My truth

Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel - which means "God with us". Isaiah 7:14

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; ... and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Isaiah 9:6

And Jesus grew in wisdom and in stature, and in favor with God and man. Luke 2:52

Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a servant and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross. Philippians 2:6-8

God made you alive with Christ and forgave all the things you had done wrong. He canceled the record of the charges against us with its legal demands and took it away by nailing it to the cross. Colossians 2:13-14

...and if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is by believing in your heart that you are made right with God, and it is by confessing with your mouth that you are saved. For the Scripture says, “Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame.” Romans 10:9-11

...and the peace of God which transcends all understanding will protect your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:7

Don’t be dejected and sad, for the joy of the Lord is your strength! Nehemiah 8:10

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This is the truth by which I choose to live my life - from birth to death, before and beyond, I am in the cup of God's hand. The God of the universe, the master of time, the one who spins the stars in the sky, sees the storehouses of snow, orchestrates the dance of waves - this God, he watches over me day and night.

And that is why I celebrate today.

Humbled

I am deeply and profoundly humbled that a paid fundraiser, a telemarketer with kindness and gentleness in his voice, would be the one to remind me, to prompt my heart to have peace and joy today.

I thank God for him.

Two for you

The sun is slowly rising, coloring the sky and the neighborhood. The street lights are still on, giving everything a golden glow mixed with the cold light of a new day, and I sit in bed, a kitty sleeping at my feet, getting ready for the whirlwind of the next two days.

In these quiet morning moments before Tim stirs, I'll write a little about 2 books I recently read. Some of you may recall that I took a stab at a book blog, but never really followed-up. Instead of continuing to pursue that, I'll just write about them here. :)

Sidebar: The last 2 books I read I picked-up off the shelf simply because the titles grabbed me. No other reason, and yet I found myself engrossed in books filled with literary references, populated, in fact, by characters engaged in literary pursuits. How about that? It seemed an odd coincidence, considering my background in literature, but it was a delightful surprise and wonderful bonus to well-written books.

The Solace of Leaving Early (Haven Kimmel) is a novel about grief and healing, written with such tenderness that it is not a burden on the heart of the reader. Two little girls are, in one night, in one horrible event, bereft of their parents. They step into the lives of adults who carry their own heavy burdens - a young woman with a broken heart who has walked away from her dreams and left her plans behind her; a pastor who is in a crisis of faith, wondering how he can go on serving the flock; a mother and father doing the very best they can in this difficult world. Despite the troubles of each of these characters, the author draws us in and fleshes them out, making their struggles real and worthwhile, walking us through their days of sorrow and struggle, leading us to a place of renewed joy and hope. Quite a lovely and extraordinary book.

And then there's Special Topics in Calamity Physics (Marisha Pessl). Now wait just a minute ... what was this book doing on the fiction shelves? When I saw the title I just had to pick it up (perhaps influenced by my scientist husband!). This first-time
novel was amazing! The tale centers around a young woman,
Blue van Meer, raised primarily by her widowed father, a dashing scholar at obscure colleges. They move frequently, from town to town, and Blue is forced to find her place in each new environment. Her senior year of high school is a unique one - filled with unusual characters, challenges, mystery, difficult choices, and an exploration of who she is that leads her deeper into herself and frees her from her past. Pessl writes with a unique flair, using literary references cleverly and effectively. I loved this book! It is quite a long tale, but well worth the journey. Funny, fascinating, fully entertaining.

A tiny Merry Christmas gift to all of you who like to read. :-)

Unexpected

The falling snow has stacked up to about 6 inches, and it is still coming down, although certainly thinning. I have the last of my shopping to do, not including the IOUs I will be giving out this year. :) I'm just not going to be able to get it all done. The kids will have their gifts, of course! :-)

After shoveling, Tim brought in yesterday's mail, damp from the snow that fell all night. In it was a lovely hand-written letter from a very old friend - from Indonesia days - and inside her letter was one my mom sent her 27 years ago. I put Mom's letter down on my desk for just a minute before reading it, just to get my heart ready.

As I read through the letter, I could hear Mom's voice, see her going about her business, all that she described. I could feel the understanding and support, the envelope of love and care in which I grew up. Often, as she was sitting in bed reading or writing letters, I would lie down next to her and we would talk, and she would rub my back or play with my hair. Always tender, always gentle, except when she would hug us hello or goodbye as we traveled back and forth from boarding school. Then her hugs were fierce and strong, and I knew she hated to let me go.

An unexpected gift so close to Christmas - to hear my mother's voice, to receive this letter. I don't know quite what to think, except that my heart must be healing as there were very few tears. And that's just as it should be.

Almost here

The snow falls, the oven hums, good smells fill the house as I bake a Honey Cake with rose water and walnuts, and Tim smokes a big chunk of pork. The tree sparkles in the living room (presents gathering underneath it), and Egg is snuggled under the covers on the bed. Next door I see our neighbors wrapping presents, and it seems each day packages land on the porch.

Christmas is fast approaching, and my days are full! A Christmas party 4 nights out of 5 - too much! But it is time filled with laughter and love, so how can I say "no"?

So I shop and bake and rest and wrap and sing and bundle and rest some more.

This morning the quiet of the house is all around me as I do my work, and my heart feels a little more settled today. I am thankful.

Husband

The singer's voice rang out clear as a bell, and he strummed the guitar with joy. He sang of the Colorado Rockies, of seeing "it rainin' fire in the sky" and that "the shadow from the starlight is softer than a lullabye".

And he sang of a man who "climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below, he saw everything as far as you can see".

And I thought of my husband. My Colorado native who loves these mountains more than anyone I know. Who draws from them joy, encouragement, strength, peace, faith. Who goes into them like he's going into a cathedral - full of wonder, and amazement, and looking for that which is bigger than himself. Who is convinced that the Rock of his salvation is not a boulder, not a towering cliff, not even a mountain 14,000 feet high - but even more unfathomable, even more unmovable, even more solid and unchanging.

I thought of the years we lived so far away, and how he longed for the Colorado blue sky, the clear stars at night, the days of quiet snowfall. How he longed for the smell of pine needles underfoot, and campfires on cold summer nights high in the mountains.

And I held his hand and felt the callouses on his fingers. I saw the glistening in his eyes as he listened to the song. I felt the tenderness in his heart as he heard the man singing, and he felt the song was just for him.

My love.

Filling my heart

Ave Maria, The Peace Carol, Please Come Home for Christmas, The Prayer...

Lime-glazed cornmeal cookies, gingersnaps, peanut butter with toffee and pretzel cookies, chocolate fudge, peanut butter fudge...

At least 3 snowmen of varying size, 4 tiny trees, a silver sleigh filled with ribbons, pretty boxes everywhere, sparkling lights, 2 santas, and the most beautiful olive wood nativity...

Drives through the neighborhood looking at lights, shopping on-line before dawn for people far away, spending time with family and friends, sitting in my kitchen singing along, snuggling with Egg...

Answered prayers, laughter, changes in my heart, prayer, healing from sorrow, gratefulness for the Christ-child who grew to be a man who gave himself for me...

Waking

Christmas approaches, and with it a tidal wave of busy-ness. I keep thinking, "Just get through the next 2 weeks." Part of me thinks this isn't how I want to be spending my holidays ... but the truth is - so much of what I'm doing I want to do.

So a mental shift is in order. Since I want to be doing almost all of these activities, I should look forward to each one individually. I should stop looking at my calendar and feeling overwhelmed by seeing everything I've got going on, all spread out over the next 2 weeks, stacked one upon another. I should just take one at a time and enjoy them each for what they are.

There, that already feels a little better!

Early this morning I dreamed that my sisters, their children, Dad and I were all at someone's house. As Dad and I got in the car to drive home, he laughed one of his large laughs, and in the dream, that laugh made me miss Mom so much that I burst into tears. And then I woke myself up crying.

Oh, the seeming impossibility of Christmas without a parent. Yesterday, walking through the grocery store with a friend, I said, "I hate Christmas." Is that really true? No - I don't think it is. I know it's not true. I think what I mean is I hate this feeling of deep-down inside hurting, and the hurt being stirred like sediment in a river - stirred with every pretty house of Christmas lights, every carol, every happy family, every memory that lies under the surface and rises painfully in my sleep.

But I know from losing Mom that each year will be a little easier. I'm also increasingly certain that I'll miss them so much for the rest of my life. But the missing will turn into the dull ache, the melancholy memories - it won't be this stabbing, this burning.

So today I'll bake some cookies, spend time with my friend, do a few dishes. Today I'll think about Christmas presents, maybe decorate just a little, and miss Dad.

What can I say?

I'm here! I know I haven't written in a long while. I am finding myself filling my days with lots of productive stuff, but poetic words aren't really coming into my head. :( I hate to write boring stuff, but here's a little update.

