Anticipation

‘Twas a fortnight to Christmas, when all through this house
Not a creature was stirring, except, of course, this mouse.

The cobwebs were hung from the mantle with care
By spiders so tiny, yet wanting so share
In the greeting of Eli, who was coming to visit
His grandma and grandpa; he’ll think “Who is it?”

With hair clippers stored on an out-of-reach shelf
Eli will wonder, “Could this be THE Elf ?
The one of such literary fame?”
You know the one…Papa John is his name.

And me in my sweats just wanting to know
My grandson, Elijah, who’s rarin’ to go
Meet grandfolks and cousins and uncles and aunts
Our time will be joyous; we’ll all want to dance.

With only hours to go ‘til his arrival,
There’s much to consider for this boy’s survival.
A child of today must not be lacking
In anything…Let’s start with snacking.

A high chair, a crib, and a diaper pail
Can be found with no trouble at many a sale.
However, budget is an important gist.
Thank God for computers and, of course, Craigslist!

Bathtub for baby and found toys galore
We’re set for Eli without entering a store.
His visit will be such a precious time
Getting to know our grandson sublime.

With five girl cousins excited to greet him
Many more folks are wanting to meet him.
Pictures are grand, and we love each one
But hugs in person are the most fun.

My spelling is wobbly, my rhythm not careful.
In case you’re wondering , we are all prayerful
Your family and friends have a safe, merry '08
And remember who gave it to you. Our God is great!

TOMORROW IS THANKSGVING

Some reflections on this day....

Shopping in crowded grocery store
John and I braved this yesterday afternoon. We were just past the produce, heading for the bulk section, “conferring who gets what” when the young family with four little children pulled up next to us, and the father yelled, “WYATT.” We both jumped and turned to see who was so upset with us. What we saw was a 4-year-old boy jumping higher and harder than we. As the father instructed, “Watch where you are going!”
By then, both parents were staring at us, wondering why we had entered their private moment of instruction. “That’s our last name,” I explained as I looked over my shoulder maneuvering past the aisle cleanup ahead.

One lady was shopping for black cherry Jello. She was riding on her own, private, motorized chair, pushing a grocery cart beside her. Whatever aisle she was shopping was almost completely blocked. People were parking their carts at the end of the aisle, saying “excuse me,” and grabbing their item from the shelves around her. The blocker decided to help me look for lemon Jello for making Thelma Cameron’s cranberry relish. I think I convinced her that the picture of cherries on the box of cherry-flavored gelatin looked really dark to me.

Child/children to help make the cranberry relish
We used to have one child turn the handle on Mother’s grinder. However, whoever volunteers for this labor of love is eager to get back to their book or movie or music so we now feed everything through the Kitchen Aid grinder. I don’t think I even have the hand grinder anymore. This year’s relish will be made with orange Jello.

Two more days
Day after tomorrow, we are allowed to listen to Christmas music. We can sing along at the top of our lungs or even make up our own tunes. Memaw can search for where she stored those tapes of silly songs and spiritual music. And we can try, once again, to sing some of them in a round. BEGIN… “Little toy train; little toy track…” JUMP IN… “Little toy trains; little toy track…” NEXT… “Little toy trains; little Santa’s Sack…” Already, we are holding our sides with laughter.

Oh, yes…the meal
The table is heaping with bounty. Patty now provides the homemade jelly. At last, we will all come to the table. The person to Papa John’s right tells what they are most thankful for at this moment. After everyone has shared, he gives thanks to the Provider of Life.

It is a time to GIVE THANKS for food, family, and friends, and probably shed a tear or two for joyous and painful memories, realizing the year 2008 is nearing its end. We pray for our country and the year ahead.

Teach God's commandments to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.
Deuteronomy 11:19, New International Version

STONE SOUP

There is among our friends a group of (mostly) ladies who get together occasionally to play Mexican Train. The routine is to meet at noon and begin playing immediately. Nuts, candies, and snacks are set out for munching. However, the focus is not on the food; it is on the game. After the game is played, and only then, a meal is served.
This week, I decided to host this group. The problem is that these ladies do not drive at night, and darkness comes rather quickly around 5 p.m. Some have expressed concern that cooking a meal is too much of a burden to put on the person who voluntarily opens her home. Anyone who knows me well knows I prefer to take an easy way to accomplish any task. And today’s Mexican Train gathering is no exception.
· The first lady I invited said, “Let me bring something to contribute to the meal.”
· The next lady said, “Don’t go to all the work of preparing a meal.”
· And the third person said, “What can I contribute?”
By the time I called the fourth person, I had decided to keep the food very simple. Stew is easy to prepare, perfect for cold weather, and can be packaged in quart jars to transport leftovers. But still the ladies did not want to impose. So, I declared the recipe for the meal is Stone Soup. I have made Nail Soup in the past, but it is far inferior to a soup base prepared with my special, aged rock.
The stone I use came from the Mendenhall Glacier many years ago. It is dark gray in color…almost black. Its shape and size are that of an egg. It used to be smooth, but now it contains small chips and pocks caused from years of use. Long ago, it was used to strike matches for lighting kindling in our fireplace, but it is no longer useful for that.
I boiled the stone (and a few seasonings) for a little while. Lady #1 brought carrots; #2 onions, #3 celery, and #4 potatoes. Removing the stone from the pot, I add all the contributed ingredients and allow the stew to steep. The aroma of a stew stirred with God’s “Love one another” verses permeates the air.

