Wake

While we were coming home from our trip to the salt marshes in Cape May our boat was hit by the wake of a bigger boat with a careless captain. We were pitched back and forth pretty hard. Our captain was angry and said it always made him mad when people went sailing through life without ever thinking about what they were leaving behind them. “People should be careful about their wake!” was what he said. I immediately thought of another song sung by the Four Bitchin’ Babes that talks about leaving something beautiful in our wake.

When we had our will done a few months ago the lawyer said the one thing we needed to do now was to write an ethical will or a legacy letter. It is not a legal document. It is a letter of what you what you want to tell your family, the things you want them to hear from you one more time. I’ve been trying to think of what to put into such a letter and I just don’t know what I want to say. Should I just recount some good stories and memories? Should I just tell them how much I love them? Should I talk about faith and hope? What kind of things would you want to hear in a letter from someone you loved? Is it important to write such a letter? Haven’t I already told them all the things I should say?

 "For Carolyn" by Pat Crawford Brown:

 When we were small and ocean waves were high

I'd run across the sand and call

"Please!  Wait for me!"

you waited patiently without a sigh

then hand in hand we'd face each wave

oh, we were so brave back then

do you still wait beyond the wave

and can you hear my rhyme?

if so, I'll wait here on the sand

I promise to be brave

just tell me when it's time

and hold my hand

 "Something Beautiful" by Christine Lavin

 As sad days go it was a bad one

she died way too soon

her friends and her family gathered

like rings around the moon

everybody had a story

how she touched each life

she was a mom, a sister, an aunt, a volunteer,

a grandmother, friend, a wife

her poems and watercolors

were lovingly displayed

beach scenes and summer dreams

 never fade

outside a breeze was swirling

the stars across the sky

inside the grief washed over us

as we said good-bye

    But she left something beautiful in her wake

    as our spirits sink, our voices break

    her work remains for us to see

    her paintings and her poetry

    she left something beautiful here on earth

    we mourn her death, but celebrate her birth

    she’s on a journey we all will someday make

    and look, she left something beautiful in her wake

As bad days go it was a sad one

flowers ringed the room

cousins greeted cousins they haven’t seen

since that wedding back in June

but it was June of 1990

amazing how time flies

we never seem to get together

unless someone marries or someone dies

Remember all those baby pictures?

they’re those teenagers over there

we secretly are thankful no nose rings

or spiky purple hair

they do not remember us

but you know, that’s OK

it's enough that we are here

and reconnecting today

    She left something beautiful in her wake

    they quietly cry, their young hearts ache

    her children’s children, her legacy

    with her paintings and her poetry

    she left something beautiful here on earth

    we mourn her death, but celebrate her birth

    she's sailing where waves never break

    and look, she left something beautiful in her wake

        We have all gone home now

        back to the working grind

        I can't help but think about

        those things we leave behind

        As I sit in traffic

        pound the steering wheel

        inch along this highway

        pray my soul will heal

    You've got to leave something beautiful in your wake

    as you sail on for heaven's sake

    leave something good at the end of each day

    to help us through, light our way

    leave something beautiful we can share

    to make us glad that you are there

    you may drift off course and make mistakes

    but you can still . . . 

    Leave something beautiful in your wake

    keep your spirits up, whatever it takes

    leave something good at the end of the day

    to help us through, to guide our way

    give us something beautiful we can share

    to make us glad that you’re still there

    you may drift off course, and make mistakes

    but you can still leave something beautiful in your wake

    leave something beautiful in your wake . . . 

Language

All professions have a language of their own. Recently my friend John the truck diver had a fun post about trucker lingo. Mark the Webmaster demonstrated some computer lingo on his blog. I was a nurse for many years and speak fluent medical language. Our foster son was a skateboarder and I could understand skate. My first language though is mother tongue. I am a mom. I say the things mothers say. I once heard a song at a concert of the Four Bitchin’ Babes that demonstrates my language well. I know you all understand mother tongue. We’ve heard it all our life.