The days are ever-shortening, and Christmas is now right around the corner. Baking, candy-making, shopping, and the calendar is full. I hope I'll enjoy the season, but I know I will breathe a deep sigh of relief when Dec. 26 rolls around. :)

My garden has gone to sleep for the winter. I was going to try and create a kind of greenhouse for myself, but that didn't happen this fall. Maybe I can get it together next summer. I'm already thinking lots about what I want to plant - lemon cucumbers, green beans, snap peas. Yum!

My headaches are crazy out of control, but I'm coping all right. Ok, I'm feeling pretty worn down physically and mentally, but this too will pass. If a couple things I'm trying this month don't make any difference, I'll be seeking out a specialist in Denver. Docs haven't done me much good in the past (in this area), but I'll try again.

I think that's all my news. Nothing monumental, but I wanted to let you all know I'm still here...

Good value

I just made a discovery!

I've lived in my house for 5 years, and for 5 years I've been driving past a small collection of businesses very near my house. I did stop in one time to the barber's to get my bangs trimmed, but there is also a screen printing business, and a small clothing boutique.

When I got my little haircut a year or so ago, I noticed that the establishment also hosts an alterations business, so today, I decided to take in a couple items from my closet that need help. Didn't get that errand quite taken care of - the alterations lady is closed on Saturdays, but guess what I found?

The clothing boutique is full of beautiful, unique clothing and jewelry - much of which is made by Sak Saum - a company committed to "restoring hope and dignity to the vulnerable and exploited." Sak Saum is an organization devoted to helping women who have been rescued from human trafficking.

I am so glad to have discovered this little place! Of course, their adorable clothes, purses and accessories will draw me in again, but knowing that the dollars I spend there goes not only to support a truly locally owned, neighborhood business, but supports women who have escaped the worst kind of slavery - well, that's reason enough to spend my shopping dollars there!

If you live in the neighborhood, check it out. The sale basket has several lovely and very good buys in it right now! After all - Christmas is on its way...

Eon Fashion Boutique

834 N. Institute

http://www.saksaum.org ... which is a ministry of ...

ihsionline.org (In His Steps International)

Love

I'm so thankful for nights of sleep and mornings that bring new days. I woke up with none of last night's heaviness.

But even as I wrote last night's post, my mind was filled with all the kids in my life - and how much I enjoy them. I guess we're all surrounded by kids, but I feel like I have an extra portion in my life. Babies who know my face and smile when they see me. Little blond girls who love tea parties, and boys who want to show me all their tools. Kids who have elaborate stories to tell and practice their jokes on me, learning what's appropriate and what's not. Teens who might walk by with not a word, or greet me with a hug.

I love each of these kids, and not too often does being with them make me sad. For that I'm very thankful, because these are great kids, and I want to enjoy each of them right where they are since that changes every day!

So this morning, no tears. Just a residue of sadness, but I'll tell God all about it and open up my hands to let him take it away.

Loss

The night is full of laughter and orange lights and cars driving with slow care through our neighborhood.

Halloween.

Tiny fairies, and Batman, and a race car driver, and two bumblebees, and dinosaurs, and a pop star, and a flapper, and a tiny vampire all walk the streets, and the neighborhood feels alive.

But tonight my arms feel empty.

I think it's becoming pretty clear that husband and I will not be parents. We won't adopt, there won't be some late miracle in my body. We won't ever hold a baby and know it's ours. We won't watch that little one take its first steps. We won't help dress anyone for Halloween and walk the neighborhood as Mom and Dad.

Sometimes I'm really ok with all this. Sometimes it feels almost like a relief to know we won't have to walk that hard road. We won't have to do the hard work of discipline and training when we're already so tired we can hardly think. We won't have to listen to the screaming of tantrums when we have company over. We won't have to change dirty diapers until we can hardly stand the sight of little bottoms.

But other times my arms and heart ache with an emptiness that comes with the knowing: I won't be a mother. Other times I can hardly look at a child without envy and sorrow. Sometimes when my nephews turn to me and mistakenly call me "Mommy" my heart bursts in my chest and I can't catch my breath and tears leak into my eyes, but I quietly answer them anyway.

Tonight I'm sad. I'm sad and feel this loss deep in my belly. I'll drink my cup of hot tea, and maybe take something to help me sleep - perchance not to dream. No dreams, please. Not tonight. Just rest and calm and blank thoughts. So that tomorrow I can get up and keep on walking this road toward healing, toward a heart that can rejoice in someone else's gift of a child. Not to deny my sorrow, but to come to a place where it no longer so defines me, controls me, pulls me this way and that.

Because the goal is joy and peace. To grow and let our wounds heal. Insha'allah, someday.

Twenty

Late yesterday afternoon the brilliant blue sky of Colorado autumn turned to gray, and we were warned by both nature and man that the temperatures were going to drop.

Sure enough, this morning, there is not a hint of anything but cloud - if the dense, low covering can be called that. Snow lies on the ground and it is continuing to snow, albeit not with much determination. "I don't foresee much additional accumulation," the weatherman might say.

I, for one, am glad for the change. Fall has, indeed, been beautiful, but I'm ready for cold days when I can embed in my house, sew or cook, and enjoy the quiet of winter. For those of you who dread the cold, my sympathies are with you. :)

Last night Tim and I went to a screening of Pearl Jam Twenty a documentary by Cameron Crowe (see Jerry Maguire, Almost Famous) who began his career as a music journalist in Seattle. He chronicled the band's beginnings, their rise to the heights of the music industry, and their continued journey as seasoned musicians and mature adults. It was wonderful - moving, informative, entertaining, with great timing and an amazing soundtrack.

On the drive home, Tim expressed that it had transported him back to his early college and grad school days in a much more visceral way than he'd anticipated. He had been absolutely engrossed in the film and was almost giddy with joy and memories. I, on the other hand, felt rather low, even though I'd enjoyed the movie intensely. It was leaving the movie that got me down. And listening to him reminisce. After all, those were golden years for him. But not for me.

I arrived home feeling old. I was reminded of the season in my life when Pearl Jam was at the height of their popularity. Those were hard years - between marriage and death, I thought to myself when Tim said, "...between undergrad and grad school." I didn't have a place where I felt I really belonged, my mom died, I had a terribly difficult work situation. Tough years.

So I told Tim that. I said, "The movie made me feel old." I snuggled my head against his shoulder. "I guess we're not young anymore."

He stroked my hair and gently smiled. "You're still my sweetie."

Aahhh. Those words were like salve on a wound. This man I love, this marriage in which I live, my high school sweetheart who still sees me that way - but with the benefit of 20 years of life shared together, and all that means.

It made me think of the Browning poem that ends, "God's in his heaven - all's right with the world."

Amen.

Blessed

I feel so blessed! I'm telling you - every hike I took this summer, every time I spent a day working in my garden, every heavy basket of laundry I carry - I think about where I was last year with this tender, awful wound on my belly. And now I'm all better! I know I keep saying it over and over again, but I keep thinking about it. I am so thankful for good doctors, my kind God in whose plan it was that I heal so wonderfully, my friends who served me faithfully, my family who loved me through the whole experience. Whew! I am blessed!

And ... today, as I took my morning walk in the fresh, new sunshine, the trees practically glowed in their fall colors - yellow, magenta, orange, and still a little green. Beautiful and wonderful to behold. Ahhh ... my favorite season is filling my heart and soul with beauty!

And ... I got a lovely massage, which means my neck and shoulders no longer feel like I've got rocks under my skin. That's always a plus, besides which my massage therapist is just such a fun lady. Time with her is always relaxing.

And .... I got some dog love this morning! There is a yard I walk by that has 2 labs in it - a young, black one, and a significantly older, slower moving yellow guy. They used to bark at me, running up to their chain-link fence, but as time passed, and I cooed and talked to them as I walked by, they barked from their corner, not even bothering to get up. Then they began to trot up to the fence to sniff me, that progressed to wagging tails, and now they run up to the fence, their whole behinds wagging, and push their ball under the fence so I can throw it. I think they'd do that all day, but I can only stop for a few minutes before heading home. It is too precious and fills me with joy!

And ... I am poised to harvest beautiful carrots, beets and radishes, and I still have lettuce and some fresh herbs. My mind is filled with plans for next year's vegetable garden. Yum-o!

And ... the fall light, that golden light that only comes this time of the year, floods my house, bathing everything in golden hues, as if Hollywood has lit my house for some royal scene. The trees move in the gentle breeze, the shadows play on my floor, and I dig out my sweaters and warm socks.

Blessed. I am so blessed.

Miracle

I don't know why I'm not writing more. Life is crazy busy - especially this last week. (But to any of you concerned about me, I'm actually making progress in that arena.) Life is sort of normal these days. Hmmm, I'm not sure why ... but I do have something to write about today.

Thursday evening Tim and I were lounging around watching TV. The phone rang, and Tim picked it up.

"Hello? ... Hi, Jim ..."

In the thinnest margin of time, in the shortest nano-second imaginable, my heart lept out of my chest - Dad is on the phone?! - No, Dad is dead.