Now, back to the game.

Trying to fool the Master....

There was something about the scriptures we were discussing in Bible class yesterday morning that made me think of one of my favorite illustrations from my father’s sermons. In case you did not know, he was a preacher.

There was a wise old man who sat on his porch and entertained questions from people of all walks of life. All day long, he would expound wise sayings that could come only after many years of observing life.

One day, a young man caught a bird and thought to himself "I will fool the old man. Then I will be considered wiser than he; and people will then come to me for advice."

So he placed the bird in the palm of his hand and held it with his thumb pressing on its neck. He pondered how he would approach the old man and ask him whether he thought the bird in his hand was alive or dead.

If the old man answered that the bird was alive, the lad would use thumb pressure to break its neck so that he could prove the man of wisdom wrong.

However, if the old man declared that “Alas. The bird is dead.” He would release the bird to fly away. Either way, people would think him wiser by far.

So…the young man approached the porch with his hands behind his back and told the old man he had a riddle for him. He brought his hands around in front of him and said, “Can you tell me if this bird is alive or dead?”

The old man squinted his eyes and thought for a minute. Then he stated his answer, “Son. It all depends on you.”

How good are you at guessing?

Saturday was "grape harvest" day...YUM! I always juice the concords and try to keep the mess to a minimum. In the dead of winter, it is such a treat to taste the "fruits of our labor." But, I especially love to save at least one container for communion as we travel or share a special time of worship.

This year, I goofed -- BIG TIME – in the cleanup, and knew John was not going to be happy with the result. So-o-o, when he came in, exhausted from his yard-work duties and plopped into his easy chair, I had prepared a quiz for him. See how you do, Dear Reader.

“Honey, I have a quiz for you to test the endurance of our marriage. See if you can guess which of these three I really did today:

1) I had some dish towels I used to strain the grape juice; I knew they’d wash up fine with bleach, but forgot I had put your blue shirt in the washer the day before.
2) Because it was midnight when I finished canning, I left the kitchen in such a mess. When I got up this morning, I had to face the cleanup and prepare for a potluck. Thanks to our wonderful, full-capacity dishwasher, I can fit about anything in it. So, besides the huge juicer, I also was able to fit in your favorite cutting board. Did you know you can delaminate wood in a dishwasher?
OR
3) I had a stack of things in the car to donate to a local charity, and after I got home, I realized I had left one of your tools in the car seat and must have donated it.
Which of these three do you think is true?”

Because John had trouble guessing, I made it easy for him. I asked him to place them in order of importance to him and to our marriage. I will tell you this much – our marriage is safe for the moment… he placed the real answer third in importance, stating “No one would be that dumb.”

Now…one more quick question – can you guess which of our three children never says to me: “So that’s where I get that gene!”?

SEPTEMBER'S SONG.....

"There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven--" Ecclesiastes 3

"A time to give birth and a time to die...

9/1 -- We are traveling home after saying "Goodbye" to Sam, my only sibling.
This day marks the 18th anniversary of Daddy's death.
9/7 -- Sam would have celebrated his 69th birthday.
9/13 - Reports are that 2-month-old Elijah Hugh has doubled his birth weight.
9/16 -- Mother would have been 98 this day; she would not have wanted to live this long.
9/18 -- Mother died 19 years ago this day. I still miss her.


"A time to kill and a time to heal...

We are having an exceptionally warm Fall. We do not necessarily see every spider, but they have left their webs everywhere...in trees, on the grass, in every corner of the house, light fixtures, between cars parked beside each other for more than 10 minutes. We find ourselves at least tearing down cobwebs.

Mosquitoes are still hatching (and biting). Benedril helps the healing process some.

"A time to keep and a time to throw away...

The letter Sam wrote me for my 60th birthday has suddenly become more precious to me.

When I came across my stash of 2004 Christmas cards, I closed my eyes and tossed them; something I hate to do.

"A time to weep and a time to laugh...

When my wonderful friend and prayer partner called last night, the tears came...just thinking about her ordeal with cancer and treatment.

When she shared with me that her hair is starting to come back in. I thought it would be curly; she thought it would be blond. We were both wrong, and laughed together...she is Asian.

"A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted....

Harvest time is really crazy this year. Neighbors are still picking corn and cucumbers and squash and tomatoes. The squirrels have been very busy burying walnuts gathered from our neighbor's tree and hiding them in little holes they have dug all over our yard.

The grapes need a frost before being ready to harvest. Now to get that bit of information to the birds.

