautious. Be watchful. Be aware. Be prepared. Be careful… but not too careful. Trust… but not too much. Balance. Let him live! Let him feel the joy of accomplishment that comes from effort and sometimes even pain. Trust God. Pray often and love always!

No, we did not forget to pay our phone bill.

Living out in the country has many benefits but the availability of access to high-speed internet is not among them. We could get it with satellite but our satellite service is none to dependable either so we've trudged along... soooo slooow! It has been a great source of frustration.

We recently went to mobile broadband for our internet service and it's working out great. The boys can use it for their laptops or we can plug it in to our dinosaur-of-a-computer for wireless internet service. It's quicker, too, but then... what isn't quicker than dial-up?! The cost is about what we were paying for our internet server before we switched, so by giving up our land line we will actually save money, too.

So... we think we have outgrown our land line and have had it disconnected. We were paying extra for the Kansas City line and also fees for long distance even though we never, ever used our land line for long distance calling. We really didn't use it much for anything except the internet... so now it's GONE. Feels weird not having a "real" phone but I'm told that is the trend and you know we are so very trendy. Now we just all have our own cell phones; five of them!

I admit I am "stupid about cell phones" as Beau says. I hardly ever use it and it is not usually charged because it goes dead between uses. I mostly forget I even have it except when Angus calls to ask where I am or Beau calls to tell me he'll be out late. Quite unlike the boys... who sleep with theirs cells on their pillows! Anyway, I'll try to change my casual habits and become just as cell phone-dependent as the rest of the gang.

One more change ~ When we first switched I sent everyone our new email address at Yahoo but CJ pointed out to us that if we use our Gmail account, they have a "pop server" available for free and we can just keep using Microsoft Outlook Express with it. Huh? We didn't have to transfer any addresses or anything; use the same address book, same set up. Just a different pop server!

Okay, I don't understand it either but it works. We don't have to go to the website and log in to get mail. It does it automatically whenever we are connected.

I am learning so much! I've been kicked right into the tech~generation!

It was one of those perfect Autumn days. The was day sunny and warm but there was a crispness in the air and a cool breeze. The sun had already dropped below the horizon but the sky was filled with soft colors as we stood for the national anthem at Beau's soccer game. The American flag waved gently against the peach sky as the soccer announcer began to sing. "Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light?.." His strong, heavenly voice melted into the beautiful scene before us.

I was taking it all in, feeling grateful we are fortunate enough to have such a beautiful voice lead us. My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of children laughing. Perhaps it was coming from the playground of the school across the road and behind us. It grew louder and I realized it was the sound of honking geese... and then they flew into view. They flew in their V-formation, singing along with us, across the sky and toward the flag, through the pastel sky, above the silhouetted trees. It was an image that will stay with me forever.... a perfectly God-painted moment.

The soccer boys later made jokes about how the Chiefs get Blue Angel fly-bys at their games and we Canada Geese.

Ours was better. ☺

I have not left the face of the planet, at least not bodily. Lots of everyday craziness... jumping back into my job after loafing all summer, Beau's senior year soccer season, an opportunity to change positions at work and training my replacement while trying to get everything done that I normally do. Anyway, I never thought I would say this but, as we head into the Christmas season, things are winding DOWN for me and I am looking forward to Christmas just like when the boys were little!

Oh, yeah, and got the news that I am going to become a granny in May!!!

I am so fortunate to start my work day with a drive through three miles of desolate country roads. I am constantly being surprised by the simple beauty in this common everyday world. I think most people just see dust and weeds and trees that have grown too far over the road.

There's the isolated corner were people sometimes come to dump their old sofas and trash they don't want to pay to have hauled off. I guess that's pretty much what I notice on my way home, too. In fact a lot of times I'll even take the longer route going home just to avoid the gravel.

I am not sure why I am still surprised by the what I find around the curves and over the hills every morning. The landscape itself doesn't change; fields and woods, a creek crossing, a pond, an old abandoned house... and gravel. But the look of it is constantly changing.

In Autumn leaves change color gradually, deepening and finally dropping and leaving their lovely litter to pile and blow across the gravel. It is a new experience daily.

Winter days are often dull but the mornings are always frosted. That which I hate on my windshield is beautiful on branches, grass stems, seed pods and vines. There is nothing as lovely as ice on the fences and snow changes everything with its soft pure blanket covering the dust. Often the rising sun shines through the morning sky making the frost, ice or snow sparkle.

