I love that our nation sets aside one day a year just to be thankful. Since God inhabits the praises of His people, I believe that He draws very near to the USA on Thanksgiving Day. Since I would love for Him to be near ALL the time I like to thank Him more often than once a year, or once a month, or even once a day. Here are a few of the items on my Thank You list for God.
Muffin, Our Godly husband, father, and grandpa.
Christel, Becky, Joy, and Kathleen, my beautiful gifts from God.
The Snelsons, a son for whom we prayed and Ruby and Emme, miracles from God.
The Wilsfords, another son for whom we prayed and Gracie and Jonah, and our wee little punkin on the way, more miracle gifts from God.
The Varrones, yet another son for whom we prayed and Baby Sebastian who is 3 months old today, although already a lifetime in our hearts.
Our family was invited to a Good Friday Service on a ranch about 60 miles Southwest of town on top of a hill. Muffin and I, CB, JB and Em and Roo drove there Friday afternoon, taking flashlight, jacket, blanket and chair as instructed in the invitation and directions to the ranch.
After a delicious catered dinner we sat in the Safe Place, constructed of native stones, watching the sunset as we sang and worshipped the Lord Jesus.
After sunset we heard a sermon by Cowboy Preacher, prayed and walked to our cars under the stars (rhyme!) and drove home. It was a lovely way to remember all that He did on that old rugged cross on another hill named Golgotha.
Today is the Tuesday after Christmas Day. The first day since December 23 that we have been able to get back to the gym. The treadmill and the recumbent bike were waiting for me, empty and lonely, cold and ... Oh alright, they were well warmed by previous users.
Snow was falling softly when we got up this morning. Rather than being the near blizzard conditions from Christmas Eve the temperature hovered near the freezing mark so we had clear streets and only a dusting on the grass. Muffin and I went to the bakery to buy fresh honey oat and challah breads. On to Sam's Club for Lysol disinfectant spray to kill these nasty cold and stomach virus germs being passed around the family. We also bought some fresh food and ordered a cake for a baby shower at our church on Sunday.
Snow was still falling when we left Sam's and headed to the HEB for the remaining groceries. Joy and Mike made Butternut Squash Soup and needed fresh squash, dried thyme, fresh sage, and we had completely consumed all milk products in the fridge and needed to milk some cows and soy beans. As we passed through the produce section I noticed that the bakery lady was unloading her cart, straight out of the kitchen, into the bolillo bin. The lid on the bin was steaming over with heat from those soft little buns. At four for a dollar I knew a bargain that would be a hit with the home kids! I wrapped them in plastic sacks and we drove straight home, so they were still slightly warm when we arrived home. I enjoyed one with leftover barbecued brisket and Asian slaw.
After unloading the car and the dishwasher Muffin and I headed to the gym, which was closing early due to weather, but I'm not sure why, because the place was full and the parking lot was crowded. Anyway, Joy called and asked for some dried thyme, so Muffin went next door to the small grocery by the gym while I finished my workout. Mike, Joy and Kaki went to visit Nannie, who is still keeping Scooter for us, because we traveled to see Nana yesterday and open gifts with her. We came home last night, but left him there to keep Nannie company.
When the chefs came back to our house they completed the soup. It was so totally worth the wait! Yum! Snow has stopped. Emme played imaginary family with throw pillows and helped with the soup a little bit. Ruby read Sesame Street books to Grandpa. Maggie and Mo Dogs are snuggled by the fire, as are Joy, Mike, Kathleen, CB and JB.
It is our last night all together. I would like to put this evening in a small pouch, or inside a lovely tin, and pull out some family togetherness every week. If only I could bundle Family, Soup, and Snow and market them as a package to lonely, homesick people.
Today is the finally the last day of school in our town. It has been a long school year for students, teachers, and administrators, complete with swine flu scares and inclement weather make-up days. Although I no longer have more than a thread connecting me to the school system, I feel for them all. My violin studio runs roughly concurrent with the local school calendar, but I stopped teaching one week after our studio recital and began the summer semester two weeks ago, just because the weather seemed fitting.
