Brothers

I have two older brothers. They both live in California near the town where we grew up. I have lived in Maryland for more than forty years. We were all busy with our own families and careers, and we have been unable to see each other often. Now our families are grown and we are all retired. It seems that as I grow older I long to spend time with these two men who knew me first. They are the only ones who remember my childhood stories, the only ones who remember what it was like to grow up in our parent’s home. Tomorrow we are flying to California. I will get to visit with my brothers and their families. I am very excited. Our daughter and her three children are coming with us. The grandchildren have never met their California relatives. I am anxious to show them off.

So George and Martha are seeing the marriage counselor. The counselor is trying to help them with communication and is urging each of them to learn what make the other happy. The counselor asks, ”George, do you what Martha’s favorite flower is?” George does not hesitate. He knows this one. “She likes Pillsbury the best.”

Music

I do not own an IPod. I do not have a play list. When I listen to my kids and grandkids talk about music I frequently feel old and completely out of touch. I think I’m a 331/3 in an IPod world. When I said that to my 17-year-old grandson he stared at me blankly and said, “I don’t get it.” So, in case, like my grandson, you don’t get it, 331/3 refers to the revolutions a long playing record made per minute. It was a great improvement over the 78s and the 45s. A 331/3 could play ten or fifteen minutes before it need to be turned over to play the other side. I owned many LP (long play) record albums and enjoyed listening to them. I listened to lots of classical music; I liked Beethoven, Mozart, and Debussy. I loved Pat Boone, (had a big crush on him) and listened to all his albums. My favorites were Rogers and Hammerstein musicals. I knew all of the words to all of Oklahoma and Carousel. When those were made into movies I saw them over and over. In a time before videos and DVDs this meant I took the bus to the movie theater as many times as my mom would allow. I spent my 25cent admission to see each of them ten or more times.

My play list was the songs running through my head at any given moment. Since I was a church kid, most often the songs were the old hymns I heard so often, but other times it was the music from all the shows I loved to watch. The cowboy songs that Roy Rogers and Gene Autrey sang were frequently on my play list. My dad liked to sing those songs to me. Those songs always made me smile.

Right now the house is quiet, but in my head my play list is playing.

There's a bright golden haze on the meadow,
There's a bright golden haze on the meadow,
The corn is as high as an elephant's eye,
An' it looks like its climbin' clear up to the sky.

Chorus:
Oh what a beautiful morning,
Oh what a beautiful day,
I've got a wonderful feeling,
Everything's going my way.

Baseball

This past weekend we took our grandson to see our local AA baseball team. It was a beautiful summer evening, just a perfect evening to enjoy this all American pastime. The first 1500 fans got free baseball caps. We were not quite early enough for the free hat, but we were early enough to get great seats right on the first base line. It was such a fun evening. We got our hot dogs and settled in to enjoy the game. Have you ever noticed how much better a hot dog tastes when you put a baseball game in front of it? The Baysox got two good hits in the first inning and went ahead of the Rock Cats. We held on to the lead until the forth inning when the Rock Cats got a two run homer. They were in the lead until the seventh inning when the Baysox got several good hits and went ahead. The final score was Baysox 4, Rock Cats 3. It was an exciting game. Minor league ball is such fun. The players are all hoping to make the majors one day. They seem to play their hearts out. In order to draw fans the team goes all out to make it a fan friendly place. Between innings they did all sorts of silly things with the fans. Once they had a game of musical chairs, another time they dressed a couple of fans in inflated sumo wresting costumes and we laughed as they tried to knock each other down. All the kids celebrating birthdays got to stand on the dugout while the stadium sang to them. They were so cute.

Several foul balls came close to us. Our grandson almost caught a ball. Tee shirts were thrown up into the stands. Our grandson almost caught a tee shirt. Frisbees were tossed into the stands. Our grandson almost caught a frisbee. He was having a great time. At the end of the game there was a spectacular fireworks show. We heard oos and ahs all over the stadium. After the fireworks all the kids were allowed down on the field to run the bases. Our grandson joined all the other kids and ran around the bases. When he joined us afterwards he was laughing and said that was such fun that it made him feel like a kid again. He is fourteen years old. I didn’t know he had stopped being a kid.

"Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd.
Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,
I don't care if I never get back,
Let me root, root, root for the home team,
If they don't win it's a shame.
For it's one, two, three strikes, you're out,
At the old ball game."

Father's Day

His friends called him Willie. Folks who didn’t know him often called him Bill. My mother called him William. I called him Dad. He had a great smile and there was always a twinkle in his eyes. He demonstrated faith and love every day of his life. He was my hero.

Every evening when he came home from work Dad would stop his car at the corner of our street. Cars then had running boards on the outside. The entire neighborhood would start running toward him shouting, ”Sue’s dad is home.” Then about twenty kids would pile onto the running boards and he would drive down the street with us laughing and hanging on to the car. It was one of the day’s highlights. Sometimes he took me fishing, but he always put the worm on the hook. He didn’t want his girl to get her fingers messy. The fact that I played in the mud and dug up worms later seemed to be lost on him. He loved to get dressed up and take his little girl out. He showed me off to everyone. I always knew I was his favorite child and held a very special place in the heart of this good man.

I was the youngest child and the only girl. I was his little princess, spoiled rotten and I liked it that way. On Mother’s Day and Easter Dad always gave my mother and me beautiful corsages to wear to church. When I was sick he sent me beautiful roses. He made feel beautiful and adored.

