Rain on the window, gray in the sky, blossoms on the trees
Seattle in early spring is the way I imagined it before I had ever been here. Today was cool (50’s ) and rainy, clouds rolling through. Everything green is glowing, in contrast to the grays and browns of wet rocks and trees. I am usually here during the one week in summer when there is a heat wave, so this sweet chill is a treat for me. I am prepared for this visit with my sweatshirt hoodies and scarves, and of course my walking shoes.
I took my friend Charlie the dog for a walk on one of our favorite routes from last summer. I couldn’t stop looking at all the things that were visible through trees that hadn’t leafed out yet. Surprisingly, there are a lot of houses hanging precariously on the sides of the ravine above the park’s lower trail. I did not know they were so close. In spite of the cold, there are flowers coming out all over, and they are different from the ones in the summer or fall. And the lush moss grows everywhere.
We walked up to the top of the ridge over Alki Beach (what a workout, gasp..) and I was glad to be here, grateful to be seeing it all. I couldn’t help wishing that my friend Karyn who followed my stories last summer was still here to read again. I was grateful that it was a day when resurrection, physical resurrection, was on my mind. As unexplainable as it sounds to modern ears, a man came back to life never to die again. Because he did this miraculous thing, Karyn will too. This is not a hard thing for me to believe, because I see life coming out of what looks dead all around me. It’s right there in front of us, if we have eyes to see and hearts willing to consider.
Thanking Jesus for doing what he did – the first of many.
What? Who did this? To those of you reading who are not also bloggers, I will explain. One of the latest updates to WordPress, my blog host, includes a cute little “beep, beep, boop” message wiggling around in the center of a blank screen for a few seconds after certain commands are instituted. It’s a thing to look at while you’re waiting. Evidently someone thought that us bloggers would lose interest and wander off if we didn’t have something new to look at for three seconds while our post is being published. I’d like to meet the originator of this idea and try to figure them out. I’m always amazed at the things people will think to do. Actually, sometimes I’m also amazed at the things people don’t think to do – the old rule, never say never, applies equally to never say always. Both good things to remember.
This last week, every time I sat down at the computer I lost interest and wandered off. One day I didn’t even turn the thing on. But that’s ok. A week of inactivity online doesn’t bother me much and gives me the opportunity to write about what I have been into while I haven’t been writing.
– Equate extra strength Headache Relief, for the headache that doesn’t seem to want to quit. Although I’m probably not doing my stomach any favors, I’m grateful for the four or five hours of relief and super wakefulness that I get from swallowing a couple pills.
Hello headache, my old friend…
– Intraocular injections (shot in the eyeball), for the eye problem that was dramatically improved, in the doctor’s own words. I’m grateful that it’s working and that I don’t have to get another one for five weeks, although I am getting used to everything about them (except the cost…)
the back of my eye
– Childcare, for several of my yòoung friends who I realize I’ve been missing. How come you guys can grow up in what seems like no time at all? Gracie, Lydia, Josh, Zeke, Shiloh – grateful for time spent with you that makes me feel younger even while I marvel at you getting older. I’m troubled by the fact that I’ve never played X-box. Is that weird?
Childcare for her, adult care for me…
– Old letters and old files, for the urge to purge and to organize. Lots of stuff has been burned or shredded, but lots else has been rediscovered and readied for the next project, memoir writing. I’ve always been alarmed by my lack of memory for details of the past. Not only did I forget all those details, but I forgot that I’d written them down in letters to others. This morning, reading letters written to my mother ten years ago, all I could think was “Really, I did that?” and “Did some other person’s life sneak into my letters?” Grateful for the written record of the past.
I’m more prolific than I remembered.