There was no slow leaking of tears, no sniffles. There was instant, full on weeping - sobbing really. My body was instantly wracked with violent tears, and all of it caused by synapses in my brain over which I have no control. Instinct at the sound of my dad's name. The longing in my heart to hear his voice, see his face, glean comfort from his presence. It was odd, to say the least. And it left me shaken for a couple hours. And it resulted in very strange dreams for a couple nights.

How much I still miss him! My brain knows it. My body knows it. My soul knows it.

Last night I went to the symphony. It was marvelous! (I've splurged on season tickets this year as they are both a great deal and a wonderful balm to my soul.) The first piece they played was by Jean Sibelius (of whom I'd never heard - I'm kind of a classical music nincompoop) - Violin Concerto in D Minor, Op. 47. It showcased a solo violinist who was out of this world! And the music - it was so sad. It instantly transported me back to Dad's hospital room, to the day he died, planning his funeral. It was like the piece of music was written to express all the phases of losing someone you love. My heart was so moved, and so fed at the same time. Wonderful and so beautiful.

All this is to say that these two things have brought me to reflect on what miracles we are. Our bodies alone are wondrous in the speed with which they respond. The soloist last night played with speed and precision, her fingers making tiny moves along the strings, the bow moving furiously at times. And out of all that frenetic movement, a wondrous sound emerges - precise, beautiful, amazing!

A fingertip touches a hot pan and nearly instantly messages are conveyed that I should draw away, and my body responds. I hear my dad's name in a greeting, and without time to think, my brain leaps around to places I couldn't possibly have planned.

I am in awe of the wonder of our brains and our emotions.

We are made in a marvelous way. We are miracles roaming this earth - the complexity of our bodies, our minds, our souls and how they are intertwined. Fascinating, wonderful, beautiful.

And all this wonder works together as my body and mind work out my grief and healing, as I garden, as I spend time with lovely people, as I play with nephews and hike with friends. I am amazing and so thankful for my good health this fall. Look how I've healed! I am a wonder to behold.

Blessed day

The first snow of fall is coming down, filling the sky, but not sticking to the ground yet. The flakes are big and fat, like nature's sparkles in the air, and I have a quiet day at home to snuggle in and enjoy the quiet that winter brings. My windows are closed for the first time in months, and so I can't hear the traffic. There are no neighbors mowing. There are no dogs outside barking. The neighborhood has the hush of a winter's night - and it is only October.

Today I was going to go with a good friend into the mountains to see the beautiful fall leaves, but the mountains are expecting 3-6 inches of snow, and I didn't feel like braving the roads. Instead I made waffles for my neighbors and me. :-) It was lovely - them in their pajamas, sleepy-eyed, and me deeply gratified that they feel comfortable enough to slouch on over and eat breakfast on a Saturday morning. Not a small blessing - but one that fills me in the deep places of my heart.

And now my day is empty with nothing I have to do. Sure, I could do laundry (and still might), but I might also just sit and read, or write, or nap. I might take a walk in the cold. I might pick some lettuce in the snow and have a crispy, cold salad with my grilled cheese. I might call a friend. I might write a letter.

I might sit and stare out the window at the golden leaves, the trees that are still fully green, and the white flakes that are falling.

Splinters

I wake early in the morning from a dream. Dad is gone, so is Mom, and we have to sort out the clues of where they've gone and why. And as I lie in my warm cocoon, Egg pressed against my face as we share my pillow, both of us under the blankets, his paw in my hand, my fuzzy mind sorts out the dream and reality.

Mom and Dad are gone, and it isn't the why they've gone that needs sorting, but the how we go on. My eyes fill with tears. Some days without Dad are beginning to feel normal, and the missing isn't such a deep pain. But still, the painful days are deep in my gut, and despondence flits across my day like a skipping stone - causing ripples across the whole pond.

Like splinters that scatter across the forest floor when a giant tree falls, I have boxes of Mom and Dad's stuff to sort through. What tangible splinter of memory will I keep, and what will I relinquish, trusting that the memory ... without the touchstone of this item, this trinket, this photo, this hat, this bowl ... trusting that the memory will remain intact.

And perhaps the hardest part of letting go is not really the physical, but letting go of the memories themselves as little by little, so many of them slip away, and most of what you're left with is the essence of the person, like strong perfume in a vacated elevator. Of course I have many specific memories of both Mom and Dad, and always will, but some things I thought I'd never forget, like the sound of her voice, are foggy and distant, and the letting go, the not working to hold onto it, the recognizing it is all right to leave it behind is a pain and a grief in itself.

So I start this morning teary and weary from my last hour of sleep. But the sun is rising golden and lovely with that particular glow of fall, I have a day to be quiet at home, and I can salve my heart with hot tea, prayer, and the comfort of knowing that, despite the pain and sorrow, my life is full of good things that daily sustain me.

A tree

There is a tree in my neighborhood that must be one of the prettiest in the city.

Is it the particular spread and lie of its branches?

Is it the shape and size of its leaves?

Is it the just-so yellow color that it turns?

It spreads beautifully with long, graceful branches making it as wide as a house, and the proportions of its width and height are just right. It turns the most beautiful shade of yellow, and is one of the first trees in our neighborhood to fully blossom with fall color, making it stand out even more.

My neighborhood has something else that distinguishes it - a special high school that focuses on reaching kids who are about to permanently fall through the cracks - kids from the worst homes, kids with criminal records, kids to whom no one has payed enough attention. The 125 year old brick building has seen an awful lot of the world pass by its doors, and now it is a confluence of old and new ideas, methodologies, philosophies. It is a place where these special and often downtrodden kids can come and learn in a way they might not have expected, and be respected by adults in a way they may have never before experienced.

The most beautiful tree and this wonderful high school are on the same block. Why should I be surprised that these two things exist together? That tree, a living proof of adaptability, changing season by season, yet somehow the same year after year, is such an example of life itself. It is death and renewal, it is jaw-dropping beauty in the middle of the city, it is learning how to thrive where you're planted.

And the kids have that chance, too. Day after day the block is filled with kids lounging, talking, waiting for rides, buses, girlfriends. Day after day they walk past that tree. Do they see how beautiful it is? Do they believe they can grow and mature and change and adapt and learn to thrive? Do they see the beauty right in front of them, and inside themselves?

I hope so.

Life

I am struck by the turning of the Earth, of days passing by, of quiet moments, of days filled to the brim, of shared laughter, of shared worries.

One friend, brand new to marriage, struggles to find her place, her rhythm in the new dance. Another friend, worn down by life, learns of a new physical malady that will follow her the rest of her life.

I spent today (and yesterday, and will spend tomorrow) cooking. Cooking mashed potatoes, green bean salad, chicken pot pie, bread pudding and bourbon sauce - all good things to satisfy and bring a smile. My first official catering job in Colorado! I'm excited, full of questions about the future of this venture, and ready to serve it up!

Life's twists and turns are strange, and so often take us by surprise. In my quiet house, on this quiet evening, I contemplate my life, the lives of those I love.

I hope tonight finds you at peace, in a place where you feel loved, filled with joy.

Change of plans

There is a tiny town in Colorado called Twin Lakes. As its name implies, it lies next to a pair of connected lakes which, I just found out, were originally formed by the morainal damming of Lake Creek by a Pleistocene glacier. The lakes are part of a rather stunning view that includes Mt. Elbert (the highest peak in Colorado). In the fall, this area's aspens are amazing as they turn to gold. Stunning, really. The mountainside looks like a patch-work quilt of yellow and green, and a hike along the southern edge of the lake takes one through a wonderland of beauty, twinkling golden yellow leaves, sparkling blue sky and water. Truly lovely. A sight to see.

For several years I have wanted to go on a fall camping trip to Twin Lakes. Last year was to be the year. Clearly that didn't happen, so that was one of my goals for this year: to camp at Twin Lakes while the leaves were at their peak.

It didn't happen. Long story that I won't bother telling here.

But something wonderful happened instead. Something that felt miraculous, like a gift just for me. My birthday just keeps going on and on! :-)

Friday night Tim said, "Let's use your new fire pit and have a little cookout with Brian and Sarah (our new, wonderful neighbors). So off we went to the store to get our supplies - hot dogs, burgers, stuff for coleslaw, etc. A great evening - friends, fire, yummy food!

And Saturday? Oh, Saturday!

I got to spend the whole day - morning to night - with a wonderful, incredibly busy friend whose life right now is kind of hard and full of challenges. We drove one of my favorite mountain roads (especially in the fall), saw the beginning of the changing leaves, took a wonderful hike in my favorite (so far) state park, made our leisurely way home, cooked dinner together, watched a movie. A day jam-packed with girl time, friend time. We talked of spiritual matters, problem-solved, laughed, told stories, sat in the sun at a beautiful lookout, and just enjoyed one another. It was a miraculous day.

I must say, I am sad not to have slept under the stars, awakened to the chilly, mountain air, taken that hike I love along the lake.

But honesty, Tim and I were worn out by last weekend. It was wonderful to not have to pack up, drive a couple hours, all that stuff. And the day with my friend? Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Weekend update...

