I'm still finding out what I'm about but I think it has something to do with writing and connecting with people and serving God. I don't believe I have to understand it all in order to do it and am pretty content with what comes my way, day by day. I believe there is a God who created all of us, the world we live in, the science we think disproves Him, well, everything. I know my natural tendency is to think I don't need God and I need to be saved from that. I know I need a savior and I'm thankful I have one. The small glimpses I get from the here and now of what my real home is going to be like when God restores it all - that's what fuels me, stirs my sense of adventure, and keeps me going. Until then, I write about what is.
Many times the husband and I would look up at the night sky while taking a walk and notice three bright stars, quite close together. One of us would always have to say “There’s Orion in the sky.” I guess because it’s one of the easiest for us to see it’s a favorite. I thought you might like to know some fascinating things about it. It is beautiful.
What is going on in your mind? Do you wonder why you feel the way you do?
There is a lot of comfort and happiness to be found in knowing that we are loved and enjoyed by someone else. When you see that someone enjoys you, it speaks of how they see you at the present moment, be it messy, inconvenient, embarrassing, negative or positive. They enjoy YOU, not your ability to do. It encourages you to think that they would love and enjoy you no matter what. And in turn, this makes you enjoy them and their association all the more.
However, some of us, myself included, are much more likely to be aware of our inability to measure up than we are of our ability to be enjoyed. We want to be better than we know we are, and in dwelling on that we miss out on the fun fact that someone enjoys us and loves to love us. Today, I’m going to choose to be that person who knows they are loved and enjoyed, by the people and the God who know me very well and like me in spite of it. A thankful, mindful day…
Please write me a letter. I know email is faster and easier and cheaper but sometimes I like the way “snail mail” slows things down. I like seeing that fat envelope in the mailbox, taking it out and reading it while I walk back to the house. Then I read it again with a cup of tea and think about what it said. And I can wait for a day or two before I answer because there is no pressure or expectation – we know mail takes days. I can take my time thinking and writing back.
I love to see your handwriting and don’t want to forget what it looks like, and if you draw a funny picture I like that too. Sometimes you spill something on your paper or maybe it smells like your hand lotion and it makes me feel more like I’m right there with you. And I know how much time you invested in the writing and that speaks of love and care.
I know when I sit to write a handwritten note these days it almost feels like I’m rebelling against technology – makes me feel retro on purpose. And seeing the rounded letters flowing from my pen is artistically pleasing to me. As I think and write the long way, my thoughts come a little clearer and suddenly I am more sure of what I’m thinking. It is a special joy to me when you save my letters and return them to me, giving me a record of my times as good as any journal. I know I’ve forgotten details of events that come right back to me when I pick up an old letter and re-read it. That old box I keep letters in doesn’t really take up that much room and it’s kind of nice not to have to hunt in cyberspace for hours on end. You have a box like that too, don’t you? No? How sad. You should start one.
Someday I want to read to you the letters my great-great-grandmother wrote. Wow, what a window on her world! Things were so different and yet so the same. It does me good to see that thread of sameness in our lives and I think you would like seeing it too. How much I would have missed if I had not been able to know her through her letters. Want to know where I got my stubborn streak or quirky sense of humor? I think I know…
Well, all for now. I know you’re busy but don’t be afraid to sit a spell and write me a page or two. The world won’t come to an end (probably not) if you do. I’ll be watching for the mail.
The really strange thing about dreams is that they turn people into unrecognizable variations of themselves. They think and do things while dreaming that they probably would never do in real life – and I don’t mean that they dream they are doing those things. They actually do those things.
To preserve anonymity, I’m not going to say who did this, but the other night someone was dreaming that they were being threatened by a huge bad guy. The dreamer (not saying who) knew that they couldn’t get away by running. The only good strategy they had was to lie on their back, wait till the bad guy was above them, and then swiftly and decisively, kick their head off (the solution, of course!). This they proceeded to do, followed by several loud noises and the sound of breaking glass.
This woke me up, searching for a light and looking to see if the husband was in bed and okay. The dreamer (anonymous) was rubbing his ankle and surveying the damage. Somehow the bedside lamp had totally lost it’s lampshade and was hanging from the wall on a strange angle. On the marble top bedside table was a broken pitcher vase with it’s flowers all awry.
There are two points to this story. The first is this – if you sleep with a dreamer make sure his feet are pointing away from you and sleep lightly. The second is, if you are a bad guy, don’t sneak in our house at night unless you want your head kicked off. Seriously.
Journey is a very romantic word for going someplace. The word has always sounded to me like it had purpose connected to it – a journey is for a reason and has value at its end. Evan and Claire were quite young and in my charge for a week when their parents were on a vacation. When taking care of children one of my fears has always been that I will run out of things to do to entertain them. And a week is a long time. I decided to whet their curiosity and told them we would be going on a journey one of those days, but I did not tell them where or why (because I hadn’t yet figured that out).
Evan and Claire lived in the small Wisconsin town where I had grown up. I had memories of the places that I had played in and explored as a child that had captivated me – the farm, the backyard woods, the beautiful spring fed Round Lake. The purpose of the journey would be to share the magic of this outdoor wonderland. The challenge of the journey would be to keep it simple enough for a 5 and 8 year old to appreciate without making it too boring or tiring. Clearly food had to be involved.