Mother Tongue

By Camille West

You barely touched the broccoli on your dinner plate
Well, alright just one bite and you can stay up late
Don't tease the baby; you'll make him cry
Because I'm the mother, that's why

chorus
Don't fight
I've got eyes in the back of my head.
These are things my mother's mother's
mother's mother said
I learned the language when I was very young
Lately I've been talking in
the mother tongue

Take off your muddy shoes Put the cat down
Here's a tissue; blow your nose Put the cat down
What did you say? Where'd you learn that?
Come back here when I'm talking
Let go of that cat.

chorus

Behave at your Grandma's
Be good when I leave
Wipe your nose again-- no, not your sleeve
What's on your cheek? Let me get it
Don't have a fit
It's just a little mommy spit

Cape May

We have had a lovely four days in Cape May, New Jersey. Cape May is the oldest seashore resort in the nation, and it is just adorable. It is full of old Victorian homes, most of which have been converted into bed and breakfasts. There is gingerbread, spindles and froofery on all the houses. Just walking around and looking at all the old homes and gardens is a delight. The beach is beautiful and there are many cute little shops and boutiques to browse through. Wonderful restaurants are everywhere. One evening we took a carriage ride around the historic district and learned all sorts of interesting stories about some of homes and the people who built them. The town has a genteel, peaceful spirit that is very soothing.

Our little bed and breakfast had a wonderful front porch where we ate our delicious breakfast and enjoyed our afternoon tea. The porch was my favorite place to be. I sat and rocked and read my book, but found the parade of passersby to be distracting. There were so many interesting people to watch, so many stories to make up about each of them.

My beloved is a birder. Cape May is one of the top birding spots in the nation because it is a major resting point during the spring and fall migrations. There are as many flocks of birders as there are flocks of birds during those seasons. Summer is the wrong time of year for prime bird watching, but we watched anyway. We took a boat out into the salt marches surrounding the harbor. It was amazing. The gulls were nesting there and we could see thousands of nesting birds and their chicks. There were nesting osprey and herons too. One island was covered in white egrets. It was beautiful. Dennis identified over forty species of birds, including four new lifetime sightings. He was a happy man. In the picture, if you look carefully in the grass, you can see one of the gull chicks next to its mother.

The dolphins swimming along the shore also entertained us.

I think we took everything you suggested we bring, except the bacon. We didn’t seem to need any bacon. Thanks for all your suggestions.

We are packing for a trip to the beach. What do you think I will need at the beach?

New Day

To loosely paraphrase Psalm 30:5, “Wallowing may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning.” I am feeling much better today. Thank you all for the positive energy I felt coming through blogland.

This morning I went to the pool and worked up a sweat in my water aerobics class. After all that exercise I went to lunch with a friend and we planned a baby shower we are giving for a friend next week. Just to make sure I would be feeling better I had a pedicure and had those ugly post menopausal chin hairs waxed away. Then I spent the afternoon helping a frail hospice patient and his wife get to a doctor’s appointment and then to the pharmacy. I got home just before a magnificent thunderstorm arrived. My beloved and I sat on our front porch and watched as the storm delivered much needed rain along with some powerful thunder. We enjoyed a quiet supper together. I am feeling the joy of many blessings and the dark shadows have retreated for another day.

Hole

Maybe it’s just fatigue because I didn’t sleep well last night. I really don’t know why, but I feel like I’ve fallen into a dark hole full of gloom today. My life, like everyone’s life has been full of loss, hurt, betrayal and broken dreams. Such things are part of living, but today I feel I’m surrounded by all those hurts and losses that I thought I had moved beyond. I know I should be counting my blessings. I just don’t want to right now. I want to wallow a bit. It seems I really haven’t moved passed all those bad places. I just seem to be circling around them and occasionally I just fall into this hole. I know this a temporary stop. I have a good life full of more than my share of blessings, but for right now I just need to sit in this hurt until God pull me out of again.

Cars

Daughter number one stopped by last weekend to show off her new car. It is a white VW bug convertible. The car just suits her and has been named “Doodlebug.” Seeing her in it made me think about the car our family owned that just suited us.