I've been remiss. I haven't been writing much. So much for being a professional blogger. Ha ha! :-)

Let's see ... what's been going on?

I had a lovely birthday - two celebrations! One spontaneous one with friends, and one lovely one with family! They both added to my joy and sparkled up my life. Fried chicken at one and Chinese food at the other. Wonderful!

My fall harvest garden is coming along nicely.

• I've already had a salad with my lettuce (didn't wash it, though - a gritty error)
• the radishes will be ready to harvest any day
• the beets are growing slowly but well
• my peas haven't bloomed yet, so I'm skeptical of a harvest there
• the kohlrabi is profuse (yum!)
• and I'm about to plant spinach

Such fun! :-)

I'm working on catching-up on some of my housework. I really let things go to pot this last year (wonder why?!), and so am trying to get some things back under control. You know, return to some patterns that have worked in the past - things like washing clothes before the pile overtakes the whole bedroom floor, washing dishes before you run out of plates, sweeping before the dust bunnies organize themselves and begin attacking the cat. You know - just the basics. :)

Actually, I could make a kind of boring list of all the little things I'm doing that keep me busy, but I won't bother with that. Those are just the highlights. :-) Hmmm ... a birthday, gardening, and housework? How did that get in the highlight list? There must be something else interesting I've been doing, but at the current hour (won't tell you what time it is or why I am up at this wee hour of the morning), my brain isn't functioning too well.

"So why are you blogging?" you might ask. Good question. Uumm ... yeah ... Egg made me do it?

Tee hee hee ...

Me (giggle...)

Yesterday morning I awakened to fall. Seemingly we'd overnight turned the corner away from summer. I know we'll have some more hot days, some more days when the sweat drips off as I work in the yard or hike my favorite trail, but once again the end of the dog days are in sight. It's like a little gift just for me.

You see, tomorrow is my birthday. :-)

Last year I don't even really remember the day itself. I was still in la la land, on the slow road of recovery.

This year I'm filled with a silly, bubbling of joy.

I am filled with joy and thankfulness for my parents, whose bodies made me, whose love molded my life, whose lives so deeply influenced mine. I had extraordinary parents. Have I mentioned that? Of course, they had flaws. I don't have some kind of crazy delusion about their perfection, but they were rather wonderful people who strove to parent well. I grew up knowing I was loved and valued.

I am filled with gratitude for my health. I've healed "perfectly" (says my surgeon) from the scalpel's rude intrusion into my body. I am once again symptom-free from the endometriosis. I am getting stronger and stronger as the year goes along and I hike, ride my bike, garden, walk.

I am learning more and more about God and his love for me. It impacts my life not less and less as I grow in understanding, but more and more as my wonder grows along with that understanding. I am so deeply flawed, and I mess up so often, but I hope that I am growing as a person, learning to love better, getting wiser as my body gets stronger.

My life is good.

Yeah, yeah, I have difficulties (don't we all?). Yes, I miss my mom and dad so very much, etc., blah, blah, blah. Why list my troubles here, today?

The primary thought in my head is: My life is good.

And tomorrow is another day for me to say "thank you".

Ahhh...

Where have I been?

On vacation. Following the USA Pro Cycling Challenge bike race across Colorado. Enjoying the mountains, the quiet, the escape from the daily grind. Swimming, walking, riding bikes, watching movies, sleeping in, eating fun food, cooking lovely meals for me and Tim.

Enjoying all that vacation means.

Our lives feel pretty stressful right now. I could list all the reasons, but I don't want to bother. Needless to say, this was a much-needed break from life. We needed the time away from home. We needed the time together. We needed the restful, quiet days filled with nothing.

It has been lovely. The bike race was incredibly fun to watch (there might be more to come about that). The meals we enjoyed were super tasty. The condo was so comfortable. The weather was perfect.

We head home tomorrow and I'm kind of down about it. I need to remind myself of all the good things that await me there. I need to focus on how much I have that gives me joy. So tonight we'll watch one more movie, have a great night's sleep, and have a beautiful drive home tomorrow.

Deep breath. Dive back in.

Up and down

I feel really sad today. Deep down sad. But I can't seem to figure out why...

Is my body remembering my surgery a year ago today - and the stress that surrounded it?
Is it the tough decisions I need to make about this one friendship?
Is it the anticipated time with my nephews I won't get this week?

Sure wish I could pinpoint where this feeling is coming from so I can get rid of it. I guess I'll just have my breakfast, get on with my crazy, busy day, and see if I can work it out of my system.

Today is Tim's birthday, and we're having a very small celebration with his parents this evening. Tim isn't excited about his birthday. He feels no need to celebrate getting older. He is, indeed, feeling his age, and isn't enjoying that process much at all. Maybe that's getting me down a little.

I said to him last night, "Well, let's celebrate a year of good health for me."

His face lit up with a smile, he gave me a big hug and said that was something really worth celebrating.

"You know," he said, "I told you last year that you never had to give me another present, and I meant it. Getting you safe and sound last year on my birthday was the only present I'll ever need."

I may be feeling sad this morning, but I'm also feeling incredibly grateful for my good recovery, for no more pain, for my health this year.

I'm thankful that with each passing month, my heart is a tiny bit more healed from losing Dad.

I'm thankful for my husband and all we share.

And I'm thankful for today, his birthday. As I told him last night, "Your birthday isn't about celebrating you being a year older. It's about celebrating you being born - and being here with me."

Happy birthday, my love.

Disaster

So I have long hair. And it is indeed getting quite long. It is cheap to maintain, my hubby loves it, and it is easy to deal with.

For a long time I had short, blunt bangs. This summer I experimented with letting them grow out some. Yuck. I had to put product in them. They hung in my face. As they got longer I had these weird wings starting on the sides.

I decided to go back to my short bangs.

Went to a discount hair salon this afternoon after doing some grocery shopping.

The lovely young lady asked what I wanted. I told her and showed her a picture I liked. She seemed to understand perfectly. "Do you want them a little thicker?" she asked. "I think blunt bangs like that look better when they are a little thicker."

Well, sure! Let's try that!

Oh dear. I have returned home to short, blunt bangs and what looks like a funny hat on my forehead. The additional bangs this lovely young person added are not falling nicely like my old short bangs. They are kind of puffy and look weird.

Very weird!

Tears? Maybe.

But what do I do now? Grow out just the "thickening"? Keep them as they are? Get all my hair cut so these bangs don't look quite so weird? And get it done by Sunday so I don't show up at church looking like some crazy 4 year old who cut her own hair?

Well, at least hair grows.

That's about the best thing I can say about this.

Meanwhile, I see a ball cap or scarf in my very near future.

Cliche

There was the thinnest, most delicate frosting of snow Pike's Peak yesterday morning. Summer, it appears, is losing its grip on us, and those dog days of heat are almost certainly nearing their end. We'll have a few more days in the 90s, but not many. The nights are already back in the 50s, and the heat of the day lasts but for a few hours.

All this reminds me of the passage of time, of the days and months of our lives. I am particularly thankful for this summer to be almost over - it means I've done all my firsts without Dad. First birthday, first Christmas, first Father's Day, first anniversary. And I'm quickly passing by all the dates that marked my own illness last year - CT scans, appointments filled with discouraging news, surgery, healing.

And mostly I'm thankful. Thankful that time does pass. That each sunrise and sunset bring a little more healing, a little more closure. That today's problems don't always have to be solved today - sometimes, when evening falls, we can just set aside all those problems, relax for the night, and face them again in the broad light of a new day.

I am thankful for time. I am thankful for my sunny yard filling with flowers. I'm thankful for each little beet growing in my garden. I am thankful for quiet evenings with Tim.

Life goes on. A cliche, but blessedly true.

Late, but better than never

I must say I am a little excited.

In my quest to continue learning about boundaries, the limitations of my own body and mind, and balance in my life (which has translated this summer to once again paring down my schedule), I have a little more time at home - which feels incredibly good. I'm hoping this extra time in my own nest will facilitate some creative work this fall, namely - sewing. I'd LOVE to whip up a couple pretty fall skirts and insulated curtains for our bedroom. Yay! :-)

So there's progress in one area.

But the thing I'm really excited about today is this ...

... I have the tiniest sprouts of beets, carrots, and yellow summer squash!

"Oh, my," you might think, "isn't it a little late to be starting a vegie garden?"

Well, let me just tell you about that.

In my realization that I can't do everything I want (gasp! am I my father's daughter or what?!), this spring I decided to just let go of my hopes of having a lovely vegetable garden this summer. So sad! I didn't get to do much of that last summer, and so letting go of it for this summer was pretty hard. I decided, however, that my time was just too filled already.

So passed May, June, and most of July. And then I read a magazine article that sparked some thinking about a late summer planted - early fall harvested veg garden. What could I plant this late in our short growing season? What would still bear lovely fruit? I did some research, looked at maturity dates, and - lo and behold - there's actually quite a bit I can still expect to harvest.