Constant Reminder

God’s timing never ceases to amaze me. For instance, what are the odds of my husband and all three of my children as well as two out of three in-law children all being in the same room with me at a crucial moment? One of the three we see maybe two or three times a week; maybe more; maybe less. She lives about 10 minutes away from us. One of them we see maybe three or four times a year for one or two days maximum. His branch of the Wyatts live about 200 miles east of us. And number three we see perhaps twice a year; he and his family live in Juneau, Alaska. The purpose for this gathering was to see and hold the newest addition to the family.

The point of all this is directed at any statisticians who might figure the odds of us all standing in my kitchen when our phone rang on August 21. The news was not unexpected, and it was brief. First my nephew called to say, “The time has come.” Moments later, my niece’s husband called to confirm what he had been preparing me for – they had removed my brother Sam’s life support systems, and his body could not function on its own.

“Alone.” I cried in John’s ear as he held me in his arms. “I feel so alone. All of my family is gone.” That pity party lasted less than 30 seconds because I was surrounded and touched by each and every person in the room. They joined me in tears and a group hug for the length of John’s prayer. Then my two youngest grandchildren approached (one in arms) to assure me I am not alone by any stretch of the imagination. There is always a constant reminder that we are never really alone in Christ.

Hebrews 13:5b-6a “He Himself has said, ‘I will never desert you nor will I ever forsake you.’ so we confidently say,‘The Lord is my helper. I will not be afraid.’”

P.S. This very day, Sam would have celebrated his 69th birthday.

SAM..he was

MY BROTHER

AND

I WILL MISS HIM.

A Red Letter Day

Today is a RED LETTER day.

RED LETTER days rarely occur.

I don’t know from where the term RED LETTER came,

But it certainly applies to August 8th 2008.

Scads of people are choosing to wed on 8-8-08.

As a matter of fact, we are going to witness just such a union tonight.

But that does not color this day.

My RED LETTER day has nothing to do with unexpected money,

Although there was an expected check to me in today‘s mail.

Today is a RED LETTER day because it is a day that ends an ordeal and reminds me, once again (Wake up, Betty!) Who is in control.

Today is the crescendo before radiation helps build and restores Anita to be in control of her life. Twenty four chemo treatments and eating when the thought of food makes things worse, She was challenged from every aspect of her life, and she is a champion in every sense of the word.

Oh, she is one of many on my prayer list,. You would have to know Anita to understand how brave she has been. You may quote me, “I wish I had a poets heart so I could describe things of such beauty that it takes your breath away.

REMEMBERING ANGIE

Geoffrey’s website this morning should not have surprised me for Angie and Maurice are often his photo subject. I knew first thing yesterday morning that she had passed from this life but most of yesterday John and I went opposite directions. When we were together, we were working on projects and just did not take time to hold each other and mourn the loss of this great lady.

Geoffrey posted her Lemon Meringue Pie recipe. Prominent in my recipe files is her Pecan Pie recipe. Oh, I have spent many endless hours trying to get the crust right…bought every imaginable tool known to modern-day chefs…but that gift has completely eluded me. However, I can get the pie innards correct by following Angie’s recipe carefully. Even at that, the pecans don’t look as beautifully placed as hers.

My best “Angie pie story” is about our first visit back to Juneau after being gone some 10 years or so. We did not travel alone but rather invited close friends Gene and Marilee to join us. Naturally, after a morning of worship together, Angie and Maurice were some of the first to invite us for dinner. Discussing our invitations in the car going back to our housing, Marilee said, “I told Angie that I would bring dessert.” I am certain that there is an audible “gasp” every time I tell this story. As soon as I had recovered from thinking of an Angie meal without her pie, I explained to Marilee that some things were forgivable and she needed to apologize to Angie before it was too late for the rest of us. Marilee did graciously repent in time to save the occasion.

Memories flood my mind of hours spent in her living room catching up on news… sharing family stories and photos…listening, time and again, to the story of how she and Maurice had met….of his 12 brothers and sisters; three sets of twins (of which he was one-half). In all their years of marriage, a cross word had never been exchanged.

When you went to Angie’s and she offered you a cup of tea, she never heard you say “No. Thank you.” And with that refreshment came a slice of something she had baked. When you were asked to join them for leftovers, you could expect a meal suited for royalty. Her kitchen was so tiny, I cannot even picture where she rolled out her pie dough. Visiting was always what you were there for; sharing God’s richest blessings.

One more story ...
Our David was playing in the local orchestra, and there was a conflict with getting him into town in time for the performance. So I called Angie and asked if he could stay with them for the hours between school and the evening performance. I told her (knowing full-well that she would not hear me) that he could run down to the local Scarf and Barf for his dinner. Of course, she said they would be delighted. At the end of the evening, the report was not on the concert; David was still starry eyed from the hamburger and milk shake she had “thrown together” for him.

Geoffrey sent us a copy of the text of a sermon he gave last Sunday; Juneau Church of Christ is between preachers right now. His subject matter was "Hospitality." If Webster had lived in Juneau when he wrote the dictionary, seekers would find this definition for "hospitable" -- Angie and Maurice Long.

BACKING UP

When we moved to this area of the country, it was necessary to acquire a new driver’s license. In order to obtain one, I was required by the State to take both a written and a “behind the wheel” test. Upon arriving home, my son asked me if I had passed the tests.