When our girls were teenagers, just starting to drive, we decided to buy a bigger car, maybe a van. One day my husband and father-in-law decided to go see what they could find. That afternoon they brought home our new family car, a bright, fluorescent orange twelve-passenger van. When the girls saw it they ran into their room and cried. “How could we do this to them? That was the ugliest, orangest vehicle they had ever seen. It was embarrassing. They would never be seen in that thing!” I was quieter, but, well, it was just so very orange. They did eventually get in, but they lay down on the seats so no one could see them. My husband loved it. “It’s great! I can see that orange van anywhere in the parking lot. We’ll never have to remember where we parked.” The orange van gradually made its way into all of our hearts. In the age before seatbelt laws it could hold the entire church youth group on its outings. Our girls learned to love driving the orange van. They and their friends went everywhere in that car. When I got to drive it carloads of teenagers would honk and wave at big orange. Perhaps it’s just as well that I don’t know all the memories that were created in that van full of teenagers. All four of our children learned to drive in that orange twelve-passenger van. It was a wonderful car.

What cars have you owned that just suited you?

Two Potters

We saw the New Harry Potter film last night. I was feeling a bit out of the conversation because I had not yet seen it. Good movie. Was I the only one to notice the resemblance between the unlikable Professor Umbrage and Laura Bush? Both of them devoutly follow their misguided masters.

The other movie I saw today was “Miss Potter.” I loved it. It is the story of Beatrix Potter, the author of all the Peter Rabbit stories. She was an innocent, protected spinster of the nineteenth century who managed to become a highly successful and wealthy author. It is a sweet love story. It is the story of a courageous and successful woman. I highly recommend it.

This morning I went to traffic court with my granddaughter. She was involved in an accident earlier this year and was hoping to get reduced fine and traffic points by going to court. Court can be a scary place so I went along for moral support. Actually I went because I love to people-watch and this seemed like a good place to watch people. The courtroom was filled with an interesting array of folks. They were young, old, black, white, brown, well dressed and not. We waited for about thirty minutes before the judge finally appeared, thirty very silent minutes. Most folks just stared into space with an expressionless face. Some picked at their fingernails. A few brought books and spent the time reading (That is what the granddaughter did.) Everyone looked ill at ease. The judge finally appeared and gave us instructions. You can plead guilty or not guilty. Do not give any explanation unless he asks. If you are charged with speeding it is not an excuse to say that you were just moving with the traffic. It does not matter if you were just passing to go around someone. It does not matter if your speedometer was broken. It is irrelevant if you were just trying to around an unsafe situation. The only question is were you driving faster than the posted speed limit. There are no excuses. Granddaughter was the third case called. The judge asked how she pled. “Guilty,” she relied. He asked, “Were you cooperative with the officer?” “Yes sir,” she answered. He ruled “Probation without judgment.” That meant she had to pay the fine but was assigned no points on her record. We walked across the hall where she paid her fine and we were free. She was very relieved.

Feet

Yesterday I saw the podiatrist. While he was talking to me about arthritis, tendons, arches and bunions I began to think about all the places these feet have taken me.

During the 40’s and 50’s they helped me skip through a happy and carefree childhood.

In 1961 they walked me down the church aisle to marry my beloved. His feet have been walking by mine every day since then. The rest of the 60’s they walked the floor with crying babies and chased running toddlers around the house.

The 70’s were a time of standing on sidelines and exploring the world with growing children. These feet walked on the beach and through the woods. They escorted children on field trips to museums and zoos. They walked all over London leading my children to see places they had never seen. These feet also walked miles of hospital corridors tending to the needs of the many patients who need care over the years.

The 80’s came and my feet helped me to stand and cheer as I watched each of my children march to “Pomp and Circumstance” as they graduated into adulthood. Then my feet once again walked down the church aisle and led me to the pew where the mother of bride or groom was to sit. I again walked the floor with babies and chased toddlers, but grandmothers don’t walk and chase as often as young mothers.

My feet kept moving during the 90’s. The hospital corridors changed to the halls of a doctor’s office. The grandchildren grew and my feet once again escorted children to the zoo and to the park.

Then came the new millennium. My feet, along with the rest of me, retired and quit walking to tend patients. I began to explore the world and these feet walked across the glaciers of Alaska, the beaches along the Southern Ocean in Australia and through the rainforests of Costa Rica.

These old feet once again took me to auditoriums where “Pomp and Circumstance” was played and I watched as my grandchildren began to graduate into adulthood.

My feet may hurt, but I can’t complain. They have served me well and taken me far.