This time of year is hard for me for several reasons. I fight loneliness, because I miss my daughters and because my Daddy died last year in June. I always loved the last day of school with my daughters. We would plan something special--friends over for lunch if it was an early release day, or a swim party at the neighborhood pool, or just pizza, ice cream and nap, because we could. Summer was our time to pack for the pool and spend the entire day there, with Muffin meeting us for dinner at the grill or a picnic we packed. Summer was our time to have lazy slumber parties with their friends. It was definitely the time we kept ridiculous hours reading as late as we wanted to read, or watching old musical movies one after the other in succession until our eyeballs burned. It was time for eating when we felt like it, including all the local ripe produce, and grilling meats outdoors to alleviate residual heat in the house. Summer included VBS at church, One Way church camps at Ceta Canyon and Butman, swimming or art lessons, and a Suzuki institute for all of us somewhere that was a "vacation destination". Sigh. I miss it all.
I survived taking four daughters to kindergarten, one at a time, after those sweet summers, and also seeing them graduate first from high school, then college, one at a time. Milestones, memories, emotions like waves in the ocean and contractions in labor swept over me each time. Now my oldest grandchild is one year away from kindergarten. He was just promoted to the four year old pre-school class, and it all hit me again. The alternative is unacceptable, however. Now I have dreams of entertaining cousins at my house in the summers and experiencing those fun times all over again.
Thirty four years ago two college sweethearts drove to a military hospital in California. It was very early in the morning--still dark, but they were still excited. He was as low as they go, speaking of officers. A second lieutenant who was highly informed on the subject at hand, because she had insisted he educate himself. After the check in process they were directed to the special wing reserved for women in this condition. She made herself as comfortable as possible and watched "Sesame Street" for an hour as the hospital staff dashed in and out of the room like fish hunting for food in a crowded aquarium. She was distracted with the activity and the muppets, but he was as nervous as a puppy in a room full of toddlers.
After an hour and a half she got serious about this mission and ordered the TV turned off. After all, she had rehearsed for this part and won the audition almost ten months earlier, and she was determined to give the performance of her life! Lines had been memorized, songs had been added to the script, and all the props and sets were in place for the audience of medical personnel.
In every performance there is an unknown factor. In this one, the villain was Pitocin. The PIT. Administered in IV form it tends to turn a serial drama into a one act play with high drama and loud sound effects. That's right ladies and gentlemen, this was......drum roll please......... Natural Childbirth! Military hospitals had few experiences with laboring mothers who asked to forego medications for pain. At twenty six days past the due date, twenty five years of age, and after seven and a half hours of labor interrupted often by the Doctor Colonel Fuhrer who wished to stick needles in her arms and "take her pain away", and two hours of pushing, she gave birth to THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BABY GIRL on the planet.
Our first child......Happy Birthday, CB!
We celebrated with her today at the Texas History Museum (pictured above) and watched "Under the Sea" in 3D with Em and Roo, JB, Grandpa, and Aunt Kaki. Before that we ate fabulous breakfast at Trudy's and tonight had THE chocolate cake: Mint Chocolate layer cake decorated with thin mints. I suggested that we lay around in our hospital gowns as we did 34 years ago, but she said she outgrew hers.
Like the intricacies in the stitches and colors of this baby afghan, the heritage of motherhood ripples through my bloodlines and shapes my relationships with my Mother, my daughters, and my grandchildren.
On this page in a photograph book you can see some of my ancestors. They were hard working people who farmed and raised big families. My maternal great grandparents on one side raised thirteen children and all lived into their late 70's, 80's and 90's. The other side raised seven children to ripe old ages, having come from early circuit riding preachers themselves.
This is our oldest, CB, with Em and Roo. She inherited the teaching genes big time. Also the administrative gifts. This lady can teach in her sleep and wake up organized. She amazes me. Roo already has the organizing gene and Em is already mothering her baby dolls. I'm not the least bit concerned about future generations.