“Yes, and with only one restriction. I am not allowed to back up.”

Of course, he believed me. And even now (21 years later) he checks with me to see if I still have that prohibition on my driver’s license.

Now, the Good Lord knew my incapabilities in every imaginable area of life, and He selected for me a life’s partner (husband) to fill in where I am lacking.

When we take a journey in his van, pulling our camper, John can back into any parking spot with ease. He proved that recently by squeezing into a reserved campsite intended for a camper half our size. Immediately following that miracle, he talked our neighbor through the same process. Granted, it took this gentleman quite a bit longer and meant the removal of one sizable post to accomplish what John had done with such ease. The grateful family became our instant 3-day friends.

I once was appointed to take home our boat trailer after dropping John and our open-air boat where there was no parking. He set me up, pointing me in the right direction. All I had to do was drive straight home (less than 10 miles). The trick was that, when I arrived home, I was to back the trailer into the yard. Did you know that when you back up pushing a trailer, you do not steer the vehicle in a normal manner? To this day, I still do not understand the logistics of such a feat. Well…long story, short…(I know, I know. I’m too late.) I eventually got out of the car, unhooked the trailer, and pushed it by hand into its proper place. You can’t do that with a camper.

Now, you may be wondering what other areas of life John is more able to tackle than I am. The answer is simply “pretty much everything.” I don’t resent it at all; I just sit back and enjoy the ride…especially backing up.

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

Naming a child has been on my mind a great deal these days. I must admit that my new grandson's name could not have been better picked.

When I first hear a name, I often catch myself thinking about how difficult it will be for the child to learn to write his name when they go to school. For instance, I once did some work for a scientist who named his daughter something like Elizabeth Carolina Pastapazoule. She should be out of high school by now, but I still picture her sitting in a first grade class learning to print her name. Eli has it easy!

When our daughter and her husband named the twins, they insisted they were avoiding naming them for family. But for certain, one bears the middle name of her other grandmother. And the girls' initials can be claimed by Betty, John, and even Aunt BJ.

This thought came to me recently when John and I were staying in the home of some folks we had never met but are now practically blood relatives. We had gone out to dinner, and each couple carried a styrofoam box of leftovers back to the house. The next day, we were ready to raid the refrigerator for lunch fixings when Joanne showed me that she had labeled their box..."B and J." Needless to say, it wasn't much help.

And, now, little Elijah Hugh Wyatt has entered the picture. Mom & Pop decided to let everyone know there was a boy on the way. They had shared with me that his middle name would be after my father -- Loyal Hugh. When Elijah's Daddy called to let us know he had arrived safely, that was when we learned his name. Unknown by most everyone is the fact that William Elijah Wyatt was John's Grandfather's name. I don't think anyone was more surprised than Geoffrey.

"What's in a name?" Shakespeare asks.

"More than one could imagine." is my reply.

What's that you say?

Because PJ (Papa John) was sitting right next to the phone, he answered it. I could hear only his side of the conversation.




RING-G-G...RING-G-G-G


PJ Hello.

?

PJ Who is this?

?

PJ Well, it's nice to hear your voice. Are you calling to talk to me?

?

PJ Great!

?

PJ You lost your what?

?

PJ You lost your Keesh? What is a keesh?

?


PJ You lost your Kiss? How did you do that?

?

PJ Oh...You lost your keys. Car keys? House keys?

?

PJ Not your keys? You lost your what?

?

PJ I don't know what keesh is..

?

After several minutes...



PJ Well. Thank you for calling. I hope you find your keesh. Maybe your mother knows where it is.

?

CLICK



PJ to me -- That was our granddaughter, and she says she lost her keesh. I don't know why she called to tell me that. I don't even know what that conversation was about.

BW We have been watching that loose tooth for four days..

PJ Do you think that's what she lost?

BW I'll betcha...


Patty adds this thought: "Check out my blog for the snaggle-toothed surprise!"

COUSINS

According to Webster, the number one meaning for the word cousin is the child of one's aunt or uncle. When asked to draw a picture of something beautiful they saw in the campout we were just completing, the littlest of the group drew five stick figures. One of the figures was the dog, and I assume the others were her two sisters and her two cousins. She added this explanation to her picture. "My cousins visitid [sic] me."



She could have selected to draw snow-covered Mount Rainier or forested unknown-name mountains. She could have drawn Tall trees looming over our camp site or nearby rivers or creeks of abundant flowing water. Butterflies or birds or chipmunks or caterpillars might have graced her page of artwork. Looking down on steep canyons as we rode up...up...up to Paradise or having a snowball fight when she was supposed to be eating lunch could have been her artistic choice. Even the swinging, cable bridge was one sister's choice of subject matter.



But this six-year-old grandchild chose the subject that kept me most enthralled with the wonderment of family on this occasion -- watching cousins interact and play and sing and pretend and chatter and make s'mores. I was mindful of my own youth and cousin Jan, many years and miles from this place. There were no trees to speak of and even tap water was scarce in the tiny West Texas town where our family reunion was held. However, as children, we just enjoyed the pleasure of each other's company...feeling the bond of kinship.