Spring is washed afresh with the rains and the gray turns green with bud and leaves. Piles of fluffy white wild flowers grow and reach out as I drive by changing to Black-eyed Susans and blue Chicory as Spring grows into summer.

There is often fog at any time of year and it is always magical as passing through a soft dream.

I see deer regularly but am always fascinated. Turkeys are also regular visitors, sometimes singly but usually in flocks. One time I startled a turkey who was starting to wander across the road as I came over a hill. He lifted his hulking body into the air and flew over the hood of my car and up into a tree on the other side of the road. I wondered if his heart stopped for that moment as mine did!

I have only touched the surface of the beauty I get to enjoy every day. I try to use my drive time to reflect on the blessings around me. I try to use it to put me in a place where I can pass that joy and contentment on later in the day. I usually forget it though... until the next day when I am once again reminded of God's gifts that surround us and we don't recognize them.

I am so thankful that he gives me another chance, every single day, no matter how badly I messed up the day before, no matter how much I disappointed him, he gives me a new start every morning. I think God has faith in me. Sometimes that's what keeps me going.

He has faith in you, too.

This is kind of a long story that I have needed to tell for awhile but just couldn't. Thank you to Shelly at Can I Borrow Your Life for nudging me.

In August of 2003 I lost my dear friend, Sandy, in a car crash. It was my first experience with a close, unexpected death. I took it hard. I dropped about 10 pounds in two weeks because I forgot to eat and wasn't hungry. My thoughts were consumed with Sandy and what she was and what the world, my world, would be like without her in it? Had I appreciated her enough? (no) Did she know I loved her? (yes) What would her kids do? (she had 4) What would her parents do? (she was their only) My mind just would not stop.

She worked right beside me every day. One evening her family came in and cleaned out her area without our knowing. I walked into our small office the following morning and it was such a shock to look over there and see nothing of her! I burst into sobbing and just turned around and went home without saying a word.

I really started thinking about the value of life and how we live it and how we should be living it. I thought about Sandy and how she was one of those people that wasn't very involved in her church and didn't go to church all the time and I really didn't know how deep her faith was. But she lived the way we ought to.

She was kind to everyone without exception, even those who didn't have her best interest at heart (like her Ex). She knew the name of every salesman or repairman that walked in, if not when he arrived then by the time he left. ...And how many kids he had and probably their names, too!

People she barely knew would stop by just to say hello to her and she was never too busy for them no matter how much she had on her plate. We joked about "Here comes your new best friend" when we saw some of them walking up to the door, but that's the thing... She treated everyone, and I mean it, everyone, as if they were her family.

Why couldn't I do that? Me, who professed to be a Christian (with far more involvement and spirituality than she). I knew she had it right by the Great Commandment and I was still struggling with it all.

Three weeks after Sandy's death Vince and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary. We took a weekend getaway to Lawrence, Kansas. With all the thoughts of life and death and such I had also been reevaluating my marriage.

Vince and I are incredibly different in temperament and personality and even the way we think. We usually get to the same place but it often takes some negotiating. I decided it was worth it. It's kind of like that "Jerry McGuire" movie where he says "You complete me." I've heard people make wisecracks about that statement but it is why we are still hanging in there. When we do work together it can be amazing and wonderful. I wanted that to happen more.

While we were in the little college town that weekend, I got my tattoo. It was a plan, not spontaneous. I wanted a dragonfly rising from the water. I had designed the line of water with a "V" and an "S" gently curved into it. Whenever I looked at it I would be reminded that I love Vince and also to carry on Sandy's example for living.

A butterfly is too pretty and gentle for me. A dragonfly is born in the water and changes into a predatory flying insect. It is in the "good bug" category since it consumes huge numbers of nasty mosquitos. It is an amazing insect to me, to be so bold and tough and so full of life as it darts around the ponds ands fields. I am so not-prissy or gentle or beautiful (Is that why God gave me 4 sons?). I thought the dragonfly was a much better representation of who I am. No, I'm not a predator but I'll fight for what I believe in.