– Appliance shopping, because the washer and dryer that have wanted to leave my house for years, finally broke free. Grateful that within hours of starting to shop for replacements I came across a used set that is probableyten years younger. After only one session with the furniture dolly, the truck, the hoses, wrenches and plumbing tape, they are installed in my laundry room and functioning almost correctly. The printed message under the temp dial that says “all rinses are cold only” really means they are scalding hot only. I think I know how we can fix that.
the Laundry twins, Hi and Dri
– Air travel websites, for the supposed improvement of doing it yourself. Instead of calling a knowledgeable person and telling them when and where I want to travel I can now spend hours online hunting for the best connection at the best price. And American Express Delta Frequent Flyer card, how dare you revoke the companion ticket feature without telling me. Planning my revenge…
Did. Not. Happen.
– the garden that was, the heat that is, that yard that will be. Grateful for the healing work that takes place in me when I’m outdoors. Grateful for green things, if they’re plants – not, if they’re worms.
Good greenBad green
– Face time, with friends and family who care. I am realizing that the purpose and value of life is all in the relationships I find and nurture. Realizing also that God is that friend and that family member who makes it all possible. Having less work away from home has given me more time to nurture the relationship with him and I am so grateful for that. Gives me some precious times of discovery, comfort, peace and excitement. Arlette and I took a lovely walk yesterday and talked of all these things.
Nature walk with my friends Arlette and God.
My friend Arlette (and maybe God too, on her left)
I’ve had a bent toward independence most of my life and kind of wrestled with the question of whether I had ever had a mentor. I had my mom – she was always my first “go to” person, but being mom was her job, a position all its own. There were a lot of other people I knew and I spent a lot of time thinking about their experiences. I did that in order to avoid their pitfalls. It seemed like a good idea not to learn firsthand what I could learn vicariously. But a mentor?
So I was a bit surprised when I did think of someone. I thought of Elaine and immediately knew why she came to mind.
It wasn’t because she had any kind of corrective role in my life. I don’t think she ever pointed out specifics about my child rearing or my work habits. She didn’t tell me to keep house better or spend more time with the kids. What she did do was make time for evenings playing cards with the husbands, and invite us to watch fireworks over the golf course from her nearby yard. She had tea parties with my young girls and met me for breakfast after my night shifts at the hospital. We went to a crazy restaurant where they had beaver on the menu and laughed while she tried it (she tried it). She loved people and was always telling me about the interesting ones she met. She wanted to be better at helping them and studied to be part of the Stephen ministry at her church. And the thing that fed my soul the most, she always acted like she enjoyed our times together.
Part of the attraction for me was the difference in our ages and stages of life. Elaine was already married to my cousin and living in her first home when I was a young teen. She hosted me and several of my same age cousins at a family wedding, putting up with our late night antics and endless harmonizing to “Moon River”. She was beautiful, but not arrogant. Years later when I was married, working, mothering and struggling to keep it all together, she was still beautiful and gracious in a way that time and experience had only magnified. She was honest about the parts of life that weren’t perfect, but didn’t dwell on them. She gave me the message that those imperfections didn’t have to define one’s life, that they offered opportunities for growth and satisfaction.
We moved away. For a couple of years I only saw Elaine when we came back to the hometown on vacation. I worried when she was diagnosed with leukemia, but she went through chemo, bought herself a wig and carried on as she always had. It was a shock when her disease took a turn for the worse. Within days she was gone. I did not get to say goodbye.
I did not fully realize how much I loved her until she was gone. Knowing her was a singular experience. I can’t think of anyone else who gave of herself and spent time with me in quite the same way, noticing the highs and lows of my life and responding with encouragement and love. And that, simply, was it. She loved.
because they are green, my favorite colorbecause they are constantly being amazingand more amazingbecause they volunteer on their own (from whence come you tomato?)but most of all, because they are quiet.
Good morning, August. I can’t believe you’re here.
It’s Monday morning. I’m dressed and sitting at my desk thinking about the day ahead. Last week I repotted a houseplant and brought it to live on my desk in front of the glass doors where it would get a lot of southern exposure. I noticed a large drop of water at the tip of a leaf. And then I saw that every leaf that was turned in the same orientation had a large crystal clear drop of water – the whole plant was decorated at the tips of these leaves only. The rest of the plant was dry. Such a beautiful thing… just sayin’.