Cousin is such an important relationship that even the Bible sets the stage for the coming Messiah when pregnant Mary visits her pregnant cousin Elizabeth. Later, of course, John announced, "Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!" How befitting it is that Christ's cousin was the herald of such great news.



I delighted in watching five girls interact and romp and spontaneously follow Papa John on his walk. And I wonder to myself, "Will the boychild cousin, due in the near future, change the dynamics of this love shown?"

One of Life's Bigger Lessons

We have just arrived home after two weeks of spending time by Sam's bedside as he battles to regain his life. For more details and photos, visit John's blog.



Anyone who knows I have a brother knows at least one thing about us -- we were not very good at "getting along" as kids. Our sibling battles were frequent, and they grieved Mother.


After Sam was in the hospital for 8 weeks...basically on life support...the time was right for us to travel to be by his side. As I stood beside Sam's bedside in Modesto Memorial ICU for the first time, he took my latex-gloved hand and kissed my fingertips. His lips moved, but they formed no words. Tears came to his eyes (and mine).

The memories of wasted years flood my thoughts. Oh, reader, don't think of us as battling all those years. As adults, we have had two or three really good conversations about why we were always fighting as kids. Because we have not lived near each other, it has just been easy to live our lives with little regard for each other.


This illness has caused me to realize how precious family ties are. Our father died 18 years ago, following Mother's death by one year.


When we were kids, Sam would tease or hit or irritate me. Mother would force him to apologize.

He would say, "I'm sorry...but I don't mean it." Mother would make him say it again. "I'm sorry."


"But I don't mean it." This apology could take what seemed like an eternity.


Mother might even make him hug or kiss his little sister and once again...say the words "I'm sorry."


But as soon as Mother left the room, Sam would add "But I don't mean it." I realize now that she probably left the room to laugh.


After two weeks of "suiting up" to be near Sam, watching him sleep, cheering him on as he lifted his arms for the first time to exercise....as he "sat up" (his nurses pushed the buttons that made his bed into a chair )...as his speech became clearer through his tracheotomy...and many other firsts on his road to recovery, the time came for us to return home.


One last trip to the hospital to say "goodbye."


Again, the tears came..."Sis. I love you....."


And this time I believe he meant it.

Sam, he is

Many of my days' hours are spent watching my only sibling struggle for each breath; nothing is easy for him. Tomorrow will mark the beginning of his 9th week since he has been able to walk, talk, eat, sit up.....etc. I read the following to his wife last night, and we all got a badly needed chuckle.


We had just moved to Dexter, New Mexico. While I was recuperating from a badly sprained ankle, Sammy had the freedom to explore and to meet other kids. About the third day, he came home with a black eye. Mother and Daddy both quizzed him. He did not want to talk about it in front of Mother so he and Daddy took a walk.

The story, as I recall it, came out that he had met some other boys. His description of them was vague, but they were about his age and wore felt hats with pop bottle lids attached somehow and they rode bikes. Apparently Sammy decided to explore around the edge of the cotton field and had ended up almost back at the highway in a shaded area near a church yard when he happened across these boys about his age but much bigger.

Anyway, somehow in the process of getting acquainted, one of the boys called him a :”Son of A Gun.” He put up his dukes and told the boy to take it back. It was not hurtful to him to be called such a name, but He was not going to get by with calling my Mother “a Gun.”

Our technicolor world

It is not that I don't write for this blog,,,it IS that much of what I write gets set in moth balls never to be seen by other humans.



When the young man leading prayer in our Bible class mentioned my name, I flinched a little. And when he ended our petition for me to "return to normal," I could not help but smile. It reminded me of the man with the withered hand who constantly prayed for God to make both of his hands the same. Finally, God answered his plea; He made the other hand withered, also.



Some readers probably realize that I was scheduled during this time to have long-overdue surgery for cataracts. According to my appointments, first the right eye and, a week later, the left were to be operated on. Anyone who has met me in person knows that my body (and especially my head) can take off on its own with seismic tremor. I felt calm going into the first surgery even relaxed enough that I crossed my legs and laced my fingers together But, unbeknownst to me, my head had other ideas. Although I had warned the staff ahead that this could happen, they were not prepared for what did occur next. Some of my cloudy fluid escaped, causing some rather sizable :"floaters."



The doctors were afraid that they might need to hospitalize me in order to sedate me to remove the floaters at the same time as the left eye surgery. It looks like the floaters will continue to dissolve ; the second surgery is now scheduled for this Tuesday. When I ran into the surgeon at the appointment desk before the left eye surgery, he said, "We are ordering a really big strap this time." I am happy to report that the second went smoothly.


Meanwhile, I have discovered the world around me is brilliantly colored. This area of the country is so beautiful this time of year anyway...flowering bushes and trees and shrubs heralding fruits to follow. I had no idea my sight was so limited; it was like looking at the world through wax paper during a dust storm.

I feel like Calvin and Hobbes, having lived in a colorless world. Now things are too brilliant; "God is SO BIG!" Now I need a new photo for my blog. I do not have orange hair nor are my cheeks such a strange color. Besides, I am now viewing the world around me without glasses.