So, now you know the secret of my tattoo. Many people have asked why the tat and why the dragonfly but I never fill in the details. Now you know. (Shhhh~don't tell anyone.)

~~~~~~~~~

Okay, did any of you notice that my tattoo is not really a dragonfly? Most people think it is though and I wish it was so ... They told me it was a dragonfly and I was so excited and scared at the time that I didn't notice the antennae, which dragonflies do not have, and the wings are shaped wrong, too. Haha. A dragonfly that's not right. The jokes on me! I'm just pretending to know what's going on but in reality I am just skimming the surface. How just.

The tattoo is perfect for me.
~~~~~~~~~~

~P.S. Vince and I just hit #29 and still rollin'

I've been trying to "Let go and let God" because I didn't know what else to do! Yesterday I had a breakthrough (FINALLY!) and things will start getting back to normal. I'd love to tell you all about it but can't think of a way to do it without sounding whiny and self-pityish )OH, poor me) SO... suffice it to say that yesterday I was full, full, full to brimmin' with thanks to God all the way home from work. "Thank you God, Thank you God, Thank you God" The deadline had been fast approaching but I could not see a way to resolve anything. Don't know if he actually helped me through it all in any way except keeping me calm and sane and Ithat is what I most needed. For that I am so grateful!

More good news. When I got home I checked my email and had sold another book on Amazon! YEAH! If only I had realized how easy it is to buy and sell college text books at Amazon Marketplace I'd have done it years ago! I started last year and sold several at so much more than the pittance at which the schools will buy them back.

This year has been even better since Kevin decided to sell most of his Business books and they have been snapped right up.

Anyway, don't be afraid to try it. Contact me if you want to, and I'll help you out getting started but it really is easy and helps out with those ridiculous book expenses. Kev hardly cracks a book so they are mostly in great shape (now that's putting a positive spin on things, isn't it?) but even Zeke's books with highlighting have sold well.

Anyway, life is good and God is good, all the time.

Have you ever been so busy that your mind wakes up an hour before the 6 a.m. alarm every day and you hit the ground running, barely taking the time to breathe and definitely not smelling many roses?

What do you do?

I woke and the alarm clock glowed 5:22.... too early to get up. I almost rolled over and went back to sleep when I remembered the Perseid Meteor Shower. It was supposed to peak at 4:30 a.m. I thought maybe if I got up I could still catch a bit of it.

The debate in my mind, whether it was worth getting up for, actually awakened me so I did get up. I grabbed a blanket to lay on and stepped outside. It was still so humid but surprisingly cool so I grabbed another blanket to cover up with.

I laid down and gazed up at the darkened sky. There were some streaks of clouds and the sky had already lightened enough that not a lot of stars were visible, but I was comfy and it is always amazing to stare into the night sky so I stayed.

I stared into the sky and thought about all the zillions of stars up there. I knew there were also meteors out there whizzing past the earth, too. But I couldn’t see them. As many as 80 per hour at peak the newsperson had said. Even at half that I should be seeing some… and then I did.

It was so quick but it was there and I saw it. I thought what a beautiful miracle it was. I remembered the time Angus and I were young and had been driving home late one night from the city. We caught a meteor shower through the windshield and we hadn’t known it was going on so it caught us by surprise. Some were quick and short but others were bright and had long trails across the black sky. We delighted and pointed, “Oh! Look at that one! Did you see that one?“ It just kept on and on, one after the other. We were so amazed and grateful… but after awhile we just stopped paying attention, even as they continued to streak through the sky.

Isn’t that how it is with God’s wonderful miracles? Like the stars, they are out there all the time. Constantly surrounding us but not always visible. Most of the time we don’t even notice because we see them so often we don’t even think of them as miracles any more.

The mosquitoes were buzzing me by then. The first high-pitched singer started buzzing me soon after I’d laid down, so I had covered myself neck to toe with the blanket and waved it away if it came in too close. After I saw my “shooting star” I quit watching. I rolled over and covered my head, too.

I had seen a meteor and I thought I would just lay there and listen to the world awaken. The crickets made beautiful background music for my soprano mosquito. Soon an alto joined her and then another. I honestly did not know that mosquitoes sound different but these three definitely all had their own individual songs. I didn’t enjoy it though and I jumped up, grabbed the blankets (flinging my glasses somewhere beyond onto the lawn) and ran back into the house.