So here's what I did. Last week I prepped my raised vegetable garden (and for me that means weeding. I'm a pretty lazy gardener...), bought the seeds I wanted, and staked out my plan.

As of yesterday, I have the teeniest, weeniest little beet greens showing, and today's examination revealed that my two summer squashes are going to pop out of the ground either today or tomorrow (I can just see them pushing past the dirt), and my carrots are beginning to sprout! I'm so excited!

To be honest, the carrots are a dubious late summer crop. I may only get the smallest, baby carrots, but that will be just fine with me. The summer squash may not have much time to produce, either, but it sure will be fun trying.

As to the sugar snap peas, kohlrabi, beets, radishes, lettuce, and mache (another salad green), I expect to have lovely, full crops of these through mid-Oct or at least through the first really hard frost.

And to top it all off, the rhubarb I transplanted from my dad's garden (notoriously hard to transplant I've heard - from an agronomist/gardener friend of mine) appears to not only be surviving, but putting out new leaves. Wonder of wonders, and joy to my heart!

Small pleasures, no?

Of course, I still don't think I can do everything I'd like ... but I'm just a little bit closer. :-)

With and without

I'm watching an old episode of Project Runway - one where the designers' moms all show up on set to be their muse and model for the next project. They scream, burst into tears, hug, celebrate. The producers of these shows do this every so often - to pull at our heartstrings, to keep us watching, to get us emotionally involved. It works.

I cry, too, watching all these young people and their joy at seeing their mothers, and it is hard to describe the deep feeling in my heart, the immediate welling of tears.

My mom will never surprise me at the airport. I won't get a surprise phone call on my birthday or Christmas day. I won't ever get another precious Valentine's Day card from my dad. I'm having to learn how to do all those things, continue to celebrate all those days without a parent.

I miss my mom and dad. Mom's been gone since '96, but now having lost Dad makes me miss Mom more than I have for several years.

I'm an orphan. Not many people who haven't lost both parents really understand that. "You're an adult," you can see them thinking. "Why would you describe yourself that way?"

I'm not saying I am in terrible pain every day ... but I surely do miss them.

My heart is healing, in small steps, in a thousand small ways. I planted a fall-harvest vegetable garden, and each little seed seems to represent a step in my healing. Last summer and fall, contemplating a new garden seemed impossible, too painful. This summer and fall, that new life feels good, healing.

And as I manage my life, make choices about spending time with people, figure out the balance between serving others and taking care of myself and Tim, I find myself thinking about Mom and what she would have done. She had pretty good boundaries, and seemed to have a wisdom about all this. I'd love to hear her opinion, but I did have some good talks with Dad about it - and that will have to be enough.

After all, in the end the person I want to please is neither my mom nor my dad. It is God. Is he pleased with my life, my choices? Am I growing in the ways he would like? How can I discern that through the chaos and noise of this world?

So I keep moving onward, keeping planting new things, keep learning about myself and who I should be. All without a mom or dad to help guide me.

I miss my parents - sometimes in a searing, heart-pounding way - but even in the missing I can see the many who surround me, love me deeply, and walk the path with me.

Love is patient

I woke up this morning - earlier than I'd planned - to the harsh rumble of gas-powered landscaping tools, shovels scraping against one another, the clanging of a pile of tools being unloaded. And I immediately grumbled and became angry. Finally a great night of sleep, and a morning that didn't begin, very first thing, with pain. Finally - but now the world is rudely intruding on my quiet and my peaceful rest.

Who am I angry at?

My neighbors for wanting a beautiful yard?

The landscapers for wanting to get an early start and minimize their hours in the heat of this summer?

I sit down to write a couple e-mails and take care of some neglected tasks and I am drawn to check on the blogs I follow. I see that A Holy Experience was posted just 3 minutes ago. Fresh words - am I the first to read them this morning?

And what words they are - leading me to slow down for another minute, to think about my day, my life, to stop and think about patience.

Wonderful words. I hope they encourage you today.

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2011/07/when-youre-finding-it-hard-to-be-patient/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+HolyExperience+%28Holy+Experience%29

Both sides now

They're coming thick and fast now, and lasting longer, and more intense, and last night waking me with throbbing pain, leaking into my dreams, and still half asleep I somehow thought someone was dying because of my pain - that weird mixture of waking and sleeping when our dreams bleed into wakefulness, but we can't quite separate the two, and when pain makes everything surreal. I remember crying out before I knew I was still dreaming, before I was fully awake.

I gingerly walk to the bathroom to spill medicine into my palm, wash it down with water. Twice I do this between lights out and sunrise. As the morning comes, my pain is diminished but not gone, and I am worn out from the beating I've taken through the night.

This has been a summer of headaches - almost daily, but until just a couple days ago brief and of low intensity. The barometric shifts? The intensity of the light? Research, reading, food diaries reveal nothing more for me to do than just wait it out ... or go on the preventative drug with all its weird side affects. But a night like last night makes me wonder - is it time? I'd so rather not.

Meanwhile, I'll do what I always do. Cancel what I need to. Keep doing what I can. Enjoy the days I feel good. Try to just rest and not get frustrated the days I have to lie around. There are, in fact, lovely elements of those bed-stay days - Egg's snuggling, fun movies, good books, naps, simple meals.

And I'm having plenty of good days to hike, cook, enjoy summer.

Balance. It's all about balance. I can't control my body - that is a lesson learned many years ago, made more clear each year. So I will keep working to find joy even in the crazy hours, the days I'm awakened predawn with pain but get to see the sunrise, hear the first bird's call.

Because the bottom line for me is ... I've tasted and seen that the Lord is good. The flavor of his goodness stays on my tongue and drives away the bitterness of ugly days. Not pious cliche, but experienced truth. I've said it before and I'll continue to assert it.

Balance. Rest. Beauty. Goodness.

The other side of the coin.

Some things are just so simple

For someone who likes to cook as much as I do, I must confess that I do not like cooking in the summer. My kitchen has very little air flow, and so using even one burner heats up the room beyond what seems reasonable. And we have a gas grill, but I just am not in the habit of using it, or even remembering to use it. Maybe I should hang a sign over my stove: Go Use the Grill!

For Christmas my lovely sister gave me subscriptions to 2 magazines, one of which is Everyday Foods, a Martha Stewart publication. (No matter what you think about this crazy lady, I think she is amazing. She remains the head of a giant empire that, after years and years, continues to put out good products. I think that's rather remarkable.)

Back to the story...

So Sis' gave me this magazine for Christmas, and I've used it a little, but not tons and tons. Around rolled summer and I began to turn to it more and more as I wanted to be in my kitchen less and less. And this week - a revelation. Two revelations. Actually, three. ;-)

Revelation One: If I have groceries in the house and plans for simple meals, getting dinner ready doesn't take much time (or require much sweating). Is that a revelation? Shouldn't be at 41, but sometimes I forget the basics. We've been low on groceries and food plans since...about last June. Go figure...

Revelation Two: A simple and delicious salad. Try this one - it really is quite yummy and, seriously, took about 10 minutes to put together. I myself am not a lover of canned tuna, but never the less enjoyed this. (Try it with leftover chicken, fish, or steak. Yum!)

Cucumber and Celery Salad with Tuna (serves 2 - easy to double)

• 1 tsp poppy or sesame seeds


• 1 1/2 Tbsp rice vinegar (would probably be just as delicious with cider or any other kind of vinegar)


• 1/2 Tbsp sugar


• 1 Tbsp olive oil


• about 3 c. cucumber, peeled, halved lengthwise and cut into 1/4" half-moons


• 2 celery stalks, cut into 1/4" pieces (include inner leaves)


• about 1/2 c sliced or chopped radishes (optional, but I challenge you to try it!)
  


• 1 (5 oz.) can solid white tuna in water, drained and flaked


• coarse salt and pepper

In a medium bowl, stir together seeds, vinegar, sugar and oil. Add cucumber, celery, radishes, and tuna. Sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste and serve immediately. Yum!

Revelation Three: In the freezer section of your grocery store, I bet you can find resealable bags of little dinner rolls (uncooked). Know what you can do with these little babies? (You probably already know this...) You can make individual size pizzas! Another easy, quick, and low-heat treat from your kitchen this summer. Roll these babies out, put them on a cookie sheet lightly sprinkled with cornmeal, preheat the oven to 500' (or use the grill?), and top them with whatever you want. Tonight I sprinkled my dough with a little olive oil, salt and pepper, then minced garlic, shredded mozzarella, chifonnaded basil, thinly sliced roma tomatoes, and last - thin slices of fresh mozzarella. 500' for 10 minutes and ... voila! Delicious!

I guess these things won't revolutionize my life, but they made me smile! :-)

Satisfaction

She needed the address and phone number of her old landlord. Just having moved here from out of state, and trying to get assistance with her housing, this information was critical, but like so many who come into the downtown public library for help, she didn't have very much pertinent information that could assist me as I tried to help her.

She had his first name. She remembered the city she'd lived in. And I had the idea to search for a realtor near her old address - she had that on her license. Thank goodness she had that piece of information.