Here is Kaki, our youngest, who is still single. It's obvious that the genes are here too. She is playing with our youngest grandchild, Gracie. Her "real" job right now is investing her life in young children as a nanny for families with multiples. So far she has worked with 3-4 twin families, some who also have other children. Rumor is that she is interviewing with triplets now. She teaches so subtly that the kids never know she isn't playing with them! Also amazing.
Another shot of CB with Em and Roo--teaching them while they watch a show at Sea World. They may know the scientific names of all the sea creatures on the way home from the park.
This is Nannie, my Mother. Although she devoted her life to being a stay at home mom until I was in college, I always knew she had the teaching gene. Recently I read some Montessori blog posts and had an epiphany. Mother employed almost all of the techniques recommended in over thirty of the posts to "entertain" me when I was a little girl. That sneaky lady!
I don't think Boo, our second born, will love me for this photo, but already I see that she is teaching Jbear to be gentle with newborn Gracie. Look at how proud and protective he is. This was his first visit to see Gracie, but he remains so sweet and loving with her. We have zillions of photos of him kissing her. Boo prepared him well for a baby sister.
This photo almost cracks me up. I love it! This is our original Jbear, Joy, with Kaki about twenty four years ago. To the left is Dolly, our adorable, but departed, Sheltie. Joy has the administrative gene also. You can see the determination in her face to control both the baby and the dog, even though the situation is clearly deteriorating. She is only four years old, but absolutely set on practicing her mothering skills. She will be a fabulous mommy some day.
Lest you think the generations have returned only domesticity, I added this photo. Joy bought the mug for Nannie. Two of a kind?
Not to neglect my paternal side in this post, I include this photo of four generations. My great grandmother raised 15 children, the last two were fraternal twins. She died at 96 and I remember her well. Standing in front is my Grandmother that we called Pickle. Pickle had four children, two boys and two girls. She worked hard and taught all her children to do equal work. The girls worked in the fields and learned something of farm mechanics, and the boys knew how to cook and sew. Muffin says my Daddy was more secure in his manhood, as was my uncle, than any other man he has known. Pickle gave me a love for needle work that remains to this day.
This is Nana, Muffin's Mom. She is the fifth of six children, three boys and three girls. In this photo, which is twenty four years old, she is holding Kaki wrapped in a blanket that Nana made for her. Notice Joy is still taking lessons and being the baby sister protector. Nana is, and has always been totally adorable. She gave my girls the gift of playing with laughter. In addition to Muffin, she has a daughter, Aunt Tracie, who also has two perfect children that are young enough to be great entertainment for Nana. They are all amazing, too.
I absolutely could not find a great photo of my maternal grandmother, Grandmommy, who was the belle of the county as a girl, and who passed on a rich heritage of flawless administration in the kitchen and home. She also raised two children and cooked everything in the kitchen for every meal, then went to the garden and gathered more for the next one. "Tuffy" was her nickname, because she was not. Think about it.
So there you have the links in the chain stitch of our family. I'm leaving out most of the juicy parts, because, well, you don't need to know everything.
Today we were awakened, after a late night of sewing, to a wild-eyed Jbear. He woke at 2 a.m. with his ears hurting, saying he "lost his yawn" and was never able to sleep again. Boo sat up with him for hours and fed him Tylenol to keep him relatively quiet. Rowdy Girls and Gracie slept late, but by 10 a.m. we had a plan to call our fabulous neighbor/doctor/friend, Dr. Will, and beg. Between a morning of buying trees and an afternoon of Awanas with his own children, he dropped in and pronounced Jbear's right ear as "unhappy" and the left ear "not far behind". He used our phone to call in a prescription, talked to us a few minutes, and after being hugged and thanked by Jbear, a.k.a. Buzz Lightyear, went out on our unseasonably cold day in March. As a thank you gift for him, I searched the internet finding and purchasing my favorite little Golden Book from the 1950's, Dr. Squash, by Margaret Wise Brown.