While I was crawling around in the grass feeling for my glasses, I thought about how distracted we get from all that God has to offer us… all of his plans for us, too. Or we just flat out ignore them because it is hot under the blanket and we don’t like what’s going on around us any way. So we split. Take the easy way and miss the opportunities. We wander around blindly until daylight comes and we see a glint in the grass and we can see again but only because we searched!

...Okay, I’ll quit. I just get like this sometimes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm not there yet...

Sometimes I think God gave us husbands so we will keep perspective in our lives.

This morning I read Swampwitch's post about being the mother of the bride and some of her personal horrors as she prepares for the wedding. This excerpt made me laugh out loud. This is she talking to her really empathetic husband:

"Can you see my zit?"
"Not if you put your hand over your nose or if I shut my eyes."

I love it.

Her drama with getting sick before the wedding and everything else that was not going right brought back my son's wedding to me. It was three yeats ago.

I needed a just-right dress. I thought it would be easy but I was oh-so-wrong! It was about a week before the wedding and I still didn't have it. Everything I could find was either spaghetti-strap prom, matronly or beaded/glittery. I am none of the above. Oh, yeah, and it had to be a color that at least didn't clash with the bridesmaids and the mother of the bride. AND it had to fit my weird skinny-limbs-broad-shoulders-big-butt figure. Where were other women finding those gorgeous dresses? I hate shopping for clothes anyway and I found myself shopping for hours on end.

That's bad... because when I shop and don't find what I want, well, I settle. I start seeing possibilities in things. I found a dress that I thought would do. It was a blue similar to the mother of the bride's dress, which she was making herself, by the way. It was big but it wasn't shiny or fancy, which neither am I. ...it had possibilities.

It was way too big, even for my backside, although fit pretty well at the shoulders. It just hung on me. Guess what? I bought it anyway. I decided my mom could alter it for me and she agreed to do it.

Kevin's girlfriend convinced me to go to her salon for my hair cut. She was also a "Colorist". I should have run. I have never colored my hair before other than highlights which I do myself. She said we needed to get rid of the gray (hey, it's in the back, I can't see it!) and "even it out a bit." (she didn't like my highlights!) She gave me a nice "caramel" color, a lighter shade than my natural color and add some lighter streaks. "Okay, you're the expert." ...famous last words. It came out blah, blah, blah, plain.

After a couple of hours of that, and it all cost more than my dress, I just wanted to get out of there! Shoe shopping time. I found a nice pair of pointy sling-backs and bought them. In the process I lost my credit card (or was it stolen?) which, being that I use it so seldom, I didn't notice 'til I got ready to pay for the kids' honeymoon suite several days later and it was gone. But someone had "found" it and had been on a little buying spree. The guy at the credit card company was gentle when he told me this but I just burst into tears anyway. He must be accustomed to this response because he comforted me and told me to take some deep breaths and that it would all be okay. (It was)

Two days before the wedding I woke up feeling kinda nauseous... the day my mom was going to take in and hem up my dress. When I got out of bed I literally could not walk, the room was spinning. I was sure I had some disease and was going to miss my firstborn's wedding. If I lay perfectly still I was fine but any movement left me nauseated and dizzy. The doctor squeezed me in and decided I had some kind of virus that messed with my inner ear. He got me some medicine and life was good again. But the day was wasted and my dress did not get altered.

Anyway, I had to keep it all in perspective, after all the wedding wasn't all about me. Angus said I looked "fine" which is guy-speak for "get over yourself". I doubted anyone would even notice me and I was so flippin' busy I didn't really give it much thought. Until the photos came back.

Here is a snapshot of boring me taken an hour before the wedding with the mother of the bride. Still in my flip-flops and see how my lipstick makes my lips disappear? I am a hopeless cause, I think.

The good news is - the bride was beautiful. My son was wonderful. The wedding was spiritual. The reception was fun and I fell in love with my husband all over again. Who cares that I was wearing a blue potato sack?

+++++

Phillipians 4:11 ~ Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.

The walking tunnel into







Cuyahoga Valley National Park:

It was hot and humid and the sky darkened while we walked, as if the skies would open up at any moment and drench us. It was then we came upon Icebox Cave.

No kidding.