VBS

We are half way through our week of Vacation Bible School. The kids are having a wonderful time. The church building is filled with laughter, giggles and children running around in wet bathing suits. The theme this year is based on water park adventures. Every evening the kids play water games with wading pools, Super soakers, garden hoses and water balloons. There are crafts and lots of high-energy songs. I have been in charge of the Bible stories. We teach with lots of interactive fun and get a bit wet while telling them stories about Jesus and God’s love. In the picture I am showing them how to step into living water. The kids filled the planter boxes with living water from a well while getting themselves thoroughly wet. I am not known for being observant, and just a few minutes before class my helper noticed the planter boxes had holes in the bottom. We grabbed some plastic tablecloths and made pool liners for our “river of life.” It worked fine. One more adventure in learning.

Hymn

Yesterday morning we sang a hymn at church that I had never heard before. It said so well what I was feeling after the wonderful weekend at Women of Faith that I thought I would share it with everyone. So often in my religious journey I have heard words that exclude people and are hurtful to those who have found a different understanding of faith. These lyrics seem so very inclusive. They speak to me of a loving God who wants us to love and to not judge.

“Help US Accept Each Other”

by Fred Kaan

· Help us accept each other as Christ accepted us;
Teach us as sister, brother, each person to embrace.
Be present, God, among us, and bring us to believe
We are ourselves accepted and meant to love and live.

· Teach us, O God, your lessons, as in our daily life
We struggle to be human and search for hope and faith.
Teach us to care for people, for all, not just for some,
To love them as we find them, or as they may become.

· Let your acceptance change us, so that we may be moved
In living situations to do the truth in love;
To practice your acceptance, until we know by heart
The table of forgiveness and laughter's healing art.

· God, for today's encounters with all who are in need,
Who hunger for acceptance, for righteousness and bread,
Bring us new eyes for seeing, new hands for holding on;
Renew us with your Spirit; God! Free us, make us one!

WOF

I spent the past two days with 16,000 girlfriends at a Women of Faith conference. It was exhausting and wonderful. It is difficult to explain how inspiring it is to be in an arena full of women who share my faith in God. The weekend was full of stories that made us laugh and made us cry. The music was awesome. I get goosebumps at the memory of 16,000 women singing “How Great Thou Art.” There was an extremely funny story about mammograms. (You hear stories at a women only event that are never told in a mixed audience.) It included a song in praise the underwire bra. I will never again hear Josh Grogin’s wonderful song, ”You Lift Me Up,” without laughing. It was a weekend full of acceptance, friendship, unity and love. It was very good.

What events inspires you?

VBS

This week I have managed to gather together a canoe, a big bag of gummy worms, badminton net, kid’s wading pool, several small buckets, a big plastic tub, some plastic fish, a clothesline, several bed sheets, a shower curtain liner, and a broken video camera. This obviously means it is almost time for Vacation Bible School. Lots of people put in lots of work to make this week of fun and learning about Jesus happen at our church. The kids always love it, and the adults are always glad when the week is over. My job this year is to decorate the Bible story room each evening. The assortment of goodies is the collection of props we will use to help make the lesson come alive and be meaningful for the young children who will be there.

Did you go to Vacation Bible School when you were a kid? What memories do have if you did?

Birthday

Today is my father’s birthday. He would be 103 today. He has been gone for sixteen years and I still miss my daddy.

Mom and Dad met on a blind date. Mom and her cousin Cleta Mae were going to go out with Harold and William. Mom was to go with Harold, Cleta Mae with William. When the young men came to pick the girls up, Mom made the instant decision to switch dates. Harold was a tall, skinny thing, but William was just her size. She noticed that he had a nice little behind and she liked the way he filled out his pants. They were married for fifty-seven years.

The picture is my handsome, young father.

Hot

The temperature reached 100 degrees here today. It is hazy, hot, and humid, one of those miserable triple H summer days. The newscaster was asking everyone to conserve energy so I did not cook dinner. It was the perfect night for a big salad. We did go to Cold Stone for ice cream. Half the town was there. The other half of town was across the street getting an Italian Ice from Rita’s.

What do you do to stay cool on hot summer days?

The future, the past

I thought of this picture today while attending a funeral. The picture was taken our last night in California. Our daughter and her children are watching the sun as it sets into the Pacific Ocean. I look at the picture and see the future, my children, looking at the end of what has been. We did lots of looking into the past this trip, but when I look at my grandchildren I see my future. I think it is important for them to learn about their roots and to hear the family stories. They are blessed to come from a very long line of love. I hope they draw strength from these roots that will sustain them as they journey into whatever their futures may hold, and that they will have strong wings that let them soar.