After playing the piano, running through the house, surfing the stairs, and a few other high volume activities, Jbear and Em wore out. Roo was not far behind after a morning of memory cards, stacking birthday candles, and avoiding the twin and cousin. In fact she could be heard saying "Are you OK, Ruby?" At 11:30 her blood sugar totally bottomed and she begged for food. After eating a bowl of mac & cheese, half a fried egg, some mashed potatoes, and a smoothie with half an avocado and banana in it, she was fine. Off to a nice nap for Jbear and the Rowdy Girls.
Then Gracie woke up. She played and charmed everyone and ate half a bowl of mashed potatoes. While Boo and Michael fetched antibiotics for Jbear, Grandpa and CB watched Gracie, and I finished the Easter Dresses. Boo caught a nap to make up for her sleepless night. Before CB and girls drove away to their home in the Hill Country to see their lonely husband/daddy, we caught this photo while the girls modeled their new dresses over their leggings. Special guest appearance is by Buzz Lightyear, feeling much better after a dose of pink medicine and a nap.
This beautiful spring day I managed to be productive. Wrote a report on public relations to be delivered to a state convention of a music club next week. Delivered two tablecloths, one sheet of music and a book for a silent auction to the music club president's home. Took white chocolate apricot bread to my Mom, the Great Grand Nannie of them all. Central Market's bakery bakes that bread on Fridays, and Muffin stops there on the way home to buy a few groceries for us. He cooked fresh shrimp from the Market for our dinner tonight--boiled them in the pot right on top of our stove. Yum! And after we ate delicious shrimp we did an aerobic workout at the gym.
In the middle of the afternoon I took a break from sewing, laundry, and answering mail to bake a cake. PW's Chocolate Sheet Cake is mostly butter and cocoa held together with a few other basic ingredients. It goes together really quickly and looks good enough to swim in before you eat it. Problem is that it isn't for us. Nope. I delivered it to an Emmaus team meeting for lunch tomorrow. And I trust they will be blessed.
Muffin’s cute Mom, Nana, is loving this election. She has already voted by mail, so she will not need to set foot into a parking lot at early voting or on election day. That way, she can watch CNN and FOX and keep track of every red and blue duly elected official in the city, state, and nation. Mail-in voting also preserves her hip replacements and allows her to stay home in her comfy shoes. Nana would not be caught in public in her comfy shoes, oh no. We almost had to have a very undemocratic election to get her to wear the comfy shoes in the first place. It all went down when she had the second hip replaced and was attempting to leave the hospital and move to the rehab unit with her dress shoes on her feet. I realized we needed to act fast, went to the local athletic store and purchased some slip-on New Balance 801’s and some Skechers. At first she balked, in her polite way, and tried to manipulate us into allowing the slick soled heels, but even the rehab PT’s complimented the new shoes. Then all her friends loved them.Then Nannie started to wear them.
I had never thought about it much, but our mothers’ generation had never, ever worn shoes without backs. All their sandals had backstraps. No mules or clogs, flip flops, or rarely a house shoe without a heel or heel strap had ever touched their feet. They insisted those shoes would be impossible to retain on their feet. Last time I was at her house, Nana wore only the 801’s. Now she declares all others “too much trouble”.
Nana is a major piece of entertainment.Her three brothers and two sisters agreed. Papaw, may he rest in peace, always thought the same.Her dear mother, Grandmother L, had gone to glory when I met Muffin, but Gradpa L always said as he watched her walk away from him, “She could get there faster if she didn’t wiggle so much from side to side.” Her spectacular walk is somewhat reflected in little Roo.
But far and away, Nana’s great hidden talent is---drum rolllllllllll please!—turkey calling. This was a huge family secret for years.Then during one snowy Thanksgiving by the fire in her home of 50 years, when our daughters were very young, she decided to entertain them by demonstrating her very authentic turkey call. Did I mention that the vocalization is VERY authentic?Can you also picture this petite, and very pretty, very tidy, very proper and protocol prioritizing (OK, enough alliteration already) 70something grandmother flapping her lips with her index finger and mimicking a turkey in the wild? It was enough to make the dog-of-the-day, Buffy, sing along in high octave barks and howls!