I sat down by the seawall watching the sun rise. Angus and I had been at The Lake of the Ozarks for two days. Our hosts, my brother and sister-in-law had headed back home the evening before and we had the large lake house to ourselves for a few days.
I was content and happysitting in the quiet morning light, trying not to notice the hulking frame of concrete and steel rising off to the Southeast. We are on Ship’s Point. The point just to the East of this one… the one that this house faces, has always left us with a beautiful view of a lovely, grassy point with small trees… no house, no people, not even a dock.

The original house had burnt down over 40 years ago, leaving only the brick chimney standing, and nothing had ever been rebuilt. “Chimney Point”. Years ago the “For Sale” sign went up but the asking price was high so it remained the same year after year. Several years ago it finally sold. The rumor was condos. And sure enough we began to notice changes when we went down. A sea wall was built. Trees were bulldozed and the grasses scraped away. Construction began a building was erected. Now, this year, the condo is taking shape.

In only a few more minutes I knew that the clanking, groaning and grinding of the heavy equipment would break the silence. The banging and shouting of the workers would begin and last ‘til 4 pm when the construction crew would leave the giant steel skeleton behind as they crawl into their pickups weary from their hard work in the July heat.

I was drinking my coffee, watching the sun appear above the mist and later disappear into the clouds. Enjoying the peace and the solitude. Not wanting to think about the changes to this peaceful point once the condo is finished.

It occurred to me that it was Thursday and that Jetty Betty would be writing her “Thursday Thanksgivings” and finding wonderful things to be thankful for even in the midst of whatever turmoil and disappointment is in her life. She’d be looking at the good side of things. I started thinking about all the good in my life. I starting thinking about all the good times we’ve had down here over the last 29 years with friends and family.

Angus and I took long weekends in the incredible peace and solitude of the lake house in winter. Reading and watching the view and the rare speedboat pass by the picture windows. We cooked elaborate meals, ate slowly and did the dishes side by side. We were undisturbed by the temptations of TV and computers and telephones. The decisions were whether to put on Eric Clapton or Jimmie Spheeris as we sat by the fire in the evenings dreamily watching the flames and sipping a glass of wine.

We’d go to bed early and sleep late. And because it was The Lake House it was especially romantic… like a fancy secluded resort, yet as familiar as home.

When the kids were little we spent a Fourth of July watching the fireworks put on at the Four Seasons Resort across the Lake. We had a perfect view from our lawn chairs by the water and we didn’t even have to be a part of the flotilla of boats out there watching, too. The kids giggled as they drew golden circles in the black night with their sparklers and after the fireworks they watched to boats pull away one by one.

One year Angus’ family decided to have Thanksgiving at The Lake. We all sat together at the long Ponderosa-style table laughing and enjoying one another. No late arrivals or fast escapes... just acceptance.

The Lake is where I first really got to know Angus’ family. What’s to do but talk as you sunbathe and watch the kids, cooking and eating together? It’s where I first learned of the Mc’s “10 O’clock Rule“. The men would get up early to fish and do any yard work before the summer heat set in. They’d keep an eye on the time for at 10:00 a.m. it is okay to have your first beer of the day. I don’t know who made the rule; it preceded my entry into the family.

The boys floated in life jackets in the waves from the passing boats pretending they were in the ocean while we mamas laid in the sun on the rocking dock. They picked wild flowers along the gravel road. In later years they jumped off the roof of the dock into the deep water. They jet skied in the cove ‘til their legs ached. They’ve blown leaves with the powerful backpack leaf blowers onto a tarp to be pulled to the water’s edge and dumped, jumping into the ice cold water to cool off and to prove they were men.

They caught lightening bugs with their cousins who are grown now. They caught fish with their grandfather who is gone now.

Everything changes.

I contemplated the sunrise and my memories, feeling both happiness for the beautiful past and regret for what never will be again. The looming mass of condo reminded me that change is always coming and a lot of times it is out of our control, it‘s not what we want... But life goes on.

It made me value the “right now” a little bit more, appreciate the past a lot more and look forward to whatever happens next with hope. The unpredictability of life is what makes it both scary and fascinating. It makes us work harder, dream bigger and love better. It pops us out of our ruts and into the sunshine or into the mud.

This day, I’m in the sunshine and will take advantage of today. I know the mud is there waiting to pull me down so I’ll look up… trust God to get me through it when the time comes.

Life is good… and I believe that with all my heart.

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“Life will bring you pain all by itself. Your responsibility is to create joy.”
~Milton Erickson, M.D.