We searched a couple different ways ... then all of a sudden, in the list of realtors (narrowed down by proximity to her old address), there was a name she recognized.

"That's it!" she smiled and pointed to the computer screen.

Mission accomplished. First and last name, address, phone number - all located for this woman who was so in need.

What an amazing feeling - to be able to come to work and help people in such a real and tangible way. Yes, we at the library feel like we spend an awful lot of our time finding useless information, helping people with things that seem very insignificant (the MTV top 100 videos of 1985?).

But every once in a while, we get to help someone with something that actually makes a difference in their lives.

I'm thankful for this wonderful opportunity. I'm thankful that my body allows me to work these few hours a month. I'm thankful for my truly excellent co-workers who always welcome me with a smile and treat me just like a regular. I'm thankful for the smiles of the patrons who are thankful in return.

-----------------------

(There are silly times, too. Just now I walked over to a table of friends who were looking at a laptop, laughing, talking animatedly. "Ladies," I said with my most serious face on, "you're clearly having too much fun. I'm going to need you to turn that computer around so I can see what you're having so much fun doing." Our serious faces all broke into smiles and giggles.

"We're looking at dream houses!" they tittered, and proceeded to give me a virtual tour of one they were all oogling. There's silliness here, too, if you let it in. Shh - don't let that secret out.)

----------------------

A series of obscure books he didn't think we had available. A favorite movie from childhood. A map of train routes to Oregon. Information about a new medical diagnosis. A safe driving route across the Rockies in the middle of winter and the forecast of approaching storms. An old landlord's name and phone number so she can get help with housing here in our fair city.

How many jobs give you the chance to smile at so many people in one day, and sometimes, just every once in a while, make a real difference in someone's life?

Buzzing

There are these trees blooming in my neighborhood that are covered with flowers - clusters of light yellow, delicate flowers that smell divine. Walking around the neighborhood this morning, strolling down the sidewalk, I heard a pretty loud buzzing. Bees. The tree was filled with busy bees going about their business, making their living, collecting pollen from all those lovely flowers.

It was amazing to stand beneath that tree and listen to the sound - one that is usually pretty malignant, that makes us cringe and look around to see where the buzzer might be. The stinger, really - that's what we're looking for.

But I just stood there, looking up, watching them contentedly gathering. They took no notice of me.

It felt like a metaphor for my summer. (Maybe this will be a stretch...)

Things are just buzzing along. My days are pretty busy - in fact, my schedule is more filled than I'd like. I haven't done but one tiny stitch of gardening (mixed metaphor), haven't been cooking very much, and am only getting in a hike every other week or so. (I keep thinking to myself, "Well, I can't do everything.")

My old complaint - that my schedule feels out of control. "What else is new?" those you who know me are thinking. Seems like I have to do this paring every 6 months or so...at least. :-) Something about me, my life, the way I live. So I'll once again try to pare things down and make room for other things - the gardening and hiking and family and cooking.

But it is, after all, summer. Summer seems to be busy for just about everyone. Kind of crazy, isn't it? The kids are out of school, we're all taking vacations, the days are long and hot - yet we run around like crazy people. It will be good to slow down a little.

Bliss

I'm not writing much. And I'm not taking any pictures. I guess I just haven't had that much to say. Just ordinary summer days passing by.

But every once in a while something snaps into focus in my head.

A year ago today I was scrambling furiously to finish the slide show we wanted to use at Dad's funeral. I was sitting in that big church listening to people who had loved Dad for decades share their stories. I was wrapping up a week of hell and ready for what I was going to call my "blank day". I was about to collapse.

This will be quite a different week...and I am in quite a different place.

I don't feel tormented, exhausted, over-burdened, or overwhelmed.

I feel at peace, thankful for my father, thankful that I am not in emotional agony.

I am watching each of my flowers grow and my strawberries spread. I am figuring out how to organize my summer days, and wanting to get more time with my nephews. I am sort of coordinating a 4th of July camping trip, and figuring out what food I'll plan to make. I am trying to balance hiking and lovely yard work with boring house work. :-)

Tonight it is cool and quiet, and I can hear the train passing by downtown, a couple miles away. I spent the afternoon and evening with friends, cooked delicious fried rice for dinner, and am watching a little TV before bed. I read my sister's awesome blog and was reminded of that which is most important to me.

All in all, and especially compared to last June 27, today was just ... plain ... bliss.

One year

I know these things are true...

My dad loved me as much as a father could.

Dad knew how much I loved him, too. We spoke tender words and affirmed our love before he died.

God blessed my dad with a second family, who he loved just as much as his first. Janice, Matt and Melissa were precious to Dad and are precious to me.

God used my dad in mighty ways through his whole life. A whole book could be written about this.

Dad was passionate, quick-tempered, and had a hearty laugh. He also had a chuckle that was soft and infectious.

When my mom died, I thought I would die in my grief. I don't feel that way this time around. It's not that I don't miss him, because I certainly do, but I am so much more at peace. It falls on me like a soft, gentle rain. I am thankful.

I miss Dad - and I am deeply saddened to have to live so much of my life without either parent.

God loves me and will carry me through each and every one of those years.

I love you, Dad.

Almost here

I'm kind of floating through this week in a strange awareness of what took place on each date last year, but somehow it isn't getting me very down. It feels kind of weird. Missing Dad terribly isn't translating as much to pain and sorrow. It is just a missing...

I anticipated Father's Day, expecting a day filled with pain and sadness. Instead, I had a quiet day mostly to myself that was filled with thankfulness and peace for who Dad was to me, the life he lived, what he meant in my life.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of his death, and who knows what that will bring. I might wake up feeling really sad. I might wake up with this same feeling of peace I've had all week.

I do feel a little strange. I am kind of out of it, not thinking too clearly, a little fuzzy in my head. I'm clearly not quite myself ... but at the same time, I'm not feeling incredibly down or overwhelmed by sadness.

Does it feel like it's been a year? Yes. It feels like it's been several years. Is it because of everything that happened in my own body so soon after Dad's death - that I feel this weird sense of so much time passing?

Who knows. All I know is that I am thankful to not have the gut-wrenching, almost unbearable days of sadness I had surrounding the first anniversary of my mom's death. I am so thankful to be able to spend more time and emotional energy on the good stuff - appreciating who Dad was, how loved I was, and how much I loved Dad.

I miss him. I miss his voice, his touch, his support. I miss so much about him.

And I'm thankful for him. So thankful...

Just thoughts

The past week has just flown by!

I went on several lovely hikes with fun friends.

Tim and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary by spending a day wandering around in the mountains, hiking, exploring...and changing a tire in the middle of nowhere! :-)

I worked a couple shifts at the library - always fun to catch-up with old co-workers.

But I also felt this building awareness of the passing of anniversaries - Dad coming home, Dad going into the hospital, Dad's diagnosis....

Last night I sat down and read a bunch of my blogs from last summer. I started the summer much like I started this one - planning to hike and garden, walk with a friend every week, shop at the farmers' markets. And then things just disintegrated.

Last night I once again felt my losses and remembered the weight of everything that happened - starting in May with Tim's bike accident and shoulder injury, all the way to the recovery from my surgery in the fall.

I am trying to not feel panicked about this summer. I am trying to not feel like I have to squeeze in everything I possibly can before the summer disappears into difficulty. I am trying to just live day by day, in peace, not expecting bad things to happen.

And tomorrow is Father's Day. Now I have two days a year that I'll want to hide from the world.

I miss Dad.

I know I'll be all right, and I'm certainly not feeling this way all the time, but for today and tomorrow - yuck.

A friday morning's ramble

The most incredible things happen to me.

One friend tells me I'm like my mother, another speaks words of care and empathy. And as I drove in one morning's misty rain, God poured into my heart a song with just the words I needed to hear.

This seems to be for me a season of affirmation and love. I am surrounded by love, filled by it, buoyed by it. What else will this summer bring? What is this building-up of my self leading to? Is there something new on my horizon?

Each new day, brought in by birdsong and the sparkling sunshine, feels like a gift.

May it be a summer of wonder. Incredible.

Sarah

I sleep with my windows open now, and at times the air is scented with the sweetness of the Russian Olive trees' lemon-colored blossoms. The trees are sage-green, thorny things that grow well in our semi-arid climate, and I would say they are not a favorite of most people. I love them, though. I love the juxtaposition of their light green leaves and their reddish-brown bark. I love the delicacy of their leaves and and the lacy pattern they create against fences. I love how rugged yet fancy they look.

I've heard they make a mess, though. They drop olives all over the yard that have to be raked up, and their 2-inch thorns make them a daunting foe. So they're beautiful, but kind of a nuisance.

I love this time of year, when the air is full of their scent. It is sweet without being cloying, and floats on the breeze, coming in at the most unexpected moments. I step out of my car at the grocery store, and there it is. I lie down at night to read before going to sleep, and it floats in. I walk to a friend's house, and it follows me there.