The funeral today celebrated the life of a gracious eighty-seven year old lady. Her children and grandchildren spoke of her great love. There were tears and there was laughter as they looked into the blessings of the past. But these young people all know they were loved. They have a rich legacy that will sustain them into the future. They are a lucky family.

Julia, you were a loving lady. You will be missed.

On this Fourth of July I thought I would celebrate the freedom of expression by telling you about our afternoon in Venice Beach.

Venice Beach has to be the best place I’ve ever been for people watching. There is no dress code. Everything is acceptable. Freedom to be whoever you want to be is completely OK in Venice Beach. Along with the other tourists who had just come to gawk at the parade of characters there were many young people with multi-colored Mohawk hairdos and multiple piercings. They were dressed all in black. The majority of them were using skateboards to travel. One fellow was dressed all in loose white cotton plus his helmet, kneepads, and elbow pads. He was roller blading down the boardwalk while playing the guitar. Aspiring musicians were everywhere. They were armed with earphones, pleading with people to stop and listen to their music. In the picture you see Salty Salt, an about to become famous hip-hop musician, selling his CD to our daughter and her kids. Venice Beach is also known as Muscle Beach. There is an outdoor gym with weights and exercise equipment for public use. My favorite characters were the hefty men with oiled bodies strutting up and down for us to admire. One was dressed in a sparkling silver Speedo and a large brass medallion. Another had a tee shirt wrapped around himself as loincloth. It was wonderful to people who were so sure that were beautiful. I can testify that that opinion was not shared by any of the members of my family.

I love people watching. Where have you been to see such a parade of humanity?

While shopping in a posh shopping center in southern California we came upon this line. It looked out of place. Why would people be camping out in line on an upscale street? Obviously we were not aware of the desperate need people had to be among the first to own an iPhone. Although this would be a more pleasant place to wait in line than many other places, it still seems a little crazy to me.

Did you wait in a long line for an iPhone? Have you ever camped out in line to buy something wonderful? What is worth waiting for days in line?

Family

For me the best part of our trip to California was time we were able to spend with my brothers and their families. The last time I saw them was at my mom’s funeral four years ago. It was such fun to sit around and visit and laugh and cry together. We kept saying, “Do you remember when?” and the wonderful thing was that we did remember. The kids kept saying, “I never heard that story. Who was Lance? Who was Emma Jean?” It was fun to see our children and grandchildren getting to know each other and learning all sorts of family stories. Family and family stories are precious.

The pictures are of me with my brothers and of us with some of our children and grandchildren.

Home

I'm finally home. The time in California was wonderful! The trip home was long and hard. I'm too tired to think now, but I will post soon about our great trip.

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!

Yesterday our 17-year-old grandson graduated from high school. It was wonderful to be able to share this momentous occasion with him. He is bright, sweet, and handsome. I predict a wonderful future for this young man.

Congratulations John!

Tagged

It seems tag is a game frequently played in blogland. Recently both Greeny and Windblownbutterfly have tagged me. I am to tell seven things about myself. Here is my list.

1. It is hard to think of who I am except in terms of my relationships. I am a wife (happily married for 46 years). I am a mother (2 daughters and 2 sons). I am a mother-in-law. I am a grandmother (eight beautiful, gifted grandchildren). I am a friend. I am a follower of Jesus.

2.The address of our first apartment was 99 Bellafontaine. I like the way that sounds. Our neighbor across the courtyard liked to sit around his house in his underwear, drink, beer and shout at his little boy whose name was Mitchell.

3. I play treble A and B in the bell choir at church. It is fun, and when we get it right it sounds glorious.

4. I wish I could hire a gardener. Yard work is hard and I don’t really know what I am doing.

5. Next summer we are planning to take a river boat cruise through France, I want to spend at least one day in the Louve.

6. I never wear any make-up. Once I went to a Mary Kay party and had a facial. When I got home my son said,”What’s wrong with your face?” My husband said, ”What that stuff on your eyes?”