Now, picture this.A few years later she did her turkey demo at a local market because the prize was a fresh turkey, just a few days before Thanksgiving. If there is anything Nana values more than her dignity, it’s a great bargain. That free turkey was too good to let go, so right there in the market, she sacrificed her dignity---and WON! Since then our daughters and Nana’s friends have not ceased to give her turkeys in many forms—salt & pepper shakers, stuffed, wind socks, ceramics, you name it. If you think this is a fowl collection you just don’t know our loveable Nana.
Buddy was JB and CB’s first “child”.I really knew that JB loved CB when they bought Buddy at a pet store before they were married.JB kept him at the house where he lived with too many roommates.CB smuggled him into her rent house on occasions when JB was working long hours, holding down three jobs as a student. Buddy was half Aussie and half chow, with a perpetual growl that expressed all his feelings of love and anger and everything inbetween.He looked much like crumbled Oreos in a glass of milk that had sprouted lots of thick fur and had two shiny button eyes.His cute furry head was often tilted to one side, with a puzzled look on his face, as if he was saying “What’s it all about, Alfie?”
Buddy and his litter mates all had parvo virus, or distemper, or some dreadful and potentially fatal disease.At least the pet store paid for the veterinarian bills for Buddy, for as college students JB and CB would not have been able to afford the expense of the treatment.We prayed lots and CB cried lots and in the end, he had some seizures, along with plenty of I.V.’s and survived with some serious blood sugar problems and brain damage.Not too long after that, he randomly jumped out of a car window and broke his leg.More prayer, and a great recovery.Then he was the victim of a roommate who stepped on his head.He almost did not survive that.Lots of tears and lots of prayer and many more treatments at enormous expense later, he became the Buddy we knew and loved.Although he wasn’t the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, he was the family dog that all kids gravitated toward—just plain cute and irresistible. He would growl his pleasure or displeasure, finally learned to use the pet doors at his home and at ours, and never, never, got past his extreme terror of veterinary offices.
Buddy was famous for the “lean”.He didn’t exactly have the coordination and stamina to run, but he would trot toward us in greeting and “lean” into my leg and growl his hellos. If I scratched his behind, he would “lean” into me and turn around a few times.He claimed our Mama Sheltie’s old bed in the sewing room downstairs after her death a year and a half ago, and would curl up and sleep there at night, leaving the stairway to the younger dogs. Scooter would always be a great host canine and give up his evening in our bedroom to spend the night with Buddy in the sewing room.I always wondered if they talked about us after the lights went out at night.
Scooter and his family miss you, Buddy.I’m so thankful that you didn’t have to make that last trip to the vet’s office, but that you died quietly with your family at home.I’m glad I was there and saw that you didn’t suffer, but chose to just quit eating and leave silently.You were a great little Buddy.See you at the RainbowBridge.
Just this side of heaven is a place called RainbowBridge.
Boo blogged about Jbear and his exploding baby powder this morning. Funny thing is that about 35 years ago, Muffin and I babysat with our pastor’s three boys for four days and three nights, and a similar incident occurred. The oldest of the boys, R, had lots of physical issues and at age nine, attended a special school and was just out of diapers. Breaking up his routine by introducing two people who had no children as his caretakers was really a big adjustment for him. He would tap me on the forehead and say “Where’s Mommy?” Repeatedly.Just hurt my heart.The two younger boys were two and three. They were full of it. Twenty four hours a day.
We had strict instructions to help them maintain a routine and I stayed home with them all day to be there to meet the bus when R came home from his school.B and S would wake in the pitch darkness before 6 a.m. Winter in Northern California is dark—daylight is from about 8 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. One of them would bang on the pillow when my head was enjoying sleep and say “I awake!” Muffin and I would roll ourselves out of bed, get him off to work, get breakfast for the boys, get R off to school, and then…let the games begin! No kidding.At two and three they were into everything.Even with me watching them.