When things are not as they seem...

When John's mother Alta bought a new sewing machine, she started with simple embroidery and, by nature, progressed beyond what the average seamstress would take on. Her first project was a large piece of white cotton (20" X 32") turned and hemmed with embroidered triangles in various colors. She made eight or ten for me for a Christmas present.

I enjoyed those table napkins so much. Especially men would comment on how much they appreciated the full-size napkins that actually covered the lap and stayed put. Her handiwork was so handy as a bib for babies and grown ups eating crab or artichokes dipped in butter or bar-b-que ribs. Obviously, they were saved for guests. And after each use, they were washed and ironed and put away for the next special occasion.

When my napkins were several years old, we went to California to visit our families. When helping Alta clean up after a meal, she handed me a cloth that looked all the world like my wonderful napkins. The only difference was that she did not iron hers. I was so surprised that she wanted me to use it as a drying rag. As it turns out, that was her intent all along. We had a good laugh together about my mistaking them as napkins.

I still have one "napkin" which I use as a dish cloth, but I caught myself this morning moving it to the bottom of the stack. After all, it is still my most special one.

In response to REAL readers

OKAY..OKAY. All right already! I need to prove to David that he is not adopted and let anyone interested know what I have been reading. Please keep in mind that I am awaiting cataract surgery and have been looking at the printed world through a magnifying glass. But I do read...just not as voraciously as some folks I know.


I have started Dorothy Gilman's Thale's Folly. A little novel I
picked up at the Friend's of the lIbrary sale recently

I reread Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus. A gift from Geoffrey that I recently regifted to a special family.

In the most recent edition of Book Women publication, my friend Carol Copeland wrote an article called "Three Woman." The article tells how we met each other through Jessie Mather.

Quicken Personal Finances 2007 Manual...I don't want to talk about it.

Taste of Home Slow Cooker Classics...proving, once again, "If you don't have the ingredients, stay out of the kitchen." This was a "must have" Valentine's gift from my wonderful hubby.

Bible studies that are presently ongoing are "Through the Gospels in Real Time," "Proverbs," "Jude", and a lady's study guide that gave me whiplash turning back and forth from Old Testament to New. I am also reviewing my Freshman "Basic Bible Study Guide" seeking a good study. Any suggestions?

Talking Drums by Patty Slack is a magnificent novel, yet to be discovered. I was looking for flaws (some call that editing) so my reading was somewhat skewed. As you can imagine, there were precious few errors.

I am privileged to be typing Jeanne Stinson's Memoirs. Jeanne is a dear 80-something friend who lived in Africa during her early years and in (much) later years, resided in a boat house on the Columbia River.

As you can tell, my reading is not as eclectic as some in my family. If it is not obvious to acquaintances by now, I am a dabbler in everything

Mysterious sounds

There it goes again. By the time day breaks...in the still, quiet time of morning...the semi-constant sound begins. It is not annoyingly unpleasant but the mystery of its source is nagging.

It is not a buzz, and yet that might be the best way to describe it. I asked one granddaughter what she thought it was, and she said "It sounds like someone's cell phone." I had thought the same thing...but one would think the batteries would have worn out long ago. The sound dominates the usual jungle sounds of birds. Last week, when John and I returned from a shopping trip, two little girls were standing in our driveway; when we got out of our car, the older of the two, called to us "We were listening to your birds!" then continued their walk.

Back to the sound...

It could be a neighbor trying to start a small engine, but it is surely not that because it has gone on for days and many hours each day.


It goes like this rrrrrrrrrrrrr...pause..........rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr................. pause.................rrrrrrrrrr............pause...................rrrrrrrrrrrrr...pause..........rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr................. pause.................rrrrrrrrrr............pauserrrrrrrrrrrrr...pause..........rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr................. pause.................rrrrrrrrrr............pauserrrrrrrrrrrrr...pause..........rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr................. pause.................rrrrrrrrrr............pauserrrrrrrrrrrrr...pause..........rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr................. pause.................rrrrrrrrrr............pauserrrrrrrrrrrrr...pause..........rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr................. pause.................rrrrrrrrrr............pauserrrrrrrrrrrrr...pause..........rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr................. .................rrrrrrrrrr............pauserrrrrrrrrrrrr...pause..........rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr................. pause.................rrrrrrrrrr............pause

Well, maybe it is annoying. It is not so noticeable indoors though sometimes I notice it. However, as soon as any door leading outside is open, there it is again.
Usually it stops mid=day for a break, bu not always.

Finally, I went to my source for all of life's amswers...No..not God, He is the source of all of Life's Answers. No my greatest source is that walking encyclopedia I married.

"John, do you know what that noise is? Listen...there it is again... What do you think it is?"

"Oh..that? That is a woodpecker working on a dead limb?"

AMAZING!

A SCHOLARLY REMEMBRANCE

Just because I have not posted a blog since January 30th is no indication that I have not tried. I throw out at least half of my attempts. However, there is nothing like writing for a specific date (in this case, a birthday) to outdate my efforts almost before they are published.