The heavens do declare God’s glory, and I love to listen. I live in a flat land with lots of horizons, clouds, moisture in the air and water to mirror the sky. I am always seeing something that nearly takes my breath away, usually when I’m driving. I have to pull over and watch
Today I will think of all the spent hours of your life that translated into food for my body, clothing to cover me and as much security as you knew how to create. Today I will consider that you started out as a teenage man with little instruction in family life, except that you grew up in a family yourself. I will think about the times you changed your path and the uncertainty you must have felt as you searched for a better way to provide. I will think about why you would fall asleep in your chair at the end of all those long days – not from laziness or drunkenness or escapism, but because you were physically exhausted.
I will realize that as a human you probably experienced sadness, frustration, anger (oh yeah), despair and doubt and yet you never bothered us children with any of it. We had little knowledge of your struggles because you were a man and we were self absorbed children. You taught us how to work alongside of you, but you always worked harder and longer. And yet I can remember that you sang in the barn, and whistled and tried to yodel. You modeled that it was possible, and desirable to enjoy work. You gave me the idea that sometimes when trouble seems overwhelming the best thing to do is just go out and work at something. Sometimes the trouble loses interest and goes away unfulfilled. And at any rate, working is better than worrying.
As you’ve grown older with so many limitations ganging up on you, your persistence to do what you can inspires me (and scares me, but, hey… how can a nearly blind man on a rider mower cause any trouble?) I see you teaching lessons of humility (when Mom is right and you are wrong), lessons of love (when you rub Mom’s feet and wash the dishes), lessons of trust (when you put those unsolvable things in God’s hands). And you still whistle now and then and have Pandora playing on your cell phone, announcing your presence as you go. I honor you for all of that.
Today I will grieve that as a society we have almost lost the concept of honoring our fathers for anything. Temptations are everywhere, expectations are high, psychology focuses on faults and there is nothing that cannot be blamed on a father. I will remember how hard it is to be the head of anything, particularly a family. I will be thankful for you – that you have not run away, that you are my dad, my father.
I was only two steps ahead of a giant lizard who had gained entry into the dorm and was sucking up hapless students as they tried to figure out what was going on. That one had Jurassic Park written all over it.
Last night I dreamed. I probably dream every night but I rarely remember any of them. For some odd reason I remember two dreams from last night. I willed the Jurassic Park one to go away and not come back. It worked and I slept again. But the second dream was different and I hung on to it in wonder.
We, myself, my two girls and my mother, were in a large medical building waiting to be called for appointments. My youngest was only about three and I was carrying her. I was feeling kind of like a mother who has been denied custody of her children and is suddenly reunited. I asked if she wanted to get down and run around but she said no and we hugged closer and smiled at each other. We sat down since the wait was interminable, but we were still content. My oldest daughter leaning against my knee and the youngest snuggled close on the chair beside me. It was the most pleasurable situation and I remarked “this is the way it should be”.
The strangeness of the dream is that we do not have a broken home and I have never been denied custody. My children are grown and live far enough away that I do not see them often but they have moved on in very natural ways. I wanted them to grow up and have lives of their own. They have done that successfully.
It was like a little gift – to have that time back again so vividly – when arms were wrapped around my neck and a small head rested on my shoulder. I’m just sayin’ that I would like a regular subscription to that dream.
Today is a thanksgiving holiday for me. I’m just taking a day off after two weeks and several thousand miles of travel to be thankful for making it there and back once again. I have “that thought” every time I leave home that I might not be back again, ever. I’m not upset or overly morbid about it – it’s more a realization that there is no promise of longevity or a trouble free life given to anyone. Stuff happens, no matter how careful you are.Read More »
I Just Have to Say... 