7 I am currently reading three books. “The American Gospel” by Jon Meacham makes me grateful to the founding fathers who were very careful to use inclusive religious language in the writing of the constitution and to separate church and state. I highly recommend this book. I am enjoying “Leaving Church” by Barbara Brown Taylor. This is the memoir of one woman’s spiritual journey. I have just begun this one, but so far I am very much identifying with what she is saying. Then, for a change of pace, I am reading Jimmy Buffett’s “A Salty Piece of Land.” It is like taking a vacation in warm sun of the Caribbean.

That is my list. Now it is my turn. Tracy, I tag you.

Michaela

We just returned from a trip to West Virginia to see our youngest granddaughter. Michaela is nine years old. She lives with her other grandparents in a small town on the banks of the Ohio River. Life is a lot slower there. Time seems to have stopped in the 50’s. Michaela, the daughter of our foster son, Todd, is happy and well loved. Her running leap into my arms with a bear hug around my neck made me know she loves me and made the journey worth the drive.

Last Will & Testament

This afternoon my husband and I spent an hour with the lawyer. We signed our wills and papers for a durable power of attorney. It was a very straightforward thing. The lawyer went over the papers and made sure we understood all the legalese. His secretary came in and the two of them witnessed our signatures and put a notary seal on them. These are important papers. Everyone should have both of these documents in this uncertain world. I am glad we have them. The business-like nature of the afternoon did not prevent a lot of emotions from running around in our heads. We have now made all the legal preparations to become old, sick and incapable of making such decisions and eventually dying. It felt a bit strange. I know these things are an inevitable part of life, but somehow it is peculiar to plan for your own demise.

Do you have a will?

Music

Today was “Music Sunday” at church. Music is always an important part of the worship service, but today was a celebration of the power of music. The choirs and musicians had worked hard in preparation for today. Their work and talent succeed in bringing us to a place near to the throne of God. The music was powerful. The last hymn was titled, “For The Music of Creation.” This song was so great. It began with the organ and was then joined by the voices of the choir. The bell choir soon joined and music grew in intensity. Finally in the third verse the congregation joined the song. The sound was glorious, like a giant tsunami of worship washing over us all. The lyrics were awesome, especially the third verse with, “All the voices of the ages in transcendent chorus meeting.” I had the feeling that all the saints who’ve gone before us were singing with us. The last line spoke of music’s power over discord and division that speaks of harmony and peace. A whole flood of emotion flooded me as I remembered past hurts and acknowledged God’s goodness in bringing me to this good place. I believe that God was pleased with the sound of our worship today.

For The Music Of Creation

[Choir]

For the music of creation,

For the song Your Spirit sings,

For Your sound's divine expression,

Burst of joy in living things:

God, our God, the world's composer,

Hear us, echoes of Your voice:

Music is Your art, Your glory,

Let the human heart rejoice!

[Choir]

Psalms and symphonies all exalt You,

Drum and trumpet, string and reed,

Simple melodies acclaim You,

Tunes that rise from deepest need,

Hymns of longing and belonging,

Carols from a cheerful throat,

Lilt of lullaby and love song

Catching heaven in a note.

[All]

All the voices of the ages

In transcendent chorus meet,

Worship lifting up the senses,

Hands that praise, and dancing feet;

Over discord and division

Music speaks Your joy and peace,

Harmony of earth and heaven,

Song of God that cannot cease!

The Pool

I’m jogging as hard as can and listening to the voice of Johnnie Mathis singing, “You Are My Special Angel.” The music of my youth makes the workout easier. I hear the voice of our instructor saying, “Come on, knees up, abs in. Faster.” The sweat begins to drip into my eyes, which seems like a strange thing to be happening in the deep end of the pool. I’m in my deepwater aerobics class, the perfect exercise for people with bad knees, trying to keep this old body in shape. “OK, leap over the barrel,” shouts the instructor. I begin simulating the motion of leaping over barrels and watch the heads of my classmates bobbing up and down in the water. We wear a flotation device as we jog and ski and leap through the water. I hear the Everly Brothers singing about poor, old Tom Dooley and we all “ring the bell,” which means we pull our knees up and swing back and forth like the clapper in a big church bell. This is fun and really works the tummy muscles. After an hour of working as hard as can we come to the edge of the pool for a few minutes of stretching and class is over. We are all tired, but several us head over to the smaller, warmer therapy pool for the Aqua yoga class. This is a very relaxing time of easy stretching and quiet meditation. The music in the background is soft and dreamy. I can balance on one leg and move into dancer or eagle pose. The water holds me up and I relax in its warmth. I hate to see this class end, but it always does. I head for the dressing room and get ready to face the rest of my day.