I have misplaced an important journal and spent much of yesterday, once again, searching for it. Quite naturally, that led to clearing my book shelves. Now that my youngest grandchildren are learning to read, about one fourth of my accumulated literary treasures would hold no interest to anyone except me. Of course, with a new grandbaby on the way, I'll hang onto most of those books.

Scattered haphazardly on the floor of a seldom-used room were books from various reading stages of my life. Lassie Come Home and coverless Cinderella as well as Hurlburts bible Stories and Aunt Charlotte's Bivle Stories are the only tomes that have survived since childhool.

There is one book that really haunts me. When John and I lived in Beaumont, Calfironia, there was an elderly christian lady who would stop me on a weekly basis and insist that I should read the best piece of literature ever written. Eventually, she brought me a copy of A tree Grows in Brooklyn. I have no idea how many times over the years I have tried to read this novel. I have never made it past the second chapter. I do not know why it has never held my interest; what little I have read was well written and even interesting.

Once again, I removed the book from my bookshelf where I keep books for loaning to people; although this book has never been loaned. Once again, I place it in the stack to take to the used book dealer's shop to trade in. And, once again, I remember the lady who loaned it to me over 40 years ago. And...once again...I place it back on my shelf. What am I feeling? Guilt? perhaps. Motivated? no. But maybe one day I will get around to reading it.

I wonder if others hang onto books or things, not really knowing why?

UNDERSTANDING FOOTBALL

I know it is not football season but...
After one and one-half hours of composing a masterpiece, I needed only to wrap it up and post it. When I hit the "enter" key on my computer, everything disappeared...never to be seen again. So, I resurrected an old unpublished article. If you are desperate for reading material...you've got it!

Everyone is talking about football these days, and I got to thinking about the influence that sport has had on my life.

I was in junior high in Andrews, Texas, when I went to my first football game. There are two things I remember about that experience. 1) The band major was a full-blooded Seminole Indian. It seems to me that there was some controversy over a boy in that position. and 2) The junior high boys teased me because my hair kept falling in my eyes and, to avoid being conspicuous about the dilemma, I would stick out my bottom lip and blow it back.

We moved to Tucson between junior and high school. Of course, high school football was far more educational in the big city high school. I attended most of the THS home games and never missed a Thanksgiving rivalry game against Amphitheater; that game was played near our house at the University of Arizona stadium. What I recall most about high school football is my wardrobe. Without fail, I always wore red and white every Friday, My favorite outfit was a white blouse and a full skirt (red with huge white polka dots) poofed out with numerous crinolines. I remember most of the cheers: T-T-T-u-c; S-S-s-o-n and We are the Badgers, Mighty Mighty Badgers. Who can forget First and ten; do it again. Harder! Harder! Yessiree, I sat on the front row in front of the marching band and yelled my little heart out, It was not hard to identify me as a real fan though I hadn't a clue what the cheers meant, No one ever bothered to educate me; and, truthfully, it never crossed my mind to ask.

The year I started college was the last year Pepperdine had a football team. I may have attended two or three games. Early on, I learned how many players were supposed to be on the field. Apparently, this was a piece of information that had alluded our team.

In our years in Juneau, football was not a part of the school sports program nor even community sports. With the advent of cable TV, and eventually the addition of a daughter-in-law whose brother is a college football coach, at last I was (somewhat) educated about the game. So, when asked if I watched the Super Bowl, my answer was "The last 39 seconds."

"Well, then, you did not miss anything." has been the standard reply.

Somehow, there must be a message here about life.

THIS IS THE DAY...

THIS IS THE DAY THAT THE LORD HAS MADE; LET US REJOICE AND BE GLAD IN IT!

10 - This is the last day of all of our family birthdays, and we still have a "leftover" day.

9 - Two more days, and we can change the calendar. A quick peek reveals the February photo is a picture of ice formations in Juneau, Alaska. Now, there's an original idea!

8 - The last of the inventory sales helps me prepare for 2008 baby showers. Hopefully that number is the year and not how many showers there will be this year.....though one can never be certain.

7 - Can seed catalogs be far behind?

6 - The United States Postal Service actually answered their phone with a human voice, took copious notes about the lost package, and said they'd get back to me today.

5 - My new dishwasher does all that the manufacturer promised -- quietly.

4 - Wednesdays are always my "marathon day" with a study of Proverbs mid afternoon and a gathering to study "Truth" later.

3 - My children rise up and call me Blessed!

2 - This is the day that we celebrate the birth of our youngest, who has brought us so much joy!

1 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GEOFFREY!!

Shopping Spree

The challenge came in an email as I was heading out the door for a class on Proverbs, so I dashed off this answer. And, after reading it over, I decided I should not waste the opportunity to share with others.

THE CHALLENGE: I'm doing a survey. What's the longest shopping spree you ever had - and you can tell me a few details, if you want.