The night we hosted Bible study at the house (planned by the pastor and wife so we would be able to stay there and get the boys to bed) we kept hearing them when they were supposed to be asleep.One of us would go it, explain that they must quiet down and go to sleep. B and S shared a room that was closest to the living room. I’m sure we were too noisy for them, and they tried to settle down. But, curiosity got the best of them and the last time we checked on them someone had emptied an entire container of baby powder into their beds and on the floor. They were wearing fuzzy red PJ’s before the “incident” and afterward, we just improvised. The entire room was a white cloud of powder.It was hard to breathe in there, so we stripped the beds, enlisted the airmen and wives from the Bible study to help, vacuumed, put things though the dryer so the lint catcher would filter out the powder, and nearly ruined the vacuum cleaner making the room safe for them to sleep. R sleptthough the whole incident.Needless to say, we stupidly asked “Who did this?” and S pointed to a small “puddle” on the carpet and said “R did that!” We all laughed hilariously about it for hours afterward.I think 2-3 year old boys are fascinated with baby powder. Thank you God, for my four girls.
Three years ago today we waited very impatiently beside the telephone for a call from Michael. It finally came in the early morning after Boo had an emergency C section, 4 days earlier than her scheduled C section.Jbear just couldn’t wait!He’s been in high gear ever since.One week later when we arrived in AZ to visit, he was trying to turn over from his tummy to his back, following both dogs (Lucy and Dixie) with his eyes, and had to be strapped in his swing, infant seat, and couldn’t be trusted on his back on the changing pad.What a high energy boy he has been from the beginning!
Jbear, we pray you will grow in wisdom, stature, and favor with God and with mankind, and that you will allow Him to direct all your energy every day of your life. May it be a long, blessed life, full of love from, and for your family. May you love God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength and your neighbor as yourself.
The preferred gift of the evening--a weedeater from Meemaw and Papaw. He calls it a "leedly leeder" and is pretty sure it is trimming grass when he runs it over the back yard. This photo makes me laugh. Jbear is in Gracie's room, making faces at himself in her mirrored closet door, looking oh-so-manly in all that surrounding pinkness.
Here is where Gracie began the evening.And this is what she looked like when we drove away. I miss them already. Bye bye, Gracie and Jbear. Don't forget Marmee and Gradpa. May the Lord watch between us until we are together once again.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Muffin and I took Nannie to another service today--gravesite only, but in the same location as Dubbie's burial just 5 days ago. We rearranged our day to accommodate this, because the only notice we had was today's obituary in the local paper. The man who died was a long time member of my childhood church--same church where we had Dubbie's memorial service. Before that we made two beds upstairs, emptied trash accumulated for 2 weeks, did some laundry, acknowledged more expressions of love and sympathy til running out of stamps, and Muffin repaired our almost 2 decades old fence. After the service we worked out at the gym, then came home to get an ice chest. Then we decided to have lunch at 4:30 and detoured to a restaurant. Finally, we made a stop at our local Sam's Club, then came home to more laundry, cleaning, and household chores. Twice today we've had sleep interrupted by phone calls that seemed very insignificant. In short, it has been an exhausting day. Tomorrow is the Lord's Day--a day of rest. Right?
Like the intricacies in the stitches and colors of this baby afghan, the heritage of motherhood ripples through my bloodlines and shapes my relationships with my Mother, my daughters, and my grandchildren. 
This is our oldest, CB, with Em and Roo. She inherited the teaching genes big time. Also the administrative gifts. This lady can teach in her sleep and wake up organized. She amazes me. Roo already has the organizing gene and Em is already mothering her baby dolls. I'm not the least bit concerned about future generations.
Here is Kaki, our youngest, who is still single. It's obvious that the genes are here too. She is playing with our youngest grandchild, Gracie. Her "real" job right now is investing her life in young children as a nanny for families with multiples. So far she has worked with 3-4 twin families, some who also have other children. Rumor is that she is interviewing with triplets now. She teaches so subtly that the kids never know she isn't playing with them! Also amazing.