Senior Chorale

This morning we had our last rehearsal before our really big show. The senior chorale is one of my favorite groups of people. Rehearsal time is always a bright spot in my week. We always enjoy lots of laughter as we try to learn our music well enough to please our cute, young director. The flyer says to come enjoy your old favorites – I’m not sure if that refers to the music or the chorale members. Come hear us and decide for yourself.

66

Today is my 66^th birthday. I enjoyed a lovely day spending time with people I love. My daughter gave me a cool watch. It has big, easy to read numbers and is bright and funky. The perfect gift for bright and funky grandmother.

What is one of the best birthday gifts you have ever received?

My Mothers Day Cards

Mom

On Mother’s Day, 2003, I buried my mother. She was 96 years old. The picture is one of the last taken of the two of us. She no longer knew who I was, but I knew who she was. She was my hero.

These are the words I spoke at her memorial service that day.

MOM

One of my earliest memories is standing in my crib and listening to the mourning doves outside my window. They sounded so sad. Mom told me my first sentence was during that moment when I said, "They're crying for their mommy." I knew from my infancy that the safest place to be when life was sad or painful was in my mother's arms. It was always warm and secure there. I remember many nights snuggling in her lap while she rocked me and sent all my fears away.

I still long for the safety of her lap when life is scary and painful.

We all must grow up and leave that safe spot, and we all did. But mom had prepared us well for life. She gave us the tools we would need to survive. We just had to follow her example of faith, love, and laughter.

Mom's faith in God and confidence in his love were unshakable. She knew that a loving God would always be there for her. There was a purity and assurance in that faith that always guided her. Her faith was a solid rock, a safe harbor, as warm and secure as her lap was for her babies. The last time mom spoke to me was just a year ago. She could no longer carry on a conversation, but for a moment she was there with me. We sang, "Jesus Loves Me." At the end of the song she said, "That's right, honey, He still does."

Mom loved everybody. She loved her husband. She loved her children. She loved her grandchildren. She loved her friends.

Oh how she loved our dad. From the moment she met him on a blind date and sat in the rumble seat of the car with him, he was her man. She devoted her life to making him happy, and she succeeded. Their love for one another was a constant thing. They demonstrated true love and marriage everyday.

She loved my brothers and me with a fierce, protective love that knew no limits.

We all know that Dad loved me best, but mom loved us all. My brothers were the joy of her life. She was always so proud of them. I can't remember how many times we walked down the railroad tracks to watch the boys play football. She didn't want to miss a game. She thought we were all geniuses and felt sorry for everyone else because her children were perfect. We were frequently a trial to her. I clearly remember the time I stole some ice cream from the Beverly Market. I must have been about five. She was very angry with me and tied me to the clothesline with the dog's leash as a punishment. That probably would be an unacceptable punishment in today's' world, but it was very effective.

Then came the grandchildren. They were each perfect - intelligent, beautiful, and far above average. They could do no wrong. What joy they brought to her and dad!

Mom was blessed with a multitude of friends because she was such a good friend. And she was so funny and so much fun! Who but my mom would put on two bras, one forward and one reversed, and wear it in a fashion show as a double-breasted suit? What other 85-year-old lady put on a sweat suit and slam-dunked shots for the church basketball team? She never did take herself too seriously. Life was just too much fun.

I can only imagine what mom is doing now. I like to think she has settled into heaven and is talking with dad and all the others who are there. She once told me that one of the things she hoped to find in heaven was banana trees. She wanted to fly from banana tree to banana tree eating all she wanted. What I do know is that this world is better because Byrtle Burrow lived here and I miss her.

Bus Trip

Yesterday we joined a group of friends on bus trip to the Sight and Sound Theater in Lancaster, PA. We saw an extravagant, spectacular telling of the Biblical story of creation. It was an inspiring event

On the bus ride I couldn’t help but be aware of the fact that I really am a senior citizen. Nobody has time to take a day in the middle of the workweek and enjoy this kind of lovely outing except a bunch of retired folks. (Well, actually my husband and two other people took a vacation day from work to enjoy the outing.) Our “luxury motor couch” was comfortable. We stopped at a beautiful resort for a delicious lunch. Conversation and laughter were plentiful. Friendships were strengthened. It was a very good day.