That's just like beauty though, isn't it? Unexpected, showing up at the strangest moments, but almost always to be found if looked for. Do you walk around with your eyes wide open? Do you expect to see you beauty, or are you so busy, so harried, so frustrated that you miss what is right in front of you? I sometimes am...

What if you had a whole extra day each week just to see. Would you? Or would you fill it up, too?


What if you had one extra hour every evening around sunset just to find the most beautiful ray of light? Would you? Or would dinner and the kids and the hours of the day overwhelm you?


I have a friend who sees beauty all around her, every day, everywhere she goes. And she stops to take pictures. She talks about it. She tells the stories.... "Today I was walking to the corner store and look - the sun was shining in such an amazing way! Look at these leaves! Don't they look like glass...or jewels?"


I want to make that choice - to see. To live each day with my eyes wide open. To miss nothing. To never be too busy to stop for just one second and see what is all around me - beauty. In one perfect bloom. In the sun's glint off a piece of broken glass. In the footprint of a dog. In the deep green of the unmown grass. In the beautiful colors of my chopped vegetables. In the print of my favorite sundress. In the stained glass of the leaves outside my window. In the birdsong in the early morning. In the hazy heat of a July afternoon. In the song on the radio. In the smile of that child.

See...


Thanks, Sarah, for your eyes...and your pictures. Fall, 2010, Shooks Run, Colorado Springs, my corner. :-)

Sarah and I were sitting on my porch talking and she noticed this beautiful, late afternoon light. She asked for my camera, ran to the corner and took these pictures. Sarah sees.

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Honored

I was working in his mother's kitchen, and he offered his knives to me. An actual Johnson and Wales graduate, a bona fide chef, a craftsman gave me permission to use his tools.

And he liked my food. He liked my food.

Wow.

His compliments touched me deep down inside - way beyond simple ego. Me - a totally untrained, home cook, who has dared to begin teaching cooking classes, and is toying with the idea of catering - made food that he truly enjoyed. Wow .... wow.

I wish I could express this better. I wish I could somehow convey the swell in my heart that wasn't just my pride, but who I am. The me who shows people love by feeding them, who expresses creativity by cooking, who has worked hard to learn and improve my skills.

Thanks for the compliments. Thanks for the affirmation. Thanks for enjoying this part of who I am.

Love

I am overwhelmed with emotions.

I am exhausted from hard work.

I am filled up to the brim with love.






I got home last night from North Carolina where I attended the wedding of my very good friend Sarah. What can I say? I have too much to say, too many thoughts and feelings swirling around inside my brain and heart... It was a whirlwind of work, 3 days of fun and accomplishing much together, meeting new people and feeling like I'd known them for years, serving one another whether in the lovely air conditioning or outside in the sticky NC heat.

Whew! Just stopping long enough to think about what to say brings tears to my eyes. When I came home last night, I told Tim I was pretty overwhelmed emotionally. Why? Why wasn't this just another wedding?

... because hanging out with a bunch of MKs (missionary kids) brings up memories, feelings and so much of my history and heart ...

... because watching Sarah and her two sisters interact with their dad made me miss my own dad very much ...

... because I was lavished with love for days on end ...

... because I got to spend a couple days in a kitchen cooking up pots of love for wonderful people.


And Sarah, the bride? She is amazing. In the midst of her incredible to-do list, her vision for this beautiful day, and the pressure that always lies on a bride, she was gracious, kind and sensitive to others. She seemed to find time and energy each day to affirm her love for me, to give me a hug, to thank me.

Was the trip, the work, the money spent worthwhile?

To be honest, it may be one of the most significant events in my adult life. I made new friends, I learned about myself, I was given opportunity after opportunity to lavish love on others and love was lavished on me.

Most of all, two amazing people who I love beyond words said their vows of marriage in front of God, their family and friends, and allowed me to be a part of that.

I am overwhelmed with emotions.

I am exhausted from hard work.

I am filled up to the brim with love.






My thanks to Veanez for the amazing pictures!!! You have a gift. xo

Faith and friendship

She carefully peels and dices the eggplant, then places it all into the colander, gently tossing it with a generous amount of salt. "Just let it sit for a while," she says, "and the salt will draw out that bitter liquid."

Is this what faith does for us? Helping to draw out of us the bitter, the bile that can build up in our very flesh, causing our hearts to turn to stone?

This seems to be true of friendship, too.

In fact, faith and friendship seem to share several qualities...

...both require action on the part of all parties involved

...both add fullness and joy, peace to life

...neither is totally under our own control

...they can both be as comforting as they are challenging - sometimes easing life; sometimes asking for tough choices, and requiring the examination of anything but easy answers

One of my oldest and dearest friends visited me this past weekend. We talked and talked. We cried a little. We hiked. We laughed and ate. We shared as much as we could in 3 days time.

How is it that we are so close, but only lived in the same town for about a year, and that at the very beginning of our friendship. How has this thing grown and matured over a decade and more?

Work.

Faithfulness.

A gift from God.

I miss her already. She helped draw out some of my bitterness and I feel better than I did before her visit.

She helps my faith grow.

She points me to God.

She loves me, and I love her.

Miss you, friend...

Stuck like glue

Today is our 25th anniversary ... of our first date.

This date marks the beginning of our love. From this date twenty-five years ago, we haven't spent a day apart in our hearts. All through the end of high school, all through college we never did the break-up/get back together thing. We were always together.

Twenty-five years. A quarter of a century.

We were so young! And all we knew was that we really like each other. But that liking soon, so soon, matured into love, and much too soon for my parents' comfort, it was declared real love, life-long love.

How could our young hearts have known what we wanted for our future? I've never had a very good answer to that.

But it has stuck.

Not perfectly and without conflict. Not without perennial issues that every time they raise their heads we think, "This again?" Not without long-term, nagging struggles that seem foolishly unresolved. Not without struggles, pain, and some heartbreaking stuff.

But with love.

With joy.

With tons of fun.

And I am so thankful.

I'm still in love. And so is he.

Choice

I want to write a post that is filled with joy and fun! I want a day that is marvelous with no sadness. I want to not miss Dad every day.

But I don't want to be fake.

It's not like I'm sitting around constantly fighting back tears. And I certainly am still enjoying plenty of things - laughing out loud, even! And I'm even planning fun - one of my very best friends is visiting me, and I've got tickets in hand for two Rockies games.

But this grief thing just drags on and on. I know this is perfectly natural. I know I will work through it on my own time, and that I don't have too much control over how long that takes. After all, it hasn't even been a year yet.

This Sunday I hope to get away to the mountains by myself with a good book, my journal, some music, and maybe The Good Book. I want to read some Psalms, spend some time journaling, telling God what's going on in my heart, give Him all that's on my heart and allow Him to work it out like pulling taffy. Not disappear the sadness like a good fairy with a magic wand, but rather take this bone-deep sorrow, these tears, and heal them, transform them into something that will make me stronger, more tender, more filled with grace toward others, more reliant on Him, and more easily turned toward joy.

I love this God who loves me. I love His heart for me. I love that He wants to fill my life with joy. And I reach out my hands and say, "Yes! Lay it on me!"

I'll take that portion of joy, eat it up, and allow it to balance the sadness of missing Dad.

I can choose how I live my life. I will endeavor to choose joy.

The big sort

Today Becky and I tackled cleaning out a bunch of Dad's stuff. Yuck. What a horrible job. We did it, though! And we gave each other a high five at the end of our day. And ate Indian food. Comforting. :-)

Dad's office...what can I say? We found several things that made us shake our heads. "Oh, Dad, what were you thinking?"

And we found other things that made us laugh out loud. Like the piles and piles of paper.

Yep. Paper.

Notebooks. Looseleaf. 3x5 cards. Printing paper. Manilla folders. Hanging files. Fancy resume paper. Christmas stationary. Hotel notepads. Sticky notes.

If there had been some sort of disaster (like Y2K) - he'd have been all stocked up.

And we cleaned out the last of his clothes. Oh, those seersucker shirts that he loved! And as we folded and sorted, it became rather obvious that his favorite kind of shirt was plaid. Blue, green, yellow, red. Didn't seem to matter.

Dad.

Becky said sometimes it feels like he's just on another trip.

I wish I sometimes felt that way. Like he'll be coming back in another month.

My dad. Sure did love him. Sure do.

Cotton

In the whipping Texas wind, I stoop to pull balls of cotton from last year's old stalks. The fields are red in the spring sun, and are littered with loose cotton that wasn't scooped up at harvest. The soft clumps have blown and gathered into piles along the side of the fields, ready to be plowed back into the soil in the spring.

My mind goes to a story I once read of slaves picking cotton, the rough boles tearing their skin, the pace forced by the overseers not allowing for care or caution. I think about this as I fill my little bag. In my life, most choices are mine to make - about almost everything. To live as a slave? I can't begin to imagine it.