I miss my dad.

Pride

Our son is changing jobs. Yesterday his former employer invited us to a luncheon to honor this man who is our son. I know he is a wonderful man, but yesterday we saw a part of his life that we normally do not see. I sat and listened as person after person praised him for the work he has done. The love and respect these people feel for him was obvious. I still don’t know quite what he does. His expertise is in the area of chemical and biological weapons. He works with the military and the Department of Defense. The stories told yesterday were full of acronyms and words that are not part of my vocabulary. Much of what was said was a bit of a mystery, but I did understand the important part. Our son is a hard-working, responsible and intelligent man. He is an honorable human being with a quirky sense of humor. He is a great asset to his company. He will be greatly missed.

I am still glowing with pride. There is no finer gift to a mother than to hear other people praise her child. I feel blessed.

Bras

Do not read this if you don’t like to read about women’s underwear.

I hate shopping for new bras. I can never find one that is really comfortable. I try one on and think this one seems OK. I buy it and take it home, hoping I have finally found the one that will be comfortable all day. But, no, by the end of the day I can hardly wait to get home and take this uncomfortable thing off. Am I the only woman in the world with this problem?

What I really want is the comfort and style of my very first bra. My friend, Mrs. Churchill, made it for me when I was five years old. It was bright red and had panties to match. When I wore this wonderful and comfortable garment I felt like a woman ready to conquer the world. Where I can I get such a stylish and wonderful garment today?

Early Morning

I enjoy waking up early and taking my first cup of coffee out to the front porch. I live on a quiet, tree-lined street in suburbia. The view is really very ordinary; except it is my view from my porch and so it is special. The sky is a beautiful soft blue this morning. Big, puffy cumulus clouds float overhead. I try to figure out just how many shades of green I can count, but there are too many and I give up. Green has so many variations. It is not a quiet morning. The birds are singing their glorious morning symphony. If my husband were here he would identify the different bird voices, but he is still asleep. I see a mockingbird doing a happy morning dance along a tree branch. On the driveway below there are two starlings squabbling about something. A rabbit is enjoying breakfast in my flower garden. Except for the birds, all is quiet. Later folks will start their cars and leave for work. Later school children will walk up the hill with their backpacks and laughter. Later the neighbors will mow their lawns and hammer nails into home repair projects. Later the neighbor boy will practice his trumpet. But not yet. Now is time for birdsong and peace. I love early morning.

23+23=46

A few days before our twenty-third wedding anniversary our first-born daughter married her sweetheart. The wedding was beautiful. They were young and in love. Today they are celebrating their anniversary in Manhattan with their son, the new high school graduate, and their daughter the college senior. They have navigated a lot of life together and are still happy that they married each other. They are still young and in love.

It is twenty-three years later now. That means we are about to celebrate our forty-sixth anniversary. We celebrated by sitting on our front porch, rocking, and counting our blessings. We are still happy that we married each other. We are not so young and still in love. Life is good.

Mothering God

I just read these lyrics on Mike Cope’s blog. I really like them.

Mothering God, you gave me birth
in the bright morning of this world.
Creator, Source of every breath,
you are my rain, my wind, my sun;
you are my rain, my wind, my sun.

Mothering Christ, you took my form,
offering me your food of light,
grain of life, and grape of love,
your very body for my peace;
your very body for my peace.

Mothering Spirit, nurturing one,
in arms of patience hold me close,
so that in faith I root and grow
until I flower, until I know;
until I flower, until I know.

Barak

The trashcan is sitting atop my kitchen table. Chairs are pushed in front of the bookcase and cabinets with breakables. The cloth on the dining room table is folded onto the middle of the table so nothing is hanging over the edge. All of my tupperware and most of my pots and pans are strewn across the floor. Why would I choose to decorate in such a way? The answer is that Barak was here. Barak is my 14-month-old buddy. He is almost walking and he can crawl faster than a speeding gramma. I find it far easier to put as much as possible out of reach and let him have at the things he can’t hurt. This little guy just wants to know what is behind all those cabinet doors. Bubbles fill him with joy. His laugh is infectious and his smile melts my heart. I love having him come to visit, and I love having him go home.

Most I my life I was part of a Christian fellowship that taught that it was sinful for women to participate in any way in the public worship of the church. I believed that women were to be silent. Women were allowed to make casseroles, tend babies in the nursery, teach young children and teach other women. Men ran the church, made all the decisions and did everything that was seen as public. After years of studying and praying many others and I concluded that our understanding was not what the scriptures taught. We were, in fact, wrong. For a long time we tried to persuade the church where we worshiped to change this practice. We asked questions, we pointed to scriptures, we prayed. It was a painful and, in the end, an unsuccessful attempt. Change is difficult. Three years ago we left the church that had been my home for 63 years. Leaving was painful, but staying was no longer possible. We walked out and prayed that God would lead us to a place where we could find peace and once again worship joyfully. God is good and we are now part of a church where all people are one in Christ and all people’s gifts are seen as worthwhile.

Yesterday I sat in church and listened as one of my daughters preached a wonderful sermon. The congregation sat in rapt attention, appreciative of what she had to say. Another daughter serves the church as an elder. My husband and son-law often teach, but now my daughters as well as my sons are able to share their gifts. It is a wonderful thing. I am grateful to have found a church where God is glorified so powerfully by all of God’s children.

Happy 40th birthday, David!