There are times when being old is a very nice thing.

Anniversary

I began this blog one year ago yesterday. This is my 198^th post. Blogging is a fascinating experience. Through this blog I have found old friends and found a way to keep up with their lives. I have made some new friends whose true names I don’t even know, but we have touched one another’s lives and feel a connection. I know more about local friends by reading some of their ramblings about life. It has been a window into the lives of people who are very different from me. Their blogs help me to understand and appreciate other ways of living and thinking. I find that we are all more alike than we are different and the differences make this medium a wonderful view of the world.

Thank each of you for helping me to make this journey

Showtime

Two of my granddaughters have been involved in a local children’s theater production of Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast.” This past week was show time. They had two dress rehearsals and eight performances. The show took over their life. I saw the perfomance twice. It was wonderful! The kids did a fantastic job, as did their parents and relatives who pulled curtains, herded kids backstage, sold tickets and concessions and filled the audience to a sell out crowd every night. The girls had a wonderful time and glowed in the spotlight of stardom.

My husband and many friends have been involved in a production with our church theater troupe. The show, called “Love Song,” told the story of Jesus in an original and powerful way, using music and scripture. There was a dress rehearsal and three performances this weekend. I saw the show twice. It was wonderful!

Everyone is tired today, but it is the tired of accomplishment. That is a good tired.

May Day

When I was a little girl May Day was celebrated in a big way. At school we had a Maypole. It seemed to tower into the sky with its multitude of colorful ribbons hanging down. We children gathered around the pole and each held one of the ribbons. We then danced around the pole wrapping the ribbons into bright, beautiful patterns. It was so exciting. When we came home we spent the afternoon making little paper baskets that we filled with flowers picked from our yard. We would hang these baskets on the neighbors’ doors, ring the bell and run and hide so they wouldn’t see who had put the baskets on their door. It was wonderful fun and a lovely way to welcome spring.

My grandchildren don’t know about May Day. Does anyone celebrate with maypoles any more?

ER

I do not like emergency rooms. I am grateful for the important service they perform, but I do not like spending time in emergency rooms.

Yesterday my son the bachelor called to say a friend was taking him to the local urgent care facility. He had been eating a hotdog and it had gotten stuck in his esophagus. Could I meet him there so his friend could leave? I am his mother, so of course I went. He was miserable. The esophagus was completely blocked and nothing could go down and nothing would come up. The local ER tried to fix it with medicine. No luck. We needed to go to the county hospital ER. He would probably need an endoscopy. His condition was very uncomfortable and needed to be fixed soon, but it was not life threatening, so we waited. We were in the waiting room for a couple of hours. I like watching people and there were certainly a lot of people to watch. Most of them just sat staring into space waiting. I lost count of the number of ambulances that came and went. Two helicopters landed with trauma victims. One car pulled up with a gunshot victim. There was a lot of blood. That patient came with lots of police and upset family and friends. We finally got into the ER itself. My son was placed on a gurney in the hall. Other patients filled all the rooms and lined the halls. Paramedics came with more patients on stretchers. I stood by the wall just watching. I felt invisible. Doctors, nurses and all sorts of other staff hurried by us with out even a glance. It was a wild scene. After about an hour one the nurses did stop and tell us that the attending had been called and they were going to try administering more of the medicine that had not worked in the local ER. If that didn’t work they would have to do an endoscopy. I was then sent back to the waiting room to join the silent, staring group of waiting people. I finally was allowed back to check on my son’s progress. He was still on a gurney in the hall, but all the other hallway patients had gone somewhere else. He had received two more doses of medicine. The nurse gave him a third dose while I was there. This time it worked. The esophagus loosened its grip and the food moved on into the stomach. Hallelujah! He drank a glass of water without effort. The attending said he still had to do the endoscopy to find out why this had happened, but we could do that tomorrow in the surgical center. We came home after eight very long hours in the ER.

Today I took my son to have the endoscopy. The waiting room was clean and quiet. I was the only one there. The procedure was completed. There were no serious findings. He has GERD. It will be treated with medicine and diet. He will be fine.