This cotton plant is such a picture of life. As I sit to write today, my mind is filled with so many different stories from the last two weeks that could spill onto the page - my sister's beautiful wedding, Tim and my fun trip down through New Mexico and across west Texas, the joy of coming home, the wonderful time with sisters ... but the fun week ending with news of the death of an amazing woman, a long-time family friend whose suffering had gone on for 50 years.

Good and bad, soft and iron-hard, the tender and the tearing. Life's journey. I cling to the knowledge that life has as much joy as it does sorrow, even though the sorrow sometimes seems to surround us like a fog. If I will keep my eyes raised up, if I will look to the sky, the sunshine will pierce through those clouds and illuminate my days. I don't walk in darkness.

Last week Melissa walked down the aisle in the fading light of a spring evening, aglow in her beautiful dress, she and Matt holding hands before he gave her into Jason's care. Their flower girls? Two of the cutest little twins ever seen in their tulle dresses banded with yellow ribbon, wandering through the crowd like ladybugs in a garden, flitting here and there.

And Marly? She was given a hard life to live, fraught with illness and pain. But she lived that life striving to smile, to speak of God's provision and love, to be brave and weak at the same time. Now her suffering is over, and in my mind's eye I see her with my mom and dad, with Tim's grandma, my friend Kittie - all these people I've loved now in the bright light of heaven, free and filled with rejoicing.

A bole of cotton, tough and hard, able to tear and wound, but filled with something so soft and lovely.

Choices

Summer is coming, and with it all the tough anniversaries I've got to face for the first time.

the e-mail from Indonesia telling us Dad was sick
Dad came home
went into the hospital
got his diagnosis
the day he died
I got sick
I was told I might have cancer
my surgery

To a large extent, I have a choice in how I handle each of these. But I don't have total control. Part of the healthy process is to feel the pain, look the memory in the eye and feel what I need to. Otherwise, there's no processing and no healing. And I can't control how much it's going to hurt if choose to look right at it.

But I will choose not to dwell. I will not wallow. I want to make good, healthy choices and allow myself to heal, keep moving forward.

So I'll do that - I'll do my best to look my grief in the face, cry the tears I need to, then turn around and look back to the future. And all the while I'll keep asking God for help, for wisdom, for strength, assurance of His love, His tender care.

I'll tend my garden, go on hikes, watch baseball with Tim. I'll journal, cry, listen to beautiful music. And I'll look outside my windows at the beautiful, blue Colorado sky and thank God for each day of my life that I got to spend with my dad, each conversation we had or breakfast, and that I have a life so filled with good things.

I'll come through this season, this summer of tough memories, a little bruised, but not battered.

It's part of the simple beauty of the healing that time can bring.

Through the storm

Today is Dad's birthday.

The sun is shining, my head is filled with beautiful music, and I have a busy day ahead of me. Those are all good things.

It is a great relief to know that this isn't the first of Dad's birthdays on which I haven't been able to call him or give him a gift - because of all his travel over the years. What a deep sorrow it must be for the first birthday to come of someone you love deeply when you've always been in the same city, or on the same continent as them.

For this small blessing, I am very thankful! It helps me miss him just that tiny bit less.

But I do miss him.

The band Casting Crowns has a song called Praise You in This Storm. The chorus speaks so directly to where God was throughout the last year of my life - all the turmoil, the pain, the worry, the heartache, the burden. I knew at the time, and looking back I remain absolutely certain, that God was with me, that he never left my side, and that every tear I've shed is in His care. He holds my heart tenderly, loving me, and giving me all I need through every moment of my life.

So, happy birthday, Dad! Now you know no pain. Now you have no fear or worry. You live in complete joy. You are understood and known completely. You are in the presence of the God you loved and served, and all your questions are answered.

And, Dad, we'll keep praising God - even in the storm.

I will praise you in this storm,

and I will lift my hands for You are who You are, no matter where I am.

And every tear I've cried You hold in your hand.

You never left my side,

and though my heart is torn I will praise you in this storm.

Bittersweet

I sat at my friend's house and we both laughed, listening to the sound of her daughter playing in her room, her sing-song voice telling a story that only she could understand...

...and as I drove home I saw three children running with all their might, their mouths wide open in laughter, going who knows where.

Remember what it felt like to be young, to be filled with energy and excitement?

Remember how long you would play, and that Mom had to tell you over and over that it was time to get out of the pool?

And how far would you walk to get to the river, or how long would you ride your bike or hike or climb or build?

I cried some tears last night, thinking of Dad. His 74th birthday would have been next week, and what a youthful 74 he would have been.

When Mom died, I determined in my mind that it would be I who cared for Dad in his old age. Then he married again, and it took me a good number of years to accept without pain the truth that, being a good bit younger than him, his new wife would take on that role - she would care for him.

Turns out - neither of us got to do that. Dad left too quickly - but that's how he would have wanted it. No fussing, no lingering. Come on! Let's move on to the next great thing!

So I see these kids - hear their voices, watch them at play - and it is bittersweet. Time passes with harsh tugs on our hearts, our energies are poured into new things, we leave childhood behind.

And my youth is now behind me, middle age clearly in front of me. For some, I know the burden of caring for their parents is a heavy one. And understandably so.

For me, today at least, I mourn the loss of that yoke.

Another sign of the passing of time.

Discoveries...

...Tai Pei brand frozen Orange Chicken is actually quite delicious!

...the cream cheese that oozed out of my bacon wrapped, cream-cheese stuffed jalapenos is amazing! I must find a way to produce that flavor for other uses.

...the Ikea cabbage light we inherited from a couple good friends looks quite wonderful in my "new" dining room. (Naomi, I owe you pictures!)

...I am appreciated by a lovely friend. Her words touched me deeply.

Nothing amazing today - just little things that have made me smile over the past week. :-)

When we were very young

I was watching Andre Agassi and Pete Sampras play an exhibition match. They're both 40 now, just about the same age as me, and seeing all those old clips, remembering the passion of their rivalry, and the passion with which Tim and I cheered them on, brings back a flood of memories from the early days of Tim and my marriage.

This summer we'll celebrate the 25th anniversary of our first date, and our 20th wedding anniversary. Those are pretty giant milestones. I'm so thankful, beyond words thankful, indescribably thankful, for my amazing husband, our marriage, our relationship. Don't get me wrong - we have bad days, fights, large and small disagreements, just like every other couple. We have no magic potion, no miracle cures, no secret to a good marriage, but after all this time we still love each other. We still have fun together. We still want to be married to each other.

It hasn't been a particularly easy road, but is anyone's road easy?

We started out with grad school days for Tim - late nights and long hours for 6 years, but I have great memories of the camaraderie among Tim and his classmates, listening to his stories, explanations of his projects, squeezing in the few hours we could get together - a few dinners a week, those precious weekend days when he didn't have a project or a test due. The joy of watching him in his element, at his very best, not just succeeding, but soaring!

I remember the giant swell of pride as Tim received his M.S. and Ph.D. Is that what a proud parent feels like? I could have burst!

There were years when we struggled over the decision of whether or not to buy a $100.00 futon for our living room to replace the horrible couch our landlord had given us permission to discard. Could we afford that new pair of shoes? Should we spend the money on an anniversary date? We saved our pennies to make it through each month - and make it we did.

Then we got hit with those years of my mom's illness, and those years when I was laid down with bronchitis time and time again. And then the migraines came, and we both tried to figure out what to do, how to handle this new thing. But again, we made it, helped each other through, did what we needed to so we could keep laughing, keep some semblance of perspective.

I could go on and on. And on and on, describing the ups and downs of 25 years. My mind is full of memories - like the proverbial slide show of our lives. Ordinary days, holidays, time with friends, time alone, trips, vacations, sweet moments, bitter arguments, tough decisions, disappointments, floundering our way through, and flying high. Life.

And this wave of almost melancholy sweeps over me. Is it middle age? Is it the passing of time? A poem I wrote in the spring of 2005 comes to my mind...

Seasons

Here comes spring

slowly, slowly,

creeping toward my garden.

I'll wait 'til she steps foot in my yard,

then draw upon her warmth for inspiration.

This new plant, that spreading vine

bring to mind

the passage of the years

and the things that change in time.

Middle-aged am I?

What is thirty-five?

Time passes quietly, without a whisper.

The paving stones of our lives.

Time does indeed pass quietly, leaving a wake of memories and moments, captured in our minds like a spider in ancient amber. We can pick it up and look at it, the memory made more beautiful over time, set it down and look at another. Then turn our gaze to the present, the future, and get back to that basket of laundry, those bills that need paid, that man who needs dinner. And smile.

I don't know that my life so far has been any easier or more difficult than anyone else's. All I know is my own personal experience. I am thankful to be able to say, once again, that I have a good life. I am so often reminded of this by love shown to me, amazing things that happen, a good laugh with a friend, a fun time with a nephew.

Life is hard. That's just about guaranteed.

So you'd better get the most out of it - laugh as much as you can, enjoy each sunny day just for the quality of the light itself, rejoice in the sound of those raindrops, and the sound of your kids, and the voice of your beloved. Because, at least it seems to me, the good sure does outweigh the bad.