Keeping our destination a secret, I packed peanut butter, apples, nuts and water for all of us. The children were excited to get into their car seats and head out on the journey. We drove to the countryside and pulled into a field. Just walking through the tall grass in a place they’d never been, carrying their backpacks and provisions, they were full of questions. They looked at bugs and plants and small animals, birds. I made them count how many different sounds they could hear if they listened really hard. The woods were even more magical with the fall colors at their peak. There was a golden glow on the forest floor and in the canopy with leaves falling everywhere. We ran to the places I had built forts and given certain trees names of their own. We climbed and balanced and explored an old machinery graveyard. We ate our snacks nestled in the leaves. I hope the kids had as much fun as I did, visiting my favorite places. There is something very special about revisiting places with a child and seeing them again with fresh eyes, fresh excitement.
We’ve had other journeys since and the name has stuck. They ask me about their journeys and refer to them when we’re talking about times past. I’ll bet someday they will take their own children on journeys. What place could you share with a child on a journey?
And what do hair and hide have in common? Hide is what you want to do if you have bad hair. Hence, another h word, Hat.
Honestly (another h word) we can’t help but notice a person’s head, the majority of which is covered with hair. Regardless of culture, race, or gender humans have a lot invested in their hair. An African-American friend told me that when they get their hair done, spending considerable time and money on it, they tell even their husbands “don’t touch my hair!” It’s important stuff.
Lately I have been considering retirement and the necessity of cutting back on expenses. We have saved money the last 41 years by the husband enduring having his hair cut by me. He may have gone to a barber one or two times but I can’t remember when. So I am developing the strategy of saving money on my hair cuts by 1) not cutting it or 2) cutting it myself. In the past a good cut by someone I trust has cost me at least $50, so I’m going to save a couple hundred a year even by conservative figuring. Having considered this I approached the scissor moment a couple of times and then chickened out. Even being not too happy with how I look at present is better than having to hide under a hat for six months while a mistake grows out.
This morning, struck with sudden, irrational bravery I started in before I could change my mind. It’s only hair, right? It’s not like I’m deciding to cut off an arm or a couple legs. And I have to learn to do it if I’m going to retire (that might be a bit of an exaggeration). I looked at styles and how-to’s on the internet. If you want to convince yourself that we care about this subject just start looking – I found my target head of hair and a progression of how this person looked, season by season for years of her life.
This cut is not a radical change for me but it is four inches shorter and believe me, there is a trick to cutting something behind you in a mirror. Go ahead, try it.
“Gone Without a Trace” is the name of a TV show of course, but I have my own list of people who have disappeared from my life (without my permission). They were important people and I really didn’t expect to never see or hear from them again, nor do I believe they did this purposely. It’s possible they are still around but I cannot find a trace of them anywhere. On the outside chance that any of the missing ever reads this, please know that I’m just wanting to know that you are still alive and I don’t mean to be a bother.
First among the missing is my one and only maid of honor at my wedding! I spent a year and a half with Karel Schmitt in nursing school. We were roommates and partners in escapades of all kinds. A couple years later, she was the only close friend who could make it to my Wisconsin wedding in January (nice timing huh?) Karel was a cute, peppy blond with an infectious smile and a wonderful sense of adventure. Maybe that’s why, shortly after, she also got married and according to the last letter I had from her, moved to some southeast Asia country where her husband’s family was starting a chicken farm. It seemed a little strange to me at the time. And the letters stopped. She was from St. Cloud, MN and had a twin whose name was Karen, I think. Granted, this is a pretty cold trail, but I have looked for her several times over the 40 years I’ve been married. She’s pretty much gone.
The second mystery is the disappearance of a beloved youth pastor and his wife. They were a young, intelligent couple who cared deeply for the people in our church and served the young people, including my own two girls, with a passion. That’s why when the church went through a very tumultuous time of change, they had to leave to preserve their emotional and spiritual health. We helped them load their furniture and clean their apartment before they moved. They gifted us with their grandfather clock. It still keeps good time and has a beautiful chime. (Okay, they said they had never liked it because it was so noisy – just not their style. But we like it.) It has to be wound every week so I think of them often. He was/is a handsome, part Asian man named Sui Shia and his wife was Christine. She was a budding journalist and writer. They both wanted to move someplace to further their education and Sui probably changed profession. He had many interests.
I am not a professional people hunter but I have the internet. That’s where most of my searching has been. Will I find them? Do they want to be found? Good questions.
fingers that play (to the beat)fingers that work (and take a beating)adjusting and healingsteering in the right directionkeeping the truck on the roadum… oh well, you knowlearningproviding diversion and entertainmentkeeping up with events on the newsetching an award for a deserving teacherready to type the next post
Fingers – think of all they do. Think of what life would be like without them… Think of how awesome it is that they obey orders that start way up in your head without you even having to think about it. We are wonderfully made! Have you ever really looked at the hands and fingers of the people you love? These are fingers from my family and friends doing what they do for fun and for making a living.
I Just Have to Say... 