SHOPPING SPREE
Truthfully, I have not been much of a shopper since high school days. When we lived in Alaska, I had to have all of my shopping done by catalog by the end of October or the catalog item was sold out. The children were not even allowed to hum a Christmas tune until after Thanksgiving. So, playing Santa, I had to be pretty creative to get the kids to ask Santa for what I had already purchased. It did not always work out so great. To this day, we do not even mention Chatty Cathy in Patty’’s presence.

So…now that I think of it – my biggest shopping spree would have to be the Summer of 1976 when our family took about a 6-week vacation to visit folks in California. My parents lived in a single-wide mobile home near Modesto. I hit Mervyn’s with a vengeance for school clothing for the three kids and my hubby.…there is nothing that compares to the adrenalin rush of finding winter jackets on sale in 100+ temperatures, knowing there is no competition while shopping. There were even ads in the newspapers declaring things on sale, unheard of in Juneau.

After we “did” southern California family and theme parks, we returned to my folks for a few days to gather everything for transport via Alaska Airlines back to Juneau. Lo! And behold! If Sears didn’t have a linen sale going! Who could possibly say “no” to towels for $1.99 or sheets and mattress pads for under $10. Why! I was able to get two new blankets for every bed in our house. Then, the truth hit me. I had been stuffing all of my purchases in the storage shed. When I started reducing the bulk of packaging, it only caused my loot to expand. How was I going to get this all home? I had anticipated needing extra luggage for clothing and fresh fruits and vegetables, but the linens alone filled our sleeping quarters. The Stockton red onions and beefsteak tomatoes my father had lovingly grown just for us went as carryons; The clothing stuffed into our limit of luggage, but what to do with the linens?

Mother suggested it was time for her lovely cedar “Hope chest” (better known as the family’s despair barrel) to be passed onto me. My husband built a crate for it, but not before we made sure all of the purchases could be accommodated. It took some muscle to get it all in. Next, we took it to the airport and shipped it air freight. I hate to think what we paid for that means of transportation.

But, at least, John never found the snow plow he had shopped for!

time continues......

Just an update on my last blog. That watch still reads 1:52. John took it to the store where it was purchased and even took his own set of tiny screwdrivers to open the back to replace the battery. It took a bit longer than anticipated for him to get the back open, but when he did, the clerk pulled out the old battery and found a replacement for it. Only problem was it did not work. Oh, I am told that the light now would illuminate the watch's face, but the time did not change.

This morning when looking through my jewelry for a certain stick pin I came upon five watches, three of which have been bought in the last 20 years. One of those three was absolutely identical to my 1:52 watch. One watch had been my mother's. Without looking, I could tell you the brand name because my parents were real believers in the quality of Bulova watches. When studying this timepiece, I could see it, too, contained a battery. I put it on my wrist and whacked it a couple of times and the second hand took right off as though it had just been stirred from sleep. Mother died in 1990, and that watch had not been worn since her death.

I knew I had her mother's Elgin watch which does not have a wristband so I hunted it down and wound it up and it keeps perfect time now. Mammy (my maternal grandmother) died in 1953. Both of those heirlooms still run. The one engraved to my grandfather in 1939 needs a good cleanng, but I'm thinking it would probably be wiser to clean them both than to purchase another watch made to today's standards.

A TIMELY REMINDER

When I woke up yesterday morning, my watch read 1:52. All of the clocks in the house said it was closer to 5:30, but my watch said 1:52. As a matter of fact, it still reads 1:52.

I have a friend who writes each and every Sunday. He always begins with "I am reminded this week..." and the rest of his email message is always thinking positive and being the Christian you would like to meet -- helping others, not complaining, always positive, etcetera. He always ends with a scripture.. .usually a proverb.
Just over a year ago, he added a paragraph between his message and the quotes; that message began "This week, Jane..." For, you see, his wife faithfully went for her routine annual physical, feeling fine, and because of a "mass" sent a lot of us to our knees in her behalf. It has been a challenging year for many of us as both breasts were removed and her hair fell out. and the chemo made her so ill.
I spent a little time with Jane Saturday evening, and she looked radiant.I thank God.

Today, one of my dearest friends enters a hospital in another city for a "biopsy." She is single, and I pray fervently that God removes any blight that would cause her pain or illness. "Please, God, just make it go away."
Another lady, a widow, enters the hospital tomorrow. Her cancer has returned. And a very close brother in Christ continues to valiantly fight against one pain and another caused by cancer.

At the same time, Geoffrey and Dana will be at the doctor's office having a sonogram, possibly learning the gender of their baby.

Above my computer station is a recently acquired pendulum clock that ticks away the seconds and bongs on the half hour. It is a constant reminder of the passage of time. But my watch says it is 1:52.

Saturday, we will wish our oldest child Happy Birthday, and we will rejoice in remembering his goodness and the pleasure he has been in our life.

My heart is full of prayers for the Love God has placed in my life. I am thankful for the lives with which God has touched my life. Of course, there is a remedy for a watch that says 1:52 all of the time; I will probably get a new battery today. No, life did not stop just because one timepiece failed to function, and it did not speed up just because I asked John three times in two minutes what time it was.

It did, however, make me painfully aware of how much I rely on timepieces and to think about ETERNITY.